CHAPTER NINETEEN #6
“I’d have to go bald or gray first,” Carver said, and was gratified when they both laughed.
“What do you think about Apple?” Nora asked him.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I’d probably hold if I were you.”
“Really?”
“They’ve got my generation and younger in a chokehold with the phones, Mom, it is what it is.”
“But Steve Jobs is dead,” Doug said, glancing between them.
“Steve Jobs has been dead,” Carver informed him.
“And there’s the China of it all.”
“Well, we’re not gonna quit buying shit from China anytime soon, I’ll tell you that for free.”
“Please no swearing in the breakfast nook,” Nora said. “I’d like to hold onto one or two norms in this house.”
“Maybe also hold onto your Apple.”
“Okay, we will not fully exit our Apple position, happy?”
“Thrilled,” Carver said, sipping his coffee.
Doug shook out the newspaper and held it open, squinting at it.
“What’s going on with the gutters?” Nora said to him.
“Hmm?”
“You said you need to call the gutter guys, what happened?”
“Nothing, they’re just due to be cleaned.”
“Do they also do pressure washing?”
“I’m not sure. I can ask.”
“Because the patio needs to be pressure washed,” Nora said.
Doug grunted. Another silence fell. Carver looked at his phone, found everything on it uninteresting, and put it away again before finishing his coffee. The only sound coming from outside was a few birds singing in the distance.
Then he heard it: a motorcycle revving up the street.
“Ugh,” Nora said, rolling her eyes, at the same time that Doug muttered, “Obnoxious.”
Carver wasn’t listening to them. His entire body had just stiffened. He checked his watch. Scott said the tow truck was leaving around 9:30, and it was 9:22 now. He was probably about to head out.
Carver wanted to go with him. It was an overwhelming feeling, like an allergic reaction; his lips tingled and his chest got tight.
He wanted to go with him to Hoboken, or wherever.
He didn’t want to be left behind in Bitterfeld.
Even if he couldn’t go, he wanted to see him again, he wanted to see him before he left.
Without really thinking about it, he slipped out of the breakfast nook and bolted into the hallway. He heard Doug exclaim, “What?” and Nora reply, “Oh, that’s who it is.”
Carver jammed his feet into a pair of slides on his way out and bolted out the door, slamming it behind him and racing into the bright morning.
Mrs. Jeffries from across the street was out checking the mail, and she shouted some greeting to him as he ran by.
He shouted hello in return, racing by her and up onto the sidewalk on her side of the street.
He sprinted flat-out for Josie’s, running for the sheer hell of it, his feet nearly coming out of the slides.
One of his parents’ other neighbors, out walking his dog, jumped out of his way and said, “Hey!”
He shouted an apology over his shoulder but didn’t slow down; in fact he sped up. He was rounding the corner, he was more than halfway there, and he could now hear the motorcycle’s engine idling, which thrilled him. He wouldn’t be too late.
Finally he spotted the edge of Josie and Hank’s yard, and the broken-down black van in the driveway.
The tow truck wasn’t even here yet. Carver slowed to a jog as he approached, and then a walk.
On the other side of the van was Scott, resplendent in his black leather pants and jacket and straddling Letty’s bike, adjusting its handlebars.
“Hey,” Carver said, and Scott’s head shot up. He wasn’t panting — according to his Garmin he had a VO2 max of 54 — but he was definitely pink and exerted. He put on what he hoped was a winning smile.
“Hey,” Scott said, sounding surprised, and reached down to cut the engine. “What’s up, man?”
“Ah, nothing. Just wanted to see you off.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” Scott said. “I was gonna text you, but…”
“Yeah, I, uh, heard the bike.”
“Oh, shit, you could hear it from down there?”
“Yeah, my parents were bitching.”
Scott winced comically as if he didn’t actually feel that bad, then shook his hair back like he was one of Charlie’s Angels.
“Are you leaving once the tow truck gets here?” Carver said.
“Yeah, I want to see it off.”
“Okay.” Carver leaned forward and gripped Scott’s handlebars, and Scott looked him up and down. His heart was pounding. “Can I be very honest with you right now?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Carver made eye contact with Scott, and Scott’s eyes softened.
“I want to come with you,” he said. “I want you to take me with you.” Scott opened his mouth, and Carver talked over him: “Just for a few days. Just for the next few days. I just can’t be here anymore, and there’s nowhere else I want to go, and I think you’re right that I shouldn’t be alone —”
“I was gonna ask,” Scott interrupted him. “I was gonna — last night, I was going to ask you. But I pussied out.”
“Okay,” Carver said, his heart pounding harder.
“But, like, what are you thinking?” Scott said, his dark eyes even softer, to the point that Carver felt sorry for him. He was so vulnerable. “What do you want to do, here?”
“I want to be with you. I want us to be together.”
“Yeah?” Scott said, leaning forward and studying his face. “Seriously?”
“Haven’t we been talking about this?” Carver said, almost exasperated.
“Not in so many words. I thought you were on the fence.”
“I am on the fence, ‘cause I think I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown in a few months and I don’t want you to see it.
But fuck it, you can see it. What are you gonna do, leave me?
Forget about me?” Carver could hardly breathe for how giddy he was.
They couldn’t stop smiling at each other. “You’re really bad at that.”
“I am,” Scott agreed. “You can have a nervous breakdown if you want. I honestly think you’re entitled.”
“So, you do want to be with me?”
Scott laughed like he was being stupid. “Yeah, obviously.”
Carver bounced on the balls of his heels, leaning over the handlebars toward Scott. “I want to kiss you. Shit.” He glanced around. Plenty of Josie and Hank’s neighbors were out, going about their Monday mornings. “I hate these fucking people.”
“You don’t hate them.”
“No, I don’t.” Carver turned back to Scott, who was looking at him with such a powerful and undisguised affection that he got a pang in his stomach seeing it, like it wasn’t meant for his eyes.
Scott quickly fixed his face. “Um,” he said. “You know I have a roommate.”
“I do. I remember.”
“I have the first floor to myself, the kitchen’s on the second floor and he sleeps on the third, so it’s relatively private, but I — he’s there.”
“We can hang out, I don’t care. What was his name?”
“George. He’s very chill.”
“We can hang out with George,” Carver said, smiling. “Look, I don’t care. I just need — I need this. Everything’s lighter with you. I just want to go with you.”
Scott nodded. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you right now, let’s go.”
“Thank you,” Carver exhaled. “Oh my God. I can’t spend one more second with my parents.”
“I can’t blame you.” Scott looked him up and down. “You actually want to get on the back of this motorcycle, though? ‘Cause, what are you wearing? You need to go change.”
Carver looked down at his clothes. “I can’t jump on the bike like this?” he said, laughing. “It’s pretty warm out.”
“In a t-shirt and shorts and Gucci slides? You’re out of your mind.”
“Come on. I’ll hold on very tight.”
“Carver, it’s a thirty-mile trip,” Scott said, pointing at him with a gloved finger. “You should have a leather jacket, you should have leather pants. I’ll let it slide if you put on jeans. You should have boots and gloves.”
Carver grinned at him. “You got an extra helmet?”
“Lucky for you, yes, I have one in the van.”
“You are a Boy Scout.”
“It’s good to have backups. It’s common sense.”
“Baby, I completely agree.”
“Go, go,” Scott said, jerking his head in the direction of his parents’ house. “Go pack up your shit and put some real clothes on. If the tow truck gets here, I’ll ask him to wait.”
“Okay, okay,” Carver said, jogging away back down the street. “See you in ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder.