Page 34 of My Own Kind of Person

“You’ve had oral sex.”

“I have!”

“And you don’t have to want to do more.”

“I want to. I don’t know why I—” I take a deep breath, and let it all out in a burst. “I guess I’m a little sensitive.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

A heaviness I hadn’t noticed eases off my face. My jaw unclenches. “Maybe it is.”

She takes my shoulders. Like a gentle detective, she tilts my face until it catches the yellow lights from the playground.

I laugh and pull away. “What?”

“Seriously, did you somehow get older today?”

I try to answer with something witty, but instead say, “Why?”

“You seem…I dunno.” She follows me back to the street. “This summer you were always so silly.”

“Tonight, however, I am boring.”

“No, no…”

All the houses around us are dark. I point at Christy. “Why should you never take a shower with a Pokémon?”

She rolls her eyes and keeps them up, exaggerating. “Why?”

“Because he’ll Pikachu!”

She shakes her head.

We walk back toward our houses, small-talking about what classes we have. I try to hear if my voice sounds different and I feel like it does. Slower, less worried about getting to the end of a sentence. We stop in the middle of the road at the same corner we always stop at, halfway between our places.

“Thank you for a lovely night,” she says.

I want to say something but I don’t know what it is. I can feel it’s soft and I can feel myself running away from it. She puts her hands in her back pockets and frowns a little. How does she look so good under a streetlight?

“Thanks,” I say, and I realize I’m thanking her for letting me see how beautiful she is. I’m thanking her for being someone in my life. “Thank you for letting me see how beautiful you are. For being someone in my life.”

She takes a breath like she’s about to say something, then exhales. She leans forward and kisses me, holding her lips on mine.

When we separate, I hold up a hand. “Bye.”

She smiles. “See ya.”

The humidity wraps itself around me as I go. It holds me.

Mom’s car is still gone and the house is as humid inside as outside. The pignolis are still on a big plate on the couch. I take off my shirt on my way to my bedroom and lie down on my carpet, rolling over it slowly.

I take out my phone and open NEW STAND-UP. It’s still blank, and I feel even further from being able to come up with any ideas for it. I turn to my English homework, though, and I easily write down the goodbye conversation with Christy. I know I already learned that I can open up when I first spoke to Elijah in the bathroom, but it’s like it takes several re-realizations to go against the way I’ve programmed my brain for so many years.

I message Christy, Thank you for talking about not making yourself small

I’m practicing being honest about how I feel

When we said goodbye I felt sad