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My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me from my thoughts.
Joshua: Are you able to come back?
Becca: I’m just outside on the stairs.
A moment later he steps out, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on mine. “You waited for me?”
With a shrug, I say, “I figure you might need to talk.” I wait for him to sit down next to me before asking, “How did it go?”
He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and looks up at the stars—the stars that were once so bright now dim because of my emotions. He clears his throat before speaking. “It was hard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I knew that at some point he’d ask. I’ve thought about it so many times—everything that I would say to him. But to actually say it…” He inhales sharply. “I think it’s more that I don’t really have an answer for him. I wanted to tell him that his mom just wasn’t around, but that she still loved him… and I couldn’t even do that because I don’t know if it’s true. And I’m scared that it’s something he’s going to feel for the rest of his life. He’s going to wonder where she is and why she doesn’t want him. I think that’s what I worry about the most; that he’s going to think less of himself, and less of me, because of her. And I don’t want that for him.”
I hug his arm to my chest and kiss it once. “I know, babe.”
“I’m sorry, Becca,” he says, and I pull back surprised.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because I froze when he said it to you. I should’ve said something then and there. I don’t want you to think I’m not happy he thinks of you like that—like you’re his mom—because to him, you’re the closest thing to one… I just don’t want to confuse him and I think that’s what’s happening—especially with you spending the night and us kissing around him and—”
“So you want to stop doing that—”
“No,” he cuts in, “That’s not why I’m saying it. I don’t really know what I’m saying. I guess I just wanted you to know that if there were someone in his life that I’d be proud to call his mother, it would be you.”
I choke on a sob and release his arm. “I can’t be his mother,” I whisper.
I can’t be anyone’s mother.
Ever.
18
-Joshua-
Chazarae’s eyes lock on mine and I can feel the beads of sweat building across my hairline. I wipe my palms against my jeans, my heart beating so hard I’m pretty sure it’s about to crack a rib. Vomit rises to my throat but I push it back quickly and swallow my nerves. “So… it’s just… I mean… we’ve gotten close lately—Becca and I. Not you and I. Me. You. Just…”
She quirks an eyebrow; her jaw tense.
I determine right then and there that she might possibly be the scariest old lady in the history of old ladies.
“Um… so I wanted… She’s been sad and—”
“What?”
“I mean Becca…”
“I know you mean Becca. She’s been sad?”
I nod. “And I-I-I wanted to do something to make her not so sad… so I was wondering if-if maybe you would mind if I could take her away somewhere… she doesn’t know. It would be a surprise.”
“What are you asking, Josh?”
“Uh… just your permission I guess.”
She eyes me sideways. “Oh, jeez. That’s it? You’ve spent the night at our house, she stays at yours, and you’re asking—”
“We haven’t had sex!” I blurt, because I’m an idiot.
“Josh,” Chaz says through an exhale. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“What?”
“I thought you were going to tell me she’s pregnant.”
I puke.
In my throat.
Just a little bit.
â??â??â??
I hadn’t told Robby that Becca and I had spent every night together since the weekend she canceled our date, so when I asked him if they could take Tommy for the night, he had questions. Of course. And lots of them. The questions turned to advice and the advice turned to ridicule. And because, apparently, my uncle’s twelve, his biggest advice was to rub one out right before we left for the big night. And, because my uncle—who’s apparently my friend—has a big mouth, he told his wife all about it. Kim showed up the night of Robby and I’s great debate with a box of condoms; one hundred and forty-four of them. Then proceeded to give me a speech on what women want and expect in the bedroom—this speech consisted of, but was not limited to; touching, biting, caressing, and something about ice-cubes that I was too grossed out to listen to.
â??â??â??
The second I open the door to our hotel room and we step in, my insides turn to stone and all the shitty advice I’d been given cause an epic amount of mayhem in my mind. Becca stands in front of me, her hands clasped together, her eyes on mine, expecting me to make the first move. So I do. I throw her on the bed, climb on, devour her mouth and start dry humping her leg. Surprisingly, she does the same. We roll around on the huge king-sized bed, our hands everywhere all at once and at some point she manages to take my shirt off without me realizing. We roll around some more until we fall off the bed with her landing on top of me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. “Sorry,” she mumbles, and we continue. A moment later she’s beneath me and her dress is off and she’s fumbling for my belt and I wonder why—why in all the advice given to me were the words, Don’t wear a belt. It’s awkward as fuck! never spoken.
