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Everyone else has already chosen. I am the last to pick.
"The fuck's your deal? Why are you such a prick to her?" I ask him, ignoring his question and tossing the ball back up into the air.
"I don't mean to be," he sighs. "I just want things to happen a certain way. I want people to do what I tell them to do when I tell them to do it."
"That's not what a relationship is, Consty. That's what a slave is."
"Oh, like you're the relationship expert," he retorts. "Tell me, what's your longest relationship been?"
I shrug. "I'm not a relationship sort of guy. I'm more of a spread-the-love sort of guy. No one has to get hurt that way."
"Why does anyone have to get hurt in a relationship?"
"I dunno, man. Look at Pops. He's on what number wife now? Did your mom get hurt in the divorce? Cause mine certainly did. And don't sit there and try and tell me that you're not hurting this girl you're dating. Guaranteed she's on the other side of town crying her eyes out right now."
Consty balls his fists up. "I should probably just break up with her."
I nod. "You should. She can do better."
"Gee, thanks," he replies.
"It's the truth, and you know it, too," I say. "You're not treating her well. Clearly, you need some time to figure shit out. In the meantime, whack off to porn like the rest of us."
"We haven't been intimate," he says.
I blanch. "Oh my God, intimate? Who says that? There are so many other words you could have chosen other than intimate."
"Not all of us are as crass as you, Teddy."
"Boned, banged, boinked."
"Teddy."
"Humped, porked, screwed."
"Teddy!"
"Slam the ham, test the suspension, fill the donut."
"TEDDY!"
I look up at Consty to see him completely red in the face.
"Awe, am I making you uncomfortable?" I drop my voice to a whisper. "Is it because you haven't...ever been intimate?"
"Just leave, would you?"
I throw the ball over to him. He catches it and squeezes it so hard in his hand it bursts.
I sigh.
"Do the right thing," I say before leaving his room and heading for the kitchen. "All this talk about slamming the ham has made me actually hungry."
A week after my conversation with Consty finds me waiting for the gate at the end of the driveway to open. When you're the child of the head crime family in New England, safety is sort of a concern. That means our house is more of a fortress in that; the entire property is fenced and guarded.
I rev the engine of my '69 Mustang. I could have had any car I wanted, but there's something nice about the classics, and I enjoy working on it.
I have absolutely nowhere to go at the moment, but I feel stifled in the house and just want to get out. I guess I'm one of the odd teenagers who actually enjoys early mornings and sunrise drives.
