We were both sitting there getting sad. Too sad.
But Dante took us both out of our sadness when he said, “So, if we’re screwed, do you think that sometime, we could, like, screw?”
“There’s a thought. It’s not like we can get pregnant.” I played that line very casually. All I could think about was making love to him. But I wasn’t going to tell him that I was going fucking crazy. We were boys. And all boys were like this, whether they were gay or whether they were straight—or if they were whatever.
“But if one of us did get pregnant, then they’d not only let us get married—they’d make us get married.”
“That is the smartest dumb thing you’ve ever said.”
And, man, did I want to kiss that guy. I mean, I wanted to kiss him.
Eight
“LET’S GO WATCH A MOVIE.”
“Sure,” I said. “What?”
“There’s this movie, Stand by Me. I wanna see it. They say it’s good.”
“What’s it about?”
“A bunch of kids who go looking for a dead body.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“Yup.”
“It’s good.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“But I promise you, you’ll like it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll give you your money back.”
* * *
It was the middle of the week and it was late afternoon and there weren’t many people in the theater. We sat near the very top row and there wasn’t anybody sitting close to us. There was a young couple, looked like college students, and they were kissing. I wondered what that was like, to be able to kiss someone you liked any time you wanted. In front of everybody. I would never know what that would be like. Not ever.
But it was really nice to be sitting in a dark movie theater next to Dante. I smiled when we sat down because the first thing he did was take off his tennis shoes. We shared a large popcorn. Sometimes we both reached for the popcorn and our hands would touch.
As I watched the movie, I could feel his glances. I wondered what he saw, who he was making up when he looked at me. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered.
“Watch the movie,” I said.
He saw me smile.
And then he kissed me.
In a dark theater, where no one could see us, a boy kissed me. A boy who tasted like popcorn. And I kissed him back.
Nine
AS I WAS DRIVING BACK to Dante’s house, he placed his feet on the dashboard of my truck.
I shook my head. “Guess what?”
“What’s so funny?
“You forgot your tennis shoes at the movie theater.”
“Shit.”
“Should I turn around?”
“Who cares?”
“Your mom might.”
“She’ll never know.”
“You wanna bet?”
Ten
DANTE’S PARENTS WERE SITTING ON the front porch when we got back from the movies. Dante and I walked up the stairs.
“Where are your shoes, Dante?”
“You’re not supposed to be sitting on the front porch waiting for me to get home. It’s called entrapment.”
Mr. Quintana was shaking his head. “Maybe you should give up the art thing and become an attorney. And if you’re hoping I forgot that you didn’t answer my question, think again.”
“Why do you like to say think again?”
Mrs. Quintana just gave him that look.
“I took them off at the movie theater. I forgot them.”
Mr. Quintana didn’t laugh, but I could tell he wanted to. “We’re not making any progress here, are we, Dante?”
“Dad, who gets to define ‘progress’?”
“I do. I’m the dad.”
“You know, Dad, when you get all adult on me, it doesn’t really work for me.”
Mrs. Quintana wasn’t going to laugh.
And then Dante had to keep going. He couldn’t help himself. “Look at it this way. Some guy will find them and like them and take them home. And he’ll have a new pair of tennis shoes. And maybe his parents can’t afford to buy him a new pair of tennis shoes. So it all works out.”
I did want to kiss that guy. Dante didn’t know he was funny. He didn’t say things to make people laugh. He was too damned sincere for that.
Dante’s father just shook his head. “Dante, do you really believe all the things you say?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Mr. Quintana and Dante kept playing their game of verbal chess, and I just stood there and watched them. I couldn’t help but notice that Mrs. Quintana was beginning to look very pregnant. Well, maybe not very. But, you know, pregnant. What a strange word. Maybe there should be a more beautiful word for a woman who was going to have a baby. When they settled down, Mrs. Quintana looked at me and asked, “How was the movie?”
“It was really good. I think you’d like it.”
Mr. Quintana squeezed Mrs. Quintana’s hand. “Soledad doesn’t like to go to movies. She’d rather work.”
She gave her husband one of her smirks. “That’s not true,” she said. “It’s just that I’d rather read a book.”
“Yeah. Preferably a book on the latest theories of human psychological development—or the latest theories of how behavioral changes really happen.”
She laughed. “Do you find me criticizing your tastes in postmodern poetry?”
I liked how they got along. They had a nice easy way of playing with each other that was really sweet. There was so much affection in Dante’s household. Maybe Mrs. Quintana was harder than Mr. Quintana. But she was nice. She was tough and she was nice.
Dante looked at his mother. “Have you thought of a name yet?”
“Not yet, Dante.” The way she said it was as if she was both annoyed and amused by Dante’s new hobby. “We still have four months to decide.”
“It’s gonna be a boy, you know.”
“I don’t care. A boy. A girl.” She looked at Mr. Quintana. “No offense, but I hope the baby turns out to be more like the mother.”
Mr. Quintana looked at her. “Really?”
“Don’t give me that Really? thing, Sam. I’m outnumbered. Dante takes after you. I live with two boys. We need another adult in this family.”
That made me smile. That really made me smile.
* * *
“You wanna hear the list I have?”
“List?”
“You know, the names I’ve picked out for my baby brother.” He was lying on his bed, and I was sitting on his chair. He was studying me. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No, I’m not. Do you hear me laughing?”
“You’re laughing on the inside. I can tell.”
“Yeah, I’m laughing on the inside. You’re relentless.”
“I taught you that word.”