Barbara the Slut and Other People. Lauren HolmesЧитать онлайн книгу.
see them at night,” she said. “They dive with torches, and we met some of those boys. Some of them are pretty cute.”
“Oh yeah?” I said.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re going to meet such a cute boy, you’ll see. I didn’t meet your dad until the end of college.”
It felt like I was either going to tell my mom in the next minute, or my mouth was going to do it for me. My heart started to pound.
“I don’t want to meet a boy,” I said.
“Oh I know, baby, all you want to do is your research. But that will change.”
“No, Mama, I want to meet girls. I like girls.”
“Oh,” she said. Her eyebrows went up. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“I had no idea,” she said.
“Really?” I said. “You never wondered about it?”
“No,” she said.
I waited for her to say something and then I decided to help her because I didn’t want to be mad at her.
“Now you’re supposed to say that you love me no matter what,” I said.
“Oh, baby,” she said, “of course I love you no matter what.” She pulled me into her shoulder and held me tight. “Of course I love you no matter what.”
After a minute she said, “Are you going to tell your dad?”
“He knows,” I said.
“Oh really?” she said. “How did he take that news?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Huh,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t he?” I said.
“I don’t know, he can be so rigid.”
“He’s been really good,” I said.
Now there were more divers on top of the cliff and they stood in a circle and put their arms around each other and their heads down.
“When did you tell him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “High school.”
“Oh my god. Lala. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It didn’t seem urgent.”
“Why are you telling me now?” She sounded mad.
“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s this girl and she thought I should tell you.”
“You didn’t want to tell me?”
“No, I did, I wanted you to know.”
Now one of the boys was climbing down the cliff, and he stopped and stood. The people around us cheered, and he flew off the cliff, his back arched and his arms spread like eagle wings.
“I wish you told me when you told your dad.”
“You weren’t there,” I said.
The diver entered the water with a high splash.
“You came to visit,” she said.
“I don’t know, Mom.”
She looked away and I could hear her breathing. “Lala, you are breaking my heart,” she said. She didn’t look at me. “I’ll meet you outside.” She walked up the stairs and I stayed and watched the cliff. The boys prayed and dove forward and backward and did flips and double flips. Right after they jumped they were still in front of the sun for a split second, and then they rushed into the water. At the beginning I had been worried about them, but now it seemed less real, like they were on automatic or something, or like I was watching them from very far away. From very far away I watched them jump off the cliff one or two at a time, and finally three at a time.
• • •
My mom was waiting outside the entrance for me. We walked back down to the Zócalo without talking. When we got there she said, “I guess you have to get on that bus, huh? If you want to get to the city before dark.”
“You could come to Grandpa’s,” I said.
“You know I can’t,” she said.
“I don’t really understand why not.”
“That’s okay,” she said.
We walked to the bus stop and when she saw the bus coming she hugged me.
“Bye baby,” she said.
“Bye Mama,” I said.
“Maybe I’ll come to the States.”
“Okay.” I hugged her again. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you too,” she said and kissed me.
I took the bus to the bus terminal and then waited for the bus to Mexico City. I was really tired. When the bus came I sat in my seat and closed my eyes. I imagined my mom on the beach, kneeling on rich people’s towels, telling them that the “See you tonight” underwear was her daughter’s favorite.
WEEKEND WITH BETH, KELLY, MUSCLE, AND PAMMY
They say men and women can’t be friends. Because men will always want to have sex with women, even if we say we don’t. We might even think we don’t, but if we see the wrong body part in the wrong way, it will be over. Our penises will end us. But I think there’s a loophole. If the man in question already had sex with the woman in question and was so drunk that he doesn’t remember it. Or he only remembers it enough to know that it was not good. And then the man becomes friends with the woman, and because he has no memory of her vagina, he doesn’t think of her as having one. That’s what’s up with me and my friend Beth. I don’t want to sleep with her even though everyone, meaning my sister, Kelly, thinks I do.
I’m also not gay. Which everyone, still meaning my sister, also thinks. That’s not why I don’t want to sleep with Beth. I’m attracted to women. I’m not attracted to men. But for a straight guy in New York City, I’m not doing such a good job. For a tall guy with almost all of my hair, I am not doing such a good job. I did great in high school. I did fine in the beginning of college. I did horrible later in college and after that I took a break. I’ve been trying to make a comeback since I got to New York. But New York is weird. And I live with my sister. And back to my sister, the point is she says I have issues. I’m sure I do, just not the lying to myself kind, or the gay kind.
• • •
I met Beth the first night of college. We got wasted and had sex. I did two things wrong. Apparently I laughed when she told me to lick her pussy. In my defense, I probably just laughed because I had never heard something like that come out of a girl’s mouth. And I had never done that before. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t. It’s probably better that I didn’t take my maiden voyage into that salty sea when I was blackout drunk. It turns out that I like it very much, but I found that out too late for Beth. I found that out with Tiffany, which was the other thing I did wrong. When we woke up in the morning, I saw Beth’s roommate sleeping in her bed, looking like half Playboy Bunny, half cross-country runner. Which is exactly my type. So I said, “Who’s that?” And that was Tiffany.
Beth, on the other hand, wasn’t my type. I could see that she was attractive. But I was not attracted to her. At least not when I was sober and had a better sense of how tall she was. I’m six one in shoes but Beth is six two, barefoot. And that morning when I stood up and asked who the blond angel in the other bed was, Beth stood up and told me to get the fuck out. I looked up at her and tried to rearrange my brain. Then I followed her instructions and got the fuck out.
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