“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks Juan, sounding like a parody of a gay man on some Saturday Night Live skit. Max and I share a look, both wincing at the tacky line.
“I’m, uh, good,” Juan says. I can tell he has no idea what to make of the flamboyant Will.
“It’s good to be good. I’m good too. Better, now that you’re here,” Will says, full of innuendo that Juan seems oblivious to.
Oh, dear God. This is embarrassing. Where did Will find these lines? In some dusty old book from 1984?
“Juan, this is my friend Will. He just drove down from San Diego to take us back,” I say.
As Juan turns to grab a few glasses, Will leans in and whispers to me, “So gay.”
“Don’t think so,” I whisper. “Your gaydar is off.”
“It’s never off,” Will says.
“Sangria?” Juan offers Will a glass.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Will takes the glass from Juan, grazing his hand.
Juan looks awkward and quickly moves his hand away. I shoot Will a look, hoping he’ll cease and desist before things get downright mortifying.
“So, are you guys going back to San Diego now?” Juan asks.
“Not quite yet,” Will says.
“But pretty soon,” I add.
“So, what do you do when you’re not making sangria, Juan?” Will asks, polishing off his drink and pouring himself another. Guess we just lost our designated driver. Looks like I’ll be needing a Big Gulp of coffee en route.
“I’m at architecture school at UCLA.”
“Ooooh, I love architects. They have such big buildings.”
Oh Lord, let the floor open up and suck me into the ground. Better yet, take Will.
“Uh, not all of them are big. Some are quite small. It all depends on the client,” Juan says.
“I’m sure yours are very, very big.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still in school, so I’m not really building much other than models at the moment.” Poor Juan looks hideously uncomfortable.
“I bet you’re really good with your hands, all that drawing and building.”
“Yeah, we do take a lot of drawing classes, so, you know…”
“No, I don’t know. Why don’t we go outside and you can tell me all about it.”
I can see Max choking back laughter. This is turning into some kind of strange performance piece. I’m pretty sure Juan’s not enjoying himself. I know I’m not. Time for a curtain call.
“I think we should really get on the road,” I say, taking Will’s hand and pulling him out of the kitchen. “So, uh, hope to see you again soon, Juan.”
“That was awkward,” I say.
“You were freaking that guy out,” Max tells Will.
“He’s gay. Trust me,” Will insists. “He wants me.”
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell Will.
Manuel approaches.
“We’ve got to head back to San Diego,” I say. “My friend Will just got here.”
Will goes to shake Manuel’s hand, but Manuel pulls him into a tight embrace. The guy is a hugger. I can’t even imagine how he and my dad were best friends.
“Promise you’ll be back soon,” Manuel says to me.
“I promise.”
“And try to bring your dad next time.”
“That I can’t promise.”
“You have to go so soon?” Juan asks, suddenly appearing at our side. “I could tell you a little about architecture school,” Juan offers to Will. “If, you know, you’re really interested,” Juan asks.
“I’m really, really interested,” Will responds.
“So, you can stay for a little bit?” Juan wants to know.
“Not really…no…” I say.
“Forever, if that works,” Will pipes in.
“We need to get going. We’ve got graduation in the morning,” Max says.
“You guys could e-mail,” I offer helpfully. As much as I want to stay, I know time is ticking away. We don’t want to get to the border too late. Mom is expecting me. If we lose Will it could be days before we get out of here.
“We could take a short walk, talk architecture, and then you can leave with your friends,” Juan offers.
Before I know what’s happening, Will and Juan are heading out the door.
“Nice overalls, by the way,” Juan tells Will as they walk away.
“I’ve got a kilt in the car. I could change,” I hear Will say.
“Wait. What just happened?” Max asks me.
“No idea,” I say, feeling dazed and confused.
“Is your friend gay, by any chance?” Manuel asks.
“I don’t think there’s anyone gayer,” Max responds.
“You may want to go after them if you plan to get back to San Diego tonight. Juan is, how do you say, on the low down.”
“You mean the down low?” Max asks.
“He doesn’t think we know he’s gay. But we know. We’ve all known forever. We’re just waiting for him to tell us.”
After hearing this, Max and I charge outside, but we’re too late. Will and Juan are speeding down the street and out of sight in Will’s Mini.
I stand up and look out at the street. Cars rush by. Everyone is going somewhere except for me. I’m stuck here. I reach into my backpack and grab the two Luke Skywalkers. I don’t want them anymore. I throw one across the street. It doesn’t even reach the other side. I throw another one, harder this time. It goes a little farther. I empty my backpack onto the ground and start throwing all the figures into the street. I can hear cars crushing them. They’re all broken now, in pieces everywhere. Most of my collection is gone, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything.
I start counting again. I decide to start over from one. I get to 467 when a car pulls up to the curb. It’s Dad. He sees me standing at the top of the stairs and comes toward me. I don’t want to see him. He’s going to be angry. I turn and walk away.
“Jake,” Dad yells as he starts running. “Stop. Wait.”
I run faster, around the school. I’ve got to get away from him. But Dad is fast, faster than I would have thought. He reaches out and grabs my arm. He’s strong. I can’t move.
“What the hell were you thinking, Jake?” Dad’s yelling now.
I don’t know what to say except, “Hi, Dad.” I don’t like yelling.
Dad throws his arms around me and hugs me for twenty-three seconds without saying anything. He breathes out really hard and then takes in a few deep breaths. He lets go of me, and we stand there staring at each other. I wonder what will happen next.
“Jesus, I had no idea what happened to you. You could have been killed or kidnapped or…I don’t know what. You can’t just run away like that, Jake.” He’s not yelling, but he’s talking really loud. Too loud. I’m standing right next to him.
“Here’s the list of stuff I don’t like: apples, the fork in my bowl, Honey Nut Cheerios, eggplant parmesan, worms, watching baseball, and Taylor Swift.” I’m not looking at Dad anymore. He’s not saying anything.
“Okay.” Dad is speaking softer now. “I think I’ve got it.”
“There’s more. That was just one list.”
“How many lists are there?”
“Fifteen.”
“I think you’re going to have to give me all the lists.”
“I can do that.”
“Bud, why did you leave the house without telling me? I was so worried about you.”