“She might have to work,” Levi said. “I’ll check. But thank you.”
“Does your girlfriend have a friend?” Mrs. Lyon asked.
“There she goes, trying to find her future daughter-in-law,” Jeremy said, smiling easily. There was a crash from upstairs, followed by a curse. “That sounds like soda on white upholstery to me. Told you not to buy that couch,” he added.
“Oh, stop. It’s not like you’re a bunch of animals,” his mom said.
“Hate to break it to you, but we pretty much are,” Levi said. Jeremy’s grin widened, and he went with his mom to clean up the mess, presumably.
So, yeah. Jeremy was g*y. Or just...Californian. Or both.
Levi went back the next night, needing to hitchhike from his own house after his shift ended at the marina. He’d spent six hours cleaning boats in dry dock, which, while exhausting, allowed him to work shirtless and be ogled by Amber What’s-Her-Name, who was here for the weekend. Jess didn’t want to miss the Saturday night tips, so Levi went alone.
At Jeremy’s, they ate with the parents (duck, if you could believe it), then did the typical guy things—ate some more, played Soldier of Fortune on the downstairs PlayStation. When Jeremy asked where Levi was thinking of going to college, Levi hesitated, not wanting to clue Jeremy in just yet that college was so far out of reach he wasn’t even thinking of applying. “Not sure yet,” he said.
“Me, neither,” Jeremy answered easily, though Levi had heard he was being heavily recruited. “So. Tell me who the cute girls are at school. I’m hoping to have a girlfriend this year.”
It was so awkward that Levi almost winced. Still, there was something about Jeremy, an innocence or something. “Did you have a girl back home?” he asked, testing him.
“Not really. No one special. You know.” Jeremy looked away. “With football and classes and all, it’s kind of hard to find the time.”
Levi’s experience had been completely different; girls propositioned him constantly. Unless you were a prepubescent freshman, some chick would throw herself at you, so long as you wore the uniform on Friday nights, no matter how bad the team had sucked.
When it got late, Levi said he’d walk back, even though it was seven miles down the Hill and around the Village to West’s. But Jeremy insisted on driving him; he had a convertible, for God’s sake, and the thing was, he didn’t act like an ass**le. “Great night for a drive, huh?” Jeremy said amiably, hopping into the car without opening the door. Levi followed suit, which was what people did if they had convertibles, he guessed.
Jeremy talked all the way to Route 15, telling Levi about life in Napa (pretty awesome), the reasons his parents wanted to relocate (his dad had gotten an ulcer, and they figured New York was more mellow when it came to wine-making), asking him questions about Coach and some of the teams they’d be facing.
“Right here. West’s Trailer Park.” He waited for Jeremy to realize he’d picked the wrong teammate to befriend.
“Gotcha. Which one?” Jeremy asked, turning into the drive.
“Last one on the left. Thanks for the ride, man. And thank your mom for dinner.”
“No, it was great to have you. See you at practice.”
Then he waved and executed a neat little turn and drove off, the sound of the motor humming quietly in the distance.
And so a friendship began. Over the next month, Jeremy frequently asked Levi over for dinner until one day, Levi’s mother snapped, “Why don’t you ask him here? Are you ashamed of us or something?” When Jeremy showed up, he had flowers for Levi’s mother, told Sarah she was gorgeous and made no comment on the water-stained ceiling, the jug wine in the fridge or the fact that the four of them could barely fit in the kitchen.
“Is that tuna casserole?” he said as Levi’s mother set the Pyrex dish on the table. “Oh, man, that’s my favorite! I haven’t had this in ages. My mom is so stuck-up about food. This, though. This is living.” He grinned like they’d just pulled off a bank heist and ate three helpings while Mom cooed and sighed.
“That is a very nice boy,” she announced after Jeremy had left, her tone slightly reverent.
“Yeah,” Levi agreed.
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“I think you’re a little old for him.” He grinned at her, and she did blush.
“I’ll be his girlfriend,” Sarah said fervently.
“And you’re a little young,” Levi said, pulling her hair. “Go brush your teeth, kid.” His sister obeyed.
His mom ran a hand through her dyed blond hair, revealing black roots. “Well. I just meant, a handsome boy like that, all that charm and nice manners. Maybe some will rub off on you.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
“I bet he’s not the type to go running around with slutty girls.”
“No, he’s definitely not.” Levi raised an eyebrow at his mom. She missed his point.
“What you see in that Jessica Dunn is beyond me.”
“She puts out.” His mom slapped his head, and Levi ducked, grinning. “She’s also got a great personality,” he added. “Or something like that.”
“You’re horrible. Help me clean up. I bet your friend helps his mother.”
One day, after school had started up again, Levi and Jeremy were heading into the cafeteria. The door was blocked by someone just standing there—Princess Super-Cute, her red hair in a ponytail, always asking people to sign up to collect bottles or save the seals, her life’s mission to make sure everyone on earth liked her. Now she was just standing there, oblivious to the throng of people who couldn’t get in to eat lunch.
“Move it, Holland,” Levi said.
She didn’t answer. Ah, shit, she was doing that thing, plucking at her little ruffly shirt and looking confused. Levi took a step forward, but before he could catch her, she crumpled to the floor and started jerking.
“Oh, my God!” Jeremy blurted, flinging off his backpack to kneel at her side. “Hey, hey, are you all right?”
“She’s got epilepsy,” Levi said. He pulled off his sweatshirt to stick under her head. A small crowd was forming, Faith’s occasional seizure always a hit. Twelve years of the same kids...you’d think people would get used to it. Each year, the nurse would come in to their classroom and give the epilepsy talk, like they all needed a reminder and Faith needed the embarrassment. It was the one time of year that he felt sorry for her. Well, then, and when her mom died.
Jeremy already had his arms around her. “You’re not supposed to move her,” Levi said, but Jeremy picked her up and was shouldering his way down the hall.
And that was that. The school talked about it for days; how Jeremy was like some kind of knight or something, how could Faith not fall for him, it was so romantic, didn’t you kind of wish you had epilepsy or fainted once in a while? Levi’s eyes actually got tired from rolling.
“I’m in love, my friend,” Jeremy said a couple weeks later. “She’s amazing.”
“Yeah.”
“Really. She’s beautiful. Like an angel.”
Levi gave him a look. “Sure.”
Despite not having a father, Levi was what his boss called a man’s man. Football since fourth grade, an aptitude with tools, his first girlfriend at twelve, first sex at fifteen. He’d stayed back the year his father left and was therefore older than his classmates, had started putting on muscle in seventh grade, could drive sophomore year of high school, and those things ensured him some respect. He’d always run with a pack of guys.
And guys did not talk about their girlfriends being beautiful like an angel. They talked about their tits, their asses, if and when they might put out. If a guy was really in love, he’d just shut up and occasionally punch the person (often Levi) who speculated on the tits and ass of the girl in question.
Levi was no expert, but he guessed that Jeremy might not know he was g*y. Or if he did, he might not want to admit it. Jeremy was awfully careful in the locker room, which was odd for a kid who’d played football for a decade. Most of the guys didn’t think about it, though some liked to strut around naked, in love with their own junk. There were, of course, the g*y jokes, and Jeremy laughed cautiously, sometimes glancing at Levi to see if it was actually funny (it never was). Nope, Jeremy just kept his eyes down until he was dressed. When Big Frankie Pepitone got a tattoo on his shoulder, all the other guys admired it and made sure to give Frankie a slap on the newly inked and still angry-looking skin (because football players liked to hurt each other, after all), but Jeremy could barely drag his eyes up to the tatt. “Cool” was all he said, and Levi got the impression that maybe Jeremy was afraid of what his face would show if he did look at Big Frankie.
Whatever. Jeremy was a good guy, and Levi didn’t really care if Faith Holland was his beard or the love of his life. It was his senior year; he figured he’d be enlisting, so he was going to have all the fun he could. And being around Jeremy was fun. The guy was funny, smart, laid-back and decent as anything. Levi and Jess, Jeremy and Faith hung out sometimes, catching a movie or going to the Lyons’ house, because Faith had too many siblings, and why go to the trailer park when Jeremy’s house was a fricking playland? But Jess didn’t much like Faith (and did a deadly impression of her), so, often, it was just the three of them, Jeremy, Levi and Faith.
Faith Holland...she was a little hard to take, yeah. Kind of cutesy and bouncy and tiring. She was smitten with Jeremy and seemed to be auditioning for her role as his future wife, always fluttering her eyelashes and snuggling up close, and Jeremy didn’t seem to mind. She’d kiss up to Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, leaping to clear dishes and whatnot, and it was clear the Lyons thought she was wonderful.
“Thank God he finally found someone,” Levi overheard Mrs. Lyon say to her husband one night, just as he was about to thank them for having him over.
“About time,” Mr. Lyon answered. “I wasn’t sure it’d ever happen.” They gave each other a look, then went back to watching CNN.
So maybe Levi wasn’t the only one who thought Jeremy might play for the other team.
Senior year was the best year of Levi’s life. Football season ended with Jeremy sending a thirty-nine yard pass into the end zone that Levi could’ve caught just by flexing his fingers, so perfect was Jeremy’s aim. The Manningsport Mountain Lions were divisional champs, though they lost in the next round. Didn’t matter. They’d had their best season in the history of the school, so it was hard to feel bad.
And Levi, who had no brother and no father and no uncles, had his first true friend, different from Asswipe and Tommy and Big Frankie. Jeremy was more mature in a lot of ways, someone who seemed to feel as comfortable at Levi’s as he did in his parents’ glamorous house, who laughed easily and didn’t get wasted for fun, who never cared that kids from the Hill weren’t supposed to hang out with kids from the trailer park.
He tried a little too hard with Faith—once in a while, he’d kiss her, and it practically made Levi wince, it was so awful. Jeremy did these old-fashioned, corny-ass things that no straight guy would’ve ever dreamed of doing—putting a flower in her hair, shit like that. And Faith, God, she ate it up. She’d sit on his lap and suggest they all sign up to do a road cleanup, or maybe Levi and Jess would want to join the school chorus and go to the old folks’ home and sing. Levi would occasionally point out that there were drugs for her type of condition. Faith would laugh, a little uncertainly, and then he’d feel like he’d kicked a puppy, and Jeremy would say, “Dude, be nice. I love her,” and Faith’s tail would start wagging again.
One spring night, Faith left the boys at the Lyons’ place—Ted and Elaine were away, and Levi suspected she was uncomfortable with the fact that he and Jeremy had appropriated two beers from the downstairs fridge, and God help her if she condoned such illegality. Levi watched her go from where they sat on the deck, her pretty hair gleaming in the sun, the Hollands’ big dog running by her side. “You and Faith doing it?” he asked out of idle curiosity.
