Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,2
cars and dance at crazy house parties where their fellow Teenagers swing from chandeliers and barf into synthetic tree stands. You grow up with these ideas about Teenagers, about their wild, vibrant, dramatic lives of breaking rules and making out and Being Alive, and you know that it’s your destiny to become one of them someday, but suddenly you’re seventeen and you’re watching people cannonball into a swimming pool in the pouring rain, and you realize you still haven’t become a real Teenager, and maybe you never will.
* * *
By two thirty that afternoon, we were dried off and well into our second movie, burrowed down in my basement with a feast of soda, Gushers, and Doritos on the coffee table in front of us. Maritza and I were sharing our Gushers packs because she only liked the red ones and I only liked the blue ones, while JaKory didn’t like them at all because he had “texture issues.”
“Maybe you’ll like them better if you eat them on a Dorito,” Maritza said, shoving one toward him. “Come on, ’Kory, try it.”
“Get behind me, Satan,” JaKory said, flicking her away.
“Aww, come on, JaKory,” I said, offering him a chip and Gusher of my own. “They’re great together. You’ll ‘ship’ them in no time.”
I caught Maritza’s eye, grinning. There was nothing we loved more than teasing JaKory about his obsessive fandom habits.
“Pretty soon you’ll be writing fanfic about them,” Maritza said, her expression mischievous. Oooh, little Gusher guy, you’re so juicy, do that squirty thing for me again.
“Shut your filthy mouth,” JaKory said as I fell back laughing. “You’d be a terrible fic writer.”
Maritza looked genuinely offended. “I’d be a great fic writer.”
“Shouldn’t y’all be focusing on this movie, anyway?” JaKory said. “Or can you finally admit that it’s boring?”
“It’s not boring,” I said, looking at the women on-screen. “Look how beautiful they are.”
“That was literally a shot of her bending over a mailbox,” JaKory said dryly.
“Women look beautiful from an infinite number of angles, JaKory,” Maritza said in her know-it-all voice. “Not that you’d understand.”
“I’m perfectly fine with not understanding that,” JaKory said. “But lesbians or not, this movie is atrocious. Let’s watch something else. How about a gay romance?”
“Ugh,” Maritza and I said together.
“Y’all love to outnumber me on this, but I always watch your stupid girl-meets-girl movies, even the desperate dramas where one of them gets shot or eaten by a sea monster or whatever.”
“This isn’t even a drama,” Maritza said. “It’s a comedy.”
“Yeah, and I’m laughing so hard.”
“Fine,” Maritza said, tossing him the remote. “Pick something else. Give us all the gay.”
* * *
I guess that was the other part of the equation: the queer thing.
Four months ago, on a bitingly cold January night, we’d been watching Netflix in my basement when Maritza started acting all twitchy and nervous, hardly responding to anything we said.
“What’s with you?” I’d finally asked, pausing the movie.
Maritza opened and closed her mouth, seemingly at a loss for words.
“What?” JaKory asked, his brow furrowed. “Did you poop your pants again?”
“Fuck you,” Maritza snapped, smacking him with a pillow. “That happened one time.”
“What is it?” I asked again, pulling the pillow out of JaKory’s hand before he could retaliate.
“Well … okay,” she said in a shaky voice. “So … you know how I have that crush on Branson?”
“Yeah?”
“I really like him. Seriously, I think he’s so hot—”
“How is this news?” JaKory asked.
“Shut up, ass-wad. The thing is … well, I’ve started having a crush on someone else, too, and … um … it’s not a guy.”
I’d never seen Maritza look so vulnerable. JaKory and I stared at her for a long moment, and then we glanced at each other to check we’d understood correctly. Then JaKory clutched his hands together and started saying all these dramatic things like Thank heavens and Praise Jesus and I’m saved, and it wasn’t until Maritza jabbed him in the stomach that he yelled, “I’m gay, too! Like so gay I can’t even handle it!”
“I’m not gay, JaKory, didn’t you hear what I just said?! I like them both!”
“Bisexual! Whatever!”
The two of them fell forward into a sloppy hug, laughing with relief. Maritza actually kissed JaKory’s forehead in delight, and JaKory couldn’t stop wiping his eyes. I could only sit there, stunned, while the two of them calmed down. JaKory wasn’t exactly a surprise—Maritza and I had speculated for years that he might be gay—but Maritza liking girls was definitely a shock.
I knew it was my turn to say