Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,46

GIF sets and fan art and really incisive commentary. But he’s into serious stuff, too, like LGBT issues and Black Lives Matter and international politics. A couple of days ago he wrote this post about how annoying it is to be gay in Alabama, and I didn’t even know he was from Alabama, but I reblogged his post and was like, ‘This. this. this. except Georgia,’ so then he messaged me like, ‘You’re from Georgia?’ and we got to talking, and he’s so brilliant and interesting, and he makes these clever jokes all the time, and…” He let out a deep sigh. “I just can’t stop talking to him.”

Maritza and I stayed silent. We’d seen this feverish side of JaKory many times before—usually about the latest book or TV show he was obsessed with—and there was always an infinite, voracious nature to his yearning, like nothing could ever truly satisfy him. We usually had to ride out each obsession until he moved on to the next one.

“But … he lives in Alabama,” Maritza said reasonably.

JaKory gave her a challenging look. “Yeah, I realize that. But it’s only one state over.”

“But you don’t have a car.”

I cut in before JaKory could snap at her. “How old is he?”

“Our age,” JaKory said pointedly, as if that outweighed the car problem.

“Well … how do you even know he’s attractive?” Maritza said. “He could be ugly.”

“Ugh, he’s not,” JaKory said, rubbing his hands down his face. “He’s posted pictures of himself before. On a scale of one to ten, he’s a number we’ve never even heard of.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it to Maritza.

“You saved his pictures?” she asked.

“Only two of them!”

“He is handsome,” she said fairly. “Look at that jawline.”

“I know. You could cut diamonds with his jawline.”

I reached for the phone. “He’s cute,” I said, scrolling between the two pictures. “I mean, for a boy.”

“Oh, you sweet ingénue,” JaKory said, taking the phone back. “You could never appreciate an Adonis like him.”

“Let’s just hope that’s actually him,” Maritza said, “and he’s not some weirdo trying to catfish you.”

“It is him,” JaKory insisted. “I have good instincts about these things.”

Maritza shot me a look. I glanced away from her before JaKory could notice.

We finished our milkshakes and wandered over to Target. It was Maritza’s mom’s birthday that week, so we helped her search through the jewelry section. “Something Christian,” Maritza instructed us, “but anything flashy works, too.”

I stood side by side with her, picking through the necklaces to find something Mrs. Vargas would love, until I realized JaKory was missing.

“Hey,” I said, knocking her elbow. “Where’d lover boy go?”

We found him in the men’s section, trying on a fedora that made his skinny head look even smaller.

“Please don’t buy that,” Maritza said. “You look like a Bruno Mars wannabe.”

“Daveon will love it,” JaKory said, modeling for himself in the mirror.

Maritza looked meaningfully at me, urging me to step in, but I shook my head and kept quiet.

“JaKory…” Maritza implored, “do you really need to spend money to impress a guy on Tumblr?”

“I can’t hear you,” JaKory said, tilting the brim of the fedora over his eyes. “Love makes me immune to negative energy.”

After we’d dropped JaKory off at his house, fedora and all, Maritza exploded.

“He’s living in la-la land,” she said without preamble. “He’s such an idealist, never thinks about the practical side of things. It’s not gonna work with this Daveon guy—if he’s even real—and then JaKory’s going to be heartbroken, and we’ll be left to pick up the pieces.”

I bit my lip. “What if there’s a chance it could work?”

Maritza looked at me like I was crazy. “How?”

“Maybe Daveon has a car—or maybe their emotional connection is enough for now—I don’t know, shouldn’t we just be happy that he’s found someone he likes? Isn’t that what you’ve been talking about this whole time?”

“I’ve been talking about something that could actually work. For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction, right? You put forth effort into the universe, and the universe gives you something back. But how does fantasizing about someone on the internet lead to practical application?” She sighed, long and pained. “It’s just wish fulfillment. He’s letting himself get excited about this because there’s no actual risk involved.”

I fell silent, absorbing her words. I often forgot how wise Maritza could be, and then in moments like this, it walloped me in the face.

“You’re really smart,” I said, shaking my head. “Sometimes I kind of hate it.”

She