There’s really no reason for us to still be talking to each other. There are dozens of other people I know here. I could be talking to them. And yet we keep talking. Like there’s a point we need to reach.
“So what else is new?” he asks.
I find myself saying, “I have a boyfriend now.”
He smiles and says, “Of course you do.” Then he adds, “I mean, you should. You’re great boyfriend material.”
“He’s actually the first guy I ever kissed,” I tell him. “Aiden.”
“I bet he has more body hair now,” Jasper says.
“Uh … I guess he does.”
“I’m sorry. That was random. And I haven’t even had a drink yet.”
“No worries.”
Jasper shakes his head. “You’re too forgiving. I still owe you an in-person apology for that awful date.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It was a surreal time. Remember how we kept using that word? Surreal? Well, it was. Nobody is accountable for their actions then. And nothing really happened.”
“I know. But still.”
I put my hand on his arm.
“Really,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He looks at me then, and it’s weird, because even though I don’t really know him, I know he’s different now, too. Maybe it’s just because of the things Claire’s told me. Or maybe I can actually see it.
At this point I feel arms snaking around me from behind, then feel a kiss on the side of my neck.
“Hey, boyfriend,” Aiden says.
“Hey, Aiden,” I say.
I make introductions, but I know the introductions are only going to lead to outroductions. Jasper doesn’t want to meet Aiden. Aiden doesn’t want to meet Jasper. And I don’t particularly want them to meet each other. As soon as the hellos are over, Jasper says he sees Mitchell in the corner, and that he should go say hi.
That’s it. We’re done. He leaves about an hour later. He goes out of his way to say goodbye to me, but it’s just goodbye.
OF COURSE YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND
Jasper
When I said “Of course you do,” I meant this:
Of course you have a boyfriend, because right now my deepest wish is that you don’t have a boyfriend. Because even though I haven’t seen you in almost a year, and even though the last time we were in a room together was one of the most awkward mornings of my life, now that we’re talking again, it feels like we should be talking, it feels like this should be part of something, and maybe it’s because Claire is always telling me how wonderful you are, and maybe it’s because that shirt does something to your eyes, and maybe it’s because when you have a boyfriend, it releases these strange pheromones that unwittingly attract foolish boys like myself. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because even though our first date was one of the biggest messes I’ve been party to, it was also one of the most intense dates I’ve ever been on, and I used to think that it was entirely because of the events of the week, but now I’m wondering if maybe you and I didn’t have something to do with it, too. And maybe it scared me that you were still in high school, but you’re not in high school anymore, and will in fact be within an easy train or bus ride to my school. And maybe it’s the fact that Claire loves us both, and that we both love Claire, and that even though neither of us will ever be with Claire in a boyfriend way, maybe the fact that we can both be on her wavelength so well means we could be on each other’s wavelength, too. Or maybe I’m just desperate because everybody I meet is either too gloomy or too happy—never a good balance of the two. Maybe it’s because I’m leaving for Korea in three days, and if I’m going to see you again, I know it has to be in the next three days. Or maybe the fact that you have a boyfriend has nothing to do with me. I mean, I know it has nothing to do with me. And I can’t help but wish, in this very specific moment, that it did have something to do with me.
But none of this is what I said next. Instead I went with:
“I mean, you should. You’re great boyfriend material.”
In other words, I kept digging the hole.
GOOD NIGHT (YOUR MORNING)
Jasper
5/31/02
Greetings from JFK. Before I leave the country, I wanted to let you know that it was really good to see you at Claire’s party. Part of me wishes that there would have been a way for us to meet for the first time there. I think we would have had more to talk about if we’d been strangers with a kick-ass wonderful mutual friend.
Plane’s boarding soon. Gotta go.
Take care,
J.
6/29/02
I think my grandmother is addicted to uppers. Or maybe she just spikes her tea with Red Bull. I don’t understand it. From everything my parents told me, I was expecting this frail, sickly woman. But my grandmother is unstoppable. If it weren’t for my internship, I swear she’d be taking me on the town every hour of every day, and most of every night, too. She doesn’t speak more than ten words of English, so all the Korean I’ve been blocking out is coming back again. Every now and then she puts on what I like to call her “Truth Face”—when it appears, I know she’s going to lean over and impart some wisdom to me, usually culled down to a single line. She repeats them a lot. Some have to do with hygiene, which I won’t repeat here (except to say that soap is important, but water is more important). Her favorite, though, is this:
The secret to living long is to have something to live for.
She’s eighty-seven, so I’m guessing this is something she’s put some thought into. Or maybe it’s just something she found on a greeting card and liked. Who knows? The best part is that a lot of the times when she says this, she follows up by telling me she’s happy I’m around. I’m her only grandchild, you know. I feel such responsibility. But that’s okay.
How’s Life After High School?
Take care,
J.
7/25/02
I wish I was building houses right now with you and Claire. I can’t stand the fact that the two of you don’t have email for a week. I know I’m a gazillion miles away, but I miss you. I miss finding your words in my inbox. (No, that’s not a euphemism.)
It’s amazing to live in a divided country. I mean, I’ve heard about it all my life—my dad has relatives that ended up in North Korea while the rest of the family was in South Korea. But I don’t think I really appreciated what it meant until now. I mean, it’s like New York and Connecticut had this huge falling-out and suddenly nobody from Connecticut was allowed to go to New York, and vice versa. It’s one thing to think of it in political terms, as part of the story of the Cold War. But when you start thinking of it in human terms, it blows your mind.
Please thank Claire for teaching me to think in human terms. Although I’m sure she’ll give some of the credit to everyone else.
Yours from far, far away,
J.
8/6/02
I’m sorry to hear about you and Aiden. That’s rough. Even if you wanted it to happen, there’s always the actuality of it happening, which is never entirely what you imagine it will be.
I think my mom and I are both ready to come home. Not only because my grandmother is completely running us ragged, but because it feels like we’ve been living a life separate from our real lives. We actually talked about it last night. She told me how much she missed my father. And it’s strange, because that actually surprised me, since I don’t miss him at all, or at least not that much. But I forget that she has made her life with him, while I’ve moved on to college. And that they probably have a whole separate life to themselves that I rarely see. It’s weird to think about. I found myself telling her how much I missed you and Claire, and how we’ve been writing practically every day. She asked if you were friends from school, and I had to try to explain to her that, no, you’re just these two people I met and kept. I’m not sure she understood, but she might have. Whatever the case, my mom now knows about you. Isn’t it time you told your mother about me? (Just kidding.)
It does bum me out that you’ll be gone by the time I get home. At the same time, we’re not too bad at mastering the time-space continuum, are we? (Sorry if I geeked you out there.)
Good night (your morning),
J.
P.S.—I’m actually not sorry at all to hear about you and Aiden. I’m actually quite selfishly happy.
P.P.S.—I’m going to hit send before I delete that last P.S.
8/21/02
Absolutely. It’s time.
Love,
J.
HERE TO YOUR THERE
Peter
6/4/02
it’s great to hear from you, jasper. i hope korea is treating you well. i’ve never been there, but you probably would have guessed that. things here are good. school is winding up. aiden was really mad because i took claire to the prom. not because i didn’t want people to know i was dating aiden—he’s very public in his affection, so i think it’s safe to say that everyone already knows. it’s just that i promised claire i would take her, back in october. you might already know this, but on our way home from a concert, she asked me to the prom, made me promise we’d decorate each other’s mortarboards for graduation, and signed me up for habitat for humanity this summer, all at once. she said she wanted to make sure this would be our year, and i wasn’t about to argue with her. aiden doesn’t get it. i bet you do.
anyway, we had a blast. i think graduation’s going to be very emotional—even more emotional than usual. because it’s been one hell of a year.
tell me more about korea,
peter
7/5/02
the 4th of july was a little bit of overkill this year, i have to say. i think i’m getting tired of flags. at first, i didn’t mind how they sprang up everywhere, because it was a sign of unity. but now it’s turned into this weird patriotism contest. and that’s not the point, is it?
claire’s worried about war. she says hi.
here to your there,
peter
8/5/02
we’re back, and soon you’ll be back (although i’ll be off to orientation by then). building a house was an incredible experience—at the risk of sounding like claire, it’s pretty incredible to do something so concrete for total strangers. at one point they had this t-shirt contest, where we were all supposed to come up with a phrase for our t-shirts, and claire won it with this simple phrase—“strangers are neighbors”—that completely summed it up.
in other news, there was this boy there, clayton, who was totally in love with claire. she denies it completely, but she blushes every time i bring it up. i hope they write.
in other, other news, of a less blushworthy variety (unless it’s a blush of embarrassment), aiden and i finally called it quits. i think he was waiting until i got back from arkansas because he didn’t want me to be bummed out while i was there, but the truth is that although that’s a sweet thing to do, i don’t actually know how bummed out i would’ve been. college was going to break us up anyway, but i’m glad it was clear that it wasn’t just college. i’m sad, but not too sad. i’m more sad that it went on for so much longer than it should have, you know?