“It’s not drugs. I’ll find him, rest assured.” I’m more confident than concerned.
My brother spills his whole life story to me when we talk on the phone. I literally know when he took a shit yesterday, and not because he called me while he was on the toilet, which he’s also done before.
So I’d know if he were snorting coke or shooting up heroine because he can’t keep his mouth shut, and he’d tell me in a bout of word vomit.
“You never broke curfew. You told us where you’d be,” she says, “and you always came home on time—are you sleeping? Why are there bags under your eyes?”
I glance from the phone to the road. She tries to inspect my face through the screen, but I’m further away from my cell’s camera.
“It’s dark in the car right now, Mama. The sun hasn’t risen yet.”
“You’re working too much?”
I want to say no, but again, my life has an outline. I want to work towards something big. I always have. And she understands hard work and working hard. I’m just glad she’s not asking me about dating.
Or marriage.
Or kids.
That part of my life is starting to be an astronomical who-the-fuck-knows. I blink and picture Oscar, and my heart rate jackhammers.
I inhale and try to stay calm. “My job always has weird hours,” I remind her. “I’m gonna call Jes—”
Another voice is muffled in the background. I switch lanes again while my mom turns her head to look over her shoulder.
“Ano ho?” My mom says what in Tagalog to the other person in her house. She speaks more in the language.
I figure my Lola—my mom’s mom—must’ve woken up. She’s lived with my parents ever since I was a kid. I hear her ask what’s going on.
“Utoy?” my Lola questions, using a Filipino term for Jesse which means little boy.
I can’t hear their exchange until my mom moves closer to her phone and tells me, “Call me back if he doesn’t answer you. Ten more minutes and I’m waking up your dad. We’ll drive past every beach until we find him.”
Jesse has broken curfew before, but that was when he had a girlfriend and snuck into her house. My mom knocked on the door demanding for his return, like the girl’s family was holding him captive. Our mom is on our side, always, but she’s not afraid to tell us we’re doing something wrong. She grounded Jesse on the car ride home.
Our dad slams down the gavel just as strongly, but I’d say that my mom does everything better. My dad would be the first to agree. She’s the heart of the Highland family.
“I love you, Ma,” I say goodbye to my mom. “Ingat po.” Take care.
“I love you more, ‘nak.” ‘Nak is a shortened term for anak, which means child.
We hang up, and I give my cellphone a voice command. “Call Utoy.”
You better answer, Jesse.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And I wonder if he’s actually at a girl’s house. Not the same girl. That one broke up with him two summers ago.
It rings.
He would’ve definitely told me if he had a crush on another girl…or guy. He’s straight. He said he’s straight before. I said I’m straight.
Because I am straight. I can appreciate good-looking guys, and yeah, Oscar is one of the best-looking bodyguards. If not the best.
And I’ve only had sex with women. All of my celebrity crushes have been women. Whenever I’ve envisioned my future, there’s always been a wife at the end.
But at night, my mind wanders to him. I wake up with a massive hard-on that only goes away when I stroke myself thinking about him.
Doesn’t mean I’m gay or bi or anything other than straight.
Am I convincing myself or am I really fucking straight? I need a road map to navigate this uncharted place, and I don’t have it. I don’t know anyone who does.
Oscar.
Yeah right, like he’ll help me. Like he’d even want to after I rejected him.
Anyway—I’m straight. There’s nothing to ask.
I’m not into Oscar like that.
My nose flares as I bite down on my teeth, and I realize the phone has already rung out with no answer.
Fuck.
I redial for FaceTime.
And he answers on the second ring. “Long time no chat”—we talked yesterday—“listen to this…” He rolls down the window to his Land Cruiser, and I hear the splash of the ocean.
I smile. “Sounds like you being grounded. Again.”
“The volume must be broken on this thing. Because that’s clearly the sound of the sickest swells.”
“Jesse.”
“I want to be the first out there when the sun comes up.”
My eyes flit from my brother to the road, back to him.
His shaggy hair sticks out in a million different places and he yawns into his arm like he woke up from sleeping in his car. I notice the wetsuit splayed over his headrest and the surfboard in the back. “So you’ll tell the parents I’m safe and that I’ll see them for breakfast—?”
“Fat chance, wild child, it’s a school day.” It may be summer, but he has to repeat British Lit for plagiarizing a paper last year.
He has a warm smile while he slouches on the passenger’s seat of his SUV. “You look at the calendar this morning, Kuya? I’m impressed.” He runs a hand through his dark hair that’s long enough to reach the back of his neck. “It’s almost like you’re a fully functioning adult or something.”
I skip over his sarcasm. “Aren’t you actually grounded?”
“Like in this moment?”
I laugh. “Yeah. What other moment would there be, Jess?”
He shrugs with a bright smile that could rival mine. “You tell me, Jack.” He puts extra emphasis on my name like I’m a pirate from the Disney franchise.
Jesse is exactly ten years younger than me, and I love him more than life itself. He’s my only sibling, and while my family is still in SoCal, I end up seeing Jesse in person more than my parents. He’ll fly out to Philly and stay with me for the weekend at least once a month. My mom and dad would make the trek more often, if their jobs didn’t usurp their time.
“You have withstanding groundings,” I tell him more plainly.
“Groundings?” Jesse leaves the camera frame for a second. “I mean, I feel like those might have been suggestions.” He returns with a banana and slowly unpeels it.
My stomach groans at the food. Fuck. After my three-hour dazed and confused shower, I hightailed it to my car without grabbing breakfast. Hunger pains vs. being late. I’ll choose the hunger pains every time. Showing up late feels worse somehow. Like knives plunging into my gut.
“You broke curfew three days in a row,” I remind Jesse. “I don’t think being grounded is a suggestion.”
“KuyaI’mseventeen.” He mumbles the sentence through his banana-filled mouth.
I laugh. He’s an idiot.
He swallows and smiles. “I’m an adult.”
“Pretty sure you’re one year behind that, dude.” I give him a look. “More if we’re talking about maturity levels.”
He smiles more. “I’m mature. Mama and Dad just miss you, since you’re all the way out there and they’re keeping their claws in me tight. They were never like this with you.”