A steamy, passionate kiss, I think.
“Okay, I’ll help. What do I have to do?” He closes the book and sits on his bed to get a better look at me.
His gaze makes me feel anxious.
“I don’t know. The conversation needs to be relevant. And last at least ten minutes. Or however long normal conversations last. And it has to be during the day. In daylight. Those are the rules,” I say, still looking at the ceiling, because if my eyes see Caio in his pajamas, I might die.
“Okay. You can start talking.”
I’m suddenly under pressure, and I can’t get my thoughts straight. So I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I dreamed about you.”
Caio muffles a laugh.
It takes me a moment to realize that this sentence can mean a million different things. I start to explain myself, trying to seem as calm as possible. I tell him about my dream—the musical, the lyrics about breakfast, and the Power Ranger costumes. He laughs out loud at that last part.
“Which Power Ranger would you be?” he asks, changing the focus completely.
I’m happy for it, because I wouldn’t have known how to continue the conversation after describing that bizarre dream.
“I’ve never really given it much thought,” I say. “I would definitely never be the red one. The red ones are always boring.”
“I’d be the Pink Ranger, of course,” he says, striking a funny pose, with the tip of his right foot on his left knee.
Until this very moment, I never imagined this was a real pose that human beings could strike. Never.
“Then I’d be yellow,” I say, because my favorite color is yellow. And because I don’t know what else to say.
“And we would be BFFs!” He laughs and strikes another diva pose.
I laugh, but inside I feel the pressure of twenty buckets of cold water hitting me at once, because this whole “Pink and Yellow Rangers” thing reminds me that “BFFs!” is the closest I can ever be to Caio.
“Ten minutes,” he says, snapping his fingers and checking his phone.
“Huh?” I’m confused.
“The ten minutes are up. Twelve, in fact. Congratulations, Mr. Felipe, you’ve just completed your challenge!” he announces in a voice that, as far as I can tell, is supposed to sound like Olivia’s.
It becomes immediately clear that he’s never gone to therapy in his life, because he thinks therapists call their patients Mr.
“Yeah, seems like it,” I say, and decide not to correct him in this instance.
“But you don’t have to go quiet again. We can keep talking.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. We can. We can talk so much. The whole day. If you want to, I don’t know. If it’s not boring to spend an entire day just talking to me,” I say, getting lost in my senseless words.
“I have an idea!” He starts texting someone on his phone. “I’m talking to Becky, and she wants to meet you! Do you want to go out today?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I say, because I really don’t.
And also because I don’t really know how to process the information that Becky wants to meet me. Nobody has ever wanted to meet me of their own free will. I’m usually just a consequence in people’s lives. Never a choice.
“Please, let’s do it! I helped you with the ten-minute conversation, and you owe me a reward!” Caio goes for a low blow, using his abandoned-puppy face on me, and I say yes.
Who could say no to Caio’s abandoned-puppy face?
When I agree to go out with him and Becky, Caio jumps up to go shower.
“Thanks. Your place is great and all, but I can’t take being cooped up in here the entire time,” he says with a short laugh, then leaves the room.
I let out a deep breath and, as usual, start a mental list of all the things that could possibly go wrong today.
My mom starts jumping up and down with happiness when I tell her Caio and I are getting lunch at the mall. For real. She’s literally JUMPING.
“I have two commissions for paintings that I need to finish today, and all I need is a quiet house. Take your time. Have fun, boys!” she says, handing me her credit card and giving me a kiss on the forehead.
And she also plants one on Caio’s forehead, which I find funny. It seems like she’s really taking the whole “I got myself a second son” thing seriously. Today it’s chilly, and I love chilly days. I’m wearing a black sweatshirt with pockets in front, which is great because as soon as we get into the elevator, Caio and I both try to press the button for the lobby at the same time. He presses it first, our hands knock into each other, and I end up hitting the button for the second floor by mistake. I have no idea what to do with my hands.
I quickly shove them both in my pockets and Caio laughs, because when I do that, my elbow hits the first-floor button. I laugh, embarrassed, and feel my face go red, and the two of us appreciate in silence this never-ending elevator ride, stopping at every floor on the way down.
We’re meeting up with Becky at the mall, which, just like most things in this town, is around the corner from where I live. One of the advantages of small-town life. Everything is nearby, so you can get anywhere very quickly.
To be honest, this might be the only advantage of living in a small town.
The walk is only a few minutes long, but I don’t want them to be filled by awkward silence. I’m determined to eliminate all awkward silences from my friendship with Caio. I ask how he and Becky know each other, more so to avoid the silence than out of curiosity. But that changes the second I see Caio’s face brighten as he starts talking about his friend. At that moment, I want to hear everything he has to say.
“We’ve been going to the same school since fifth grade, but she’s a year older, so we’ve never been in the same class. She once defended me from some older guys who were giving me crap between periods, and from then on, we started hanging out.”
I catch myself wondering if Caio is bullied in school, too. As well as the reasons for why people would do that. And how he’s handled it. I want to ask him about all that, but I don’t want to interrupt the story he’s telling, now more excitedly than before:
“When I was in eighth grade and Becky was in ninth, she told me to meet up with her after class somewhere far from school, because she had something serious to tell me. At the time, I was scared, y’know? I was afraid she was gonna tell me she was in love with me and ask for a kiss. Back then, I was already sure I was gay, and at the same time, I didn’t want to hurt her. After school, we went to the park downtown together and sat on a secluded bench to talk. She was all shy, didn’t know how to start the subject, and I started feeling anxious.”
Caio is an excellent storyteller, because at this point, I’m also feeling anxious.
“Suddenly, I pulled my notebook from my backpack and then told her to write down what she wanted to say, because that way might be easier. She grabbed the notebook from my hand, pulled out a pen from her backpack, and started writing. She crossed out three things until she was satisfied with what she’d written. Then she ripped out the tiny piece of paper, folded it in half, handed it my way, and turned her back to me. I opened the note, and it said I like girls. And I remember that in that moment I had to hold back a shout. Then I grabbed the pen and wrote I like boys right underneath it and handed it back to her from over her shoulder. She read it, let out a relieved sigh, turned back to me, and said she’d always known. Becky was the first person I told I was gay, and ever since then we’ve been best friends. It was easier when we got to see each other every day, but, you know, she’s older. She graduated last year, went to college, started dating, and barely has time for me anymore.”