Adam (10 page)

“Why did you guys break up?”

Ethan stared at the blank wall behind his computer and shook his head. “Shit happens, right?”

Adam nodded, as if he'd been through it, too. He was getting a little self-conscious about all the nodding.

“So what about you?” asked Ethan. “You got a girlfriend . . . boyfriend?”

“I was kinda dating this girl at school,” said Adam. (He had been at Kelsey Winslow's house . . . that counted as dating.) “But, you know, shit didn't work out.”

Ethan nodded. “You're gonna meet a girl here in New York. Bet you anything.”

Adam looked down and smiled. He considered for a second telling Ethan about the redheaded girl he'd seen in his mind on the plane but decided it sounded too weird. There had been a couple more false alarms. A girl on the subway. A girl at the 99 Cent Store. But he still hadn't met her.

“Yeah, I just gotta figure out where to meet them . . .”

“That was pretty sad watching June leave with that Internet girl and the Caseys,” said Ethan.

Adam laughed.

Ethan continued, “I know people who have met online and it's cool and they're happy and all, but when someone goes on an Internet date and the person sucks, it's just so much more depressing.”

“June is depressing,” said Adam.

Ethan laughed really loud and Adam beamed. “Oh, man,” said Ethan, “she and your sister have got some weird S & M thing going on. It's like June
likes
torturing herself.”

“I know!” said Adam. He paused for a moment and looked down at his jeans, picked casually at a stray thread. “So, like . . . what do you think of Boy Casey?”

Ethan snorted.

Adam gave a tentative smile. “He's, like, kind of annoying . . .”

“He's just young . . .” said Ethan. Which was weird, since Ethan was twenty-one and Boy Casey was twenty-three.

“He's always looking at himself in the mirror,” said Adam, “and making me take all these pictures of him and Casey. All he and Casey ever talk about is
him.
”

“He'll grow out of it,” said Ethan. “Now get out of here—I gotta get back to work.” He smiled at Adam and punched him in the shoulder, just like he had done during
Touch of Evil.
Adam grinned and punched him back.

***

It was around 2:00
A.M.
that night, and Adam was cocooned in his bed, having just fallen asleep, when he heard Casey and Boy Casey come home. They were drunk and talking loudly. He didn't hear June's voice. She must have gone home with Ugly.

 

BOY CASEY:
“I'm hungry!”

CASEY:
“Les get some cereal!”

 

There was some crashing in the kitchen.

 

BOY CASEY:
“First I wanna fuck you, you look so fucking hot.”

CASEY:
“Aaah! Not on the futon! Adam an' Ethan!”

BOY CASEY:
“They're sleeping! Shhh! Come on . . . I'm pgkjgdkjkf . . .”

 

What did he say?

 

CASEY:
“I love it when you pack.”

BOY CASEY:
“Uhhn, that feels good.”

CASEY:
“Lemme suck on it.”

BOY CASEY:
“Yeah . . . suck it. All of it.”

CASEY:
“C'mon, les go in my room.”

BOY CASEY:
“You gonna let me fuck your ass?”

 

*SHUT*

Silence. Adam looked from side to side in the dark, needing a witness—
someone
to acknowledge what had just happened. His mind was swimming. What had Casey been sucking on? The rubber dick? Like Sam had? Boy Casey must have one too. He did
not
want to imagine what was going on in Casey's room right now. Fuck. He was never going to fall back asleep.
Think about something else. Anything.
He shifted onto his right side. Then onto his back. His room felt unbearably hot. He needed to splash some water on his face.

Adam creaked his door open and stepped softly into the front room. He really was going to go to the bathroom, but then heard muffled voices coming from Casey's closed door. He took a cautious step closer to her room. It was Boy Casey.

 

BOY CASEY:
“I told you. No.”

CASEY:
“Why not?”

BOY CASEY:
“I'm just not jkrjkll.”

CASEY:
“But I want to lkjlkjslk.”

 

Then there was nothing. Adam stayed poised, hovered between Casey's door and the bathroom. They could burst out at any moment.
“What are you doing here??”
He would pivot.
“I'm going to the bathroom, Jesus.”
Then:

 

BOY CASEY:
“I hate my bkjhjhjk.”

 

Another silence.

 

CASEY:
“But I like it . . . I lhjhkh it . . .”

 

“I hate it.” Boy Casey's voice was icy dark. Adam had never heard him sound like that before. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his ears to open wider.

Casey's door swung open. Boy Casey stared at Adam.

“Oh, sorry, just . . . bathroom,” said Adam.

“That's cool, you can go first,” said Boy Casey. He was wearing boxer shorts and no shirt. Adam had never seen him without his shirt before. He instinctively looked down at Boy Casey's chest, not sure what to expect. It looked mostly like a guy's chest, but was sort of loose and droopy, and through the dark Adam could make out two curved scars, one under each nipple. Boy Casey's hips bulged out of his boxers. They looked womanly. Like Adam's mom's body. Adam whipped around and went back to his room, forgetting all about the bathroom. He closed the door, and in the safe, still dark of his room, he tenderly ran his hand over his own smooth flat chest.

FRIDAY NIGHT AND
everyone was going out to a club called The Hole. The Hole was in “The City,” which was what you called Manhattan if you lived in Brooklyn. Casey and June were really excited about The Hole, and for some reason Ethan had decided not to stay in his room looking at Rachel on the computer screen and instead go with them.

“It's not like I'm gonna
date
anyone, but, whatever, I could hook up with a girl . . .” said Ethan.

“So this is, like, a straight club?” Adam asked. He couldn't believe it, they were finally all going out to a straight club. It was actually happening.

“Why the fuck would we go to a straight club?” said June.

Right. Of course.
Well, if Ethan was going, that was good enough for Adam. He didn't even care where they were going. It was him and Ethan, out in the city, looking for action.

Everyone wanted to take a shower before they went out, which was a problem, since the bathtub had stopped draining a few days after they moved in. It would eventually drain; it just took about five hours. If you wanted to take a shower right after someone, you had to stand in their scummy water. The tub was some varying degree of cesspool throughout the day.

“Ugh! Those fucking hebes!” said June. They were arguing over who got to take the first shower.

“I know,” said Casey. “I've been calling them, like, every day since it stopped. They keep telling me someone's on their way to fix it, and then no one shows up.”

“They don't care about anyone who isn't Hasidic,” said June. “There's probably lead in the walls, too.” June glanced around the apartment, as if she realized a bomb could be lurking in any corner.

“I say oldest gets to shower first,” said Ethan.

“Second oldest second!” said Casey.

“Fine,” said June. “I'm next.”
Thrilled
to get to shower in Casey's filth.

“Wait, that's not fair,” said Adam.

Everyone ignored him.

While Ethan was in the shower, Casey's cell rang. Their mom always called Casey first. Casey chattered away on her bed until Ethan came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and Casey handed the phone to Adam.

“Casey just told me all about her new boyfriend!” his mom said, as though in the throes of religious rapture.

“Uh, yeah, I've met him,” said Adam.

“Is he just marvelous? Is he wonderful?” she said.

“Not really,” said Adam.

“Oh, how wonderful,” said his mom. She then moved on to how the roots of their neighbors' bamboo plant were growing on their property from under the fence, and their dad had had words with the neighbors, but they hadn't cut the bamboo down, and legal action might need to be taken . . . and then they hung up.

By the time it was Adam's turn for a shower, the brown, oily water was sloshing out the sides of the tub.
Whatever
, he thought, naked and stepping in. He was going out to a club in the city with Ethan to look for girls, and a little flare of excitement sparked inside him. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let the fresh spray hit his face.

***

Adam, Casey, June, and Ethan walked down Bushwick Avenue to Boy Casey's apartment, where everyone was meeting to “pregame” before The Hole. A few of Boy Casey's best friends were going to be there, and Casey was nervous.

“He's always telling me how important his bros are,” said Casey. “What if they don't like me?”

“Why wouldn't they like you?” said June.

“I don't know. Why would they?”

“Because you're funny and smart and beautiful and—”

“I know. But they're all so
cool.
”

“We're cool!” said June.

But everyone knew she didn't believe it.

“I don't know, he seems pretty into you, to me,” said Adam.

Casey smiled at him. The good thing about spending 75 percent of your time insulting someone is that if you do actually say something nice, it counts.

They got to the apartment, and Casey rang the buzzer. She applied lip gloss and tugged the collar of her V-neck T-shirt down lower.

“Come up,” said Boy Casey over the intercom.

Boy Casey's apartment was full of
Star Wars
paraphernalia:
Star Wars
posters on the wall, pillows on the couch, and a giant R2-D2 model in the corner.

“I guess you hate
Star Wars
,” said Ethan.

“
Star Wars
is my jam,” said Boy Casey. “You guys want some beer?” He gestured to the couch. “You know Schuyler, and that's Jimmy.”

Schuyler and Jimmy were watching skateboarding on TV. Schuyler didn't bother to look over at them, but Jimmy cocked his head.

“Whassup.” Jimmy was wearing a crisp Orioles hat tilted to the side, his tiny body engulfed in a baggy T-shirt and baggy jeans stuffed into puffy, colorful Nikes. Adam recognized a PSP sticking out of his jeans pocket.
How old was this guy?

“Uhhhn,
brutal
,” said Jimmy, as a skater wiped out. The skater had bit it on a rail slide. “You know that's gotta hurt.” Jimmy grabbed his crotch.

Boy Casey handed out beers. He sat down on a sofa chair and patted his lap for Casey. Casey perched on his knee. Adam could tell she was uncomfortable but didn't know what to do. Ethan took the other free chair, and Adam and June sat down on the floor.

“Yo, Jimmy, kill the TV,” said Boy Casey. “Put on some tunes.”

“Man,”
said Jimmy in a whiny voice. He did some things with the remotes, and emo music started playing.

“Man, I had a shit day,” said Boy Casey, taking a swig. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Just work,” said Casey. It was awkward because she turned her head to answer his question, but her face was already right next to his.

“I'm at Cooper Square Comics,” said June.

“I need some new comics,” said Boy Casey.

“Can you hook us up?” asked Jimmy.

“Well, not really . . .” said June. “We don't get, like, a discount . . . but you guys could come say ‘hi,' if you wanted. I work Tuesdays, Thursdays, and—”

“Work's a cunt,” said Boy Casey. “I hate my job.”

“I thought you liked the MoMA?” said Casey, turning her head at that awkward angle again.

“I like
art
,” said Boy Casey. “I don't like people.”

“Where do you work?” Schuyler asked Casey.

“At the YMCA day camp in Bed-Stuy,” said Casey. “Oh my god, today this little girl—it was the sweetest thing. I was working with the kindergarten group, and everyone was doing free play—just drawing or playing with whatever game they wanted. And this one kind of pudgy girl, Elizabeth, had this handful of shells, and she kept walking around to every group of kids saying, ‘Who wants to play with shells? Who wants to play with shells?' But nobody wanted to play with shells. I almost died.”

“I hated camp when I was a kid,” said Boy Casey. “Capture the Flag! Red Rover, Red Rover! That shit was not for me.”

Adam and Ethan exchanged a glance. Adam looked down and smiled to himself. He wished he and Ethan could talk telepathically:
Ten dollars says Boy Casey can't go two minutes without bringing the conversation back to himself.

“What do you do?” June asked Jimmy.

“I sell weed. Four years of college, stamped on that ass, and I'm sellin' weed.” Jimmy grinned and slapped himself on the ass.