The Truth About Faking

The caramel clings to the edges of my cup, and I think of how he and Stephanie had always looked way intense. I remember them holding hands and leaning against her locker, her smiling up in his face, their noses almost touching. It was a sight that used to make me ache with longing.
    Stephanie Miller would never spend that much time in a platonic relationship. At least, I don’t think she would. I take another sip and look back up at him. He’s finished the shortbread and almost his coffee, too. Then he glances up at me and smiles.
    “What?” he says.
    I realize I’m staring and look down. “Back on Sunday you wanted to talk,” I say. “What about?”
    He swirls his cup a few seconds then puts it down. “I wish we could go somewhere else first.”
    I study my half-drunk beverage and decide I’m finished. “This was really good, but I feel full all of a sudden. Or I’ve had enough.”
    His blue eyes move from my hand to my face, and then meet my eyes. Something is very open and vulnerable in his expression. He’s like a little boy who just saw something super-scary or something he really wants to do. I can’t tell which it is. Maybe both?
    He reaches across the table and I take his hand. We walk out to our cars, and he says he’ll follow me to my house. I shrug and agree, and once we’re there, he meets me on our front steps.
    “Would you walk with me?” he asks. “This is a nice neighborhood for walking.”
    I glance up the street at the quiet sidewalks and dim yellow streetlights. I’ve never really thought about it, but it’s true.
    “Sure,” I say. We start walking in the direction of the newer houses, in the direction of the creek. He never takes my hand, so I cross one arm over my waist as I look ahead. His phone buzzes again softly.
    “You think that’s something urgent?” I ask nodding toward his pocket.
    “Huh?” At least he pretends not to know what the strange sound is. “Oh… No. It’s just a friend.”
    “The same friend who was texting you at the movie?”
    “You saw that?”
    “Mm hm.”
    We’re quiet again, walking, but I’m growing tired of this. “So is it a girlfriend?”
    “Huh?”
    “The texting?”
    “Oh, no. No,” he looks down. “It’s just this guy.” In the dim light I swear I see his face turn pink. “I mean… yeah,” he continues, like he’s just learning to speak English. “This guy. He’s always forwarding funny jokes and stuff.”
    “A guy?” I ask. “Is it somebody I know?”
    “Uh… no.” Trent seems nervous for the first time all night, and I feel that wave of something coming. The same something I felt in the coffee shop.
    “I like jokes,” I say, trying to ease the tension. “Read me one.”
    “Oh, well… it’s not something you’d get.”
    “Too dirty?” I smile.
    “No, it’s not that. It’s just inside stuff. You know.”
    I don’t, but I don’t question him.
    “I thought maybe it was Stephanie.”
    “Stephanie? Why would she be texting me?”
    “Oh you know, because you guys dated and… well, she asked about you.”
    “What did she say?”
    “Nothing, really.” I try to remember what she did say. “She just asked if we were going out again. That’s all.”
    He seems to relax at that. We’d turned while we were walking, and now we’re back at my house again standing by his car.
    “Harley,” he starts then stops. He reaches forward and lifts the door handle, holding it open for me. “Can I talk to you just a little bit more?”
    “Sure.” I shrug and get in the car. He runs around and gets in, too, but he doesn’t start the engine. Instead he faces me. Then he turns away again. Then he takes a deep breath and faces me again.
    “You know that thing about your mom?” he starts. “What did you think about that?”
    “What?” His behavior is so bizarre, I don’t understand the question.
    “I mean the thing with Ricky and all. What did you think?”
    “You mean about whether my mom and Ricky were having an affair? I was humiliated. And scared. And mad—”
    “Not that,” he interrupts. Then his voice drops. “I mean, about him saying he’s gay.”
    I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
    It’s true. I’ve thought a lot about my mom, and I’ve been angry with her for choosing loyalty to Ricky over Dad and me. But I haven’t really thought much about the other part of the story. Other than how Ricky’s revelation also outed Mrs. Perkins.
    “What if…”