His next question caught me off guard. “What’s your vice, Rana?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like smoking is a vice. So is drinking. Do you drink a lot?”
“Not as much as you might think based on how we first reconnected. But I do use alcohol to calm myself after a long day sometimes. I don’t consider it to be a problem because I can take it or leave it. Is smoking your only vice?”
“Smoking, yeah…and sometimes sex. But you already knew that from our heated discussion the other day.”
Well, okay, then.
I suddenly felt like prying. “I obviously know you have casual sex, but do you sleep around a lot? Is it like a different girl every night?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“I don’t typically have sex with more than one woman at once. But I also don’t do long-term relationships, or at least I haven’t found anyone I want that with. So, generally the turnaround is high. But it’s not a new girl every night, no. Fuck that. That would be exhausting.” He laughed. “Okay, Miss Nosey, what about you? When was the last time you let anyone near you?”
I haven’t had sex since I was a teenager. But I won’t admit that to you.
“You could say I’m going through a dry spell.”
“Well, I suppose online dating would be difficult without a photo.”
“Yes, wiseass, it is.”
“So, where do you meet men?”
I don’t.
My silence caused him to theorize.
“Are you gay, Rana?”
“What? No. Why do you think that?”
“It just hit me that I’ve been assuming you like men, but come to think of it, in all of my memories of you, you were…” he hesitated.
“Like a boy.”
“Yes.”
“I looked like a boy because my mother took me to a bad hairdresser, but I’m definitely hetero.”
“Ah…well, I figured I’d ask.”
It sounded like he was blowing out smoke.
“Are you smoking now?”
“Yes.”
“That stuff will kill you.”
“So will psychopath roommates named Lenny. Doesn’t mean you’ve quit him.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
He changed the subject. “Your mother…you said she’s living in Ohio?”
“Why did you bring her up? I don’t like to talk about her.”
“I can tell. I have mommy issues, too, so you’re not alone.”
“Yeah, like I said, I haven’t seen her in a decade. She’s probably still stealing clothes. I don’t care.”
“You say that, but you do. You do care, Rana. I know that lie because I try to tell myself the same thing all the time.”
Despite the distance between us, Landon definitely had the ability to read me. He was quiet, and that somehow served as my cue to open up a bit more.
“She just never wanted to be a mother, you know? She took it out on my father, took it out on me. She was like a rebellious, older sister instead of a parent. She used to tell me I looked just like my dad, which was her way of saying I was ugly, because I knew she wasn’t attracted to him. The fucked-up thing is…I still idolized her. Any small bit of attention she gave me never went unnoticed. And I see a lot of her in me now. Those are typically the things I hate about myself.”
When he didn’t immediately respond, I worried I had freaked him out with my openness.
“Your mother’s a bitch. She didn’t deserve you. I hope you realize that.”
His words were harsh, but they comforted me.
“Okay…I opened up about my mother. Now tell me about yours—your birth mother. You said you moved to Cali to find her.”
His lighter clicked before he blew into the phone again. “I never met her. It was too late. By the time I located her whereabouts, my research led me straight to a graveyard. So, I never did actually get to know her. A lot of my questions have unfortunately been left unresolved.”
I felt absolutely devastated for him.
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed, afraid to ask, “What happened to her?”
“My birth mother was a drug addict. She didn’t think she could take care of me. It was how I ended up with my other parents.”
“Do you feel like moving out there was all in vain?”
“No, I still feel like it was meant to be. I was very lost when I first came to California. Life had a lot of lessons for me to learn, and I guess they were meant to happen here.” I could hear him inhale the smoke and exhale. “Okay, this is getting too deep. Quick. Tell me something funny.”
Think.
Think.
Oh!
“You know the song I Miss You by Blink 182?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, for the longest time I used to think it was actually called The Voice Inside My Ass because of that part of the chorus where he talks about the voice inside his head. He was saying ‘head’ not ‘ass.’ But it sounded like ‘ass’ to me. Always thought that was a weird title until I figured out the truth.”
Landon began to laugh hysterically. “What in the ever-living fuck? The stuff that comes out of your mouth sometimes…” When he finally calmed down, he sighed. “You say the weirdest shit and you’re a mystery…but you’re good for my soul, Rana.”
That night, I went to bed with a huge smile on my face, even though I couldn’t sleep. With each conversation we’d had, I felt more and more connected to him.
Since insomnia was winning out, I got up from bed and ventured into my closet to read another one of Landon’s old notes. This one was kind of ironic.
Rana Banana,
Sometimes when I think of you, I laugh for no reason and I can’t help it.
Landon
P.S. But today it happened at my grandfather’s funeral, and my dad got really mad.
CRAZY EYES
Lilith passed the basketball to me. “How’s your boyfriend?”
I threw it back with more force. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
She caught it then dribbled the ball before shooting it into the hoop. “You seem happy.”
“I guess, I am happier lately.”
Lilith stood there with the ball tucked under her arm as she just observed me and smiled. Her glasses slid down her nose, and she used her index finger to prop them back up. I swore that kid could see right through me.
Taking out my phone, I said, “Come here. Check this out.” I pulled up Landon’s lunch truck app. “This is his lunch truck. This lets you see where he is at any given time. Isn’t that so cool?”
She didn’t seem as interested in the app as I was. “So, it’s like an app for stalkers?”
“No…well, I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Is he handsome?”
“Yes…really handsome.” I sort of felt like a preteen gushing to her.
“So, why don’t you want him to be your boyfriend?”
Unsure of how to explain my messed-up head to a ten-year-old, I chose to keep my response simple.
“I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“Boyfriends make life complicated.”
“Well, I want one.”
“You’re way too young, so don’t even think about it.”
“I hope I can be pretty like you when I get old enough to have a boyfriend.”
Hearing her say that sliced at my heart. “You are pretty. Don’t ever let anyone lead you to believe otherwise.”