I was distracted. I was struggling to reconcile the feelings I had for Jeremy with the reality of our situation. I had half convinced myself that maybe things would work out in the end, but in reality, it was a lost cause. Ever since that day in the kitchen, I had begun to see Jeremy in a new light. It was one thing hearing from his dad about how lonely he seemed to be; it was another thing to witness it up close. Jeremy tended to put on a brave face, but he had seemed so damn comfortable in his skin at the Auster house, and who the fuck was I to put anything on top of that?
Besides, I told myself, having someone as a friend was so much more important than letting something like feelings ruin it. Even though he never really said as much—not in so many words—I thought Jeremy needed people like us.
By the time he left the house the day of the barbecue, he had Matty and Larry and Nana’s phone numbers programmed into his phone. They had random text threads going on, some that I was involved in and some I wasn’t. I thought initially I’d be jealous (of whom, I didn’t know), and maybe I was. A little bit, at least. But then I’d see the horrified expression on his face when Nana texted him, trying to convince him to commit this or that felony with her, and I realized that I had no reason to be jealous.
He needed us as much as we needed him.
It was easier to make it we instead of I.
Mostly.
ON THE second day of the Republican National Convention, Donald J. Trump accepted the Republican nomination for President of the United States.
We were numb as we watched his seventy-five-minute speech where people in the audience began to shout about building a goddamn wall and he smiled his smug-ass grin like he was just fucking soaking it up. I thought maybe it hit us a little harder, given that we lived in a border state and knew people who had risked their lives to cross the desert. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for Diego’s family and people like them.
Toward the end of his speech, Cheeto said, “As your president, I will do everything in my power to protect our LBGTQ citizens from the violence and oppression of a hateful ideology.” The irony was not lost on any of us as Mike Pence looked on.
“What the fuck?” Sandy muttered, sounding shell-shocked.
We were sitting in the living room at our house. I was again on the floor, lying against Darren, who was up on the couch with Sandy. Paul and Vince were supposed to have come over, but Paul had texted, saying he didn’t think they were going to make it. It had been followed by a bunch of expletives and angry emojis, so I could understand why. I felt like crawling into my own bed and pulling my covers over my head.
“He won’t win,” Darren said to Sandy. “I mean, Christ. People aren’t that fucking stupid.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” I said darkly. “We got to this moment, didn’t we? Rich white people. They’re all the fucking same.”
“I don’t know if that’s fair,” Darren said slowly. “Not all—”
I leaned my head back on his knees, smiling sweetly up at him. “You really want to go the not all route? Really? Really?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I realized how that sounded as soon as I said it. And it’s not like I can really argue against it. My father is Andrew Taylor, after all. If he wasn’t getting ready for his criminal trial, I’m sure he’d be celebrating.”
I felt bad. I kept forgetting that if anyone could understand the shitstorm that was brewing, it would be Darren and Vince. Andrew Taylor was the definition of everything wrong with the world, a white man in power with seemingly unlimited resources. The fact that he wasn’t currently sitting in jail spoke of his reach, having had the funds to bail himself out while waiting for his trial to begin. While we didn’t think Darren and Vince would be part of the trial, they were still bothered every now and then by a phone call or email from a reporter asking for a quote on their father. It wasn’t as bad as it was when he was first arrested, but it’d probably pick up again the closer his trial got.
My phone buzzed in my lap. I looked down at it to see a text from Jeremy.
You watching this?
Yeah. Fucking assholes.
I know. We’re going to have to talk to the kids tomorrow. They’re going to have questions. Marina wanted to have a meeting at some point too, either Thurs or Fri.
That doesn’t sound good.
We’ll figure it out. You guys all right?
I looked back at Darren and Sandy. Sandy was pale, his hands clutched in fists in his lap. Darren had his hand on the back of Sandy’s neck, squeezing gently. On the television, pundits were shouting over each other, praising and damning the speech we’d just heard. It was chaos.
“I’m going to bed,” I muttered. “Tomorrow is going to suck.”
“All right,” Sandy said, distracted.
“Night,” Darren said.
As soon as I’d closed the door to my room, I called Jeremy.
He answered on the second ring. “Dad?
?s pissed. Says he didn’t fight for the life he lives for as long as he has for something like this to happen.”