Our Year of Maybe

ed around a little.

I try to stop myself from picturing Chase and this mystery boy. On top of this mystery boy. Underneath him. Chase pinning Mystery Boy up against a wall, his mouth on Mystery Boy’s neck.

Yeah, I can’t really stop.

“I’m sorry,” I say, but Chase shrugs, slowing down as he turns into my neighborhood.

“It’s okay. Your first boyfriend—or girlfriend—is supposed to break your heart. That’s what my mom said. But mine’s completely repaired now. No sympathy needed.”

Chase parks in front of my house.

“This was fun,” I say, unclicking my seat belt. I’m both eager to get out of the stuffy car and into the cold and wishing the night weren’t over yet. “Thanks.”

Before I get out, he leans over the console. My entire body tenses as he says low into my ear, “You know, now that you’re sure you’re gonna be alive for a while, you should try kissing more people.”

Then, as quickly as he leaned over, he’s back in the driver’s seat.

I can still feel his breath on my ear. My neck.

I’m too stunned to reply. I open the door, and I think—God, I hope—I say good-bye. I hope I wave. Dazed, I walk up to my house, fumbling with my keys. It takes a few tries to actually fit them in the lock.

I’m surprised to find my mom not on the couch with her laptop, but in the kitchen with Sophie’s mom, a bottle of wine between them.

“Peter!” my mom calls out, and then bursts into giggles. “We were just talking about you!”

Giggles. I can’t remember the last time I heard my mother giggle.

My mom is drunk with Sophie’s mom. Oh my God.

“Did you have a good time?” Becki asks, and then it’s her turn to start laughing. Her cheeks are tomato red.

“Clearly not as good a time as you two. What’s so funny?”

My mom waves a hand. I notice Becki’s nails match hers, wonder if they got them done together. “Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Great. I’ll be upstairs.”

Becki flings an arm out as though to grab for me. “No, Peter. Stay with us! We’re fun!”

They break down laughing again, and while it’s mortifying, I’m also happy to see my mom enjoying herself like this. Has the transplant given my parents permission to have fun again? Have they deprived themselves for all these years because of me?

I race to my room, where I shut and lock the door. Then I wipe the mothers from my mind.

Hooked up. Made out. Fooled around a little. Those words, in Chase’s voice, are on an infinite loop inside my mind. You should try kissing more people Alive. Alive. Alive.

Lying next to Chase in the dark earlier, it felt like all my cells were on high alert. I wanted to tug him close to me. Line my body up against his, or on top of his, or under his. I’m not picky.

I turn on some music. Pink Floyd. My coat zipper might be stuck, but my jeans zipper goes down easily.

It’s not that I never got turned on when I was sick, but whenever I tried to jerk off, I could rarely finish. I couldn’t do this most basic thing my body desperately wanted me to do. I was too embarrassed to talk about it with my parents, so I googled it and learned kidney failure could cause “sexual dysfunction” in addition to the 4,268,314 other things it affected.

Things seem to be functioning pretty well right now.

Later, when I drift off to sleep, I dream about the Beatles and Pink Floyd and lights on the ceiling. Chase’s eyes. Chase’s hands. Chase’s mouth.

CHAPTER 19

SOPHIE