Romeo for Real Read online

  Romeo for Real

  Markus Harwood-Jones

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers

  Toronto

  For you.

  01

  Sweet Victory

  Smoke trickled out of the car into the night air. It followed the sounds of three young men’s voices as they cruised the street. It was Friday night, and they were winners.

  “Coach almost blew it,” said Ben as he tossed a cigarette butt out the driver-side window. “Should have had me guarding 22 for the whole game.”

  “Did you see the look on his face at the buzzer?” Marty grinned from ear to ear. “I swear, he was gonna cry!”

  Ben took a quick glance over his shoulder and changed lanes. “That guy’s gotta learn to have a little faith. Oh, and Rome, that was a nice three-pointer you stuck in at the end.”

  “Thanks.” Rome leaned back. “For a sec I thought I’d short-armed it. The guy’s hand was right in my face. Thanks for the pass.”

  The car slowed as Ben eased into the fast-food drive-through. “It’s what I do.” He laughed. “That and give nightmares to sissies like 22!”

  Still leaning into the back seat, Rome watched his friends and sighed. Ben was lazily resting one hand on the wheel. Marty pulled on a joint in the front seat, laughing loudly. His braces made his grin glint silver. Remember this moment, Rome told himself. This is the one you want to hold on to.

  This was it. Every drop of sweat and extra hour of practice had been worth it. Now there was no doubt their team would go down in high-school history. They had the matching team jackets, a new banner for the gym, and class rings glittering on their fingers. Rome tried to smile. He couldn’t figure out why his eyes were welling up instead. Must be the smoke, he figured. He wiped his face with his sleeve before his friends could see.

  A shaky voice from the drive-through speaker asked for their order.

  “What do you want?” Ben asked, leaning back to catch Rome’s answer. Rome just shrugged.

  “Fine, you’ll have what I’m having,” Ben decided. He turned to the speaker. “Two double cheeseburger combos, extra ketchup.”

  “And a fish burger!” added Marty with a shout.

  “Fish burgers are gay,” Ben teased as he pulled around to pay.

  “Screw you,” Marty barked back. “They’re not gay, they’re kosher, dickhead.”

  At the window, a bored-looking brunette waited with their food and drinks. Ben gave her a wink and said, “And how much to take you home?”

  Her face remained blank as she passed over their meals.

  As they sped away, Ben flashed a smile. “She was totally into me.”

  “Yeah, right,” laughed Marty. Rome noticed he already had bits of fish burger caught in his braces. “Pretty sure it was me she was scoping.”

  Rome reached forward and plucked the joint from Marty’s fingers. He silently judged his friends. I swear, any time we’re around a cute girl these two just lose their heads. Grow up already, guys.

  The window was open a crack, and Rome could feel a touch of cool air. As they passed over the bridge he watched the Winnipeg skyline and the dark waters of the Red River swirling below. His head began to feel fluffy, his thoughts looser. A smile crept to his lips.

  “Thanks for the food, Ben,” Rome said, unwrapping his burger.

  “Anytime,” Ben replied.

  Rome bit into his burger and let his mind slip away. He soaked in the mindless chatter of the evening. Marty and Ben told and retold details of their own athletic feats. They relived every moment of the last game, then went over the whole season.

  “You remember that bank shot I made back in first year?” Ben bragged.

  Marty rolled his eyes. “You were a total bricklayer back then.”

  “First day of PE,” Ben continued, as if Marty hadn’t said a word. “That’s when Coach told me I was his first choice for power forward.”

  “That’s bull!” Marty groaned. “You were benched most of first year, just like the rest of us!”

  “I threw off my ankle, right before the first game,” Ben replied lightly. “But Coach said he wanted me at his side, even if I couldn’t play.”

  “As if!” Marty laughed.

  The two bickered, their stories becoming as repetitive as the scenery. Squat apartment blocks, dollar stores, fast-food joints, and laundromats ran up and down the streets off St. Mary’s Road. Rome looked up at the empty, overcast night sky, then down at his class ring, which shimmered in the city’s bright lights. This is it, he thought. This is the last time it’ll ever be like this.

  Marty’s voice broke into Rome’s thoughts. Prodding his knee, “What you daydreaming about back there?” Marty asked, prodding his knee.

  “What is he ever thinking about? I bet it’s Rosie again, isn’t it?” Ben teased. He caught Rome’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “Bet you’re gonna get it tonight, eh, buddy?”

  Rome felt himself start to grow red. Damn, why did he have to blush so easily? He ran a hand through his thick hair.

  “Where was she tonight, anyway?” asked Marty.

  Rome coughed and tried to find his words. “She, uh, actually —” But before he could say any more, Rome was interrupted. Ben waved to get his friends’ attention and pointed to some people on the sidewalk.

  “Check it out,” Ben said in a loud whisper. “Couple of body-builder butt-munchers!”

  Rome followed his friend’s gaze and spied two massive guys, both bald. They wore tight-fitting black tank tops and walked side by side. They would have been relatively uninteresting if it wasn’t for one fact — they were holding hands! Marty started to giggle at the sight. But Ben didn’t look so pleased. When the car pulled up to a red light, the couple were barely a stone’s throw away, and getting closer.

  Ben got a wicked look. He motioned for Rome to pass up his fast-food trash. “Watch this,” Ben grinned. He crumpled up their used napkins, wrappers, and empty bags. He told Marty to take the lid off his pop and dipped it all in.

  Rome played along, welcoming the distraction. He leaned out the back window to whistle. “Hey, boys!”

  As the two large men turned their heads, Ben pelted them with the wads of sticky paper. Following suit, Marty grabbed his drink and threw it in the couple’s direction. All three boys in the car laughed as the cup exploded over the men in a marvellous sticky mess. They sped away as the light turned green, squealing off into the night.

  Rome’s laughter was just as loud as Marty’s and Ben’s. But it left a foul taste in his mouth. His stomach began to clench, and his hands grew sweaty. Catholic brainwashing, I guess, he thought. Always feeling guilty for having fun.

  Rome stuck his head into the cool breeze coming through the window. He let the lights of the city blur together. A sigh escaped him and was swallowed up by the rush of air. Feeling teary again, he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t break down — not tonight. This was a night to celebrate, to make memories that would last a lifetime. He would not let himself ruin it.

  02

  Sloppy Seconds

  Rome pushed the fries around in his half-eaten poutine. What’s wrong with me? he scolded himself as he munched on the chunky cheese curds. Why couldn’t I just love her? The words were caught in his mind like a bad song stuck on repeat. He shook his head, glaring down at his food like it was somehow responsible.

  A hand reached out and nabbed a fry. It snapped Rome out of his sulking stupor. “Mornin’, bro.”

  “Is it still that early?” Rome moaned. He didn’t bother to look up.

  As Ben sat down across from Rome in the diner booth, he re
ached for another helping of his food.

  “Dude, it’s noon. Have you been here all day? These fries are cold!” Ben shovelled Rome’s second-hand fries into his mouth. “What’s up, man? Stuff going on with you and Rosie?”

  “More like lack thereof . . .” Rome mumbled. He watched the grey clouds outside the dirty diner window as they slowly worked their way across the wide-open Winnipeg sky. He’ll never understand, thought Rome. Not now, not after all this time. But I have to tell him something.

  Ben raised his eyebrows.

  Finally, after a long silence, Rome spoke. He kept his gaze fixed on the window. “Apparently, I’m not her ‘type.’” He felt his face begin to blush and he stood up quickly. “Whatever. I was just leaving.”

  “Then I’ll come,” Ben said, standing. He pushed most of the remaining fries into his mouth and threw a ten on the table to cover the food.

  Rome didn’t answer. He was already taking quick strides toward the door. A bell rang as he left the little diner and made his way to his car. It rang again as Ben followed after him.

  “Just tell me the deal, what happened?” Ben demanded. He sped up so he could walk by Rome’s side. Ben leaned against Rome’s car door. “Dammit! Look, I’m trying to be a friend, asshole.”

  Rome let out a frustrated sigh. “Dude, it’s just . . .” He bit his lip. “It’s Rosie. She’s seeing . . . Someone else.” Rome’s cheeks burned again.

  Raindrops began to fall around them, dotting the sidewalk and the shoulders of Rome’s jacket. Ben didn’t seem to even notice the weather. He scowled at Rome intensely. “What’s the bastard’s name?! We’ll kick his ass!”

  Rome looked down at his shoes in defeat. Puddles began to form on the concrete. “Lyla,” he admitted. “She’s with some chick named Lyla.”

  Ben’s mouth was a thin line for half a second. Then he broke into a roaring laugh. “She’s a rug-muncher?!” Ben doubled over, overcome with laughter long enough for Rome to shove him off the car.

  “I told you, leave me alone,” Rome said in a huff.

  Ben pulled himself together enough to respond between bouts of giggles. “Look, forget her, man. There are plenty of hot girls in the city, you’ll find one.” There was a pause before he added, “So long as they don’t all just hook up with each other first!” Ben cracked up again, letting Rome make his getaway.

  Rome’s mind raced as fast as his car. What is wrong with me?! He felt himself tearing up, then a hot flash of anger ran across his face. Rosie is the perfect girl. Everyone could see it. We were meant for each other! But I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t even make a move! Guilt began to pool in the pit of his stomach as he thought of Ben, Marty, his friends on the team. Even his parents. I lied to all of them, letting them think I was normal. Why can’t I just be normal?

  As he pulled into his driveway, Rome sank forward. He rested his head on the steering wheel as his mind raced with memories. Nights up late, snuggling with Rosie and watching old movies. Days at school, passing notes in class. Summer vacations, lazing on the top of his car, the two of them counting stars. They’d been friends for so long, everyone just knew they were meant to be together. But whenever Rome tried to imagine making a move, he found it wasn’t Rosie he dreamed of.

  His mind began to wander to those late-night thoughts, the ones that made his skin tingle with excitement. A figure pulling him closer. Hands running along his sides. A voice whispering in his ear . . .

  Rome sat up in a cold sweat. He stepped out of the car and hurried inside. Brushing past his mother, he made his way downstairs to the bathroom. Those shameful thoughts were the issue. This was how he’d ended up in this whole mess. He would not get sucked into them again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Rome scolded himself in the mirror. He splashed cold water on his face before taking the few steps to his room and throwing himself into bed.

  Rome tried to take a nap, but instead he just spaced out, caught up in a storm of worried thoughts. After a long while, he gave up and rolled over, glancing at his phone. He had a voicemail. From Rosie.

  “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t called in a little while. I’d really like us to stay friends. I miss — uh, I mean . . . You know what I mean. Anyway, um, look. Did you want to come to my new place tonight? I’m doing a thing. There’ll be people, drinks, that kind of stuff. She’s gonna be there. I want you to meet her. Lyla, I mean. I hope you come. Just . . . don’t bring anyone, please. Just you. See you later, I guess. I’m texting you the address. Um, oh, and it starts at eight. Come by whenever, I guess . . . Okay, bye.”

  Rome listened to the message again. And then again. He pulled a repurposed pop bottle from under his bed and took a swig. The harsh sting of alcohol hit the back of his throat. Staring at the minutes passing on his phone, Rome thought it over. “Well, drinking at a party is better than staying in and drinking alone,” he said to himself.

  Or worse, he thought, Getting drunk by myself while my folks upstairs do the same. It was getting late on Saturday night. It was prime time for alcohol-induced emotional avoidance in the Montague household.

  Checking his Friend Findr app, he saw that Ben was at Marty’s place. No surprise there. The phone rang twice before Marty answered. Rome could hear Ben giggling in the background. They were probably already laughing about Rosie and her new partner. “You with Ben?” Rome asked, knowing the answer. “We’re going to a party. At Rosie’s.”

  “Dyke Rosie?!” Ben called out from the background.

  Rome rolled his eyes. Maybe Rosie was right — he probably should just go alone. But it was too late now. Talking over the giggling on the other side of the line, Rome asked, “You coming or not?”

  He could hear Ben take the phone from Marty. “Two conditions,” Ben said.

  “Sure, whatever,” Rome replied. It was just like Ben to have ‘conditions’ for a good time.

  “One. We’re all gonna hit up this lesbo party and score some hot bi chicks.” Rome could hear Marty cracking up. Ben continued over the laughter. “Two. Rome, my man, we are gonna make sure you get some action — from someone who isn’t Rosie!”

  “Whatever, dude,” Rome answered. He was barely listening.

  “I’m serious,” said Ben. “You need some closure, bro.”

  “Fine,” Rome agreed, standing to leave, “I’ll pick you up.”

  ***

  Ben’s car made its way down St. Mary’s Road. By the time it had crossed over the bridge, the trio’s nervous giggles had turned into nervous silence. As they moved deeper into the city, they began to pass people sitting on piles of blankets, asking for change. Pubs blared angry-sounding music. Rough-looking bikers crowded around broken-down motels, smoking cigarettes. Up ahead was the stocky apartment building with the address Rosie had texted to Rome.

  They were up the stairs in moments. There was a fresh rainbow sticker next to the number on the door. Rome and his buddies shared a nervous chuckle before knocking on the worn-down wood. Inside, someone yelled, “I’ll get it!”

  A girl opened the door, or maybe it was a boy? Rome wasn’t sure. The stranger had a woman’s voice, but also had a small black soul patch on his — her? — chin. The stranger looked them up and down, frowning. Rome hesitated, but it was too late to back out.

  “We’re friends of Rosie,” Ben announced, pushing past the person at the door. Marty shrugged and stepped in behind Ben. Rome looked down and followed his friends inside.

  03

  Fireworks

  “Are we the only guys here?” Marty asked, leaning in to loudly whisper at the other two.

  “The only real guys,” Ben scoffed. “This is like a rave for gay strippers.”

  Marty snorted. Rome saw Ben’s point. Nearly everyone had colourful streaks in their hair and were rocking shaved sides, glimmering piercings, and a variety of tattoos. Even the bigger ones wore tight, revealing clothes with denim or lea
ther jackets. A few even had on fishnets. Most did look like girls. Probably girls, at least. There were a few girly looking guys too. And there were plenty, like the one at the door, that Rome couldn’t really figure out.

  Rome awkwardly pushed his way across the room. He headed for the table with snacks and booze, and dropped down the six pack Ben had scored. He popped open a can, trying to blend in.

  At first, Rome stuck close to his boys. The three of them, marked by their matching athletic jackets, moved as a unit. But after a few laps around the room and a few drinks, he began to relax. An hour in, the trio had moved apart. Rome watched Ben talking up a tall goth girl on the couch. She was practically sitting on his lap. Ben’s act, which usually drove girls away, seemed to make her smile. Rome spied Marty leaning on the wall, checking his braces in the reflection of his class ring.

  Rome was hanging near the drinks table when he spotted Rosie. She stood on the balcony, lit cigarette in hand. She had been so busy with her other guests she hadn’t even noticed him come in. She’d been out there since they arrived, smoking like a chimney. She would finish one, flick the butt over the railing, and light another. Sometimes she paused to whisper into the ear of the girl on her arm. Rome felt a burning in his belly. He bit his lip as the hot feeling worked its way up to his face. “That’s fine,” Rome mumbled into his drink. “I didn’t really wanna talk anyway.”

  Rome turned his attention back to Marty. Now he was chatting with someone — the short, squat girl who had let them into the party. Or was that a guy? Rome couldn’t be bothered to try to figure it out anymore.

  Rome let his gaze wander to Ben. Ben was all but straddling the goth girl on the couch. Rome turned back to Marty, who was looking sweaty and awkward as all hell as that girl-guy got closer and closer to him.

  Around this time, Rome noticed the room was starting to sway. His drink was empty, so he reached for another. He poured himself a shot of someone else’s liquor. The familiar burn felt good going down his throat.