Young Volcanoes Chapter 3

The way Armando left… I was confused. My mind tortured me for the rest of the day and night. I barely got any sleep. I was tossing and turning for what felt like hours. No position was comfortable, no spot was calm. It wasn’t until five in the morning that my eyes and mind allowed me to rest.

Monday morning, oh. Monday morning was crushing.

When my friends saw me they raised their hands for a high-five with big smiles on their faces. They knew I had a date with Armando the day before, you could see the thrill in their eyes, their eyes impatiently counting the seconds before I could tell them.

“Well, well, Romeo,” Buch sat beside me with a silly expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to tell us how it went?”

“Come on, don’t make us wait,” Captain added, leaning against Buch’s shoulder, letting his head rest on the redhead. “How was it?”

I didn’t move, I didn’t even raise my head. I was staring at the floor, fixated on the tiles’ patterns. Still, I heard them so I replied the same thing my mind had spent the entire night repeating in my head: “He left.”

I didn’t have to see them, I felt how Buch and Captain exchanged bewildered looks. They were as confused as me.

“He left, just like that. He got dressed and left.”

“Well, many people are like that,” Buch put his arm around me. “Not everyone wants to spend the night. They leave after having…”

“We didn’t,” I cut him. “Well, we did, we were in the middle of it. He left before we could finish.”

“What?” Captain moved closer to me. “He left you? But did he say something? Was it an emergency or…?”

I shrugged, letting out a sigh. "He didn't say. He just... he said he couldn't do it and that he was sorry. But he also said he had enjoyed our date, the first one, when we had ice cream, so I guess there's that."

Buch and Captain fell silent, trapped in their own minds. I could feel the weight of their thoughts pressing my back.

"I thought I had made it. My first time was with someone special but…" I started to ramble. “Looks like, according to him, I’m a good date just not a good fuck."

It was supposed to be a joke but nobody laughed. Quite the opposite. My friends seemed more worried than before. Not only that - new emotions appeared on their faces: confusion on Buch’s and anger on Captain’s.

Isn't it funny how silly things like that are what you remember the most? I don't remember the words of encouragement they gave me, how they told me not to worry, nor the list of other guys I could date. No. What I remember is the anger on their faces. They were angry at someone they had never properly met. For me. I was that important to them.

I’m not sure how much time has passed, maybe a couple of days. Nothing made me feel better, not even the chocolates Buch gave me.

I was extremely confused about what had happened. I wanted to know what I had done wrong, to fix it somehow. I tried to text Armando every day at least once but nothing. At least until a week later.

When the tone of my phone went off and his name popped up on the message screen… I was not excited or relieved like I thought I would be. I was afraid.

I looked at my sides. I was in the cafeteria, next to me Buch was telling some story, his head in the clouds and in front of us, Captain was listening with a smile in his lips and a sparkle in his eyes as if he was having the time of his life, unable to look away. Neither was paying attention to me. I looked back at my phone.

"What the..." I froze. Is this good or bad news? Should I read or delete it? I admit that part of the story has a little bit of teenage drama. I shouldn't have gotten so attached to a guy I had only seen three times. But I was a teenager which meant I was horny, and stupid, and desperate so yeah, I ended up opening the message.

I took a deep breath, opened the text, and started reading. It said:

Okay, so far so good. I kept reading.

Okay, what? I mean, thank you but what does that have to do with anything? I didn’t think it was possible but I was more confused than before. Then, in the end, it said:

“Wait, what?”

"I know," I laugh a little. “But the text really did say that. Here, look, I still have it.”

"The text message said that. Here, look I still have it," I stand up and show you the screen of my phone to show those exact words shining in the night.

You stare at the screen for several seconds. “Their money back? What does that mean? Why money?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I sit back. You look exasperatedly at me. Only when it becomes clear that I won’t say anything, you start thinking.

“Money,” you say, thinking out loud. “So, Buch and Morgan gave money to Armando and now he wanted to give it back.”

With a motion of my hand, I tell you to go on.

“They paid him to do something but Armando said he couldn’t do it -maybe he tried and failed- so now he wanted to return the money. But what did Armando do? He didn’t do anything except....” Your eyes find me. “Oh.”

I nod, “...except dating me.”

The words sit between us, growing and mutating in our minds, evolving far beyond their meaning. You don’t say anything, you can’t, you are too shocked for that. I can’t blame you, it was pretty fucked up.

Around us, the night starts to grow. The cool thing about living on the edge of the city is that you get to see the most amazing stars out here. I've always loved the night sky and how brighter it is when you are out in the woods, far from the city lights. You and I went camping with my mother a few times so of course, you know that. I don't know why I think about the trees in a faraway forest right now but I do. My fingers are mindlessly dancing through the chipped screen of my phone.

“They paid Armando to date you,” it’s not a question. “That means, the first date, the bowling alley, him giving you his phone number… was scripted.”

“It was, yes.”

“The way you met him sounded so much like a fairy-tale because it practically was. And that's why he was so uncomfortable when he got to your house, that’s why he kissed you out of nowhere. He wasn’t being spontaneous, he was supposed to kiss you. He had been paid to do so!”

“Bingo,” I tell you. "He never wanted to give me his number, he only agreed to do it. Same with the movie and the make-out session and... Everything."

“This sounds like he fucked up. Big time. Not you,” you start walking around the terrace. “You know? Now I’m even more curious. After he did this horrible thing. How did you manage to make him hate you so much? How did he end up breaking up with you?”

“It was a shitshow, I even ended up stranded in the forest, my car… well, you’ll see when we get to that part of the story.”

“The big fuck up part.”

“I’m getting there,” I sigh. “But you are right. Back then he fucked up, not me. I was pissed at him. I texted him a million threats and curses. I hope you rot in hell, you soulless piece of ‘for sale’ meat, and stuff like that. I didn’t mean any of it but the heat got the best of me. In fact, even though I was mad at Armando, it didn’t compare to how furious I was at Buch and Captain."

My breathing became heavier, smoke was coming out of my ears, and fire was coming out of my mouth. There were around fifty people around me but I didn’t see any of them. In my eyes, there was only Buch and Captain. I stared at them until they noticed me, they seemed worried.

“Johnny, are you okay? What are you…?”

“What is this?” I showed them the text. “Eh? What is this?!”

They looked at the screen. Three seconds later, the smiles on their faces died. Their eyes went from the screen to my face, mouths fell open, and their hands started trembling. They didn’t say a thing. So I did.

“Surprised?” I challenged them. “Maybe you thought I wouldn’t find out but guess what? Here I am. No thanks to you, of course. I had to find out from Armando. But, if you don’t mind, I have a question… WHAT KIND OF PUTRID SHIT WERE YOU THINKING WHEN YOU DECIDED TO PAY SOMEONE TO LITERALLY FUCK ME?”

The entire cafeteria went silent, everyone’s eyes were on me.

“Nothing to say, huh?” My eyes were spitting fire. “What a surprise.”

I was mad. I was mad at the text, I was mad at the facts, and I was, above all, mad at my so-called friends and their dumbfounded faces. So, I turned around and frantically started to walk away. Yet, with every step I took, my anger dwindled. I just made a scene in front of everyone.

When I got to the door, I heard my name. “Johnny!”

I turned around, more out of instinct than anything else, and, of course, there, standing on a table, literally standing on a table, was Buch. I felt my face getting red, growing more self-aware by the second, so I turned around again and opened the cafeteria door.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Buch was shouting, even with everyone staring. “I’m sorry! I… we didn’t mean to… to… what we did was wrong, Johnny!”

I looked away. Maybe he was comfortable being the center of attention, shameless, and having everyone witnessing that show but I wasn’t and, by looking at Captain, he wasn’t either.

“Johnny! Wait! We are sorry, really. This was our fault, we fucked up. We did. I’m sorry, Johnny, I’m sorry!”

“Buch,” my hand was on the knob. “I don’t give a damn.”

I left the cafeteria and walked away as fast as I could. For the rest of the school day, neither of them said a thing. Not one.

By the time I got home all the anger had almost completely faded, making way to exhaustion. I pushed my pillows off my bed, tried and failed to cry. I even attempted to lift my mood by playing basketball before letting myself fall on the ground, outside the house.

"Hey! I remember that! I remember the day your mother and I got to your house and saw you lying down on the entrance, holding a basketball. I remember. We had just taken her cars for a check-up.”

The Mini Cooper and the blue Honda Civic. I wonder why, during all those months, I never questioned the fact that mom got herself a second car. Of course, later I would find out one was meant to be my gift for my 16th birthday. Why didn’t I suspect that?

“Your mom and I brought pizza for dinner that day but you weren't in the mood."

"Who would've been after all that?" I spit all of a sudden, then I scoff at myself for doing that. I’m surprised that you remember that day so well. I remember it, too, but I have many more reasons to remember it than you. Who would’ve said that after all these years, the memory still stings in my mind?

"We asked you if everything was okay but you said something about school. Even back then your mom and I knew it was an excuse."

I glance at you. "And you did nothing?"

"Would you have told us what was going on?"

I look away. I take my time. Not to think about your question - because I already know the answer - but to find courage to admit it.. "No.”

We both stay quiet for a few seconds, staring at the fire. The warm breeze flies to my face, warming my body, my soul. The chill only gets thicker and thicker, the blanket and the strong drink are starting not to be enough.

"I’m glad I trusted my guts and got you ice cream that day," you point out all of a sudden.

"That was nice of you," I say, the memory replaying in my head. "You bought me the biggest sundae I had ever seen. I wanted it but when I saw how expensive it was I felt guilty and tried to pay for it myself.”

"You never liked it when others bought you stuff, even though I had the money," the way you say it, so natural, so obvious. It annoys me a little. How can you possibly know that when so many people have failed to notice it? My fifty-fifty rule.

"Well," I snap. “You still have a ton of money so what are you complaining about?"

No reply, we just stay silent for a while.

I try to ignore it but a thought passes through my mind. It takes me a few seconds to find the right words. "You know? Mom always used to say that even though you have plenty of money, you are the most humble person in the world. But, judging by the giant pool you have there, I guess things have changed."

"Who doesn't love a giant pool?" You say with a silly voice.

"Yeah, who doesn't?" I reply. I'm not judging you for having money. No. I'm judging you because you used to mock people who spent their money on pointless things. Now, you became what you used to hate.

"You know, back in college, when your father and I knew each other neither of us had money, we both..."

I laugh. "I always forget you used to know my dad too."

You move in your seat, uncomfortable. "Well, kiddo, he and I had a huge fight too. But that was before your mom. I don't know if you remember but your mom and I only became friends after he..."

"...left us?" I say as if it didn't hurt. It doesn't. My father left me and my mother. So what? It doesn't hurt anymore, except it does. It doesn't and it does at the same time. He is irrelevant now, haven’t seen him in more than a decade, yet the scar of the past reaches all the way to the present. I try to think of something else but I can’t. "Sorry I said that. It's just that he's such an..."

"Asshole," we both say at the same time.

That little something is enough to make us smile, and, for a second, the world is a little bit better.

The world is full of a-holes. My father, when he left me and my mother. Armando, for taking money in exchange for playing with someone’s feelings. And, of course, the biggest a-holes of all: Captain and Buch.

I felt miserable. After we returned from our ice cream trip that day, the adults went to the office to finish some work. However, someone knocked on the door after that. Since I was the only one doing nothing, I opened it.

“Hey,” it was a quiet greeting. “How are you, Johnny?”

My heart had been hoping it would be Armando, apologizing for everything, begging to get back to me. But no, that was fairy-tale stuff, and that all fairy-tales had died for me. Instead, at my front door, was the only person brave and shameless enough to show up after that trainwreck: Buch.

"Oh, hey," I slammed the door shut in his face.

I waited for a moment, expecting to hear him protest, scream, or anything but Buch stayed silent on the other side. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang again.

"Hi," I opened the door.

"Johnny, can we talk, please?"

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” I shut the door in his face again. I don’t know why but something about doing that made me feel better. I thought he had left and, after a minute of silence, I was about to go back to the living room when the doorbell rang a third time.

“What?” I screamed while opening the door.

"I'm sorry!" Buch let out. “Don’t close the door! Just… I messed up. Bad. Morgan messed up too. We both did. We shouldn't have done any of that. I'm sorry. We treated you like shit, we really did. Sorry."

My hand looked for the door handle but, before it could find it, a question got in my head. “Why?” My voice was raspy. “Why did you do it?”

“I…” Buch’s eyes moved from me to something behind my back. My mother had just opened the door of the study. “Can we go out for a walk? We need to talk and... I'll tell you what happened. Really."

I don't know why I agreed. I don't. It didn't seem like a good idea but I went with him. I asked my mom for permission, took a jacket, and went with Buch.

We were walking aimlessly through the neighborhood. Buch lived far away from my house so the fact that he had come all that way just to apologize already spoke volumes. It wasn’t enough, though.

There was nothing but the sound of traffic around us, as we were walking quietly along the street. I thought he was going to say something but it looked like he was waiting for me to do the same. After ten minutes, it became clear that I wasn’t going to give up.

"I...” he started. “Well, not I, we owe you an explanation."

“We?”

“Morgan and I.”

“Oh yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “I can tell due to his clear presence here.”

“He isn’t as fast as me,” Buch shoved his hands into his pockets. “He is sorry too, it’s just that… he doesn’t know it yet. Or, rather, he hasn’t realized he has to apologize. He takes time, you know him.”

Buch was right. Thinking wasn’t Captain’s strong suit. He was the hottest, then me, then Buch. But I was the smartest, then Buch, then… Captain was hardworking but smart isn’t something I’d call him.

“Okay,” I said, kicking a rock on the way. “Then…”

“Then what?”

“Are you for real?”

“What?”

“What? What! Your explanation, Buch! You are suppossed to tell me what happened, to tell me why the fuck did you pay Armando to date me!”

We kept passing along several houses, some big and some small. Buch was holding his breath, trying not to look at me. I didn’t stop looking at him and every so often he would glance, finding me looking at him.

“Well?”

Buch closed his eyes and let out a big sigh. “We just wanted you to get laid, Johnny. That’s it, that’s the big reason why.”

“You wanted me to- what?”

"I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it like that."

"It does," I affirmed. "It sounds very stupid, Buch. Very. Believe me. Get laid? I’m 15, I bet half the people my age haven’t done it yet. And… you know the worst thing? I’m not surprised you two think like that.”

“We…” Buch lowered his head, staring at the pavement. I grinned a little. You don’t often see Buch this out of words. Yet, his lower lip was twitching, his face was covered in regret, his eyes drowned in sadness. “I don’t know, Johnny. It was all Morgan’s idea…”

“Captain’s idea? Wow, now that is a surprise.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Johnny. Originally it was Morgan’s idea, yeah, but I went with it. It’s as much my fault as it is his,” Buch still couldn’t look at me. “But it isn’t as crazy as it sounds. You have to understand, you are 15, still young but almost everyone else in the class is 16. And, sometimes… sometimes it seems that what moves the world is who gets laid and how often.”

I grunted. I knew what he was talking about, what he meant. Sometimes, especially in high school, the world felt that way for me too. All people care about is who is able to score.

“We know you never have…”

“I’m waiting until it’s real,” I cut him. “Goddamnit, is it really that important to get laid? I’m waiting, you know? I’m waiting until I find someone who’s right for me.”

“I know,” Buch still couldn’t stomach the idea of facing me. “You are sweet like that but see, it’s fun. Dating, going out, kissing, all that’s fun. It’s not important, your first time getting laid, I mean. It usually isn’t that great, I…”

“Oh, my God, Buch!”

“What?”

“Make up your mind! First you say that getting laid moves the world and now you are telling me that it isn’t important! So which is it? Is it important or not?”

“I…” Buch mumbled. “It is but it isn’t at the same time.”

“You really don’t know what you are talking about, do you?”

“Just listen to me!” Buch stopped dead in his tracks, waving his hands in the air. “Getting laid is both important and not! Okay? For some reason, people care. Getting laid is the most unimportant thing people care about! Only shallow people remember their first fuck. What matters is your first love, not your first fuck.”

“So then why did you want me to fuck Armando?”

“To get it out of the way!” Buch grabbed me by the shoulder. “You don’t have to compromise your first time in bed just because you are waiting for your first love to arrive. I mean, yeah, it’s sweet that you want to wait but…”

“Buch…”

“That’s not the only way, okay? It’s not the only…”

“Buch!” I shouted. “I get it. Really, I get it. In your twisted fuckboy way of looking at the world, somehow, you were trying to help me. And for what it’s worth, Armando and I did have sex. Well, kind of. Oral stuff only, nothing more.”

Buch raised his eyes and, for the first time since we got out of my house, his eyes met mine. He was smiling but I could see the deep sadness and shame lurking beneath. There was something cute, youthful in his face.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” he said, and I could tell he meant it.

We both started to walk again. The houses of the suburban neighborhood we were walking through were becoming fewer and fewer, slowly being replaced by stores and buildings. The air was blowing against us.

I didn’t know what to think or say but I was more relaxed than before. For some reason, I felt better. I felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Have you ever felt that? The opposing and contradictory but somehow complementing emotions, the need to cry and laugh at once? Of course, you have, you are human.

“Armando is hot,” I spit out, then. Of all things, that’s what my mind came up with. Buch rolled his eyes, friendly.

“He is,” Buch said. “He is also a bastard. If the fucker got cold feet -not blaming him about it- then he should’ve told Morgan and me, not just text you revealing you the whole plan. I’m not saying I wish you wouldn’t have found out but it would’ve been nice if he had given us time to plan a softer, proper, less public way to tell you. But yeah, he is hot, I see your point.” Then, Buch chuckled. “Still, who needs hot? You are sweet and that is a hundred times better.”

I chuckled at that. “I am not that sweet.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” I insisted. “But you… thank you for apologising so soon, Buch. Really, I appreciate it a lot, if someone deserves to be called sweet that’s you. You are very sweet, Buch, you are… quite something.”

We weren’t walking anymore, we were just standing there in the middle of the street. I was about to tell Buch how, in spite of everything, I still had the desire to speak to Armando, to let him explain himself, and maybe, to even give it another go. But something stopped me, something I noticed. Not something physical or real, just… something. And that something was hidden in the eyes of Buch as he looked at me.

This was a different look. Maybe you’ve seen it a few times in your life. A deep look with a bright, warm light hidden underneath. It was like staring into a lake and finding a glowing fire, shining just below the surface, about to come out and eclipse the sun. The anxious, beautiful, thrilling excitement of the calm before a storm. The sensation of electricity dancing on your skin right before a thunder strikes. It’s the same look you have on a plane when you are about to jump. The look in your eyes before the curtain opens on stage, and the look you have right before you run into the field.

Buch had that look.

And he did. He jumped from the plane. He opened the curtain. He ran into the field. His eyes warned me right before he kissed me.