Boot(s)

22- Boot

Sergeant Jackson

It was Saturday afternoon. Bo and I had spent the morning at the old court we used to hang out at. I wanted to watch him play ball—damn, he still had it—and he wanted to "get sweaty." By the time we had finished, ate our breakfast sandwiches from the deli, and got home, it was almost noon. Bo ripped off his t-shirt as soon as he got in the house, running it through his hair until his waves stuck up on their ends, sticky with sweat.

"Gonna head up and shower," he told me, looking over his shoulder at me as he kicked off his sneakers, pushing them into the corner by the stairs. His eyes found the mail table next to the front door. "And check the messages, would you? Phone's blinking."

"Course," I told him, taking a swig of a water bottle. He smiled, thanked me, then took the stairs two at a time up to his room. I pressed the blinking orange light on the home phone, and instantly Jessie's melody of a voice invaded the room. "It's just Jess!" I called up. He yelled an acknowledgment and a thank you back.

"Hey Bo, it's me. God, would you answer your cell? Or empty your voice mailbox? Or get a new phone, please?" I snickered, sitting back in one of the kitchen table chairs. "Well, anyway. I have news and I'm so excited about it so I'm just gonna tell you. I'll try your cell again later but. Anyway. So, remember that guy I was telling you about? The one I work with, the one who doesn't watch sports and wouldn't know who you are and is also totally gay?" I had been slugging back the Poland Spring, half-listening to the message projecting through the speakers, half still-thinking about the effortless, graceful basketball I had watched Bo play for an hour. But now, I was listening. I was all fucking ears. "Yeah, well, I mentioned in passing that I had a friend, a handsome, athletic, amazing friend, and he said he would be interested! I think he's adorable, too. Granted, I don't really know what your type is, besides, well, the obvious. Oh and Jonathan, but still, I think this guy is cute." My first instinct upon hearing this was to practically throw myself out of the chair to get closer to the phone, closer to what she was saying, closer to the name Jonathan and who the hell that guy was. Apparently, I temporarily forgot I only had one leg, because with the sheer force of my propelling myself out of the chair, I stumbled and tripped and stumbled until I could get a hand on the mail table. Jessie's voice still rang out through the kitchen. The shower water upstairs creaked to a halt. I muttered a few shits under my breath, turning the home phone upside down, backward, and inside out, trying to find the volume button. I was having absolute horseshit luck: Jessie's voice was still blaring. "Well, anyway, enough of my rambling. I'll set it up, with your permission. We have this cute teacher's night out thing in a few weeks which could be fun after you guys get a few dates in. Either way, he's so cute and super fun and ugh I'm just so excited." I still couldn't find the volume. I could hear Bo's footfalls on the wooden floors upstairs. I was, quite literally, in the middle of a full-fledged panic. And then, like the Devil himself was possessing me, I slammed the phone back down on the table and jabbed the DELETE button once, twice, three, four, five, six times, then seven for good measure. Then eight. For good luck. And nine, because I still hadn't heard the automated voice recorder tell me the message was gone. And ten, because once she told me it was gone, I just needed to make absolutely sure.

"Pete?" Bo's voice from upstairs may as well have been a chest defibrillator. My hands flew off the phone like the thing was molten lava.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I hobbled back to my seat at the kitchen table, sending apologies upstairs to Jesus, and my mom. I couldn't believe I had just done that. I could not believe I had just done that.

"Anything important?" He was still yelling, which meant he wasn't dressed yet or coming down any time soon. I muttered a few more fucks, took a long sip of water, then called back up to him.