Something Right Behind Her (22 page)

Our last night
at the resort was New Year’s Eve and, naturally, there was a big bash planned.
The entire hospitality staff was lined up to work until after midnight, so I
knew I would hardly even see Carlos. It didn’t matter that much, though. After
that night on the beach, it was as if Carlos set out to prove both me and Dad
wrong, and by the end of the trip I had no need to feel suspicious of him -
he’d never really asked anything of me, other than to hold hands, kiss, and
talk. There was one night, after dinner, when he had the evening off, that we
took a walk alone down the beach. I thought that night Carlos might try to push
things further. He brought a little portable iPod player and a big towel along
with us. We didn’t bring any booze, though, and I didn’t drink at dinner, even
though Grandpa always let me, if I wanted. But I liked the feeling of being
with Carlos without any drinking. We talked about stupid stuff, food we liked
(his: white pizza with clams), our favorite and least favorite music (his: rock
and jazz, respectively). That night out there on Carlos’ big striped towel, we
did sort of get hot and heavy. But then Carlos stopped and looked at me. Then
he asked, real serious-sounding, “Andy, are you a virgin?” I shook my head no,
surprised by the question. And to be honest, a bit surprised by my answer. Even
though I’d lost my virginity with Doug, and then did it again with George, I
didn’t exactly feel like a nonvirgin. I felt like my regrets kind of canceled
out the experience. Like I was more like a half-virgin.

“I had a
girlfriend at home,” he began, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “We were close,
you know, but then she went away to college down south, and we broke up.” I
started to say something, about how that was fine, and I had something going on
at home too, but he stopped me. “We really didn’t have that much in common,” he
said. “She was pretty religious, and we just had different ways of looking at
the world. Anyway, when I first came down here, things were pretty wild.” I
started to feel kind of alarmed, not sure where he was going with this. “I
mean, Andy, girls would just fall all over us when we were working. I couldn’t
figure it out. Then maybe you’d hook up with one of these girls and you’d see
her the next day scoping other guys out. It was so depressing, watching these
girls walk around, just messing with the guys. It was like sleeping with
someone was like ordering a drink to them. I started to find it really
disgusting. The other guys started saying I was gay, but I didn’t care. It’s
skanky, the way some girls act. Anyway,” he said, “ I don’t want to think of
you that way.”

“And would you,
“ I asked, “if we slept together?” He nodded.

“I think I really
would. Even though I know we really like each other, and you’re such a sweet
girl, I don’t think I could do that with you here. To me, this place is about
sun, and sand, and work, and skanky girls.” He laughed a bitter laugh. “I guess
I’m pretty burnt out on this place,” he said. “I guess I’m wondering if maybe
you want to see me back at home. You know, in New Jersey or up by you.” He
seemed nervous, like maybe he thought he’d said too much, or I’d judge him,
think he was gay or something, for not wanting to go further.

“I’ll be your
friend on Facebook,” I said. He looked kind of stricken at that. “I’m just
kidding,” I said. ‘I’ll give you all my info.” I looked up at him and then he
kissed me in a really tender, serious way, and I began to wonder what exactly
was happening. I felt something open up in me as I kissed him, like what I said
didn’t matter, or it mattered a lot because he wanted to know me, but he didn’t
want to judge me. Of course, he was right. If we went any further, it’d be too
messed up, though he had different reasons to think so. I’d have this list of
guys I’d done it with, and run from. It made me superthankful that he wasn’t
bringing the worst out in me. It made meeting Carlos something I could actually
go home, and tell Eve all about. I half-wanted to tell Carlos about Eve right
then, tell him about my insane dreams, about how my best friend basically only
half-existed. But I knew, in a way, that would be rushing things as much as the
sex would be. I knew he’d want to hear about my problems, but later. For now we
needed to do what we were doing, even if that meant sitting there in silence.

On New Year’s
Eve I hung out with the family until midnight, and then Carlos came and found
me for a kiss. He didn’t exactly pull me into a dark corner to kiss me, either.
We kissed right there on the dance floor where everyone could see, like we were
some actual, for-real couple. When he headed back to the kitchen where he was
stationed I felt a heavy warm feeling flood my body. I was sad to see him leave,
but happy that he came to find me. Even Dad seemed OK with it all, at least
partially convinced that Carlos was someone who was worthy of me.

We were
scheduled to leave the next day at ten and Carlos came for me before breakfast
and we took a quick walk on the beach and gave each other all our contact info.
Then he handed me a little package. In it was one of those tacky boxes that say
I heart the DR. It had a little tree frog on it holding a heart. “Open it,” he
said. Inside was one of those temporary tattoos with a heart on it. He took it
out of the box and then he opened a bottle of water he had in the pocket of his
sweatshirt. He rinsed my arm with the bottled water, then put the tattoo on it
face down, and pressed the bottom of the bottle onto my bicep. “There,” he said
finally. “So for at least two weeks, you’ll be reminded of me. And you’ll have
to explain that to any boyfriends you have back home.”

I laughed.
“There isn’t really anyone,” I said. And I kissed him, knowing the way I said
that left a little doubt in the air.

“I believe you,
but still, I think I am going to be back there pretty soon.”

“I’ll see you
when I see you, then,” I said. He just said “Yeah,” at that and I walked away.
I looked back once and I knew he’d still be watching me walk away, because
that’s just the way Carlos was. Maybe that’s what all young guys needed - a
stint as a Hospitality Guy to turn them off to easy sex.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Manual of
Productive Contentment,
by Marie S. Flight

Those “big”
ideas of Randy’s, like being
thankful
and being
invested
actually come
from a book - and guess what? Randy didn’t write it, he just uses it in his
practice. He gave me the book the day after I got back from the D.R.. It’s
called
The
Manual of Productive Contentment
. The genius who wrote it is named Marie S.
Flight, PhD. There’s a picture of her on the back that takes up the whole back
cover and she has the worst blonde helmet head I’ve ever seen. She also wears a
shitload of plasticky-looking mascara. The only person I’ve ever known who
looks like that is our school librarian.

Anyway, Randy
seemed happy to see me. He kept saying that I seemed really relaxed, and I said
I was, that the D.R was just what I needed and that I met some nice people. I said
going away seemed to put everything in perspective. “That’s right,” he

said, “it does.
You can see how life goes on no matter where you are.” Then he went right over
to his bookcase and gave me the book, like it was a trophy, or a reward for
being such a great patient.

I didn’t have
much homework when I got home that night since all the teachers were as freaked
out by being back at school as we were, so we were basically getting the night
off. The first thing I did was text Eve. I wasn’t sure how often she was
reading my texts, but I wasn’t really sure how else to get in touch with her
without feeling like I was intruding. I knew things were getting pretty intense
over there, and it was something I couldn’t bring myself to face quite yet.

The next thing I
did was post a new profile picture on my Facebook, with me dressed in my normal
school clothes so Carlos could see what I looked like when I was at home. The
funny thing was, even though we had each other’s e-mails, we just started with
the Facebook thing. It’s sort of cool, but casual, because we can see each
other’s friends and can post stuff about the day that says a lot about what
we’re up to, without it being a big deal. I even saw a picture of Carlos’s
ex-girlfriend he told me about. Her name is Tessa and she’s a beautiful black
girl. She goes to school down south somewhere, some serious Christian school.

After I posted
my picture, which looked pretty cool, I must say - I have my hair on top of my
head in a clip, which is how I almost always have it at home, and I’m wearing
jeans, a tank-top, cardigan and converse, of course. Carlos commented right
away about the shoes. He said I was even cuter in sneakers than I was in a
bikini, which is just Carlos’ warped sense of humor, I think, and not a comment
on my bikini bod.

After I messed
around on the computer for a while, I started reading the so-called
Manual of
Productive Contentment
. It made me feel kind of weird and nervous. It wasn’t that I’d
never thought of some of the things that Marie S. Flight was saying - actually
a lot was familiar, from Randy mostly, like the stuff about listing things you
were thankful for, but other stuff was really ordinary, every day stuff and
that freaked me out - like the stuff about making your bed and cleaning your
closets. Why would that sort of shit make anyone
happy
? That was in
the
Productivity
section of the
book, along with making “to-do” lists and crap like that. The thing is, I
actually do that stuff. I’m a really organized person, and I guess it’s sort of
why I do well in school and all, but I never thought of that kind of thing as
being something you would put in a book. Personally, I don’t really think those
things could make me happy. Actually, sometimes I think I am unhappy because I
am a list-making kind of girl living in a world in which shit happens that is
definitely not on my list!

The
Contentment
part of the
book was worse, though, because that’s the part I really feel like I am failing
at. The thing about it is, I don’t do things because I am quote unquote
invested
in them. I do
things mostly because either I can’t think of a reason not to, or because
someone else wants me to, or because it seems like fun. Also, there’s no one
around to tell me not to. I couldn’t help but wonder if Eve hadn’t been sick,
how the whole fall at school would’ve been different. Would I ever have slept
with Douglas? George? It was hard to imagine.

At first, I had
been a little freaked out by Carlos’ whole story about why he didn’t want to
“do it” with girls at the resort anymore. I was glad he wasn’t a total
guy-slut, but I thought it was funny that he didn’t want to have sex with me. I
wasn’t ready to do it with him or anything, so soon after the George episode,
because that would be really slutty of me, but it was, to be honest, hard to
adapt to a guy who said no to sex.

Now, I wondered
if he’d been reading the MPC. There was actually a whole sexual relations
chapter in the
Manual of Productive Contentment
! It had this
list of reasons why people have sex with people they just met, and then this
other list about why people have sex in monogamous relationships.

These were the
three top reasons people had sex with people they hooked up with:
1) Lack of
inhibition due to drug or alcohol use, 2) unconscious desire for intimacy, 3)
the other person seemed to expect it.
I found that list personally embarrassing.
With Douglas, I was definitely in it for reasons 2 and 3. Some part of me
thought maybe Douglas and I were really going to be some sort of couple, that
he’d take the place of Eve in my life. I just didn’t think I could have such
strong feelings for someone without there being
something
to it. But, no,
there wasn’t.

Then, with
George, I figured 1-3 applied! It made me cringe to even read that chapter, but
I also felt sort of relieved that I wasn’t the only one. All of Marie S.
Flight’s readers were having sex for these reasons, or so it seemed, and it was
not
Productive
, Marie S.
Flight could prove this, and it did not
ever
lead to
Contentment
.

Sex that led to
Contentment
occurred in
monogamous relationships according to Marie S. Flight, because only in
monogamous relationships can couples
1) connect in a unique and trusting manner
2) strengthen existing bonds through experimental intimacies
(she promises
more info on this, though it’s hard to imagine her having experimental
intimacies with that helmet head!)
and 3) heal old wounds by revealing
secrets and desires.
In all, she makes monogamy sound a lot sexier than pathetic
hook-ups!

After reading
the chapter on sexual relations, I closed the book and looked in the mirror.
The problem with me, I decided, was not that I couldn’t understand the things
Marie S. Flight said. It seemed pretty obvious. The problem with me was that I
didn’t actually see the point in
trying
so hard to
be
happy. That was
Eve’s department. She was the one who always had a plan, and look where it got
her.