The Thing I Didn't Know I Didn't Know (Russel Middlebrook: The Futon Years Book 1) (14 page)

"Algorithms," Colin said.

"What?" I said.

"Encryption uses mathematic
algorithms
. Logarithms are something totally different."

I stared at him for a second. That's when I knew: I wasn't reading into anything when it came to Colin. Unlike with Trai, there was no chance it was all in my mind.

I stared a Colin a second longer, sort of gaping, like I was shocked by what an asshole he was being.

Then I casually turned back to Kevin, ignoring Colin entirely. "Anyway, I keep telling her she needs to devote that great brain of hers to figuring out the secrets of the universe."

"Well, it's only a matter of time."

"Isn't it?"

We ate our tacos. I tried not to make a mess of the tablecloth, but I didn't try that hard.

"So Russel," Colin said, "what are
your
plans?"

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. "Plans?"

"Well, you're living here in Seattle. In a houseboat on Lake Union. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

I literally froze with my partially-eaten taco halfway to my mouth. Colin was an asshole, but he was a
smart
asshole. He also knew what I knew: that twentysomethings in Seattle all have Unstoppable Career Drive or Passionate Aimlessness (or, in his case, both). But somehow he'd discovered my shameful secret, that I didn't have
either
. Now he was determined to make sure that Kevin knew it too.

But Kevin came to my defense. He turned to Colin and said, "What is this, a job interview?"

Colin backed off. "I'm just curious."

By this point, I'd just about had it with Colin. He wanted to play the whole "alpha male" game, saying my first name over and over, and flaunting his knowledge of mathematics and Indian spices? Well, I could play that game too. My life wasn't anything to be ashamed of, to get defensive about.

"Well,
Colin
," I said. "I don't know where I'll be in five years. I'm twenty-three years old, so I guess you could say I'm still finding myself. But I did save this lady from drowning earlier this summer, and we've become good friends. And one of the things I
really
like about her is that she doesn't judge people based on things she doesn't understand." Two could play the subtext game.

"Great," Colin said. "Maybe she can help you find Bigfoot."

So basically Colin was challenging me to a duel after all—and he hadn't even waited for dessert.

I didn't need this shit. I pushed my chair back from the table, "You know, I think maybe I should just go."

"No!" Kevin said, but I couldn't help but notice that Colin didn't say a damn thing.

*   *   *

I ran all the way to the SLUT station, but of course I'd just missed the trolley. This late at night, I'd probably have to wait another twenty minutes.

"Russel!" a voice called. "Stop!"

Kevin had followed me. That was kind of fun.

I pretended not to hear him. Why not milk it for a bit?

He reached me at last. "Russel?"

I turned. He was out of breath.

"Look, I'm really sorry. Colin's not usually like that."

I just stared at him. I'll admit it: I wanted him to grovel.

"This was my fault," he said. "Inviting you for dinner was a bad idea. I'm sorry."

I turned away. "It's cool."

"He's jealous, okay?"

Jealous?
I thought. That was sort of flattering, a guy like
him
being jealous of me. But what exactly did he have to be jealous about?

"He's heard the way I talk about you," Kevin went on. "That was a really special time in my life.
You
were really special to me."

This was nice to hear too, that Kevin was telling the truth when he'd said he still felt about our high school years the way I felt about them. Unfortunately, it was impossible to ignore that "were" when he was talking about his feelings for me.

"You're
still
special," he said.

Warmer
, I thought.
Warmer.

"Which is why it's probably better if we don't see each other for a while."

Cold,
I thought
. Freezing! Sub-Arctic temperatures!

"I mean, you and I, we've both moved on," Kevin said. "And I really want to be your friend. I
am
your friend—I'll always be your friend. But it's obviously hard for Colin, with your and my past and everything. And I understand that—it would be hard for me if he had a friend like you. I thought enough time had gone by, but maybe it hasn't, not yet. And Colin is my partner now, and I need him to trust me. So how about we be friends—really, really good friends—but friends that just don't see each other for a while?"

This was why Kevin had come running after me? To tell me that he didn't want to see me again, not for "a while"? This scene wasn't ending the way it was supposed to, not at all. But even as I worked through all this, I thought,
This is so Kevin.
He's just that great, just that loving.
Problem was, the greatness and love that Kevin was now directing at Colin used to be directed at me.

What could I do? I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him and say, "Fuck Colin! Let's be together forever, just you and I. You're the perfect guy, and we're perfect together!"

But we weren't perfect together, and Kevin wasn't the perfect guy either. The perfect guy wouldn't be choosing Colin over me.

"Yeah," I said, forcing my head to nod. "You're absolutely right. We shouldn't see each other for a while."
Not until you either dump Colin
, I thought,
or I have such an incredible new boyfriend that he'll even make me forget about you.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That night after I got home, I was too annoyed and depressed to sleep. Weirdly, I was the only one in the houseboat. No one had texted me or left a note or anything. But I didn't care. It was sort of nice to have some privacy for a change. I climbed up onto the roof-top deck and stared at the Seattle skyline. I'm sure it was just as amazing as always—it was a beautiful night in July—but I barely noticed. I couldn't stop thinking about dinner and what Kevin had said to me afterward.

It was after ten, but there were still a couple of boats out on the water. Could one of them be Kevin and Colin, out for a late-night sail? The other thing I was thinking was:
How come I never have a bazooka when I need one?

I was just about to fire up one of my hook-up apps—er, "dating" apps—when I heard creaks on the steps behind me.

"Russel?"

I turned. Min.

"Hey, there." I looked around for the Min-ions, but I didn't see them. "You alone?"

"Yeah. Where's Gunnar?"

I shrugged.

She took a seat next to me, and we stared out at nothing together.

"How was your dinner?" Min said.

"Terrible," I said.

I told her what happened.

"Oh, my God, what a
dick
," Needless to say, she was talking about Colin.

"I know, right?"

"He's jealous of you. You know that, right? The only reason a person would act like that is if he's jealous."

"That's what Kevin said. Right before he told me he never wanted to see me again."

"So maybe Colin has a
reason
to be jealous."

I looked at her.

"It's a thought," she said. "Maybe Kevin's said something to him about his feelings for you. Or maybe Colin just senses it. So maybe that's why Kevin doesn't want to see you—because he's afraid of acting on his feelings."

This was so obvious I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it myself. Was it still so hard to imagine, the idea that someone could actually be in love with me?

"It doesn't matter anyway though," I said. "He said he doesn't want to see me."

Min didn't say anything, just sort of nodded.

"Russel, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I said. There was something in her voice, like she had something important to tell me. I know I'd fallen for this before, when I'd assumed Gunnar had something important to tell me and it turned out to be that he'd embarked on a search for Bigfoot. But Min was different—more straightforward, at least with stuff like this.

I didn't just look at her. I turned my chair toward her. I gave her my full attention.

But she didn't say anything. She looked out at the water.

Finally, she said, "This is hard."

"What," I joked, "are you coming out to me as straight?"

Min didn't laugh. Hell, she didn't even smile.

"Wait," I said. "
Are
you straight? It's totally cool if you are."

"No, that's not it."

"Well, what is it? Come on, Min. It's me. There isn't anything you can't tell me."

As soon as I said this, I thought:
Is that true? Is there anything Min could tell me that would make me not like her?
Maybe if she confessed to being a murderer or something, although if her victim was Trai, we might still be good.

"It's about Trai and Lena."

Speak of the devil
, I thought.

"Aw, Min, I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Well, aren't you telling me that Trai left you for Lena?"

"No, no, Trai and I are still together."

"And you've worked it all out with Lena?"

"Sort of. It's complicated."

"I bet. I can only imagine how hard it must be to be around her."

Min sort of half held up a hand. "Russel, you don't understand. That's what I'm trying to tell you. There's something you don't know about Trai and Lena and me."

I admit that now I was intrigued. What didn't I know about Trai and Lena?

"We're together," Min said.

"You and Trai?"

"No. Both of them."

"Ohhhh," I said. "Wait. Go Back. What? Do they both know about the other?"

"No, Russel, you still don't understand. We're all dating each other. The three of us. Together. I think I might be polyamorous."

Polyamorous? If you lived in Seattle, you sort of had to be in a cave not to have heard this word. I knew it had something to do with multiple partners. Like a group marriage, I guess. But in my entire life, I'd hardly given it a passing thought, except feeling a mild annoyance when all the Seattle polyamorists tried to claim it was exactly like being gay—and that gay people were hypocrites for not totally wrapping themselves around their movement. You could even say it was a small pet peeve of mine: gay people spend decades killing themselves, fighting like hell for public acceptance, bravely coming out in the face of rejection and discrimination, and five minutes after we finally
—finally—
start convincing the public that we're not these radical nutjobs hell-bent on destroying society, another group that truly
is
pretty radical comes along and demands that we share all our hard-fought goodwill and legal victories with them.

"It's something I've been thinking about for a long time," Min was saying. "And I still don't know for sure. But I think I am. And since I started seeing Trai and Lena, I've decided it's at least something I want to explore."

This took another moment to sink in. Weirdly, it sounded familiar somehow.

"Wait," I said. "You really
are
coming out to me, aren't you?"
As polyamorous
, I thought.

"Are you freaked out?" Min asked me, her brown eyes boring into me.

I had to ask myself that question too. Was I freaked out?

Not really
.

"I guess I'm disappointed you didn't feel like you could tell me this before," I said. But as soon as I said this, I realized I'd hated it when I'd come out to people as gay and they'd said those exact same words to me.

"It's not like that," Min said. "I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it to myself."

"Of course!" I said. "I know! That was a stupid thing for me to say. Forget I said it, okay?"

Min smiled. "Do you have questions?"

I did have questions. But since the first thing I'd said was totally dumb, I wasn't sure I wanted to risk saying more.

"How is being polyamorous different from just being slutty?" Min asked.

"No," I said, even though if I'm being honest, I was sort of thinking that.

"It's not about sex. Well, it is for some people. And that's okay. But for me, it was about getting closer and closer to both Trai and Lena. Suddenly it just didn't feel right to limit myself to one of them. I honestly think it's how I'm wired. I think that's the part that's like being gay."

I had to think about this, since she'd zeroed right in on that preexisting pet peeve of mine. But honestly, it did make a strange sort of sense. Not in the abstract—in Min's specific case. As long as I'd known her, she'd been drawn to new experiences. In high school, she'd taken AP Everything, and in college, she'd done a semester in Cameroon. She even seemed to like
people
. She wasn't like me, approaching every new person with complete suspicion—guilty until proven innocent. Nothing seemed to scare her either, not rejection, not being judged. She got right up in people's faces. Sometimes I think she even liked to shock people. And she was really competitive—that was part of her wiring too. It's why she'd argued with Gunnar about the existence of Bigfoot. Somehow the two things went hand-in-hand—being open to new ideas even as she was completely confident about her own.              

Basically, Min had balls of brass.

"I can see it," I said.

"See what?" she said.

"That you're polyamorous. Or might be."

"How?"

I explained the part about how she was such an open, confident person, but I didn't use the expression "balls of brass" (one of things she gets up in people's faces about is the prevalence of sexism). I also left out the part about her being so competitive and liking to shock people, because, well, I try not to be a dick.

"You really think so?" she said.

I nodded.

"Are you wondering whether or not we get jealous?" Min said.

"What?" I said.

"Lena and Trai and I. That's what a lot of people think—that polyamorous relationships must be really hard because people get jealous. But it doesn't work like that."

"Min," I said. "You totally don't need to do the whole Poly 101 thing."

"I don't?"

I shook my head. "It's cool. I actually think it's great. Like I said, it makes a weird kind of sense. But even if it didn't, you're my friend. I'm happy you're happy."

She smiled. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. Now I want you to really get to know Lena and Trai. I really think you'll like them."

"I already like them."

"Oh, I hope to God you never have to lie to me for a good reason, like to save my life or something."

"I'm not—"

"Save it, please," Min said. "I know it's been awkward. I think they both felt really weird around you because I asked them to keep us a secret."

Could this be the truth? It actually made sense. It was nice to think that maybe they
didn't
hate me.

"When are you going to tell Gunnar?" I asked. Somehow I just knew that she hadn't told him yet—that I'd be the one she'd tell first.

"Soon," she said. "But honestly, he's been so weird lately that I'm not sure it's the right time."

*   *   *

A few days after dinner with Kevin and Colin, Vernie asked me to go to a movie. I had a rare afternoon free, so we met at the Pacific Place—this downtown shopping mall with a gigantic glass atrium, and lots of high-end stores like Tiffany's and Ann Taylor. The movie theater is on the top balcony up near the atrium, so we had to ride the escalators up.

"So how
are
you?" Vernie said. It was still flattering that she was always so excited to see me. In my experience, old people react to people in their twenties in one of two ways: annoyance, like we're playing our music too loud, or condescension, like we're all just a bunch of lazy, self-absorbed idiots. (Wait, maybe it's three ways: old people are also constantly hitting on me in dating apps, so I guess they also want to fuck us.)

But Vernie wasn't like that. She actually seemed to
like
me—for who I was, I mean.

"Well, one of my best friends, Min, just came out to me as polyamorous," I said.

"She's a geometric shape?"

"It means she's drawn to more than one person at a time. Romantically."

"How is that different from every human being ever?"

I snorted. But then I actually thought about it: how
was
what Min had said different from everybody else?

"It's partly that they're more open about it," I said. "But it's different too. When they're
in
a relationship, they're not happy or satisfied with just one person."

"How is
that
different from every human being ever?"

I laughed again. But then I thought about this too. When I'd been with Kevin in high school, I'd been totally happy. (Or had I? I ended up breaking off the relationship after a couple of years, hadn't I? Besides, that was high school. Those relationships are different.)

"I'm just kidding," Vernie said. "I had some friends like that once when I lived in Los Angeles. 'Course they called it a 'group marriage' back then. Sadly, they were all a bunch of raving fruitcakes."

How long had Vernie been married anyway? Just as with her kids, she'd never talked about that. I was just about to say something when we reached the top balcony. I started to step off, but I guess my shoe had been untied and the lace was stuck in the grating of the escalator. As the escalator rolled down, it pulled on my shoe.

"Damn it," I said, yanking on the lace, trying to pull it up. Inside the escalator, something made a quiet clicking sound.

Vernie stepped down on the lace, and the end popped free of the grate.

"Thanks," I said. I bent down to tie my shoe again.

"That's it!" Vernie said.

I looked up at her.

"I just saved your life," she said.

I just kept staring up at her.

"Don't you remember? I predicted I was going to save your life, and I just did. For the
second
time, I might add."