Page 29 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
Dad drops his fork. “Robert?—”
“An organ!” Robbie delivers the punchline with jazz hands.
Diana chokes on her wine. Adam rolls his eyes. Dad is torn between laughing and grounding Robbie for inappropriate dinner conversation.
But me? I stare at my plate. The word “Stanford” pounds in my head, a broken record.
“Okay, something’s definitely wrong,” Robbie says, his joking demeanor evaporating. “Penis jokes always get you. Remember the last one? You shot milk out of your nose.”
“I’m fine.” My voice cracks on the second word.
Adam sets down his fork. “You’re not fine. You’re…” He waves his hand around in a circular motion, searching for the right word. He snaps his fingers when he finds it. “Sullen.”
Iamsullen. But can anyone blame me? How can I sit here, knowing what I know, and pretend nothing’s wrong? “I’m tired,” I mumble.
“From what?” Dad asks. “You’ve been inside all day because of the rain.”
The conversation shifts before I can answer. Diana asks about school, and suddenly, the conversation turns to senior year. Potential class schedules. Football season. College applications.
My stomach tears itself in two at that last one.
“Speaking of college,” Robbie says, and I grip my fork hard enough that my knuckles turn white, “we should sign up for that Arcadia University tour. They’re doing one specifically for athletes in early September.”
“Great idea,” Adam says. He sounds enthusiastic. Sincere, even. “We can check out the dorms, maybe talk to some current players.”
“Kevin, you should come too,” Robbie adds. “They’ll probably show us the theater facilities.”
“I need to pee.” I push back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor.
“Kevin—” Dad starts, but I’m already heading down the hall, my vision blurring.
The bathroom door closes behind me with a soft click. My legs give out, and I slide down against the door until I’m sitting on the cold tile floor.
The tears come then, hot and silent. I press my palms against my eyes, but it doesn’t stop them from flowing. My shoulders shake with the effort of keeping quiet. The last thing I need is someone checking on me.
How did we get here? How did we go from three brothers with a plan to this?
I think about all the things we’d dreamed of. The apartment near campus. Late-night study sessions. Adam and Robbie at football games while I’m at rehearsals, but always meeting up after. A future where we’re still us, but older.
A knock on the door stops my sobbing.
“Kevin?” It’s Adam. “You okay in there?”
I wipe my face with toilet paper and try to steady my voice. “Yeah, it’s…stomach stuff.”
“Do you need anything?”
I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to stop pretending. I need you to stay.“No, I’m good.”
I hear him shift outside the door. “Look, if something’s bothering you…”
The words are right there, pressing against my teeth.Say it, Kevin. Tell him what you know.
But all that comes out is, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
His footsteps retreat. I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. Red eyes. Blotchy cheeks. I’m the spitting image of someone who’s been crying uncontrollably in the bathroom.
I can’t do this. I can’t sit at that table and talk about campus tours and dorm rooms. I can’t focus on a future that might not exist. But I also can’t hide in here forever.
