Dad swaps my empty plate for a new box of condoms. I try not to. I fight to stave it off. I lose that fight. My forehead beads with sweat and I blush a crimson red. I do my best to recover while his back is to me, rinsing our dinner plates at the sink.
"Dad! It's just us four guys. We'll be beach bumming all day and sharing two double rooms in the hotel at night. Even if one of us actually meets someone, it's not like we'll have the privacy to actually..." I let the sentence hang there, unfinished.
This is not the first box of condoms Dad has given me. The first came almost five years ago when I was turning fourteen. That was the worst because that particular box of condoms was accompanied by a long talk. A long, awkward talk. Dad said things about love, respect and responsibility that he felt obligated to say and I sat there and listened to things about safety, diseases and pregnancy that I wished I could forget. He gave me another box when I turned sixteen, just in case I was running low, and another five months ago when I left for college. Tonight's box makes four. I'm not sure if Dad spends time contemplating my usage rate but the sad truth, despite the fact that I turn nineteen next month, is that I now have four full, unopened boxes of condoms. Would he be disappointed if he knew that halfway through my first year of college I'm still a virgin? Unless masturbation counts. If that were the case then I'd be a veteran expert. Anyway, I could open my own store pretty soon. A secondary market for safe sex. Though it's probably about time to check the expiration date on that first box, not that I see a path to ripping into one of those any time soon, but as Dad always says... Safety first.
He slots the rinsed plates into the dishwasher and turns back to me, "You never know." He winks.
My flushed cheeks had begun to unflush, but now they flush all over again. He steps over and tousles my hair. He's been doing that to me my whole life. I want to tell him I'm not a little boy anymore and that I hate it when he does that. The truth is that I don't hate it at all. It's how he tells me that he loves me and we both know it.
It's been just the two of us since I was three years old. That's when my mom left us. Or left me. Left him? Who knows? The note she wrote said, "I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry." Dad waited until I was eighteen to tell me that. He never wanted me to feel like it was because of me. I always felt that way anyway, but Dad always made me feel so loved that I hardly missed what I really never had. He was never afraid to show his affection; occasionally with words, but more frequently with a hug or a tousle of the hair.
He says, "Just take them with you and I'll worry just a little less."
Dad never sent me away to boarding school or even for a couple weeks to a summer camp. I started college five months ago and this has been our first separation. Ever. But home for holiday break, it feels like no time has passed at all. We just spent a whole week together but now I'm leaving tomorrow morning for a trip to the Keys. Dad is cool with it. Besides, I'll have another week with him after the trip before I head back for second semester.
I say, "You shouldn't worry at all. You've known Quinn, Sebastian and Jay for four years."
The four of us have been friends since the ninth grade. We were never angels, but we're basically good responsible kids. We never got into any real trouble.
"Sean, your friends are fine. I trust all four of you. Parents just worry. That's what we do. Years from now you'll be a thirty year old man worried about your own important people and I'll still be worried about you."
I slip the condom box into my back jeans pocket. Now that I'm a legal adult, I could buy my own condoms. That would be less fun for Dad though. I guess giving me money for condoms would be way less embarrassing for me than giving me the condoms themselves.
He says, "Make sure the house is locked up when you guys leave in the morning."
The plan is that the guys are all sleeping over here tonight so we can get an early start. We're driving and it will take the whole first day to get there. Dad has some sleepover plans of his own tonight. For the first time in my whole life, Dad is dating someone -- Sheila. Since I left for college five months ago, he's had the opportunity to focus on himself. Maybe he should have sent me away to summer camp as a kid. His own condom usage rate couldn't have been too high for the last sixteen years. He might be making up for lost time now that I'm out of the house. I met Sheila at a dinner one night last week. She was sweet and I'm really happy for Dad.
As he slips into his coat I say, "Hey Dad. I'm way too old for a baby brother. Safety first." I pull the condom box out of my pocket. It works. Ha! He blushes. Then he grins and grabs me in a hug.
"I've missed you!" He tousles my hair again. "You better text or call me at least once every day. If you don't, I'll drive down there and find you."
Dad leaves and I wait for the guys. We all met in algebra class freshman year. Now we all go to different colleges in different states. Back home for break, this is the first time we've seen each other since August. Yeah, there's social media and texting, but we're guys. We're pretty loose and chill about the whole thing. Since our respective spring breaks aren't all lining up, we decided to plan a trip to Florida for New Year's week. Jay was able to borrow his mom's minivan and we're all gonna split up the driving.
We're all equally good friends, but over the course of last summer, after graduation, I feel more connected to Sebastian. It's hard to explain. I've felt some kind of pull more toward him. I don't know why. We always end up next to each other at the movies or on the same side of the booth at restaurants. It just seems to happen that way. Are Jay and Quinn better friends with each other than with Seb and I or is it all just a weird coincidence?
The last day we saw each other as the summer was winding down it was just the two of us. Jay and Quinn had already left for their schools a few days before us. The two of us spent a lazy summer day together. We were in my backyard mindlessly throwing a ball back and forth while we talked about the classes we were each registered for in our first semesters. The afternoon had gotten warm and Seb pulled his shirt off. I still don't understand why, but I found myself gawking at him. I'd seen him shirtless before -- changing for gym class, at the pool, on sleepovers... What was so different about that day? I was spellbound by his smooth olive skin. I found myself intentionally throwing the ball high or wide of where he stood. Every time I made him leap or lunge to catch it, the new way his skin would stretch and pull was a spectacle I couldn't not look at. How many different shapes could his normally small round belly button take on? And his shoulders, his arms, his ribs, his spine...
I've filled a mental photo album of visual memories from that afternoon. I'm embarrassed to admit that I also filled my pants with a throbbing erection. Was it the emotion of knowing it would be months before I'd see my friend again? Was it something else?
Another weird thing happened that day. I needed to get my suitcase down from the storage attic to pack for school. Seb was standing there as I stepped onto the ladder in the upstairs hallway. The suitcase was shoved way back into a corner and I had to stretch to reach it. Seb said, "Don't fall," and suddenly his hands were gripping me. I didn't think I was in any danger of falling, but his grip was tight. Since I was reaching, my shirt had ridden up a couple inches. His gripping hands were above my shorts and under my shirt -- on my bare skin. He asked, "Are you ticklish?" And I scolded, "Don't you dare!" but I was already laughing. He started squeezing and attacking my sides above the hips and I shrieked like a toddler. I finally managed to grab ahold of the suitcase and pull it down. When I stepped off the ladder, I looked at my grinning friend and said, "You're so dead."
He bolted down the stairs and I chased after him. Opening the screen door to the backyard slowed him down and I caught him in the middle of the lush green grass. I tackled him and tried to pin him down, but despite the fact that I'm one inch taller and a couple pounds heavier, somehow he was stronger. We tussled and rolled a few times before ultimately he ended up on top. We were both panting and breathing heavily. He had my arms pinned down, but that kept his arms occupied too. We were at a stalemate. There wasn't much either of us could do. Our eyes locked and suddenly I had become very aware of how close together our noses were. And our mouths, our lips. The play fighting and rolling around had given me an erection again. Just as I was wondering if Seb could tell, I couldn't help but notice the firm rod that he was stabbing my thigh with. We ultimately called a truce and the incident was over. Nothing like that had ever happened before. What was going on?
That was the last time I saw Seb but he's on his way right now.
Jay is first to arrive. We all like to goof around with sports, but Jay is the only one of us who takes it seriously. He's on the college baseball team. He is the fastest and strongest of the four of us by a lot. We like to joke that when we're all together, he's slumming it with the geeks. Jay is black but all the girls in high school had fawned all over him for as long as I can remember. The five months have not made him any less good looking. We're catching up for just a few minutes when Quinn walks in. Quinn is your classic blond hair, blue eyed guy. The girls don't swarm him like they do with Jay, but they certainly stare a lot. He's one of those people who turns all heads when he enters a room. When I enter the same room just moments after him, my average height and build, medium brown hair and green eyes turn no heads. But the fact that Jay and Quinn don't seem to notice these things makes them even cooler. We're still standing and talking by the door when Seb arrives. I step aside to let all three of them all the way in and let them park their suitcases and duffle bags along the wall.
With the final friend here, Seb pulls all three of us into one big hug. We don't mind, but Seb is the only one of us who could instigate such an act. All he has to do is smile, open his arms and we all fall into place. As we break apart, Seb and I make eye contact. When we do, two things happen. 1) My knees almost give out. 2) My crotch stirs to life. Seb is Cuban. He has wavy brown hair -- just a shade darker than my own -- and big brown eyes that seem to have a power over me. I guess not much has changed in our five month separation. Why am I feeling the way I'm feeling?
I lead them down to the finished basement where the four of us have spent countless hours playing video games and streaming movies. We have one sofa and two recliners. Some way, somehow, not at all surprisingly, Jay and Quinn take the recliners and Seb and I end up side by side on the couch. We talk and laugh and mindlessly play video games for three hours. We all ate dinner with our respective families earlier, but were all eighteen and nineteen year old boys. By 10:00, we're starving. I make a call and have pizza delivered.
