Page 3 of The Summer that Ruined Everything

CHAPTER 3

C al was twelve years old and in his first year of boarding school when he realized he liked boys.

In retrospect, he had always known, but it wasn’t until his dorm mates huddled around a contraband Playboy magazine one night, and he found he was more interested in being pressed up against Connor Clooney than he was in the centerfold spread of Diane Hunter, that he admitted it to himself.

Then it was this secret, this thing he pretended didn’t exist. He knew he had to hide it, because of the way his father used the word sissy , the way his mother would then cross herself and whisper a prayer. He sat silently, staring into his soup during one Christmas dinner, as his mother spoke in false whispers of the son of one of the prominent families in town who had been sent to a “special camp” to be cured of his “madness.”

The message was clear: being homosexual was an affliction, something to be ashamed of, to go to great lengths to be rid of, if you could.

Cal tried. He tried to like girls. When he started at Exeter, he decided that he would, no matter what it took. He pretended to enjoy participating in the ogling of the girls from the local high school. He hid magazines with centerfolds in easily discoverable locations, like his desk drawer. He went to the mixers and talked to the girls and tried to find their perfume alluring and their shapes desirable.

But in the dark, he was forced to admit to himself that it wasn’t working. He liked boys, and that was that.

It was during his sophomore year that he learned he might not be the only one — at his school, or even in his class. James Grenville was assigned as his lab partner in chemistry. James turned out to be fun, a good conversationalist, smart...and he was adorable, thin with dark hair and large brown eyes.

Cal began to look forward to chemistry above all other classes, and he wasn’t stupid: it was because of James. Then one night, while they were holed up in James’ room working on a lab report on atomic mass, Cal looked up from his notebook and realized James was staring at him. A few seconds later, he was kissing his first boy, and knew without a doubt that this was worth keeping secret, because he never wanted to give it up.

He made a decision that day. He was going to be the most perfect student and son he could be. He’d follow all the rules, as best he could. He’d do exactly what was expected in every single area...except this one. He hoped that if everything he did was beyond reproach and exactly what everyone else wanted, he could successfully have this one thing for himself.

And no one would need to look close enough to find out.

The rest of his time at Exeter was for furtive exploration. By the time he moved into his dorm at Harvard, he had become an expert at the cautious dance of flirtation, at dating without dating, at having “cover” relationships with girls he could be with in public and take home to his parents.

He’d fancied himself in love a time or two, but nothing seemed to last, and he’d come home for his final summer without any attachments of the heart and prepared for three months of celibacy. It was simply too much of a risk to expose himself so close to home.

* * *

That evening, for the second time that day, Cal snuck down the servants’ stairs to the back door. This time, the house was dark and silent. His parents had retired to their rooms after dinner, and he had as well, claiming a headache. Now, it was time to fulfill the promise he’d made earlier. He opened the back door, slipped out quickly, and shut it behind him.

Clutching a bottle of scotch that he’d pilfered from the overstocked liquor cabinet to his chest, Cal leaned up against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he took off across the back lawn, down the stairs to the beach, and east to Jack’s house. Towards the music and the light.

His stomach flipped, knowing he was taking a risk. But it was worth this small thing to see Jack again.

It wasn’t that Cal wasn’t allowed to go to parties. He was an adult, after all, and could do what he chose. Mostly. His parents wouldn’t be upset that he was going out at night, or even that he was helping himself to a bottle of single malt. It was more that this type of party, one that didn’t involve acceptable people with acceptable parents, that was loud and maybe wild, that didn’t end at a respectable hour, this type of party would draw criticism from Judith and Theodore Buchanan.

He kept to the rock line, where the sand wasn’t as deep, to avoid getting it in his shoes. A stiff breeze swept in off the ocean, ruffling his shirt sleeves and hair. From the smell of it, they were in for some rain.

When he reached the stairs up to Jack’s lawn, he hesitated. Should he be going up the back like this, or should he have gone around to the front? That would have taken a lot longer, though it would have been more appropriate, and when the Winstons lived here, that’s what he would have done. After a minute, however, he began to climb the stairs. Jack hadn’t seemed terribly formal.

As he reached the top of the beach stairs and stepped onto the back lawn, his nerves kicked into high gear. They’d simmered the entire time he’d dressed — in tan slacks, a navy blue Oxford shirt, and brown leather shoes, an outfit that took far too long to select — as he’d styled his hair, as he’d left his house. But now was another matter entirely. Each step towards the house, which was brightly lit against the night sky, made his heart beat a little faster and his breath hitch. He could see people moving around in a room to the left. Was Jack one of them?

The back deck wasn’t empty, as it had appeared from a distance. Cal came to a halt at the top of the stone steps, realizing that he was intruding on something . A guy and a girl were tangled up on a wooden lounger just to his left, and they were doing more than just kissing. They’d been obscured by shadows on his way up, but now that he was close…

The girl lifted her head. “Hey,” she said.

Cal averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said. “I’m just — sorry, I didn’t —“

“You were on the beach this morning, right?” she asked. She pushed up, untangled herself from the guy, straightened her blouse, and got to her feet. The guy made a sound of protest, and she ignored him. “You were talking to Jack.”

“Yes,” Cal said. Now that he had a better look, he recognized her as the girl in the yellow bikini.

She held out her hand, bracelets jingling up her arm. “I’m Penny.”

“Calloway,” he replied, shaking her hand.

She hummed. “You’re cute, Calloway. How do you know Jack?” she asked.

“I don’t. I mean, we met last night.” Cal gestured behind him. “I was out for a walk. I live next door. He invited me?”

“Neato. A local. He keeps talking about embracing the locals. Come on in, I’ll help you find him.”

“Penny…” The guy on the lounger lifted his head.

“I’ll be back in a minute, don’t flip your wig,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She bounced across the patio to the back door, and, with one last apologetic shrug towards the guy, Cal followed.

“That was Grant. Don’t worry about him, he’s just annoying,” she said, grabbing Cal’s sleeve and pulling him into the brightly lit house. She pitched her voice higher over the music, which was louder inside. “Last I saw Jack, he was in the kitchen.”

Cal let himself be dragged around the corner and into the kitchen. Cans and bottles littered the counters, along with several open bags of potato chips, but aside from one guy who seemed to be passed out in the breakfast nook, the room was empty.

She shrugged. “Okay, maybe the rec room then. You want a beer?”

“Sure,” Cal agreed. His nerves were still vibrating under his skin. A drink would help.

She pulled a can of Gansett out of the fridge and handed it to him, and then they moved through the kitchen to the dining room, out across the foyer, and through a large parlor. He was vaguely familiar with the house, since its previous owners had been friends with his parents, but it had been a while since he’d been inside.

The parlor looked like any other formal sitting room he’d seen in any of these beach houses, except for one thing: the stereo and massive speakers set up on and around the coffee table. It was deafening in here, and Cal couldn’t help but wince slightly.

Penny noticed. “Too loud?” she shouted. He shook his head, but she dashed over to the stereo, fiddled with some knobs, and the volume decreased several notches, to something more reasonable. He was relieved, knowing the chance of the party being broken up by the cops had just diminished by about half. Penny sighed. “I told Jack he should rent a bunch of smaller systems instead of one big one — put them all over the house, you know — but he’s a dummy sometimes.”

“My parents have been complaining,” Cal said. “Someone might call the cops if you guys keep blasting the music like that with all the windows open.”

Her eyes lit up. “Fun,” she said, with a giggle. “Come on.”

Cal took a moment to digest the idea that having the cops called on you could be fun . He cracked open his beer and took a sip, and then followed her through a set of doors and into a large room full of people.

“There he is,” she said, pointing. Cal scanned the area she was indicating and spotted Jack. He was leaning across a pool table, lining up a shot.

Cal’s eyes naturally fell to his ass, which was on full display in a pair of snug jeans. His white tee was just as snug, revealing his trim waist and hips. Cal took another gulp of beer to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

Jack drew his cue back and then took his shot. It was good, and when the 8-ball spun into the left corner pocket, he stood up straight and whooped.

“Suck on that, G,” he said to the guy on the other side of the table. Then he turned, spotted Cal, and his smirk turned into a full-blown grin.

Cal waved, and Jack tossed his cue onto the table and bounded over.

“You came,” he said, laying a hand on Cal’s chest.

Then, in a move that had Cal freezing in surprise, he leaned up and kissed the air beside Cal’s cheek. Before Cal could process the way it felt to have Jack’s cheek sliding against his, he repeated the process on the other side and then rocked back on his heels.

“He likes to pretend he’s European,” Penny explained from beside him, clearly picking up on Cal’s surprise.

“I am European,” Jack said. “Well...half.”

“What’s the other half?” Cal asked.

Jack leaned in close, and Cal could smell sunscreen, salt water, and cigarettes. “Pure New York Jew,” he said in a stage whisper. His eyes landed on the bottle of scotch Cal was holding in his non-beer hand. “Hey, that for me?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Cal said.

“That’s nice of you. You didn’t have to.”

“Never show up to someone’s house empty-handed,” Cal said. “That’s the rule.”

Jack laughed. “Good rule.” He took the bottle and examined it, let out a low whistle. “You don’t skimp, Harvard, I’ll give you that.”

Then he grabbed Cal’s hand and walked backward, pulling Cal with him.

“Do you play pool?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Cal said.

“I just won a game, so the table’s mine.” Jack detoured to a wet bar, released Cal’s hand, and set the scotch on a shelf before continuing on to the pool table. “But if you don’t wanna play, I’ll give it up.”

“I’ll play,” Cal said. He hesitated. “I should warn you, though, I’m —“

“Jack, you got a light?” someone called from a sofa to their left.

Jack dug into his pocket and tossed a slim silver zippo across the room, where it was caught handily.

“Don’t klepto that,” he called back. “It was a gift from Marlon.”

“Brando?” Cal asked automatically. Jack merely winked at him and pulled him to the pool table, where they both picked up a cue and Jack began to rack the balls.

“You want to break?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Cal. He looked around the room, at the dozen or so people moving around. “All these people came with you from Los Angeles?”

“Yup.” Jack removed the triangle and hung it in its place.

“Are they here the whole summer?”

Jack shrugged. “Probably not. Some of them, maybe. Go ahead.”

Cal set the cue ball on the felt and lined up his shot. He drew the cue back and then let it fly. The three and six thunked into the pockets. He glanced up and smiled.

“Guess I’m solids,” he said.

Jack raised one eyebrow. “Smooth.” Then he set his cue aside and folded his arms across his chest. “What else you got?”

Cal played pool frequently in Cambridge, and he was good. He toyed briefly with the idea of easing up a bit, but the desire to show off in front of Jack won out. He ran the table for a while, sinking three more balls before he missed a trick shot.

He backed away from the table and let Jack take his turn. Jack was good, too, sinking three balls of his own, but Cal cleaned up on his next turn.

Jack bowed his head in respect, then popped back up, tossing his curls out of his eyes. “As winner, you call next game. You want me again, or…”

“I want you,” Cal said immediately. Jack grinned, and Cal’s stomach clenched, realizing the double entendre he’d just made. He swerved, trying to soften the statement. “I mean...I’ll give you a second chance. Maybe it’ll go better now that you know what you’re up against.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, his green eyes sparkling. “Now that I know there’s more to you than just a pretty face, you mean?”

“I’ll rack, you break this time,” Cal said, ducking his head to hide his blush.

They were well matched, and played several games in a row. Cal continued to edge Jack out, but just barely, because he found himself distracted. The first time Jack crossed behind him and trailed a finger along his shoulder blades, he jumped.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked.

“No, nothing,” Cal sputtered.

When Jack decided he needed to take a shot from exactly where Cal was standing, he slid up beside Cal and nudged him with his hip. Cal couldn’t resist standing his ground for a moment, letting Jack press up against him, all lean and wiry, before ceding the space. Jack shot him a knowing look.

Cal found himself enjoying the over the top flirtation. No one in the room seemed to notice or care what they were doing, and it was freeing for Cal to express interest in someone in a more open manner than he was used to. He felt seen, and in a good way.

Never mind the fact that the guy who was showing interest in him was Jack fucking Francis. That would likely give him a heart attack if he thought too hard about it.

But then a few of Jack’s friends wandered over to watch, and Jack introduced Cal around. He met Greg, whose glossy hair Jack affectionately ruffled; Joey, who walked up behind Jack, wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist, and rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder; and Scott, who returned Jack’s lighter by slipping it right into his pocket.

Cal watched it all, participating in the lighthearted conversation around him. Remembering what he’d seen on the beach that morning as well, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jack was this comfortable and physical with everyone . Maybe Cal wasn’t a special target at all, and this is just how the guy acted.

After a while, Jack hung his cue on the wall.

“Okay, I’m willing to concede that you are the better player,” Jack said. “Just a little better.”

“Lots of practice,” Cal said, shrugging.

“I need some air. Want to join me, or do you want to keep playing?”

“I can — I’ll join you. If you aren’t sick of me,” Cal said.

Jack laughed, his eyes bright. “Not yet, I’ll let you know.”

Cal handed his cue off to a waiting Greg and followed Jack over to the bar. Jack snagged the bottle of scotch Cal had brought, along with two glasses. He handed them off to Cal and then tucked a finger in Cal’s left front belt loop, turned, and led Cal through the house to the back patio.

It was empty now — Penny and Grant must have taken their activities elsewhere — and shadowy, since the moon was fully behind clouds. Jack let go of Cal and flopped onto the patio sofa.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Cal sank onto the cushion beside Jack, not touching, but within sliding distance. He set the scotch and glasses on the coffee table. “You should close your windows. It’s going to rain,” he said.

“Yeah?” Jack peered out at the ocean. “How can you tell? Just because of the clouds?”

“The way the air feels heavy, like it’s already soaking up the moisture. And the way it smells. Petrichor.”

Jack swiveled his head and squinted at Cal. “Petra-what?”

“Petrichor. It’s the way the air smells before it rains. It’s like...earthy and wet and kind of charged.” Cal shrugged.

“Okay, Harvard,” Jack said with a giggle. “That’s my word for today. Petrichor . Think up another good one to teach me tomorrow.”

Cal’s heart sank. He was being insufferable again. People told him that all the time, heaving sighs and rolling their eyes and telling him to stop trying to show everyone how smart he was. He never meant to. He just...read a lot, and remembered things he thought were interesting, and wanted to share that with others.

“I didn’t mean to be a know-it-all,” Cal said, fidgeting in his seat. “Sometimes I?—“

“You weren’t,” said Jack. “You’re smart, that’s neat. Don’t be ashamed of it.”

“I’m not trying to show off,” Cal said. “Or make you feel like...I know people get annoyed with me. For saying stupid shit like that.”

“Cal.” Jack laid a hand on Cal’s forearm, rubbed gently. “I’m not annoyed. I like knowing what Petra- what was it again?”

“Petrichor.”

“Petrichor. I like knowing what that is. I promise.”

In the semi-darkness, Cal could just make out Jack’s smile. And he could hear the sincerity in his voice.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Jack’s hand still resting lightly on Cal’s wrist. The music from inside the house was more muted than it had been when Cal arrived, and he felt a calm settle over him. That shouldn’t be, not when he was actually contemplating making a move on Jack Francis. He should be on edge. Instead, he was relaxed.

Then Jack dug a hand into his pocket and drew out the lighter and a slim cigarette. He flicked the lighter and then held the flame to one end of the cigarette, rotating it slowly between his fingers, before puffing gently on it to stoke the ember. He took a drag, blowing the smoke up into the air in a steady stream, and then held it toward Cal.

“You interested?” he asked.

Cal smelled the telltale hint of skunk in the air. It wasn’t a cigarette, it was a joint.

“Oh,” he said. “Um…”

Jack paused, his eyes going wide. “Have you never smoked pot before? I figured, you’re in college...”

Cal hadn’t. It was part of the every area but that he’d determined should be conducted within the rules. So he’d always declined.

He shrugged. “I’m just careful,” he said, trying to explain. “With things that could risk...my education, or my future, or that would bring my parents scrutiny down on me more than it already is.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Jack said. “If you want to smoke this with me, you can, but it’s not a requirement.”

Cal hesitated. He wasn’t at school at the moment. They were on private property, property that didn’t belong to his parents. Parents who didn’t even know he was over here. The risk really was minimal. If there was any time to try it, maybe now was that time. He’d been so good for so long.

And he suddenly wanted to share something with Jack, on this patio in the dark.

“Maybe I’d like to,” he said, finally. “If you’re offering.”

“I am,” Jack said. “You ever smoke cigarettes?”

“Occasionally,” Cal replied.

“So it’s just like that. Except maybe don’t take as hard of a pull. And when you inhale, hold it in for an extra second before letting it out.” Jack held out the joint between slim fingers, and Cal took it gingerly.

The tip was moist from being in Jack’s mouth, and Cal savored the moment when his lips wrapped around the end. He took a healthy drag, inhaling the slightly acrid smoke. He tried to hold it in the way Jack had advised, but he could feel a cough building, so he breathed it out and watched the smoke swirl into the air around him.

They passed the joint back and forth for a few minutes before Jack pinched out the end and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“This shit’s pretty strong,” he said in explanation. “You’re a decently big guy, but I don’t want you to overdo it your first time out. How do you feel?”

“Fine?” Cal shrugged. “I’m not really feeling any different.”

“You will,” said Jack. He snagged the scotch, popped off the top, and poured two healthy helpings in the glasses. He handed one to Cal. “You do drink, right? You had that beer when you first came in.”

“Yeah. I guess technically that’s breaking the rules, too, since I’m not twenty-one yet, but...it’s a more acceptable rule to break.” Cal rolled his eyes. “Fuck, I sound like the biggest asshole.”

“You don’t,” said Jack. “You sound like someone who’s spent a lot of time knowing people are watching you, and you’ve learned to play their game.”

Cal turned and stared at Jack. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. It’s just easier. Safer. You know?”

“Sure I know. I work in fucking Hollywood.” Jack raised his glass. “Anyway, cheers to...knowing which rules to break and when to break them.”

Cal clinked his glass against Jack’s, and then settled back against the sofa cushion and took a sip. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance. Out of habit, Cal began to count. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

He got to seven Mississippis before lightning flashed.

“Still a ways off,” he murmured.

They sat in silence for a while, silence that was far too comfortable for having just met. Cal listened to the thunder growing gradually louder, watched the lightning follow more quickly. He felt the warmth of the scotch in his belly, and the alcohol was blurring the edges of his sensation, making everything feel softer. Like he was drifting.

“How do you feel now?” Jack asked. It seemed like his voice floated over to Cal through a gossamer fog, and Cal had to grasp at the words, pluck them out of the air and force them to attach to his brain.

“Goo-ood,” Cal said, elongating the vowel sound. He said it again. “Goooood.”

Jack snickered beside him. “Nice.”

There was a thought in Cal’s brain, just out of his reach. What was it?

“That’s the pot,” Jack said.

Yes; that was it. That was the answer Cal needed. This was what it felt like to smoke pot.

“It’s...nice,” he said.

“Yeah, it is,” Jack agreed.

Cal liked this. He liked sitting here, in the dark, beside a guy who made his insides all shivery. He liked not being home, not caring if his parents would approve. He liked the way the smoking made him feel, relaxed and stress-free, and he wondered what else he’d missed out on by following all the rules.

“I’ve measured out my life with coffee spoons,” he said.

“You’ve what?”

Jack’s voice was hushed, and Cal realized he must have whispered. That felt appropriate, as though he were sharing a precious bit of information.

“I’ve tried so hard to be...boring. Only remarkable in ways that would be acceptable to them. To everyone. And for what?” Cal turned to Jack, leaned forward. “They don’t really approve of me. I’m never good enough, no matter how perfect I am. And if they knew, if they knew about…it would all be over in an instant.”

“Knew about what?” Jack asked, leaning in as well, so their faces were mere inches apart.

“Knew about me. That I’m?—“

The door opened, and two people spilled out onto the patio in an explosion of giggles. Cal jolted back in his seat and shifted a few inches away from Jack, his heart pounding.

“There you are,” one of the girls said. It was the one who’d been wearing pink that morning. The other girl was new, Cal had seen her inside dancing in a corner, but they hadn’t been introduced.

“You found me,” Jack said, grinning broadly. The girl collapsed onto his lap in a heap and kissed him on the cheek. “Cal, this is Ginny. And that’s J.C. This is Cal, he lives next door and has a great vocabulary.”

“Hi, Cal,” Ginny said.

J.C. took a seat between Cal and Jack. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

Ginny poked Jack in the chest. “Where’s that joint I rolled?” she asked. “I did the work, I should get some reward.”

Jack dug into his pocket and pulled out the half-smoked cylinder and the lighter. “Here you go,” he said. “Sorry we started without you.”

In a moment, the joint was lit again, and they passed it around. Cal tried to ignore the sinking feeling he was experiencing in his chest.

The girls chattered about plans for the next day — something about shopping and dinner — as the thunder got louder up above. Cal felt the tiny prickle of a first raindrop, and then a second. The third was bigger, splattering right on top of his head.

He turned to Jack to say something about getting back inside, and gaped. Ginny had her hands on either side of Jack’s face and was kissing him like she hadn’t seen him in years. Jack gripped her waist, and didn’t seem to be opposed to the activity.

“They tend to do that,” J.C. said. “It’s kind of annoying.”

“Oh,” was all Cal could say in response. He was beginning to feel sick.

“You wanna?”

“What?” Cal blinked and tried to focus on the girl.

“Make out. You wanna? You’re adorable.” She was grinning at him, a pretty, expectant smile.

Cal swallowed hard. Then he shook his head. “I shouldn’t,” he said.

She shrugged. “That’s too bad.”

He felt hot, and itchy, and like he needed to move, now, or else something bad was going to happen. He got to his feet.

“I have to go,” he said. He realized he was still holding his empty scotch glass. He shoved it at J.C. “Here. It was nice to meet you.”

Then he turned and moved towards the steps.

“Wait — Cal —“ he heard Jack call.

Cal stopped, turned just his head. He couldn’t really see Jack, just out of the corner of his eye. That was better.

“You’re going?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. I have to get home. Thanks for inviting me.” He hesitated. “It’s raining. You should go inside. And close the windows.”

Then he descended the stairs and crossed the lawn in giant strides. By the time he reached the beach, it was raining in full, and by the time he made it back to his door, he was soaked.

Thunder crashed, and lightning cracked overhead. He snuck back into the house, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and blot it all out.

He’d been wrong about Jack, and that fucking sucked.