Tips on Having a Gay (ex) Boyfriend by Carrie Jones

Author:Carrie Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2008-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

“Postum was created by Charles Post. He went to this town in Michigan for a health cure and decided that coffee and caffeine were the root of all evils. So, he created Postum and the Postum Cereal Company. He started Postum and then he created Grape Nuts,” I tell Emily in the car on the way home. We have not talked about the meeting. We have not talked about Dylan.

“Fascinating,” Emily pops some gum in her mouth, presses hard on the gas. “We’re stopping at Shawn’s house.”

“What?” I slam my feet up on her dashboard and admire my Snoopy shoes, which feature a lovely image of Snoopy on the top. Snoopy is smiling and holding balloons. I got them back in eighth grade when my uncle went to Spain. They are canvas and comfortable and they have a hole in the toe, which makes them look a little ratty to discerning shoe connoisseurs, but I don’t care. They are my favorite shoes in the world but Dylan has always hated them. I have decided to start wearing them again. “Why are we stopping at Shawn’s?”

“He asked.”

“I have homework,” I say. Emily wiggles her eyebrows at me, because she knows I don’t have much. We have almost all the same classes. Sighing, I ask, “Is soccer practice done?”

“Yep.”

We drive in silence for a second and she says, “Do you think he’s cute?”

“Yeah,” I make my feet dance in front of me, a happy little dance. I think about my little duct tape guitar safely stashed in my person. “I think Shawn is cute.”

But it’s not really Shawn I’m thinking about.

She sighs and smiles, sighs and smiles and I imagine little red-crayon hearts floating above her head. “I think he’s really cute.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “Did you know that Charles Post gave his business to his daughter when she turned twenty-seven? She was one of the first businesswomen in America. How cool is that?”

She turns off the stereo, parks in a driveway outside a little ranch house that I assume must belong to Shawn’s parents. It’s nestled in some blueberry fields. The wind whips a piece of a blueberry bush across the driveway. “You know, I can try not to like him or talk about it. Is it bugging you that I like somebody, cause I know you’re a little vulnerable right now.”

“I’m not vulnerable,” I slam my Snoopy shoes down off the dashboard. The broken-up blueberry bush blows against the house like tumbleweed. I make my voice sound Russian. “I am strong, strong woman, hear me roar.”

My door zips open and Tom is smiling there. He calls to Shawn across the driveway. “See? I told you she was a pinko.”

Snoopy hides behind his doghouse, but I take Tom’s hand and leave the car. One foot. Another. I go on.

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