Lasagna

James Carver

Last night at Vitale dinner, Angela made some comment about my sexuality. At family dinner. Yeah. She's never really liked me.

Vinny went insane. Acted as if I had severely wronged him. When, in reality, I have done absolutely nothing.

I go to his house before school to pick him up but he's gone. When I get to school, he's not waiting at my locker, either. He sits as far away from me as possible at lunch. We don't have music today, but if we did he probably wouldn't have sat next to me.

I have to run to catch him on the walk home. "VINNY!" I'm shouting this over and over for at least a block. He pretends he doesn't hear me until I catch up to him. He looks down at me and raises his eyebrows.

"Whaat, Cawva?"

"Don't you what Cawva me, boy!" He cracks a smile at my imitation of his voice, but he remembers he's supposed to be mad at me, so his lips quickly form a hard line. "What the hell, Vinny? You mad at me?"

"Yes, I'm mad at you." He looks straight ahead. He acts as if he isn't going to say anything else, but I know Vinny. He's going to explode. And he does. "I mean come on, Cawva! Angela?! You fuckin' confide in my sista? I mean, I'm your best fuckin' friend, aren't I? When the hell are you gonna start tellin me stuff?"

"I didn't confide in Angela, Vin. She's just assuming crap. You know she doesn't like me very much."

He gives me the side eye. "That true?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

He throws his hands up. "I don't know, Jimmy, it feels like you don't tell me anything. And plus, it's not hard to believe you're gay, I mean with the singing and the dancing and the kissing everyone on the cheek..."

I laugh out loud at this. I don't sing show tunes. I rap very manly raps about girls and sex. And nice cars. And there is nothing gay about knowing how to dance. It used to get me a lot of attention from the Jersey girls in middle school, I'll tell you that.

"Vinny!" I'm still laughing. "I tell you everything, ok? Relax. And stop being mad at me. It hurts my dainty little heart."

He rolls his eyes, then pulls my head into his chest. "Can't be mad at you, Cawva." He ruffles my hair, pulling away from me. "Neva."

We walk inside Vinny's and I'm being handed a plate of sliced mozzarella cheese by Mrs. Vitale. Vinny steals a piece, even though his mom slaps his hand away from the plate: "For Jimmy! Jesus Marie, Vin. We do this every day, you never learn!"

We start heading upstairs but Mrs. Vitale stops us. "Oh, Vin!" She starts smiling deviously. "I met someone at the grocery today."

"You're married, woman!" Vinny screams back at her. I turn around so she doesn't see me laughing.

She waves her hand at Vinny. "Not for me, you dumbo! For you!" I stop laughing. I turn around and give Mrs. Vitale my best hard-faced stare.

Vinny perks up. He steps down from the staircase and into the kitchen like he is interested in this guy his mom met. "Oh yeah?" His voice has gone all soft and I have an urge to turn him around and send him straight upstairs.

"Yesss," Mrs. Vitale claps her hands. "Devilishly handsome, blonde hair, blue eyes. Was talking to his ma on line at the store about how there are no good men in the world, and would ya look at that, I say, because my Vinny thinks the same thing."

I turn to Vinny. "You think there are no good men in this world?"

He doesn't look at me when he says "Shut up, Cawva." He smiles at his mom. "Ok, ok. What'd he say?"

"Well first I told him about how handsome you are, and of course I showed him the picture I keep in my purse, and well, I couldn't be sure but I think he's interested. I gave him ya number so let's hope he calls!"

Vinny's still smiling when I say, "I'm a good man in this world," but he's not smiling at me. In fact, I don't think he even hears me.

"He said I was handsome? You serious?"

Mrs. Vitale nods enthusiastically. "Mmhmm!"

"I think you're handsome," I tell Vinny. He shoves my shoulder.

"Not now, Cawva. This is no time for jokes." He's still not looking at me. "You think he'll call, ma?"

"I hope so, baby!" Mrs. Vitale says just as I mutter, "He better not." But of course, Vinny doesn't hear me.

I drag Vinny upstairs after another five minutes of him asking his mom to repeat the whole story again. I'm fucking tired of hearing them talk about it. About how cute blonde boys are.

"I think blonde boys are my type," Vinny says, lying down on his bed.

"They're not your type," I snap back. "He's the first boy who's shown interest in you. That's it."

I know it's rude the second it leaves my mouth, but I can't help myself. I've been dropping fucking hints left and right and right and left and he still doesn't get it. And I've been dropping these hints since October.

Vinny looks at me like a puppy who's just been kicked. A little piece of my heart shatters.

"Vin, I didn't mean it like that," I sit down on the bed next to him. He hasn't said anything but he still looks like he wants to cry. "God, I didn't mean it like that. You're a catch, Vin. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

He still doesn't say anything.

"I'm just jealous of him," I tell him, which is the truth. "Getting all your attention and what not." He looks up at me with these big green Vinny eyes, like he wants to believe me. Like he wants to say really, Cawva? But instead, he snorts.

"I hate when you make jokes like that," he shakes his head. "It's inconsiderate, Jimmy."

I want to explode. When will he realize I'm not kidding?

"Yup. Sorry," I say, getting up. "I'll go." I can barely take a step before he's pulling me—quite aggressively—down onto his bed and into his chest. He bear hugs me and I can't help but smile.

"Don't go," he whines into my neck.

"I won't," I tell him. Because no matter what, I won't go. This is home.

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