But it doesn’t seem that improbable to me. It seems to me that all the things we keep in sealed boxes are both alive and dead until we open the box, that the unobserved is both there and not. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about the other Will Grayson’s huge eyes in Frenchy’s: because he had just rendered the dead-and-alive cat dead. I realize that’s why I never put myself in a situation where I really need Tiny, and why I followed the rules instead of kissing her when she was available: I chose the closed box. “Okay,” I say. I don’t look at her. “I think I get it.”
“Well, that’s not all, actually. It turns out to be somewhat more complicated.”
“I don’t think I’m smart enough to handle more complicated,” I say.
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” she says.
The porch swing creaks as I try to think everything through. I look over at her.
“Eventually, they figured out that keeping the box closed doesn’t actually keep the cat alive-and-dead. Even if you don’t observe the cat in whatever state it’s in, the air in the box does. So keeping the box closed just keeps you in the dark, not the universe.”
“Got it,” I say. “But failing to open the box doesn’t kill the cat.” We aren’t talking about physics anymore.
“No,” she says. “The cat was already dead—or alive, as the case may be.”
“Well, the cat has a boyfriend,” I say.
“Maybe the physicist likes that the cat has a boyfriend.”
“Possible,” I say.
“Friends,” she says.
“Friends,” I say. We shake on it.
Chapter fourteen
mom insists that before i go anywhere with tiny, he has to come over for dinner. i’m sure she checks all the sex predator websites beforehand. she doesn’t trust that i met him over the internet. and, given the circumstances, i can’t really blame her. she’s a little surprised when i go along with the plan, even if i do tell her
me: just don’t ask about his forty-three ex-boyfriends, okay? or ask him about why he’s carrying around an axe.
mom: . . .
me: i’m kidding about the axe part.
but really, nothing i can say can calm the woman down. it’s insane. she puts on those yellow rubber gloves and starts scrubbing with the intensity you usually reserve for when someone’s thrown up all over the furniture. i tell her she really doesn’t have to do that, because it’s not like tiny’s going to be eating off the floor. but she just waves me away and tells me to clean up my room.
I mean to clean up my room. really, i do. but all i manage to do is wipe the history from my web browser, and then i’m totally exhausted. it’s not like i don’t wipe the snot flakes from my bed in the morning. i’m a pretty clean guy. all the dirty clothes are shoved in the bottom of my closet. he’s not going to see them.
finally, it’s time for him to get here. at school, gideon asks me if i’m nervous about tiny coming over, and i tell him i’m totally not. but, yeah, that’s a lie. mostly i’m nervous about my mom and how she’s going to act.
I’m waiting for him in the kitchen, and mom’s running around like a madwoman.
mom: i should fix the salad.
me: why should you fix the salad?
mom: doesn’t tiny like salad?
me: i told you, i think tiny would eat baby seals if we gave them to him. but i mean, why do you have to fix the salad? who broke it? i didn’t touch it. did you break the salad, mom? if you did, YOU’D BETTER FIX IT!
I’m joking, but she’s not really finding it funny. and i’m thinking, aren’t i supposed to be the one who’s freaking out here? tiny is going to be the first b-b-b- (i can’t do it) boy-f-f-f (c’mon, will) boyf-boyf (here we go) boyfriend of mine that she’s ever met. although if she keeps talking about salad, i might have to lock her in her bedroom before he comes over.
mom: you’re sure he doesn’t have any allergies?
me: calm. down.
like i suddenly have supercanine sound skills, i hear a car pulling into the driveway. before mom can tell me to comb my hair and put on some shoes, i’m out the front door and watching tiny turn off the ignition.
me: run! run!
but the radio’s so loud that tiny can’t hear me. he just grins. as he opens the door, i get a look at his car.
me: what the—?!?
It’s this silver mercedes, the kind of car you’d expect to be driven by a plastic surgeon - and not the kind of plastic surgeon who fixes the f**ked-up faces of starving african babies, but the kind of plastic surgeon who convinces women that their lives will be over if they look older than twelve.
tiny: greetings, earthling! i come in peace. take me to your leader!
It should be weird to have him right in front of me for only the second time in our boyfriendship, and it should be really exciting that i’m about to be caught up in those big arms of his, but really i’m still stuck on the car.
me: please tell me you stole that.
he looks a little confused, and holds up the shopping bag he’s carrying.
tiny: this?
me: no. the car.
tiny: oh. well, i did steal it.
me: you did?
tiny: yeah, from my mother. my car was almost out of gas.
It’s so bizarre. all the times we’ve been talking or texting or IMing or whatever, i’ve always imagined that tiny was in a house like mine, or a school like mine, or a car like the one i might get someday - a car almost as old as me, probably bought off an old woman who isn’t allowed to drive anymore. now i’m realizing it’s not like that at all.
me: you live in a big house, don’t you?
tiny: big enough to fit me!
me: that’s not what i mean.
I have no idea what i’m doing. because i’ve totally slowed us down, and even though he’s right in front of me now, it’s not like it should be.
tiny: come here, you.
and with that, he puts his bag down and opens his arms to me, and his smile is so wide that i’d be an ass**le to do anything but walk right inside his welcome. once i’m there, he leans down to kiss me lightly.
tiny: hello.
I kiss him back.
me: hello.
okay, so this is the reality: he is here. he is real. we are real. i shouldn’t care about his car.
mom’s got her apron off by the time we get inside the house. even though i warned her that he’s the shape of utah, there’s still a slight moment of astonishment when she first sees tiny in the flesh. he must be used to this, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he glides right over to her and starts saying all the right things, about how excited he is to meet her, and how amazing it is that she cooked dinner, and how wonderful the house looks.