Where Sea Meets Sky(12)
Chapter Three
JOSH
On the scale of sex, there are four different ways to measure your fuck. There is sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. And mind-blowing sex. There is no bad sex because, I mean, it’s still sex. At least to me. I’m not picky. But what I did with Gemma, that fucktastically hot foreign minx, is in another category of its own.
That was pure, primal, crazy, sweaty, erotic, sensual, rabid animal, life-changing sex. That was the sex that happens once in your life, if you’re lucky. I cannot get it out of my head. I cannot get her out of my head. For the next few days after Halloween, Gemma and her come-hither eyes and thick hair and infectious laugh are all I can think about.
But I never even got her last name.
When Monday rolls around, however, I’m given something else to think about. I have a morning shift and I smell like Hollandaise sauce and drip coffee when I get home. There’s a stack of mail on the kitchen table. My mother, the workaholic Realtor, is out somewhere, probably showing some sad sap a house and trying to convince them that they can afford Vancouver’s outrageous housing prices.
I pop open the fridge and grab a can of Coke and start riffling through the pile of envelopes and catalogues. I start getting nervous for some reason and then I see it.
A large envelope from Emily Carr, the art school I had applied for. It was only for a few courses—3-D Computer Animation, Illustration, Comic Book Storyline, Design for Motion, Art Direction—but they would be enough to get my life heading in the right direction. I wanted to ease into it and then see if I could actually get my degree down the line.
I take in a deep breath and rip it open. On the first page it says I’ve been accepted. I had submitted my work late so it was always up in the air, but there it is. I start my courses on January fifteenth.
I close my eyes and smile. I am beyond relieved. The school doesn’t take just anyone and some of the courses are for second-year students, but somehow I made it in. I squeezed through the cracks.
Holy fuck, I’m actually going to be a student. Things are finally going to change, going to turn around. And yet, as I lean back against the fridge, staring at the paperwork, I’m left wondering: Will this be enough?
Before I can continue my thoughts, my cell rings. I pick it up. It’s Vera.
“Hey!” I say brightly into the phone. For once I have something to say to my sister. It seems her life is so interesting and exotic while mine never changes at all. But not today.
“Hey, bro,” she says. “You sound happy.”
“Fucking right,” I tell her. “Guess what?”
There’s a hesitant pause and then a squeal. “You got into Emily Carr?”
“Yup.” I can’t help but grin at her reaction: more squealing.
“Dude,” she says and I hear her take a sip of something, then swallow. “I am so proud of you. What did Mom say?”
“She doesn’t know yet. I just got the acceptance letter.”
“Good,” she says. “I like that you got to share with me first. Unless, of course, you’ve managed to snag a girlfriend in the last week.”
I’m so tempted to say something about Gemma but I’m fully aware that I’m talking to my sister. I don’t discuss my sex life with her, though she doesn’t seem to have that problem with me. Sometimes I have to remind her I’m her brother first, friend second, and the freaky stuff she does with her older boyfriend, Mateo, is absolutely none of my business.
“Joshua?” she asks, using my full name to bring me back to attention.
“Yuh huh?”
“So, what are you going to do now? I mean, about your job.” I hear her swallow again.
“Are you drunk?” I ask.
“Drinking,” she says. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Where’s Mateo?”
“He’s reading in the living room.”
“How exciting.”
“It is. I’m drinking on the balcony.”
“And you’re not freezing your ass off?”
“We have an outdoor heater thing.” Interesting. A few months ago, Vera would have said, “He has an outdoor heater thing.” She’s starting to really put down her roots, even after all the shit she and Mateo have gone through. Sounds like she’s there to stay now. I don’t know why that burns a bit. “Anyway, back to the school stuff. Are you going to look for a new job?”
I shrug, though she can’t see it. I don’t understand why everyone is so against me as a line cook. I mean, I’m not terrible at it. Sure, there was that one time I used cayenne pepper instead of smoked paprika, but anyone could make that mistake.