fun.”
“Do you even love him?” I ask, suddenly distraught as I get to my feet.
“Who? What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, straightening his clothes and fixing his hair in the boudoir mirror.
“Chris. Isn’t he important to you?”
“Yeah, of course he is. I love him,” Jeremy answers, examining me. “I just thought you wanted to fuck.”
“Forget it, dude. Do me a favor, okay?” I say as I unlock the door, ready to exit. “Treat Chris well.”
WELL, MY ass really hurts and not for any good reason. No pleasure led up to this pain. The little wrestling match with Jeremy on Saturday night still has me hobbling. I knocked my tailbone good. Another day closer to graduation , I think, filling my backpack with sheet music, my Complete Works of William Shakespeare , and a couple plays. It’s about 8:00 p.m., and as usual I’m one of the last students still on campus, having just finished accompanying some friends on piano after rehearsing my own songs for the week. No rest for the wicked. I have a monologue from Henry the Fifth to memorize for tomorrow, and as I ponder this and pull on my jacket Chris walks into the locker room, visibly shaken. I start to say something about missing him at the party when I meet his eyes, brimming with tears and red from efforts to wipe them away.
“Chris? What is it? What’s going on?”
“I did it. Jeremy and I broke up. Just now, right in the parking lot. I couldn’t take it any longer.” Chris falls into me and lays his head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk.”
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” I try to console as I hold him as tightly as I can without crushing him. I want to absorb all his pain, can’t stand to see him upset. I slip one hand up his back and cradle the back of his head.
“Why am I falling apart?” he implores, lifting his head from my shoulder. “Look at me, I’m losing my hair, Ashley!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look,” he says, pulling his hair back from his temples. “Right here, I’m losing it.”
“You’re just stressed out. You’re not losing your hair,” I assure him.
“Yes, I am, I’ve noticed it for a while. I just don’t know where my life is going. I don’t think I want to perform anymore.”
“What are you saying? You’re mixed up right now. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“No, no. Really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. All I ever wanted to do was draw, but so many of my friends were performers. I thought I should become one too. What are you supposed to do when you wake up and you’re twenty-four and you realize you’re trying to live someone else’s dream? Do you start over or just keep going because you’re this far?” He begs me with his big beautiful blue eyes, so terrified, like a child first realizing the world bears pain.
“It’s all right. Whatever you want to do is all right.”
“I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” he says, leaning in and kissing me gently.
“Come on, let me take you home,” I urge, slipping his hand into mine and shamelessly walking out of the locker room, out the front doors, and into the cool Victorian evening. I don’t care how big or tough you are; to hold another guy’s hand and walk down the street takes a lot of courage. It’s a moment of change for me. Holding Chris’ hand, I feel a torrent of emotion. It’s one thing to partake in forbidden love behind closed doors, but to walk down the street is quite another. I’m scared. Scared because I’m stepping into a place I’m unsure of. To a place where I’m not sure there will always be ground beneath me. It’s a big world and coming out feels like it’s you versus the globe, unless you have someone holding your hand.
As we pass the cottage homes lining Shakespeare Street I see a young wife setting the table through the front window. Rachel. I didn’t want to think of her because with every step holding Chris’s hand, I’m taking a step
“Do you even love him?” I ask, suddenly distraught as I get to my feet.
“Who? What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, straightening his clothes and fixing his hair in the boudoir mirror.
“Chris. Isn’t he important to you?”
“Yeah, of course he is. I love him,” Jeremy answers, examining me. “I just thought you wanted to fuck.”
“Forget it, dude. Do me a favor, okay?” I say as I unlock the door, ready to exit. “Treat Chris well.”
WELL, MY ass really hurts and not for any good reason. No pleasure led up to this pain. The little wrestling match with Jeremy on Saturday night still has me hobbling. I knocked my tailbone good. Another day closer to graduation , I think, filling my backpack with sheet music, my Complete Works of William Shakespeare , and a couple plays. It’s about 8:00 p.m., and as usual I’m one of the last students still on campus, having just finished accompanying some friends on piano after rehearsing my own songs for the week. No rest for the wicked. I have a monologue from Henry the Fifth to memorize for tomorrow, and as I ponder this and pull on my jacket Chris walks into the locker room, visibly shaken. I start to say something about missing him at the party when I meet his eyes, brimming with tears and red from efforts to wipe them away.
“Chris? What is it? What’s going on?”
“I did it. Jeremy and I broke up. Just now, right in the parking lot. I couldn’t take it any longer.” Chris falls into me and lays his head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk.”
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” I try to console as I hold him as tightly as I can without crushing him. I want to absorb all his pain, can’t stand to see him upset. I slip one hand up his back and cradle the back of his head.
“Why am I falling apart?” he implores, lifting his head from my shoulder. “Look at me, I’m losing my hair, Ashley!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look,” he says, pulling his hair back from his temples. “Right here, I’m losing it.”
“You’re just stressed out. You’re not losing your hair,” I assure him.
“Yes, I am, I’ve noticed it for a while. I just don’t know where my life is going. I don’t think I want to perform anymore.”
“What are you saying? You’re mixed up right now. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“No, no. Really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. All I ever wanted to do was draw, but so many of my friends were performers. I thought I should become one too. What are you supposed to do when you wake up and you’re twenty-four and you realize you’re trying to live someone else’s dream? Do you start over or just keep going because you’re this far?” He begs me with his big beautiful blue eyes, so terrified, like a child first realizing the world bears pain.
“It’s all right. Whatever you want to do is all right.”
“I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” he says, leaning in and kissing me gently.
“Come on, let me take you home,” I urge, slipping his hand into mine and shamelessly walking out of the locker room, out the front doors, and into the cool Victorian evening. I don’t care how big or tough you are; to hold another guy’s hand and walk down the street takes a lot of courage. It’s a moment of change for me. Holding Chris’ hand, I feel a torrent of emotion. It’s one thing to partake in forbidden love behind closed doors, but to walk down the street is quite another. I’m scared. Scared because I’m stepping into a place I’m unsure of. To a place where I’m not sure there will always be ground beneath me. It’s a big world and coming out feels like it’s you versus the globe, unless you have someone holding your hand.
As we pass the cottage homes lining Shakespeare Street I see a young wife setting the table through the front window. Rachel. I didn’t want to think of her because with every step holding Chris’s hand, I’m taking a step
Similar Books
