by Kim Holden
He looks at me with the brightest eyes and a smile that would put an excited five-year-old to shame. “Thanks Katie. For going. For making me go. That’s the best show I’ve ever seen. I haven’t had that much fun,” he pauses and shrugs, “ever.” I suspected Keller doesn’t let loose often. I guess I was right.
“It was fun. I think I’ve been converted into a Reign to Envy fan. Thanks dude.” I back out of the parking space and glance at the clock on the dashboard. 12:13am.
“I never would’ve come on a whim like this. I admire your spontaneity, Katie. I can’t do it.”
I elbow him in the arm. “I hate to tell you this, but you just did. I would’ve missed out on some of the best moments of my life if I weren’t spontaneous. Honestly, I try not to think about the future too much. I’m a huge fan of the present.”
“I’m always looking toward the future,” he says, suddenly serious. “I can’t afford not to. The future is all I have.”
“Sometimes the future is overrated.” And scary.
“Not for me.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t pursue dreams and goals. Just don’t forsake the present for the unknowns of the future. A lot of happiness is bypassed, overlooked, postponed to a time years from now that may never come. Don’t bide your time and miss out on this moment for a tomorrow with no guarantee.”
By now we’re on the highway headed back home. Silence comes and we enjoy it for a few minutes. Keller rests his head against the headrest and looks at me through heavy lidded, happy eyes and just stares. I feel it. “Where did you come from?”
I shrug. “San Diego.”
He shakes his head, because that’s not a question I was really supposed to answer. It was rhetorical. I get that.
“Do you miss it?”
I stop and think. “Not really. I mean I miss my best friend, Gus, but he’s traveling right now, so he’s not even there. And I miss the beach sometimes. Surfing.”
“You surf?”
“Sure.” Why does this seem to surprise people?
“That’s legit, Katie. You’re hardcore SoCal.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever, dude.”
“So, is Gus your boyfriend?”
“Nah, we’ve been best friends our whole lives.”
“You’ve been friends with a guy your entire life?” He says it like it’s something that never happens.
“Sure. What’s so weird about that?”
He smiles and the devil shines through. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if I had a best friend that looked like you, I’d have a hard time keeping it friendly. Is he gay?”
My smile widens at the thought. “I wouldn’t have a problem with it if he was, but no, Gus is most definitely not gay.”
“And the guy never put the moves on you?”
I laugh at the unexpected question and smile. I don’t know if I should answer this question or not.
He crosses his leg and rests his foot across his other knee. “He did, I can see it in your eyes.”
Keller and I are friends and I feel closer to him now after this trip together, so I decide to open up. I don’t have anything to hide or be ashamed of. “I don’t know who put the moves on who first,” I say, forming my fingers into air quotes. He laughs at me teasing his word choice. “But it did get a little ...” I search for a term that won’t sound too slutty. “Carried away the last night I was in San Diego.”
The question comes quickly. “You’re not together now? Like, you don’t consider him your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He shifts in his seat so he’s facing me. “Okay, just so I’m clear on what you’re telling me, you had sex with your lifelong best friend the last night you were in San Diego before you came to Grant?”
I cringe. “Yes.” I don’t know what Keller must think of me now.
“And you’re not together, but you’re still best friends?” He sounds like he’s genuinely trying to figure this out.
“Yes. And it’s not some sort of twisted friends-with-benefits situation.”
“Friends with benefits isn’t a real thing. You know that, right? One person in that type of situation is always into the other one, they’re just not being honest.”
I nod. “You’re probably right. In my case, it just happened. It was a one-time thing.”
“And that’s not weird?”
I glance at him because I wonder if he’s looking at me like I have a third eye now. “No. I know it’s hard to understand and maybe it doesn’t make sense, but our friendship has endured so much more. I think we could work through just about anything the world has to throw at us and come out closer than we were before.” I shrug. “I’m really not a hoe bag who sleeps with every dude she meets, Keller.”
He laughs. “I didn’t say that.”
“I know you didn’t, but come on dude, be honest, you’re judging me right now.” I’m not being hard on him; I just want to know what he thinks about me.
He thinks about it for a few seconds. “You’re right, I am judging you right now, but it’s probably not what you think. I don’t know the guy, but I hope he realizes how incredibly lucky he is to call you his best friend. And I’m not talking about sleeping with you.”
I smile. “I’d say we both know exactly how incredibly lucky we are to have each other.”
He nods. “Good. Don’t ever sell yourself short, Katie. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re sweet and you’re gorgeous. And the best part is that you do it all without even trying. I hope the lucky guy who wins your heart someday truly deserves it.”
“Thanks, Keller.”
He yawns. “You’re welcome.” I catch his crooked smile out of the corner of my eye. “Wake me up in an hour or so and I’ll drive. Good night, Katie.” He turns and faces the window, and less than a minute later he’s quietly snoring.
I smile for many, many miles. Compliments don’t typically sustain me, but sometimes when the right person throws one at you, it goes a long way. I could live off what he’s just said for weeks.
Sunday, October 9
(Kate)
Gus is on the tour bus headed for a show in upstate New York tonight. He texted me earlier that the bus had a flat tire this morning so they’re behind schedule. It’s easier for him to text when he’s on the bus, where talking can be difficult and never private. When I finish my lunch, I text him back.
ME: Are you there yet?
GUS: Another 3 hrs
ME: That sucks
GUS: Yeah
ME: Went to see Reign to Envy last night in Milwaukee
GUS: How was it?
ME: They’re no Rook but I’m a fan now ;)
GUS: Heard they put on a good show
ME: Yeah
GUS: 2nd round of US tour in the works. Late spring. Bigger venues
ME: Awesome!
GUS: After Europe
ME: WHAT??!! EUROPE!!
GUS: Finalized this morning. Mid-January. I’m still in shock. Wanna come?
ME: Ha! Of course, but you’ll have to fly solo.
Mid-January. I don’t plan that far ahead anymore.
Wednesday, October 12
(Kate)
It snowed last night! I can’t believe it. I thought winter started in December, and it’s October! Barely October!
I was intentionally boycotting cold weather and thought I could delay its inevitable arrival by not buying a winter coat. I know that sounds asinine, but it’s all a mental game. My snowy nemesis has proven to be a formidable opponent.
I concede defeat by driving to one of the thrift stores in Minneapolis. I white knuckle the drive and keep my speed at a grandma’s pace despite the fact that Old Man Winter showed some mercy in leaving the roads merely wet instead of icy or snow-packed. I’m not ready for that yet. I need a baby step approach to get acclimated to this shit.
My efforts are rewarded when I score an insulated wool coat—blue and green plaid with a furry collar—for five doll
ars in the boy’s section. It fits, it’s cute, it’s even new. The tags are still on it. And it’s so warm.
I can’t wait to show Clayton my score, which he’ll predictably approve of wholeheartedly. I love that I have someone who appreciates my weird fashion sense.
Thirty minutes before I need to meet Pete and Evelyn at the cafeteria, I get a text from Gus. Can you talk?
Sugar is gone so I reply, YES!!!
A few minutes later I’m looking at Gus’s silly grin on my ringing phone. “Konnichiwa,” I answer. “How’s life on the road today?”
“Well, Jamie kicked my ass at poker all day and Franco had the beer shits all morning on the bus. So, you know, it’s fantastic, Bright Side. Fantastic.”
“Is the weather nice?”
“Yeah, we’re in Austin. Got here about an hour ago. It’s probably 80 degrees.”
“Wish I could say the same for here.” I sigh. “Get this: it snowed last night. Like real, motherfucking snowflakes.” I’m trying to act pissed, but I can’t bring myself to it because I’m so happy to be talking to Gus right now. I know I don’t have long, so I need to make the most of it.
He laughs. “No way?”
“Yeah, it’s October. Isn’t snow against the rules or something until at least December?”
“You’re asking the wrong dude that question. Is it cold?”
“Yeah, I had to buy a winter coat today. Though for the locals this is probably still T-shirt weather. I swear Minnesotans have some sort of mutant gene that makes them immune to hot and cold. It’s freaky.”
He laughs again but then turns serious. “What about boots? Did you buy some boots? You’ll need boots.” It’s funny when he acts parental.
I over-exaggerate a full body shiver. “Stop. Buying the coat was bad enough. I don’t want to give in to the snow boots yet. I need time to work up to that. Maybe next month, or the one after that.” The truth is, I’ll need to buy the boots new, because used shoes skeeve me out, and I need to save up for them. That will take a while.
“You’re right, you’d better pace yourself.” He’s teasing me.
I tease him right back. “Need I remind you that you’re touring the United States this winter? That includes the northern frigid states. You’re going to need to buy a winter coat too, you know.”
He exhales through gritted teeth. “I know. I’m still in cold-weather denial.”
“It’s a nice place to visit, denial, but you can’t live there forever, dude.” Maybe I should take my own advice.
“Bright Side, are you quoting Confucius or JFK? That sounds so familiar.” I know without seeing him that he’s wearing this dumb, mocking expression that makes me laugh every time.
“Dude, I think it was Yoda, in The Empire Strikes Back. It was part of Luke’s Jedi training or something.”
We both dissolve into laughter. Gus and Grace loved Star Wars. We’ve watched the movies so many times I’ve lost count.
After we both regain our composure he says, “Well, Bright Side, they’re calling for me. I guess they’re ready for soundcheck. Sorry I couldn’t talk longer. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“No worries. Don’t be a stranger, dude.”
“Right back at ‘cha.”
“I love you, Gus.”
“Love you, too.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
Thursday, October 13
(Kate)
There’s a post-it note stuck on the door of my dorm room when I get back from afternoon class. It reads, Package at front desk for Kate Sedgwick. It looks like John’s handwriting.
That’s strange.
I retrieve the box from the front desk and think there must be some mistake. It’s from an online sporting goods company that I’ve never heard of.
Back in my dorm room, I open the box. Inside, under two sheets of white packing paper, are knee-high, lightweight, insanely warm looking snow boots.
There’s a card inside, too. Put these to good use. We’re glad it’s you and not us! Love, Gus and Audrey
I slip off my shoes to try on my new boots. They fit perfectly. Immediately my feet feel like they’ve been wrapped in a fur coat. They’re so warm. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I never would’ve been able to buy boots like this on my own.
I call them both. I get voicemail for both. I leave over-the-top, gushy thank yous for both, because I am so very thankful, not just for the boots, but for the Hawthornes themselves.
Monday, October 17
(Kate)
Clayton texts me on my way home from the cafeteria. Come with me to Spectacle tonight? Pretty please with a cherry on top.
It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with Clayton. I text back, OK ;)
Spectacle is packed as usual. Morris is working so I get Clayton to myself most of the night. I’ve missed him. We sing, dance, and laugh for hours. Before we know it, it’s 2:00am: closing time. We wait for Morris to lock up so we can all walk to the parking lot across the street together.
Just as we walk out the back door into the alley, Morris realizes he’s left his phone in his office upstairs. “I’ll be right out. Ya two wait out front on the sidewalk. I don’t want ya waiting ’ere in the alley.”
The alley is dark, there’s only one dim light bulb over the door. It’s kind of creepy. I grab Clayton’s hand and the contact relaxes him. We haven’t taken ten steps when I see two guys walking along the sidewalk we’re heading for. When they see us and stop, my skin begins to crawl. And when they turn and start walking toward us, my heart leaps into my throat. I’m scared.
After one of them speaks I know why. “Look at what we have here. A little faggot.”
First I pray. God, please don’t let them hurt us. And then I scream and turn to run, pulling Clayton behind me.
We don’t make it five feet before Clay is tackled from behind by both men.
I’m in full-on panic mode, but I don’t freeze up. Instead I start screaming, “Stop! Get off him you bastard! Stop!” I jump on one guy’s back as he’s standing up. I swing my right arm and punch him in the ear, because it seems like the most painful spot within reach. He smells strongly of alcohol and my stomach heaves. He sways under my weight.
After regaining his balance he manages to pry my hands free from his head and throws me to the ground. “Bitch!” He spits on me.
I land on my side, and the force of hitting the pavement draws all of the air out of my lungs. I wheeze trying to pull it in again. My vision is black at the edges; I must have hit my head. The pavement is rough and grates the skin on my cheek. Staccato bursts of pain pierce through my thigh and stomach and it’s all over before I even realize he’s been hitting or kicking me. He’s turned his attention back to Clayton, who I can vaguely see, crumpled beneath the other man’s knees. I fumble in my bag, which is slung across my chest, and when my fingers recognize the pepper spray, I grip it tightly. Before my attacker manages to assault Clayton again, I spray him in the face at close range. He cries out, clutching his fingers to his stinging eyes.
I lunge toward the man sitting on top of Clayton and kick him in the side as hard as I can. “Get the hell off of him you son of a bitch!” I kick him again and again and again. I can’t spray him or I risk getting Clayton too. At least he’s stopped punching. He grabs my foot and pulls me off my feet.
Just then I hear Morris’s voice. “Ge’ ya muthafuckin’ hands off ‘im.” From the ground, I can see Morris unbutton his suit jacket and pull it aside to reveal a handgun in a holster on his hip.
The guy straddling Clayton puts his hands up in surrender and stands slowly. The other guy’s already backing away. Even drunk assholes understand self-preservation.
Morris’s voice is measured but strained with pure rage. His right hand hovers over the gun. “Ge’ outta my sight or I swear ta God I’ll blow ya bloody fuckin’ heads off.”
Both men turn and run for the street without so much as a glance back.
Morris
kneels and coaxes Clayton to sit up with his help. His lip is bleeding and he’s holding his ribs. His eyes are shut and his forehead glistens with sweat. Morris’s voice is soft and gentle, “Are ya okay, love?” but his hands are trembling.
Clayton’s cheeks are wet with tears. “Um, give me a minute.” Clayton takes inventory of his upper body. “Nothing’s broken. I’m just sore.”
Morris isn’t convinced. “We should take ya ta the hospital, Clayton.”
Clayton sniffles. The tears have stopped. “Sweetie, I’ve been beaten up so many times, believe me I’d know if I needed to go to the hospital. This is about a four on the beating scale. It’s probably just bruised ribs. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
I feel physically sick and my heart is breaking. I figured Clay’s had it rough, but I had no idea. “We should call the police. They can’t get away with this.”
Clayton looks at me like I’m talking gibberish. “Katherine, my boyfriend just threatened someone with a deadly weapon. That’s probably not the best idea. Besides, we don’t even know who those guys were. I’m a random hate crime. Calling the cops would do nothing but waste my time at this point.”
I kneel down on the other side of Clayton and dab the blood off his bottom lip with my shirt.
Clayton grabs my hand. “Katherine, stop. You’ll ruin that shirt.”
My hand is shaking in his. “Clay, I’m not really worried about the shirt right now.” I just watched one of my very favorite people in the world get singled out and beaten for his sexual orientation. People’s ignorance and capacity for violence sickens me.
“But that shirt’s one of my favorites. It looks great with your skin tone.”
I have to roll my eyes, because only Clayton would say something like that at a time like this. “Dude, I can get another shirt. You can’t get another lip.”
Clayton huffs, but let’s me finish.
Morris’s eyes are running wildly over Clayton. He’s at a complete loss as to what to do next. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t ‘ave let ya two walk out ‘ere alone this time ‘a night.” His dark, wide eyes find mine and they’re way past anxious. “Ya all right, Kate?”
