by A J Walkley
I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
The closet.
“Nick, we were little. We didn’t know what we were doing!” I started to laugh, but stopped myself when I gauged Nick’s stone serious expression. “Anyway, so what? I can like guys and girls. A lot of people do.”
“That’s such bullshit. I don’t believe that at all. You’re either straight, or you’re gay. And you are definitely not gay!”
I felt anger building in my belly. I had never gotten this upset at Nick before in my entire life. There was one time when he ditched me as a date to the eighth grade dance to go with some girl who didn’t even dance with him the entire night. And there was another time when he had hit a baseball into his mom’s antique vase and blamed it on me. But this? This was a feeling I never thought I would have toward my best friend.
“Do you hear what you are saying, Nick? You don’t believe in bisexuality?” My hands were clenched and wringing themselves in my lap.
“Can you even begin to think about what people are gonna say, Greer? Do you really want to be walking down the hall scared that ‘Hey dyke!’ or ‘Lesbo!’ or even ‘Faggot!’ is yelled at you?”
I bit down on my straw, chewing on the end while I took in his words.
“You’re kidding yourself if you think this is real, okay? Go with this Cameron kid. Forget about this chick, okay?” he pleaded.
“But, what if I’m -”
“You’re not. Can we talk about something else now?”
I felt like I had when a soccer ball was kicked into my stomach in 7th grade gym class.
Nick finished his root beer and motioned for another one.
“I don’t feel so great,” I told him. “I gotta go.”
“Greer, don’t be mad. I know you. This is nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Nick. I thought you’d get that.”
I threw some money on the table for the lunch I didn’t touch and I walked out on him.
I had nowhere else to go but back to the airport to exchange my ticket and return to Arizona.
***
“Dude, we’re outnumbered!”
“What do you mean, Cam?” We were sitting in his basement a week after my return from my failed trip. The Diamondbacks were playing on ESPN, beating the Astros 5-2. All of our friends were there, drinking beers and eating potato chips.
“Look, we’ve got Brian, Becca and Liza versus you, me and Shaun. Don’t you see?” I really didn’t. “We’re totally outnumbered by Jews!”
A loud chorus of shouts came from our Jewish friends who threw their snacks at Cam.
“You better believe it, man! We’re taking over the world!” Brian answered, getting up and flexing his rather impressive arm muscles for added effect.
“Word, Brian! True dat!” Liza jumped up and slapped his hand. The rest of us just rolled our eyes. I never understood this kind of humor.
“So what’s the plan for the night, homos?” Cam asked the room. We all groaned. “What?”
“Why even ask? It’s always the same! Wait around for a call from one of your connects with the weed, get high, play Guitar Hero or something, and pass out,” Shaun answered. We all nodded. I would never have thought this was what my weekends would consist of only a couple of months ago, but the routine was starting to grow on me.
This night, however, was the first time I actually got drunk with everyone else. I couldn’t believe I had never tried it before.
At first I didn’t feel anything, even after two beers. After the third, though, I started to laugh and I couldn’t stop. I got this weird feeling in my head, a kind of dizziness. It was like a clarity of sorts, but at the same time I felt loopy. All I know is that it was the best feeling ever. I really wanted to kiss someone.
“Whoa, Greer’s wasted!” Brian announced to the group, making everyone look at me.
“I am not. I’m just happy.” Even to myself I sounded like a goof.
Becca got up from her beanbag to my right and announced she needed to go to the bathroom. “Come with me?” she asked me. I smiled and followed her.
“What is it with girls always going to the bathroom together?” Cam asked after us.
We walked upstairs and into the larger restroom in the house. I sat on the bathtub while Becca peed. Even though I averted my eyes, all I could think of was what it would be like to kiss her.
“What do you say we ditch these guys and do something else tonight?” Becca suggested
“Like what? We’re in Bumblefuck, Arizona! There aren’t too many options.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Becca answered. “We could see if there’s a movie playing at the drive-in?” I perked up. I always forgot about The Skylight, one of the last remaining in the nation. It had been written up in the local paper earlier that week. Apparently the town wanted to tear it down and put in a Target. People were picketing.
“I like the sound of that!”
“Awesome! Let’s go look up what’s on tonight,” Becca said, getting up and buttoning her cords. She took my hand and pulled me up, kissing my cheek before leading me out of the room. I felt a blush creeping up my neck and was grateful we had gone upstairs instead of using the cramped toilet in the basement.
***
We had bounced from Cam’s with an excuse of a project we had for math and some crap that this was the only time we could do it over the weekend. We went our separate ways to shower and change and agreed that Becca would pick me up at my house at eight.
The drive-in was about 45 minutes away and the movie started at nine.
We blasted the radio in the car, jamming out to the newest American Idol before changing to classic rock.
“So,how are things with you and Cameron?” she asked me out of nowhere.
“Uh, fine.” This was not the line of conversation I was planning on having. In fact, unless Cam was around while we were together, the thought of talking about him when I was with Becs was slightly nauseating.
“You really like him?” She looked over at me expectantly.
“Well, sure,” I began, not wanting to give her an answer she didn’t want to hear. “I mean, he’s the first guy… person I’ve ever dated,” I caught myself. “I’m pretty new at this. I don’t know what to expect.”
“I think it’s best not to have any expectations,” Becca offered.
“Yeah? Have you dated a lot of people?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer. I hadn’t really thought about Becs and someone else before, but she must have.
“Not a lot. A couple. There was Kate. We met at swim camp. She was the first girl I ever… you know…” she trailed off momentarily. “We were only 13, but it was still exciting. I thought I was in love,” she added.
“In love? Really?” I could imagine it, but I had no idea what that meant.
“Sure. But at 13, who the hell knows, you know? Anyway, she lived on the East Coast, so after that summer, we knew we weren’t going to see each other for at least a year. It turned into a camp thing. Maybe you wouldn’t even consider that a relationship?” she questioned, smiling at me.
“Yeah, I would, definitely. So, do you still go to that camp?”
Becca saw the question I was really asking when she answered, “I do, but Kate decided to go closer to home after spending two summers there. I think she’s dating some guy now. We talk, but infrequently.”
“Ah,” I said for lack of anything better. “Ooh, good song!”
“Hotel California” came on by The Eagles and we both started to jam out. The rest of the ride to the drive-in became a raucous sing-along. Becs had the same taste in music as I did.
***
The lawn was packed with children and their parents, the night’s feature being a Pixar flick. We still enjoyed it, though. Toward the end, Becca’s hand had made its way into my own, her fingers gently stroking my palm. Goosebumps rose on my arms each time and it was hard to concentrate on the movie.
We ended up
driving all the way home that way, rehashing the movie and the naughty parts the Disney execs had no doubt included for a more mature audience.
By the time we pulled into my driveway I felt like we had been driving for ten minutes, not the near-hour it had actually taken.
“How would you like to go out next Saturday, Greer?” Becca asked me before I got out of her car.
My heart jumped and I exclaimed, “I would love nothing more!” I silently chastised myself for sounding too enthusiastic. “I mean, yeah, that’d be cool.”
Becca just smiled. “Great. My treat, okay?”
“You mean, like a date?” I asked. I hadn’t been sure that night had been a date, so I was determined to be positive this time.
“Yeah,” she said, taking my hand in hers once more. “Definitely a date.” She brought my hand to her lips and grazed them along my knuckles. “Your choice, so make it a good one. Now, get outta here!” she joked, lightly pushing me toward the door and into the next stage of our relationship.
***
“What’s your favorite ice cream?” I asked her. We were sitting at the hibachi at my favorite Japanese restaurant in town (our only Japanese restaurant, actually). My two or three butterflies had multiplied by twenty. I was pulling out the trite “favorite” questions I had come up with before Becca picked me up. Sure, they might have been corny, but, hey, these are important things to know about a potential significant other, right?
“Ha, um, definitely Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. Ever have it?” She licked her lips to show her approval. I felt the hair on my arms stand on end.
“No, but we’ll have to share a pint sometime,” I flirted.
One point for Greer! I thought to myself. This was so much more than a first for me, this date. I had to boost my own confidence if I could.
“Absolutely. What about you?” she sent back to me.
“Strawberry, hands down,” I replied quickly. She met my answer by squeezing her face in, like she just tasted a lemon.
“Ooh, well we won’t be sharing that one. I’m allergic to strawberries,” she told me.
“Aw, good to know. You’re not allergic to teriyaki sauce or anything are you?” I asked.
“No, definitely not. Just strawberries. I break out in hives and my throat closes up. It’s just not a good scene.” She absent-mindedly played with her chopsticks as she spoke; practicing picking up her drink coaster just before our chef arrived.
“And what’s your favorite movie?” she fired back at me.
“Oh man, that’s a hard one,” I said, wracking my brain to pick just one. My dad had always been a huge film buff, passing his passion onto me. Our house was filled with hundreds of videos and DVDs, most of which I had watched with Dad before he decided to take on a job that required so much traveling. “Give me a genre!”
“Ha, okay. Favorite comedy?”
“Easy one. Annie Hall. Ever see it?” I asked.
“No, but my mom’s always telling me to. Woody Allen, right?”
“Yep!” I was impressed. Not many people our age were familiar with him. “What about you?”
“Superbad, hands down,” she said without hesitation.
“Great pick. That’s hilarious. What about favorite romance?” I asked back.
“Oh, probably Under the Tuscan Sun.”
“Cute,” I responded. Becca laughed.
“You?” she asked as our chef ignited an onion volcano in front of us.
“Casablanca. I know, totally old school, right?”
“No, no. I’ve seen it. It’s definitely a good one. I just hate that damn ending. Nobody is happy! What kind of a romance is that?”
“I guess more realistic, maybe?” I offered. “I mean, Bogart lets his girl go because he loves her and wants her safe, you know? That’s so romantic, I think.”
“Touché, Greer. You’ve convinced me,” she said, elbowing me gently in the side with a smirk. Good thing I was sitting down, or else I would have been on the floor.
“Shrimps for you!” the chef said, pointing at me. Before I could protest, he flung a piece of shrimp my way, intending for me to catch it in my mouth. It hit my nose instead, ricocheting into Becca’s Coke.
“Guess I’ll have to get another drink!” Becca laughed. I blushed, and the chef motioned he was going to give me a second chance.
“Oh geez!” I said before he flung it at me again. This time, prepared, I caught it. Becca and the rest of the people at our table clapped.
“Nice, Greer!” my golden-haired date said before whipping her head around and catching the crustacean thrown her way, no problem at all. She winked at me, that dimple revealing itself on her cheek again.
“Wow, that was wicked impressive, Becs!” I commended her. She grinned at me and put her hand on my leg under the table. And I thought Cameron’s touch had been chill-inducing! I had to clench my teeth together so I wouldn’t shake like an epileptic.
***
I hated talking on the phone with Nick when we were fighting. One of us would end up giving the other the silent treatment and the whole thing would be for nothing. In Charleston this was never a problem. If I was the one in the wrong, I would just run a few blocks to his house and knock incessantly on the door until he let me in. I wouldn’t leave until we were back to normal.
In Arizona, however, this was not a possibility. Plus, Nick was the one who should have wanted to apologize. For whatever reason, though, I found myself holding the phone and waiting for him to answer.
“Greer,” he said, recognizing the number. “What’s up?”
His voice was flat.
How do you tell someone they owe you an apology without them turning it around on you?
“Hey, Nicky. Do you have a minute?”
I heard shuffling papers on his end of the line, followed by a lengthy sigh.
“I guess.” And the treatment was on, even though I should have been the one angered into muteness.
“Listen, I know things went down badly when… you know. But, I can’t do this anymore. You’re my best friend, Nick, and if I can’t talk to you about this stuff that’s going on, I don’t have anyone to talk to at all.”
I paused briefly, waiting to see if he had anything to say, before continuing. “I know that everything I told you was totally a surprise and everything. But, do you really think it’s that big of a deal? Do you really think I would tell you this if it wasn’t true? If it wasn’t happening?”
Another sigh from his side. I waited patiently.
“It’s just, God, Greer, are you sure you’re not just, you know, trying to do this for attention or something?”
I winced, his words stinging. You think you know a person, and that person knows you, until you start questioning yourself. I guess it only makes sense that he would be questioning me, too. I wished right then that Nick knew about James; that I had confided that part of my life to him before. Maybe he’d take me seriously if he knew.
“Nick, think about it. Why the heck would I be saying I like girls for attention? People don’t always look at gay people positively, you know. Why would I want to put myself in that position if this wasn’t true?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Greer! Don’t you remember Polly? Everyone was horrible to her,” he reminded me.
“Of course I remember. I just wish I had defended her instead of doing absolutely nothing. Don’t you?”
Nick’s breathing permeated the miles of space between us for a moment.
“If that had been me instead of Polly, would you have said anything?” I asked him.
“I -” he started. “I honestly don’t know, G.”
“Dammit, Nick! I stood by you when those same idiots shouted racial slurs at you down the hall. I stayed by your side when the girls on my swim team told me I’d have more friends if I just dropped you. Don’t you understand that this is the same exact thing?”
“Fuck,” he said, and I knew I had gotten to him.
The final wait of our c
onversation came then while he took the time to figure out what to say.
“I’m sorry, Greer. Fuck. Fuck. You’re completely right. Damn!” I could see him pacing his dorm room, hand over his eyes, frustrated and angry with himself. Every time he realized he was in the wrong he punished himself more than anyone else did.
“Nick, I just want you to understand. This is so hard, you know?”
“Fuck, Greer, I’m so sorry. I am just scared for you, you know? It’s not like you’re in California or Massachusetts. Or even Connecticut. How the hell are teenagers in the Arizona desert gonna react to this?”
I smiled in spite of myself.
“It’s not like I’m planning on announcing my revelation to my entire school, man. I don’t even know what’s going on. Who am I? I don’t know. Am I bi? Am I gay? Am I straight and it’s just Becca that does this to me? Fuck if I know!”
“You’re right, G. I’m sorry I didn’t-“
“Shh, stop apologizing. I forgive you. Now, can I tell you what’s been going on?”
Nick laughed and all the rest of my uneasiness vanished.
“Of course. Bring me up to date.”
“Funny you should say that because I went on a real date with her last night. We never ran out of things to say. I found out all kinds of things about her I never knew. Like, she loves listening to Van Morrison, Spoon and Ben Folds. Her favorite food is mango. She used to play ice hockey like you in middle school, but switched to swimming when she pulled her hamstring in 8th grade.”
“Whoa, slow down, dude. Where did you go? What did you do?”
I told him all of the specifics before he had to go to the library to study with his team. I hung up my phone and collapsed on my bed.
I was exhausted, but giddy at the same time. I had my best friend back.
Plus, I couldn’t help but think about Becca’s and my first official date.
Damn it had gone well. After the hibachi, Becca drove us to this pond not too far from the high school. Nobody was there at 10:30; it was usually a place parents took their kids to catch frogs in the spring. We sat on the hood of her blue Jetta and looked at the stars; brilliant since the new moon was invisible and there were no streetlamps polluting the air. We had already kissed before, but my hesitancy had put her off. She hadn’t tried to kiss me again at the drive-in. I knew it would be me that would have to make the move. There was no assumption that it was the guy’s responsibility because there was no guy involved. I remember thinking how stupid that assumption was, anyway.
