Playing It Out Straight

by Andrew McQuinn

  “I know I don’t say this enough Kyle, but you’re a good kid. I’m proud of all the hard work I’ve seen from you over the past two years. You’ve learned quick that hard work gets you good grades.”

  Some of it may have to do with the fact that you’re always pressuring Stephen and I to get straight As and nothing less.

  “You taught me to focus on the things I wanted and to work hard to get them. I think some of that came from all the sports you insisted on signing me up for.”

  “Sports build character and toughen you up. You could use that.”

  “Thanks?” I said in a questionable tone.

  “Don’t want people thinking you’re weak.”

  I just looked at him and ignored what he said. He was on his fourth, or was it fifth beer. This meant his “normal” filter had been turned off.

  “So,” he changed the subject. “Stephen’s inviting this Becca Martin…”

  “It’s Mitchell,” I corrected him.

  “Right, sorry,” he paused to take a sip from his beer. “Know anything about her?”

  “She’s a junior, varsity cheerleader and big with the in crowd.”

  “I see, think she’ll make an appearance?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad.”

  He glanced over at me for a minute before he spoke again.

  “Did you invite anyone?” He mumbled through a sip.

  I sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What happened to that Jessica girl? Or Alisha, she’s had her eye on you for a while.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, I’m just not interested in them. What does it matter now? We’re moving,” I reminded him.

  “When I was your age, I chased girls every chance I got.”

  “I’m not you though.”

  “Throw your line out there, someone is bound to bite.”

  Are you even listening to what I say to you?

  “Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Dad asked.

  I thought for a moment. I knew the identifier ‘anyone’ wasn’t the open-ended word I’d like it to be. I wondered for a moment if he had said anyone on purpose. But no, of course I knew what he wished the answer would be. ‘Yes Dad, her name is…’ Truth be told there was no one, well, no one I could talk to him about.

  Not now at least.

  Over the last two years there were two guys I’d had my eye on. Taylor Bearns, a boy I met at an indoor track meet, and Kip, who might make an appearance tonight. To make matters worse, I had never talked to Kip. My brother invited him and most everyone else coming tonight. I doubt Kip noticed me when we passed each other in the halls. Yet I noticed him. The simple sight of him caused my stomach to do cartwheels, and I avoided eye contact.

  Taylor on the other hand was a different story.

  “Yeah.” I somewhat lied. To save myself the trouble I made up a story, as I knew he’d ask how I knew her. As well, I needed a name. So, I blurted out the first name to come to my stupid adolescent brain. “Her name is Taylor,” I said.

  “Taylor who?”

  “Bearns.”

  “Why didn’t you invite her?”

  “I was going to, but… she’s moved. Her parents are divorced, the split custody was becoming too much for her. She moved to Boston with her mom.”

  Lying was starting to become commonplace.

  “Oh,” Dad said frowning. “That’s too bad. You should have invited Jessica or Alisha instead.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not interested in them. Besides I think Stephen already asked them.”

  I almost couldn’t bear the conversation any longer for fear I’d prematurely come out. I started to panic inside.

  Dad opened another beer, taking a sip before saying, “Well maybe you’ll meet a girl in California. You don’t want people thinking your gay, do you?”

  “Cause that would be tragic,” I whispered to myself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to check on the game.”

  I left him before he could retaliate with another remark and filled my glass with water before settling into our father’s La-Z-Boy.

  “Let me guess, you just got done talking to Dad?” Stephen said.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “What was it this time? ‘Son I think you should try out for the football team.’”

  I laughed at his impression. “No, he kept asking me why I hadn’t invited anyone, and if there was a someone, I was interested in. Not that it should matter since we’re moving.”

  Stephen laughed. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth,” I fibbed.

  “Which was?”

  “That you had already invited Jessica and Alisha. That I wasn’t interested in them.”

  “Ah. Well, Alisha likes you a lot! She thinks you’re cuter.”

  “We look exactly alike.” I laughed.

  “I know, man, that’s what I said to her.”

  “You’re also a womanizer, that’s probably why she doesn’t like you.”

  “I resent that.”

  I smirked and picked up the remote from his lap. “What do you want to watch?” I asked.

  “Whatever.”

  I flipped through the channels before settling on Pleasantville.

  I’ve always loved and admired this movie. About a modern-day brother and sister who are transported into Pleasantville, a fictitious television town set in the mid nineteen fifties and must act like they belong. But their mere existence threatens to change the town from black and white to color. The movie delves into many topics from segregation and individuality to acceptance. It has a beautiful story and cinematically—from the costumes to set, and everything in between—it’s amazing. Poorly underrated. I’ve seen it so many times that I could probably recite the whole thing.

  Stephen leaned forward, examined the room to ensure we were alone, and with a stern look and a low whisper asked, “Do you think this move is going to help?”

  “Help?”

  “Come on Kyle, I know something is up.”

  “I don’t know. Look, what makes you think—”

  “Dude,” Stephen interrupted. “We’re twins. We share the same room. You talk in your sleep. End of story.”

  I knew what he meant. It was true what they say about twins. We’ve always possessed this power to know when something was wrong with the other. Seven years ago we went to Camp Beech Cliff. While on a nature hike with the group from my cabin, I fell and broke my wrist. When we returned from the hike, Stephen was waiting for me at the main lodge outside of the infirmary. No one told him what happened, he knew something was up.

  “When I know you’ll know,” I assured him.

  I wanted to tell him so bad it hurt to keep my mouth shut.

  How at times, when he wasn’t around, I cried for hours in hopes it would somehow leach what’s inside-out of me. I wanted answers, and no matter how much I fought it — whatever it was—wasn’t leaving but instead growing stronger. Meanwhile, the movie was at one of my favorite scenes. The moment where Joan Allen’s character has gone from black and white to color. Her husband is demanding she cover up before they go to a town meeting where everyone will see. It’s a scene with the level of self-confidence I’ve only dreamed of having.

  I lived in black and white.

  I wanted to be in color, all colors, every color of the rainbow.

  There was no turning back. My journey had just begun and the only way to the finish line was to keep moving forward. My father could sometimes be insistent and overbearing. Knowing him, if I told him I thought I was gay he would say this was just a phase. I’d grow out of it eventually. These feelings would go away. The thing is they’re here to stay, and I didn’t want them to go away.

  The doorbell rang, interrupting the scene and my thoughts. I turned the television off. The bell rang a second time, this time twice in a row out of impatience. I got up and walked toward the hall.

  “Coming!” I yelled.
r />   I sauntered toward the front door and reached for the handle. Light rushed in as the door opened and brightened up the dull hall. I squinted for a second. My eyes adjusted and then I saw him. The boy from school I spent the last two years admiring from afar. Kip Martin. He looked casual and at ease. He looked like a Greek God.

  CHAPTER THREE: HAVE YOU EVER

  “Hey Stephen,” Kip said in a deep voice.

  I barely registered what he said when suddenly his hand was between us. I extended my own to shake. His grip was tighter compared to mine and I felt him squeeze my hand a second time. He flashed his pearly white, heart fluttering, smile. I just looked at him.

  He’s just your high school crush, keep your cool.

  “It’s Kyle, the look on your face says you’re Kyle.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh! Sorry, I knew I was going to do that.”

  I chuckled. “It’s okay man, people make that mistake all the time. Come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You can tell by the hair length by the way, mine is always longer especially in the front.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  He slowly let go of my hand and raised an eyebrow. I watched as his eyes scanned me up and down and then he walked down the hall. He had the build of a football player, more importantly the quarterback. He was leaner than the players conditioned to protect him. His strength was clearly concentrated within his arms. I saw his biceps flex slightly under the polo he was wearing. I couldn’t help but look down at his butt and calves. Everything about him was perfect, as though he were carved from stone.

  He rounded the corner into the living room, and I heard him say hi to my brother as I turned back to the door. Walking up the driveway in short shorts and a white tank top with a red plaid shirt tied across her stomach was the certifiably hot Becca and about half the football team and cheerleaders. I waited for them to reach the door. Like Kip, Becca was nice and introduced herself. She called me Stephen, too.

  Sometimes I felt like I lived in my brother’s shadow.

  “Hi Stephen, sorry if we’re late.”

  “You’re the first to arrive actually. Also, I’m Stephen’s brother, Kyle.”

  Becca’s cheeks went red and she lowered her head. “Sorry, I should have known, you keep your hair longer,” she said, teasing my hair.

  I kept my cool although I hated it when people touched my hair. I stepped aside and let them file in, left the door propped open for the warm June air to drift in. When I made it to the living room my eyes met Kip’s handsome face, soaked in sunlight spilling through the windows. I couldn’t control myself. Every time I saw him my heart fluttered, and I became both queasy and weak in the knees.

  Here I thought seeing him in the halls every day was challenging enough, and now he’s in my house.

  Although it felt weird, and wrong checking Kip out—he was after all straight—I had to do it. Like it was habitual, hypnotic, a necessity. He laughed at someone’s joke and for a faint second, I smiled on the inside.

  What’s wrong with me?

  The faces of these guys I had grown up alongside seemed so happy, so sure of themselves. Meanwhile I wondered if I composed myself as well as they did. I looked over at Danny Shepard. I was curious to know his story. Mildly attractive, puberty had skyrocketed him to five eleven. Hair had filled in around his ears and dark brown bangs squared off his forehead, drawing attention to his hazel green irises. Hmm. At a second glance, he’s become quite attractive! Girls clung to his side all the time, yet he was always single. Maybe we shared the same feelings. If only I knew his side of the story.

  I ventured upstairs and got lost in my own thoughts. For a short time, I had a close friend from our rival high school. Taylor Bearns. He was the only other guy I had a crush on. We met during our first indoor track and field meet at the University of Orono. Taylor went to Ellsworth High School. I still remember the day I saw him step off the school bus. It was early in the morning. Puffs of breath left his lips as he removed his beanie and shook his long blond locks. Even at five in the morning he looked handsome.

  Being mid-winter, the temperature was a frigid ten, maybe fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. His cheeks went cold red, and I could see more of his breath puff out from between his kissable lips. When I first laid eyes on him, it was like one of those cheesy movie scenes where everything moved in slow motion. It wasn’t until Stephen body checked me that I looked away.

  To my surprise, he approached me first. Unlike Stephen, who would gather with guys on the team and talk about girls or how to improve their game, I liked to sit alone and listen to music while I stretched. I sat, my feet meeting in the middle and breathed in and let my hip muscles relax. Exhaustion still ruled my brain making each task painfully long. With my eyes closed I stretched out my neck and shoulders then bent forward until my face met my feet. I thought I heard someone clear their throat then my eyes shot open and I saw a pair of feet. I peered up and there he was.

  “Mine fI oin?” I heard him faintly say over the music blasting from my ear buds.

  I removed my ear buds. “Sorry what did you say?”

  “Mind if I join?” he asked. He stood in front of one of the overhead lights, a halo of light wreathed his head.

  “Ah sure.”

  “Top o’ the morning to ya, I’m Taylor.”

  He held out his hand, so I felt obligated to shake it.

  “Kyle,” I replied.

  We hit it off immediately and there on out trained together at all our meets. I was never quite sure what to make of our friendship. During the times with Taylor, questions were never answered, instead experiences were had, and boundaries were tested. We never did anything, but what we had was unique. I can still remember the weight of his head against my stomach when he fell asleep, cozied up against me at Relay for Life.

  Our chemistry sent chills down my spine and though I didn’t know for sure, I thought he felt the same. Then three months ago he moved to Boston. I wondered how different things would have turned out if I knew I was moving to California. If I had known we wouldn’t be a couple states away, but instead divided by an entire country, would I have acted differently when he told me he was moving? Would I have made a move?

  § § § §

  I grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and when I turned back toward the living room, I saw Kip weave his way through the crowd. He’s coming my way, I thought as I turned back to the fridge. In the shiny stainless steel, I saw red fill my cheeks, they grew warmer when I saw Kip’s reflection. What do I do? I know. Act cool. Stand tall, look ‘straight’. Whatever straight means, and whatever you do… Don’t start drooling…

  “What do you guys have to drink?” Kip asked.

  I turned around and saw he was leaning against the breakfast bar, a mere three feet away, looking at me. Once again, his eyes quickly looked me up and down and I failed to stop myself from doing the same. Seriously Kyle stop. Look at him, do you really think you’d have a snowball’s chance with him tonight, if that’s what you wanted? Is it what you want? I turned away to hide the redness in my face.

  “What would you like?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  “Want ice?” I asked, reaching for the freezer door.

  “Nah, it’s cool.”

  I filled his glass with tap water and turned to hand it to him.

  He reached for the glass, and that’s when Einstein and Newton’s theories were put to the test. Time really was relative, when one reaction caused an equally awesome and not at all opposite reaction. First his pinkie lightly brushed my hand then his fingers rested between mine. This was the closest we’d ever been. This wasn’t even close enough. I stared at him and felt the metaphorical drip of drool leave the corner of my mouth. For a brief second, I wanted to pull him in and plant a kiss on those beautiful lips.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. I watched his Adam’s apple move up, and then down as he swallowed and sighed. “How do you feel about the big move
?”

  “A little nervous. I still can’t believe we’re leaving in a few days.”

  “I bet. Why aren’t you out there mingling with us?” Kip asked.

  “I’m not one to mingle. I don’t really talk to many of them. The ones I did talk to stopped talking to me last year. I’m a wallflower type.”

  “I know how you feel. I might come across as the popular kid, but I’m a huge introvert who doesn’t like drama. I’m so done with high school myself,” he admitted.

  “I bet,” I paused and brought up the only thing I really knew about him. “So, you’re the quarterback?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty sick. The game is literally in your hands.”

  “True.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I sipped on my drink.

  “So, Kyle, are you single?”

  The question caught me off guard and I began to choke on Gatorade.

  “Sorry… went… down… the wrong pipe,” I said catching my breath. Kip laughed and patted my back while I continued to cough. “Thanks. Yes.” I blushed.

  I don’t know how you do it. What’s mysteriously tugging at my heart strings? What chemical reaction causes sweat to build on my palms and my mouth to go dry each time I see you or hear your voice. Why? I wish you could tell me Kip… Keep your cool Kyle, smile and play it safe. Silent is safe.

  I don’t want to be quiet anymore.

  “That’s good, would’ve sucked to end a relationship because of a move.”

  “Are you?” was all I could say.

  “Yeah. I’m taking a—” he paused. “Break.”

  I looked at him surprised.

  “Oh, I thought you and Jenny were an item?” I questioned as I put down my drink and made quotation marks to emphasize the word item.

  Kip laughed. “Oh, no! We’re good friends.”

  Just then my father walked in. “Kyle, off the counter,” he grunted.