by L B Winter
“Sure,” I said.
Playing ball was a blast, and whether the guys were gay or straight, Tessa wasn’t as weirded out about being around them as I’d worried she might be. What a lot of baggage that girl had—but then again, maybe everybody has baggage sometimes. Jamie certainly did, and it never stopped me from following him around like a little lost puppy. Speaking of baggage, I guess I had plenty of my own, too. Maybe having it wasn’t the problem; maybe just judging people for it was.
CHAPTER 17
Off Your High Horse
__________
January turned to February, and with it came some changes. I saw Taylor about as much as I expected to, which was practically never. Steven was busier, too, but that was nothing to Lynn. None of us ever saw her because when she wasn’t at work, she was with Deacon, and often she chose to work from home at his apartment. The change in my social circle wasn’t my favorite thing, but though I lost a couple regular fixtures, I also gained a few. Zeke, for one, proved to be way cooler than I ever realized. He never held a grudge about our weird false start of a date, and he invited me to play basketball with him and his friends almost every week. I found out that he was registered part-time as a business student, because he wanted to open his own barbershop someday and thought that the bookkeeping skills would come in handy. Having a friend who cared about fashion, in Steven’s words, helped me “look like less of a hobo and more of a homo.” So there was that—and then, there was Tessa.
Tessa started studying with me in her own dorm room after she found out I’m gay. She was as high strung as I ever thought she was, but at least around me she felt safe—her words, not mine. I had never had a close girl friend besides Lynn, but Tessa just started to grow on me. When she cried about another good grade later in January, I teased her until she started laughing about it. When her ex randomly texted her one afternoon, I calmly reminded her that she could block his number. I liked to think I helped lighten her up—and in exchange, she continually reminded me to “be careful” around Jamie. That was her advice, day in and day out—“Just be careful, okay, Paul? I know you think he’s a good guy, but just be careful.”
But Jamie was getting better by the minute. He never said anything again about my dad’s email, or about reorientation, or any of the self-shaming or others-shaming things he’d said before. He seemed like he was really starting to accept himself. I knew he was spending time with Trent regularly, which had to do him loads of good, but not only that, Steven was coming around to him, too. He texted me one day to say, “Okay, so Jamie isn’t all bad. We all had lunch at EC today. Did you know that he knows magic tricks?! So geeky. I approve.”
I was instantly jealous that they were all spending time together, but it quickly morphed into happiness that my friends were getting along with each other. I knew that Jamie had badly needed, and wanted, friends like this who really cared about him. I wanted him to have that, even while I wanted to be with him all the time. On some level, I knew that it wasn’t healthy for him—or for me—if our worlds totally revolved around each other. He had depended on me for a lot in the fall, and for my part…well, I was starting to let my guard down. I’d spent the past few months—years, really—trying to convince myself I didn’t feel for him what I did, that he was bad news, and that we would be better off without each other. But lately I was feeling like that wasn’t necessarily true. Jamie, at his heart, was so similar to me. We gelled with each other so effortlessly, and the attraction I felt to him was far beyond only physical. He was considerate, and kind, and he cared so much about people. It was easy to forget sometimes that he had been married to a woman he didn’t love. It was easy, even, to forget that he’d cheated on her.
In February, we all got news that surprised us. Lynn invited us to dinner at the apartment—Tay, me, Jamie, Steven and Trent—and announced that she was moving in with Deacon. “And,” she said, beaming as she slyly held out her left hand to us, “we’re engaged!”
“Seriously?” Tay said.
“Oh, wow!” Steven and Trent exchanged a look that showed neither of them were surprised.
“Congratulations,” Jamie said politely—not the biggest fan of matrimony himself, I suppose, while I stood up and pulled her into a warm hug. I owed Lynn my life, so if she was happy, you’d better believe I’m gonna give her a damn hug.
“That’s great!” I enthused. “When are you getting married?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head but beaming with pride and happiness. “He just asked on Valentine’s Day, and—”
“He asked four days ago? And you didn’t say anything?” Steven demanded.
“I had to wait until a weekend so we could all get together,” she said, smiling at Taylor, who seemed to receive that as the compliment that was intended.
He smiled, but his answer was, “That seems so fast, Lynn. You just started dating him, what? Four months ago?”
Lynn’s smile started to fade, and I slid back to my seat at the table so I could kick Taylor’s ankle, and said, “My mom and dad were only dating for two months when they got engaged. Mom says when you know, you know.”
Then joy was restored to Lynn’s expression, and when I suggested that she call my mom and tell her, she eagerly agreed—in fact, probably to get away from the mixed response at the table—and she asked to borrow my phone to call her right then. As she slipped away, I turned to Tay, who instantly said, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know.”
“We knew they’d get engaged soon,” Trent said quietly, leaning forward to talk to us in a near-whisper. “Lynn’s started talking about wanting to live somewhere with a yard in case she has kids someday, and how she doesn’t want roommates forever.”
“I guess it’s just you and me, baby,” Steven said to Trent, who smiled at him affectionately.
Jamie, I noticed, looked at his hands.
Lynn’s voice carried over from the hallway, where she was laughing and saying, “Oh, thank you so much. We’re so happy!”
I turned to the guys and said, “Are you looking for roommates? Tay and I aren’t going to live in the dorms forever, you know.”
Tay said, “Hey, there’s only one open room! And besides, you said we could look for a place near the medical block so I’d be close for my classes.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I said. “Never mind, guys!” I added, smiling. Tay and I were planning to get a two-bedroom apartment next year, and I couldn’t wait to be out of the dorms and have a place that was actually comfortable and big enough to live in. If Jamie stayed with us, too, then maybe he would be more comfortable having a bigger living room/bedroom combo.
But then Steven said, “Jamie, how about you? About ready for a room of your own?”
And my heart dropped into my stomach—not because I didn’t want Jamie to have his independence and to be comfortable and happy, but just because I didn’t want him to go. Seeing him every day, even when it was just for a couple minutes, was the best part of my day. And I knew that this was the right thing for him to do; it was the perfect solution to his living situation, and he really should say yes.
Jamie smiled, finally, but his answer was, “I don’t think I could afford it.”
“We don’t pay you so little that you couldn’t afford one third of our rent,” Trent countered.
“Yeah, but my divorce will be finalized next month, and whatever I make I have to pay in attorney’s fees.”
Attorney’s fees? I knew divorces could be pretty messy, but for two people with so few assets who had been married for such a short time, I wouldn’t think there would be much to argue about. I couldn’t ask about it, though. Jamie was always tight-lipped about his divorce, and honestly, it wasn’t my business anyway. Technically, I had no information about it through a direct stream; none of it had come from Jamie himself. Jason had told me some things all those months ago, but who knew the whole story? And even though I had been pretty disinterested in the gossip when I first learned about what had happe
ned, I was almost burning up with curiosity now. I guess falling hard for a guy will do that to you.
After we got back to the dorm, Taylor was still complaining that Lynn was getting married so soon after starting to date Deacon. “Things go wrong, is all I’m saying,” he said as we walked into our main room. “If I’d married Marissa after four months, look where we’d be now.”
“In some other country where it’s legal to get married when you’re fifteen?” I quipped.
He gave me some serious side eye. “All I’m saying is, I don’t know why I had to miss my study group for this.”
“Come on,” I said, “that isn’t fair. Lynn’s excited, and you’re important to her. She waited until Saturday night so she could tell you. The least you could do is pretend to be happy.”
“No can do, amigo,” he said. “I’m not a liar. I think marrying someone when you’ve only been together four months is crazy. Marriage is serious; you shouldn’t just do it on a whim.”
“I don’t think this is on a whim,” I protested. “Lynn has been crazy about Deacon practically since they met. Look how happy she is!”
“I wouldn’t know how happy she is because I never see her anymore!” he said.
“That’s as much your fault as it is hers,” I said. “Not to be a dick about it, because I know why you’re busy, but she isn’t busier than you.”
He let out a frustrated grunt. “I just don’t like how everything’s changing all of a sudden.”
That I could understand. In a softer tone, I said, “Sometimes change is good.”
Jamie, meanwhile, hadn’t said a word to us. He’d been quiet since leaving the apartment, too, and I couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. In the midst of his divorce, was it tough to hear so much about somebody else’s engagement? Was he mulling over Steven’s offer to move in with him and Trent? Was he just regressing back to the moody Jamie I’d become so familiar with in the fall?
After Tay retreated to his room to make up for lost studying time, I glanced at Jamie. He was sitting on the couch, arms propped against his knees, with a blank expression on his face. I knew that look, though; suddenly his silence made sense. He was depressed. He was probably thinking about his divorce; that’s the one thing that never failed to put that look on his face.
I wanted to say something about it to him, to make a helpful comment or put it into a brighter perspective. But I couldn’t, because this was one of those things that just needs to be what it is. It was sad that he was going through this; he had made some real mistakes, and it made sense for him to reflect on those things. But that didn’t mean he had to be depressed.
So I said, “Hey, do you want to take a run with me?”
He looked up and frowned. “It’s freezing rain.”
Jamie usually went for his daily run in rain or shine, or even snow, but freezing rain was where he drew the line. It was just too slippery to run safely. But I said, “Yeah, but I run at the Activity Center. I can let you use a guest pass and run with me. There’s a track, if you don’t like treadmills. That’s what I usually do.”
At the words “guest pass,” a smile slowly started spreading across Jamie’s face, and by the time I’d finished speaking, he had stood up and was reaching behind the couch for his shoes.
“Yeah, man, I’ll come with you. That’s awesome. Thanks! I haven’t run since Thursday.”
We took the Campus Bus to the AC, taking the whole ride almost in complete silence, and even started off our run around the track without saying a word to each other. After a few laps, though, I could tell Jamie was starting to feel better. His shoulders always relaxed when he ran, and his expression softened. After about a mile of running—a mile, by the way, that I could tell was slower than he typically ran, and much faster than I did—he let out a happy sigh.
I laughed. “You are addicted to running, my friend,” I said.
He glanced at me. “I know. It’s such a high. But more than that, it just—it feels so…consistent. It’s something I can count on, you know? It never changes. It’s always there for me.”
“That is beautiful,” I said, and he laughed.
“Shut up. I know it sounds stupid, but running just makes me feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.”
“That explains it,” I replied.
“Explains what?”
“Why you’re so fast. You have this weight lifted off your shoulders, and you’re zipping around the track like an Olympian. Meanwhile I’m over here, half hyperventilating, trying to keep up with you.”
He laughed. “Paul, you’re not that slow.”
“This is kicking my ass,” I protested, “and I know it’s slower than you normally run.”
“Yeah, but you’re doing it, and you’re doing fine. You can talk through it, so you aren’t going too fast.”
He had a point.
“You should push yourself more, Paul. You could go a lot further, a lot faster, if you tried.”
I liked that he thought that about me, even if I didn’t necessarily believe it. I replied, “How’s marathon training going, anyway?”
“Good,” he said, a smile on his lips. “I’m running a half now with pretty consistent splits. I’m going to take another long training run after the sleet clears up, probably Tuesday or Wednesday, and then I’ll have a good idea of where I’m slowest.”
I asked, “Does your phone get your splits?”
He shook his head. “No, but Trent let me borrow his activity tracker. I mean, I borrow it before a run, and return it the next day. I don’t have it right now.”
“Wow,” I said, “that’s really cool of him. I’m glad you guys are getting along so well.”
“Why is that?” he said, in a tone unreadable to me.
“You said you wanted more friends,” I replied, “and anyway, I like both of you, and it’s nice when my friends get along.”
He didn’t answer, and when I glanced over at him, he had a vague smile on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just like that you can still surprise me sometimes. Like, I feel like I know you pretty well, and then you just get even cooler than I remember.”
I barked a laugh, though I was running too fast to be able to do it comfortably.
“Seriously,” he said. “I would have been jealous if two of my friends were hanging out without me, but you’re just like, ‘Yes, the more the merrier.’ That’s really cool, Paul.”
If he only knew how many of these inner battles I’d fought—but I said nothing about it. I liked that he saw me that way, even if it wasn’t always totally true. For once a lie—at least, a partial lie—that I didn’t have a problem with.
Jamie wanted to train for much longer and run much further than I would have done without him. Every few minutes, Jamie would nudge me and say, “Hey, don’t slow down. You’re doing great!” or “Let’s do this one at a jog, and the next lap at a sprint, okay?” He was so animated about it, and so happy when he ran, that I never thought of doing anything but obliging him. I was more tired and sweatier than I’d gotten on any run in years—but if Jamie thought I could do it, then I wasn’t about to prove him wrong. We’d arrived at the AC around seven-thirty, and it was almost nine when we called it quits.
“Okay,” Jamie had said breathlessly when we finished our last lap, “let’s cool down.”
I moaned, the soreness I would feel tomorrow already making its first showings in my aching muscles. “You…are a better runner than…everyone I went to high school with combined,” I said between panting breaths, “and we were all…in the State…Track and Field championship. Your skills…were wasted.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m using them now, aren’t I? It isn’t too late.”
His voice was so cheerful that he hardly seemed like the same person who had come with me, sullen and silent, from the dorm room to take an evening run.
“That was fun,” I said as we finally wrapped up our cool down,
“but I’m gonna be way too wired to sleep now.”
“Who cares?” Jamie said. “It’s Saturday night.”
I started to wonder if maybe he wanted to hang out with me when we got back—play a video game or something—when I heard a voice from below call, “Paul!”
I looked down and saw that Zeke and his friends were in the gymnasium below the track. I waved and smiled, then turned to Jamie, who raised his eyebrows. “Want to go down and meet my friends?” I asked.
“Uh…no, that’s okay. You go; I’ll wait here.”
Jamie wasn’t the most outgoing person, so I didn’t push it. I didn’t really want to talk to Zeke right then anyway, but it seemed rude if I didn’t. Maybe I could just make it brief. I walked over to the railing and called down to him, “What’s up, dude?”
“Nothing. We’re just playing a pick-up game with a few dudes from my brother’s dorm. But hey, man, I was gonna ask you—do you want to join our league?”
“You have a league?” That was a surprise. The dorm club leagues for basketball were all in the fall semester; in the spring, it was softball, baseball, and soccer.
“Yeah, it just started, but it’s through the Black Students Association,” he said.
Stupidly, I said, “I didn’t know you had an association.” Then I cringed, but mercifully Zeke spared me the necessity of further explanation by laughing.
“I didn’t invent it, dude. I just joined the basketball league.”
“Would I be allowed to play?”
“Oh,” he said, like he’d never thought of that before. He glanced at the other guys, who appeared equally at a loss. “I think so, but I’ll check. I feel like it’s discrimination not to let you.” He shrugged.
“Okay, well then, yeah,” I answered, “count me in. It’s on weeknights?”
“Yeah, Tuesdays. Around dinner time. Sort of a weird schedule, but.”
“Thanks, Zeke,” I said, “for inviting me. Just text me to remind me on Tuesday, okay?”
