"Ah, James, good of you to stay behind," Professor Nawotka sauntered over to me after everyone had filed out. "This short story you did for last week's creative assignment - tremendous job! A bit overly descriptive of the front parlor, but I truly felt I was there - in that room with that poor young girl, Gray."
"You wrote about me."
My mind chanted - a repeat of: No, no, no - this is not happening - not now!
But sure enough, Gray sat on the desk beside me. His legs crossed as he observed the professor and myself. He didn't seem upset. Maybe he hadn't heard that I'd made him a woman in my short. I couldn't exactly share what had happened between us any other way. I never had a creative bone in my body. Writing about the dreams and Gray had gotten me through the more artsy parts of the course, and from the beginning - when he made my stomach churn with want and confusion - I knew I had to give myself an out - just in case.
"Really? Uh, thanks," I pushed out. My tongue sat heavy in my mouth, refusing to offer anything more intelligible.
Smiling, Professor Nawotka studied me with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "Would I be correct in saying the young lady was based on someone in your real life?"
When my mouth wouldn't work, I nodded. Why did I nod? Gray wasn't real. He was a hallucination. He was sitting right there. A phantom - still somewhat translucent about the edges, but clearly there - and if nobody else could see him, that meant something was wrong with me, and I shouldn't have been pleased by that, but it sent a thrill up my spine to think he was just mine. That no one else seeing him meant I never had to share. Never had the risk that someone would find out and destroy me. Can't out a guy when his boyfriend was a delusion.
Were we boyfriends?
"Well then, I wish you luck, young man. Go forth! Win the day!" and off he went with a little grin on his tan face beneath that snow white goatee of his.
Gray, however, remained. "Rather sprightly for a man of his age."
"I think it's the no longer giving a damn," I replied as I put my things away. My eyes never left him, but I moved slowly. Drawing it out as I stood and reached for him.
He blushed. A flair of pink across his cheeks when my fingers slid over the cold, smooth skin of his neck. I could feel him. Without thought to what someone else might see, I curled my fingers, wrapping my hand around the back of his head and leaned in - desperate. My heart raced. My breath caught in my lungs, and when our lips touched - his slightly chapped from biting lips to my own, I wanted to weep.
The kiss stayed chaste. A pressing - a peck. Just enough to taste him then I drew back, resting our foreheads together. His eyes had closed. Dark lashes fluttered against his high cheekbones. God, he was beautiful. And here. He was here.
"How did you get here?"
The question slipped out before I could think. Then my brain caught up. I was in the middle of a classroom - empty, sure, but anyone could've walked in at any time. Would they have seen me kissing air? Or would they have seen me kissing another man?
I'm not sure which would have been worse.
"Oh, shit, you're here!" I pulled back, and he opened his eyes, blinking as if startled out of a daze. "Gray, can you see where you are?"
"What? Of course, I can. You asked if I wanted to spend a day with you, so I came," Gray retorted, huffing as he brushed off his jacket. "Honestly, James, do you even listen to yourself speak?"
"But - but you're at Harvard. How did you get here?"
He shrugged, stepping forward to hold my hand. "I walked. It wasn't that far."
He had walked. My dream guy had just walked right out of my head to show up. With the amount I slept, I couldn't be sleep deprived, and I ate. Not probably enough. But not little enough to explain hallucinations. It had to be a tumor. I had brain cancer. Any moment, it would block a vessel, and I'd be in a comatose state. Or dead.
I wonder if I'd still get to see Gray if I was unconscious because I was dead.
Probably not.
"I have another class - but I could ditch it," I offered. "We could walk around Boston together..."
"Certainly not. I'd love to sit in on a class with you since I missed this one," he told me. His lips curled in a cherubic smile.
Tense - my movements stiff and my heart accelerating to hummingbird levels, I led him to my next class. We walked the whole way. Hand in hand. Nobody glanced my way. Gray took everything in silently. He shifted around groups, pressing up against my arm from time to time, but otherwise, he remained just close enough to casually hold my hand as our arms hung by our sides. It was perfect.
It was nerve-wracking. By the time we reached the lecture hall, my head spun. Worse still - Chad was in this lecture with me. A statistics course aimed at social science majors. I sat down in the back. Gray took the inner seat, so I sat between him and whoever else might come. And there came Chad.
"Sup," he greeted with a tilt of his chin.
"Hey," I returned then my stomach churned. I had to introduce Gray, didn't I? Turning to look at him, relief and frustration compounded when his chair sat empty. Of course, it was empty. He had never been there at all.
Chapter Thirteen
Every habit I made, I struggled to break. No more sleeping between classes. I avoided sitting down in anything but hardback chairs whenever necessary. Any comfort went out the window, but on the plus side, I'd never spent more time with my friends. Tom took full advantage.
"Hey, the guys and I are gonna play a pick-up game of soccer at the park, you wanna come?" he asked.
My brush with obsessive organization meant I'd gotten far enough ahead that I had no legitimate excuse to say no. I wanted to refuse. Wanted to curl up in my bed and sink into the manor. Sink into the dream. I could almost see him. His silhouette formed a beacon in my mind. There - in the dreams - he radiated warmth. Not like the chill when he came around at school.
"Yeah, course."
My mouth moved ahead of me. An instinct to run built from years of holding back. Of suppressing every impulse I had. They came in useful now at least. Might just be saving my life.
Yet as I changed and followed him out the door, the distance clawed at my chest - threatening to drag me under. Didn't matter what I thought. Everything turned topsy-turvy.
***
Exercise helped. Sweating and hot in the late October chill, I finally managed an honest smile as I scored. If I just kept running, maybe I could outpace this. Tire myself out until all I saw was black. Poke at the holes again and again. I could do this. Gray wasn't real. It was all in my head.
Then like a curse brought on when someone finally forgets it, Gray stood at the edge of the field where we played. All in black - he stood out. A high-contrast grayscale in a colored world. Shifting about from foot to foot, he watched with a wrinkle between his brow. His arms wrapped around his waist. Biting his lip, he seemed somehow smaller. As if the paper-thin slip of him could shrink down and fade to nothing underneath the spots of sunlight filtering through the clouds which hung over Boston.
One of Tom's friends, Mikey, smacked me on the shoulder. "Come on! Just ‘cause you scored doesn't mean you can stay off-side!"
An apology on my lips, I glanced back, but Gray had disappeared. Which didn't make my heart clench. Didn't send a chill down my spine, and didn't make my stomach do flips. Because he wasn't ever there to begin with, so of course he was gone. Because he wasn't real.
Just breathe. Run. Dribble. Pass. Scream and interact. Focus on right now. Focus on this - the cool air. The way my feet thudded across the ground. A body colliding with mine, the ball going the opposite way. Turn and run. I could do this.
As we played, the clouds darkened. The glimpses of sun waned until the gray blanket overhead rumbled. Rain - wet and plopping down against the leaves. Plinking at first. Just one drop here and there. Large, fat raindrops - one-two one-two - almost like the phantom of clicking heels.
One second, I stood on a field. The next - only blackness. The manor never came. Neither polished mahogany no
r cobwebs greeted me. Heat - unbearable heat flared up along my legs. Rising, curling smoke choked my lungs, and paralyzed in the empty abyss, I couldn't even scream. No doors. Though something creaked on its hinges. A lock - turned and clicked. Not a single glimpse of light though I heard the glass panes rattling in a window. Just claustrophobia. Invisible walls closing in around me.
And a scream. Long and blood-curdling only to fall away into coughing. They didn't even beg. Didn't call out for help. Though I heard fists pounding against the door, they didn't say anything as they burned in that darkness beside me. Cold hands brushed along my face. A cold palm against my forehead. Quick. There and gone.
I'm going to die here.
The thought invaded my mind. Macabre and softer in tone than my usual morbid insertions - it curled around everything until the fear and panic dimmed beneath a dark acceptance. Over and over, the single sentence repeated. A mantra of death as the heat grew.
Then another followed it. A sharp cry: I don't want to die.
Jolting up, I almost slammed heads with Tom. Paler than normal, tears streamed down his face, and he deflated with a long sigh.
"He woke up!" Tom called over his shoulder. His hands pressed against my shoulders, encouraging me to sink back down. "Lie down. We've got an ambulance coming."
"Shit - I can't afford that," I told him.
His nose wrinkled. "You completely just blacked out dude. Went down like somebody shot you."
"And I can walk to the clinic."
His lips squirmed, but he helped me get to my feet. "Danny? Cancel the ambulance. We'll take him."
"What the - ? Can you cancel an ambulance?" Danny asked. A woman's voice interrupted his confusion. "Huh? Oh - yeah...yeah...I mean, he looks like shit."
"I'm fine," I growled, pushing away from Tom. "Just haven't been sleeping well lately."
Nobody argued. They didn't know my habits - except for Tom. He stared at me. Just this endless unblinking stare. His mind obsessed on facts. Given a second - when he wasn't concerned, I probably would get a lot of shit for it, but for now, I focused on putting one foot in front of another. Any weakness risked more attention than I could afford. If Gray was a delusion, there was a chance I had something wrong with me - something not so easily fixed, and anything that would send me back to my family - away from Boston - wasn't something I wanted discovered, so I kept my head high and headed back toward campus.
Most of the guys - Tom's friends - headed out, assuming Tom had it handled, but Danny followed. "I don't want to have lied to a 9-1-1 operator," he informed us, and I honestly didn't try to push him away. As long as he was here, I could put off dealing with whatever questions Tom had planned to volley my way.
When the nurse available to see me looked me over, she diagnosed dehydration and stress. Relieved of his self-imposed responsibility, Danny ditched us; however, Tom stayed silent. Even when we got back to our dorm, he didn't say anything until I had drunk two water bottles and headed to bed with a book in hand. Resting didn't mean I had to sleep.
"Who's Gray?" he asked, sitting on his bed across from mine. I had every plan to lie, and he held up his hand, shaking his head. "Forget it. I'm sure it's not something you're going to talk to me about. You just kept saying that over and over after you first went down. I thought it had to be a name."
He didn't give me time to consider telling him anything - not that I planned to anyway. Grabbing his shower caddy and pajamas, he left without further prying. Leaving me alone to think. About Gray. About what I wanted out of life. It had seemed so clear. Become independent. Find a good job where I could make money where I could come out without it causing me trouble. Come out. Lose my family. Find a guy.
But my brain was impatient. If it had been sex, I might've thought it all libido driven, but everything with Gray remained staunchly sweet. Romantic even. Had I starved myself for affection? People touched me. High-fives and shoulder bumps. Checks on the field. Repression out loud didn't do this. I could keep a secret without it killing me.
Right?
Chapter Fourteen
Tom watched me from across the room - likely still suspicious though I hadn't had another black out since the day on the field. Not a single sick spell. Every single day, I spent surrounded by his friends or my friends or whoever. Anyone and everyone - even those I disliked - to ensure I wouldn't nod off unexpectedly. I spent hours in the gym, practically beating myself into shape, so that when my head hit that pillow, only blackness followed.
Because if Gray looked at me - with those large eyes of his, I'd break. Fold like undercooked bacon. Even the thought of him made me waver.
Thankfully, Gray hadn't popped up again since that day on the field. Maybe my brain finally got the message. Healthy eating. Working out. I could do this. Keep on the straight and narrow like I always had. My life - planned out perfectly in front of me. If I strayed, it would fall apart. Without success, I couldn't come out. If I did, my dad would feel vindicated in how much he hated me. Mom would cry, blaming herself for failing me, drawing upon whatever stupid mistake she could tie to it. Guilting me into saying it was a mistake - a joke - a lie.
So I couldn't think about Gray. I had to look ahead. To a future with a doctorate and a comfortable practice. A house in Nantucket or wherever was the right place for people like me to have houses when they got a lot of money but were still down to earth. Not bragging kind of house. A house which said - 'I've done everything right in my life, and anyone who hates me should probably be my patient.'
That future. With me and the real guy - the guy who I'd find when I was ready. When I wasn't still pretending. He deserved me not to be hung up on a delusion. Because he would be amazing. Even better than Gray. Someone successful too. Probably still slim but with darker hair - more like Reggie's maybe. Maybe a guy with those pale eyes - like ice for most people, but they'd warm right up for me. Smile at me when everyone else just got a frown.
But like a traitor, my hands itched. My mind wondered if the exhilaration would be the same. Would this future man make my stomach flutter and my heart race just by holding my hand? Would he smile shyly up at me as he leaned against my shoulder, trusting me to keep him up - to keep talking about everything and nothing? Would I be the rock for them?
No. Because successful people weren't codependent. They didn't huddle, hidden in a corner of their mind desperately relying on a figment of their imaginations, and successful people weren't as broken as Gray. They didn't have that hard fragility. Speak through glances and bitten lips.
"We going?" I asked, focusing on the night ahead. Halloween and Chad's murder tour. "Come on - the guys are probably waiting."
"We're gonna be fifteen minutes early," my roommate informed me, but he didn't argue.
I couldn’t handle the silence. Any gaps had my mind careening to Gray, but I didn’t have anything to say, so like an idiot, I asked, "How are the Red Sox doing?"
Tom's nose wrinkled. "The season's been over for a while. You sure you're okay?"
I knew that, or I should have. Would have. I used to keep track for Gray. Not that we ever talked about it because after hearing the Curse of the Bambino was broken, he seemed to deflate a bit, knowing he hadn't gotten the chance to see it. But I kept an eye on it in case he ever changed his mind.
Grasping for something that wouldn't remind me of Gray, I said, "You think Cheyenne knows Chad planned this?"
"Sheesh, I hope not. Chad's paying for Maddix's ticket to get him off his back about the topic, but if Cheyenne comes along, I think I'll tear my eyeballs out," he complained, miming the action and resulting blood spurts.
A flash of blond caught my eyes, and sure enough, Cheyenne flounced up with a girl I didn't know at her side. The unknown girl had perfectly curled black hair that stopped at her shoulders. With golden skin and full lips, she swayed with each step. Slanted, almond-shaped brown eyes scanned us, and both of them wore runic pendants and loose flowing blouses with jackets with swaying fringe.
T
hey came from behind Tom, so while he waved to Maddix, Chad, and Alexander, he couldn't see who else was on their way. There was a chance - however small - that Cheyenne and her friend intended to go somewhere as 1960s witches, but from Chad's bland expression and Maddix's squirming, she had weaseled her way into the group - probably with the promise of bringing her pretty friend.
"Well...tear out your eyes."
Tom blinked, glancing around before his shoulders sank. "Seriously?"
"Hi, boys," Cheyenne greeted. "Leilani, you know Maddix. That's Chad, Alexander, Tom, and James."
"Thanks for letting me come along," Leilani said - her voice low and a twinkle in her eye.
When Maddix flushed a bright red, stumbling to say we were more than happy to have her, Chad and Tom groaned in unison. Cheyenne smirked, but Leilani focused entirely on Maddix. Hopefully, she wasn't just messing with him, but from the curious blinking from Alexander, he knew something I didn't.
Dumb college drama - the perfect distraction. Sidling up to the football player, I walked with him as Tom and Chad grumbled back and forth over the invasion while Cheyenne and Leilani sandwiched Maddix between them. If nothing else, he'd gain some cred as something besides an anal retentive nerd.
"What do you know?" I asked, nodding at the trio.
Alexander shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "Huh? Know about what?"
"Leilani."
He glanced down at me with wide eyes. "You interested? Didn't think you -"
"Yeah - but not if you know a reason I shouldn’t be," I grumbled, cutting him off. I didn't want to think about how he was going to end that sentence. "She actually interested in Maddix? Or is she dating somebody else?"
He couldn't have known. Even caught up in Gray with all the pretending forgotten though the silence remained, everybody assumed. But Alexander wasn't everyone. He roomed with Chad. Chad who noticed my slip-up. Who was looking for it. Just cause he might be something too - some other flag - that didn't mean he had any right to look for it in me. Secrets made mysteries didn't last. I had to make it disappear entirely. Even if that meant dating a girl again.
All That We Say or Seem Page 6
