All That Is Solid Melts Into Air

by Christopher Koehler

  “Remy taught me things about myself. He taught me to be strong. He taught me to be toppy and dominant—”

  “Overshare!”

  “Like you didn’t know that about him.”

  “Yeah, okay, I have to give you that one,” Geoff said.

  Michael coughed. “I love your brother, and I think I always will, but I’m not even eighteen. It’s ironic, but because of our experiences, there are more out guys at Davis High. I’m young. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to play with some of them. They’ve made it known they want to play with me.”

  “Michael, you haven’t—” Geoff sounded pissed.

  “Of course not. But I don’t see me and Rem together through the summer, either.” Michael paused. “Geoff, I’m seriously conflicted, and that makes me scared and angry, and—”

  “Taking it out on your boyfriend?”

  I’d heard enough. Whatever else Michael might’ve had to say to Geoff, I couldn’t listen anymore. I fell backward, away from the Cap City boats, closing my eyes and wishing the world away. My heart shattered in my chest, and with every breath, the shards cut me more.

  I grabbed my duffel bag and executed an awkward half roll, half tumble underneath the boat that had sheltered me and then skulked between boats. I hadn’t gone very far before I ran into someone. Literally.

  I looked up into the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I knew the owner of those eyes. Whatshisname. Randy. The Davis rower.

  He grinned down at me. “So you’re a subby bottom?”

  I groaned. “Lord, is there any way this whole race didn’t hear that?”

  “That was your boyfriend, wasn’t it?” he said softly

  I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak right then. This whole scene was the opposite of suave.

  “Who was the other guy?”

  “My brother.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  “You think he was hitting on your brother?”

  “No. I’m sure of that much. My brother’s straight as an arrow, and Michael knows it.”

  “Next on The Jerry Springer Show.” Randy extended a hand and pulled me up. “I’m getting you out of here, and before you can say anything, we have the same race schedule. I checked.”

  “You’re thorough.” I thought about it. “Or creepy.”

  Randy flashed a big surfer’s grin. “Why not both?”

  “You said something about getting me out of here?” Because that sounded better by the second. While I’d exaggerated when I’d said the regatta had heard my humiliation, in a way it felt like it. If nothing else, the venue itself had. I needed to be anywhere but there.

  “Yeah. Anyone you should tell?”

  “Both coaches, I guess. If I make them look for me, either could make me regret it.” I fired off a couple of vague texts. As an afterthought, one to Steve, as well, since he was team captain.

  “Where are we going?” I said, sighing.

  “Wherever’s in walking distance. I think there’s a nice café about six blocks up that way.” He pointed away from the race venue.

  Funny thing about rich neighborhoods. They don’t like businesses bringing down the tone of the place, so for all the million-dollar mansions in Crown Point Shores? There’s nowhere to eat.

  Now I felt stupid. “I… um. I thought you had a car or something.”

  The big guy—not as bulky as Michael and nowhere near as big as Lodestone, but more massive than me—started laughing. I mean, really laughing. Like, holding his sides laughing.

  “Oh, Remy. You’re the best. Let me explain one of the differences between UCD and CalPac, okay? We’re a state school. Most of us aren’t nearly as rich as you guys. I’m dirt poor. Go easy on me.”

  Okay, I’d only thought I’d wanted to die and crawl under the ground. Now I truly had to. “Could you shoot me? This whole day needs to go away.”

  Randy hadn’t earned the full story, and if I kept making these assumptions, he never would, apparently, because how can you be friends with someone when he acts like a rich idiot? I’m not a rich idiot, or at least not rich, even if I have loaded relatives who’ll set me up when they die.

  “I’m really sorry, but for starters? I’m at CalPac on a full scholarship, so be sure to throw that into your calculations, okay?” I didn’t plan to tell him my parents probably could’ve swung it even if I’d only earned a partial scholarship. “How else do you think they could pay for two kids in college at the same time?”

  Randy winced. “Ouch, a direct hit. But damn, a rowing scholarship to CalPac? How good are you?”

  “Can we not talk about that right now, since that appears to be one of Michael’s many grievances? Maybe later.” I sighed. “And I do have a rental car. Let’s go.”

  “Wasn’t I was supposed to rescue you?” Randy bumped my shoulder. Last fall at the Charles that would’ve scared me, but now it didn’t.

  “Let’s not quibble. You’re successfully distracting me, and right now that means a lot.”

  It occurred to me that I could’ve called or texted or whatever Laurel—this seemed a bit much to dump on Olive or Craig—but Randy was right here, and he’d offered. Besides, he’d heard it all. No further explanations needed.

  When Randy saw the rental, he fake coughed into his hand. It might’ve sounded like “private school rich kid,” but then again, maybe he only had a racking cough like a barking seal. Just in case, I pounded on his back. No one was going to choke on my watch.

  When he glared at me, I looked back in wide-eyed innocence. “Easy there, big guy. I was afraid you were choking on phlegm or something. Are you okay?”

  “Well played, sir. Well played.” Randy actually winked at me.

  “I’m going to violate my training diet. Wanna help?” I had a thing for Starbucks, and a Frappuccino wouldn’t kill me.

  Randy looked at me askance. How quickly they learned. “What would this entail, exactly?”

  “A chemical shitstorm in a twenty-ounce cup.” That was what Brad St. Charles called them, and after I’d looked up the ingredients online, I knew how right he was.

  “I bet you think that counts as actual trouble, don’t you?” Randy shook his head slowly. “So sad.”

  After that I certainly wasn’t going to tell him my phone had an app on it that located any Starbucks within a ten-mile radius. Let him marvel at my amazing homing skills.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked when we arrived at a Starbucks nowhere near the race venue. Fortunately San Diego was a compact city, so driving us north a few minutes to the gayborhood in Hillcrest was an easy thing.

  “Do I have a choice?” Randy smiled when he said it.

  I sent him to find a table while I ordered us two of the biggest, stickiest drinks they made.

  “Thanks for rescuing me.” I set down two large doses of sugar, dairy fat, and caffeine.

  Randy glanced up at me, one of the gentlest looks I’d seen in a long time. “You clearly needed it.”

  He extended his hand. “Allow me to formally introduce myself, since that time in Boston barely counted. Josef Randolf Deburgh, at your service. Everyone calls me Randy.”

  “Jeremy Babcock, but everyone calls me Remy.” I shook Randy’s hand. Given the vibes coming off him, I was definitely not at his service.

  Randy stared at my throat. “So tell me about that collar and cross.”

  “This? Michael gave me the collar, and given what you overheard earlier, it means about what you’d think. But the cross? It’s not a cross, it’s a poz sign.” At Randy’s blank look, I said, “I’m HIV-positive.”

  “Oh. How’d that happen? You’re so young.”

  I cocked one eyebrow. “How’d it happen? The usual way. Shall I draw you pictures? Maybe interpretive dance? Or a puppet show?”

  Randy blushed very prettily. “I… um. There’s no saving this, is there?”

  “It’s not like this is a date, so no hard feelings.” Did he look disappointed? To
o bad. He heard it all, and at no point did Michael—or I—say anything about a breakup. Life support, maybe, but we weren’t dead yet.

  “You know,” Randy said, “you’re one of the least approachable people I’ve met.”

  I laughed. “Me? I’m harmless.”

  “Dude, for a moment there, I thought you said you were harmless.”

  “Treat me as you would any highly venomous creature.” Then I had an idea. “Do you mind if I bury my face in electronics? I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Be my guest.”

  I felt Randy watching me as I pulled a MacBook Air out of my team duffel. I waited for it to boot, and then waited for the Wi-Fi to realize that Starbucks was trying to tell it something. “Cancel that,” I muttered, clicking the “go away” button.

  I fooled with my phone, setting it up as a hot spot. So much faster. “You can talk to me while I’m doing this. I thought of something to do to send an unmistakable message.”

  “Do I want to know, or do I need to be able to tell the police I had no idea what you were doing?” Randy sounded amused. I think he thought I was funny.

  I looked up. When he smiled, dimples appeared. “You’re hilarious. It’s pretty simple. I told Michael we were leading parallel lives, so it was stupid for him to pretend I didn’t exist, especially given the way we left it. So I’m sending him Blondie’s Parallel Lines through iTunes.”

  “Lives, lines. Parallel lines never intersect. I like it. Do you think he’ll get it?”

  “If he doesn’t, we have no business being together. Here, check out the track list. Some of the cuts are perfectly titled, too.” I turned the computer around.

  Randy perused them while I finished setting up the hot spot. “‘Hanging on the Telephone’? ‘One Way or Another’? ‘Heart of Glass’? Going for subtle, I see.”

  “I know, right?” I took the laptop back and sent the “gift” off to Michael through iTunes.

  “How do you know he’s got an iPhone?”

  “I gave it to him,” I said with a shrug. At Randy’s look of disbelief, I said, “It’s a long story, trust me. Anyway, the next time he opens iTunes—sometime in the next fifteen minutes, knowing him—it’ll download, assuming he can get a Wi-Fi signal.”

  “Right, you’re perfectly harmless. Too bad you didn’t include ‘Call Me.’” He held up his blended coffee drink. “To gifts with messages.”

  “And lives without complications.”

  He gave me a funny look. “Are you actually from this planet?”

  “Probably not. My dad thinks I’m a changeling.”

  When our legs tangled under the table, I didn’t move mine. Was I playing with fire?

  “Right, a changeling.”

  We chatted for a while, about nothing and everything. It all took my mind off of my present circumstances.

  When Laurel texted to find out where I was, I replied, Ask G.

  “My future sister-in-law,” I told Randy. “My brother will propose to her as soon as she feels it’s time.”

  He laughed. “Really?”

  “Really. Geoff’s always been a beta male, and this way they’ll both know who’s in charge. Laurel’s good for him, because without her he’d only wander aimlessly.” I knew they’d do so well together. They actually gave me hope for the institution of marriage.

  “Yeah, but what does she get out of it?” Randy said.

  “She’s ambitious and intends to go far, and with Geoff behind her to keep the lights on and dinner warm, she’ll always know where home is.”

  Randy nodded. “But what about you?”

  “I told you. I’m the changeling.”

  That only appeared to frustrate Randy, but it was the truth.

  My phone pinged again. I read it and smiled, then slid it across the table. “It’s from my coach, or one of them. He’s Michael’s, too.”

  L: Remy, U magnificent bastard, that was perfect. He’s not foaming @ the mouth, but U can fix that. Full Frontal’s “You Think You’re A Man.”

  “How does your coach know about Queer as Folk?” Randy said.

  “Dude, I’m pretty sure they let straight people watch it, too. Besides, Divine sang it first.”

  L: Now get your ass back here. You and your new playmate have responsibilities this afternoon.

  Chapter 26

  RANDY AND I were back at the races in the morning. Men’s and women’s varsity rowed their grand finals for the invitational cups, and later, the petite finals, a polite term for the best of the losers. Okay, that was me being horrible. One of the things I’d always appreciated about crew was the repechage, a chance for those eliminated in the heats to compete against each other for a lesser first place, the petite finals. Weather conditions—and in San Diego, the tides on the bay—as well as personal physical conditions contributed to the quality of the race, so it was only fair to take that into account. JV also raced on Sunday, and I liked to cheer them on. That Cap City’s ladies’ and gentlemen’s crews raced later in the day no longer meant jack to me. I planned to be busy—very, very busy—derigging CalPac boats.

  “How long are you going to let this go on, Remy?” Lodestone said softly from where we watched the national team’s coxed fours row a shortened exhibition race. In other words, we watched my competition show off. Laurel, Geoff, Olive, and even Craig joined us that morning, too.

  I sighed. “I’ve done everything I can. I can’t make Michael stay in a relationship that he doesn’t want to be in. I also can’t make him end it like an adult, either.”

  Lodestone nodded. “I know, but I hate to see it end this way. You two really do care for each other.”

  “I still love him,” I said softly. “That’s what makes this all so difficult.”

  Geoff bumped my shoulder with his. He still looked a little shell-shocked. The revelation that I’d heard everything Michael had revealed to him yesterday shook him. Welcome to rowing, Geoff. You never know what’s lurking behind or under every boat. “I’m sorry. I think Michael feels trapped,” he whispered.

  “Maybe he should try talking to me. I’m not the one trapping him.”

  “You kind of are.”

  “We’d part friends if he said even half of what he told you to me. We could’ve parted friends when we spoke weeks ago.” I shook my head. “What happened yesterday? That was childish crap that I don’t have time for.”

  “As opposed to your iTunes message?”

  “He earned it.”

  “You two.” Geoff shook his head slowly. “You really pissed him off with that.”

  “Good. Maybe he’ll think twice about trying to bullshit me in front of his team or anywhere else.” Suddenly I couldn’t even pretend to be in a good mood anymore.

  Geoff sighed. “Could you please not do this to him?”

  “Him?” I stared at my brother. Really?

  “Yes, him. He’s going through a lot right now.”

  “And I’m not? Good-bye, Geoff. We’re not doing this again. Call me when you regain your sanity.” I paused. “And remember who you shared a room with for the first nine months of prelife.”

  The exhibition row ended, and I caught myself looking around for Randy, but I suspected my posse had frightened him off. It was just as well. There was too much unfinished business between me and Michael for me to play any more footsy underneath the table.

  Boats waited for me to derig them, and I realized that the R-bombs were loaded and ready. With an Irish good-bye, I headed for CalPac’s boats.

  “Remy, wait!”

  I stopped, and Craig of all people caught up to me.

  “Yeah?” I tried to soften my demeanor, I really did. He flinched anyway. “I’m sorry, it’s been….”

  Craig shook his head. “No, I get it. I… uh, wanted to say thank you.”

  “For terrorizing you in the bathroom?” I cracked a smile.

  He smiled back. “No, for the tee shirt.”

  I laughed. “You’re welcome. Maybe it’ll remind you of the
weekend you came out and that there’ll always be people who’ll support you. Like me.”

  “And you didn’t terrorize me—”

  “Yes, I did. That wasn’t suave.”

  “Okay, you did, but when I stopped shaking and I thought about what you said, I realized you were right.” Craig looked very serious. “Thank you for the push. I’m still scared, but… I think it’ll be okay.”

  I hugged him. “Sorry for the sweaty rower hug, but it’s all I’ve got. Make your roommate give you my e-mail and cell phone number. You can always reach me if you want to talk.”

  “Thanks.”

  I turned to go.

  “Remy….” Craig looked seriously tongue-tied. That poor guy, it was no way to go through life. Maybe coming out would help him fit into his own skin better.

  “Yeah?”

  “I… I hope my first boyfriend’s as cool, as kind, as you are.” Craig blurted it all out at once like he was afraid I’d run off.

  “Make sure he is.” Yep, right on time, the ol’ Remy blush, from my forehead down well below what was covered by my unisuit. “And Craig? I expect to find a text from you by tomorrow evening at the latest so I know you have my contact info, okay?”

  “Okay.” And then Craig blushed. He struck me as a good guy. We were both college freshman, so why did I think of him as a kid?

  Oh well. Boats, and with them my fragile mood.

  “So there he is.” Jonah greeted me as I walked up. “You look like someone stomped your kitten. What’s up?”

  I made a face. “How much detail do you want?”

  “Not much,” Steve said. That actually made me happy.

  “Thank you. I’m sick of thinking about it.” Seriously, such a burden to let go of for now.

  “Oh wait, there was a Davis rower looking for you. You could tell us about him,” Steve said.

  “Or maybe not,” I said.

  Jonah grinned. “You have such an interesting life.”

  “Wanna trade?”

  Steve handed me the nearly universal 7/16” wrench. “Not right now. Get busy. Nice collar, by the way.”

  “Gladly.” I ignored the rest.

  I buried myself in the familiar work of preparing boats for transit. One of the things I liked about CalPac’s rowing program was that although we had the money for a rigger to do all of this, the coaches required that we handle it ourselves. So there’s that for your “spoiled rich kids’ school” comment, Randy. Except to tell him I’d have to find him, and that’d be dangerous. Oy, so many puzzles. Being an adult sucked. I couldn’t wait to tell my grandparents that.