All That Is Solid Melts Into Air

by Christopher Koehler

  So when Michael texted me to tell me he planned to drive himself across the country before school started, I felt obligated to say good-bye. Just for old times’ sake, I brought him a going-away present, a picture of our Cap City gentlemen’s eight at the Crew Classic from my senior year.

  M: So do U want to come over?

  R: A neutral location seems the better part of valor.

  Which is how we ended up meeting for Chinese food, our default lunch.

  “So,” I said, obviously trying to make conversation after the silence had dragged on too long, “driving yourself across the country?”

  “It’s going to be great! I’ve mapped out every cheesy roadside distraction I can find.” Michael grinned. I hadn’t seen him this happy in a while, not since grad night. Actually, I hadn’t seen him since grad night, period.

  Apparently Michael and his parents had already flown out to Providence to make sure all was in readiness, so all Michael needed to do was get himself to Brown before school started. How his overprotective and frankly insane parents could let him drive across the country solo escaped me, but nope, not my place to speak up.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but how’re you doing after the selection camp?” Michael looked like he was braced for an explosion.

  “Obviously I’m disappointed, but I’m following Lodestone’s advice and not thinking about it or making any decisions about going through the training process again for a while.” I shrugged. “Until I can think of sculling without screaming, I’m cross-training, and not even that very intensely.” I thought about it some more. “I’ll drop Lodestone an e-mail and see how he’s doing, maybe see if he’s ready to go out for a strictly recreational row. So anyway, to answer your question, I really am fine.”

  Michael smiled. “That’s great, Rem.”

  We made chitchat through the rest of lunch, but that’s all it felt like, small talk. Is this what we’d come to? As we said our good-byes in the parking lot, Michael stopped. “Wait, I’ve got something for you.”

  He took off for his car before I could say, “Me, too.”

  Michael handed me a box when he returned. “What’s this?”

  “Just stuff.”

  I opened it up. It was the Apple harvest. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t feel right keeping them.”

  “Really.” I smelled a rat, or rather, two of them.

  Michael squirmed. “Okay, my parents figured out where they came from and weren’t comfortable with me accepting that kind of gift from you, especially after we broke up.”

  “Way to cut the cord, Mikey. You’re sure to do well in college.” Then I realized I wasn’t done, not nearly. “I notice you’re only returning all these fine electronics after they’ve gotten you through the end of high school. That’s convenient.”

  “The fuck?” Michael looked wounded, but c’mon. What did he expect me to think? His parents could’ve replaced—or returned—his computer at any time.

  “What’re you going to use in college?” Seemed like a logical question to me.

  Michael crossed his arms. “I don’t have to answer that.”

  “You’re right, you don’t. It pretty much answers itself.” I started to walk away, but then turned around. “I cannot believe I went to bat against my family for you, for this. You didn’t even have the balls to end this like a man. You just did the fadeaway.”

  “You did not say that.” Michael reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. “You wanna know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe I put up with your temper. I can’t believe I put up with your cluelessness and arrogance, with your complete obliviousness to anything but crew, but most of all I can’t believe I spent two fucking years with someone who went and got himself goddam AIDS because he fucked everything that moved one summer but was too stupid to use condoms. Good luck, Jeremy, you’re going to need it.”

  Michael turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving me too stunned to say anything. Maybe there was nothing for me to say. I sat in my car for a long time after that, despite the heat. I had enough sense to put the windows down, and thank goodness I’d parked in the shade.

  I could’ve lived with us no longer being romantically involved. In fact, I’d been living with that since April. But this… this hatred. How long had he—had we—been saving it up? I likewise could’ve lived with the death of the relationship if only we had stayed friends, but that line about us always remaining friends had so obviously become a lie, and it made me sick. The tempest that had spun up in the place of friendship had sown only devastation, and I knew I’d only reap self-recrimination and sorrow for… I had no idea how long.

  GRANDMA AND Grandpa Fisher soothed me considerably when I visited them only a few days after the blow-up with Michael.

  Just like last time, Grandpa met me outside baggage claim. “Lord, it’s every bit as bad as last time, only in the other direction,” I bitched.

  “Hello to you, too, Jeremy.” Grandpa looked amused.

  “Yeah, hi, Grandpa. Seriously, what’s with the weather around here? Does it always suck?” I flapped my polo shirt.

  “It’s always worse near the airport. It’s a bit cooler by the lake.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Enough to make a difference?”

  When Grandpa stalled, I knew I had my answer.

  “The rain helps cool it off.”

  “Doesn’t that make it muggier?”

  Grandpa nodded. “No climate’s perfect, Jeremy.”

  “I suppose not.” I thought of Lake Tahoe in the spring and summer and kept my mouth shut, if only because the lake during winter could get brutal, or would, if it ever snowed again. “Besides,” I said with a grin, “I could’ve checked an atlas, right?”

  “Right.”

  We laughed and headed for the parking garage.

  I knew more or less what to expect this time and couldn’t wait for more of that jet fuel that Grandma tried to pass off as coffee. It might help me weather the rest of the day. I didn’t want to crash after lunch, but early morning flights from Sacramento somehow seemed worse than red-eyes.

  I spent the rest of the day visiting with my grandparents, which, after all, was the reason for my visit.

  “You were so right about the steps to success, Grandpa, but I also learned that sometimes, paying the price isn’t enough, is it?”

  Grandpa shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry you learned that lesson so young, but in a way, I’m also not. When it happens to you later, you won’t be shocked, and it won’t set you back, will it?”

  “I can only hope not, right?” What else could I say?

  “Now tell us about that young man of yours,” Grandma said. “I was surprised we didn’t see him at the selection camp.”

  I made a face. “We broke up in April, allegedly staying friends, but it’s been downhill ever since until right before I left. We’re not friends anymore, and we’re not even civil these days.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Grandma looked concerned, and I could tell she wanted more information. Grandpa shot her a warning look, however.

  I took pity on her and gave them the edited version. “So it’s not like I have to worry about Michael running around poisoning the social well.”

  “At least he’s that mature.” Grandma shook her head.

  “I’m not sure I’d say that, it’s simply that we no longer have any friends in common.” I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t actually have that wide a social circle anymore. I’m going to have to work on that when school starts. It narrowed down during training an awful lot.”

  I got up. “Speaking of which, I have a gift for you. I’ll be right back.”

  When I returned from my room, I presented them with the bound training journal. It had turned out very well, I thought. “Whether I succeeded or not, I count this as a success. I did something most people will never get the chance to do,” I said, thinking of Randy.

  Grandma clapped her hands. “
Look at this, Howard. He brought visuals. No one—not one single person—has ever gotten visuals like this from their children or grandchildren.”

  I had to smile. They both looked so smug. “So… any parties we should attend?”

  “Oh, we’ll find a way to make sure this is seen, never fear. In the meantime, can we have copies of these pictures?” Grandpa said.

  “Of course. I have most of them saved to online accounts. Ten minutes with your computer—and only one of those giant screens, please—and you can have as many of those pictures as you want.”

  “There’s no time like the present.” Grandpa hauled me to my feet. Jeez, he was strong. “I think we’ll take the lot of them, and then I’ll transfer the best to our phones.”

  As it turned out, there were a number of parties—cocktail, garden, and other sorts. I almost felt sorry for their friends. Almost.

  A few days later, I met Lance and Caden for lunch. I was so glad my visit with my grandparents coincided with their visits to the Windy City.

  We updated each other on our lives, and I’d been naïve in the extreme to think I’d escape without updating them about my relationship or lack thereof.

  “Score! My turn!” Caden yelled in the middle of the restaurant.

  I touched his cheek. “Oh, Caden. You’ll be the first person I call if I ever want to have another sleazy bathroom hookup.”

  “Awww, thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Caden’s eyes popped. “Wait, you said ‘another’?”

  “I don’t know, did he?” Lance sipped his tea and smiled enigmatically. He turned to me. “You need to deal with this in person. Don’t let it die like this.”

  I shook my head. “Lance, it’s already over. It has ended, past tense.”

  “Yeah, you guys are over all right, but you meant too much to each other for this kind of hate.” Caden sighed. “What you two had was what I was looking for, and if you guys couldn’t make it work….”

  Who are you, and what’ve you done with the real Caden? I almost said that aloud. “You surprise me, Caden.”

  Caden grinned. “I know, right?”

  “Just when you think you can write him off as a complete himbo, he says something like that.” Lance sighed and shook his head.

  “You know I’m right,” Caden said around a mouthful of bread.

  “That’s the aggravating part. You really are.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t know how to make this work, or even if I want to do the heavy lifting, not after what he said. This breakup has been the gift that keeps on giving, and I’m tired of it.”

  “So much for being the adult.” Caden toasted me with his beer.

  “Sometimes,” I said, “being an adult is knowing when to walk away.”

  Chapter 32

  I THOUGHT about their words as I stood in O’Hare, looking for my gate. I had almost run out of summer. In fact, I needed to report to CalPac and Coach Pendergast for preseason training. I’d had my fun with my post selection-camp summer, but the real world beckoned.

  When my phone rang, I pulled it out. I recognized the number all too well. “Hello, Michael.”

  “Hi,” Michael said softly. “I… thanks for answering. Under the circumstances, I thought you might’ve deleted me and sent all my calls to voice mail.”

  “You probably shouldn’t give me notions. Why’d you call?” Damn, I sounded cold, but then again, given our last conversation….

  Michael sighed. “Can’t I call my ex-boyfriend?”

  “Under the circumstances, no.” There it was. I’d found my gate.

  “I guess… where are you? It’s awfully noisy.”

  “O’Hare.”

  “Visiting your grandparents?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I visited my grandparents. Now I’m on my way home.”

  Michael started crying. “I’m so s-s-sorry I said those things to you. I’m the worst human being ever.”

  I held the phone away from my ear and squinted at it. “Have you been drinking?”

  Maybe I was being drunk dialed for the first time in my life. Awesome.

  “N-n-no. I feel so horrible. How can you stand me?”

  News flash, Michael….

  I probably shouldn’t say that to him.

  “Oh, Rem, what’ve we become?”

  Pretty much what you wanted us to become in April with your juvenile and immature handling of our breakup. Instead, I said, “Where are you?”

  “Ohio. Some place called Austintown.”

  That sounded improbable. “On purpose?”

  “It’s right outside of Youngstown, but I was too tired to keep driving.”

  I cared in spite of myself. “How far are you from Rhode Island? I don’t actually know the geography.” Or care. “Are you in any condition to make this drive?”

  Michael was well and truly crying by this point in time. I knew then I wouldn’t be making that plane to Sacramento, so I got up and started looking for someplace quieter. I thought he’d be closer to Providence than that.

  When he’d wound down a bit, I tried again. “When did you leave?”

  “A couple of days after we fought, maybe a week.” Michael sniffled. “I couldn’t exactly get my act together right away.”

  I pulled my laptop out, and using his home address as the starting point, I mapped out Davis to Providence. I remembered that Michael had planned a route that included every horrible roadside attraction, but I figured the direct route would give me a rough idea how long the drive would take. Hmmm, forty-four hours. How did mapping programs come up with something that exact? How did they take local traffic into account? Or people’s driving speeds? Or weather? Good lord, Michael was driving across the Midwest during the summer. Didn’t they have tornadoes and killer hail?

  “And you’re outside of Youngstown, you said?”

  “Right. Why?”

  “I’m looking online to see how long a drive you have left…. Okay, you’re right outside Pennsylvania, so you’ve got all of that state, plus New Jersey, to go before you leave the 80 and drive around New York City—please, Michael, drive around New York—and then head up into New England on the 95. In other words, according to the maps, about three hundred and seventy miles.”

  Michael groaned.

  “It could be worse. In our terms, that’s only from home to LA.” Listen to me being all Pollyanna for my ex.

  “Yeah, with LA traffic in the form of New York.”

  This whole conversation made me uncomfortable. I felt like I should apologize, but at the same time I didn’t want to. I hadn’t been dishonest, just unforgivably blunt. In other words, me but more so.

  Okay, so Dad’s words about needing a partner to buffer me or take me everywhere twice made a lot more sense. I realized something. It wasn’t so much that I was an emotionless bastard. I had simply compartmentalized again, sealing all of this off. I disliked messes, and was this ever a messy sitch. Suddenly I knew if I didn’t handle this right, it really would be the end, and I didn’t think I wanted that, not really. I only wanted the slop to stop. So untidy.

  “All right, Michael, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to take a long, hot bath to relax. Eat something, even if you don’t feel like it, and then go to bed. If you can face the road when you wake up, great. Get going. Otherwise, take a slow day tomorrow.”

  “Yes, all right. I can do that. What’re you going to do?”

  I’d hate myself later for this, I was sure. “I’m going to get on an airplane. You’re going to call me the minute you reach Providence. Got that?”

  “Yeah, I… I can do that. And, Remy?”

  “Yes, Michael?”

  “Thanks, Rem.”

  “Get some rest, Michael. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  I really needed to do something about him calling me Rem. He’d forfeited the privilege.

  I could say what I wanted to about being an adult and forgiveness, but I realized right there in the middle of O’Ha
re that I needed to be there for Michael. So I found the United service desk.

  “I need to be in Providence, RI, and reasonably soon. How possible is that, and what’s it going to cost?”

  IN THE end, it turned out not to be all that expensive and relatively quick. I caught a flight into Boston that left only a couple of hours later and then drove down to Providence. Thanks to traffic, I could’ve walked faster, but oh well. I was there long before Michael would arrive, so I looked around. Thanks to the magic of the Internetz and the wait for my flight to Boston, I booked a hotel room close to Brown. Then I called Mom and Dad and explained it all. They thought I was doing the right thing, and that made me feel better about it.

  After breakfast, I packed some workout gear in my messenger bag and hit Brown’s campus. I’d looked up the men’s crew, too, and dropped an e-mail to the men’s varsity coach. Practice wasn’t until later this afternoon, so I had a day to kill with exploring and reading. Brown looked like a great school from what I saw in one day’s visit. You know, for a nest of social justice warriors.

  Later in the day, I made my way to the Marston Boathouse, an old fish-processing plant that had been renovated extensively. I loved it the second I walked in the door. Introductions were made, and the men’s varsity coach found a place for me in one of his boats, doing exactly what I should’ve been doing at CalPac. Maybe that would make Pendergast feel better about my absence. The row was fantastic for all that I’d stayed away from crew since late June. When I’d explained that particular fact to the coach, his response was, “Great, none of these guys have rowed all summer, either. Hop in and have some fun.”

  I hung out at the boathouse after practice to shoot the breeze, since clearly I wasn’t the only guy batting for my team on the Brown crew. Truly, a fine end to a good day. Or maybe not, since some of the guys planned to show the guy from CalPac a good time.