by Andrea Speed
Sam
CODY,
For some reason today I thought back on your graduation day. Even though it was only four months ago, it seems like forever.
Do you know how much I hated seeing you in your gown? I mean, you looked kind of cool in it, but I knew what it really meant. An end.
And when your mom took the photo of the two of us, I was happy for that, but deep inside, my heart was hurting. I actually could feel a physical pain. People were celebrating around us, but all I could think about was an end to life as we knew it—as short as it had been. I knew we still had the summer ahead of us, but it wouldn’t be the same as every day in school. And besides, I knew that your internship thing would be taking up most of your time.
I’ll never forget that weekend at the beach. Man, what a cool time we all had. I would have preferred it’d been just the two of us, but that sure was a fun time, wasn’t it? I have to admit, when we made that bonfire in the sand, and I was sitting in the circle across from you, I wanted so much to come over and sit next to you—rest my head on your chest, feel your arm around my shoulder. But I knew it wasn’t to be and had to be content just watching you across the fire. I remember the flames lighting up parts of your face as we all were talking. Once or twice, it seemed like your face really lit up when you looked directly at me. And I was good with that. Well, good enough, because I had to be.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY again, Cody!
It was great to chat with you this morning. I’m glad we’ve been able to talk and text more lately. It’s not the same as you being here, but it makes me feel like the distance isn’t quite so far.
So, now you are 18 and legal—so they say. I hope you were able to go out with some friends tonight to celebrate, like you thought you might. Man, I’d love to be there with all of you guys.
As I said on the phone, things are going OK here. Of course, that’s all relative. Jamie and Julie and Derek and the rest of the guys always tell me to tell you hi. I don’t think they know that you and I have been talking almost every day now. I know it’s not always easy for you to call me, but my heart skips a beat when I see your name on my phone.
Cody, I don’t mean to sound desperate. Fuck, I don’t know how I mean to sound. I’ve reached the point that I don’t care anymore. With us talking more often, the tension level has gotten worse. Not between us, but within myself. There is something I need to talk to you about, and it can’t go on any longer. And if you are any kind of friend, which I truly believe you are, nothing will change between us. I hope not.
I’ve written five other e-mails to you over the past month and never sent one. None of them sounded the way I liked. So I really want to talk more with you—a lot more—this weekend. I’ve reached the point that this can’t go on any longer. I wish it wasn’t so late now. You’re probably still out with your friends anyway.
Maybe I can call you tomorrow so we can talk. Really talk. Not just the routine “hey, how’s it going” call. All my feelings need to be out in the open, because I’m afraid it’s gonna hurt our friendship otherwise.
You know, Cody, I don’t know what I’m afraid of, really. It can go one way or another. It’s time.
Sam
HEY SAM,
I just got in. Some of my friends from the dorm took me out for my birthday. We had a fun time, and it’s, like, two in the morning now. Otherwise I’d call you right this minute. Yeah, we really need to talk.
I was shocked to see six e-mails from you and had no idea what the hell was going on. I mean, we just talked this morning. Not that I’m complaining—and thanks again for the birthday call, btw. But with all those messages, I was sure that you had awful news to share. Or you were somehow in trouble and needed my help.
It took so much courage for you to write what you did, and even more to send it to me. I then realized you had written all those e-mails at different times and in different states of mind. I wish I’d known more of what had been going on with you these past months. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not blaming you. It’s me, Sam.
The thing is… I mean…. Hell, I’m gonna just say it right here and now. Sam, I am in love with you. Yeah, you read that right. After everything you wrote to me, it wouldn’t be right for me to hold back my feelings. I’m so sorry you’ve been struggling with our friendship. No. That’s not the right word. There is so much more than friendship between us.
I began to feel it after we’d been hanging out with each other for a while. But I was an asshole—I couldn’t admit it to myself. I kept pushing those feelings away and tried to ignore them every time they surfaced. I told myself it was just that we got along so well, and that you had been a friend to me from my first day at Whitman. But it became completely clear once I started college. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about you and wanted to be with you. But in a way more than we ever have before. I’m sorry you had to suffer because of my insecurities. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
And my feelings for you became stronger the more time we spent together too. I was scared, though, scared of making any advances to you, scared of being rejected. My mind is a jumble of emotions right now, so this might sound all fucked up. But I have to tell you, when I was in middle school, I had the same kind of thoughts that you did. But I pushed them all aside. There was absolutely no way I was gay. I could barely even say the word. It was just a phase, as you thought. But even though I hated moving around for my dad’s job so much, in a way it made things easier for me. It seemed like whenever I settled into a school and made new friends, we had to move again. So I never really had to answer too many personal questions—like why I didn’t have a girlfriend. I even remember a few girls asking me out, but I always told them we’d probably be moving soon, so it’d be better to just stay friends. At each school, it was always easy for me to meet a ton of people, but I never got super close to them. That is, until you came along. You know, spending my final semester of high school in a new place could have been a really shitty experience. But instead, it was the best semester ever—all because of you.
When the reality of me going away to college sank in—like a week or two before I left—I know I became more distant with you. It was because I already had begun missing you. It hurt so much to think of us not being together. But I couldn’t tell you that. And it became easier not to face those feelings, even though deep down I knew they were true. It was simpler for me to put up a wall, which I know was totally selfish on my part. That’s why I didn’t call you every single day once I got here. It was too painful to talk with you and then not have you here with me. I’m so fucking sorry for doing that to you.
In one of your e-mails you said you were sure I could handle anything that came my way. On the surface, maybe you’re right. But the idea of confronting my true feelings scared the fuck out of me. Being with you forced me to think about it even more. But after reading all the things you wrote, I’ve come to realize that you are the strong one. Not me.
And yes, of course I remember the first day we worked out. I loved every minute of it. And every time after that. I also had so many more thoughts than just pumping the weights with you. And you know, way before that, I thought you were a really cute guy. I had a crush on you the first day we met. But of course I tried to convince myself that those feelings weren’t real. My suggestion of us working out more often was a way to trick myself into giving us more reasons to hang together. You never really needed to exercise more to improve your looks—you were hot to me already. I mean, Sam, who could ever resist that killer smile of yours? Or those deep brown eyes? But like I said, I tried to.
You asked about the night at the beach too. How could I ever forget that? You may think it was the fire lighting up my face, but you were wrong on that. It was not the fire—it was you. I had to force myself not to stare at you too much, wondering if the others would see me and suspect anything. Especially you. The last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable and lose you as a friend. But that night it all became real
ly clear—I’d have given anything for just you and me being there together, under the blanket, arms around each other, and kissing by the flickering light.
I’ve never been with a guy before. But I know between you and me, it would be the best thing ever.
I miss you like crazy, Sam. College is really cool, and I like it a lot. And for the first time in a long time, I feel stable, like I won’t be moving somewhere else anytime soon. That is a great feeling. But there’s an emptiness here I didn’t expect to feel. And I’ve known all along what it is. Even before I got your e-mails, I was going to suggest that you apply to Michigan. I think you’d love it here. And now… can you imagine the amazing time we’d have together?
Of course, it’d be more than just “fun.” For the first time in my life, I’d have a boyfriend. But having a boyfriend is not the important thing. Having you as my boyfriend is. I want to explore this school with you, bike around town with you, study for exams with you, spend nights with you, kissing you into the morning hours… and more. So much more.
This has been the best birthday gift I have ever gotten. I am so sorry that you were tormented by your feelings about us. I want to start over with you, in a new way for both of us. The way it should be.
I’ll call you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear your voice again. I’m gonna fall asleep with a smile on my face tonight. If I can sleep at all. And now it is my heart that is racing. A lot. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive. And it’s all because of you.
Love,
Cody
ERIC RENNER primarily wrote in the non-fiction genre until he had a startling revelation: The line between fact and fiction is often just a nebulous blur! Originally from the Chicago area, and now living in the Eastern US, he heads out to the beach as frequently as he can.
He can be reached at [email protected].
DATING MY BEST FRIEND
CAITLIN RICCI
GO OUT with me tonight?
I sat at my desk, my European History textbook open in front of me, as I stared down at my phone. The text begged to be replied to, and any other time I would have instantly done so. But Trish wasn’t just asking me out to a movie. In my heart I knew that. My best friend didn’t use that phrase to ask me to a movie, and I didn’t know what to say back to her.
Not now that she knew I was a lesbian.
It’d only been three hours since I’d told her while we were walking home from school. And she’d said nothing, nearly breaking my heart. But then she’d taken my hand, and I’d let it go for the moment. I couldn’t push her away. She was the only friend I had left. My parents had been next, with my dad already being home from work when I got there. My mom worked the night before at the hospital downtown and had only just gotten up. She was still in her bathrobe. They’d cried, I’d done the same, and then they’d hugged me. I knew how lucky I was.
Dinner had been tense and much quieter than usual, but I still knew where I stood with them, and now they knew me too. I’d only figured out this lesbian thing for myself the week before. But I’d wanted to tell them so soon because I knew that this was who I was for sure and all the way.
But now Trish was asking me out tonight. Trish, who I’d had the most secret of secret crushes on for months now, wanted to go on a date with me.
I held my phone in my hand and stared at the words, wondering what deeper meaning they held before I finally just gave in and decided to text back.
Sure. What time?
Her reply was instant, as if she’d been waiting for mine. Seven. I’ll pick you up. Yay our first date! The exclamation point was followed by multiple happy faces, and I suddenly felt really sick. This was a date? A real date? Oh crap. I had to call her.
“This is a date?” I asked her as soon as she picked up the phone.
“Well, yeah… I mean, I guess so. You don’t want to?”
She actually sounded a bit hurt. I couldn’t do that to her. But I had so many questions. “But… but you’re not a lesbian,” I hedged, knowing that to be true. She’d been half in love with Bobbie Reynolds all last year until he’d started going out with another friend of ours, and now she hated his guts. Well, someone who used to be my friend. She and a few other girls turned out not to be so happy about my coming out after school as I would have liked. I’d deal with the sting of that tonight when I had a minute. Trish hadn’t said anything but she hadn’t run away or treated me like a freak either. I’d taken it as a good sign. Maybe choosing to come out to everyone and go on my first date in one day was a bad idea. I was starting to feel really overwhelmed.
“Nope. I’m bi.”
“What?” I snapped at her.
I could hear her giggle. She sounded nervous. “Um. Surprise, maybe?”
“Huh?” I rested my forehead on the heel of my hand and stared down at some passage about Napoleon. Screw homework. I couldn’t deal with that and this at the same time. “Since when?”
“Dunno. Least a year. I think. When did Sapphire come out with their music video where they were wearing those frilly white dresses?”
I knew which one she was talking about, and yeah, I could admit the all-girl rock band was kinda hot, but oh my God what? And who? And more importantly, what now? “And you didn’t tell me?” Maybe that was the part that hurt. Or maybe it was that I’d had no idea myself. I knew I was new to being a lesbian, but I’d sort of thought I’d have bells or something going off when I was close to someone who was like me. Maybe I read too many books, though. God, I was a mess.
“Was scared to.” I could hear her eating popcorn, her favorite evening snack next to chocolate.
Her bed squeaked, and I could picture her sitting down on it. It’s where we spent most of the evening when I had slept over at her house in the past.
I got why she hadn’t told me. I guess. It still hurt in a way, though. But I’d been afraid of her hating me when I’d told her too. It made me sad to think about her having to have those thoughts for a whole year. I couldn’t take more than a week before I’d felt like they were breaking me apart from the inside out.
“So, you wanna go out?”
I licked my lips and tapped the end of my pen on my open textbook. “Like on a date?” She’d said it, but I needed it repeated.
“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. Doesn’t have to be a real date. I just thought since, you know, you’re a lezzy and I like girls too, that we could go out on our first girl date together. Sort of try it out. Practice for other people, I mean.”
“Oh.”
All right, so I wasn’t going to pretend her words didn’t hurt a little more than a lot. Go out on a date with her for practice? Maybe if I hadn’t had a crush on her for the past few months. Clearly this attraction didn’t go both ways.
“What’s wrong, Cassie?”
Of course Trish would know me too well for me to hide my feelings from her, but I didn’t really know what to say either. “Um. Nothing. At all. I’m good. So, you said seven?” I was talking fast and eager to get off the phone with her. Which was bad and mean and had never happened between us before. But I so just wanted this conversation to be over. Yes, I wanted to go out with her, for practice or for real, but why couldn’t it be just because she liked me and not because I was another girl who happened to like other girls? Was that too much to ask?
“Yeah. Seven. I’ll see you then.”
“Great! See you soon.” I forced myself to sound happy instead of sick to my stomach and then hung up before I could say anything else to give myself away. What the hell? I had a picture of us on my mirror, and I looked over to it. Two years ago at an all-girls horse summer camp, we’d been inseparable. We’d been friends since elementary school, but that camp had pretty much cemented us as best friends. And now, freshman year of high school, I was apparently going on my first girl date with her. And it was for practice. Shoot me now.
I banged my head on the textbook a few dozen times before realizing it was already almost six and, holy crap, I didn’t have mu
ch time to get ready for my first date, and really, what was I thinking?
“Mom!” I yelled for her. My door was open, and I knew she could hear me as she and dad watched TV in their room down the hall from my own.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asked me, coming to my door instantly. “Are you okay?”
I wasn’t sure, but I tried to nod anyway. “Trish asked me out on a date and she’ll be here at seven and I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know what to do or wear or anything and I need help and—”
“Okay, sweetie, calm down and take a breath. It’ll be okay,” my mom said, going to my closet and instantly pulling out a few choices.
“Mo-om! I’m fourteen. I don’t need you to dress me!” I said as I got to my feet and stared at her. Really? Is this what my first date would end up being like? With my mom dressing me like I was three years old or some kind of doll? Freakity, I did not want that at all. Nope. No way.
She gave me a look that spoke of lots of exasperation and probably more than a little frustration, as my English teacher liked to tell us whenever we were driving her nuts. We got that look a lot, and my mom was giving it to me now. “Sorry,” I mumbled, coming over and taking a seat on the bed next to the purple dress she’d pulled down.
“Can’t I just go like this?”
She gave me a once-over, and I winced as she shook her head. “You think my daughter is going on her first date wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a hole in it? I thought I told you to throw that shirt out, anyway.”
I blushed and wrapped my arms around my stomach, hiding said hole that was bigger than the size of a quarter. “You did. I kind of ignored you.”
