What Love Means

by F N Manning

  Spectacle, wasn’t that a little harsh? We’d had a screaming match in one of the hallways at the hotel where Nationals was held, and why was he being chummy now if he remembered that? The professor motioned for someone else to take over his duties and stood outside the auditorium with me.

  “Yeah, my family were the assholes then.” Well, me and dad.

  “Maybe.” I sent him an incredulous look. “Okay, definitely, but the Winthrop-Scotts can still be…” he trailed off.

  “Pieces of work?” I filled in.

  “Sure, sure,” he agreed. “Though I hoped you’d say something a little more colorful like ‘nasty sons of bitches.’”

  Alright, I had trust issues, but I still didn’t understand this conversation. It made no sense, him talking shit about the prestigious family with me. What was his angle? “I didn’t think you knew those words,” I commented lightly.

  Now he looked mildly scandalized. “I have a PHD in linguistics. I know all the words.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I agreed, looking around for Cal, ready to make my exit.

  The professor must have finally realized how odd this was. “That family is difficult to handle at the best of times, but I suspect it wasn’t the best of times back then.” I made a non-committal noise. He studied me for a moment, then continued in a lower voice, “I always empathized with you. I suppose I wanted you to know. Mental illness runs in my family as well.”

  “What?” That solved some questions as he thought we had this shared experience and wanted to offer his support, but what the hell did that mean? “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when met with my total cluelessness. “Maybe I misread something.” He looked unsure, but I didn’t know if it was because of his mistake or this suddenly awkward conversation or something else.

  “You mean, like—” I made a gesture, miming taking a drink. That was something I’d put together much later. Great to know it was so obvious to everyone else.

  He stared at me for a moment, then blinked and shook his head. “I must be thinking of the wrong person.” Before I could say anything else, he moved on. “I should go check on the children,” he said and left me.

  What the hell? Addiction was a disease; wouldn’t that fall under mental illness? Maybe he realized this was a weird conversation to have with someone he barely knew. Though, if him or someone in his family went through it too, I didn’t think it was too crazy he’d strike up a conversation with me about it. Well, I hadn’t imagined him having a freaking heart to heart with me, but a person in general sharing their experience with another person? Sure, I could see that.

  The odd conversation was easy to shake off once I found Cal. He was off to the side in an alcove next to the auditorium with another guy. Not like that. I almost wished it was like that once I heard them talking.

  “I’d tread carefully if I were you,” warned Cal’s superior voice. Great, he was engaged in another pretentious dick contest, and since he had to win everything, he did a great job of looking disdainful and done with the other snob.

  I didn’t like Cal. Except for how I kinda did. I don’t know if these reminders about why I shouldn’t like him were a good thing or not. They should be wake up calls. Instead, they illustrated how dumb I was. Warning signs blared ‘arrogant rich jerkoff, do not touch’ and yet there I went putting my hands all over him. Well, that part wouldn’t matter. It was the getting attached part…

  “You’re not intimidating, Cal,” the other boy spoke. Okay, his patronizing smirk was pretty annoying too. “You could learn a thing or two from your father.” His eyes widened in mock realization. “Oh, that’s right. He took me under his wing instead of his own son.”

  “Well, it’s not as if your own father could teach you anything,” Cal volleyed back. “He’s on, what is it? Marriage number three, and you couldn’t pay a girl to touch you, which is a shame considering how much money you have.”

  The dark-haired dickhead narrowed his eyes and snorted humorlessly. “Cal, is that any way to talk to a good friend?” Good friends, yeah right. Looking closer, I realized he was the guy from the spelling bee club meeting. “Especially one who knows several things about you that should never see the light of day.”

  Cal’s jaw clenched and he hissed out, “You slimy little bastard."

  The other teen looked amused. “You’re so testy. I’m trying to give you some helpful advice. Your secret is safe with me, but if your boy toy is going to show up at functions—” Oh shit, that’s what this was about? Me?

  “A middle school spelling bee is hardly a function—" Cal protested automatically.

  “You won’t swing by the country club with him, then?” the other guy quipped.

  “God, can you two stop posturing?” I alerted them to my presence, walking to stand by Cal. Not super close, just on his side. “Just hit each other and be done with it.”

  “That’s so undignified,” Cal scolded me reflexively.

  “I don’t know. Spoiled rich kids would be a lot better off if someone punched them in the face from time to time,” I argued.

  “Under what logic?” Cal asked, turning towards me. He seemed to forget about the other guy or maybe hoped he’d go away.

  I turned and looked at the other guy. “Well, the way he acts is a pretty clear indicator no one has ever punched him in the face before.” The guy in question raised himself to his full unimpressive height. I stepped closer to him. “I think the experience would be… transformative.” His bravado disappeared as a look of fear crossed his features. “Wanna find out?” I asked him. He left us alone.

  When I turned back to Cal, he had one hand on his hip while the other was in the air, gesturing emptily. He tried to start several sentences before he eventually managed. “I don’t know whether to thank you for your assistance or yell at you for it.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I stepped closer for a moment, nudging my shoulder against his in a quick friendly gesture and said low enough to not be overheard, “Guy has no right to give you shit for. Well, you know.” I was failing miserably at the moment when it came to being distanced, but no one deserved shit for who they liked.

  Cal smiled, a bit dazed, looking surprised or maybe pleased that I’d defended him. He shook whatever it was off. “Yes, well, let’s find a seat.” Cal hesitated. “I, uh. I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you, but, well.” He grimaced. “Do you want to sit with my parents?

  “God, no.” It wasn’t like we sat with my mom at April’s bee. I’d rather trade in my bike for a pink pogo stick; I’d probably get great calves, but it wasn’t worth the hassle.

  “Good,” Cal nodded. “Let’s just sit in the back.”

  ***

  Cal

  The looming sexuality crisis hadn’t quite come yet, but I found myself thinking about it more, checking out other guys, and getting dangerously close to acknowledging certain truths. Well, trying to. I’d try to think about other guys and consider a world where I wasn’t totally straight. A world that, I pretty much had to admit, was high likely. The ability to deny it got more difficult every time I touched Max. However, I couldn’t figure myself out because I was too busying worrying about him and us like a dumb kid who wanted to pass him a note or something.

  My parents were at the school competition, but I didn’t sit with them. There was an instinctual panic at having vastly different sides of my life in the same room, but it made me more sad than scared. For the first time, I tried to imagine merging the sections of my life. I couldn’t do it.

  We sat in the back while my parents were towards the front. They had no idea I was here with a boy, our sides pressed together and knees knocking into each other. Even if he were from a ‘good family,’ I couldn’t quite imagine taking his hand and introducing him to my parents.

  “Is everyone in your life okay with you being gay?” I whispered to not disturb anyone else.

  Max seemed surprised by the question, which was prob
ably fair considering we’d fallen silent once the bee got underway. He shrugged. “They’re not not okay with it,” he whispered back, apparently deciding this conversation wasn’t even serious enough to turn and look at me.

  “Double negatives, yay.” I sighed. “Should I guess at your meaning or will you elucidate?”

  I expected him to bug me about word choice, maybe even smile if I was really lucky, but the serious subject made him too uncomfortable to tease me. “I don’t know, it’s normal now,” he managed. He glanced in my direction for a brief moment then forced his gaze back ahead of him. I was almost amused. Aren’t you supposed to be tough? I wanted to tease and yet feelings rendered him incapacitated. I wanted answers enough to hold my tongue. “It feels like I’ve been out forever,” he continued. “Uh. It could be the same for y- no.” He cut off, still staring resolutely ahead. “Uh, I don’t know. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Everyone just accepted it?” I questioned.

  He did turn to face me, eyeing me with an annoyed glare while I stared placidly back at him. “There was an adjustment period, I guess.”

  “What about your dad? How did he take it?”

  His hands clenched. “I really don’t want to talk about this,” he hissed. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Can’t you tell how much I don’t want to talk about this?” His irritable tone didn’t faze me.

  “Yes, but it’s kind of important, especially if we. Um.” It was my turn to falter. “Besides, you think I’m not used to you being short and crabby?” I asked, aiming for some levity. “I’ve developed a tolerance, buddy, and you’ve got no one but yourself to blame.”

  “Cal—"

  “Did your dad not take it well?” That’s what I had gathered from this attempted conversation, but I hoped for a more concrete answer.

  He regarded me seriously. “I’m sorry, this may be shitty, but I can’t be this guy for you.”

  “What?”

  “The person who helps you figure this stuff out. I can’t listen to you wax poetic about boobs or something and whine about how you don’t want to be gay while I act like I’m this impartial bystander. I’m not.” Well, that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting.

  It’s not like there’s any feelings involved between us I wanted to snap. Max made that perfectly clear. I couldn’t read his thoughts as much as I desperately wanted to. Him being closed off wasn’t exactly a surprise, but I guess I still expected more. “Well, uh, thank you for your honesty,” I tried to say diplomatically. Inside, I worried. Was this not just a conversation about feelings he wanted to avoid but specifically a conversation about this with me?

  We both turned our attention to the stage. Well, I turned my gaze there. My thoughts were elsewhere.

  I thought about the people in Max’s life and their interactions with him. His orientation rarely seemed to come up. And when it did, no one seemed to care. Maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it seemed like the people in his life knew Max and liked Max. They’d probably even be okay knowing his ‘dark’ spelling bee nerd past. He had a support system, people that loved him for him.

  Did I have that? Why did I even bother asking myself the question? I already knew the answer. When Katie broke up with me, I turned to friends. People I sat with them at lunch and was friendly with. We could hang out once in a while, sure, but I was always busy achieving my own goals. I figured they’d be my friends for the rest of my life, of that I was pretty sure, but in that way where we stayed in touch and made the required effort for when we were all adults running our own companies and using our connections from our school days when it suited us.

  There were parts of Max that were genuine, that he didn’t hide for anyone. Putting Max out of the question, there was a lot I needed to think about. That didn’t make it easy when all I wanted to consider was him.

  pa-nə-ˈjir-ik or pa-nə ˈjī-rik, noun

  oral or written expression of formal praise

  The emotional and physical developments were worthy of a pa-nə-ˈjir-ik.

  Chapter 10

  P-A-N-E-G-Y-R-I-C

  Max

  When I reminded myself to keep things light between Cal and I, it was because I’ve been dangerously close to feeling things around him for a while. I didn’t expect him to initiate a serious conversation. I probably reacted the wrong way.

  His confrontation with that other douche rich kid wasn’t great, but I was a little proud of him for standing up for himself. He shouldn’t let anyone hold that over his head. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Why hadn’t I been able to tell him that? Cal was stuck up, too serious, a million other things, but they didn’t deter me. No, worse, I liked those things about Cal. He was so cute when he was being an uptight nerd, and it was fun to get him to loosen up. Shit, I had it bad.

  No, I’d done the right thing. We’d been doing well with our fooling around. We could tolerate each other, and I didn’t want ruin that. Joey said I had ‘trust issues’ and was just afraid to let Cal in. He really needed to lay off the Dr. Phil.

  Then he’d mentioned my dad, and I really did not want to get into that. The only thing worse than my complicated relationship with my dad interfering with my relationship with Cal was if it didn’t interfere. Maybe I didn’t open up or whatever because I’m just messed up and stupid. God, that was depressing. Where had that self-defeating pessimistic attitude come from?

  “We never talked about the day your dad came in.” I’d clocked out and was done for the day but couldn’t retreat from the conversation because Tony had to hand over my paycheck first. Sometimes I thought he was a secret genius. I walked in to his office, moving away from the outdated, million-year-old time card system I always begged him to let me update.

  “And we never have to talk about it,” I assured him, holding out my hand expectantly. I didn’t bother closing the door behind me as I hoped I could get out of this conversation without too much trouble. Hey, maybe I was an optimist after all.

  He stared down at my palm and then looked at me evenly. “Should we talk about your academic pursuits instead?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Academic pursuits? How scholarly.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “I read.”

  “Don’t start leaving me pamphlets about school,” I warned. “I already get that from my sister.”

  Tony made a noise of acknowledgment and inclined his head. “Does April know your dad’s back?”

  If he was a genius, he wasn’t subtle. “This is a trap,” I realized out loud.

  Tony laughed. “No, I’m just hoping you’d rather talk about school than your feelings.” He gestured for me to have a seat and smiled kindly. “Man, I wouldn’t force you, but you gotta keep me in the loop so I can plan either way.”

  I winced. “You’re right, sorry. I’m wasting both of our time by even applying—"

  “Hey, that’s not what I said,” he interrupted. “I’m not expecting a decision now. You just gotta update me.”

  I dropped into the chair with resignation. I had a job offer with an awesome boss I got along with, so why was I considering anything else? I made another feeble attempt to avoid a discussion about college. “Joey’s applying too. If you’ve got an inspirational speech prepared, save it for him.”

  “Joey hasn’t been buzzing around my shop since he was 14.” I didn’t even work here at first. He had a couple bikes he customized out front when my mom came in for an oil change with me in tow. I fell into a funk after dad left, and there hadn’t been much that interested me. I’d seen those shiny bikes, looking like nothing I’d ever seen, and they weren’t. The burly but kind store owner told me the improvements made them unique; no one else in the world had bikes like them.

  Feeling unwanted and unimportant, something unique and special held appeal. I kept coming by to see what he worked on next, and he kept showing me, then teaching me, and finally he hired me. The customs thing had been a personal hobby and something he did occasionally for
friends and clients. He wanted to expand and wanted me to help. Why wasn’t I just hopping on board? Why had I let people convince me I needed college?

  I shook off the thoughts “How do you even know I’m applying?”

  He shrugged. “Teresa told me.”

  “When do you talk to my family?”

  “It’s the 21rst century, man. We text.”

  “I finished my freaking admissions essays for a couple Ivies,” I sighed. I’d had help and forceful encouragements from the guidance counsellor. “Now I just have to fill out a bunch of paperwork and set up interviews.” I lived close to Princeton and Yale, and the guidance counsellor worked her magic so I wouldn’t need to pay the application fee, so I had no excuse.

  Why not see if I got in? I could give Cal a hard time about it, ask him why they let just anyone in to such supposedly prestigious institutions and watch him go all stuffy and offended and adorable.

  Tony’s face brightened and brought me back from thoughts of Cal. “Sounds good. That’s—”

  I started talking over him. “Expensive. And I don’t even know—”

  “Stop considering all the reasons you shouldn’t do it,” he ordered, pointing a finger at me.

  “I’m being practical,” I argued.

  And my grades, well. I always told myself the homework took so little time that I might as well complete it since it was easier than dealing with disapproving teachers who’d try to get me to apply myself and want my mom to sign failing notices. I’d do enough to keep people off my back. I wondered if maybe in the back of my head I was keeping this possibility open.

  “You’re not even thinking about how it could work,” Tony argued “You’re already trying to talk yourself out if it. Where’d that pessimism come from? “

  There was a cough that sounded like someone saying ‘repressed daddy issues,’ and I turned in my seat to see Joey clocking in. The office wasn’t that big, so I stretched a leg out and kicked the door closed while flipping Joey off.