Philadelphia

by L B Winter

  See? I wasn’t letting him get to me. I was fine. I was totally over him. And soon, I would start dating.

  ***

  “Taylor, it’s almost ten! You have to wake up.”

  “Mrrmy hrm…”

  “Dude, come on. Trent said he’d be here at quarter after. Wake up.” I shook Taylor’s shoulder, and he grabbed his pillow and tried to hit me with it. Luckily, I was more awake than he was, so I ducked.

  “Whose idea was it,” Taylor croaked, “to leave this early?”

  Satisfied that he was awake, I turned to leave his room. “It’s not early, dude.”

  “It’s early for somebody who pulled all-nighters studying for exams the last three nights in a row.”

  “How’d those go, by the way?”

  Taylor finally sat up, and he shot me a tired smile. “Fine. I know I aced Chemistry, and the Bio test was basically an exact repeat of the midterm.”

  “And you aced the midterm,” I filled in.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, I’m all packed and ready, so let me know if you need my help with anything, okay?”

  “Hey, hang on,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where were you last night? You weren’t here yet when I got home at like eleven.”

  “I went out with Steve-o to The Beat. And before you say anything, no, I didn’t hook up with anybody.”

  He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I wasn’t worried; he’d never let that happen again.”

  “I did tell him I want to start dating though.” I wasn’t sure how Taylor would respond to that, but he actually seemed too distracted by his own life drama to judge me for mine.

  “Dating is nothing but trouble, dude. Trust me on that one.”

  I walked back over to his bed and sat down by his feet. “Marissa?”

  He rubbed his face tiredly. “We broke up.”

  “What? When?”

  “Two nights ago.” Tay was obviously ripped up about it. He was staring at his hands, but after a moment, he looked up at me. “She wants to date that other dude. The one she kissed.”

  “Wow. I’m sorry, man. That sucks.” I wasn’t sure what to say; Taylor loved Marissa, so it really wouldn’t make him feel better to lay into her for doing this. But what I wanted to say was, “What a bitch.” I settled for, “You okay?”

  He tried (and failed) to smile. “I’ve been better. Just sort of processing. You know, I’m not stupid; I know high school sweethearts don’t stay together that often. But I just…”

  “I know.” Taylor had talked about marrying Marissa ever since they first got together. Maybe she wasn’t serious about him, but he’d always been serious about her.

  “Anyway. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I wanted you to know. Especially since we’re gonna be in New Tower, and I’m not planning to see her.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I said, standing up. This was such a bummer; I felt bad about not asking Tay to talk about it sooner. But he really seemed not to want to talk. What was best friend protocol for stuff like this? With Steve-o, we talked about everything, but Taylor and I just sort of hung out together and didn’t talk very much about how we felt. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care, and if he couldn’t talk to me, who could he talk to?

  “I’m gonna get dressed,” he said, and I took the cue and left the room.

  Back in the living room, I walked past Jamie again without saying anything. We hadn’t spoken since last night, when he was such an ass. But I realized I should probably get his decision about the Thanksgiving weekend before we took off, so I doubled back.

  “Hey, Jamie.”

  “What?” he said, in the same tone he had last night. Today, with more energy and armed with the knowledge that I was going to start dating soon and get totally over him, I wasn’t having it.

  “We’re still leaving at 10:15. Have you decided what you want to do yet?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, make up your mind, because you get locked out in 20 minutes.”

  Jamie seemed surprised by the sudden change in my demeanor. “I don’t want to stay with Steven,” he said finally.

  Wow. That was surprisingly rude, even for him. I reminded myself of his reaction that Sunday in the apartment, and that he was probably attracted to him and couldn’t admit it to himself. “They aren’t going to be there.”

  “What?”

  “Trent, Steven, and Lynn. They aren’t going to be there for Thanksgiving.”

  “Where will they be?”

  “They’re all coming to New Tower with us.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. My parents like them.”

  “Do they know about Trent and Steven?”

  Oh. Of course. A common side effect of homophobia is believing everyone else is as homophobic as you are. (Although, in my parents’ case, it was at least partly true.) “They know they’re a couple, yeah. They know I’m gay, too. They aren’t jumping up and down about it, but they still love us. And we’re all invited for Thanksgiving.”

  Jamie crossed his arms. “You’re lucky.”

  “I know I am.” We were both quiet for a moment. Then I added, “Do you want to stay at the apartment, then?”

  “Yeah, actually, if that’s okay, I think I would.” Jamie looked brighter for the first time since staying with us. For some reason, this had me seriously worried. Was he just waiting for his chance to do something self-destructive without me there to stop him?

  Jamie read my thoughts. “I’m fine, Paul. Honest. I just think I could use some alone time.”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t feel quite at ease. “Okay. I’ll call and see if it’s still okay for you to stay there.”

  Of course, Lynn immediately agreed to let him use her room. She was going to stay late to close the store while Trent and Steven drove Tay and me to New Tower, and she offered to pick up Jamie and drive him over on her way out of town. I had explained that the dorms closed sooner, and she agreed it would be easier if we all crammed into Trent’s car so he could drop Jamie off at East Chic before we left.

  Half an hour later, Taylor and I tossed our bags of dirty laundry into the trunk and piled on top of each other into the tiny back seat. Steve-o sat there with us, while Jamie situated himself a slightly unnecessary distance from Trent in the front.

  Steven handed me a folded-up piece of paper as soon as we were settled.

  “What’s this?” I asked as Trent pulled out into traffic.

  “Eligible guys who are your age,” he answered, beaming.

  For a split second, I wanted to shush him and tell him to put the list away, but then I remembered my resolve from last night. I didn’t need to be embarrassed about this. So I unfolded the list and read…a bunch of names I’d never seen before in my life.

  “Who are these people? Stevey, did you just make up a list of…wow, a list of 25 names?”

  “No, I did not make it up,” he said. “I’ll have you know I spent half the night on social media finding these guys for you, and I was picky! Wasn’t I, Trent?”

  “You really were,” Trent said. “And it really was half the night, Paul. I don’t know why you can’t just use an app for this like everybody else, but whatever.”

  “He doesn’t want to date a total stranger, Trent! I told you this. Besides, I know so many guys, who needs an app?”

  I felt myself blushing. Steven was an awesome friend, but this was a bit much.

  “This is…overwhelmingly nice of you,” I said, and Taylor snorted back a laugh. “I was thinking, though, maybe just give me one guy, who seems like he’d like me?”

  Taylor snatched the list from my hand and read it. “Yeah, he isn’t gonna date every dude in Philadelphia,” he said.

  “I know that!” Steven answered. “We’re going to look at all their profiles until he finds one he wants to date.”

  I shook my head. “They’re strangers.”
/>   “Yeah, until I introduce you. Don’t change your mind on me now!”

  “I’m not,” I insisted, only glancing briefly at the back of Jamie’s head to see if he reacted (he didn’t). “I just pictured…I don’t know, you guys keeping your eyes out in case you met one guy that made you say, ‘Wow. Paul would really like him.’ Not, like, every guy you know.”

  “I already told you, I know way more guys than this. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Oh, dear lord,” I said, burying my face in my hands.

  “Not that you’re a beggar,” he continued thoughtfully. “But you are woefully inexperienced, which is kind of just as bad.”

  “It isn’t bad,” Jamie cut in from the front seat. We all were surprised into silence for a moment, and I was afraid to hear what he would say next. “Paul isn’t a casual dater; he cares too much about people.”

  Wow. That was weird. Really, really weird.

  “Thanks,” I said after a pause.

  Jamie shrugged and didn’t say anything else. When we arrived at the store a few minutes later, I was genuinely sorry to see him go. Was I sure I wanted to date other guys? What if Jamie changed his mind, came around, stopped being a jerk?

  Taylor hopped into the front seat, which he earned by pointing out to us that he had the longest legs, and Steven punched my shoulder as we drove away. “Hey. Snap out of it. Saying one nice thing to you doesn’t magically turn him into a nice person.”

  “Who?” Taylor said.

  “Jamie,” Steven answered. “Paul’s got his ‘I’m smitten with Jamie’ face on again.”

  Taylor spun around to look at me, and I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Really! I just—I thought it was a nice thing to say.”

  “It was. Now let’s look at gay guys who know they’re gay, act gay, and aren’t disgusted by being gay.”

  I settled back to look at Steven’s phone with him, determined to let go of the brief hope that Jamie was changing. “You’re right. Let’s narrow down this list.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Thanks, I Guess

  __________

  We were in New Tower (armed with at least three eligible date ideas for our return) by lunchtime, and Lynn arrived in time for dinner—a traditional Thanksgiving feast to which my parents invited what seemed like every single person in our extended family. It was quite the crowd around the dining room table, and I might have been nervous about how they would react to our little group if not for the fact that Steven and Trent chose to sit across from each other instead of beside each other. That had been Trent’s idea.

  “I know your parents aren’t really homophobic; they just believe what the church believes,” Trent said as we approached my house after dropping off Tay.

  Steven had joined him in the front seat, and I leaned forward to talk to them both. “Yes and no. My dad’s the pastor,” I said. “He sort of sets the tone.”

  “Are you out at church?” Steven asked.

  “Yep,” I said, proudly. My dad had called me earlier in the school year asking for my permission to use me as an example in a sermon about self-control, and I had agreed. In light of recent events, I made a mental note to ask him not to use me as a paragon of self-control anymore—just, you know, if it came up.

  “But your dad thinks you’re gay-not-gay?” Steven asked, clearly on the same page as me.

  “That’s right,” I said. “And I don’t really want to share the good news about my sexual liberation over the Thanksgiving dinner table.”

  “Fair enough,” Trent said. “Let’s not say anything, babe.”

  “I wouldn’t have,” Steven said, a little defensive.

  “Should we try to avoid each other, too?” Trent asked. The tone of his voice was incredibly even—too even, in fact.

  “I would never ask you guys to do that. Ever.”

  Trent smiled at me over his shoulder, then glanced at Steven. “It’s such a tricky thing. I want to be a polite houseguest, but I also want to stick to my guns, because it isn’t fair to us to have to act like we aren’t together.”

  Steven said, in a mock-fancy tone, “Yes, but as guests at our dear friend’s holiday dinner, we wouldn’t necessarily be laying on the public displays. I think we can manage, Trent.”

  “You sure?”

  Steven rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror and winked at me. “I’m not an animal. I think I can keep my hands off of you for one dinner.”

  “Alright,” Trent said, smiling. “But we may need to sit a few seats apart.”

  At dinner, I sat next to my mom, while Lynn sat across from me and chatted with her about the store. When Mom got up to get pies in the oven and coffee brewing, I asked Lynn about Jamie.

  “How did he seem to you?”

  “Fine. He was really cheerful, actually. He always is, to me.”

  She stared at me knowingly for a moment, and we both knew what she meant; our circle of friends had a lot of gay people in it, and Jamie was only consistently nice to the straight ones.

  “Why exactly are you so invested in him?” she asked casually, taking another bite of the green bean casserole (which was, curiously, the only thing I’d ever seen her eat too much of—it was her fourth helping. Lynn is so surprising.).

  I glanced around the table. The cousins were all chatting happily with each other, and Steven seemed to be entertaining five of them at once with a story about a family Thanksgiving from his childhood. We had the perfect privacy you only find in a crowd. I looked back at Lynn.

  “Steven says he’s me. He’s what I would have been, if not for…” I sighed.

  “If not for what?”

  “For you. You and Trent. If you hadn’t found me and I hadn’t figured out how to accept myself. I might have just pretended, you know? Like him.”

  Lynn frowned. “He keeps talking about Ellen.”

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t love her. He just married her to prove he had reoriented. He just can’t come to terms with who he is.”

  “Are you sure that’s how he really feels, though?”

  I was about to say, “Of course I’m sure,” but then I realized I wasn’t, necessarily. Was I just projecting? Did I want Jamie to be like me so badly that I was actually seeing him through my own perspective instead of recognizing his situation for what it truly was? And was that why he was so angry—because I was setting him back further, just like he said? What was I basing all of this on? Why did I think the things I thought?

  My mind wandered back to that night at Freedom, when we slept together.

  I was on my side in my bed, and he was pressed against my back, flat against me, hands wandering up and down my abdomen. His lips were in my hair, and he whispered, “You’re amazing. You’re all I think about, you know that? You’re so, so sexy.”

  I rolled onto my back to look up into his eyes. “You’re…wow,” I’d said. It was the best I could come up with at the time, and he laughed at me—but not in a mean way. I laughed, too.

  Without thinking about right or wrong, or consequences, or anything but how happy I was, I tugged him onto my chest. He resisted at first, but then settled down with his head above my heart. I had a uniquely nostalgic feeling—as though I was living a moment from a dream, the dream I had been having since I was a little boy.

  “I hear your heartbeat,” he said after a moment.

  “Is it fast?”

  “Mhmm,” he agreed. “Same as mine, almost exactly.”

  “I’m really glad we met, Jamie,” I said. I was feeling particularly open and chatty. I didn’t need to be embarrassed or disgusted with who I was; Jamie liked me as is.

  He looked up at me, smiling with surprise. “I love that you do that.”

  “What?”

  “Say what you mean, whatever it is. You never fake it.”

  I felt about a thousand feet tall. “I wouldn’t know how to do anything else.”

  “I know. That’s awesome. I wish I was more like that.”

  “What
do you mean?”

  He sighed. “I’m kind of a people-pleaser, I guess. Like, it’s really important to me what people think. I actually spend time wondering, you know? What does so-and-so think of me, and how can I make it so they think something else? I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

  “That doesn’t sound stupid. It sounds…considerate.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. If you’re trying to change who you are so other people like you better, is that considerate? Or is it just lying?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was never really thrilled when somebody didn’t like me, but it wouldn’t have occurred to me to change who I was to get them to like me. This, here at Freedom, was actually the only part of my life I had ever tried to change.

  Something clicked in my mind, suddenly. Why was I trying to change this? Why was this one part of my life, who I’m attracted to, the exception to the rule? Why should I care what other people think of who I am, or who I love?

  Oblivious to my inner monologue, Jamie went on, “Sometimes, if I lie to other people enough, I can start to believe it myself. You know? Like with reorientation. If I say it’s working, then…I don’t know.”

  He had pulled me from my thoughts so suddenly that I hadn’t known what to say; would it help if I told him lying was a sin, too? Finally, I said, “Even if it doesn’t work, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad I met you.”

  “I’m glad, too.”

  Now, looking at Lynn across the dining table, I was just about 99 percent sure. “If he repeats it enough, he can convince himself something’s true, even when it isn’t. But nobody can lie to themselves forever. I know what he told me at Freedom. I know he doesn’t love her.”

  She folded her arms. “Well, now I’m nervous.”

  “Why?”

  She cringed a little and said guiltily, “I sort of gave him a ride home, on my way. To Ellen’s.”