by Anna Martin
“You’re no fun.”
They kept driving, looping round to pass Katie’s house, and Andy’s, and Cassie Williams’. When they stopped in front of Scott’s house, Evan reached into his jacket and pulled out the wrapped present.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it at Scott.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Scott murmured, then grinned. He reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out a slim package.
Evan laughed. “Ditto.”
He watched Scott tear into the paper, then lift the lid on the small cardboard box.
“It’s Saint Christopher,” Evan said as Scott ran his fingers over the small pendant. “You know, the patron saint of travelers? I know you want to travel, so….”
Evan had found the pendant and chain at a small jewelry store when he’d been wandering around the city after class one afternoon. It hadn’t been particularly expensive, but Evan had been drawn to the pendant and the explanation on a small card next to it.
“It’s amazing. Thank you. Open yours.”
“Okay,” Evan said with a smile, feeling his face heat.
There were actually two things within the paper, one a CD jewel case with “Evan’s Mix 2004” written on the outside with Sharpie. The other was a slightly battered paperback.
“This is going to sound so gay,” Scott muttered, making Evan laugh. “It’s Walt Whitman poetry. I asked someone and… anyway. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Thank you.”
Had his best friend really given him a collection of words by one of America’s most celebrated homosexual icons?
“And, you know. I’m sure your taste in music still sucks.”
“Asshole,” Evan said, punching him on the arm.
“Come on. I’m sure my mom will want to fuss over you.”
Evan carefully tucked the two gifts inside his jacket, not wanting them to get damaged. These things he would keep.
They quietly got drunk on leftover mulled wine and whiskey, sitting on the floor in Scott’s family room and laughing at the rest of the family as they played a very controversial game of Monopoly. Scott and Evan had arrived too late to join in the game, which was already well underway by the time they got back to the house.
Lacey was quietly cheating, clearly succeeding because she was the only one not drinking. Evan watched as she helped herself to not $200 for passing Go, but more like $600. He snorted into his glass and decided whiskey and ginger ale was a fantastic combination.
“Is Lacey cheating?” Scott whispered into Evan’s ear, his breath hot and wet against Evan’s neck.
“Yes,” Evan said and collapsed into giggles.
Lacey looked over and scowled at them both, which only seemed to make the giggling worse, then winked and raised a finger to her lips.
Sshh.
“I should go,” Evan said, tipping his head back to rest on the cushion of the sofa behind him.
“Nuh-uh,” Scott replied. “I can’t drive you. None of them can drive you. Lacey doesn’t have her license yet.”
Evan sighed.
“Stay, honey,” Scott’s mom called over. “I’m sure your mom won’t mind.”
“Thanks, Annie. I’ll text her.”
Evan turned his phone over in his hand a few times, then sent off a quick message to his mom. She was heading to bed anyway, knowing she’d need to be up early the following morning for her shift at the hospital. Mark too. The prospect of spending the next day alone wasn’t particularly enchanting, so staying was probably the better option.
“She says it’s fine,” Evan said with a grin.
“I’m sure we’ve got a sleeping bag around here somewhere,” Tom teased.
“Uh, fuck that.” Scott yawned, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Grandma.”
He earned himself a scowl for that and gave her a convincingly contrite smile.
“Coming to bed?” Scott asked softly. Evan nodded, hauled himself to his feet, and waved good night to the rest of the Sparrow family.
He and Scott had slept together in the same bed for sleepovers from the age of seven until somewhere around eighth grade. Evan remembered one particular night and the following morning in the vivid way bad memories always seem to stick.
Scott’s dad had offered to take Evan to a ball game since he had a spare ticket and Tom was away on some camping trip. They’d gotten back late, and since Evan’s mom was working strange shifts and he didn’t want to wake her up, he’d stayed at Scott’s house.
His attraction to men was still woolly and unsure, but he was coming to the conclusion that women did very little for him, sexually at least. For a while, he’d thought his attraction to Scott had more to do with proximity than anything else. They showered together after gym, had been skinny-dipping more times than he could count, had generally grown up around each other’s bodies, and had a lack of shame. It was just boys being boys, right?
The next morning, Evan had woken earlier than normal with a strange sense of unease. He stretched, then felt a growing sense of horror settle over him. He’d come in his pants. And his whole groin was still pressed up tight to Scott’s thigh.
Scott was still asleep, or Evan thought he was, at least. But still… the inappropriateness was incredible, along with a hefty dose of shame and disgust. He’d humped his best friend in his sleep.
Evan had stumbled out of bed and to the family bathroom, praying he wouldn’t run into Scott’s parents or siblings on the way. There he’d washed himself and pulled his underwear off, balled them up, and stuffed them in the pocket of the basketball shorts he’d been wearing as pajamas.
It had taken a level of subterfuge he wasn’t familiar with to dispose of those underpants deep in a trash bag that was almost full and ready to be taken out.
After that it had been impossible for Evan to let himself sleep side by side with Scott again. Their families seemed to accept Evan’s protestations that they were too tall now to share a bed, and Scott had never said a thing.
Evan had never told him, convinced there was a special place in hell reserved for those who violated their best friends while those friends were asleep. If not hell, he was pretty sure there was a place for him in jail.
He pretended to be asleep already when Scott came back from the bathroom. It wasn’t difficult. The wine and whiskey were already giving him a headache, and his head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool.
“Evan?”
“Hmm?”
“You asleep?”
“I was, you asshole.”
He hoped this was enough to make Scott shut up. The bed dipped, and Scott slid in next to him, rolling onto his side so he was facing Evan’s back.
“You remember when we used to do this when we were kids?” Scott whispered.
“I was just thinking about that.”
Evan begged, prayed to whatever God was listening that Scott wasn’t going to bring up the wet dream hump incident.
“Heh.”
“I don’t generally have sleepovers with my friends anymore,” Evan said, aiming for teasing, though it ended up coming out bitter.
“Just your boyfriend, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
He waited, letting the silence and the night settle between them.
“I told him you kissed me,” Evan said, when enough time had passed he was sure Scott was sleeping.
“What did he say?”
Scott was clearly very much awake.
“He was mad. I don’t blame him. I’m mad at me too.”
“Don’t be. Let him be mad at me. I don’t care.”
Evan sighed heavily and shuffled onto his back. “It’s complicated.”
“It sounds it. How many men have you been with?”
Evan’s face flushed, and he was glad it was dark so Scott couldn’t see. He wasn’t embarrassed about his sexual history. That didn’t mean he wanted to discuss it, though.
“Five.”
“How many women?
”
He laughed. “None.”
“Then how can you be sure?”
“How many men have you been with?” he retorted.
“None. Not yet, anyway.”
“Then you’re sure you’re greedy?”
“I’m not sure what I am.”
Just because he might be bisexual doesn’t mean he wants you.
He did kiss you, though.
And he doesn’t like your boyfriend.
Evan shut the voices in his head up by rolling onto his side, away from Scott and the conversation he didn’t want to have.
“Are you mad at me?” Scott whispered into the darkness.
“No. I’m just tired.”
“Oh. Okay. Good night, Evan.”
Evan only hummed in response.
The next morning was more awkward than almost all of the morning-after hookups he’d had. Scott was still asleep when Evan woke up and gathered his clothes. He dressed in the bathroom before going downstairs and hoping he could call his mom for a ride home before she started work.
His plan was thwarted by the Sparrow house’s open-plan ground floor, meaning the moment he stepped into the hallway, Lacey called out to him from the kitchen.
“How are you awake?” he grouched as he took his shoes from where they’d been left by the closet and walked through to the kitchen. Lacy sat with a mug of coffee and a magazine, slowly flicking through it.
She shrugged. “It’s nearly eight, Evan. And I’m the only one who wasn’t getting drunk last night. I reckon the others will sleep a while longer yet.”
Evan looked at her and squinted. Lacey was a few weeks away from her sixteenth birthday now, though in the time he’d been away she’d aged about ten years, or so it seemed. All her baby fat was gone, and she had developed the perfectly disinterested demeanor of a teenage girl. And she was drinking coffee. When did Lacey start drinking coffee?
“There’s more in the pot,” she said, flicking another page in her magazine over without looking up. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
By the time he’d poured his liquid wake-up serum and tied his shoes, there were footsteps on the stairs, and Evan internally cursed himself for not just getting the hell out of there.
“Morning,” Scott croaked as he stumbled into the kitchen.
He stole Lacey’s coffee and swigged from it, more to annoy her than because he wanted it. Evan was sure of that.
“Asshole,” she snapped.
“Uh-huh. You leaving?” he asked Evan.
“Yeah.”
“Gimme five minutes. I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Fuck off. Stay there.”
The local radio station was still blasting out Christmas songs, a mix of carols and pop tunes, and Evan grinned as Scott belted along a harmonious accompaniment to Mariah Carey. The world seemed more alive than it had the day before. Kids were out playing in their yards, and the sky wasn’t quite so dark with snow.
Evan’s neighborhood was hosting some kind of touch football game, probably organized by the kids from the high school. They were playing in the street, though it hadn’t been shut off, and they all moved to the side to let Scott’s car through.
“Your mom’s at work, right?” Scott asked as they walked up to the house, barely listening to the kids as they started their game again farther down the street now.
“She must have left already, yeah. Her car’s gone.”
Scott stopped Evan as he went to unlock the front door, a familiar hand gripping his arm.
“Empty house, huh?” he said, flirty smile, twinkling eyes.
“Don’t, Scott.”
“Why are you so scared of me?” Scott demanded. He stepped back, just half a pace, the distance enough for him to look at Evan and scowl.
“What?”
“You’re all out and proud, but you keep turning your back on me. I thought I was your best friend, Evan.”
Evan shook his head. “I have a boyfriend. You don’t have to stop being my friend, Scott, but there’s someone else in my life now.”
“Bullshit!” Scott exclaimed. “We’ve been close since we were kids, and now we have the possibility to do this, to find out what’s maybe been there all along.”
“I’m not going to be the guy you experiment with,” Evan snapped. “If you want that, go to a gay bar. Fuck, you can go online and find someone. I’m not prepared to ruin my relationship and our friendship just because you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused.”
“Oh yeah?” Evan demanded. “Really? So you’ll go home to your mom and tell her you’re questioning your sexuality?”
Scott blanched at that, almost physically recoiling at Evan’s challenge.
“See, that’s the thing,” Evan said, poking his finger at Scott’s chest. “You want to play. To kiss a bit, maybe touch each other, but do you want to be out and proud? No. You don’t want people to know that you want those things. And I’m not prepared to be someone’s dirty little secret.”
“I’m not asking you to be that.”
“No? Sure fucking sounds that way to me.”
“This is easy for you!” Scott yelled.
It was cold out here, on Evan’s mom’s porch, and neighbors were far enough away to hopefully not overhear this conversation. Evan shivered and felt a new wave of annoyance trickle down his spine.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“You came out, and no one cared, Evan. No one. You’re artistic and sensitive and sweet, and people just accepted that you’re gay. No one cares. I can’t have that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you trying to say that because I’m an artist coming out was easy for me? Fuck you, Scott. Fuck you.”
“I’m not saying it was easy. I’m saying people weren’t surprised. You never had a reputation for fucking around. You weren’t a player. You were a nice guy who was friends with girls and didn’t date them. I fucked around. I still fucking do. If I came out….” He broke off and shook his head.
“What? So you’re bisexual. That’s a thing, you know.”
“No, it’s not. Bisexuals are confused or in denial.”
“Bullshit. The world isn’t black and white, Scott. There’s a whole world of gray out there. Stop being such a closed-minded asshole.”
“If I came out and said I was bi, I’d be a laughingstock.”
“And if you care about something like that, you’re an idiot. So don’t come out, then. Just admit it to yourself and you’ll be a hell of a lot happier. I guarantee it.”
“You don’t understand,” Scott muttered, turning away and pushing his hand through his dark hair. Evan watched the motion and hated himself for still wanting his friend. Still wishing there was more.
“No, listen to me,” Evan demanded. He was suddenly angry. “I didn’t have an easy time coming to terms with my sexuality like you seem to think. The past couple of years haven’t been a cake walk for me. I spent that last year of high school terrified that someone would figure it out and tell everyone. I thought it was fucking obvious that I was… that I had a fucking huge crush on you. People called us ‘gay’ all the time.”
“That’s stupid kids throwing around stupid insults,” Scott said. He sounded tired.
“Yeah, but when you are gay and you haven’t told anyone, stupid insults fucking hurt.”
“You’ve never gone off on me like this before.”
“Because you’ve never fucking needed me to before!” Evan yelled. He never yelled. “You’ve had this privileged life, Scott, where everything has been so fucking easy for you. You got two parents and a brother and a sister and grandparents, and pretty much whatever you wanted you got. Fucking scholarship into college because you had a fucking tutor to make sure you got the best grades in high school. Well, this ain’t something that you can just get given on a plate. You want it, it’s gonna be fucking difficult. It’s gonna hurt. People
are gonna be disappointed in you. That’s what it is!”
Evan took a deep breath, pacing from one side of the porch back to the other. Scott stood, a pained expression on his face, silently watching Evan stalk back and forth like a caged animal.
“Look, you know I’m not going to judge you either way. I stayed in the closet for a long time, until I was ready to come out on my terms, under the right circumstances for me. I’m not going to force you out. That fucking sucks. But I can’t be the one to ‘help you figure it out.’ I’m a fag, Scott. I’m a big cock-sucking queer. And I’m not interested in being with anyone who can’t say the same.”
“I thought you were my friend,” Scott said, his voice small, hurting.
“I am,” Evan said, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t give you what you’re asking of me.”
“Even though we feel the same way about each other?”
“Maybe because of that.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to just let me walk away.”
Evan let out a startled laugh.
“What?”
“You’re so arrogant,” Evan said, though he didn’t mean it as an insult. Not really. “You were the biggest thing in my life for a really fucking long time, Scott. But things move on. We’ve only just started our second year of college, and we’re already different people. We grew up.”
“Grew apart.”
“Yeah.”
Scott shook his head. “Are we breaking up?” he asked, looking at his feet, letting his words fall in a breathless laugh.
“I want you to have,” Evan started, before swallowing around a painful lump in his throat, “amazing things. I hope you figure this out.”
“Me too.”
“Don’t,” Evan said and screwed his eyes shut. “I can’t….”
“I get it. I won’t.”
I won’t be in contact. I won’t make this worse.
“Take care, Evan.”
They turned away from each other at the same time. Evan managed to get just inside the front door before he slid to the floor, the tears coming easy now. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just made the worst mistake of his whole life.
Happy fucking Christmas.
The Fifth Time
January 2013