Train to Somewhere

by Susan Laine

  Will sounded smart and knowledgeable. Charlie listened intently. This was important, and he didn’t want to miss a word. He didn’t want to interrupt until he had enough information to form his own conclusions. So far the number of possibilities boggled his mind.

  “There is, however, debate as to whether orientation is stable throughout an individual’s life or if it’s more flexible and malleable, able to change and redevelop over time and space. If you know what I mean. Not, like, in space-age terms.”

  Will’s bashful smile made Charlie chuckle. Again, he thought about how Will had a talent for easing any kind of tension and dissolving any sort of uncertainty. Charlie wished Will no ill will, but he admitted to a kind of jealousy of his natural comfort. Charlie knew of no other person who could speak like a consummate scientific specialist one minute and a sweet, playful teen the next.

  “A train can switch tracks to get to a different destination,” Charlie theorized. “And I could do the same, sexually speaking. Now… would that make it a choice or an inherent trait?”

  Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He snapped his mouth closed, frowning. He seemed incapable of speaking. Finally he supplied, “Personally I don’t believe that sexuality or gender identity are choices, and neither does the scientific community. Only jerks like right-wing homophobes think along those lines, and they use the choice argument to justify horrible, inhumane things like gay conversion therapy and other bigoted bullshit.” After a brief pause, he slumped in defeat. “But I don’t know for sure when it comes to you specifically. Only you can answer that.”

  Charlie scratched his head. “Saying that sexuality is fluid, able to adapt to any situation or partner, is kind of an easy way of explaining a more complex state of being.”

  “You mean like a cop-out?” Will’s expression spoke volumes, rejecting Charlie’s implication.

  Charlie shook his head. “No. Just easy. It doesn’t really require further investigation or any detailed accounts. One can say ‘I’m fluid’ and be done—but inside they might not have a clue as to who they are, who they wanna be with, or what kind of sex and relationship they wanna have.”

  In a fit of irritation, he tapped his iPhone to turn off the playlist. Silence fell over them like a bomb. He preferred it after the noise. His whole head was filled with static anyway.

  “I feel like I’m stuck on a train without a schedule or destination in London Below, just moving without a point or meaning.”

  Will leaned closer over the table and took his hand. “You’ll figure it out, with or without Gaiman. No one says you have to find yourself this second. Take time, and one day when you least expect it, it’ll come to you. A revelation.”

  A knock on the door broke Charlie’s concentration.

  He got up and opened it. A male waiter in a white dress shirt and black vest stood there with an expectant expression. Charlie snapped his fingers. “The trays. We’re done.” He whirled around, grabbed the trays, and brought them to the waiter—and added a twenty-dollar bill to the underside. It was a damn good thing both Charlie and Will had saved up their allowances for nearly a year in anticipation of this trip.

  The man smiled, his nimble fingers clearly having caught the incentive. “Thank you, sir. Your beds will be turned down in half an hour.” Then he left, balancing the trays on his arms with the effortlessness of years of experience. Charlie wondered if the waiter thought they were young, privileged assholes throwing money carelessly about…. That would suck, since neither of them was.

  Dismissing the notion, Charlie closed the door and turned to lean against it, meeting Will’s gaze. “Looks like it’s nearly bedtime.”

  Will stood and ambled toward Charlie. At the last second, he faced the mirror instead. “I’ll go wash this stuff off.” His fingertips hovered over his smoky eyes and red lips.

  Alarmed for reasons too hard to decipher—conflicting emotions to be sure—Charlie tenderly took hold of Will’s arm. “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

  Bewildered didn’t even begin to describe Will’s expression. “Do I look different? Do I look… better?”

  Charlie felt the urge to squirm, but he suppressed the instinct. He’d danced around this long enough. “That’s not the question. Do you feel comfortable? Do you feel like yourself?”

  Will’s features softened. “I told you, man, I’m not really into drag or cross-dressing. But to answer you… I don’t feel like not myself, if that makes sense. This is just me. Under some lipstick and guyliner. Still just me.”

  Charlie smiled back. “Then it’s all good. Cool.” Then, because his brain apparently fried each and every time he saw Will like this, he added daringly, “Does your lipstick really taste like cherries?”

  Will licked his lips provocatively. “Find out for yourself.”

  Charlie flinched. Was Will really suggesting Charlie kiss him? “Are you saying you’re gay or sexually fluid?”

  Will’s confidence cracked visibly as his smile stuttered. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Like I said before, I don’t believe in putting people in boxes and sticking labels on them for society’s sake.” Then he lifted his chin defiantly, his eyes flashing. “Besides, it’s not like I’m dating anyone right now. Girl or boy.”

  Charlie tried to think, but he couldn’t. Only one question rattled around in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “Never came up.”

  “Bullshit. That’s the kind of shit that comes up, like, all the fucking time. That answer’s just another cop-out.”

  Will clenched his fists, his expression shutting down. “You’re my best friend. But you’re not my keeper. I don’t owe you all my secrets or every private piece of information.”

  “I’m not asking for your deepest, darkest secrets, dammit. You saw how hard this has been for me. And you keeping this from me seems like… like duplicity. A lie.”

  “I’ve been a sounding board for you the whole time, Charlie.” Will’s voice cracked, exposing his vulnerability. Charlie’s heart flipped with empathy and concern. “Maybe I didn’t know how to tell you,” Will finally confessed, ducking his head, his hands unclenching.

  Charlie wanted to say that he wouldn’t have judged his best friend. Then he remembered how he’d reacted to simply seeing Will in women’s clothing. How could he honestly say he would have responded well to the news? Only now, when it hit so close to home, to his own internal confusion, was it was easier to absorb.

  “I understand. It’s okay. We’re cool. You didn’t lie. It’s tough to talk about private shit.”

  Will looked up, a hopeful glow in his eyes that shone a bit too brightly. “Th-thanks.”

  Later, Charlie couldn’t say how long they stood there, staring and smiling at each other like a couple of loons. Only the arrival of their cabin attendant to turn down their beds and the brief bed check by their glum teacher-chaperone broke the spell.

  “WILL? YOU asleep?”

  “Yes” came the piqued response from above.

  “Yeah, me neither.” Charlie shifted on the wide bed below Will, too wired up and anxious to fall asleep. “Can we talk?”

  “Now?” Will sounded tired, and Charlie was about to take back the request when Will let out a sigh. “Sure. What’s bothering you, bro?”

  “Same shit as before.” Charlie didn’t know how to feel or who he was. At the end of the day, quite literally, he remained in the dark. His fingers itched to hold his sax and be comforted by its familiar warm brass, leather-padded keys, and mouthpiece. “Earlier you mentioned that I might be bicurious.”

  “Yeah?” Will’s face appeared over the edge, barely visible in the low light and occasional flash from passing outside light filtering through the curtains.

  “That’d make me basically still straight, right?” Charlie dared to hope. Which was weird since he felt no animosity toward gays, nor did he think there was anything wrong with gay people. Was it just that he himself didn’t want to be gay?<
br />
  “Yeah, I suppose so.” The carriage rocked a little as Will shifted, more of his face emerging over the edge. “I mean, it’s totally normal for teens to question things. Sexuality is just one of those things. And, like, attraction is so… complicated. It’s not just about what the body lusts for. There’s other factors.”

  “Emotions?”

  “Yeah, like that.” Will rested his cheek against the edge and peered down at Charlie, his eyes sympathetic as always. Or at least that was what Charlie imagined seeing in the dark glow of Will’s hazel eyes. “An emotional attraction doesn’t have to lead to a physical relationship. We both know that.”

  Charlie grimaced. This dawdling wasn’t getting them anywhere. “Argh, I don’t know why I have such a problem with this. Maybe ’cause I’m still not satisfied with the explanation of why I felt the way I did when I saw you like that. It’s driving me around the bend.”

  “Listen. I did some more research when you took a shower.” Will’s voice never strayed from cool and composed. Nice that one of them kept a level head. “What if you’re—just a sec… like, gynesexual?”

  “What the ever-loving fuck is that?” Charlie hated that he needed to have this conversation, but he hated more how this much-needed talk just ended up confusing him more. This entire subject of sexuality, gender, identity, and orientation—it was all so complicated. And he’d set his heart on having answers, not more questions.

  “Gynephilic means that you’re attracted to females… or femininity.”

  That classification gave Charlie pause. “You mean… I found you hot ’cause you were in a girl’s dress, even though you’re a guy? ’Cause I find femininity attractive—regardless of the actual gender of the person displaying it?”

  “Maybe?” Will sounded uncertain. Charlie could relate. “To be honest, Charlie, this is something only you can decide for yourself. Which label fits. If you care about labels.”

  “Which you don’t.”

  “No, I don’t. Because I don’t believe things are that black-and-white. Life is more complex and wondrous than such… simplifications.”

  Charlie looked up at his best friend, bending an arm behind his head to make himself more comfortable. “When you told me earlier that you felt like you even though you wore makeup and high heels… what does that make you? Or am I the only one asking these kinds of questions?”

  Will chuckled. “No, dummy. Everyone asks these questions at some point in their lives. I didn’t feel any different inside when I wore that stuff. It was still me. Maybe I’m comfortable with being, like, feminine-presenting.”

  “What’s that? Like a cross-dresser?”

  “Not exactly. It’s someone who expresses themselves and their gender in a more feminine way without being a femme man, a cross-dresser, or a drag queen.”

  Charlie scoffed lightly. “There’s a pretty thin line there. The distinction, I mean.”

  “They do sound a lot alike, I know.” Will sighed, his gaze wandering the room. “The same could be said for feminine-at-center. That’s a guy who presents himself in a feminine way without identifying as a woman.”

  Charlie snorted. “Again, sounds exactly the same.”

  “Subtle differences, I suppose.” Will closed his eyes and smiled a little. “That’s the point of fluidity, isn’t it? That our being is allowed to change and rebrand over time. If you get my drift.”

  “Yeah, I sort of do.” Charlie watched Will carefully. The guy had to be tired. It had been a long-ass day. He shouldn’t keep Will awake. “Hey, buddy? Go back to sleep.”

  “You know,” Will muttered sleepily, “if you really wanna learn what you are, sexually speaking, perhaps you shouldn’t be afraid to experiment. Heck, we’re going to college in the fall for a reason.”

  Charlie laughed. “I thought people go to college to learn.”

  “Yeah. Life lessons.”

  Then Will withdrew out of sight. The bed rocked and then stilled. Soon after, a soft snoring sounded. Charlie smiled, happy and grateful that his best friend was so encouraging and supportive. Some guys wouldn’t be. They’d see their friend’s sexuality as reflecting badly on them and cast them aside.

  But could Charlie really do what Will suggested? Have a sexual encounter with a guy just to prove or disprove a theory? And should the guy be dressed like a dude or a chick? Charlie shook his head. No, he couldn’t be so callous, not even to a complete stranger or one-nighter. Whether in high school or in college.

  Of course, there was another possibility.

  And that particular option slept a few feet above Charlie right now.

  Where there’s a Will, there’s a way.

  Chapter 9

  “SHIT, FUCK, piss, and crackers!”

  Charlie shifted his gaze away from the window, where the partially parted curtains revealed the rosy hue of dawn. Will emerged soaking wet and cursing under his breath from the shower stall. He snatched his towel from the top of the single chair’s backrest and covered his nakedness. Charlie had nonetheless seen his fill of Will’s impressive cock, and flushed with heat.

  “What happened, buddy?” he asked out of concern, hoping his friend didn’t notice how his voice cracked.

  Will wrapped the towel around his waist and then rubbed his left elbow. “Banged my damn elbow on the wall. Hit right on the nerve. That space is too fucking small.”

  “Aww, want me to kiss your boo-boo?” Charlie teased with lisping baby talk. Will flipped him off and glared. If looks could kill…. Charlie laughed. “Careful. Wouldn’t want you to sprain a finger too.”

  “Fuck. You.”

  Will snapped his towel like a whip at Charlie, who was lying on the still unmade bottom bunk. Then he dried his hair vigorously, again exposing his nudity, unintentionally or on purpose. Charlie didn’t know which. He turned his head regardless.

  “Why is my camera there?”

  Will’s question made Charlie face his best friend. Will pointed at his digital camera on the single seat, his expression confused.

  “I thought I packed that before going to bed.”

  “You did,” Charlie admitted, raising his gaze to the bottom of the top bunk. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night, so I thought a small picture show would help me. I looked at the ones you’ve taken. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Will smiled. “Of course it’s fine. They’re just photos. No big deal.”

  He yanked his boxer briefs on and adjusted his package. Charlie gulped, blushed like fire, and turned to his side to avoid the surprisingly tempting sight.

  That was when Charlie realized he did feel the appeal of Will—even without the makeup and feminine attire. Charlie wanted to bury his head in the sand and forget the world and everything that came with it, especially discomforting epiphanies.

  “Wait.” Will’s voice sent Charlie’s heart into a mad frenzy. “Wasn’t there a pic of me…?”

  Will didn’t have to finish his question. Charlie knew what he’d meant and winced. Busted.

  “Sorry,” Charlie murmured for the thousandth time recently, and flipped over to lie on his back.

  Will came to sit on the bed by Charlie, his butt touching Charlie’s side, unnerving him like nothing else. He rested his hand over Charlie’s arm, an action that was likely meant to be sympathetic but only served to make things far worse for Charlie.

  “So you saw me wearing makeup.” Will paused, perhaps to give Charlie a chance to comment. When Charlie didn’t, Will sighed. “Mixed reaction again?”

  Charlie licked his lips nervously. “Yeah. Sort of.” He looked away, but only for a moment. He could either come clean or hide the truth from his best friend. And that wouldn’t go over well. “I jacked off to your image before you woke up.”

  Will drew in a sharp breath. Charlie was afraid to face him.

  Since the train wreck had already taken place, though, Charlie decided to finish his confession. “As you came out of the shower just a
second ago… I got a hard-on. And you sure as shit weren’t wearing anything feminine that time.”

  Will went pale and still.

  This time Charlie couldn’t look away. He desperately needed to know if he still had a best friend. “Are you mad? Do you hate me?” Do you still want to be friends with me? That he didn’t ask out loud, terrified of what the answer might be.

  “Of course not. Dumbass.” Will shoved at Charlie’s side, his smile firmly back in place.

  “Oh…. Good.” Charlie barely managed to get the words out of his mouth.

  Then Will grew serious. “I’ve been thinking too.” Charlie waited with bated breath. Will inhaled deep and declared, “What if I… continued to wear… you know, makeup?”

  Startled by the question, Charlie sat up and stared at his best friend. “Like… all of it? The full shebang?”

  “Not the dress,” Will mused. “Certainly not the shoes. Those damn things are hard to stand or walk in. I couldn’t imagine wearing them all day every day. No, I meant, like… the guyliner. Maybe a hint of lip gloss.”

  Charlie smirked. “Cherry-flavored?”

  Will chuckled, his tense posture easing as he relaxed. “Could be.” Then his smile faltered as he blinked, clearly jittery. “What would you say or do?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Nothing. If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. One hundred percent. Who am I to judge, getting boners for my best friend?”

  Will’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Don’t forget the jacking off.”

  Charlie snorted. “Not fucking likely.” He sighed and tore at his cuticles, at once relieved and concerned for their shared future. “So you’re still not upset?”

  Will shrugged. “Why would I be? Especially considering your reaction has evolved from violence to pleasure. That’s always a positive. This world could definitely use more love, less hate, just like you said.”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s all well and good, but….” Charlie frowned. “I mean… it’s you. Doesn’t that bother you in the slightest? How can you be so, I don’t know, blasé?”