A Not So Typical Love

by Tristen Rowen

  Tim scooted toward me and removed the headphones from my ears. The music blasted through them.

  "The White Stripes, huh?" he said. "Jamie's influence?" I didn’t want to talk. “Maybe you could take a class on campus. See how that goes first. What do you think?”

  Staring back at him, I shrugged.

  “I don’t drive,” I said.

  “I know,” Tim said. “I’ll drive you for now. Maybe you should think about getting your license. I don’t want you relying on me forever.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I mean it.”

  “When’s Art leaving?” I asked.

  “A couple of weeks I think,” Tim replied. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  “I just want him to go,” I said.

  “I know.”

  Although I heard a car door open and close outside, I stayed on the couch, not wanting to look too desperate. Jamie had only been gone a few hours.

  “Hey, what’d I miss?” Jamie asked, entering the living room.

  “Nothing,” Tim said. “Jordie just can’t stand being away from you for more than thirty seconds.”

  “Shut up, Timmie,” I said, shoving his shoulder.

  "Hey, have something for you," Jamie said, squeezing in between me and Tim. "Well, it's actually from my dad, but he can't go, so he gave them to me."

  From the back of Jamie's back jeans pocket, he pulled out what looked to be a pair of tickets. As he flashed them in front of me, I realized they were a pair of Red Sox tickets.

  "I've never been to Fenway," I said. "Have you?"

  "Yeah, lots of times," Jamie said.

  "You're taking him to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park?" Tim said as surprised as I was.

  "Yeah, cool, huh?” Jamie said. “And it's against the Yankees, too."

  Tim removed his glasses and rubbed his temple with his fingers as if he had a headache brewing.

  "What? You don't think I should go, right?" I said to Tim.

  "I don't know," Tim said. "I've been to Fenway. It's small and crowded...really crowded...and it can be loud...really loud and crowded. The seats are tiny and..."

  "Shut up, Tim," I said. "I'm going and I don't care what you say. I always wanted to go."

  "He'll be alright," Jamie said. "He was okay at the club and that place was crowded. If it gets too much, we'll leave."

  Tim looked at me in that look of his; a look of worry and disapproval.

  "I'm going and I don't care what you say," I said. "You don't think I can do anything."

  Like a little kid having a temper tantrum, I snatched my headphones back and stormed up the stairs. Once in my room, I threw myself on my bed, hiding under the covers. A few minutes later my bedroom door opened. It better not be Tim, I thought and remained under the blankets.

  "Stop being a brat," Jamie said. "He didn't say you couldn't go. You can be such a drama queen." Sticking my hand out from under the blanket, I shot him the middle finger. "Well, that's mature," he said. "I want to go swimming. Come on, let's go. I won't have many more chances." I wasn't sure I was in the mood to go swimming. "Well, I'm going. You can be a brat and stay here if you want, but I'm going. Tim's never going to stop worrying about you. Are you coming or not?" I didn't answer. "Fine. See ya." And he left without me. The stupid jerk actually left without me. He didn't care that I was upset.

  After a few seconds, I realized Jamie didn't tolerate my immaturity or overreactions to things.

  We hadn't swum alone together in awhile. I threw the blankets off me and ran down the stairs and outside to the pool.

  Jamie's clothes lay in a heap on the deck. I knew there'd only be a few more summer nights like this and I didn't want to be a brat, sulking upstairs in my room under the covers.

  "What took you so long?" he said. I didn't say anything as I took off my shorts, Jamie watching me the whole time. Naked, I sat on the edge of the pool, letting my legs dangle in the water. Jamie walked up to me and stood between my legs like he had done so many times before.

  "Come in," he said, holding onto my thighs. I just stared down at him, not moving. I knew how lucky I was to have met him, to have fallen in love with him, to have fallen in love at all. Falling in love was never something I thought about. Jamie changed everything. "What are you thinking about?"

  "Nothing," I lied.

  "Liar," he said and kissed each thigh. I scooted forward, inhaling as he kissed me between my legs. I didn't deserve this after the way I'd been acting.

  He took me all the way in his mouth, then released me. With a smile, he swam away.

  As soon as I jumped in, I went after him, pushing him against the opposite side of the pool. Standing close to him, I rubbed my front against his backside with my arms around him. I bit the back of his shoulder playfully, then dunked myself under the water, swimming away from him. I swam best under water.

  He caught up to me, pulling my legs, bringing me under the water again. As I bobbed back up, he tucked his hands under my butt while I wrapped my legs around his thighs. Nearly simultaneously, we brought our lips together.

  "I don't want you to go," I said in-between kisses. "I don't want you..." Breaking down in tear, I buried my face in his neck.

  "I know," he said, holding me tight. "I won't be gone forever. I promised you, remember?" Recalling the promissory note, I nodded against his neck.

  "I love you," I said as stupid tears poured out of me.

  “I love you, too," he said. "It's going to be okay. I promise, okay? It'll be okay."

  If I Should Fall from Grace with God

  Jordan

  On the way up the stairs, Tim’s bedroom door opened. Tim and I quietly stared each other down for a few seconds. Before Tim said anything, I pushed Jamie into my room.

  "Don't you think you're being a little hard on your brother?" Jamie said.

  I didn't respond, removing my shorts instead. Before he said anything else, I pushed him on his stomach on my bed, quickly tugging down his shorts. As I pounced on his back, he laughed into my pillow. I clutched both of his hands in mine, holding them against the mattress. Rubbing my growing erection against him, I kissed the side of his neck hard, my lips clamping down on his skin.

  "What's your favorite Pogues' song?" I asked in his ear.

  "What?" he said with another laugh.

  "My mom went through this Irish music phase," I said, still gripping his hands tightly. "For months all she listened to was U2, the Pogues, Thin Lizzy, the Undertones. She even shaved her head like Sinead O'Conner."

  I must have been six or seven at the time, one of those times I'd never forget. Tim came home from school to find Mom's hair all shaved off and in a messy heap on the bathroom floor. It was too bad because she had beautiful hair before she took it all off.

  "What the hell did you do?" Tim scolded her.

  "I think it looks nice, don't you?" she said.

  "No," he said. "You look like a cancer patient."

  "What do you know?" she snapped back at him. "You never had good taste."

  "You can't go to parent-teacher conferences like that," he said. Third grade parent-teacher conferences were scheduled that week. "Life's hard enough for him and you make it even harder." Having her own temper tantrum, Mom retreated to her bedroom for the rest of the day. In the end, Tim attended parent-teacher conferences in her absence.

  "So what's your favorite Pogues' song?" I asked Jamie again.

  "Fairytale of New York," he said.

  "Typical," I said.

  "It's the most romantic love song of all time," Jamie said and laughed at his own joke since most people wouldn't consider Fairytale of New York a love song. Rather, it was a song about two lovers who loved once, but whose love turned into bitterness, fueled with resentment and hate. It was still a great song.

  "It's my favorite Christmas song," I said.

  "But not your favorite Pogues' song."

  "No," I said. "It's If I Should Fall from Grace with God."

>   "Interesting," Jamie said as I kissed the back of his shoulder. My lips trailed down Jamie's spine while humming the song of my favorite Pogues' song. He sighed into the pillow as I licked him there, just where he liked it. I thought I'd do to him what he did to me the other night. But then I had an idea and abruptly stopped, getting off him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Don't move," I said, going to my phone. Once my favorite Pogues' song played, I returned to Jamie, resuming where I left off. Judging by his sounds, I knew he liked it, that I was doing something right.

  "Jordan," he moaned into his pillow as I made my way inside him.

  "Jamie," I said, clutching his fingers again, holding them even tighter as I thrust slowly back and forth. He liked it slow and deep; that much I had learned over the summer.

  ***

  While Jamie slept, I decided to surprise him again with breakfast in bed. I threw on my Red Sox t-shirt and went downstairs. Both Tim and Art were up, sitting at the kitchen table with their cups of coffee. Tim was dressed for work, about to leave any minute. Judging by the angry and annoyed expressions on their faces, not to mention the tension in the air, I suspected they were in the middle of a heated conversation before I showed up. Art immediately got up and stormed out. I pretended not to notice the look of disapproval and disappointment on his face as he left the kitchen.

  "Making breakfast for Jamie again?" Tim asked, also pretending everything was okay. I didn't answer because I was sure it was obvious what I was doing. "Lucky him. Maybe you'll make me omelets someday." As I gathered up the ingredients, I gave him a look that told him to shut up. "Or maybe not. Look, Jordan, I don't care if you go to a game at Fenway. I hope you have fun. I just know what it's like and...and...well, I just want you to have a good time." He really needed to stop worrying about me; I wasn't a little kid anymore. "I'll see you later. Have a good day with your boyfriend."

  By the time I returned with breakfast, Jamie was up with a sketchbook on his lap. "You didn't have to make me breakfast again," he said, putting the sketchbook to the side. "But thank you. Nice shirt, by the way."

  Sitting down beside him, I brought my knees to my chest, stretching my shirt over them and down to my calves.

  "You're not hungry?" he said. Resting my chin on my knees, I shook my head slightly. "Wanna go to the beach today?" I shrugged my shoulders, not sure.

  "It looks like rain," I said.

  "So?" he said, taking a bite of toast. "We can take a drive up the coast." Staring into space, I half-nodded. "Don't be sad."

  "I'm not," I said although I wasn't so sure about that. "I wish I had normal parents. I really never had parents."

  "Is that what's bothering you?" he asked.

  "Art hates me," I said. "I've always been a problem. Even though Mom was always crazy, I knew she loved me. I never wanted her to go away. She's still my mother and she was there and he wasn't."

  Tears caught me by surprise. I did my best to brush them away without Jamie noticing, but he noticed everything. As more and more fell, I hid my face in my knees. Jamie brought an arm around me, pulling me to him. He kissed the top of my head.

  “Sorry," I said, apologizing for my boyish tears. I was getting pretty tired of all these emotions running wild. Before Jamie came and wreaked havoc in my life, I thought I was happy, but he changed everything I always knew. I wasn’t sure I wanted things to go back to the way they were.

  Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him tightly. Swinging a leg over his thighs, I sat on his lap, facing him.

  "I'm such a loser, huh?" I said.

  "No, you're not a loser," he said, wiping my cheeks with the palms of his hands. He kissed my mouth, moving his hands to my lower back under my shirt. As he was about to kiss me again, I lifted my shirt over my head.

  "I love you," I said in a whisper.

  "I love you, too," he said, stroking my cheek. As I hooked my legs behind his back, he held me in his arms, kissing me harder and harder as if we hadn't just been together the night before.

  Jamie was due to leave in a week and my life would revert back to normal. I wasn't sure I wanted "normal" again or what I knew to be normal. Guiding me onto my back, Jamie proceeded to kiss me all over. I wanted this to be my normal now.

  ***

  Despite all my trips to see various doctors in Boston, I had never been on the T, Massachusetts' version of the subway. Jamie was due to leave in two days, on his thirty-first birthday. I tried to push that out of my mind as I stared out the window on the T on our way to Fenway Park.

  It's going to be okay, I kept telling myself, remembering Jamie's words, hearing his voice in my head over and over again.

  The excitement of visiting Fenway Park for the first time faded as Jamie and I fought the crowds to find our seats in the right grandstand. Tim wasn't exaggerating when he said the park was small and crowded. Not only that, the seats were right in the middle of the row, making it difficult and challenging to get in and out.

  Once I sat down, I decided I wouldn't get up until the game was over. Jamie got up a few times; once to get a beer, another time to get a couple of Fenway franks, and another to surprise me with one of those souvenir baseball caps with a mound-full of soft serve vanilla and chocolate ice-cream in it. Although I didn't want to be treated like a little kid, Jamie knew ice-cream would make me happy.

  That made everything okay for a little while and I enjoyed watching the game. Everything's going to be okay, I told myself. As long as I stayed in my seat, everything would be okay.

  When a Red Sox player hit a homerun, I covered my ears in response to the roar of the crowd. I couldn't even stand or cheer. Instead, I sat there with my hands over my ears. I didn't feel safe and then I felt guilty because this was supposed to be an exciting game and it was all I could do to keep myself together.

  "Are you okay?" Jamie asked.

  "Yeah, fine," I lied, not wanting to ruin his good time.

  Fortunately the Red Sox won, so it was worth it in the end. Or that's how I felt for a few seconds.

  Too many people bumped into me, crushing me...everything was so loud, too loud. We all herded out of the stands like cattle, all trying to find the exit through the swarm of people. I couldn't see where I was going and holding Jamie's hand didn't help. I didn't want anyone touching me, not even Jamie, so I let go.

  Get away from me. Everyone...get away…

  Everyone get away from me.

  Stop touching me. Stop. It's too loud...way too loud and crowded.

  Help. I'm drowning…

  Trapped with no way out, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't breathe. No one could help me, especially Jamie.

  This is all his fault. Where is he? I lost him.

  Too loud. Too many people.

  Where's my headphones? At home. I told myself I didn't need them. I wasn't a little kid.

  I can't hear anything but everything is loud.

  Unable to move, I fell to the ground. I couldn't go on. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I prayed for everyone to go away. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. As I sat in the middle of the concourse, people almost stepped on me, trampling over me.

  Jamie's gone. I lost him or maybe not. I don't know…

  Someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn't want to be touched.

  "Get off me!" I screamed so loud everyone could hear me even through the crowded chatter.

  "Hey," Jamie said, crouching down beside me. "It's okay. We're almost out." I couldn't look at him; I couldn't look at anyone, so I hid my face in my knees. "Come on, Jordan. This is dangerous. You can't stay here." As he went to lift me to my feet, I couldn't help it, screaming louder than ever.

  "Stop!" I shouted. I shouted it over and over, eventually crying and screaming more and more. Paralyzed by fear, I was stuck and no one could help me, not even Jamie with his words of comfort. And things only got worse when security, followed by the police, showed up. They went to touch me and I didn’t want to be touched so I fought them off. Their
words of reassurance also didn't help. They were a bunch of liars, too. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay.

  "Get off me!" I shouted to the men in uniform, but they lifted me off the ground, anyway. I kicked and even tried to bite one of the officers. As they cuffed my wrists behind my back, I screamed and cried so loud, I lost my voice.

  I didn't just want to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to die.

  Ladies and Gentlemen We are Floating into Space

  Jamie

  Although I had seen Jordan have a temper tantrum before, it was nothing like what I witnessed at Fenway Park. As we left the park, he completely lost it, screaming and crying like a tortured animal.

  In whatever state Jordan was in, he barely acknowledged me, almost as if he didn't even recognize me. And then he looked at me with such disdain and contempt, I wondered what I did wrong. Was this all my fault?

  As Fenway Park security and the police showed up, Jordan lay flat on the concrete floor, as if he were genuflecting. People around us stopped and stared, gawking in fear and confusion at this crazed young man. He was like some wild, rabid animal. He even bit an officer at one point. The sound of my voice just fueled his anger even more. As he kicked, bit, and punched, I wondered if the cops would drag him off to jail. I couldn't picture Jordan in jail. I could only imagine what inmates would do to him. He wasn't a criminal. Handcuffing his wrists behind his back just made things even worse.

  "Get off me!" Jordan shouted at the police and paramedics who surrounded him, all trying to coax him onto the stretcher. He was not about to go willingly. Even with his hands cuffed behind his back, Jordan put up a good fight. It took at least five men to pick him up and transfer him onto the stretcher. His ankles were immediately strapped down, followed by his arms after the handcuffs were removed. Terrified, worried, helpless, and embarrassed all at the same time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay or go.

  Jordan managed to keep it together all day and now he completely unraveled. I was stupid and Tim was right. Jordan was desperate to prove him wrong; that he could handle going to a game at Fenway Park, but he failed. I wasn't sure how Jordan would cope with this failure.