“Eeeeee! Thanks, Mandy!” Michelle squeals, hanging up the phone, “I’m in, I’m in!”
“I knew it!” Chris hugs her. “All right, Ashley, your turn, three’s a charm.”
I pick up the phone and dial hurriedly. No new messages.
“Hey, it’s cool, Ashley. I’m sure they’re just in the middle of doing their booking calls,” Michelle encourages me and rubs my back.
I try three more times in the following ten minutes and am greeted by the same taunting voice: “You have no new messages.”
“Hey, man, don’t sweat it. Let’s just get to class,” Chris says, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me away from the phone. I feel angry, like the loser who didn’t make it even though I still don’t know. The evening classes drag on, and I habitually sneak out to use the phone. The end of the night comes with that annoying recorded voice ringing in my ears.
“I don’t think I made it, guys. I would have heard by now,” I vent to Chris and Michelle as we leave college for the night.
“It’s cool, you’ll make it. Listen, call me as soon as you hear,” Michelle implores, kissing me on the cheek.
“Yeah, me too, okay?” Chris says, looking at me intently. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“Sure. I mean, we can walk together up to the corner of Pandora and Oak Bay,” I respond cautiously after a moment’s hesitation. I turn and wave to Michelle, who is already walking away from us, both hands in the air with her fingers crossed.
“God, I love her!” I exclaim, not so much to Chris as to myself. “That girl can make me laugh like no one else.”
Chris and I start to walk down Chaucer, one of the three “poet” streets that lead from the college to Foul Bay. I love to stroll the “poets” on my way home. Shakespeare and Milton join Chaucer to form the triumvirate. The streets are crowded with a mecca of tiny houses with neatly tailored gardens. The spring evening is dark and cool, in stark contrast to the unusually warm island day. Stars are beginning to peek out in clusters, and the moon is already high and full with eerie moon dogs encircling it.
“Listen, Chris, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get home tonight. Maybe I’m in, maybe I’m not. You and Michelle made it, though. So I want you two to live together for the summer. It doesn’t make sense for me to be there with you. I still have a great place to live and you need one….”
“You and Michelle were moving in together first. It’s a two bedroom, and if we can’t share a room, there’s no choice. I can find somewhere else to stay.”
“If there isn’t a phone call for me when I get home, I’ll be packing for Alberta anyway. Just take the place, all right? I already spoke with Michelle about it. She’s cool.”
“What’s this about, Ashley? This is about us, isn’t it?”
“No, this isn’t about us. There is no us. We have the wrong energy. I think that’s how you put it?” I spew.
“Ashley, come on. It’s not like that. Try to understand where I’m coming from. How can I just break up with Jeremy? We’ve been together all year.”
“Why don’t you want to be with me? You’re scared. I was afraid too, hiding behind my girlfriend, but I took the risk. You told me you were going to break up with him. You told me you only wanted to be with me! How am I supposed to feel?” I demand, my anger rising dangerously.
“I don’t know what you’re supposed to feel. How am I supposed to feel when I see you straddling my boyfriend for a massage? How am I supposed to feel when all anyone talks about at college is how Michelle and you must be screwing? Instead of pointing your finger at me, maybe you should figure out who the hell you want to date,” Chris explodes.
A sudden wind whips down the street, tossing my hair across my forehead. The chill provokes me to cross my arms, bracing myself from Chris as much as the weather. I laugh in disbelief. “What are you talking about? I obviously do a bang-up job of disguising my feelings. It’s killing me not to be with you! That’s why we can’t live together. It just won’t work.”
“Ashley, come on. We’ve been planning it for months,” Chris interjects. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but please don’t throw this all away.”
“Throw what all away? What is this? We don’t have anything! We might have had something, but you made another choice. A choice to stay somewhere you’re not happy. We might have been friends, but we’re really only connected through Michelle. We might in the least have been roommates. But how can you stand there and ask me to be just that? After we’ve had a taste of what it might have been like, you ask me to watch you with someone else. How could I share a place with you, let alone a room? Do you think I wouldn’t rot inside every time you brought Jeremy home?” I choke on my words and say a silent “thank you” because it has started to rain. The last thing I want is Chris to see me cry over him.
“Ashley, please. I’m in a rough spot right now. I’m just so confused about a lot of things. Your friendship means so much to me. Please, just trust me. I need time.”
I’m done fighting. I’ve said all I can say, all that’s been wrestling inside me. “Sure. Look, I gotta get home. We’re getting soaked out here. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I manage to say in an even tone. My mask starts sliding into place over the torrential emotions. I turn and slip away without waiting for an answer. There are no more words right now. I used to love words, but now I’m beginning to despise them.
The rain drives down, creating walls of water, trapping me in, obscuring my vision. Or maybe it’s the pools gathering in my eyes. For no reason I start to run. I’m on autopilot, mindlessly breaking through the walls of water. The puddles send a wave up my body with each footfall until I can’t tell which way is up or down. Water seems to be drowning me from every angle.
I’m laughing! Laughing because I’m six years old, out in the rain with my walnut sailboats. Laughing because rain is wonderful and life is wonderful. Laughing because at six I’m normal, and I’m going to grow up and get married and have babies. Laughing because somewhere Antonio got it wrong. How funny this all is! This isn’t my life; this is an absurd dream, isn’t it?
“I’m ready to wake up!” I shout, still laughing at the sky. “I’m ready to wake up!” I choke on the rain and the sudden realization that I don’t get to. My laughter is now sobbing as I melt to the ground, butt on the curb and feet submerged in a puddle. At least no one is around to see me cry.
VII
REGARDLESS OF the type of day you’re having, life just keeps on walking, snapping its gum and giving attitude. It gives you no choice but to pick yourself up off the curb, dry off, and run to meet its pace.
I arrive home and play the message welcoming me to the cast of Butchart Gardens, but feel no joy or relief, only a wry sense of irony and deepened confusion. Antonio gave me what I wanted; what I had prayed for so diligently, for Chris, Michelle, and me to be accepted together. Did He miss the part about us being friends or being in love? I obviously need to be more specific.
The three of us sign the contracts the following day and mail them in one envelope, thereby sealing ourselves together for at least four months. Enough. Enough. Forget about that. Forget about him.
Despite my resolve to stay holed up in my room and remain miserable, after almost a week spent focused on finishing my grad requirements, I decide to join the world of the living again and do what every other college kid is doing—partying.
I take a deep breath and head out to a house party, excited at the possibility of seeing Chris as much as I try to convince myself that I’m officially over him. The only problem is there’s no one else of interest to me, nowhere for me to divert my affections. So what’s a guy to do?
Vodka cranberry. Over and over. Ten o’clock and there’s still no sign of Chris. Jeremy is here, though, running around with his video camera and generally causing a ruckus. Stepping into one of the bedrooms strewn with couples making out, he sticks the camera in my face.
“Ashley! Ho
w’s it going? Are you up for that wrestling match you’re always threatening me with?” Jeremy laughs.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance! I’d nail you down so fast your head would spin,” I drunkenly threaten, brandishing a wicked smile.
“I’d like to see you try that, but let’s up the stakes. We wrestle naked,” Jeremy dares. The few people standing or lying around the room laugh, now intrigued.
“I don’t know how well Chris would like that. Where is your boy tonight anyway?” I ask.
“At home, he wanted to be alone. Told me to go party but I’m going over there later.”
“All right, big shot, put your camera down and let’s have at it. Clothes on though, I don’t wrestle naked guys,” I say, as much to the rest of the room as to Jeremy.
“Not what I heard. Can you all excuse us? Ashley and I need to have a little chat. Don’t worry, you’ll all get tickets to the main event.”
There is a little grumbling but everyone exits the room, leaving Jeremy and I alone. He closes the door and turns the lock. He looks back with a coy smile, then suddenly bull rushes and tackles me around the waist before I know what’s going on. We crash down on the hardwood. My tailbone is driven into the floor as his weight lands squarely on top. My face contorts into a grimace, and I moan in pain. Jeremy grabs my arms and pins them above my head. He straddles my left thigh, squeezing it with his own, and smiles viciously.
“I know what you’re up to,” he sneers. “You don’t have anyone fooled, especially me.” Relying on one arm to keep mine pinned, he claws my balls, lifting them forcefully. “I know you like cock, Ashley,” Jeremy purrs as he returns his hand to restraining me and drives his own hard member into my thigh. Moving his mouth to mine, he brushes my lips as he says, “Come on, Chris won’t mind. He’ll never have to know.”
“Yeah, well I will,” I spit and writhe to free myself. “Jeremy, fuck off. I’m not into it.”
“Suit yourself, sailor,” he quips, freeing me. “Could’ve been fun.”
“Do you even love him?” I ask, suddenly distraught as I get to my feet.
“Who? What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, straightening his clothes and fixing his hair in the boudoir mirror.
“Chris. Isn’t he important to you?”
“Yeah, of course he is. I love him,” Jeremy answers, examining me. “I just thought you wanted to fuck.”
“Forget it, dude. Do me a favor, okay?” I say as I unlock the door, ready to exit. “Treat Chris well.”
WELL, MY ass really hurts and not for any good reason. No pleasure led up to this pain. The little wrestling match with Jeremy on Saturday night still has me hobbling. I knocked my tailbone good. Another day closer to graduation, I think, filling my backpack with sheet music, my Complete Works of William Shakespeare, and a couple plays. It’s about 8:00 p.m., and as usual I’m one of the last students still on campus, having just finished accompanying some friends on piano after rehearsing my own songs for the week. No rest for the wicked. I have a monologue from Henry the Fifth to memorize for tomorrow, and as I ponder this and pull on my jacket Chris walks into the locker room, visibly shaken. I start to say something about missing him at the party when I meet his eyes, brimming with tears and red from efforts to wipe them away.
“Chris? What is it? What’s going on?”
“I did it. Jeremy and I broke up. Just now, right in the parking lot. I couldn’t take it any longer.” Chris falls into me and lays his head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk.”
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” I try to console as I hold him as tightly as I can without crushing him. I want to absorb all his pain, can’t stand to see him upset. I slip one hand up his back and cradle the back of his head.
“Why am I falling apart?” he implores, lifting his head from my shoulder. “Look at me, I’m losing my hair, Ashley!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look,” he says, pulling his hair back from his temples. “Right here, I’m losing it.”
“You’re just stressed out. You’re not losing your hair,” I assure him.
“Yes, I am, I’ve noticed it for a while. I just don’t know where my life is going. I don’t think I want to perform anymore.”
“What are you saying? You’re mixed up right now. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“No, no. Really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. All I ever wanted to do was draw, but so many of my friends were performers. I thought I should become one too. What are you supposed to do when you wake up and you’re twenty-four and you realize you’re trying to live someone else’s dream? Do you start over or just keep going because you’re this far?” He begs me with his big beautiful blue eyes, so terrified, like a child first realizing the world bears pain.
“It’s all right. Whatever you want to do is all right.”
“I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” he says, leaning in and kissing me gently.
“Come on, let me take you home,” I urge, slipping his hand into mine and shamelessly walking out of the locker room, out the front doors, and into the cool Victorian evening. I don’t care how big or tough you are; to hold another guy’s hand and walk down the street takes a lot of courage. It’s a moment of change for me. Holding Chris’ hand, I feel a torrent of emotion. It’s one thing to partake in forbidden love behind closed doors, but to walk down the street is quite another. I’m scared. Scared because I’m stepping into a place I’m unsure of. To a place where I’m not sure there will always be ground beneath me. It’s a big world and coming out feels like it’s you versus the globe, unless you have someone holding your hand.
As we pass the cottage homes lining Shakespeare Street I see a young wife setting the table through the front window. Rachel. I didn’t want to think of her because with every step holding Chris’s hand, I’m taking a step away from normalcy. Once I take enough steps, there’s no going back. Before being able to truly accept myself as gay, I needed to mourn my heterosexuality. I’m finally feeling like I’ve done that.
When love is new all that matters in the world is each other, and so it is with Chris and me. Like a good book, we become obsessed with unlocking the mystery of one another. In the coming weeks we’re inseparable, giddy and laughing through the days and haunting the streets and oceanside by night. Chris grew increasingly disinterested in college, like a decision had been reached about his future. He was through with performing and would ride out his time until the end. Ceasing to take notes at college, he opted for a sketchpad in its place. He enrolled in art classes a couple evenings a week and poured himself into his true passion. His enthusiasm with charcoal and canvas was rapacious, overcome only by our enthusiasm for each other.
April 10
Dear Antonio—
Thank you for Chris. Thank you for giving me the courage to search out love. I am so happy with my life right now. I don’t know how things could get any better. You love me, right? Of course you do. I’m here. No lightning bolt has struck me down. I feel so lucky. No, that’s not right. I’m blessed to have some great friends in my life. I asked and You delivered. Love, friends, and a summer contract to look forward to. You rock!
Your gay son, Ashley
I pick up some orange juice and bagels and head over to see Chris. Letting myself in, I hear a curious buzzing coming from the washroom. I hesitantly knock on the door. “Morning, babe. Whatcha up to?”
“Ashley, what are you doing here so early?”
“I brought over breakfast. I thought we could eat in our underwear before going to class,” I explain, setting down the bag of food on a chair. Minutes click away, the buzzing coming on and off intermittently. “Chris, come on, we don’t have a lot of time. You never spend more than five minutes in the washroom. What are you doing?” I ask, my hand resting on the doorknob.
“All right, come in, but don’t yell at me,” Chris replies in a timid voice. I turn the knob and swing the door open. Chris is standing in front of the mirror
wearing only his underwear and a sheepish grin.
“I thought I’d get rid of it. What do you think?” he asks, raising an arm and rubbing his hand back and forth on his now bald head. I burst out laughing.
“Yell? Why would I yell at you? You’re beautiful!” He really is, with or without hair, standing there smiling at me in his underwear. His abdominal muscles tighten as he too starts to laugh, baiting me. “Come here, you crazy cat!” I take him in my arms. Kissing him hard, I turn him to face the mirror, taking my place behind him. I drag my hands up the side of his legs, his stomach, and chest while kissing his smooth skull. “I love you Chris. You’ll always be beautiful to me. You know that, right?” I catch his gaze through the mirror. He nods and I kiss him on the cheek, resting my thumbs just inside the elastic waistband in the front of his underwear.
VIII
SPRING IS audition season, and today a group of us are going to make the trek to Vancouver. The plan is for about eight of us, two carloads, to drive up to the ferry terminal after classes. We’ll catch the boat for the mainland, about an hour ride, and be up early in the morning for a cruise line audition. At about four thirty, our group gathers in the foyer when I receive a phone call.
“Hello, this is Ashley.”
“Hi Ashley, this is Marius with Otter Fashion. We received the pictures you submitted to our model department. We’d like to offer you an exclusive contract with us. It will be catalogue, billboard, and in-store promotion. If you’re interested, we’ll send your lawyer or agent a contract. We’ll need you in Malibu for initial test shots on Wednesday.”
“Wait. Hold up. Is this a joke?” I ask in shock.
“No, would you be interested in working with us?” Marius asks.
“Of course! Wait, this Wednesday, as in two days from now?”
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