Sorry for the delay, but Christmas and stuff. I wanted this chapter to be longer, but it seemed to end naturally before before I got really far. Events portrayed only mildly represent reality and any resemblance to real people or events is--well--you'd have to be clever to pick up on it. Now even I like my story--thanks for the feedback, and more (positive and negative) is always welcome.
Nothing Special, Chapter 4 by uscboy41 (uscboy41@hotmail.com)
(from "The Convergence of the Twain" by Thomas Hardy)
Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see The intimate welding of their later history.
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident On being anon twin halves of one August event,
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said "Now!" And each one hears, And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.
Life was never the same, and what was once a piece of art becomes less a representation of reality and becomes more of a manifestation of it. Pygmalion, I watched what was once sculpted stone become flesh (like the immortal poet's pen) in my very hands. Jon and I became closer than we were before--I don't suppose you can have an intense make-out session with someone and expect any less--and now the barrier was broken between friendship and "something more"--whatever that was. We'd kept up our swimming routine (don't worry, I'm not going to skip over any erotic bits), and I was already feeling more alive.
How did we interact now, now when our relationship seems to have started from a new, different kind of beginning? It was a lot like before the fantasy broke--
I hesitated, using that phrase, because broken fantasies are always associated with a hearthrob who wasn't interested or a business deal that wouldn't pan out. But what if breaking the fantasy meant breaking the seal between what we imagine and what we have? I'm beating a dead horse, here, I think--
It was a lot like that, only there was an otherwise imperceptible meaning behind glances and feeling behind conversations. We became closer and closer friends--neither of us had any familiarity with the city's gay scene, as it were, and really, had no desire to gain any. To a casual observer, and to all of our friends, we just seemed to become good friends--two guys spending time together, getting a meal, seeing a movie, throwing frisbee, working out, it wasn't uncommon and we didn't let anything on in public.
Well, there was that one time. (There had to be, right? Gotta keep the readers interested.) On the playing field, after the game--it was early March (and in the southeast that means 75 and slightly breezy), and the sun was still setting early in the evening. It was just a week after we'd kissed (that first kiss) in the shower after swimming, and we hadn't said anything to each other yet. I sat down on the rickety wooden bleachers next to the overused practice field (used daily for pickup soccer, football, frisbee, and whatever other sport required decent purchase for cleats) and grabbed my water bottle.
The bleachers faced west, across the field, and away from the city as the sun was lighting up the blaze of serrated clouds as it ducked below the horizon. Ten minutes ago we were cursing its blinding rays as we looked upfield, now it cast the sweetest tinge of orange to the whole scene (though noon is the brightest, sunset is the softest). By this time everyone else--on the team and on the whole campus, it seemed--had left to clean up and head out to dinner. Jon was walking up to the bleachers, too (we used them as a place to keep our stuff during the game), with the sun setting behind him and the light glinting off his hair. He grabbed his water bottle and sat down beside me.
"Wow, what a beautiful day," he says.
"Yeah, it's pretty amazing. Days like today make me wonder if there can be anything more to life than this."
"This? Just this?"
"Yeah, the sky, the weather, dead tired from running around all afternoon--you get that feeling of completeness, dontcha think?"
He'd been leaning back on the bleacher seat behind us, but then he leaned forward, sitting straight up next to me, and said, "You know, I don't think I'm gay, but it's getting harder and harder for me not to kiss you right now."
"Now that doesn't make much sense," I said as I turned to him and smiled, "plus, with that whole makeout-in-the-shower last week, you're going to have a tough case to win."
You can see the picture, right? I mean, it went just like a movie--like those 80s movies where the sun sets behind the two high school sweethearts--kissing each other while something by Journey or The Police plays in the background. Only when it happened there it was better, just like a picture of the sunset can't convey the exact feelings of that sunset, that field, and that kiss. It didn't last long, but we didn't get out of our seats as soon as the kiss broke.
"Man, you are amazing," I said, "you know I never--I never thought I wou--I mean, I'd thought about it, sure, but I never expected you to break through the wall. I didn't want to screw up our friendship, so I gave up the fantasy to keep myself sane."
"Alex, you know, it's like every moment you creep deeper into my thoughts. I can't get you out--"
"Hey guys, enjoying the view?" a new voice, coming up from behind us. We turned around, surprised, but not showing it.
"Oh, hey Cody, what's up? Yeah, it's one hell of a sunset," Jon replied.
"To think everyone just up and left after the game and missed it, it's a shame. Kinda glad I forgot my water bottle."
Ah, typical mistake. But how much had he seen? The field wasn't exactly hidden from view. I only think now that I should have been a lot more worried than I was at the time, but really, I just passed it over with an ignorant bliss.
"What are you guys up to tonight?" Cody asked, after a few seconds enjoying the scenery.
Jon looked at me questioningly, "Pizza?" he asked.
"Sounds good to me," I replied.
"Ah. Well, you two enjoy yourselves, then. I'm headed back to my dorm. See ya later," said Cody as he picked up his bottle and walked away. Jon and I sat quietly until he was out of earshot.
"Well, that was close," he said.
"Yeah. I wonder if he saw anything?" I asked--not really caring, though, right?
"Prolly did. But, meh. What're you going to do?"
"I suppose you're right. How about that pizza? You asking me out?" Funny that I could joke about that now--that I was really comfortable with it. I think we made light of the transition between friends and lovers so we wouldn't get caught up in "stuff". You know, that "stuff" that always comes along when you get really emotionally involved in someone else--tempers get heated, everyday situations become complicated, feelings become more intense. And how are you going to confront other people, right? What if I hide our "secret relationship" when someone else is around? Is he going to get angry? Without discussing it, we both agreed to leave the mess behind and enjoy what we had--whatever we had. Is going to pizza a date or just a way to get dinner? I guess it depends on what happens after...