The Silver Compass - 8 Sean Roberts
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A Cigarette
It had taken her exactly one month to let Michael back into her life. She hated the anger and he did not make it any easier. He would call her and write her letters and send her a rose every day. A white one; they were her favourites. And then Matthew showed up at her door and asked to speak with her.
"What happened?" She couldn't tell him. He did not pry but instead told her that Michael was getting worse. He was not eating well or sleeping properly. "He needs you." She understood, she needed him too. When she saw him she threw her arms around him, tears that she would never let him see forming in her eyes. She missed his face and his touch. His body was tingling. He could not believe she was there.
She had finally forgiven him and he knew he did not deserve it, but he knew he needed it. "I'm sorry." "It's okay."
She was hoping that her tears were not showing, but he saw them and wiped one off with his finger. "I love you." "I love you too."
Michael wanted to buy her dinner, but she was not interested in food. She was interested in him. She wanted to know when he first realized he was gay, and why he had never told her. Michael did not want to talk about any of it. The guilt he was feeling made him want to talk about her and not about himself. But he answered her questions. And then the relief of her knowing sank in. When she left his house he collapsed onto his bed, sleeping almost immediately. But he did not remember, when he awoke, dreaming about her; him and Sarah together, talking and touching. But he felt a sudden urge to see her again.
The school year did not begin soon enough for Michael. He needed something to take his mind off of Cameron. School, from nine o'clock until half past three every day was the best thing. He needed a distraction, as well, from Matthew. Neither of them even tried to talk to each other except when their parents were around, in which case they were civil so that they would not have to explain to their mother and father why they were not talking.
"Hey, where are you going?" It was Sarah. Michael had just reached the front door of the school. He let it shut and turned around. The sun was shining in his face; he could not see how much makeup Sarah was wearing. She usually did not wear very much, but it varied from day to day. He was always curious about how she would look to him in his first glimpse of the day.
"Sarah! How come you weren't in English today?" Michael asked, letting the door close.
"I was helping to set up the gym, for tonight. Don't tell me you forgot..."
"Forgot what?"
"Matt's game. Didn't he tell you?" Michael shook his head. Matthew was on the hockey team; Michael and Sarah, together, watched every one. "He told me he was going to."
"Whatever. I'm going home."
"Mike you can't miss it! He'll be really pissed."
"You're breaking my heart Sarah."
"Mike you haven't missed a single game of his. Ever. You have to come..."
"I'm really not in the mood."
"You're not in the mood because Cameron dumped you and you're taking it out on your brother. I know he didn't react all that well when he found out..."
"No Sarah, he didn't. But he did pretty much tell me that I'm either straight, or it's impossible that we're brothers. He doesn't care if I go or not; I don't care if I go or not. So I'm going home. I'm tired."
"Michael, stop being such an ass. Just come and watch..."
"You too with the Michael!"
"I called you Michael because only your friends call you Mike. I didn't want to tell you this way but now I've started I might as well. I've had enough of this, Michael. All you do is complain about Cameron when you have me right here."
"Sarah I'm gay. You know that..."
"No, Michael. This is it. I really can't do this any more. I love you, and I want to be with you. I realize that's impossible, so I can't stay friends with you. I thought I could handle it but I can't. And you don't make it any easier. I'm sorry Michael." She walked away from him. He left the building to go home, unable to believe what just happened.
The school arena was small, but there was enough room for all of the spectators. There were more parents than students. The ones who didn't play preferred to frequent coffee bars or run home with their girlfriends before their parents were around to supervise their activities. Michael was only ever there because of his brother; but he was there that day because of Sarah. He needed her too much to lose her. But she had called him Michael. It hurt as much coming from her as it did coming from his brother. He had to talk to her.
He had returned to school almost as soon as he had arrived home. He tried to find a seat that would give him a view of the entire array of spectators, but discovered that there was no such seat. He searched everywhere he could see without standing up. He could not find her. He settled his gaze on one of the nets. The goalie was standing in front of it, legs and arms spread wide open, his large stick in front him, ready for the onslaught of a puck. Michael watched him block two goals in rather quick succession. The third attempt, a few minutes later, was unsuccessful. There was something about the goalie that caught Michael's attention, but he could not figure out what it was. He heard large amounts of cheering when Matthew's team won. Michael left quickly, before he would have to fight a crowd to leave the school.
He walked up to the black Saab in the parking lot. "We know you've always wanted this car. You get good marks in school. So we got it for you." He was ecstatic when his parents showed it to him. It was a sixty-thousand dollar car they had bought because they loved him. As he stared at the car he suddenly wanted to see them and tell them how much he loved them.
He pulled out a golden, cardboard box with the words Benson & Hedges written across it. The smoke filled his lungs, warming him up. It was chilly outside -- not cold, though -- but he had become accustomed to the summer weather.
"Want to tell me why the fuck you were staring at me the whole game?" Michael heard a voice say. He recognized the voice, but the anger in it was new. A figure stepped out of the shadows. A second cigarette was lit. Michael saw the orange tip of the cigarette and a black, leather jacket before he saw the person smoking it. For Michael, it was like seeing him again for the first time.
"C-Cam..."
"I really thought you were planning to stick around afterwards and talk to me; not go home and jerk off after staring at me for two hours. You're a dick Michael. I have to catch my bus." Cameron began walking away.
"Cameron!" Michael called desperately. Cameron's middle finger shot up in the air, the figurative gesture meaning so much more to Michael than it ever had from anybody else. He turned around and took a long drag before throwing away the rest of his cigarette. He climbed into his car and started the engine. He turned up the radio and then lit a second one. With the sound and the smell blocking his thoughts, he drove home without seeing the second figure standing in the shadows.