But he said something tonight that struck a cord with me. He told his story of being heavily closeted, being in love with his best friend, and hating that he was gay. This is something I can relate to.
A while ago a wrote a short story that details my feelings for my best friend, feeling that I have hidden since high school. A year ago on National Coming Out Day I backed out of posting it online for fear of what would happen in the aftermath. A year ago I made a promise to myself that I would post it. Today I make good on that promise.
Emotion Crash
"Depends on what you want to know." I respond, shutting my eyes against the sun and pulling the lower hem of my tank top back down below my navel. It's in the mid eighties today, perfect for jeans and skimpy shirts, but horrible for the grapevines I'm going to school to learn how to nurture. If it doesn't get cold then they wont know that its time for them to start hibernating. I open my eyes and wish again that I was old enough to be able to hold a glass of wine in my hand, even though I'm worried I might be an alcoholic. "Why do you ask?"
Kris props herself up on her elbows and a crescendo of metal echoes between us. She wears enough chains and spikes around her wrists and waist to give any airport security guard the thought of quitting right there on the spot. Dressed all in black with steel-toed boots and heavy makeup, outsiders usually get the impression that she is tough as nails; but I remember the time when we were teens and I held her as she cried over the stray we had to give to the ASPCA because we both knew the poor dog would be dead in three days, put to sleep because no one wanted him. I watch her carefully as she tips her head back, a bit of sun slipping through her defenses to land on her pale face, highlighting a silver ring near the tail end of her right eyebrow. I tell myself I don't love her for the fact that she's secretly fragile. I tell myself I don't love her.
"Why do we love people? Why bother?" She questions, not looking at me. We've had lots of conversations this way, talking without facing each other, or in the dark of a midnight bedroom during a sleepover. We don't have to see each other to have a connection anymore. We met long ago, when I was a bookworm of a youth with the wrong social skills and she was brooding goth with tangled black hair. That was in seventh-grade, and now here we are, second-year college kids who can hold a conversation without eye contact.
I sit up to, watching her as I remember that her last girlfriend broke up with her two months ago, and her first same-sex love turned her down because of the possibility that neither of them could handle a long distance relationship. The cherry on top is the boyfriend from when Kris was still straight- the boy who still smokes weed to numb the pain of their breakup and tells me in secret that he still wants her. I think he just wants to bang her because he never got any in the almost three years that they went back and forth on whether or not they were dating or enemies. When they were an item I always smiled and told him to be safe if he ever got her in bed (or on the couch, or the ground, maybe the back of his beat-up inherited slug-bug) but maybe I resented him because he could be romantic with her. But back then I didn't know that I was anything but hetero. And I most certainly didn’t know, didn’t want to know, that I loved her.
I sigh and feel a sting in the back of my throat as a preacher screams at passing students, telling the world to walk away from sin. He's been there since before we sat down, but now that the campus is clearing out his voice is seemingly louder. The words he sprouts bite, but I know his God cannot hurt me because I don't believe in Him. And Kris beside me is newly Wiccan so we just sit, immune while I do everything I can to keep my eyes on her face. I hate it when I get this way.
"Because it's worth it." I finally respond, spotting a couple fighting in the distance, their five-dollar Starbucks sitting forgotten in their laps. I hope they kiss and make up later. "Being in a relationship is about being close to people and being vulnerable- about trusting them not to hurt you." Birds dance above us and I remember how my boyfriend kissed me last night- kissed me like he wanted to drown in me. What's the quote? 'A glass of water for a man dying of thirst at sea'? That was my boy last night. I breathe in relief, because it's easier to not love her when my boy is on my mind.
Kris makes an exasperated sound before beginning to speak. "But is it worth it? If it ends bad then there's only pain and heartbreak and horribly awkward moments after." She retorts, but I know she wants me to keep pushing my point so she can know she's wrong, so she can believe in Love. I laugh and she frowns, the dark childhood freckles on her face moving like constellations. But there is no anger in her eyes. She doesn't have time to be angry with me because we're best friends and she has to get on a plane to go home to the East Coast and school in two days. I wish she could have stayed longer.
I shrug and twist my arms until my shoulders and elbows pop, a habit I took from her when we were in our first year of high-school together. "Even if it doesn't work out there should still be good memories in that head of yours that have to do with that person, enough to outweigh the bad." She's cute as she glares at the ground, trying to find a way to break my words and get rid of their meaning. But she wont, I know she wont.
"What makes you wise?" She asks, and the question is sudden enough to make me glance directly at her and really look. She's half a month my elder but I've always played the role of big sister-mostly. I've been more academically inclined, getting better grades in harder classes, but she would kick the ass of anyone who glanced at me wrong. Right now I know she's only tense and angry and bringing up this subject of love because the preacher is ranting again about the sins of gay and lesbian relationships. I wonder what would happen if I gave in and kissed her right in front of him. He's not the first or the last to say I'm going to hell.
"Tap water." I answer her, laughing. "But really, why did you ask? About love?" I know what I want her to say, but she wont. She has a special type of girl that she likes, and I'm in a relationship with a great guy and wouldn't fit the mold she has in mind anyway. And I don't want to hurt my boy’s heart.
But Kris brings me back to loving her by laying down across my lap and smiling up at me.
"You're a genius," She says as I refocus- look at her face, look at her face- "and I have bad luck with relationships. I thought it was about time I asked for some advice." Her lips are tempting and I wonder if the preacher will notice-maybe I want him to notice- if I lean down and taste them, just a little. Katy Perry song, anyone? I remember Kris once hated Katy Perry. I let my fingers slide across her short hair and I see a look come into her eyes that I ignore. It’s confusion, and I don’t want her to start questioning me. I pull my hand away and put it back on the ground and try to forget that I may just love her.
I have to breathe twice and look towards the library before I speak. "Sometimes relationships work out, and sometimes they don't." I don't like this subject anymore, because my mind keeps making it too close for comfort, asking what ifs. Could Kris and I work? "And it hurts like hell when things go bad and you have to split." I glance down at her, realizing that her colored-contact purple eyes are focused right on my face. I look away again, maybe blushing. "But if you can look back on the relationship, not right away, but after the pain has faded, and smile, then it was worth it, because you got some good from it."
I feel her still watching me. The shadows from the old gym have crept up to us like ninjas and now the edge of my knee is pinned by black shadow. We are both too still as life continues to hum around us as students pass by.
"I need you to move." I finally say, and my voice is tight even though she's exactly where I think I've always wanted her. My tortoise shell protection has finally cracked and I have to tell myself over and over again that I'm not in love with her and that she's just my best friend and really nothing more. I don't look at my watch because I want to believe that my boy is late and that he will be by any moment, because once he's here I can cling to him and pretend to be fully heterosexual again, not this silly hetero-flexible thing that’s been squirming around in me for way too long. She sits up, the metal chains and spikes around her wrist and waist making a sound one would expect to hear during a car crash. She frowns.
“Are you okay?” She asks. She's oblivious. That's fine. I'd give anything to be hers, but I would give my life to keep our relationship, even if we are just friends. I smile at her and open up my arms for a hug, sighing softly as she moves to embrace me.
“Never better.” I murmur. My heart beats too-hard in my chest and I know I’ll cry in two days when she leaves.
“I love ya, Jen.” She laughs as she pulls away to go cloud-searching again, face upturned to the sky. It’s the best friend sort of ‘I love you,’ the kind that breaks my heart just a bit each time she says it.
But I reply with a smile of my own and a bright voice to hide behind. “I love you too, Kris.” But I tell myself I don’t love her. I tell myself that I don’t.
I cannot begin to thank you for sharing your story with me. To know that I am not alone in these feelings, to know that both peers and role models share this one thing in common with me, helps to make a stronger.
ReplyDeleteAll I want is for her to be happy, whether or not I am in her life. Since I am in a relationship at the moment it is easier for me to handle my feelings for her.
I knew, a year ago, that I needed to share this story, to lay it down in front of the masses, in front of her, and to simply let it be known. I want her to know, and this is the only format I could use to put forth my feelings.