Chapter Two
Then — Before
Not going to lie—the day I arrive at NYU as an incoming freshman, I feel nervous as hell. Even at nineteen, confidence is an act I wear like a finely tailored suit, one I’m forced to shed from time to time or risk it being ruined or destroyed from constant use.
First days suuuuck. I’ve always hated them. I’m horrible at remembering names and I’m always worried about being judged. I’m certain I have legit anxiety, not just first-day jitters, but I’ve never been able to reach out and ask for help for it.
My parents can’t make the trip into the city with me from Massachusetts, because they’re both working and, honestly?
I’m kind of glad I’m alone right now. I need the time to focus and try to calm myself. I’m damned lucky I landed the scholarship in the first place. This means here I am, arriving in a cab from the train station, with a couple of suitcases and the bare necessities, whereas other kids are bringing fridges and microwaves and fancy coffeemakers and stuff.
Not me.
I am simply grateful to be here at all. I worked my ass off in high school, always struggling and feeling like I was barely scraping by, to land a scholarship.
Depending on how you want to look at it, fortunately, my parents were on the lower end of the income scale. With my grades, it meant I was able to snag financial aid in the way of scholarships and grants to cover my tuition, books, dorm, and meal plan.
Mom finished college and teaches high school science, but Dad had to drop out during his second year of college when his mom was diagnosed with cancer and died. Dad was the oldest of five kids, and he had to help Grandpa take care of Dad’s four younger brothers and sisters. Dad’s made an okay living at a local paper mill, working his way up through the ranks over the years to a management position on the floor. While it provided benefits and helped keep the bills paid, it was never going to make my parents rich.
My younger brother, Sam, still has four years before he’ll graduate from high school. If he gets his way, he’ll go straight to vo-tech to learn how to be a mechanic. That’s what he really wants to do.
Mom and Dad want him to go to college, but that battle’s not my problem.
My focus is keeping my grades up so I don’t lose my financial aid. I’m fortunate enough I don’t have to get a part-time job. My parents are paying for my cell phone and sending me a small weekly allowance to cover what few incidentals my financial aid package doesn’t pick up.
I’ll eat nearly every meal in a dining hall, because that’s paid for as part of my meal plan.
I’ll spend every spare moment studying and working my ass off.
I want to attend NYU’s law school after I get my four-year, so I can make a good living, stack some paper, and finally give my parents the kind of life they deserve. They’ve worked their asses off for us. We’re far from being the richest family in our town, but my little brother and I have never lacked for love or basic necessities.
Plus, when I came out to them at fifteen, they embraced me and assured me they didn’t care.
Many people aren’t as lucky as I am. I not only had my family’s support, but that of my teachers and friends, and even our church. Thank goodness my parents are Episcopalian, and there are plenty of openly gay members, single and partnered, at the church we’ve attended my entire life.
Don’t get me wrong. Making money isn’t the only reason I want to be a lawyer, but it is one of the best professions if you want to be a politician. I want to make a difference in the world. I want to help people. Not to sound narcissistic, but I’ve heard all my life how handsome I am—not that I honestly believe it—and that I have the looks to do something like acting, or running for president.
Not sure the latter is ever in my future. I have my sights set far lower, with hopes of maybe one day being a US Senator. I want to contribute to our world, not just take from it.
Actingdefinitelyisn’t in my future. I tried drama in high school and haaaated it. I guess when you spend your entire life feeling like you’re acting already—pretending you’ve got your shit together when you don’t—trying to stand in front of an auditorium full of strangers and pretend to be yet another person just…
Isn’t appealing. Maybe it is to some people, but not to me.
I’d rather learn how to be comfortable in my own skin first. I’ve had two boyfriends and I already know that I want to be in charge in a relationship.
Yeah, I know, how’s that going to play out with my anxiety?
Well, I’ve learned some things about myself lately. The Internet’s a great research source. I thought something was wrong with me when I wanted to try spanking my boyfriends, and they were not into that.
Turns out no, nothing’s wrong with me. I just need to find someone who wants to be spanked.
And who will let me do other things to them. Although finding a boyfriend is not high on my list of priorities right now.
As in, atall.
My biggest worry is that my roommate, one Ward Mason Callahan, hopefully isn’t a fricking tool. He’s from Georgia, so I already worry he’ll turn out to be some cracker peckerhead who’ll give me a hard time about being gay.
If so?
