Friends. That word also nearly killed me. Disappointment spread from my stomach up through my chest, making everything shrivel like radioactive fallout. This was the first boy I had ever liked. After he left camp, I had fantasies where he returned or transferred to my school and we picked up right where we left off, eventually becoming something more. When I realized I was gay, I had daydreams about the two of us becoming a couple. Being each other’s first kiss. First other things.
Then it became reality with Hank Dyer, my first … well, I wouldn’t say ‘boyfriend’. He was just one of the only openly gay, single guys at my school, so we went on a few dates. But we never had enough chemistry. And then there was Brad Waldorf, who I absolutely had chemistry with but who couldn’t be out or in a relationship. But I was still comparing both of them to the boy I first crushed on in summer camp. The boy with the beautiful smile and the kind, protective heart.
I think I managed to get away from the emotions with Brad because he wasn’t able to be out.
Brad was the first guy I had ever been with, which is whatever – it was fun and we seemed to have good chemistry, at least. But he only paid attention to me when he was drunk or when he knew we could be alone and no one would know. At first, I went along with it, but then it started to hurt. Pretending we didn’t even talk in school or at parties. So I quarantined him into the physical-stuff-only section of my brain, where the emotional side couldn’t reach. Eventually, that helped me clear my head and realize that things could be good in different ways. Secretive, yes, but different.
But maybe Gabe and I could be friends. I just had to cordon him off from the physical side of my brain and keep him in the emotional – no,friendside. The friend-al lobe of my brain, if you will. No, actually, don’t, that’s dumb. Just keep it the friend side of my brain.
That was what this was supposed to be from the start, wasn’t it? My fake company in his phone was the Sunset Estates Allied Forces. ‘Allied’ from ‘Allies’. Which comes from the Latin root phrase ‘sans-kissing, sans-cuddling’, which comes from the caveman: ‘Aw, shit.’
Yay, friends.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Just … if you’re going to be my friend, can we pretend the kiss never happened? I don’t walk around kissing Ava.’ In fact, a lack of kissing is what gave me away as a gay to her in the first place.
‘What kiss?’
Ow.I forced the best fake laugh I could muster.
I spent the next week and a half moping after that. I mean, I wasn’t really moping, because I think moping has to have some self-awareness involved. I didn’t realize I had been moping until the final Saturday of September, when Ava, Morgan and I were at the pool hall waiting for a table to open up and Ava finally kicked me.
‘Why are you moping?’
‘I’m not moping.’
Morgan laughed. ‘You’re absolutely moping.’ Ever since our bathroom pregnancy heart-to-heart, we had started hanging out with Morgan more. It benefitted us in two ways. One, she was much nicer when seating our sections – making sure everyone was spaced out timewise and helping us when we got in the weeds. But two, she was actually fun. I’d liked hanging out with her outside work before, but I’d assumed it had just been because she was at a party and finally letting loose.
At Sunset Estates she took her job more seriously than I did. And that was only because I would rather be in the kitchen. Serving the residents, I was on autopilot. I knew how to smile politely even when I was in a bad mood; I knew the general time between courses and how to do closing chores. But I’d only been taking itseriouslysince Natalie said she was testing me. Something that still hadn’t happened in practice yet.
There had been a close call where I thought she made Ms Masters ask for lime sherbet instead of rainbow, which was the sherbet of the week. She was extra pushy about ensuring I only got it from the actual container of full lime and not the lime stripe out of the rainbow sherbet because ‘You can still taste the orange and raspberry flavor in the lime when it’s all in the same container!’
When I asked Natalie about it, she said that wasn’t one of her tests, but she assured me it was coming. I was starting to think it was all a lie, though. A carrot she dangled in front of me to torture me, only to have my application deadline come and go without a letter from her.
‘I’m depressed, not mopey,’ I said.
Morgan leaned onto the high-top table between us, resting her chin on her hand. ‘Situational or clinical depression?’ Oh, right. I forgot Morgan wanted to go to school for psychology.
‘What’s the difference?’ I asked.
‘Situational depression is triggered by an event,’ she said. ‘Clinical is a chemical imbalance.’
Ava said before I could, ‘The first one.’
‘Excuse you, please don’t speak for me. But yeah, she’s right – it’s the first one.’
‘Talking about it can help,’ Morgan said.
‘What if I don’t want to talk about it?’ I asked.
Ava raised her hand. ‘Uh, what if I don’t want tohearhim talk about it?’ I swatted her hand down, and she flicked me. ‘No, just because Morgan wasn’t there to hear you bemoan your Gabe drama before doesn’t mean I have to listen to the replay.’
‘Wait,workGabe? Now Ineedto know the drama.’
But Ireallydidn’t want to talk about it. And Ava was being dramatic – I wasn’t the one talking about it,shewas the one talking about it because of my depression. Situationally. She kept saying, ‘Just forget about him! Who cares? He’s notthatcute! You can do better!’ Which was easier said than done –Icared; yes, he was; and no, I probably couldn’t.
‘He and Gabe were friends back in the day, now they’re both gay and Gabe has an oyfriendbay. Sorry for the pig Latin – I just wanted it to rhyme.’
‘Pig Latin aside, that about covers it.’
