Author's Note: Hooray for Blink Week!! This is a special Wayne's World, for an audience of one — well, sort of. I'm entering this into the Blink Week thing, but even if you're not studentnumber24601, please leave a review anyway! :-D I'm sorry I haven't written or reviewed anything for a while, it's just that my internet access died and now I'm on ((lowers voice dramatically)) ...dial-up. ((cries))
Disclaimer: I really don't feel like listing all the family members I included in this story because they're just not important enough to mention. They're only THERE to support the plot ... so basically, any characters you don't recognize belong to me. The newsies belong to Disney, and any song lyrics belong to their respective band/artist.
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Flea Market Sign-----
A few weeks ago, my older sister Ariana came to me with a little wooden sign that she had picked up at the flea market that afternoon. "Thou Shalt Not Spaz," said the sign. "Because you need to learn how to chill out," said my sister. "You should hang this on your wall or something."
The idea of chucking the sign at her head was very tempting, but I managed to resist the impulse and instead grudgingly accept the sign. "Condescending old hag," I mumbled as I climbed the stairs to my room.
I did hang the sign on my wall, though. I figured it might come in handy at some point.
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My entire life had always taken place in an overwhelmingly female environment. I grew up in a household with two older sisters, Joan and Ariana, one younger sister, Kimberly, and a mother. My father was almost always away on business, so I grew used to the feeling of being surrounded by incessantly chattering young women night and day.
"Hey, look on the bright side," Joan would say proudly whenever I complained. "You're gonna end up as a right ladies man, aren't you? Plus, the fact that you have only one eye's probably kind of a turn-on, don't you think?"
"You could pretend you lost it in some heroic battle!" Kim squealed, poking me. "Say that you were in love with this woman, but she was engaged to this other jerk, and so her jerk fiancé caught you talking to her, and the woman's like 'Oh Isaac, don't hurt him!' so then her fiancé starts to beat you up, and because you kept your promise to the woman you loved, you lost your eye!"
Ariana looked at her. "Or you could just tell them that you have a strange obsession over 'Big Fish' and you wish you were as dreamy as Ewan McGregor," she said.
"But I didn't do any of that!" I said, confused. "I was just born without an eye!"
"I know that," said Kim exasperatedly, "but you could pretend that that's not true. Women'll love you, I promise."
What they didn't count on happening was me turning out to be gay.
Gay or not, I was still obligated to attend the family reunion that was being held at my cousins' house in Ridgefield, Connecticut, on August 23, 2004. I was 17 and a half that year; Joan was 21, Ariana was 19, and Kim was 13. Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to the reunion much. More women — oh joy!
Because the madness didn't end at my immediate family. My mother had two sisters, Beatrice and Christine. Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Charles had had three children: Victoria, 21, Rodney, 17, and Lynn, 13. They were quite possibly the most obnoxious family on the planet, not counting the Brady Bunch, and I was planning on avoiding them at all costs during the reunion.
Aunt Christie was my mom's other sister, and she was much more interesting. She was divorced and could claim ownership over Molly and Marin, 18-year-old identical twins, and Harry, 19.
Yes, I am perfectly aware that I mentioned no less than three male family members in the last two paragraphs. It is common knowledge, however, that Harry and I are the only real male human beings in this family; Rodney and Uncle Charles do not count because they're specimens of a completely different race altogether.
The reunion was doomed from the start, I could feel it. I was beginning to think that if I had to spend any more time with the female gender, my head was going to explode and I would die without ever experiencing what it's like to live a healthy, reasonably masculine life.
Hey, just because I was gay, it didn't mean I was downright feminine! Sheesh...
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"SO MANY THINGS TO TELL HER! BUT HOW TO MAKE HER SEE ... THE TRUTH ABOUT MY PAST? IMPOSSIBLE! SHE'D TURN AWAY FROM MEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"HE'S HOLDING BACK, HE'S HIDING! BUT WHAT I CAN'T DECIDE: WHY WON'T HE BE THE KING I KNOW HE IS, THE KING I SEE INSIIIIIIIIIIDE? Sing with me, Isaac!"
Ariana and Kim clasped hands and sang loudly, "CAAAAAN YOU FEEEEEL THE LOOOOOVE TONIIIIIIIGHT? THE PEACE THE EVENING BRIIIIIIIINGS! THE WORLD FOR ONCE IN PEEEEEERFEEEEEECT HARMONY, WITH ALL ITS LIVING THIIIIINGS!"
"We're almost there!" my mom yelled over the noise.
"Thank god," I muttered. I was squished in the back of our old Volvo next to Kim and Ariana, hugging my special pillow to my chest and looking out the window. Three hours of showtunes sung by my nearly tone-deaf teenage sisters was not exactly my choice of entertainment. Plus, I really had to pee.
"Aw c'mon, Isaac, we're not that bad are we?" said Kim happily.
"Of course not," I answered absently, starting to bob up and down slightly in my seat with my legs crossed. Why had I challenged Kim to a Pepsi-drinking contest on the middle of the highway forty-five minutes ago?
"Are you dancing?" asked Kim, starting to bounce too. "Ohh, this is fun! You could almost get it to go to the beat of a song, right? WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU! YOU HOLD ME TIIIIIIEEEEEEGHT! TELL ME I'M THE ONLY ONE, WANNA COME OVER TONIIIIIEEEEEEEGHT!"
"Isaac, I think Victoria is bringing her boyfriend — Herman, is it?" said my mother in an attempt to bring the conversation back to the reunion. "You could probably hang out with him, have some—" She deepened her voice jokingly. "—male bonding time, eh?"
"Herman ... that's an interesting name, isn't it?" Joan remarked politely.
"Why the hell—heck would I want to hang out with Victoria's boyfriend, if such a man does exist?" I demanded. "What's your information source?"
"My sister Beatrice," said my mother as we pulled onto Minot Avenue.
"Oh, that's reliable!"
"Isaac, please try to be pleasant," Mom pleaded. "I know you're not crazy about the idea of spending the day with your family, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't ... well—"
"Spaz out," supplied my sisters in unison.
"I have to go to the BATHROOM!"
"We're HERE," said my mother loudly, pulling into the driveway. "Isaac, you can use the bathroom now, but try to be kind of discreet about it, all right? I don't want you announcing it to the entire family or anything."
I rolled my eye. "Yes, mother."
We got out of the car and were greeted by a mass of women squealing, hugging, kissing, and doing other things that women like to do. "Isaac!" Molly and Marin shrieked in unison, tackling me into a hug.
"Guys, I have to go to the bathroom," I tried to say, but my mouth was being crushed against Molly's shoulder (they're both incredibly tall) so it ended up sounding more like "Guysh, I haftao oo da bfwoom." Unsurprisingly, my message was not communicated, and I found myself being passed from happy relative to happy relative for several minutes. I think Aunt Christie hugged and kissed me three different times, but then again I couldn't be sure.
And then — I was free! I had somehow been pushed out of the mob of chatting women, and I now found myself standing next to Harry, Rodney, and another boy who didn't appear to be part of our family. They were all standing with their hands in the pockets of their blue jeans (or khakis, in the case of Rodney), looking incredibly awkward and obviously hoping one of the women wouldn't spot them and try to suck them into the love fest.
"Hi," said Harry.
"Hi," I said.
"Good morning," said Rodney.
"Nice to see you," I lied. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Christie's house is very large, very cold, and very boring. I found myself shivering as I made my way down the very large, very cold, and very boring hallway to the very large, very cold, and very boring bathroom situated next to one of Victoria's old rooms.
I still had showtunes running through my head from the car ride here. "Red — the blood of angry men! Black — the dark of ages past! Red — a world about to dawn! Black — the night that ends at laaaaaaaaast!" I sang as I unzipped my pants. I resisted the urge to make up some immature parody, and I somehow managed to relieve myself and wash my hands without saying any stupid, sick bathroom jokes aloud. I opened the door and was just about to congratulate myself on a very grown up trip to the restroom when I saw him: the boy standing next to Rodney who I hadn't recognized.
Except now I did recognize him, and I was very thankful that I hadn't sung my bathroom jokes out loud.
"Was that you singing Les Misérables?" asked Michael "Mush" Meyers, grinning at me.
I gulped, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat that seemed to be made of something similar to newly mixed concrete. "Y-yeah," I said pathetically.
"I didn't realize you had such a great voice." He winked and then slid into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
And I was left staring pathetically at the closed bathroom door, surprised and confused, running a hand through my hair. Whoa. Not to be cliché, but memories were flooding back to me and I was overwhelmed.
Michael Meyers. We had met for the first time in June of '02 when Rodney had invited him over for the weekend while my family and I were visiting. How a guy like Mush ever ended up friends with Rodney Forest, I would never know, but I really didn't care. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life, including Keanu Reeves (whom I've had a mad crush on since I was thirteen years old), and I was pretty much stunned into silence for the first hour or so that was with him.
I eventually started talking to him, though, when I realized that he was what Joan would label as a "sweetie-pie". (She was the kind of person who talked like a grandmother, sometimes.) He was extremely polite, insanely nice, and, believe it or not, incredibly flirtatious.
To cut a long story short, we ended up "experimenting" a little during that week. Nothing too extreme, just some making out and holding hands and stuff — and he kind of gave me my nickname, Blink. "Because I can never tell whether you're winking or blinking at me," he said, laughing. It was a pretty stupid nickname, but I liked it. I started calling him Mush because of how hopelessly romantic he was throughout our little project. He was definitely the kind of guy that would make girls like Kim giggle and sort of melt into a puddle on the floor. And he was MINE, mwahaha.
I, for one, thought the entire experimentation was pretty cool.
And then the mother of all disasters struck. It was classic Sandy and Danny — our visit with the Forests ended, my family and I went back to Manhattan, Mush went back to his house in Ridgefield, and I didn't see him again for two years.
I blinked, coming out of my reverie. Mush Meyers was standing less than five feet away from me, using the very bathroom that I had been using mere minutes before. We were separated only by a thin layer of wood and plaster, also known as the bathroom wall, and he was looking more gorgeous than ever.
"Heya Isaac," said Kim cheerfully, coming up behind me. "What are you trying to do, make love to the bathroom door?"
I stepped back and glared at her. "No."
"Anyone in there?" she asked.
"Mush."
"Who?"
"Michael Meyers."
"Oh, him." Kim jogged in place, her ponytail bouncing over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, I meant to tell you this, like, half a year ago, but he called you when you were at hockey practice one afternoon."
My jaw dropped, literally. "What? What did he say?"
Kim shrugged and began to redo her ponytail. "Somethin' about missing you ... I dunno, he said that if you could call him back, it would be cool."
"Why didn't you TELL ME??" I demanded, grabbing her shoulders.
"Sheesh, spaz, calm down!" she laughed and wrenched me off her. "I forgot!" she said lightly.
"FORGOT??"
Just then, the door opened and Mush came out. "Do you need to use the bathroom again?" he asked, looking confused.
My mouth opened but no sound came out. "He was zoning out, I think he has ADHD," said Kim helpfully. "Isaac, I'm going to the bathroom now. I want you to walk out of the house and into the backyard, all right? Can you do that?"
"Aw shut up," I mumbled, blushing slightly. I wanted to smack her for being such a jerk.
She turned to Mush. "Do you mind walking him out? I'm not sure he can handle it himself."
"Sure, why not?" said Mush, taking my arm.
I changed my mind about smacking her.
"So — how have you been?" I asked awkwardly as the pair of us headed out of the house. "It's been a while."
"Yeah..." He ran a hand through his hair and busied himself with looking at the floor beneath us. I felt him let go of my arm.
What. The. Fuck.
We left the house without saying another word to each other, and I was soon swept away by Aunt Christie, who wanted me to try her guacamole-and-cottage-cheese recipe. I didn't see Mush for the rest of the day and was instead forced to join in the incredibly fun family activities my mother had planned out.
Needless to say, I was perfectly miserable.
-----
We were staying at Aunt Christie's house this year, which was a relief; at the last family reunion, we had stayed at Aunt Beatrice's and I had been forced to share a room with Rodney. Honestly, I'd rather be sleeping in the basement.
This year, however, I was sharing a room with Harry. It would have been kind of fun — Harry has almost been arrested three times and has done just about everything imaginable, regardless of whether or not it's legal — had I not been so cheesed off about what exactly happened with Mush earlier that day. So Harry and changed into our pajamas, brushed our teeth, and went to bed without saying anything more than "pass the toothpaste" and "g'night". Harry, of course, was snoring less than twenty seconds after his head hit the pillow, but I was left lying awake and studying his ceiling.
Why had Mush called me? We hadn't talked for a year and a half and then he decided to just ... call me?
As much as I hated to admit it, I was jealous of Kim. Jealous that she had been able to speak to him, jealous that she heard his voice. Why the HELL couldn't she have just given me the message??
"Stupid goddamn..." I mumbled, turning on the light and quickly looking over at Harry. He rolled over and mumbled something about the Crocodile Hunter, but he didn't wake up. I reached down and pulled "The Illustrated Man" by Ray Bradbury out of my bad, thinking that it would take my mind off of things for a while.
"It had been like a funeral cortege. But a wild one, racing, hair out, screaming to some ceremony ever northward. Why? He could only shake his head and rub his fingers softly at his sides," said the book.
"Bradbury, what the hell are you talking about?" Sighing, I closed the book and put it back into my bag. Unbidden, the image of Mush's face appeared in my mind. This was getting ridiculous — why the hell was one stupid boy making me so goddamn miserable?
"'Cause he's more than just 'one stupid boy' to me," I said.
I blinked.
Oh.
Harry's laptop was sitting on the desk just across the small room. I could almost hear Kim's voice in my mind: "Nothing clears a person's mind like a good round of Snood!" Not that Kim's mind was ever exactly clear, but I decided that it couldn't hurt to try out her technique.
Besides, I reasoned as opened the program on the laptop, there's something strangely addictive about knocking the threesomes of multicolored faces down. Almost as though you're destroying your own problems as you destroy the little smiley faces.
I clicked the Start New Game button and began to play.
-----
Gray bars of early morning sunlight were starting to ease in through the blinds. I glanced at the clock. 5:00 AM. I had been up literally all night, playing Snood and thinking about Mush and feeling sorry for myself. Harry was still an immobile, snoring lump under his covers. I had never realized what a sound sleeper he was until now.
As quietly as I could, I slipped out of bed and crept into the hallway. The air was still and heavy, not yet touched by the pale dawn light. I could hear my mother's light breathing in the room next door, almost drowned out by Aunt Christie's dull snoring. It would be at least three hours before anyone else woke up — time enough for me to get out of the house and back without anyone noticing.
In a perfect world, I would have been able to slip quietly out of the house and take a refreshing walk down the street to clear my mind. Ridgefield, Connecticut, however, is not a perfect world. In the next ten minutes, I managed to accomplish the following:
1. Trip over the Martins' cat on the stairs and almost break my neck
2. Make it halfway down the driveway before realizing I was only in my socks
3. Go back and get my shoes
4. Interrupt old Mrs. Gregory's yoga session by breathing too loudly when I passed her house
5. Have a watering can thrown at my head by old Mrs. Gregory
6. Get chased by the neighbor's angry golden retriever, which did not like being woken up by a very heavy flying watering can landing on his tail
7. Almost get run over by a car whilst fleeing said angry golden retriever
It was all I could do to stagger exhaustedly into Starbucks and collapse into a chair with the leg of my pajamas torn open and covered with dog slobber. The fact that Starbucks was even open at five in the morning was a miracle in itself, but I was too worn out to really think about it.
I let my head drop to the table with a thunk. "My life sucks," I whined to no one in particular.
"Join the club," said a familiar voice.
I looked up in time to see Mush pull up a chair next to me. He was wearing baggy sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt, and cozy teddy bear slippers, and there were dark circles under his eyes. It didn't look like he had slept any more than I had, but he at least had a cup of coffee to keep him awake.
"...Hi," I said lamely.
"Hi," he answered. He passed me his coffee, and I took a sip gratefully. I don't know what caffeine does for you, but I'm pretty sure that without it, your head caves in. [1] "I didn't sleep last night," said Mush unnecessarily.
"Neither did I," I said, giving him back the cup.
His dark eyes traveled down to the torn leg of my pajama bottoms, and a smile flickered across his face. "Tory?"
"Who?"
"The Anderson's stupid golden retriever." He pulled up the leg of his sweatpants to show me several small scars around his ankle. "She's kind of antisocial," he said with a grin. "She doesn't like being woken up early."
"I had no idea," I said sardonically, looking down at my injury and noting the dog slobber that now soaked my leg. That's disgusting. I took Mush's coffee again.
He stopped smiling suddenly. "I was thinking about you last night," he said in a much quieter voice.
I almost swallowed the straw. "W-what?" I managed to choke out.
"You're gonna call me overly sentimental or something, but I ... kindamissyou." He said the last part very fast and began to study his slippers.
"My sister never told me you called," I said, once I had dislodged the plastic straw from my throat and tossed it out. "In case you thought I hated you or something — I just think you should know that I never got the message. I would have called you back, though."
His face brightened slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah." I gave him back his coffee, deciding it was safer never to drink anything again while discussing old emotions. I then flicked my hair out of my eyes and said as quickly as I could, "I'vekindamissedyoutoo."
A real, genuine smile spread over Mush's face. He seemed to be at a loss for words.
"So tell me, Mush," I said, shifting in my seat and grinning at him, "where did you get those slippers?"
He laughed. "My Grandma Thora, for your information."
"Your grandmother's really named Thora??" I gasped. "Are you fucking kidding me? Like the one from Arthur?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"SHWEET!" Several early-morning commuters glared at me from over their coffees. "Sorry..." I said sheepishly, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Mush, you look even better than you did in 2002," I told him.
He looked at me and then began to laugh. "That's such a Blink thing to say..."
"A Blink thing to say?" I demanded, grinning. "What's that supposed to mean? I didn't realize that certain things I said were 'Blink things' ... What does that make the other things I say? Not Blink things? I guess that means—"
"Blink!" he said loudly. "Stop spazzing." And with that, he kissed me full on the lips.
It's a definite sign that the world as you know it is coming to an end when your older sister ends up being right about something. I made a mental note to thank Ariana for buying me that sign at the flea market that afternoon.
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Author's Note: ... ((stares at computer screen)) ... I dunno. Please leave a review, constructive criticism is welcome! (As long as you're nice about it, anyway, lol.)
-Saturday