CJ: Cher?
CJ: I know it's late. I just wanted to ask for your advice on something.
CJ: Or more like your guidance?
CJ: Something happened- I'm just not sure what. It's not bad or anything.
CJ: I think Pascal likes me?
CJ: God, maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions.
I toss my phone down on my bedside. It's just past ten, and I still feel it replaying over in my head- just all of it. Somehow I don't even think about the sharks.
Maybe I'm overreacting. My emotions were running high, I was crying, he was nice to me, and then I picked him up.
"God, why did I do that? Ugh!" I groan, pulling on my face.
He probably thinks I'm weird now, like I'm some creep who just gets way too close and doesn't respect personal space. He was flustered, yeah, but that could be because I totally overstepped, and he didn't know how else to react.
It's then I'm able to ask the question: Does he like me? I feel like I'm probably just assuming because he told me he was gay. Not every gay guy is gonna be into you, CJ, stop being self-centered!
And now I'm scolding myself, and all it's doing is making me feel worse.
I mean, why do I care how he feels about me? Even if he does have feelings for me, that's his thing to sort out and tell me or not in his own time. It has nothing to do with me… I feel weird, like it's weird to be so focused on it- to care so much.
I really wish Cherry was online. She's my rock with this kind of stuff. There is literally no one else I trust as much as her with anything. Briefly, I consider asking Flick, but I don't think I can. Pascal is his friend too, and I would feel bad talking about him behind his back like that.
Unable to resist, I check my messages again. Still unread. Ugh.
Instead of ruining my night worrying, I try to actually get some sleep. Managing to get a shower to wash away the salt, I throw on some clean underwear and a T-shirt before sliding into bed. As soon as I lay down, I can already tell I'm not going to be able to sleep for a long time. I sigh in defeat, rubbing my eyes.
After a good bit of tossing and turning, I check my phone again, unintentionally flash-banging myself. It's midnight now. It didn't even feel like that much time, and I entertain myself by imagining how quickly I could get time to pass if I just kept laying there.
I'm so tired. I can feel exhaustion weighing on my eyelids, but a discomfort pokes me down in my stomach, and every time I try to sleep it stabs me awake.
To avoid dying of sheer boredom, I scroll through my phone, pacing around social media apps, desperate for any kind of stimulation. I hear something creak in the hallway, and at first I'm scared, but then I see Mom standing in my doorway.
"CJ?" She whispers, even though she can see me looking at my phone. "Everything alright?"
"Hm? Oh- yeah, yeah I'm fine, Mom. Just can't sleep, is all."
"You want me to come tuck you in?"
I don't answer, and she takes that as a yes.
"I feel like a baby."
"We'll, that's cause you're my baby, baby."
She laughs, and I see the skin around her eyes crease with her smile.
"Mom?"
"Yeah, hon?"
"How did you and Pops get together?"
"I feel like I've told you this before a long time ago." Mom looks up at the ceiling, scratching her chin.
I chuckle guiltily. "I forgot."
She hums. "Well, your Dad and I were both very outdoorsy people- we still are, but even more so back then- and we would both go for long excursions out in the woods. I remember I was backpacking one weekend, and I had just reached the edge of one of the great lakes- I can't remember which."
I see her pausing for a second, tapping her fingers on my bed. "I was out fiddling away my time with my sketchbook, when I saw him, standing a ways out in the water, his line deeper out. It's funny to think back on now that we have you. Aside from the eyes, you look a lot like he did."
"Well I guess I know what to look forward to," I chuckle.
"Maybe, maybe not, we all age different," she answers, rubbing my arm, "From where I was standing, I saw him yank out a real huge bass from the water and drag it back to shore. That's when I thought I'd introduce myself."
"To the fish?"
"Yes, CJ, to the fish," she jokes, "after that, we bonded over that very fish. I knew how to start a quick fire, and he knew how to gut a fish, so we ate, spent the day together, and after that we were friends."
"You guys didn't have like, a spark or anything?"
"No, or if we did, we didn't notice it. But we got to know each other after that, and we learned that we loved each other. We made our own spark."
I lay back and think, staring blankly at my wall.
"Something wrong?"
"No," I lie, "I was just wondering… how did you guys find out you liked each other?- I mean, how did you tell you both wanted to date?"
"Ah… Well, we couldn't really tell. I'm not a mind reader, as far as I know, though sometimes I wish I was," she laughs, "your Dad was the one to ask me out first. I wasn't all that sharp on things like that, and he had to spell it out really clear for me by just… telling me how he felt."
"And did it work?"
"You tell me."
I look at her confused for a second, then I snort. "Oh, right, so it was good."
"Maybe not to start. Your Pops may have ruined a dress or two of mine by dropping a drink on it, and I may have snapped his favorite fishing rod, but we made it work, and I'm really happy we did."
She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Because now, we get to have our lovely son, CJ, who is a very adorable and kind young man." She leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead. "Was that what you wanted to know?"
I nod, though I don't meet her eyes. She gave me what I asked for, but in the end, it wasn't what I wanted- an easy answer.
"You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right?"
I pause for a second before answering. "Y-Yeah…"
"No matter what."
"Thanks Mom."
I think she can tell I don't have anything to tell her tonight, because she carefully finishes tucking me in, giving me one more kiss goodnight before heading back to her and Pops' room.
While I'm ready for a much longer night of restlessness, I find myself drifting off much easier after talking with Mom, and I'm out cold before I even know it.
The next morning, just after breakfast, the first thing I do is go to check my messages. Even though it's eight am, I still hold hope that maybe Cherry replied to my texts, and much to my surprise, I see her typing.
Cherry: What happened? I need to know.
CJ: Okay so… Last night Pascal and I were hanging out, and we went swimming, right?
CJ: He swam me out to show me some sharks, to which I freaked out.
Cherry: Holy shit are you okay? O.O
CJ: Am now, just not at the time. Or, like, I wasn't at first.
CJ: He and I talked for a while, and he helped me pet one of them, actually.
CJ: They're a lot more chill here than that one I met.
CJ: Anyways, it's time for us to swim back, and he lets me hold on to him while he swims me to shore.
CJ: We're joking about how I'm not a very good swimmer, and he says that I could probably lift swimmers like him, so I try it and just scoop him up.
CJ: And after I put him down, it was like he was acting super weird. Idk.
CJ: I thought maybe I overstepped or something, but it also made me wonder if maybe he was weird about it because he liked me?
CJ: Now that I say it out loud, I feel like a weirdo.
Cherry: That's,,,, a lot to unpack lol.
I don't take offense to that, not from Cherry at least. I hang desperately on her little typing bubble as I wait for a response.
Cherry: I mean, first of all it's super cute that he helped you with all of that. Also I'm jealous that I didn't get to pet a shark, damn.
Cherry: Second of all, I wasn't there so I can't really tell- but do you think he like was, like, defensive or looked uncomfortable or anything?
CJ: I guess we were both really awkward afterwards, like he didn't really look at me, and he was all stunned and red.
CJ: Er, redder than usual, I mean.
Cherry: I mean, it sounds like it could go either way. Why are you so worried about whether he likes you or not? It's not like it would go anywhere.
I go to type my response, but I still don't really have one. I still don't know why I give so much of a shit about this. Maybe it's all just to boost my ego, and I'm just being self-centered.
Do I hope that he likes me? When I think about it, I should be hoping the opposite, so why does that thought make me feel disappointed?
Cherry: What are you thinking?
CJ: Tbh? No idea
CJ: You're totally right, but somehow I still care, and I think I might even hope he likes me.
CJ: That feels so weird and wrong to say
Cherry: Why?
CJ: I feel like I just want to stroke my ego, like the only reason I hope is to feel good that a guy likes me.
Cherry: It's surprising how often I have to remind you that you aren't a bad person.
Cherry: Why would a straight guy want gay guys to fall for him?
CJ: Cause it means I'm cute and likeable!
Cherry: Idk C, I don't want to pressure you, but it sounds like you're coming up with excuses.
CJ: Are you saying I'm gay?
Cherry: Not gay- I mean, god, there are like a fuck-tillion different labels and identities out there for you to pick from- I just don't want you to rule out that maybe, somewhere in that big soft heart of yours, you actually like him back.
My heart starts racing, and I feel my skin prickle. This whole time, I thought I was straight, like this straight guy who's cool and friends with all of the gay people. I'm the cool cishet. I was the cool cishet. How is this gonna change how people look at me? Did everyone else know this whole time?
Cherry: Hey, get out of that head of yours. Talk to me.
She knows me so well it's scary. I giggle despite myself, blinking away tears as I try to pretend that I'm not gonna cry.
CJ: So… if I am LGBTQ, how can I tell?
Cherry: I mean, it's kind of a process. It's not an end goal, per se. You just keep questioning and doing what feels right for you, you know?
Cherry: You don't have to use a label if you don't want to. Some people need time before they find one that fits them, others never use 'em, and they get along just fine.
CJ: I feel like I'm faking it, like I'm not LGBT enough.
Cherry: Oh buddy. My lovely, sweet innocent CJ.
Cherry: All of that is normal. I felt it. Mitzi felt it. Every baby gay feels it. Some cishets even feel it, and they end up finding out that they were cishet at the end of the day.
Cherry: It's not a competition. There's no oppression world cup you have to win to be let into the community. That's why there are 2 Qs in the acronym. You're allowed to just be questioning.
I stare at my phone, rereading her texts over and over again, trying to make all of this feel better and less confusing. Even if maybe it doesn't work, I try to at least hold onto that: "You're allowed to just be questioning."
CJ: So, maybe I like Pascal.
Cherry: Maybe.
Cherry: I mean, you do have the whole summer left to find out. Maybe don't put so much pressure on yourself.
Cherry: Why can't you just have your hot boy summer? Mess around a little, flirt, feel things out. There are no rules, babe.
CJ: I want to. It's just that right now I still feel confused.
Cherry: So take some time just to feel confused.
Cherry: Once you're done, there's gonna be time to figure things out. It's not a race.
Cherry: My Aunt came out as a lesbian at 46, so I'd say you're pretty far ahead of the curve all things considered.
Cherry: More than double your age.
CJ: I can't help but think back to all those times you teased me about how I might actually be gay. I was always so sure, and yet here we are lol.
Cherry: Oop-
Cherry: Not to say I told you so but…
I laugh at that. Honestly, it feels so much better joking about my sexuality now that there's nothing to defend, at least not anymore. Maybe at some point there will be again- I'm not sure. I need to remember what Cherry said: I can just be questioning.
We text back and forth a little more about how the vacation's been going, and how she's been doing with her new job. Making tentative plans to hang out again sometime soon, I click off my phone and sprawl out on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
I'm questioning. I might be gay. I might be straight. I might be bi. I might be… shoot, I forgot the others. Whatever- all I know is that I don't know, and I'm gonna try to be okay with that.
My thoughts drift over to Pascal again, and I think back on last night. He was so sweet and understanding. He still is, always has been since I met him. I can't help but smile as I think that: if I was gonna fall in love with a guy, I would want it to be a guy like him.
Or would I want it to just be him? Do I want to date him? Hold his hand? Kiss him? My face goes red thinking about it, and I shoo the thought away.
Maybe, but I guess I don't need to know right away. I could have my hot boy summer like Cherry said- flirt, try new things, feel myself out. Whether this path leads me to Pascal or not, I'll follow it, wherever it goes.