Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I am not John Knowles. Therefore, I don't own A Separate Peace. Well, I do own a copy of it, but...oh, you know what I mean.
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The thought of losing my memory makes me sick.
Well, no, I guess I didn't word that quite correctly. It doesn't make me sick to think about getting shriveled and gray and not remembering the name of my dog or the street I live on. Shriveled and gray are comforting words. They describe that shirt of his that we used once to prop up the lopsided chair in our dorm room.
In any case, it doesn't make me sick to think of losing my memory. It makes me sick to think of losing *that* memory. And it's not even a memory of a particular event. It's the memory of a feeling; the way my stomach lurched whenever I'd look into his eyes. It didn't happen very often, only when I really looked into them, really concentrated. In part, my stomach lurched because his eyes reminded me of a deep, blue-green region of the sea on a windy day. In part, my stomach lurched because his eyes made me nervous. I still get nervous when I feel so strongly about something, or someone. And I felt so strongly about him. Such a strong love. Such a strong hate.
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They were looking at him. They were all looking at him. Everyone we passed couldn't help but glance, impressed, at Finny. Oh, how could anyone help it? I turned my eyes to him, noticed his skin, his hair, his eyes. I took all of it in. I gazed at him intently as he continued to walk, eyes fixed straight ahead. *You're beautiful,* I thought, willing him to somehow hear my silent words.
And in that moment, he looked at me, and we locked eyes. Oh God. Lurch.
"Everybody's staring at you," he said. "It's because of that movie-star tan you picked up this afternoon...showing off again."
The intended humor in his words was easily detectable, but I couldn't summon up a smile to hide my serious face. *Nope, they're looking at you. All of them.* And that's how it always was, and how it always would be. I knew this. Finny's presence just drew peoples' attention. That was a big reason for my envy towards him.
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Finny's been dead for fifteen years, and I still envy him. I used to get jealous because he could charm his way out of any trouble he'd gotten himself into. But now things are different. Things have changed - *I've* changed. Now I envy the confidence and trust he had in himself and in his friends. No, that's wrong. I envy the ability he possessed to make everyone believe that he had confidence and trust in himself and in his friends. Because really, Finny had never been all that assured of anything. He was only human, not a god. An angel maybe, if I still believed in them.
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It didn't happen the way I thought it would. Actually, I never thought it actually would happen, but I'd imagined it.
Both of us had ended up moving from our beds to the floor to study. Finny said he had done it because even he needed to feela sense of discipline sometimes. "Nothing like sittin' your ass down on a hardwood floor to make you feel stiff and rigid and just uncomfortable enough to keep you awake," he had said, flashing a grin. I returned his comment with a nod, which probably gave the illusion that I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. But I was. Everything he said made me think. Sometimes I could just start thinking, and I would muse on Finny for hours. Almost every time I thought about him, I'd end up getting angry or jealous. He could away with everything, everything...
"You know, Finny, you're pretty damn bold."
He lifted his gaze from his book to look at me. I refused to look directly at his eyes, but I could see the confusion in his face at my angry tone. He looked at me silently for a few seconds, his face puzzled, then rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh. That made me even angrier.
"What?!" I demanded.
He shook his head at me. "Nothing, Gene."
I threw my book down on the floor, stood up, and walked towards him. I loomed over him, hands on my hips. "Not nothing. It's never nothing with you!"
He placed his book down gently and stood up to stand face to face with me. Damn it, we were both five foot eight and a half inches. So his eyes were staring right into mine.
Lurch.
"Look, Gene." He didn't raise his voice, but it was stern and slightly angry. "I've never done anything truly bold in my entire fucking life. So you just..."
"Come on, Finny, that's a lie."
"It is not!"
I was taken aback slightly, and suddenly I wasn't angry anymore. I was just confused at the fact that his eyes were damp.
"Nothing bold," he continued. He took a step closer to me. Was he trying to be intimidating? His voice dropped slightly. "Not like this."
Well, if he *was* trying to be intimidating, he hadn't done a very good job at it.
I was completely shocked when he pressed his lips gently against mine, so much so that my eyes bulged open. But then, as the kiss began to deepen, they shut. As his tongue entered my mouth, I felt like he was becoming a part of me. But I was wrong. Phineas had always been a part of me.
I broke the kiss and stared at him in surprise. His hands were on my shoulders, as if he were holding me up, giving me my strength. *If only he knew,* I thought. I pulled away from him and backed up slowly. His hands dropped to his sides just as his face dropped in disappointment.
"See?" he asked me grimly.
I shook my head back and forth rapidly. I had wanted this to happen for so long, I had. So why was I running away from it?
"Finny!" I nearly shouted the word at him. "What are you...I mean, what was that?"
"A kiss, jackass. Wasn't very well-received though."
"But you...no." I shook my head again. "I didn't know you were..."
Finny gave a half smile. "A fairy?"
"Yes!" I immediately blushed at my exclamation. Finny threw his arms up in exasperation.
"Why does it matter?"
I raised my eyebrows at him in disbelief.
"I mean why does it have to be so black and white? Why can't a person just be with whoever they like, whether that other person's a guy or a girl? If I like you..."
"Finny, please don't..." The words left my mouth softly, like I was trying to spare his feelings.
"Forget it," he interrupted, his voice icy. "Just forget the whole thing, okay?"
I didn't say anything else. I couldn't. I just nodded and sat back down on the floor, picked up my book. Within seconds, he had done the same. I knew, in that moment, that I should've felt awkward. I should've been scared that I'd lose my best friend, that things wouldn't be the same. If it had been anyone else, I would have been terrified. But it was Finny, and Finny wouldn't let things change between us, even after this had happened.
Needless to say, I couldn't focus on my book. The whole time I should have been studying, I was trying to understand why I hadn't wanted to keep going. I thought about this through dinner, during my shower, and for a long time after I normally would have been asleep.
But then it hit me. I wasn't like Finny. I had to be able to see things in black and white.