This Could Be Anywhere But Here
Chapter Twelve
When I get home, I don't even make it to my bed. It's dramatic, I know, but I can't bring myself to climb into it. I've had enough beds from my childhood for one weekend.
I lie down on the floor and tug on the blanket hanging off the mattress. It lands on my face and pillows follow softly behind. I barely have enough energy to get comfortable; as comfortable as one can get on this shitty carpet anyway.
I can't believe that I fucked up this badly. Shit dude, that look on his face? I can't stop thinking about it. I feel so guilty. How could I never have realized that he was in love with me? Now that his feelings are out there, everything seems so fucking obvious.
Shame warms over me as the sun beams through dusty curtains and I groan. He's right. He's so totally right – everything we've done together, I've always went out of my way to ignore what it could have meant in the grand scheme of things. Never acknowledged the fact that there may be more between us other than, "oh, that's just how we are." I thought the ignorance was mutual though… It's not like he's ever brought up our weird shit. We just didn't talk about it. I never once thought that I was actually hurting him.
Never once thought that he was in love with me.
I turn on my side at the thought, the shadows of old crap under my bed appearing as the morning swallows my room. He was in love with me, that whole time. Fuck, I can't even comprehend that. Minus the whole Wendy saga, I've always had a girlfriend. So, for him to just deal? Just like that? Every day? Jesus.
Ten years. He actually said ten years. That had to be, what? We went to college when we were eighteen… no way he could've felt like that for me since we were eight years old.
Then again, that's when hormones start to kick in, right? Around that age?
I squint my eyes shut and groan again, replaying the morning over and over in my mind. This is too much to take in. Not only did my best friend just admit that he was in love with me for basically half of our lives, but there's also the fact that we may or may not have had sex last night. I could have totally fucked a dude for the first time, and I don't even remember.
Granted, it's not like my body feels like I had sex last night. Then again, I have a hangover masking any other feeling that could possibly be going on with me other than my pounding head and churning stomach.
I bury my face in the covers, unable to crawl into a hole that I so wish would just appear in the middle of the floor right now. I can't even sleep. It has to be almost seven by now. My parents will be up soon.
Thank God that I don't have to deal with Cartman today.
I swallow, hard. I don't know what to do. How do I even talk to Kyle after something like this? He looked so… defeated. I fucking hate myself for making him feel that way. I didn't intend to. I didn't think this shit was going to happen.
I don't even know what I thought was going to happen. Why did I leave? I could've just talked to him, right? It is Kyle after all. We used to always just cut the bullshit and talk about things if we were fighting. But, I'm having trouble even thinking about this let alone admit out loud that I'm stuck in some very gay situation with my super best friend.
I groan again, louder.
When I pull the blanket away from my face, my eyes scan the storage beneath my bed. I never realized how much shit that I still have tucked away under here. Old uniforms and sports gear are huddled in the back, labeled from maternal instinct. I reach my arm under and pull out a box labeled "Stan's School Projects," desperate for some sort of distraction.
I sit up, box in my lap. I open the lid and smile when I see all of the old things that I worked on as a kid. There's a little egg carton in here painted to be a monster that I don't remember even making. My mom hadto have finished at least half of it. It looks way too good for a kindergartener.
There's a paper turkey, in the shape of my tiny hand. I lift my own over it and it's at least two sizes bigger now. It's hard to believe you were ever once that small. My name is printed on the back, careful and childish with a backwards "y."
The rest of the box is filled with projects ranging from 5-year-old-Stan to 12-year-old-Stan. There's even a drawing I did of my family in front of our house that totally excludes Shelly. I smirk. Mom was so pissed about that.
The next picture I pull out is another drawing. It's a crayon schoolyard with four poorly drawn stick figures. It's Cartman, Kenny, Kyle and myself. I can't help but laugh at how fat I drew Cartman; just one wide circle with a tiny hat and legs. Kenny doesn't even have a face, just an orange circle with two dots for eyes.
I stop laughing when I look at Kyle and myself. I flip the paper over, Stanley Marsh, age 7, and then I flip back to the drawing.
Age seven, and I drew the both of us holding hands.
I lie back down, put the drawing into the box, and push it back under my bed as far to the wall as I can. Far, far away. Eventually, I hit something. Curiosity gets the best of me and I move it back out of the way.
Something is stuck between my bedframe and the wall. It's sticking down just enough to see the corner of it, but I'm not sure what it is. My arm reaches and I feel too shitty right now to actually get up and move the bed to make this easier. Instead, I just reach and make weird noises as if I can will the thing into my hands.
One final stretch and I grab hold of it—the corner of a book. A few tugs and I'm able to yank it from its hold. I roll on my back and blow dust from the cover before running a nostalgic hand over the faded black and white copybook littered with random graffiti from class boredom.
"Holy shit..." I whisper. I can't believe this thing is still floating around. And I definitely can't believe we kept using it as long as we did. Not that we used it all of the time, but still. The girls kept copybooks to write notes to each other, none of the guys did.
No one else knew about this. Ever. It would've been social suicide.
I pause before opening it, fully prepared for full blown embarrassment. I fan through the book and open to a random page.
Dude I wrote somethin pretty cool. Mayb we can use it for Moop:
there is darkness all around me,
deep piercing black, I cannot breathe.
my heart has been raped.
the pain is everlasting.
I miss you so much babe.
want to hold you in my arms.
I wrote it a couple months ago. Those goth kids didn't like the last few lines, so they kinda discouraged me from workin on it, but I think they really drive the poem home. let me know what ya think.
-
Stan,
No. Way.
-Kyle.
I laugh and shake my head. I can't believe that I actually wrote that crap.
I fan to a later page.
Sept '98
Stan,
I can't go to Casa Bonita with you this weekend. My mom wants me to go shopping for clothes. I can't believe she wont let me go with you. Like we need the ENTIRE weekend to find clothes.
How are your classes today? It's weird that we don't have the same ones anymore. I get that they are "preparing us for high school," but it's still weird. I miss our old seats. Craig is next to me in math. He's such a dick.
It's only a week back and I already miss summer. I'll meet you after school. Your playing baseball down at the park again, right? I still don't know why you started up with that crappy sport. Its so boring. You can't even play on the team until spring. But, I'll meet you there anyway.
PS – You're a boner.
-Kyle
-
Dude, y do you keep dating these?
That totally sucks that you cant go. Mayb if you ask, I can go shopping 2. Mayb it will speed her up and we can go to Casa Bonita after. Or we can always go next weekend or somethin. whatever. I want you to go so we can watch the gunfight together this time. We both missed it last time and I heard they can pull us into the show and we can gunfight together. Like real, Mexican standoffs. Super cool.
Get ready, dude. Im gonna make the team and u are going to have to sit through all my boring games to.
PS — your a mega boner
There are a ton of entries back and forth in here. I fan through, stopping randomly just to see how our handwriting and spelling changed as we got older. I can't believe we kept this thing around for so long. We had to have started this in 4th or 5th grade.
I skip to the last entry to see when we stopped.
May '05
Stan,
I can't believe this! That fucking asshole! Fucker fucker fucker! I've been sitting in Mr. Mackey's office for two hours already. Two hours! I was only in there speaking with him for twenty minutes, and then I had to sit out here and do "homework" while he spoke to Cartman. I'm pretty sure that Mr. Mackey is going to call my mom next. I'm so screwed, dude. Screwed!
I guess it could be worse. I almost got hit in the face with a chair.
I can't believe Principal Victoria was unconscious. Ugggggggh, this fucking sucks. Who knows what they're going to do for punishment. There are only a few weeks of senior year left. I'm pretty worried. This can't mess with my scholarships.
I can't believe that I lost it today. I let him get to me. You have to be so disappointed. I'm sorry, dude. I couldn't help it. I've been having a hard time controlling myself lately. I feel kind of like a crazy person.
Yep, and even that sounds crazy.
HAH. Kenny just walked by and mooned us through the window here. It was so funny. You should've seen him running down the hall with his pants down when Mr. Mackey saw him.
I need to talk to you when I get home. I have something important to tell you. I hope you take it okay. I'm really nervous. It's not a big deal, really, but you know… actually, no you don't. It's just weird. I don't know what I'm saying. I'll just tell you in person.
I wish you were here now. I can't take all of this waiting alone while they plot how to fuck up my life, all because of that Fatass. They have him somewhere in another room. I guess that would be pretty dumb to keep us together. I would totally murder that fat fuck right now.
Okay, they are finally letting me out of here. My mom just walked out of his office staring daggers at me. Fuck, this is going to be awful. Hey, if my punishment is too bad, maybe you can just sneak me in your suitcase to Boulder and we can get a place together and hide from my mom forever. Sound good?
Just spoke to Mr. Mackey, my mom, Cartman and his mom. Now I'm just waiting to go home. I can't walk for graduation, dude. I can't fucking walk with the rest of the class. Fuck fuck fuck.
FUCK.
Sorry this entry blows. I'll talk to you soon. Hopefully. If I'm not dead.
I can't stop staring at this last page. It's the final entry in here and I don't think I've ever even read this. Wow, I'm a dick. Kyle gave this to me the night he said he was leaving for New Hampshire, and I didn't even bother to read it. Way to fuck up there too, Stan.
In my defense, it was the night he told me he was leaving. I had a lot on my mind.
I rub my forehead. Fuck, that night really messed with me. It took a few hours to realize what Kyle had told me, but as soon as it kicked in… I felt truly alone for the first time in my life. It just didn't make sense to me. I didn't know how I would deal without him.
And I never really did. College kind of sucked and I'm glad it's over. But for four years, not getting over the fact that your childhood friend moved on with his life definitely isn't normal. Sure, Kenny went out of his way to let me know how often that it totally wasn't normal, but it was real. I fell apart without Kyle. Shut down and just went through the motions. I don't even remember a lot from college. I sifted through classes that I didn't give a shit about. Paid attention enough to get by. Drank as often as I could, more alone than not. I couldn't snap out of it. I mean, I've had my bouts of depression before. Sometimes I just fall into a funk that I can't shake myself out of but never for years at a time.
Fuck. I was in love with him, too.
I shut the book and close my eyes. How could I lack so much self-awareness? Be so fucking clueless? Now I just feel like a total fucking idiot. Maybe that's why all of your relationships kept failing, Stan. Jesus Christ.
I need to take a walk or something. I need a friend right now and it's not like I can talk to my best one at the moment. Maybe Kenny can give me some kind of perspective.
I'm not sure what time it is, or if Kenny is even working right now, but I make my way over to the Stop N Go without a second thought.
Thankfully, Kenny's car is in the parking lot.
"Dude," Kenny begins and pulls his parka from his head when I enter the place, "you look like shit."
I walk behind the counter and sit on the floor, my back falling hard against a wall of condoms. There's no one in the store, as per usual, "Surprise. I feel like shit."
He leans against the counter, looking down at me. Not overly concerned, but at least curious, "Hung-over?"
I run my hand over the top of my head, unsure of where to even begin. How do I say this exactly? "Yeah, today is a little weird because Kyle admitted he was in love with me for ten years. Oh yeah, we may or may not have fucked last night. How's your morning?"
Not the best place to start.
Maybe I can at least get some insight here, "Did you ever think that Kyle and I were like… close?"
He's surprised, and clearly confused, "That's a weird question. Is that even a serious one, dude? Fucking of course. Everyone knows you two are best friends."
"I mean, growing up… like, did you ever think that we were too close?"
"Yeah," Great—no hesitation. Zero.
"Yeah? Just like that?"
"Fuck yeah. What'd you expect me to say? You and Kyle were always really weird. Why do you think me and Cartman always rip on you two about it?"
I groan and put my head down. I grumble through my clammy hands, unable to look him in the eye, "I kissed him last night."
There's an eternal pause, "Wait, what?"
I look up, practically wincing, "I kissed him." Saying it out load makes it seem all the more real. And it's weird. So very weird.
His eyes widen and his mouth slowly whispers: "Whaaaaaaat."
I pull my knees up and to my chest to rest my forehead on them, "Yeah. I know."
I hear him shift, "Were you drunk?"
"Yeah, but… I don't know, dude. I've been really confused about how I feel about him since I've been back."
"Really? You haven't mentioned anything weird besides that you're happy you have your 'super best friend' back."
I look back up at him and he seems amused. Dick. This situation totally isn't funny.
He clears his throat and crosses his arms, trying to get his concerned-friend face on. I really must look like shit, "How did he react?"
I shrug, "I think it caught him off guard at first, but then he kissed me back and we…"
"You… what?" A grin starts to become so wide on his face that I start to really question why I even came here in the first place.
"I don't know, dude. Something just kind of came over me and we started making out pretty heavily. And then we made it to his room, he asked me if I was going to regret it, I just told him no, and then I don't know. I don't remember anything else."
"Dude…"
"I know. I don't know what came over me."
He pauses again before he starts singing, "It was the heat of the moment."
I sigh, "Knock it off, Kenny."
He notices the lack of energy in my voice and decides to fall back into his serious mode again. He plops his ass on the floor beside me, "This is really bugging you, isn't it? You look like someone shot your dog."
"We might've had sex," I suddenly say.
"You might've?"
"Yeah… I don't really know."
"How the fuck do you not know if you had sex or not? My dick wakes up singing the morning after."
"I didn't really feel like I did—"
"Okay, well at least you know you weren't the bottom. You'd definitely feel that the next morning."
"Dammit, Kenny."
"Come on, it's true."
"He said we did. He said 'friends don't fuck when they're drunk.' So he kind of implied that we did. And when I woke up, our shirts were off and my arm was around him."
"You guys were naked?"
"We had pants on, mine were unbuttoned. Fuck," I rub my forehead, "I really wish I could remember what happened. And," I sigh again and play with the hem of my shirt, "that's not even it. We got into this huge argument this morning and he told me that he's been in love with me since we were like, 8. I mean… how do I even respond to that?"
"Shit, dude. He finally told you?"
My hands pause. I just stare at him, not bothering to blink, "You knew?"
"Well, yeah. I told you me and Cartman ripped on you all the time about it. You two were totally fags."
"Wait wait wait, you making fun of me for being unusually close to my best friend is one thing, but it's a completely different situation when Kyle tells me that he's been in love with me since puberty. He used the word 'love,' dude. That's a huge fucking deal. Please tell me you didn't know about this."
He puts his hands up, trying to pump the breaks because I'm clearly getting upset here, "I mean… okay. I always had a hunch. Sometimes he would come over my house and he'd be so pissed off. Like, he'd go on about how you always wanted to be with your girlfriend, or how you wouldn't shut up about your sexcapades with your ladies. It was so fucking obvious that he was jealous. I could totally tell that he was into you. I mean, add that into the fact that you two still had sleepovers until you were like, 17," he shakes his head, "That shit is still weird—but, ya know, makes a lot more sense now."
My face fills with overwhelming heat. I love how everyone realizes how weird that was before me. I feel like a fucking moron.
"He didn't tell me that he was actually into you until Token's."
I look up at him, reading his face for an answer, "What?" This is new information, too, "What the fuck, Kenny?"
"Token's fucking party, dude. He pulled me and Butters aside earlier in the night and told us that he's gay. I told you that, right? Then, that morning, when you were passed out next to Clyde—creepy, by the way, I don't even want you to explain that one—I saw him when I was leaving. He was out front sitting by himself and we just kind of started talking."
"So, he just comes out with 'oh yeah, I was in love with Stan, that's why I left' and you didn't even think to clue me in?"
Kenny rolls his eyes, "He didn't say that. He said he's still in love with you. Big difference, dude. Which is kind of nuts since you two didn't see each other for so long, you know?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looks at me like I'm an idiot, "He asked me not to tell you. He's my friend too, in case you forgot."
I scoff and put my head back on my knees. Kenny could've at least given me a heads up about this, "What else did he say?"
"He asked me for a cigarette. Said he wanted to cancel out the awful taste in his mouth from drinking all night. Weird fucking theory, but whatever. That's about it, though. He just said that he really left because he needed to figure some shit out and being around you all the time wasn't helping. He said he couldn't share a dorm with you and still pretend that there was nothing there. Some shit like that anyway. You could always ask him yourself you know."
I groan. I really am an idiot. So much going on around me and I'm too worried about my own bullshit to see any of it.
"This is all weirdly romantic, you know?" he suddenly says.
I shake my head, fighting back the sudden urge to slap him, "Shut up, Kenny. Don't make fun of me."
"I'm being serious, dude! It is. I mean, it sucks for Kyle because he's been into you for so long, but now that you finally figured out that you're into him too, you guys can fuck happily ever after," he smirks, "Just make sure that you remember it from now on."
I pause and bite the inside of my cheek, "I didn't say that I'm into him."
He rolls his eyes and hops to his feet when he hears the bell on the door ding with a customer's entrance, "Don't fucking bullshit a bullshitter, dude. You literally just said that you've been confused about how you feel about him ever since you've been home. Besides, if anything, you were the obvious one, not Kyle. You were always in love with that kid."
"What?" I jump to my feet too, hopping on the defensive, "No way, dude. What are you even talking about?"
"Why'd you kiss him?"
"Huh?"
"You said that you kissed Kyle, not the other way around. Why did you kiss him?"
I shrug, unable to look at him again. Second time that I'm asked that question today and I can't give anyone a straight answer, "I don't know, I just… ever since I've been back, it's been really awesome being around him again. I love him. I do. Just, ya know, like a really close friend."
"So, you kissed him because you love his friendship?"
The customer in front of us, with his gallon of milk and box of macaroni and cheese, couldn't look more disinterested in our conversation. Kenny rings him up, his attention solely on me as the man pays Kenny and darts out of the store while we finish our very gay conversation—literally.
My eyebrows furrow, trying to think of how to answer him. I know that I'm making no sense right now. It's just difficult to figure out what all of this means, "Well, no. Not really. I mean, that's how I felt at first. Then when he first came out to me, I started rethinking everything. Like all the shit we used to do when we were younger, how it wasn't even normal in the first place, and then it may have taken a whole totally different meaning if he was gay through all of that. But then I thought I got over it. And then, I don't know. I started thinking about him a lot more, having dreams about him—"
"Gross, you were having wet dreams about Kyle?"
"No, dude. Just, I don't know. I think I am attracted to him. Or I was. I don't fucking know, I'm confused."
"You can't be too confused if you kissed him last night."
"Yeah… I was drunk though."
"Who cares, don't be a pussy and blame it on the booze. Cowards use that as a cop-out and you're not a coward. Did you like it?"
"What?"
He looks at me like I'm an idiot. Again. "Exactly what I fuckin' asked you. Did you enjoy it? What you remember anyway."
I think about it for a second. I know I did. I never felt like that with anyone before. I shouldn't have this much trouble admitting to it. I know the answer.
"Well?"
"Yeah…yeah, I did."
"Then what the hell are you brooding for? God, you beat yourself up about the weirdest shit. Why are you here talking to me about this, anyway? Go hash this out with Kyle. I don't give a fuck about either of your love lives. I just want you two to be happy. And you in constant denial about this is fucking lame. Man up and talk to him."
I avoid telling Kenny that he's right, because that's the last thing that I need to hear right now. Instead, I just hang around the store for a few more hours before heading home. I'll get around to talking to Kyle, eventually. He might not even forgive me for leaving this morning. He may just punch me in the face, or worse yet—move across the country again and completely ignore me for a few years.
I take the long way back home.
