Earlier that day—
In a yellow pickup truck, Chris was driving through Orono, looking for the housing offices. He had some cash to get a hotel room for a few days, but he needed to get the housing issue situated before long, and wanted to make sure everything was up on the up. He did not want to sleep in his truck, he barely had any room with all his stuff in the truck itself.
It was when he stopped at a red light that he saw a familiar figure cross the street. He walked by, in a gray cardigan and blue jeans, holding a bookbag, while a tall leggy black girl, in jeans and a long peacoat, with an afro and large silver hoop earrings walked beside him. The two were laughing and carrying on. The guy had a big brilliant smile, one he would have recognized.
Gordie.
Chris knew he would be here, and almost thought of shouting his name, but felt if he did that, Gordie would be yelling, cursing, or flipping the bird. So he decided not to, instead, dropping the cap of his hat downward to cover his face.
—-
"The fuck are you doing here?" Gordie said as he stood up
Chris smiled that smile that could have melted him into bubbles.
"I go to school here now, transferred from Bangor Community." Chris said to him, "Can you help me?"
Gordie hadn't seen him for a year and a half. The wounds were beginning to open again easily.
"I'm here til 9:30. Sorry."
"It's ok, I will come back for my books another time." Chris said. "Thank you Gordon." he said in mock happiness
"Wait."
Gordie walked around the counter and smiled. "It's good to see you again."
Chris was wearing a denim jacket, a black dress shirt and denim blue jeans. He was also more filled out than before, which was thought to be impossible. And taller too. 6'3"
Gordie also was a bit taller at 5'8", but still slim, he was probably 125 these days. Wet.
Chris looked at him and smiled. "No its not. Your smile is the one you put on when you are hiding something." And walked out.
"Motherfucker" Gordie quietly said under his breath. "He still remembers my bad habits."
–
At Stuckey's bar that night, Gordie was sitting at a booth with an African-American girl named Michelle. Michelle was tall and slim with a medium afro. She was wearing a pink peacoat and jeans, looking very pretty. Gordie still looked preppy, in madras shirt and green peacoat.
The bar was rather dark, and even though many youths were in it, having drinks and celebrating the week of finals and being over, Gordie could tell who was finished and who wasn't. The jukebox was going loud and the drunks, well there were plenty. The happy drunks were dancing around finished while the sad ones were next. Gordie had one more, it was a creative writing class. He was excited since he knew he would ace it.
Michelle was done with her finals and was relaxing before having to pack up to visit her family back home in New York City. She was in two of his classes, British Literature and Calculus. Michelle knew about Gordie instinctively and thought nothing of him, being queer that is.
Gordie couldn't really hide it anymore, but it's not like he cared that much either.
Coming up to their booth was Rodger. He was a little tipsy. Rodger was a kind of cute man, tall at 6 foot 2, kind of stocky, with a nice, clean cut beard and nice coif he kept maintained. That night, he wore a black dress shirt and slacks.
"Date gone wrong?" Michelle asked, just making small talk.
"Went to see my girl, and well, she wished me well." Rodger said with a shit eating grin. Gordie had never seen him smile up until this point.
"How adorable" Gordie said, holding his hands mockingly and flitting his lashes. Michelle tried her hardest not to spit beer all over the place.
Rodger sat next to Gordie in the big brown booth and putting his arm around him in a kind of sweet way. It was fine, Gordie thought. It would be nicer if he didn't bathe in English Leather.
"Gordie you will miss me, I promise." Rodger said with a grin as Gordie pushed him off jokingly. "Naw asshole, I wont, you always were in your room."
Michelle noticed something. She felt like she was being watched. It was creepy because she knew they were, but by who? And for who?
She looked toward the back of the bar and saw a swarthy white guy sitting back against the jukebox. He laid back on the box, wearing a "wife-beater", denim jacket, and blue jeans. His hair was cut short. Not a crew cut, but long-ish and slicked back, chewing on a toothpick. Michelle thought if she was attracted to white guys, she supposed that he might have been attractive, but to her, he was an oddity in a college bar. Like a hood at a private party.
"Do either of you know that cat?" Michelle asked, thumbing toward him.
Rodger asked "who let the trash in?"
Gordie looked and sunk down in the booth, while Rodger was holding him. He tried to make the dim lighting hide him.
Michelle looked at Gordie and then at the guy.
She knew who he was right away. Earlier that day, Michelle and Gordie walked around the park and he told her about the guy.
"That's Chris Chambers.." she whispered to herself, "I know that guy".