~ Chapter 5 ~
I was fine. It was totally fine that Benji hadn't answered me and that I was quietly and awkwardly sitting across from Danny right now. It was all good.
I'd done a pretty good job not thinking about this moment. With blind faith and naivety, I'd believed that if I didn't think about it ahead of time, I wouldn't be able to overthink it. It turned out, that just meant I was overthinking it now and had somehow lost the ability to speak. It was equally frustrating, embarrassing, and awkward.
Why couldn't I think of something to say other than another variation of "hi"? Talking to him had been so easy on Sunday. Everything had just flowed between us. Where had that gone? "Thanks for agreeing to meet up," I said in an effort to break the silence.
He traced the rim of his cup and nodded to acknowledge what I'd said. We were quiet for several minutes. "Can I say something?" He was staring intently at his coffee cup. He'd either gone to a different one on Sunday or they'd run out of their winter design in the last few days because both of our coffees were in regular cups.
"Please." I beckoned to him and prayed that he'd be able to end this uncomfortable silence.
His lips twitched as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. "I kind of thought that you wanted to get coffee with me –"
"I did. I do," I said quickly. I held up my coffee as if he'd somehow missed that that was exactly what we were doing.
"Can I finish?" I nodded. "I could have been reading into this too much, but I thought you were maybe flirting with me on Sunday."
Jesus. He was just jumping right in. I looked down at the table uncomfortably. Was he right? Had I been flirting? "I don't know," I whispered. My voice was barely audible, but it was the only thing I could think to say. The words were terrifying, and I wasn't sure if Danny could fully appreciate their truth.
"You don't know if you were flirting?" Danny questioned.
"Yeah. I, uh, guess I'm still figuring all that out."
"Oh." He kind of looked like a light bulb went off. "Sorry, man. I shouldn't have made any assumptions about you."
I tried very hard not to think about what assumptions he made and why he might've made those assumptions. "Pilar told me you were flirting. It's why I asked if we could get coffee. Was she right?"
"She wasn't wrong."
"Okay." I let out the breath I was holding. "So, you are… like that, then?"
"Like that?" he asked.
"You know. You like, uh, guys. I mean, you're, like, into… them?" Why was this so hard to say?
He snorted. "Am I into guys? Yeah. And girls. And people who are neither or who are sometimes both or who don't believe in the construct of gender at all." I must've looked confused because he clarified, "I've been attracted to a lot of different people. I just follow the signals my heart and my brain send me without letting what someone looks like get in the way."
I wasn't going to lie. I felt the teeniest satisfaction that Pilar hadn't been right, but I also hadn't considered at any point that he might not be gay but still be into guys. I should have, especially considering my own predicament and confusion.
"Okay. That's cool."
"Is it? Because you kind of look like my little brother does when I try to convince him to eat his vegetables."
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being weird. I have no clue what I'm doing. This is all new to me."
"Really? I couldn't tell," he deadpanned. He picked up a napkin and unfolded it with the utmost care before he let it fall to the table. "Can I tell you what I'm thinking right now, and you can tell me if I'm wrong?"
"Sure. I guess."
"I think that you're still figuring some stuff out. You could barely ask me if I'm into guys, so I'm guessing you're having trouble asking yourself that. The question probably seems as messy and confusing and scary as the answer does. I think that your sister told you that a kind, sweet, suave, smart, reasonably attractive guy was flirting with you, and you thought, maybe there's something there. I think that you don't know what you feel because there are too many people telling you how you're supposed to feel… eh, that's not the right way to describe that." His frown deepened. "There are too many people making assumptions about the type of people you like for you to trust your own feelings."
I was amazed. It was kind of like he'd put words to so many things I'd been feeling but hadn't been able to organize into thoughts. "How –" I started.
He didn't let me get it out. "I think that I've been out since I was twelve, and I've been with closet cases before, and it never ends well. So, I think that I would really like to be friends with the cute, new, confused kid, but I don't want to be any more than that right now. So, I'm taking it off the table until you figure out if that's something you want. How do you feel now?"
"Honestly? Kind of relieved." I was probably the worst, but I kind of felt like a balloon that had deflated in a good way.
"I figured."
"Are you psychic?"
Danny snorted. "Definitely."
"Quick. What am I thinking?"
Danny studied me for a minute. "You're thinking… wow, Danny's hot AND psychic." I couldn't help my laugh. "No. I'm not psychic. Obviously. You're not the first person to wonder if you're into guys. I remember how it feels like no one can possibly understand what you're going through, and the pressure that's put on you to fit a certain mold. I know it doesn't seem this way, but you're not alone."
"You felt that way too?" It was hard to picture because he seemed so comfortable right now. It was different than it was with Benji. For the most part, Benji had avoided talking about this kind of stuff with me outside of our letters and there had been a nervousness behind it when he had talked about it. With Danny, it felt like he was talking about something like school or the weather.
"I still do sometimes," he confirmed. He looked up at the ceiling. "No two people are queer in the same way and that can feel really isolating even if you're surrounded by queer people."
"But you said you're not alone."
"We're not," he confirmed. He sucked in his lips and raised his eyebrows as he regarded me. He nodded once. I got the feeling he made a decision about something that I hadn't been privy to. "Have you ever heard of intersectionality?"
"Does that have something to do with church?"
Danny seemed to find that very, very funny. "It could. It's basically how all of your different identities come together." He got really animated and started gesturing with his hands. "Race, ethnicity, religion, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, gender orientation, parental status, ability, immigration status, interests and hobbies. Those and about a million other things form your identity. Like, just from what we've talked about, I know that you identify as a man and you're Latinex, Catholic, a sophomore, an older brother, a basketball player, questioning, new to the area." He ticked them off on his fingers as he said them, and I was kind of amazed he remembered so much. "All of those things, and all the other pieces I don't know yet, make up your identity, right? So, there's probably not someone else that fits every tiny aspect of your life, but there are people that get parts of you. There's also the added complication that, for a lot of people, some of their identities are more important than others. With me so far?"
I kind of felt like my head was on backward, but I nodded because I heard and processed everything he said; I was just having trouble figuring out where he was going with this.
"Great," he said enthusiastically. "So, an identity that's really important to you could be shared with someone who gives almost no thought to that identity. Take being an older brother. That's an identity we share and, if I'm not mistaken, it's an important identity to both of us. Some people actually hate their younger siblings or it's just not an important part of who they are. So, it's different for everyone. And this whole label thing. It might be important for you to figure out who you like and define what that means for you, but for me, I don't like the idea of labelling myself."
"Oh. So, you don't… I mean, you're not…" I trailed off because I wasn't sure exactly what I was trying to say.
He seemed to know. Or, he at least guessed close enough to be able to answer me. "Putting a label to who I like doesn't work for me," he told me. "I get that it makes a lot of sense for a lot of people and can be really empowering, but I always feel weird when someone tries to label me. My friends call me pan sometimes, but it just doesn't feel right, if that makes sense. I guess, if I'm gonna use a word to describe myself for the rest of my life, I want that word to feel like me and not the other way around." He shook his head. "My point is that things matter to everyone differently, and it's easy to feel alone even if you're not. I know what it's like to be queer and Latinex. Someone else might know what it's like to be new to Atlanta. The guys you play basketball with can understand what it's like to be a male student athlete at your school and the pressure you might feel because of that. You are the only person who has all the pieces to your puzzle, but everyone has at least one piece that's close enough to fit if you try hard enough to find it." He grinned at me. "Or something like that. Sorry, I get really into this."
"No, it's cool." I tried to organize everything he just said. I kind of got what he was saying. "You seem… very passionate about this."
He snickered. "You could say that again. It's really helped me reframe my whole journey and show a greater compassion for the people in my life to know that, even if it's in a different way, they have their own identities that influence their actions, and they might be hiding some kind of struggle too. It can be hard because a lot of people look like assholes and, truthfully, some of them probably are, but I try not to sink to their level. It doesn't always work." He smiled at his coffee. "Some people really test me, but I try, and I think that's what matters."
Wow. Just wow. I never knew how someone's vulnerability could make them so… wow. "How'd you learn about this anyway?"
"I do a lot of outreach." He shrugged. "My parents essentially pimp me out to the church because they hope Jesus will rub off on me and make me repent for… they call it my 'great sin', so I figured I might as well get something out of it."
"Your parents aren't cool with you?"
"You could say that. We live in the same house, but I think we've spoken a handful of times since I came out to them; I feel like I'm more their tenant than their son. When we do talk, it's always about my brothers." He looked so sad. "When I was little, we were so close. I convinced myself that I mattered more to them than their faith. I realize it was a lot to ask of them. To choose me over what they believe." He sighed. "It shouldn't have blindsided me so much, but even if I'd been scared to tell them, I hadn't realized how different everything would be once they knew."
"That really sucks."
He nodded. "Yeah. It does. But I also know how good I have it compared to some people."
"What do you mean?" I would've thought his parents trying to pray away his gay was essentially worst-case scenario. It was my biggest fear with my parents.
"My little brothers are amazing. Both of them are so on board with me, it's embarrassing sometimes. My littlest brother tells everyone that I have a superpower and its loving everyone for who they are." The smile that spread across his face made my heart feel a little lighter. "I got really lucky in the brother department, and I have my crew at school. They don't make it okay that my parents are the way they are, but they help. So many of them get it and they're such a big part of the reason that I feel like I don't need my parents' validation to feel okay about myself. I have a job that gave me the opportunity to find my purpose. The church pays for me to take a class at the community college, and I get to take what I learn and put it into practice with the programs I run for the kids around here. I got to grow up in this country and have the chance to be myself in a way that I might not have been able to do if my parents hadn't decided to move here. Do I wish my parents could accept me? Yes, absolutely, but I try to focus on the good instead of the bad." He might be the most irritatingly well-rounded human being on the planet. "How will your parents take it?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think that they'll eventually be okay with it, but something always happens that makes me wonder if I just need them to be okay with it." I took a sip of my coffee. It was in that stage where it was only just warm. It surprised me, but it meant that we'd been here longer than I thought. I didn't look at my watch because I wanted to pretend we had more time before I had to go to work.
"Like what?"
"Like my dad will say someone might be a little 'flojito' or he'll make a joke about someone being that way because he thinks it's so ridiculous. Why would anyone choose to be that way?" I sounded bitter, but I couldn't help it. It was like years of listening to him were bubbling out of me right now. I loved my parents so, so much, but part of me was also scared of them because of this. "My mom will roll her eyes when she thinks someone might be like that. It's little things, but…"
"But they add up?" I nodded and glanced up at him before I looked back at the table. He was staring at me with an intensity that made me inexplicably nervous. "I know it sucks, but it's normal to feel this way. I don't know anyone who hasn't struggled with something like this. Not everyone from their parents, but it's the world we live in. Everyone's straight until they say otherwise, so until someone knows about you, it's safe for them to joke and say what they really think about this kind of stuff. Or, if you're really lucky, your parents will keep doing it once you're out like mine do. For me, it's the 'why do they need to do that in public' comments. You don't see it too often around here, but every now and then my parents would spot two women holding hands or would see someone they thought should be dressed like a guy who was dressed like a woman or, heaven forbid, we pass a Pride flag in a window and… it's like they can't help themselves. My parents can't just let it go; they need to make sure that everyone around us knows what they think. My parents don't speak much English, so we're lucky that most people didn't know what they are saying, but I always know. My little brothers know too. Sometimes they pick that fight. Especially Sammy. He's my nine-year-old brother. He can get so mad at them, but it always ends with him getting in trouble, so I'm trying to work with him on that. Usually, it's easier to just ignore them."
"How did you come out then?"
"My mom got pregnant, and I was stuck watching my brother all the time because she had a really rough time with it. She was put on bed rest early, and it fell on me to watch Sammy. I used to take him to the playground around the corner from our house so he could play with the other five-year olds. One day, he started calling everything gay. He just kept saying it on repeat; he thought it was hilarious. The slide was gay; the wood chips were gay; the tree was gay; I was gay; he was gay. Gay, gay, gay. Over and over again." Danny scrunched up his forehead. It made this tiny scar above his eyebrow a soft pink contrast with his skin. I hadn't noticed it before. "He couldn't have known what it meant, but I lost it on him because he was too little to be saying things like that. He was going through a phase where he was repeating whatever he heard. I still don't know where he picked it up. It was summer and none of the other kids on the playground were shouting it. Not at first, at least. A bunch of them eventually picked it up." He rubbed his eyes. "I never should have told him, but I just reached my breaking point. I picked him up and pulled him away from the playground. He was in full meltdown mode, and honestly, I was kind of in meltdown mode too. I think it surprised him enough that he calmed down a little bit when I told him that when he said things like that, he was talking about me. When I got home with him, I came out to my parents because I knew he wasn't going to be able to keep it from them. Five-year-olds cannot be trusted."
"How'd he take it?"
"About as well as a five-year-old can when his brother was hysterical. We cried together on the curb for a long time and then we talked even longer. He had a lot of questions, and I answered everything honestly. I told him I could have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a partner. We never stopped talking about this, so when I dated someone who was gender fluid, he knew and it was something we talked a lot about because he didn't want to make them uncomfortable."
"Did he get it?"
"Kids aren't stupid." I thought he sounded a little defensive. "We treat little kids like they can only handle so much, but he took it like a champ and this whole thing turned into something we talk about all the time. He knows that he can ask questions instead of making assumptions. I don't know if he would be this great if we hadn't talked about it when he was so young. Or maybe that's what I tell myself so that I don't feel bad about how messy that whole thing turned out."
My thoughts were on Adrian. If he knew about me, would he take it as well as Danny's brother? "My little brother… I don't know how he'll feel about it. He's the sweetest little kid, but whatever he knows about this stuff, he knows from our parents or church."
"It does make it tough," he agreed. "What about your sister?"
"I think she'll be okay with it. She told me to be nice to you." He snorted. "I know. I think she's going to be blindsided, but I don't think she'll have a problem with it." I hoped she wouldn't.
"Where are you at with all this?" he asked curiously. "You've been talking about this like… like you're not questioning and like you already know."
"Have I?" I felt like my chest instantly tightened.
"Okay," he said slowly. "It's not a bad thing. I'm just trying to get a read on you. If you don't know, you don't know."
"I don't know." I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince.
He nodded once before he said, "so, basketball…"
I jumped on the chance to change the subject. Danny gave me a lot to think about, and I felt like I needed time to figure out how everything he told me fit into how I felt.
I couldn't believe how fast time moved when we were together. He was really easy to talk to, and I felt so comfortable with him. I thought it was because he took even the potential of anything romantic happening off the table, but it meant that I got to just be friends with him and talk to him without worrying about if I was coming across as too flirty. Having someone know that I might not be straight was terrifying, but it also made me feel like I could breathe around him.
When I had to leave or else I would be late for work, Danny gave me an awkward one-armed hug. "See you Sunday?" he confirmed.
I honestly forgot that, after all of this, I was still going to see him every week at church. At least it wasn't like I'd never talk to him again. "Yeah," I agreed.
The bus was running late, so I was nearly twenty minutes late for work. Truthfully, I would've been late regardless because time had seemed to move differently with Danny, but if the bus had cooperated, I wouldn't have been this late. Benji was in a crummy mood; I could tell from his tense smile and curt, "hello" when I finally got there. I assumed it was because I was late and immediately started on the most excessive apology. I avoided telling him where I'd been because I was nervous he'd somehow connect those dots, but I told him that I'd had to do something for school and then I waited for the bus and then the bus was running late.
I sometimes added in unnecessary detail when I wasn't being fully honest, so I was in the middle of a long story about a lady I'd seen on the bus who literally had a crate that was almost overflowing with oranges. Every time the bus turned or hit a bump, a few oranges fell out and she frantically tried to rescue them. It was a true story, but she'd gotten off the stop after I'd gotten on, so she definitely hadn't been a significant part of my commute.
He let me go on about it for several minutes before he interrupted me with, "is there a reason you're telling me about this lady and her oranges?"
"I, uh, guess I just wanted you to know I didn't try to be late and piss you off." I looked everywhere but at Benji. "Sorry."
Benji was quiet for nearly a minute. "I'm not mad at you. You know that, right?"
"You look mad."
He looked down at the rag in his hands. "Derek and I got into a fight."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He started wrapping the rag around his hands. "No. No, I really don't."
"Okay," I said simply.
"Go grab your apron. We got coffee to make."
I looked around Brasstown; there were a few people spread out at the tables and a nonexistent line. I wasn't sure who we had to make coffee for, but I decided to let it go. I got back just in time to see Benji pulling his arm away from the espresso machine. A folded note was on top. There was absolutely no way I could grab it tonight. I was going to need to wait until tomorrow morning. Even if he left me alone up here, there weren't enough people, and it would be too obvious. This was the one thing that sucked about our arrangement. "Go figure," I muttered. I realized a little too late that I said it out loud.
"Huh?" Benji asked.
"Huh?" I hoped that by playing dumb, he'd drop it.
"What di –"
"What?" I interrupted.
I hoped that I'd confuse him into dropping it, and it only took two more rounds of "huh" and "what" before he snickered and said, "okay, weirdo." Something about the way he said it, made me feel warm and fuzzy.
"What are you working on?"
He quickly closed his book. "Just song lyrics. Had to do something to pass the time because someone abandoned me with my boredom."
"Abandoned you with your boredom?" I questioned. I couldn't help my laugh. "Say I'd been on time. What would we be doing right now?"
He eyed me for a moment. "I thought I was gonna be able to come up with something on the spot." He shook his head. "I got kind of used to working by myself," he admitted. "I don't have a lot of ideas."
"My mom loves to socialize after church or at the grocery store or anywhere, really. Pilar and I got pretty good at coming up with small games because we were so bored."
"Like what?" he asked curiously.
"Depended on where we were. If we were food shopping, we used to play this game called Recipes where we'd find something with a recipe on the back and from the picture, we had to guess what went into it. Adrian was surprisingly good at it. At church, we used to play Would You Rather a lot," I explained. "Or Sticks and Stones."
"Sticks and Stones?" he questioned.
I chuckled. "Yeah. It's really not as exciting as it sounds. It was a lot like rock paper scissors, except…"
"It was only a stick and a stone?" he guessed.
"Yeah, but you did it with both of your hands. So you could do two sticks, which beats one stick and one stone, one stick and one stone which beats two stones, or two stones which beats two sticks. Whoever lost had to answer the burning question."
"What was the burning question?"
"Whatever we wanted it to be."
"Why not just play rock paper scissors and do that?" he wondered.
I grinned. "It was actually Adrian's idea. He thought it was cooler than rock paper scissors, and I think he was tired of hearing that sticks and stones could break his bones." I couldn't help my eye roll. "As if anyone actually believes that."
"You don't?" Benji asked surprised.
I hesitated. "I think that it takes the responsibility off of bullies and puts it on their victims. Of course, it's easier to say that kids like Adrian shouldn't let mean kids get to them, but it used to hurt Adrian so much. I guess I just feel like he had a right to be upset when he was called names and it didn't seem like anyone gave much thought to talking to the other kids about not calling him names."
"Hmmm." Benji looked thoughtful. Whatever was going through his head stayed there. "I say we play sticks or stones. See if it is better than rock paper scissors."
"We don't have to," I said self-consciously.
"I want to," he insisted. "Besides, it's gotta be better than standing around and waiting for someone to order coffee." I wasn't totally sure that was true because I liked talking to Benji, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
Benji had a bit of a learning curve with figuring out the sticks and stones piece. He kept doing scissors instead of sticks and then tried to convince me that two sticks beat two stones as if I hadn't been playing the game for years. After a few practice rounds, he had it down enough that we could play for real.
Benji, surprisingly, won the first round. You would have thought he qualified for the Olympics by how excited he was. It took him a while to come up with a question, and he set the tone for what would come with, "what do you miss the most about Texas?"
I frowned as I considered his question. Of course, I missed a few things. I missed my teammates, my friends, our old apartment that had been my home my whole life, but there wasn't anything that stood out as something I missed the most. "I don't know," I admitted. "I think everything kind of feels like I miss it the same, you know. Like, I miss everything about Texas a little bit." Benji frowned. "What?"
"Nothing. I just can't imagine moving away from the place I grew up and being as okay as you are. It's a good thing. I think I'm a little jealous to be honest."
"You shouldn't be. I didn't put down roots in Texas. I don't think I realized that until I moved here, but it's true. In the past week, I've put down more roots here than I ever did in Texas. If there's anything I miss, it's that I was too afraid to be real there."
"Why do you think that is?"
"That's more than one question."
"Okay." The frown didn't leave his face until he shook his head. "Ready to go?"
We both put up sticks the next time. "Oof. Builders Block."
"What?" he demanded.
"Yeah. If we got the same thing, we always had to do a special builders block game."
"Meaning?"
"It was always a challenge. Say the alphabet backward, list as many fruits as we could, count multiples of a number."
"The first person to mess up or to complete the challenge got to issue the burning question."
Benji snickered. "This is such a weird game. I love it."
"Just wait until we both do one stick and one stone with opposite hands," I told him. "We go into a mirror mirror round."
"I sincerely hope that happens soon. What do you wanna do for the challenge?"
"You're the newbie. You get to pick." I thought it was pretty nice of me. In Texas, whoever hadn't competed got to pick it.
"We could do songs alphabetically?" His eyes lit up. "First person to 'Z' wins?"
I'd barely agreed before he was off. Honestly, I was kind of awestruck by how quickly he was able to do it. He didn't even falter when he got to the hard letters. Around when he was at 'N' before I even got out 'A', I fully gave up and just listened to the songs he listed. He named the artist and everything.
When he finished, he took a bow. "Wow," I conceded. "Pretty impressive."
He shrugged. "Now I get to ask you the burning question?" he confirmed. I nodded. I was a little nervous he was going to go back to that question about Texas, but he must've forgotten about it. "What's your favorite memory with your siblings?"
"Huh."
"What? Can't think of one of those either?"
"More like there's so many, I'm trying to figure out which one to go with." How was I supposed to pick one when there were thousands? Benji waited patiently. "This one's just Adrian, but it's definitely one of my favorites. At Graham, every year all of the freshman English classes go to the elementary school to read to the little kids there. Last year, I volunteered to be in Adrian's classroom because I thought that would be a nice surprise for him. I specifically picked one of his favorite books, and I was so excited for it. Then, I walked in, and our parents were there. It turned out that all the first graders had been learning about role models and they had to write about a role model in their life. Then all the teachers picked the best essay out of all of them. Adrian's won, so he got to read it in front of his class."
"Tell me he wrote about you." Benji's eyes were big, and he had an impossibly small smile on his face. I wasn't even sure if he was smiling with his lips, but he was definitely smiling with his eyes.
"He did." I couldn't help my smile. "They worked with us to make sure I could be there when he got to read it out loud."
"What did he say?"
"I don't really remember many details. He ended it by saying that he hoped he'd grow up to be like me." I rubbed the back of my neck. "It was way more than I deserved, but I was so proud of him for how great he did with it."
"He sounds really sweet."
"He is. I got really lucky in the sibling department. Pilar too. She's awesome." I felt that familiar sense of nostalgia for how things used to be between us.
"What's your favorite memory with her?"
"Always cheating with the double questions," I teased.
"Guess I'll just have to wait until I win the next round." He got a cheeky grin on his face. I couldn't help my laugh. He held up both of his fists. "Ready to lose?"
It was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous, and I hadn't ruled out that this was just another bizarre dream. Except, my dreams with Benji had this almost bubbly quality to them and everything that was happening right now felt so real. Benji did technically win the next round, but he thought I won, and I didn't correct him because I wanted to stop answering questions and because I was eager to turn the tables.
Yet, I couldn't think of a single question when I had my shot. I glared at the counter for a moment as if it was the reason my mind was blank and, eventually, I landed on the only question I could think of. "What's your most embarrassing memory?"
"Oh, hell no. What's the penalty?" Benji asked.
"There's no penalty. You just answer the question or you don't."
He groaned. "Now, I feel guilty. I don't want to gyp you of your question."
"Here's a wild thought. You could answer it. I'd love to know what's making you act like this."
"Like what?" He was looking up at the ceiling as if that didn't make this even more obvious.
"Oh, come on. You're usually so chill and calm, and right now, you're all flustered."
He laughed. "Yeah. It's, uh, pretty bad. I think that's how it works, right? The older you are when you have your most embarrassing moment, the worse it is."
"It was recent," I realized. He nodded. "Now, I've gotta hear it. I feel like I don't know anything about you from before I moved here."
"There's not much to tell."
"Apparently, there is." A weird look settled on his face. "What?"
"I think it'll make you really uncomfortable."
"Why?"
"Uh… it's a thing that happened with Derek," he admitted.
"Oh, well, if it's about Derek, I definitely don't want to know," I teased. Benji looked torn. "Come on, it's not like it's a weird sex thing." Benji blushed so ferociously. I never in a million years would've joked about it if I actually thought that's what it was, and I instantly felt self-conscious. "Oh."
"Yeah," he murmured.
It was like the awkwardness cloaked us and got tighter and tighter and tighter. "It's cool, you know. You can talk about it. I won't make it weird… well, I probably will." Benji snickered.
"You sure you want to hear this?"
Yes. No. I had no clue whatsoever. Did I want to know? Part of me thought the less I knew about Benji's sex life, the better, but part of me was also morbidly curious. I'd never, not once, heard someone talk about gay sex as if it wasn't a joke. Even if I was pretty sure I was digging myself into a huge hole and I didn't think I wanted to know about this, I felt like I needed to hear him talk about it. Before I could fully make up my mind, the word, "yes" escaped me.
"Okay. We'll give this a shot." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "So, I started dating Derek in April. We used to fight a lot because I was in the closet and that was really hard for him. I was always antsy when we were out together and even being with him freaked me out because until I started dating him, I was more into the casual hookup, and it was weird to sleep with someone I had feelings for."
"Of course," I deadpanned. "Feelings. Gross."
He laughed. "Yeah, I know. I was lucky, but I didn't realize that. Then, we went through a big rough patch over the summer. I went through a rough patch where I really kind of fell apart. When I started pulling myself back together, I wanted to do something to show him I was serious about us. Before the school year started, I… climbed in through his window. His bedroom was on the second floor of his townhouse, but it was easy to get in because he had a balcony, and he always left his window open so I could get in. I thought it was going to be this really romantic moment. He was gonna walk in and I was gonna be there with just my guitar and then… you know."
"When you say just your guitar."
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Just my guitar. I knew Derek wasn't home, and his dad was working. His parents aren't together, so I thought it was just me."
"You thought?"
Benji covered his face with his hand. "His grandma was visiting."
"No."
"Yeah." He groaned. "She heard me come in and came to check it out. She started hitting me with her purse, so I just booked it. The problem was, I wasn't exactly dressed appropriately to get back to my house, so I ended up trying to make myself as small as possible in the corner outside of his door until he got home and could grab my clothes." He shuddered. "I sincerely hope that nothing will ever top that."
"Oh my God. That is the most amazing embarrassing moment I've ever heard. When I asked, I thought you were gonna tell me about a time you threw up in front of Derek or something. This was so much better."
"I'm glad you're getting pleasure out of my pain."
"Oh, yeah." My laughter was partially from how nervous I was, but it was mostly because I felt so intensely flustered thinking about Benji like that and laughing was easier than trying to sort out my confusing emotions. I didn't know if he was laughing at me or at himself, but Benji joined in my laughter.
We were still bursting into spontaneous fits when our first customer of the night came in. "I was gonna ask you if you were okay, but it looks like you're doing better," she said. She looked vaguely familiar.
I had no idea what that meant, but Benji did. "Yeah. I'm okay. Victor, this is my best friend, Lucy. Luce, this is Victor."
"Oh. This is Victor." She kind of looked at me like I was a chew toy. Benji shook his head rapidly, and I didn't need to stretch to figure it out. She read about me on creeksecrets. Almost everyone that got that look when they met me had already heard of me because of Lake's stupid winter carnival post.
"It's nice to meet you."
"You too. Could I borrow Benji for just a minute?"
"Of course. I think I can hold down the fort."
"He is cute," Lucy whispered when he joined her. He let out a dramatic sigh before they were out of earshot. What Lucy had said made me feel like my brain was actually made of cloud. Did… did Benji think I was cute? I felt nauseated, but in a weirdly pleasant way. They never left Brasstown and only talked for a minute before they came back.
Benji didn't suggest that we keep playing sticks and stones, and I was kind of relieved. It had felt so natural to play it with Benji, but I didn't know Lucy. Not really.
Instead, we passed the time by just talking. Mostly, they talked, and I watched them go back and forth. Lucy and Benji naturally bounced off of each other, and it was obvious that they'd been friends for a really long time. They kept referencing stuff that I hadn't been here for, but Benji made a point of explaining as much of it as he could, so I usually got enough backstory to keep up.
Lucy stayed until Benji kicked her out so we could clean up. "She seems nice," I told him.
"Yeah. I like having her around. She came here because she was worried about me. I was pretty messed up last night."
"Why?"
He sighed. "Derek and I don't always see eye to eye on things. He's great, but he doesn't get why… why I struggled so much before I came out. He thinks that I made everything dramatic and unnecessary. Maybe he's right, but it's one of the things we haven't been able to let go. It's the only thing we ever fight about. We have small arguments every now and then, but we can talk about them. This, though? Sometimes…" He closed his eyes. "Sometimes I'm not sure it's something we can work through. Sorry. I shouldn't talk about this."
"Benji," I said softly. I briefly let my hand cover his; just long enough to squeeze it. I expected it to feel weird, but Benji was so noticeably upset, I felt like my confusion took a break. This was genuinely just a friendly gesture; it felt nice. "It's okay. I think it's okay for you to feel that way."
He nodded. "I don't want to lose him."
"No one said you did." I tried to sound calming, but I wasn't sure it was working. "Look, sometimes when you love someone, there are things about them that you don't like. I know it's not the same thing, but there are things about my mom that can drive me nuts. At the end of the day, I love her, so I choose to pick my battles and let things go. Maybe that's what you need to do."
"I'm not the one picking the battle," he snapped.
"Oh." I frowned. "Derek's picking the fight?"
He nodded. "Usually, yeah. I definitely fight back, don't get me wrong, but it's hard not to. When it's coming from him, it hits different."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too. I didn't think I could get out of my bad mood, but you really helped. Thanks."
"I didn't do anything."
"I know you think that." He said it so softly; I wasn't sure if I'd misheard him. He didn't linger on it. "We should clean up."
Clean up only took a few minutes because we'd made maybe a dozen cups of coffee all night.
"See you tomorrow?" Benji confirmed after he locked the door.
"Tomorrow," I agreed. I stayed where I was while he walked away. I felt like I'd spent the last several hours in some weird alternate universe and now that the night was over, everything we'd done and talked about hit me. I didn't know where to begin to figure out how I felt about all of this.
I ended up walking home instead of waiting for the bus. My mom would have killed me if she knew, but I needed the time to think. So much had happened today. Coffee with Danny had been so intense and my night with Benji had been equally intense in a different way.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted and had accepted that I needed time before I'd be able to make sense of anything that had happened today.
I half-assed my homework before I went to sleep. My dreams that night were a medley of confusing. Benji and I playing sticks and stone; Adrian pointing at me and saying, "gay" over and over again; my parents shunning me; Benji in my room with nothing but a guitar; Danny in my room with nothing but a guitar. Like I said. Confusing.
When Felix and I left for school the next morning, I realized I was going to have to earmark part of my paycheck for morning coffee because he was the one to suggest it. He had thick bags under his eyes. He tried to tell me he'd been up late doing homework, but he wouldn't meet my eye when he said it. For someone who was weirdly comfortable with eye contact, it was strange to see him intentionally avoid it. "What's really going on?" I asked him when we were halfway to Brasstown.
He yawned. "I was doing homework," he protested. I raised my eyebrows at him. "And my mom may have decided to dabble with some experimental smoothies last night."
"Smoothies?" I asked uncertainly.
"Some of them were pretty good. There was this one she put peanut butter and cocoa in. Delicious."
"Why smoothies?"
He shrugged. "Not sure. But, you know, there have been all these studies about the importance of breakfast and how it sets you up for success and makes your brain function better. Maybe she just wanted some new breakfast options."
I was 99% sure he wasn't being honest, but I let it go. If he didn't want me to know, I needed to respect that.
Our excursion to Brasstown gave me the chance to grab Benji's note, and I tucked it as far down into my backpack as it would go. I wasn't thrilled about bringing it to school, but I didn't like the idea of it sitting there all day. I knew no one would know I was the person being written to, but it still freaked me out that anyone could see it.
The day seemed to crawl by. I was on edge that someone would somehow figure out about the note. I knew it was unrealistic, but I was terrified my bag would spontaneously be searched. It was a relief when I got home after school. I went right to my room after claiming that I needed to get ready for work.
I did need to get ready for work but that just meant I needed to change my t-shirt, so I had time to spare. I eagerly unfolded his note.
Dear A,
First off, there is NOTHING to fix. Yes, figuring out who you are is terrifying, but there's nothing wrong with being different. It's okay to ask yourself these questions. Be kind to yourself and be patient as you figure this out.
Secondly, I want to hear all about this guy! Is he cute? I'm not sure when you're meeting with him but try not to worry about it too much. Maybe it is a date, and maybe it isn't. Just try to enjoy yourself. Going on a date with a guy shouldn't have to be a bigger deal than if you were going on a date with a girl. Don't put pressure on yourself or else it's going to get awkward. Breathe and focus on enjoying yourself rather than figuring out what this date means to you. It's just coffee.
This is coming to you with the benefit of hindsight. I still remember the first time I went out with a boy. My boyfriend and I went out to this cheesy Italian restaurant where we got the most delicious meatballs I'd ever had. I was terrified. It was before I was out, and I couldn't stop thinking about how everyone could see us together. I was so sure people knew what we were doing even though we probably looked like we were just casually grabbing dinner. I made it so awkward because it was the first time I wanted a date to go well.
I thought I'd ruined everything, but at the end of the night, he asked me for a second date. I was just confused. Everything about the night had been a disaster. I'd been running late because I couldn't figure out what to wear, I knocked over the water pitcher and the breadbasket and our silverware. If anything could get knocked over, trust me, I got it. I nearly took out our waiter when we both reached for the menu I dropped, and I was flustered and uncomfortable all night. I asked him why he wanted to go out with me again, and I'll never forget what he said to me. He said he would have been more worried if we'd had the perfect first date. If you like someone, first dates should be at least a little weird and uncomfortable or else it probably didn't mean that much to you in the first place… or you're just crazy comfortable in situations like that. It's one of the two.
You have an entire future of first dates ahead of you. Some of them will be good; some of them will be bad; most of them will be awkward. Let yourself enjoy all of them. Don't lose yourself trying to figure out questions that you're not ready to find the answer to. When you're ready, you'll know, but you can't rush these things.
The same thing goes for this girl you're interested in. It's okay to go on a date with her and enjoy spending time with her. You're in high school. A date isn't a marriage proposal. My mom always tells me that this is supposed to be the time that everyone figures out who they are and who they like. Just be careful; you don't want to hurt her in the process of figuring out who you are. I think you should consider being upfront with her. Tell her that you don't know who you like. If she really is the right girl for you, she'll understand and she'll be patient while you figure this out.
I hope you're okay with this, but I talked to one of my friends about you – he's really cool, and he won't tell anyone about you. I promise. I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but I think I would have wanted to know if I was you. I didn't tell him everything, but I have no idea what it's like to have religious parents. He was able to answer some of my questions about the church so I could get this a little more.
I understand why religion kind of screws with this whole process. It seems pretty intense to be surrounded by people that would hate you without really knowing you. I think the best thing you can do for yourself is figure out where you want to fit in with religion. If it's important to you, you're probably not going to want to give it up, so maybe it's about figuring out how you want to be religious before you figure out who you are. Maybe that will help.
There's an episcopal church around the corner from where I live, so I stopped in, and I… talked to a priest. Yeah, it was a weird moment for me, but I pretended like I was trying to figure out my own faith. It was surprisingly helpful. I thought he was going to do an exorcism when I told him I was gay, but he told me that his church welcomes everyone and that he believed God loved that there was love in my life. Maybe he was right because no one tried to smite me. I don't know if Catholics are different than Episcopals, but it was a really interesting conversation.
The priest suggested that I reflect on who I am and what is important to me. He gave me a whole list of questions that I could ask myself. There were a few that stood out to me. Do you believe in God? Do you think you're supposed to believe in God? Do you agree with the things the church teaches? Do you pray? Do you find yourself often frustrated or unhappy with your life?
I actually asked myself those questions, and I'm definitely not religious, but I found it helpful all the same.
I know that doesn't help with the parents thing, but I hope it's a start. All I can say about your parents is only you can figure out if you will continue to be safe with them if they know this about you. I'm not just talking about whether you'll still have a place to live. You might figure out whether you want God to be part of your life but that doesn't mean your parents will agree or see things the same way.
I know, for me, that's something I still struggle with. I know I'm really lucky, but when things are different, it's hard to see it that way. Just remember, if your parents don't take this well, I'm here for you. No matter what. And I promise not to "surround you by nuts". Sorry, I couldn't resist. To be totally honest, I didn't realize how many innuendos were in my metaphor until I read you writing about it, so thanks for that laugh.
On a totally unrelated note, don't take this the wrong way, but I'd really like to get to know you outside of all of this stuff. I don't love being defined as gay, and I'd really like to be more than that with you. I don't want us to not talk about this, but I don't want it to be the only thing, if that makes sense.
And… I'd also like to run something by you. My band and I are figuring out what we're gonna play at Battle of the Bands next week. We always do an original for our first song, but we're kind of arguing over what cover we should do if we get an encore. We're not putting all of our eggs in that basket, but we did win the last two we competed in, so we're hopeful.
My boyfriend thinks we should do Ring of Fire because, you know, amazing and we already have an arrangement for it – it's one of the first songs I ever played around with.
I was thinking it might be nice to try out something new. For an encore, it's really safe to try something we haven't done before and see how everyone takes it. What do you think? Any suggestions?
Sincerely,
Benji
I read the note over and over and over and over again. Benji talked to a priest. More than that, he talked to a priest for me. Just so he could understand. I tried to picture Benji sitting down with a priest, but I couldn't do it. The image seemed so impossible, and I felt flattered that he'd done that for me. I wondered when he went. Had he gone after our talk on Monday?
Everything about this note was perfection. It made me laugh every time I thought about the fact that Benji didn't know enough about church to know they were Episcopalians, but he still went out of his comfort zone to have a full conversation with a priest.
It only confirmed what I'd been learning from the moment I met Benji in the hallway my first day of school – he was awesome.
I didn't write back to him right away. I really did need to do my homework because I'd only gotten a tiny bit done at work – it wasn't my fault; Benji was distracting. I also needed to figure out how to explain everything that had happened with Danny. I still wasn't sure how to feel about all of that.
Benji had been starring in my dreams ever since I met him, but I was unprepared for the bizarre turn of Benji and I attending church in my dreams last night. We simply sat in a pew all the way in the back of the church I used to go to in Texas and talked. I didn't remember what we talked about when I woke up, but I remembered feeling like maybe I didn't have to choose between myself and the church.
When I woke up, that certainty was replaced by confusion. Maybe Benji was right. Maybe this was something I needed to figure out before I could figure myself out.
I hoped not.