Crosscurrents
By: Adam Phillips
(© 2005-2013 by the author)
This qualifies as tomorrow, I thought, as I climbed in through the window.
It was too dark to see,
but I knew where I was going, and I needed to get there fast so that the alarm
wouldn’t go off. Heading in the direction of the control on the wall, I made it
halfway...
...and banged my knee hard into the corner of Ms. Price's coffee table.
I clamped my eyes shut and bit down hard on my lip so I wouldn't moan or gasp or
swear. Sitting down on the floor to give myself recovery time, I took a few deep
breaths. Then it hit me: The alarm system's not gonna be on when there are
people in the house sleeping. Moron.
I felt like a burglar, and that's what had spawned my thinking about the alarm.
Now that I didn't have to worry about it, thoughts of Matt pushed their way to
the forefront, pulling a sigh out of me. Yeah, it qualified as tomorrow. Not by
much; this little quest had started at 3 am. But that counted. And I couldn't
wait any longer. I rubbed my knee and waited for the pain to pass so I could get
on with it.
* * * * * * *
Six hours earlier I'd told myself I'd show Matt "tomorrow" that I believed him. The fight we'd had at the pool wouldn't stay quiet in the background after I got home. Stung from our encounter, I'd tried to settle myself down: I flipped through fifty or so TV channels; I talked to my brother Danny, who was also home from college for the summer; I read a dozen pages of a novel I'd started; I called up Angie, avoiding any talk of Matt. All this in an effort to distract myself.
None of it worked. The
words I'd said to him kept coming back to me, and I couldn't stop thinking about
the look on his face, the angry sound of his voice.
I went to bed early, determined to shut my mind off. I figured I'd sleep on it
and work things out with him when the sun came up. But sleep never came. I lay
in bed staring at the ceiling, hearing his voice, seeing his eyes. It was clear
I'd be awake all night, pestering myself with the details of our fight. After
several hours, I said "fuck it" and got up, scowling. No way I was lying in bed
all night obsessing on my misstep with Matt. Not when I could do something about
it.
I shucked off my boxers and made my way in the dark to the bathroom.
Running some warm water in the sink, I went to the cabinet. There, at an
unobtrusive spot behind the towels, I found what I needed, grabbed it, and Iaid
it out next to the sink; it was the stuff I used whenever I needed to clean
myself out on the inside. Hey, a Scout is always prepared, right? I laughed at
the slogan as I set about to get the business done. I had a mission ahead of me,
and I needed to be ready on all fronts.
Or rears.
Finishing up with that unpleasantness, I washed and dried my paraphernalia and
returned it to its hiding place. A quick shower got me clean enough to eat. I
toweled off and went back to my room.
After I threw on some
clothes, I took a minute to review my plan. As I made my way downstairs, my head
was replaying all the dumb things I'd said to Matt at the pool; my heart was
replaying all the emptiness I'd carried around during the two years we'd been
apart.
I wasn’t fucking this up again.
* * * * * * *
Matt's house had a kitchen window facing his back yard, and I knew it was always unlatched. When I climbed through it, I was prepared to run--or so I thought--to disarm the alarm. That would be no sweat; the wall control was a straight shot from the kitchen. As far as I was concerned, the hard part would be making my way to his room once I'd shut off the alarm. I'd have to make a sharp left turn from the front entrance to get to the stairs, stepping lightly so I wouldn't bump into anything and make noise.
The darkness complicated
things; still, I had the place pretty much memorized. But Matt's mom had
obviously rearranged the furniture since I was last over. End result: I was on
the floor, stifling a howl of rage over the pain in my knee. I gave it a final
sympathetic rub and stood up. It was pointless to try to see, so I shut my eyes
and steered myself by memory, feel, and sound. The slow pace of my progress was
driving me batshit, and my impatience flared as I plodded forward.
On top of that, I was having misgivings. What if he was still pissed? What if
he'd finally gotten tired of my bullshit over all this and just wanted to be
done with me?
I berated myself for that
thought, but another one took its place: What if I startled him when I snuck
into his room? Would he yell out? I couldn't take a chance on waking his mom.
She'd be scared to death, for one thing; I pictured her storming into his room
with her handgun. And even if I didn't get shot, I'd still have to explain
myself. She didn't know about us, and she wouldn't know why I was there; I
wanted to keep it that way for now.
I realized I was being ridiculous. Typical, but ridiculous. Whether or not he
was still pissed would take care of itself. I had no control over that, and
anyway, he'd already told me what he needed from me, what he expected
from me. If I didn't think I could bring it, I wouldn't have come here. I just
needed to make sure I got to his room without waking anyone up, and that meant
going slow, and I didn't do slow. Not well, anyway.
I thought about the hare and tortoise, ignoring the voice telling me that the
tortoise was a fucking loser. After all, if the hare had been taking care of his
business, it would have been a pitiful no-contest.
Shut up, Andy. Slow and steady wins the race. And keeps Ms. Price from
shooting your balls off.
It occurred to me that she'd have two alternate reasons to de-ball me: one if
she didn't recognize me, and one if she did.
* * * * * * *
The fifth stair creaked
loudly. So did the fourteenth. I waited both times, frozen, but nobody stirred,
so after a while I continued on up the stairs.
When I got to his door, I eased off my flip-flops and picked them up. Turning
the handle, I stuck my head in.
The clock on his nightstand glowed 3:30. The security light from the yard
silhouetted his sleeping form. He was on his side, the sheet thrown aside, his
back facing me, naked but for a pair of boxer briefs, his breaths slow and deep.
I inched myself in, shut the door behind me, and fixed my eyes on him.
My gaze zeroed in on his bare thighs. I winced at the twinge in my gut. Dammit,
how could the mere sight of him do this to me after all these years?
It struck me that I didn't care. Or, more accurately, that I didn't mind.
I stood there for a few minutes, watching his sleeping form. What had I been
thinking when we fought at the pool? All that talk about letting him go so he
could have Julie...not a chance. Walk away from him? From this? Who the
hell was I kidding? I wasn't that noble.
I dropped my flip-flops to the floor, and pulling my t-shirt over my head, I
tossed it aside and moved toward him.
He moaned in his sleep and rolled to face me. I froze again. His eyes opened
briefly; he didn't seem to wake, though.
I sat down in his desk chair for a while, watching him. Eventually he rolled
back to the other side. Taking that as my cue, I pushed my shorts to my ankles
and stepped out of them.
* * * * * * *
God, he's so warm,
I thought, as I eased myself into bed beside him. The air-conditioning had left
a chill in the room, so the heat radiating off him felt good on my naked torso.
I leaned into him and gave him a feather-light kiss on the back. The scent of
him--so familiar, so comforting, so intoxicating--turned my dick to steel. I
wasn't there to fuck him, though; I needed to feel his skin against mine and
mine against his.
I reached down to his waist and began easing his shorts off him. It wasn't the
smoothest of procedures; the waistband snagged on his cock, which, to my
surprise, was hard. I was tempted to take his dick in my hand, but sex wasn't my
business here, so I left that temptation aside. Pushing his shorts past his cock
and down his legs, I finally got him naked. I put the shorts to my face and
breathed in. Laundry detergent, and sweat, and musk, and Matt--all of
him--came through. I moaned at the jolt that shot through my body. Pervert,
my Inner Prude sneered, but I didn't care; nobody was watching.
I rubbed his briefs against my chest and sighed. Just then, he spoke in his sleep: "It's the same thing."
I wondered what kind of dreamscape he was navigating.
* * * * * * *
I pulled in close to him
until his back was against my chest and my dick was nestled up against the crack
of his ass. With my arm around him, I kissed his neck, closing my eyes.
A minute passed. He began to roll onto his back; I moved out of his way.
His eyes opened slowly. Turning his head my way, he took me in for the first
time. There was no surprise reaction, no startle. Just a quiet stare as he got
his bearings.
"Andy."
That's all it ever
takes. That's all it ever took. Just say my name--call me back home--and I'm
here. Yours. As always.
I sat up. "Matt," I replied.
He looked down. "I'm naked."
"Yeah."
"You are too."
"Yeah."
I scooted in next to him, and his arms wrapped around me. Guiding me by the
shoulders, he eased my body onto his. Our lips met, and he opened his mouth.
Soon our tongues began their intimate, familiar dance. I could feel his dick
rubbing against mine as he put his hands on my ass and pulled me tighter into
him. He stroked the contours of my glutes for a while and then began to spread
them apart, bit by bit moving his fingers closer to the center, until he was
stroking my hole with two fingertips.
I shuddered at the sensation.
He stopped for a minute, stuck a finger into his mouth, and brought it back to my ass. I whimpered as he stroked my hole a few times.
"You want me to fuck you with that, don't you?" he teased. I moaned and began sucking on his neck.
He pushed at my hole until his finger penetrated me. I took in a sharp breath as instinct kicked in and caused me to grind my dick against his. He whispered, "Oh, yeah."
For all the heat, though,
the encounter didn't feel primarily about sex. What I needed lay deeper. What
I'd planned involved contrition.
I sat up. I wanted him to know why I was here. It wasn't for this.
"Matt," I whispered, "I didn't come over to seduce you. I came to say I'm so, so
sorry...I didn't mean..."
"Shhhh," he said, sitting up with me. He put a finger to my lips; I thought
about where it had just been and, dismissing the thought, I let him kiss me
again.
I couldn't shut up, though. "I do trust you, okay? You know what you need to do
with Julie better than I..."
"No talking," he whispered. "It's done. Did you think you had to come here? You
didn't. I was okay once I got home. I'm sorry I overreacted. I said things I
didn't mean. I'm sorry. It's all good. We're finished with that topic."
I was fine with that, and it must have shown on my face. Smiling, he reached out
and ran a finger in circles around one of my nipples. I closed my eyes with a
shudder. His hand started to move south, but then I felt him pull it away from
me.
I opened my eyes. "We should sleep for awhile still," he whispered.
"No," I whined. "I need you like you were just doing. When we fight, I feel
empty. Your finger felt...I mean, I want you to..."
"No. Sleep."
I sighed. "Okay."
"Lie back."
I took one of his pillows, and putting it underneath my head, stretched out on
my back.
He lay down again, and this time he put his head on my chest.
I ran my fingers through his hair. "This is what I want," he said, sighing.
"Keep doing that."
I struggled to keep myself from feeling things too intensely and choking up, but
by the time I'd won that battle and was ready to say something, he was asleep.
I wasn't far behind.
* * * * * * *
A mounting sensation of
pressure against my asshole woke me up.
I was lying on my side. Matt was in back of me, his hard cock seeking entrance.
I glanced at the clock; it read 5:42.
I felt him spread my
asscheeks with his hands. "Fuck, Matt..."
He put his mouth against my ear and whispered, "It's okay, right? Before we fell
asleep you said you wanted..."
"You never have to ask," I told him.
"I dunno what I was thinking, yelling at you like that. What the fuck? I mean,
you know, at the pool. I know you were trying to do it all for me. I'm sorry I
accused you of being selfish. I just...it made me think of all that time you..."
As his voice trailed off, he shook his head and muttered, "Never mind, I forgot
what I was gonna say."
That was a lie; he hadn't forgotten. Not a thing. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be
able to make up for the hurt I put him through when we were 18 and 19...and 20.
But I wasn't going there tonight if he wasn't.
"I just wanna be inside
you," he said.
"Then do it."
I took in a quick breath as the head of his cock slid in. "I lubed you," he
said.
"I can tell," I whispered.
"Does it hurt?"
"No," I said, wincing at the hurt.
"Good, 'cause..."
"Shut up. Bring it."
"We have to be quiet," he said. "Mom's awake by now, maybe. She gets up at the
asscrack of dawn."
"Okay," I said, ignoring the temptation to snicker at "asscrack," given what he
was doing to me.
He pushed completely in and then became still, letting me get used to the feel
of him inside me. After a while I whispered, "Okay, it's good."
Quietly, smoothly, he withdrew from me and then pushed back in. Thrusting in and
pulling out, he established a steady rhythm, whispering to me and pausing
occasionally to kiss me.
I lay still, letting him make love to me. Thinking about him, about us. Wanting,
as the lust inside me climbed.
After he came, he stayed inside me for a while, silent except for his breathing.
Then he pulled out, rolled me onto my back, and grabbed my ankles, moving my
legs upward until my hole was exposed.
His hands went to my thighs. I groaned in anticipation as his face moved toward
my ass.
When I felt his tongue invade me, I couldn't hold back a cry of pleasure. It was
louder than I'd intended.
He laughed quietly. I was curious. "What?"
"Nothing..."
"No, man, you gotta tell."
"Well, okay...I'm...well, I'm sorta tasting myself down here."
"Huh?"
"You're leaking. You're leaking me."
"Awww, gross! You didn't have to tell me that."
"Naw, man, it's actually kind of hot."
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "You're a pervert, and that's big-time kink
territory. Also, that's a seriously gay thing to be doing. I guess I've
converted you! And the experts say it can't be done..."
In response, he shoved a finger into me, fast and hard.
"Oww!" My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and as the flash of pain gave
way to pleasure I moaned again, more loudly this time.
"Andy, shush, we have to..."
"Okay," I whispered. "Please don't stop."
"Not a chance," he promised. "But my tongue wants you more than my finger does."
I grabbed my cock and began stroking as he brought his face back to my ass and
started tongue-fucking me. In no time, the intensity put me over the top; my
breath hitched, and I shot all over my chest as his soft but insistent tongue
coaxed spasm after spasm out of me. When I was done, he moved his body back up,
grinned, and began licking the cum off my abs and chest. Once he'd cleaned me
up, he rolled me onto my side. "Let's sleep for another hour," he said.
"What time is it?"
"Six."
"Yeah. An hour is good."
* * * * * * *
It was almost an hour
later when I felt my face being covered with soft, sweet kisses.
I opened my eyes, and he smiled. "One more round?"
My emotions melted, but my body and brain had other thoughts. I figured I should
probably voice those.
"My ass is sore."
"Let's swap out, then. Here, lemme get you ready." He reached down, and grasping
my dick, he began stroking up and down.
I was steel in no time, but it wasn't only my ass that didn't want to head in
that direction.
Pulling out of his hand, I sat up and said, "No, babe, we gotta get up; I don't
want your mom..." About then, what I'd just called him registered with me, and I
felt myself blush.
He sat up with me. Putting my cheeks between his hands, he held my head still
and looked at me. "Don't be ashamed. I like it when you call me that."
"I'm not ashamed," I said. "I just...it's just...it slipped out. I don't wanna
get all mushy over you all the time, and sometimes I get scared how much bigger
this is than me."
He frowned. "How much bigger what is?"
"I...Oh God, Matt. Do you have the remotest idea how much I love you?"
He kissed me on the lips. "Yeah. Of course I do. What we've been
through...people who don't love don't put up with that."
My throat locked up, and the words wouldn't come, so he continued.
"Why should that scare you? You have to know it's the same with me," he said.
"You can't doubt that...can you?"
"No...well, I mean the stupid part of me; but not the part of me that knows you;
not the part that loves you."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I guess you know that too," I said, hanging my head.
He swatted me hard across the head, and before my shock gave way to irritation,
he smiled and pulled me close. Kissing me again, he said, "You're not in control
of it...and that's what scares the shit out of you."
I nodded silently.
He sighed a little. "I got patience, I guess. And this is forever, so I'm not
worried about a deadline. But when are you gonna trust me?"
"I do trust you," I protested.
"Really?"
"Of course," I insisted. "It's not you I don't trust. It's me."
He shrugged. "Okay. You trust me. But you should really have some trust in
yourself. What bad thing will happen if loving me is bigger than you?"
"Shit happens," I mumbled, mostly to myself.
"What shit?"
"Nothing."
"It's not nothing. It's something. Something's on your mind." The good will left
his voice, but he grabbed my shoulders and began rubbing them.
"Okay," I said, hesitating before I added, "What if...what if Julie's never
okay with it? If I don't prepare for that as a possibility and one day it just
fuckin' falls on my head...look, I can't just assume it's all gonna be okay,
only to..."
"Dammit, Andy, you know this: There's no her and me without you and me."
"Yeah, but Matt...I could never let you..."
"You could never let me do what I choose? Yeah, I know you wish you could run my
life and yours, but you don't get to. I get to choose who I give myself
to. You don't get to make those decisions for me."
"But Matt..."
He sighed. "Will you give it a rest and let things work themselves out? You're
so fuckin’ busy trying to come up with solutions for shit that might not even
happen, you won't let yourself enjoy now. How much time did we fuckin’
waste because you won't let things play out?”
"I'm scared," I half-whispered.
"Yeah, well, I'm scared too," he said. "A little, anyway. But you can't always
mount up and attack every time you wake up in the morning. Jesus...if there's
just one thing I wish you'd do for me, it's this: Sometimes practice doing
nothing, okay? And don't always assume the worst is gonna happen!
"Let me and Julie work at this," he said, grabbing my hand. "And just be my
friend. Be my best friend. Be my man, Andy. The man I give my body and
soul to. Nothin' gonna touch you and me, boy. Don't you know that by now? And if
that's true, is there anything else that matters?"
I frowned. "You need to be happy. You don't need impossible choices. You need
Julie."
He scowled. "And I don't need you to sacrifice what we have because your
fucked-up head thinks I'll like that. It's my life and my girl. I don't go
messing around in your shit with Angie."
"No. You don't," I admitted. "I'm sorry."
"I don't need sorry. I need trust. I need you to relax. I need you to be here
with me instead of twenty miles down the road trying to fuckin'
control things."
"I love you," I said quietly.
He pushed me back down onto the mattress and positioned his body on top of mine.
Clasping my hands in his over my head, he thrust our hard-ons against each other
and got a steady rhythm going.
"I love you too," he said. His breathing became more ragged as he rubbed himself
against me.
Just a few minutes later, he came, lubricating the friction-points where our
lower torsos were rubbing against each other. Half a minute afterward, I added
my own stuff to the mix.
He licked my abs clean again and then sat up, straddling me.
"I got my one more round," he grinned. "I'll have to remember this for future reference: play on Andy's guilt when I want more sex. Now we can go take a shower, and afterwards I'll distract Mom so you can sneak out."
* * * * * * *
"Why can't she be like
you?"
I was lying in bed with Angie. A long discussion of the Matt-and-Julie situation
had segued into a marathon sexual romp, and now that she'd drained me, my best
friend's love life was on my mind. Again. As it had been the entire week.
It had been seven days since I'd snuck up to Matt's bedroom for damage control,
and the couple of times I'd seen him since, he hadn't said a word about how
things were going with Julie. There was no way in hell I was going to ask, but
not knowing was killing me.
"Instead of asking why she can't be like me, you maybe oughta be asking how come
I'm not like her. I imagine she's the norm on something like this, and I'm the
freak show."
"Luckily for me," I said, grinning.
"Luckily for you," she agreed.
"Seriously, though, what can I do to help him? He's dead-set on her having to
accept it. I offered to walk away, but that--"
"Just made him mad," she reviewed.
"Right. So what do I..."
"Nothing."
She found her panties and,
standing up, stepped into them. "Just let the two of them work it out."
"I don't want her to hate me or resent me," I said. "She and I have been friends
a long time too, and I just wanna tell her that I'm not any threat to..."
"You can say the words, but the trust has to come from inside her," she replied,
"and it's not about you from her point of view; it's about Matt and whether she
can trust him."
"That's totally stupid," I said indignantly. "Trust him to do what? Anyway,
Matt's probably the most honest guy on the planet. They wouldn't be having this
issue otherwise."
"I know. She'll get there, and my point is there's nothing you can do."
She stopped talking and seemed to focus on a spot just over my shoulder.
"What?"
"What do you mean, 'What?'," she asked.
"You look like you're somewhere else."
"I was," she said.
"Did you think of something I could do?"
"No," she said. "You can't do anything. I told you."
"What is it, then?"
"I can do something."
"What?"
"Leave that to me." She grabbed my right hand with both of hers, pulling upward
and urging me out of bed. "Come shower with me. I'm not spending the night with
you if you're gross."
* * * * * * *
The waitress stopped by my
booth. "You sure you don't want to order?"
"No, thanks," I said. "I know she's coming. Just bring me another Dos Equis,
okay?"
"Okay. But if she stands you up..." She took a pen, grabbed my arm, and started
writing. "I get off at 9."
"You're pretty fast," I told her, grinning. "I don't know if I'd be able to keep
up."
"You'd find a way," she said. "Anyway, I'll bring you the beer. Call me after
work if you want."
I shook my head, laughing: That was pretty damn forward. Memories of my wilder days stirred a little. If now were then, I'd have her riding me tonight.
I brushed the thought back
and, thinking about why I was here, started getting jumpy again.
My mind wandered between past and present as I nursed that second beer. As I
reached the bottom of the bottle, Julie sat down opposite me.
"Oh! I...Hey, Julie," I said with a startle. I'd been so deep in thought, I
hadn't noticed her until she was sitting in the booth.
"Hey, Andy. Sorry I'm late; the rain jammed up the traffic."
"It's fine," I said, tipping my beer bottle in her direction. "I just drank
beer."
"Right. Okay."
Her face was
expressionless, her tone completely neutral.
I waited for her to say something else. She looked at me as if she were about to
speak, but nothing came out. It didn't take more than a few seconds of silence
to kick me into gear. "Okay, what's this about? Why did you want to meet me
here?"
"So you can buy me dinner."
I grimaced. "Somehow I don't think that's what we're doing here."
"They always said you were borderline genius." Her flat affect set me on edge.
With a smile or a laugh, the line would have been funny. Absent that, it sounded
sarcastic; bitter.
"Angie said she talked to you."
She nodded. "What did she tell you?"
"Nothing. Well, not much. Said you didn't say a lot."
She took a breath, sat back in the booth, and sighed. "I want us to talk, you
and me, and you know the subject. But I don't want to make this a big drama, and
anyway, I'm starving. So could we just eat and talk about the rain for a while?"
She sounded as uptight as I felt. "I think I'm not the only one who needs
alcohol."
"You're right," she said. "And the bar tab’s on you, too, not just the meal. I
may have more than one."
"I'd assumed."
The waitress must have had ESP. She walked up and said, "Y'all ready to order?"
"Double Margarita, rocks, first," Julie said. "And then the Asian Chicken Salad
with a Diet Coke."
"I'll have the Burger Supreme with everything," I said, "and potato wedges. And
another beer."
The waitress left, and we talked about the weather, and we talked about jobs,
and we talked about college and about high school and about the time, back in
the day, when she and I dated briefly. We didn't talk about the times I slept
with her or about how she finally broke it off with me when she realized my
interest was waning. The conversation was smooth, non-threatening, and utterly
trivial, re-establishing that we'd walked some shared road and that while we
weren't exactly buddies, things had been okay with us in the past. Safe and
comfortable...
...but I knew Part Two was coming. And I had no idea how it would go.
The food came, and we started eating. About halfway through the meal, she said,
"All right. About this...this thing with Matt."
Bristling, I said, "What about it?" I hadn't meant for defiance to come through
my voice, but I could tell from her raised eyebrows that she heard it.
"Don't go all Red Alert on me, Andy. I'm not here to start some kind of war. I
think you could cut me a little slack. I'm not the enemy here, and I could
sooooo be one, you know? You gotta admit, this is not the kind of stuff most
girls have to deal with when they find the guy who might be The One."
"Yeah," I said. "But I don't like your tone."
"What are you talking about?"
"The way you said, 'this thing with Matt.' "
"Okay, give it a name, then," she said. "If it's not a thing, then what
is it?"
"I don't have to give it a name. It is what it is."
She pushed a few pieces of food around with her fork. I was about to speak when
she looked up at me and glared. "Why did you decide it had to be with your best
friend if you need that kinda thing?"
I glared back. "First of all, I don't 'need that kinda thing.' And second, it's
all about him being my best friend. We were never just 'best friends.'
We were always...we were...I mean we are...
"Y'all are what?"
"It doesn't have a label," I said.
"Oh, it has a label," she shot back at me.
"What?"
"You're lovers. You're gay lovers. You pulled him into this
and he's not even gay." The frost in her voice raised my temperature.
"I'm not gay either," I said. "Or I'm gay and straight. Who gives a
shit? You don't get it. All that's irrelevant."
"I know," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I guess you're not the only one who can fall
into war mode."
Her response caught me by surprise. I'd expected her to escalate, and truth be
known, after her rude tone I was itching for a fight. But I tried a different
path. "I'm not interested in stealing him away from you," I told her. "I'm not
interested in playing house with him. I have my own..."
"I don't care what you have," she interrupted, flaring up again. "I
care what I have, and I'm not sure yet what that is, and I'm not sure
this...this thing between you doesn't threaten it. That's what's on my
mind. I don't want to be your enemy, but..."
"Tell him to stop with me, then," I said, interrupting her. "Tell him to leave
it behind. For you."
"Oh yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said bitterly. "Then I get to be
the wicked bitch who came between you."
"I'm not kidding," I said. "He loves you. He needs to be with you. I can't stand
in the way of that. Tell him you don't want him to be with me like that."
"You know damn well if I do that, I lose," she said. "And see, the thing is, I'm
not gonna lose, Andy. He means too much to me."
That set me off again.
" 'Lose.' Jesus," I muttered. "Like he's the prize in some kinda fuckin'
contest." I took a swallow of beer, and added, "You make me sick."
"Give me a break," she
shot right back. "You know that's not what I mean, and fuck you, anyway."
"Likewise."
I sat there for a few minutes, fuming and trying to wind down. She was pissing me off, but I had to keep it civil. For both us. And for Matt.
I took a breath and
concentrated on keeping cool. "I don’t know what else to say to you, Julie.
Believe me when I tell you I’m not interested in pulling you two apart. You
don't have to lose; you just have to stretch. Do you have it in you?"
She must have been expecting me to come at her with both barrels, and when I put
on the brakes, it broke her defenses. Tears pooled at the bottom of her eyes,
and she mumbled, "Damn you."
I've always hated making women cry, and seeing her tears made me feel bad for
her. It’s not as though she was to blame for any of this; it was a ridiculous
situation for which there weren't any roadmaps.
"Look at me," I said quietly. "Why would you think I want to come between you
and Matt? Don't you get that I want what's best for him? I know you're good for
him. I would never try to get you out of the picture. The thing you have to ask
yourself is if you can let him love me like he wants to. You'll still have his
heart and...and more."
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s so…so weird. I never ever thought I’d fall in love with a guy who…with a…”
Trailing off, she took a Kleenex out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. I understood her pain; Matt and I were asking too much of her. But there was a way through this if we could all get beyond conventional solutions and standard expectations.
“I tried, Julie,” I said. "I tried to convince him. I told him I’d walk away from…from what I had with him. I told him we could just go back to being friends, like we were before we were lovers. But I wasn’t being real: This isn’t just about me, this is about him, too. And he wasn’t having it. We practically had a fist fight over it. And it sucked because I realized it hurt him when I made that offer.
“So, yeah: You're right:
You ask him to leave me for you, you lose. But what you don't seem to realize is
that if you lose, that doesn't win me anything, because he'll be heartbroken. It
doesn't have to be this way. You can have everything you want with him."
"Like you and Angie."
"Like me and Angie."
I wanted to fill the silence that followed. I wanted to babble on, to keep
talking, keep selling, keep convincing. My mind was going a hundred miles an
hour, and keeping my mouth shut was an effort. But I'd said enough.
After what felt like a year, she said, "I'm upset. I don't hate you. Don't think
I came here because I hate you. I just don't know how to deal with this. I don't
know if I can wrap my mind around it. I wanted to hear what you had to say."
"I love him," I said. "I'll always love him. I need him in my life just the way
I have him. But it doesn't have to be competition. It doesn't have to be one of
us loses.”
My concentration was broken by a loud chorus of the “Happy Birthday” song from
across the restaurant.
It broke the tension between us. We laughed and the awful singing, and when it died out, I continued.
"Think about it. Think
about what you have to gain--what you both have to gain--if we can work
this out. I want him to be with a woman; I'm with a woman, and
he needs one in his life, and he thinks you're it. And you know what? I think
he’s right. And what I’m saying is that what he and I have doesn't diminish any
of that. All you have to do is think outside the box about this."
She rolled her eyes, but I saw amusement more than annoyance in them.
"What?"
"Did you and Angie
rehearse this?"
"No."
"You might as well have. She said the same thing."
I nodded. "Good. It's true. She should know."
She turned her attention back to her plate and began finishing her dinner. I
took it to mean the conversation was over, so I went back to my burger.
When we started up again, it was about work and other safe topics, and the time
eased by. Eventually the waitress stopped by with our tickets, and I grabbed
both of them.
"Thanks," she said.
"Least I could do."
"You're right," she quipped. But she smiled when she said it.
Smiling back at her, I pulled cash out of my wallet and laid it on the table
with the bills.
Maybe. Just maybe.
"I accept it," she said as we got up from the table. "But I don't know
if I can like it. I don't know if you and I can be friends anymore.
I'll have to see. But I don't hate you for this. And I believe you when you say
you don't want to come between us."
"You should," I said. "I mean it."
"Right," she said. "Anyway, I don't care what you do with him or what he does
with you. I don't necessarily want to know about it, but I'll deal with it."
"You do care, Julie, and you don't have to apologize for that."
"I'm not apologizing," she said. "Yeah...I care. He's expecting me to be okay
with the idea that I have to share his heart and his body with someone else.
With a man! It's just so..."
"Careful," I said. She couldn't have missed the menace in my voice.
"Oh, shut up," she said wearily. "I don't hate gay people, and I definitely
don't hate you, whatever the hell you are. But do you actually expect me to
like this?"
"Yeah," I said. "If you love him...well, as a matter of fact, I guess I do."
"Well, you can forget about that. But I'm not stupid."
"What are you saying then?"
She sighed. "I'm saying you hold the trump card on this. But that doesn't mean I
can like it yet. Or ever. I just don't know."
"Fair enough," I told her.
"Thanks for the talk and for the honesty," she said as we made our way out the
door.
"Yeah. You too."
"I don't know how this is gonna work out in my head, but I'll work it out
somehow. I love him too much to let this be a deal-breaker."
"Me too," I said. "Honestly."
We’d reached her car. "Okay, then. Talk to you later. But you and me...don't
hold me to anything with you. I don't know how that's gonna go." She opened her
door and got into the car.
“Talk to you later,” I told her.
“No doubt,” she replied.
I watched her go as she pulled out of the parking space. We'd just have to see
how it played out.
* * * * * * *
A month went by.
Angie and I had left town and gone back to school; we each had a final year of
undergraduate work to go, because her pre-med program took her five years, and
because I'd changed majors. Matt and Julie stayed in town and worked at their
jobs and loved each other and looked toward the future.
Separated by three hours, Matt and I went back to seeing each other only
infrequently. He came down for some of my soccer games, but it wasn't as easy as
when he'd been a student. He and Julie spent most of their spare time with each
other, so he couldn't abandon her every weekend just so he could come down and
love on me. It was great having him visit, but those visits were too few and too
short. And except for spending a night or two in bed together on those weekends,
we didn't get much of a chance to be alone. Invariably, at the end of a weekend
visit, it was hard to let go of him.
The last weekend in September, he came down to watch me play. We did a little clubbing and a little drinking, and I got some much-needed skin-on-skin time with him, more than usual for a weekend visit; I think he was in pretty bad need of it too.
When Sunday afternoon
rolled around, after he'd loaded up his car, we were winding things down and
playing a little air hockey.
When he'd beaten me, he motioned me toward the living room and said, "Let's sit
down for a minute."
I looked at him. "Why?"
"I need to talk to you about something."
"Okay." Apprehension skittered across the front of my mind, but I went with him
and sat. "What's up?"
He looked around the room, out the window, and back at me. "You probably saw
this coming, but...oh, hell, I'm just gonna say it outright. Julie and I are
getting married this summer."
My jaw dropped in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I'm not. Why would I kid about that?"
My neck started tightening, and I felt pressure in my head.
"Matt. Come on, man; I mean, I know you think she's the one for you,
but don't be insane."
"Why not? Why's that insane?"
"Jesus, Matt, you're fuckin' 22! Isn't that young to be married?"
"My mom married at 21."
"Yeah, and she wrote her term papers on a typewriter and everybody wore beads
around their necks and flowers in their hair."
"Very funny. What does that have to do with anything? If she's the one, why
wait? We're both done with school. What's there to wait on?"
"Well...you...how do you know she's the one?"
I regretted it the instant
I heard myself say it. Stupid, Andy.
His eyes narrowed. "How do you know Angie's the one?"
I shrugged. "That's different."
"How is it different?"
"Well, we're not talking about getting married."
"Yeah, you are; the only difference is the date."
"That's right. We're waiting until we're older."
He rolled his eyes. "No, you're not."
"Yeah, we are; we're not getting married until we finish grad school."
"Exactly," he smirked. "You're not waiting until you're older, you're waiting
until you finish school and you have jobs. Those aren't the same thing. Well,
guess what: Julie and I have finished school, and we have
jobs. And we love each other and we both wanna be done playing the field.
There's no point in sampling what's still out there, or whatever reason you
think we should wait until we're older. Really, man, do you really think that
little of my ability to run my life?"
I winced. "No...of course not. I'm sorry, man, I just..."
I couldn't finish: The truth was too ugly.
Not that it made a difference: He'd always been able to read me.
"I get it, Andy," he said,
as he pulled me into a hug.
"Nothing to get," I mumbled, trying to extricate myself from his arms.
He pulled me in tighter. "It hurts you to see me tie up my life with hers.
You wanna be that person."
I took my hands, put them on his chest, and pushed him away from me. "I don't
wanna marry you, Matt."
"No, but you don't want her to, either."
"That's not true!" I protested. "I know you love her. I want you to be with the
woman you love. I need you to be. It's just that you..."
"It's just that I belong to you, and in your gut you hate seeing anyone
else lay claim to me."
"That's not what I was gonna say."
"I know," he said calmly. "But what you were gonna say is a lie to both of us,
so just stop, okay? I'm not pissed that you don't like this. I told myself you'd
need some time to get used to the idea."
"Fuck that, who says I don't like it? It's not like I didn't know you'd get
married to her eventually."
"Andy. Please."
I walked to the other side of the room. "You can fuckin' do what you want. When
have I ever expected you to make this choice or that?"
"You mean in this month, or you want me to start the list at when we
turned 18?"
I hated him in that moment. For that moment. "Fuck you."
He came over to me and pulled me into him again. "It's gonna be fine, babe. I
promise."
"Don't call me that. And get away from me," I mumbled without conviction, my
head resting against his shoulder.
"Not gonna happen. Not gonna get away from you. Ever. We've already talked about
this. You think this is going to finish us? No way. You and me. Lovers. Forever.
I promise."
"Right. And if Julie has other ideas?"
"Julie knows. Julie has made peace with it. You have to trust me on
this."
"So she thinks it's the greatest thing ever, and she's deliriously happy to be
marrying a man who has a man on the side."
He broke free from me. "First of all," he said angrily, "You're not 'on the
side.' You're as important to me as she is. Maybe more important."
I had to get away before I lost it. I went to the kitchen and, taking some deep
breaths out of his sight, grabbed a couple of beers. Once I'd regained control,
I walked back over to him, tossed him one, and sat down on the sofa.
He plopped into the easy chair next to me, opened his beer, and said, "The
second thing is, okay, she's not jumping up and down for joy over it, but it's
like I said: She's made peace with it. She's accepting it. She's not bitter or
angry at you or me or the situation. She knows how it is and that you're in my
life forever as a part of the package. She's okay with it. She won't try to
undermine it."
"It's so soon, Matt."
"We're too young?"
"Well, yeah, but what I meant was it's next summer; hell, that's just a fuckin'
heartbeat away."
He got out of his chair and sat down next to me. Reaching for me, he put his
arms around me and drew me into a kiss.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm jealous. I know it's wrong. I need you to be happy,
and if you need this, of course I want it."
"I need you too," he said, covering my neck with kisses.
"You have me," I said. "Always."
He began unbuttoning my shirt. "I need to make love to you."
"You're all packed and ready to go...it's time. You don't have to do this for
me."
"I can't go like this. I need to make love to you. I need to have you feel close
to me. I need to show you how it is."
"I know how it is, Matt. You don't have to do this," I repeated, as he pulled
the shirt off my arms.
"I need to, Andy, please. I can't leave town now until...until you..."
And I realized that, once again, I was making it about me when it wasn't. He
needed this.
That decided it. "Okay," I said, standing up.
I took his hand, and we walked up the stairs toward my bedroom.
* * * * * * *
When fall break came in October, I went home. The time away from Matt had me wound up and over-anxious to be with him, but I was in some turmoil, because I knew I wouldn't see much of him.
Angie was on break too, so we'd be back home together. Her fall had been brutal, and we hadn't seen nearly enough of each other. I wanted to change that during break.
That meant I wouldn't have
much time to spend with Matt, even assuming he could get a little free time from
work. Anyway, I figured, Julie would probably be jealous or resentful of any
time I spent with him during break.
As I thought about that, I realized that resentment rose up inside against her
every time she passed through my brain.
Screw her, she gets
him all the time, every day, whenever she wants him.
I pushed the thought away. She was accepting it; why couldn't I?
I knew the answer to that question. Her initial meltdown, her hateful reaction
to me, her fury at Matt: Those things hooked my own internalized homophobia and
engaged my protective instincts regarding Matt. I'd never fully forgiven her for
it.
I was surprised, then, when the first part of the break turned out okay. I
didn't get to see much of Matt by myself, but he and Julie hung out with me and
Angie. We went to dinner a couple of times, took in a couple of movies, and
relaxed at my parents' backyard pool.
Matt was busy at work and spent a lot of time there. But the time spent with Angie was great. She was under stress at school, and I was happy to be able to relax her.
All in all, it was a good
week. I still wanted some time alone with Matt, though.
We'd agreed that on Friday we'd all have breakfast early at La Duni, a nice and
not-too-expensive place downtown. Matt had managed to get Friday and Saturday
off; the plan was for the four of us to get together at breakfast and figure out
our weekend. I knew Julie had wanted time to catch up with Angie, and of course
Matt and I wanted an opportunity to spend some time together. We'd decided to
catch breakfast together and plan...and then execute.
The meal was up to La Duni's typical high standards, and we had a great time. There was some tension in the air, because it seemed to me we weren't likely to agree on a plan; I wasn't sure either of the women would appreciate my need to have a significant block of time alone with Matt. But we all had a good time, and I was feeling grateful about it.
As things wound down, the waitress cleared our dishes and brought us some coffee. Eventually Julie said, "Okay, we need to talk about the rest of the weekend. Give me a minute; I have to go get something from the trunk."
I looked at Matt as she left the table, my eyes sending out question marks. He shrugged.
Angie was smiling from ear
to ear.
She came back with a large picnic basket. "I'm changing the agenda at this
point. There will be no planning this morning; this is the plan, boys,
and Angie and I drew it up together, so you're stuck with it."
"Okay..." I said, looking at Angie, who just smirked.
"You guys are spending the rest of the weekend with each other. We've decided we
need a break from you."
My lower jaw hit the table. "Oh yeah? Me and Matt? Doing what?"
Julie said, "That's entirely up to you...we're fine with whatever...as I think
you'll see."
Matt was as perplexed as I was. "I don't get it. Where?"
"My parents' house on the lake," Angie said. "Nobody's using it this weekend.
Matt, you and Andy can have it all weekend. It's still decent weather for taking
the boat out if you want to, or y'all can stay indoors and watch TV, or just
play some sports outside, or cook out, just spend some time together, catching
up, doing...well, doing whatever. There are three bedrooms, but the master has a
king-sized bed, so I imagine you'll both wanna sleep there...just sayin', ok?"
I could tell my face was red, and Matt's blush reappeared. I asked, "What's the
picnic basket for?"
"Open it," Julie said.
Matt pulled it toward his side of the table and took off the wrapping. "Holy
shit," he whispered. Looking up at Julie with astonishment, he said, "Whose idea
was this?" He looked back into the basket and appeared to be counting.
"All mine," she said, grinning, "but Angie signed off on it. And paid for half."
"But...you know we don't..."
"I'm trying to make a statement, okay? Don't be so dense."
I was completely in the dark. "What, Matt? What is it?"
He ignored me. "Julie, a dozen..."
She wouldn't let him finish. "Okay, um, making a statement...get a
clue, Matthew. And quit being so literal. I think you know what I'm trying
to say."
A slow smile stole across his face.
"What is it?" I
repeated, exasperated.
He didn't answer. He got up and went to Julie's side of the table, grabbed her,
and kissed her. "Oh, God, Julie, I love you so much..."
"Okay, that's it," I said. Roughly, I pulled the basket over to my side of the
table.
Inside were a variety of fruits, meats, cheeses, two mini-loaves of homemade
bread, a bottle of red wine and a bottle of white wine...
...and a dozen condoms of different varieties.
"What the fuck?" I said. It was all I could come up with.
"Well, we know y'all haven't had any time alone, and we know you want it," Angie
said.
"No..." Julie amended. "We know you need it."
Matt was on the verge of
being overwhelmed, and Angie saw it. "We figured you'd need to keep your stamina
up," she wisecracked, "so I made the bread and bought all Andy's favorite lunch
meats, and some of them are truly disgusting, but whatever. The wine is just for
celebration. I think we all have things to celebrate, right?"
I scratched my head. "But...but the...well, the condoms. We don't..."
Julie stepped in to cover this one. "We know you don't have to use 'em. It's
just symbolic."
I wrinkled my forehead. "Symbolic for what?"
"Symbolic for she's okay with it," Matt replied.
"Half-credit, but don't undersell me," Julie said. "How about symbolic for I
know that y'all need each other and that I want you to have what you need, and
symbolic that I trust you. Both of you. Symbolic for I trust that Matt
can love both of us, and it’ll all be okay. Symbolic for I'm doing more than
just tolerating it."
I said all I could in response: "Wow."
"What, you think Angie's the only woman on the planet who's awesome? Please.”
By the time we'd stopped laughing, everybody's nervousness had evaporated. We
spent another ten minutes at the restaurant, letting things sink in. Then Angie
said, "Okay, we came in two cars. Y'all take Matt's car and go directly to the
lakehouse. You're spending the rest of the weekend there, and we don't wanna
hear from you until you're back in town Sunday afternoon. The fridge is stocked
with beer and veggies and meat you can grill. There's charcoal and lighter fluid
and matches. We took some clothes up there for both of you and some jackets,
too, just in case it gets cold."
We stared open-mouthed at these two amazing women. They high-fived each other and laughed at our astonishment.
After a minute and a half
went by, and neither Matt nor I were able to respond, Angie rolled her eyes and
said, "Okay, it's time for y'all to make your exit."
I shook my head in disbelief. As we stood to leave, Julie said, "Just a minute."
I turned toward her. "What?"
She pulled a camera out of her purse. "I want a picture of the two of you."
I stood next to Matt, and we faced the camera.
"No. Kissing."
Matt's eyes grew three sizes. "Seriously?"
"Yep."
I looked around; nobody was paying any attention. I took his face in my hands,
turned him to face me, and put my lips on his.
The light flashed and we broke the kiss, but not before Matt could whisper, "I
told you to trust me."
What could I do but kiss him again?
* * * * * * *
© 2003-2013 by Adam Phillips
Posted: 03/29/13