Saturday morning. It had only been a week since that Monday in the locker room when Terry had approached me, but somehow it seemed much, much longer. I’d been through a lot, most of it too emotional.
I lay in bed thinking about it. Last Monday, I hadn’t had any friends, I was keeping away from other kids because I didn’t want anyone to learn I was gay and, to guarantee that, I was especially staying away from anyone I might be attracted to.
Well, obviously I hadn’t done a very good job of sticking to that. Still, I’d met and become friends with Terry and, on the whole, that had worked out well. I felt I could count on Terry. Having him in my life was a positive thing. Very positive.
I’d also started making friends with John. I had to admit to myself, I’d been attracted to John. I’d had no idea if he was gay or not, but I had let myself hope he was. The idea of getting together with him that way excited the hell out of me. I think I’d felt that the first time I’d looked into his eyes—his deep, deep blue eyes. They weren’t just pretty eyes, or just sexy eyes, they were also smart and just pulsed with this intelligent, playful, questioning, fascinating life. Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t help but be attracted to the whole of him. I couldn’t help wanting to get to know him, really get to know him. I wanted to know all about him, to do even more than know him if I could. His eyes were magic.
Coming here, I had especially wanted to stay away from anyone I found attractive. When I met John, I realized just how impossible that was. I simply couldn’t do it. He was too much for me. He’d defeated my well-conceived and, up to that point, well-executed plan. And he’d done it just by looking into my eyes. That was all it took.
Terry had known instinctively that my plan was nonsense. As soon as he heard my plan, he’d said I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t deny who I was. And I was scared he was right. I didn’t tell him so, or admit it to him, but I was getting close to accepting it. I liked being with John, I liked thinking about him, thinking about us being together, mostly as friends but I also liked the idea of us being more than that if it were possible.
I didn’t know if I was falling in love with him. That seemed awfully premature; I didn’t know him well enough for that. I’d only known him for a week. But I already had the idea that, as we got to know each other better, he was a kid I could fall in love with. John had the type of personality that really appealed to me. I just needed to get to know him better. So, that was the first thing on the agenda, and the thought of doing so excited me. I liked everything I knew about him. And I wanted more.
But I’d certainly messed things up so far. Even though the thing I most wanted in the world right now was for him to like me, how had I gone about making that happen? How did I go about that? What did I, the great romantic that I am, do about that? All I did, both times I was alone with him, was run away as fast as I could. Tim, the boy genius!
There was another glitch in this entire scenario, too, of course. That was, I had no idea whether he was gay. I had no reason to think he was. He’d never done or said anything to make me think he was. It was possible he’d given me the faintest suggestion that he might not hate gays. Yes, I could hope he felt that way, from our time in the park together. But that was all. It wasn’t very much. But, really, if he wasn’t gay and just wanted to be a good friend, I’d be down with that, too. That wouldn’t be bad at all.
I needed to find out. I didn’t have the foggiest idea how, but that’s where I needed to concentrate my efforts. Learning if he was gay before I did fall in love with him was important.
When he was leaving last night, Terry had said he’d call John and tell him he hadn’t done anything wrong. It hadn’t been anything he’d done that had caused me to run away again. Terry didn’t say explicitly that he wouldn’t tell John the reason I ran— that I was gay and protecting my secret because of all the past—but I trusted Terry not to do that. I knew he wouldn’t.
I supposed I could ask Terry about John. He knew him a lot better than I did. He’d known him longer, and they were best friends, or at least very close friends. Terry might know if he was gay. But then, knowing Terry, if I asked him, he’d simply tell me to ask John. There was no question about that at all. He wouldn’t tell me that, even if he knew.
So I guessed I’d just have to figure it out for myself. My previous plan hadn’t worked well. I’d have to do better.
First off, I had to decide not to run away the next time I was talking to John. He was smart and perceptive. I knew that now. So I guess there was the possibility that, being smart and perceptive, he would figure out I was gay. And maybe, at that point, he would tell me to get lost. Instinctively, however, I doubted that. Seeing how he reacted to the gay guys in the park, I didn’t think he’d do that.
Well, then, what did I have to lose? If he figured out I was gay, and was still willing to be my friend, I was home free. I’d still be able to hang with him. His discovery of my secret was a separate matter from my discovering if he had a secret, too. Finding that out is what I wanted to do.
So, it seemed the thing to do was spend more time with him. That way, I might be able to figure him out. If he figured me out at the same time, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing—certainly not as bad as I’d first imagined it might be.
With that realization came a great feeling of relief. I’d been so worried—I’d been hiding and running and denying since we’d moved—and now, at least with John, it seemed I didn’t need to do any of these things. This was pretty cool!
So I needed to spend time with John. Maybe a lot of time. Could I just call him up and invite him over? Or to the park? Or would he tell me to get lost, that he was tired of dealing with whack jobs who ran off for no reason after being alone together for five minutes?
Nah, he wouldn’t do that. He might think I was nuts, but he was still a nice kid. He’d told me he was lonely, and I had the idea that maybe he liked me as much as I liked him. I just didn’t know whether he liked me in the special way I was getting to like him.
The way to find out was to call him. Except I didn’t know his number, or his father’s name. In Lakeshore, there would be maybe two Bauers in the phone book. Here there’d be dozens. It was a common name. Maybe more than dozens.
Then I thought of Terry. I did know his number. He’d given it to me. I could get John’s number from him.
I got up, got showered and dressed, then checked out the breakfast scene. Dad wasn’t up yet. He usually slept later than I did on Saturdays. I wasn’t a normal teenager. I was usually up by nine. Back in Lakeshore, all my friends moaned if I called them before noon. Dad liked to sleep in, too. He said he had to be up early every weekday, so why not try to make up for it on the weekends?
I made myself a quick breakfast, then put the dishes in the dishwasher and called Terry.
He wasn’t up, but I guessed it was his father who answered and he good-naturedly said he’d get him up, that the day was wasting away. He said it with a chuckle. When Terry came on, he didn’t even sound pissed. That was very much unlike my previous teenaged friends who thought getting awakened by a telephone call before noon was an outrage.
“Hey, Tim, how’re you feeling today? You looked kind of beat up when I left. Feeling better today?”
“Yeah, the night’s sleep helped and I also figured some things out. I think what I need to do is talk to John and apologize for running off with no explanation. Do you have his phone number?”
He said of course he did and gave it to me. I wrote it down. Then he said, “I wouldn’t call him now, though.”
Uh-oh, I thought. Had Terry talked to him already and had John been pissed? Had he told Terry he didn’t want anything more to do with me? I could see that. John was an independent, strong-willed, no-nonsense guy, and I could understand he wouldn’t want to spend any time with wimps that ran away crying all the time and couldn’t even explain what their problem was.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, huh? I can understand. But damn, Terry! I’d like to explain myself to him, and apologize, you know? What did he say, did he tell you to tell me to fuck off or something?”
Terry didn’t answer my question, but instead asked one of his own, sounding surprised. “Tim, if you’re going to explain yourself to him, how are you going to do that? Have you thought that through? If you do that, you’re going to have to tell him things you don’t want him to know.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. You were right about a lot of what you said, and I’ve been thinking. I need to be more honest with him. If he figures out I’m gay, then we’ll deal with that when it happens. If he hates me, well, what was I hiding for then? He won’t be the person I thought he was, we never would have been able to have the relationship I want, and all the hiding wasn’t doing any good anyway. Even if he doesn’t want anything more to do with me, I can’t believe he’d be the type who’d out me to the school, so I just don’t think that’s anything to worry about.”
“Darn, Tim, you sound like you did do some thinking.”
“Yeah, but maybe too late if he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said not to call him now. He isn’t at home. His mother was taking him to the mall this morning, then she’s going to drop him off here when they’re finished. If you want to, you could come over too. He’s going to eat lunch here, and so could you. Whadya think?”
“I’d love it, Terry. You know, not to sound mushy or anything, but, well, I can’t say ‘thanks’ to you with enough emotion for it to sound like I feel. You’ve turned my life around in one week. You’re amazing.”
“Yeah, it does sound mushy. So, forget it. It’s what I do. I like to help people, you know, especially ones I care a lot about. But in general, teenagers are an easy target; most of them are messed up one way or another. People thanking me for something I do that makes me feel good always embarrasses me. Forget it. That’s what you can do back for me. So, why don’t you plan on getting here around 11 or 11:30? John should be here around noon. You and I can talk a little first. OK?”
I agreed, and he gave me directions. It was about a half-hour bike ride, and I was thinking how great it would be to take my motorcycle but decided against it. It was too risky, and today I had other things, more important things than talking to the cops, on my mind.