Every Day
Page 35
I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Rhiannon is going to find me.
While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Kelsea is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Tom and James in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Roger Wilson later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.
“What do you think?” Austin asks.
“They’re great,” I say.
“You didn’t even look.”
I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.
I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.
“I like them,” I tell him.
“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.
I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”
And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”
And Austin said, “Or ten days.”
And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”
And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”
Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.
The start of it.
Hugo would have remembered this.
But I didn’t.
Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”
He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.
“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”
“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.
“Do you even love me?”
I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.
“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”
Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”
“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”
Now Austin is shaking his head.
“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.
Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.
“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”
I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.
“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.
This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.
We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other g*ys and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”
I keep looking for Rhiannon, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.
When I get home, there’s an email from her:
A,
Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.
Maybe tomorrow?
R
I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Justin, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?
I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.
While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Kelsea is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Tom and James in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Roger Wilson later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.
“What do you think?” Austin asks.
“They’re great,” I say.
“You didn’t even look.”
I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.
I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.
“I like them,” I tell him.
“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.
I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”
And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”
And Austin said, “Or ten days.”
And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”
And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”
Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.
The start of it.
Hugo would have remembered this.
But I didn’t.
Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”
He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.
“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”
“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.
“Do you even love me?”
I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.
“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”
Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”
“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”
Now Austin is shaking his head.
“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.
Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.
“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”
I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.
“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.
This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.
We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other g*ys and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”
I keep looking for Rhiannon, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.
When I get home, there’s an email from her:
A,
Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.
Maybe tomorrow?
R
I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Justin, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?
I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.
