Boston Boys [01] - A Life Without You (21 page)

“Dude,” I say and point at him. “You need to stop eavesdropping.”

“Hey, I was just looking for you. Not my fault you guys were having a shout-match and I happened to overhear it.” I glance back and see Jesse glaring at Eric.

“You know,” I say to Eric, “a decent person would have walked away to give people privacy. Oh wait, what am I saying?

There’s not a decent bone in your body.” Eric laughs and pats my back. “See? You’re turning back to your old self bit by bit, only a better version since I’m in charge of your recovery.”

“I’m not wearing those orange pants you showed me. Forget it.”

Eric giggles and shoves me playfully as we start walking. I
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shove him back and his slight body zooms six feet sideways.

“Easy with those muscles, Emoman,” he leers.

We’re walking away from Jesse. I don’t know if he’s following, but every nerve in my body knows he’s still watching.

Eric takes on a haughty posture. “You won’t wear those hot pants only because your sense of fashion sucks.” He’s wearing purple striped pants today with a blue sequin shirt that sparkles in the sun.

“But seriously? If you’re strong enough to face Jesse – great job, by the way – you’re strong enough to go to class. We’ve got one in ten minutes.”

“I get these flashes of stuff. Did you really soap me up in the shower?” I ask Eric who’s munching on a cookie in the cafeteria as we both work on our literary projects.

“I did,” he says with a shrug, crossing out a sentence with a red pen.

I push the meatballs around on my plate. “I wasn’t…you know…active, was I?”

“Dude, your stuff was the only thing indicating you were still alive.”

“What? No way.”

“Don’t worry. I could make a corpse go stiff with my irresistible body. Yours never even had a chance.” A couple of girls on the table next to us are staring while the rest seem unaffected. I ignore them but can’t hold back a little grin. Eric notices and nods at the girls. “Hey, how ya doing?” To me he says, “Oh, but don’t tell the guys I said that or they’ll want to make a bet out of it.”

I laugh. I had forgotten how good it feels to be myself in public. Hiding only made me nervous and miserable.

I search through a thick volume for a reference before looking back up.

“But you didn’t do anything, like take advantage?” Eric breaks his cookie in half and dips one part in his chocolate milk. “Hey, you may have the prettiest face on campus, and God knows you’ve got a gorgeous body – I mean, you probably make guys howl in bed with those sexy hips of yours – but I honestly don’t see us in a long term relationship, and since I kinda like you I’d rather just be your friend.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I wouldn’t touch you with a twelve inch cock.”
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Eric sucks on the soaked piece of cookie.

“But you soaped me in the shower,” I say after a laugh. A bunch of athletic guys passing by jerk their heads our way. “You didn’t touch my privates, did you?” I stick a meatball into my mouth and chew slowly.

“With a loofah! The extra soft type. Like I’d ever touch it with my fingers – ew. Oh and by the way, you owe me a new loofah. I won’t accept anything that costs less than thirty bucks.”

“Fine, I’ll buy you a new God damned loofah. But really, I know the real reason why you didn’t take advantage.”

“Yeah?”

I lean my elbow on the table. “It’s because you’re seeing someone and I want to know who it is.”

“It’s no one you know.” Eric dips another piece of cookie into his chocolate milk, his white skin blushing. This surprises me because it takes a hell of a lot to embarrass Eric.

“Who is it?”

“No one! Honestly.”

“Someone in our dorm?”

“No. Definitely not. Nuh-uh.”

“Wow, so there are three gay guys in our dorm? You, me, and your secret someone? What are the odds?”

“Jesse makes four.” Eric wiggles his eyebrows.

“Jesse’s not gay.”

“Hello? He loves having a huge cock up his ass, and he expressed his undying luurve for you the other day. How’s that not gay?”

“He’s not gay, all right? He’s bi.” I stick my fork into a meatball and bring it to my mouth, but I don’t have any appetite for it anymore.

“If you say so. But I’ve never seen him so much as glance at a girl on campus.”

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“He has a fiancé.” My fork clinks against the plate as I put it down, meatball still attached. What is this? Usually Eric doesn’t talk about Jesse like that. He keeps going on about what a jerk Jesse is whenever I mention him.

“Are they fucking?”

“They are now, and thanks for reminding me. If Jesse was gay then he wouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh yeah? Mr. Catridge in Contemporary Fiction had three kids before he divorced his wife and announced he was gay. It happens every day, dude. But you’re saying Jesse and little Miss Big-boobs just started? Even though they’ve been together for years?”

“Yeah, first time this spring break. She’s religious or some shit like that. Took some vows.”

“Dude, Jesse’s so closet-gay. Besides, he seriously hates my guts because I’m out of the closet and can express myself freely.”

“A little too freely, I’d say.” I glance at Eric’s pink shirt and red jeans. He couldn’t look more gay.

Although fun moments like these lift my spirit, every day is hard. Especially on the days when I get a glimpse of Jesse. And the nights… The nights are the worst. I miss him so badly that I’ve had to stop myself a number of times from going up to his room. I just want to look at him, hold him, touch him, kiss him.

I think about it all the time and it’s hard.

My gut pangs when Jesse enters the cafeteria and grabs a tray.

I miss how I used to run my hands over those slender hips, that taut stomach, and that flawless chest when we were alone. I miss holding him in my arms, kissing his soft neck, making him moan.

Eric clears his throat.

“You know,” he says after draining his glass of chocolate milk.

“Since we’re on the subject, I have something for you back home.

So if you’ve finished mashing those meatballs, we should go.” I hadn’t realized I was doing it, but my meatballs now look like something a dog threw up.

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Jesse doesn’t look at us when we leave, but I suspect he knows we’re here because his posture is tense, his eyes focused on his tray and he’s standing very still. I want to relax every one of those muscles, but I can’t do that anymore.

“So what is it?” I ask as I close the door to Eric’s room. He’s been giddy the whole way over.

“This,” he says with a theatrical flair, “is the Jesse-Jar.” He reveals a green gallon-sized jar decorated with pink and red paper flowers and butterflies.

“Huh?”

Eric grins like a kid. “Decorated it myself.”

“Yeah, but
what
is it?”

“Whenever you say Jesse’s name without my permission you have to put a quarter in it.”

“I’m not doing that! I can talk about Jesse whenever I want.”

“That’s a quarter right there,” says Eric. “And yes you will.

You need to see how obsessed you are with that guy.”

“I’m not obsessed. I love him, that’s all.” Okay, I know I’m obsessed, but there’s no way I’m admitting that to Eric because he’ll look all smug and self-righteous.

He plops down on his bed with a bounce and tucks his bare toes under him. “Well, your love for him is unhealthy – bordering on sick. I’m not gonna take this money for myself or anything, so let’s just try it, okay?”

Eric’s always full of silly ideas. But I can’t deny he’s been extremely helpful to me these past weeks.

I run my hand through my mane of hair that seriously needs a cut. “Fine, whatever.”

“Fabulous! I’m getting sick of the sound of his name.” He spins around and turns on his stereo, thumping out a Lady Gaga song.

“By the way,” he continues, pointing at my hair. “Cal-Al can take care of that for yah. He works at a nearby salon, right across A Life Without You
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Terry’s sex shop.”

Figures Cal-Al would be a hairdresser though he doesn’t really look the type.

“Would that be your friend Terry?”

“Yup,” Eric says with a grin. “His selection is amazing.” I shake my head with a chuckle before a movement outside the window catches my eye. “Hey, there’s Jesse,” I say as I watch Jesse stride past the window after that Zeke kid.

“That’s two quarters.”

“Damn it!” I fish out two quarters and listen to the clinking sound as they hit the empty bottom of the jar.

And then, as the days pass, the jar gets fuller and fuller. I have a stash of quarters in my drawer just in case and I have to restock a lot because it disappears fast. I manage a few days at a time without saying his name, though not saying it doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about him all the time. But just looking at the half-full jar of quarters makes me realize that I really, truly am obsessed with Jesse. He really is my addiction.

It’s been two months and two days since my breakdown and I’ve managed a week without saying his name. But that’s when I slip up. It wasn’t my fault though. I found a folded sheet of notes written by Jesse in one of my books. His cursive is like him, steady, soft, and beautiful. They’re academic notes, but I still read them over and over.

Eric flips a page in his book by the desk, tapping his foot in the rhythm of the soft rap music. “Don’t worry about the jar.

You’ve been doing so well. I’ll give you permission to talk about him for a bit now.”

I blow out a breath and drop down on my bed. It’s a shame to fold the paper into a small square, but I do it anyway and put it in my pocket. I won’t throw it away even if Eric orders me to.

“What’s there to talk about?” I mumble. “It’s easier to control myself when I see him, but it still hurts like hell to be away.”

“Hm,” Eric murmurs and marks his spot in the book with a
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blue heart-shaped Post-it. “Love hurts, right? But do you see now how unhealthy this is?” He gestures at the jar.

“Yeah. I see it.”

Eric smiles. “Good. Then we can talk about what you need to do from now on.”

I glance down and fiddle with the bright-red comforter Eric gave me. “What do you mean?”

“You need to prioritize your life. It should be studying, showering, sleeping, eating, exercising, friends, fresh air, and then less important stuff like love, family, etcetera.” I chuckle. “Looks like your priorities are a bit messed up.

Study first? And since when do you think sex is less important than sleeping?”

“Well, once you get those priorities in order, you can move them around a bit, but you need to keep things balanced. And as for studying being on top, I’m gonna become the best God damn editor that ever stepped a foot in Boston. But follow that list of priorities and you’ll soar through your recovery.”

“Who made you a life-coach?”

Eric smirks. “I’m self-taught.”

I stack some pillows and lie down. Eric’s room is not only small, but it’s also full of his stuff; volumes and volumes of books in and around a stuffed bookcase; two dressers worth of clothes plus a narrow wardrobe that’s stuffed with shoes at the bottom; two desks, one of which he used as a dining-slash-food prep before I moved in; and his dressers are covered with silly little knickknacks like colorful plush toys, jewelry, souvenirs from various US cities, and hair and skin products that he couldn’t make room for in the bathroom shelves. His bed is covered by a purple comforter with pink, white, and purple pillows in various shapes, sizes, and textures.

“Looks like you’re not big on families either,” I say after a moment of silence.

Eric dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I mean my A Life Without You
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folks are okay, but we don’t stay in touch as much since I came out. My dad’s a small-time lawyer and my mom’s a beautician.

They live in a town where gossip is the substance of life, so the less I’m there the better for them.”

I grab my bottle of water and drink. “But you must have fooled around with some guy from town, right?”

“Nah, I met some guys over the internet and drove up to Cleveland to meet them.” Eric leans back in his chair and gazes up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. “Man, those were the best three weeks of my life. Those guys taught me
everything
– from condom usage to triple meat sandwiches.” My throat locks down and sends water spraying from my mouth.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude. It takes a lot of skill to do that, especially if you’re in the middle.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not hear any details.” I pause. “Do you always use condoms?”

“Of course I do! I don’t want any nasty STDs. Don’t you use condoms?”

“I used to, but not since Jesse and I got tested. I almost forgot to use one the first time we did it. I’m still allowed to say his name, right?”

“’Course. I suppose you didn’t really need one that first time with Jesse since he was a virgin at eighteen – or is he nineteen already?”

“He’s still eighteen, and come on, it’s not that uncommon. I mean, if you said twenty-five I’d be a little surprised, but I was very happy when he said he was still a virgin.”

“Of course you were.”

The cap grinds against the bottle when I screw it on. “Only I’m not his only one anymore…”

Eric watches me silently for a minute and then shrugs. “If we had an active gayrority maybe it would be easier for him to come out.”

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I glance up at him. “He’s not gay.”

“Whatever,” Eric says, holding up a hand. “Bi men need to come out too.”

“What happened to that gayrority thing anyway?”

“Ugh.” Eric rolls his eyes. “I got a letter from the board saying that there was no free building. I started gathering signatures – I faked yours, by the way, because you were out of it – and this guy Henry sort of took over. He is one hot piece of meat,” Eric purrs and stretches his hands over his head like a cat. “He’s forming a GLBTQ program at the beginning of next semester and is planning the setup of the gayrority, even though they won’t give us a house.”