�Can we talk?�
I regarded Charlie wearily as I washed up after breakfast. �No, I don�t think so.�
�Come on, please?� he asked, sitting down at the breakfast bar.
I turned around to face him. �Let�s not do any of that post-mortem �I�m sorry it didn�t work out� thing.�
�Will you just listen then?�
I sighed and crossed my arms, waiting for him to continue.
�Look, I didn�t know you were going to be home until next week. I just wanted to bring Austin home to meet my mom and everything.
I smiled sarcastically. �Gee, thanks for thinking of me in this whole equation.�
�Adam�I�m sorry.�
It�s funny, I�m angry at him, but I�ll never stop loving him.
�Charlie, you�ve hurt me, ok? I mean, we hadn�t even technically broken up and you bring Mr. Universe home for Christmas.�
Charlie stood up. �Adam, we�ve been over for a long time�we both know that.�
I pulled at a stray thread on the dishtowel I had in my hands and looked up at him sadly. �We both might�ve known it, but that doesn�t mean I ever stopped loving you.�
Charlie was quiet for a moment before I heard his footsteps scurry across the kitchen floor and the door to the courtyard slam.
I put down my dishtowel and followed him.
�I thought you said you wanted to talk.�
I sat down in a lawn chair opposite him.
�Hearing you say that you still love me is�a bit overwhelming.�
I sighed. I wasn�t supposed to be feeling things for him, not after three years, not after seeing him with someone else.
�Adam�everything is just so hard�when we started to drift apart in our sophomore year, it just felt like my whole world was being ripped apart.� Charlie looked up at me sadly, his eyes full of longing. �I told myself that I couldn�t spend the rest of my life crying over you, I had to move on.�
I took a deep breath. �You didn�t have to, Charlie. Just because we were separated it didn�t mean that you had to stop loving me.�
He looked across at me, and my heart sped up. �Being away from you, at UCLA, was horrible. It really was. But then gradually, I started to find things that I loved doing. I started taking art classes, joined a frat�and then I met Austin, and things seemed to be finally moving on, and then I realized that I had to come home. That I had to see you eventually, no matter how hard it would be.�
I didn�t want to hear Charlie talking about his wonderful life. I didn�t want to hear that his hockey career was fabulous, and that his new boyfriend was dreamy. I didn�t want to hear that the love of my life was loving someone else.
�I always thought that if something was worth fighting for, you�d fight for it. Obviously, you didn�t feel as strongly for me as I did for you, otherwise you would�ve have tried to make things work.�
I�d hurt him, I knew it. From the look of misery that flashed across his face and the way he started to wring his hands nervously.
�It hurts to hear that you doubt how much I love you.�
I shrugged and stood up. �It hurt me to see you with some other guy in our house. Without a call, or a heads up. I thought coming home would be what we needed to get back on track, but while I was hoping that, you were off joining a frat and falling in love.�
I turned to leave.
�I�m not in love,� Charlie murmured softly behind me. So softly I barely heard him.
�What?�
�I�m not in love. With Austin.�
I stopped. �So why bring him home?�
Charlie got up and took my arm, turning me around himself. �I thought that was the thing to do. To prove to myself that I was over you.�
�Did it work?� I swallowed.
�No. Adam, I�m not over you.�
I pulled away from him. �You�re too late.�
As much as I hated to, I walked away from him, leaving Charlie out in the courtyard, watching my retreating back.
�Please wait.�
I stood at the sink, staring out the kitchen window, watching our next-door neighbour shovel snow off his driveway.
�Can we just talk about this?�
�Charlie, I�ve said all I need to. You�ve hurt me, deeply, and I�m not going to turn around and forgive you.�
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, folding me into his arms.
My heart beat faster and tears began to form behind my eyes. �Stop.�
He pulled away from me and took a few steps back. �I�m sorry.�
I wiped at my face angrily, hating myself for crying. �Just go, Charlie. I wanna be alone.�
He didn�t say anything, just shuffled out of the room, leaving me to cry.
**
~|~ Saturday, 12:19pm
My mom called this morning; she wants me to come over for afternoon tea. And you know what, I�m actually glad I�m getting out of this place. If I have to deal with another one of Austin�s nauseating jokes, I think I�ll kill him. He�s even getting on Julie�s nerves, and she�s the most easy-going person ever.
Why does my life seem like it�s falling apart? It�s like I�m suddenly devoid of emotions, at the same time I�m feeling every single thing I�ve ever felt in my life. Why am I angry one minute and depressed the next? Why am I such a mess? I�ve been home a day, and I�m a nutcase. If this is what Charlie does to me, maybe I need help. I shouldn�t be getting so caught up in seeing him again.
Maybe I should be talking to someone. My old physiatrist maybe? God, I�m paranoid. I have one shitty day and convince myself I need therapy. Maybe I need therapy to conquer my paranoid tendencies? HELP ME! My hands are shaking at the moment, and it�s freaking me out. I seem to be a mess, and I can�t stop shaking. It might be because I can hear Charlie in his room through the bathroom, listening to a cd, which sounds like Simple Plan, or very possibly Good Charlotte. He always liked punk sort of music.
The lyrics are really emotional. �Cause we lost it all, nothing lasts forever, I�m sorry I can�t be perfect. Now it�s just too late, and we can�t go back, I�m sorry I can�t be perfect.� It feels like some sort of subliminal message. Man, is he trying to make me feel bad?
I wonder if Austin is in there with him? I wonder if they�re making out to this? God, the thought makes me sick. I think I just need to get out of here. Show up to my parent�s house hours earlier. Hell, I�d face the questions about Georgetown and all that crap rather than be here.
So, off I go, out of the house. Maybe I�ll cruise around for a while. Wish me luck.
Adam D. Banks ~|~
**
I think I just drove around for a few hours before ending up at Mom and Dad�s.
�How�s Georgetown?�
I sighed internally and forced a smile. �It�s good Dad, their pre-med program is amazing.�
As lucky as I am, not only have my parents got me in the firing line, but the horrid old Ferguson�s and my brother is here to witness me trying to stomach through the entire afternoon.
I tuned out their conversation, and instead thought about what was going on in my head.
�Adam? I�m talking to you son.�
I looked up at my dad, and offered a half-hearted apologetic look. �I beg your pardon?�
�I was asking about hockey. What�s your average?�
�Uh, I�m not sure,� I answered uncertainly.
�Oh.�
God, my father was a horrible person. In one word he could reduce me to a stinking pile of crap. Which is what I felt like at that moment.
�Any offers from professional teams?� Mr. Ferguson asked from the left of me, his old man smell starting to sicken me.
�Nothing concrete,� I replied before pushing my chair back noisily. �Excuse me.�
I bolted from the table, entering the living room. I wanted to get away from them, from the questions and the looks. The way my brother kept kicking me in the shins beneath the table, and my father�s disapproving eye. And my mother�s oblivious nature. I swear, she still thinks I�m 10, and I bet she�s begging to straighten my tie or smooth down my hair.
I�m going crazy.
�Adam. What are you doing? That was very rude of you.�
I turned and faced my father, my nerves on edge. �I really don�t want to get into anything right now, Dad.�
He frowned. �What are you talking about? Get back in there.�
I shook my head. �I can�t.�
He gave me his sternest look. The one that usually made me quiver in fear, but this time, I stood my ground.
�I�m going home, Dad.�
He took a step towards me and grabbed my upper arm. �Get back in there right now.�
I pulled away. �I�m sorry Dad.�
He was getting angry, I could tell. His face was turning red and he was balling his fists by his side.
Now, don�t get me wrong, my father hardly ever hit me when I was younger, the way he looked at me was enough to get me to do what he wanted. But this time, I knew that he�d either hit me, or�well, I didn�t know.
�Adam Banks, I�m your father, and I�m telling you to go back into that dining room and explain to those people why you�re being so rude.�
I shook my head again. �I�m not going back in there, Dad.�
He began to pace. It was an odd sight, my father getting flustered. He was so used to people obeying him, it was like he had no idea what to do.
�I don�t know what�s gotten into you, but you better get yourself together,� he warned. �Because you owe an apology to those people in there.�
I stood my ground. �That�s not going to happen.�
My father stood eerily still, as if he was suddenly a statue and set his steely gaze on me. �What on earth has gotten into you?�
I scoffed. �You wanna know what? You really wanna know?�
�Yes. I want to know what has got you so perpetually bent out of shape!�
�My life is a mess! I came home yesterday, and you know what? My boyfriend, or that�s what I thought, bought home another guy!� I was shouting. �And has flaunted his new happy relationship in my face!�
My father noticeably paled. �What?�
I laughed. �You surprised? That I�m gay! Well, I am! I bet you didn�t see that coming!�
My dad took a few steps away from me. �What are you talking about?�
�I�m gay, Dad. I�ve been gay for five years now. I�ve even been in a gay relationship with Charlie.�
He grabbed the side of the couch for support.
I exhaled and grabbed my coat off the back of an armchair and shrugged into his, striding from the room. And it�s funny; I�ve never felt so�relieved.
I climbed into my Porsche and sped out of the Banks� Estate, and careened down the highway, my head surprisingly clear.
I must�ve driven like a maniac on speed, because it felt like only seconds had passed and then I was in my driveway, staring at the house through my windshield.
I forged my way into the house to see everyone in the living room, watching a DVD.
�Hey, hey did the firing line go?� Julie asked me as I shrugged off my jacket.
I kept my eyes off Charlie and Austin, who occupied the 3-seater. Charlie sat at one end, and Austin was stretched out along it, his legs hanging over one end, his head resting in Charlie�s lap.
The sight made me sick.
�It was eventful,� I told Julie, hanging my jacket up and kicking off my boots.
I took a seat on the couch next to Fulton, who pat my back sympathetically.
�What are you watching?� I asked, not really caring, just wanting to make conversation.
�We just finished �Igby Goes Down�,� Austin answered.
I wanted to throttle him.
But I didn�t, I just ignored him and got up. I wandered into the kitchen, looking for my bag of licorice.
I rummaged through the pantry, but no licorice. �Anyone seen my licorice?�
�Oh, that was yours?�
I turned around and looked at Austin, who was sheepishly looking at me from the couch.
�Yeah, that was mine,� I answered. �Did you plainly disregard my name scribbled in permanent marker on the bag?�
�I must�ve missed it,� Austin explained.
I took a deep breath.
I didn�t say anything, just climbed the stairs to my room, shoving my feet into some shoes, I grabbed my ice skates, a hockey stick and a few pucks and made my way back down the stairs and out the front door, walking the down our street to the pond that was conveniently iced over.
I sank down onto the wooden bench to pull my skates on and shivered the cold air surrounding me like a blanket.
�I thought you might like this.�
I looked up at Charlie as he handed me a beanie and a pair of gloves. I took them gratefully and slipped them on.
As I pulled the left glove onto my left hand, I noticed the ever-present scar from my freshmen year at Eden Hall. I ran a finger delicately over the jagged mass of skin and sighed.
Charlie sank down on the bench next to me. �This is all a bit of a mess, isn�t it?�
I snorted. �What makes you say that?�
�Are you really angry Austin ate your licorice?�
I looked at him. �Yes, I am. It seems everything I love becomes his eventually.�
�That�s not fair.�
�Yes, it is.� I took a deep breath, the cool afternoon air filling my nostrils.
�I�m sorry.�
I looked over at him. �What for?�
�Everything.�
We sat in silence, watching our breath float in front of our faces. It was weird, it felt like old times, Charlie and I sitting together, not having to say anything because we both knew what the other was thinking.
Without warning, he reached over and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
I responded, wrapping my arms around him as hard as I could, clinging to him for dear life.
His arms were like life preservers, and in order to live, I needed them to hold me.
