Part 2: Brighter Shade of a Person
By Miss_demeanour ([email protected])
WILL
"So would you like to tell the panel a bit about your poem?" Finally he'd cut the crap, and were we stood peering over the edge of his point. There was nothing I could do to stop my stomach doing a series of somersaults inside my body; it was this that I had been dreading. What was there to say? Surely this poem, that bared my very soul to these four strangers, had already said enough?
The interviewer picked up on my unease
"Lets start from the beginning, tell us about the title, it�s a rather strange one I seem to remember"
"Well," I cleared my throat; trying to remind myself yet again that it was just a poem "I've always thought the title is the most important part of the poem and sometimes the most interesting, if you let it." And I was off, I could almost hear Finn's words in my mind as I spoke, "When I first started writing my poem I just sat down and wrote the first thing that came into my mind, and that was the word "alone". But after I'd followed it with the first draft of what you have in front of you it felt just felt so... lifeless, it started to sound more like something you see multitudes of 13-year old girls writing in an attempt to grapple with all their lip-gloss teenage angst, than how I was really feeling� I smiled and got a grunted laugh from two of the judges at the table in front of me in return. "So that was the first thing I changed. It�s a complicated poem, emotionally if not structurally and I didn't think such a simple title suited it well." "So how did you come up with the title Ad-rift?" The interviewer prompted me as I slowed down,
"I wanted something that reflected the confusion of the poem, the fact that on first glance it seems to be about this lost and confused boy, out on his own, but on closer inspection is about something deeper than that, about pain and rejection and alienation from those we love. Adrift seemed the obvious choice to cover the first impression of the poem as it linked in with my sea imagery as well as my original �lonely� idea. But adding the depth was much harder, it was a while before I realized by adding a hyphen I created two words -the second word "rift" reflecting what I consider the most important line of the poem -even though its inserted inconspicuously within the body of the text: "Though you do not lay here" "
There was silence for a moment while the interviewer seemed to confirm that I'd finished.
"Well, you obviously feel extremely strongly about this poem, but what was it that caused you to write it?"
"It was an English assignment actually, Finn, our teacher, told us to go away and write about what we were feeling at the precise moment we picked up the pen." I paused for a moment, trying to decide whether I should go on, before doing so "I did it that night, listening to my roommate sleep"
The interviewer nodded, before, much to my relief, choosing to pick up on a previous point.
"So you have a good relationship with your teacher then?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You addressed him by his first name for a start"
I smiled, "Yeah, he was actually the one that entered me for this competition, I wasn't really too happy about it when I found out though"
"Oh?"
"My poem's pretty...close to the heart, I wasn't so happy about the thought of a lot of people -strangers- reading it. It kinda feels like I walked into this room naked earlier, you all knew so much about me..."
The interviewer and half the judges smiled, I'd won them over.
JACK
"So I hear this poem has quite the history," The interviewer asked, after we'd glossed over the pleasantries.
I gave him a quizzical look, before regaining my manners "Well, yes it does, but, if can ask, how do you know about that?"
The interviewer looked up from the piece of paper he'd been studying, one I assumed had held my poem, "Were you not aware that along with your poem we received a letter, sent my a Miss Jennifer Lindley"
"No, I wasn't aware" I spoke through partly clenched teeth.
"It's a quite lovely letter," He came to her defence "Here" And he passed me his copy:
*To whom this may concern
On receiving an application form for your competition through my school I decided to apply in place of a friend, who I believe would gain a great deal from the recognition of his poem.
I need not go on about the merits of the poem itself, for I have enclosed a copy with the application form as instructed and will let you be the judge of it from a more literary viewpoint.
The reason for this letter is the more human aspect of the poem, which I think you should be aware of in order to judge it accordingly. Jack, the author of the piece and one of my closest friends, wrote this poem entitled "Today" for an English assignment after a friend instructed him to: �Listen to yourself� He then, against all parameters of the said assignment, was forced to present the poem to the class rather then hand it in with the others. Leading to much drama, heartache and ridicule for Jack and all involved.
However through all this rough time he was able to stay strong and managed to emerge from the storm, not a changed person, but a brighter shade of the person he and been before.
He was an example for us all and although I know I may rip open old wounds with the submission of this poem, I feel it is my duty to do so, in order for others to experience the emotion and strength of a mind I now recognise in my best friend.
Yours faithfully
Jennifer Lindley*
I must confess I looked up from the pages with a hint of a tear in my eye.
"The board would, however, like you to realise that it was certainly not on the strength of the letter alone that you have reached the finals of our competition, it is a very moving and thought-provoking poem, one that ourselves and Jennifer, obviously, felt was worthy of recognition"
I was speechless. For a moment I sat completely still, cradling the sheet of paper that Jen must have been planning, what? months? before I could be sat there facing this panel of judges, all of whom were singing my praises. I cleared my throat.
"Well, thank you..." there was nothing more I could say
"I must say, your circumstances are very similar to the last applicant we interviewed� Will Krudski" The moment he said his name my mind flashed back to the few minutes before as I watched him emerge from this very room, a wide grin on his face as he caught my eye. I couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah, we've met actually,"
"Oh that�s good, it will be nice to have a fellow American with you through the next few days"
I only smiled and nodded.
"Right, so lets move back onto your poem..."
"So how did it go?" I was surprised to find Will curled catlike in the seat I had vacated when I left the room.
�Fine actually, yeah, I think it went okay� He matched my smile as I spoke.
�Great, then we�ll have to go celebrate� He jumped up off the chair with more enthusiasm than was normal in someone who�d just traveled over 3000 miles in one day.
�I take it yours was also a success�
�Absolutely and completely� that smile again �Where do you think we can go to get something nice to eat round here then?�
WILL
The National Institute of the English Language was a small building, tucked away quietly from the hustle and bustle of the city not far from the Marble Arch tube station. It was there, once we emerged through the plate glass ornate doors, that I now headed, Jack my by side, a successful interview under my belt and a smile on my face.
�You know this city isn�t half as scary as it was when I first arrived� I noted, subtly trying to catch Jack�s eye as he walked by my side, watching his feet as they strode out in front of him.
�Perhaps its lack of sleep that dissolves apprehension� He said with a bitter smile, more amused than annoyed �We have been on the go since about 8 o�clock this morning,�
�Yeah, but according to us it was 3 o�clock in the afternoon at the time� I smiled, knowing I�d beaten him �Well, you know, there is no law to say you have to be here� We�d reached the tube station now and proceeded through the turn-styles, inserting our passes (given to us before the interview on check-in at the hotel) and gaining them back again at the other side. �The hotel�s just a few stops in that direction� I motioned to the opposite direction to the one I was headed.
�Who died and made you king of the underground?� He said with a laugh, following me
�Where�s this scared little rich kid I found staring doggedly at the wrong map?�
My eyes hardened at his words, they may have been said with good intent, but he�d obviously caught the wrong end of the stick.
�I told you, I�m not a rich kid,� I said through clenched teeth
�You go to New Rawley School, same difference�
We were nearing the bottom of the escalator now, me stood on the step below him as he had been positioned the first time we had met, him above me. Perhaps it was a sign; perhaps we were doomed to fall into these positions of power, him first, then me.
�No,� I corrected him, immediately, walking away from him to catch the train that had just pulled into the station, � Polar opposites�
JACK
For a moment, I watched him leave, confused. Head spinning from the speed of the argument I didn�t know I was having. Touchy subject, I told myself, finally regaining my senses and rushing after him through the crowd. He wasn�t on the platform, but once I boarded the train I realised he hadn�t been able to move far up the carriage, the late commuter rush having meant weaving his way through the crowd would have been impossible. It also made sure that there were no seats available, so he had had to stand, lent against a railing, studying the poster on the side of the train with what he hoped was a resolute look on his face. I smiled at the sight.
�Touchy subject?� I asked, drawing alongside him and ducking my head to enter his line of vision. His face softened slightly as my eyes caught his.
�Yeah,� A pause �Look, I�m sorry, it�s just exactly the kind of attitude I�ve been trying to get away from this past year or so. People just kinda assume I�m this spoilt little rich kid with the entire world at his feet just cause I go to this great school, and that is so not the case�
�Hey,� I held up my hands �I�m sorry. I know what its like to be a townie you know, we might not have the ivy league school on our back-stoop rubbing our noses in it, but we�re pretty off the beaten track�
�Where do you come from?� He asked after a moment, curious.
�Capeside,� From the look on his face he hadn�t heard of it �It�s this little town by a creek, just, you know, small town America�
�Ahh, white-picket fences and all that?�
�Yeah I guess you could say that, although most of them will probably have faded over the years and are falling apart, waiting for some townie kid to come along and be paid to fix �em�
He laughed, �How did you know that�s exactly what I�d be spending my summer doing if I wasn�t at Rawley?�
��Cause that�s what I do all summer, that and painting houses� I smiled �We have a lot in common you and I�
At that moment the train began its journey, propelling its entire contents backward slightly as it began to accelerate, which pushed him gently up against me, our eyes meeting for the uncountable time that day.
�I suppose we do� Was his gentle reply.
WILL
�So tell me a bit about Capeside then� After our short exchange on the train we�d set about deciding on a place to eat, quickly settling on Leicester square, famous for its restaurants, cafes, cinemas, theatres and generally places of entertainment. It then wasn�t long before we found ourselves settled in a window table in a quiet little caf� on the corner of Charring Cross Road.
�Hmm, not a huge amount to tell really. I moved there with my sister and father about two years ago. Since then, we�ve had a few ups and downs as a family to say the least, but I�ve always had a great group of friends�
�You know sometimes I wish you�d knock before you enter my mind� I said with a laugh, he just looked confused �You just managed to describe my last year or so, except it was just me moving to Rawley school, not my family�
He smiled �Yeah, this is becoming kinda unnerving isn�t it?�
I laughed, �I was just thinking that�
�So tell me about your family��
�No, no, no� I avoided the subject neatly �I asked you first�Capeside�
�Okay then, well as I said my friends are kinda Capeside�s main saving grace, and I mean we have our share of problems, boy, do we have our share of problems, but we�re still really close�
�Tell me about them� I was beginning to feel like the interviewer- a thought that cast my mind back to my interview that afternoon. It had gone surprisingly well actually, better than I had imagined. On the flight over I remember expecting some terribly painful and embarrassing thirty minutes, sat with half a dozen old battleaxes in a room that resembled a prison cell more than an interview area. After my comment about how much my poem meant to me they�d pretty much backed away from the really painful stuff they could tell it contained. Much to my relief the one question I knew they were dying to ask was never brought up �who was the poem about? My particular strain of denial at that point in my life would pretty much have meant I wouldn�t have been able to answer the question.
�Well, there�s Jen,� Jacks voice brought me back into the present �She�s the girl who entered me for this competition, and, well I really don�t know what to say about her, except�� Suddenly he seemed to remember something and lent forwards in his seat to try and dig it out of his back pocket �The interviewer said I could keep it, she sent it with my poem when she entered me for the competition� He handed me over a piece of paper, crumpled at the edges, I unfolded it gently on the table in front of me and began to read.
JACK
I was aware I was bearing all by handing him over that piece of paper. Once he�d read it he�d want to know what my poem was about, what problems had arisen once I�d been forced to read it in class, why I�d become a �brighter shade of the person� I�d been before. My stomach tied itself in knots as I watched him read, wondering when he would finally look up, meet my eye and make me explain myself, and, most importantly, wondering how he�d react when I did.
�Wow,� He said finally, looking up �She�s quite a girl, and it makes you sound like quite a guy� I smiled, waiting for his next question �Is she� Is she your girlfriend?� Not quite the question I was expecting�
I laughed, partly out of relief �No, no, we�re not like that, she�s my best friend and I love her, but no, we�re not�dating�
�Sounds to me like you ought to be, she obviously thinks a lot of you�
�Well, there was this one time,� He cast me a quizzical look �But no, no we�re not like that, not right for each other at all�
�Any reason?� There it was- the question. It had taken him longer to get there than I�d expected, but we had still made it.
�She�s not really my type�� I was skirting the question. I hated the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I knew I had to tell someone, make the situation clear, it was like a series of warm volcanic eruptions mounting in the pit of my stomach, simmering in the depths of my soul.
�What? Blonde?� I couldn�t help but smile
�Female�
WILL
Silence.
What did I say?
For a full five seconds we just sat there and looked at each other. It took a while to process, before the realisation surged through my mind like an express train �for lack of a better simile. I�d always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I hadn�t wanted to let myself recognise it, because then it got a little bit more complicated when I recognised I had been flirting back.
Finally I became aware of him staring at me, waiting for my reaction, and I let out a shaky laugh.
�Well, suddenly I don�t need to ask what the poem was about...� I shook my head, probably in an effort to get the information to hit home.
�Are you okay about it?�
�About what?� Denial
�About me being gay� I gave him a look, one that said; quieten down �Look, I�m not hiding it now� and its not as if there�s a whole lot of people I know about that are gonna be listening�
�Yeah, I know, but��
�You�re not okay with it��
�I�m fine� I wasn�t fine.
�No you�re not�
�Look, I�m fine okay, I just�� I stood up �Need to�� And on the strength of that great and memorable exit line, I left.
JACK
�That�s the second time you�ve walked away from me in the last half hour� Naturally I�d followed him.
�You know, there�s no law to say you have to be here� I couldn�t read his tone as he repeated the line he�d used earlier to get me to follow him, this time for the opposite purpose �to get me to go away.
�Of course there is, you�d be eaten alive out here without me, lost in the big city all alone with all these scary people about�
�The only scary person about is the one that�s following me right now� I�d practically made it to his elbow when he spoke and caused me to stop, calling after him.
�You don�t really think that do you?�
Two seconds, three, before he stopped and turned.
�I don�t know what to think� He said honestly after a few seconds �I�m sorry, this shouldn�t bother me but it does,� His eyes finally met mine for the first time since we�d left the caf� ��I know I�ve only known you for a day,� He paused, as we both considered how much longer it seemed, ��but it feels like longer, you know��
I nodded
�It was a shock� He finished
�It wasn�t really though was it?� My response was immediate
�What�s that supposed to mean?�
�What do you think it means?�
�Can you answer in anything that�s not a question?�
I stopped as the argument became less and less about him and me and more and more about the volume of our voices.
�This is stupid, we�re not going to sort anything out this way�
�What�s there to sort out, you�re gay, I�m confused, leave it be�
�Why confused?� I asked quickly
He stopped for a moment, before looking down to study the pavement with more interest than it was worth �There you go with the questions again� His tone was quieter now
�There was no other way to say it�
For a moment we fell again into silence, me watching him, as I had been doing sat at our table in the caf�, the one we were now sure to have lost, hopefully not along with our friendship.
�I think I just need some time�� He said finally, turning away from me, back in the direction of the tube station.
I let him go.