Anyway, I think I’ll sign off here. Not going to lie. It’s been kind of a weird day.
—Jacques
FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
DATE: Oct 17 at 8:46 PM
SUBJECT: Re: when you knew
I’m the only one? That’s definitely kind of awesome. I’m really honored, Jacques. It’s funny, because I don’t really email, either. And I never talk about this stuff with anyone. Only you.
For what it’s worth, I think it would be incredibly depressing if your actual proudest moment happened in middle school. You can’t imagine how much I hated middle school. Remember the way people would look at you blankly and say, “Um, okaaay,” after you finished talking? Everyone just had to make it so clear that, whatever you were thinking or feeling, you were totally alone. The worst part, of course, was that I did the same thing to other people. It makes me a little nauseated just remembering that.
So, basically, what I’m trying to say is that you should really give yourself a break. We were all awful then.
To answer your question, I’ve seen him a couple of times since the wedding—probably twice a year or so. My stepmother seems to have a lot of family reunions and things. He’s married, and I think his wife is pregnant now. It’s not awkward, exactly, because the whole thing was in my head. It’s really amazing, isn’t it? Someone can trigger your sexual identity crisis and not have a clue they’re doing it. Honestly, he probably still thinks of me as his cousin’s weird twelve-year-old stepson.
So I guess this is the obvious question, but I’ll ask it anyway: If you knew you were gay, how did you end up having girlfriends?
Sorry about your weird day.
—Blue
FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
DATE: Oct 18 at 11:15 PM
SUBJECT: Re: when you knew
Blue,
Yup, the dreaded “okaaay.” Always accompanied by arched eyebrows and a mouth twisted into a condescending little butthole. And yes, I said it, too. We all sucked so much in middle school.
I guess the girlfriend thing is a little hard to explain. Everything just sort of happened. The eighth-grade relationship was a total mess, obviously, so that was different. As for the other two: basically, they were friends, and then I found out they liked me, and then we started dating. And then we broke up, and both of them dumped me, and it was all pretty painless. I’m still friends with the girl I dated freshman year.
Honestly, though? I think the real reason I had girlfriends was because I didn’t one hundred percent believe I was gay. Or maybe I didn’t think it was permanent.
I know you’re probably thinking: “Okaaaaaaay.”
—Jacques
FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
DATE: Oct 19 at 8:01 AM
SUBJECT: The obligatory . . .
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy.
(Eyebrows, butthole mouth, etc.)
—Blue
3
THE SHITTIEST THING ABOUT THE Martin situation is that I can’t bring it up with Blue. I’m not used to keeping secrets from him.
I mean, there are a lot of things he and I don’t tell each other. We talk about all the big things, but avoid the identifying details—the names of our friends and anything too specific about school. All the stuff that I used to think defined me. But I don’t think of those things as secrets. It’s more like an unspoken agreement.
If Blue were a real junior at Creekwood with a locker and a GPA and a Facebook profile, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be telling him anything. I mean, he is a real junior at Creekwood. I know that. But in a way, he lives in my laptop. It’s hard to explain.
I was the one who found him. On the Tumblr, of all places. It was August, right when school was starting. Creeksecrets is supposed to be where you can post anonymous confessions and secret random thoughts, and people can comment, but no one really judges you. Except it all kind of devolved into this sinkhole of gossip and bad poetry and misspelled Bible quotes. And I guess it’s kind of addictive either way.
That’s where I found Blue’s post. It just kind of spoke to me. And I don’t even think it was just the gay thing. I don’t know. It was seriously like five lines, but it was grammatically correct and strangely poetic, and just completely different from anything I’d ever read before.
I guess it was about loneliness. And it’s funny, because I don’t really think of myself as lonely. But there was something so familiar about the way Blue described the feeling. It was like he had pulled the ideas from my head.
Like the way you can memorize someone’s gestures but never know their thoughts. And the feeling that people are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows.
The way you can feel so exposed anyway.
The way he feels so hidden and so exposed about the fact that he’s gay.
I felt strangely panicked and self-conscious when I read that part, but there was also this quiet thrum of excitement.
He talked about the ocean between people. And how the whole point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.
I mean, I just had to know him.
Eventually I worked up the courage to post the only comment I could think of, which was: “THIS.” All caps. And then I wrote my email address. My secret Gmail account.
I spent the next week obsessing about whether or not he would contact me. And then he did. Later, he told me that my comment made him a little nervous. He’s really careful about things. Obviously, he’s more careful than I am. Basically, if Blue finds out that Martin Addison has screenshots of our emails, I’m pretty sure he’ll freak out. But he’ll freak out in a totally Blue way.
Meaning, he’ll stop emailing me.
I remember exactly how it felt to see that first message from him in my in-box. It was a little bit surreal. He wanted to know about me. For the next few days at school after that, it felt like I was a character in a movie. I could almost imagine a close-up of my face, projected wide-screen.
It’s strange, because in reality, I’m not the leading guy. Maybe I’m the best friend.
I guess I didn’t really think of myself as interesting until I was interesting to Blue. So I can’t tell him. I’d rather not lose him.
I’ve been avoiding Martin. All week, in class and rehearsal, I see him trying to catch my eye. I know it’s kind of cowardly. This whole situation makes me feel like a coward. It’s especially stupid, because I’ve already decided I’ll help him. Or I’ll cave to his blackmail. Whatever you want to call it. It honestly makes me feel a little sick.
I’m distracted all through dinner. My parents are especially jolly tonight because it’s Bachelorette night. I’m dead serious. As in the reality show. We all watched the show yesterday, but tonight is the night we Skype with Alice at Wesleyan to discuss it. It’s the new Spier family tradition. I could not be more aware that this is perfectly ridiculous.
I don’t even know. My family’s always been like this.
“And how are Leo and Nicole?” my dad asks, mouth twitching around the edges of his fork. Switching Leah’s and Nick’s genders is like the pinnacle of Dad-humor.
“They’re amazing,” I say.
“LOL, Dad,” Nora says flatly. My little sister. Recently, she’s been using text abbreviations out loud sometimes, even though she never uses them in actual text messages. I think it’s supposed to be ironic. She looks at me. “Si, did you see Nick playing guitar outside the atrium?”
“Sounds like Nick’s trying to get a girlfriend,” says my mom.