Nothing and Everything

“Well, does anyone want anything to drink?” Hayley asked, a luminous smile still spread across her face.

“No, I think I’m good, actually...” Gerard trailed off, lost somewhere else, paying minimal attention to his friend’s words. However, he still managed to smile at Hayley, to act like he was still listening.

“A glass of red wine would be great, thanks Hayley.”

Jeff answered his wife by shaking his head, sandy brown hair shaking ever so slightly in the crisp afternoon breeze. He decided to follow Hayley, leaving Gerard, currently staring down at the grass, and Conor, staring at Gerard staring down at the grass.

“So, where are you from?” The grass still seemed to have Gerard under some sort of spell as he asked the question.

“Nebraska.” Conor wanted to know where this man was from, but he wanted to let Gerard take in his answer before placing another question into the conversation.

“I’ve never been to Nebraska before...” Again, his eyes stole Conor’s and waited patiently for a response.

Conor nodded. “Where are you from?”

“New Jersey.”

“I’ve never been to New Jersey.” Conor smiled again, genuinely.

“You know where I’ve never been?” Gerard raised his eyebrows, sophisticated, suggestive.

Although he was giving every hint in the unwritten book of flirting, Conor did not pick it up. “Besides Nebraska?”

“Yeah.” A laugh escaped Gerard’s lips, masking his disappointment. He was nervous, but at the same time, there was confidence, lots of it, taking over his voice. He wanted to finish this, and he knew exactly where, but it was far too early. “That...” He had to think fast. “Garden, over there, behind you.”

Conor didn’t know what the hell this was. He didn’t know whether to oppose it, embrace it or ignore it altogether.

Whatever it was, it was right now, and he needed to say something if he didn’t want to look like a complete idiot.

“Me e-either-” He stuttered, unfathomable.

The sun was shining through the trees, and the sky dosplayed but four wispy clouds, each one unique.

There was a pathway, wide enough for only two or three, weaving in and out of Conor’s sight as his eyes attempted to follow the ground’s direction.

There was jasmine, wafting over heads and into the sky. It smelled so sweet, so familiar...

“Let’s go.”

They walked, awkwardly, slowly, under trees and arbors. Above them, branches drifted apart and hurtled back together, shaking the strings of paper lanterns attached to their trunks. Beautiful, thought Conor, fresh, free. There was music off in the distance. Trombone riffs, flutes. The wedding reception moved without them, as they walked further out into the little garden.

“Your music,” said Gerard suddenly, a smile playing across his face, “it’s really something. It’s–“

“No. Don’t.” Conor drew in a sharp breath. The spring air had a bite, an edge as if winter had not yet surrendered. “It’s nothing. Just me fooling around. A waste of time, really.” He smiled sadly, moving a clump of dirt with his shoe. Gerard pulled at the strings of his undone tie. “Trust me. It’s really… incredible.” Conor felt the man’s breath cut through the air, warm for a moment against his face. He turned away, his eyes wandering through honeysuckle vines and maple trees. They walked for another minute, the path obscured by shrubs and flowers. The silence was welcome.

“Hey,” said Gerard, out of nowhere, smiling mischievously, knowing he was crossing the line, “You wanna dance?” Conor stopped walking, shocked. The music drifted in from the reception, slow and sweet. “H-here– now?” His voice was uncertain, confused. “Yeah.” Gerard stepped forward, suddenly, placing a hand in the small of Conor’s back. A jolt: warm, electric and painful. Reflexively, defensively, he pulled back, stuttering the first excuse that came to his mind. It was pathetic, regressive, but it was true. “I–I can’t. I have,” he took a deep breath, “I have a girlfriend.”

Janet. For the first time that day, Conor’s mind wandered back to their apartment. White skin, silky hair, green eyes. He had left her in bed that morning. She was sick, alone. Conor had gone to the wedding without her. “I’ll be fine,” she had said, coughing, smiling, small and pale. Now, Conor wanted nothing more than to walk away from this man, this garden, this wedding. Run home, back to comfort, back to monotony.

Gerard’s face fell. A flash of darkness, a flash of anger. He forced himself to smile. “That’s nice,” he managed, “that’s great.” The air hung unpleasantly heavy. Conor looked down at his shoes.

“I–I should go.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Conor turned and jogged back towards the reception, breathing hard. He risked a glance back over his shoulder. Gerard stood, rooted to the same spot. Spring wind whipped through his hair, through his body. There was determination in his eyes, a half-smile on his lips.

There was something else, something different, but Conor forced himself to face ahead, to turn away from whatever he couldn’t figure out, to take back his glance and forget he ever gave it away to Gerard.