(It Started At) Straight Pride

“You’re not mad, are you?” asks Will, half-walking, half-stumbling along the sidewalk. “I would’ve told you sooner, but…”

“We literally just spent the day together at a place called ‘Straight Pride’,” I reply, turning to face him on my left. “It’s fine. Why would I be mad?”

“I just mean…” he trails off, before rephrasing. “I’ve had a while to get used to it, you know. Like, I’ve known and accepted it for years and yet… And yet every now and then I think, ‘That’s not me! It couldn’t possibly be me! What are the chances?’ and…. And like, I know it’s not wrong or anything, but sometimes my brain betrays me and says it’s not normal and I think what that means is… However hard we try, man, I just think that, in the world we live in, it’s way too easy to be heterophobic or racist or sexist or something. And I think that’s shitty.”

I look at him, but he doesn’t look back at me. His eyes are fixed on his shoes as we walk together. And I notice something about him. His brown hair’s a mess, his face is distraught and his shoulders are hunched. And for some godforsaken reason I’m into it.

Do you ever get that feeling that your brain has no other priorities other than thinking the most inappropriate thoughts at the worst possible moments? I remember when we were in seventh grade and I had a sleepover. Will was there, along with Natasha, this girl named Brittany and these friends I had called Bryan and Pete. We were sitting in a circle in my bedroom playing spin the bottle, and it landed on me and Will. So I kissed him. And that was the first moment when I realized that I liked him. And, from then on I suppressed it. I mean, a best friend dynamic like ours wasn’t really something you wanted to ruin with a relationship. So I kept quiet, and now I guess it’s too late. Or it never would’ve worked anyway. Or, something.

“Say something,” he mumbles. I come to, realizing I’d been zoning out and he repeats. “Say something, please.”

“Will… uh, shit, man. You know me. I am far from being heterophobic, and, uh, I’m here for you dude.”

“You know someone said that Shakespeare was the finest wordsmith this world has ever seen. Obviously whoever said that has never met you, have they?” he laughs.

“And we were having such a beautiful moment, too. You just had to ruin it.”

“I mask my pain with humor. It’s who I am,” he says mockingly.

“It’s not healthy, you know,” I say.

“Well it’s lucky you’re here for me, then isn’t it?” he smiles and pauses. “Thanks, buddy.”

* * *

I sit at my desk, doing calculus. I’ve never really been the biggest fan of math but I get through, I guess. I’m not the worst at it. I’m halfway through question why, part kill-me-now, section Jesus-didn’t-die-for-this, when I hear a knock at the window. It’s Will. It could only be Will.

“Dude, open up!”

I cross over my room and open the window to see him smiling up at me from the roof of his car. Since we missed the bus and had to walk home, by the time I almost complete my homework, dusk has come and gone. Will’s smile is reflected by the moonlight and I think –

No, I don’t. I shouldn’t think that, so I don’t.

“There’s a party at Nate’s!” he squeals like a schoolgirl.

“Aw shit but I have –” I turn to my math textbook. It’s due tomorrow. And yet…

“Let me grab my coat,” I reply.

* * *

“So, Nate’s house, huh?” Will says, raising his eyebrows.

“What about it?”

“He’s pretty cute, right?” he says suggestively, raising his eyebrows again, wiggling them this time.

“Oh my God, you sound like Ma!” I laugh. Ma’s number one interest is my love life, even if there isn’t much to show of it.

“Tell you what; we’ll be each other’s wingmen. I get you Nate, you get me…” he pauses when we get to a red light, resting his chin on his palm with his elbow on the steering wheel. “Lucy. You get me Lucy.”

“Lucy! No way, she’s had her eyes on Penny since, like, forever!” I say. “Plus she used to go out with Annabelle, so I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“Penny then,” he sighs. “I mean, if someone as hot as Lucy likes you, you don’t turn ‘em down unless you play for the other team. It’s scientific fact.”

“Jesus Christ, Will, could you stop drooling all over your car?”

“You realize I practically follow you ’round in school with a mop, right? You owe me this one.”

“Yes, but in school we’re not in a life-or-death situation. Keep your eyes on the road, will you!?”

It takes us ten more minutes for Nate’s house to appear in front of us on Avenue Road, which, in turn, is just off Street Close. Whoever named the roads here had a strange sense of humor. Then again, not many people could say they live on Boulevard Alley. The weirdest thing as well is that Avenue Road is more of an avenue than a road, Street Close is more of a street than a close and Boulevard Alley is, well, the widest street in the city.

Will parks awkwardly on the sidewalk between an SUV and a convertible, making his crap-on-wheels look even shittier than it is. We walk together between two great trees and look at each other, and then at the front door. There’s a bouncer. A first in our experience of high school parties.

“Got liquor?” the bald man asks straight up, crossing his arms tighter around his chest, making his tattooed biceps…

Dear God, Oliver. Pull yourself together.

As I’m about to make an excuse, Will produces two bottles of alcohol and a green glass object from behind his back.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.

The bouncer says nothing. He grunts and lets us pass.

“You have a bong!?” I whisper sharply into my best friend’s ear.

“Had. What was I going to use it for? I’m a brownie man, myself,” he says nonchalantly as we go into the living room. The lights are dimmed, the music blaring and the room is transformed into a packed, sweaty and claustrophobic version of a nightclub. So a nightclub, then.

I’m about to pull Will into the center of the dance floor when I grab thin air. I turn to see Will sitting conspicuously on an arm chair which happens to have an excellent view of the girls playing spin the bottle behind the couch.

I face the fact that I may be the biggest idiot on the face of the earth for not realizing it before he told me.

William Parker is, and always will be, hopelessly straight by all standards.