You Could Be My Compass

Alex woke up earlier than he wanted to the sound of his phone. He ignored it the first two times, but the third time, Jack groaned, “Please answer it or I will throw your phone out the window.”

“No one’s forcing you to sleep in here,” Alex retorted, picking it up. It was Lisa. “Tell me there’s a good reason you’re calling this early.”

“I’m so sorry about last night!” she wailed. “I was drunk and you know I can’t keep my mouth shut when I’m drunk. Cass and Rian have been yelling at me all morning.”

All morning? It was only eight! “It’s okay. Can I—”

“And Rian said I also have to apologize for not mentioning the whole alcohol thing. So…sorry for not mentioning it.”

“It’s cool. Can I go—”

“I really didn’t mean to say all that. Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t. Can I go back—”

Lisa had the horribly annoying habit of completely ignoring people when they wanted to say something. “Is Jack mad at you? Oh my god, if he’s mad at you and it’s my fault—”

“Lisa! I really appreciate your apology, but please, can I go back to sleep? I forgive you, don’t let it happen again, et cetera. Goodbye.” He turned his phone off and tossed it into a beanbag across the room.

Jack smiled and dozed off immediately, but there was something nagging at the back of Alex’s mind that kept him from going back to sleep. He remembered the way every damn girl at the party had flirted with Jack, and how much it bothered him. And what about in the library. Were the going to kiss?

And why did he want to so badly? Jack was his best friend…

He sighed and carefully got out of bed, making sure he didn’t wake Jack again. He wasn’t sure what he was planning on saying, but he had to talk to his dad. He’d give him good advice. Always had.

He was conveniently in the living room, watching an old episode of CSI. It didn’t look like he’d just happened to wake up early, though; his face was that of someone who had pulled an all-nighter. Why, though? “Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

His dad looked up from the TV and smiled. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I don’t really know how to put this,” he began, his mind running through every possible way of wording and coming up blank.

“Well, I’ve learned that the best way to put something is to state it as simply as possible. No bullshit, you know.” Alex hadn’t heard his dad swear a single time since he’d witnessed the verbal altercation in the living room, and hearing him casually slip bullshit into a sentence sounded weird and unnatural. “Try to say it in twenty words or less.”

Wow, that did make it easier. “I think I like Jack.” Five words. He didn’t even need twenty.

He nodded. “I know.”

“No, I mean—”

Another nod. “I know. Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure…” Alex responded cautiously, wondering what direction this conversation was about to go.

“I’ve kind of got a thing for your mother.”

When Alex just blinked confusedly at him, he sighed. “I thought we were both understating the obvious.”

“Yeah, still don’t get it,” Alex mumbled, embarrassed. He hated when his dad did this, had some private joke in his head that he expected everyone else to pick up on instantly.

“What I’m saying is this: I’ve known for a long time that you really like Jack, Alex. Everybody knows. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to figure it out,” he added, laughing.

“But,” Alex said, not sure his father really understood what he was getting at. “That means that I’m gay.”

Once again, he nodded and said, “I know. I knew you weren’t into girls when you didn’t even try to pursue that Lisa girl that Rian tried to set you up with. I always suspected, but that’s what confirmed it.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Alex, as long as you’re happy, your mother and I will always support whatever decisions you make. We don’t care who you love. Just be with who makes you happy. I married my best friend and couldn’t be happier.”

“But I thought that Jack’s dad was your best friend?” Alex questioned. Well, until recently, they were.

“Barakat is—well, was—my bro, but your mother is my best friend.” Alex never did understand why they called each other by their last names. He held back a laugh at the fact that his dad just used the word bro. “She’s the one I can confide everything in. She’s the one that keeps my secrets. She’s the one that won’t judge me for anything I do. She’s the one that, no matter what, I know she’ll love me for who I am.”

And then Alex smiled, because that’s exactly what Jack was to him. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

With that off his chest, he went off in search of food. Now that he was up with no chance of going back to sleep, he might as well eat something. And since in four days, Jack would have to get up extra early for the interviews, he figured he’d let him enjoy sleeping in. It seemed that, even though it was summer, everyone was out to cock-block them, but with sleep. Sleep-blocking?

Alex almost bumped into his mom as she stood in the kitchen, listening intently to her phone, occasionally mm-hmming at what he assumed were the appropriate times and breaking sticks of celery into smaller pieces that she wouldn’t eat anyway. Ever since the other night, she’d been abnormally stressed out and wasn’t really eating. She’d lost a noticeable amount of weight and was starting to resemble a spindly spider.

Alex grabbed a few celery sticks and a jar of peanut butter and almost escaped unscathed when she grabbed his arm. “I’ll be sure to tell him. Thanks, Mrs. Baker.”

Oh no. It was summer. Mrs. Baker, the eleventh and twelfth grade English teacher, had just called. That could mean only one thing. She was giving out summer assignments.

“Good news,” she said, smiling with her perfect teeth. Alex briefly wondered if he’d missed out on the perfection gene somewhere along the way. Straight white teeth, shiny-without-effort hair, blemish-free skin, just all-around flawless. Or maybe it wasn’t natural. He’d never bothered to ask; it seemed rude.

“I don’t wanna!” he blurted, sounding impetuous and childish.

Raising an eyebrow at him, she told him, “Mrs. Baker just called. She said that she submitted a copy of some creative writing piece you did last semester to a contest. They love it and want to send it to the national finals, but she needs the original copy. Do you still have it?”

“God, Mom, it’s like you don’t even know me,” Alex joked. “Have I ever thrown out a paper?” Screw letting him sleep; Jack had to wake up for this.

“No. I attribute it to pure laziness, rather than meticulousness,” she shot right back at him.

Taking the plate of peanut butter-coated celery upstairs, Alex jumped onto his bed excitedly, effectively jostling Jack to wake him up. “Jack! Up, up, up, I’ve got food and a project for us!” he shouted, eyes glowing.

Jack looked at him through half-closed eyes. “If it’s not fucking James Bond…okay, I phrased that wrong. If it’s not a fucking James Bond mission, I’m going back to sleep.”

“It’s not James Bond. It’s not even close. We’re playing a fun game of Go Through All Of Alex’s Old Papers.”

Oddly enough, he sat straight up at that. “I’m in!”

Alex had to laugh at how he didn’t even try to mask his curiosity. “Excellent.” He went to the hall closet and brought in a box. And then another box. And another. Five boxes later and he said, “This is about half of ‘em. Hopefully it’s somewhere in here. None of these are organized or anything.”

“Why not?”

“I had these all over the place. The bottom of my closet was covered with papers. I had them on my walls, under the bed, between couch cushions. Over spring break, my mom went into hyper-frenzied-cleaning mode and told me that if I didn’t get all of them boxed up, she’d throw everything out.”

“And…why do you still have all this?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be famous one day and my doodles and notes will sell for millions.” Or maybe he was too lazy to throw any of it out, like his mom said. Plus, there was just this fun feeling of nostalgia that goes along with reading over an essay you wrote in eighth grade or a poem you wrote based off a play in freshman English. “Okay, we’re looking for a creative writing paper from March. Pretty standard, double-spaced, Times New Roman, size twelve font. It’s not gonna stand out or anything.” He spoke with the serious tone of somebody giving military orders. “Don’t remember the title, sorry. Whoever finds it wins! Winner gets…well, I haven’t really thought of what the winner gets yet. Um, winner chooses the prize.”

“Deal, but if I win, you’re getting rid of some of these and we’re burning them.”

“Deal,” Alex agreed.

So they set to work, carefully sifting through a forest worth of paper, making a burn pile just in case Jack won.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” Jack grumbled an hour later as Alex passed him yet another stack of papers. They were only on the third box and had already finished the celery, two boxes of Oreos, and a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper. They were halfway through a carton of Goldfish.

“Because you love spending time with me and you want to know what potentially embarrassing things I’ve forgotten about that are scattered amongst essays and report cards,” Alex replied, tossing several pages into the pile of papers to burn and throwing a Goldfish at him.

He leaned up at an awkward angle and caught it in his mouth. “I didn’t realize you kept everything you’ve ever written on,” he whined. Then he giggled. “Like this picture you drew when we were six. Cute.” He held up a piece of green construction paper with two sloppy stick figures and the messy handwriting of a six-year-old. Best friends forever.

“Give me that!” Alex snatched it and tried to put it in the burn pile.

“No way! If you’re gonna throw it out, I’m keeping it,” Jack protested, taking it back from him.

They continued going through the papers until Jack came across a formal-looking document. “What’s this?” he asked.

Alex automatically went into panic mode, recognizing it at once. “Nothing!” he yelped, lunging to grab it.

That, of course, made Jack all the more curious. He stood up, holding it out of Alex’s reach as he read it. Alex jumped up and down, trying to grab it. But the more he protested, the more Jack wanted to read it. In the back of his mind, Alex knew that was to be expected. They didn’t keep things from each other, so the fact that there was something that he didn’t want Jack to know piqued his interest. But that right there was the one thing he never wanted Jack to see or find out about.

It was Alex’s hospital discharge paper.

Everything in that box, he could justify keeping for the sake of memories. But that one…he didn’t know why the hell it was in there. He thought he’d thrown that one out.

“Jack, please don’t…” He didn’t shout it. He just quietly begged. No amount of pleading could make him not read it. And nothing could ever make him un-read it. He felt so ashamed as he watched Jack’s eyes widen and his mouth open just slightly, his entire body slumping the tiniest bit, arm dropping back to his side and the paper dropping to the floor.

“Alex, it says here you tried to overdose.”