Earth to Me

It was great to be home, where I could sit inside all day in a hoodie and sweatpants and not worry about looking presentable to other people, huddled up in a blanket while watching cartoons in the living room. My dad teased me about it for a few days, of course, but he let up; at least I wasn’t killing anyone.

Most days, Tegan joined me, and we’d have movie or TV marathons in my room well into the night. We’d go Christmas shopping together for our parents and relatives, heading to the mall to spend hours just window-shopping, and it was just the perfect way to unwind after everything that went on during the semester.

With the Christmas tree standing in my living room, garlands and wreaths hanging from the doors and walls, it was impossible not to feel warm inside.

And like any other band on the face of the planet, Put’emup, Put’emup had a corny Christmas photoshoot that they plastered all over their social networks, and it warmed my heart a little bit. It made me laugh, at the very least, and that was definitely something.

But Andy had a huge announcement of his own, and he posted it as a status on Facenook on his personal account – it was so huge that over two hundred people had ‘liked’ it. Two hundred people! I didn’t even have that many friends on Facenook!

“BIG NEWS!!!!! JOHNNY COOL GOT RENEWED FOR SECOND SEASON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)))))))))))))))))))))”

I hardly even thought about it before I was typing away a huge congratulations to the guy. Not only was Christmas putting a nice warm mug of hot cocoa in my hands, I had more Johnny Cool episodes to look forward to!

And to make things even better, someone came to visit us on December 23rd – our third pea in the pod, Murray. He hadn’t actually come over to our houses before, even during the summer despite how close we had gotten, and after discovering that he was just an hour away, we just insisted.

He even wanted to sleep over at my house, which I thought was awesome! The whole day would be ours, maybe cruising around Chicago for a little while before enjoying the warmth indoors with all three of us under blankets. My dad even agreed to it, saying he was glad I was so close with my roommate.

Murray eventually pulled into my driveway at around one in the afternoon, and after sitting on the couch waiting for him, me and Tegan darted out the door to greet him. (God, we were both just a few months from turning twenty, too…)

He stepped out of his car, a silver sedan with a ton of random bumper stickers and reindeer antlers for the season, and fixed his hair before putting on a beanie. When he smiled at us, it was impossible not to smile back – it was all hugs and hellos, wishes of happy holidays and a happy new year.

We didn’t dawdle around in the cold, so we dragged him in with his backpack of pajamas and bathroom stuff. He followed right behind us, talking about the traffic coming up to my house and how exciting it was bound to be, spending a night with me without us being in a dorm room.

Dad had emerged from the garage just to say hi to Murray, shaking his hand and asking how he was. Murray small-talked him for a while, the awkward introductions already long out of the way since they had met a few times before, and then the three of us just decided to hang out at the mall.

I’ve always loved Christmastime. The last time I got to spend it with my extended family was when I was fifteen, when me and my dad drove all the way down to Orlando where his parents live, but even when it’s just me and Dad, it’s never just me and him. Tegan and her mom, Ms. Tracey, come over and we all just spend it together as one weird family unit.

Between that and the fact that I always loaded my room with cinnamon-apple air fresheners, the aura of it all was so nice. Murray noticed it immediately when he set his stuff down next to my bed, taking a whiff and saying, “Smells like Santa took a dump in here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my favorite smell,” I countered, not caring too much.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he said, “his poop probably smells awesome if this is what it’s like.”

“You are disgusting,” Tegan deadpanned. “Let’s just got to the mall and look at stuff we can’t afford.”

Murray held up his hand and reached down into his bag. I thought he was just getting his wallet or something, but he pulled out two packages with snowman wrapping paper on them. One had a big green bow, and the other had a purple one. He handed the latter to Tegan and the former to me, saying, “I wanna give these to you before I forget. Merry Christmas!”

Tegan smiled, looking over the medium-sized package in her hands. “Aw, thanks! You really didn’t have to, you know.”

He waved his hands. “I don’t care, I felt like it. C’mon, open ‘em! I thought a lot about these.”

Mine was heavy and felt like a book, and I must’ve been a mind reader, because it did end up being a book. When I ripped off the first strip of wrapping paper, I spotted a familiar art style, an image of a cow howling at the moon. There was another small book of the same kind with it, and a big collection book almost hidden behind the two smaller ones – three in total! “Holy crap!” I squeaked, unable to wipe the smile from my face. “You got me ‘Far Side’ collections?”

He nodded proudly, his arms crossed. “I know it’s your favorite newspaper comic. Saw ‘em at a used bookstore and thought of you.”

“Thanks, man,” I grinned, putting the books on my bed. I didn’t forget about him when I was shopping with Tegan, but my gift for him was in one of my clothing drawers; I went over to get it out while Tegan opened her gift from Murray.

It was a book all about the art of fashion design, and she gawked at it for a few seconds before throwing her arms around his neck, throwing the book on top of the ones he got me. “Dude, that’s like – I didn’t even give you any hints! How’d you know what to get me?”

He shrugged, still almost choking in her grip, and whimsically said, “I dunno, just a guess.”

He was a pretty good guesser, since both of the gifts he gave us were awesome. I just hoped mine would be decent, especially after he was so spot-on with us; I handed him my gift when Tegan let go, and he just beamed and said, “What’s this?”

“Oh, don’t give us that bullcrap, you know it was coming,” Tegan laughed, taking her present to him out of my drawer. (She stowed it there, knowing he would spend the most time at my house.) “Open ‘em.”

Sighing with a sarcastic smile, he ripped the paper open on my gift, gasping when it all fell away. I got him a poster book of the most famous pieces of art in the world, dating from the Renaissance into postmodern times, and if the look on his face was any indication, I think I hit the nail on the head.

“Holy shit, this is perfect!” he gushed, immediately flipping through the perforated pages. He landed on the Mona Lisa and unzipped his jacket, flashing his ink. “It even goes with my tattoo,” he laughed.

Tegan elbowed me and winked; I just raised my eyebrows at her.

She shoved her gift into his chest before he even had a chance to put the posters aside, and then he looked at her like she was an alien before opening it. He tore apart the paper and unfolded the fabric inside – it was a t-shirt with an index card, a few squiggly lines on it. Reading over the card, he gasped. “Wait – did you get Put’emup, Put’emup to sign this?”

“Yup,” she said smugly. “I know you’ve met ‘em before, but I figured it would just be a nice touch. Got ‘em to send it to me while they were on tour.”

The card in his other hand, he held up the t-shirt. It was black with white words that said, “DEFEND POOP PUNK” over a silhouette drawing of a pile of poop. Underneath that, it read, “PUT’EMUP, PUT’EMUP | CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.”

As a former merch guy, I can tell you that that was their most popular shirt. Despite a few people thinking it was a dig at another popular pop-punk band, any conflicts that sparked over the design were quickly squared away – there was no beef, and no man went overboard. Ahem.

Murray cracked up, snorting, “That’s awesome!” as he folded it back up. “Thank you guys so much, these are perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s skip the corniness and go to the mall already,” Tegan laughed. “We’ve got more than enough time to stay here and enjoy the quiet side of Christmas.”

Leaving the gifts on my bed, we finally headed out, piling into my car and blasting the heater. In the summertime, my spotty air conditioner hardly ever worked, but from October onwards, I never even used it; I was glad my heater was still intact. Plowing through traffic to get to the ever-crowded mall, we found a spot a ways away from the entrance and waddled through the blistering wind to get indoors.

Of course, the place was packed with kids wanting to take pictures with Santa Claus while their parents raced around to get their last-minute shopping done, but since we had no responsibilities at the moment, the chaos was comforting in a way. The smells in the food court were stronger, the blinking lights more festive. A big fake Christmas tree stood at one of the most populous areas of the mall, and of course, the three of us had to take a series of selfies with it.

And the whole time, we chatted about everything and nothing, gushing about the Johnny Cool Christmas special that had aired last Friday night, our schedules for the next semester. Murray talked about how his cousins were coming over from California for New Year, and I said I hardly ever travelled for the holidays because everyone was so far away, and Tegan agreed since she only kept in touch with her mom’s side of the family and most of them were all over the world. So it was like we were spending it with our own little family that day, and it was amazing.

After grabbing a hot meal in the food court, we headed home with nothing but photos and memories. My house was warm and was a great contrast to the dreary Chicago sky outside, and even if it felt like we were still just high school kids hanging out for a day, it was still the best day of winter break up to that point. Dad ordered pizza for dinner and we just hung out in the living room, watching TV and sipping hot chocolate courtesy of Tegan. Heck, it wasn’t even awkward when my dad sat in his usual chair among us. It was the cherry on top, really.

We migrated to my room to play a few video games before Tegan had to leave at around nine. She grudgingly left, muttering about having to wake up early in order to visit her aunt who lived down in Carbondale, but she didn’t leave without a few hugs from me and Murray.

After she left, Murray tapped my arm with the back of his hand and asked me, “Is it cool if I use your shower?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” I shrugged. Unless my dad had some rule against guests using our shower, I didn’t see why he’d even need to ask.

He nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna shower and put on my PJs. Then we can watch movies and huddle together for warmth.”

As a reflex, my eyebrow shot up. “O-okay.”

“I was kidding,” he hooted as we walked into my room.

He grabbed his clothes and soap and stuff, and then I was stuck waiting for him to get out so I could make such a great day last even longer. I sat down on the edge of the couch in the living room, where my dad was watching an old sitcom and kicking back some hot chocolate of his own.

Dad looked over at me and smiled graciously. “He is a very nice boy.”

“Yeah, I’m glad luck decided to throw me a bone and pair us up as roommates,” I agreed. I didn’t think much of what he was saying.

He paused and said, “Hm,” glancing at the TV for a few more minutes. The mug to his side was steaming; he was wearing a sweater that Ms. Tracey got him a few years ago as a gift. My eyes shifted over to the screen as well, at least until he looked back over at me and hesitantly said, “You know, Oshie, you can tell me about anything that is going on with you.”

The words flew over my head and I tilted my head. “I know.” I rubbed my hands together. “But there’s nothing going on right now. Other than the dreams about Mom, which are getting a little weird, to say the least.”

“Well, yes. I know that is on your mind right now, and that is understandable, but I was not actually talking about that,” Dad went on, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Hm?” I said, caught up on it.

He rubbed his chin, scratching at his short beard, and sighed before finally saying, “Dios mio, I have not has this conversation with you in a long time. And I am sorry for that, but it is not something I think of very often. Uh…the point is, I hope you know that I love you, and I support you with whatever you choose to do in your life. Um. Yes.”

…He still wasn’t getting through to me. I definitely thought he was talking about my choice to pursue a career in art, so I smiled big and said, “Thanks, papá. I’m really doing my best to get good grades.” And it warmed my heart! It really did! It just…wasn’t what he was talking about. At all.

I think Dad knew that I didn’t know, since he just rubbed his forehead for a really long time. “I am not talking about school, Oshie,” he laughed a bit. “I am talking about your friend. Murray.”

And then it hit me.

“You – you think we’re together?” I sputtered, thankful that Murray was in the shower and couldn’t hear us. “No, no, we’re not – we’re not like that, we’re roommates. We’re just friends.”

“Mijo, I will not judge you, I promise, and I will never disown you over something silly like you liking other men or anything like that,” he went on, his own words getting frantic and nervous. “I know we have some old-fashioned family members, but I am not -”

My face ablaze, I accidentally cut him off. “I mean, it’s awesome that you wouldn’t, you know, get mad at me for being gay or bi, but like, I’m…I’m straight, Dad…”

Alright, I’m going to go off here and tell you that way back when Tegan came out as gay when we were twelve, my dad had almost the exact same conversation with me. He basically said that if I ended up with another guy, he wouldn’t mind, no matter how often I told him I was straight. Don’t get me wrong, it was incredible – I took solace in the fact that my Dad wouldn’t kick me out over something stupid like that.

But at the same time, he was just…not right.

“I have had my…how do you say this, suspicions? Yes, those – I have had suspicions about you being, um, not completely into girls,” he floundered on, his own face a deep rose color, “and although I thought it was strange at first, I quickly realized that it is nothing bad. Not even slightly bad. It is good, in fact. Be proud of it. I have always wanted you to be proud of yourself!”

That was the most awkward conversation I have ever had with my dad, and that’s also considering the time I got into a box of Mom’s tampons while she was at work when I was three.

I was slumped over with my hands all up in my eyes, as if to rub the redness from my cheeks, and I let out a long, slow groan. “Papá, there’s nothing going on and I’m not gay, I swear.”

“Well, you do not really have to be gay to like men, I think,” he shrugged. “If you like boys and girls, that is fine. I do not mind who you bring home, just as long as you are happy.”

I looked him in the eye, unable to keep from smirking just a tad just like he was. “Dad…there’s nothing going on with me and Murray.”

“Is he sleeping in our guest room?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I – I don’t know, he put his stuff in my room,” I stammered.

He blinked slowly. “Just do not be loud.” He started to sigh, but then he sat forward and added, “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant to keep the talking down tonight while I sleep!”

“I wasn’t even thinking about that,” I laughed. “But yeah. There’s nothing going on.”

He stared me down for what felt like forever, and then he just sighed deeply, sitting back and relaxing. “Okay, I will not bug you about it anymore tonight. Just…Oshie, I know we are not the best at…talking about our feelings to each other. But you can come to me about anything and I will help you the best that I can, and I do want you to know that I love you more than anybody on the planet, and I will fully support you.”

Honestly, it was one of the best things he could’ve ever said to me. It had nothing to do with anything, of course, but I couldn’t help feeling so damn thankful that he raised me. I had to be the luckiest dude on the planet, and because of that, I just dropped the denials and said, “Thanks, papá.”

And he smiled back, the best dad on the planet.

Right on cue, Murray emerged from the bathroom, still towel-drying his shoulder-length ginger hair. Dad and I both turned to awkwardly glance at him, and I stood up. He had a sweater that said “Howe Caverns” in faded letters, along with plaid long johns.

Dad got up too, saying, “Well, I have to work tomorrow, so I will be going to bed now. You can watch TV out here as long as it is not too loud.”

“We’re probably just gonna hang out in Oshie’s room anyway,” Murray shrugged. (Internally, I facepalmed. He tore down all the careful building I had done.) “Hey, if I don’t see you tomorrow before you go to work, it was nice hanging out here today. Thanks for having me over, Mr. Olayos.”

“De nada. I’m just glad you get along so well with my son,” Dad smiled warmly, shaking his hand. “And Merry Christmas, if I do not see you tomorrow before you leave.”

That was that, and Murray and I made our way back to my room. It was a little weird having him be in it for so long, even though we lived together for three semesters already; my bedroom was where I grew up. It was a place where I thrived as a preteen doodling away in notebooks, and seeing him fit in so well was awesome and unnerving at the same time.

He immediately flopped down on my bed and got under the unmade covers, snuggling up and faking a snore. After opening one eye to see me standing above him with my hands on my hips, he opened the blanket and ushered me over.

“C’mon in, it’s warm in here,” he said, being genuine as far as I could tell.

I brushed it off with a laugh. “No, but thanks anyway.” Instead, I sat down in front of his legs.

He sat up and squinted at me for a moment before returning the laugh. “I’m not saying we gotta spoon. I’m just saying, I’m cold, and you have a pretty solid record of being warm.”

“Well, I mean, we can share a blanket,” I said, pulling the cover over my head so that my back was against the wall while my legs were covered; he did the same.

“Alright, I’m down with that.” His hair was still a little wet from his shower, beads of water getting on his shoulders. “So, what’re we gonna do now? Wanna watch a movie?”

Suddenly, I realized my laptop was still on my desk. As in, I would have to actually get up in order to retrieve it, and darn it, I was in such a comfortable position… “Ugh, but my laptop’s all the way over there…”

Murray jumped up and got it, bringing it back and putting it on my lap, even though I didn’t ask him to do so.

“I didn’t say you had to get it,” I whined, “but thanks anyway.”

He flashed a quick grin. “It’s literally no big deal, Osh.”

Eventually, we settled on Goodfellas, since I actually had the real DVD handy in the CD case I brought back with me. If we were both up to it, we’d watch another one after that, but we didn’t plan ahead or anything. With our legs sharing my laptop, we sat under the covers with our heads propped up on my pillow.

Also, my dad was still wrong. I feel like I should probably reiterate that, especially before I go on.

About halfway through the movie, right where Ray Liotta’s character turns into an even bigger douche, I felt something on my hand. Now, granted, we were already squished up together so I was already pretty used to him touching me, even if I had to fight to keep my face its normal color out of a natural instinct.

I glanced down at my hand, which was up above the covers, and Murray’s hand was just carelessly on top of mine. His fingers loosely wrapped around my thumb, it was just sort of…there.

Logically, I looked over at him, and he had the sleeve of his sweater pulled up over his other hand and his mouth was covered. But when he saw me looking, we made eye contact, and I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anybody turn red so quickly, not even me. He immediately jerked his hand back and said, “Shit, I didn’t think you’d notice.”

I gave him a crooked smile and asked, “Why not?”

“Well,” he mumbled, “you were really focused on the movie, and my hand was cold, so…um…yeah. I was trying to be subtle, I guess.”

I had to gather my thoughts, so I’m sure I looked like a blithering idiot to him. “I mean, uh…I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“N-no.”

“You stuttered.”

“I’m – I’m just weird. That’s all.”

“No you’re not.”

“My hand’s cold, too.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“But I’m not. I’m fine with it.”

“…Are you sure?”

He had his serious face on, but his cheeks were still pink. His hand was now a fist, curled up at his side while the movie kept on going.

And I don’t know why I did it, but I reached over and placed my hand on his for a change, feeling it uncurl and relax. I was just as cold as he was. I mean, we were in Chicago and it was two days before Christmas, of course we were gonna be cold. It’d be weird if we weren’t doing that.

“I’m not kidding, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” he laughed so softly, his eyes wide.

“Well – I mean – unless you don’t wanna, um…hold hands.” I really couldn’t think of a better way to phrase that? Come on.

He snickered and squeezed my hand, whispering, “I’m up for anything, but you don’t have to call it ‘holding hands’ if you don’t want. We’re…we’re cold. We’re conserving body heat. I know how heterosexual you are.”

“What if I’m heterosexual and I wanna hold hands with my best guy friend, huh?” I rambled, trying to be clever and failing so badly I could feel my intestines churn.

He gave me a look of pure secondhand embarrassment, but then he burst into laughter. “Right, Oshie. So hetero.”

Alright, I just thought screw it and stopped trying to keep myself from turning into a tomato, since it obviously wasn’t helping my thought processes. Still with a stupid smirk on my idiotic face, I countered, “Well, I dunno! Why does there have to be a label? Why can’t it just be platonic, anyway?”

“You’re right,” he reasoned, his voice getting quieter but his blush deepening. “So in that case, here’s another completely heterosexual platonic display of friendship.”

He straightened up his back and actually kissed me on the cheek. Clean-cut and quick, his lips were actually on my face, and if there was a God, he was not showing mercy on my composure.

I swear, I meant to keep the “oh my God” to myself. I really did. But before I could stop myself, I accidentally let it slip – I said, “Oh my God,” out loud, right after he did it.

Of course, that made him laugh the hardest, doubling over and nearly dry-heaving with gigglesnorts, while I just sat aside and wanted to bang my head against the wall. When he finally calmed down enough to wipe his eyes and speak without degenerating into snickers, he just smiled at me and sighed.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally said.

“Throw me out,” I grumbled, still kicking myself.

“No, no, no,” he wailed, throwing his arm around my shoulder, “I’m talking about how incredible that was. Of all the reactions you were bound to have, I can’t say I was expecting that one.”

I pushed my hair back and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for? That was great!”

“Because I’m an idiot and that probably wasn’t the right response to that…”

“It was my heterosexual display of affection towards you, and your reaction was definitely not stupid. You just nearly made me shit my pants from laughing, for cryin’ out loud. Jesus, Oshie.”

I kinda had to smile at him, even though we were both still embarrassingly red in the face.

“And when I asked what the hell I was gonna do with you, I meant that in a good way,” he went on, “’cause you’re, like, my favorite person on the planet. But shhh, don’t tell my mom.” He winked, a finger on his lips.

There was a funny feeling rolling around in my gut, one that made me smile even wider at him and want to hold his hand even more, but I pushed it down. It made me want to get even closer with him under the covers when we settled down and continued watching Goodfellas. And when the movie ended and we started Ghostbusters only to have Murray fall asleep on my shoulder halfway through, it made me want to just stay there and have him next to me while we both slept.

And although I ignored most of that feeling, I listened to my gut for one little thing. When I felt his head droop onto my shoulder and nestle into the sleeve of my shirt, I didn’t budge. I glanced down at him and noticed he was sleeping peacefully, and the last thing I wanted was to disturb that. So I closed my laptop and laid back, listening to his easy breathing, watching his chest rise and fall so silently.

I did not have a crush on Murray.

Growing up, I had stupid little crushes that never amounted to anything, and yeah, when I was in junior high I would get nervous around cute girls and the occasional nice boy. It was nothing. I chalked it up to my horrible inability to function in the real world, and so every time it happened, it never lasted for long.

But this was shaping up to go beyond the funny feeling in my chest and stomach. I was already so glad to have him in my life that I didn’t stop to think about how strange and welcome it was to have him pressed up against my side, keeping me warm on a freezing night.

I did not have a crush on Murray.

When I woke up the next morning, his arm lay across my stomach, and my own arm was on top of his. We were perfectly warm, even though the air was frigid. I didn’t dare move for risk of waking him up when he was still so peaceful.

He eventually yawned and stretched himself awake, apologizing for the weird position we were in, and I laughed it off and said it was fine. We didn’t mention it when I said goodbye as he left my house to go back to Aurora for Christmas, but there was a glimmer in his eye that let me know that he knew something I didn’t.

I did not have a crush on Murray.

And if I did, I sure as hell didn’t know it, and you can’t blame me for that.