Gay For You, page 15
“It’s not about pride. And this will be good for you, too.”
Emotions were whirling around in my head, thrashing my reason and laying it to waste. But I knew what he said had some truth to it.
Taking a deep breath, I filled the silence. “I need to get my grades up. I’m writing an appeal letter to the scholarship fund, begging for one more chance. If I get that chance, I’ll be allowed to stay at this school and get my degree. Without it… I’ll have to drop out.” I finished with finality.
There was silence in the room as the distance between us fissured and fractured, pulling us further and further apart.
“This is for the best, then.” Sam said, looking into me with that molten, golden-eyed look.
Tears were running down my face. He reached up a hand to wipe them away, but then put it back down and looked anywhere but at me.
“I know you’ll do great things,” I said to him. Then I got up, put my coat on, and left his house, leaving him at the table.
26
Sam
Two weeks had passed since we broke it off. I was devastated.
In those first few days, I thought I had made the right decision. But now I was going through this same familiar slump post-breakup. I hadn’t heard from Evan at all, which was surprising. I thought he would be the one to break down and text me first.
Though, I knew it was better for him to withdraw completely from me and focus on himself. That’s what was best for everyone.
I was in the art school, trying to continue with my project with a different model. After some talking with Professor Washburn, she let me start my project over with someone else. There were hundreds of drawings of Evan now tucked away in the big shelf in my house, never to see the light of day again. It was just too painful looking at them; being reminded of something I could never have.
I tried my best to draw Gretchen, one of the old women models, but it just wasn’t the same. My source of inspiration was gone now, and I would have to learn to tough it out.
“Something bothering you, honey?” She asked in her crackly voice as she posed on the couch in the middle of the brightly-lit art studio.
“You know, Gretchen, there is.”
“It’s about that boy, isn’t it?” She asked.
Gretchen had been an amazing listener over the past couple weeks. She knew all about me and Evan, our trip, and how it all fell apart. I didn’t feel judged by her.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I admitted as I charcoaled in one of her eye wrinkles.
“You know, from what you’ve described, that doesn’t sound like the kind of love that comes and goes. That sounds like something you only have once in your lifetime.”
“Just dig the knife deeper.” I spat bitterly.
“Oh dear, I didn’t’ mean it that way…” She said.
I sighed, “I know, I’m sorry, I know you mean well.”
“Trust me, I’ve been around a lot longer than you have; I know these kinds of things!” She said.
I threw my charcoal down on the floor and it shattered.
“Oh honey!” She said, breaking her pose, putting on her robe, and coming over to me to hug me.
I put my face into my hands, trying to fight back tears. All the emotions that I’d pent up, everything that was building up was now starting to pour out. I cried, pathetically, feeling my pain while Gretchen cooed and hushed me. It felt amazing to be supported by someone, someone who was there to fill the hole that Evan had left.
“You need to get him back. You need to give this an honest try.” She said to me as she held me. Even though I was about a foot and a half taller than her, she felt like she was larger than life at that moment.
“Evan needs you, too.” She said.
And then in that moment I steeled myself. I knew what I had to do.
27
Evan
It was two weeks since we broke up, but it felt like an eternity. I was at the pool before practice at dawn, trying to throw myself into something—anything, that would get my mind off Sam. Also, the school had consented to giving me another chance, considering that the professor for statistics didn’t curve the grade for anyone at the end of the semester and the entire class failed.
That was my saving grace.
Now I had one semester, one last chance to revive my GPA. I had to dive in and work hard, on both my academics and the swim team.
But what does it matter, a nasty little voice in the back of my head whispered, What does anything matter without Sam?
I was alone in the pool room, the light beams dancing and shifting along the walls. Any sound echoed through the colossal space and bounced around, reverberating.
I swore that I could hear the echoes of the whispers from my own thoughts in here, eating at me.
My stomach growled and I tugged my speedo up. I hadn’t been eating much since the breakup, and my body was disgustingly skinny at the moment. I had to force myself to eat.
But I threw myself into the pool and started swimming, panting, making the water bend to my will. It was the only thing I still had control over.
Then when I was at the deep end, I lost motivation. What was the point? To keep going through the motions to get a piece of paper at the end? What was the purpose of all this suffering?
I let all the air out of my lungs and let my body sink to the bottom of the pool like a rock. Since I barely had any body fat, I went down quick.
I hit the bottom, the calm, silent world around me and the water pressure pressing down upon my body. I opened my eyes, ignoring the sting of the chlorine, and looked around. Then I looked up. I loved the way the water’s surface looked like a shifting mirror when you were under it. It allowed you to see a whole other side of things; the underside of things.
I went back up for air and then sunk to the bottom again, reveling in my sadness. There was something comforting from being at the bottom of the pool.
But I truly hated swimming. I couldn’t wait to quit. Sure, I was good at it, but there was nothing I hated more.
Sitting at the bottom of the pool and looking up, I saw a flash of color along the side of the pool. Orange? It stuck out to me.
I swam to the surface, resenting this person who had interrupted my quiet suffering.
My head burst through the surface and I took a great breath inward, filling up my lungs with the chlorinated air.
It took a few seconds to blink the chlorine out of my eyes. When they finally cleared and regained focus, I was surprised to see none other than Sam at the edge of the pool.
Was I dreaming? Was I dead?
He waved at me tentatively, and I felt a severe awkwardness coming off his body that was very unlike Sam.
My delight was swiftly smothered by contempt. How many times over the past two weeks had I attacked our memories in my mind; trying to flay them with my words? How many times had I gone to sleep crying, haunted and tortured by the bliss we’d briefly shared?
“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.
He looked stung and I instantly regretted my harshness.
“I came to tell you something.” He said, leaning down by the edge of the pool.
“What, come to tell me that I’m not good enough for you? To rub it in my face? You know, I’ve been getting better each day that you aren’t here. It’s been hard, but it’s been going.”
I went to the edge of the pool and pulled myself up, sitting on the cold concrete next to him. Despite what came out of my mouth, my body was still drawn to him. I couldn’t deny this magnetism between us. It was filling my soul with much-needed nourishment again.
“You haven't been eating.” He remarked sadly, his eyes assessing my gaunt body.
I was quiet as he words echoed around the pool room. Then to fill the silence I said, “You know how it is.”
He looked into the pool sadly.
“I came by to tell you that you’re set.” He said.
“What do you mean I’m set?” I asked.
“I mean,” He said, “I paid all of your remaining tuition for this coming semester and your next year, if you choose to enroll for another year.”
My eyes went wide with alarm and I almost choked. “But Sam! No!”
“It’s done,” He said.
“But—but that’s so much money! And you said that your business was going under!”
“I don’t care about that anymore.” He said standing up, and looking at me with this— this fire in his eyes that I’d never seen before. “I care about making you happy. And if this makes up for a fraction of what we had, of what I’ve put you through, then maybe it’ll be enough.” He said, looking at me with that flame.
“Sam, I can’t accept this,” I said, standing up and looking into those eyes with a fire of my own.
“It’s what I want.” He stated stubbornly. “And you don’t have to do this anymore. You can be whatever you want to be. Or not. Keep swimming. You do you.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. The man of my dreams, who had broken my heart was now standing here in front of me, granting me—granting me freedom?
“And don’t worry about your room and board either, I have that covered too.” He said.
I was speechless. I didn’t think this was possible. I wasn’t used to not having to worry about my money situation.
“Now you can study like a regular student and have normal expectations for yourself,” he said.
There was quiet, and for a moment we stared into each other’s eyes. I could feel that something imperceptible to anyone but me had shifted and turned the world a little bit. Again, I could feel that connection we shared in full force. But then he broke eye contact and the concrete wall was back.
“I should go.”
“Sam, wait!” I cried, but he was out the door before I could catch him.
Even with all of this, even if he had solved all my problems, I didn’t care if I couldn’t have him. Before he closed the door I shouted, “I don’t want the money!”
I had no idea what I was doing; I was relinquishing all control. “It doesn’t mean anything if I can’t have you!”
He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me, his eyes full of disbelief.
“Please, Sam.” I said. “Please… I was scared.” I said. “I said things that I didn’t mean. You see the real me. This.” I gestured to my emaciated body. “You see the real me, and you still look at me like you want me!” I gasped, choking back ugly tears. “I need you.”
He closed the door and turned back towards me, closing the distance between us so we were both standing at the edge of the pool.
“I was scared too.” He said, a deepness in his eyes as he looked down at me. “I couldn’t bear to be in your shadow, with my plans and safety net falling apart around me.”
“Here, look.” I said, going to the bench near the wall where my stuff was, digging out my phone from my pile of bags and athletic gear.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“I want to show you something.” I said. I fished out my phone, and brought it over to him. Then I went to my Instagram page, and with a few clicks, brought up the settings.
“Evan, no!” Sam said, but it was too late. I jerked my phone away from him so he couldn’t reach, and deleted my entire account.
“Why the hell did you do that?” He asked, his eyes wide.
“Because.” I said soberly, “It’s not important to me. I hate it all. I hate the likes and the comments and the people peering into this fake version of my life. They’re liking a fake me; the mask I put on for everyone, for this university. But you just let me cast off that mask and to truly start living as who I am.”
He was looking at me, speechless. “And who is that?” He asked softly.
“Evan White.” I answered, “Former chubby kid from Tennessee, grew up poor, hates swimming…”
I took a step closer to him, closing the distance between us, “and I’m gay— for you, Sam.”
There was a moment of silence that hung in the air, and only noises of the water lapping at the filter for a few seconds while I drank in his fiery gaze. It was that—that powerful connection — that my soul had been missing.
Then we kissed, our lips pressing against one another.
I was whole again.
28
Sam
The chattering of the public outside indicated that there were hundreds of people out there waiting to get in. I was behind a curtain that opened up to the gallery space, excited and nervous for my final project to be revealed. In only a few moments, my exhibit would be opened to the public.
I was letting my fingers dance and fidget, then I felt the familiar warm caress of Evan as he rested his hand gently on my shoulder.
“They’re going to love it. They’re going to love you.” He reassured me.
I turned to look at him. He’d gained his weight and muscle back was now even more glorious than ever.
“What if they don’t like it? What if it’s a huge failure, and I don’t get my BFA?” I asked, showing my vulnerable side like I’d been practicing.
“That’s impossible.” He said. “You’ll have hundreds of eyes on your work, right?”
I tensed up. “Right.”
“And you’re telling me, that there’s a chance in hell that all one hundred percent of them won’t like it?”
The worry ebbed away as I realized what he was saying.
“Trust yourself.” He encouraged. “I do.” And he squeezed my hand.
I glanced at my watch.
“Looks like it’s time,” Evan said, “I’m here for you the whole time.”
There was a lot riding on this. There were high-ups from the art world going to be here today for the opening of the exhibit, and Professor Washburn was a huge fan of my work ever since I’d figured out how to incorporate my emotions into my pieces.
After me and Evan got back together, it all just clicked. And every piece of him that I produced was a showstopper. Inks, markers, paint, charcoal, mixed media, Evan was there in all of them. He was truly my muse, my inspiration.
My professor had pulled some strings, since she said I was a student that showed the most potential. And she got my my own, private show. Then the art school solicited important figures from the art world to come see it. This showing could make or break my career.
We stepped into the gallery space, and to my surprise, it was crowded with people already. There were patrons taking pictures of my art left and right, posing for selfies with it, and I could pick out some well-known critics from the art world in the crowd looking at some of my pieces.
The walls were plastered and every inch was covered with images of Evan, my muse next to me, linking his arm through mine. I had never been so proud.
“Are you afraid that they’re all seeing pictures of you naked?” I asked him, trying to gauge his reaction. It was too overwhelming being in my own head right now.
“Not at all.” He said with a confident smile on his face. “Remember? I’m used to people seeing me at least mostly naked, from when I was a swimmer.
This semester, Evan had quit swimming. He said he’d never been happier.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said to me, “Making a thousand of anything is no easy thing to accomplish.”
I stood up a little straighter with pride. I knew he was right—it had been hard. And all of the emotion that I had to unlock to create these pieces had been even harder. Images of Evan were all over the walls—in black and white charcoal with a pained look on his face, to paint in psychedelic colors, to cubism. And my more recent pieces of him were on the right side of the room, so the passerby could see the emotional evolution of the work.
It tracked the emotional evolution of our relationship. I wondered if any of them would get that. It was in the description on the wall where there was that white rectangle that told people what the work was about, but it was still pretty vague.
Then the fans started coming up to me.
“Did you do this? Is this all your work?” Someone asked me. Then I was overrun by them and there was someone burying a big, fancy camera in my face. Suddenly what I said mattered.
I gave a short speech. Evan tried to get out of the frame, to let me bask in my glory alone, but I kept him by my side, letting him know that I wanted him here. He was a part of this, after all.
I was nervous, but as long as Evan was there with me, I knew things would be okay. No matter what releases happened tomorrow, no matter where my art career went, I was truly invincible with Evan by my side.
29
Evan
I could tell that this new popularity made Sam a little uncomfortable since he wasn’t used to being in the spotlight, but I knew he would come to love it.
As for me, I was spending my semester tutoring. I got to exercise my love for teaching, and my grades had never been better. I was maintaining steady A’s in all of my classes, and these classes I was taking now geared towards education were actually fun for me.
I also quit swimming and was much more relaxed, and took up something I actually enjoyed—running. Spring was here and I could run outside and smell the fresh mud and dirt that the constant rain had stirred up.
Me and Sam had plans to move in together, once the semester was officially over. I had just taken my last exam, and soon I could move all my stuff out of my apartment with Jake. I had never been so happy and excited in my life!
Sam appeared in the doorway with some kind of hidden smirk on his face. His eyes were dancing with joy, but he had that nervous energy coming off of him.
“Sam, what is it?” I asked, keeping my pencil to the paper.
“I just got an email,” He said, “Well, a couple of emails to be exact.”
“Oh?” I asked, looking up at him.
