twenty-something

« Last Post | Next Post »

Make The Man | A Story By Patrick Raymond
Part One, Section Two: "The Dress Sock"

« Previous (2.3: Caught) | Next (3: Something) »

"Oh," I fumed. I was pissed, pacing around Allison's room, Bud Light in hand. "All he said was, 'oh.' I tell him I'm leaving, and all he says is 'oh'? Who says 'oh'?"

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. A simple 'don't go' would've been nice."

"Passive-aggressive shit like that never works. Besides, what would you have done if he'd said to stay? You still would have run."

"No. I wouldn't—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, I took a long, deliberate sip of the brew in my hand. It was cold, delicious -- and finally starting to affect my brain. "I'm not running."

"So is that why you're leaving, then? Him?"

"No. I don't even know what I'm doing any more. God."

"But he's not enough to keep you here."

"Allison, it's not about him. You know that. I... I care about him. A lot."

With a laugh I hadn't heard her use before, she said, "Well, super for you, Mr. Care Bear. You sure do like your boyfriend a lot. Ex-boyfriend, I should say."

"Whose side are you on, anyway? And he's not officially my ex, yet."

She stood up from her bed and glared at me. This was enough to halt my pacing and we stood, face to face.

"'I'm leaving for good. I need time. I don't know what I want.' You broke his heart because what he heard was, 'I'm leaving you. I don't know if I want you.'"

Shrugging off the confrontation, I finished my beer and grabbed another round from the mini-fridge for the both of us. "What do you care about Duncan? You never were crazy about me and him together anyway."

"And apparently neither were you."

I handed her a Bud. "Ally, this isn't about me and Duncan, is it?"

"Why are you changing the subject?"

"This is about you and me."

"You leaving your boyfriend has nothing to do with me." Now she started pacing.

"But I'm not just leaving him."

"What about him isn't good enough?"

"I'm leaving Rhode Island."

"Not cute enough?"

"Leaving URI."

"Not enough of a baseball superstar?"

"Leaving Hopkins."

"Not good enough in bed?"

"Leaving the crew."

"Not the imaginary dream man you've pinned after for years?"

"Leaving you."

She stopped her pacing, and we finally looked at each other, finally listened.

Her face was flushed. I'd never really seen her like this. And she wasn't even drunk yet. "The fact that you can't love another human being has nothing to do with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you that incapable of love?"

"Incapable? That's a very harsh word."

"Truth hurts."

Oh, we were in a fight now. "It's not the truth."

"You said it yourself. You never loved Duncan. You've never loved anybody."

"I have and I do."

"Who?"

It was a no-brainer. I quickly said: "You."

"Then say it."

"What?"

"That you love me, asshole."

"I do."

"Say it."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Say it!"

I looked at her for a moment. Angry. "No."

"No?"

"It's silly. You know I do."

"I told you so."

I sighed.

"You sure like to play the part of Mr. Sensitive, Mr. Gay Best Friend, Sam," she said, "but you are such a typical male. Those three words terrify you."

"I am not incapable, not afraid of love. I'm not typical. I'm normal."

"Prove it."

"I'm going to say it somebody. This summer. I am going to fall in love and say it before school starts."

"What a heartfelt vow. When August 31 rolls around, you'll be searching from the first schmuck you can find to whisper sweet nothings to. But they'll be nothing. Anybody can say I love you. Can you mean it?"

I stared at her for a long while. Then I finished my beer and threw the can away.

"Yes," I said and I left the room.

* * *
Hours and beers later, we'd cooled down considerably and regrouped. Tomorrow, tomorrow at sunrise, my mother would arrive with the family SUV. Tomorrow we'd pack and fight and deal with the aftermath. We'd cry tomorrow. But tonight -- we'd party. Sunrise would be here soon enough.

We soon found ourselves in Carly's forth-floor RA room. And we soon found ourselves on her balcony. Just Allison and me, in the pouring rain. And we screamed at the top of our lungs. We stayed out there until we were soaking wet and our voices died. When we came in, we were so cold, and our throats burned, but we were cleansed.

Everybody thought we were crazy. We couldn't stop laughing, but no one else got it. We understood. Would this be our last inside joke together? In that moment, I think we both realized what exactly we were leaving behind.

END OF PART TWO

---

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.