Page 135 of You Are Not Me

“Let me fucking go!” I yelled.

Several men blocked his path. “Let go of him,” an older Black man said, crossing his arms.

“He doesn’t want your attention, pal,” said the redhead I’d been dancing with.

Leslie shoved through the growing crowd around us, screaming over the music, “Adam! What the hell? Let him go!”

“No! We’re leaving! Right fucking now!” Adam shoved the two guys aside and hauled me past them. Panic reared up. I pulled and jerked, trying to get away.

More guys closed in on us to intervene. Mike pushed between them, putting his hands on Adam’s chest. “Let him go, man. Get a fucking grip.”

Mike was stronger than me and possibly stronger than Adam. We stood there for a few seconds with me all twisted up, trying to get free, and Mike and Adam in a deadlock. Leslie finally pried Adam’s hand loose from my arm finger-by-finger, and I wrenched away.

Pain shot up my arm from my wrist, and I wondered if a small bone had been broken. Eyes were on us from every direction. I knew the score. We’d provided the homo-drama for the night.

Leslie was nearly in tears, pounding on Adam’s arm. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”

Sarah stared at me, pale and wide-eyed, anger stirring in her hazel gaze.

“We’re fucking leaving,” Adam growled deeply, yanking his arm away from Leslie.

For what might be the last time, I agreed with him and stormed toward the exit. I wasn’t spending another second with Adam. He’d officially lost his fucking mind and hurt me. I wasn’t going to stay in Mike’s dorm room. Even that was too close. I wanted to get home. I wanted my mom and dad, or Robert and Barry. I wanted Daniel.

Atlanta’s humid night air hit me like a stifling wall. I didn’t know which way to go. There were no taxis, so I turned right and kept walking, ignoring the footsteps behind me. I didn’t know if it was Adam, or maybe Mike. I didn’t want to look, so I marched on. Old warehouses and run-down buildings sprawled around me, indicating I wasn’t in the best part of town.

Eventually, I hit a crosswalk and had to wait for the light to change or risk being hit by zooming cars. I was surprised I wasn’t crying. I’d been humiliated in public by my closeted ex-boyfriend and manhandled like I was a toy he didn’t want to share. And I’d just come out as a fag. No one would blame me if I broke down again.

But there was only rage.

I turned to face my pursuer and realized they wereallwalking toward me. Adam was at the far back of the pack with his head down. When they were about four feet away, they stopped, and we stared at each other. My eyes darted from one face to another, taking in the range of emotions: anger, resentment, sadness, confusion.

After a long moment of strange silence, Leslie stepped forward and gently touched my arm, her eyes full of shock and dismay. “Is your arm okay? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

I looked down where I held my wrist cradled against my chest. It hurt when I flexed my fingers, but it wasn’t impossible to move them. “I’m fine.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “All right. Are you sure?”

I nodded.

Mike stepped forward next. “Come on, Peter. The car’s this way. It’s okay, man. I promise it’s gonna be okay.”

The ride back to the dorm was beyond weird. I was shoved into the back seat with Sarah and Mike again, both of whom were silent while Leslie drove, grilling Adam like we weren’t even there.

“How could you do that to your best friend? Are you really that homophobic, Adam? I didn’t know you could be so disgusting and cruel. How could you hurt him like that? Why do you care so much if he’s gay?So what!It doesn’t matter.” She was silent for a few moments and then pleaded, “Don’t you still love him?”

“Yes,” Adam replied gruffly, but that was the only question he answered.

Sarah glared at me, but Mike reached out and took hold of my hand. It was that small gesture that made tears swim in my eyes.

I stared out at the buildings passing in the night, lit up from the inside, everyone within unaware that everything had been rearranged in our little world.

***

When we parkedin the dorm lot, Mike leaned over and whispered something to Sarah. She nodded almost imperceptibly. I was slow to get out of the car, feeling sick and shaky. I needed to get my stuff from Adam’s dorm room, but I was afraid to be alone with him. He’d hurt me at the club, and even if he’d calmed down now, I didn’t want to hear whatever the hell he might say to justify it to me.

I looked at Leslie behind the wheel, watching me with glistening eyes and concern. She deserved to know the truth, but I couldn’t hurt her like that. I just couldn’t do it. And maybe, with me gone, she wouldn’t ever have to suffer. Adam could be happy with her if I was out of the picture.

I ignored the clumsy goodnights from the girls and ran up the concrete steps leading to Adam’s floor. When I reached his door, I cradled my wrist to my chest waiting for him. I’d get my keys and my bag and go. My lips trembled and sickness roiled in my gut.

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