Page 53 of Down My Chimney

“I guess that explains it,” Vernon said. “You guys are so different.”

I thought about that for a moment. “I’m not actually sure we are. I’m beginning to think I’m more like him than I realized. Maybe more than I wanted to admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I said some things that were really unfair,” I told him. “And then I ended it. But I was being a hypocrite. I just wish I’d seen that at the time.”

Vernon cocked his head to the side. “Have you told him that?”

I shook my head, and he frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s too late. He doesn’t even want to be friends with me anymore, let alone anything else.”

Vernon arched an eyebrow. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but speaking as someone who just took a chance on something, even if it doesn’t go your way, I think it might be worth it.Pretty sureisn’t the same thing asactually sure, but you’ll never know unless you try.”

I thought that over for the rest of the week, and on the last night of the program, I opened our old dating app back up. Not because I wanted to talk to someone new, but because I had a nagging memory that I needed to check.

I scrolled through my old conversations with Blake—withSanta, as I’d thought of him then—until I’d found what I was looking for.

Blake had been talking about not having anyone he could lean on, and I’d asked if he had any gay friends. My heart sank as I saw his reply.

SANTA: I have one, I guess. But it’s complicated

SANTA: I feel like he’d probably think I was pathetic for not coming out sooner, or for being scared of what people will think, or just for like, wanting to explore this without committing fully

And I’d scoffed.

FROSTY: Doesn’t sound like much of a friend

FROSTY: Obviously I don’t know him, but if he’d be that much of a dick about it, he sounds kinda shitty

Even still, Blake had defended me.

SANTA: He’s not a dick, though. He’s not shitty at all

SANTA: He’s the bravest person I know. But I’m not sure I could live up to that. I haven’t always been the best friend to him. I wouldn’t blame him for being mad at me

Re-reading Blake’s fears hurt. I’d been so confident, so convinced that anyone who deserved to call themself his friend would be gentle and understanding. I’d said as much at the time.

FROSTY: Well if he’s any kind of a decent person, I’m sure he’ll understand if you say you’re struggling. Coming out is scary, no matter when or how you do it

FROSTY: Anyone who’s been through it themselves should know that

And then what had I done in real life? I’d gone and proved his worst fears right. I’d done the exact opposite of what I should have done. I’d completely failed him.

I knew Blake had every right not to want to see me again. That was fair. But I needed to talk to him one last time. Not to tell him I loved him. Not to beg him for his forgiveness. Just to tell him how sorry I was.

That would have to be enough.

12

Blake

Iwas heading home for Thanksgiving tomorrow.

My parents always worked through the weekend, because it was a great time for celebrities to leak scandals or personal news that they wanted to die a quick and quiet death. Holiday stress, people’s travel plans, and all the parades and football and dog shows tended to make the public forget about famous people for a few days. So if you were getting a divorce, or losing custody of your kids, or needed to make a public apology? You put out a bare-bones press release at five p.m. on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and by the time Monday rolled around, it was old news.

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