Page 86 of When Ben Loved Tim
He looks happy, and I’m overjoyed, until he starts laughing. “That would be weird.”
I feel the muscles of my face being dragged down, like gravity just got a whole lot stronger. “Why’s that?”
“A straight guy with a boyfriend?” Tim says, as if I’m the one who is being ridiculous.
My temper shoves its way protectively to the front. “How is that any weirder than a straight guy who likes to spoon with his gay best friend?”
That slaps the smile right off his face.
“Then maybe we should stop,” Tim grumbles.
“No! I don’t want that. And I don’t think you do either. But we’re more than just friends. Aren’t we?”
He shrugs. “Do we have to be?”
I shake my head, but in disbelief more than anything. “For me it isn’t a choice.”
Tim kicks at a rock. “You must think I’m an asshole.”
“No,” I reply. “I really don’t.” He’s simply going through the same stage I did, a long time ago, when denying who I was seemed like the easiest path forward, even though it actually took constant effort.
Tim looks around, as if searching for a different subject, his attention lingering on the carved heart. “So you’ve never felt attracted to a girl? Like… ever?”
I think about it. “Not really. Every once in a while a woman will catch my eye, but it’s always a tomboy or a girl who leans toward the masculine. That’s what I’m attracted to. Even then, when I think about what parts they do and don’t have…” I shake my head.
“Huh,” Tim says, seeming relieved. “I don’t think we’re the same then.”
“Not entirely,” I reply. “But we have some things in common.”
He resumes kicking at the dirt. Then he stares off into the distance. “Wanna keep going?”
“Yeah,” I reply, because I do. With him. I’m proud of myself for standing my ground when it came to Krista. But I can’t handle another break. This is the kind of issue that we’ll need to solve together. Eventually, if I’m lucky, he’ll fall in love with me. And then it won’t be a choice. For now… “There’s a creek up ahead. Allison and I used to dare each other to jump over it. Which is harder than it looks. Wanna try?”
Tim grins. “Yeah!”
As we begin walking, I nudge him with my elbow and smile, wanting to assure him that everything is okay between us. And it is!
For now.
* * * * *
I imagined that my talk with Tim would be a turning point for us. Instead I seem to have shot myself in the foot. By outlining what makes someone gay, I inadvertently gave him a list of things to avoid. He becomes noticeably less affectionate over the following week. Like when we’re watching TV in my room and I reach for his hand, he only holds mine briefly before pulling away to scratch at his chest. He doesn’t seek it out again afterwards, which is unusual, because he normally seems so obsessed with my hands. He used to toy with my fingers, positioning them in different ways, or stroke my palm with his thumb. He still does on occasion, subconsciously perhaps, because he’ll stop suddenly and break off contact.
And for the first time, we have one-sided sex. Which frankly, didn’t hurt my feelings too much. Getting to service him was hot. I didn’t mind finishing myself off at the same time. Watching him squirm afterwards, as if unsure what to do with himself when usually he’d hold me, was kind of sad. Tim could have made an excuse to leave. But he didn’t. Instead he got dressed while looking conflicted, which is what tipped me off that he hadn’t intended to simply kick back and enjoy a selfish blowjob. He’s experimenting with me in a different way now.
As much as he tries to be aloof, Tim never has much success, and that keeps me going. I’m convinced that we only need some uninterrupted time together, like we had at the beginning, so we can let the cement dry without the outside world tromping all over the progress we’ve made. So when he mentions that his parents are going out of town for the holidays, my hopes reach an all-time high. I usually count the days until Christmas, and this year is no exception, but I couldn’t care less about what presents I might receive.
When the festive day arrives, I wake up early in my excitement. I take pleasure in pounding on my sister’s door to wake her up. Then I go downstairs and find my parents sipping coffee. Which isn’t usually how these things go.
“This is the second time that we woke up before you on Christmas Day,” my mother says with a tinge of sorrow. “You’re growing up!”
“Not that we’re complaining,” my father says with a yawn.
When I was younger, we’d tear through the presents in a frenzy. This year the pace is slower. I intend to savor it all, since I’ll be off to college next year and I’m not sure if I’ll be home for the holidays. Tim might prefer that we spend Christmas alone together. I might not experience this again until I have a family of my own. I imagine myself cuddled up on the couch with Tim as we watch a gaggle of adopted children squeal with delight over the presents Santa brought them.
After my family finishes exchanging gifts, we revert to our typical morning routines, although I’m more selective when picking out an outfit. I usually opt for comfort on the holidays, but I want to look nice for Tim, so I choose a textured white sweater with a light blue T-shirt beneath, hoping to be his little snowflake. I keep checking the clock, despite knowing that I won’t be free until late afternoon. My relatives are coming to our house this year. Once family obligations are out of the way, nothing will stand between me and multiple days spent blissfully alone with my friend who is a boy. I haven’t made any progress on that front. Which is a shame, because it’s all I want for Christmas.
For now I play the good son, helping my parents in the kitchen and singing carols for the extended family when they arrive. I make sure each relative gets some time with me, but not because I expect to be the highlight of their holiday. I just want to make sure every box is checked before asking my mother for permission to leave. She probably won’t mind. Allison and I usually visit each other to exchange gifts at about this time. This year is different. She already left on a trip with her father, so we celebrated early.
