Page 69 of Sicken of the Calm
“Ezra, what is it?” I say alittle forcefully. He looks at the ground for a moment, and when he looks backup his eyes are piercing.
“Why weren’t we friends in high school?”he blurts, and the words sound forced out of him. He winces slightly athimself, but his eyes don’t waver.
“What?” I ask, lost.
“You knew I had a crush on you,but we never talked,” he says as if it were the most obvious thing in theworld, but my mind goes blank at his words. It takes me a few moments tocomprehend what he’s saying, but even then, the words don’t make logical sense.
“You…what?” I gape. He rolls hiseyes a little, taking a step back from me.
“Oh, come on. I know you knew.Remember, when you told your teammates off about…” He trails off, but I knowexactly what he’s talking about. I shake my head, surprised that he even knowsabout that, but he clarifies for me. “Iva told me, back then. And she knew thatI – how I felt. I mean, it’s not like I think you wouldn’t have done it forsomeone else but, Iva made it clear that you did it ‘cause you felt sorry forme,” he says bitterly. I’m stunned, completely blindsided by what he’s tellingme.
“What are you talking about?There’s no way she would say that.”
“Ok,” he huffs, “Maybe not in somany words, but I could tell she was trying to tell me something, sheinsinuated…I don’t know. I just know that, that she knew,” he says, running hishands through his hair. I stare at him, at a loss for words, the brightness ofthe day completely incongruent with these sudden revelations. I had thoughtthat when we talked about our feelings for each other it would be with a calmconversation similar to the one that had started all this in the first place,but the frustration and hurt in Ezra’s voice are leaving me completelywrongfooted. As the silence stretches Ezra looks at me, and he must see thesurprise on my face for what it is, his face falling in increments.
“Shit,” he finally says. “Youdidn’t know.” His voice is hollow and lost. I shake my head slowly. “Fuck.Fuck,”he says, taking another step back. I want to reach out to him but am leftparalyzed by the incomprehensible re-writing of history. I don’t understand howthis can be true, how the boy, Ezra,Ezra, I have liked for an age likedme even back then, when I admired him from afar. It doesn’t fit with the viewof the world I’ve held for years, with the way I see myself. Why would he haveliked me then?
Ezra shakes his head, taking adeep breath and then letting it out slowly, shakily. “I gotta go,” he sayssuddenly, and that springs me into action. I take a step forward, and it hurtswhen he takes one back.
“Ezra…”
“Seriously. This isn’t – I can’tdo this right now. I’ve got class,” he says, looking at anything but me. Thetruth is that I can’t do this here either, out in the open like this, and I cansee I’m already pushing Ezra too far by trying to keep him here. I don’t knowif he’s going to believe my side of the story in the state he’s in.
“Ok, but come over tonight.Please,” I say. He pauses, looking like he’s trying to come up with an excuse,but enough is enough. We’ve avoided this conversation for too long. “Or I’mcoming to yours,” I add, voice brooking no argument. He holds off for a momentmore, but then his shoulders slump, defeated.
“Fine,” he says like he’sagreeing to a death penalty. I have so many things to say that nothing comesout.
“I’ll – I’ll see you later,” Isay finally. He nods, still not looking at me, and leaves.
Fuck, I think, realizingin a single moment exactly how stupid I’ve been.
**********
I’m still reeling hours later, sittingin the silence of my room, incapable of doing anything but wait for Ezra toshow up.
The thing is, the fact that hisadmission seems to change everything, without actually changing anything atall, shows me how blind I’ve been. I thought I was done with making assumptionsabout Ezra, yet still find myself left in the debris of my own willfulignorance. I think of all the times that Ezra has allowed me to look beyond thearmour of his confidence, has let me trace the chafed skin below the rubbingplates, and yet, still, a part of me had clung to the idea of Ezra as thisoverblown persona, of someone who could take anything on. I had still imaginedhim in the middle of a cafeteria, challenging everybody he knew with fistedhands and fierce eyes, and had not realized that just because Ezra is capableof pushing himself to those limits doesn’t mean I should force him to do so. Infact, I should be the person making that as unnecessary as possible.
All this time, Ezra has had alegitimate reason to leave our relationship under the “casual” status, even ifthe reality was anything but. All this time, he had thought that I knew abouthis feelings for me, and that my own silence could only mean a rejection inreturn. Despite all we have gone through together, despite all the intimatemoments and what we have given each other, I can’t blame him for tempering thatwith his own beliefs about my motivation. How could he, having such an intimateexperience with damning silence, put himself on the line for me again?Especially when he had been the one to initiate almost everything between us inthe first place. I think back to that first time together, how insane it wasfor him to just ask me to jerk off in front of him, especially when I hadbarely given him any sign that I reciprocated his attraction, let alone hisaffection.
The courage that must have taken.
I think back to his admissionsabout killing phrases, his soft voice,Sometimes, though, silence can bejust as sharp.I thought he was talking about his parents, but was Iincluded in that? It makes me sick to my stomach to even consider it, that I couldbe lumped in with his parents. How many times had I cut Ezra with my cowardice?Because, all this time, that’s what it was. Apathy, cowardice. I had cast Ezraas the brave one, just so that I had an excuse to hide. For more than sixfucking months I put the onus on him, complaining to myself about my own fearson the simple, blind expectation that it was Ezra’s duty to get us to the nextstep, but where was I in all of this? How can I face the fact that the person Iproclaim to care for is the one that I’ve been hurting all along?
A knock on the door snaps me fromdrowning further in my regurgitated and re-regurgitated thoughts. My heart ispounding, but my mind is without doubt of what I need to do.
When I open the door, Ezra lookslike he’s ready for a blow. Even in defeat, however, his strength is beautiful,his jaw clenched and sharp, his steps steady as he walks the plank into myroom.
He’s just wearing a light jacket,but he doesn’t take it off, as if expecting to go out again soon. He lingers closeto the door and I give him some space, standing a few steps away but facinghim.
“I had a crush on you too,” I saywithout preamble, and I wish desperately that I had been able to say thiswithout Ezra having to sacrifice himself first. Still, all I can do is learnfrom this once and for all, and not let what he’s given me go to waste.
Ezra looks up at me from where hewas staring at his shoes, but there is no shock on his face – there is nobelief. I blunder on.
“I – you were my first guy-crush,actually. Remember, we were talking about it months ago, about, about the firstperson, the first guy, it was you. I just…it was you,” I say, willing him tobelieve me. His expression shifts, mixing incredulity with surprise. “And itwasn’t just that. Fuck, I… you changed me. I admired you, in school, and nowtoo. You, you and Iva, are the reason I came out in college. I mean, I did itfor me, but you guys were the ones that gave me the, like, the strength, youknow? All the time I would think of you, of like, the way you are and the wayyou treat others and how you were. You just did it. There in the middle ofeverybody, but it’s not just that, it’s the way you seem to know yourself and Iknow now, ok, I know it wasn’t that easy. I know that you, that you had tofight, that it didn’t justcometo you, but that just makes it moreadmirable, and makes me even more stupid for not realizing. Ezra, I’m sofucking sorry. All this time, I just expected – unfairly! I just expected youto…I just didn’t take responsibility and I…I’m not making sense but what I’mtrying to say is that I liked you too, in high school. So much.”
The silence that falls is thickwith my stumbling words. Ezra is staring at me like he can’t process a singleword I’ve said, but then his face suddenly hardens, eyes narrowing.
“Are you telling the truth? Areyou joking?” he asks, voice low and a lot quieter than his expression wouldsuggest. I feel my lungs squeeze. The fact that he doesn’t believe me, aftereverything, is telling, and I can only blame myself.
