Ray of Sunlight (13 page)

“Because I know the stuff already, Russ.”

“How do you know that I don’t?”

“Do you?”

I had to admit it. “No.” I quickly added, “I don’t get it, Pete. I hate history. I can remember the dates and all that, but when it comes to what motivated whom and what the implications were of this or that. I don’t get it.” He didn’t seem inclined to just leave me alone. “I’m not like you, Pete. This shit doesn’t come easily.”

He came into the room and sat down. “What part has you stumped?”

“Forget it, Pete. I can’t do this. I should have known the whole thing with college was too good to be true.”

“You’re giving up?” Pete’s eyebrows went up, and then he got a stern look on his face. “Do I need to call CJ?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Mom, you don’t need to call Dad.”

He sat down and opened my history book. “Come on. Let’s study together.”

“Thought you already knew it.”

“I do,” he answered, “but you don’t. Come on, get the study questions.”

He spent the next two hours going over everything with me, telling me ways to remember things, discussing implications and such. By the end of the evening, I had never felt so ready for a test in all my life. When had Pete become such a good friend?

B
Y
THE
end of the third quarter, I had brought my overall grades up to Ds. I had one more quarter to bring it up another grade level. Once I told the teachers what I was trying to do, they “helped” by assigning extra work that would bring up my grades more quickly… if done well. It was all I needed in my increasingly busy life to have
more
schoolwork to do, but I could see the benefit of having good grades on the extra credit assignments. I was beginning to think that maybe I’d be able to do this.

My English teacher had heard that I did portraits and asked to see my portfolio… whatever the hell that was. CJ had made extra copies of all the stuff he had sent in to the Art Institute, so I showed her that.

She was so taken with the change in my attitude, and the fact that I was actually trying to go to college now, that she used my greatest strength—my art—to help me bring up the grades in one of my weakest areas, English. She told me that if I could write a children’s story, about anything I wanted, and illustrate it, she would substitute the grade I got on that for my two lowest grades. That would help immensely!

But I wasn’t a good writer, and I was having a horrible time thinking of something to write about. I finally hit on something. It wasn’t a surprise at all that it involved CJ.

I wrote about a clown who entertained kids in the cancer ward, and I drew cartoonlike characters to illustrate the story. I thought the artwork turned out well, but I wasn’t thrilled with my story. Oh, the subject matter was interesting enough, but I really wasn’t a good writer, and the story was a little stilted. CJ helped me improve it some, but he didn’t want to give me too much input. He was really good… or bad, depending on your point of view… about not turning my work into his. He was great at everything and told me he had enough faith in me that he knew I could get good grades with my own ability…. He didn’t have to give me so much help that the work sounded like his.

The teacher really liked the story. She only gave it a B, because it was an English assignment after all, so she had to grade me on the writing, not on the art. She asked if she could submit it in a children’s fiction contest for young authors. I was flattered that she thought of that.

I couldn’t wait to tell CJ about it. I went into his room and found him already in bed. He wasn’t feeling well, and was just waking up from a nap. But he perked right up when I told him the news. He was over the moon about it and took that opportunity to stroke my ego again.

“See, Russ?” He beamed. “What did I tell you? You can do anything you want. Anything, Russ! The world is your oyster.”

“The world is my oyster?” I had to give him hell for putting it that way. Sometimes he used the oddest terminology. “What do oysters have to do with anything? Or the world, for that matter?”

“Effort makes a world of difference.” He smirked. “You have the world by the tail.”

I just blinked at him.

“You have the best of both worlds.” He continued with the silliness, and I could tell he was just barely stopping himself from giggling like a fool. “Love makes the world go round.”

“You’re in a world of your own,” I joined in. Anything that put that beautiful smile on his face couldn’t be that bad.

“I don’t have a care in the world.” He snickered.

“I didn’t bring you into the world, but if you don’t stop with the idioms, I can take you out of it.”

He lost it. He collapsed against the raised back of his bed and giggled out loud. He laughed so hard, he snorted.

“Did you just snort?” I tried to look aghast, but it just had the effect of making him dissolve even more into giggles. I loved watching CJ laugh. It was contagious too, so I was soon laying my head on his mattress near his hand, and indulged in a few snorts of my own.

It would have been a lot better story to tell if I had actually won the contest. I didn’t. But that was fine. I won something more important. I put a smile on CJ’s face and made him proud of me, all at the same time.

W
E
WENT
on like that for the next month or so. CJ or Pete would help me any way they could. Pete would drill me on stuff for tests. CJ would support and encourage me through extra credit assignments, or English assignments in general.

I had to read Hamlet, which I hated, but CJ helped me out.

“It’s Shakespeare’s longest play for crying out loud,” I griped. “Why did we have to read that one?”

“You don’t know anything about the play, or much about Shakespeare in general, but you know that Hamlet is the longest of his plays?”

“It is a lazy person’s duty to know the relative length of any assignment,” I groused.

CJ dropped his head. “You’re one of those that wastes ten minutes every half hour counting the pages left of an assignment, aren’t you?

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “Doesn’t everyone do that?”

“No, Russell.” He pretended to be peeved. “They don’t.”

We opened the book and got started reading. CJ read Hamlet and made me read all the other characters’ parts, but it was fun to watch him act crazy. All Hamlet’s whacky lines just came to life.

Pete stopped by a couple of nights to watch after I told him what was going on. He ended up reading half my characters for me, and all three of us waded through the book together. Pete had to read the damned thing too, of course.

Oddly enough, it turned out to be really fun, and I was almost sorry when we finished it. CJ said we could always take the show on the road, and the three of us teased about how we could incorporate Shakespeare into CJ’s clown show. Pete and I got into it, feeding off of each other and offering weirder and weirder ideas until CJ finally put in his two cents.

“We want to entertain the kids and make them think we’re funny… not certifiably crazy.”

“Too late, CJ,” I teased. “I’m pretty sure they all already think we’re certifiably crazy.”

The three of us dissolved into laughter again. I had never laughed so much in my life as I did when I was with CJ.

W
HEN
I
got my progress reports in late March, my overall grades had been brought up to all Cs. All I had to do was keep the same quality of work, and I could actually do this. I didn’t know when it had become so important to me, but it was now, and I was thrilled when I saw the progress reports. I couldn’t wait to show them to CJ.

When I got to the hospital and let him see the report, his eyes lit up, and then he grabbed me in what I thought would be a bear hug… but… he kissed me. It was just a short kiss, but I just stood there and didn’t know how to take it. Didn’t know what to do.

He apparently picked up on my emotions. “That doesn’t have to mean anything, Russ. I kiss everyone.”

He did. I knew that. Not always on the lips, but I had seen him do that before too, even to men. But….

It was the phrasing that made it even more confusing. “It doesn’t
have
to mean anything.” Which sort of implied that it
could
mean something… if I wanted it to.

And that was a question in itself. Did I want it to mean anything? Back in August, before ever meeting CJ, back when I was self-absorbed and angry at everyone, I would have said absolutely no way would I ever even entertain the idea of acting on the “gay” side of my bisexual nature, or ever even wanting a physical relationship with another guy. Way too much hassle. I didn’t act on my “straight” side, either, though, so it was really no hardship at the time.

But, CJ wasn’t just another guy. He was… CJ. My best friend. The guy I would do anything for. The guy I would lay down my life for if I thought it would save his.

The guy I loved. There was no doubt about that. I just had to figure out whether I loved him like
that
or not.

I wasn’t even sure I was actually willing to be gay. I mean, I knew it didn’t really work that way. It wasn’t like I could just say, “I don’t think I’ll be attracted to guys anymore.” But it would really cause a lot of hassle with Allen, and even Mom, if I admitted to that side of myself. I wasn’t even sure I knew what to do. I mean, I knew the basics, but…. Would I be able to go through with anything even if I started it?

CJ almost seemed to read my thoughts. “It’s not like I could really do anything but kiss, even if it did mean something. My meds and everything.”

I knew about that. We’d talked about all the side effects of the medication and all the treatments. That was one of them. It hadn’t seemed to bother him to talk about it back then, but he seemed a little embarrassed by it today.

“Anyway,” he continued. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“What if I want it to mean something?” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think about them.

He looked surprised, to say the very least. “
Do
you want it to mean anything?”

I really wasn’t sure and told him as much. He smiled and nodded.

“Then, let’s not let
this
time mean anything, but hold out the possibility of a future time meaning something… if you ever decide you want it to.”

I could live with that. The possibility was still there, but I didn’t have to make any decisions right then. I wasn’t really good at life-altering decisions.

CJ, thankfully, changed the subject and most of my mind followed him through all the twists and turns of the conversation, but part of it was still on that question. “Did I want something more with CJ
?
”

A
PPARENTLY
MY
subconscious decided on its own. That night, I had a dream that the scene in his bedroom had gone differently, and I had just kissed him back. It was a good dream. But, having that in a dream and dealing with the consequences of having that in real life… I still didn’t know.

But, my sleeping brain wouldn’t leave the idea alone. Every night, it seemed, I dreamed about him. And every night the dreams got more and more heated. By the end of two weeks, they were well within XXX range. Awake, I knew CJ couldn’t do that stuff even if either of us were ready for that—which we weren’t. But my mind had no problem trying out the scenarios.

If those were the only dreams I was having, I could have lived with that. Needed a lot of cold showers maybe, but I could have lived with it. It was the other dreams that were more disturbing. The ones where I didn’t act on any attraction with CJ. We didn’t kiss anymore. We were just friends, and I had thought that was enough, until, in the dream, CJ died. And I realized that I had never told him how I felt. In the dream, I knew how I felt. I
did
want something more than friendship with CJ, but was too chicken to do anything about it.

I didn’t like those dreams. I knew I’d lose him eventually, but I hadn’t been dwelling on it. After those dreams got me thinking, though, I wasn’t sure I could live with that… with him dying and not knowing how I felt. Because somewhere in those two weeks of thinking about it, I realized I did love CJ… and not just as a friend.

The youth group again helped us with the flat colors of the mural in the burn ward, and we finished up on a Saturday. The next day CJ and I alone added the shadows and shading. When it was finally done, and I signed my name on the bottom of the main wall—as all concerned had insisted I do—CJ came up to me, grabbed me with as much strength as he could muster, and kissed me again on the lips. This time, I grabbed back and deepened the kiss. I didn’t even think about it first. I just did it, and decided that it felt very right.

I loved the expression on his face when we finally pulled away from each other: half confusion and half goofy grin. I couldn’t help myself. I swooped in for another little peck on his lips.

“Russ?” He was still grinning, but the confusion was taking over.

I hugged him and didn’t care who might be watching. “I decided I wanted it to mean something.” I was thoroughly convinced now too. No doubts. I just knew I wanted this with him for as long as we could have it.

His grin widened. “Really?”

“No, CJ. I’m yanking your chain.” I was kidding, but he looked like he was about to take it seriously, so I rushed on. “Of course really. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I have no idea what I’m doing. I never thought about acting on the ‘gay stuff,’ because… well, for a lot of reasons. And I know you can’t do much about the physical side of it….”

But that wasn’t the most important thing here, so I continued and told him what was. “But I don’t care. I’ve decided I love you. I’ve known I loved you as a friend for a long time, but this… this is more than that. And I want to be able to show you. I don’t care who sees or who knows.”