Jake
Inevitably, Friday the eighteenth arrived, our last day at the lake. The dawn came, despite me silently begging for it not to. I had maybe slept three hours that night, and I lay in bed in Andy’s room, watching the sky go from black to a dim purple to pink at the horizon. Time wasn’t on our side.
I became too filled with nervous energy to lie still, so I got up and showered, leaving Andy to sleep.
As I put on the coffee, Andy appeared. He came dragging into the kitchen in his PJ bottoms, looking about as uneasy as I felt.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I said. “Nice hair you got going on there.” A tuft of Andy’s blond hair was sticking straight up in back.
He gave me a half-hearted glare and poured himself a cup of coffee. We stood at the sink looking out the window at the sound together.
“Had a text from my dad last night,” he said. “He has a client meeting at three, so he expects to be here after five o’clock.”
I felt a trace of relief at that. At least we had most of the day. “Okay.”
He leaned against me, putting his head on my shoulder, which was quite a trick since he was taller than me. I put my arm around his back and squeezed. We stood there for about five minutes, just looking out at the sea. I’d opened the window to get some fresh air, and the sound of the water lapping the shore was loud, mesmerizing.
I was going to have a thing about the ocean forever now, wasn’t I?
After a while, Andy gently pulled away and shuffled off to take a shower.
We had cereal for breakfast, surfed the web for a while on our respective laptops, sitting together at the kitchen table, then finished up our packing. Andy was antsy, and so was I, so we went for a run. Time was being so weird. It was alternatively racing by and lagging torturously. By the time we got back from our run it was only 11 a.m., too early for lunch.
We drank bottled water in the kitchen, sweaty in our running clothes. Andy looked at me and I looked at him. And it was like we hadn’t just run at all. All that rubber-band tension and worry and stress in my chest was back in a heartbeat.
We were separating today. And though we’d talked about FaceTime and meeting up over Christmas/Hanukkah in Boston, it wouldn’t be the same. Would Andy even want me once he was at Harvard with access to hundreds of women? He’d probably be in another relationship by October.
It fucking hurt.
In a blink, Andy tossed his bottle in the sink and reached out for me. We grabbed on to each other like we were both lost at sea. We kissed and clutched each other’s sweaty back, pressing tight. Instantly, I wanted him. Right then and preferably for the rest of the day. We—
“Andrew!” The voice broke through my haze like a rifle shot.
Andy jerked away. His dad stood in the doorway to the living room, a grocery bag in his arms. His expression was shocked. His skin slowly darkened to a mottled red.
I glanced at Andy. He was frozen, staring at his dad in disbelief. “H-hey, Dad,” he managed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mr. Tyler asked this with absolute surprise and horror, as if he were saying What the hell are these psychotic clowns doing in my kitchen?
Fuck. This was bad. This was really bad. I held my tongue, waiting to see how Andy was going to respond.
I saw the casual, life-of-the-party mask go up over Andy’s face. That Aren’t I just a rascal? look. It made me feel a little ill. “We were just goofing off. What did you bring?”
Andy took a step toward his dad, eyeing the bag he was carrying.
His dad wasn’t buying it. “Goofing off? Andrew, are you . . . are you gay?”
The question was blunt and harsh, and Andy flinched. “No! I . . .” He looked at me, as if asking for help. I stared back at him wordlessly.
Please don’t do this, I thought. But I could already tell he’d go to the wall to play it off as nothing.
Andy looked back at his dad. “I’m not gay. It’s just . . . we were alone up here together all summer, and . . .” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. My generation isn’t as hung up on labels.”
Mr. Tyler’s lips thinned, and he blinked twice. He made a noise of exasperation and, as if realizing he was still holding the bag, he stepped to the kitchen table and put it down. He turned to look me over, his eyes angry, then shifted his gaze back to Andy. He was practically bristling. Andy crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the fridge.
“Well, it’s a big deal to me!” his dad said, incensed. “Something like this . . . If you start down this path, it could ruin your entire future!”
Andy rolled his eyes. “How? It’s not like we’re on the front page of a tabloid. There are no paparazzi here.”
“But the two of you . . .! We’re going to discuss this. Are you and Jake a . . . a couple? How long have you been hiding this from me? And what about Amber? Was that all a lie, all those girls?”
“No!” Andy said fiercely. “I told you, I’m not gay. Two guys can fool around without it meaning they’re gay. There’s such a thing as bisexuality. Or experimenting. Or even expediency. For Christ’s sake.”
My face burned. Terrific. Within a few seconds I’d been reduced from a possible bisexual hookup to an experiment to an expedient hot orifice. I’d had enough. And then I realized I should leave father and son alone to talk anyway. I finally found the will to move.
“Excuse me,” I said, hot emotion choking me. Anger. Hurt. I walked to the back door.
“Jake,” Andy said, regret in his voice.
“Jake Masterson, this conversation is not over!” said Mr. Tyler.
Why the fuck did he want me there? Was he planning to grill me too? Maybe he felt like he had the right since he’d been around me since I was in middle school. But he didn’t. He wasn’t paying my way, like he was Andy. Nothing was going to keep me in that room to hear Andy shred us until nothing remained but a dirty smear of shame.
“You’re not my father!” I gritted out between clenched teeth, then I banged out the back door and took off across the lawn.
Andy
My dad paced the kitchen, looking shocked and disgusted. Jake had taken off, visibly upset. Not that I blamed him. It was my fault. I was an idiot for making out in the kitchen when I knew my dad would be driving down today.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t be here before five,” I said.
My dad shot me an accusing glare. “My afternoon appointment canceled. Am I to understand that you would have deliberately hidden this from me if I hadn’t walked in on it?”
I shrugged. “It’s not the sort of thing you share with your parents. You don’t discuss your sex life with me, and thank God for that.”
“Don’t be smart! This is just another one of your stupid stunts, isn’t it?”
“What?” I said in surprise. “It’s not a stunt.”
But I could tell he wasn’t listening. He seemed furious, as furious as I’d ever seen him. His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ve never said this to you, Andrew, but for a long time now I’ve been afraid there was something wrong with you, some kind of crossed wires in that head of yours that makes you do these stupid, self-destructive things.”
I froze, blinking hard. My dad truly thought that?
“It’s as though ninety-five percent of you has your head on straight, works hard, and approaches the future in a serious manner. And then there’s this wild thread that just delights in trying to smash everything you’ve ever accomplished into a million pieces!”
“That’s not true! I work my ass off and always have. As for the private moment you happened to walk in on, it was private. Guys my age fool around and drink and act out sometimes. I’m way more responsible than most of the people I know. Do you expect me to behave like an old man?”
My dad went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I hoped as you got older and started law school, moved away from . . . from Jake and his influence, you’d mature out of it. Or simply wouldn’t have time for it anymore. But things have gotten worse! First you about blow your hands off, and now you’re screwing around with a boy? Honestly, Andrew, sometimes I worry for your sanity.” My dad’s face was both angry and bewildered, like he was really at his wits’ end.
That was really what he thought of me? He worried for my sanity? Shame and anger soured my stomach.
I didn’t feel capable of saying anything that he would listen to, or that wouldn’t be a rant and a very bad idea. So I went to the fridge and got out a pitcher of iced tea Emily had left. I poured two glasses, put them on the table, and sat down in a chair. After a moment, my dad sat down and picked up his glass. His mouth was set in a firm line.
Looking at him, I had a flash of realization—I was so much like him. It was a déjà vu type of feeling. Was that what my face looked like when I was angry? Did I appear that unhappy all the time? Would I when I was his age?
We sat there silently for a moment. I plucked up and rejected words like I was sorting stones on the shore. Neither of my parents were shouters. They were both intelligent enough that they could gut you—or each other—without the necessity of raising their voices. If I was going to get anywhere with my father, I had to use cold logic.
Finally, I began in a reasonable voice, “I’m sorry you were shocked. No, I’m not gay. I suppose I’m bisexual, technically, but it’s been more opportunistic than anything.”
“Have the two of you been fooling around since . . . all those nights he stayed at our house?”
“No,” I said firmly but coolly. “It just happened this summer. It’s not serious.”
I felt guilty for saying it, and I was glad Jake wasn’t here to hear the words. It wasn’t exactly true, but what Jake and I had was none of my dad’s business. And we were separating soon anyway. What was the point in freaking out my father?
He looked at me then. He still appeared angry, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes, as if he wanted me to convince him.
“As I said, it’s not like it was in your day. Sex is just sex. There’s not the stigma attached to it that there would have been for you.”
My dad shook his head tersely. “You may believe that, but, as usual, you’re not thinking about consequences. This is just like holding those lit firecrackers. You refuse to see the danger. What if someone finds out about you and Jake? Is that something you want your future employers to know? Do you want them to think you’re gay or bisexual? You do realize that with the new administration, conservatism is on the rise. And what about Amber? Or the woman you’ll eventually marry? I’m assuming when you say this thing with Jake is ‘just sex,’ you do intend to continue having relationships with women?”
“Of course,” I said tightly.
“And how will your future wife feel about this, knowing you’re A-okay with having sex with a man? Will she be able to feel secure in you then? Hell, what if Jake thinks this is more serious than it is and gets his feelings hurt? For God’s sake, Andrew, why can’t you think things through!”
My dad’s tone wasn’t harsh so much as it was logical, adamant, and cajoling, as if pleading with me to see reason. But it was worse that way—disappointment instead of anger. The words socked me in the gut and made me feel about an inch tall.
And I had to wonder if he was right. Whenever my dad talked about the future, I could see it all laid out in front of me in black and white. When I saw it like that, I wanted to do the right thing, the safe thing. I really did. What about my employers? Things had been looser with gay marriage and all that, but he was right that there was a strong swing back the other way. My mom had warned me that the legal field was still a conservative one. And what would my someday wife think? Would I have to tell her?
But even the idea of “my wife” echoed, strange and incomprehensible, in my head. I found it hard to care about some future, hypothetical person when Jake was in my life right now. Only he wasn’t really. We both had our paths laid out, and they weren’t together. The cottage had been like an island, an escape from the real world. But we couldn’t ignore the real world forever.
My dad’s reaction was a harsh wake-up call. He wasn’t a stupid man. He was usually right. I wasn’t stupid either. I’d always known continuing things with Jake wasn’t consistent with my plans. Was there a crazy part of my brain that just wanted to destroy everything? Had I destroyed me and Jake? The thought was unbearable.
“I’m sorry you feel that way about it,” I said in a soft voice. I stood up, unable to take the disillusioned look on my dad’s face any longer.
“Andrew—”
“I don’t think it would be productive to continue the conversation right now.”
I went out the back door, closing it quietly behind me to show that I was in control of myself.
Jake
Andy found me sitting on a log at the top of the beach. It was a private spot that was hidden from the cottage by trees. I didn’t want his dad to be able to see me, God knew why. It wasn’t like Mr. Tyler would have come after me. Maybe I was ashamed. Not about what Andy and I had done, but for the way Andy made me feel about what we had done.
Andy stopped when he came around the trees and saw me. He hesitated. I didn’t look at him, my gaze fixed on the water.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he said at last.
I didn’t answer. I was so hurt and angry, it felt like a nest of hornets had taken up residence in my chest and they were stinging me internally. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I wrapped my arms around myself, despite it being a hot day, and leaned forward, staring at nothing.
“Don’t worry about it,” Andy said. “There’s nothing he can say or do to you. It’s the end of the summer anyway. As for me, he’ll get over it.”
“Sure.” My voice was tight. “I suppose today was going to be depressing anyway, so why not make it a complete clusterfuck?”
As if those words had somehow encouraged him—Andy always was a contrary bastard—he came over and sat down on the log beside me, not close enough to brush shoulders, but almost.
We sat there for a while, not saying anything. What was there to say? We’d already talked about keeping in touch, made vague remarks about FaceTime and all of that. We’d cautiously talked around it for days, saying things like I’ll miss this after sex and even, once, Andy had said, “God, I’ll miss you,” after I’d made a stupid pun about the butter. We’d been best friends forever, lived together for the past four years, so obviously we’d miss each other. The words were safe to say, safe to pin on friendship.
There was one thing we’d never talked about, though. And I hadn’t intended to, ever. But sitting there on the shore, with the sting of Andy’s words, saying that touching me had meant nothing, like a fresh wound in my chest, I suddenly had to say it. Because I knew this was the end—not just of the summer but probably of everything. And Andy deserved to know why. And I deserved to get it off my chest. And maybe I just didn’t give a shit anymore.
“The thing is,” I began, my voice rough, “once I get to California, I’m going to need some space. A few months at least. Maybe longer.”
“Space?” Andy sounded confused.
It felt like ripping out my guts to say it. “Time to think about things, get my head together without—with no contact. Between us.”
That sank in, the air heavy as lead.
“Are you pissed off? About what I said to my dad? I admit, I kinda panicked there. I didn’t—”
“That’s not it,” I cut in, unable to bear his excuses. I took a deep breath. “Okay. So I didn’t tell you about Kevin, or about me figuring out I was bisexual, because I thought if you knew, you’d think maybe your best friend had been in love with you all these years.” A chill went up my spine. I couldn’t believe I was saying the words. “And I didn’t want you to think that. Even though . . . you would have been right. Especially because you would have been right.”
I hugged my knees and squeezed them. Next to me, Andy was quiet.
“I should never have agreed to have sex with you,” I continued. “I know it meant nothing to you. And I thought, at first, that it could mean nothing to me too. But that was ridiculous.” I laughed bitterly. “I’d moved on emotionally, right? The past few years. Then you sucked me back in again. Literally. Good job there, bro.”
I risked a glance at Andy, because I had to. He was looking at me, his eyes wounded and his expression stark. “Jake . . . I. Are you saying . . . Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged, looking away again. He really doesn’t know. “There was no point. I’m only telling you this now because I’m going to need some time to get my shit together, to get into my new job and all of that without being . . . being distracted with a bunch of drama. We’ve been friends forever, and I’m not saying we can’t continue to be. Just . . . not for a while. We said it would be a clean break when we left here. I need time to make that stick. And that’s it.”
“Jake.” Andy’s voice was disbelieving, but there was anguish in there. “I’m sorry. You know I . . . Christ. You know I . . . love you too.”
In the hesitation, I heard what he didn’t say: like a brother. Well, not exactly like a brother, apparently. Because that would be gross. But close enough.
“It’s not your fault.” My fingers dug into the sand to keep from reaching for him. “It’s all on me. Always has been. It is what it is.”
I got up and left him there, walking back toward the house.
Pushing inside the back door, I didn’t look at Mr. Tyler or speak to him. I went to my room, got my bags, took them out to the car, and sat in the back seat, waiting to be driven home.