Seasonal - JeanMarco

Seasonal

     The summer of 1998 will probably always be burned into my brain. In all honesty, I can't decide if that's a positive thing or not. If I forgot, I think I would feel incomplete in a way, but maybe I could just move on if I didn't have to remember. If I could just stop seeing his face.

     I was fresh out of high school that year. What better way to celebrate what I considered freedom than to spend the summer at my grandparents beach house? The plan was to entertain myself in the little downtown area I grew up seeing. I considered getting some shitty summer job at one of the cute mom and pop shops that the place was filled with, but Nan and Grandfather insisted I enjoy myself and let them pay for whatever keepsakes and souvenirs I desired.

     The beach itself was also a major part in my summer plans. It wasn't like I had always been single, but I hoped a fresh tan would draw in extra ladies. Some guys too, but I was far too hesitant to be open about my bisexuality after growing up in the 80s. Even though things were slightly better in '98, it still wasn't the safest time to be "queer."

     I met Marco on my first day there. I had decided to wander around and re-familiarize myself with the stores and restaurants. He was my waiter when I stopped for dinner at a little café. I could tell from the moment I saw him that he was something special, cliché as it sounds. It was obvious his last table gave him a hard time (and probably a shitty tip too), yet he approached me with a real smile and happily introduced himself. Marco. Marco, Marco, Marco. It repeated over and over in my head. Never before had I met someone who fit their name so well, and his voice was so smooth. He asked what he could get me, but I just froze.

     Looking back, that probably was a horrible impression. Somehow, the angel covered in freckles just laughed it off and made a joke about it. By the end of my meal, he had agreed to walk on the beach with me after his shift.

     I was a mess. Of course by the time we got to the water it was sunset. Of course I just had to be a stammering fool. Of course he had to just flash his beautiful smile and patiently wait for me to pull myself together. Of course the evening just had to be perfect.

     When it got dark we explored the boardwalk together. I won him one of those little goldfish at a game stall, and we spent the rest of the night getting supplies to take care of it and bringing it back to Marco's temporary condo. I'll never forget how his eyes lit up when his fish was all set up and happily swimming around. I'll never forget that he named it Bubbles because he never had a childhood pet, and he was going to make up for the lost experience as much as possible. Even if it might've come off as a bit childish.

     It became somewhat of a routine. I would visit him at work every day, and we would walk the beach at the end of his shift. Sometimes we went back to the boardwalk to take turns winning each other ratty stuffed animals and eating stale popcorn. I learned something new about him every day. I learned that the café was just a summer job. I learned that he wanted to save those that nobody else cared enough to protect. I learned that he moves from place to place a lot because he's low on money and trying to keep as much distance from his parents as possible without being found. I learned that he was doing so because they didn't appreciate the fact that he was gay. It took all my willpower not to smile when he admitted that. The story was sad, but it meant I had a chance.

     Our routine went on for a week and a half before I went home with him (for real this time--not to set up a fish tank). He had the next day off work, so it seemed like the best timing. At the time I wished I'd done it sooner, but not rushing -within reason of our limited time frame- was definitely for the best. Waking up the next day next to Marco was immediately saved into my memories as the best morning of my life.