I can feel a hole in my sock, the bare skin of the ball of my foot sticking to the insert of my shoe as I leave work. My socks are dropping like flies and I still haven't managed to go to the store and buy any. The few times I've been to the store the last few weeks I've forgotten to get them and before that the world was against me.
"Plans for the night?" My coworker Amir asks as he follows me out of the building.
I'm not sure what to do with Amir but he loves to talk. I don't know if he feels like he needs to take me under his wing, being the new guy and all, or if it's something else but ever since my second day at my new job Amir has made a point to talk to me.
"Seeing some friends." I say, hoping it sounds as easy as I mean it to.
It's a short walk to our cars, Amir stopping at his first. I continue down the parking lot just a space or two before I'm at mine and as I unlock my door he says "we should get drinks after work sometime."
Instantly I feel fear build inside me as I try to figure out if he's asking me out, is he gay, or is this some sort of trap and in my fear I blunder with a response.
"Everyone likes to go uptown to one of the high end bars but I like the small hole in the walls, ya know, the dive bars that have an atmosphere. Everyone needs an after work bar spot to unwind with fellow like minded colleagues." He says with a shrug of his shoulders. "We can complain about Richard in peace."
A strained laugh blows out of me but Amir has a point. Richard is a pain.
"Think about it huh?" He says and when I nod my head yes he adds "have a good rest of your day Brett".
"You too."
Amir doesn't wait, climbing into his Prius as I stare, still trying to grab ahold of my bearings.
When do I get to not live with fear? When do things change? Why won't they change? I don't want to be like this. I want to be able to accept a friendly invitation for drinks with a coworker like it's a normal thing. I want to make friends, I want to live unafraid and unashamed but try as might, fear is always the first thing that comes. Fear that has shame clinging to its fibers and both of them are buried so deep inside me I fear I won't ever shake them.
It's sadness that engulfs me, stamping out the excitement that had coursed through my body like a live wire as I counted down the minutes to the end of my shift. Excitement because I'm seeing James and anytime James is a thought in my mind my heart floods with this blissful happiness that beats so hard through my body, hiding it is impossible.
The drive to James' apartment I spend sulking. Replaying moments of my life, wondering if that was a moment if I had made a different decision, would I have wound up different. Would I have been happier? Would it have been easier?
I'm over trying to think I could be straight. That it was something I chose, that I could ever unchoose it. It was never a choice, I could never control it. Like breathing, for moments I could pause it, hide it, control it fractionally but never for any length of time, never indefinitely. Trying to hide that I was gay, pretending I wasn't, only ever felt like suffocating, like denying my body oxygen.
But what moment or moments could I have changed? If I had been less scared, would it be easier now?
It's funny how as humans we so often reflect, as if we can change the past. Torturing ourselves with what if's and what could have been. Supposedly all my decisions leading up to the present have made me who I am, have led me here. If you had asked me in Washington if I was happy with where I was I would have said no, instantly. But now as I step out of my car and make my way into James' apartment complex I'm not unhappy. I think maybe I could be happier but I'm also content for the most part. As long as James keeps giving me a second chance.
I've been trying to do anything that might prove to James that I'm serious, that I'm really trying. I haven't canceled plans once, even when it's been going out to the bar with his friends and I haven't really wanted to. I even said yes to a work party he has in a month. I instantly wished I could take it back but I'm not going to. It's bound to be awful and uncomfortable for me but at the risk of losing James, a night of discomfort is doable.
The door lock rattles, the metal clunking into place as it's unlocked and James pulls the door open. He's shirtless, his hair wet, drops falling to his bare skin and my mouth goes dry as my eyes feast upon the plains of his body.
"Hey." He leans in for a kiss and I subconsciously make note if there's anyone to see us before I kiss him back. "Great timing, I just got out of the shower."
He's in nothing but a towel.
I drop my work bag on the counter, following him into his room beside Sally.
"J?" I call out, my heartbeat pounding in my chest, growing in rhythm as I anticipate his response. Just the simple idea of him saying my name. I took it for granted when I was younger. Before I felt what it was to lose him.
"Hmm?" He hums, it radiates from the small closet.
"My uncle Chris invited me for dinner next week." I say, "will you come with me?"
My question is met with silence and the longer that it stretches the more worried I become. It's probably just a few short seconds but they stretch on and on, worries and doubts seeping into my mind until I'm filled with shame.
James steps into view, the towel gone, replaced with boxers. He has a pair of pants in his hands as he looks at me. For the longest time, before we broke up, this was what James wanted. He wanted to meet the rest of my family, the family that hadn't disowned me. He wanted me to hold his hand in public and kiss him and not be so worried about other people. This is me listening to Wes, taking someone else's advice for once. This is me trying. Does he not see that?
He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair until it's slicked back away from his face.
"Maybe."
My head nods but my lungs won't release the breath that's locked in them.
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It's Monday and Mondays always suck so here's a double update.
