When I Was Alphie

Chapter One / Best Friend

                                    
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Chapter One / Best Friend

I stand awkwardly in Gemma's doorway, wearing her corduroy jacket and jeans that are too small for me; my ankles stick out, bare. My ankles are a part of me that seems to always pop out whenever I sit, my pants riding up or my socks slipping down to reveal a pale knob of bone. In a similar vein, many of my appendages seem too long for me, parts of me gone haywire during puberty while my brain still lags in the knowledge of how to keep them close.

Usually, I let myself in, but today Gemma's mother answered the door and invited me inside. Her parents are the type that has given up on controlling their child long ago, though they will still try to keep tabs on her as much as possible. They still think I might be a bad influence on their daughter. You would think that they would consider me a good influence, since to the best of their knowledge, I will not sleep with her on one of the nights she becomes inebriated and instead take her home to tuck her in beneath her floral comforter.

I fill my role in her life easily, slipping into a mold that has been designated for me by many when I came out of the closet in the midst of my sexual confusion in middle school. Gay best friend. Super, super gay best friend. I will let Gemma braid my hair off of my forehead, paint my nails, and try to stuff myself into her clothing. I will protest these things only with the appropriate amount of protesting, because I am a boy and boys have to reject these things somewhat.

My sexuality is why her parents don't particularly like me, aside from the fact that I have a taste for hard alcohol and once got caught snorting my since renounced Jatenzo prescription off of their bathroom sink. I told Gemma it was Xanax and let her have a little sniff, too. It was comical to watch her stumble around, fifteen years old with her mane of blonde hair falling into her face while she slurred her words in placebo.

I am about to ascend the staircase when Gemma comes barreling down it; a blur of blue dress, bare thighs, clunky boots, and glinting jewelry. Around her head, her shaggy hair tries to depart her scalp by flying in every direction. Her shoes thud on the carpeted stairs, echoing with every step she takes. Despite her incredibly petite stature, Gemma always finds a way to announce her presence as large as possible.

The dress rides up her thighs as she jumps over the last step, landing with a clap of delight at seeing me there. Absolutely everything in her life must be floral or shiny. Her room has botanical prints hanging on the wall, her little dresses are all in a ditzy print, and the clips in her hair and earrings dripping from her lobes always sparkle. 

"Alphie!" She sings my name out, prancing over to throw her arms around me. Gemma is short; the crown of her head hits right against my chin. "You brought me back my jacket!"

I start to unbutton it; she stops me by grabbing at my hand. "No! You look ravishing, darling." She pushes her lips out, smeared with pink lipstick, and they make a popping noise. "It's too oversized for me. Wear it! Maybe Sartaj will notice and ask himself who that handsome stranger is." She wiggles her eyebrows theatrically, they move in tandem above her pale eyes.

The jacket is a little cropped thing that falls above my narrow hips. It's a dusty pink - which isn't an abnormal color for me - but it sends me for a mental spin tonight because I've been trying to decide how I want to present myself to Sartaj. I know he is bisexual and I am gay but even in that territory, I feel an overwhelming fear I am not the proper type of gay. I'm wearing the rings on my fingers, my voice is a few baritones softer than most people are comfortable with, and I've worn my hair midway down my neck for most of high school.