Stan was nearing his senior year of high school, and he expressed openly about how much he wanted to leave Derry, leave Maine, even. He'd been accepted to go to a university in Georgia, and even had a scholarship to it. I'm not surprised, really. He's a studious person and he never lets his grades fall below a B-and even then, he's constantly working to bring it back up to an A. He even takes the harder classes that they offer; it amazes me how he's able to handle that stress.
Me, well, I do some studying on my own. My granddad would teach me some arithmetics here and there, but it's not enough to go off to college. Besides, my family can't afford that kind of expense, and they need help around the farm. It's okay. I never considered leaving Derry until I met my friends, anyway.
I guess that's the problem. I met them, and now, one by one, they're all going to be leaving. Richie, believe it or not, is a straight A student and is going to California. Bill got accepted to a school in England for journalism....
And there's Stan, all the way in Georgia. I didn't want to hold him back, but it's going to be harder, lonelier, here without him.
I guess that's why he suggested what he did. And his wide, excited eyes were definitely why I was going through with his plan.
He wanted, nearing his last few months in Derry, to finally formally introduce me to his parents. Was it a bit rash? Yes, and I was completely surprised when Stan came to me with the idea. Was it a bit painful? To get to finally know these people after all the time, to get them to know who I am to Stan, right before he leaves off? Yes. It was, but it made Stan happy, and it gave him the pride he needed to be able to tell them who he's been seeing.
And that's all I really care about.
He did ask me if it was okay, and of course I said yes.
So, I wore one of my sweaters and a button up underneath it, trying to look my best for his parents, but I was feeling a bit sluggish as I biked my way to his house.
He didn't give me much information and quite frankly, I was nervous.
I knocked on Stan's door, almost immediately greeted with Stan, who's hair flopped over one side of his forehead, curls bouncing a bit as he pulled me in for a hug.
He led me inside, closing the door behind us. I looked to him, "So, what's the plan exactl-"
Stan's mother cut me off, coming out with raised eyebrows, "Who's this?"
Stan gave me a short nudge, silently indicating for me to talk. I gave her a smile, "Hi, ma'am, I'm Mike Hanlon." I reached out to shake her hand, and I could see her eyes grow a bit lidded in realization, and to my slight surprise, she returned my smile, and took my hand.
I met Stan's eyes, who didn't seem shocked at all by her acceptance. Rather, he seemed somewhat relaxed, corner of his mouth twisted into his famous little smirk.
Mrs. Uris then gestured toward the couch, "Have a seat." I felt much more at ease having the initial awkwardness set aside, and sat, Stan close enough beside me that our shoulders touched, and his knees were pressed against one of my legs, his awkwardly long somewhat adjacent to mine.
Mrs. Uris sat on a recliner, hands folded in her lap, "My husband is making some food at the moment. He'll come in to talk to you after he's done."
I wasn't quite sure what to say or do; I'd never done this sort of thing before-for that matter, I'd never really *been* with anyone before.
Stan's mother didn't seem to know exactly what to do, either, and the atmosphere became a bit stiff. "Stanley? What exactly did you want to talk about?"
Stan bit his lip, "I, um, I was thinking about some things. You see, Mom, I-"
His father entered, then, and got the sudden feeling of what it was like to be a small animal, being circled by a hawk that was watching, desperately eyeing it for a weak point so that it can strike.
He sat in a chair next to Mrs. Uris, "So, this is who Stan's with?" He had one eyebrow raised, causing his forehead to become wrinkled. He was waiting for an answer, but I wasn't sure how to respond without rambling-I really didn't want to make the first impression by being pedantic.
Stan caught his father's eyes, and responded with a short 'yes'. His hand took a strong hold of mine, as if he was both trying to comfort me and steady himself.
His father just gave out a 'hmph', then the questions came. Stan's mother must've been thinking of conversation prompts, because she came up with a few, starting with simple inquiries such as, "When did you meet?"
I'd given out a sigh of relief that she was able to steer the conversation away from discourse, "When we were 13. During the summer."
She nodded, and we continued the back and forth, question and short response, for a bit, until she finally asked, "So, what made you like each other?"
I noticed that after she asked this, Mr. Uris went back to the other room. I felt Stan's grip on my hand grow slightly tighter, and leaned into him more before answering with compliments toward Stan and herself-talk of how she'd raised a wonderful son and all the things you're supposed to say. (Of course, I did mean all of those things, but they sounded rehearsed, even to me.)
Conversation fell again, then Stan cut the silence with a statement that sounded surer than anything else that'd been said that day, "I want Mike to go to college with me."
I blinked, looking over at him incredulously, "What? Stan, I can't-"
He was stone faced, "I know, but my parents have connections. You can take a test and that'll give you something to fill out on an application. My dad knows the Dean, too."
I could see the determination in his brown eyes, and behind that, desperation. He turned back to his mother, "You've met him now. Can you do it now?"
His mother's face was becoming a bit concerned, "Stan, I-" she sighed, "I'll talk to your father about it." She threw a smile in my direction, then left after her husband, saying she'd be back.
I met Stan's eyes, "Stan, I know what you're trying to do, and I love you for it, but...but I can't just leave. It's not that simple."
Stan's eyebrows were furrowed, "Why not? I can help you study for the SATs and then we can be together."
I moved a hand up to cup his cheek, "I have the farm, and then I promised Bill I'd stay here in case It comes back..."
Stan frowned more at that, "That's not fair, and you know it." He leaned into my hand, "I don't want to leave you here."
"I know, and I don't want you to leave, either, but I'm not going to hold you back."
Stan put his free hand on my wrist, "Then, come with me. You're smart enough that you can get a scholarship, probably. And you have the right to be able to leave this hell, too."
I sighed, and dropped my hand, leaning down to rest my forehead against his chest, "I wish I could."
Stan put his hand on my back, "Are you sure you can't at least apply?"
I sat back up, and managed a smile. "Okay, Stan. I'll apply, but you're going to have to talk to my family about it."
Stan rolled his eyes, his slight smirk lighting up his face, "Done deal. And once you get it, you're going to have to room with me."
I gave his nose a little boop, and my smile turned into a grin, "That's hard to argue against."
It was a good thought. Being with him and rooming with him. Studying together. Being normal. Maybe even forgetting all that's happened and just being happy. I was tempted to tell my granddad my plans and take the test as soon as possible.
Who knows what could happen? I want to be with him so bad, and yet I'm torn. Between him, this ray of light in my life, this beautiful person that I've loved for years now, and a promise that could possibly kill me and all of my friends in the future.
I should choose Stan. Every logical argument, every fiber of my being is pushing me to take his hand and never let go.
So why is my decision so difficult? He's expecting an answer, and he needs it soon because he's going to be leaving in a matter of a couple of months.
I look him in the eyes, and press a kiss to his cheek, "I promise. If I get it, and my granddad says I can go, I'll go with you. Guarantee it."
Stan's arms went around my back, mine to his neck and my face went back to its eternal resting place on his shoulder. "Should I send for school to give you the test, then, Michael?"
Stan's mother had apparently heard the last bit of our conversation, and she was smiling.
I nodded, sitting up from my comfortable position, "Yes, please, ma'am."
Stan grinned in success, and I had to return his gesture. He was excited, and frankly, I was, too.
