by Trisky
“I’m sorry sweetie, I thought this thing was off.” I fiddle helplessly with the buttons on the camera trying to figure out how to switch the mode from camera to video camera on something the size of a bar of soap. What evil entity decided we needed this kind of bizarre technology? What’s wrong with taking a Polaroid? Instead of shutting it off, I wind up somehow pointing it in the direction of my face and I’m greeted with the same flash of light I just shot right at Justin’s crystal blue, unprepared eyes. Well I guess I’ve mastered the picture button. All I can see in front of me now are two flashing spots of neon green that take the vague shape of some paranormal goblin, and I wonder briefly if this is what they really meant by “See The Light”.
“Okay enough playing with the Fisher Price toys for you.” Brian singsongs. His hands appear out of nowhere and retrieve his very expensive little gadget, slipping it right out of my fingers like a very crafty pickpocket. I actually feel this more than I see this because I’m quite sure I’ve permanently damaged my retinas. Okay maybe not crafty because he’s so blatant, and maybe not a pickpocket because he’s taking it out of plain sight and it’s technically his so he’s not really stealing, but still the essence of the point remains the same. He just has this way of slithering about that makes all of his movements feel slightly obscene, and a little bit illegal, when he touches you. Or I could just be imagining that.
Whatever, I’m just glad to have that contraption out of my hands. Goodness only knows what I would have caught on video in this apartment in thirty seconds flat. Especially with Justin walking in the door. It doesn’t really much matter anymore that the rest of us are here, now does it? There’s just this thing... that just happens when you get the two of them together in the same room. The air changes. Or maybe it’s just all of us holding our breath at once waiting to be thrown out so they can maul each other like two wild tigers on some episode of “When Animals Attack”.
I rub my eyes, which doesn’t really help, but through my fingers I can see Justin make a bee line for a stool at the counter as Brian casually swings towards him. If any of the rest of us did that we would look like we were trying way too hard to ever really be casual. He just looks unaffected. Maybe he really is. Maybe not... Granted my contribution to this impromptu welcome home soiree is absolutely fabulous as we’ve all come to expect, but it’s vegetables and dip. No one is going to seriously knock themselves over to get to it. We’re not bobbing for apples - or anything else that involves bobbing - here. Brian turns heel after that rebuff and walks back to the computer where Teddy and Michael are marveling over the clarity of the pictures Michael took with that digital thingamabob.
“Emmett you have to see this water, it’s crystal blue,” Michael encourages me.
“And the guy in the thong speedo standing in front of it isn’t so bad either,” Ted cracks. His tongue is practically lapping the keyboard.
“I’ll look later,” I reply.
I hate looking at other people’s vacation pictures. Even the ones with half naked men, something which I would normally be first in line to see. But not when they’re pictures of stuff that other people were actually there to witness without me. It just loses something in the translation when they start trying to describe how it actually looked in person. It starts looking like something I should be a little envious about. Envy is an ugly, wasted emotion and one I try not to dabble in too often. Right behind greed, lust and various other sins. Most pictures aren’t of naked men anyway, but of buildings and landscape and sand and water and moments from a life that’s not your own, which is even harder to appreciate without having been there for yourself.
Besides, there’s something that appears to be a little more immediate that needs my attention. And that’s one very aggravated boy with one very large cold front following him. It’s 90 degrees outside, something tells me it doesn’t have much to do with the weather out there.
My vision starts returning to normal as I approach Justin’s back at the counter. I can see him munching miserably on a carrot and for the first time I realize his eyes are more bloodshot than anything, like he hasn’t slept in days. Or like he’s been crying. Or maybe both. I pull out the stool next to him and I feel like I’m entering a force field because now I’m right next to Justin’s body, which puts me directly in Brian’s line of sight. The one they’re both trying desperately to pay no attention to.
“How was the Cape? You don’t look like you got out much.” In fact, he looks paler than he did when he left! I didn’t think that was humanly possible, but it’s true.
“It was kind of rainy and muggy, so I spent a lot of time indoors,” he shrugs.
“I take it you don’t have any pictures to add to the festivities then?” He shakes his head no and takes another carrot. “Good, because if I have to look at one more picture of a tree or grain of sand, I’m going to take someone and toss them into a very large body of water with very large waves and that disgusting seaweed, and tie rocks to their ankles,” I threaten.
“Not very interested in the adventures of Brian and Mikey are we?” he understates.
“About as interested as you are.”
“Touché.”
“Besides, I’ve already pulled duty for an hour, it’s your turn. I can’t play hostess and interested party all at the same time. It wears me out.” I reach for a bottle of water with all the exasperation I can muster.
“Stick with the veggies,” he recommends. “You’re much more suited to that.”
“Justin come here. Look at this footbridge. It has really interesting architecture,” Brian beckons.
“He only took like 600 pictures of it from every angle,” Michael interjects, obviously not impressed. I’m sort of surprised he even noticed Justin walked in the door.
“You mean you actually managed to leave the resort?” Justin sneers, but makes no move to actually get up and view the pictures.
“Yeah, I figured I’d get some *culture* along with my tan.” Brian forces a blinding smile. This must bear some significance because Justin makes mincemeat of the carrot in his mouth. In fact, he might even be chewing through his tongue at the rate his jaw is moving. I skooch away just a tad. I know a thing or two about rabid, drooling dogs. I’d like to leave with all limbs in one piece. “Are you going to come look at the picture or not?”
I see Justin teeter back and forth between satisfying himself and satisfying Brian, and I see Brian lose in short order because Justin works his way through the celery instead. I lean back because I can feel the tension pulsing its way across the room from both sides, and I don’t want to be anywhere near that.
“I think he took the pictures to show them to you.” I whisper to his back through gritted teeth and a smile, trying to distract Brian from recognizing that I’m spilling his dirty little secrets. Small consolation to Justin, but it’s something.
“Great. Maybe he brought me back a t-shirt too. ‘My Boyfriend Went To Puerto Vallarta With His Best Friend And Left Me All Alone And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.’ Oh wait, I’m not his boyfriend, scratch that. I don’t even merit that much.”
Like I said, envy is an ugly emotion, because it makes for one bitter pill to swallow. Bitterness is never attractive, not even on Justin. I don’t necessarily blame him though. I wouldn’t want to look at my boyfriend’s life in snapshots with another man who wasn’t me either. That’s the whole point of a picture, is to capture a moment and make it a memory. If you’re not in it, you’re not part of the memory. That has to hurt. It just has to.
“You’re awfully grumpy for someone who just came back from a week’s vacation,” I remind him. “Shouldn’t you be well rested and in a forgiving mood?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. He went on vacation. I went on vacation. What’s the damage?” He tries to play it off. I roll my eyes and take my own life in my hands by leaning forward on the counter and blocking Brian’s eagle eyed view. I can almost hear a cackle of sound in my ear, like I disrupted his reception.
Look, *I* knew it was a bad idea from the start. I told Michael it was a bad idea, but he didn’t comprehend this because Ben was so understanding of the situation, so why shouldn’t Justin be? What’s a little vacation between friends? Yes I’m sure that’s exactly what Ben was thinking, a thousand miles away in a hotel room at a teacher’s conference. He wasn’t exactly in a position to say no, now was he? I don’t know for certain if Justin asked Brian to go with him. Half of me says yes, the other half says no, but I know Justin has balls and he would do something as clearly insane as that. Whatever the situation, two boys on the verge of that humina humina moment in a relationship going their separate ways with their separate best friends on separate vacations is just not a good thing, no matter how you look at it. You don’t want to be in the middle of that. Unless your name is Michael. In which case, you not only want to be in the middle of it, you want to lead the way right out of town. You *never* interrupt a humina humina moment. That’s just part of the rule book.
“I know your humina humina moment was ruined, but...”
“My what?” Justin stops chewing long enough to stare at me slackjawed with confusion.
“Your humina humina moment. Hello... like you don’t know what that is.” I wait a beat, expecting some recognition and get nothing. “You know that moment, that one ‘OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HUMINAHUMINAHUMINA I’MINLOVE’ vibrating moment that just runs right through you when it really hits you for the first time.” I demonstrate by pretending that I’m in the electric chair and they’re shocking my system. Nothing. He gives me absolutely nothing but a blank stare in return.
“Huh?” Do I have to explain everything?
“That one time when everything is just so perfect for a few seconds that you actually know what it physically *feels* like to be in love with someone. Like a total body vibration.” This seems to sink in with him, slowly. I might not have much practical experience with the concept, but it only takes one time and you know it for life. “And you really know you are, because you know they love you back.”
He considers this warily and I know I’ve gotten to him, but somehow admitting it out loud will only make the disruption feel ten times worse. “I think you’re mistaking the bass coming from the floorboards in the backroom at Babylon for love.”
Right. I have no idea what I’m talking about. I never have any idea what I’m talking about. Justin should consult with Michael about how little I know what I’m talking about, then they could just bond over how little I know and clear up all the other petty little problems they have, and I can go back to not knowing anything. “So you’ve never vibrated?” His eyes drop to the counter.
Point to Emmett, Queen of All Things Not Knowing.
“What disgusting things are you filling his head with?” I feel the hairs on my neck stand at attention and the air in the loft shifts again to a low rumbling buzz, because everything around this little island counter is starting to shift. Me out of the way, Brian in between Justin and me, the vegetable platter being pushed out of Justin’s reach. “Don’t I even get a kiss hello?”
I am of no consequence. I could be sitting in Justin’s lap and I wouldn’t matter. I will never understand how Justin’s teeth don’t just start chattering under the strain of Brian at all cylinders pushed to the max, prowl mode, because *I’m* vibrating. That could also be because I’m leaning as far away from them as possible and teetering on certain disaster when this stool tips over from my weight, but I’m sort of stuck here until Brian decides to move. Maybe not sort of, I could maybe move a little, but I don’t. It’s just too intense.
I look back helplessly at Ted who has long since given up paying attention to the finite differences between the crystal blue waters of the ocean taken from a left angle and the crystal blue waters of the ocean taken from a right angle, because absolutely no one in their right mind at this moment, or any other for that matter, would give a shit. Michael looks over briefly, but goes right back to clicking through the pictures, a little stymied, but not shocked. He just stares straight ahead at the screen in front of him, watching his life go by. I try to catch Ted’s attention with my pleading face and a small pointed wave, but he’s transfixed to the back of Brian’s head waiting for the same certain disaster I am.
Like I said, I’m stuck, for the time being. The troops are otherwise occupied.
“Depends.” That’s Justin’s answer? *That’s* his answer? Depends on what? The direction the Santa Ana winds are blowing?
“On?” Is it just me or do these two just seem to grunt instead of talk? ‘Me want you. You on bed. Now.’ Maybe those blue lights are like homing devices so they can find their way back to the cave without trouble.
“Did you miss me?” He’s not going to answer that. There is no way he’s going to answer that. And if he does, it won’t be with the answer Justin wants. I think about making a run for it, because now would be a good time to get out of the way. Instead I lean into the counter even more, until I can see around Brian’s head to Justin’s face. He doesn’t look away at all. The boy just stares right at him, with bloodshot crystal blue eyes so firm and unrelenting that I feel tears well up for him, in sympathy, because I know they’re about to be crushed.
I think I’m holding the breath for every person in this room, my chest feels so tight.
I see Brian’s head nod so slightly it might just be leftover damage from the blinding flash of the camera. If anyone asks later, I’ll blame it on that. My vision was still a little blurry and I was just imagining that his head moved at all. And I totally don’t see Justin’s eyes soften and fade into a defeated position. I really, really don’t see how much one stupid, tiny little gesture can cut right through all of his hurt, defensive bluster no matter how much he’s fighting against it. I don’t see or understand why Justin would put up with Brian for moments like that. Nope, I don’t bear witness to any of that.
I just see Brian make the first move and lean his face into Justin’s personal space. It’s one thing to kiss someone, that’s intimate in it’s own right, it’s another to get all up in their face in the place they breathe, where they exist and just take it over, like you own the damn space. Justin doesn’t seem to mind this invasion because he remains still and waits until he’s tortured us all thoroughly before he relents and kisses Brian tentatively. There’s no great animal lust, or overwhelming passion. It’s just a kiss, like he might give anyone, but anyone isn’t Brian and no one would dare come that close to someone who’s just anyone to them.
I watch Brian’s hand find Justin’s fingertips and it’s just such a silly, odd thing. I’ve seen him grab worse. But it’s the way Justin’s four fingers twine themselves around one of Brian’s and the rest of Brian’s fingers graze Justin’s palm, like Justin is holding his hand up, but it’s really Brian doing all the work with the back of his hand with that gesture that just gets to me.
I want to take that expensive camera and take a picture of this very moment and shove it at both of them, as living proof for all time that this moment actually existed. But I guess there are just some moments you create that you can’t put on film, because they’re just meant to exist.
But I don’t know anything and all I can see are dotty green goblins in my eyeballs, so I don’t. I just watch their fingers linger and their mouths become a little more reacquainted, feel the static electricity buzz right through them.
I try not to smile.
Those are the moments that come and go in a flash... that actually matter.
Crystal blue persuasion, it’s a new vibration...