Speech and Debate Pt. 16: Finale

You could tell by the tone of her voice that she took personal offense to obliquely referring to my sexuality as a "situation."

I loved her so very much in that moment.

"It's okay Mamma," I said, giving her a little hug when I placed the bag of school supplies on an empty desk. "They just want to make sure I'm comfortable. Not everything is a reason to whip up a PFLAG march, okay?"

She laid her head on my shoulder and patted my hand with a sigh.

"I suppose not. Still can't they just come right out and say it: we didn't give you a roommate cause you're gay as the day is long and we don't want some bigoted ass hole to be randomly assigned to you so you could sue the pants off of us for endangerment and assault?"

Daniel laughed out loud and answered.

"How very polite and forward that would be. We may be a little further north but we're still in the South, remember? Ain't nobody gonna come right out and say all that when they can say "situation," and imply it all. Bless their hearts."

"I suppose so, Sweet Boy," Mamma said, giving Daniel a little hug too. "Either way, there's a list of email addresses and names and such in that packet they gave me. There's gonna be some kind of mixer for people in your "situation," tonight or tomorrow or something. You got a week to choose one and pair up before classes start. Ready to start the next load?"

I was decidedly NOT ready to start the next load.

And I really didn't like the idea of having to meet and greet a bunch of other openly gay students at a "mixer." The term alone was enough to trigger mild PTSD. It brought back too many painful memories of picking teams in Gym Class. I just knew that I was going to be picked last.

But I didn't really have a choice in either matter. We were here and there were already five bags of my stuff on the floor and desk. No going back now.

I was okay at first, as the room filled up with more and more stuff. I was fine when I was in the room. It was when we were back at the cars that I ran into difficulty. Watching each car slowly empty out was like watching sand run through an hour glass.

Okay, I thought, one of four cars is half empty. Still 7/8 to go. That's a long time. Then two cars were empty. Then three.

When we were unloading the final car, the one my sister had "driven," I felt panic starting to rise in my chest. It was harder to breathe now and it had nothing to do with the physical labor of the move.

The time was almost here. The hourglass was nearly empty and I was headed to my execution.

No one could ever accuse me of lacking a flair for the dramatic.

The deed was done and we all stood in my very full new dorm room surrounded by boxes and bags and suitcases. It wasn't just me who stood motionless and silent, just staring at the clutter.

None of us spoke or moved for along time.

My mother broke first. And when she broke, she broke hard.

She sobbed long and loud and crushed me to her chest in a bear hug Ian would have been proud of. Kisses rained down on me in rapid succession and she struggled, but succeeded, in speaking through her tears.

"You call me whenever you want...you hear? And it's not that far away so bring me laundry whenever, and if you need money for food, you know to call me. And Thanksgiving is only 97 days away. And you make sure you go to all your classes. And pay attention. And study. And don't drink or party. And shower. And brush your teeth every night even when you don't want to. And call me. You promise you will call me? And don't forget to eat, mind? You always do that, forget to eat when you're busy. I don't want you to get too thin, you hear?"

It rushed out of her like a river let loose from a dam. I nodded my head and did my best to say yes, okay, yes, yes, I know, I will. I hugged her tight to me and kissed her cheek. She wiped away a tear from my face, settled herself as best she could and walked to the hallway, still sobbing.

One down. And my heart was already creaking under the pressure.

My father repeated most of what my Mamma had said, though he did so without the sobs and kisses. He held me firmly by the shoulders and stared at me long and deep. His voice wavered a bit and he cleared his throat. I saw the tears in his eyes starting to form and I knew I wasn't going to do well with this goodbye.

"I am so very very proud of you, son. Just so proud. I couldn't be more amazed by the man you're becoming," he said quietly.

He hugged me and held the back of my head to his shoulder.

I am not ashamed to say that I bawled into his chest for a while, pulling him tight to me.

My father was the first man I had ever loved. He was a super hero to me, always had been. Divorce or not, it didn't matter. I needed his strength and support and he gave it freely.

He patted my shoulder, rested his hand on my cheek for a moment and smiled at me.

Then he went to join my mother in the hallway.

"It's alright, now. It's okay. We did a good job with him. Hush, shhh." I heard him say from outside.

Even though they were going through something terrible together, their bond through me was enough to put all that nastiness aside for a moment.

Two down. I was quivering and quickly approaching dehydration from weeping.

My sister stepped forward and reached into her back pocket. She pulled something from inside and handed it to me. I took it and looked it over.

It was a photograph of the two of us. She was maybe 4 and I was 7 or 8. We were laying together on the couch under the big red throw blanket that to this day still sits there. My arm was around her tiny shoulders and in my hands was a first edition copy of "The Hobbit." Mamma had caught me in the act of reading to her and snapped that picture.

"Don't forget me now that you're a big bad college man, okay?" she said sheepishly.

Dammit.

I pulled her into a hug and was relieved to feel her arms wrap around me. In that moment, the years of mutual torment and name calling, the snide comments and sarcastic remarks, they all vanished; she was just my little sister now.

The same tiny creature that I had rocked and held when we brought her home from the hospital. The little girl in pigtails who had followed me around like a puppy dog and badgered me to play with her dolls. She was once again the girl who had climbed into my bed the night before she started 5th grade and said, "BroBro, what if nobody likes me?"

I had done my best to protect her, even once our relationship changed and she didn't ask for that protection.

I felt a huge wave of guilt now. I was leaving her on her own. What if she wasn't ready? What if she needed her big brother for something and I was stuck here, hours away and couldn't give it to her? I was going to be safe here at school while she had to navigate the waters of a contentious divorce for three more years.

All alone.

Suddenly, I understood the string of questions and life advice my Mom had flung at me.

"I won't forget you for a second, you little brat. And you call me whenever you want. And come stay here with me if they get too difficult, cause you know they will. And let me know if anyone bothers you at school. I got a popular boyfriend now and he can sure as hell pull some strings to take care of high school bullies. You got it?"

She nodded and a tear or two actually escaped her apathetic early teenaged eyes.

"I love you BroBro," she said quietly, hugging me one last time. "And I'll keep an eye on this jack ass for you.," she nodded towards Daniel. "If he so much as looks at another nerd, I'll shave off his eyebrows while he's sleeping. Remember that?"

How could I forget?

I had looked like a fish person for 5 weeks when she'd carried through on that threat on me. Who knew girls put so much stock in their music collections? I'd only borrowed the CD for a day or two and it cost me eyebrows for over a month.

She kissed my cheek and went into the hall.

"Gross, you two. Get moving before anyone sees you. I may have to come here in a few years and I won't have my reputation already ruined by blubbering parents before I even get accepted," came her characteristic scowling remark.

Three. My heart was already so much rubble in my chest.

And now it was just Daniel.

"Please don't go," I whispered. He was a few feet from me, his hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. "Please don't leave me here."

I know it was unfair of me. He didn't have a choice. But I had to ask. I had to beg.

When he looked up at me, his big brown eyes were full of tears and his cheeks were already wet. I'd been so wrapped up in my own goodbyes that I hadn't even thought what they might do to him.

He looked like someone was holding a gun to his head, forcing him to do something he'd never dreamed of doing. His eyes silently pleaded with me, begged me to help him.

"David, I..." he tried to say something but I didn't let him finish.

I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck, buried my face into his shoulder and clung on with every ounce of strength I had left. Weeping isn't enough to describe it. I pour out my soul into his body and I felt him trembling in my arms. We held each other as tightly as possible, uncaring if anyone heard us or saw us.

"You know I can't stay here in the dorms. Not yet. Once classes start, baby, you know I'll be there that first weekend. I promise you. Only 2 weeks. 14 days. Okay?"

Where he got the strength to speak I will never understand.

I tried to nod into his embrace. Of course I knew he was right. It was only 14 days. So why did it feel like 14 years?

We sobbed and stood like that for what could have been hours.

To their credit, my family never once tried to hurry us along and never interrupted our goodbye. I imagined them standing guard outside my door, making sure that me and the man I loved had the privacy we needed. I loved them so fiercely for it.

Eventually, the body runs out of tears.

Dry sobs and sniffles were all that remained in our arsenal of grief and eventually were left holding each other and swaying together in the center of the room. It was like some terrible parody of our Prom night. Here we were, surrounded by the boxed up memories that had started on that night, just holding each other and dancing to music no one else could hear.

Daniel kissed me, long and slow.

"I love you so much, David," he said, his forehead pressed to mine. "More than you will ever know. Don't you dare forget that. You promise?"

I nodded and kissed him again.

God, this couldn't be happening. Please, just make it stop. Hadn't I given up enough already?

"I love you too," I whispered in a what was left of my hoarse voice.

"You're my Polaris. Okay? Always. You're my heart and my life and we will get through this together. I promise you that. One day, we will be standing just like this at our wedding. You hear me?"

I snorted a little laugh and nodded again.

My fingers laced into his, our twin rings pressed together. One day, there would be another set of rings on those fingers.

If we could survive what was coming.

"I will call you in three hours when I make it home. Okay? You just try and keep your mitts off the other boys until then."

I punched him in ribs.

"Don't even joke about that, Daniel."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry. I love you, baby."

This was it.

This was what had consumed my dreams and my nightmare since graduation. This was when I had to watch him walk out the door. I couldn't do it.

I felt myself sink to the mattress of one of the twin beds. Daniel guided me gently. He leaned over me and kissed me on my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally my lips.

"I love you," he said once more, cupping my face in his hands, pulling my eyes up to meet his.

"Please...Daniel, please..." I begged him.

He kissed me a final time.

"Always and Forever, David. I mean that."

He pulled away from me.

I couldn't have followed him if I'd wanted to. My muscles were weak, my soul was empty and my body was not mine to command. He reached the door, grabbed the knob and pulled the door closed behind him.

I stared at the back of that wooden door for what could have been hours.

"I love you," I repeated to the emptiness, over and over like a mantra.

I don't know when or how, but eventually I curled into a ball on the bed and wept into a pillow.

I'd never expected to feel a pain like this. It was deep and soul crushing. I thought I understood pain from the years of exclusion and derision in school. But the abiding pain of loss is so much worse that the pain of not being involved at all.

I woke up a little while later. How long, I can't say. My emotional wreckage must have worn my physical form to the point of collapse and I'd eventually fallen asleep.

A sharp pang of hunger in the pit of my stomach reminded me that I hadn't yet eaten that day. A quick glance in the mirror proved that I was not physically suitable to be out in public.

It took me some time to search through the boxes and such to find the one with all of my toiletries and shower supplies. But eventually, I located it and took the longest shower of my life to that point. My fingers were pruned and my skin was bright beet red when I came out.

Finding clothes was a little easier. I moved like a zombie. I knew the steps I needed to perform and I did them, but they weren't conscious. My brain just kind of...directed the orchestra. But the audience was empty. No one was home.

I filled my backpack with the photo my sister gave me, the drawing Daniel made, and his copy of Jane Eyre that he loved so much and had given me after graduation. I found a campus map in the packet the RAs handed out, located the nearest dining hall and set out. I almost forgot the keys to my new room, but luckily remembered to retrieve them before the self locking door closed behind me.

I got lost at least three times. I dared not ask anyone for directions. I didn't want to chance actual speech incase my voice cracked and broke me down into tears again. I was proud that I was holding myself together as much as I was, though it felt like I was constructed from paper and scotch tape. A stiff wind would scatter me to the four corners of the earth.

Directions wouldn't have helped much anyways.

Everyone else seemed to be just as lost as I was. They looked up and about in little clusters here and there about the quad.

To be honest, it felt EXACTLY like the first day of High School. Once more, I was alone and afraid. Even knowing that everyone else was, too, did nothing to mitigate the terror.

Eventually, I was seated at a table in the dining hall, a plate of mediocre school food in front of me. It was tasteless and bland. I don't mean that to be an indictment of the food there in general. The best five star meal on the planet would have tasted like ashes in my mouth that night. I fully understand the melodrama of the thought, but I wondered if food would ever taste good to me again.

I was lost somewhere in the middle of Jane Eyre, not really reading it, just skimming the words on the page and mulling over my discomfort. I looked up to find that I was one of only maybe three people still in the dining room. The cleaning crew was busy mopping the floors and putting chairs up onto the table tops.

I guessed that was the cue to leave.

I really really really didn't want to go back to my room.

I didn't want to be alone in that cell again. I dreaded having to lay down alone on that bed. How was I supposed to live in there. How was anyone supposed to live anywhere without half of their heart and soul?

I walked at a plodding pace towards where I knew the dorm to be located. I took a few wrong turns on purpose to extend the walk as much as possible.

Eventually, I made it to my building. There were small crowds of my fellow students in the lobby and the hallways. I did my best to smile at them. I wondered if they knew or could tell that the smile on my face wasn't at all indicative of what I was feeling.

But that is always the case isn't it? We all wear a mask at times. The only time that mask was down for me was when I was with Daniel.

And Daniel was gone, now.

So I dragged out the fake smile, the one I thought I had tucked away for good when my heart learned how to sing. When he'd taught my heart how to sing. I dragged it out, I dusted it off and I painted it on like armor. I would wear it, day in and day out because I didn't have a choice in the matter. Not anymore. The choice had been made for me.

My singing heart could barely speak anymore and that fake smile was all that was standing between the wreckage I was now forced to live in and the world I couldn't bear to disappoint yet again. That smile became my calling card to the world, what I allowed them to see of me.

The real me, the me behind that smile belonged only to Daniel.

It was a beautiful smile. It wasn't real, not truly, but it shone and shimmered to the best of my ability. Most times, that is all people need to see. A glimpse of the shimmer and the sparkle of your beautiful fake smile and they will walk on, sure you are okay, sure they have done what they are expected to do.

So I hid behind my glimmering armor and I tried and I tried and I tried to stitch together what was left of my injured soul. Most of them would never even notice, never even suspect, how broken I truly was.

But that was the first step. It's not the last, but it is the most terrifying, the most lonely, the most obscene, the most heart-rending, the most painful, and in many ways, the most necessary.

Because if someone can see past the glitter and the sparkle, when they take the extra second to look at you trapped behind your happy armor, when they find you balled up inside yourself weeping tears that you just can't stop and you cannot name...then, it can start to change.

That's what Daniel had done.

He'd demolished my armor and stripped me bare before him and forced me to show him my true self. And he'd help heal me in the process, from wounds I hadn't even known I had.

If those who see past the armor are worthy, like Daniel was, if they matter in the grand scheme of things, like he did, they will place a hand on your bare shoulder and suddenly, quick as that, you aren't alone behind your smile.

Your heart may not sing again. Not for a long time, maybe. But a hand on your shoulder is all it takes sometimes to remind your soul how to start to hum.

When I finally reached my room and opened the door, what greeted me there took a moment to sink in.

The two twin beds had been on opposite walls when I'd left. Now, there were pushed together in one corner of the room. Some of my boxes had been piled up and moved. Most definitely not where I had left them.

I probably should have been a little more cautious than I was. After all, I had only been here for less than a day and someone had already broken into my room and touched my stuff. But I wasn't in a particularly cautious state of mind. I wasn't really in any state of mind.

The door to the bathroom was slightly open and I heard the shower running.

"Hello?" I called out, still standing at my door in case I needed to make some horror-movie level dash outside when the axe wielding murderer emerged.

No response.

"Are you in the wrong room?" I tried again. "I haven't been assigned a roommate yet so I think you must be in the wrong room?"

The water stopped and I heard the curtain pulled back.

The door creaked open and Daniel stepped out into the room, a towel around his waist, steam and water making a puddle at his feet.

"They didn't tell you that they already assigned you a rookie? Must be some kind of mix up."

My bag was on the floor and I ran to him. I climbed him like a monkey, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms on his neck.