Boy Midflight (7 page)

“Chris? What is it? What’s going on?”

“I did it. Jeremy and I broke up. Just now, right in the parking lot. I couldn’t take it any longer.” Chris falls into me and lays his head on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk.”

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” I try to console as I hold him as tightly as I can without crushing him. I want to absorb all his pain, can’t stand to see him upset. I slip one hand up his back and cradle the back of his head.

“Why am I falling apart?” he implores, lifting his head from my shoulder. “Look at me, I’m losing my hair, Ashley!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look,” he says, pulling his hair back from his temples. “Right here, I’m losing it.”

“You’re just stressed out. You’re not losing your hair,” I assure him.

“Yes, I am, I’ve noticed it for a while. I just don’t know where my life is going. I don’t think I want to perform anymore.”

“What are you saying? You’re mixed up right now. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“No, no. Really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. All I ever wanted to do was draw, but so many of my friends were performers. I thought I should become one too. What are you supposed to do when you wake up and you’re twenty-four and you realize you’re trying to live someone else’s dream? Do you start over or just keep going because you’re this far?” He begs me with his big beautiful blue eyes, so terrified, like a child first realizing the world bears pain.

“It’s all right. Whatever you want to do is all right.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” he says, leaning in and kissing me gently.

“Come on, let me take you home,” I urge, slipping his hand into mine and shamelessly walking out of the locker room, out the front doors, and into the cool Victorian evening. I don’t care how big or tough you are; to hold another guy’s hand and walk down the street takes a lot of courage. It’s a moment of change for me. Holding Chris’ hand, I feel a torrent of emotion. It’s one thing to partake in forbidden love behind closed doors, but to walk down the street is quite another. I’m scared. Scared because I’m stepping into a place I’m unsure of. To a place where I’m not sure there will always be ground beneath me. It’s a big world and coming out feels like it’s you versus the globe, unless you have someone holding your hand.

As we pass the cottage homes lining Shakespeare Street I see a young wife setting the table through the front window.
Rachel.
I didn’t want to think of her because with every step holding Chris’s hand, I’m taking a step away from normalcy. Once I take enough steps, there’s no going back. Before being able to truly accept myself as gay, I needed to mourn my heterosexuality. I’m finally feeling like I’ve done that.

When love is new all that matters in the world is each other, and so it is with Chris and me. Like a good book, we become obsessed with unlocking the mystery of one another. In the coming weeks we’re inseparable, giddy and laughing through the days and haunting the streets and oceanside by night. Chris grew increasingly disinterested in college, like a decision had been reached about his future. He was through with performing and would ride out his time until the end. Ceasing to take notes at college, he opted for a sketchpad in its place. He enrolled in art classes a couple evenings a week and poured himself into his true passion. His enthusiasm with charcoal and canvas was rapacious, overcome only by our enthusiasm for each other.

April 10

Dear Antonio—

Thank you for Chris. Thank you for giving me the courage to search out love. I am so happy with my life right now. I don’t know how things could get any better. You love me, right? Of course you do. I’m here. No lightning bolt has struck me down. I feel so lucky. No, that’s not right. I’m blessed to have some great friends in my life. I asked and You delivered. Love, friends, and a summer contract to look forward to. You rock!

Your gay son, Ashley

I pick up some orange juice and bagels and head over to see Chris. Letting myself in, I hear a curious buzzing coming from the washroom. I hesitantly knock on the door. “Morning, babe. Whatcha up to?”

“Ashley, what are you doing here so early?”

“I brought over breakfast. I thought we could eat in our underwear before going to class,” I explain, setting down the bag of food on a chair. Minutes click away, the buzzing coming on and off intermittently. “Chris, come on, we don’t have a lot of time. You never spend more than five minutes in the washroom. What are you doing?” I ask, my hand resting on the doorknob.

“All right, come in, but don’t yell at me,” Chris replies in a timid voice. I turn the knob and swing the door open. Chris is standing in front of the mirror wearing only his underwear and a sheepish grin.

“I thought I’d get rid of it. What do you think?” he asks, raising an arm and rubbing his hand back and forth on his now bald head. I burst out laughing.

“Yell? Why would I yell at you? You’re beautiful!” He really is, with or without hair, standing there smiling at me in his underwear. His abdominal muscles tighten as he too starts to laugh, baiting me. “Come here, you crazy cat!” I take him in my arms. Kissing him hard, I turn him to face the mirror, taking my place behind him. I drag my hands up the side of his legs, his stomach, and chest while kissing his smooth skull. “I love you Chris. You’ll always be beautiful to me. You know that, right?” I catch his gaze through the mirror. He nods and I kiss him on the cheek, resting my thumbs just inside the elastic waistband in the front of his underwear.

SPRING IS
audition season, and today a group of us are going to make the trek to Vancouver. The plan is for about eight of us, two carloads, to drive up to the ferry terminal after classes. We’ll catch the boat for the mainland, about an hour ride, and be up early in the morning for a cruise line audition. At about four thirty, our group gathers in the foyer when I receive a phone call.

“Hello, this is Ashley.”

“Hi Ashley, this is Marius with Otter Fashion. We received the pictures you submitted to our model department. We’d like to offer you an exclusive contract with us. It will be catalogue, billboard, and in-store promotion. If you’re interested, we’ll send your lawyer or agent a contract. We’ll need you in Malibu for initial test shots on Wednesday.”

“Wait. Hold up. Is this a joke?” I ask in shock.

“No, would you be interested in working with us?” Marius asks.

“Of course! Wait, this Wednesday, as in two days from now?”

“Yes, we have a condo here, and we’ll arrange for a car so you have transportation. We’ll require you fairly steady for the next while, though. It won’t be all work, plenty of play I assure you! Do you have any conflicts in your schedule?”

“I can work it out. Can I have until tomorrow to consider this?” I ask, vying for time to sort out my head.

“Of course.”

Oh my Universal Life-Force Energy! This is amazing! Can this be for real?
It seems that Antonio and I are receiving each other’s messages but a little late and a bit skewed. I mean I’ve been praying about warm weather, palm trees, beaches, and new people, and now this phone call. Only it comes once Chris and I are together and doing so well.

What am I going to do? I’ve been working so hard on my career and on building this relationship. I’ve always said career comes first but that was easy to say when I wasn’t in love. Can I walk away now when I’ve finally found a best friend and a lover in one? I take a deep breath and walk back into the foyer where I meet Chris’s eyes.

“You ready to go, Ashley? We have to hurry to catch the six o’clock ferry.”

“Umm… I’m not going to go just now. You guys go. I’ve got some stuff to do, but I may try to come tomorrow.”

“What are you talking about?” Michelle asks incredulously. “These are the Norwegian Cruise Line auditions. We’ve been waiting for these. What do you mean, you have stuff to do?”

“Ashley, what’s going on? Are you okay, babe?” Chris says, pulling me aside quietly. “How will you make it over to the mainland tomorrow?”

“Chris, everything’s fine. Something’s come up and I need the evening to think and sort stuff out, okay? I promise, I will do my best to meet you in Vancouver in the morning,” I assure him without explanation.

“You just seem a little scattered. Do you want me to stay here with you?” Chris asks.

“No, no, I don’t want you to miss this audition. Go. Have a good time with Michelle.”

“All right. Promise you haven’t found a cuter boy and are skipping town tonight?” Chris jokes.

“Promise.” I laugh nervously and close my eyes, kissing his soft lips again. I pull away and look deep into those beautiful blue eyes. “Now go knock ’em dead!”

Chris smiles excitedly and squeezes me tight. “Hurry over.”

I watch him leave, and I sink against the wall and rest my head between my knees.
Why now, Antonio? What are you trying to teach me? Am I supposed to choose love because I’m finally experiencing it? Or am I to go and not let this opportunity pass by?

The next twelve hours fly by in a frenzy as I speak of my opportunity with the directors at college and my parents. Though I’m a month shy of graduation, the directors congratulate me on the offer and give me their blessing. Thanks to spring break spent in my room moping, I’ve met all requirements to finish college early. I pack and sort and pack and sort. Bags of clothes and piles of music and books I’ll leave for any classmate interested. How do you end one life to start another overnight?

The following morning I drive north on the island to the ferry terminal and catch the first boat for the mainland. Being from the prairies, I have always found the ocean a thrilling adventure. I leave the car on the first deck and head straight up to the fourth and out onto the bow. The wind whips my face as we leave the terminal. I recount my year in Victoria and try to imagine leaving—tomorrow. Off to another country, another life.

In a few hours I arrive in Vancouver and find myself struggling to focus on the audition. How am I supposed to concentrate right now?

“NEXT GROUP!
A five—six—seven—eight!” the choreographer yells as my group leaves the floor for the next frantic, nervous group of guys.

“You made it!” a voice says in my ear as I get hugged from behind.

I smile over my shoulder at Chris. “Just in time. I walked in as they were reviewing the first combination.”

“What’s going on, Ashley? I’ll tie you down right here if you don’t tell me!” he threatens.

“Come back with me tonight. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Group eight! Let’s go!” the choreographer yells.

“That’s me. You’ll be here? You won’t leave, right?” Chris winks.

“Break a leg, cowboy,” I say, pushing him onto the dance floor.

“SO LET
me get this straight. My boyfriend is going to be a model?” Chris exclaims, eyes wide, staring out at the traffic crawling over the Lions Gate Bridge.

“That’s what I’m told, yeah,” I say in disbelief.

“Just so funny that it comes now, when you’re still in school, have signed the Butchart contract, when we just…. Guess you never know when a storm’s coming.” After a pause, Chris adds, “Know that I’m super proud of you, Ashley. I’m gonna miss you is all. Everyone will, especially Michelle. Oh my gosh, have you told Michelle yet?”

“No, I wanted to talk with you first. You’ll have to take care of her. Michelle would go crazy if she felt we both deserted her. Promise me?”

“No problem, supermodel. Do you think you’ll get to go to all the Hollywood parties and stuff?” Chris prods.

“I don’t know, would you be my date?”

“Heck yeah! You know the digits, just don’t forget us little people!” He laughs and turns his attention out the window as we pass the shops on Robson Street, Vancouver’s unequivocal fashion epicenter. “Otter Fashion today, Prada, Gucci, Versace tomorrow….”

I laugh. “Yeah, well, we’ll see. Are you seriously okay with this? Just say the word and I won’t go.”

Chris pauses, then turns his gaze from the street line to me. “Ashley, of course I don’t want you to go. But I love you too much to make you stay. If it were me, I’d go. There is no question, you’re going,” he asserts, nodding. “Besides, we don’t know how long you’ll be gone. It’s not like this is good-bye forever.”

We arrive at the ferry terminal after twenty minutes of silence. There are so many struggles working themselves out in my head that it feels like I am talking. Only I worry that if the thoughts in Chris’s head are linear, I’ll seem like an asshole. If both parties are enraptured within their own chaos, then no words need be spoken. There is a common realization that there is nothing to be said.

We park and walk up to the passenger decks where we line up for tea before heading outside onto the bow. It’s a cold night on the deck of the ferry and we clutch our teas tightly. The wind steals the steam before it rises. There is no feeling like when the wind rakes its fingers through your hair. Irritating from back to front but soothing and somehow encouraging from front to back. Chris slips an arm around my waist and pulls me tight. “I’m going to miss this,” he breathes in my ear.

“Me too,” I answer.

It’s raining again, not heavy, just an engulfing mist.

“TODAY IS
an exciting day for us. It is also one of great sadness. We are gathered to say good-bye to Ashley, who will be leaving tomorrow morning. We send him off with great pride and a sense of loss for what he brought the college every day.” The college director closes and hugs me, starting to cry. I’m not sure if I’m at my own funeral. Only at an arts college are things this… well, theatrical. And the professors and forty-some-odd friends and students I’ve studied with for the past year start to sing “Seasons of Love” from
Rent
. Theater people. We’re just so soft and squishy.

It’s a celebration of our year, of friendship, of our dreams coming true, and of life. The only face missing is Chris. He’s not here. Not singing with me. He didn’t come to college today.