i am just a sucker for stories. this one is not even mine. it was not, like a well thought of gift, told to me either. i just overheard it. last night. on the subway ride back home.
huddled in the two seater cradle near the sliding door to the next car were two slightly rummied gay boys. one was in a nondescript jean jacket. the other one wore this loud canary yellow tight pullover that had a bold print in its chest saying b boy forever. i didn't bother deciphering what that stood for. i was too sucked in to his story.
i used to have a crush on melvin (that's how i heard it), the yellow sweatered guy said. he was just the golden boy of our class. everyone loved him. even the teachers. he had a way with him. so easy. so natural. he could just stand there and the girls would swoon and girl, could he play ball.
no, he continued in a loud voice, i didn't know i was gay yet. at thirteen? you're kidding? all i knew, i suck at ball games. the jean jacketed boy tried to tell him to pipe it down but he ignored him. but he liked me, you know. the highlight of my day was when he'd tell me before math class, after i helped him with his homework, "dude you're a genius."
i don't know how it happened but one day he and his friends just dropped in at the mickey d i worked. he told me they were going to paul's house. you know paul. and suddenly i was just with his crew. at paul's place. without his parents and his nosy sisters.
paul broke open one of his dad's jim beams and started barkeeping. we ended up sitting on the floor of their basement. i leaned against a dusty drawer and melvin was in front of me, his back turned to me. on my third shot, i could suddenly smell melvin. his sweat, dried up, mixed with hints of his bath gel. it smelled like nothing i've ever smelled before. then, he did the most unimaginable thing. he leaned against my shins.
then what? his companion asked. he looked at him, his eyes full of longing, and said, girl, thirteen just sucked.
