Page 7 of When Ben Loved Tim
“I’ll give you a hint,” Señor Langdon replies dryly. “It sounds an awful lot like detention.”
Darryl manages to appear convincingly surprised. “I only wanted to explain that my father was cruel to my boyfriend. Señora Vega always talks about the importance of learning colloquial Spanish.”
I sigh inwardly. Unlike his buddy Bryce, Darryl isn’t stupid. Which makes him dangerous in a completely different way.
“It still doesn’t seem appropriate to me,” Señor Langdon says, “but I suppose, for the sake of this exercise, you can use the termmariposa.”
“As in my father called him amariposa? Am I pronouncing that right?” Darryl’s eyes meet mine. He doesn’t look away again. “Mariposa,” he repeats.
“Your pronunciation could use some work,” Señor Langdon says coldly. “Sit down. Both of you. Who’s next?”
My hand shoots up. My partner is taken aback, but I don’t care. Blood is pounding in my ears as we walk to the front of the class.
“I met a nice girl at the church who I think you would like,”my partner says in Spanish.
“No thanks,”I reply, having to improvise, which takes a lot, because this isn’t my best subject.“I am a homosexual.”
“All right,” Senior Langdon says with a sigh. “Very funny.”
“It’s not a joke!” I snap.
Señor Langdon considers me a moment. Then he nods. “Continue.”
“Umm…” my partner says, since I’ve gone off script.
“My parents love me,”I say in Spanish, my voice cracking.“And so does my boyfriend.”
The class is completely silent until my partner runs with one of the lines we had planned.“Then I’ll have you both over for dinner.”
“Please let me know when,”I finish lamely.
“A much better use of the subject matter,” Señor Langdon says with a nod of approval.
My face is burning with indignation as I return to my seat. I glare openly at Darryl, who is wearing a serene smile. “Mariposa,” he mouths almost inaudibly as I pass.
I continue to hear the slur after class. I already know that it’ll accompany me the rest of the year. They can add it to the pile. I don’t care. Or at least, I don’t want to.
My heart is heavy at the end of the school day. I feel beaten down, despite my defiance, like a dog snarling and barking at the end of its chain. I start to question if it’s worth fighting anymore. Maybe I should switch schools. Stay in the closet. Allison could come with me and be my fake girlfriend. I’m seriously tempted. I could finish my senior year anonymously instead of being a constant target. But I can’t. It’s just not in me. And it wouldn’t be fair to my best friend, who has to deal with racist shit without being able to hide who she is, even if she wanted to. So I won’t either. Fuck the haters!
I keep Allison company until her dad comes to pick her up, ignoring the way he glares at me. Then I walk with my skates to the edge of the parking lot and continue down a sidewalk, making sure I’m clear of the school before I sit to pull them on. I might be proud of who I am, but I don’t need to give my detractors fresh material to work with, and there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll fall when getting to my feet. I don’t today. But I do decide to be someone different, just for a little while, to get it out of my system. I head in the opposite direction of my house, wandering into an unfamiliar neighborhood. I skate around while choosing the house I want to live in, pretending that I’ve already graduated from college. I’ve begun my career as a marine biologist—an occupation that has never appealed to me, but that’s the point. And while I’m out there saving the whales or whatever, maybe I’ll see someone lost at sea, a handsome and sweet guy clinging to the last vestiges of his sunken ship. I’ll rescue him of course, and he’ll insist on taking me out to dinner in gratitude.
I let myself slow and gently collide with a tree to stop, all while shaking my head. I’m hopeless. I know who I am and what I want. People can hate me for that. It won’t make a difference. They can lock me up somewhere, or beat me to a pulp, but it won’t change how I feel inside. I’m going to love someone or die trying. That’s a real possibility because I have a brave heart that refuses to be silenced. Anyone who makes the attempt is in for one hell of a fight.
I notice that the sun is beginning to sink and decide to go home. I’m feeling a lot better by the time I near my own neighborhood. High school might be a bust, but college is where people experiment and figure out who they really are. I’ll be there to assist any confused straight guys, and after I’veblownthrough enough of them (ha!), chances are that I’ll find a pearl among the oysters—another frustrated gay guy like me who is ready for love. My soaring spirits take a tumble when I notice someone jogging on the paved path ahead of me. It’s him. Of course it is. Tim’s alluring arms are on full display, thanks to the sleeveless shirt, and his butt looks ridiculously pert tucked into the tight nylon shorts he wears. These details annoy me more than they tempt me. It doesn’t help that we’re in the same park where I first saw him. The very place where this stupid obsession began.
My instinct is to stop somehow and turn around, so I can take a longer route home to avoid him. Then again, why should I? I’m tired of making concessions for people who have already inherited the earth. Movies and TV shows are full of heterosexual couples. Their love is celebrated in song and immortalized in art. They can hold hands in public, kiss each other without being attacked, and don’t have to fear being fired from their jobs or rejected by their families for responding to their natural urges. So why do they unleash so much grief on people like me when they already have it all? How petty can you get? Like a king who resents the patch of strawberries growing behind a peasant’s hut, when he gorges himself on a feast three times a day. Or exactly like the stupid popular kids—high school royalty—who give the rest of us shit when they should be the most benevolent of all, since they’ve got it easy. But no, the ones on top always kick at those beneath them, not wanting to share the sunlight, even though there’s plenty to go around.
I’m done. I don’t care how hot Tim is, or how bad I still want him. He makes me hate that side of myself. I wish I could switch it off, so I don’t have to feel it for the wrong person, but I can’t. And it pisses me off. I tuck my arms close to my body before lowering myself to pick up speed. The world refuses to make room for me? Fine. I’ll cut my own path.
“Get out of my way!” I growl.
Tim looks over his shoulder. Then he turns to face me, his silver eyes widening with panic. He’s blocking the path and getting closer by the second. I want him to scurry out of my way in fear, but he seems frozen in place.
“Uh oh!” I say, my arms beginning to pinwheel. “Watch out!”
Tim tries to dive into the grass, but it’s too late. I slam into his side just as he leaps, sending him twirling through the air before I lose track. I’ve bounced off him and am rolling backwards. My skates finally leave the pavement, where I fall onto my rump.
“FUCK!”
