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>I know it's been awhile, but what can I say? I'm >lazy. That's pretty much it. > >I watched Alexander the other day. Verdict: creepy as >hell. > >--- > >Every once and awhile, Kyle tries to bully himself >into being romantic. Which causes him a great amount >of personal strain, and usually leads to disaster when >he actually manages it. I mean to say, it’s not as >though Kyle isn’t wonderful. Because, obviously, he >is. He’s patient and hilarious and entirely too >generous with himself and his family – and these are >all the reasons I love him, these are the reasons I >believe he loves me, already, without flowers and >poems or candlelit dinners or what have you. But the >difficult part is Kyle WANTS to be a romantic, and in >one sense he is, but he’s crap at actually performing >romantic gestures. They take time to set up which he >rarely has the patience for (as you should recall, >Kyle is patient with everyone but himself) and >sometimes I miss them (because I’m a rather oblivious >clod) and then there are hurt feelings and all that >nonsense. > >I try to explain that he needn’t bother, and he >doesn’t often, satisfied, as I am, with firing balls >of paint at me and shagging me senseless later as a >means to express his depth of affection, but every >once in awhile he gets nervous (because I suppose I >give him lots of reason to) and he thinks another >attempt is in order. > >The most recent involved planting a series of movie >stubs and LC receipts in the pockets of my jeans, but >I kept finding them, being annoyed and slightly >confused, and throwing them out for several days until >one finally caught my eye before landing in the trash >and I realized it was from the night we bought nearly >a liter of spiced rum, split into half full coke >bottles and drank it out of a paper bag walking around >his neighborhood, because it was the sort of thing >we’d always wanted to do, and we were pleased we’d >finally found someone else who wanted to do it with >us. Despite the large quantity of rum we consumed, I >remember that night very well, and it seems to be it >involved a lot more bumping into each other and >grinning stupidly than could be considered strictly >necessary for two male friends. > >The other problem with these swings at romance Kyle >takes is, even when I eventually catch on to them, and >even when it’s early enough that he hasn’t got sulky, >I get all hot and embarrassed and inadequate feeling, >wondering what about me inspires any interest at all, >never mind the sort of planning that goes into one of >Kyle’s capers. And I know it’s a lot, even the time >he dragged me out of bed early Sunday morning, didn’t >tell me where we were going, and eventually after too >much time in the car, presented me with what basically >amounted to a nice view and a place we could eat >breakfast. Kyle puts time and energy into things, >into me, and I get all flustered thinking about it. > >But I suppose this sounds like I’m complaining, and >while I know that would be pretty much sticking to >form, I’m really not. I’m just saying, well, I’m a >bit of an idiot, and really, when you think about it, >so is Kyle, and even though we’d probably both be >better off just hitting each other on the arm and >calling each other ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ we’ve foolishly >decided we’d rather play at being in love, which >neither of us really know much about, really. But >even when half his hard work gets thrown in the >garbage or I’d actually just rather still be sleeping, >it’s these things and so many other ways Kyle shows me >everyday that I matter and have a place with him that >stops me running for the exit when things get to be >too much. > >--- > >Sometimes, I get sick to death of the fucking lot of >them. With their dramas and their little in jokes >within in jokes and their faces always there always >wanting asking needing. There are times I get so >claustrophobic I feel like seriously getting out of >dodge and never looking back. My life, every part of >it, sometimes feels way too small. And I would, I’d >up, and I’d leave, and I’d let some kind of emptiness >consume me, if I didn’t know how utterly unoriginal I >was being. Everyone’s life, no matter how much they >usually love it, gets to be so that sometimes, there >isn’t a single thing or person in it they don’t feel >like destroying. Running away from and tearing a >part. That is life, generic definition number 34. > >So you hold back the primal scream until you’re on the >walk home, and you imagine yourself just not stopping, >until you’ve walked past anyone that could ever know >you, and you disappear in your imagination for awhile, >so that when you get over it, as you inevitably do, >all the people you love 99 percent of the time still >there, and so are you. > >--- > >“Do you and Carrots ever fight?” > >Kyle looks at me blankly. “When would we find the >time?” > >Good point. > >“Well, how about when you were little then. You must >have fought sometimes – I mean, kids fight. No matter >how tight they are.” > >Kyle shrugs. “The thing is – Celery, you know? >Carrots and I were close when we were really young, we >did the older brother/little brother thing, but then I >started school and I was gone most of the day and then >HE started school and met Celery. Growing up Carrots >didn’t have much energy for anything else – not – I >grant you – unlike now, but it was different then. >Not to say he doesn’t now or won’t always – but Celery >took a lot of energy when Carrots first found him. Up >till then, we were a pretty normal family. Carrots >was a pretty normal kid – hell, he wasn’t even >Carrots. When Celery came along, Carrots became >Carrots and while I don’t think he understood the >significance of a lot of it then, even if he didn’t >know what he was working towards, he knew it was >something important. And back then Celery was a lot >less sure of himself, a lot more screwed up – in >different ways at least. So Carrots was pretty busy >taking care of shit, building the trust and getting >close, making this world for the two of them – not an >easy thing, no matter how he tells it. Celery loved >Carrots right away, but that didn’t mean he trusted >him – he’d been hurt a few too many times already for >that. So it took time, persistence. Which, luckily, >when it comes to Celery, Carrots has plenty of both. >With the rest of us it was even harder. And so I mean >I guess we were all kind of too busy, even then. And >so much stuff was always going on. Kara was born and >started crawling over everything and the twins were >starting to have personalities or something was >happening with the bakery or Celery’s parents. And I >looked out for them, and we all got along, but it was >always Carrots and Celery. I’ve gotten way closer to >them now, ever since you started hanging around, than >I ever really was when we were growing up.” > >I smile, going for ironical. “So, no then?” With >Kyle, man of few words, such speeches must not go >unmocked. We have standards, even now. > >He kisses me quick, and if you can imagine it, when he >does this, it’s sort of like him rolling his eyes. > >--- > >When Kyle talks about high school it’s like he’s from >a different world. Some totally different life. And >I mean, he went to the same school Carrots and Celery >did, the one Carrots and I still do, and only >graduated two years a head. Things couldn’t have >changed that much right? And I mean, I know they >didn’t because Carrots was around for four of those >years. So where in lies the massive inconsistency? >Because see, for Kyle, high school was about caring >about girls and being the captain of a sports team and >roaming about with a pack of ‘buddies’ who probably >thought he was ‘the man’. It was about dances and >parties and the drinking that went on at both. All >the clichés. I’m sure, at one point, he had a team >jacket that he like, wore around and stuff. I mean, >Jesus. I have to ask myself how Carrots allowed it to >go on. But then I think about Kyle, and all the >insanity makes sense, again, in a strange, Kyle sort >of way. Because I mean Kyle’s a big freak – but this >weird American teen movie style high school experience >he had makes perfect sense, considering how Kyle views >himself, and was both the cause and the effect of his >largely deluded self-image as a ‘normal guy’. Which >he so frickin isn’t – but he thinks he is, and it’s >adorable sometimes, and necessary to him most other >times, in a genuine, keeping head about water sense, >so it makes sense. Not only that it happened, but >that Carrots let it, and still allows him to remember >it the same way. > >--- > >“When did you first have sex?” > >Kyle continues focusing his attention on his book for >a moment longer before turning to look up at me, brows >slightly furrowed. > >“We’ve… had this conversation,” He reminds me, raising >one brow slightly after doing so. > >Which was what I was afraid of. Bravely, I solider on. > >“Yeah… I know,” I try for a look of attractive >insecurity, “I was just wondering if well, your >boyfriend answer would be any different from your >friend answer.” > >The left eye brow is back up, joined this time by the >right. > >“Or maybe you forgot.” He says, settling into a smug >expression. > >I glare. Petulantly. “Maybe.” > >His continued and increased smug expression speaks >louder than words. > >“Shut up you bastard – we were on like, what? Bowl >five by that point? Please.” > >He laughs. In a quiet, annoying, self satisfied kind >of way. > >I kick him. “Just tell me you asshole.” > >Real insecurity is wincingly audible that time, and he >looks at me seriously, even, maybe, kindly. Which is >you know, great for the ego. > >“Fourteen, same as last time.” > >“Ah.” I say, knowledge dawning. > >“Getting it now?” > >I wiggle my jaw around for awhile before answering. >“More like the emotional response afterwards, but >yeah. The general memory is returning.” > >“Emotional response?” He asks keenly, knowing he’s >got me a little off centre, which is always the best >time to trick some truth out of me. And he knows it, >but doesn’t always work it to his advantage. >Distantly, vaguely, I’m a little proud of him for >going for the throat on this one. > >I grimace. “Awe… a little revulsion…” most >reluctantly, “Jealously.” > >Knowing exactly who and what I was jealous about, Kyle >lets out a triumphant little whoop. > >I smack him. > >--- > >Sometimes, on a good day, when it’s just the three of >us hanging out, I can almost make out what Carrots >would be like if he hadn’t ever met Celery. He’s a >little quieter, a little calmer, freer with his >laughter, his affection. It comes out, especially >when he’s interacting with Kyle. I can get a picture, >albeit one that’s a little blurry around the edges, >through the way they are, of how they might have been. > They have glimpses of a double act nearly as strong >as the twins. They set up jokes for each other, they >have an abrupt shortened way of talking where they >only ever have to get out half or a third of what they >were thinking before the other one is grinning, or >nodding, snapping his fingers and responding in the >same verbal shorthand. > >On bad days, it’s a little less genuine, and Kyle has >to pick up a lot of the slack, but he always does it, >never mentioning anything. It used to drive me nuts, >worry me, but then I remembered that Kyle’s a lot >smarter than me, a lot better at helping people, and >most importantly, that he knows Carrots a lot better >than me. I remembered all that and I realized what >Kyle’d clearly always known – just that there would be >no helping Carrots get over or recover from Celery’s >absence – only the slim possibility of getting him >through it. Meaning anything, even if it was just >helping him forget for awhile how much missing Celery >hurt, and allowing him to pretend it didn’t when he >couldn’t forget. > >--- > >The Vasskez family brunch policy is a good one – in >theory. It’s a big family, lots of different people >with separate yet intersecting lives and interests, >always on the go, having fun, having pain. So it >works. As a concept. Once a week you ring everyone >back together, lured by delicious food and the promise >of interesting conversation – it’s a chance to >connect. To be a family again. And you get Danish. > >But that’s all theory. > >Practice is a little bit different. As hard as >complete togetherness is to achieve at the Vasskez >residence, private time is harder. School and work >and life, brothers, friends – this all takes time. It >needs attention. It cuts into ones morning snuggle >time. Which I am fully man enough to admit I need. >But that’s not the point. Sex is not hard to get – >but it’s extremely difficult to finish. In a house >with that many people, who all live emotionally and >literally on top of one another – you’re bound to be >interrupted. Or just squicked, knowing about how many >people related to you or the person you’re screwing >may be in earshot. > >The Sunday brunch posses such a dilemma. It’s the >weekend, and neither of us ever work (on Sunday that >is) and we’re always doing something, often substance >related, the night before, so I always (almost always) >stay over. And it’s wonderful and it’s great and we >do the sappy cuddling thing – but when we wake up – >there are things we’d rather be doing than family >brunch – and we’d most likely rather we doing them a >couple hours later. Because lets face it, nine is a >little harsh. > >So, it’s a problem. Not, when you think about it, an >especially big one, but I guess maybe that’s why it’s >one of the ones I’d rather think about. > >--- > >Problem of the week: when I tell him (because it’s >all about WHEN now, not if) he’ll KNOW. I mean, it’s >never been the telling that’s stopped me. Not really. > I mean sure, not exactly looking forward to that part >either, but it’s the after I’m worried about. If I >tell him just what he needs to know to be satisfied, >if I give him the traumatic childhood event and let >him think that’s it, nothing will change. Because >see, I can tell him the part about the dead sister, I >can probably even tell him the part about my parents. >Some of it anyway. Some version of events that will >accurately represent what happened, what still >happens, that’ll make sense to an outsider, help him >understand my actions and theirs. That stuff I can >handle. That stuff I know I can tell him and I won’t >change in his eyes. Except, then I’ll be the same and >Kyle won’t have anything with which to understand me >any better. Not really. > >But, if, on the other hand, I actually tell him, tell >him so that he’ll KNOW, so that he’ll understand – >that’s an all the more terrifying prospect. See, I >know I can trust him with the first part, but it’s the >part when I have to explain that I’ve spent my whole >life using my dead sister to treat people like tools, >like amusements, attractions, anything but real, >equal, and certainly below my respect, that I have >trouble with. It’s the part where I explain that I >was the master of my own destruction, the designer of >my own fate, instrument and inventor where I’m afraid >I lose him. That’s where things get shaky. > >When he knows, when those last barriers fall, Kyle >will either be gone or he’ll be everything. If I >allow myself to get that deep with him, the temptation >to just give in and lose myself totally in him will be >incredibly strong. And why not? I know Kyle would be >the penultimate jailor. I know he’d keep me so safe >and so warm within the fortress of his arms and heart. > I’d want for nothing, I’m sure. I’d be trapped >within him completely. And I can tell myself it >wouldn’t be like this other time, that with Kyle it >would truly be about choice, not circumstance, but >there’s still the fear, and the doubt, and that small >stubborn kicking streak inside me that never wants to >be mastered again, certainly not before I’ve even >completely beat my first. > >--- > >I don’t really understand why these big reveals always >come when Carrots is around. Kyle and I tend to get >exceptionally dramatic around him and honestly, I >don’t get it. What I do know is that for whatever >reason it happens, Kyle knows and exploits it. I’d >resent him for it, if these blow ups we have around >Carrots aren’t some of the only times things get >resolved. I suppose this is because when it’s just >us, Kyle lets things go. He lets me walk away from >stuff, he tolerates non answers. With Carrots around, >blindly asking inconvenient questions because he >doesn’t understand how much shit there is just under >the surface, things get done. It’s occasionally >terrifying and the damage control after the fact is >typically great, but it’s a weird side benefit of the >friendship the three of us have developed since Celery >left, and as terminally reluctant as I am to get stuff >out in the open, it usually ends up being for the >best. Not that I’ll ever be admitting that to Kyle. >And anyway, it’s not like I’m totally reckless. Even >the Big Truths have spin, especially when Carrots is >around. The blowups come for an audience, but the >feelings, the truths behind the facts come later, when >Kyle and I are alone and he’s asking softly with every >gesture and sound for me to let him in. > >--- > >I realize that from the way I go on it must seem like >these thoughts and fears are all that I have in my >head. It must appear as though I both think and am >capable of caring about nothing else. You must ask >yourselves why anyone – let alone Kyle (who it’s >possible I’ve lead you to believe is perfect) – would >want to have anything to do with me, beyond charitable >reasons. I’m saying, I understand why you might think >that. Bearing in mind what I will attempt to express >here – it may still be true. The part about Kyle >having no business or sane reason for keeping me >around certainly is. But I mean, give me some credit >at least. I’ve become much more high maintenance, way >more of a spaz, since we started going out and all >kinds of feelings and emotions started leaking out all >over everywhere, causing me to scramble around not >unlike a chicken with it’s head cut off trying to >repair the damage and rebuild myself as the Zen – >detached guy, but if I’m not now, I at least used to >be cool. Genuinely even. And fun, possibly even >interesting, to be around. > >One thing I know, Carrots’ attention span is even >worse than mine (albeit for different reasons) and >I’ve managed to get and hold his attention. Always, >that will be an achievement I can be proud of. And >for all that Kyle is a white knight he – liked me. I >mean he LIKED… ME. I made him laugh and we had >awesome meaning of life stuff conversations and we >clicked as something more than fucked-up-boy and his >chiseled savior. We did things, lots of times, just >the two of us, and when I wasn’t caught up thinking >“so this is what a friend is, this is what people mean >when they say no man is an island and they’re not >joking”, I was just having an excellent, totally >unlike anything I’d ever done, time. > >Kyle too. That much I trust. He’s not that much of a >martyr. He’s being patient now, he’s being >understanding of emotionally challenged mood-swing guy >because he trusts that Jonas will come back. Not an >impossible dream, especially for him because, for the >most part, we still have lots of fun together. And we >get emotional and we hug each other and let ourselves >talk, briefly, about how much we love each other. And >because we have problems and fears that have to do >with not just me, because there are people around us >who suffer and who laugh and who need us, my life puts >the fears in my brain to bed, and I haven’t time or >energy to let them ruin anything. The trouble is, >it’s because there’s so much of all that that I get >all twisted up inside thinking of the many and varied >ways I could lose it. And if it’s that stuff that >gets the attention when I’m alone in my head it’s >because when I’m with him, most of the time, >everything else goes away and it’s just us, and for >those moments at least, life is perfect.

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