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>I've watched The Fidler on the Roof twice this week >and I have this to say: TRADITION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! > >--- > >The temptation to hide in my living room with my >parents has never been greater than it was immediately >after Celery left. Carrots was basically flat-lining, >Kyle was going equally critical as his own way failed >him. With no one to give inspirational speeches to, >with no belief within himself that things were really >going to be okay, robbed of black and white heroes and >villains, Kyle remained silent, curled up in a ball >starring blankly at his wall. This is of course >something I’ve seen him do before, and on more than >one occasion it’s been because of me, but we’re >talking days at a time here. I spent the first few >days mostly dumbstruck by my sudden role (which I >seemed to have appropriated from Kyle) of getting >people to talk and deal guy. As I’m not particularly >big on either of these things myself, I struggled in >my new role. So much so that after three days of >going back and forth between Carrots (which typically >involved having him reassure me and claim to be fine), >Kyle (the ball treatment) and the twins (who spent >their time killing things on screen with alarming >vehemence, when they were home at all, and not wanting >to guess what or who they were doing when they >weren’t) all I wanted was my mother’s arms and my >fathers voice, soothing, calming, filling my head with >words having nothing to do with the mess and pain I >found myself drowning in there. > >Like Kyle, I felt betrayed. Celery and I were >outsiders, we’d always had that in common. When I >fell in love with a Vasskez brother, we had that in >common too. And that love was supposed to be more >than enough. That was the deal. If you love one of >them enough, and you trick them into loving you, >you’re supposed to be in. There was never anything >mentioned about not wanting to stay in. It was Celery >I looked to to routinely dispel my flight instincts, >to assure myself that in this family it didn’t matter >how fucked up you are or how many times you fuck up – >there’s always a place for you. His leaving didn’t >make it any less true of them, but it did make me >question my own ability to stay. > >But I was shaky at home too. My parents were >supportive, asking questions and yet never questioning >my involvement emotionally in what was going on. I >brought my fear and worry and anger home to them and >they seemed to care without judgment, tried to make it >better for me but never suggesting I’d gotten myself >into this in the first place, never implying that this >was what they’d been trying to protect me from all >along. They did all this, but I couldn’t quite trust >it. Sometime over the past year something changed, >something shifted, and they stopped being the ones I >trust. I still love them, I still crave their >attention and approval but I fear them now also. >They’re coldness, their objections concerning age and >gender were all a cover, protecting me, saying what >was expected, doing it for Kyle’s benefit, but they >still didn’t accept him, didn’t trust me when I told >them I loved him. I understood, but it was still an >affront, a break in our contract of absolute honestly, >absolute trust. Erica said those words for me, but I >never spoke them about her to them. Recognizing that >I was just as guilty as they, knowing that hiding him >from them for months and then suddenly presenting him >and claiming that I loved him was bound to blow up in >my face, these things didn’t take away the sting. >Because it was real like nothing in my life had ever >been, I needed them to see that, see me. Because they >couldn’t it caused me to doubt them for the first >time. What I was feeling, who I was becoming – all >real – and they couldn’t see it. I wondered for the >first time if they really knew me as well as I’d >always thought, as well as I’d always depended on. >The possibility they didn’t made me terrified. > >One attractive solution (made all the more attractive >when Celery left) was to return not just to them but >to their expectations of me. Be the person they were >still so much stuck in the past seeing, go back to >that life, be that Jonas, be Ben. If Kyle hadn’t >looked up at me that fourth day, blankly at first, >then sort of surprised to see me, as if he had >expected me to disappear too, finally settling on >something like happiness or relief, I probably would >have. But Kyle reached just in time a place not just >where he needed me, but where I could actually get to >him and maybe do some good. I felt in that moment >what I suspect is the driving force in Kyle’s life and >especially his relationship with me – the palpable >knowledge that the person I loved was in pain, and the >beginnings of an even more powerful determination to >make it better. > >--- > >For Kara and the twins, Celery’s been around as long >as Carrots in their memory, so there’s no real >difference between them. Cel was just the brother who >slept somewhere else sometimes, but usually he was >just around, as much a part of their lives and growing >up as Carrots. Only Kyle remembers a brother with a >different name and no blond haired shadow. Kyle loves >Celery just as unconditionally as the rest of his >siblings, but Carrots has always been special to Kyle. > For a few short years before Celery came along, >Carrots belonged to Kyle, following him around, >imitating him the way little brothers do. At six and >four they had two baby brothers to amuse themselves >with and care for, but first and foremost, Kyle has >always seen Carrots as his charge, his responsibility. > And though that’s never made his love for Celery >less, I think it might be what is stopping him from >calling Celery now. Most of Kyle knows there’s a lot >more going on, and hurts for both of them, but there’s >some small part of Kyle who can’t help seeing Celery >as the guy who left this little brother broken and >bleeding, heart and body exposed in the last light of >the evening. > >Also I suppose, Kyle’s not just angry on Carrot’s >behalf. Celery and Kyle go back, and never has Kyle >thought of Celery as just a friend of his little >brother. So when he left, the way he did, not even >saying goodbye, that cut Kyle deep. That’s anger he’s >got to work through. That’s another thing he has to >forgive. > >--- > >“I think…” > >I wait, but nothing comes next. > >“Kyle?” > >“Carrots’ isn’t getting better – I don’t know what to >do.” > >I’m personally still celebrating my victory in regards >to breaking him out of his comatose curl. I haven’t >really gotten to Carrots yet. > >“Neither do I.” > >He frowns, sort of thoughtfully. “How’re Jon and Dave >doing?” I take his interest as a positive sign. > >Too bad I don’t have better news. > >“Not great.” How do I explain their strategy of >having creepy sex with girls they barely know and >their sudden lack of talking to their best friend? > >“Okay.” > >I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Ever since >hearing about Emma and even before Kyle’s stance has >been a kind of weary acceptance in regards to my >“spooky” bond with the twins. > >“How are you?” It’s a funny question, all the ways >you can think about it. > >He responds by holding out a hand, which I take, and >pulling me towards him. I settle in against his chest. > >“I love you.” I say, a desperate whisper. > >He kisses my hair. > >“I love you too.” > >--- > >The problem is, I am a liar. Kyle is not. > >This causes problems. He doesn’t get it. When I tell >him things, he trusts them, because he trusts me. >Which I’m grateful for, which I need for him to do, >but it’s not getting us anywhere. I lie about big >things, and that causes big problems, sometimes big >enough that I eventually have to come clean, if not by >retracting the lies then by trying to fit some truth >in around them. But the little things, the little day >to day pretends never get talked about. Kyle’s >anything but stupid, and he pays close attention to >everyone he loves, especially me, but he just doesn’t >know what to look for. It’s not in his nature. > >Hence, Celery’s behavior has been blowing his mind, >cause it never occurs to him to hide things from >people and lie, and he doesn’t really understand that >it does occur to other people. > >--- > >I now define “surreal” using the image burned in my >memory of Carrots shoving Colin up against a locker >and collapsing to the ground in tears a few moments >later. I’m never going to like the guy, for a myriad >of reasons, but I feel like maybe for the first time >he’s earned his considerable keep. Somehow I got >Carrots home, to his bed, where I sat with him as he >cried. I stroked his hair and encouraged him to “let >it the fuck out dude”, wishing for Kyle, who may have >somehow given these words meaning, strength. Once he >was all out of tears, Carrots looked up at me and his >first words were, > >“I’m so sorry Jonas.” > >I considered redefining surreal yet again. > >“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” As frustrated >by this whole thing as I am, there’s one thing I know, >one rule you don’t break, and Celery did. You don’t >leave. Certainly not like this. Whatever blame >Carrots may have on a broader scale, he can’t be >expected to apologize for this. > >“I did it again.” > >“Did what?” Even though I guess I know. > >A small, ironic smile. “My best thing. Got lost in >myself, forgot about everyone else – how my behavior >might hurt them, what other things might be going on >in their lives they might need me for,” He shakes his >head, “I’m sorry.” > >“Hey, you’ve got a free pass on this one, okay?” > >“No more free passes man. That’s exactly my problem.” > >“Okay Care, but this time there was nothing else you >could do, we all understand that. You were in shock – >Jesus, if the pain had stayed with you, so fresh, it >probably would have killed you. I wish there could >have been a better way, but I understand that you had >to get away from it for awhile.” > >He squeezes my hand. > >“You’re a good friend Jonas, a good brother. They’re >the things you were meant to be.” > >Damn that fucker for getting right back on top so >quickly. I sniff sharply and look away. He pokes me >in the side and calls me a wuss, and I laugh over my >tears. > >I’ve really missed my friend.

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