The Trailblazer Series

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWOAfter that first dining hall work shift, I had maybe forty-five minutes before psych, my next class, and I wanted to head back to Hunter Hall and take a shower. But my phone rang. I would have ignored it, but the screen displayed a photo of Neil and his tall, blond hiking buddy, Jeremy Ford, arms draped on each other’s shoulders as they beamed smiles at whoever was taking the shot. Behind them, I knew because Neil had told me all about it, was the famous knife edge at the summit of Mount Katahdin in Maine.

"Hey, bro," I said into the phone, my mind silently registering how much Jeremy looked like El Speed.

"Hey, yourself! Why aren’t you in class?" His tone was teasing.

"Bustin’ my balls, eh? Why aren’t you?"

I heard his laugh, an honest, open sound. "Say, listen. I just got off the phone with Gram. I hope you’re talking with her as often as you can. I think she’s lonely, now that her youngest—that would be you, in case there’s any doubt—has flown the coop."

"I’ve been talking to her!" It felt like an accusation, one I didn’t think I deserved. I willed my fingers not to clench the phone so tight. "I can’t call her every day, you know."

"Just keep in mind that she’s going to be reluctant to call you. She doesn’t want to be a pest."

"Are you giving Nina this sage advice, too? I’m not the only one who—"

"We all need to call her. So, yes. But you know you’re her favorite."

"Am not!"

"Well, you’re the baby, then."

I let that hang in the air; it didn’t deserve a response. The next thing Neil said sounded like he wanted to get back on my good side.

"Seeing anyone yet? Any handsome young men on the horizon?"

"Not yet." I almost said, Not really, thinking that maybe possibly potentially there had been some vibe coming from Daniel, but that would have brought more questions from Neil, ones I didn’t want to answer. Or, at least, that I wasn’t ready to answer.

"Okay, well… you know you can call anytime you need to, right?"

"Yeah." An odd combination of irritation and something kind of like relief fought for attention inside me.

So Neil thought Gram was lonely? I supposed that wasn’t unreasonable. And, after all, she was our de facto mother. Had been for years. And now, none of us kids lived at home any more.

I decided I didn’t quite have time to get back to Hunter and shower. I had the materials I needed for my next class in my pack, and I had a few minutes, so I found a bench under a maple tree, its leaves brilliant reds and oranges in the autumn sun. A light breeze brought the occasional leaf twirling gently down around my feet or onto my shoulder as I let my mind wander.

Guess where it went.

I closed my eyes and relived the feeling of Daniel’s hand on my shoulder, his mouth close to my ear. In my imagination, I could feel the warmth of his body as I turned my face toward his, bringing our lips so tantalizingly close that neither of us could resist having them meet. So many emotions fought for attention. Confusion: Was it terrible of me to have these feelings about a straight guy? Or about any guy? Fear: What if Daniel figured out that I felt like this? What if other people figured out that I felt like this? Amazement: f*****g A, but that felt GREAT!

I heard my own sharp intake of breath as energy shot into my d**k, and I opened my eyes. A couple of girls walking by gave me a brief glance. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter.

When I’d told Neil I was majoring in psychology, his response had been: "Um… why?"

I had no good answer. Or, at least, no answer that I felt I could articulate. The truth was that during my senior high school year, after Neil had been so cool when I’d trusted him with my truth, I’d tried hard to improve my perception of myself. All those dreams I’d had about Riley had served to deepen the shame I’d already accepted as my due. And even if he’d been gay, I don’t think I would have had the nerve to approach him; shame wasn’t something I should be sharing.

But Neil’s support had made me take another look. It had made me lift my head up—a little anyway. And when I did that, even as I pushed shame into the shadows where it belonged, I could still see all those things that had caused me to buy into that shame.

I had fallen deep into some odd combination of envy and fury. All around me, there were girl-boy couples, holding hands, kissing when they thought they could sneak one in, going places together, talking—even bragging, sometimes explicitly and sometimes with veiled meaning—about things they’d done together.

I couldn’t do any of that. It wasn’t that I wanted to brag about going at it in the back seat of a car with some guy. I just wanted to be able to respond to the perennial question, "So, what did you do over the weekend?" with something better than a shrug and, "Not much. Worked." Especially since I felt obliged to add, "You?" and then listen to them talk about their heterosexual activities, conquests, whatever. And all the while I’d know that even if I’d had the best weekend ever with someone I cared about, I wouldn’t be able to say a word about it. I wouldn’t even be able to identify who I’d been with.

Sometime around March of my senior year I hit some kind of wall. I came so close to telling Gram I needed to talk to someone, like, you know, a professional. But I didn’t see how to do that without telling her about myself, and also I knew that she’d be worried sick for a variety of reasons. So I just kept telling myself, Hang on; it’ll be different next year. College will be the place where you can be yourself.

And college would be the place where I could take psych courses that would help me help myself.

Sitting on that bench, letting the crisp, autumn air refresh me after the sweltering dishroom, I watched a few more colorful leaves drift down from the maple tree behind my bench, little patches of orange and yellow swaying back and forth on their descent through the still air. One particularly gorgeous yellow specimen caught my eye, a veritable slice of sunshine, and I followed it on its journey to where it landed on a bright red version of itself on the ground near my feet. Beside the red one was a brilliant orange one with red and yellow spots.

I leaned over, picked all three up and held their stems together, and as I settled back onto the bench I heard a girl’s voice.

"That’s a beautiful combination. Love the freckled one."

Her own face was a beautiful combination of sparkling blue eyes, arched eyebrows an intense brown, and lots of freckles. She wore a bright green cardigan over a white blouse, and jeans that looked too new. In her arms was a collection of books and notebooks, and a brown shoulder bag hug near her hip. In another age, she could have modeled for Norman Rockwell.

Her smile was genuine and friendly. "Are you going to take them with you?"

Knowing she meant the leaves, I shook my head. "I don’t have a better place for them than right here."

She laughed. "So you’ll leave them with their friends! I like that."

She moved on, gazing around her as though wanting to commit absolutely everything to memory. I loved the freshness of her appearance. I loved the open, friendly attitude that had nothing in it of guile or flirtation. I thought, If I weren’t gay, I’d maybe go after her, chat with her, see if we could meet up later. But I was gay. And although it might be great to have her as a friend, I knew that would mean telling her the truth. I couldn't predict her response. If it was negative, it might bring that shame crashing in again. I wasn’t quite ready to deal with that.

That night, I dreamed of Daniel. We were alone in some environment that looked like the dishroom but wasn’t. He was on the far side of a phallic-shaped metal thing, a substitute for the Hobart, which looked for all the world like a silver d**k pointing out from the back wall. The head of the erection was near me.

Moving slowly from where he stood near the back wall, Daniel made his way along the d**k, sliding one hand slowly along it as he went, his eyes locked onto mine. I couldn’t move, so I just watched as he got closer to the exposed head, which he caressed. He stood still, watching me, as his hand traveled around and around in a motion that was part loving, part teasing. My own d**k responded as though his hand were caressing me.

Suddenly he plunged a finger into the hole on the end of the metal d**k.

I woke up, panting, a soggy mess at my crotch.

Had El Speed heard me? Did he have any idea what had just happened? I strained my eyes to see whether he lay still, and the sounds of gentle snoring floated through the dark air.

It was probably an hour before I could fall back to sleep.

Coming out of the dining hall a few days after the dream about Daniel and the metal d**k, feeling a little bummed because Daniel was pretty much leaving me alone in the dishroom now that I knew what I was supposed to do, I nearly bumped into my sister. She and a couple of her girlfriends were standing on the sidewalk not far from the door.

I figured she wouldn’t have any particular desire to introduce her kid brother to her coterie, so I just nodded. She looked at me long enough to nod back, but instead of turning back to her friends, her eyes focused on something behind me. When I turned, I saw Daniel.

Now Nina was willing to talk to me. "Who’s your friend, Nathan?"

I was still gazing at Daniel, who was gazing at Nina in a way he would never, I was now sure, gaze at me.

Daniel stepped beside me, his eyes still on Nina. I said, "Nina Bartlett, this is Daniel Cooke. He’s my boss in the dining hall."

Nina looked at me. "Dining hall?"

In what were no doubt his richest tones, Daniel said, "How delightful to meet you, Nina Bartlett. Yes, Nathan does a great job for us, in the dishroom. You’re his sister?"

He smiled at her, and she examined him from the corners of her eyes, head tilted slightly. I found myself wishing our Chinese ancestry had given me as much capacity to look exotic and sultry as it had given Nina.

"I am," she said to Daniel. "I hope you aren’t letting Nathan get away with anything." She smiled at him but turned back to her friends as if to signal to Daniel that the exchange with him was over.

Nina’s group moved off slowly. I watched Daniel. He watched Nina. I sighed inwardly.

"Nathan." Daniel’s voice startled me. "Is your sister seeing anyone exclusively?"

"Not that I know of."

"Could I get her number?"

I can’t say his request surprised me. I had no doubt that Nina had deliberately followed her sultry look at Daniel with the sight of her gently-swaying backside walking away, the subtext being, Pursue me. Her behavior was a stark contrast to the Norman Rockwell model who’d been excited by autumn leaves.

A voice in my brain suggested that if Nina and Daniel started seeing each other, I might get to see even more of Daniel. The face of Riley Shapiro’s girlfriend flashed through my brain. I shook it away.

"Probably," I told him. "I’ll ask her."

I consoled myself with the thought that if Daniel had any inking that I lusted after him, he wouldn’t have asked for my help with Nina. Small consolation, but I took it. And there I was, alone again.

When I got back to the room, El Speed was deep into some heavy-duty conversation with a guy I didn’t know. I’d heard their voices, not loud but intense, from the hall. When I opened the door they stopped talking abruptly. El Speed was in his desk chair and facing mine, where the other guy sat, facing El Speed. They were both leaning forward as though that would help press whatever points they wanted to make. They looked at me.

"Interrupting?" I asked. "Should I go away?"

El Speed sat back, evidently trying to demonstrate how relaxed he was. "Nothing goin’ on here," he said, but he was glaring at the other guy.

The other guy stood and turned toward me, his hand out. "Gordon Wellington." He was tall and skinny, reddish blond hair cut short, a face that could only be described as sweet.

"Nathan Bartlett," I replied as I shook his hand. "Seriously, I could go to the library or something, work on my psych project."

Gordon smiled. "Your roommate was just trying to convince me that I shouldn’t pledge."

El Speed chimed in, "I said you shouldn’t pledge Nu Lambda Psi."

I hadn’t paid any attention to the frat recruitment. Neil hadn’t pledged a frat, so it hadn’t occurred to me to do it. Now that I say that, it seems dumb. But I wasn’t really interested in frats, anyway.

"Why shouldn’t he?" I asked El Speed. "What’s wrong with that house?"

He lifted an arm and let it fall again, not quite a shrug, not quite dismissive. "They have a bad reputation. Hazing. Last year some pledge drowned."

Gordon didn't want to let that stand. "That wasn’t here. It was on a campus out west somewhere. Or in the south. I forget. And anyway, they never proved that it had anything to do with hazing."

"Bullshit."

I asked Gordon, "Why that house?"

The silence in the room said worlds. This seemed to be the crux of the matter.

Finally, Gordon answered. "Well… because one of the brothers… one of the brothers wants me to."

That didn’t satisfy El Speed. "Because one of the brothers wants him."

My head snapped toward El Speed and then toward Gordon’s blushing face. So he was gay. I wondered if I was blushing, too. I wondered if I should say anything.

But all I said was, "Why do you need to be in the frat, though? The brothers are allowed to consort with lowly non-Greeks, aren’t they? Or with members of other frats?"

"Well, sure, but—you know."

I didn’t, not exactly. Maybe I lusted after Daniel, but I didn’t start working in the dining hall because he was there. I decided to change the subject.

I glanced at El Speed. "So how do you guys know each other?"

"Gordon is Ellie’s best friend."

El Speed’s girlfriend. So all three were from the same town.

Gordon turned on El Speed, his voice pointed as he asked, "Did she tell you to stop me doing this?"

"No, Gordo. She told me you were doing it, and she told me she was worried. So am I."

"Well, I’m not. And I’m going to do it."

So much for changing the subject. I watched as Gordon left, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

El Speed still had his eyes on the door when I turned back to him. As I resettled my chair at the desk, I asked, "You’re really worried?"

"Ellie and I both are." He stood and resettled his own desk chair. "Seems like almost every year, some pledge from that house gets into trouble. And, like I said, last year one of them died."

"Well, maybe that will make them more careful this year."

He glared at me. "Not something I’d risk my life on."

The next day, during my lunch shift in the dishroom, I half expected Daniel to ask about Nina’s contact info, which she’d texted me permission to give him. But he greeted me in his usual way, which was just a quick "Hey, Nathan," and said nothing else. So at the end of the lunch shift, after doing my assigned clean-up, I caught his attention.

"Got something for you, Daniel."

"Cool. Let’s grab a coffee or something and sit in the dining area for a few minutes, eh?"

It was challenging for me to sit across from him, to look directly at him, and not to let myself get carried away by lust. What was it about this guy that got to me like this? I couldn’t have said. Maybe we never know what it is about someone else that pulls on us. I’d never understood what it was that had pulled me toward Riley. Was he smart? He was, actually. Daniel seemed smart, too. Was Riley’s body nicely put together? Well, yeah; he had a swimmer’s body, not bulky, but sleek and trim. Daniel’s build was very similar, but I knew that was just gravy. Was Riley attractive? Not really. Daniel’s face was nicer, but it wouldn’t have got him any modeling jobs. All I knew was that something about the way Riley moved, the way he held his head, the way he used his hands stirred something in me. And I felt the same pull, for essentially the same reasons, from Daniel. What called to me from each of them was something visceral, something about the way they made me feel. And I couldn’t have said what that was.

I pulled out my phone. "You wanted Nina’s contact info."

He pulled out his phone. "Shoot it to me." He called out his phone number, waited for my send, and put the phone away. Didn’t even look at the information. "Thanks, Nathan." He seemed so casual, so unconcerned, that I wondered if he’d changed his mind about Nina.

We sipped our coffee for maybe fifteen seconds that seemed like forever to me. I felt awkward; I don’t think Daniel did.

I felt the need to talk. It was Friday, so although the question was mundane and trite, I asked, "Doing anything special this weekend?"

His eyes followed the coffee cup as he set it down onto its saucer, and then he looked at me. "Anytime I can, I go to the mountains. I have to work this Sunday, because someone else can’t, but tonight I’m headed north. Think I’ll do the Carter Dome to Mount Hight loop tomorrow. Hight all by itself doesn’t give you a four-thousand notch because of the way the summit is configured, but it has the best views. And when you add Carter Dome to it, it counts. It’s still early enough in the season that I can stay tonight at the Carter Notch Hut and get fed."

"That’s a couple of hours’ drive, isn’t it?"

"Do you know the loop?"

"What? No, I’ve never been hiking. But my brother’s crazy for mountains. I’m from Concord, so I have a vague idea where you’re going."

He sat back in his chair, a friendly scowl on his face. "You’ve never been hiking? How could your brother let you get away with that?"

I shrugged; there was no good answer, because he’d offered to take me but had never pressured me. Instead, apropos of not much, I said, "I do Nordic skiing, though. Bushwhacking is kind of a specialty of mine."

Daniel laughed. "Well, s**t, I love that, too. Only I prefer to think of it as trailblazing. Maybe this winter we could take a weekend and go." He stood. "Meanwhile, I’ve gotta head out if I want to make the hut before it gets too dark."

And just like that, our chat was over. Seemed unlikely he’d be calling Nina this weekend.

When I got back to the dorm, El Speed was huddled in front of his laptop while Gordon stared at the screen from over his shoulder. They barely heard me come in.

To the room in general, I asked, "What’s so fascinating?"

Gordon glanced briefly toward me and back to the screen. "TM." I don’t think he meant to sound cryptic, but he did.

I had no idea what that meant. "TM? What’s that?"

"Come look." He held his arm out toward me, fingers flexing as though to pull me over.

Standing behind El Speed, huddled close to Gordon, I felt a wave of warm sensuality that seemed to have nothing to do with s*x. It made me a little dizzy, in a good way. I tried to concentrate on the laptop screen.

The larger type was easy enough to read: Learn Transcendental Meditation.

"Meditation?" I tried to keep my tone neutral; meditation had always seemed kind of like hocus pocus to me.

Without glancing away from the screen, El Speed corrected me. "Transcendental meditation."

"Ah," I said, unable to remain completely noncritical. "That makes all the difference."

El Speed turned around in his chair. "Actually, it does. They give you something to focus your mind on so you can get into a meditative state quickly and stay there more easily."

"Meditative state…." I echoed.

"Don’t be so quick to dismiss it," he said. "It gives you more energy, lessens your stress, makes concentrating on things like classwork easier, improves your sleep quality—all kinds of stuff. Might not hurt you to get a little meditative, y’know."

"Me? What’s wrong with my concentration?"

"Well, I want to try it. Can’t hurt, and it might help."

Gordon seemed excited by the idea. "I have this friend who’s doing it, and he swears by it. Says it’s made a huge difference in his life!"

I chuckled. "Would this be the same friend who wants you to join Nu Lambda Psi?"

By way of answer, Gordon blushed. But El Speed came to his rescue. "You can learn from anyone, Nathan. Anyway, we’re thinking of going to the free intro session in Portsmouth on Sunday. I’m not going home this weekend. D’you wanna join us?"

"Oh, I don’t think so. You can tell me all about it when you get back. Now, I have to get ready for my next class."

El Speed turned back to the laptop. "I told you to drop that one. Who wants a class on Friday afternoons?"

I ignored him, grabbed my backpack, and headed over to Paul Creative Arts Center. I was enjoying this class—Introduction to Acting—and I didn’t mind that it was on Friday afternoons. What was I going to do with my Fridays otherwise? It wasn’t like I went home every weekend like so many students here did. Besides, I was hoping the class would help me feel a little freer to follow Neil’s advice and be who I am.