On Chocorua

INTERLUDE I

INTERLUDE I Life with Neil: I’m Comin’ OutI wasn't the sort of kid who got teased about looking gay, acting gay, seeming any more gay than my male peers. If I was picked on, it had more to do with the fact that I refused to pretend I was dumber than I was. And occasionally some cretin would take issue with my obvious Chinese heritage, diluted though the characteristics are with a couple of generations between me and my Chinese maternal great-grandmother.

Sometimes in middle school I heard the word "fag" thrown at me, but it never seemed to have any authority behind it. For sure, I didn't take it seriously. In fact, when I got to tenth grade and fell head over heals in love with Riley Shapiro, I was as surprised as anyone else would have been if they'd known.

Riley, of course, wasn't gay. I don't know what he made of the fact that my eyes followed him everywhere, constantly terrified that he’d realize it. I couldn’t say whether he noticed that I developed a sudden passion for attending swim meets, when it was only because he was on the team. I prayed he didn’t pick up on the fact that I’d developed an odd friendship with his girlfriend, or that the time I spent with her was all about encouraging her to talk to me about him.

In other aspects of my obsession, I felt safer. He couldn’t know I dreamed about him, or that that he had any part in the mess I made of my sheets most nights. He didn't have any idea that the feelings he aroused inspired me to browse a couple of online men's fitness sites, from the laptop in my bedroom, so I could ogle the dense thighs, bulky biceps, and ripped midriffs of men who were definitely not swimmers, while struggling to keep my breathing quiet as I caused a part of my own anatomy to swell and throb.

The summer before my senior year of high school Neil was getting ready for a hike along part of the Appalachian Trail where it cuts through Vermont. One afternoon I had been… um… admiring two particularly attractive men working away on machines, side-by-side and grinning at each other, when Gram called to me from downstairs. Without closing the browser, I shut my laptop to go see what she wanted, and when I came back upstairs Neil was standing at my desk, laptop screen open, the gorgeous men in all their glossy glory essentially ogling each other.

Maybe if I hadn't left the hand lotion dispenser right there beside the laptop I could have played innocent. Or maybe if I hadn't been painfully aware of what was certainly a beet-red blush right up to my ears, I could have assumed an irritated expression at the intrusion. Then I could have said, "Need something, Neil?" or "How would you like me to spy on your computer?" and faked my way through it.

The truth was, though, that I had been dying to tell someone. It might be more accurate to say I had been consumed with the need to tell someone. And there was no one in my life I trusted more than Neil.

We stared at each other for a good five seconds before he said, "Nathan?" His tone was confused and pointed at the same time.

By way of ending the standoff, I sat on the edge of my bed. He turned the desk chair to face me and waited.

Shoulders hunched, hands clasped between my knees, I looked at him from under my eyebrows. "So."

"So." And again he waited.

"I suppose you want to know about that."

I'll never forget how soft his voice was. "I want to know about you."

I didn't mention Riley. He was unimportant. What was important was that Neil understood, that he believed me, that he accepted me. I told him about my feelings, my worry about being discovered in the wrong way by the wrong people, and my near terror when I thought about the future, about living life as a gay man. Would I ever fall in love? Would anyone fall in love with me? Would it ever be possible for me to settle down and maybe even have a child with someone, if that's what I decided I wanted to do? My options seemed severely limited by society's determination that there was something wrong with me that should be hidden, or at least that they shouldn't ever have to deal with it.

Neil let me vent, let me go on and on. I can still see him: elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together loosely between his knees, head slightly tilted, eyes intent on mine. He was fully present, completely there for me. And when I finally ran out of words, he smiled.

"You know, there's a kind of unwritten law that no one should ever 'out' anyone else. And I believe in that rule. Even so, I think Jeremy would be fine with me telling you that he's gay."

My brain screamed, Jeremy Ford? Your best friend who goes hiking with you?

What I said was, "So… so you don't think it's terrible?"

"That you're gay?" He gave a quiet snort and sat back in the chair. "The terrible thing is how I've seen Jeremy treated by some total idiots. I don't want any of that to happen to you, but you need to be who you are."

Be who I am. It sounded so simple. Even if you’re not gay, though, I think it can get very, very complicated.