Riding With Brighton(18)
“Jesus… makes me feel like I’ve wasted my life.” Not that this thought is new to me. It’s pretty much the only thought running through my head since I woke up yesterday. “I’ve spent hours playing baseball, basketball, and football. I could have been doing so much more.”
“But you love it, right?”
“Yeah, but what’s the point? It’s not like I’m gonna go pro. I mean, you’re right, once you reach the pinnacle of something, it makes sense to move on to something new.”
“That’s just me. I think I have ADD. If one thing, or the same three things, just kept making me happy, I would totally stick with it. I wish I were like that.”
“So what are the things you’ve mastered besides making Japanese cartoon figurines, hand-painted advertising, doodling, and skating?”
“Mastered? I don’t know if that word applies to anything in my life. If we’re talking about things I’ve been obsessed with… that list is long.”
He doesn’t seem like he’s gonna elaborate, but hearing him talk about himself, his life… I like it. I want to hear it. “I saw the guitar in your room.”
“Yeah. The guitar’s a staple. I’m usually balls-deep into some instrument or process of making music.”
“What instruments do you play?”
“Umm… well, the guitar, obviously. Anything with strings, really. Piano, drums, sax. My dad’s a computer guy, so he’s been hooking me up with equipment so I can mix and record. We got our first synth last year, and that shit’s fascinating. That’s an obsession that could last for a while. You can always learn more about that. There’s always more equipment to buy. What about you? Did you ever play an instrument?”
“Only when I had to. I played the trumpet in middle school. I picked it because it only had three valves; thought it would be easy. Which is the total opposite of how you operate.” I feel his boot gently nudging my shoe, and I crack an eye open to look. He keeps his boot next to my shoe and a shiver runs up my body. Because his shoe touched mine. Jesus.
“I’m totally lazy. I only do the things I want to do. You didn’t want to play an instrument. It’s okay.”
“I actually liked it. I was pretty good at it. I think my real problem is that I worry too much about what other people are gonna think about me. I quit playing in high school when it was no longer required because I didn’t want to be a band geek.”
“I’m detecting a theme here as far as your little crisis goes,” he says with humor in his voice.
“It’s not too hard to figure out. I’m sick of living this life I made for myself and am mourning the guy I could have become, the life I could have had, if I had just grown a pair and done what I wanted to instead of what people expected me to do.”
“So what’s your plan when you go off to college? You’re gonna get a fresh start, be who you want to be…. Who are you gonna be?”
“I don’t know.”
He knocks his boot into my shoe again. “Yes you do. If you can’t even talk about the things you want to do, how are you gonna actually do them?”
Shit. Does he know? Is he trying to get me to admit that I’m gay? Do I want to admit that to him? Am I ready to say that out loud? I suck in a long breath, and as I’m exhaling it the words I think I might be gay are running through my brain, but when the words come out they’re “I want to write.”
I turn my head to Brighton. He’s staring right at me. His face is mostly blank, but I can see the confusion. Slowly, though, a smile creeps in. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s cool. I’ve always been shit at writing. What do you write?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, really.”
“Come on, Jay. You need to get over whatever it is that’s holding you back. You can say whatever you want to say to me. I’m not gonna judge you. It’s not gonna change my opinion about you. In fact if you’d open up and give me something… one thing… I might feel better about the fact that I’ve been talking about myself all day.”
I want to talk to him. I want to tell him things. But the truth is that, for whatever reason, I care about his opinion of me more than anyone else’s. “It’s stupid.”
“Is it time for the pep talk? Do we need to do a rundown of all your redeeming qualities?”
“Umm… hell no….”
He ignores my request. “You’re the most popular guy at our school; we’ve already established that you’re decent-looking and, with me out of the game, you could have any girl you want. Your body’s on point; I’ve heard you’re a pretty good athlete; you’re smart; you’re cool; you’re thoughtful; and you’re funny…. So where’s all this insecurity and self-deprecating crap coming from?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m not usually like this. I think it’s just… you.” Oh shit. Immediately I can feel my veins pulsing under my skin, and all my muscles go on lockdown at this confession. I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack, and I’m already regretting the words that just came out of my mouth.
“Why would you feel insecure around me?” he asks.
Okay. That’s not what I meant. I mean it is, but I thought the implications were obvious. But maybe they weren’t. So I hold tight to the out he’s given me. “Because everything about me is superficial and nothing about you is, so I guess I just naturally feel inferior around you.”