Dents in the Grass

With a glint in his eyes and a spring in his stride, ten-year-old Kegan McCormack bounded down the darkened stairwell. Tugging a suede baseball jacket over his scrawny torso, he sailed clear over the last three steps and crashed onto the hardwood floor. The resounding plunk rattled its way through the entire house, reverberating up the stairwell and into the master bedroom where his parents lay fast asleep.

Quiet! You’ll wake them up!

Nine-year-old Eric Davidson's body tensed as he gawked at the ceiling. Cringing, he listened in agony for the sound shuffling footsteps. When no reaction to the raucous had been detected, he exhaled through his teeth and fired an icy glare in his friend's direction.

Relax, Eric, Kegan whispered back. They’re heavy sleepers. They could probably sleep through a hurricane if they wanted.

Michigan doesn't get hurricanes, moron. It gets tornadoes.

I know! I'm just saying! They're not gonna catch us, Eric. They never have.

With a look that seemed to say You’re hopeless, Kegan Samuel McCormack, Eric crammed his feet into a pair of tired sneakers. Scrounging through the hall closet, he plucked a denim jacket about his size and wriggled his arms through the sleeves. A quick flick of the wrist and the barricade before him unlocked, a satisfactory clunk releasing the safety to the outside world. Gripping the door handle in anticipation, he looked back at Kegan, the shadow of a smile imprinted on his face.

Ready?

Yeah.

A blast of frigid air swallowed both boys whole as they plunged headfirst into a blackened sky. Sealing the door behind them, they leapt from the porch and streaked across the grassy lawn. Not a word escaped their lips as they skidded up to the street, pausing when their feet landed atop weathered concrete. Together they gazed into the depths of the void that invited them, a chilling call beckoning their subconscious. They glanced back at the darkened house, where two sedated lumps lay unaware of the boy's departure. They looked at each other, their shadowed visages each displaying nothing short of euphoric glee. Side by side the boys scampered into the dying night, two silhouettes of innocent curiosity. Ripples of laughter disrupted the morning's equilibrium as they absconded into the sleeping subdivision. Like kings they roamed, claiming the deserted stretch of road which, for a time, belonged only to them.

It was their twenty-third consecutive escape, yet they knew no matter how many times they went, it would always remain as exhilarating as the first.

This was the year when Kegan and Eric were inseparable. The year when the possibility of one’s presence was nonexistent in the absence of the other. The year when the mothers of both hardly dialed each other’s number, the frantic calls inquiring the whereabouts of a not-yet-safely-tucked-in-bed fourth-grader no longer necessary. It was the year when the shimmering golden stars vanished from their homework assignments, a bloody letter of the alphabet smeared in its place. The year when birds and bees became a topic of lecture, their class' stiffled laughter floating through the air as their their teacher sighed miserably. The year when Kegan and Eric neglected to remember whose house they’d been staying at the night before, stumbling up to one’s doorstep before realizing they were expected at the other’s.

The year when Saturday morning held too much promise to be wasted away in slumber.

They never concentrated on the direction they traveled, nor did they understand the reason why they felt such need to go; they just went. Sprinkle in a left turn in here and there, add a pinch of about-faces, mix in a dash of stand-stills, and always remember to soak in straightaways, thickened with a flavorful conversation that never failed to enlighten.

I think Samantha likes you, Eric, Kegan said, admiring the leaves as they crackled beneath the radiant white of his brand-new sneakers.

She does not, Eric protested, the condensation on his breath pouring out in a smoky stream. She and I are just friends. All I do is sit with her at lunch. That doesn’t mean we want to . . . I dunno, kiss or anything.

Well, you may not want to, Kegan said. But Samantha . . . well . . .

What are you talking about? Eric swiveled his head to face Kegan, his eyes narrowing.

Well . . . yesterday at recess, she was just sorta standing around with Kara and Emily, and they were talking real quiet and giggling about something. When you walked by, they started giggling even harder, and Samantha got kinda red in the face. I’m actually pretty sure she has a crush on you.

Well, you’re wrong, Eric growled, scowling. She doesn’t like me that way. She never will. She’s just nice to me, that’s all. We’re friends, Kegan. Friends. Just friends, ok?

Alright, alright, Kegan retreated. Just friends, I get it. You know I didn’t mean anything, right?

Yeah, Eric steamed, punching his fists into his pockets. I know.

Eric’s face darkened beneath the crop-colored hair that danced across his forehead. Pangs of guilt gripped Kegan’s throat like a pair of icy hands. A brooding silence simmered between them as they shuffled onward. Neither dared to attempt eye contact, gazing downward as their feet steered them into uncharted territory, then upward as the light of the stars began to evanesce into the greying sky.

Hey, Kegan?

Yeah?

I don’t think I want her to like me.

A sympathetic smile crept across Kegan's face, relieved that the stillness had been shattered. I don’t want her to like you either.

You don’t? Eric stared, surprised by Kegan’s statement.

Of course not, Kegan said. Then you’d have to spend all your time with her, and I’d never see you again.

Aw, Kegan, you know I’d never let that happen, Eric told him. Not over a girl. Especially not over someone like Samantha.

I know you wouldn’t, Eric, Kegan reassured him. I know you wouldn’t.

At last they had arrived at the park, just on the outskirts of their final destination. The glint in Eric’s eye returned, a competitive smile flashing in Kegan’s direction.

Race you to the hill?

You’re on.

Woodchips became airborne and jackets flapped in the breeze as both boys tore down the path. Arms circulated and legs pumped as quickly as each found feasible. Whipping past platoons of evergreens and sporadic scatterings of murky ponds, they rounded a corner and came to a grassy clearing. A lonely hill rolled upward to greet the sky in the distance. Picking up speed, the pair began their blitz up the steepest wall, digging their shoes deeply into the grassy soil as they ascended. Dragging heavy breaths, the boys pushed harder until finally they cleared the lip, jogging along to a comfortable stop. They stood for a great while, hands perched upon knees as they gulped frozen air like elixir. When at last they had regained their strength, they stood upright and faced each other, exhausted yet accomplished grins spread across their faces.

You win, Kegan conceded.

Eric flashed him a toothy smile.I always win.

No you don’t.

Yes I do! I always do! Name one time when you’ve won!

Last week.

That was different. I tripped over my shoelaces. It doesn’t count.

Yes it does. A win’s a win. You can excuse it all you want, but I still made it to the top first. Tripping over yourself isn’t gonna win you any prizes out of pity. Might as well admit it.

Yeah, I guess you’re right.

I know I am.

I still won, you know.

Yeah, yeah, I know.

Turning to face the eastern horizon, their breathing eased as their eyes beheld the carpet of houses beyond them. The skies had evolved during their travels, an amethyst jewel encapsulating the Earth within a crystal prism. Together they plopped onto the grassy bed stretched beneath them, entranced by the morning's spectacle.

This was the place, Kegan reminded himself for the umpteenth time. The very park where he and Eric had met nearly six years ago. The same hilltop where he had come with his mother and father and older sister, ripe with energy for a morning full of familial bonding. The place where another family romped and played atop the hill, as they had planned, before a boy with grain-colored hair broke away and tackled Kegan, declaring he was “it” with a triumphant and toothy smile. The sanctuary where two families had first blended into one, linked by innocent laughter and a seeded friendship that had begun to sprout.

Eric was the only person between both their families Kegan had been fast enough to tag back. Or the only one who’d let him. He couldn’t determine which.

Eric jolted upright without warning, goggling at the distance with excited eyes. Here it comes, he exclaimed.

Kegan slowly straightened his torso, squinting to see a strip of pale orange sky painted along the lowermost point of the horizon. The sun was eager to break through, he could tell, poking and prodding and wedging its way between earth and sky. Already the scenery appeared to be stirring awake, a zephyr rustling the trees and causing darkened leaves to quiver. With bated breath Kegan watched, awaiting the first blades of the sun to break through.

An sudden uneasiness rippled through his body as Eric slung an arm around his shoulder. Hesitating, as if expecting Eric to wrench away, Kegan extended his arm and did the same. Though awkward at first, it grew comfortable and familiar, evoking a sensation he'd never quite been able to identify. As he looked back to the horizon, an unusual excitement budded inside his chest. His heart hammered and his breathing quickened, a peculiar warmth building in his chest. He couldn’t put into words what was happening or why, but he at least knew one thing for certain.

It wasn’t the sunrise that was causing it.

He and Eric exchanged glaces then, two pairs of azure eyes deadlocked upon each other. Kegan's breathing relaxed and his heartbeat slowed, but the strange feeling intensified as it circulated through his bloodstream. A contagious smile spread across his face that, soon, had infected Eric as well. As they turned back to face the east again, Kegan's mind flushed with ecstacy. Whenever he was with Eric, this sort of sensation always came over him. It was unusual, but at the root, a good feeling. A happy feeling.

A feeling that he was home.

The sun triumphed at that moment, a fiery orange blade puncturing a hole in the horizon and shoving its way through. Seconds later, a flood of golden rays spilled across the distant stretch of suburbia like blood, nurturing the sleeping houses and slumbering trees back to the realm of the living. Color swirled and dribble throughout the now vivacious streets, dissolving whatever darkness remained to reveal the surroundings in their entirety: pure, unadulterated, and satisfying in a way that no spoken language could ever hope to explain.

Kegan knew, as he lay within the crook of Eric’s arm, that his parents would be awake soon. His mother would be the first, emerging from beneath layers of blankets and shuffling into his room with slippered feet. He wasn’t worried about being caught. They would make it back before then. They always did. As he closed his eyes, he felt safe in knowing their departure would go unnoticed. All they would leave behind, that they ever left behind, were dents in the dewy morning grass, side by side and evenly spaced.

Kegan? Eric susurrated, staring into the warmth of a goldenrod sun.

Yeah?

Thanks.

Kegan could say nothing. All he could do was smile.

* * *

With an unsteadiness in his eyes and a quiver in his breathing, fourteen-year-old Kegan McCormack shifted on the step to Eric’s front porch. Though his eyes were transfixed upon the darkened lavender sky, the scattered field of stars remained invisible to him. Nor could he see the blackened field that lay before him, where a line of dents in the dewy morning grass, side by side and slightly staggered, trailed up to the exact point where he rested. His mind was elsewhere now, his gaze weaving through the constellations as he prayed to whichever deity it was that might take pity upon him and grant a listening ear.

God, he pleaded silently, hoping his listener could intercept the transmission of his thoughts, help me find the words I need. This may be the only chance I have to save our friendship.

Squeezed onto the step next to him, thirteen-year-old Eric Davidson stared at his kness. The warm blue flames that once burned passionately in his eyes had fizzled out with a cough, a charred and blackened ash the only remaining evidence of the boy he’d once been. The pale orange glow of a lonely porch light descended upon him like a spotlight, drawing attention to the burden Kegan knew he had no conventional way of sharing. Though Eric made a conceited effort to seem stoic, he and Kegan both could see just how hollow and anemic he appeared, the fragile shell of a boy protected only by the stitches in an already worn denim jacket.

They briefly exchanged glances, looking only long enough before the awkward silence yanked them back into their respective domains of perception. Quietly, Eric let out a sigh, then contorted his face as he fought back the tears he almost released with them. Kegan’s chest tightened in anxiety and yearning. He didn’t just want to help Eric; he felt obligated to do nothing short of nursing him back to happiness and stability. As his best friend, it was Kegan’s duty to guide him now, and guide him he would in whatever fashion he could develop.

But one flawed syllable, he knew, and ten years of companionship would be scattered to the wind like the ashes in Eric’s eyes.

This was the year Kegan and Eric had both entered high school, when a conflicting class schedule impaled a painfully blunt wedge between them. The year when Kegan’s advisor, a balding man in an ugly brown suit asked him what he wanted to do with his life. The year when he and Eric began running cross country and track, if only for the reason that they could find time to see each other during the day. It was the year when Kegan had been caught stealing glances at other boys in the locker room, convicted by the whispered verdict of his peers and sentenced to the indignity of an empty table at lunch hour. The year when his father stared lividly while his mother cheerily dismissed it as being “just a phase.” The year Eric said he didn’t care whether Kegan liked boys or girls or pink elephants dressed in tutus, just so long as he liked something and would go out and find himself one, like he had done with Samantha.

The year Eric’s dad heaved a suitcase crammed full of clothes into his Chevy, the screeching tires leaving skid marks on the driveway as he drove off into the unforgiving afternoon sun.

Racking his brain, Kegan worked quickly yet carefully to load his mouth with friendly-fire ammunition. Never one to be skilled with verbal consolation, he wished desperately that whatever deity had heard his prayer would be kind enough to conjure up a divine pencil and consecrated pad of paper with which he could give structure to the jumbled speech in his head. When he received none, he forced himself to abandon his reliance upon the sacred and, closing his eyes, began whatever bit of monologue he’d managed to scrape together.

Eric, I just wanted to tell you that-

I know you were looking at me in the locker room, Kegan, Eric said suddenly, causing Kegan’s words to backfire and explode in the depths of his throat. Don’t even try to deny it.

A violent chill whiplashed down Kegan’s spine as Eric’s voice tore through his ears. This most certainly had not been the topic of conversation he’d anticipated. Turning to look at Eric, he instantly crumpled beneath the accusing glare that awaited him, his voice quavering and his body beginning to tremble.

W-what?

Yesterday, at the pool, Eric reminded him. When we were changing in the locker rooms. I felt you looking over at me. Staring at me. But you weren’t just looking...there...like everyone else has been saying. You were looking everywhere. Arms, face, chest, everything. I know for sure you were doing it, and if our friendship means anything to you, you’ll come clean now and admit it.

Kegan winced, feeling as if Eric had just wound up and slapped him clear across the face. Not knowing what else to do, he folded up his body like an accordion, wrapping his arms around his legs and plunking his chin down on his knees. He could feel Eric’s eyes boring down on him, drilling a hole into the very center of his mind and attempting to dislodge an honest answer. Kegan only retreated further, squeezing his eyes shut and teetering back and forth on the edge of the step like a child being cradled in his mother’s arms. Having failed to respond to the demand, Kegan felt the pressure disembowel him as Eric pried further.

Kegan, there’s no point in hiding it, Eric sighed. I already know you’re gay, and I already told you I’m okay with it. But if you start keeping secrets from me, secrets like this...I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand by you.

Another tense pause, another refusal to answer. Kegan was gagging on his confession now, his eyes watering as he struggled to swallow it back into the pit of his stomach. He willed his eyes to steer clear of Eric’s persistent stare, but they conspired against him, straying again and again to look at the boy who now clenched his heart in a bloody vice. When at last he gave in and locked eyes with his friend, the look of disappointment he received riddled him like a spray of bullets.

Kegan...

...alright, Kegan conceded finally, retching up his guilt. I admit it. I was looking at you. I’m sorry, Eric. I...I don’t know what came over me, but-

Yes you do, Eric interrupted. You know exactly what came over you. You’ve known for months now, maybe even years. There have been other times you’ve acted like this around me, Kegan. It’s made me wonder whether or not friendship is as much as you want out of me, and I’m pretty sure that’s not the case anymore. Is it?

I...I...

The air flow in Kegan’s throat halted suddenly, cutting off his answer with an awkward squeak. This was all wrong, he told himself. This was a sadistic and cruel game Eric was forcing him to play. He was searching for a way out, Kegan concluded, fishing for excuses to once and for all disassociate himself while leaving a permanent scar at the same time. There was no way Eric would condone something like this. Never.

Not even from Kegan.

I...I think...

The look in Eric’s gaze already demonstrated an unshakably confident knowledge of the truth, but without a verbal confirmation it lacked completion. Kegan grit his teeth in defiance, snapping them together to form a rigid barrier, but Eric’s calming gaze steadily wedged them apart.

Just say it, Kegan. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.

I...I...I think I have a crush on you, he blurted out, before burrowing his face into his arms to veil his reddening face. Waves of shame and embarrassment undulated through his body, causing him to shiver uncontrollably and dislodge the tears that had been stacking up in his eyes. He curled himself up even further, believing that perhaps if he could scrunch himself inward enough he would crumple himself into oblivion. His heart writhed and torqued within his body, feeling as if any moment it would tear itself into a rich and bloody confetti.

Then a gentle hand grasping his shoulder made everything stop.

Confused, Kegan cautiously raised his head back up to look at Eric. The corner of his mouth had turned upward into a sympathetic smile which caused Kegan to blink in surprise.

You’re hopeless, Kegan Samuel McCormack. Absolutely hopeless.

Slowly but surely, Kegan understood. Soon enough, he too felt the inkling of a grin begin to sprout. Yeah, he answered. I guess I am.
         Eric began to laugh softly, shaking his head. Though it took some time, the humor was eventually absorbed into Kegan’s system as well. Their laughter began to escalate, becoming louder and more intense until finally they were laughing so hard Kegan nearly tumbled sideways off the step into the bed of rosebushes. When the laughter faded, nearly three full minutes later, the ache in Kegan’s heart had evaporated with it. He had no reason to fear now; Eric had reaffirmed the fact that very little about Kegan could phase him, and for a few fleeting moments, Kegan found reason enough to smile and forget.

Yet when the vapid look in Eric’s eyes returned, everything came rushing back.

Hey, Kegan?

Yeah?

He’s not coming back, is he?

Kegan’s response was once again delayed, relying upon deadened air and an empty stare to stall for time. He knew full well that Eric already held the answer, branded deep within his heart and sorrowfully displayed. His father had stormed out nearly two weeks ago, reeking of liquor and ripe with profanity as his mother unraveled the red carpet for his royal departure. Eric hadn’t spoken a word about the event until now, even during those very moments when the dilapidated pickup whipped out of his driveway and charged to the west.

Kegan considered reverting to the monologue he had earlier tried to devise. He waltzed with the idea that perhaps he could gracefully sidestep around the scathing truth, turning as much of a blind eye as he could to the gigantic stain in the carpet for Eric’s benefit. But having just been pummeled with nothing less than the absolute truth, Kegan came to a painful realization: to feed him a synthetic version of reality would be tantamount to poisoning him with blatant lies. Eric deserved the truth, regardless as to which of them it hurt the most.

He’d forced Kegan to face his own truths. The least he could do now was return the favor.

No, Eric, Kegan sighed finally, somehow finding the courage to look at Eric directly when he spoke. He’s not. He’s not coming back.

Eric nodded stiffly, his face cringing and then sagging limply as if someone had smashed him in the back of the head with a brick. Looking away, he let his dejected eyes fall back to the ground beneath him. I know.

Are...are you gonna be alright, Eric? Kegan asked.

Eric lacked the strength to lift his head again, but Kegan didn’t need him to. Already he could see Eric’s eyes, dim and moistening, and knew he wouldn’t be able to placate Kegan with a verbal response.

His tears would answer for him.

Hesitantly, Kegan rested a comforting hand on Eric’s shoulder. Before he knew it, Eric had buried himself into Kegan’s arms, the silent sobs muffled further by his sweatshirt. Kegan held him tightly, closing his eyes and laying his head on Eric’s shoulder. As he did, a familiar warmth spread through his body. There was that feeling again, the one he’d so prominently felt so many times before, a sensation he could finally classify. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, that the desire was naive and saturated with hopeless ideals. He knew that there were other boys out there, those that hadn’t shyed away when Kegan’s curiosity had set his eyes snooping about the locker room. He knew that there were bigger and better opportunities than Eric was willing or even able to provide, and that he should bury the dream that had already been slain, festering like a rotting corpse he clutched stubbornly within his arms.

But he couldn’t.

Kegan, Eric cried.

What is it, Eric?

I-

The door to Eric’s house was nearly ripped off it’s hinges as it opened, the ominous silhouette of his mother looming in the doorway. Kegan sat motionless as Eric pushed himself further into his sweatshirt. One icy glare from her piercing green eyes left Kegan a crumpled mess, shrinking away as she stepped onto the porch.

What the hell are you doing here, Kegan? she asked caustically. What the fuck are you doing to my son? Get away from him! Get away!

She ripped Eric away from him with great strain, wrenching the boy’s arms off of Kegan’s torso. Eric was sobbing hysterically now, torquing and writhing his body as his mother dragged him into the house by his wrist.

Don’t you ever put your faggot hands on my son again, you hear me? Eric’s mother spat. I don’t ever want to see you around this house again! I won’t have any faggots infecting my son, you hear? You understand, queer boy? Do you? Answer me, goddamn it!

Kegan could say nothing. All he could do was pray.

* * *

With a river in his eyes and a knot in his stomach, eighteen year old Kegan McCormack stuffed his lonely hands into his pockets, ignoring their desperate pleas as they began to suffocate. The tears stung like acid as he glared down at his muddy sneakers, frustration and longing weighing his head like anvils tied to his ears. With his face veiled by the shadow cast from the brim of his cap, he clenched his teeth behind deceptively relaxed lips, appearing outwardly serene as his insides rebelled against him.

Lollygagging beside him, seventeen year old Eric Davidson moved in step with eighteen year old Samantha Rigel, their hips melded together and their arms superglued around each other’s waists. Eric’s girlfriend regaled them with an episode of ‘Woe is Samantha,’ a soap opera that never failed to merit a roll of the eyes and exasperated sigh from Kegan. Eric listened intently, inserting the proper Aww's and You’re kidding me's and Wow, that sucks big time’s as the cue cards flashed before him.

He didn’t look at Kegan once on the whole trek back.

This was the year when both Kegan and Eric begrudgingly accepted their diplomas, crossing the stage with a heavy step and a fallen gaze. The year when Eric would bid his town a fond farewell and leave for the higher education that Chicago had promised in the brochures. The year Kegan would look to San Francisco for guidance, left to face the big city and unfamiliar university divided, half a continent away from the place he had always called home. It was the year when an octet of varsity letters hung proudly within their rooms, accompanied by a multitude of trophies and medals that lay displayed like relics in a museum. The year Eric’s father had remarried and settled down four states away, dousing an unhealed wound with more than just a few grains of salt. The year Kegan’s father didn’t stare so lividly, while his mother abandoned the fallacy that it was “just a phase.”

The year when fourteen years of unspoken tension had broken with a single kiss.

Their night had started out innocently enough, reviving their old tradition of aimless wandering to commemorate their final hours together. A pinch of right turns, a drizzling of double-backs, all the while simmering in straightaways thickened with a moody silence, they strolled through the sleeping subdivision once more. Side by side they allowed the darkness to consume them, two silhouettes of vanquished innocence yet unsatisfied curiosity swallowed in the throes of separation.

It had been a satisfying resurgence, but not wholly so; Eric’s desire for intoxication had caused some of its sweetness to crust over, slurring his speech and stumbling over himself on occasion. They had spoken softly of the past as they lay next to each other on the hilltop, gazing up into the dark sky dappled with sporadic spots of glimmering white. But when the past had come and gone, their voices had retired, and all that remained between them was what dialect could never hope to describe.

Perhaps it had been the pull of the moon or the enchantment of the constellations that had caused the kiss. Perhaps the heavens had sent a ripple through the cosmos, causing a momentary rift in logic and reason to permit an impossibility to become reality. Perhaps Yahweh or Jehovah or Allah or whatever deity Kegan had been praying to had been smiling down on them, satisfied with the flickering hope he’d ignited.

Or perhaps the lips that had brushed against Kegan’s had belonged to Jack Daniels, not Eric Davidson.

It was Eric who had initiated the first kiss, that much was certain. That was all that was certain. After that, Kegan wasn’t sure who had pursued and who had permitted. Time and time again their mouths had clashed, a tempest of unorthodox collisions that were rushed and unsynchronized, yet furiously passionate at the same time. It had been messy, it had been chaotic, it had desecrated the perimeters their friendship had quietly lain forth.

But it had been real.

The rest of that night had been something of a blur to him, awakening the next morning with the inability to determine where the boundary between consciousness and pensive sedation had fallen. He’d discovered a heavy yet strangely comfortable lump lying atop him when he woke, a steady rise and fall mesmerizing him as the boy grunted happily in his sleep. Breathing easily, Kegan had lain back and stared out to the horizon, watching as a pale orange line began to sever the sky from the Earth.

Ten minutes later, Kegan’s heart had shattered like porcelain as Eric was awakened to a hangover and the happy sprite of a girlfriend.
         He’d only barely managed to escape from beneath Eric’s motionless body before she’d spotted them, trumpeting through the park like the final judgement. Standing a few feet away, disguising his guilt with a nervous grin, he’d watched in agony as Samantha raised her victim from slumber with a shower of kisses. It had taken Eric a few moments to register who it was that had rocked him from his dreams, before he listlessly enveloped her in his arms. She had just so happened to have been on her way to his house, she explained, taking a shortcut through the park, when lo and behold the heavens had sent an angel plummeting from the sky to crash within a sea of green.

Eric had been delighted to see her, of course. Or at least he said he had been, but whether or not her presence truly excited him may very well have been a different matter all together. It almost seemed to Kegan that Eric was disgruntled about her being there. Or maybe it was just a post-alcoholic effect. Kegan couldn’t tell either way, but he pocketed his suspicions for the time being in hopes that Eric would confirm them when Samantha had gone.

Her cue to exit stage left, however, was conspicuously absent from the script. For the entire length of the journey home, she remained at Eric’s side, pressed to his body so tightly it was as if they’d been pasted together with rubber cement. Storm clouds accumulated in Kegan’s mind as Samantha rubbed up against Eric like silky sandpaper. Sighing, Kegan felt a lump culminate in his throat as he stared at the pale white vehicle sitting in his driveway. His mother and father were engaged in a crude game of Tetris, fitting the final fragments of his childhood into whatever nook they could find.

Ready to go, kiddo? his father asked him, closing the trunk with something just short of a flying body slam. We’re all packed and waiting on you.

Kegan hesitated momentarily before appeasing his father with a weak nod. He turned to Eric, a strange sensation of devastating shock washing over him. To his slight alleviation, Eric was able to stare Kegan straight in the eyes despite the giddy ball and chain strangling his body.

This is it, Kegan told him, staring blankly.

Yeah, Eric replied, matching his expression.

To Kegan’ amazement, Samantha relinquished her prize long enough to allow a proper goodbye. Hugging Eric close, Kegan’s heart liquefied in an instant as he felt their final seconds together begin to tick by.

I’ll write, Eric whispered into his ear.

You damn well better, Kegan replied as he reluctantly broke away. Keeping his eyes locked on Eric, he slid into the car and weakly shut the door. He rested an unsteady palm and forehead on the glass pane, still staring deeply at the boy who stood helplessly separated from him.

A buzzing cell phone distracted Samantha suddenly. As she turned away from Eric to answer, Kegan’s heart leapt into his throat. This was all he had left. In a matter of seconds the Eric he knew would cease to be. If the truth held any future for him, he would have to speak now or let peace forever cloud him in the blackness of eternal curiosity.

Just say it, Kegan, a voice from the past echoed in his head. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.

I love you, he mouthed, breathing deeply and waiting, hoping, praying for a reciprocated response.

A blank stare was all that Kegan received.

The car began to pull away. Neither could take his eyes off the other, the stake of separation anxiety sinking deeper and deeper with every rotation of tires. He watched as Samantha began to yank at his arm, beckoning them to leave, but Eric remained perfectly still as the car drifted further and further away. Along the side of the road, Kegan could see, marked upon every lawn of every house, were dents in the dewy morning grass, two pairs side by side and evenly spaced, the third off to the left and greatly staggered.

So, Kegan, his father said, as Eric became a pinprick upon the horizon, how’s it feel to finally be in college? What’s it like knowing you’re living on your own now?

But Kegan wasn’t thinking about college. He was thinking of a best friend who had only last night given him his first kiss. He was thinking of a close companion that had broken down in his arms two weeks after his father thrust a suitcase into his Chevy and exploded off into the hot afternoon sun. He was thinking of a friend who didn’t care if he liked boys or girls or elephants in pink tutus, even if that other boy had always been him. He was thinking of a sky like an amethyst jewel, encapsulating the Earth as the sun wedged its way between the sky and the ground like a blade. He thought of golden stars on homework assignments, of an octet of varsity letters hanging in his room, of a balding man in an ugly brown suit asking him what he wanted to do with his life.

But most of all, as the tears began to flow, he was thinking of a bright summer morning atop the hill in the park, when a rambunctious boy playing with his family broke off and tackled him, proudly declaring that he was “it.”

Kegan, dear? his mother asked, turning in her seat to face him when he didn’t respond. Are you alright? Why are you crying, Kegan? What’s wrong?

Kegan could say nothing. All he could do was dream.

* * *

With a blur in his eyes and a yawn in his throat, twenty-two year old Kegan McCormack is embraced by a cloud of circulated air as he pokes his nose into a refrigerator, isolated within the frozen foods aisle of the local grocery store. The shelves are stocked to capacity, neatly lined with gallons of milk that fail to meet the single requirement he set out to fulfill. Whole-milk, half-milk, two-percent, half-percent, hasn’t anybody heard of skim around here? Blinking sleepily, he fishes a pale arm between each gallon, carefully checking the bolded letters upon each label to make sure he isn’t mistaken. When his search proves fruitless, he indulges a sigh and lazily flicks the freezer closed, sidestepping to the next and wincing as the cold air greets him again.

Nearly brushing past him, on his way to the pharmacy with an important message for his coworker, twenty-one year old Eric Davidson doubles back and stares, his brisk march coming to a sudden and screeching halt. Blinking in disbelief, his eyes brighten in confusion as he stands rigidly in place. Pretending not to notice, Kegan continues his search as the man's gaze analyzes him from head to toe.

He’s changed, the look on Eric's face seems to say, a fact Kegan doesn’t need reminding of. Though he still dresses in the same fashion, a pair of forest green cargos and a celestial blue t-shirt slapped carelessly onto his wiry frame, it is plainly visible that Kegan has undergone a heavy, almost unbearable maturation. His eyes are darker and more sullen, appearing worn from more than just the strain of post-academic pursuits. His body is still lean, but unhealthily so; if not for the capacious shopping cart gushing with food, anyone passing by would easily believe he was starving. His movements demonstrate only a fraction of the vigor he’d once had, surrendering his youthful energy to adulthood’s dogmatic and unforgiving reality.

It is his face, however, that has changed the most. Pale, thin, stretched, dried of even a hint of happiness, the handsome visage that once glistened with joy has been worn of any recognizable resemblance to the Kegan of many years past. Even if all he’s doing is rooting through cartons of dairy, he knows Eric can tell some atrocity plagues him.

Whether or not Eric knows that he, or rather, his absence, is the root of the problem is a different matter altogether.

Loosely grasping his prize, Kegan turns around listlessly, pretending to be taken aback when his eyes fall upon the grain-haired man gawking at him like an artifact. He stares for a moment, presenting himself as if he couldn’t quite recognize the friend who’d once been as much a part of him as he had been a part of himself. When at last he feels the pause has achieved its proper length, he speaks.

“Eric?”

“Kegan.” The corners of his mouth twist into a smile.

It is the first time they have spoken in four years.

This is the year Kegan and Eric cap off their college careers, claiming their one way tickets into the hellish monotony of adulthood. The year Kegan first sets foot in Chicago, drawn away from San Francisco with the tantalizing promise of employment and a more respectable degree. The year Eric’s internship as pharmacist’s assistant becomes an official position, providing a reliable well of income as his studies in pharmacy school commence. It is the year when Kegan’s boyfriend refuses to return his calls for the same reason both of his previous ex’s had given. The year Eric’s father is claimed prematurely, a semi-truck operated by intoxication the crime’s unmistakable culprit. The year Kegan completes his first novel, shipping out three years worth of meticulous composition so that publishing companies might return it with the finest and most heartfelt notices of pre-written regret.

The year when bitterness has replaced Eric as Kegan’s best friend.

“It’s great to see you!” Eric exclaims, binding him into a hug so tight he nearly drops his gallon. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he lies, feigning a smile when Eric releases him. “Real good. Got my B.A. in English and put it to surprisingly good use.”

“Oh, so you’re an author?”

“Editor, actually,” Kegan corrects, “but Lord knows how hard I tried to follow that route.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Oh, more or less,” he sighs, closing the refrigerator with a gentle kick of his heel. “I figured after the ninth time I saw the words ‘return to sender’ on my manuscript that a career as a best-seller might not be for me. So I went for the next best thing. Now, instead of watching my dreams die, I have the happy privilege of slaughtering other people’s instead.”

Eric smiles weakly, appearing unsettled by Kegan’s arid humor. “That doesn’t sound like the Kegan I know.”

The Kegan you knew died a long time ago, he wants to say.

“I’m just kidding,” he smiles, quarantining the truth within the dark chasm of his mind. “Where’ve you been these past few years?”

“Floating around Chicago, mostly,” he said. “Picked up a job as a pharmacist here and haven’t really needed to look anywhere else since. Just have to get through pharmacy school now. I’ve missed you, you know.”

Then why the hell didn’t you write me? More than anything Kegan craves a good tongue lashing, letting loose four years worth of unjustified dejection and deafening silence. He wants his lungs to bleed with honesty, barring no detail as hiding no scar so that he might show Eric a fraction of the agony that tore him apart from the inside out.

Sadly, “Me too,” is all the honesty he permits himself to release.

“I hope you don’t think I was avoiding you, or anything...”

You’d better have a B.A. in political science, because it’ll take one hell of a lie to convince me otherwise.

“...I just got overloaded with work is all.” Eric shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. “When they said health sciences was hard, they sure as hell weren’t kidding!”

You were overloaded? You weren’t the one double majoring in English and Mathematics! I nearly had to kayak across the piles of homework in my dorm, but I still found time to try and write to you!

“Yeah, I can understand,” Kegan replies. “I was pretty busy, too.”

“God, I still feel like such a louse because of it,” Eric sighs. “It almost feels like you should’ve...I dunno, forgotten me or something.”

Believe me, Eric. I’ve been trying. Three fucked-up relationships later I’m still trying to wipe you away.

“Aw, Eric,” Kegan says, a touch of compassion sprinkled over his voice. “You know I could never do that!”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, his gaze falling momentarily as he sifts through his thoughts. “So what else has been going on? Found a boyfriend since I last saw you?”

“Three, actually.”

“Three boyfriends?”

“Three ex-boyfriends.”

“Wow,” Eric breathes, sympathy spreading across his face. “That’s rough. Sorry to hear that, man. But hey, at least you know what dating’s like now, right?”

Dating? Fuck, Eric, if you call getting a blow job in a back-alley a date, I’m sure you just swept Samantha right off her feet now, didn’t you?

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he says, failing to hide his expressions.

“Hey, Kegan?”

“Yeah?”

“About...about that night...on the hill...”

“What about it?”

Eric hesitates. “I, uh...I hope I didn’t get your hopes up or anything when...when I kissed you...I mean, you know that I’m not...that I’m not gay, right?”

Coulda fooled me.

“I know, Eric,” he assures him, fighting the urge to scream as he does. “It’s alright. I’ve gotten over it.”

“Good,” Eric smiles. “Real good.”

For you, maybe. For me, its nothing short of a satanic hell, but then again, you never really were concerned with how it hurt me, were you?

“So what about you, Eric? How’s the dating scene been treating you?”

“Well, actually,” Eric says slowly, fidgeting nervously as his gaze falls. “I’m kinda glad you brought that up.”

But Kegan already knows what Eric is going to say. Already he sees the gleaming band on Eric’s finger, choking him with every second that passes. Already he knows who will be proudly brandishing the second, giggling madly with the girls in the office without a clue as to who, or what, had really proposed to her. His face darkens for only a moment, before masking it behind an illegitimate expression of surprise.

“You’re engaged to Samantha, aren’t you?”

Eric stares for a moment, then indulges a small grin. “Yeah. I am.”

Congratulations, Eric. Way to slut yourself out to society.

“Congrats, man!” Kegan’s face aches as he once again contracts the muscles to construct an insincere smile. “When’s the big day?”

“Next April,” he says. “I, uh...I was actually wondering...if...well...I need a best man for the wedding and...if you’re interested...”

“Are you kidding me?” Kegan exclaims, biting down on the urge to draw blood and instead giving him a friendly pat on the back. “Of course I’ll do it! I’d love to!”

Sure, Eric, I’ll do it, Kegan laments to himself. I’ll be your best man. I’ll be there to watch her as she comes down the aisle, to claim you once and for all. I’ll be standing right behind you, encouraging you on as you spit out the ‘I do’ you hoped you’d never have to say. I’ll be there to witness the day, her day, as you sell your soul with a kiss you never cared to give. I’ll be there at the reception, giving you the toast you never earned, the smile you never deserved, wondering just how long it will be before the two of you can’t ignore the stain on the carpet any longer. I'll be right there the day you finally realize how you both wasted your lives away, playing a fucked-up game you were so hopelessly convinced would turn into love.

Because that’s what best friends are for, Eric. I guess that’s exactly what best friends are for.

Eric’s face is conquered by an irrepressible grin, completely oblivious to the truths behind his friend's smile. “Thanks, Kegan. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Kegan can say nothing. All he can do is grieve.