Boy Midflight Read Free Page A

reveals new beauty. I notice the trees decorating themselves in white and pink blossoms as if in celebration. The salty, humid air brings a rush of emotion and visions of last night. I play back our conversation and see our encounter as an audience viewing a film. God—I mean Antonio —make this be right. I need this love, this friendship.
    Jazz class. No familiar orange parachute pants. No Chris. Where the hell is he? Oh shit, oh shit. You knew this would happen. You were moving too fast, fell too soon and too hard. He doesn’t feel the same way. What was I thinking anyway? He’s in a relationship! And he wears orange parachute pants! Get it together. He’s probably just late.
    End of Jazz, lunch, I struggle through the day. Unfocused. How can a day birth so much promise and bring so much uncertainty? Back home after dinner, I sit cross-legged on the kitchen counter deliberating. Should I call him? What will I say? Wait until tomorrow…. No, if he’s sick I need to show my concern. For my sanity I have to call. I lift the receiver and tentatively dial Chris’s number. Then I hang up. After a few moments I dial again.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey buddy, this is Ashley. Missed you in class today. I was just calling to see how you are.”
    “This is Blair.”
    “Oh, sorry. Uh, how you doing?” I sheepishly blurt.
    “All right, man. Should I get Chris?” Blair asks.
    “Yeah, thanks.” Crap! Of course Chris’s roommate would have to answer.
    “Hello?” Chris. My heart skips to somewhere up near my throat.
    “Uh, hi. How are you?” I ask.
    “I’m good. How are you?” he asks emphatically.
    “Good, good, I’m doing good. Where were you today? Sick or did you take one of your spiritual hiatuses?”
    “Spiritual hiatus.” He laughs. “What are you doing now? You want to come over?”
    Oh God yes! “Umm, I was just doing some homework but I could take a break for a while. What do you want to do?” I ask, assuming a cool, unexcited tone.
    “Well, we could watch a movie or something?”
    Freeze frame. Okay, I have to explain something before we continue….
     
     
    THE LAST time the two of us watched a movie together was a frightening experience, and not just because we went to see Scream 3 at a Halloween rerun festival. Chris is a fan of the horror genre in film and has dragged me to forgettable features in the second-run theater such as 9th Gate and Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow . Although I can definitely find beauty in darkness and have loved cult classics such as Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire , my spirit is enlightened by “feel-good” shows like My Best Friend’s Wedding , Beaches , and Moonstruck . How gay is that? Did I mention Fried Green Tomatoes ? Don’t laugh, rent it. It’s gorgeous. Okay, back to the frightening experience…. So a large group of our friends from college had decided to screw the homework and head downtown for a film. Jeremy, to my sheer delight, was nowhere to be seen. As we walked down the aisle amidst a plethora of pseudo murders and screams, my heart raced as I mentally calculated the exact coordinates of our seating arrangements. I settled into my red fabric chair between two best friends, the beautiful Michelle on my right and Chris on my left. As the trailers (my favorite part of the movie experience) rolled, I unabashedly started the dance. Wait, what’s that, dear reader? Let me explain what I mean by dance. I pressed my leg against Chris’s. Then I leaned over and whispered a guess at who the killer might be.
    By the time Courtney Cox appeared as Gail Weathers, I was putting my patented secret gay contact strategies into practice. I folded my arms, and with the hand squeezed between elbow and ribcage, I brushed Chris’s arm. I was definitely treading on dangerous ground. He could’ve turned and looked at me strange, at which point I’d pretend to scratch an itchy elbow. Or he could….
    Fold his arms and slip his left hand under his right arm to meet