Never Alone

I sit in my chair, hands shaking as I grip my phone tightly. I have to tell her. I have to. But…

I glance out the window, and realize it’s dark. Grateful to have something to do, I set my phone down onto my side table and close the blind, flick on my desk light. Standing in the middle of my room, I glance at the on the wall clock. 10:40 PM. I could avoid her until it was too late and she went to sleep and forgot I ever mentioned that I wanted to talk. I could quit being a wuss and just call her back. I could pack a bag and run away, just run away from everything, and never look back. I chuckle to myself, at the idea that I could ever get my shit together enough to be able to take care of myself. Then I frown, and start rubbing my face, and pacing my small bedroom. I can’t deal with this pressure. Too much thinking, too many decisions to be made.

My phone rings.

In two strides I’m at my side table, phone in hand, wrapping it in my palm to try and silence the ringing as much as possible. It’s her. I should have known. Who else would be calling me at 10:45? I pace a little again. Should I answer? I have to. I don’t want to lose another friend. But…

I put the phone up to my ear, press the button and whisper, “Hello?”

“Hey,” she responds. Quiet, as usual, but happy sounding. Like a mother. How funny, to think of your closest friend as a mother. How funny. She sounds slightly different over the phone, a little bit more nasal. But it is, unmistakably, her.

There is an awkward silence, neither of us wanting to bring up the reason she called. Finally, I start to speak. She does too.

“I’m sorr-”

“So-”

We both stop. There’s a short silence, and I imagine the phone lines crackling with the tension. I start again, this time, uninterrupted.

“I’m sorry about that message, I didn’t mean to make you worried. I realize it was a bit cryptic…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine, I was a little worried, because of the way you said you ‘wanted to talk’,” she says with a nervous little laugh. “So what’s up?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s nothing.” I’ve decided I’m going to try to deter her. Maybe if I deny and apologize enough she’ll just forget what we’re talking about, forget about the nervous message I had left her, asking her to “Please call me when you get the chance, I need to talk to you.” That’s how it works with most people. Most people are relieved to be given an excuse not to talk about… Sticky subjects.

“But you said you needed to talk,” she says. Damn her and her stubbornness. Always wanting the truth, always wanting to help. Damn her.

“No, it’s fine, forget it,” I say with a quiet nervous laugh. I’m trying to be quiet, my parents are sleeping down the hall, and I’m sure they don’t want to hear anymore of my drama, especially not late at night. I glance at the clock again. Somehow it’s eleven. So much for getting to bed early. I grab the rainbow bracelet off my side table and fiddle with it, pulling it on and off my wrist, pulling at the little knots that hold it together. It reminds me of myself. Looks strong, but could easily be undone. “Yeah, I’m sorry for making you worried, but it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” She asks. “You know you can tell me. It might help.”

Damn it. Stop being so… insistive. She’s right though. She’s probably right. I’m going to have to tell her anyways, at some point. I’m going to have to tell everyone. Might as well start with my best friend.

“But if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to…” she continues.

“No, no you’re right I should tell you. I should. I’m going to have to tell you anyways, so why not just tell you now. Um… Uh…” I laugh nervously, then remember my parents and try to be quieter. “Um… I don’t want to say it out loud.” Another nervous laugh. My hand unconsciously rubs my face, then slides down and rests on my neck. I heard somewhere that holding your neck is an unconscious sign that you’re feeling insecure. I remove my hand, and reach back down to fiddle with the rainbow bracelet again.

“Well you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, really,” she says, her voice clearly growing more nervous. I wonder who’s in the room with her. What they must think of our conversation.

“No, I do, do, I’m just… Um… Um…” I pause for a moment, gathering my strength. I’ve decided. She needs to know. “I’m gay,” I say, almost a whisper.

A pause. I hear the static. Wonder if she’s hung up. No, I think I hear her breathing. I wonder if she will hang up. She wouldn’t, would she? I didn’t think she would. That thought had never occurred to me. What if…?

She clears her throat, laughs nervously.

“ Me too.”