Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2015 07:23:37 -0600
From: jdhauthor67@gmail.com
Subject: Zinger-Part Eight

The following is a work of fiction/fantasy. While it is based on real
people, the events depicted are not based on actual events. This work is
the property of the author; copyright protection should be respected. This
work involves sexual relationship between two males. If that offends you,
then please move on.

Please let me know whether you like the story/feel free to offer criticism,
comments, suggestions, or other feedback at jdhauthor67@gmail.com.


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Part Eight

	We slept late into Sunday, our last day together before I headed to
Carleton and he headed to Loyola of New Orleans, over a thousand miles
away. I woke first and just watched him sleep.

	I was maudlin, knowing that whatever the last seven weeks had been
was likely to end., sooner than later. We could pretend otherwise, but I
was a realist. We were teenagers, would be separated by over a thousand
miles, and would have neither the money nor the means to visit each
other. I saw in my mind how it would play out. We would write each other
letters, we would talk on the phone each Sunday, and we would see each
other when we were home for Fall Homecoming. If we fought hard, then we
would maintain that pattern through the rest of the Fall semester, and we
would spend the Christmas break together. But, the Spring semester would be
long, and we would get distracted by new friends and experiences. Instead
of spending Spring break together, we would spend it apart with
friends. The letters would slow to a trickle and then stop. So would the
calls. There would be no emotional rupture. We would just drift away from
each other, until neither of us could see the other.

	When you are 18 and in love, it is easy to pretend it will last
forever, and that you cannot live without the other person. I knew it would
not last forever. I also knew I did not want to live without Teddy.

	That is what I was thinking when Teddy awoke and smiled at me. I
forced a smile back.

	"Are you crying?"

	"Just a little."

	"Why?"

	"Because the space shuttle blew up last January, and I miss that
teacher," I replied, obviously sarcastically. "Why do you think I'm
crying?"

	He pulled me tight. "We will be alright."

	"I doubt it."

	"I don't."

	I did, but there was no point in sharing how I saw it all playing
out. There was no reason to make it worse than it was. But, I was pretty
convinced of my prescience.

	We did not have sex that Sunday morning. Instead, we held each
other and kissed and talked and kissed and talked until it was time to
check out and accept our separation. We were quiet on the drive back
home. I held his hand as he drove. Every once in awhile, he squeezed my
hand. I always squeezed back.

	The closer we got to my house, the slower he drove. I started to
cry, and he did, too. By the time he pulled into my driveway, I was
sobbing. He pulled me to him. I buried my head in his neck.

	"I love you, dork."

	"I love you, too."

	Neither of us said another word. We just held each other, crying
softly and wanting this salient moment to last as long as we could prolong
it. Finally, I pulled back, and he put his lips to mine. We kissed long and
deep. When we broke, my parents were at the door, their suspicions
confirmed.

	"You better go inside. We can't spend the rest of our lives in this
car."

	I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and walk around to his
door. He cranked his window down.

	"Do me a favor at Carleton, Kevin."

	"Anything," I offered, almost as a plea.

	"Don't be the biggest dork."

	He grinned at me. I grinned back. He was beautiful in that moment,
sad, but smiling, weak, yet strong.

	He slipped the car into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. I
watched him go, until his car disappeared around the corner. Crying, I was
surprised to feel my dad's hand on my shoulder.

	"You'll be alright."

	I knew he was wrong. But, I did not say so.

	I turned out to be spot on in my prescience. Homecoming weekend was
awesome. Since my parents knew about us, we spent most of the weekend in my
room. We fucked with a hunger and urgency that only separation could
create. We cried when we boarded our planes in opposite directions.

	Christmas break was also awesome, but the hunger and urgency of
Homecoming weekend was gone. We spent the break together, and we fucked a
lot. But, the fire was not as bright. We were not going through the
motions, but something was definitely different. We were starting to drift,
although neither of us would acknowledge it.

	As I predicted to myself, we did not see each other over Spring
break. Teddy went to Lake Havasu with friends from his fraternity. I stayed
in Northfield, working.

	About a month before the end of our freshman year, Teddy told me he
was going to spend the summer in New Orleans. I was not surprised. Our
hometown was too small for him. I knew it could not hold him long.

	I spent that summer at home. It was the last time I did that. After
a year away, I realized our small town was too small for me, too. And, with
Teddy away, there was nothing to bind me to it.

	Teddy and I fell out of contact that summer (there was no such
thing as Facebook, texts, Twitter, or Snapchat, there were only letters and
landline telephones). He transferred to Rice, because it was more of a
science school, and he had immersed himself in Chemistry.

	He graduated from Rice and stayed in Houston. I graduated from
Carleton and went to the University of Chicago for law school.

	He did not show for our five year reunion. I went only because I
thought he might be there. I left as soon as I realized he was not coming.

	I stayed in Chicago to practice law, got involved in a Senate
campaign in 2004, and – in 2012 – was rewarded by the Senator –
who was now President – with a federal judgeship.

	As I lived my life, I heard variously from friends about Teddy (I
had occasionally trolled for him through Google, LinkedIn, and Facebook,
but little turned up). In one report, I heard he married when we were about
30. In another, I heard he had invented something or another, had sold the
patent, and had retired with ongoing royalty money that was more than
sufficient for him and his family. In the last report, I heard he, his
wife, and his four sons (two sets of identical twins) now lived on the
southern coast of Spain. I also heard he was expected at our 30th
reunion. I had not planned to attend, but I changed my mind as soon as I
heard he may make it.

* * * * *
	I was nervous as hell the day of the reunion. We were having a
garden party, so it was going to be hot. I could not figure out what to
wear to see the lost love of my life for the first time in nearly 30
years. I had loved and lost more than once in those 3 decades, but I never
felt the love I had felt for Teddy. First loves are like that, especially
teenaged first loves. They grow over time. They do not recede.

 	Frustrated at my indecision, I picked out a pair of cream linen
slacks, a white cotton shirt, and a green linen blazer. They were all
new. I had spent the prior 90 days trying to rid myself of every vestige of
being 48 years old. Once I decided to go to the reunion, I hired a personal
trainer that I visited every other day, resumed running on my non-training
days, ordered all meals through Evolve, and cut out all alcohol. By the day
of the reunion, my stomach was flat, my chest and arms were defined, and my
waist was narrow.

	I had the right genes, so I still had a full head of sandy brown
hair that I wore parted on the side, as I had since fourth grade. I wore it
longer now than I had in 1986, and it was more than flecked with grey.

	I arrived right on time. I said hello to the few people I
recognized, and then I scanned the party for Teddy. Not seeing him, I
waited in line at the bar for what I assumed would be a perfectly awful
plastic glass of wine. As I waited, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

	"Hey, dork."

	I turned around to look into Teddy's incandescent blue eyes for the
first time since Christmas, 1986. He smiled that same smile. Before I got
lost in it, I smiled back. He pulled me into a deep embrace that was longer
and deeper than any other. Neither of us could pull away. I melted into
him, utterly and completely relaxed. He dug his hands into my back and let
out a long, forlorn sigh.

	When we parted, he complimented me. "You look great, dork. Really
really great."

	I looked at him and smiled. "You look bald, Teddy. Really really
bald." I was not surprised. Chest hair as a teenager often leads to early
onset baldness.

	He laughed and added, "And fat."

	"I wouldn't say that."

	"Well, I certainly have some extra `retired, married' weight on me
that you don't."

	"Well, I am neither retired nor married. And, to be perfectly
honest, I have lived on the edge of starvation for the last 90 days because
I thought I might run into you here. And, I wanted to look like you
remembered."

	He smiled deeply at me again. It was a knowing, intimate, but
regretful smile.

	"Let's get a drink and go for a walk," he suggested.

	We did. Neither of us spoke. When we were far enough away, he took
my hand in his. He squeezed. I squeezed back.

	"Are you with anyone?"

	"No."

	"Why not?"

	"I was waiting for you."

	He looked at me quizzically. I smiled.

	"I'm kidding. I dunno, I just have not found someone special enough
to make me forget someone so special."

	"That's too bad. You would make someone really happy. You made me
really, really happy."

	"Not happy enough."

	"That's not fair. We were teenagers. We were miles away from each
other. We were shooting stars. It was a different time. We never would have
lasted."

	"Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if we had?"

	He stopped and looked me. He smiled a rueful smile. His eyes were
wet. "I do. Almost every day."

	"Me, too."

	We walked on, silently. We had said all there was to say. We had
said almost nothing at all.