27. Me & You

The past can sometimes seem like another world. It’s a bizarre realization, that these precious moments that feel like everything when you’re in them could one day be a distant fantasy in the back of of your mind. As I look into your eyes for the first time in years, I’m right back in the middle of all those fantasies. The two of us are different now; we’ve grown into new versions of ourselves, with new memories that have come and gone, and new wisdom from all the lessons the world has taught us since those days. As I look into your eyes now, it feels like the years have turned us into strangers.

Now we’re sitting across from each other at a small, round table in an otherwise empty little store, meeting eyes with uncertainty as we sip milkshakes. If this were a few years ago, we would be bursting with conversation about a million and one things until we realized how much time had passed. Yet now, at this space in time, neither one of us can think of a single thing to say. The muffled sounds of Queens barely seeping in through the thin walls are the only thing covering the silence.

“So,” I finally force out. “How’ve you been?”

You give a slight sigh of what seems like relief that we weren’t going to remain quiet after all.

“Can’t complain,” you answer. “I’m almost ready to graduate college.”

“Oh, yeah,” I reply, realizing I knew nothing of your school life. “Where do you go?”

“A university in Virginia.”

“Cool, what for?”

“Sociology. I originally went for psychology but realized it wasn’t for me.”

I’m not sure I understand the difference between the two but I nod anyway. I remember you used to talk about maybe being a social worker, and though I’m still not really sure what that job even is I feel happy for you.

“How do you like college?” I ask.

Your face does something I had almost forgotten about; your eyes remain dull and uninterested while your lips barely form a grin. Staring off into space and reflecting with your half-smile, you answer.

“I love it. I mean, it is a lot of work and I’ve made a few mistakes and got myself mixed in with some of the wrong people, but that’s all a part of growing, you know? I have new friends, and I think I actually kind of like going to parties now.”

For a moment I think back to my lack of college experience, and feel like I missed out on something.

“What about you?” you ask.

“It’s been pretty good, I guess. I mean, as you know I took your advice and went on that move to California with my Uncle. But instead of it just being a year I ended up getting a job, moving out and now I live with a couple other guys.”

“How is it over there?”

“Crazy. Big. I mean, it’s kind of like New York, but kind of not. If that makes any sense.”

“It does. How’s it feel being back?”

The question is something I’m not prepared for. Surprisingly, nobody has asked that this whole time.

“It’s… Weird,” I answer, thinking out loud. “I mean, I’m trying to see things here the way I remember them but all of it’s different.”

“Well it has been years. Nothing stays the same, you know.”

“CJ’s a stripper now.” I blurt out.

Unexpectedly, you laugh a little. “What?”

Before I know it I’m laughing a little too. “Not like a stripper stripper. She doesn’t get fully naked but she goes on stage in skimpy clothes and dances, I dunno what you would call that exactly.”

Your expression becomes confused, which only seems to make you smile more.

“Uh, a ‘dancer’ maybe?” you say.

“Well, when you say it like that, sure.”

Us laughing together feels so strange and new at first, but quickly starts to feel familiar. It’s almost comforting.

“It’s a little surprising,” you say, your smile beginning to fade back into your natural blank-ish expression. “You come back to town and the first person you go to see is CJ Wellings?”

I feel a sense of awkwardness I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. “Well, she wasn’t the first. I mean, I did text you, but…”

“I know,” you interject, now averting your eyes as if feeling the same thing. “I’m sorry, I wanted to reply sooner, I just honestly didn’t know if I was ready to. You kind of caught me off guard…”

I sigh. “Fair enough.”

I take a long look at you again, this time a more honest one. Your short haircut and ever-changing voice are like a family of elephants lounging around the room.

“There’s no non-weird way to ask,” I concede. “But how have things been since, you know…”

Now you’re the one sighing.

“Hard in a lot of ways,” you answer. “Like everything in life. Being honest about who I am inside is like dropping a weight I’ve been carrying for years. But it changes everything. Half my family disowned me, including my dad although he’s coming to grips with it now. It’s crazy how you never stop being a little kid in your parents’ eyes, like nothing in your life means anything without their approval. It’s pretty dehumanizing, knowing that one of the people who raised you thinks your identity is just a phase.”

For a moment, I recognize a vulnerability in you eyes. But then you close them and it’s gone as quick as it came.

“I’m sorry.” I say, not quite knowing what else to offer.

“It is what it is.” you reply, almost apathetically.

“I guess.”

You sigh deeply, looking me over once more and building your walls back up.

“What is this, Richie?” you ask. “Why did you text me? What are we doing here?”

I don’t immediately know what to say.

“Look,” I sigh. “You have to know I’m sorry for the way things happened before.”

“It was highschool,” you reply sternly, seemingly losing your patience. “Isn’t it safe to say we’ve moved on from that?”

“Well still, I couldn’t just leave it off there.”

“Is that what this is? Did you bring me here just to clear your conscience?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Then what?”

“What? I just didn’t think we had to go the rest of our lives without talking to each other again.”

You cross your arms and move your lips angrily, your eyes drifting down as if looking at me was suddenly a burden.

“Well, we’re here.” you reply. “What’s supposed to happen now?”

I sigh, defeatedly looking down at my drink.

“I don’t know.”

You look away again, then I look away, and the silence hangs over us once again.

“Hey,” I begin, feeling spontaneous. “Do you wanna go somewhere right now?”

“Like where?” you reply, raising a brow.

“A park. There’s something going on tonight my Uncle told me about. It seemed cool if you’re interested- I mean, if you have nothing else to do tonight.”

You take a long breath, then take a long, last sip of your shake. Then you straighten your glasses and stand up.

This park is a giant one that stretches out into the pier. This is where the big block parties and other special events usually take place. My Uncle T and I used to come here for the fourth of july festival every year when I was younger, before I started spending major holidays with my friends. Today’s event isn’t as calamitous, but it’s still a spectacle: The Chinese Lantern Festival.

From that name, I wasn’t sure what this event would entail. It had a chance of being, fun, but it also an equal chance of being some boring, lame thing only people like my Uncle found fun. When you and I arrive here, we’re surrounded by a dozens or hundreds of other people, half of which seem to be tourists, and also surrounded by, go figure, Chinese lanterns. Above us is a seemingly infinite web of wires that stretches throughout the park, with glowing paper balls hanging from them. All around us are what look like giant paper statues of dragons, pandas, sword-wielding soldiers and more, each emanating their own distinct lights.

“Well this is new.” you say, the half-smile on your face letting me know you’re at least a little impressed.

“My Uncle used to talk about this festival every year,” I explain. “I almost meant to go but never got around to it. I figured now that I’m back for once I might as well check it out. I guess I shoulda studied a little Chinese culture beforehand, though.”

“I can catch you up.” you offer, pushing up your glasses.

I raise my brow. “Go ahead.”

“Well,” you begin. “According to mythology, the lantern fest originated when the Jade Emperor, a God in their culture, threatened to destroy the village of the Qin dynasty on the fifteenth day of the first Lunar month. In fear, the villagers decided to hang all the lanterns they had from the trees, so that from heaven it would look like their civilization was already burned down. The Emperor was fooled, and left them alone, and so the tradition carries on to honor their victory. Or something like that, it’s been a while since I’ve read up.”

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Wow,” I reply. “I forgot that you know everything.”

You shoot me a half-grin that seems a little apologetic.

“You probably don’t know this either, but you know how they have Chinese New Year? Well for whatever reason, this is sometimes considered Chinese Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh… interesting.”

Of course it is! That’s the type of luck I have.

The sky is slowly but surely beginning to darken as we walk around the festival. We’re snapping a few pictures of the coolest lanterns we can find, and reading little plaques beneath them that tell tidbits of Chinese history. We walk past a food stand giving out free samples of delicacies with names I can’t even begin to pronounce. Upon your suggestion we stop in.

“This is called Tangyuan,” the old man says in a deep voice through a heavy accent. “It represents unity and harmony.”

He holds forth a big bowl full of what looks like dozens of hard boiled eggs floating in water. You grab two plastic forks from the nearby container and hand me one.

We stab the white balls and lift them to our mouths. As I bite into mine, I realize that water is filled with sugar or something judging by how sweet it tastes. There’s some kind of liquid inside of it that tastes vaguely like vegetables. I look over to you, surprised to see a big smile on your face as you chew.

“Thank you.” you say to the man as soon as you swallow. He smiles at us as we walk away.

“You liked it?” I ask, finally swallowing mine.

You reply in a dry monotone. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

And then we bust out laughing.

You mentioned something earlier about getting a souvenir for your roommate, so now we’re heading from stand to stand looking at the many exotic items on display, all of which you know way more than me about.

“Hey,” you say while we’re looking at a rack of hanging bronze talismans. “I never got to tell you, obviously, but I was really proud of you when you left for California.”

“You were?” I reply, somewhat baffled as hearing this caught me off guard. “Well, you did tell me I should beforehand.”

“But you actually did it. We were so lost back then, and you were so afraid of the future. But you took the chance and decided where your life was going to go. I always knew you could if you stopped doubting yourself all the time.”

You pick up one of the talismans and inspect it closely.

“Well,” I reply. “When I saw CJ last night, she said something about how as you get older, the things you worry about seem less and less important. I guess that’s true.”

“Wow,” you shoot back. “If there’s anything that proves times’ve changed, it’s you quoting CJ.”

I’m silent for a moment as I realize how right you are. You set the talisman back on the handle it was hanging from and look over to me.

“Don’t let it get to you,” you say. “Your Uncle in California, I mean. When he says he doesn’t like where your life is going. Obviously, he means the best for you, but you don’t need anyone’s approval. But what am I saying? You must already know all that.”

You sigh and look up at the pink, ball-shaped lanterns hanging above us.

“I guess I just wish I had the freedom you do. I mean, college is liberating, but then I come home and I’m just a little, powerless kid again. Sometimes it feels like I’m still just waiting for life to start, you know?”

“I know,” I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t think that feeling ever really goes away.”

After another fifteen or twenty minutes of walking around we decide to take a break, having a seat on the nearest bench. Beside us are two big flower statues, lined with green, red and purple lights, which are attracting every person who walks by to come and snap a picture of them. While we’re sitting, a group of girls who seem to be a little younger than us flock around the flowers. One of them, a thin girl with long, black hair, sunglasses pushed up onto her forehead and wearing noisey flip flops, notices us.

“Aw,” she blurts out with a smile. “Just saying, you two are really cute together!”

Before another word could be said her friends drag her away, on their way to the next attraction. Not knowing what to say, I look over to you. Your eyes are locked onto the ground to avoid looking at me, and your cheeks are slightly red.

I guess we’re both just gonna ignore that.

I lean back into the bench and stretch my legs. Still silent, you turn and look over to me, but look away again. You’re now biting your lip and shifting your eyes, the same way you used to when you felt nervous singing in front of people.

“Richie I…” You say, then pause. “I just wanna say that since you’ve left, all this time, nobody’s ever… I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like that. I haven’t dated anybody. I know it’s dumb, but I was just wondering if you have.”

I think back to that girl at the rave whose name I can’t remember.

“Not really, no.”

We meet eyes, and now the silence is back. You smile at me, a worn down, defeated, but nonetheless relieved smile.

Now, the light of day has completely faded from the sky. The colorful works of art all around us are now the only thing illuminating the park. As soon as this happens, you’re grabbing my arm and rushing every which way, to every lantern you see. Your eyes are wide with excitement as you seem to struggle taking it all in.

“Having fun?” I laugh when you stop.
“Oh my god,” you say in a tone of voice I’ve rarely heard from you. “It’s all so beautiful!”

I look around us, at all the different figures in all their different shapes, sizes and colors, and realize how the darkness of night has brought them to life. The view all around seems dreamlike.

“You’re right.” I say, noticing it for the first time. I look back over to you and your expression is so absently disconnected, your eyes still lost in the sight. I look back to a giant, red, snake-like dragon in the distance, with a new thought I’m not quite sure of the reason for.

“You know,” I say. “There’s nobody in California like you.”

“What?” you reply, seemingly snapping back into reality and looking over to me. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh with a shrug. “I just wish more people saw the world the way you do.”

After leaving the festival, it’s only a short walk back to the subway station. As we’re walking through the streets of the city, you’re telling me more about Chinese mythology, then you’re going on about the different roommates you’ve had in college. Then I’m telling you about the guys I live with, and we’re trading stories. By the time we get to the entrance of the station and are descending the underground stairs, we’re laughing so hard our voices are echoing back at us.

After getting our tickets, I notice the flickering arrow signifying our train is about to depart.

“Hurry, we can still make this one,” I call as rush over. “Come on, Carrie.”

The realization comes a millisecond too late. It feels like crashing into a stone wall. I look over to you, seeing the smile and any sign of happiness completely gone from your face. Your expression is emotionless and frozen.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean-”

In unwavering silence, you keep walking past me. I hesitate for a moment, then follow you on board.

The doors slide closed just as I step onto the train. You take the window seat, and immediately stare off through it. I sit down beside you, and still you don’t say anything. The unwavering silence is like an invisible wall between us. The train begins moving, and the dingy yellow lights of the train station streak by until we’re out from underground, and now the distant lights of the city are a passing blur.

Suddenly, finally, you say something.

“My therapist asks about you sometimes.”

I look over to you, and your gaze is still fixed to the outside world beyond the window.

“Huh?” I ask.

“She asks about you,” you repeat. “Every so often. I don’t know what exactly she thinks, but she asks. And I don’t ever answer. It’s crazy; I find myself being open no matter what, my childhood, my family, my body, I can tell her literally anything except when it comes to you. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I don’t wanna remember the last time we saw each other. I don’t know.”

I sit with that for a moment, taking it all in, unsure of how to feel.

“I didn’t know you had a therapist.” I reply.

You still aren’t looking in my direction.

“You need one for transitioning,” you explain. “Then on top of that they usually recommend seeing other specialists for other things. After highschool, when the changing started, I went through a really hard time. My parents, my future, I won’t bore you with the specifics but it was rough. I was in a dark place for a long time. So I started seeing more and more people.”

“I didn’t know…” I blurt out.

“You were gone,” you respond dismissively. “How would you?”

I have no answer.

“I’m better now,” you reply. “But sometimes it feels like I’m not. My mind is a scary place that even I don’t understand. So now my fourth therapist is starting to talk about maybe seeing if I need special medication. Like anti-depressants. That’s the scariest thing about it; the fact that there’s probably something deep inside that’s wrong with me.”

“No!” I call out sternly, my hand instinctively reaching out to yours. Now you look over to me, completely surprised. Your eyes are wide with a vulnerability that isn’t fading away this time.

I go on. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Don’t ever think there is, even for a second.”

I’m not quite sure where that came from, but now I’m lost looking into those big, now helpless eyes of yours, and your expression remains still as you look back into mine. And for a moment we just sit there, locked into each other’s eyes.

“Richie…” you begin, but your voice trails off with nothing else to say.

After the train ride, there’s a bus ride and then we’re walking through your neighborhood. We’re out of the city and back to the suburb, where the night is a lot less alive. The still air is quiet and for the first time all night, I can look up and see stars.

“My mom’s not home,” you explain as we arrive at your doorstep. “She’s working all night.”

You open the door and step in, looking back at me.

“If you wanted to come in for a little.”

I look back to your empty driveway, as if for some sort of abstract approval, then follow you in.

Before we know it, we’re on your rooftop, laying beside each other, looking up at the sky.

“I haven’t done this in forever.” you say as soon as you’re comfortable.

“This is the type of thing I meant earlier,” I explain. “Nobody in LA ever wants to just stop and look at the stars.”

“Maybe that’s because you can’t see them over there.”

“True. Sometimes when I wasn’t in the city and I could see them clearly, I wondered if you were here looking up at the same ones.”

“Well, we’re three time zones apart, so probably not the same ones.”

I feel myself smiling. “Why do you have to be so you all the time?”

I look over to you, and in the blue moonlight I can just make out your half-smile. But quick enough it’s gone. And now you’re sighing.

“Richie, I’m confused.”

“By what?” I ask.

Your tone begins to change. “By you. By this. I’d be lying if I said tonight hasn’t been great...”

“But?”

“What has this all been for? What are we doing here?”

I don’t have an answer right away.

“Well,” I say after a deep breath. “My Uncle always says that life is about starting over, again and again. I wasn’t ever really sure what he meant by that until I got older, but it’s true isn’t it? Everything’s always starting over.”

You sigh again. “Except you can’t ever really ‘start over’ can you? You can just pretend for a while, right?”

You look over to me, and I can’t see your face too well but I can see the light of the stars and moon reflecting in your glasses.

“Did you come all the way back from California just to see me?”

Now I’m sighing. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

For a second it feels like all the stars are now looking down at us.

“The truth is,” I say. “I can’t remember what I was like before I met you.”

I look back up to the stars above us, taking in your silence.

I clarify. “I mean, I kind of can. But that person doesn’t feel like me. That doesn’t make any sense, I know.”

“Richie,” you respond quietly, your voice beginning to break. “Why did you come back now? Why did you stay gone for so long?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess, just like you, I tried to forget. But obviously we know now that’s not really possible. I tried to push you to the back of my mind.”

I realize halfway through that sentence that my voice is breaking too. Then I realize you’re starting to breathe a little heavier. I slowly reach over to your face and just as I thought, there’s a teardrop. I gently wipe it away and your hand pushes mine back.

“No,” you exclaim, quickly collecting yourself. “I’m not a revolving door; you can’t just come in and out of my life whenever you feel like it.”

Those words dig into me as painfully as they can.

“What are you saying?” I reply.

You don’t let up. “I’m saying this, whatever it is, is just pretending. Just like I told you all those years ago, maybe we don’t need to be in each other’s lives.”

You can’t possibly know how much hearing that hollows me out inside. Then again, maybe you have to know. Maybe this is it, then. Maybe it really is all over.

“Well,” I say, feeling as defeated as I’ve ever felt. “The truth is, I actually didn’t just come back to see you. I came to give you something.”

You look over to me in surprise and confusion.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Let’s go inside first.”

With that, you lead the way back in through your window, into your old bedroom. You turn on the light and immediately try to hide the hurt on your face. I don’t care enough about mine showing to do the same.

“Get your laptop.” I instruct. You walk over to your desk where it sits, and open it, hitting the button to turn it on. With one deep sigh, I reach into my pocket and pull out this small, green flash drive I’ve been carrying around this whole time. It feels like it weighs a ton.

“What is that?” you ask, completely confused.

I say nothing, I just hand it to you. You hesitate for a moment, then sit in your chair next to your desk, and I watch over your shoulder as you plug the drive into your laptop. In a few seconds and one click, suddenly pictures are flashing across your screen. I shut my eyes as hard as I can, take the deepest breath I can manage, and brace myself. I finally look back to the screen and watch it with you.

The first was a picture of you and I, years ago, at the cafe. It was taken during one of our first ever afternoons spent there, and we’re holding up exotically-flavored cups of coffee, with big, hopeless, innocent smiles on our faces. There’s a few more cafe pictures, then some selfies of us at the carnival, playing the different games, posing with cotton candy, then one on the ferris wheel, at the highest point, where you’re smiling and I look like I’m ready to die. There’s pictures of us at the cafe, at the carnival, our giant faces plastered on the side of a building in Time Square on New Year’s Eve, a selfie of us with the runaway dog you found, King Ghidorah, a picture of us on the Valentine’s Day we spent at the hospital with you clad in that long white gown, backstage pictures of your first choir audition that I talked you into doing, more pictures of us at the cafe with the many different coffee flavors we tried each week, the picture your mother took of us at your first choir concert when you sang your big solo, and lastly, a series of pictures of us together at the planetarium.

We sit there in silence, lost in the memories flashing before us. They’re moments frozen in time, snapshots of the two kids we used to be. Maybe they’re still us, despite what we want to admit. The story lingers on in front of us until the silence is disturbed once again by your heavy breathing and sniffling. I look down to see your eyes locked on the screen and welling with tears that were beginning to stream down your red face. I feel wetness on my neck, and as I touch my cheek I realize they’re streaming down mine too.

I place my hand on your shoulder and you look up at me. Through the tears that are blurring our vision, we meet eyes and hang on to the incredible quiet together.

“I’m sorry,” I let out in what is almost a sob. “I’m sorry for everything. I just wanted to give you that.”

You still don’t say anything, you just look down to your carpet.

I decide to say it for you. “Goodbye.”

And with that I turn around. I walk out of your room.

Before I know it, I’m walking out of your house. I’m thinking about all the times I’ve ever heard anyone say “Everything happens for a reason” and desperately wondering how they could believe that. I’m wondering what reason the universe could possibly have for its actions, wondering what the chaos of our connected lives could ever mean, wondering how I’m supposed to make sense of all this pain, and most of all I’m wondering why I ever went to that stupid party with Travis and Theo.

All of these thoughts are swirling around in my head as I walk through New York’s streets alone in the empty night.

Why me? Why us?

Author's Note

Happy Valentine's Day! One more left