Bottled Up Secret Page 3

  “We should play sometime,” he says. Did he really just ask me to hang out?

  “Oh, do you play?”

  “Not really.” He flashes me that adorable smile of his. “Well, I’ve played before, but I’ve never taken lessons or anything.”

  “I could teach you. Just not sure if you can afford my hourly rate.”

  “You’re that good, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll go easy on you.”

  I know my gaydar is usually a little overeager, but again I’m getting the feeling that Mark is flirting with me. Each time he smiles, his eyes turn into these beautiful pools of blue. They are hypnotizing.

  Chris overhears our conversation and decides to give Mark a warning. “Mark, don’t play tennis with Brendan. He’s too good; it’s ridiculous.”

  “No,” I say unconvincingly. “I can bring my game down for others.” Don’t screw this up for me, Chris, I think.

  “Mark, you know he got third in state last year, right?”

  “Seriously?” Mark asks me, his face stunned. “I didn’t know you were that good.”

  “I got lucky.”

  “Oh, right,” Mark says. “Third place in Division One tennis. Luck. And you’re really not playing in college?”

  I shake my head. “It’s too much of a commitment. I like it, but not enough. I want time to do other things, like theater.”

  “Okay, so you’re a tennis pro and will probably win states this year, you’re great at singing and acting, you’re an expert billiards player…what else can you impress me with?”

  “Hmm.”

  Chris butts in again. “Brendan has never had a drop of alcohol in his life and says he never will.”

  “What the heck,” I say. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’m just sharing interesting facts about you,” Chris says in an innocent tone, although I know he’s trying to embarrass me.

  “I don’t drink either,” Mark says, smiling at me.

  “Nice.”

  “Why never, though?” he asks.

  “Okay, this is going to sound ridiculous, but do you remember the DARE program?”

  “Like in fifth grade? Yeah.”

  “Well, they said that we shouldn’t smoke or do drugs, and I thought, ‘Okay, that’s a no-brainer.’ Then they also said that we shouldn’t drink alcohol because it kills brain cells. So being the logical fifth grader I was, I thought, ‘Well, that’s not good. I’m never going to drink, then.’”

  Mark laughs. “Simple as that, huh?”

  “Yes. I understand now the reason is stupid, but I made a promise to myself back then that I would never do it. I don’t have a problem with drinking, though.” Chris clears his throat to disagree. “Okay, fine. I might be a little judgmental. I’m getting better, though. I just don’t think it’s necessary, especially for high schoolers.”

  “Wow,” Mark says. “You’re every parent’s dream.”

  “Give him a few years,” Chris says.

  “Not convinced?” Mark replies.

  “Brendan says he won’t do a lot of things.”

  “Chris…” I warn. I know where he’s going with this.

  “What else?” Mark asks, intrigued.

  Chris looks at me, debating whether to continue. “Oh, you don’t care,” he says to me.

  “I’m not ashamed of it, but he barely knows me!”

  “I won’t judge, I promise,” Mark says.

  “Brendan’s a virgin and is waiting until marriage,” Chris blurts out. “Well, he says he’s waiting until marriage.”

  “Okay, first off,” I say, “Chris is a virgin too, so it’s not like that’s a big deal.”

  “Oh, agreed,” Mark says. “I’m a virgin.”

  “Really?” Chris says. “You and Amy never had sex?” Mark shakes his head. Amy? Who is Amy? Don’t even tell me he has a girlfriend. I almost ask about her but decide against it.

  “And second,” I continue, “I’m waiting to have sex until marriage, but as for everything else, I’m all for it if it’s in the context of a relationship.”

  “Okay, that makes sense,” Mark says. “I don’t think that’s that extreme.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Give him a few years,” Chris says.

  “Do you realize that the more you doubt me, the more I feel the need to prove you wrong? Although I must admit I’m more likely to budge on the ‘no sex’ thing than the ‘no drinking’ thing.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Chris says.

  “Okay, enough about me, please. Chris, reveal something about Mark.”

  “Chris has got nothing on me,” Mark says, unfazed.

  “Seriously,” Chris replies. “Mark is so secretive. I don’t know about any of his skeletons.”

  “Okay, fine. Mark, reveal something about yourself. Anything.”

  He purses his big lips and looks up.

  I can tell he’s not going to come up with anything good so I say, “Actually, tell me about Amy. Your girlfriend?”

  “Ex-girlfriend.” Thank God. “We dated for about a year.”

  “When did you break up?”

  “A few months ago. Right before school started.”

  I don’t know whether to prod further. “Can I ask why?”

  “It just wasn’t right. I don’t know. Something felt off.”

  Our conversation is interrupted when Natalie makes her fashionably late entrance. After saying hi to everyone, she pulls up a chair near me. Well, looks like I won’t have any more alone time with Mark today. That’s okay. Although I’m having a great time with him, this news about Amy lessens my hopes that he is gay anyway.

  I start to think about where I was a year ago when I was a junior. I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was gay yet. If Mark really is gay, he hasn’t come to terms with it. And if and when he does, he definitely won’t be ready to tell anyone. All of my close friends are girls or gay guys, and I’m not even ready to tell anyone. With that said, I’m not sure I’m ready to give up on my crush just yet.

  After talking and laughing with my friends for another hour, I head home to get cracking on a stack of homework I have waiting for me. This weekend was a blast, but tomorrow I go back to reality.

  *

  The following Saturday is my sister’s wedding. Fortunately, the ceremony goes off without a hitch. I escort her down the aisle without either one of us tripping, which is all I could ask for.

  I’m able to be more open with some of my sisters compared to my mom, but not by much. It helps that they are closer to my age, but that also means they are more likely to pick up on gay clues. I feel myself unconsciously playing it straight, not that my normal self is really flamboyant.

  At the reception, I’m seated at a table with my twenty-two-year-old sister, Colleen, and her boyfriend, Kyle. I don’t usually like guys that my sisters date, but Kyle is actually really cool. He is super outgoing and funny.

  “All right, Brendan, give me the lowdown on colleges,” he says. It’s the question of the night. I guess it’s the most obvious topic of conversation for a senior in high school.

  “I have all my applications in, but I want to wait until the chips fall before I stress out about it too much.” My stock response.

  “I’m thinking Georgetown is the one,” he says. “You’d fit perfectly in DC. You know I went to school in Baltimore.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  My sister chimes in to brag about me. “Kyle, did I tell you about Brendan’s Ohio State scholarship?” He shakes his head. “He had to do this essay competition in Columbus and got a full ride from it.”

  “Nice, Brendan!” he says.

  “Thanks, but it’s not a full ride. It was just a full academic scholarship. I still have to pay room and board. Some people got actual full rides.”

  “And he got into the honors program there,” Colleen says to Kyle.

  “That’s not that hard to get into,” I add.

  “Brendan, stop,” she says. “I’m s
o excited for you. You’re going to have so much fun wherever you go. And I know the girls are going to go crazy over you.”

  Oh boy. Of all my sisters, I would expect Colleen to wonder just a little about my sexuality, but I really don’t think she does. Maybe because she’s never had any gay friends, so she has no one to whom she can compare me. I figured having almost exclusively female or gay friends and being an active musical theater performer would be enough for anyone to at least suspect.

  Any time talk of girls or dating comes up, I use my usual tactic and change the subject. “When is the reception over?” I ask Colleen. “Do you know?”

  “I think eleven.”

  My question has ulterior motives behind it. Tonight is closing night of 42nd Street, and I have an unconfirmed report that Mark will be attending the cast party afterward. The party won’t be starting until about ten-thirty, so this might work out perfectly.

  “All right, everyone, can I have your attention?” I hear from the DJ. “We’re going to do some speeches to get this night of celebration kicked off, starting with Sarah’s beautiful maid of honor, Jessica. Give her a round of applause, everyone.”

  We clap as she stands up, visibly nervous. Jessica has been friends with my sister for as long as I can remember. She’s always been so nice and fun to have around.

  “Hi, everyone,” she says. “I want to start off by saying how happy I am for Sarah and Rob. I’ve always been very protective of my best friend, and I wasn’t going to allow someone less than amazing to be with her. Fortunately, Rob, you bring out a light in Sarah’s eyes like I’ve never seen. You are kind, loving, and supportive, which is all I’ve ever wanted for her.

  “As some of you know, Sarah and I have known each other a very long time. I spent so much time at her house growing up that at times I felt like I was part of the Madden family, which was an honor for me.

  “The other day,” Jessica continues, “I was looking through some old things that I saved from when I was younger, and I stumbled across a letter that Sarah gave me. It was written when we were in seventh grade, so it talked about the usual vital things to a thirteen-year-old girl’s life—boys, clothes, our upcoming science test. I couldn’t contain my laughter as I pictured us writing these notes back and forth, not knowing what the future held for each of us. At the end of the letter, Sarah wrote three letters before signing her name—BFF…best friends forever.

  “As I stand here today, almost twenty years later, I realize that as young and naïve as we were, we knew our friendship would never change. Sarah, as our lives get increasingly complicated and busy, and as we embark on new journeys of marriage and motherhood, I want you to know that I will always be here for you as your best friend, forever.”

  I notice tears coming to my sister’s eyes as Jessica concludes her speech. It takes a lot for me to cry but even I’m trying to hold back tears. I can’t help but compare the friendship that my sister has with Jessica to the bonds that I have with my friends. They’ve been right by my side during my childhood and now adolescence. I can only hope that they’ll be there throughout my adulthood as well.

  The reception continues for the next few hours with plenty of food and dancing. Before I know it, Donna Summer’s “Last Dance” starts to play, signaling the end of the evening. I’m exhausted but still set on going to the cast party. After a few good-byes and a quick explanation to my mom, I leave the reception, arriving at the party at about eleven-twenty.

  As I park my car and step out, my insanity hits me. I left my sister’s wedding to race over to this party solely for the purpose of seeing a guy that I’ve technically known for one week. Obsessed much? I walk in and head to the living room where I see Natalie and…Yes. He’s here. Sitting next to her, of course.

  “Oh my gosh,” Natalie says after spotting me. “Are you kidding me? You’re still wearing your tux?”

  “I know. I forgot to bring a change of clothes.”

  “How was the wedding?!”

  “It was good, actually. I had fun.” I make eye contact with Mark. “Hey, Mark, what’s up?”

  He flashes his smile with a “Hey.”

  “How was the show?” I ask Natalie.

  “Um, kind of a mess.”

  “Oh no.”

  “No, it was fine. The audience didn’t notice, but we were definitely distracted. Here, sit down. I was just about to go to the bathroom.” I take her spot on the cramped couch and find myself sitting dangerously close to the blond hottie. There’s even leg-to-leg contact. This couldn’t have worked out better.

  “Man, you’re like a groupie,” I say to Mark, trying to get in as much conversation with him as possible before Natalie returns.

  “Look who’s talking,” he says, nudging my leg with his.

  “Touché. What’s going on? Having fun?”

  “Yep, can’t complain. Got here a little bit ago. You excited for our two-day week?”

  “I am.” I’ve been so preoccupied with family and wedding stuff, I almost forgot that Thanksgiving is coming up. “What do you do for the holiday?”

  “We go to my grandparents’.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “East side. Know where University Heights is?”

  “Um…all right, I’m not even going to pretend to know. If it’s not the west side, I have no idea.”

  He laughs. “You’re funny. Are you going to the movie with everyone next weekend? It’s on the west side.”

  “Plans next weekend already? I’m so out of the loop. What movie?”

  “Natalie said she and some others are seeing…crap, I forget what it’s called. The one with Jude Law.”

  I don’t remember the name of the movie either, but that’s because I have absolutely no desire to see it. Of course I respond, “Nice, I’m in.”

  Before I know it, Natalie returns. “Can I squeeze in here?” she asks. Mark scoots closer to me to make room for her. My leg-to-leg has turned into full side body contact with him.

  “Keep scooting,” Natalie says, needing a little more room. Mark moves his arm from his side to the cushion behind me, inching even closer. The feel of his bicep pushing against the back of my head is amazing.

  “Theater people don’t have regard for personal space, Mark,” Natalie says. “Get used to it.”

  “I’m comfortable,” he says.

  “Brendan, guess what I just thought of,” Natalie says.

  “What?”

  “The lockdown at St. Luke’s.”

  “Oh my gosh. One of the worst nights of my high school life.”

  “What exactly does a lockdown entail?” Mark asks.

  Natalie starts the recap. “Our grade school was having this Saturday night sleepover at the school, and they locked the doors so no one could leave. They had karaoke and a bunch of games for us to play. It was part of their Catholic youth group.”

  “It was all Kelly’s fault, by the way,” I say. “She was the only one involved in that group and she encouraged us to go.”

  “How bored were we that night to agree to that?”

  “I don’t know. The best part is we had to have our parents sign a permission slip, but, of course, my mom was out of town or something, so I had to forge it.”

  “That’s right. But your handwriting is terrible, so it was painfully obvious it was fake.”

  “Did they figure it out?” Mark asks.

  “Well, after practicing on scratch paper, I realized that it was hopeless,” I say.

  “So he made me forge the signature,” Natalie says. Mark laughs. “Instead of it looking like a sixteen-year-old boy’s signature, it looked like a sixteen-year-old girl’s signature.”

  “We go to turn in our forms,” I continue, “and the woman says to me, ‘I want you to sign your mom’s signature on this piece of paper because I think that you signed this form.’ I signed it and showed her, and she was like, ‘Oh, okay. I stand corrected.’”

  “Meanwhile, I’m there thinking, ‘Crap. She’s goi
ng to ask me to sign it now,’” Natalie says.

  “Did she?” Mark asks.

  “No. I wish she had because what Brendan and I experienced next was terrible. We got about one hour of sleep on a cement floor and were freezing the whole night.”

  “Then the next day, we were all supposed to go to mass together,” I say. “We dodged out of there instead, right?”

  “Yes. I would have fallen asleep in the pew.”

  I spend the next hour or so trying to figure out whether Mark is flirting with me. All signs point to yes, but I wonder what an observer would think. Regardless, I have a great time talking and laughing with him. The more we interact, the faster the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

  *

  A few days later, Thanksgiving break officially begins. I’m looking forward to the next time I can see Mark and the rest of my friends, but first I have to get through some family time. At home I slip into my boring, reserved personality, which allows me to avoid most personal questions asked by my sisters. When I really think about it, it’s sad that I can’t be myself in front of my family. I guess it’s partly my fault because I control how I act around them and how much I let them in.

  In my defense, when I display glimpses of my true self to them, I often get shot down or criticized. For example, if my mom sees me watching a show that a typical guy may not watch, such as Will & Grace, she tells me to change the channel and makes me feel ashamed for wanting to watch it. Most kids my age try to hide things like alcohol consumption from their parents; I hide my TV viewing habits.

  When it comes to my friends, my sister once said to me, “I think you need to find more friends that are guys. You don’t have that much in common with these girls that you hang out with, and it’s important to have men as friends.” It was clear she was afraid I might be gay. That always seems to be the reason for any comments from them.

  “I never knew anyone like you when I was in high school,” another one of my sisters said to me. I took this as a compliment but wasn’t sure what she meant by it. Either way, it was another sign that I was coming off as different from a “normal” high school guy. The safest thing to do was to adjust my behavior to match their expectations of me.