Dan's Conundrum - 21. Chapter 21

How to begin to understand what had actually happened? Only one theory came to mind. And in this theory, I saw the end of my journey, that despite my efforts and everything I had done, the conundrum remained unsolvable. It wasn’t useful or healthy to ponder the cause, but it helped.

There was a day of beautiful sunshine with a cloudless sky, soon after I’d returned from Hong Kong, when I noticed that the colder it was, the more David and I huddled together when we went out towards the tennis courts. For reasons I could not remember, David felt more like family than friend, and it was no surprise that I felt comfortable with him. When he listened I could speak all that was on my mind without fear or judgment. Sometimes I felt I talked too much, but he never seemed to mind.

Having managed to make him happy again after his break-up, I was so certain of my place in his life that I thought nothing could ever take us apart. I felt I would do anything for him. I remembered that day, even if it was cold and Chris was in detention with a guy who called him queer, I accompanied David outside just because he wanted fresh air and watch the other lads play football. It must have been this time that our conversation took place.

I asked him, ‘Would you marry an English woman or a Chinese woman if given the choice?’

My aunt threw me this question in Hong Kong. Part of me wished David’s answer would be the same as mine.

‘An English woman, I guess?’ he replied, furrowing his eyebrows as he often did when confronted with a random question.

‘Why is that?’

‘Dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘Just never saw myself with a Chinese woman.’

Even as I heard his reply, knowing that he was straight and I would never have a chance with my gorgeous friend, I was still disappointed somewhat. Preference aside, he never saw himself with anyone but his own race and colour. And that was when I knew, even if he were gay, we would never have worked.

And it was probably not his fault. Why do we like what we like? Was it media? Porn? Stories? What was it? In the end they made no difference and I was the one who sat here, feeling as though I was born into a life forever chasing but never reaching the happiness I saw around me. At one indefinite point, I realised it was never possible to solve my conundrum. It was a fool’s dream. I could have done everything, solved every problem in my life and it still wouldn’t be enough: I could never change the colour of my skin. If preference was determined by race, then it was a lost cause from beginning to end.

As I continued sitting there, overlooking the Wellington statue at which Rodolfo and I were supposed to meet, I felt the tiniest droplets of rain on the back of my hand, suggesting the onslaught that would soon follow. Yet I waited, not moving a limb, thinking naively that perhaps by the furthest stretch of imagination he would somehow return to me.

But as time went by all hope was lost. The rain had drenched my shirt, jeans and I felt wetter than I had ever been in my entire life. Still I would not move, and I savoured the taste of failure, and my failure to see it coming.

When my head started to hurt and my thoughts slowed like sluggish trains after an accident I tried to empty those agonising thoughts. I wanted to think no more. By seven in the evening, I knew that no amount of time or thought would yield the answer I needed. That was when I went home.

For the whole weekend I sat in my room and pondered some more, unsure of what to do. On Monday morning it got worse. As soon as David walked into English I thought of challenging him and demand an explanation. There were many ways to go about that:

1) Where the fuck did you go?

2) Why did you walk out on me?

3) Hey, missed you on Saturday.

4) You owe me an apology.

Any of those would do. But when he saw me he simply looked away as though I was an unpleasant object. In that instant I knew Saturday was a non-subject and the friend I cherished had ceased to exist. He walked up to the girls and sat with them when usually he was between Chris and me. A pleasant surprise for the girls no doubt, and they would be rubbing their hands in glee. Miss Robinson didn’t seem to care, but I was enraged. Chris was eager to investigate.

‘What’s up with him?’ Chris asked me, curious.

I replied through gritted teeth, ‘I don’t know.’

‘He was still fine last week. Something’s happened between you two?’

My, what pointed questions. I sat back, facing the front, not granting him eye contact. ‘Something has probably happened.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Chris nodded understandingly, his lips curling. ‘Did you seduce him?’

What? I glared at him, shocked. ‘’Course not! You know I’m not that kind of person.’

‘Never say never. There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Dan. Did you say something to him?’

‘No!’

‘Did he say something to you?’

I said bitterly, ‘It’s what he didn’t say.’

He gave up. ‘So what is it then?’

‘Look, why don’t you ask him?’ I retorted, annoyed. ‘He’s the prick here.’

‘Alright, don’t shout. It’s not cool.’

Even Chris had trouble getting hold of David. He was avoiding both of us and that was to remain the case in the foreseeable future. Chris was still convinced it was my fault though. Probably thought I was drunk on Friday evening and in my drunkenness tried to make out with David who slapped me promptly on the cheek. I didn’t care to contradict or clarify. God I wished that were true.

David snuck out after school and went home by himself. Typical. What was worse was that I was losing my rational self. I went home on a rampage that afternoon searching cabinets, fridge, and secret stashes in the kitchen like a burglar, unsatisfied that there was nothing of value. I’d reached beyond the point of caring what my parents would think.

‘What are you looking for?’ Mum asked me, arms crossed.

‘Vodka.’

I didn’t turn to look at her as I rummaged the cabinets some more.

‘You don’t drink,’ Mum remarked coldly.

‘I do now,’ I said. ‘Where do you keep the vodkas?’

‘We don’t have alcohol in this house.’ She shouted at me. ‘We never had alcohol in this house. Are you crazy? You can wreck the place, but you’ll never find it here.’

I stopped and jumped to my feet. ‘Then I’m going out to buy some.’

‘Tse-Ho, you’re not going anywhere,’ Mum said.

I stared at her, infuriated. She looked back, cool and collected, standing firm.

She scowled. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

I didn’t reply. I simply walked out and returned to my room. I banged the door, hoping she wouldn’t pursue. I was never more in need to kick something, hit something and break something like a normal boy. Throw a tantrum like a normal boy angry with everything life had done to him, like a normal boy who wanted friends, family and a happy life, only to find they were all so far away.

Of course I didn’t really want vodka. Of course I wasn’t mad. What I really want was my friend back.

I want him to talk to me again.

* * * * *

We need to talk.

The text was sent. In a simple sentence, I was surprised how much frustration, anger and resentment a full-stop could convey. Yes I know – it’s just a punctuation mark. A dot. He might not derive from this dot the same feelings I do but the feeling was there. He just had to imagine. That the full-stop implied an ultimatum, which it was, and if he would not meet me in the English room at break he should consider our relations over since he clearly was determined to ignore me until the end of time. He left me no choice. But was it the right thing to do? Nothing was merely right or wrong these days. Coming to think of it, it was a little silly.

‘Geez, Dan. An ultimatum? You’re kidding, right?’ I could imagine him saying, putting on that sheepish grin like I was a kid. But how else could I get him to talk to me? An ultimatum was not the best or even the right way, but simply the most logical one. Perhaps part of me still believed the conundrum could be solved.

That was of course, provided the English room was left unlocked which it usually was and no detention was taking place. How very fortunate of me then. When I went inside, I found the shadiest corner of the room and sat there waiting. Sitting alone in a corner vaguely reminded me of Saturday afternoon, when so much was lost. I watched the clock at the front tick and saw time passing by, my life slowly slipping away. I felt I was watching a timed bomb and the end was coming. This was an end, in a way. All these months, and after everything we had been through, this was the final result. It had come down to this moment alone.

So much had happened since we met. He was the one who gave me courage to meet new people. He was the one who told me to find writing sites in the first place. It was difficult to think of what to say. But that hardly seemed important; he might not turn up – the coward. I’d survived without him before and I could do that again. In one weekend he’d done more damage than I ever thought was possible. Perhaps it was time to say goodbye.

At the sound of the door opening I looked up to find David dragging his feet inside as though sentenced to death, closing the door quietly behind him. There was no warmth and certainly none of the usual radiance coming from his movement. He looked weary. His eyes were sad and distant. More importantly, right now, I felt nothing towards him – not anymore. This wasn’t the David I knew – he was replaced by something else ever since that day in the park. Somebody else was in those clothes… It wasn’t impossible, but even I knew that was a crazy concept and the real David wasn’t kidnapped by aliens and whatnot. The real David was standing there at the front, waiting for his sentence as I sat arms-folded, unimpressed and certainly unamused.

Total silence engulfed the room. We searched for words like two idiots, occasionally looking at shelves and poems on walls. It seemed an eternity since we’d actually spoken to one another. We were enemies even though we never were. That we were friends seemed another life now; the game had changed. Whoever spoke first would be no less than giving in and saying he couldn’t play the game. Speaking first would be a crime. Was I about to do that? Well, no. We waited some more.

Students yelled and hollered in the corridor but we ignored them. Then they were gone. He still wasn’t talking. After five minutes I had all but lost my patience. Damn him.

‘We need to talk,’ I began. Cold, articulate and threatening – I was beginning to like my own voice. I thought I saw him recoiling slightly when I spoke but I couldn’t be sure. It might have been the sharpness of my tone and the vagueness of my demand – but repeating contents from my text message seemed to be a good introduction.

‘What do you want me to say?’ His question was dry and resigned. He was tired. Or at least, he lacked my enthusiasm.

‘I want to know why you ran away and what I have done to deserve it.’

He paused to think. He looked at me at last and said, ‘I didn’t know how to react, alright? I still don’t. I need time.’

I shook my head. ‘Unbelievable.’

‘Well, it’s true –’

‘– And I don’t believe it!’

We stared across the room, both wanting to say more, both knowing any minute now we would cease to be civil and scream at each other instead. But at least one thing had changed. After avoiding me for so long now he couldn’t take his eyes off me, nor I him. Breaking eye contact first would be backing down to a superior force – and I wasn’t about to back down.

‘I should’ve known it was you,’ he told me, his tone a lot softer.

‘I could say the same about you. You being there was undesirable.’

He paused as a stab of hurt crossed his face, to my delight. He said, ‘It was embarrassing.’

‘Yes, it was.’

He thought for a moment. He opened his mouth as though about to say more, but I beat him to it.

‘You know.’ I smiled coldly at my own stupidity. ‘This whole idea of hanging out, making friends and being a better person doesn’t sound so good now.’

‘Why?’

‘Shit happens, don’t they?’ He was unaffected by the swear word. I rarely use them. I watched his reactions and there was none. He said nothing.

‘This is the last thing I need right now,’ I said, a little louder this time. Still he said nothing.

‘What did I do?’

‘You didn’t do anything,’ he said, exasperated. ‘It’s my problem, alright?’

‘But I’m the one bothering you.’

He paused. ‘Yes.’

So I am the culprit then, I am the one causing all this. It’s better that I just vanish from his life and save ourselves a whole lot of grief. It’s better that way. Forget we ever knew each other.

I leapt from my chair, heading for the door. He was suddenly alarmed.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’m done here.’

He was taken aback. ‘What?’

‘Since we – since you can’t get it out of your head that we can’t possibly be friends we should just stay out of each other’s lives, don’t you think?’

I wanted to get out – but he was standing in my path, not letting me through.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Then what is true?’ I snapped. ‘I’ll tell you what’s true. I should never have met you, I should never have been friends with you and I should never have started writing stupid stories on the internet because all they gave me was more pain than they’re worth. Most of all, I should never have come on Saturday – because I lost my best friend that day and just about everything that made me feel, for once, that my life was actually good, you know? And –’

‘Dan, listen to me –’

‘No, you listen to me.’ I was in tears but I carried on. ‘I hate you, do you understand? I hate you so much it hurts. I don’t want to see you again. It’s funny because I used to love you… but then I’d learned to love you as a friend and admired you for what you’d done for me before you took everything away. Everything. You’re a coward, moron, bastard…’

I stopped, unable to proceed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whimpered. Overcame by emotions, he stretched his arms and held me. I was crying and didn’t resist. He cared still. It was just like when he hugged away the wounds of the past. I remained there, conscious that my tears were soaking him. If he cared, maybe, just maybe, we could still be friends after this. Feeling better already, I let go and pulled away, his familiar scent once more recognizable in my clogged up nose. Everything could be back to as it was.

That was when I realised something wasn’t right.

His eyes remained fixed on mine and his gaze had softened. He hadn’t let go of me – not quite.

‘Close your eyes,’ he whispered. He was testing my trust. Any hope of being friends again depended on it.

I did. A second later I felt his warm, soft lips pressed against mine – it was so gentle I hardly believed they were lips at first. In shock I opened my eyes and pulled away. He stared at me, confused.

I asked, ‘What are you doing?’

He looked amused. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’

‘Look, I was wondering if we could be friends…’

Concerned, he searched my eyes in silence for a while. He even looked disappointed about something. His expression switched from confusion to panic as though a horrible idea had seized him. But he relaxed again. Whatever he was searching for he’d found it in my eyes. He leaned towards me once more, and this time kissed with greater confidence. I offered no resistance to his tongue. I wondered what was going on when I felt my tongue sliding against his. It was an unbelievable sensation – nothing like what I thought a kiss would be. It was not sticky. Not when I was kissing him.

When finally we pulled apart, he grinned at me strangely. I grinned at him strangely in return.

Perhaps, even if it was all I asked, he knew being his friend wasn’t the only thing I wanted.