Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dan's Conundrum - 24. Chapter 24
Catherine and Rodolfo stumbled comically out of a room, half dressed, when Catherine’s uncle Eddie entered on stage calling for her. Caught in the act. Their terrified eyes only hinted at the despicable activities that were practised backstage just minutes before. Nowhere to hide now. Eddie’s eyes widened in disgust. He glanced at his niece’s half-naked body before turning to Rodolfo, noticing his gorgeous abs thinly concealed behind that unbuttoned white shirt – he was an angel on Earth. Eddie was visibly distraught by his beauty. His whole body was shaking and his eyes were red with contempt. The sight of his niece’s defiler sent his blood boiling, but admittedly Rodolfo was the prettier one.
‘Leave,’ Eddie said, fists clenched. But Rodolfo didn’t flinch.
‘I can’t stay here anymore… I’m going with him,’ Catherine cried. Between sobs, her tears glistened beneath the spotlights. I couldn’t not be moved by her acting.
‘You ain’t going nowhere.’ Eddie, enacted by some guy called Stephen, reached out with great speed and, before Catherine could react, he kissed her on the mouth.
‘Stop that! Have respect for her!’ Rodolfo yelled, asserting his manhood and his love for her. I found it super cute that he flung himself at Eddie, competing for the girl in the traditional way. In real life, Rodolfo could have knocked him out with ease – but here Eddie was the macho man and was twice Rodolfo’s age (though Stephen hardly looked it without facial hair). Rodolfo’s array of disorganised punches were as easily subdued as a mother would to a five-year-old boy. Laughing, Eddie grabbed Rodolfo’s arm and suddenly kissed him on the lips, hard. I saw Rodolfo tensed up at contact, rigid like a plank of wood and thought to myself he was not like that when we kissed. Not like that at all. He was soft and gentle, and when kissing, the two of us seemed to melt like it would last an eternity.
But this didn’t make sense. Perhaps in his frenzy of kissing, Jenna alone was not enough for Stephen. Was kissing my boyfriend evidence that Eddie was greedy? Did he secretly want a threesome? Made little sense that way too. Why did he have to kiss both of them?
Then a horrible image came to mind and it dawned upon me that Stephen had been kissing my boyfriend all this time! Down in the basement in the drama studio, he was kissing my boyfriend day after day in each rehearsal. And Jenna. What were my parents going to think? I turned to find them completely absorbed by the play to make any noticeable reaction. It was just acting, after all.
Relax.
By the end, we hardly wanted the play to finish. I was on the edge of my seat until the finale. Eddie was dead and Rodolfo and Catherine lived happily ever after. Curtains were drawn. The rounds of applause were thunderous. There were cheers, girls screaming, and babies crying, frightened by the roars that robbed them of their sweet dreams. The performance was stunning, the story hauntingly beautiful. As the audience began to gather and disperse, my parents and I waited around for a special person. Jenna could be seen receiving flowers from admirers. I wondered if I should have brought flowers too for my now favourite actor – only die-hard fans bring flowers, of course, but I’m certainly a die-hard fan now.
Finally, the figure of Rodolfo arrived, grinning as he walked up to me. I was disappointed. He was no longer wearing that unbuttoned skimpy white shirt but instead his casual wear. He still looked nice though.
‘Hello,’ he greeted us. ‘How was it?’
‘Loved it,’ I said, hugging him. My parents nodded, smiling warmly.
‘I thought it wasn’t bad myself,’ he admitted, cocking his head slightly. I let him go.
‘It must have taken a lot of work,’ Dad remarked.
‘Yeah. The last few weeks had been a bit of a nightmare trying to polish some things. It’s hard to get everything right but, we gave our best shot today.’
We talked for a few minutes, generally about the future and where David saw himself – basically an interview, disguised with smiles and informal questions. But my parents seemed impressed, at least with his manners.
‘Can I talk to David alone for a minute?’ I asked.
‘Alright. We’ll give you a few minutes. I have work tomorrow,’ Mum replied. She nodded, giving me full permission to chase my dream and live my life as it was meant to be lived. Then they withdrew, now satisfied with my choice no doubt, after realising how awesome David was.
We kept walking. Instinctively I already knew where to go.
‘You know, I still don’t get that kissing scene,’ I said to David. We had reached that dark and quiet place we found on the very first day we met, the wrong corner we had turned on our way to English. ‘Why did he kiss you? Did he like you secretly or –?’
David giggled. ‘He wanted to emasculate me.’
‘And he kissed Jenna as well. Why was that?’
‘To undo my kiss on her, I suppose. That’s a popular interpretation.’
I thought for a moment. ‘So…if I kiss you now would I undo Stephen’s kiss on you?’
‘He kissed like a dog. Be my guest.’ He smiled, licking his lips. I gently pressed him against the wall, our faces drew nearer. It was then that I noticed we were being watched by a figure. I broke off and turned.
A kid, no more than eight years of age, watched us with his mouth wide-open, expecting something. I turned back to David. One kiss, and this boy’s innocence would be ruined forever and he would have nightmares for years to come. Our eyes lingered for a while, still staring at each other, guessing the other’s thoughts, dreams and memories. But the magic of the moment could not be retained for long. His eyes were making me giggly inside.
‘Keep that thought. I have to go,’ I told him, smiling. ‘See you tomorrow?’
He hugged me. ‘I’ll text you, yeah?’
‘Yep, keep them coming!’ I grinned. I didn’t mind texts so much now. I was getting three a day and I was much quicker at replying to them. That said, David could still type on his phone five times faster than I could.
When I looked again the kid vanished, probably went back to his parents to demand an explanation before I could assure him nothing was happening. Oh well, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I went reluctantly back to my parents with my French kiss stolen by the little boy. Worse still, Mum was staring at me in a strange way. Was it the way I walked? Did she change her mind about us? Was I late? She looked as though I were a stranger, someone that she didn’t recognise but felt she should.
Alarmed, I asked, ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’
Her expression was still unfathomable. ‘Was just thinking…’
‘Yes?’ This had better not be the grandchildren talk.
‘You know, for a moment, I was certain I saw that sparkle in your eyes again... Then it was gone.’
Huh?
‘How very strange. I didn’t notice.’
‘Good to have you back.’ Mum smiled before holding me.
Back? Or maybe I had never left. Life is funny like that sometimes.
* * * * *
On exam results day I set off in dread of the brown envelope, the fruits of my many hours of study, or the lack of it. I alone knew how I’d done and what I’d done. My heart was pumping fast. But whether I liked it or not, the results were already out there, stored in various databases and printed in cold ink. Nothing I could do to change that now.
So why dread at all? Why not embrace the facts as they were?
The day was abominably warm, though much less so than Hong Kong at this time of the year. I took advantage of the thinly dressed David to sneak in a cuddle or two.
‘Looks like somebody’s enjoying himself,’ he remarked.
‘I’m loving the weather!’ I said.
‘Haha.’ He laughed dryly. Then he stopped and regarded me, his eyes quizzical.
‘What?’
‘You dedicated your stories to this “straight guy” all this time… Was he me?’ he asked.
I laughed. ‘Oh David. You of all people should know that everything I had ever written was only for you.’
‘And you thought I was straight! You were still writing for me.’
‘Straight or gay, you were still the best guy I knew.’ I smiled, stealing another cuddle. ‘Though now we know it’s neither.’
He paused, looking thoughtful. ‘Have you ever thought about writing a story with me in it?’
I stared back, telling him, ‘You know what? I think I already did, many times.’
‘I mean as a boyfriend. Not some guy called Connor getting married. Not disguised as Jay. Just me, David.’
I licked my lips at a thought. ‘I’ll think about it. What makes you think I’m not writing one now? And why write when I can have you in person?’
Later, we found Chris standing casually by the main entrance, barely noticing us as he tended to his fringe. There was something tragic about the way he was standing, head down and leaning against the fence. How much of his life was working out for him?
‘Hey guys,’ he greeted, looking up. ‘We’re in deep shit.’
‘Whoa. What’s up?’ I asked.
‘Must be something wrong with this year’s board. All the English Lit people didn’t do well, apparently. Some results were shocking.’
‘Really?’ I said. I thought we were taught well, and did well. At least I did.
‘No one’s got an A so far in English Lit. We were kind of counting on you.’
‘Lovely. No pressure.’
We went in further to find Jenna walking over with a grin on her face.
‘Two As and a B!’ she announced excitedly. Before I had time to understand the situation she was hugging us all in turn, full of happy tears. She hadn’t changed at all. But I suppose I can spare a hug without feeling awkward if only to see her happy. We stepped into the cavernous hall where the exams were once held, and now saw envelopes with our hand-written names laid out neatly on tables. Teachers were on the sides gathering in groups, some smiling proudly, others condoled their pupils. Suddenly I didn’t want to open the envelope here anymore. Everyone knew I’d get good grades and I needn’t to make others feel bad. I could go home to read it in private. You know, if someone got better marks than me and waved it around, I would be rightfully annoyed. It would be infuriating. Good grades mean better jobs for them, undermining my chances of survival.
‘An A and two Bs,’ David mumbled to himself.
Still, the temptation to open the envelope was so strong. I could open it in private now, just to prove to David (again) that I was the smarter one. Using my back as a shield I opened the envelope and scanned the tiny prints on the pink sheet. It took me a moment to understand. It was a disaster. Borderline impossible. The immediate reaction was to find a teacher and complain.
‘Is this even accurate, Miss?’ I asked Miss Robinson, my English teacher.
‘Yes. There were mistakes in the R.E. results, but not in ours.’
‘Can I have a re-sit?’
She frowned. ‘Are you not happy with your result?’
‘No…’
I showed it to her. She read it and smiled. ‘I would be very happy.’ Well, I wasn’t. Regardless, I should still re-sit.
David came over and asked, ‘What’s up?’
‘Dan’s one mark off an A and he wanted a re-sit,’ Miss Robinson explained.
‘Tut tut,’ David said. ‘I thought you were a good writer, man! You’re supposed to be good at English.’
Oh, don’t you start…
‘You write?’ Miss Robinson inquired.
‘Yeah. I kind of have a reputation to keep in front of this guy.’
‘I’d love to read some of your works,’ Miss Robinson offered. No. Really? ‘Nobody’s got an A, so you’re still the top of the class.’
I failed in my objective this year to achieve four As. I might have had that if I studied even harder. I knew I could have done better. If I had done more revision instead of texting David, it might have been a different story.
But, coming to think of it, I had other things in place of that one mark. I have my friends. I wondered just briefly at a parallel universe, in which I was my old self and devoted my entire time to study, walking in here today collecting the results alone, walking out of this place alone, and still no one wanted to know a thing about me. I saw the shadow of what I could have been, walking out of the school gates now. Perhaps I wouldn’t regret that one mark, when I was surrounded by those who held me dearest. It wasn’t so significant anymore, at least, it didn’t seem so. I could still get it back next year.
‘Who’s up for a party at my place?’ Chris asked. ‘I have a whole box of booze…’
‘Me!’ Jenna squealed.
‘I’ll go,’ David said. Then to me, ‘You coming?’
‘I don’t drink, remember?’
Chris turned to me, almost offended. ‘Really? Why? Another haunting story from the past?’
I chuckled. ‘Nope. If I drink I’ll sleep like a log. It’s not fun.’
‘What then?’
I gave this some serious thought. ‘I’ll come if you have milk.’
‘Milk?’ Chris sighed. ‘We’ll get some on the way home then.’
It was only mid-day when we set off into the summer sun. I had never been invited to a party before so I had no idea how to behave in one. What do people do in parties anyway? Probably drinking, talking and not studying. I knew that much. I might just copy what other people do, but going to a new environment no longer scared me like it used to. Or rather, I had been in so many new territories this year I was confident that this adventure, like many others before, would one day restore parts of me that I thought I had lost through exile, misfortune, and self-torment. There was David offering me his hand, smiling at me, and I took it to embark on the next adventure, opening another chapter of my life. It didn’t seem so long ago that I was still friendless in a new college, and firmly in the closet. Any of the events that had happened since were wild and unrealistic dreams. How far I have come. I felt I had become a better person for it in the end.
But that wasn’t the end – I was certain more good things were to come, leaving in my mind memories that I would cherish for the rest of my life. It gets better. If I can go to my first party, I can do anything. Anything in the world.
I’m living my life for once, you know?
There was something tragic about the way he was standing, head down and leaning against the fence. How much of his life was working out for him?
Was it thoughtfulness, or was it guilt, that we sometimes think this way?
- 8
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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