Only Prompts - 8. First Love, Again

First Love, Again

Mum put the bowl of fresh tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of me. I smiled at her, as it was this meal that she always served as my first lunch when I came home. My palate had become more sophisticated living in the big city, but nothing was ever as good as this.

She sat down to watch me eat, just as she’d always done. “You know that Donald Richards died a few days ago.”

Soup slopped off the spoon as I jerked it to a stop before it reached my lips. Tiny drops of red decorated the rim of the white bowl and the back of my hand. I put the spoon back into the soup. “Jamie’s father?”

Mum nodded. “Yes, he’s been quite ill with cancer for some months. It was expected.”

“Wow. I had no idea. How is Marie? Have you seen her?” I wiped my mouth with the white paper napkin. I dabbed the soup from my hand too.

“I did go over—took a tuna casserole and pan of brownies—she’s bearing up. The girls are there.”

It was on the tip of my tongue and probably on Mum’s too, but I said it first. “Is Jamie coming home, for the funeral?”

Nodding, Mum said, “Marie said Jeanette called him. He said he’d think about it. He’s lucky he’s not my son!”

“Mum, please. You know the reasons behind that. It’s not all Jamie’s fault.”

“Well, he never kept in touch with his mum or sisters. And worse, you were his best friend! Did you ever hear from him?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to Jamie since the day we left for college.” It made me sad when I realized how much time had passed.

“Your dad and I are going of course. We’ve known them forever. You’ll come too, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course I will. I’ll need to go and buy something suitable to wear though.”

“We can go after lunch if you like, dear.”

I spooned some lukewarm soup into my mouth, followed by a bite of my now-cold grilled cheese and nodded.

The day of the funeral was bright and sunny. The weather service said it was going to be a nice warm day. Luckily my new navy blue suit was summer wool. I tied the dark-blue, muted-silk tie and put on my jacket and looked in the mirror. Not too shabby.

I wondered if Jamie would be there.

We’d been so close when growing up. The same age, same junior high school, similar likes: baseball, swimming, watermelon, burgers and onion rings, and boys. Jamie was a runner too, always in the top-three for the 100-metres dash, while I usually brought up the rear in cross-country.

In high school, things changed for us; we got closer. Jamie was my first crush, then my first kiss and finally, my first lover. We made plans, were accepted at the same college and couldn’t wait to go away together.

Two weeks before we were to leave, it happened—the thing that changed everything. We were found by Mr. Richard’s in flagrante delicto. I was given ten minutes to get out of their house and out of Jamie’s life.

I hadn’t come out to anyone but Jamie, but that night I had to tell my parents. They weren’t upset but mostly kind of sad.

Jamie got a note to me eventually through his oldest sister Jeanette. I met him under an old bridge by the river. I reached for him but he stepped away.

I blinked and dropped my hands by my sides. “Okay, fine.”

“Eddie! Jesus, we can’t. My father wants to disown me. He’s pulled me out of Brockville—”

“What?” I was horrified. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he won’t let me see you, or go to school with you. He blames you for turning me into a … a, well you know.”

I nodded but was angry. “Yeah I know. So you didn’t stand up for me, for us, at all?”

“I told you, he’ll disown me, for Christ’s sake!”

I gazed at this boy I thought loved me as much as I did him. To me, at that moment, his inheritance meant more to him than I did.

That opinion has softened over the years.

I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered what Jamie looked like now; we were both eight years older. My mum called up the stairs to say they were ready to go. I adjusted my tie and went down.

The funeral was Catholic and long. From where we sat in the church I couldn’t see the family, but once the service was over and the casket was moved, the family followed it out. He was there beside his mother.

My heart leapt in my chest and I had to sit on the pew. It took me a minute to get my breath back. My mother turned to hiss at me. “Stand up!”

I did, and said sheepishly: “Sorry.”

We followed the procession to the graveside and we stood toward the back. Once the casket was lowered and the grave covered temporarily, people walked away slowly.

I told my parents I’d get back home on my own when I noticed Jamie remaining at the grave. I didn’t crowd him, but waited quietly where he’d see me. He stood there for several minutes. Finally he moved and noticed me, our eyes met and his face twisted in anguish as he realized who I was.

I took two tentative steps toward him. “Jamie—”

“No … no, Eddie. I can’t … please just go away.” With a last glance he turned and ran toward the parking area.

I jogged after him, but he was still faster than I was. I slowed and stopped when I heard my father.

“Edward … son.”

Hurriedly I wiped away my tears as my dad took my arm at the elbow. “Come on, son. Leave him for now. He’s probably got so many unresolved issues to think about. We’ll see them back at the house.”

My mother hugged me and kissed my cheek before I climbed into the back seat.

I didn’t miss the subtle glance they gave each other when Dad started the car.

Back at the Richard’s home, I mingled and hugged and kissed and drank and ate. Finally, I went into the back garden and sat on one of the stone benches. I wished I smoked or something. The night was clear and cool. The moon in its first quarter hung bright in the sky.

“Eddie.”

I whirled around so quickly; I kinked my neck. I jumped to my feet. “Jamie!”

We just looked at each other for a second or two and then spoke at the same time.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry …”

“Me too. Damnit, it’s been so long. I’m sorry.”

Jamie looked at his feet. “Eddie, you think we can get together to talk?”

“Sure, I’m home for a week.”

“Here’s my cell. I have to go back in; call me, please?”

I entered his number. “Yes, I’ll call. We’ll talk.”

He smiled then, and touched my shoulder. “I’ll be waiting.”

I resumed my seat and took some deep breaths. My father appeared on the deck about twenty minutes later.

“You ready to go home, Edward?” He looked at me with his wonderful, kind eyes.

After getting to my feet, I dusted off my butt, and he put his arm around me. “Funerals are always hard, son.”

I nodded.

He said, “Let’s say our farewells and go home.”

“Okay, Dad.”

The next morning I slept in. I heard my parents go out. They had said they would be, but I didn’t recall the reason.

I pulled my suit trousers off the back of the chair and fished my phone out. I stared at it. I looked at Jamie’s name and number. I kept looking at it—my heart was pounding—I clicked on the number. I listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Jamie, it’s … it’s Eddie.”

“Hi … hi.”

“Is this a bad time? I can call back, you know whenever you think—”

“No. No Eddie now is perfect. Listen … will you meet me?”

“Yes, of course. Where and when?”

“Now and at Richard’s and Company?”

He wanted me to meet him at the family business? “Well, okay. I’ll get dressed and get a taxi. Be there in an hour?”

“Yes. An hour. See you there.” Jamie disconnected.

I got up and pulled off my t-shirt and boxers and stalked into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and climbed in. I stood under the hot water for a few minutes before reaching for the shampoo and the soap.

After the shower, I dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, stood in the kitchen, reheated a mug of coffee in the microwave, and swallowed a slice of toast. I called a taxi, pulled on my jacket and went out to wait on the front porch.

It was Sunday, so the office wasn’t open. Jamie was waiting outside the main doors when I pulled up. I paid the driver, and got out and walked to him. In his hands he held a cardboard tray with coffee and a couple of white bags.

“Good morning, Eddie. Thanks for coming.”

Okay, very formal. At least he didn’t say Edward.

He pushed the tray of coffee toward me. “Will you hold this, while I unlock the door?”

I accepted, walked in when he held the door for me. He pulled the door closed and I followed him into the office and a small meeting room. I put the coffee down, removed my jacket and took a chair. Jamie sat at the head of the table.

I handed him a cup of coffee and a white bag, and took one for myself. “So? Why here.”

He pulled the white plastic lid off his coffee and sipped it. “It’s mine now, Eddie.”

I nearly snorted, but didn’t. “Well, you were a good boy then, because you got your inheritance.”

Jamie’s coffee slopped onto the tabletop as he reacted to the bitterness of my words. He wiped it with a paper napkin. “I deserve that I guess.”

“Shit. No, you don’t. I’m sorry.” I looked at him over the rim of my coffee. “So, are you coming back to run it? I mean where have you been?”

“Yes, I think I will and I’ve been in British Columbia … Vancouver.” He pulled out a cinnamon roll and pulled at the pastry. “Dad sent me to school out there … after the … incident.”

I did snort this time. “Oh, is that how we’re referring to what happened that night now?”

“Eddie … “

“Jamie, what do you want?” I wanted to get on with it and go home.

He looked sad and drawn. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I’d have been older, I could have handled him differently ... it differently. But I wasn’t and I didn’t. But Eddie, I am sorry.”

He reached out and took my hand. “There’s been no one else. So many times I wanted to call your parents and ask how I could reach you. School was lonely, and so has life.”

Suddenly I felt heavy, felt the weight of the years and our shared loneliness. I felt tears on my cheeks. “Me too, Jamie. There was only you—but I … I thought …”

“Are you married, or …?”

“No, I’m single. I dated, but none of them were you.”

We were silent then. The room still. We looked into each other’s eyes. Jamie, always the braver of us, spoke first. “So do you think that maybe?”

I squeezed his hand, and hope fluttered in my chest like a manic butterfly. “I think we need to, Jamie. I’m tired of my life being half-empty.”

“I’m scared, Eddie. Scared that it’s too late. That I hurt you too much.”

We stood then and fell together, holding on for dear life. As I felt his body pressed solidly against mine, as I ran my hands over his strong back and felt his hands on me—I knew it wasn’t too late.

It was only just the beginning.

C’est fini.