Lost Along The Way - 1. Story

Mitch and I had been friends since preschool. Our parents quickly became friends as well and it wasn’t long before Mitch’s family moved from an apartment into a house just a few blocks away from ours. Mitch and I spent most of our youth together and we were lucky enough to be in the same class all the way through elementary school.

Once we were in middle school things changed. We were allowed to choose the classes we wanted to take, and although we were close, we didn’t share the exact same interests. Mitch liked orchestra, French and home economics. I was interested in industrial arts, fine arts and Spanish. We still had one or two classes together each year, but for most of the school day we were separated. It wasn’t a problem for us because we rode our bikes home after school and hung out until dinner time.

Everyone knew that Mitch and I were best friends and it had never been an issue until eighth grade. I’m not sure if it was puberty, or the girls’ incessant need to gossip, but eighth grade was when gossip exploded quickly, becoming more important than anything we learned in our classes. Topics ranged from people’s bodies to who was having sex with whom. No topic was off limits. I think a lot of people figured out about the same time that Mitch was gay because of his mannerisms, but until then it wasn’t discussed. It became one of the most common rumors, and I was asked about it all the time, but I usually said no or I don’t know. I was asked several times if Mitch was blowing me to which I would angrily respond no. The rumors continued to spread, but Mitch brushed off the insults and told me not to worry about it.

The week before we started ninth grade at high school, Mitch decided to talk to me about the rumors. We were in the middle of playing Nintendo when I noticed that he put down his controller.

“Danny, I need to tell you something,” Mitch said, looking down at his shoes and playing with the ends of his shoelaces.

I remained focused on the game. “Whatever it is, can’t it wait until we’ve finished this level?”

“No, I want to tell you now before I lose my nerve.”

“Okay,” I yawned, tossing my controller aside.

“I am ... gay. I’ve known for a while now, but I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I know that you’re straight, or at least I think you are so I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Mitch laughed and said, “Oh yeah, I’m one hundred percent positive.”

The room was quiet for about a minute other than the noise from the TV. I think Mitch was giving me some time to think about what he had just told me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Mitch being gay. I wasn’t homophobic and I didn’t think of myself as a bigot, but I was worried that things might change between us now that he had come out.

“I need you to know that I’m no longer going to deny the rumors or hide that I’m gay at school,” he added while staring directly at me.

I didn’t say anything for a few minutes. The first thing that crossed my mind was that once he outed himself, we would be regarded as a couple. Even if I could convince everyone I’m straight, they would suspect that Mitch has been doing things to me because of all the time we’ve spent together. I thought, ‘what should I do or say now?’

Mitch looked impatient.

“Say something Danny,” he said in an angry tone.

“Look, I’m worried. I’m worried about how the rest of the school will treat you. I’m worried that you’re going to get beat up. I’m worried that they will assume I’m gay – and for the record I am not gay. I’m worried that they will continue to spread rumors that we are doing things together. They’ve already been asking if you’re blowing me! I’m not sure I can deal with this, Mitch. I don’t want to be labeled a fag just because we are friends!”

I realized what I had said the second I gazed at Mitch. I could see shock and disappointment building in his face and then he looked away because he appeared on the verge of crying. He stood up and walked towards the door.

“Then I guess the easiest solution is for us to stop being friends,” he said quietly, opening the door and walking out.

I was in shock, but I didn’t say anything or move. I leaped up a few moments later when I heard our front door slam and looked out the window. I saw him wipe his eyes and then pick up his bike and start pedaling down the street towards his house.

I climbed into bed and buried myself under the covers. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t find the tears. Sure, I wasn’t gay, but I loved Mitch. He was my best friend and my parents thought of him as another son. I allowed him to walk out of my room and then my house and not once did I try to stop him. His words as he left were the last ones he spoke to me for two years.

****

Initially, I didn’t expect our fight to last more than a few hours. We’d never had a fight that lasted longer than a day in the entire history of our friendship, but soon hours turned into days and days quickly became weeks and months. I would see Mitch outside, or at school, but he never spoke to me and I was too ashamed to speak to him.

My parents couldn’t get me to talk about it and apparently they couldn’t elicit an answer out of Mitch’s parents. To say that they were disappointed in me would be an understatement. I’d spent the first few weeks after the fight holed up in my room sulking, and I was constantly told that I should apologize and make things right.

I could never bring myself to do it.

I preferred not having to deal with Mitch’s coming out. When my parents found out that Mitch was gay they’d immediately asked me if that was the reason we stopped talking. I’d refused to discuss the matter and eventually they dropped it.

At school, news that Mitch and I were no longer friends spread like wildfire along with news that Mitch had come out of the closet. He had quickly become the butt of jokes amongst my other friends and I watched them make fun of him while I silently cried on the inside. He suffered verbal abuse and was pushed around, but once Mitch’s brother, Michael, found out, the pushing stopped. Michael was a varsity linebacker and could be quite persuasive when he was in your face. Mitch helped matters by keeping to himself. He was in my geometry class during the first semester of my freshman year and he’d hardly uttered a word. I think people felt sad for Mitch because he used to be such a happy person and he’d become a shell of his former self.

That first semester had seemed to fly by as I was always busy with football. The freshmen team was awful, but between practice and games I was able to keep my mind off what had transpired between us. By the end of that first semester I’d come to terms with the fact that Mitch and I were no longer going to be friends and it was my fault. I didn’t have him in any of my classes second semester and when I’d shown up for track and field tryouts he simply walked away. After he left, one of the guys made a joke at Mitch’s expense and I’d suddenly wished I was at home in bed.

I didn’t see much of Mitch my sophomore year. He’d made new friends that he sat with at lunch, but other than that I only saw him in the corridors. I’d heard he was dating a senior who had come out, but I never saw them together. He seemed to be coming back out of his shell and I’d found myself wishing we were friends again. Most of the fervor surrounding his gayness had died down, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize to him. I wasn’t even sure he would renew our friendship even if I did.

Junior year arrived and I felt like a big man on campus. I was now an upper-classman and the starting tight end on the varsity football team. I was stoked on the first day of school until I entered the locker room second period for my weight lifting class. There, standing right by the door, was Mitch. He saw me and smirked. I couldn’t tell what was going through his head, but I suddenly realized I would soon be naked with him in the showers after class. I panicked and told the coach I needed to change my class schedule as it wasn’t correct. He reluctantly gave me a pass to see the counselor to get it fixed.

I lied to the counselor and told her that I was afraid I would be too tired to concentrate on my studies if I didn’t move my weight lifting class to the end of the day. I guess it sounded like a reasonable request, so we tried several different options until she finally found one that worked. My Spanish class moved from sixth to second period, my weight lifting class moved from second to seventh period, and my creative writing class moved from seventh to sixth period. The crisis had been averted; the world was now safe again.

When I showed up for my creative writing class at the last minute, I found the class already full with only one seat open – the seat right behind Mitch. Mrs. Phillips, the teacher, informed us that where we are sitting now will be where we will sit all semester. Great, an entire semester right behind Mitch. I thought I’d escaped him by switching my schedule, but it appeared fate had a backup plan.

The next day I noticed a piece of paper on my desk. I turned it over and read it. When I didn’t show up in the locker room second period, Mitch must have figured out that I switched my schedule to avoid having gym class with him. Printed in all caps were five simple words that made me feel sick to my stomach.

YOU
ARE
SUCH
A
COWARD

I skipped dinner that evening and went straight to bed. All of the pain I had caused both of us came rushing back from where I had buried it. The tears that I couldn’t find two years ago found their way to the surface and I bawled for an hour before falling asleep.

After that second day of class, things calmed down between us. Most days he pretended that I didn’t exist and he rarely made eye contact. We were back to ignoring each other and that was fine by me. Mrs. Phillips dispensed short writing assignments to get us comfortable with the creative writing process. Half way through the semester, she assigned us to write a short story to present to the class by the following Monday. We could either rewrite something we had previously written for class, or write something new. I chose to polish up a previous assignment to save hours of brainstorming.

When Monday came around, she asked for volunteers to read their story to the class. Several of the girls and Mitch raised their hands. The rest of us waited until the teacher called on us to read our story. Mitch was picked third by the teacher to read his story. He stepped up to the podium and placed his paper on it.

“What is the title of your story, Mitch?” asked Mrs. Phillips.

“My story’s title is, A Ghost From My Past,” he said staring directly at me.

I immediately looked away from his gaze. Mitch cleared his throat and began.

The wind whipped through my hair and dried the tears on my face as I rode my bike home when I realized that you were gone. I never thought I would lose you so quickly. I figured we might go our own ways in life and drift apart, but I always thought you would be there for me when I needed you. I know it isn’t right for me to still be angry with your loss years later, but I am. The real problem remains that I feel haunted by your ghost.

I remember the last time I was in your room. It is a painful memory, but it is the last memory I have of you. I would give anything to go back and relive the time we spent together. Now, when I walk through the hallways at school I sometimes think I catch a glimpse of you walking past me. When I drive past your house, I swear I sometimes see your beautiful face shimmering in the upstairs window. Is it my imagination or is your ghost still here, and are you here to watch over me or to haunt me?

Last night I had a dream that I was sitting in class and I felt an icy chill run down my spine. I could smell you, I could hear you breathe, and I swear I could feel your breath making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I gathered up all my courage and quickly turned around, but my best friend wasn’t there – instead I found only a ghost from my past.

I noticed Bethany was crying after hearing Mitch’s story. She had lost her brother when we were in middle school from a fatal car crash. I also had tears in my eyes and Mitch stared directly at me with a puzzled look. Mrs. Phillips told him that his story was excellent, the class clapped, and he sat down blushing from the attention.

My chest hurt from hearing his story. The words pierced my heart and reopened the wound I thought I’d cried away. It was obvious that the pain I felt deep down inside me still traumatized Mitch as well. I couldn’t leave things as they were. If I did, then I would always be the coward he’d labeled me as. I hoped Mrs. Phillips didn’t call on me until Tuesday, giving me time to write a new story in response. The rest of the class I spent brainstorming ideas while people stood up to read their stories. I couldn’t tell you a thing about any of those stories.

Gym and football practice passed without incident and after dinner I started on my response. I spent hours racking my brain for a decent idea. I needed something that would show Mitch that I was finally ready to apologize for the pain I had caused both of us. I remembered an event from our childhood and immediately started writing. For the first time that semester, the words flowed and I had no problem expressing myself. A little after midnight I finally felt I had something I could share with Mitch and the class.

The next day when Mrs. Phillips asked for volunteers, I excitedly raised my hand. I think she was taken aback since I had never really shown interest in the class before that. She called on me to step up to the podium.

“What is the title of your story, Danny?” asked Mrs. Phillips.

“My story is called, Lost Along The Way.” I said, smiling at Mitch.

Mitch’s eyebrows went up and I think he knew my story was a response to his. I’d been too nervous to eat lunch earlier, and I realized my hands were trembling as I placed them on the podium.

When I was young, I was always losing things. My parents would get frustrated with me because I would leave my toys everywhere we went. I would throw a tantrum and my parents would take me back to pick up the toy. Sometimes the toys were still there, and other times they were lost. If we ever went back to a place I had lost a toy, I would try to find it even though it was long gone. As I got a little older, my dad decided he would no longer go back to look for things I had lost along the way.

My favorite thing in the whole world was my teddy bear named Max. Max was always with me and I never wanted to be without him. Even though I had lost a lot of things as a child, I never lost Max—he was simply too important to lose. Max made me feel special, loved even, and not a day went by that I didn’t spend time with him. As I got older, I started getting teased for playing with Max. I let others convince me that playing with Max was wrong.

The day finally came when I decided to lose Max. I was petrified by what my friends would say if they caught me still playing with him. I remember the day it happened like it was yesterday. I looked into his big teddy bear eyes and I felt myself die a little that day. Max disappeared from my life and I found that, not only had I lost Max, I’d lost my way.

Sometimes when we lose something precious to us we’re never able to get it back. I was wrong to let what others might think convince me to abandon Max, so I am searching for him. I may never get Max back, but I will never stop looking for him or the other things I have lost along the way.

Some of the girls made sappy sounds when I finished. The guys in the class, except for Mitch, cracked up. I glanced at him but couldn’t read his expression. Mrs. Phillips said thank you and complimented my work, the class clapped and I sat down. I got razzed by another football player as I sat down, but I was focused on Mitch’s movements in front of me. He seemed unnerved by my story. I wasn’t sure if that was a positive sign or not.

When class ended, Mitch shot out of his seat and was the first to leave the class. I’d hoped he might say something to me, but maybe just like me he didn’t know what to say. The school day ended and as I drove home I pulled into Mitch’s driveway. I stood at his door for several minutes gathering the courage to ring the bell.

I listened to the chimes and heard someone barreling down the stairs to answer the door. It was Mitch and he stared at me with daggers in his eyes.

“So, I’m a teddy bear to you?” He said, annoyed.

“In your story I’m dead and haunting you!” I wasn’t too sure I’d made the right choice in coming to his house.

“Yeah, well I sort of feel that way,” he added, scowling at me.

“Well, at least I didn’t make Bethany cry,” I teased with a smirk.

He didn’t say anything for thirty seconds and then his demeanor changed.

“Oh, all right, come inside,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Inside, I removed my jacket and hung it in the closet. Mitch closed the door and turned around. We were both unsure of what to do next. As hard as I tried, the emotion of the moment overcame me and I lurched forward and hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry Mitch. I know I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me!” I cried in between sobs.

He slowly embraced me with his arms and we stayed like that for several minutes.

I’d like to say that we went back to being best friends right away, but it took time for us to retrieve what had been lost during those two years I spent living as a coward. Our renewed friendship started as it had ended, with us going upstairs to play video games. We smiled at each other safe in the knowledge that our friendship was going to be ok.

I started sitting with Mitch and his friends at lunch. Since it was my fault that we had been apart for two years, I figured I should be the one who moved tables. The move to Mitch’s lunch table was advantageous for me as a girl I had a crush on sat there. I eventually asked her to the homecoming dance and begged Mitch and his boyfriend to come with us. My hope was that by double dating I was showing Mitch I truly accepted him and was no longer ashamed to be seen with him.

Each day seemed to bring the two of us closer together. When I look back at the past, I still regret the two years that we lost.

Epilogue (10 years later)

“Uncle Mitch!” he yelled.

Mitch rushed across his apartment and opened the door to his second bedroom and looked in on Danny’s four year old son.

“What’s wrong Drew?” Mitch asked.

“I’m scared. When will my mommy and daddy be back?” Drew asked with tears in his eyes and a frown on his face.

“They will come pick you up in the morning. I know it’s hard to sleep in a strange place, but I won’t let anything happen to you. In fact, I’ll be right back.”

Mitch went into his bedroom and fetched an old, worn out teddy bear from his bookshelf. He quickly walked back to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed with the teddy bear.

“Drew, this is my teddy bear. I’ve had him since I was young and I want to give him to you. Your daddy gave me this teddy bear when I was about your age. I was sick in the hospital with pneumonia and your daddy told your grandma that he wanted me to have his teddy bear so I wouldn’t be scared. Whenever I get scared, I hold this teddy bear tight. He reminds me of your daddy, but I think it’s time for him to come home and live with you.”

Drew quickly hugged the teddy bear and turned on his side to snuggle with it. Mitch got up off the bed and made his way for the door.

“Uncle Mitch, what’s his name?”

“His name is Max. Goodnight Drew and Max, sleep tight,” he said with a smile, and closed the door.