One Moonlit Night - 20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The last things Chris did before he took his life were to clean his room, write four letters, and lay four pictures on his neatly made bed. One was of him and Bobby, arms wrapped around each other laughing. The second was of a younger smiling Chris as he, with that proud big brother look, lovingly held his sister, Elly, when she was a baby. The third was of Scotty, Bobby, Chris, and me after Bobby’s first victorious wrestling match flashing the universal ‘V’ for victory sign. The fourth was of him on a camping trip, his arms around his father and mother’s waists, their arms draped over his shoulder: all smiling.

The letters were addressed to Bobby, his sister Elly, his parents, Scotty and me. In our letter, which was brief he wrote:

Dear Sebastian and Scott,

This is not the way I wanted to say ‘thank you’ to you guys for being my friends. Just know I appreciated all you tried to do. Please, watch over Bobby for me. He is the greatest person in the world and I love him so much. Please do not let him slip back into being a recluse. I loved Bobby with all I had, but my dad was never going to let me see him again. He was sending me away. I don’t want to live without him. I can’t.

I can’t go on living in this house. I can’t go on with the constant ridicule and name calling. I can’t go on living without Bobby. I can’t go on. I can’t.

I hope you two are always happy together. I really wanted what you two have with Bobby. I can’t.

I’m sorry.

Your friend,

Chris

After the sadness came the anger. I was extremely angry—no, outraged toward Chris’ parents. How anyone could treat their own child like that was just something I could not comprehend. I was angry at the system for allowing his father back into his life. I was angry at our society’s attitude toward those who didn’t fit the mold, gay people specifically. I was angry with myself for not being able to do anything. Angry about the powerlessness I felt. I kept asking myself, what could I have said or done that day in the boy’s bathroom to keep him hanging on. I was angry at Chris for giving up.

It took me a few weeks to realize that in so many ways it was useless. Being angry did not change Chris’ parents. Being angry didn’t make the justice system—in this case—change its ruling. Being angry didn’t change the many in our society’s views towards homosexuality. Being angry didn’t make me any more capable or powerful or to have the ‘right’ answer. Being angry at Chris did not bring him back.

Perhaps to alleviate some of what we were feeling from the roller coaster of emotions, Scotty and I both agreed our main focus should be supporting Bobby Arnold through this tragedy. We also felt for little Elly, but there was little we could do on her behalf. A twelve year old should not be the one to find her brother in a bathtub filled with water turned red by his blood.

The school held a memorial service for the sake of the students. Those who wished were invited to say a few words. Mrs. Kreider and Elly attended along with other parents who came to pay their respects. Noticeably absent was Mr. Kreider. Most who spoke expressed their sympathies and told an anecdote or two. Some were humorous; some were touching remembrances. Tears flowed and a few nervous chuckles were elicited.

My mom, all the Tuckers, and Bobby’s parents were there. Bobby wanted to speak but was afraid he would not be able to hold it together. Of some concern, though in his present state of mind, not much, was also the fact that he did have to attend Cleona High for another two years. He was torn. He didn’t want to be evasive in his eulogy as to his and Chris’ relationship. However, tarnishing Chris’ reputation was also a consideration given the attitude of many people toward homosexuality. I think what changed his mind was that after many people spoke Elly turned and looked at him in a way as to say, ‘why aren’t you saying anything?’

As unobtrusively as possible, Bobby made his way to the aisle and slowly ascended to the stage. “My name is Robert Arnold and Christopher Riley Kreider was my best friend.” Choking back tears, he continued, “so many of you have brought up memories of Chris as he was as a student. His unabashed arrogance and flippant remarks were notorious. His big roar was more because he was small in stature and didn’t want others to think they could walk all over him, or that he couldn’t hold his own. The Chris I know, knew, was also kind, gentle, self-confident, and courageous. He had a great sense of humor and loved to pull practical jokes. He was easily excited, competitive, and passionate. I know; I played many a video game with him.” He managed a smile with this memory. “Elly,” Bobby continued, addressing her, “Chris loved you and bragged about you so much. I know he teased you a lot, but he loved you so…”

A commotion was heard in the rear of the auditorium as an inebriated Mr. Kreider threw open the door and came staggering down the aisle. “What’s that faggot doing up there. He’s why my son is dead,” he screamed. “He made my son queer.” He tripped and fell to one knee and, struggling to get up, yelled, “You killed my son!”

Bobby, with a cold but calm voice replied, “No, Mr. Kreider, I did not kill Chris. Bigotry and hatred killed Chris. Lack of love and acceptance killed Chris. I didn’t beat Chris unmercifully and throw him down the stairs and out of the house into the cold. I didn’t isolate Chris to his room and not allow to him to speak to his sister or take part in other family events. I didn’t keep Chris from his friends. I didn’t kill his spirit, his heart or his will to live by calling him ‘my sissy boy.’ Anyone who knew Chris knew he wasn’t a sissy. You see Mr. Kreider, I didn’t hate Chris. I’m not a bigot. I loved and accepted Chris for who he was. You can be happy now because you won’t have to deal with Chris being gay. No one made Chris gay, Mr. Kreider, anymore than any of your friends made you heterosexual. What is very sad and pathetic is, your wife doesn’t have a son, Elly doesn’t have a brother, and I don’t have a friend. Unconditional love from a father for his son would have prevented this tragedy.” Bobby, head held high descended from the stage and walked up the aisle passing Mr. Kreider still down on one knee, clinging to the back of a seat.

“Bobby, wait!” cried out Elly. She jumped from her seat, ran up the aisle and throwing her arms around Bobby gave him a big hug. She whispered something in his ear, released him, and returned to her seat beside her mother.

All this as the mourners sat in stunned silence.

Bobby exited the auditorium.

***[ ]***

Time heals, so they say. How much time, they don’t. Scotty or I, when not busy, got together with Bobby as much as possible. We didn’t avoid talking about Chris but didn’t go out of our way to bring him up either. Mrs. Kreider had separated from her husband. She and Elly moved to Maryland to stay with her older sister. Mr. Kreider took to drinking more and more and three months after Chris’ death, met his own while driving at a high speed, hitting a patch of ice and crashing into a telephone pole. A few weeks later, right after the New Year, Mrs. Kreider and Elly moved back into their house in Cleona and began their lives anew. Bobby became a frequent visitor to their home, mainly to see Elly. They had a common bond in their love for Chris.

On one of his visits with Elly, Mrs. Kreider took Bobby to Chris’ room. Nothing had been changed. Mrs. Kreider told Bobby to go through the room and pick anything he wanted as they were going to box things up. She then quietly left the room leaving him to be alone.

Later that afternoon Bobby came to my place holding a shopping bag. He asked if Scotty was around and I told him he’d be by in a while as he was practicing for an upcoming concert. He placed the bag at his feet and we sat and chatted. Bobby wasn’t morose but he still hadn’t gotten back the bubbly-ness. As we sat talking and sipping our sodas, he related that he and his parents were planning a trip to England as soon as school let out for the summer. He was looking forward to it. I told him I wanted him to take lots of pictures. Also, I said that maybe Scotty could tell him some interesting places to go as he’d been there a few times to perform. Forty-five minutes had passed when Scotty finally made his entrance. Once he was seated, Bobby picked up the shopping bag and said, “Mrs. Kreider let me go through Chris’ things and said I could have anything I wanted. I mainly took pictures and…Uh, well, I’ll get to that later. Anyway, there were a few I thought you might like, and one for you in particular, Bash.” He handed me a picture of me wrestling my opponent when I won the State Wrestling championship. It was a great shot. On it Chris had written, This’llbe me someday.

“Thanks, Bobby, but are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

“Now what would I want a picture of your ugly mug for?” He jokingly stated. “Nah, besides, I have some others.”

He also gave one to Scotty of him and Chris standing by the piano after the ‘art appreciation’ assembly held that year.

“Oh, I have two more to give you, but I want to make copies of them first. It is the picture that Chris had laid on his bed the day he…” Bobby swallowed, “the day he died. The other is a picture of the four of us at your birthday party this past summer.”

“Can you make two copies, Bobby?” Scotty asked. “I’d like to keep one in my room at home.”

“Really? Uh, yeah, I mean, sure,” he replied.

“Really. It will be evidence of the first two official gay couples of Cleona High.” Scotty stated.

Scotty asking for that picture and making that comment, made Bobby realize we validated his relationship with Chris. We viewed their relationship as significant as ours. I think Bobby sometimes thought that we saw his and Chris’ relationship as ‘puppy love’, and not the real thing. “Yeah, maybe we should put it in the yearbook,” he said with a devilish smile.

“Ya’ know Bobby, I think that’s a really great idea. Of course, no one but a few others would get the significance of it. I’m gonna’ talk to Michelle who’s on the yearbook committee. I know I can convince her to include it,” I said. “We need to come up with a caption, like, uh, three wrestlers and a reject, or...”

“Wait a minute,” Scotty said in mocked hurt, “how about two piano players and two off-key singers,” Scotty threw in.

“Two of Cleona High’s odd-couples,” Bobby giggled.

“That’s it, yeah, ‘two odd-couples.’ I like the play on words.” “Yeah,” Scotty and I both agreed.

It had been too long not seeing Bobby laugh. His effervescence started to return that afternoon, especially as he started showing us a few of the other items in the bag. “I’m glad I could retrieve these before Mrs. Kreider ran across them,” Bobby remarked as he held an item that was obviously meant for anal stimulation.

“What is that?” Scotty asked.

“Ah, you’re gonna’ laugh, but it’s the end of a broom handle. My mom wondered why I cut the end of her broom handle off. At a loss as to what to say—I hadn’t thought that far ahead—I told her I figured since I was so short, that I’d get better leverage with a shorter handle. She thought I was bonkers,” Bobby laughed.

“I don’t think it was leverage you were going for,” I chuckled.

Then he brought out a used tube of KY jelly. He started giggling. “You’re not going to believe this,” as he continued to giggle. “But, Chris and I didn’t like using Vaseline as it was so messy and it left stains on everything you touched. We were afraid his or my parents would notice. Somehow, we heard about KY. We went to the grocery store—one we normally didn’t use. As a joke, Chris headed for the jams and jelly aisle. Looking all around acting frustrated because he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he caught the attention of a clerk who asked if he could help. Chris said, ‘I can’t seem to find some jelly my dad said I should pick up on my way home from school.’ The clerk asked him if he new the brand or kind. ‘Ky,’ was the name of it Chris informed him. ‘Ky?’ the clerk questioned. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yeah,’ Chris said, ‘it’s spelled, K-Y. K-Y jelly, I never heard of it either, but then my dad has weird tastes sometimes.’”

Scotty and I started laughing as Bobby continued. “The clerk barely could hold himself together and instructed Chris to go to the Health Aids section on aisle three or some number. Chris remarked that he thought that was a strange place to put jelly. While standing at the check out counter Chris continued to play dumb, waving the package of KY about, nonchalantly and saying loud enough for others to hear, ‘This is actually pretty neat. It comes in a tube and you can just squeeze it out on your crackers or bread. Why doesn’t Smucker’s catch on to this idea?’ The cashier could hardly keep from laughing. God, that was so, so funny. I’ll never forget it. He could be so devilish and funny.”

We could barely stop laughing after Bobby’s anecdote. I was just picturing these two small bratty teens, acting so innocent playing out their ruse. Bobby had this smile—a smile of a remembrance that evoked a fond memory as he gently placed the two items back in the bag. Looking at Scotty and me he said, “I still miss him. I miss him a lot. It’s been five months and I still think of him all the time; more so of the fun times now and not so much of his death. Is that bad?”

“God, no, Bobby,” Scotty and I said in unison. I continued, “I think it’s good you’re going from the sad to the glad. I know Chris wouldn’t want you to be sad and miserable. He loved you and would want you to be happy. He was your lover and best friend.”

“That he was,” Bobby emphatically stated as his eyes started to moisten. “Well, I don’t want to get all teary-eyed.”

He showed us the remainder of the pictures he had in his bag, a gold chain Chris wore, and a pair of pajamas with a Mickey Mouse motif. Bobby said he always teased Chris about them. For me the significance of the pajamas stood as a reminder—a symbol—that these were two young teens teetering on the edge of adulthood. It was a cathartic moment. A few tears were shed; reliving the memories also brought smiles.

“I’d better get going. I told Mom and Dad I’d be home in time to go out to dinner. Thanks you two, you’re very special to me and I appreciate all you’ve done. You’re being there for and with me through all of this; well I don’t know what I would have done.”

“And we will continue to be here,” Scotty affirmed. “You were our friend before this and we will continue to be friends as we go on from here.”

We all hugged and as a parting remark Scotty said, “Oh, by the way, let us know how the crackers taste with your jelly.” Bobby giggled as he went down the steps.

***[ ]***

That February I did win the State Wrestling championship. An announcement was made regarding the loss of Chris Kreider, who was acknowledged as one of the few sophomores to ever reach the State Wrestling championship finals. Condolences went out to his friends, fellow team members and family. It was a touching tribute. Now, a proud Robert Arnold was in that rank. Though he lost in the second round of elimination bouts, he too made it to the State Wrestling championships in his sophomore year.

Following the meet, Coach Hastinger, proud of his two young warriors, took us out for pizza. Many other team members who came to be supportive and cheer Bobby and me on were invited also. Chattering away and excited as we were, a sudden quiet came over the table when Brad Toller said, “Why did they have to make an announcement about Kreider, for God’s sake. He was a fa..uh, homo.”

I was livid and started to stand up. Bobby said, “Bash.” I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn’t want me to say anything. He instead, looking Brad directly in the eyes, said, “You know what Brad, you’re a lot like Chris was. Arrogant, over-confident, sometimes insensitive and shooting off his mouth when he shouldn’t. Unlike you, however, Chris was loyal: loyal to his team and its members. He was also one hell of a wrestler. So, and I think I speak for others on our team, unless you have something of value to contribute to the conversation, please, keep your big mouth shut. Chris was my friend and he did make it to the State Championships.” With that, Bobby turned to me and said, “Bash, about next year, if you’re still around will you be able to give me some one-on-one coaching. I want to be the second junior, like you, from Cleona High to win a State title.” He then flashed a smile and the chatter began anew at the table. Brad once again left with his foot in his mouth.

***[ ]***

Our final year of high school coming to its end: Scotty and I were busy preparing for the prom. Not surprisingly, he was elected class valedictorian and was writing and practicing his speech. Scotty was in his element. He had an aplomb and confidence when it came to being before the public. It was going to be a great send off for the class of ’91. Neither he nor I had any problem getting dates for the prom, though we did discuss going together in one of our moments of fantasy. Of course, we nixed that idea because, as enlightened as society was becoming, it still would not bode well for our futures, at this time, to be in the spotlight. That perhaps was going to change, when Scotty called me and nervously stammered, “Uh, Bash, uh, someone just found out that I’m gay.”

“Who? How? When? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Michelle was having her hair done at Beth’s shop and one of Beth’s patrons was making some derogatory remarks about gay people. Well, you know Beth, she told the woman that she didn’t particularly care for her remarks as she had a brother who was gay and he and his boyfriend were the greatest two people you could know. Michelle overheard the entire conversation. She called me to tell me she knew and then told me what Beth had said, so I couldn’t very well deny it. I mean, I was the obvious ‘brother’ as who would suspect Junior of being gay, for God’s sake. She doesn’t suspect you; at least I don’t think she does, because she asked me who my boyfriend was.”

“Oh, well, Michelle is pretty cool. I don’t think she’ll blab. Do you?” I questioned.

“I asked her not to say anything and she said she wouldn’t, but… You now how these things go. She confides in her best friend, who confides in theirs, and so on and so on…”

“Well, we only have another month of school. Even at that, I do think we need to tell our parents,” I said.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, really.” he said resignedly.

“Do you want me to talk with Michelle, babe? I think she’d listen to me, especially if I stressed how important it was that you and I not be ‘outed.’ After all, the three of us have been friends for almost all of our lives and I think she’d understand.”

“Are you sure you want her to know about you, too Bash? As it is, she only knows about me so far.”

“Scotty, you’re my lover. We are in this together. No, I don’t want the world to know, but I’m not ashamed of being gay or being with you. If it means stressing to Michelle what this could do to our futures should the word get out, then I will say something to her. Besides, she’s my date to the prom, gotta’ be some irony here somewhere,” I chuckled.

“Well, let’s talk to Mom, Dad and Aunt Tracy and see what they have to say, Okay?”

“‘Kay,” I responded. “I’ll come over in a little while. I love you, Scotty, see you in a bit,” he responded in kind and we hung up.

I certainly hope I came across a lot less nervous than I was feeling at that moment. I wasn’t concerned about myself as much as I was for Scotty. He was small and the perfect target for would be harassers. I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt him. He is the love of my live.