The Secret Life of the Overture Boys - 4. Movement 4

Für Elise was the only thing I could hear.

I was lying luxuriously on top of a grand piano in one of the unmarked recital halls, with Cassidy playing below me. The music sheet rack was down, Cassidy knew most shit by heart. This particular hall had a huge hole in the ceiling above the stage, providing a shaft of natural light through which my cigarette smoke drifted. It was somber, depressing, just like the stupid song. My feet dangled off the other side.

It was weird, Cassidy would play but the sound would take a moment to register before it echoed from the piano. I took another drag of my cigarette and considered doing a line off the fine piano, but thought otherwise before letting forth a torrent of smoke. The melody became soft. He was going to talk. Ugh.

“Play with me.”

“No.” I said harshly, enjoying my cigarette, squinting at the beam of light that was coming in from outside. It was a sunny day, even mid December. I obviously wasn’t taking advantage of it.

“Please Anderson, please…” he switched to Moonlight Sonata, and I grimaced. “I’ll finish the whole thing.”

“I’ll kill myself by the end, I swear.”

“Play! It’ll help you stop being so depressed.” I shrugged and enjoyed my cigarette.

“Let me finish.” I had made my decision. He was right; I had been depressed for three days. Charlie had been in the hospital for three days and I had not seen him once. I was way too scared. I always told myself to ignore the consequences. I was above them, we were all above them. Cassidy continued to play and I just sighed, feeling the vibrations in the piano as the melody rolled onward.

“Are you going to visit him?” Cassidy asked.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do it before he leaves for God’s sake, he’ll think you just abandoned him.” I disliked having to admit that the dead kid was right, but he was. I finished my cigarette and slid off the piano. Wandering over to my case, I got out my violin and began to tune it, sitting on the edge of the stage. Cassidy continued torturing me.

“Alright, shut up.”

Cassidy halted and watched. I stood up and began. The prelude from Partita No. 3 in E. It was a hot piece, famous, a solo violin piece anyways. So I played it, Cassidy watched and then began to accompany on the piano. How he did that I have no idea. I played the whole thing through.

I really wanted to play the last movement of Rossini’s String Sonata, but I was missing the other strings. But if I had a life DJ, who followed me around and played music all day, that song would be playing right now. That Sonata.

Cassidy started to play some other piece I was not familiar with. , I packed away my violin, as I had made my friend content by playing, and I left the stage.

“Going to visit Charlie.”

“Alright.” He continued to play as I traveled up the aisle and out of the recital hall, walking out into the empty halls of Julliard. I wandered slowly down the hall, light streaming through the glass. It was an odd winter day, the gray clouds hung low but the sun dripped out and forced some of the snow to become slush. Wrapping my scarf around my neck, I went outside into the chill.

Rudy came and picked me up and we headed to see Charlie. Paganini’s Caprice came to mind. I searched through my phone and came across Berkley’s number. Just another thing to load on top of my already fucked up world. I stared at the name, hoping it would vanish. Maybe I did not have to deal with him anymore. I was terrified of him. I beat him up for God’s sake. He probably had a restraining order on me.

I hope not.

We arrived and I soared out of the car. I already knew the room number, his exact location. I hate hospitals. Only been a few times, myself. So sanitized and clean, yet the help there didn’t care one bit for you. You were just a number, a patient. It was dreadful. I hated everyone in there. I found Charlie’s room, a light was on near his door. He had the room to himself. The machines buzzed and hissed and he looked fine, an IV drip sticking out of him. He looked pale.

I stood at the end of the bed, his eyes watched me. “Hi.” He croaked.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Three days.”

I didn’t say anything.

“What… if I died?” I gripped the edge of the bed; I forced myself into light-headedness.

“But you didn’t.”

“What if I did?” He growled, raspy, he had been dehydrated probably.

“I don’t know.” I sighed, collapsing in the cheap chair in the corner. Charlie sat up, glaring at me.

“You’d just let another one go wouldn’t you? Just like Cassidy.”

“Charlie, shut the fuck up. It wasn’t like that.” Charlie leaned back heavily into the pillows, scratching at his arm.

“Do you want anything?” I asked, trying to sound sincere.

“No.”

“Alright.”

I just sat there, for hours; he stared at the ceiling and eventually went to sleep. I drifted off into sleep; until a nurse came in and told me visiting hours were closed. , I told her to fuck off. She left in a huff. I pulled the chair near Charlie. My hand found his and squeezed it.

“Remember when we would always take taxis and never pay?” I laughed, “This was even before our parents gave us credit cards, or money… or that one time when we first tried cigarettes?” I let my fingers play with his, he slept soundly. “They tasted so bad, remember it took Dominic and I days to get up the courage to even go in there and he ended up just giving us a pack?” It was funny, that story was.

“And when we all applied for Julliard because we thought nobody else would take us?”

I felt his hand squeeze mine, his eyes fluttered open, “Yeah and Cassidy wasn’t sure if he could pay for it…and we ended up playing in Time Square for a whole summer…” he coughed a bit, but he was getting better. I could tell, it was just a close call. Just a close call.

“We made like four hundred bucks,” I finished. “When are they letting you out?”

“Tomorrow. I’m going to go stay with my parents for a few days till I’m better, then I’ll be back… I’ll call you okay?” I nodded, a signal to leave. I forced a smile, something I rarely gave out.

“This doesn’t mean we can’t party anymore.” I said, heading for the door. I heard him laugh.

I returned to the apartment, still in a dismal mood. Cassidy was watching wrestling. I hung up my coat and collapsed onto the couch.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be fine.” I replied.

“Close call, huh?”

“Yeah, drugs are bad.”

“Yet you still do them,” Cassidy remarked, grinning at me.

“Well yeah, I’m a fool.”

“And if the world had no fools, it wouldn’t be fun anymore.” I watched wrestling with Cassidy for a while until he just vanished and left me alone. I cleaned up a bit, attempting to make the place look presentable. I hadn’t had sex in a week, or maybe more. I’d had lost count. I hadn’t even jacked off. I considered doing it, but just went to sleep.

The next day, I had a bank appointment, a fact I’d forgotten until they called me 10 minutes before. I got ready in five and still looked dashing. I made for the elevator and brandished my cell phone, having made a decision between brushing my teeth and trying to do my hair that I would do a good thing for once in my life.

I called Berkley.

“Hello?”

“Berkley?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Anderson.” There was a pause, it felt empty, and I frowned.

“Oh… yeah hey…”

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing… well actually…” He kind of trailed off.

“What?”

“I’m going to hang out with Scott.” I fumed, for only a moment. I stamped the elevator floor, and then it all just ebbed away. I breathed.

“Oh, well, I’ll be at Tim’s getting coffee at around one, bye.”

“Bye.”

That failed. Was he like…fucking that Scott guy now? Gross. Was he even like that? I didn’t know. I need to apologize. Then I wouldn’t have this stupid weight on me anymore. It was odd though, my moral compass was way fucked up. , I usually didn’t not care but for some reason, it tipped. I had to appease it though or else I’d just eat ice cream all day and ruin this decently nice figure.

Once I removed Berkley from my conscience, I’d be able to continue about my devilish ways. I texted Dominic, informing him of my seeing of Charlie. He told me well done and said that he was having a house party tonight. I was obliged to go.

I arrived at the bank. It was nice and lavish, as was my father and everything he fucking did. This bank was kind of cool; it was huge inside, vaulted ceilings, and cute clerks. It all worked out. I sauntered up to one of the desks and a young man, probably a year or two older than I joined the table. He had on a smart suit, short hair, looked the part.

“Hello sir, what can I do for you?”

“What position are you exactly?” I asked, “I need an account supervisor, or something, not a teller.”

“I’m sorry?” He was giving me lip. Really?

“Alright, I basically just told you fuck off as nicely as I could and maybe you could replace yourself with one of those lovely ladies over there that seem like they have nothing to do?” I stared him down. He smiled back politely. How annoying.

“They are quite busy. I can assist you… Mr.?” I slid my information forward and he proceeded to put it into the computer. Pausing he looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow. “Oh.”

“Yeah, big boy work, off you go,” I shoed him away with my hand. He laughed at me.

“Oh, well I’m the manager on duty, so I’m as big as they get.” He began to type a few things in. I stared. Did he… he just one up’d me.

“Shit.” I breathed it out.

“What can I do for you today?” He glanced at the screen, “Anderson.”

“How old are you?” He paused for a moment, considering it and looked me over. I leaned back. The chair was really comfy.

“I… I’m twenty four.”

“Oh…” He poked at the keyboard, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” He gave me another once over.

“Well what can I do for you?”

“How much is in the account?” I asked.

“Well, I can’t say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Policy.”

“Just do it, if people hear they’ll just be jealous. As is the way of the world,” I waved my hands about.

“Eight million, seventy four thousand, two hundred and five dollars, and twelve cents.”

“Total?”

“Yes, including funds for your schooling and then personal reasons as justified by…” he looked at the screen, I held up my hand.

“Yes, my father. Pull out two hundred thousand, transfer that to my card.”

“Alright,” He did so. I rose and thanked him.

“Here is my card, incase you ever are in here again.” I took it and looked at him, then at the card. He was an Andrew, or he looked like one.

“Cool, thanks.” I left.

I hated the bank. It was too much protocol, thankfully my father lifted most of the checks they put on most accounts, so I could have free access.

As I left the bank I glanced at the card. The phone number and the name. A trashcan was to my right and I considered it. I just shoved it into my pocket and made my way to Tim’s for a nice cup of coffee I’d probably never finish.

Tim’s was this little coffee joint on some corner in the city I usually remembered just by my visual sense of direction.

I got my coffee and sat outside in the café esq front patio. Little gate and tables, it was nice. I smoked a cig and just watched the Manhattan morning bustle past. Nobody interesting wandered by. Near my third cigarette I was finishing my coffee, I even considered looking for a job to keep myself busy but felt that would be worthless.

I stood, tossed my cup and headed for home, slowly.

“Anderson!” I heard my name called, but I did one of those ‘Oh no it wasn’t my name just the sound of someone’s name that sounded like mine’ thing. “Anderson, wait.”

I whirled around, rather annoyed.

“Cassidy fuck….” Berkley stood before me, panting, his cheeks flushed in the winter weather.

“Who?” He asked, confused.

“No one, what?” Berkley gave me a disgusted look.

“I’m here.” He threw out his hands to display he was here. Yes, I knew that.

“I thought you were going out with your boyfriend.” I mocked, turning, I began to head off. He followed, coming up beside me.

“He isn’t my boyfriend and I didn’t go to meet him.” I did not make any physical display of happiness, for whatever reason.

“Why not?” I asked as we waited for a stoplight. Berkley warmed his hands, rubbing them together.

“I dunno, I just didn’t. He can handle it.”

“Probably not.” I said, the light changed and we crossed the street briskly, “He will cry.”

Berkley laughed, kind of. There was a dull silence and I knew he was waiting for me to apologize. I let out a exasperated sigh and shoved myself up against a wall, balancing with my bended leg. , I brandished another cigarette.

“Let’s go steal more stuff,” Berkley urged.

“Wait… what?”

“Let’s steal stuff?”

“No, idiot.” I lit my cig and inhaled, blowing smoke in his direction. He batted the cloud away.

“It was fun.”

“There are better things to do with our time.”

“Like what?” He asked. I shrugged.

“Don’t know, I’ll let you know if I think of anything.” I was bad at this sort of thing. “Look, about like… that day you know… sorry about that. You didn’t bleed much, did you?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, well, sorry.” Berkley smiled, a small, little smile. A passing thought kind of a smile.

I glared, taking another drag, “Don’t rush to forgive me.”

“Well, it took you long enough to apologize, it was kind of horrible.” Berkley shrugged.

“I guess I’m kind of horrible.” I finished my cig rather quickly and flicked it toward the gutter.

“No you’re not.” I laughed.

We went to the Empire State Building and went to the top in the freezing wind. It was not as bad as it usually was, but we stood up there staring out over the misty city. Huddling close to our coats and scarves, we talked about everything, from Julliard to our parents and how we hated them but couldn’t live without them. What our dream car was, or rather he told me what his was, I could already buy mine. He told me he disliked singing but his mother made him do it. He wanted to be a bioengineer. I told him to ditch singing and do what he wanted.

“It’s so cold.” Berkley shivered next to me, our faces pale, but it was a nice kind of cold.

“Stop complaining.”

“I’m just noting the weather, alright?”

“Whatever.” We talked about how we wanted to leave the city and live elsewhere but you always came back. I told him about Cassidy, how he killed himself because he was lonely. But I was always there for him. I told him about Charlie and how I watched him suffer in the snow and I did absolutely nothing, but we were still friends.

I told him how miserable I was, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Berkley shivered further. , I growled to myself, accepting some sort of destiny. , “Come here,” I grabbed his hands and shoved them into my jacket and pulled him close, “There.” I stared over his head out at the city; I felt his fingers gripping my hips, hopefully getting warm.

He breathed softly, leaking from his lips like tangible vapor, “It’s good.” He nodded. We talked further, he told me about how he caught his father cheating on his mother but never told anybody. He was happy with his life, his large family and where he had been in the world. I was jealous for a moment, but it went away soon after. I felt his fingers grip me, moving closer, his body closer to mine. I breathed, a gasping for air, unsure what to do. I frowned, grimaced, smiled, my face was in a solid state of confusion but I just let it happen. I did not want to add insult to injury.

“You know, my friend is having a party tonight, you should come. You can bring that guy if you want,” I paused, he looked up. , I searched his eyes to see if I could push the subject, “If you want.”

“Yeah I’ll come…” there was a lull in the conversation, “Scott doesn’t like parties much anyways.” I did not show my immediate surprise, just blankly stared off over the city. We eventually left the Empire State Building.

Our journey ended as he went down the subway station. , I watched him go, smoking a cigarette as he left. I walked the rest of the way home, around twenty blocks. My limbs where numb enough not to care. I was going to get him at his home later this evening. I went home and took a long deserved nap.

The evening crept along the city, blanketing the lights in a dim tinge that made cars drive slower and people huddle their coats as they moved through the city. I awoke and stared out the window over my kingdom, clad in my briefs. I loved my city because it loved me back, but it was a hard lover. The kind everybody wanted to have, but never could have. They had to earn it.

I earned it.

I got ready, putting on some wannabe hipster outfit, skinny tie, vest and all. I looked good enough for whatever Dominic was putting on. It was probably going to be big, knowing him. A simple text message to one person would travel to two more people, then four, then finally twenty and it just traveled around the city like an alcoholic cancer.

I gathered up my cell phone and headed out, hailing a taxi. I had been giving Rudy the weeks off lately, he was grateful. Making my way to Berkley’s, I kept smoothing out my pants and checking my reflection. I knew I had no one to impress, but for some reason I wanted to impress. I smoked three cigarettes with speed and finally pulled up to Berkley’s apparently nice town home. It had a stoop; it was generic and literally the shit out of some sort of Hollywood adaptation of a New York residence.

I told the cabby to wait a tad and slipped out of the car, I sent a text to the kid to tell him to get outside; I was met with no reply. I waited a few more minutes, indulged in yet another cigarette but not Berkley. For a moment I considered leaving, then my pants vibrated.

‘Come inside!’

I stared at the text. It was a foreign language. Come inside? He wanted me to come inside? We were already nearing the fashionably late status of the night in regards to Dominic’s party. Informing the cabby to stick around, I tossed him a twenty and marched up the stoop and rapped on the door.

Barking exploded from within the house, hushing and shoes moving across what sounded like wood floors. The door clicked and swung inward, Berkley stood there smiling, and it was rather refreshing actually. It melted away the cold outside.

“Hi, come in.”

“Why?” I asked, the cold returning.

Berkley hesitated a moment, glancing back into the house, “My parents wanted to meet you.”

“Oh… I…” Searching for words, “Really?”

Berkley laughed; it gave me goose bumps, “Yes!” His hand found mine and pulled me in.

The warmth of the house washed over me in the way warmth did when you came in from the deathly cold. Berkley gripped my hand glancing at me and then strolled into the living room, leaving me at the door in my coat. I shed it off, draping it over my forearm and poked my head into the living room.

A fire blazed in a fireplace, crafted by a skilled mason. A Labrador sat lazily near the feet of the chair an older man was occupying, I assumed Berkley’s father. He was an older looking man, gray hair and a wise look; he folded his paper and sheathed it elsewhere when I entered. A beautiful blonde woman tended the fire briefly before turning to greet me with a smile akin to Berkley’s. She moved to her son and wrapped an arm around him.

If I had a camera, it would flash in the room taking the perfect family photo. I stared blankly, jealous. It was perfect. The dog, the nice home, loving parents.

“You must be Anderson!” His father stood and shook my hand, an iron grip. I tried to replicate it. My father always told me the sign of power was a handshake, if it was flaccid, you were weak, a firm handshake meant you were a warrior. My father always had a limp handshake.

“Hi, yes, good to meet you,” I shook the mothers hand.

“Well…” the mother said glancing at Berkley, “We have heard so much about you. You live in the city right?”

“Upper East Side, yeah.”

“Oh how lovely.” The mother tended the fire once more.

“And why are you attending Julliard, young man?” The father inquired.

“Violin, sir,” I said, I was unsure if the sir should have been added.

“My grandfather played the violin.” The father snatched up the paper again.

“That was the piano darling,” the mother corrected, she glided into the kitchen.

“So where are you two off to?”

“A friend of mine is having…” Berkley viciously interrupted me.

“Some concert at the school.”

“Oh?” The father furled the paper down to look at his son; I merely listened and kept my mouth shut, “At this hour?”

“Yup.” Berkley said, moving past and to the hall. He returned with his coat. “See you.”

“What about that nice Scott boy?” The mother poked her head back in, “He was so nice, a perfect fit I’d say.”

And I wasn’t? Well listen here bitch…

“Not really.” Berkley shrugged, “He was dull.”

“Dull?” The father asked. “He had a decent head about him, attending NYU, I would not say that is dull.”

“Compared to other things I’ve done, really dull.” Berkley motioned for us to leave and we did. My face was crimson with blush; the cold soon wiped it away before Berkley could see. As the door shut he let out a sigh.

“Sorry, they wanted to meet you.”

“No, they wanted to see what you were getting into. You never informed me you were so sheltered.”

Berkley smiled; I smiled back as I held open the door of the cab. Sliding in, giving directions to the cabby, we were off.

“They just don’t like me staying out late and doing everything you do.” Berkley gazed out the window as the cold city dripped past. Lights flickered through the cab and then darkness again.

“Suppose you’ll need to accommodate then.”

“Maybe.” I looked at him, unsure. A maybe? Was I doing something wrong? Even at the moment, I felt I was doing everything wrong. I was being wrong, everything was wrong. This was not natural of me to pursue this…project. It was natural for others, perhaps Berkley, but not for me. This was against the grain, black canvas. That sort of thing. I liked it.

No.

I craved it.

The cab ride yielded no more discussion. We arrived at Dom’s place. Paying the cabby, across the curb and into the building. We entered the elevator and soared upward.

“What was Scott to you?” I asked suddenly, I slipped my bounds. This wasn’t me, per se.

“I dunno,” Berkley shrugged, “A guy?”

“That’s pretty simple.”

“I guess.” Berkley looked at me, searching, hoping I would ask something else but it never came. The electronic ring broke our staring contest, we had arrived.

Dominic’s place was nice. It was a lofty apartment with two floors, studio if you will. Music blared, lights flickered, and he had it all. The likely subjects wandered the floor drunk and fucked up. I grinned. Discarding my coat, I threw myself into the fray.

I forgot my luggage.

Turning on my heel I darted back for Berkley. He was slowly taking off his coat, taking in everything. The music was loud, I leaned down to speak.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, this is crazy.”

“You’ve never been a party?” He leaned up, his hand moving my head near his lips; I felt them against my ear. I shivered.

“Not like this.”

I grabbed his hand and dragged him through the dancing crowd. We passed Dominic’s couch where the man himself lounged with several women, a few of them doing lines off the already powder slashed glass.

“Anderson!” I gave him a wave, as he was busy.

I found the open bar and began to give use to the name “open”. Berkley followed.

“A drink or a shot?”

“Shot.” Berkley shouted.

“Oh my.” I poured him some vodka, myself another glass and we tipped them back. It burned and hurt, the good kind of hurt. My head felt silly. Oh boy. “Another?”

“Let’s do it.” Berkley face was already flushed. It had been only one shot, amateur. We did another. It was awesome, the music was even louder.

We did two more shots, and by that time I was feeling it. I soon started to theorize the actual power of alcohol and how fast it crusades through your system for optimum drunkenness. The music sounded great. , I asked if Berkley wanted to dance and he nodded vigorously. The whole apartment was hot and sweaty and even in our dress shirts, sweat beaded down our foreheads. It made us shine when the lights passed over.

We found a small niche between the dancing couples, at first we were apart and as the music grooved and became more acidic we got closer, and closer. Ooh Yeah by Moby came on and shit hit the fan.

Everybody who was drunk enough was bouncing around; even the people who spoke in whispers in secret dark corners came out for fun. Berkley bounced around and I watched, dancing. I felt accomplished; I had exposed this boy to things he had never quite seen.

He moved closer to me, turning, I felt him lean into me. His butt gyrating into my groin, I bent my knees slightly, accommodating his small ass. My hands rested on his hips as he moved, slowly to the rhythmic sounds of the music. Leaning back, his back arched and his hands lifted up and gripped onto my shoulders. My head rested on his shoulder, my lips near his neck, breathing erratically with the music as we danced. For a moment it was just we.

Just us.

Berkley.

Anderson.

Just us.

Everyone else was gone, and the music was just for us. The lights, the feeling, the emotion. The utter happiness, carefree. Was this living? Was this how it was supposed to be? Not unlimited credit cards and mountains of money and nice cars, huge apartments and summer homes. It was here, now, with people…no, with someone who, beyond the brim of your dreams you think is maybe a slight bit of importance in your life. Someone who you will think about everyday, even if it was just for a brief moment.

As everything came back, Berkley turned and we indulged in each other. I halted our dancing and shook my sweat off, smiling I told him I was going to the bathroom. He told me he was going to go drink more. I did not object.

I found the bathroom. Cassidy was washing his hands.

“Hey.” I said, making for the toilet. I unzipped, and began to pee.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah…uhhh…..” I was peeing like a racehorse.

“How’s Charlie?”

I finished, returning my junk to my pants, “He’s alright. Another week of rest.”

“That’s good. I was thinking of going on vacation.”

“Where to?” I washed my hands; Cassidy leaned in the doorframe.

“Don’t know. Maybe Europe.”

“We’ve done that already.” I said, toweling my hands. I rummaged through my pockets and brought out a small baggy. Using the towel I cleaned the counter surface.

“Look at you go…” I started setting up a line.

“I party hard, mother fucker,” I growled playfully. I could feel my drunk sloshing about my head. After the line was good, I took a bump.

A rush.

There it was.

“Well take care of yourself.” Cassidy said. I began to pack up my things.

“I always do, despite popular belief.” I checked myself in the mirror. “So are you ever going…” The doorframe was empty. I shrugged and left the bathroom. Soon through, in my drunken haze I found Berkley lingering by some concrete column, grooving to the music. He had a drink in his hand, or rather a drink sloshing around all over. I caught his arm. Berkley jumped startled.

“Oh shit!” I hushed him, holding down my laughter, “Oh hey…” His drink fell from his grip and arms draped over my neck. I welcomed the embrace, resting my head into his sandy hair. I breathed in, it still smelled like shampoo. Berkley muttered something into my shirt.

“What?” I asked.

He muttered again.

“I can’t hear you, speak up,” over the loud music.

“Let’s go outside.” I nodded and he dragged me outside into the nip of the early morning. It was quiet outside; the faint sounds of a city stirring; and roaring to its full potential was palpable. My eyes focused on the large pool. I totally forgot Dominic had a pool. The realization had drawn my attention, or lack there of, off Berkley who was now walking the diving board. Or plank. It kind of looked like both. If only there were sharks and I an eye patch.

“This is so fun!” Berkley held his arms up, balancing. I found my way to the diving board, climbing the small ladder and walked slowly toward Berkley. He turned holding out his hands, I caught them and he pulled me close. We almost fell. I gripped onto him for dear life.

“I can’t swim,” I cautioned. It was true. Just a little secret, I guess. Only Charlie knew, and now Berkley.

“Really? Why?”

“Never learned,” I eyed the water like a foreign substance. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in it, maybe up to my waist, but anything beyond my elbows gets rather frightening.

“It’s like required natural learning.”

“No it isn’t,” I spat angrily, attempting to balance.

“It isn’t that deep anyways.” That did not help my cause to remove myself from the diving board. Especially while intoxicated, my depth perception had been assassinated long ago.

“We live in a city, where do we need to swim?” I brought up a solid point, but did not hear Berkley’s rebuttal. I dragged us from the diving board. Detaching myself from Berkley I walked the edge of the pool. The view was pretty nice; you got some of the Park and even Times Square. Rather perfect, actually. Berkley brushed past me and stepped into the water…with his shoes on! We had arrived at the steps into the shallow end.

He descended further and his clothes became damp and hung with water.

“You’re insane,” I breathed. I fumbled through my pockets attempting to find a cigarette.

“Come in!”

“Nah…” I found a cigarette and put it to my lips. Lighting it, I took a good drag and enjoyed for a bit.

“Come on Anderson.” Berkley urged. He was twirling in waist deep water, his clothing floating slightly in the current he had created. “Now!” A wave of water surged at me putting out my cigarette and soaking me slightly.

I glared and pointed my snuffed out cigarette at him, “Listen here, I am going to smoke this cigarette…”

“Get the fuck in the water.” His tone had me on the steps in no time, slowly descending into the cold, cold water. I felt heavy from the waist down as I waded over to Berkley. He smiled and dove into the water, splashes in all directions. Emerging right before me, his damp body sliding up against mine. My breath caught slightly.

I stared at him for a bit. The way his hair clung to his face, damp. Droplets of water forcing light to go in all directions creating a brilliant sheen of damp luminescence. I felt his hand on my hip, pulling me closer; my eyes flicked back and forth watching his face move closer. This wasn’t right to me. This was unnatural to me. I was not sure until I felt his hand upon my cheek, green eyes looking at me, asking me for permission.

“Do it…” I whispered. The party inside became quiet, it was just us now. No pretend. It was just us.

“What?” He asked.

“Just do it,” I pleaded, closing my eyes, attempting to breathe properly. My cold heart was in overdrive, warm and thriving in my chest, beating rapidly.

I felt him move closer. I braced myself for impact. I wanted to wince, to recoil. I felt lips touch mine, softly at first, and then they pressed further.

My arms wrapped around Berkley, pulling him closer until there was no more space between us, our bodies sloppy and slapping with our damp clothing. We kissed forever, it felt like that. My hands resting softly on his hips, his on my cheeks. The lips were so soft and foreign; it was like a new taste that I welcomed. Pulling back, we breathed, my eyes searched his and he just smiled meekly at me. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, it was my turn.

I leaned back after a moment; my tongue running across my moist lips, tasting it, making sure it was not sour or wrong.

I blinked and knew it was just enough to be right.

“Let’s go.” We left and went back to my apartment.

Light filled my bedroom, a dull light of the afternoon. Half the day had already passed. Turning over in my bed allowed me to understand I was not alone. Berkley was naked beside me twisted in the white sheets.

As was I.

“Oh my.” I leaned up and breathed in, it smelled nice. I fell back to stare at my ceiling. Berkley stirred next to me; I slid over and draped my arm around him. He shifted and snuggled into my frame. Sinking into the sheets, we slept for a while longer.

We woke and I attempted to make breakfast. Both of us cleaned the apartment and got dressed for the day. Dominic and Charlie were meeting us at a beach we discovered along the coast.

The car ride was silent, Berkley’s hand rested on my thigh most of the time, our hips nearly touching. Sitting in silence, relishing the fact we were currently at this moment. It felt odd, at first. Like swimming, like diving into water, it was odd at first. The sensation dripping across your skin, foreign, washing over your body. You were in another world that you would soon adapt to, but until then it sparkled brightly at the top and held darkness and infinity toward the bottom.

Arriving at the beach, it was cold and gray, but we didn’t care. A lighthouse was visible through the din. Charlie and Dominic stood on the beach; Dominic still dressed in his clothing from the party. Charlie looked rather frail, but in good healthy. Berkley and I joined them, arms around one another.

We all were here. All of us, the ones that mattered at least. The ones that mattered to me, for now. The sun exploded through the sky and cast rays of light over the churning ocean, quelling her anger. It was a beautiful sight and all we could do was stare and wonder.

“What now?” Dominic asked.

“I need a cigarette,” Charlie said.

“Me too,” Berkley echoed.

“I don’t know.” I said.

“About what?” Dominic was brandishing a cigarette.

“What to do now.”

“Well, obviously, that’s why I asked.” He lit the cigarette.

“I need a vacation.” I suddenly said.

“Me too.” Charlie said.

“Rome?”

“Nah,” Dominic said.

“Prague?” I offered.

“Possibly,” Charlie replied.

“Paris?” Berkley piped in.

“Japan, prostitutes and opium are cheap.” I concluded

“Done.” Dominic said, “Airport in three hours.” He turned and strolled off across the sand.

A blonde boy wandered up beside me, glancing at me then out over the ocean. He giggled to himself and plopped down in the sand. Berkley hugged me close. I sighed.

This was the secret life of an overture boy.