COMING OUT

PAST

I was in the hospital when I got the text.  It was from a strange number, and so I didn't even look at it at first.

James and I were taking turns sitting vigil with Bianca, who'd been brutally attacked just days before.

Sometimes we flanked her, each taking a hand, because neither of us could stand to be far from her when she was so obviously in need, but a lot of times, like now, the nurse needed to check in on her, and one of us had to move out of the way so she could.

This time, I had stepped away from her.  It was hard to do, but I knew it was necessary.  I had to learn to share her now, as much as that went against the grain of the complexity that was my relationship with Bianca.

I was in a bad place, though not because of that.  It was the attack that had me in a dark state—the fact that someone had hurt Bianca.

The last few days were an awful blur.  The nightmare of finding her sprawled out on her floor, beaten unconscious.  I'd called an ambulance, and just as I was getting in my car to follow it to the hospital, James had pulled up, looking distraught as he saw her being pulled away.

We'd ridden together, followed her here, gone through the ordeal of uncovering all the damage that'd been done to her together.  It was a toss-up which one of us was more messed up about it.

I couldn't believe what had happened, and how I had failed to protect her.  I'd been just minutes too late.

I knew James felt the same.  We were bonding, in a way, over it—a shared, impotent self-loathing over how this impossible thing never should have happened.

I checked my phone again as I paced outside her room, more to pass the time than anything else.  I went through all of my other texts before I checked the one from the unknown number.

It's Javier.  New number.  I just wanted to make sure u r ok.  I heard about Bianca.  Is she ok?

That had my heart pumping faster. I programmed his new number into my phone.

He hadn't contacted me in so long.  And here he was, actually being nice to me, actually asking how I was.

I tried not to let that make me too hopeful.

STEPHAN:  I'm ok.  She's in rough shape, but she's going to be fine.

His response was near instant.

JAVIER:  Thank God!  Ty for getting back to me.  I've been so worried.  I can't believe she was attacked.  Sending prayers and much <3 your way.

That warmed my chest considerably.

STEPHAN:  Ty.  It's really nice to hear from you.  Ty.

JAVIER:  Let me know if you need anything, or if you ever just want to talk.  I'm here for you.  I'm off until Wed, so I can meet up even, if you want.

STEPHAN:  Ty.  I'd like that.  It would do me good to see you.

JAVIER:  Can I visit at the hospital?  If it's not ok, I'll understand.

STEPHAN:  No, that's great.  I'd love that.  Visit any time.  I'll be here until they discharge her, which won't be for a few more days.

JAVIER:  Is now a bad time?

That had escalated quickly, I thought, not at all upset about it.  Just the opposite.

STEPHAN:  Now is perfect.  I could use the company.

It only took him twenty minutes to get there, but for some strange reason, it felt like forever.

I'd closed myself off from him a long time ago, but I found that, letting him back in, in even the smallest way, had my feelings for him coming back in great waves.  In that time between the texts and direct contact, the anticipation of seeing him again was nearly overwhelming, so much so that, every one of my pores had opened up to let the flood in, as though it were making up for lost time.

I missed him.

I hadn't let myself even think that before, but I let myself think and feel it now.

I missed him.

Why had I let him go?  Had it really been necessary?

It had certainly felt necessary at the time, as though I'd been forced into it.

But why?

Had it been stubborn pride or self-loathing that fueled that breakup?  I'd always assumed it was one of the two.

Even now, with over a year under my belt to think about it, I wasn't certain.

Perhaps it was neither.

The scared, rejected kid that still existed somewhere inside of me, the one who knew he was so unworthy he hadn't even been guaranteed food and shelter, that boy thought it was panic, just sheer irrational panic at the idea of living my secret out in the open.  Of showing the way I loved to the world.

That kid scared the shit out of me, so much so, I rarely gave him a say in things, but sometimes he was right.

Bianca was still sleeping; James camped out beside her, looking awful.  I gave him a heads up and went out to the parking lot to greet Javier.

I met Javier just outside the doors.  He was carrying a large bouquet of sunflowers, enough to fill his arms.

"For Bianca," he told me, when I just stared at him.

He looked good.  So good I wanted to do something completely insane, like kiss him.

"Thank you," I said, the words coming out low and hoarse.

He stared right back for just as long, uncertainty in his eyes.  He'd come for support, but I could see that all he'd thought he'd find here was a polite rejection.

Jesus, I didn't know what to do with him.  What to do with myself.

For now, I settled for walking him inside.

We didn't say much as we brought the flowers to her room.  They were already in a vase, so we just found the perfect spot to put them.