More Bitter than Sweet

Evan and I talked almost every day. He would call me between classes, on his way to rehearsals, during football games…but especially at night. I would lie in bed and talk with him until we were both too tired to talk. I loved every phone call.

One Saturday morning Evan called me. I was getting ready to go to a wedding…alone. (I HATE going to weddings alone) I asked him what I should wear, and then lamented that I would be going alone.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll sit with you,” he said in a chipper tone. I didn’t know what to say. I just assumed he was kidding, but he continued, “..and wear the orange tie. It's my favorite.” And with that he was off the phone and I was standing in my kitchen in shock.

Nervously I drove to the church and walked in the lobby. Would he be there? And oh my God…there he was. I wish I could have seen my own reaction. I had not expected to see Evan until Christmas, but there he was! On Labor Day weekend! Home!! Of course, we sat next to each other. I didn’t really know how to act. He wasn’t out, and I wasn’t gay (remember?), and our small town would likely stone us if they suspected anything.

We changed after the wedding and headed for a nearby recreation area and lake. Once again we found ourselves on a bench swing holding each for what felt like hours. That is all I wanted to do. I still wasn’t sure if I enjoyed holding him, or being held…it didn’t matter. I believe that we had both found what we were looking for.

We went back to my truck to get away from the bugs. He stretched across the seat in my lap.
“What are we doing?” he asked. I avoided the question. We lingered close, but didn’t kiss. We talked, we laughed...then we kissed. It was amazing. Just like the first time.

“What are we doing?” he asked again. I knew I couldn’t get out of it this time. I told him that as much as I loved what we had become, I couldn’t continue a relationship with him. There were a few reasons: his age, the distance, and the fact that I was just beginning to struggle with my sexuality at a level that scared me to death. It absolutely broke my heart to tell him, but I knew that I had to do it.

He moved back over to his seat and balled up against the door. He dropped my hand. He said he understood, but then continued to blame himself for knowing that he was setting himself up for heartbreak. I felt horrible. Because of what I had said I now had Evan completely breaking down on me…20 miles from home. The drive back was long and quiet. When he left my truck that night I hated to see him go. I had no idea what he was thinking and feeling. For the first time ever…I felt my heart ache. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to make sure he was ok. But I didn’t. Somehow I felt that this was going to bring us closer together...eventually.

Evan called me the next day and we met at the community college. He was better…at least talking to me. It was great to see him smiling. We didn’t touch…we didn’t kiss…we didn’t even flirt. We talked. We set boundaries. All good. We arranged to meet again in the morning before he drove back to school.

We met in the morning. I think I brought him some breakfast. It was fast. Once he was on the road, and I was on my way to work he called me.

“I miss you. I want to hold you. Come back. I should have kissed you. I’m sorry. It's my fault. Wait for me…I’m just not ready yet.” But of course, I didn’t actually say any of that…