Date: Tue, 17 Dec 2002 22:29:41 -0600 From: Karla Schulz Subject: Carrots and Celery Chapter One So, this is my first nifty story, so like, be nice to me a I guess. I don't know if this is where the warnings go or whatever, but you probably know what they are by now. Don't get caught basically is my advice. Other than that, I hope you liked the story, and maybe even e-mail me about it, cause I love e-mail like a demon. I'm at lanky_lanka@lycos.com Tra la "I love you Carrots," In his sleep?! The first time I get to hear him say he loves me and I can't even say it back? How much does that suck. I lie in the dark for a minute feeling pissed off until my idiot brain processes the fact that it doesn't matter WHEN he said it, just that he has. Knowing me, what happens next is no big surprise. He loves me, but how? Obviously he loves me - we've been best friends since the first grade. What I need is for him to be IN love with me. Hmmm. You're probably a tad confused right now. Since I'm just lying here awake doing nothing anyway, let me explain some stuff. First of all, who picked up that I was just referred to as Carrots a minute ago? I'm assuming the usual guesses have been made. Crazy parents, orange hair, a talking vegetable. Okay. Yes, my parents are crazy (I say that with love!) but they didn't name me Carrots. My hair is NOT orange. It's some much debated shade existing between black and brown. Some people say it's dark brown, others swear it's black. Who cares really. Finally, I am not in actuality a carrot. This is not that kind of a story. Technically, my name isn't Carrots, (who got the hint about it not being what my parents named me?) but it might as well be. I swear, I've forgotten my own 'real' name. There have been moments. No one who knows me calls me anything but Carrots. Not even my GRANDPARENTS. Teachers call me Carrots. A few of them are pricks and call me Mr. Vasskez - no other option really. They won't call me Carrots and I won't respond to my other name. Not cause I'm difficult or anything, like I said, I honestly forget sometimes. That other name is simply not me. In my head I think of my self as Carrots Vasskez. Basically, I've been Carrots as long as I remember, or at least, becoming Carrots is one of the first things that I remember in any detail. Here's how is started. I was six, and I thought I was the shit, cause I had this super cool Ninja Turtles lunchbox. Plus, big boy that I was, I got to walk to my elementary school half a block away all by myself. I bet you're impressed. You should be. The morning was a bust. Nobody really talked to me, even though I was an adorable and charming child (or so my aunts and grandmothers were always telling me, while they pinched my cheeks). I was getting pretty pouty and was seriously considering a little temper-tantrum action by the time lunch rolled around. Even at six, I knew sitting alone at lunch was seriously uncool. This was not going to happen to me, so I plunked myself down by a cute (I swear, I remember thinking that he was cute) kid who was sitting alone at one of the little round kiddie tables. Clearly, he had not been informed about the dangers of a solo first lunch hour. Turns out, that was just about the best decision of my life to date. Giving in to peer pressure is so misunderstood. This kid and me, well, we got to talking in that easy way you do when you're young and aren't all prejudiced yet. Not that kids aren't mean. Like kids are brutal. Take it from someone who still vividly remembers elementary school. But still, we hit it off right away. While we were talking, we were eating our lunches (you know, it being LUNCH HOUR an all) and like the self-respecting knee biters that we were, we ate our desserts first. I had pudding, and he had cookies. I realise that the fact that I remember that is kind of freakish, but what we ate that lunch is very important. Everything about that lunch gave me memory burn. Eventually we got around to the 'healthy' component of our mom packed meals. I know what you're thinking. I had carrots right? Nope. Sorry. Please try again. My mom is a sweet and terrific women, but she's crap at remembering the foods her children like. Poor dear, there are 5 of us. Who has five kids anymore anyway these days? My crazy parents, that's who. Anyway, she packed me celery. Which I hate, with a passion. To me, it just tastes like water and leaves a gross film in your mouth when you're done. I was frowning at my little bag of celery pretty hard, and my cute lunch-mate was doing the same at his Tupperware full of baby carrots. Our eyes met, it was one of those defining moments. I picked up my bag; he picked up his Tupperware. "Carrots?" He said, holding them out to me. "Celery?" I offered, doing the same. We grinned, and traded. I ate his carrots and he ate my celery. Our mothers would be so proud, we'd eaten our vegetables. We grinned at each other again. That was it. We were best friends. When lunch was over, we threw out our trash (Take Pride Manitoba!) and headed back to our classroom. We'd never bothered to introduce ourselves during lunch, (there had been food to be eaten, Ninja Turtles to be discussed! Matters of FAR greater importance...) so at one point when I needed to get his attention I said, "Hey Celery," right back he'd said, 'yeah Carrots', and the rest, as they say, is history. Oh and just so you know, I DO know Celery's given name. But the same way mine's not me, and Carrots is, Celery is who he is. To new people, it sounds weird. It's hard for them to get used to. People do though, and you will too. They have to, cause when they try to call us our other names, half the time we look around with everyone else, thinking: who are they talking to? So get over it. I'm Carrots. He's Celery. That's who we are. Simple as that. No big deal. Our lunch swaps ran smoothly until one night at supper when my mom tried to get me to eat celery and I flatly refused. She was confused. Didn't I always eat my celery at lunch? She thought I loved celery. No, I explained. Celery always ate my celery. Celery? For the next 15 minutes my whole family was convinced I had concocted an imaginary friend named Celery and had probably been throwing out my green sticks. It was especially difficult to explain, cause back then, I didn't know Celery's real name. We'd never told each other, and when you're really young, that kind of thing catches on fast, and everybody in our class was already calling us Carrots and Celery, our teacher Mrs. Pailey included. She was a really nice woman. Plus I think she was trying to be nurturing to Celery. I didn't know it then, but he has kind of a shitty family situation. Not like you really talk about that kind of thing when you're six. Took me awhile, but I did finally manage to convince the fam' that there really was a kid named Celery, and that I fed him my celery in exchange for his carrots. By the time they believed me, everyone thought it was pretty funny. My siblings (Kyle 18, Kara 11, David and Jon 14) laughed, well, Kara didn't, she was like a baby then, and my parents had little amused parental smiles on their faces. Kyle was the one who started it in my house. Of all of that lot, I'm closest to Kyle. It's an age thing, but we also plain like each other. He's solid. And we share a sense of humour. More points in his favour, he's always been excellent to Celery. If anyone messes with him, I blacklist them for life. I'm not a fighter (I hope to be more of a lover one of these days, ha, ha) but I'm pretty alright at the verbal assaults game. Basically, I'm a smart-ass. That's probably a shock for you, but hey. Life's fucking full of surprises. Sharing lunches tends to bring people together, at least in my experience. By third grade, Celery was spending every Friday night at my place, all Saturday and usually Saturday night too if our busy social lives didn't have us otherwise engaged. When you're little, you may not understand the 'big picture' and everything, but that doesn't mean I was stupid. I knew Celery didn't much like being at home. He has crazy parents, too, but not in the cool way my parents are crazy. Sure the olds embarrass me on a semi-regular basis, but they're the most loving, supportive parents you could hope for. My mom's a bit over-protective (by a bit I of course mean insanely so) but that's okay. It pisses me off at times, but I know her craziness just makes her think discipline and setting limits means she loves me and wants me safe. What're ya gonna do about a mom like that anyway. Celery's mom's another story. Crazy in a bad way. Unstable. The oldest story in the book, young mom, left by her equally young husband right after the baby pops out, struggles on her own for awhile before she marries jerk-wad. They don't beat him (and I swear if his step-father Doug ever once tried to touch Celery, non-fighter or not, the guy'd be dead right now), they're just really mean to him. When they're not ignoring him. It sounds pretty harsh, but they don't want him. I don't know quite if it's a bad or good thing, but Celery's pretty much always known it. At least it's helped him deal early on you know? He's not like in denial thinking they love him and that people who love you are supposed to treat you like crap. Doug and Celery's mom Debbie have had a couple more kids, and it's like they're a family, and Celery's just this kid who lives in their house. Usually, he doesn't even eat with them. I know lots of families don't eat together, but Doug, Debbie and the two little steps all do. Celery either eats alone later or comes over to my house. What's one more kid, my moms always saying. He's pretty close with my mom and my dad, so luckily at least Celery knows he's loved. That he has people he can count on, a little stability. He's got some issues, but frankly, everyone does. I think he could have gotten screwed up really bad if it wasn't for my parents. Now you know why I think they're so cool. You're probably thinking that the fact that we're best friends means we have tons in common. Wrong again my friend. If we hadn't hooked up so young, chances are we wouldn't know each others names very good for totally different reasons. See, Celery is a jock. Okay, he's the sweetest, shyest, kindest jock you'll ever meet, but he's still a jock. Like, he had muscles when he was 8. EIGHT! He's not really into the big 'jock' sports though. Celery's more of a basketball, volleyball, track kind of a guy. Volleyball's his passion though, the other stuff he sort of does to keep in shape. Keep in shape. Seriously. He says stuff like. And he talks about muscle tone, and he does 'lifting'. I'm his spotter, but I'm a skinny runt, so I probably won't end up being of much use if he ever happens to require my assistance. My thing is school. I actually like it. The work part of it comes easily to me (I'm one of those annoying people who never has to study that everyone hates) and I guess you could say I'm like 'class clown'. That's a way lame title though. I merely enjoy brightening my classmates day with a little humour. I guess I'm not really a runt either, not exactly. In fact, I'm pretty tall. I'm gangly though. Long arms and legs that made me look really ridiculous before the rest of my body caught up a year or two ago. My looks are pretty dark, that brown or black hair, same problem with the eyes, and I tan super easily. Celery's the day to my night. He has beautiful straw coloured hair that's really thick and soft. Since we were about 11 he's been wearing this orange cap constantly (one of the only times his excuse for a mother paid him any attention was harassing him to take it off for the first few months before she started ignoring that too) and his hair poofs out the sides, flipping up kind of. It sounds ridiculous, but take it from me, it's totally cute and gorgeous. He's got sensational eyes. They're hard to explain. I like to think of them as the ocean. When he's happy, they turn a light blue and positively sparkle, when he's upset or nervous, they get more grey and stormy. Relaxed, they hover at some beautiful shade in between. In school, I'm pretty much good at everything (I'm not bragging, look at my test scores fool) except maybe math, but what I like is history and Biology and people stuff. World Issues, that kind of thing. I'm also on the debate team. I'm junior yearbook editor. I kick-ass at public speaking. All you gotta do to not be nervous is be confident you're better than everyone in the audience. Sounds terrible, but it works. Believe me. Celery likes nothing but math. I don't mean he's good at it, though he is, I mean he LIKES it. I swear, I've seen him doing math for fun. FUN. Our current math teacher, Mr. Mac, sometimes gives him extra work, over VACATION. Just 'for fun'. And he does it. I don't understand it. I'm not mentally capable of understanding it, but hey, to each his own eh? Because of our different interests and strengths, other than being each others best friend, we don't really share any common friends. I've got nothing against his friends, and vice versa, but I'm not exactly going call up his friend Brian and be like, 'hey bro, wanna come over and read with me?' and Celery is no more likely to invite my buddy Alex over to shoot some hoops with him. Don't think that's stops us though. We do have those other friends I mentioned, and more, but they don't really matter. I care about them and everything, but no one counts like Celery does. He comes first always if I'm making plans for the weekend or after school or whatever. It's been like that since day one. We share lots of other things, of the strange and unconventional variety, and what's more, we really compliment each other. We include each other in our different interests and activities. For example, I used to play basketball with him all the time, and he does more intellectual stuff with me. We make the effort because we care about each other, because we have more fun when we're together, and what we're doing tends to take a back seat to that. Being kind of shy, especially around people he doesn't know, Celery's a pretty quiet guy. I, on the other hand, happen to be a very LOUD guy. If I'm nervous, I get crazier than normal. Especially when I'm meeting new people or whatever. It's like, I'm going to put my absolute craziest foot forward, and if you still like me afterwards it's cool and we can be friends. If not, then it won't really work out since I'm bound to get like this eventually anyway at some point, and if you can't handle it now, chances are you won't be the biggest fan next time either. That's another way we compliment each other though. I help being out Celery's inner 'crazy' and he calms me down. Celery's about the only person I can just BE around. No talking or moving or anything. We spend a lot of time together in silence. Especially this last year. Probably, I think, cause we've both had a lot to say we haven't been ready to, and so instead of saying a bunch of other crap that isn't what we're feeling, we've just stayed quiet. If I'd have to pin point it, I'd say I knew I was in love with Celery when we were in grade 7. I think I loved him before that, but I was in grade 7 when I finally clued in. Girls did it. They were all the rage. Everyone wanted one; the cool guys got one. It was the cool new thing to do. All it did was freak me out. I didn't (and don't) understand it. Seeing all my other friends drifting away and chasing after girls only made me want to hold on tighter to Celery. It took me a few months, but eventually I realised it was because he was all I needed in more ways than one. That he was the perfect package. A complete. I knew I wanted him for everything. Best friend, soulmate, that I'd known for ages, but I was suddenly realising I wanted to kiss him. And hold his hand. And have him love me. Gay didn't bother me. That was sort of like, 'okay, whatever'. I'm lucky, I know. But my parents are very relaxed about that kind of thing. I came out to them when I was 13 and they were all 'Gay Pride!'. Started going to PFLAG and shit. Still, it was pretty cool of them. Having their support is awesome. So gay was no problem. Being in love with my best friend was a problem. Admittedly, it's not an especially unique problem, but I didn't know that at the time. I freaked out for awhile. I didn't flip out on Celery or anything - I internalised my confusion and fear. After that while passed though, I started to understand that in love with him or not, he was still the greatest. We still had as much fun together as always. The other thing I wasn't going to let get in the way of that. My feelings didn't change, I just shelved them. I have to admit, the girls at my school are pretty cool. They don't all go for jocks. A lot of them actually do like that 'smart, funny' guy you're always reading about in magazines. Cool for my friends, kind of dangerous for me. Since I'm also devishly handsome and all. My only defence was playing up the immaturity, and playing the friends card a million times. I can't really believe I haven't gotten busted. I haven't had a single date or girlfriend my entire highschool or junior highschool career - or, ever, for that matter - and I'm in 11th grade. But no one's figured it out. Or if they have, no one's shared it with me or anyone else. Lucky again I guess. Celery's had his shot with a fair number of ladies too. Girls in my school also go for the 'sensitive jock' type. And he really IS handsome and all that. I'm not alone in thinking this. They guy's a freaking knock-out. Oh, and plus he skateboards. I think I forgot to mention that. Me too actually. It's one of those things we do together that I was talking about. I'm okay (all right, I suck) but of course, Celery excels at it. Mostly I sit on the curb or whatever, watching him, shouting stuff and snapping pictures or sketching. I like to draw by the way. He scares me sometimes when he skates. He's pretty reckless. It makes for some wicked shit, but he's fucked himself up bad a few times. I can't try to make him stop though. He loves it too much, and he looks too hot when he's doing it. What's even better is afterwards, when he'll flop down beside me in a sweaty mass, wipe his forehead and all cute and proud say something like, 'did you see me land that 360?' It wasn't until I was about 14 that I actually got wise. Till I finally noticed Celery looked at me with the same dumb, lovesick eyes I did him. Noticed that he stayed far away from girls too, that on the nights of dances and stuff he was always especially eager to do something 'just with you Carrots'. That every time some girl some a serious crush on him, he'd come running to me, complaining about a physco stalker and practically hiding behind me whenever said stalker was in the general vicinity. Being the denial ridden, worrier, doubter, pessimist that I am, for a month or so after my little realization I was sure I was just projecting my feelings onto him. But the fact was, Celery was even more obvious about it than me. I think because he hadn't realised yet. What I knew at 12, Celery hadn't gotten at 14. He felt okay touching me a lot, putting his arm around my shoulders when we were sitting or even standing close together, being exclusive and loving because he didn't understand what he was doing. It scared and thrilled me at the same time. I'd loved him for two years (probably longer) never thinking he'd feel the same, never expecting or barely hoping for that, and suddenly there it was in front of me. He loved me too. Except he didn't know it, and I was afraid he never would - that he'd never say it, never realise it, never go beyond the closeness caused by his innocent oblivion. I was also afraid that if or when he DID realise, he wouldn't embrace it the way I had. I feared that he'd freak out and run away. Not because I thought he was homophobic, just cause I'm insane, irrational and etceteras. I just hoped that if he did freak out and run, he would only go far enough for me to catch him, bring him back and let me love him. We were 15 when I started to suspect he knew. The touches became way less common, and he met my eyes less. Our friendship didn't change, and our closeness didn't change much either, but I did feel Celery pull away a bit. As much as I hoped and rationally did assume this meant he knew what he felt for me, but thought I didn't feel the same and didn't want to like violate me, the other part of me was afraid again. My fear existed on two levels. First, I thought maybe he knew, but didn't enjoy this new found tid bit about himself and was trying to get over it. On a completely different track all together, I thought maybe that more physical bond had been like a 'youth' thing, maybe even (gasp!) a phase he was going through. He didn't start dating, which probably saved my few remaining scraps of sanity, and when he did look at me (though less frequently) I saw the same love. There was pleading in his ocean eyes too. I wasn't sure about all of it, but I knew part of it was 'love me too' and probably also, 'I'm scared Care, you have to go first. Please go first.' Problem was I was afraid too. Those levels. So we've both stayed silent. Until now. We've been building up to this. It's been going on for months. Whenever we were together I could feel it. We've been getting close. I'd started thinking of it as just a matter of time. I wasn't sure what it would be. Would we get drunk and confess to each other? Would one of us finally get really scared and try something with a girl, pissing off the other, until we had a fight about that and blurted it out in the heat of battle? Would we share some romantic moment, stare into each other eyes and simultaneously declare our love? This was how it worked in the stories I read, this was what I assumed was supposed to happen. I did NOT expect him to tell me in his fucking SLEEP. But damn. I'm pretty sure lovers can't be choosers. Not hopeless ones like me. Of course now I have to do something about it. I've heard it, all doubts should be banished. When morning comes though, I'm not sure what I'll do. --- THWACK! "Bastard, I'll get you for that!" I'm not big on getting up by being smacked with a pillow. Especially not when I've spent half the night revisiting practically my entire freaking life. Squatting at the end of my bed, grinning and going unharmed, Celery only laughs. "Sure, sure Care. Whatever you say." I shake my head. "Are you never going to grow up?" Still grinning, he drops down onto his side next to me, and actually has the gall to tweak my nose. "I'm like a Toy's R Us kid and shit. We don't go for that sort of thing." I roll my eyes, but he's already earned his forgiveness by lying so close beside me, dopey smile on his face. I sigh. It's so obvious we're both loving this. Why can't one of us just say it already. Why can't I, when I'm 99% sure he'll say it back. It's that stupid 1%. I'm so afraid he'll run, and it's paralysing me. I turn over onto my back, putting a little space between us. "Okay. So other than physically abusing me, what would you like to do today?" My eyes are open, staring at my ceiling. The glow in the dark stars we put up together we soon as we were tall enough to reach the ceiling standing on my bed are still there. That's the problem. We've had too many good times. I can't stand the idea of losing that even for a second. Celery's gone to his back too, so our sides are pressed together down the length of our bodies. He's rubbing his foot against mine, but that's an unconscious thing he does, so don't get excited. "Want to just hang out here? We can rent movies or something," he says it like it's not what we do almost every Saturday. He abruptly sits up and peaks out the window holding back my curtains. He faces me again. "I think it's going to rain." I smile. It's sappy, I know, but simply being around him makes me smile. Everything he does pretty much makes me happy, endears him more to me. Every gesture, every look. You've heard the line before. Not perfect - perfect for me. "Sure. I've got some coin, so movies on me this time. What are we in the mood for?" Time given for contemplation. "Greatest hits." When Celery speaks, when he makes up his mind, he's confident and clear. He's not wishy-washy, not once he's made up his mind. It can take him awhile to get there, but he's solid once he's committed himself to something. I'm like too in a way. Or maybe I mean I'm sort of the reverse of that. I'll explain, and you can decide for yourself. It can take me a long time to adjust to new things, but I tend to make my mind up quicker and then freak out later while I'm trying to deal with the realities of my decision. Another thing you should know about Celery is that he's a really honest guy. Like, he doesn't volunteer much, and he's not one to randomly blurt stuff out, but if you ask him about something, he won't lie. The expression painfully honest definitely comes into play sometimes, but it's usually a good thing. At least it means you can trust him to mean whatever he says and he's not a mean guy either, so that helps. Ooo, I get to say it don't I? Here it comes... but I digress. I do that a lot. Oh so you didn't notice eh? Think you're funny huh? Well nobody's laughing. Greatest hits means OUR greatest hits. All of our favourite movies. No, 'this sounds good' or 'so bad it's worth it for the mock value' or 'theme night!' It's also a good blast from our past. To be a greatest hit, we have to both love it, and we have to have loved it for at least two years. Our greatest hits are like comfort food. It's stuff like 'The Breakfast Club', 'Better off Dead' and especially 'The Princess Bride'. Oldies but goodies and all that jazz. "Okay," I say patting his leg quickly and sitting up. He does too, our shoulders rub together. We turn and smile at each other. There's a second and I think I might kiss him, but I chicken out like always and hop enthusiastically out of bed. "You want first shower or should I go ahead?" He grins. "You DO take up all the hot water, and you'll probably make a big mess," teasingly. "But you go first anyway. I'll put roll up my sleeping bag and the mat and everything." "Feeling generous?" He shrugs. "I DID attack you with a pillow earlier. I'm just trying to get back on your good side." I laugh and ruffle his hair. I LOVE doing that. It's so thick and soft. Plus, it like stays messed up for ever or until he fixes it, which he hardly ever bothers to do, and there's nothing cuter than Celery with messy hair. The rub is that he often just puts his hat right over the lovely mess, so I don't usually get to enjoy it for long. "10 years and you haven't managed to get off it, fool." He grins. "I know." Gloating. "That could always change however," failing attempt at a serious tone. "Shower Care." "Yeah, yeah yeah." Back from the shower I find him kneeling on an only half made up bedroll, looking distracted, disturbed. "Hey, what's up?" "What?" Jerking away from whatever daydream he was in. "Ready to take your shower?" He finishes the job quickly and stands up. "Yep. You were quick." I was in there for over 15 minutes. That's not quick. Something is up. I have no chance of getting it out of him now though, not with shower as the perfect excuse. It'll have to wait. I thumb to the door and he heads out, clothes in a bundle clutched at his stomach. Saturdays belong to us. The twins have soccer practice in the morning and always hang out with their team-mates in the afternoon, Kara spends Friday and Saturday with her best friend Sue, and Kyle, big college man that he is, usually tends to be out partying on Friday and sleeps over where the party was at. Mom and dad both have to leave at some outrageous hour like 3am, because our family owns an organic bakery (I TOLD you my parents were crazy, is it my fault you didn't believe me?) and on Saturdays they're the only bakers. For like pie day and stuff my dad's brother James also bakes, but Saturday's they're alone. Believe me, when you live in a house with 6 other people, a little privacy is a very big deal. Celery's clean and cute and sprightly out of the shower. "Hungry?" I ask. "Yeah, breakfast or lunch?" We're too cool for brunch. "Breakfast, less work. Cereal or what?" We've started down the stairs. "Cereal's good." Breakfast is a quiet affair. The same heavy silence that's been there for months. He's better at it than me, and I break it first. "Want to walk to Update or should we drive to Blockbuster?" "Let's walk," this from the boy who only moments ago suggested we stay inside because it looked like rain. "Yeah okay." I know it probably seems like I'm this total pushover and that I just go along with whatever he says, but I can be extremely stubborn and bull-headed when I want to be. The thing is, if I don't really care either way, I'm not going to make a fuss about something just for the sake of argument. We walk, and it doesn't rain. But before we're even in the store Celery gets a really disgusted and frightened look in his eyes and turns to walk away. I grab his elbow. "Hey, where are you going?" He jerks his head at the window displaying the New Releases section, and I take a closer look. Along with a couple of other girls, I see Meghan Toback. She's his most recent and determined admirer. "So?" He gets a pained expression on his face, his eyes cloud. "Please Carrots. I don't want to go in there. They'll want to talk to us and then I bet Meghan will try to invite herself over to hang out with us." His tone and his eyes are begging me. Tell me why then damnit! Why don't you want to talk to girls?! "Don't worry about it. Come on, we came all this way." We go in, Celery resembling a kicked-puppy. It's enough to break my heart, but he has to learn to fight his fears a little. Girls are a problem for us, like it or not. They live among us. He has to deal. Once inside I notice that along with Meghan, Cherrie Livingston is here. She's got a crush on me. And we've never been friends, so I'm not doing too great a job at keeping her at bay. Glancing over at him, I realise Celery's glaring at Cherrie and not even looking at Meghan. He's feeling threatened, no doubt about it. Oh wow. I smile. "We're in, we get the movies, we're out. Nobody gets hurt." He grins back at me, looking relieved. Along with the other three I mentioned earlier, we get choose '16 Candles' over 'Groundhog's Day' but agree to have a Bill Murphy Fest the next Saturday. The girls don't spot us until we're standing in line. They'd been occupied deciding between 'She's All That' and 'Whatever It Takes'. Tough choice. "Oh HI..." For some reason, Cherrie's been trying to figure out my real name for weeks. I don't know why, I guess because she doesn't fancy calling her future boyfriend Carrots. "Hi," I say in a bored tone. I can almost FEEL Celery beaming at me and I don't have to look to know he's grinning. We can't go getting outed though, so I kind of hope Meghan thinks it's cause she's around, even though I don't much want to encourage her. "What are you guys doing?" I hold up the movies and raise my eyebrows. They giggle. "Yeah, but like what are you watching and what are you doing afterwards and stuff," Celery's clamped up at my side. I'm on my own. Yet again. I show her the titles. "It'll take us awhile with breaks and stuff, but we should be done by the evening," Their eyes light up, but Celery's are a stormy grey. I quickly put him out of his misery, "But I think we'll probably do some skating after that," he relaxes. Mostly he needs to know I don't want to do anything with them, I think. "We could watch couldn't we?" Damn. Give up already. "I kind of like skating alone actually," Well, well, well. Give the guy a cigar. "But you're going together...?" "Yeah, but Carrots doesn't count. He skates WITH me. I don't really like having an audience." Liar. He's LOVES it when I watch him skate. Though on second thought, he's never wanted anyone else to come with us, and he doesn't much like skating at school on the track with the others skaters at lunch, so maybe it's only me he doesn't mind watching him. "Okay, well, um, have fun," Disappointed but beaten (for now) the girls say goodbye and leave us alone. Outside, once we've paid. "Thanks," I smile. "For?" He shrugs. "For not ditching me for Cherrie," Whoa. That's a big revelation, that's an almost unprecedented declaration of worry. I flip off his hat, catch it, and hit him with it. It's this thing that I do. "Never." He grins. "Not in a million years." We watch the movies snuggled up under the same blanket on my couch. After the Cherrie Incident, Celery's sweet and cuddly. I'm glad to have been able to make him happy so easily, but I still wish more could have come of it. What he said last night is wearing heavily on my mind. I also need to ask him about what was wrong this morning. A ways through 'Better Off Dead' Celery laughs at something, but I'd been too distracted and, not paying attention, had missed it. He grabs the remote and pauses the movie. "Are you okay?" Hand on my chest. Just leave it there and I'll be fine, I think to myself. "Yeah, I'm all right. Preoccupied. That's all," he tenses, looks frightened. "Are you thinking about Cherrie?" I laugh, he's confused. I put my arm around him, and squeeze firmly. How much more blatant can you be?! "No. Don't be silly. I told you, she doesn't matter to me at all." "Okay, then what is it?" It's another one of those moments, faces close together, open pensive eyes. In keeping with my cowardly tradition, I once again fail to make a move. I lean back on the couch, facing away from him at the TV. It's paused where Josh Cusacks's mom's just found him trying to hang himself in the garage. "What were you thinking about this morning when I came out of my shower?" "What?" "You looked really distracted and kind of sad or upset or something," "That's what's bothering you?" Surprised. "Yeah." He laughs, but maybe it sounded a bit nervous. "That was nothing. I was trying to remember a dream I had last night," dun-dun-da! "Did you remember it?" Trying to sound causal. He's turned away now too. "Um, not really. Sort of. But you know how it is, explaining your dreams to people never makes any sense anyway, cause you can never properly describe how everything happened in your head," probably not quite a lie, but about as close as Celery ever gets. "Yeah I guess," "Anyway," brightly. "It's no big deal," looking at me. "Feel better?" I shrug. "Sure," "Let's keep watching then okay, or should I rewind a bit?" I smile and roll my eyes. "I've seen it like a 100 times, I think I'll be able to catch on," shoving me gently with his shoulder, he presses play. After the movies are finished, instead of going skating Celery decides head home. This surprises me, but I figure he needs to think about stuff or something. Chances are he's not really going to go home, but that's okay. "Come back later in the evening if you want, sleep over," "No, I can't. I have to watch the steps tonight until late and I wouldn't want to disturb anyone." Grrr. The steps. I refuse to learn those little monsters names. They're so disgustingly spoiled it makes my skin crawl. I especially hate that one of the only times his mom or Doug ever talks to Celery is when they're ordering him to baby-sit them on some Saturday night. I feel like giving him a hug. Instead I tap the beak of his hat. "Try not to have too much fun," he laughs. "I promise." Family begins filtering in shortly after that and I quickly retreat into my own domain, wanting to be alone to do some thinking of my own. My room's awesome. When Kyle graduated he wanted the freedom of his own place but mom wasn't ready to let go of her 'baby boy' so as a compromise they got contractors to build him an apartment thing above the garage. Great for me because I got his room. It's bigger than my old one, and has it's own bathroom attached (major bonus) but best of all, it has a balcony that's big enough to have two lawn chairs, so me and Celery can chill out there and talk in privacy or listen to music or whatever. Also, the position in relation to a tree we have in our back yard is absolutely perfect for climbing up or down when I want to sneak out. Very cool. I keep the door leading out to the balcony locked most of the time of course, but there's a key for it hidden under the leg of one of the lawn chairs for emergencies (like when I forget to lock it and then come home past curfew and need to get in). I lie on my bed, deep thoughts abounds, when suddenly I'm interrupted by Kyle's abrupt entrance. "So did ya tell him yet you coward?" This is pretty much standard practice after every time I hang out with Celery. Kyle knows I'm in love with Celery. He's the only one. I didn't tell him though. He figured it out on his own after our birthday party this year. See, Kyle and me are almost exactly two years apart. He was born two years and a day before me and we've always shared family birthday parties. Celery's been coming to those for eight years. Kyle's the only thing Celery and I have that resembles a common friend, but college and stuff's been making him busy this year. Not that he's been ignoring us, we're just hardly ever in the house at the same time. When we are, like at our birthday party, we all hang out and have fun like we did when we were younger. I didn't really see anything different about the way me and Celery were acting at the party, but I guess for Kyle it was an eye opener since he hadn't really been around us for a few months and it gave him perspective or something. Anyway, once Celery and all the guests had left Kyle looked at me and said, "Celery huh?" I didn't bother trying to deny it, knowing he was cool with my being gay. Almost as crazy with the pride stuff as my parents. "Yeah," I'd tried not to sound embarrassed. He smiled. "How long?" "What'd ya mean how long?" "How long have you been together?" "What?! We're not," "What do you MEAN you're not? You're all over each other," I shrugged. "He doesn't know how I feel about him," "How could he not KNOW?" I shrugged a second time. "You do realise he loves you back, right, I mean, you're not that thick are you?" Let's make it three. "Carrots! Come on, it's SO obvious! It's kind of gross actually, how obvious it is. You're honestly telling me you don't think he feels the same," "I'm pretty sure he does," "Pretty sure?" In his disgusted 'older and wiser brother' tone. I explained my levels of anxiety and other reasons for lack of action. "So basically you're afraid to tell someone who obviously loves you that you love him," "That's about right." "That's pathetic." "Thanks." He hasn't really let up since then. He's even threatened to lock us in my room and not let us out until we got some sense. So far he's settled with badgering me. I mean, usually I don't mind, cause I know he's doing it out of love, but right now, I'm not really in the mood. "Fuck off," "Whoa! A highly disproportional response. Wanna tell me what's going on?" Funny thing is, yeah, I do. So I tell him about hearing Celery talking in his sleep and about the video store stuff. For once, Kyle decides to be gentle. "Look bro, I know you're scared. It's a big deal telling someone you love them, especially if it's another guy, especially if that guy's your best friend and you're scared as hell about losing him. But you've got to do it, I understand you've been waiting around, hoping he'll go first, but we both know that's not Celery. He won't be able to say it, he's way too shy and he's not self-confident like you are. I know he trusts you completely, and he must know you won't reject him as a friend, but he's different than you. It's so much harder for him to trust his heart with people after the way Debbie and Doug treat him." "I know all that," "So tell him!" "I don't know if I can," "Then you're going to lose him." Kyle shrugs sadly and leaves. Lose him. Lose him by NOT telling him? And that's when it hits me. My reasons for not telling Celery I love him are not his reasons. He's not afraid I'll run away or not want to admit that I'm gay, he's afraid I'm NOT gay. He's afraid I'm not in love with him. THAT'S why he's never been able to tell me. He's actually afraid I won't say it back. Look at what happened at Video Update. He was honestly concerned I'd be interested in Cherrie. He really doesn't know. It's all so clear now - but thank-goodness for Kyle, without him I might not have figured it out until it was all too late. I can't believe I'm such a stupid idiot. Why hasn't this ever occurred to me before? Probably cause it's so obvious and simple. I'm great at missing that sort of thing. Of course we're not the same. Celery and me. My problems, fears and worries - which have basically nothing to do with wondering if he loves me - blinded me to what he's been feeling. It never crossed my mind he wasn't even sure how I feel about him, I've always thought it was just his shyness. But it's not really that at all. He's really not sure. I can't let him go on thinking that way. The very next time I see him I have to tell him, I MUST tell Celery I love him. --- 12 o'clock and I'm still not asleep. Stupid brain is keeping me up nights. I'm flooded with memories yet again. Grade Seven was a crazy time for us. Not just for me, because of my blossoming obsession, for us as friends. Junior high was when our different interests really started to hit home as something that was supposed to matter. I was a 'cool brain' and he was a volleyball jock/skater. The cool brains and the skaters sometimes hung out together, but we didn't have any of the same interests like classes we liked or similar friends either. Nothing to keep us together. For exactly a week, the second week of school in fact, it almost seemed like we were going to break up. Out of no fault of our own, we simply didn't see each other. We had almost no classes together. After school, he had volleyball practice and I had discovered debating and the school newspaper. Our respective friends were pulling us apart. I liked hanging with kids who worked on the paper and were interested in world issues. I also liked the attention everyone gave me for cracking jokes in class. There was no way Celery was going to do stuff like that, the jokes I mean. Around me, it's pretty much no longer an issue, but the dude IS painfully shy. He takes a long time to warm up to people, but (obviously) once he has, he's extremely loyal. So we were both busy, doing different things. Then Friday afternoon rolled around, and Celery was at my locker, his back-pack stuffed with books and overnight clothes, smiling. I asked him what he wanted to do, which was tradition, even though we always did the same thing. He'd replied '"Idiot Scrabble", idiot.' Also tradition. Idiot Scrabble is Scrabble gone horribly, horribly wrong, Carrots and Celery style. It's the same as normal Scrabble except using words that are misspelled, only three letters long and made up is encouraged. In fact it's pretty much mandatory. Points are given according to a system we set up. You get docked if you use a real word with five letters or more, for instance. But you have to have a definition prepared for any made up word you use. Points are also awarded when someone uses words that were made up in previous games. In this case, you have to remember the definition. On Saturday when we woke up, we made our usual plans for the day. We talked about what movies we would rent, and decided on a Classic Cartoons day. 'Bambi' (Thumper is fucking hilarious!) and 'The Sword in the Stone' and 'Alice In Wonderland'. Hey man, we were only 12. Growing up early is for losers anyway. And I'll have you know I STILL love Alice in Wonderland. That's a fucking trippy movie. If either us had needed a wake-up call or an assurance that our friendship was solid, that weekend was it. I knew when I said good-bye on Sunday afternoon that none of the other stuff I did with my new friends was nearly as cool as doing nothing with Celery. That having someone who laughed with me during every other scene of a kiddie Disney movie was worth any debate club or 'intellectual discussion'. You know, I hope I'm not making it sound like Celery's dumb. He's totally not. Probably, the only real difference is he's not a show-off like me. One other thing I guess I should mention is that though Celery is a jock, it's important to note that he's a bad jock. He cares about volleyball, and enjoys it, but great at them though he is, he only goes out for his other sports to keep in shape. Like I already said. He doesn't act like a jock though, not like most of the other jocks in our school anyway. No swaggering around in his team jackets, no dating cheerleaders, no treating the non-athletes like lower beings, that kind of shit. Plus, he's a skater. And skateboarding is the biggest anti-jock sport in the world. Skating's Celery's true nature. In skateboarding you're not depending on anyone but yourself, your screw-ups and triumphs are your own. It's solitary, unique. Celery likes being alone, but only as long as I'm there. Maybe that doesn't make much sense but too damn bad. I don't know how to explain it. We can be alone and together at the same time, depending on our moods. Around each other, but not WITH each other. It can be just as comforting. In the same room or space, doing our own thing, content, separate but together. It doesn't happen much, but sometimes. When we need it. I'm forced by my extremely honest nature (stop that snickering!) to admit that it's mostly me who's the one needing the aloneness of our together times. The quiet, that's important for me. It comes from living in such a bustling, crowded house. Celery's house, the opposite of mine, makes him lean more towards the togetherness part. But we can have it both ways, so everybody's happy. I roll over onto my side, and sigh. It's one of those good, long, self-pitying, teenage morose sighs. I'm quite an expert at them. Another memory I keep coming back to is the grade 6 dance. First one, it was almost like a mini prom for the 'graduating' grade sixers. Everyone was in a flutter to find a date. Hair pulling had reached a fever pitch. Celery and I were bewildered. "Do we have to go?" He'd whispered to me one afternoon very close to the dance. I'd shaken my head. Of course not. I remember giving him a comforting smile and mouthing, 'they can't make us'. Shut-up. I was 12. You talked like that when you were 12 too. But of course we did end up going, and it was miserable (for the first half-hour). Standing at the Boy Wall, all of our fellow members of the harrier sex nervous about asking girls to dance, while Celery and me were worried girls might ask US to dance. Or that somehow, we'd be forced into dancing. We weren't sure, but I know I was a little worried there might be some kind of rule saying you HAD to dance with at least one girl at a dance. Like I said, miserable, until Celery had enough. He grabbed my elbow, raised his eyebrows, rolling his eyes in the direction of the bleachers, and we made a run for it. My dad wasn't due to pick up us for another hour and a half, but we amused ourselves for that amount of time with childish games. You know. We pretended the space behind the bleachers was a cave, the other kids in the gym some hostile island locals, the chaperones their tribe chiefs. I might be wrong, but I think the punch (conveniently red) was supposed to be blood. It was fun, and it might have been the beginning of all this. Of me and Celery making a bond that shut out the rest of the world, our mutual decision that we didn't need anyone but each other. The idea that either one of us would have rather been out on the dance floor with some girl was an insult to what we stood for. Partners in crime, conspirators in living, best friends forever. I'd been counting 80's One Hit Wonders (what's with that sheep crap anyway?), and am starting to finally nod off when I hear a quiet ratting and the shutting of a door. A bit frantically, I bolt into upright position. The moon shinning through my window lights up Celery's profile. He's here, and predictably, now I don't know what to say. "What are you doing here?" I whisper loudly. Yeah, I know. You thought I said I didn't know what do say. Shut-up. "I thought you had to baby-sit," He walks a little closer. "I did. They just got home, but They brought some friends and they were being pretty loud," the living room is right under his bedroom. Done intentionally, so the steps wouldn't be disturbed by such events. I hate Them. "Oh," I say brilliantly. "Do you mind?" I snort. "So I'm polite. Give me a break." It's March, so even though it's late, it's pretty light and I watch as he walks towards the closet that stores his extra bedding. I'm scared and nervous and a million other things, but I have to say something. I can't keep letting us down. "Cel, don't bother," "What?" I turn on the light, feeling we shouldn't do this in the dark. I hold up a corner of the blanket. "Come sleep with me in the bed," surely he can hear my voice cracking and faltering. I don't even sound calm to myself, he must be noticing. Celery's eyes pierce me, almost charcoal. "That's probably not a-" "Please." He sighs. "Okay." He climbs in with me. I wiggle over making enough room, but only JUST enough. He's so beautiful, I want to kiss him SO badly. But I know I have to say it first, that if I don't he'll get scared and confused and it won't be any good at all. We're both not really lying down yet, resting heads on propped up elbows, facing each other on our sides. Eyes avoiding, but careful to not appear that way. I want to take away that grey. I put my free hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at me. He's nervous, but his eyes are burning with excitement as well. "Celery, please believe that what I'm about to say is the absolute truth and always will be," we both swallow. I take a breath. So strange, that after all this time, this is IT. Three words, and nothing will ever be the same again. I've been here before, but never so determined, never realizing how important it is that when these moments come I have to stop letting them pass by and finally seize one. That if I don't eventually it will wreck him. I take another breath, and after exhaling deeply whisper, "I love you,"