Date: Sat, 30 Oct 2004 20:22:27 -0600 From: Karla Schulz Subject: Carrots and Celery Part Three, Chapter 26 For Megan, as reward for successfully completing midterms or as a helpful distraction from studying for them. Highlander was a documentary. --- In the spirit of `welcome to my world', I find myself on a bus with Celery and Saul, headed towards a favourite skate spot where we will rendezvous with the rest of their happy little band and general wackiness will ensue. Saul is in the seat across from the one Celery and I share, casting furtive glances in my direction occasionally, but mostly muttering to himself about light and angles and flipping through a copy of Scientific America. At my side, Celery has his knee pressed up against mine, but is attempting no further contact. We're not talking, but it's mostly just spontaneous silence, not forced by anger or frustration. Jonas and Kyle declined my invitation to join in on this particular leg of the Calgary adventure, opting instead to hang about the hotel room (this may or may not involve a considerable amount of sex, but I'm trying not to think about that) and maybe do some exploring on their own. In a way, I don't get this at all, because the whole point of being here is supposed to be to see Celery, but then I think about the fact that really, this is about me and Celery, and making them spend too much time with us and our drama will do no good, not to mention that I'm technically supposed to be experiencing Celery's reality here, not shunning his friends to seek solidarity with Jonas and Kyle, as I'd be liable to do if they came along. And if you sort through all that, there's quite possibly a logical reason for Kyle and Jonas staying behind that I've at least half convinced myself I'm okay with. We arrive, and I'm safe from at least initial shocks - it's a typical spot and could be anywhere really. Slightly more populated than the little corners we used to find for ourselves where the sessions that would start out being the two of us lazily competing but would inevitably dissolve into me propped up against some wall or ledge, sketching him and otherwise drinking up the sight of Celery doing something he loves. But already, as soon as my feet hit pavement getting off the bus in fact, I know this will be dramatically different. Instead of shying away from crowds and turning to me with a smile that begs me to suggest we go somewhere else that we can skate alone, Celery is shielding his eyes against the sun and grinning as three bodies break away from the small concentration of skaters and begin skating in our general direction. Celery waves. The distance between us crossed, we are served with a chorus of `hey's'. Saul gets acknowledged as if he is an appreciated bit of the scenery but the attention they focus on me is none too subtle. Three pairs of eyes fixed directly on me, one holding friendliness, one curiosity and the other anxiety and suspicion. I figure if I'm being inspected, I might as well return the favour, and look each of them over carefully. Closest to the back of the group is a average looking guy with sort of washed out brown hair and eyes, wearing the beginnings of a friendly smile to match his eyes and a long sleeved T-shirt that says, Listen to Denny Petkins. To the left and slightly in front of him is a stocky dude (and this choice of word is deliberate and necessary) with frothy blonde hair, pale blue eyes the sort of clothes you'd except to see on a surfer in cool weather. I notice belatedly that he was riding long board, not a skate board. The female of the group -- Jake -- has short tussled black hair and a gentle prettiness in all the features of her face. She looks, however, to be at least partially masking that, with a glare already forming and a defensive body stance. I also notice she's eyeing Celery protectively, when she's not busy glaring at me. "I thought you'd be shorter man." Remarks the long boarder. I'm mostly distracted from his comment by his gravely surfer drawl. "Kory, remember how we discussed this? The part about avoiding comments that will get me into trouble?" Celery looks pained. "Dude, how is a comment about his height going to Mick Dundee you?" Kory the long boarder asks, genuinely confused. And can I just say, what the hell does Mick Dundee mean? Celery sighs, but there's something like weary affection in it. Kory grins, apparently understanding that he's been forgiven. "Anyway. Carrots -- this is Kory," "Greetings dude." He holds out his hand and I shake it with little reluctance. I even smile. Apparently I'm easily charmed by people with ridiculous and unexplainable accents. "Hey." Celery is working on controlling a gleeful beam and the success of our introduction, which my now strangely accommodating mood isn't irked by. "And that's Denny," He says cheerfully, pointing at the guy hovering in the back. Denny waves and breaks out the full smile. A little begrudgingly, I smile back. Celery pauses rather warily before saying, "And finally, Jake." "Hi Jake," I say when all she does is stand there awkwardly. "Look, so, just to get this out of the way before anything else -- understand that I'm aware that technically I should probably be madly in love with him, causing us to engage in a various array of passive aggressive behavior towards each other and inevitably resulting in hair pulling nail scratching chick fight of epic proportions -- but I'm really not." She shoots Celery a look of fond revulsion. "Like, at all. And I don't know, things are weird enough already, and the last thing we need is more tension caused by a cliché driven misunderstanding right?" For several minutes, I simply stand there, blown away by her ability to speak so quickly. Once my brain has caught up, it latches onto `chick fight' and I demand, "You crazy Albertans realize I'm not a girl right? Cause, I mean I know he's like, kind of bigger than me in the like, shoulder region or whatever, but I'm actually still a guy." "We got it dude." Kory assures me heartily. "Yeah, sorry... chick fight! That was bad." Jake face palms herself. Hyper active ditziness. Why wasn't I aware this was something people (read: Celery) could find so endearing? You think someone would have warned me. "It's okay." I mutter, shocking everyone, especially Celery, by smiling and clapping her on the shoulder. She smiles and then breezes, "Oh yeah, and if at all possible, try not to hurt him anymore, cause if you did then I'd have to try to kill you and you know, it probably wouldn't work that well, and I'd end up having to go to prison and you wouldn't even be dead, so I'd have nothing to show for it. Nobody wants that right?" This time I manage to blink instead of just standing immobile, but that's about the sum of my accomplishments. It's not just the rapid fire speech this time, but the fact that she was deadly serious. In a vaguely terrifying way. Celery, who looked so hopeful about how things were going a moment ago, now appears ready to burry his head in the ground. Denny notices this and attempts to soothe him. "Take it easy Johnny boy, she's just expressing her innate Jakeness -- soon he'll grow to love her for it as we do." "Or you know, put up with her with mild bitterness." Saul adds casually. I raise my eye brows at him slightly, a smile forming of its own accord on my lips. He smiles back. It's almost a moment. However, I have to get back to the matter at hand. "Yeah John, relax." My tone leaves Denny no room to miss the error he name using the J-word, and he glances at Celery apologetically. Celery waves him off. "It's okay. The damage is already done and not by you. Let's just skate okay?" That works for everyone and soon all you can hear are the familiar sounds of wheels on pavement and metal against metal as tricks are made, rails grinded. There's skin on pavement as well, the occasional thudding and resulting groans that come with the inevitable crashes. I'm glad to be reminded of the oblivion I forgot skateboarding offered. And of the rush too, coming not only from landing tricks, but skating at Celery's side. Taking a break, we lean against each other on a near by curb, sitting in perfect silence. It's been a long since we sat together bathing in the all encompassing tiredness of this activity. I find myself realizing that in addition to everything else, I missed watching it. How sweet tricks look when landed, the spontaneous outpouring of sympathy and amusement when someone gets worked trying a trick the exact same way you did once. In the wondrous simplicity of this moment, I'm almost tempted to take his hand. "So what do you think?" "Of what?" It's refreshing to ask something without defensiveness, just curiosity. He smiles softly, and motions at our general surroundings. "Of my life." I pause in length before replying. "I think I need to see more of it before I render my verdict." The memory of a smile remains of Celery's lips. "Alright." He gets up soon after to return to skating, but I remain at the curb, watching. He is exactly the same and yet totally different. Morbid fascination is the flavor of my observation as my eyes and ears (at least distantly) follow his movements and conversations. Jake is perhaps the best non-pro skater I've ever seen, and watching her skate, I begin to understand why she and Celery get along. It's about sharing a private language and caring by doing. She is protective also, not just of Celery, but all of them. Frenzied and disconnected are most of her words, but there's a calmness that settles over her as she skates I can see Celery would gravitate to, and there's a tenderness in her eyes. "It's an eagle thing." Saul's voice in the ear comes as a surprise, but then, not. "What?" "Jake. You know, beautiful to look at but mess with one of her chicks and she'll claw your eyes out." I sigh. "Don't any of you people understand that he's not yours?" I really see no point in beating around the bush with this kid. I don't even think he expects me too. "But he is," He shrugs. "John is anyway." "I'm getting a little sick of this whole split personality lark. Celery is who he is -- John's just the name some bastards who never loved him gave him that he hid under this year." "Maybe that's how it started, but that's changed. You're still here, that means you've talked so I'm going to assume he's told you part of the reason he left to come back here is because he's started to be happy here. That means something." "He didn't come here because he was happier, he RAN away because he's a fucking self-hating coward." Saul doesn't reply, and soon I get up and stalk away, eager to skate away some of the tension. Unfortunately, this doesn't really work, and I remain wound up for the rest of the afternoon. My tension gets picked up by the rest of the group and naturally, especially Celery, and after waging at least three separate silent battles on the way back to Saul's house and another vocal but possibly the least rational one I'm so frustrated and tired of being in a state of constant defensiveness that I break the terms of our agreement and tell Celery that I'm going back to the hotel. The panicked look on his face immediately softens my resolve and eliminates my anger, but I know the latter part isn't likely to remain true for long, and I'm just SO tired. I take his hand and pull gently. "Please. Just for tonight. I'll still be here, and I'll come by early tomorrow and we'll spend the day like we planned. I just need a rest." The danger gone, he nods, understanding, I think, at least partly because he feels the same. "Okay. You cool to take a cab by yourself? I could come with you," "No, it's okay. It's not very far. Thanks though," I don't have to work very hard to achieve a small smile. With slightly more difficulty, I lean up and kiss his cheek. His eyes darken, but he turns around and starts walking way. "I'll call the cab." Comes softly over his shoulder. Leaning up against the wall as I wait, I sigh. When I get back to the hotel, Kyle asks, "So, what are his friends like?" "They're normal," I say incredulously, shaking my head. "They're just normal, decent people." "What did you expect?" "I don't know. Something. Different, weirdness, our kind of cool. But they're nothing like me, or us, or the person Celery was. With them he's John, and he's normal too. They're nice and interesting enough but there's nothing... nothing about them to make me understand why he would leave me to live the life they offer him. I had no idea he wanted to be normal so badly, I never saw that so much of his weirdness was just to keep up with me. To please me." "Carrots..." "I don't mean to sound like I'm better than them, or him. That consciousness freakishness is somehow superior... except, I kinda always thought we'd agreed that it was, Celery and me. But that's changed, I guess. If it was ever the case at all." "I'm sorry." I wave the offered sympathy away. "No. It's my fault. I'm starting to realize how much of all this is," I laugh shakily. "It really kind of sucks too." Kyle hugs me then, cause it's the thing people do in situations like this, and Jonas comes out of the bathroom a minute later toweling his hair. For some reason his presence makes me feel like crying. "What's going on?" "Celery's friends are normal." Kyle explains. Jonas makes a face that almost erases my guilt concerning my own reaction. "Weird," He says with a small shudder. Kyle lets me go. "Hasn't anybody ever noticed that I'M normal?" He suddenly demands. "What? No you aren't," Jonas denies quickly. "Sure I am. You guys said it yourselves -- I'm the boring Hufflepuff. I like structure and routine. I have fairly mainstream music and movie tastes. I go to school and parties. I drive a crappy car and like sleeping in...." "And have an insane boyfriend and family and an unexplainable passion for paintball and wish Fraggle Rock was on DVD. Kyle, you're NOT normal." "As normal as anyone else. It's all a matter of your grading standard, what you're comparing things to." "Kyle, don't mess with my snap judgments of these people. They keep me strong." He scoffs, but lets the matter drop. Later that night after the rounds of avoidance on my part, I finally give the non-Cliff Notes version of everything that's been going on with Celery. Jonas closes his eyes and bows his head, saying nothing. At least some of it, I think, he knew already. Not so for Kyle, who gets up and starts pacing around, his knuckles growing rapidly whiter as his fists clench. "What was he thinking?" He hisses. Trying extremely hard to give a fair version, I explain it to Kyle the way it was explained to me. "And that's enough for you?" Kyle asks when I'm done, with weak disbelief. "No, not really. But HE is and I have to accept what he's done if I want to get him back," I shake my head, "Back to the way he was before." "Do you even think that's possible?" I shrug. "If it's not, if he's really all the way gone, then I'll deal with that too." "How?" Despite Kyle's gentle tone, I feel my nerves snap. "Look I don't know okay Kyle? Fuck! I just... I love him and I always will, I can't change that. Being without him is always going to hurt so much more and I just can't stand to live like that. I'm tired of it." I choke back a sob. "Christ, I'm just so tired." And it hits me then, as I let the physical and emotional exhaustion settle on me fully, that I won't find my rest here. This `strategic retreat' of mine, which is of course, actually the big-scarredy-cat runaway, will solve nothing. One night and already I'm spoiled by the familiar feelings of sleeping with his body next to mine. "I have to go," I announce my decision. "I need to go to bed." There's a brief communication of blinks between Jonas and Kyle and then Kyle gets up and says, "Okay, let's go." We talk a little more, just Kyle and I, as we drive from the hotel to Saul's house. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do here, you know? Should I be slugging him to defend your honor?" "Kyle," I say with a sad smile. "It's not like that." "It isn't." Illuminated disbelief. "Trying not to be, anyway. You love us both right? I don't want now to be the time we start drawing lines according to who's blood and who isn't. We've both screwed up and are screwed up. I'm mad as hell and can defend myself just fine, but I don't want you two to get damaged over this. It's OUR mess." "But I'm overprotective big brother guy. It's my job to get involved in you life and fix stuff." "Not this time okay Kyle?" A bit of understanding passes between us, and he simply nods, not saying anything more for the rest of the ride. He slugs me in the shoulder before I get out of the car and my smile good bye is his reward. It occurs to me as I'm walking up the steps that ringing the doorbell at this hour is an incredibly rude thing to do, but debating whether or not I'm going to do it anyway becomes mute the minute the door is yanked open in anticipation of my arrival. I follow Celery's receding back into the house and remain as silent as he. I will learn later that Celery had been staring out his window waiting for me since we parted company. He changes slowly and wordlessly into cotton pajama bottoms and gets into bed, turning his eyes to look briefly at me with `well what are you waiting for' type expectation before rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. "Turn off the light when you're ready okay?" He asks with absurd normalcy. I nod dumbly even though he can't see me -- not to mention that this is ludicrous on many other grounds -- drop my duffle to the floor and rummage until I find my own pajamas. I strip down, change into them, flick off the light and crawl into his narrow bed beside Celery. We lie there in the dark breathing out of synch for a minute, our backs to each other, but then he turns over and wraps his arm around my waist, tucking his chin into my neck. "Good night Carrots." He murmurs sleepily. I settle in more comfortably against him. "Night." --- Happy Octoberween