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thirteen - reassured

my mom snored loudly from her bedroom across the hall, and the birds sang loudly from the tree in front of my house. their high pitched chirps and tweets reminded me of an off pitched flute that never stopped playing. nevertheless, i laid in bed, waiting for life to begin all on its own.

yet, in never begun.

i rolled over, stuffed a pillow in my face, and even tried some breathing meditation my therapist from six years ago taught me, but nothing. the birds just kept yelling at me, the sun burning through the large window being their ally. i could ignore my mom's snores and even then sun, but the birds were going to kill me.

one eye shot open and scanned the naturally lit room. its seventies style radiated as my ears finally drowned back in the radio over my mom's snores (but not the birds). 'kokomo' echoed sweetly throughout my room. my lips curved upwards as i silently hummed the sweet tune. my eyes looked over at mike, who was peacefully reading the poem book. my digital clock read 11:06, so i assumed he had been awake since around eight.

his eyes were glued to the pages in front of him, almost as if he was in a trance. he hung open his mouth subconsciously. i watched as he studied every word like another piece of gospel.

focused

"hey," i spoke softly, but loud enough for mike to look up at me with his soft eyes. he let out a quick 'hm' as his head tilted. i watched as his finger traced a page and flipped it. "you can have it," i suggested, "but i just want the one poem."

"i don't know why you love that poem so much," mike shook his head with a smile, "i don't want you to tear it out. it's special."

my lips pursed as my shoulders shrugged. i didn't mind. the book wasn't necessarily anything i was connected to. i just wanted the one poem. sure, the book was my father's, but he had many books. i grabbed the scissors that were placed on my bedside table with one hand and grabbed the book with the other. i flipped through the pages until i reached it.

"two lovers and a beachcomber by the real sea," my voice echoed throughout the room. i started to cut the page as i hummed the tune that played through the radio. a small smile formed across my face as the scissors ran through the paper one last time with a loud snip. i carefully set it aside and handed the book back to mike. he thanked me quietly, but soon enough, he had to leave. he walked out of my house, he held the book close to his chest as he walked down the street.

"who wuh-was th-thuh-tha-that?" i heard a voice from my door. i turned to see bill standing at the threshold of my room with an eyebrow cocked. his elbow rested on my brown doorframe.

"mike hanlon," i explained, "he's a new friend."

i patted the spot on my bed where mike previously slept, and bill heedlessly laid down, like all of the times he had done before. he didn't say anything, though. his eyes were glued to the ceiling, as if he were dazed, but he wasn't. he was staring at it for a reason; he didn't want to look somewhere else.

nervous

i looked over at the poem that sat on my bedside intently. its bent corner and neatly printed letters somehow caused my heart to speed up and think of richie, staring at the pages examining those words almost elegantly. it made me think about the moonlight that reflected on the flowing river. it made me think about how richie smelled like watermelon.

bill's chest rose and fell with every breath he took. he closed his eyes with a long sigh. i felt myself put my hand over his with a small smile, causing him to finally look at me. his eyes looked terrified, as if he had seen me just die.

"what?"

"c-c-can uh-uh-i k-k-kuh-kiss y-yuh-yuh-" he sputtered. his words were slow, more shaky than ever. i felt all senses from my face fade away at one word, but for bill, it was a series of stutters.

"kiss me?" i asked. he nodded slowly, averting his eyes away. "why?"

"i— uh-i d-d-duh-uh-don-don't n-nuh-know," bill whispered. he turned over, disconnecting our hands. i felt my hand touch his shoulder gently and turn him over gently. his eyes locked with mine. they were glossy, vulnerable, and confused. he was tired; alone. like i was when i was younger.

bill had been my only friend. we both had something in common: we were judged, and that never changed. stanley eventually came along when he joined school a year after us. he joined our class after a year, and then it became a trio. however, stanley often would go to the park by himself to watch birds. it was sometimes just bill and i. he was my best friend.

i placed my right hand on his left cheek and planted a soft kiss on my best friend's lips. time didn't slow down or speed up, and butterflies didn't float in my stomach. fireworks didn't go off, it was just a kiss. however, something clicked. wires had finally connected. i thought back to my younger years and the times i saw a pretty boy outside my window on the street. i thought back to the times in sixth grade when i was jealous when bill would look at stanley before me.

the thought of kissing bill was a small fantasy i had when i was younger. a sixth grade crush. it came in small ways: curiosity, daydreaming, hope; however, it never left my thoughts. it soon flew away like a small paper airplane on a windy day.

i backed away slowly, opening my eyes and looking at bill quietly. his eyes were wide, but not shocked. they were in wonder and realization. it was like a small fawn wondering through a green forest.

reassured

"you like boys," i whispered, "and you always have. who were you thinking of?"

"yuh-you know huh-who," bill responded, "and yo-you leh-like boys tuh-teh-too." we both then turned onto our backs and looked at the yellowed ceiling in comfortable silence; it was as if we had never kissed. like as if i didn't give my first kiss to my best friend of ten years.

"who would've thought," a sour laugh escaped my lips, bill following suit. it was almost pathetic how predictable it all was. my eyes looked over at the poem, and my head suddenly became fuzzy. thoughts filled my head like the butterflies that filled my stomach. i thought of richie again and again; over and over like the loud birds that sang in the morning.

"can i tell you a secret?" i looked over at bill. he nodded slowly.

"stanley is absolutely enamored with you too."

bill's eyes lit up brightly at the words that escaped my mouth. he smiled brightly, looking at the ceiling giddily.