Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson
Parker
I had about an hour’s worth of math homework to finish, but instead of being responsible, I was stretched out on my bed, fucking around on a dating app. It was rare to find anything more than an opportunity to hook up on Pegasus, and maybe that’s all this guy wanted, but I had to admit I was intrigued. The Lost Boys was more of a cult classic, it wasn’t a popular book, by any means, unless you were a book junkie, queer or not. Avoiding the tedium of statistics, I’d hopped onto the app, not really thinking I’d find anyone interesting to help me procrastinate. I’d scrolled through the new local members list and was beyond stoked when I’d come across his username. Peter Pan’s shadow showed up in most adaptations of the original story. The guy very well could’ve been referencing any one of them, but I’d taken a chance, and I was glad I did. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much on his profile, and if I banked on my past experience, the odds were he’d end up being an asshole. I checked out his info again anyway while I waited, or rather hoped for a response to my last message.
His profile picture was a grainy shot of a shadow on a white wall, which heightened my interest. It stood out in a sea of abs and skin. I wanted to know if he’d taken the picture himself, or if he’d found it online somewhere. His bio was about as informative as his picture. He was thirty-three, lived in the Atlanta area, and identified as bi-sexual/questioning. The questioning part made me hesitate. I wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but I’d served enough time in the closet, and had no intention of going back in. I scrolled down to his interests and laughed out loud. Introverted bookish waffle aficionado. I checked the time, and it’d been ten minutes since I’d sent my last message. Bummed, I tossed my phone onto the mattress, and with a loud, pathetic sigh, dragged my laptop onto my thighs. I’d gotten through maybe four problems when Marcos let himself into my room.
“God… you’re doing homework again, aren’t you?” He scratched at his bare stomach as he walked across my room without invitation and plopped down onto my bed. “I’m bored. Entertain me.”
“Let me get this shit done first.” I shoved his hip with my foot.
“Hey… that kind of hurt, dick.”
Marcos flicked my big toe with his finger.
“I feel like I have to tell you this at least twice a day. The more you bother me, the longer it will take,” I said and smiled when he tried to flick my toe even harder. “I swear, you’re like a little kid sometimes.”
“I’m young at heart. When you’re old with saggy balls, you’ll be grateful for my immature spirit.” He pulled off my sock and threw it at me. “Gross, you need a pedicure…” His eyes widened as I lifted my sock from my chest and started to put it back on. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“Not getting a pedicure.” I laughed when he narrowed his eyes. “I have to work, and then I have my stats class.”
“I told you not to take Friday classes.”
“I want to graduate sometime this century.”
“You know… every once in a while, I think about quitting,” he said, lowering his eyes to his lap. He fidgeted with the string on his sweatpants and exhaled a heavy breath. “I’m never going to graduate… I should have picked a different major. Something to fall back on.”
“Come on, man, you can’t quit. You’ve already put in the work. You’d be good at anything you decided on.”
“I like retail,” he said. “I like clothes. I can’t get a degree in shopping.”
“Shopping, no… but business, yes. Open your own shop. Or be a designer like you’ve always wanted. Marcos, there’s tons of shit you could do. You should talk to an academic advisor if you’re worried.”
He chewed on his thumbnail, my least favorite of his nervous habits. I lightly pushed him with my foot again and he dropped his hand. “Sorry, I know, it’s gross, blah blah blah… it’s how I cope, deal with it.”
“Chew away, but don’t lecture me about pedicures…”
I smiled when he rolled his eyes.
“I’ll talk to an advisor… and I will never stop lecturing you about pedicures. No guy wants to feel your nasty, calloused feet on their ass when they’re fucking you.”
“Good thing I’d rather top.”
Marcos scooted off the bed and stood, his hands on his hips. “You’re missing out… that’s all I’m going to say.”
With Marcos it was never “that’s all I’m going to say.” He could nag a motherfucker until the sun came up.
“Can I do my homework now?”
“I’ll allow it. I’ll be out in the living room, not being a boring ass bitch.”
I laughed hard enough my stomach ached as he shut my bedroom door. Christ, he was something else. A lot of our friends said we were like an old married couple. And I supposed they were right. But even if I was into him like that, I’d never do anything about it. We would probably end up killing each other if we were a real couple, and then I’d be out one hell of a best friend.
Totally distracted, I couldn’t seem to get through the last few problems on my homework. I hadn’t been blessed by the math gods like my older sister had. She loved math so much she’d decided to teach it. Too bad she lived in Arkansas. I grabbed my phone, hoping she might still be awake, and smiled at the message I’d missed.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Thank God. The unsolicited dick pics are a little unnerving.
@TheL0stB0y: But the solicited ones are okay?
@MeAndMyShadow33: I’m not sure. I’ve never asked for one.
@TheL0stB0y: Does anyone ever ask for one?
@MeAndMyShadow33:Good point. Maybe some guys? But I’m not that kind of guy.
@TheL0stB0y: No? What kind of guy are you?
Waiting for his answer, I pressed my lips together, my pulse thrumming a beat or two faster than normal. I didn’t usually get excited about chatting with guys on here. It was too impersonal. But this guy, he’d made me want to dig deeper.
@MeAndMyShadow33: The truth is, I have no idea. I’ve never done this before.
@TheL0stB0y: You’ll have to be more specific. Define “this.”
@MeAndMyShadow33:I’ve never used a dating app.
That was vague.
@TheL0stB0y: You’d rather meet guys at a bar or something?
@MeAndMyShadow33: I’ve never been with a guy before.
@TheL0stB0y: Ever?
@MeAndMyShadow33:Never.
Well, fuck. As curious as I was about this guy, I wasn’t down with being an experiment. He was probably married looking to satisfy some unfulfilled need he’d had his whole life but never wanted to admit. Textbook closet case. No, thanks.
@TheL0stB0y: Bummer. I’m not into closeted guys though.
@MeAndMyShadow33:Who said I was closeted?
@TheL0stB0y: You’ve never been with a guy and you’re thirty-three. What’s stopped you, then?
It was probably rude as fuck of me to ask. But I had no desire to pursue something with no ending in sight. I wasn’t trying to get married or anything, but I’d like an actual relationship. A person I could trust and be with without all the games and noise.
@MeAndMyShadow33:I’ve never had the chance. Got married to my high school girlfriend.
@TheL0stB0y: Ahh. You’re married. I figured. Not interested in being anyone’s dirty secret. Thanks for the chat, though.
I was pissed at myself for falling for the bullshit. Instead of wasting my time, I should’ve been on the phone with my sister getting help with this stats nightmare. I closed out of the app and called her. She answered after two rings, her voice scratchy with sleep.
“Oh man, did I wake you up?”
“It’s okay… Jones was a terror today. I fell asleep on the couch. I swear, I love my kid, but he runs me ragged.”
“Aren’t two-year-old’s known for being terrible?” I asked and laughed when she groaned.
“If I had only known….”
“You love that kid.”
“I do…” she said. “But what’s going on with you? Everything okay?”
She yawned again and I regretted calling. My sister worked her ass off, and basically raised her son by herself, with her husband Brett always away on business. I’d never liked the guy. He had never said it outright, his homophobia was more passive aggressive. He’d referred to my sexuality as a lifestyle choice and would say shit about nature versus nurture. Basically, implying that because my dad had died, and I’d been raised by my mom and my older sister, I was somehow less masculine than him. Never mind the fact that I served my goddamn country for four years while he played golf with his country club dudebros. Of course, he’d never said any of it in front of Mandi. But, unfortunately, because of him, my sister and I had become more distant over the years. She thought the guy shit stars out of his ass. I couldn’t be the one to ruin her happily ever after. She’d done too much for me. I missed my sister, but it was probably a good thing she lived in another state.
“Ordinal and nominal… qualitative and quantitative… I’m lost. This stats class sucks.”
Her giggle made me smile, making me miss her even more. “I got you, little brother.”
Mandi saved my ass yet again. After only twenty minutes, I already had a better grasp on the concepts, and was able to work through two of the problems with her. I almost asked her to help me with the last two, but it was late for her, and I didn’t want to be the reason she was tired in the morning.
“Thanks, again,” I said. “And I’m sorry I woke you up for this.”
“No, you’re not.” She laughed. “Call me anytime, Park. You know I’m here for you. Always.”
“Love you.”
“You, too,” she said, and the call disconnected.
Looking at my phone, I had a message from Pegasus, but I didn’t pay it any mind. I shut my laptop and got out of bed. Stretching my tired muscles, I debated on going to the gym. It was late enough, I could tell myself I didn’t have to go. Plus, Marcos would most likely give me a ration of shit if I ignored him much longer. But I was irrationally irritable, and I didn’t know why. I’d gotten most of my work done like I’d wanted, but I couldn’t seem to shake my grouchy mood. I wanted to blame the stats class, but I had to admit, I was let down the guy I’d chatted with had turned out to be a bust. Restless, I grabbed my phone off the bed and my keys from my nightstand, deciding the gym was my best option for blowing off some steam. I’d made it halfway to my bedroom door before my phone vibrated in my hand. Taking a quick look, my stomach dropped when I saw I had an email from Mr. Brody.
The essay I’d sent him was the most personal thing I’d ever written. I almost didn’t turn it in. But he’d asked for real words, and when I’d sat down to write, I couldn’t change the path my mind had wanted to take. I’d written about this random guy I’d let fuck me one night under a pier at the beach when I’d lived in Florida. He hadn’t meant anything to me, but what had happened that night had meant everything. That night I’d taken back what had been beaten out of me. The man had been a stranger, but I’d given him all my secrets, and he’d given me back my pride. My confidence. It had been the night I’d stopped being a victim and had become a survivor.
Swallowing past the ache in my throat, I opened the email.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Date: Aug 26 9:58 PM
SUBJECT: RE: ASSIGNMENT 2
Mr. Mills,
“Excellent” work.
P.S. I did dock a few points for not meeting the word requirement. To be fair.
Donovan Brody
English Department
Winchester State College
Something excited and nervous fluttered in my stomach, my grin unwilling to subside as I typed out my response.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Date: Aug 26 10:05 PM
SUBJECT: RE: ASSIGNMENT 2
Mr. Brody,
If you want, I could write more over the weekend and send it? Technically I have until Monday.
Thanks,
Parker
P.S. FYI… it’s perfectly acceptable to address me as Parker via email. All my other professors do… unless you like being stuffy.
I hit send and winced, overanalyzing the stuffy comment. I’d teased him about it before, but having it written down, without a tone of voice for reference, it almost seemed disrespectful. I hit refresh about twenty times until finally my inbox lit up with another email.
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
Date: Aug 26 10:20 PM
SUBJECT: RE: ASSIGNMENT 2
Mr. Mills,
You are welcome to write more. I’d actually love to read anything you might want to send my way. As I’ve mentioned before, your talent exceeds any expectation I might’ve had for a student taking this introductory class. I maintain that your ability would be wasted in your current course of study and ask that you might speak with your academic advisor. Not all writers are “starving artists.” You’re a writer, Parker. Your voice is genuine. I hope you’ll consider my suggestion with an open mind and be willing to accept how much more you’re capable of.
Donovan Brody
English Department
Winchester State College
I read the email twice, standing in the middle of my room, silent and still. Hadn’t I told Marcos he should do whatever he wanted to? Failure was something I didn’t allow myself. Something I feared. It’s why I’d joined the Air Force. Make Dad proud. It’s part of why I’d stayed in the closet for those four years. Don’t be a disappointment. It’s why I chose communications instead of creative writing. Steady income, easy life. Steady and easy didn’t seem as appealing to me anymore. My mom and sister were always supportive, but this was different. Support was great, but having a person believe in me, believe I was more than those safe expectations I’d set, it untwisted those knots inside me that I’d been holding on to. It made me want to start writing and never stop, to somehow live between my words and bones, somewhere between reality and fiction, to pour myself out onto the page and discover what I was truly capable of. My chest tight, I read it again for the third time and laughed when I realized he’d called me Parker.
Feeling triumphant, I figured he could have the last word, and tried to close out of my email. But the Pegasus chat notification popped up again, and I accidently opened it. Cursing under my breath, I was ready to block the fucker, when one word caught my eye.
Divorce.
@MeAndMyShadow33:I’m divorced. Sorry for the misunderstanding.
@TheL0stB0y: Probably should have let you explain.
@TheL0stB0y: These apps can make a man cynical.
@MeAndMyShadow33: I assure you. I’m divorced. And though I’ve never had a chance to act on it, I have always been aware of my attraction for men since I was a teenager.
@TheL0stB0y: And now you get to test the waters. It’s like reading your favorite book and getting to experience everything for the first time. I’m kind of jealous.
@MeAndMyShadow33: I’m nervous as hell.
@TheL0stB0y: What are you nervous about?
@MeAndMyShadow33: I was with my ex since I was in high school. The dating game has changed.
@TheL0stB0y: And the gender… at least, for you.
@MeAndMyShadow33: And sex. I have no clue what I’m doing.
@TheL0stB0y: You’ll have to find someone you trust to help you with your water wings.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Is that some type of euphemism?
@TheL0stB0y: Ha! No. You’re testing the waters, remember? Water wings… You know those little plastic things kids have to wear on their arms when they’re learning to swim. It made sense in my head.
@MeAndMyShadow33: It makes sense. Apparently, I’m more tired than I thought I was. I’m not usually up this late.
@TheL0stB0y: Late? I thought you said you were 33 not 80.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Ten-thirty is late when you have two jobs.
@TheL0stB0y: And now I feel like a dick.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Don’t, it was funny.
@MeAndMyShadow33: How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking, your profile doesn’t say.
@TheL0stB0y: 23 but I’ll be 24 on September 1st.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Shit. Now I feel old.
@TheL0stB0y: Age is only a number, baby.
@MeAndMyShadow33: Baby? I don’t think we’re there yet.
@TheL0stB0y: You realize I’m going to call you baby from now on.
@MeAndMyShadow33: I could block you.
@TheL0stB0y: Yeah, but you won’t
@MeAndMyShadow33: No?
@TheL0stB0y: Nope…
@MeAndMyShadow33: Why’s that?
@TheL0stB0y: You need those water wings.
@MeAndMyShadow33: You want to be my water wings?
@TheL0stB0y: I thought you’d never ask.
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