Hey, I’m here, where are you?
I stare at my phone for a second, as that sinks in.
I mean, it’s not that tough a question to answer. I’m on the rooftop of the hospital. There’s an ocean breeze, cutting through the humidity, and I can hear the endless traffic flowing through the streets. It’s dark out, but the space is well lit by the buildings around.
I wanted to find somewhere where I could talk to Jason without stressing about being interrupted. I explored for a while and then found an elevator that goes up to the roof. I’m not sure I’m allowed to be up here, but nobody has stopped me yet.
I start typing my response.
On the roof.
My thumb hovers over the send button.
It’s really nice that he came. Of course I think that. But isn’t this risky as hell? Anyone in my family could show up at any time, and then I’d need to explain why I wasn’t in the waiting room, like I said I would be.
And if Jason met anyone, he might be able to figure out that I’m part of this city’s first family of crime. Knowing that, he might not want to be friends anymore. I think he thinks I’m like him, from an allied family. I don’t think he knows just how deep in this world I am.
It’s a risk I’m willing to take, though. Having a friend to talk to right now would be so nice it almost doesn’t feel real. I’m so used to bottling up how I feel, but tonight, maybe I don’t have to.
I hit send.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and try to find a place to sit. Obviously there aren’t any chairs or anything: but there is the lip of the roof. It’s pretty thick; it’ll be fine. I go over to the edge and peer down. I can see the street below, which is quiet. I spot a parked silver Alfa Romeo. Luke would love that car.
I push myself up and onto the lip of the roof. I scoot forward, until my legs are hanging in thin air. The cement is cool and rough.
My hands are shaking now. From everything.
My dad got shot.
He nearly died.
It’s completely fucked-up.
It makes me think about the Donovans. I picture them and try my best to hate them.
There’s Frank Donovan, the current patriarch. He’s an overweight man, balding, who always wears a three-piece suit. He has reddish hair and a beard. It’s said that he’s vicious but not very smart. In this business, though, pure, ballsy aggression often does work. Still, it’s his wife, Maria, who’s the really dangerous one. She’s pretty much the opposite of him: Her hair is dark when his is light, and she’s incredibly slim, to the point where she looks ill. She’s a scalpel to his hammer, an expert at finding our weak points and exploiting them.
She’s ruthless and wants my family dead as much as most of my family wants hers. Not for any personal reason that we know of, other than that she’s sick of her family being second-best.
Always being the bridesmaid gets old, apparently.
Then there are all the Donovans we don’t know. Part of this game has always been trying to figure out who they are. Once we find a Donovan, we normally try to kill them. They’re the same with us.
I hear the sound of sneakers scuffing on gravel and spin.
Jason raises his hand at me. I wave back.
Good timing, too. I was just starting to fall down a rabbit hole thinking about my family and the war. And now I don’t have to. That’s the beauty of our deal, I guess. It lets us pretend we’re normal. It makes me understand why he doesn’t want to talk about our families, because I don’t want that, either.
With him, I just want to be myself.
He’s dressed in the same clothes he was when I last saw him. I guess it hasn’t even been that long. A few hours, tops. It feels way longer.
He crosses the roof and sits down beside me. Like at my place, he sits a little closer than I feel he needs to.
“It’s high up here,” he says as he looks down.
“Yeah.”
He smiles and kicks his feet. It’s cute. “What made you choose this spot?”
“I didn’t want my family to see us, I guess.”
“Because of our deal?”
“Yeah.” I cross my arms. “I mean, what else would it be?”
A complicated look crosses his features. He almost seems offended.
“You tell me,” he says.
I crack my back, and then look out at the city. This is tough. I think he’s here to provide emotional support, which is great. But I can’t tell him about everything that’s happened, because of our deal. And I guess I don’t want to.
I don’t know what to say.
“Listen,” he says. He adjusts his position, so he’s facing me a little more. “I know we have our agreement.”
“Yeah.”
“And I want to keep it going.”
“I know, me too. I wasn’t going to…”
“Good, but you can tell me some things, if you want.” His voice is even, and a little slow, like he’s being careful with his words. “Just, like, keep it vague. That way it doesn’t matter. You can tell me why you’re here, just, in a roundabout way. If you want.”
“So no personal specifics?”
“Exactly. I mean, you could tell me, if you want to.”
I chew my lip. “I don’t. Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t be. I figured. Pretend I didn’t ask.”
“Done. Well. I will say that a family member of mine was hurt pretty bad.”
I figure he probably already assumed that, given where I am.
Still, saying it feels good.
“Shit, dude, that’s really rough,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. They’re going to be okay, but it was a little scary for a second there. I didn’t know…”
“Didn’t know what?”
Tears fill my eyes. I blink them away. “I didn’t know if they were going to make it.”
I sniff and look down. There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t.
Jason puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
He leaves his hand there, resting against me.
We sit there for a few seconds, watching the city, with his arm on me.
I’ve never had anyone do this to me before. It’s so nice. He doesn’t need to say anything more. Just him putting his hand on my shoulder tells me that he cares about me and he’s sorry that this really awful thing has happened to me.
He’s got my back.
“You don’t need to do anything,” I say. My voice sounds croaky. “You being here is more than enough. I don’t want you to think I’m a burden or anything.”
“Dude, what? I’d never. I’m here because we’re friends now, right? This is what friends do. They support each other.”
My eyes widen.
We’re friends now. It’s official.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “I’ve never really had any friends. Good ones, anyway.”
“Really? Come on, you’ve got to be messing with me.”
I shake my head. “No good ones. I just don’t click with people. I don’t know why.”
“Well, everyone else is missing out,” he says. “I can tell you’re a great friend.”
I feel like crying, but I smile. He squeezes one last time, and his hand slides off my shoulder.
I miss the contact.
“So,” says Jason. “I take it you’ve had a really shitty day?”
“The shittiest.”
“Then it’s my duty, as your friend, to cheer you up. That’s how it works, by the way. If something shitty happens to me, you need to be there for me. Deal?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Well, to take your mind off it, I want you to tell me about something you really love.”
“What?”
“It’s a game I like. All you have to do is talk about something you love a lot. I’ve found it’s a really good way to get to know someone, in a deeper way.”
“Um,” I say. I stare up at the night sky and think. “Okay. So, I really love the movie Donnie Darko.”
“Oh, nice. Jake Gyllenhaal is in that, right?”
“Yeah. Have you seen it?”
He shakes his head. “What’s it about?”
“It’s weird. There’s this guy, Donnie, and he, like, sees this dude in a bunny costume who tells him the world is going to end in twenty-eight days, six hours, forty-two minutes, and twelve seconds. And it goes from there. When I first found it I watched it literally once every day for a week.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I got kind of obsessed. I just wanted to pick it apart and learn the craft of it. I knew it worked; I wanted to figure out why.”
“That’s so awesome, man. You’re so dedicated; it’s really inspiring.”
“You’re dedicated, too, just, for games. You played Skyrim for four hundred hours, remember.”
“Right. I guess it’s similar. Yours is cooler, though.”
“I was thinking the same about yours. But okay, your turn. What’s something you really love?”
He thinks about it for a second. As he watches the city, I find myself gazing at him.
He truly is so handsome.
Perfect, even.
I mean, he’s not. There are slight bags under his eyes, his lips look really dry right now, and he has quite a few moles. He looks perfect for a real person, is what I mean.
I shouldn’t take for granted how cool it is that he wants to be friends with me.
He’s so different from most of the guys I know who are a part of this world.
I hope he thinks the same thing about me.
“Okay, I’ve thought of something,” he says. “I was going to say Skyrim, because that’s my favorite game. But you already know I love that. So there are these books called the Bartimaeus trilogy. I read them over and over and over as a kid.”
“Dude!” I say. “I’ve read those!”
He beams. “You have? You’re not just saying that?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you like that. I love them.”
“Me too,” he says. “They’re my favorite. I love Harry Potter, but I kind of like that these are a little less known, you know? It feels like they’re mine, in a way. I’m not sure if that’s stupid.”
An ocean breeze hits us, and his eyelids flutter.
“It’s not. I totally get that. It’s less fun to love something everyone loves, for some reason.”
“For sure,” he says. “I can’t believe you’ve read them. We have so much in common; it keeps happening.”
“Yeah, it’s weird, right?”
I start feeling a little daring.
I mean, he’s my friend. He’s already come out to me, and he came here, just to support me.
I want to tell him about … me.
I’m not expecting more than his friendship. I think he’ll be okay with it. As far as I know, there aren’t any homophobic gay dudes. That’d be stupid.
I have nothing to lose and a lot to gain.
How do I even do this? What should I say?
I think about starting with We have something else in common, but that feels too obvious. This is my first-ever coming-out, but still, I don’t want it to sound totally naive.
“Um,” I say. “I think I want to tell you something.” I stretch my arms out in front of me. “Fuck, I’m really nervous.”
“Dude, it’s me. Don’t be nervous; you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
I exhale. “Yeah. So you know how I said I like Donnie Darko?”
I say each word faster than I normally do. He nods.
“Well, it kind of had a big impact on me. More than I was saying before.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was watching it, I sort of realized…”
I look into his eyes.
“Oh,” he says. “Are you saying you think Jake Gyllenhaal is totally hot?”
I nod.
It’s all I can do. I’m too scared to vocally confirm it. It’s enough, though. The job is done. I, Matt Miller, have officially admitted that I can find a guy hot.
“I mean, he is, right?” he says.
I laugh. “Yeah, he is.”
I just came out.
That sinks in. He knows about me now.
“Are you surprised?” I ask.
“Honestly, nope.”
I laugh. “And here I was, thinking I’m being stealthy.”
“It’s not that. It’s just I don’t tend to assume anyone’s sexuality. I’ve found it’s too hard to predict, anyway.”
I nod again. That checks out.
“What was it about the movie?” he asks.
“I noticed this energy about him. It’s, like, I was so drawn to him. For the first time I wanted to see what someone looked like with less clothes on. And I found myself having dreams about him. Not sex ones, just, like, normal dreams. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was really intense. I’ve never told anyone about that, it’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s not, I totally get you. It’s kind of magic, in a way.”
“What do you mean?”
“That another person can make you feel that much.”
I mean, agreed.
“And I’ve totally felt that, too, by the way,” he continues. “I had this devastating crush on Sam Winchester from Supernatural. I watched all the episodes, just for him.”
“Good choice. He’s hot.”
I’ve never said those words out loud. He’s hot.
It’s so simple, yet it means so much.
“Yeah,” says Jason. “He is. I think those feelings are what makes being gay worth it. Like, it’s hard, but who wouldn’t chase that feeling, you know?”
“For sure.”
He swats my shoulder. “But, hey, now we have another thing in common!”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
That lingers between us.
“Have you told anyone?” he asks. “Not about the Jake thing, about your liking guys.”
I kick my legs. “Nope. Just you.”
“Dude, I’m so honored. And, like, welcome to the family, I guess. I wish I had a rainbow flag I could wave.”
“Hey, let’s not go overboard.” I grin.
He puts his hand on my shoulder again.
“Congrats, Matt,” he says. “I know how hard it is, and you did really well. I promise, it does get easier.”
“Thanks. That’d be nice.”
We sit in comfortable silence. Jason really was right before. We can just be together, and it’s not awkward.
“Do you think you’ll tell your parents anytime soon?” he asks.
“God no. Baby steps, for now.”
He laughs. “Well, that suits me just fine. It can be our secret. But seriously, if you ever have anything you want to get off your chest, I’m around, okay? Anytime. You could even talk about your family, if you want.”
I flinch. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, why?”
My mind is racing now. This all is just starting to feel a little too perfect. Here I have this gorgeous guy, who seems so interested in me as a person when nobody else has been before.
Something must be up.
“I’d just rather not,” I say.
“Oh, dude, don’t stress. I get it.”
Then again, I think I’m just being paranoid. Dad did raise me that way, after all. I’m probably just scared about being vulnerable. Which is scary for me.
But I think it’s worth it.
Jason is worth it.
Someday, maybe soon, we’ll be good friends.
I won’t keep anything from him.