him, you know.
   “Yeah, I know. So did I,
   once.”
   Conner
   Feeling Pumped Tonight
   All of us are. Conquering
   the gorge was exhilarating.
   For me, it was necessary.
   Proving I could forge across
   without flinching means just
   about everything at the moment.
   Tonight, I really believe
   I can make it without meds.
   After a delicious meal of pot
   roast mush, we break into little
   groups. Justin and Sean go off
   to talk about life, post-Challenge.
   Raven joins Dahlia and Lori’s
   conversation about safe sex,
   and if there’s any such thing
   (other than masturbation).
   Interesting, I guess, but not
   the right group for me. For
   once on this trip, I don’t want
   to spend the night sitting alone.
   Which leaves Tony and Vanessa.
   “Mind if I sit with you two?”
   Thought you’d never ask, says Tony.
   You’ve been kind of antisocial.
   Vanessa chides, Leave him
   alone or he’ll go away!
   “I guess I have been sulky.
   I’m prone to that, you know.”
   If we didn’t know it before,
   we sure do now. Tony smiles.
   Anyway, we were just discussing
   your poor cure for acrophobia.
   It Takes a Minute
   To catch his drift. “Oh, you mean
   heaving me over the side?
   It was a much better option
   than leaving me hanging there.”
   Probably right, agrees Tony.
   Think how nasty you would have
   been by the time we headed
   back. Bet you’d really stink.
   “In case you haven’t noticed,
   I don’t smell very damn good
   right now.” The whole truth, and
   nothing but. Oh frigging well.
   I think y ou smell like roses,
   Tony jokes. Decomposing
   roses, that is, like a perfumed
   bathroom at an old folks’ home.
   G-ross! Vanessa wrinkles up
   her nose. And anyway, just how
   would you know how that smells?
   You ever been in one of those?
   Not exactly. Tony grows serious.
   But I’ve spent time with someone
   fading toward death—held his
   hand, inhaled the scent of living
   flesh as it rots away. An old
   folks’ home must smell the same,
   and no air freshener could
   disguise that odor. It chokes
   you, gags you, but you have
   to pretend that you’re doing
   just fine, not trembling with
   fear because the end is close.
   You can feel death hovering,
   waiting for his very last
   breath, his final shudder;
   anticipating taking him away.
   He’s Talking About Phillip
   Vanessa and I remain silent
   until Tony stops talking,
   quiets completely. A sudden
   chill massages my spine. Ghosts?
   Ghosts, spirits, or just unfocused
   me, suddenly I want to know
   more about Phillip—what,
   exactly, he meant to Tony.
   “I’m sorry you lost Phillip,”
   I try. “Tell me more about
   him. Were the two of you
   in love?” Tony wants to cry.
   But he doesn’t. I loved
   Phillip, yes, and he loved
   me. But we weren’t in love,
   not the way you might guess.
   We met in the park. He was
   out for a walk and I was
   panhandling strangers, bumming
   change, h oping for a score,
   even if that meant offering up
   my body. Phillip rescued me,
   took me home, took me in, but
   never tried to have sex with me.
   He treated me like a son—
   his own son wouldn’t talk to
   his old gay dad—and I let him
   be the father I’d never known.
   Phillip had AIDS and didn’t want
   to die alone. You might think
   that’s selfish, but he gave the world
   to me and I will always
   cherish him.
   Tony
   No Sex with Phillip
   Is that what Conner
   wanted to hear? How
   about Vanessa? Did she
   wonder about that too?
   Probably, and I guess
   it might have been
   a fair assumption,
   considering everyone
   (except maybe Vanessa)
   thinks I’m totally gay.
   “So are you surprised that
   I didn’t sleep with Phillip?”
   Conner is slow to answer,
   but Vanessa speaks
   right up. Not really.
   I guess the thought
   might have crossed my
   mind, but it didn’t matter.
   I admire your friendship
   with Phillip. I never had
   a friend that I cared so
   much about. Not, at least,
   until I met you. I wish
   I could have met him.
   “I wish you could have
   too. He would have
   loved you, almost as
   much as I do.” At this
   moment, my love for her
   is almost overwhelming.
   Finally Conner says,
   pointedly, I’m confused.
   Are you gay? Bi? In
   between? Do you want to
   have sex with Vanessa
   or just be her friend?
   I Have to Admit
   I’m pretty confused
   myself. I look at
   Conner, remember
   the attraction I felt
   the first time I saw
   him. Where did that
   come from, if I’m
   not gay, or at least
   bi? I did ask Dr. Starr
   once if molestation
   could cause homosexual
   feelings later in life.
   Some studies suggest
   a certain correlation,
   she said, but there is no
   scientific proof to
   support that. Truth is,
   we really don’t know
   exactly what influences
   sexual preference.
   Environment? Genetics?
   Perhaps a combination
   of the two? Does it
   really even matter?
   Only when you’re as
   messed up as me,
   I guess. Meanwhile,
   both Conner and
   Vanessa are staring,
   waiting for an answer.
   “Do I need a label? I
   told you once I’ve
   never had the chance
   to be with a girl, so
   how will I know for sure
   until I get that chance?”
   I Don’t Know What I Am
   But suddenly, certainly,
   I want the chance to find
   out. And suddenly, certainly,
   I need to know, “Do I
   need a label, Vanessa?
   Is it important to you?”
   She moves even closer,
   so close, we’re attached.
   If it were, would I be
   here, next to you? I love
   you for the person I’ve
   discovered under your skin.
   I don’t feel cold anymore.
   Not outside, not
   inside. That space,
					     					 			>
   frozen and dead for as
   long as I can remember,
   has thawed, come alive.
   Another part of me comes
   alive, and it strikes me
   that I might not know
   what to do with it, if
   Vanessa—or any girl—
   offers me the chance.
   I’ve never “given,” only
   been forced to “take.”
   I’ve never had sex,
   gift-wrapped with love.
   “What’s it like?” I ask.
   “Making love to someone?”
   Vanessa takes my hand.
   I thought I knew, once
   or twice before, but now
   I see there was no love
   at all between us. I won’t
   know until I make love
   to you.
   Vanessa
   Did I Just Say That?
   With Conner there?
   Conner, who not so very
   long ago I thought I wanted
   to hook up with?
   Instead, I find myself
   head over heels in love with—
   and desperately wanting
   to make love to—“no labels” Tony.
   My palms break out
   in a nervous sweat and I
   whisper, “You don’t have
   a razor blade on you, do you?”
   You don’t mean that,
   do you? Tony almost pleads.
   Vanessa, you’ve stopped
   the cutting, haven’t you?
   Please tell me you’ve stopped.
   “No worries. I was only
   kidding.” But I realize
   that isn’t the truth.
   For the last three or four
   years, I’ve dealt with every
   nervous moment in my
   life by slipping away to
   a quiet place and opening
   my skin. It’s been a ritual,
   and for some insane reason,
   I want to go there now.
   Tony seems to intuit
   my thoughts. You sure
   you were only kidding?
   Because if you want
   to cut because of me, I’ll
   step out of your life so fast!
   “If you do that,” I say,
   meaning every word to follow,
   “I’ll never stop cutting,
   lithium or no lithium.
   Only love can make me quit.”
   Do I Really Mean That?
   Only time will tell,
   I suppose. Anyway, who
   knows what will happen
   between Tony and me?
   For now, I’ll make myself
   satisfied to sit beside him,
   believing he really loves me.
   I glance over at Conner,
   handsome, self-assured
   Conner, who tonight looks
   like a lost little boy.
   “Hey. You okay?”
   He smiles a sad, strange
   smile. Yeah, I’m fine.
   Just thinking about love
   and the strange places
   you sometimes find it—
   or at least think you do.
   You mean like with Emily?
   Tony asks. Who was she,
   anyway? And what happened
   between the two of you?
   Conner hesitates, then
   launches a lurid tale
   of loving his English
   teacher and the inevitable
   consequences of being
   in love with an older woman.
   What about you and Dr. B?
   queries Tony. The two of you
   looked pretty tight. Was there
   any love there, or just lust?
   No love, plenty of lust,
   at least as far as I was
   concerned. I thought for a while
   she might feel the same way.
   But nothing sexual happened
   between Heather and me.
   How Did Tony
   Pick up on that? I swear,
   I never noticed a thing
   between Conner and Dr.
   Boston—or should I call
   her Heather? Holy moley!
   I wonder if Conner’s attraction
   to older women is why
   he cooled so completely
   toward me. Not much
   I could do about that.
   Anyway, I don’t think
   he’s “relationship”
   material, and I’m really
   not in the market for
   another one-sided fling.
   Still, I’m curious. “So
   have you ever fallen
   in love with someone
   your own age?”
   Conner looks me directly
   in the eye. One or two,
   he says. But I’m poison.
   As the old saying goes,
   “sometimes loving someone
   means letting them go.”
   Bullshit! says Tony.
   His grip on my hand
   tightens, and I sense
   impatience in my ever-
   patient best friend,
   Love means holding on to
   someone just as hard as
   you can because if you
   don’t, one blink and
   they might disappear
   forever.
   Conner
   What Tony Doesn’t Get
   Is that love and I are like
   water and oil. Put the two
   together, blend well, and you
   get Quaker State quicksand.
   The truth is, I don’t have a real
   clue what love is—how to
   find it, how to give it. Once
   upon a time I thought I knew.
   But all I really understood
   was sex. Sex and love, I’ve
   discovered, are not the same
   thing. Life is so complex!
   Sex. Love. Athletics. Academics.
   My belief in all of those things
   is completely shaken. I consider
   controlled substance relief,
   think better of it. I’m so tired,
   I know I’ll sleep tonight, wake
   up feeling energized, ready to
   go ahead, conquer the Challenge,
   get out of this place, move ahead
   with some sort of a life. Right?
   My head is all jumbled. I feel
   spent. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.
   Hey, Con, says Tony. Do you
   feel okay? Your face is white
   as milk. His goofy grin does
   not conceal his concern.
   Which irritates me somehow.
   Guess I’ll change the subject.
   “So what deep, dark secret did
   you not break down and confess?”
   Secrets
   Yeah, I’ve still got one or two
   that none of the good doctors
   managed to pry out. “What’s the
   worst thing you’ve ever done?”
   Vanessa’s eyes glaze, like
   she’s slipped into a trance.
   She considers something,
   shakes her head, tight-lipped.
   Finally, she settles on this:
   I killed someone. I didn’t know
   him, but I loved him. She shivers,
   chilled from the inside out.
   I don’t understand. “How
   can you love someone you
   don’t even know?” And please,
   please, Vanessa, tell me who.
   She thinks a minute, then admits,
   I should have known better
   than to get pregnant, but I
   thought maybe it would bring
   the father and me closer. When
   I told Trevor, he said to get
   an abortion. He wouldn’t help
   pay for it, wouldn’t even hold
   my hand while I waited  
					     					 			to do
   that god-awful thing. I went
   alone, except for the baby
   inside me. It may sound odd,
   but I did love that little blob.
   Still, I made it die. And when
   I think too hard about it, my
   insides hurt. Trying not to cry,
   Vanessa trembles, and Tony
   wraps her with his arms. Go ahead
   and cry, right here. She lets her
   face collapse against his chest.
   I Never Expected
   Such total, painful honesty.
   Can I be as forthright? I’ve
   never told this story to
   anyone, not even Dr. B.
   “I killed someone too. She
   was our au pair, and her name
   was Leona. …” I know I should
   stop there, but somehow I can’t.
   “I was twelve when she first
   came to my bed. She taught me
   all I ever needed to know,
   fed my hunger for touch,
   my need for love. Leona was
   my night, my day. I thought
   I’d go crazy if she was out
   of my sight for more than a few
   hours. When I found out she
   had another boyfriend—a real,
   grown-up boyfriend—I threatened
   to tell my mother everything.
   Please don’t tell, she begged. I’ll
   never find another position.
   Like I was going to let her go.
   I made up my mind to tell
   her boyfriend instead. He caused
   an intense scene in our kitchen.
   As Leona stormed off, she said,
   One day you’ll have the sense
   to know what you’ve done. She
   sped away, and into a brick wall.