Impulse

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.