“Me either. Even when it’s no one else’s business, something gets screwed up.”
“Or someone gets screwed over. Like the time I put gum in my cousin’s hair and let my brother take the blame.” I made a funny face to lighten the mood.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “That’s a different kind of secret.”
“Yeah, but he got in trouble for it. I didn’t fess up until years later when I was in the hospital and nothing mattered anymore anyway.”
“Why were you in the hospital?”
So much for lightening the mood. I was normally pretty good at brushing over that time in my life. A flippant reply about an accident and a quick change of topic worked with most people. Somehow I knew it wouldn’t work with Mitch.
“I was in an accident my senior year of high school. It was bad. Broken bones and a punctured spleen.”
“Oh. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I missed a lot of school, lost a scholarship…but I was lucky. Someone died.” I waited a beat, then added, “Graham.”
Mitch gasped. “Your boyfriend?”
“No. I told you he wasn’t my boyfriend. We just…fooled around. The more we did, the more we wanted to do. But there was so much shame and awkwardness, and it built up every time we were together. He hated himself and then he hated me. And I didn’t know how bad it was. If I did, I would have left it alone and saved coming out for college. But I thought I could make a difference if I was honest.”
“You planned on coming out?”
“Yeah. I was going to do a video,” I huffed derisively.
“Like mine.”
“Yes, but just one blast to get it out there and be done. Boom. Things were over between Graham and me by then. On one hand, I understood. He was scared. I was too, but I knew my folks would be cool, and I just wanted to be…honest. I was tired of feeling so alone. I didn’t buy into the shame the way Graham did. I didn’t get how it was possible to feel good with someone one minute and then dirty twenty minutes later. I wanted to know more about who I was, and Graham was my only real frame of reference. So I made a plan.
“I didn’t want to blindside him. The problem was, he wouldn’t talk to me at school anymore, and he avoided me at practice. I asked one of the guys to drop me off at the park by his house. Graham agreed to meet me and drive me home and…anyway, I told him about my coming-out video. I made it clear it was only about me. I wouldn’t name him or mention anything about him, but…he went bonkers. I backed down right away and told him not to worry, ’cause he was shaking and upset. He was driving and I told him to pull over, but he wouldn’t and…” I sat up abruptly and swallowed around the bile in my throat. “I really don’t know what happened. It was dark. No moon. We were on the freeway. I remember passing the Rose Bowl exit and then…nothing. I woke up in the ICU and…Graham was dead.”
Mitch sat up and pulled me into his arms. He held on tightly and didn’t ease up until he felt me give in and relax against him. I listened to his heartbeat and smelled the soap on his skin.
When he spoke again, his voice was choked with emotion.
“I’m so sorry, Ev. That’s a nightmare.”
“Yeah, it was. It was surreal and awful. I was banged up and bruised, but I was still alive. Graham wasn’t. I’ll never get over that. I remember lying in the hospital bed. The police had just left. They’d asked a million questions about what happened while my mom held my hand. They were trying to make sense of why he’d lost control. And I couldn’t tell anyone it was because I wanted to come out.”
“Fuck, that’s heavy.” He wiped a tear from his eye and frowned. “You know it’s not your fault.”
“I know that now, but at eighteen…let’s just say, I was a mess for a while.” I let out a humorless half laugh. “I had full-on PTSD. I could hardly process what had happened. I missed months of school. I lost everything. My plans to go to Berkeley for football were gone. I wasn’t sure I could go to college at all. And everyone kept saying, ‘You’re still alive,’ like that was so fucking great. Graham was gone, his family was devastated, our team was broken. So, yeah. I felt guilty. And selfish and very fucking confused. You know, his dad used to come see me in the hospital. When he thought I was asleep, he’d talk to me. Pray for me. Tell me God loved me. And I was gonna be all right.” I blinked back tears at the memory.