|
Lugh had a personal tradition which he called the «Eleven O'Clock Exile». When he was invited to a party (which wasn't
that often), he generally retreated at some point in the night, preferably to some place from which he could see most of the
party, and meditate alone for a bit. Well, meditate would be an exaggeration. Before, in the times of early adolescence, it
was mostly brooding and feeling sorry for himself. Now he was sixteen and, to tell the truth, he didn't have to feel sorry
for himself anymore, and just wondered what to do instead. In this precise case, he had the perfect spot, up on a little hill
ehind the house everybody was crashing. Sounds of music, drunken cheering, motorbikes coming and going, went up to his ears.
When in this exile, generally, no one came to disturb him, which always somewhat disappointed him. Somewhat. In fact, that's
what would have disturbed him the most, if he would really be disturbed. Nothing could really-
«Lugh dear,», said Tim's
voice behind him, «you're shying away from us. That's naughty. We're missing you down there.»
Lugh turned slightly, a very usual and very efficient smirk on his face, and snatched a beer off his best friend's hand.
«'Lugh, dear?' 'Naughty?' You've been seeing Brian again, haven't you?»
«Well, what if I did? He's a nice guy, after all. Plus, he's not ashamed
of what he is.»
«Neither are you, Tim. I mean, you're the one who's been putting up posters of boys in your room since you were thirteen.
It's just . . . Every time you hook up with him, you come back acting like you're ready to refuse the Gayness Now Drag
Act trophy because your nail polish isn't dry.»
Tim smiled, and rather sobered up.
«Oh, come on. I'm not that
obnoxious, am I?»
«Are you kidding me? The only way for you to get more obnoxious'd be to walk in a bar full of motorcycle gangers
with a T-shirt saying 'Shag me.' See, that's what I like in you as a friend. Your way of handling things in such a discreet
and stylish way.»
«At least I got someone. What about you? You know, I saw Lana down there. Think she's looking for you.»
«Uh, well, uh, no. See, I'm rather happy and coming to terms with my autosexuality, and . . . »
«Ah, come on, man, she's nice. Plus, she's gorgeous, I mean, since you keep erring in your straight ways . . . »
«Uh-uh. Yeah, well, the day I turn gay, man, I'll make sure you never get a piece of it. Just to piss you off.»
«See, that's what I like in you as a friend. How helpful and nice you are. Look, you wanna come back down there,
I'll be there. Probably trying to keep Brian off the DJ.»
«Sure.»
Lana. He didn't have an opinion. That's the worst part. He didn't even have an opinion.
I mean,
which do you prefer: rain on a corn field or rain on a wheat field? Well, that's what he felt about Lana, or anybody else.
Though it would be wrong to say that this fact, this lack of emotion in itself, did not interest him.
In fact, it terrified
him.
******
The warm and golden light of a summer afternoon was flowing on the dust and gravel of the yard inside
Goulburn High School. Lugh and Lana walked up to a huge tree, kicked off the butts of the cigarettes students came here to
smoke discreetly, and sat down under its shade.
«So », Lana started. «Been avoiding a lot of people recently, or is
that just for me?»
Lugh didn't look at Lana when he answered. «No, that's pretty much a privilege of yours.» Then he brought up his eyes
from the ground and let them rest on the beautiful, innocent girl in her two-sizes-too-big-for-her gray checkered shirt. She
was sweet, really, with her loose brown hair and the terrible and reckless strength in her green eyes.
«Oh, well, that's good. You know, to feel I get special treatment. I almost feel not ignored by you anymore.»
«Look, I'm sorry, Lana, it's just . . . »
«Oh, cut that out. Is it me? Is it something in me? 'Cause, you know, I've been rejected before, I can understand, if
I'm told what went wrong.»
«No, it's not that. I can't explain it to you.» Lugh smiled again, his effective smile. «It would give away too much
of my dark and mysterious personality you're so fond of.»
«Oh great. Sarcasm. Y'know, I know what sarcasm is for you.»
«Mechanism of defense, is it? Maybe if enough people tell me that, I might listen.»
«That's what people are telling you? Well, they're morons. It's not there to protect you from others. It's a gift
you give them.»
Lugh's head snapped up. He was genuinely surprised. That was true. A gift. How come she saw it and nobody else?
«See, I'm not as stupid as I look.» Lana smiled. «And I also know that you gotta explain to me why you're rejecting
me like that. If only to avoid having your eyes ripped out of their sockets.» She smiled even more, and a shiver ran down
Lugh's spine.
«Okay. You really wanna know, huh? 'Cause now's the last exit opportunity before the great tear-jerking
scene.» Lana didn't answer. Lugh got up and leaned back against the tree, looking someplace far away as he started to talk.
«I
don't belong here. I mean, I know every teenager's supposed to feel that way, but I felt like that since I was a kid. Since
as far as I can remember, I got this feeling, like nothing is mine here, in this world, and nothing here can touch me. It
used to make me sad, really sad, you know, like when you've got that urge to cry and there's this sound that comes from inside
your throat but you can't hear it. You know? I felt that all the time. Now I just feel . . . empty. I remember, when I was
a kid, just a child, maybe I was four or five, my dog died. Graham spent a whole evening trying to comfort me, but he couldn't,
because I wasn't sad. I just pretended to, so he could feel he was useful. I think that was his way to evacuate his grief.
But I didn't have any. It scared me, or at least I was hoping to be scared. But I think even that didn't touch me then. But
there was something even worse than that. My dog, see, he had been ran over by a car. He was suffering a lot, right before
he died. I thought about killing him. Not out of mercy, you know, it just seemed the simplest way. Three Prophets, I was just
a kid! I shouldn't have thought about killing my own dog, even if he was suffering. In fact, he died before I could decide
to really do it. And, you know, the worst part is . . . sometimes I feel the same about some people. That it'd be simpler
to kill them. And it doesn't scare me like it should. I'm fairly certain it should, but it doesn't. I'm a freak, Lana. So
all I can do is, give what I can to people, make them laugh for a while, then go before any of them gets close enough for
me to hurt them by giving them freezeburns. So you see, that's why I don't want you too close to me. I can't give you anything
because I'm so empty. You'll only get hurt, and I didn't spend all that effort in cheering up people to see them hurt.»
Lana
kept silent for a while. The sun was getting lower and lower, its light almost horizontal by now. When she spoke again, it
was in a dreamy voice, as if she was detached from reality.
«You believe in destiny, Lugh?»
«Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'm fairly sure there's a play written somewhere, with our names on the roles, and it's gotta
be a comedy, 'cause the punchline is, we don't even know who we're acting for.»
Then she got up herself, and planted
her feet squarely in front of him.
«Well, I don't. And I like playing against the odds. So what do you say, Lugh? You
wanna give us a try?»
It wasn't certain who started the kiss, but Lugh had the impression it lasted for a lifetime.
That was a better punchline to his own little story about himself than he could dream of.
******
The sun was
about to rise behind the mountain. Lugh knew by the light in the sky, getting brighter every minute. He was sitting at the
far end of the big concrete line supporting the light-house. There was a light, vivid breeze, and Lugh drew his coat closer
to himself. The late-night study session had turned into a let's-go-to-the-pub-and-comfort-Lugh-for-his-girlfriend-breaking-up-with-large-amounts-of-beer
session. Tim had started telling dirty gay jokes, the twins had continued with their teachers' impressions, and Lugh started
making fun of about everybody else in the pub. It was a good night, sort of. He still had a few pints inside him and it was
really getting cold, because despite the fact that alcohol gave you the impression of warming you up, it really lowers your
temperature, and Lugh didn't even have the illusion of warmness to cling to.
Lana had broken up with him about 24 hours
ago, and he didn't really care. Scratch that. He cared. It's just that he didn't really mind. What kind of a boyfriend had
he been, really, if he doesn't mind her leaving? The wind stopped blowing, but somehow the air got even colder. He got up
and climbed down the concrete in an uncertain balance (not helped by the free shots that went with the beers), so he could
almost touch the water. It took this strange color water takes about half a second before sunrise. Lugh looked up: the sun
wasn't there yet. The water was early. It looked really pretty, in fact. Really beautiful. Attractive. That was it. Lugh was
attracted to it. He got the feeling it was rising up to meet him, but it might have been him leaning towards it, or maybe
just the alcohol messing with his balance. It was really getting very cold, all of a sudden. Very cold and the water looked
so really attractive and what kind of a boyfriend was he anyway and who cares, who cares about anything? In something like
a last regret he turned his head to the left, glancing at the mountains.
There was an instant of intense stillness,
a moment where the world flared with a beauty and a radiance unimaginable, and the sun rose, and for just a moment it seemed
like everything looked different, somehow less real but so much more beautiful, just the way a kid would picture it in his
imagination, and Lugh felt like he was home, finally. Then the illusion faded, and all went back to reality. But the sun had
risen.
Lugh climbed back up the concrete, up to the light-house. Then he started to laugh, not the little sarcastic laugh,
not the fake laugh he had practiced over the years, but a real, heart-lifting, healthy, glorious laugh. He laughed as if it
was the first laugh of his life.
Then again, maybe it was.
|
