Collin
Collin
I trace the corner of the wedding invitation with my finger, contemplating what to do with it. Becky Myers, one of the most popular girls at school and more importantly, the big sister of my high school sweetheart, Jackson Myers. Although I lost all contact with him after that faithfully day, I kept in touch with Becky. Not too often, but we called every once in a while.
In the last few years, she told me snippets of his life. I knew he suffered under his father’s iron fist and it left me wondering if he ever found himself at the receiving end of it, but she never told me. She would subtly change the subject and I pretended I didn’t see right through her. I wipe my hand over my face, she never said anything but I knew it had to be bad. He didn’t deserve that, we both didn’t.
Becky told me two years ago that their father died from a massive stroke and I hoped he would reach out again. Being free from his father’s hold he could’ve called or written me, but he never did. He had the chance to get to know me again, the person he had to leave behind because his father didn’t want a son who was gay.
After a few weeks of waiting, I simply gave up hope and went to the gay bar a few blocks from my apartment. I’ve never been there before so nobody would recognize me, not in a big city like New York and I fucked my brains out that night, only to wake up with regret next to a guy I couldn’t remember the name of. I could’ve reached out to him instead of waiting for him, but I didn’t want to admit that I was fucking scared for him to reject me. Like how he rejected me by not getting in touch when he had the chance.
Right then I decided to stop hoping and quickly I became the manwhore of the neighborhood. Everyone knew it would only be for one night, I never fucked the same guy twice. Jackson was the only exception to the rule and although I tell myself I closed that chapter of my life, I knew one look from him would be enough to throw away my only rule. I would fuck him again and again until he wouldn’t remember his own name. Because he will always have that part of my heart that can make me feel alive.
I turn my chair around to overlook the skyline of New York. I worked hard to get where I am today and I don’t regret a single thing after I left the small town I grew up in. There were too many memories haunting me and I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Which I did, leaving everything behind, even my family. I still saw them as much as I could, but not as much I would like. I talked daily to my mom though, sometimes just by text when we both were busy, but we tried to call a few nights a week.
Tapping my fingers on my desk, I pick up the phone. “Becky. Yeah, I just got it. Thanks for the invite, I’ll be there.” I smirk at her next question.
“No. No plus one.”
