The Long Run

by James Acker

So, I really was your first anything?” “Yup, yup, yup.” “Huh.” He took a contemplative bite from his hoagie. Gears were turning in his head. His mouth was full of ham and bread when he said it. “You wanna go on a date?” “What?” He finally swallowed. “Wanna go on a date?” “No, I somehow made that out. What do you mean date?” “Like a date. Like go out. To dinner or something.”

But I couldn’t get out from under the comforter. I didn’t want him to see how much I was blushing. A date. A date? With Bash? Holy shit. Holy. Shit.

Del thought I was good. Good like Sandro. He didn’t know. He wouldn’t think I was good if he knew all the things I’d done. The kids I’ve hurt. All the terrible versions of myself I became after Mom left us. But I smiled. ’Cause it was a nice thought. Being like Sandro.

This is what they do. They take everything good in my life and make it theirs. I don’t get to be Sandro. At this table, we’re just The Micelis. And I’m the worst one.

Sandro can’t smile small.

the secrets of the universe,

“Because you see everything. You might not talk well, but you see so much, Seb. You see me. You see Del. Sandro. We just want to know what you’re looking at.”

To be fair, my dad’s idea of conversation is telling me a never-ending allegory about cacti in the desert to teach me fiscal responsibility or something.

Like if he held me tight enough, we could fall back to summer and try it all again.

Growing up the way I did, I was inundated with the idea that all gay guys do is gasp over brunch and sit on some cock. Which sounded like a nice Sunday.

I Love Bash

The two people I love most in the world were looking at me,

There was so much about Del I didn’t know. This man who raised me when my own dad couldn’t bother. Who held me when I cried and never pushed me when I pushed him away. He was my family. It was time to know my family.

I thought about one of the last things my mom said to me. It was about family. What we owe to those who know us.

“I love you, Sandro.” Under my roof, I had a boyfriend.

“That’s life, big boy. We’re all just trying to get to the end of it.”

“I hear you, Dro. I hear you, baby.” She hugged me back and we remembered how to hold each other.

Does he love you?” I closed my eyes and nodded into her shoulder. “He loves me so much, Ma.” I could hear it in her laugh that she was crying again. Ma held my head close to her and touched my face. “I love you more. My sweet, sweet boy.” We talked that night. We talked till I could see the sky change in my window. Till baby Angelo woke up screaming and Dad and Gio drove off to work. And my house never felt so quiet.

Like how he went on about Atlantic City that first day, before the Beer Olympics. I barely knew the guy but he still said more to me in a minute than anyone had in months. All this uncensored enthusiasm. It made me want to talk to him. It’s the first thing I loved about him. He awes me, Sandro.

The rain picked up and I kissed him. I wanted him to teach me everything he knew.

I’m going to Northwestern. I’m going to get my apartment and my dogs and my new friends. I’ll wear boat shoes and bike to class. I’ll get new nicknames and tattoos and drink too much and he won’t be there. I’m going to have to find a way to be happy without Bash. The guy who taught me what happy meant. The guy who got me to stand up for myself. The guy who’s always been too good for this town. The best.

We ended up at the ditch after practice one day, sharing an Italian hoagie like a joint,

“Where is everyone?” “Out. You gonna shave?” “Wha...why would—” She laid out a nice white button-up on my bed and some dress pants. “Alessandro, you are not going out looking like some college freshman slob, shave your fucking face.”

Ma stopped rolling and smiled at me. “If a boy’s gonna take my son on his very first date, that boy’s gonna ring the goddamn doorbell. None of that end-of-the-driveway shit you two’ve been doing.”

“After she died, I wasn’t happy with who I was. I forgot the kind of person she wanted me to be. That I wanted to be. And you reminded me. She would’ve loved you for that.”

My ear against Sandro, I could hear summer’s heartbeat. In our field, I could hear the ocean.