There are days Ill go back to his Facebook page and the angel wings photo that hasnt changed.
But then there are days when his page will come to me.
I swallow the rock in my throat.
Felix Russell-Saw
By
Updated 2 years ago,January 26, 2023
He messaged me sometime in December.
I was back home for break, scrolling Facebook.
I drafted five or six replies before sending back a very smooth
heyI dont think we have.
We talked into the night.
We flirted and made bad jokes.
We sent each other links to videos and music, and the days were passing by.
I laughed about his violent typos and he called me out on mine.
For the record, he was right.
I was being a total hypocrite about typos.
The weekend he finally came into town, my break was long over and I was back in school.
Wed been talking for weeks but the mounting pressure of meeting in person had me melting at the seams.
The plan was to meet at Kiss N Fly, the most popular gay bar in Austin.
I just wanted to inspect the situation first.
He was shorter than I expected but beefy.
Like, shoulders wide enough to be a 62 athlete.
He wore a simple blue-striped shirt, torn jean shorts, and Nikes.
I finally said hello he pretended that he didnt know me, but only for a second.
He was as funny as he was in his messages.
He listened and laughed at my stupid jokes, then added to them without thinking.
I told him I was happy to see him and he said he felt the same.
He said he couldnt believe wed waited so long.
I said I had to ensure he wasnt a serial killer.
He said he still wasnt sure if I was or not.
After something like an hour and two vodkas, we were dancing.
The sweaty mess of Kiss N Fly swept us up as underage kweens and overage queens filled the floor.
Not long after we were using the word boyfriend.
As the semester ended and summer came through, our visits happened more frequently.
We started to get an almost unhealthy amount of sun and we drenched ourselves in guacamole at Mexican restaurants.
The whole thing felt like a gay John Hughes movie.
Another time, we spent the day floating in Barton Springs on very cheap foam noodles.
When he pulled over to get some waters at a gas station, he leaned over to kiss me.
I wondered how Id got so lucky.
On the rest of the drive back, he drank the Red Bull in seconds.
I couldnt tell if the speed was bold or reckless but I didnt want to question it.
We didnt slow down from there.
Into fall he gave me more than I expected or felt that I deserved.
He made the nine-hour drive to Austin six times.
Id driven north twice.
He gave me DVDs and playlists to follow.
He gave me ideas to write about and stories to read.
He helped me wake up for summer school, helped me finish an tool to a new program.
He helped me come out to my extended family.
Being brave with someone else made being brave feel so much simpler.
But then the distance started to weigh on us.
Maybe it was just that we were nineteen and twenty-three and dumb.
Whatever it was, we could both feel the connection fading as fast as it had come.
OU Weekend was the last time we saw each other.
I felt like everything would come back together that weekend.
Itd be a big party with my friends and his friends and wed be fine no issues.
Instead, it was all disjointed and we couldnt stop fighting.
He wanted to do one thing; I wanted to do another.
It was a gray, humid day and he was sweating when he leaned in to hug me.
We just held it there, upset that wed spent the weekend fighting and not wanting to let go.
He was breathing heavy but was trying to be still.
We said see you in a couple weeks and didnt mean it.
Not two days later, we called it all off over a stream of texts and calls.
I cried and whined to friends.
I took runs and tried to ignore things.
I cried some more.
I didnt want to see him go to parties or be happy with friends.
It wasnt fair for me to say it wasnt fair.
So I deleted him and, surprisingly, time kept moving.
We graduated from school and found new friends, new jobs.
I moved to New York City and he moved south to Dallas.
Id hear about him through friends but we never really spoke.
I never added him back to Facebook.
I would, though, go back to his profile sometimes.
The non-friend vantage point was something I could handle.
I could see if he changed his profile photo or posted a public status by accident.
My room filled with blue iPhone light.
It was 1am in Brooklyn and I had to work in the morning.
I rolled over to see a message from my friend, Andrea.
HeyI just heard about _____.
Hed been renovating a house in Dallas with a rare enzyme in its walls.
In about a week, his body began to shut down.
A few days after that, he passed away with his family around him.
I went to work the morning after I found out.
I was at my desk and in meetings but not.
I was in Austin and nineteen years old.
I was in pools and the navy F-150.
I was on his Facebook page later that night.
Thats right,I thought.I deleted him.
This is something I chose to do.
Of course I hadnt heard he was sick.
Of course I didnt get to know.
Why should I be allowed to cry?
What if his friends had tried to find me on his friends list?
What if they thought I wanted nothing to do with him?
Hadnt I wanted nothing to do with him?
What if theyd tried to tell me?
What if hed tried to tell me?
Why am I making this about me?
The questions went unanswered for a while.
Soon after I felt comfortable requesting him back on Facebook.
His mom approved it.
She was running his page now.
Shed also changed his profile photo to a picture from a high school show.
I thought about the Britney Spears concert wed seen together in Dallas.
I thought about how he had been stressed and hyper beforehand, then giddy and boyish after.
About how we both sang along and how he kept driving.
I turned off my computer.
There are days Ill go back to his Facebook page and the angel wings photo that hasnt changed.
Its nice to relive that summer and a version of myself I hardly recognize.
But then there are days when his page will come to me.
His mom will get on and like things people post like videos of dogs and drag queens.
She liked a post of mine once and the little red number caught me off guard.
I swallowed the rock in my throat.
Its like hes still in on the joke.
