Day 19 Burlington, VT #2
Max crosses the stage to sit behind Sam, and Sam leans back against him, continuing to play. As he picks out the chords, Sam begins to hum a melody, and after listening for a moment, Max joins in, finding a harmony note here and there.
The tune is soft and wistful, and I’m reminded irresistibly of the two of them as boys — Sam, small and serious, listening intently to one of my little brother’s mad schemes.
Max, throwing his arm around Sam’s shoulders on the Ferris Wheel when I took them to the school carnival and we found out too late that Sam was afraid of heights.
The two of them, heads bent together, a world unto themselves, just like they are right now.
Only now they’re grown up, and it looks like they’ve finally figured out what they really mean to each other.
None of this was ever easy for me — I was out on my own, stumbling through the dark and trying to find my own way.
But Max has Sam, and I’m so happy for them that I could burst.
My brother hooks his chin over Sam’s shoulder, watching his fingers on the strings. “So, does this song have any words?”
“Maybe,” Sam hedges, continuing to play.
“Well, can I hear them?”
Sam slaps his palm over the strings, stopping the sound. “Nope.”
He turns his head to look at Max, and they both freeze, laughter etched into their faces.
Then Max pounces, digging his fingers into Sam’s ribs, and Sam shrieks, trying to pull away.
But Max is too fast, clamping both arms around Sam’s waist, and before I know it, they’re kissing, completely oblivious to everything going on around them.
Behind me, I hear an exasperated sigh, and I turn to see Roxie striding into the barn.
“Hey motherfuckers, you have an audience!” she snaps, then turns to me. “It’s been like this all week. You just have to bang some pots and pans or spray them with a hose.”
I follow Roxie into the barn, putting my two cases down on the edge of the stage and pulling out my electric guitar.
Sam and Max are both trying to look busy — Max is plugging in his guitar, strumming a few chords, while Sam exchanges his guitar for his bass.
As Max adjusts a tuning peg, his hair falling into his face, he glances over at me.
“Will you quit looking at me like that?”
“What do you mean?” I reply innocently, adjusting the capo on my own guitar. “How am I looking at you?”
Max shrugs, and I think he might be blushing a little. “I dunno. Like you’re not sure whether you want to cry or hug me or eat me.”
“Could you settle for letting me be quietly proud of you?” I shoot back. “Because that’s what I am.”
“Me too,” Sam cuts in unexpectedly, and we both look at him. “I mean, I dunno. Watching you figure this out so fast, and then coming out to Sage, and everything — wish somebody in my family was like you two.”
“Dude, you are family.” Max reaches out, lightly pushing Sam’s shoulder. “Only like, not in an incest way. Fuck, I guess we should workshop that. And double fuck, now I’m all emotional. Roxie, do you want to count off and put us all out of our misery?”
“Gladly,” Roxie groans. She bangs her drumsticks together, setting a fast pace, and we all concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing. But I’m thinking about Max and Sam and everything we’ve said today, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.
ROXIE
Okay, I’ll be the one to say it — Sage is a fucking goddess.
There were a couple weird acts to start the show tonight, a poet who kept shouting and some kind of modern dance troupe.
But then Sage walked up to the microphone, nothing but her own self and an acoustic guitar, and the second she started singing, she had us all eating out of the palm of her hand.
She didn’t even play her guitar for the first song — it was just her voice, ringing through the rafters of this old place and raising goosebumps on my arms. And now she’s halfway through her set, and I’m all shivery, leaning against this wooden post like it’s the last thing holding me up.
I don’t know why I’ve been so out of it the past few days.
I’m probably just tired as fuck. Much as I don’t act like it, I’m fine with Sam and Max.
But tour means all of us in close quarters every fucking day, up each other’s asses, no privacy and no quiet, always being on. That’s enough to make anybody itchy.
Because otherwise, there’s no fucking reason to feel like I’m walking around in the wrong skin.
I know computer science was the right fit for me, and I just have one more year of school between me and work that really means something.
Blake is fucking great. He’s over in the corner right now, selling merch for us and giving me space for my weird mood.
And it’s not just him. I have plenty of friends who respect me and leave me alone when I need them to. I have a good fucking life.
I’m not gonna fuck it all up because of something I can’t name.
“She’s incredible, isn’t she?”
I look over and Sam is standing next to me, arms folded over his Pansy Division shirt.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Must have been cool having her around when you were a kid.”
“You have no idea,” Sam replies emphatically. “When I was home, it was always like — I dunno, they were sizing me up to figure out what they could get out of me. Sage was the only person who ever just let me be a kid.”
I hum in reply, and we both fall silent, watching Sage do her thing. But then I lean over and give Sam a hard shove with my shoulder. “How the fuck are you, anyway? This week must have been weird as fuck for you.”
Sam looks over at me, eyebrows raised. “Did you just — ask me about my feelings? On purpose?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “I just thought — I dunno, Max can talk to her. And you can talk to Max. But you can’t talk to anyone about Max. Take it or leave it.”
Sam bites his lip, staring up at the stage, and for a second I think that maybe I’m off the hook. But then he turns back to me, his eyes big in his face. “I’m so fucking scared, Rox.”
“Scared?” I scoff. “What the fuck for?”
Sam makes an impatient noise, gesturing around the room.
“Just — look where we are. Think about the last couple of days. Every good thing in my life, I have because of Max. And Sage. If this thing blows up in my face — I lose all of it. Max could wake up tomorrow and realize this whole thing was a mistake. And then where will I be?”
“For the love of fuck,” I sigh. “Have you actually talked to Max about any of this?”
“Um, no.” Sam’s voice is small. Of course he fucking hasn’t.
“Then fucking talk to him, jackass. Look, there are two things I know —” I turn toward Sam, counting on my fingers for emphasis.
“One, the only thing that poor bastard has on his mind these days is you. That’s not changing anytime soon.
And two, you guys are only going to last if you talk this shit out.
He’s your friend. Whatever you have to say to him, he can take it. ”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Bitch, of course I’m fucking right. And hey — I’m rooting for you. But if you tell anybody I said that, I’ll deny it.”
Sam looks down at me and grins. “Your secret is safe with me.”
SAM
You would think that after everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, that I would be able to sleep.
Max certainly isn’t having any trouble. He’s curled around me, bare chest pressed against my back, slow breathing tickling my neck, his arm draped possessively over my waist. When we came up here after the concert, we were dead tired, but that didn’t stop us from falling into bed together, sex so deep and tender that it’s a wonder that I’m still in one piece.
I’m well fucked and well cared for, in the arms of someone I love.
But even though I’m so tired I can barely move, my brain refuses to quiet down.
The show tonight was probably the best we played all tour.
Max, Roxie and I had our usual set, playing the songs we’ve been honing for the past several months.
But then Sage joined us onstage for a four-song encore, all covers of songs we’ve loved since we were kids, and it was pure magic.
Max was just so happy, and it was thrilling to watch him and Sage trading licks on their guitars, keeping my bass lines steady to support them.
It felt like it was meant to be — so why is my heart racing?
Why do I feel like I’m on the verge of spinning out into space?
When Sage hugged me this morning, after Max told her everything, she wrapped me up tight and whispered finally into my ear.
And I want to live in that world, a world where everybody we know tells us they’ve always wanted us to be together and I just believe them.
A world where Max can gaze into my eyes, touching my face while he fucks me, and I’m not holding my breath waiting for it all to break apart.
A world where I can tell Max that I’m in love with him, that I’ve loved him all this time, where he doesn’t run away, where he doesn’t tell me I’m too much.
Instead I live here, in the space between the seconds ticking by on my watch, velvety darkness pressing against my eyeballs, reaching out for sleep that just won’t come. I know Roxie is right, that I need to talk to Max, that nothing will get better unless I ask him where we stand.
But do I have to do it right now? Can’t I let this fantasy play out — for just a little while longer? I’m not quite ready to let it go.