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Best Friend – Creative

Discussion in 'Coming Out Stories' started by ZeptoEquinox, Oct 21, 2013.

  1. ZeptoEquinox

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    Hi there,

    This is my first post. It's kinda long, but to put it into perspective here is a quick foreword:

    I live in Sydney, and am 18. I have recently finished high school, and am currently half way through my final exams (the Higher School Certificate - HSC). And for the HSC there is a required English paper, that is themed 'Belonging', and one section is to compose a creative piece of writing relating to belonging. I chose to write about when I first came out to me best friend (who, for privacy's sake is called Louis). This doesn't completely outline everything that happened that day, or in the two months following that day. Nor does it outline when I came out to parents a few weeks later. Hopefully soon I will post a less creative, more in-depth retelling of everything.

    I also plan on coming out to the rest of my friends soon. Following the HSC, there is the Formal (US: Prom), to which I'm yet to find a date, and then 'Schoolies'. I plan on telling my close friends post HSC, but will wait to come out to my extended friends and thus the rest of my year group until after schoolies where I will no-longer have to see those I wish not to.

    TL;DR – Here is a creative story of when I came out to my best friend. 95% factual, including dialogue, names changed for privacy.

    Cheers.



    Groves​


    I know but cannot share it. We are there, the old wooden bench where our entire relationship had started, prospered and will potentially end. Choosing this rooftop to tell him, where so many memories are embedded in the grains of the timber, almost feels so sentimental it’s stupid. It’s not like I’m proposing or anything.

    I want to share it. But every time I think about such, the memories of here come flooding back. The time we bought a piñata for Conrad’s birthday, the string too weak to withstand the first blow. That racecar shaped, thirty-five dollar piece of coloured papier-mâché is still on the roof beside us, a physical link to an almost long lost memory. By telling him I risk losing that, I risk never being able to create another piñata story here.

    I really should share it; it’s eating away at me. Though, I can’t help thinking about the time we rearranged; moved the benches and tables, and transformed this from just a place to relax, to our place to relax. The position of the tables; such that a net could be erected in times of Ping-Pong, the orientation of the benches; so that they could still be used in times of rain. This was, is, our creation. What if I ruin it all? If I share it and BOOM… the place changes... No longer our place, just theirs.

    No, I can’t share it. Not here. It’s not a question of whether to share it, or not; but where to and when to.

    “So, who’s the girl, then?” He asked. Typical banter this place has become so accustomed to. The rough, splintered furniture knowing more about us, than most would care to admit. I observe the grains, running my fingers along the vinyl-like groves of our history.

    “No one. And even if there were, you’d never know.”

    Lies. The bench knows such. It can see right through my dismissive, yet baiting, lies. I can feel it. It creaks out against my untruths as I shift my weight under the strain of his interrogation. The bench is increasing in hostility as I brace for another question.

    “So there is someone! Come on, just give us the school they go to.”

    No. I can’t say the school. No. That would be suicide. To say the name of an all boys school, our school, would destroy any chance I have of another piñata, of more friendly Ping-Pong, of… ‘creak’. Did he notice the timber lie-detector? Does he notice the ever-reddening crimson colour of my face? Does he realise a new memory is being made, another story for the furniture?

    “I can’t do that. Maybe one day, but not now.”

    Not a lie, just being a clever politician. The table is silent. I’m silent.

    “Well how about you, then? Who is Louis’ love interest?”

    Diversion, a tactic all too familiar to this place.

    “Oh, most people know. She’s a good friend, so I can’t do anything.” More knowledge for the hardwood.

    I call Heads. The coin lands. Tails. Again. Tails. Again. I catch it mid-flight; I can’t even get the side I want when it’s in my own mind. Heads. Finally.

    I shift. Moving from the bench, to the table. Above Louis, feet on the bench. I feel in control.

    I will share it. The furniture is ready, pen and pad – a reporter making news. I can feel the tension, building. Twenty seconds of courage, that’s all I need. The wind blows my fringe. I grab it, work it back into its clockwise formation. The table rocks, as though at sea. I don’t quite have my sea legs yet.

    “Can I do something stupid?”

    More rocking. The air silent.

    “I’m …”

    Shit, I’ve never thought this far ahead. ‘gay’? ‘not straight’? ‘into guys’? ‘not so into girls’?... A moment frozen; the grove for this story still being engrained. There is no lump preventing my speech, nor dry mouth. Just a lack of words.

    “… gay.”

    Did I blow it? No more piñata? Will he paint over our memories? Will I ever again experience the rough hardwood against my touch?

    My hair has lost its form again. I don’t care. The table has stopped rocking. But the seasickness hasn't worn off. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe how silent it is. This is ridiculous; no piece of this furniture has ever held its mouth this long. Ever. I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?

    “Okay. Ah, do you want a hug?” Yes! Less eager James, just be cool. “I would have never guessed, by the way.”

    Please tell me this is the start of another grain. Not the edge of the table. The bench swayed again, this time I’m ready for it.

    ---

    What do you think?
     
  2. TimK

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    Excellent! I'm reading this sitting in a cold railway station in England and it made me forget where I was! Good luck with telling the rest of your friends.
     
  3. MoyashiAlice

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    Awesome job! I really loved it. :slight_smile:
     
  4. ethereal

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    That essay really had me hooked. What happened next? :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes:
     
  5. TheMailman

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    A very nice essay, and an awesome story!
    You're a very talented writer.
     
  6. BiPenguin

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    Well written. Welcome to EC. :slight_smile:
     
  7. onlythebulls13

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    ha, right on.... im in a hotel room in arkansas... far from my home in chicago and like you said, i forgot where i was and was totally lost in it.... great read!:eusa_clap
     
  8. ZeptoEquinox

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    Thanks everyone.

    In real life following the events of the story myself and my friend had classes for the rest of the day and we talked all night on the phone together. In the months since I've come out to many more people and all have gone very smooth. I'm forever grateful to my friend for how simply amazing he's been all this time.

    In other parts of my life, I've now officially finished high school and the exams. I'm currently looking for a job to hold me over until uni next year.

    Cheers for the feedback on the story. Hopefully the markers think the same about it.