Read Online The Best Kind of People by Zoe Whittall - Free Book Online
Authors: Zoe Whittall
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mindfulness classes on his lunch hour and was full of ideas on how to reconnect with the world, and with each other. He’d been teaching Andrew about a type of tapping therapy, where you tap on certain spots of your body and repeat positive sentences about whatever is stressing you out. Andrew would watch him in the living room, tapping at his forehead and saying, “Even though I want that cream cheese muffin, I will make a healthy choice not to eat it . ” He tried not to laugh. Jared’s hopefulness and his desire to be a better person were actually among the things he loved most intensely about him.
When they’d met, they were both recently single and heartbroken. Neither was eager to jump right into something new. But the physical attraction was undeniable, and no amount of pretending they didn’t also like each other and want to spend time together could change it. They’d recently celebrated their three-year anniversary, the longest consistent relationship for Andrew. Most of the time he felt solid with Jared, as though they shared a home base and a core connection too strong to be broken. Occasionally things came up that made him wonder if he was actually settling for less than he wanted. Did all relationships feel that way after a while? He had no real point of comparison. His parents were one of the few couples he knew who had actually stayed together. He often held them up as the ideal, espousing to others that gay men gave up on each other too quickly, that commitment was a lost art.
His parents were very affectionate, but Andrew would never say they were outwardly sexual. As a teenager he was aware of the way most men stared at women, because it seemed to be an automatic impulse that God had not granted him. It gave him some comfort to note that his father also seemed to lack this impulse. He eventually learned that gay men are granted a free pass, in certain geographical areas and using certain coded behaviours, to be overtly sexual amongst themselves without having to know one another. Once Andrew emerged from closeted suburbia, and had access to the ways in which sexuality was communicated through quick looks, gestures, and open admiration, he noticed when it wasn’t present. When you first discover sex and falling in love, for a while it’s all you can see. Coming home from college after months of cruising and gay bars, and burning through the syllabus of his Queer Literature course, he felt as though he saw the subtleties of sex everywhere.
His father was a stark reminder of an old school puritanism, yes, but he also seemed too nerdy and book-bound to be a person with an acknowledged body, let alone a sexual person. He was often described as a floating head or absent-minded professor, never caring much about anything beyond the brain.
ANDREW TAPPED AT his forehead the way Jared had suggested he do in moments of crisis. This is a stressful moment, but I can get through it if I remember to breathe and be in my body ,he thought. When Jared told him about the forehead tapping theory, Andrew had made fun of him, but he felt desperate for any strategy at this point, staring at the old dusty computer monitor that his mother had covered in a ridiculous cotton doily for when guests stayed over. It would probably feel better to take the computer outside and bash it with a bat, just like the printer in his favourite scene in the movie Office Space .
He stubbed out the joint in the ashtray he’d made twenty years ago in shop class. He remembered trying to make it look shitty so that his classmates wouldn’t think he was artistic.
My father is in a jail cell right now. He grappled with that thought. He clutched at his chest, his fingers coated in sweat. The joint wasn’t helping. He didn’t feel stoned really, just more sad, helpless, as if a film were covering his skin.
He opened the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a cigar box. Inside was a hollowed-out Bible filled with envelopes. Letters from
When they’d met, they were both recently single and heartbroken. Neither was eager to jump right into something new. But the physical attraction was undeniable, and no amount of pretending they didn’t also like each other and want to spend time together could change it. They’d recently celebrated their three-year anniversary, the longest consistent relationship for Andrew. Most of the time he felt solid with Jared, as though they shared a home base and a core connection too strong to be broken. Occasionally things came up that made him wonder if he was actually settling for less than he wanted. Did all relationships feel that way after a while? He had no real point of comparison. His parents were one of the few couples he knew who had actually stayed together. He often held them up as the ideal, espousing to others that gay men gave up on each other too quickly, that commitment was a lost art.
His parents were very affectionate, but Andrew would never say they were outwardly sexual. As a teenager he was aware of the way most men stared at women, because it seemed to be an automatic impulse that God had not granted him. It gave him some comfort to note that his father also seemed to lack this impulse. He eventually learned that gay men are granted a free pass, in certain geographical areas and using certain coded behaviours, to be overtly sexual amongst themselves without having to know one another. Once Andrew emerged from closeted suburbia, and had access to the ways in which sexuality was communicated through quick looks, gestures, and open admiration, he noticed when it wasn’t present. When you first discover sex and falling in love, for a while it’s all you can see. Coming home from college after months of cruising and gay bars, and burning through the syllabus of his Queer Literature course, he felt as though he saw the subtleties of sex everywhere.
His father was a stark reminder of an old school puritanism, yes, but he also seemed too nerdy and book-bound to be a person with an acknowledged body, let alone a sexual person. He was often described as a floating head or absent-minded professor, never caring much about anything beyond the brain.
ANDREW TAPPED AT his forehead the way Jared had suggested he do in moments of crisis. This is a stressful moment, but I can get through it if I remember to breathe and be in my body ,he thought. When Jared told him about the forehead tapping theory, Andrew had made fun of him, but he felt desperate for any strategy at this point, staring at the old dusty computer monitor that his mother had covered in a ridiculous cotton doily for when guests stayed over. It would probably feel better to take the computer outside and bash it with a bat, just like the printer in his favourite scene in the movie Office Space .
He stubbed out the joint in the ashtray he’d made twenty years ago in shop class. He remembered trying to make it look shitty so that his classmates wouldn’t think he was artistic.
My father is in a jail cell right now. He grappled with that thought. He clutched at his chest, his fingers coated in sweat. The joint wasn’t helping. He didn’t feel stoned really, just more sad, helpless, as if a film were covering his skin.
He opened the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a cigar box. Inside was a hollowed-out Bible filled with envelopes. Letters from
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