Endings and Beginnings
June 8, 2002
This day shouldn’t be happening. In the weeks and months leading up to it, that’s all I’ve been able to think. Sometimes I’ve almost convinced myself that Taylor wouldn’t really go through it, but now here we are. The day. And it’s definitely happening. I wonder if Taylor feels the same way, if he thinks it shouldn’t be happening, too. But I don’t know how to ask him. I know it’s wrong, though, no matter what anyone else says.
Taylor just shouldn’t get married, at least not right now.
Now, I’m not an idiot. I know this is inevitable. Taylor has to get married someday. I didn’t really expect him to stay single forever, and there’s no way at all that the two of us can really be together like I want us to be.
But knowing all that doesn’t make me feel any better about this wedding. It doesn’t make me any more comfortable in this stupid, itchy penguin suit I’m being forced to wear. There’s no way I can stand to stay in that tiny room with Taylor and Isaac and Dad and everyone, so I go walking outside and find a pretty private spot behind the church to hide. There’s bench just outside the church graveyard that doesn’t look too dirty. I don’t really care if I cover this entire stupid suit in mud, but I don’t really want to hear Taylor or Natalie complain if I look less than perfect later.
My one little rebellion is to kick up dirt and scuff my dress shoes. Yes, I’m pouting. No, I don’t care how stupid and childish I’m being. I feel like a child, so I’m going to act like one, damn it. I’m only sixteen, after all. I’m too damn young to be in a wedding, especially Taylor’s. So I don’t really care if I look like a child. I’m just going to sit on this bench and pout until someone finds me.
“Zac?”
I recognize the footsteps before I even hear the voice, and I try to ignore both. But I can’t. It’s him and I can’t ignore him, ever.
“Zac.”
But I can damn sure try to ignore him. If I sit really still, maybe he will think I’m asleep. Maybe he’ll go away. But Taylor knows me better than that and he’s too stubborn to give up. Damn him.
“Please talk to me…” Taylor says, sitting down at the end of the bench. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s not going to move closer to me. He’s putting as much distance between us as he can.
I stare at my feet. I’m not going to look at him. Maybe not ever again, if I can help it. But I can’t stop myself from speaking. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re leaving –” I just barely manage to shut my mouth before the stupidest words ever can slip out.
“You? I’m leaving you?” Taylor asks.
I nod slightly, still not looking up at Taylor. I don’t even want to know what kind of face he’s making.
He sighs loudly, but he doesn’t say anything. We just sit there in silence, both of us pouting. Finally, Taylor stands up and positions himself right in front of me so I have to look up.
“I didn’t want to do this to you, you know. Hell, I didn’t want to do this to me. It just… happened,” he says, his voice soft but his words pointed. Just before he walks away, he adds, “And I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just sit there and watch him walk again. I’m still perfectly content to stay in my little hiding place, but it isn’t long before Isaac finds me and tells me I better come in if I have any intentions of still being in the wedding. Part of me wants to tell him that I never had any intention of being in the wedding, but I think better of it. I just stand up and mumble that I’ll be inside soon. I dust my suit off the best that I can and shuffle inside to take my place in line.
The ceremony is about as boring as every other church service I’ve never been to. It takes every bit of courage I’ve got to stand up there next to Isaac and I feel like I’m probably shaking the whole time. I wonder if anyone has noticed. I haven’t eaten a thing all day and I have to suppress a giggle at the thought of my stomach growling during a quiet moment in the ceremony.
I didn’t want to look at Natalie, but I couldn’t help it. When she walks in, all eyes are on her, including mine. She carries her bouquet carefully, I notice. No doubt she’s trying to cover that little bump everyone has spent the last four months trying not to talk about or look at. Her dress covers it pretty well, too. She looks pale, almost as pale as I feel. The only color on her at all is the red of her bouquet, which matches her lips and the blush on her cheeks when she looks at Taylor.
I hate that look. She just looks so enamored with Taylor and it makes my stomach turn every time. I know I’ve been accused of looking at Taylor the same way, but that’s different. What I feel for him and Natalie feels can’t possibly be the same thing. Not even close.
I can’t look at her anymore. I spend the rest of the ceremony looking at the church’s stained glass windows. A few times I glance over at Kate, standing on the opposite side, and she smiles back at me. I try to return her smile but my face just won’t cooperate.
It’s ridiculously easy to sneak into the champagne at the reception. Kate was only joking when she asked me to steal a bottle. But I can’t back down from a challenge like that. No one even seems to bat an eye as I practically chug the bubbly stuff, wishing it were strong enough to really get me drunk like I want to be. Kate thinks it’s funny the way I’m downing the champagne – or maybe all the giggling is because it is getting her drunk.
By the time we finish the bottle, I can definitely feel it going to my head. My stomach has been doing somersaults all day, so I can’t blame that on the alcohol. And the fact that I haven’t eaten anything but a piece of cake probably isn’t helping. I’ve got to find a place to sit down, or maybe lie down, far away from all this noise and commotion. The reception is outside and I’ve already spotted the perfect place. The parking lot is lined by tall, thick bushes. Surely I can find a good spot behind those to sit down and rest with no one around to bother me.
From a distance, I can make out the crumbled figure of a person sitting against one the bushes. It just figures that someone has had the same idea. Probably someone else who had too much to drink. Then a small, strangled sob catches my ears and I instantly recognize the voice and the body.
It’s Taylor. Crying.
I shuffle my feet to warn Taylor of my approach. Taylor might be an emotional kind of guy, but I don’t think he would want just anyone to see him crying on his wedding day. He usually doesn’t mind letting me see that side of himself, though. But everything about him seems different these days. The last few months have changed everything. Maybe he won’t even want to see me at all.
He hears me coming and I can tell he’s trying to suppress his tears and pretend they weren’t there at all. But then he looks up and sees that it’s just me. He doesn’t even bother wiping away the tracks of his tears once he knows he hasn’t been caught by someone else. I can’t even stop myself. In one move, I’m on the ground next to him, pulling him into my arms. I don’t even care if he ruins this stupid suit with his tears. I’m never going to not let Taylor cry on my shoulder when he needs to.
“I’ve really fucked everything up,” he mumbles into my shoulder.
I can’t even tell him that he hasn’t. I can’t say anything to reassure him, because he has changed everything. Maybe in some ways it’s a good change, but not for me. So I just pat his back and hope that that’s enough reassurance.
We sit there for a long time, and Taylor starts crawling into my lap. I can’t stop him. It’s so gradual that I hardly even realize it’s happening until he’s right there, still sobbing into my shoulder. But he isn’t crying as hard anymore and his shoulders have almost stopped shaking. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I have to check if he’s okay. So I wrap my hand around the back of his head and nudge him up so I can look at his face. His eyes are puffy and red, but his tears have stopped. His bottom lip still trembles when he looks at me.
“Taylor…”
I don’t even know what I’m planning to say; I just know that the silence is killing me. I’ve got to fill it with something, anything. My mouth hangs open, no other words finding their way out of it. Taylor finds another way to fill in the silence, though. He leans up and envelopes my bottom lip with his own lips.
He doesn’t even need to look. We’ve done this a thousand times. But I keep my eyes open. There’s something about his tear-stained face that I can’t look away from. What if this is the last time? He’s married, for Christ’s sake. This should be the last time, but I think that would kill me. The last few months, it’s seemed like we were drifting apart, and I can’t even remember the last time we were this close. Maybe he still wants me. Or maybe this is one last time, one last memory of what we had.
Either way, I’m not letting it stop with just a kiss.
His neck is right there, right in front of my face, and I can’t help leaning in and kissing it. I won’t leave a mark, though. I know better than that. Above all else, we have to be smart about things. We have to be discreet, if that’s even possible. After all, we’re groping each other in the parking lot at his wedding reception.
I try not to think about the possibility of getting caught. Taylor doesn’t seem particularly concerned. He’s crawled completely into my lap now, his legs wrapped around my waist. I can feel his erection pressed against my stomach and I’m sure he can feel mine pressing against him, too. When he wiggles his lips against me, I’m certain he can feel it.
His presses his forehead against mine and we fall into an easy, steady rhythm. We’ve only had sex – I mean, really had sex – a couple times, but he knows my body like no one else. I’d like to think that I know his that way, too, but I’m not the only one. Still, I can’t imagine that anyone else can made him tremble and shudder the way he is now. I’m not even touching him, aside from my hands on his back.
Any other time, I would be embarrassed by how quickly and easily he’s getting me off. But I know we’re really tempting fate here, so I don’t try to fight it when I feel myself get close to the edge. Taylor knows I’m close. He slides his hand between us, finding the button on my pants and slipping inside to wrap around my dick. It only takes a few quick strokes, every move just the way he knows I like it, before I come all over his hand.
I barely even stop to think about the mess on his hand – which he’s quickly lapping up – or the fact that my pants are still hanging open. I lift Taylor out of my lap and push him back onto the cobblestone driveway. I know he’s close, too. Like I said, I know his body. The way his lip trembles, the way his cheeks have flushed an even deeper red than their usual shade – yeah, he’s definitely close. I undo his pants as quickly as I can, and his cock is already twitching, anticipating my lips. I barely have time to wrap my mouth around him before he comes, too, his legs shaking and the tiniest moan escaping his lips.
We’ve been pretty quiet, so I’m not worried about anyone wandering over to see what the commotion was. But I know we’ve still crossed a serious boundary. This is somehow worse than anything else we’ve done. Before, we were only hurting ourselves. Before, I’ve wondered if we were would grow out of this. I know that I haven’t, probably never will, but I don’t know about Taylor.
He’s still shaking, but I don’t think it’s the aftershocks of his orgasm. He isn’t looking at me. He’s just staring off into the distance. I’m afraid he’s going to start crying again. But he just looks at me, his eyes so big and full of fear. He shakes his head.
“I can’t do this,” he says.
He’s on his feet and walking away before I can ask what he means. I want to believe he means this marriage, but I know he doesn’t. He means this thing with me.
So that’s it, then. This is how we end. Because Taylor had to grow up and get married.