Robert the First

Finding and losing love can be two sides of the same coin. For anyone. At any age. In any world.

Gracie left like David before her. It hurt. Both times. I got over it as usual. Both times. Still the agony left more psychological scars. The lose of my friends would eventually instill in me a fear of abandonment and an effective inability to accept the love of others. Eventually. But at that moment I still believed in love. I again longed for someone to appear. Someone to love. Someone who would love me. Anyone. Then as often happens when one believes in Magic that someone showed up. Came right up to me and with a stunning smile and an ethereal presence changed my life. 

Several months after Gracie moved away I turned eleven. One afternoon I was in the park by myself leisurely making large and lonely circles with my bike. Taking a break I sat on a bench and watched as a kid on a bicycle was slowly riding towards me. I thought kid because I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl. They had very long hair for 1963. Long, straight, wind-blown White-Blonde hair. The kid came up to where I was sitting and stopped directly in front of me. Before looking at the diminutive rider I stared down at the crossbar to see if it was a boy’s or girl’s bike. The top bar was there so I figured it was a boy maybe my age or younger. I looked up to see his face. He was smiling. A grand glorious smile lighting up the prettiest face I had ever seen. When he swept back his near-white, ethereal hair I saw that he had sparkling Blue eyes with a narrow jawline and high cheekbones. He looked delicate and fragile and his glowing skin was flawless. I was captivated.

“Hello. I’m Robert,” he said smiling, “who are you?”

I couldn't speak. He was so beautiful. Boy or girl it didn’t matter. Right then, right there, right that minute I fell in love. For the first time ever. I fell hard and fast for this gorgeous, androgynous, dreamy, young boy.

“I’m Guy,” I said not aware that I was staring at him. 

I didn’t know what else to say. But I knew I wanted to be his friend. Hopefully more then just his friend. I wanted to share with him what I had found with Gracie: a trust, a connection, a safe place just outside the walls of the purgatory that was my real world. 

“Do you want to ride with me, Guy?” Robert said. He still radiated that captivating smile.

As I shook my head yes Robert had already started to pedal away. I jumped up and fell onto my bike. I didn’t want him to get away. I feared I'd never see him again. At my young age I had not displayed much ability hanging on to friends. I raced after him and breathlessly caught up. He turned his head and smiled at me. I pulled up next to him and matched his speed. I was giddy flying in measure with him as he effortlessly soared down the paved walkway.

By the time we parted several hours later that day Robert and I had exchanged our limited but colorful life stories. The next month was a dance; a high-speed fantastic whirlwind of a dance. Every day Robert and I would meet in the late morning and ride our bikes together wherever we desired. Wherever our ambition and curiosity would take us. Often far beyond the stringent limits set by our parents. We would talk for hours in loud voices with wildly animated motions about anything and everything. I was a smart and well-informed kid for eleven but Robert just seemed to know about everything; comic books, robots, Science Fiction, Outer Space, math, music. All the things I loved to explore.

Gallivanting around our little world for hours invariably left us tired and thirsty. Robert always had money and he would buy us sodas at our favorite candy store. We would sit and talk as we drank our Pepsis. When he wasn’t looking I would gaze at his face. I truly thought he was gorgeous. I had never felt anything like that attraction to a person before meeting him. Occasionally he would gently touch my arm or shoulder. It would make me tremble from head to toe. I never told him about how his touch affected me yet sometimes I would look into his radiant Blue eyes and I knew that he felt it too. Although I was only eleven I was in love with him. I hoped painfully that he felt the same.

Part of my attraction to Robert was very physical. I wanted to touch him, put my arm around his shoulders, hug him. I surprised myself once when I thought about kissing him. He had such beautiful thin lips that seemed to tremble ever so slightly when he spoke. It never went beyond that. I didn't really know how people had sex. Other than playing Doctor with a female friend several times when we were five and six I didn't know what adults did with each other. I don't think Robert did either. Our relationship was about mutual respect, enjoying each other's company when together, and being mindful of each other when apart. I believe we related on a deeply emotional level. 

Some months later three older boys would educated me about both straight and gay sex. They taught me that some guys liked both girls and boys equally. Those boys 'went both ways' or were AC/DC and had relationships and sex with either gender. I immediately realized that they were talking about me and knew then why I had liked both Gracie and Robert. Several years later I learned about Bisexuality and quickly adopted that role for myself. Though I loved both men and women throughout my life it would be fifty-three years before more than three people knew I was bisexual.

Robert and I spent many hours in his Father’s Floral Shop chasing around the counters in a mad and determined effort to attempt to tickle each other. When we would engage we would both fall to the floor and wrestle about laughing until one of us said he peed his pants. My most favorite activity was sliding together down the in-floor scrap chute. When Father trimmed the shrubbery he would drop the cut-offs down the chute making a large soft pile on the basement floor that was just perfect for our landing. We would slide down anxiously often holding hands for courage. Landing on the brush we would sprawl there together hand-in-hand until our laughter subsided and then exhausted we would lie motionless till we were rested. Sometimes Robert would lean into me and put his head on my shoulder. I was amazed at how comfortable he seemed doing that. It made me feel very special. And very loved.

One afternoon we both fell asleep lying atop the shrubbery. His mother found us and very gently stroking my face she whispered to me to get up quietly so as not to wake Robert. Then with few words between us she led me to her car and drove me home. I was still a bit sleepy and kind of tumbled out of the car. To my surprise she was there to catch me.

“You are a good friend to my Robert,” she said, holding me up, “he likes you very much. Come again tomorrow. Maybe have dinner with us, yah.” Both she and Robert's Father had a strong European accent (I guessed) that I always found delightful and comforting. 

As I regained my footing she returned to her car and drove away waving out the window as she did. The whole incident seemed like a dream to me. In fact I felt like my entire experience with Robert was a dream. A wonderfully secure and loving dream that I never wanted to wake from. We had an exciting and magical time together; for nearly five weeks. And then it ended even more suddenly than it had begun. 

One day we were playing in an empty lot picking up things to look at and then tossing them aside. I found a box of small, hard glass wall tiles. We quickly learned that when we threw them they flew through the air like flat rocks skimming a pond. We took turns casting them into the sky above our heads and bouncing up and down like children half our age. Without knowing I threw the last tile that either of us would touch. With our hands anyway. Like a miniature projectile I blasted it hard and fast up into the sky. To my amazement it flew straight up and then abruptly turned back towards us. I stared up at it and began laughing excitedly. I looked to Robert to share his excitement. His head was tilted up. His right hand was on his brow to help block the sunlight. On his face was a beaming look of astonishment.

Fearing I would miss something I again looked skyward and was easily able to follow the tile’s descent. It came in screaming like a bullet and heading straight for my beautiful boyfriend. I turned to him in time to see it rip cruelly into his delicate young face. Time slowed as I watched it impact with Robert’s left cheek just below his eye. It punctured his thin skin, rebounded, and then sank silently to the ground. He screamed horribly and slapped both hands to his face. But not before I saw the dark Crimson blood shoot out from his cheek like it was a fragile exploding water balloon. With both hands on his face he turned and ran towards home. I stood spellbound unable to move or cry out as I watched his slender form become smaller and smaller until he vanished in the distance.

When at last I could respond I ran in his direction as fast as I could. I found his street, turned the corner, and ran towards his house. No Robert. Where was he? Arriving at the Shop I saw my friend’s Father towering high on the stoop, red-faced, angrily shaking one fist and bellowing loudly. I wanted desperately to ask him about Robert but found myself too winded and nothing screamed from my dry mouth. I stood shaking and sweating staring up at Father.

“You did this, you, you boy,” he said in his thick accent, “you mutilated my Robert.”

I wanted to tell him and explain what had happened. I still could not speak.

“You leave here now,” he said to me. “Never return to this place. You are no longer welcome in my home. You will never see Robert again. Go! Just go!” 

Slowly with great anguish illuminating his swollen red face my friend's Father lowered his fist and stood with his arms dangling at his sides. His towering form seemed to diminish in stature as his ferocity drained. He dropped his head and I heard him let out a low guttural moan. Slowly he turned and shuffled into his castle. His Private Domain. That safe place where he was King. The one place where I always felt loved and accepted. I had been its only outsider. Now I was its only outcast.

I tried fiercely to talk but I could not. Nothing would come out. My head fell forward and I stared at the ground my chin resting on my chest. I turned away from the Flower Shop and sadly plodded away. My entire body pulsed and ache. My head swooned and my eyes filled with tears. Father's piercing words echoed in my mind and in my heart I knew he was right. I would never see Robert again. The enormity of the thought hit me much as my vicious projectile had struck Robert soundly in the face. It was the worst pain I had ever felt in my short eleven years. Then as cold painful tears cascaded down my cheeks I began to run towards my home. I ran and ran. As hard and as fast as I could.

When I got there I didn’t go up the stairs to our apartment. Instead I descended the stairs to the dark dank basement. Once there I went behind the stairs to the narrow hidden crawlspace and scrambled into it. Wedged in that tiny place I sat hugging my knees rocking forward and back in the blackness. And I cried. I cried until my face was stained. Until my shirt was wet. And until my head was pounding "  violently. Until only one frightening painful thought echoed in my mind. I had done it once again. And another friend was gone. Another relationship was aborted. Another loved one was ripped from my life. And once again as twice before I was left in the dark: forsaken, abandoned, alone. No words were spoken. No regrets were offered. And no goodbyes were given. Again.

Author's Note

Are the writer's feelings clear, are the characters well-defined, is the consciousness universal?