i can run using every last ounce of energy

i don't really know how well-known it is that i used to be in band (not the cool kind, but the nerdy kind) or that i played the flute and the piccolo for years or how much i loved it or why i stopped, suddenly, one day. it's been on my mind, though, as it becomes increasingly common that facebook suggests i become friends with brian wuttke, my former band teacher, whom i share 48 mutual friends with. seeing his face brings back an old, deep hurt. it becomes more apparent with time just how badly i dealt with it, how much i buried it.

so, let's go back in time: me, in high school, flute in hand. baggy jeans, red (and then bleach blonde, and then black) hair, angsty, with equally weighty penchants for goth subculture, writing whiny poetry, and the word "fuck." i was, by no means, a model student. i even managed to fail marching band one quarter. i hated practicing on my own, and i hated practicing on that field. i hated being called to attention military-style, and i hated having to do push-ups if i refused to submit. i hated the sun and the sweat and being singled out. i continue to hate that i remember the mantra they made us repeat freshman year when we were learning how to roll step: heel to ball toe. to this day, i'm not sure what it was about these militaristic rank-and-file organizations that made me think my rebellious ass could thrive in them (i was in JROTC too for a year), but sometimes i'm slow on the uptake. one thing i did love, though, was playing classical music. and, in my high school, in order to be a part of the wind ensemble, you had to be in marching band. so i suffered through, but i can't say i was necessarily a good sport about it.

in tenth grade, a couple of friends of mine made me question my sexuality. upon further consideration, i disclosed to my best friend, jen, in the midst of a TWELVE HOUR phone conversation that i thought i might be bisexual. by the end of that conversation, she told me that she had a crush on me (this was december 1998). a few months later, we were dating. fast-forward to june 2000, to jen's graduation party. we had been together for over a year, but we didn't publicize the fact. being openly gay was just not an option. there were no openly gay kids around, and the rumors that flew about us were plenty scary. there were a handful of people who knew, including my mom and some friends. my mom was under the impression it was all just a phase, so in order to appease her, i went on pity dates with boys here and there. in one case, i went out with a boy i didn't pity, who was attractive, who then took advantage of me. i remember the guilt that wracked me after that, and i think i stopped trying to appease my mom. at the end of the year, i got into an argument with a friend, who knows what about, but i wrote her a note telling her that jen was my everything and comparing my relationship to the one she had with her long-time boyfriend (they've since married). somehow, that note ended up in the hands of said friend's mother, who was at jen's graduation party.

for most of the day, things were fine. there were tons of kids, a pool, music. a little after 6, things started to wind down and people started to leave. we'd all spent a lot of time at jen's house winding down after football games. there was an understanding that the kids had their party during the day and the adults had theirs in the evening. the only kids left were me and the ones belonging to the adults that stuck around, one of whom was my band teacher. jen and i sat in her bedroom, on the bed, gawking at the pile of gifts that had accumulated over the course of the day. and then there was her mother, red-faced and frantic, with this quiet rage. i don't remember everything that happened--she must have mentioned the note because i know that's how she found out. i do remember this one sentence, and really, it was all i needed to hear: "if i had a gun, i'd kill you." she repeated herself. and i was on the phone, calling my mother. jen's mom left the room, and we were hysterical. i remember kissing her like i'd never seen her again.

my mom managed to make a twenty minute drive in six minutes. she pounded on the door and i bolted, collapsing on the patio outside the house in a heaving ball at her feet as she and jen's mom traded barbs, all the other parents in the background gawking. someone called the cops. i had my say with jen's mom. i don't know what it was because i was hysterical. my mom put me in the car and sped away, making sure their front yard felt the wrath of her tires. i spoke on the phone with the police soon after we got home. the parents (my teacher included) had all told them that i was asked to leave, but wouldn't. jen confirmed this for them. i remember being hurt that she wouldn't stand up for me, but she always has buckled to her mother's sway, and now i understand that it was her home life that would have been affected in terrible ways.

i went to a different school the next year, but it wasn't some dramatic exit because my life had been threatened or i was embarrassed. it was because, the year before, i had been invited to a special two year dual-enrollment program on a college campus which i didn't end up applying to because i didn't want to leave jen. my other best friend, kat, had decided to go, and i'd spent a year missing her, so i put in the application for senior year, and i was accepted. luckily. after i'd gone, i went back to my old school once, but felt almost shameful being there. i passed my band teacher in the courtyard, but he wouldn't look at me.

my relationship with jen continued. she managed to lead two lives, because her mother never knew how much time we spent together, nor did she know that we moved to orlando to go to college together. she found out later, though, about three years ago when, after chris died, i fell into her arms at his funeral. she held me until the service was over. that was the first time i'd seen her since jen's graduation party.

so, it seems to me, time heals a lot of wounds. at the very least, it makes them bearable. thing is, even though this still hurts, and i know now that i've pushed away a lot of memories from that time period, i'm capable of forgiveness and putting the past in its rightful place. given that, a couple of weeks back, i requested mr. wuttke as a friend on facebook. he has, so far, ignored this request.

it makes me wonder what happened that night, what i didn't see or hear. what do the parents who were at that party think they know? and what could they really continue to hold against me?