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Which brought me to my person.
Gerard was bristling with a mischievous sort of energy that emanated from him in waves. It was as enticing as it was addictive. He was the type of boy you wanted to spend all your time with, regardless of the consequences because it was instant, delayed, and prolonged gratification combined.
He had darkness in his life and so much pain, but he kept the most beautiful sunny disposition about him. It was incredibly humbling to be around the boy. To know all he had endured in his short life and that he still woke up with a smile on his face in the morning. It couldn’t be easy, not with fifty percent of his family buried in the graveyard beside Shannon’s parents. But he did it.
Sometimes, I wished he wasn’t the one my heart had attached its flag to because he felt so far away, so unattainable, but then when we were together, everything fell into place, and all of my doubts evaporated. It was a dangerous thing to love a boy the way I loved Gerard. But I couldn’t go back in time and pinpoint the moment it happened; therefore, I was resigned to loving him.
They say it’s hard to get over your first love. Well, if I knew it to be true, like my heart was so insistent, I would never be getting over Gerard Gibson.
We had so much fun when we were together, but when we were with our friends, he was Gibsie. When he was with me, he was Gerard. I liked to think of them as two different people. Two very different boys. I loved them both with every fiber of my being. Sometimes I wished I didn’t feel the way I did, but you can’t change the heart’s direction once it sets sight on its destination. And my heart’s destination was hell-bent toward melding with his. Toward entwining with his and never breaking free again.
I just wanted to be with him, follow him everywhere, and never let go of the feelings he evoked inside of me. In fact, if I could bottle them up and take a little sniff every time I felt sad, that would be perfect.
Truth be told, it almost felt like a part of me was programmed to love him. It had come to me so easily. As easy as breathing. There wasn’t a point in time that I could safely identify where he didn’t live in my memory.
When we were little, everything was easier, less complicated, and, well, quite frankly, smoother. But with age came hormones and trauma that severed ties and fractured friendships. I suppose it was a testament to our friendship group to manage to hold the line when such trials and tribulations attacked our core. God knows many others would have thrown in the towel had they suffered similar fates.
Complications came as easy as breathing to us now, and while issues were imbedded deep within our circle, we somehow managed to hold on. To stick together. I thought that might have a lot to do with the fact that my brother and I were bringing two very different groups of people together. It wasn’t as blasé as saying the boys and the girls. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t gender-based. It was a matter of souls connecting. From Katie and Hugh to Shannon and Johnny, to Lizzie and Patrick, to me and Gerard, there was an invisible string that connected all of us.
A little while later, when everyone was turning in for the night, I wasn’t even surprised when Gerard followed me into my tent. Even though he was meant to be sharing with Patrick, we both knew it would be my sleeping bag he would end up inside. Same as always.
“Don’t turn around,” I warned as I stripped off my bikini and pulled on an old jersey of his and a fresh pair of knickers.
“Tonight was good craic, wasn’t it?” Gerard mused, faithfully keeping his back to me as I changed. “To be honest, I thought it was going to go to shit when Pierce and the Viper showed up,” he added, climbing into the sleeping bag. “But she kept her distance for once.”
“Gerard.” A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “You know I don’t like it when you call her that.”
Shrugging unapologetically, he yawned loudly before settling his arms behind his head. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” I laughed, climbing in beside him, while desperately trying to avert my eyes from his impressive biceps. Because Gerard had the best arms. They were delicious.
“No, I’m not,” he agreed with a chuckle.
“You’re so annoying.”
“You love it.”
“Just try be nice to each other,” I instructed, rolling onto my side to face him. “For me.”
“I’m always trying,” he replied. “She’s always pushing.”
“I know.” With my portable camping light switched onto the brightest setting, I took the time to study every inch of him, securing this moment in time to memory because I didn’t want to ever forget this summer. Or this boy.
He was big and broad and strong, with the most beautiful sun-kissed skin. Seriously, it was as if the sun came down from the sky and illuminated this boy in the most wondrous hue of bronze. His already blond hair was bleached from the sun, making him look almost surfer dude-ish—like the boys I watched on Home and Away every evening on RTÉ2.
His brown nipples were pierced and adorned with itty-bitty silver hoops, and he had a tattoo on his left rib cage with the word Resilience in italic font that was decorated with a feather in black, and then a tiny Care Bear on his right hipbone.
I never saw other boys, never looked at them the way I looked at Gerard. He was insistently permanent inside of me, and I couldn’t shake him if I tried. Not that I did much trying these days. He was comfortable and exciting and fresh all rolled into one perfect creation.
“I love you, Gerard.”
“I love you, too.” His lips were so close to mine that if I leaned in just an inch, we would be kissing. I wanted to. Desperately. But I held back. Knowing that my heart couldn’t take the kiss. Because the kiss might be a glorious one, but it would never be accompanied by the commitment I needed from him. The relationship I needed the security of. For whatever reason, Gerard offered me his heart on his sleeve, but kept the rest of him tucked behind an impenetrable wall of mystery.
“You look sad.” His voice was like an old musical box to my ears. So familiar and welcoming and soothing. He soothed me like a comfort blanket. After all, he’d been in my life long enough. I’d outgrown all my other comforters. Not Gerard, though. As my age grew, so did my desire for his company. For him, period.
“I’m not sad.”
“No?”
