One year ago
The woman at the party supply store down the block told me it was too early in the year for graduation banners but she had one that said “Happy Birthday” in bright shiny metallic paper letters so I grabbed it. I filled the rest of my cart with anything I could find. Leftover balloons from St. Patrick’s Day, some Halloween cut-outs, a few Queen Esther crowns from Purim, a red paper Lunar New Year lantern and enough gold and silver Christmas garland to cover most of surfaces in the suite.
Hayes had been preparing for his interview for weeks. He was incredibly present during our trip, but at night when I would massage his back, I could feel the tension in it. I had no doubt he’d done a great job and I wanted to celebrate that. Once we got back, we only had a few months of college left, so this was the beginning of the future. I was ready for it.
I was taping a cluster of green balloons with gold shamrocks to the lamps next to the bed when I heard his keycard at the lock.
“Oh God. What happened? Are you okay?” His untucked shirt was dripping wet and his shoes were coved in grimy slush. I ran to the bathroom to grab as many dry towels as my hands could hold. I covered him quickly, scanning his shivering, soaking body to see if he was hurt. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to blink. My heart raced. “Hayes, talk to me. Are you alright?” He stood eerily still and expressionless until I said, “Should I call a doctor?”
“A doctor?” He let out a sharp laugh. “No, I’m fine, Brady.” He stepped away from me and let the towel I had put over his shoulder drop to the floor. “I’m not hurt. Not in that way, at least. And no one here needs a doctor. Or is going to become one.”
“The interview didn’t go well?” I asked, still not having a clue. Was it possible he choked and bombed it? No, not Hayes. “You still have North Boston Medical,” I offered, hoping the reminder about his guarantee of admission would change his mood.
I studied his face looking for a clue. His arms were glued to his sides and he held his hands in tight fists. Then he looked me straight in the eye and slowly asked, “Did you know?”
I felt my entire body tighten. My stomach sank. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I couldn’t answer the question. At one point I had suspected there might be something going on, but I’d pushed the thought out of my head. I had years of practice doing that. The less I knew about my parents pulling the strings in my life the better. The skill carried over here and allowed me plausible deniability. But once I saw the suit neatly packaged on the bed, I knew. Maybe I should have said something. I told myself it didn’t matter. But Hayes’ usually cool blue-grey eyes burnt red from tears of anger or frustration while the rest of his body was covered in a cold chill. It mattered. It mattered a lot.
“Would you sit down so we can talk about this?” I pulled the chair out from the desk, ripping through the gold and silver garland I had just put up.
“You haven’t answered me,” he said. He walked stiffly to the sofa and I sat on the chair next to it.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked.
“Well, Brady, I had a great interview.” His sarcasm made me look away. “The campus labs are incredible, the faculty is amazing and I thought I had a real shot at the scholarship until I was leaving campus and saw Gibson Hall.” His voice was calm and even, but the rest of his body vibrated with anger.
I looked down at the floor between my feet. I knew my family had donated a large amount of money to Ellis for something at some point. But I didn’t keep close tabs on how they spent their money. I didn’t keep close tabs on howIspent it. But I knew this situation had my parents’ fingerprints all over it.
“This is what they do,” I said. “It’s their love language. They try to make things happen for people. It means they like you.”
“It means they like me?” His face turned inside out and then returned to neutral. “They haven’t even met me.”
“I know, but I’ve told them all about you…” I was going to say I’d told them how happy he made me, how smart he was, how hard-working and devoted to being a doctor. But he didn’t let me finish.
“You told them I couldn’t afford school. You told them that I needed help to get an interview at Ellis. You told them to arrange a scholarship for me?” His tone grew more intense with each question.
“No. Of course not.” I didn’t like what he was suggesting. I would never have described Hayes that way. Not intentionally. And I would never have told them to make a scholarship happen. Never.
“Brady, you must have said something that made them think I needed help, or else why would they have done all this? Why would they set up a scholarship interview and send over a suit if they thought I had everything under control?”
“Well… ah…” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. He had a point. I flashed through all the times my parents had paved the way for me and how it created a path so clear I no longer had my own compass. But I didn’t want to go there. “What’s the big deal? They were trying to help you.”
“The big deal is they think I need help.Youthink I need help.”
“I do not,” I said.
“They didn’t get the idea from thin air, Brady. You said something about me or my situation. I don’t think you meant to. I don’t think you walked in and said, ‘My boyfriend is this sad case from Nowhere, Alabama. Can you help him out?’ But you said something, and it means you see me a certain way. I’ve spent four years at school trying not to feel less than everyone else around me. But I should have been more concerned about the person right next to me this entire last year. You don’t see me as your equal.” He crossed his arms, then raised a hand to cover his face.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, but I knew part of him was right. I must have described him in a way that made my parents think they could do what they did, and even though I had only suspected their involvement, I never confronted them. I was complicit.
Hayes pushed away a bunch of green balloons that had gathered on the couch and grabbed his backpack. He walked into the bathroom where he shoved things into his bag. I jumped up and stood in the doorway. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving, Brady.”
“I don’t understand. Can’t we talk about this?” Silence. He kept adding things to his bag like he worked on an assembly line. Like the last few days, few months, never existed. I felt erased. Now I was the one getting angry. “Hayes, let’s get you changed and go down to the restaurant and have something to eat and talk…”
He looked down at his still wet clothes. “What I’m wearing isn’t good enough to be seen at this fancy hotel in public?”
“That is not what I meant. Not at all. Your clothes are still wet. We need to talk this out.”
