Thank God Nothing Lasts Forever

Photo by Rustem Baltiyev on Unsplash

Ira Dubois—1995

It happened in a tree, in the Boudreaus’ backyard, in the dark, in the middle of a game of manhunt. There just wasn’t much for teenagers to do in rural Vermont. Ira Dubois scrambled up where he was sure the late summer leaves would hide him from the hunters’ flashlights. A whisper nearly sent him into a free fall.

“Hey.”

“Shit,” Ira hissed. “Sorry.” He began the hairy process of descending. A hand gripped his arm.

“You can stay.”

He couldn’t make out the other face but the choirboy voice told him it was Jamie Nash, known throughout St. Pierre High as The Drama Queen. Ira didn’t particularly care for Jamie one way or another, but figured he wouldn’t break an ankle sitting in a tree with him. They sat side by side on a thick branch and listened to the far-off shrieks and laughter of the other kids getting caught.

Jamie asked, “How long have you known Brian?” The boy whose birthday they were celebrating.

“I don’t know. Since we were five probably,” Ira whispered. “Keep quiet or they’ll find us.”

Jamie snorted. “They’re all too far away. We’ve probably already won.”

“Maybe.”

Only thirty seconds passed before Jamie broke again. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Yeah,” Ira lied. Fifteen was too old to still be unkissed.

“Who was it?”

“Michelle Camden.”

Jamie laughed and pissed Ira right off.

“She’s a lesbian,” Jamie said. “You must’ve turned her.”

“What do you know?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

Then they were quiet for what felt like a long time, but was maybe only a few seconds. Jamie inched closer, and Ira didn’t move, just turned his head in the other boy’s direction. They kissed because they wanted to, because no one could see them, because they could barely see each other, because their mouths were better off without words.

Did Ira’s first kiss live up to his expectations? Not at all.

Did that matter? Of course not.

Jamie jumped down from the tree. Turns out they weren’t that high up.

“I’ll go turn myself in,” he said. “Only one of us can win anyway.”

He was gone, and Ira was alone, swelling with embarrassment and anger. He wanted to chase after Jamie, push him to the ground, or just do anything to make sure he didn’t tell anyone what happened. How horrible would that be? Jamie and Ira sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G. He wasn’t a fag like Jamie.

Climbing down, he thought about walking home, never being found. The game of manhunt would never really end, and Mrs. Boudreau would panic when she learned one of the partygoers was missing in action. Jamie would be the last one who saw him, and