Hey there Christian,
Look what I found today, rummaging through old pictures from years past. That’s you and me during that summer when everything happened for me. And for you. And for Brian. Remember? I’ll never forget that summer when all three of our families went up to the lake and, together, we discovered what love was all about.
The excitement, the exhilaration, the tempest of emotions, the roller-coaster of sensations. I remember Brian daring us to go skinny dipping in the lake and how, suddenly, being with two other guys in the nude became so natural, so normal.
I remember hearing the click of the camera and you and I wanting to kill Brian for taking that picture. How could he take a picture of us in the nude? How could he think that that would be okay? “It’s art,” he’d said. Remember? “All the great photographers take nudes. And I have two of the most beautiful models in the world right here so why wouldn’t I want to seize their splendor, preserve their magnificence, immortalize their innocence.”
I’ll never forget the look on your handsome face.
We were flattered, we were moved, we were honored. We were impressed with Brian’s finely chosen words and I remember wondering if he would choose writing and poetry as a career or if he’d make photography his profession. Brian was an amazing photographer and he knew that he would be the only person in that dark room when the prints would be developed.
I remember that heavy rock and the bubbles that came up from under the sand when you helped me lift it. I remember how adorable you were when you straightened up and felt pain in your back. How you stretched it out with your hands on your butt, as though you were pushing it forward. I remember my eyes being drawn to your manhood and my heart beating faster. I can’t forget Brian’s kidding remarks: “Wow, Christian! What’s it gonna be like when you’re an old guy in his THIRTIES?” And how we all laughed, marveling at how far off that sounded.
I’ll never forget that night when, sitting around the camp fire you had started, Brian insisted we not get dressed although the night air was much chillier. I remember the flying cinders blown by the evening breeze that would land on our skin and startle us, not really burning us but pinching enough to leave small traces the next morning. I remember the few embers that landed in your hair and made you freak out. Oh and how Brian laughed and told you that you were such a cry-baby… until one of those hot ashes managed to find its way to his pubes and made him jump up and run to the lake screaming, “My crotch is on fire!”
Wow, so many indelible memories. Like Brian calling us to join him in the water and those sunfish nibbling at the hairs on our arms and legs and on our few chest hairs. How the surprise of something nipping at us under the dark water was so strange. I remember when you got a bit squeamish about that and joked, “What if they go after our peckers?” And we all laughed. I’ll never forget Brian’s return: “I’m not worried about mine. It’s much too big for such small fish!”
I’m reminded of you coming closer to me in the water when I said that the fish’s silly games were giving me goosebumps.
– You really expect me to see goosebumps? It’s darker than in a monkey’s ass!
And again, we laughed. I took your hand and made you feel the goosebumps on my arms. Your fingers were so soft and tender.
– My nipples are like cement, you said.
And you took my finger to direct it to your nipple. I’ll never forget the jolt of passion I felt at that very moment and the look in your eyes that begged me to kiss you. Why I didn’t, I’ll never know. But I am so glad you did. You know that was my first kiss with a guy, right? Did I ever tell you that later? I can’t remember.
I do remember feeling Brian’s eyes on us as we kissed and caressed each other. And I’ll never forget him saying: “Isn’t cold water supposed to make our junk shrink?” You and I almost choked in each other’s mouths.
– Nope. No shrinkage here, you said, reaching underwater to feel my manhood.
– Shut up! I said, pushing you away, laughing.
That night was the first time I made love to a guy, Christian. It was the first time I made love to two guys. That night was the beginning of the most beautiful summer of my life. The summer when I shared the most amazing memories with two of the most amazing friends and lovers I ever had.
I won’t be bringing this beautiful picture to Brian’s funeral today, Christian, as I imagine you won’t bring your print either. But I certainly hope you’ll be there. Because I’ve missed you. And although I probably will never get over Brian’s passing, he did tell me that he hoped you and I would reconnect. Because he didn’t want me to be alone. Although Brian and I’s love never wavered, although the embers of our home fire never died, we never forgot you, Christian, and often spoke of you, wondering where you were and what had become of you.
Oh how sad that a funeral is the excuse for us to meet again. But Brian didn’t want this to be a sad occasion. He wanted it to be a new chapter for me… and you, if that is anyway possible.
I look forward to seeing you again, Christian, our long-lost love.
© 2016, Tristan LeMay. This work must not be copied, transmitted or used in any way, either in part or in full, without the expressed written consent of the author.