There is always that one love, greater than any other. The one love that touches you so deeply that you never ever forget it. You know what I mean. There is always the one. No matter how many times you love in your life, there's that one. I think I have spent my life trying desparately no matter how unconciously to recreate it. That was Kirk.
We became friends the minute we met. And remained so ever since. For months we were the dynamic duo, totally inseparable. I know what you're thinking, but no we were just friends. We double-dated anytime we dated. Never once was there anything overtly sexual about our relationship. No one ever gave it a thought. Neither did I. Except in fantasy. In December we went to the Christmas formal together, with our dates, and all had a fantastic night. The roommate (El Stud, according to him) was at the girlfriend's for the night so Kirk came back to my room while I changed. We had planned on going back out. I'll spare you the details but we did end up together in bed that night. He was the first man I ever slept with.
In the middle of the night, as we lay there wrapped around each other, my back to him, he hugged me a little tighter. I truly think he thought I was asleep. He leaned into my neck, nuzzled it, and whispered ever so quietly... "I will always love you."
Of course, neither of us at that time would own up to being gay, and sex came only with the excuse that we had been drinking. We did drink a lot more after that night.
We remained an ersatz couple for the rest of our college careers. After graduation we both moved to the city, but not together. Times changed. We didn't, not really. But Kirk was never truly able to admit the truth of it for a long time. When he did, we did give it a try. But he left after several months unable to come to grips with it. He married after impregnating a girl we both knew. His family was ecstatic. I wore black. I was the best man. Obviously. When the baby was born, I spent more time with it than his mother. She and he, were no longer she and he after four months. Pattern maybe?
We spent the rest of the years as close friends, every couple of years again making love, but never for long. Men came and went in my life. But none was Kirk. This summer, he made his recently annual trek to the shore to spend time with me. We had deep conversations that I will never forget. He proposed to me after a lot of tequila. If only. He left several days later to his life, and I to mine.
I had just come back from an evening walk on the beach and was showering before dinner. My cell phone rang. My best friend Jen. I answered it, naked and dripping. She was practically screaming into the phone.
"Joey, it's Jen. You need to come to the hospital. Now. Hurry."
"Why? What's wrong."
"It's Kirk. Oh God baby he's been in an accident".
I made it in time to say goodbye to my baby boy. My life. My love.
This Summer's tale, and all the tales of all the summers are so much more. I'm sure the full story of our life together, and not so together, will eventually be told. But for now, he is letting me rest.