Carson and I seemed a perfect match. Take it back to Street Fighter: he was the Ryu to my Ken; two men from distant worlds, but alike in force and power. Ken and Ryu were tied by an intense bond, alone in their deep characterizations amidst a shallow avalanche of sumo wrestlers and capoeira artists and well-endowed marines.
There was an awesome backstory there—they studied under the same master when they were young, only Ken left Japan to train in freewheelin’, cigarette smokin’, sexually saucy America. Ryu, on the other hand, calmly kept about his business being the most amazing fighter in the world.
The two meet for the first time in years, only now they’re battling to the death. Powerful stuff. People say that video games have recently become more cinematic, and I say “bullshit!” Games have had screenplays for years.
One night, Carson and I kissed in front of the gym while Lisa was inside getting her homework out of her locker.
Round One. Fight!
Carson and I tangled for the weekend following that kiss.
His parents were out of town, and we basically spent two days in their bed. Sunday night, I asked if he wanted to meet up before first period the next day and he hemmed and hawed and then said, “I’m not sure if I’m gay,” as if that was an answer to my question about first period. Who are you kidding, buddy?
I answered in what I thought was a very caring manner, full of soft words and understanding. But inside I was imagining Carson and me in our Manhattan apartment years from now, sipping cocktails off of cork coasters on blond wood tables, laughing about that time Carson said that he “wasn’t sure if he was gay.”
What a silly thing to say! Some things in life are obvious, and Carson’s being into me is one of them. At least it’s obvious to me.
When I walked into the cafeteria before first period the next day, Carson was sitting with Lisa, head down, avoiding my eyes.
He may think she’s funny, but she’s not.
Round Two. Fight!
The problem with Carson and me was that I couldn’t ever tell who won. There had obviously been a battle, and I sure as hell felt beaten, but I didn’t see how that meant he had won.
Maybe winning doesn’t apply to relationships, like as a concept? I mean, I had performed really well, I thought, really done all the moves right. Carson just needed some time to come to terms with who he was, and all that groovy stuff.
And it’s not as though Lisa and I were fighting over Carson. She sure as hell didn’t win Carson through any charms of her own. She just happened to be what he was attracted to. My loss was coded in from the start.
I spent the next half of the school year doing this trick where I appeared never to notice Carson Hahn and simultaneously obsessed about him at all moments. When I was supposed to be writing in-class essays, half the time I’d actually be imagining the scene when Carson returned.
My head bowed against a strong headwind, eyes clenched in disavowal, I would cross my arms and face away from him. He would appeal to me, ask to team up again, and promise to begin to see, to really see, all the good in me that no one in the world had yet seen. He would be sorry for what he had missed the first time around. He would be sorry he left.
I would remain still for a dramatic and pregnant pause, at which point I would say the perfect thing, depending on my mood:
BLAKE [Without opening his eyes]: I could have fallen in love with you.
(This would not be psycho like “I loved you,” but would still be profound).
Or...
BLAKE [Without opening his eyes]: You’ve always gotten what you wanted, your whole life...until now.
Or...
BLAKE [His eyes open, releasing a single tear]: What we have is a song, and although we haven’t reached the chorus, I can’t stop singing.
Definitely some high drama there, I hear you. What actually happened, though, was this. I’m going to tell it quickly, because it’s honestly kind of sordid.
During winter break I finally came out to my dad (Him: “I’d love you even if you were polka-dotted!” Me: “Thanks?”) and began dating this kid, Matt.
He went to a different school, but was the son of one of my dad’s coworkers—I met him at the work holiday party Dad made me come to. He was kind of vapid (his big phrase was “that was quite an experience,” which he used to validate lame story after lame story), but he had these angular green eyes and an elfin expression that I couldn’t resist. He would have made an awesome mage.
He liked me but I wasn’t into him (I hate to say that; it makes me sound like a prick, but it’s true!), and by the time break was over I knew that relationship was a goner. So, when I returned to school in January, it was with the cheerful step of the jilter. I had a win under my belt.
This attitude seemed to turn Carson on, because he started texting me nonstop (well, at least once a week), and he returned my messages really quickly. Although he didn’t make any moves or anything, and stopped texting back eventually, it was clear that he still had a thing for me.
Late one February afternoon, I’m waiting outside school for my dad to pick me up to go to the orthodontist. Lisa walks by, gives a wave that makes her skull rings tinkle, returns to her phone. Then Carson follows a minute later, face totally blank, even after he notices me. He’s trying so hard to be chill that a stranger watching could almost think that the sight of me standing there, available, didn’t bother him.
Technical Knockout
My dad won’t buy me a graphics card, so my computer has never run Street Fighter V all that well: after I begin a special move, I can put the controller down and watch the frames of animation pass like slides until the move finishes seconds later.
It takes Chun Li so long to do her lightning kick that the blur of feet in the console version is revealed to be only one foot, bathed in blue pixels, striking first the top of a person’s body, and then the bottom, then the top. Ear and chin, ear and chin, knee and shin, knee and shin.
On consoles she makes this jubilant “huzzah!” sound, but on my slower computer the sound breaks down into a “heh heh.” Ear, heh, and chin, heh. When her move is slowed down and the elements of it became distinct, the truth appears—Chun Li is feverishly laughing as she slaughters.
I call Carson’s disappearance from my life a technical knockout, for a number of reasons.
One is that I like Lisa, I really do. No one believes me when I say that. Maybe some of my warm feeling for Chun Li just passed over onto her.
Second, I technically couldn’t have hooked up with Carson again, anyway. Matt and I hadn’t officially broken up, and as far as Carson knew I might have been in love with the guy. So, Carson probably didn’t even realize that I was available. Typical Carson.