Where Were You When The Lights Went Out?
Specs: Three Small Words
I spent the blackout in an elevator with Specs, Dutchy wrote, and glanced to towards the front of the room, where Specs was writing. He assumed it was a very tame, mostly fake version of the truth, something like what he was planning to write himself, but was dead wrong. Mostly.
Specs smirked a little to himself and cheerfully wrote, I spent the blackout trapped in an elevator, screwing my boyfriend like crazy. That would certainly convince Dutchy he wasn't quite as much of a goody two shoes as Dutchy kept claiming he was. Of course, that would also show his teacher the same thing, and as annoying as Dutchy's comments were, being loved by teachers gave him a whole slew of easy A's, and lots of resources for recommendations on college applications. He had to keep things like that in mind.
Still, though, he wondered what people would think to read that one sentence… But no. He scratched it out with thick black marks, drew squiggles over them, and filled in the gaps until nothing but a black ink smear remained, and debated how to handle the question tactfully.
It had been a fun night, though.
*
Dutchy and I had just gotten out of the movie. We'd planned to see Pirates of the Caribbean with Jack and David, even though I'd already seen it twice and Dutchy'd seen it once, but Jack and David love it. I think they've seen it a dozen times between the two of them. David definitely has a thing for Orlando Bloom, and Jack's been talking about Johnny Depp nonstop since it came out, so I guess it works out.
But Dutchy didn't want to see it again; said something about it being too girly or something. He wanted to see Freddy Vs. Jason. I most emphatically did not.
"Wimp," he said accusatorily.
"I am not a wimp, just because I don't like stupid, predicable horror movies. I mean, by the time you hit the eighth sequel, what's left to do, huh?"
"Whatever. Wimp."
"I am not a wimp!"
Which is more or less how Dutchy's and my relationship works. Unlike Jack and David, who were about to celebrate their second anniversary, we're not adorably disgustingly saccharine all the time, we're more… Like the Odd Couple, or Perfect Strangers or something. If Larry and Balkie–or whatever his name was–had lots of really good sex all the time. I mean, consider: I'm a neat, organized student council member; Dutchy is a walking slacker mess. I was terrified of coming out, he's been openly bi since about sixth grade. He's, shall we say, experienced… Me, not so much.
But we had a few mutual friends, and after a few weeks of eating lunch at the same table started hanging out a little after school, and there was this weird tension between us as I was always yelling at him to do his damn homework before he failed out, and I swear he was getting straight D's just to infuriate me, and then came the end of the school year and we were assigned to do a giant English project together and… It's a cute story, really, but basically one thing lead to another and by the end of finals week, Dutchy and I were a couple.
He still makes me crazy, but I'm sure the fact that I clean up his room when he's not looking does the same to him, so we're even. Anyway.
"Don't be such a girl, Specs."
"What? Okay, aside from that comment being totally sexist, I am not acting like a girl."
"Oh, get over it. You want to see a movie with me, or have a threesome with Jack and David, huh?"
"Why are you being such a jerk, Dutch?" I demanded.
"Why are you being such a wimp?"
"I'm not being a wimp!"
"Then see the movie with me."
"But… Jack and David are expecting us…"
"So? They're just going to sit in the back and make out, then argue about whether Orli or Johnny is hotter, and then make out some more. They wouldn't even know we're there. They won't notice that we're missing."
"But…"
"Well, I'm seeing my movie. You can do whatever you want." And then he stalked off to get in line, and I glared after him. He'd been being a total bitch for the past week or so; I didn't know what was wrong, but something definitely was. I mean, we've never been all shmoopy-woopy the way David and Jack are, but he'd never been such a jerk so consistently to me before.
So I waited for David and Jack to show up, told them what was going on, apologized profusely, and ducked away to go find Dutchy. David did mutter something about how if he was treating me badly I shouldn't put up with it, and I certainly wasn't in the mood to apologize to Dutchy, but I could sit through some idiot movie if it would make him behave like a human being for a few minutes.
I caught up with him at the concessions stand, and was pleased when he bought me an iced mocha without stopping to ask what I wanted, because he already knew, and I went to kiss him to thank him, and he shied away, picked up his popcorn and soda, and walked away. So I followed him into the theater.
"I hope you're happy," I muttered.
"Thrilled."
"What's your problem? Seriously, you've been in a bad mood for a week."
"Shut up. Previews."
"It's just commercials, and since I don't even want to see the movie–"
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I like spending time with you, you jackass, when you're not being a brat!"
"Brat?" he laughed. "God, you can't even throw a drama queen fit right."
"Jesus, sorry for not causing a scene. I'll try harder next time."
"Previews," he said again, ignoring me.
"We're talking later," I informed him, annoyed.
"Whatever."
"We are talking at great length."
"Shut up and drink your pretentious coffee thing, would you?"
"You think I'm pretentious?"
"You are. Previews. Be quiet."
"Dutchy–"
"Specs, I'm serious, if you don't shut up you'll get yourself lynched."
"Dutchy–"
"You did try to kiss me in the lobby; gay guys do get beat up occasionally. Especially ones who talk through movies."
"Ught." I hate him when he's like this, and I was definitely tempted to "accidentally" drop my iced mocha on his lap, but instead I sulked in silence. Yes, I can admit I was sulking; I think I deserved a good sulk, but whatever. I suffered in silence, sat through the stupid movie, and made a point of loudly predicting everything that happened in advance, hoping Dutchy was annoyed by it as the people around us, who kept asking me loudly to shut up.
Asking is a bit of an understatement, but whatever.
So we finished the movie, and despite what Dutchy will tell claim if he gets half a chance to talk about it, I wasn't scared, I didn't scream, and I certainly didn't clutch his arm like a girl. "Like a girl." I hate that phrase, so much. So much.
Well, anyway, we grabbed the subway back to Dutchy's apartment, and barely spoke the whole time. My coffee had worn off by this point, Dutchy was still being a jerk, and furthermore, he wanted to take the elevator up. Now, I'm not scared of heights; not in the least. However, I don't like elevators. The difference is subtle, but important. If I'm standing on top of a sky scraper looking down, I'm fine, because I'm in control of my feet, and don't have to step off and fall to my death. But with elevators, they go up and down, and there's no way to be sure they're never going to crash and burn and kill everyone inside.
Sure, it's forty flights, but I'd still just as soon walk. There's a reason I have such shapely calves. But Dutchy was still being bitchy, and I think wanted to get back at me for being so loud in the movie, so he walked into the elevator, said if I was still acting like a girl he'd meet me in his apartment in half an hour when I had hiked the stairs, and hit the door shut button. And that was the last straw; I hate elevators, but I didn't deserve any of his asshole comments, so I stomped in after him before the door shut and glared.
"Maybe you're not such a wuss," he mused as we started up.
"Yeah. Maybe not. But you're a real asshole sometimes, Dutch. What's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem."
"Then stop being a jerk. It's not cute, it's not funny, it's just obnoxious and I really don't want to deal with it."
"That's up to you. I am who I am."
"You've never been like this before. Look, if you're pissed at me, just tell me why." I glanced up at the lights, we were hitting floor eighteen.
"I'm not pissed at you, okay? I just need some space. To think about things."
I stared at him. "What?" I demanded finally, as we passed floor twenty five. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"No, I just–"
And the elevator stopped, halfway between floors twenty-nine and thirty. The lights went out too, and sure, I'll admit that I freaked out. "What the fuck?" I demanded.
Dutchy shrugged, and being slightly more level headed than I am when I'm panicked, he picked up the emergency phone, then frowned and set it back down. "Nothing," he said. "Dead."
"Oh my god. We're going to die. Any second now we're going to crash to the sub-basement and be… be… street pizza."
"We won't be in the street," Dutchy said.
"Dutchy!"
"We'll be fine," he said.
"Dutchy…"
"I mean it. It's not like the cable holding this thing is made of thread, it's heavy stuff, and there's other reinforcement things. Totally safe."
"If it's totally safe, then why did it stop?"
"I don't know. I guess it lost power or something."
"Lost… Power?" I managed to say. I think I started to hyperventilate at that point; I'm not really sure. "Ohmygodwe'regoingtodie…"
"Just chill, okay?" Dutchy snapped. "We'll be fine. Someone will notice the elevator isn't working, they'll get us out."
"They'll notice when it crashes to the ground in a ball of firey wreckage…"
"Stop that!"
So I fell silent, and sunk down the wall of our tiny metal prison cell of death, buried my head between my knees and concentrated on breathing in and out. In and out. Like that. I didn't even notice for a minute after Dutchy sat down, then realized and was kind of disappointed he didn't sit next to me. It was pretty dark in there, but my eyes got used it quickly, and he looked almost as miserable as I felt.
"So we should talk," I said after a minute, when it became pretty clear that we weren't going to die. At least not within the next few moments, and I figured better to die with things with Dutchy cleared up than wondering if he was about to dump me. How much would it suck to be eternally in fear of being broken up with?
"Whatever."
"Seriously, Dutchy. You haven't been very nice to me the last few days, and it's pissing me off."
"Sorry," he muttered sullenly.
"Don't be sorry, just tell me what's up. I'm your boyfriend, for god's sake, if something is wrong–"
"I already said," he snapped. "I just need to think about things for awhile."
"Why?" I demanded. "Why now?"
"Look, I'm not breaking up with you–"
"Then why are you–"
"But I'm really confused about some stuff and I just need to get it sorted out and it's really hard to do it when it's all about you–me and you–and you're always there and I can't get away from you for long enough to think, okay?"
"Why… Why do you want to get away from me?" I asked quietly.
He didn't say anything for a long minute.
"Dutchy?" I asked nervously.
"Specs, do you think we're really about to die in this elevator?" he asked.
"Yes." I didn't really, the fact that we hadn't gone anywhere was making me a little more confident, but I definitely did not like the thought of being stuck there indefinitely.
"Ok. Then I should probably–I've got to say something, and it sounds stupid, and you don't have to say it back or anything, but I've just got to tell you in case we do fall to a firey, gruesome death. Just… Just don't freak out, okay?"
"Okay." I was a bit too consumed by the thought of the firey, gruesome death to have any guesses what he was about to say.
"It's just… I think I love you, Specs. And–and we haven't been together all that long, and I figure you don't love me back, so I didn't want to say it until I thought you'd say it back, but I couldn't think of anything else and I guess it was making me kinda… Unpleasant. Wanting to say it but not knowing if I should."
Oh.
Well, whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't that.
Wow.
"Dutchy…" I said finally, a little stunned.
"Yeah."
"I don't know what to say." Which was true. "I mean, I… I've never thought about it."
"It's okay," he said. "I mean, I figured… I figured you hadn't. It's okay."
He didn't sound like it was okay, and I really had no idea what to say, or what to think. I mean, Dutchy? In love? In love with me? He didn't seem like the falling-in-love type; I'm definitely the romantic one in this relationship. And we hadn't even been together for a full three months. And… Love? I mean, that's a big thing. Love. Wow. Dutchy loved me.
"I…" I said.
"Don't say it unless you mean it, Specs."
I fell silent. He was right, and I hadn't thought about it enough to–I mean, I hadn't even considered it. Dutchy. Love. Wow. No wonder he's been so bitchy lately, if he's been trying to figure that out, or trying to figure out how to say it.
"I… I just hadn't… I mean, I really like you, Dutch. Like, really like you. You know that, right?"
"Of course I do. Specs, you don't have to force yourself to say it now. I mean, I wish you could but… Hey, it doesn't look like we're going anywhere for awhile in here. And I'm not going anywhere out there, either. I can wait for you to be ready."
And I know at that point I was grinning a lot, because he's just the sweetest boy ever, when he's not being a brat. And that wasn't bratty. That was just… So… You know, there are no words. He's so amazing sometimes, even if he can't keep his room neat. He's just amazing.
And if I couldn't say the words he wanted to hear yet, I could still show him how much I cared about him. So I crawled the few feet across the elevator and put my arms around him, put my lips to his, and kissed him. A lot.
He kissed back, of course, and his hand went to the bottom of my T-shirt, found its way inside, and he started doing these things to my chest that I can't really describe, and the next thing I knew I had my shirt off, and his mouth was leaving kisses along my shoulder, and my own hands were definitely not sitting still. I know I dug one into his back as he hit this sensitive spot on my collar bone (I know because he claims my fingernails left welts, but he exaggerates, as always) and my other hand went to another area entirely. You know, it's hard to undo a belt one handed while you're being distracted? But it is possible. Eventually.
And then we got to the point where I'm just not comfortable thinking about it in school, but lets just say… Well, some people have no problem with casual sex, and it means nothing. For me and Dutchy, it definitely means something. It's the closest two people can be physically, and it was an expression of how close we are, emotionally.
It's been a few weeks since then, and yes, I love him and I've told him so.
But anyway. Back to the fourteenth. Obviously, Dutchy and I didn't fall to our deaths; probably after we'd been in the elevator for an hour and a half, there was some banging on the top, and a large panel flipped open and a flashlight beam came down and caught the two of us. We were done with what we'd been doing, mostly, but not exactly decent. I mean, Dutchy had his socks on, but really… Yeah.
I guess he knows whoever it was who was sent to rescue us, because the guy with the flashlight burst out laughing. I was mortified, and Dutchy will deny it, but so was he. "Robert Polaski," our rescuer said between laugher, after shutting off his flashlight to give us a little bit of privacy to get dressed in, "does your mother know about this hobby of yours?"
"Sleeping with boys?" Dutchy asked lazily, as though he wasn't embarrassed at all. "Yeah, I told her awhile ago."
"I meant in public."
"We were bored."
"Right. Um, you two give a yell when you're dressed, okay? I'll be back in a minute." And he left us to our devices.
It took a lot of bribery mixed with several death threats to get Dutchy to swear to never, ever breath a word of it to anyone. I suspect his mother found out, but like he said, she already knew of his habit of sleeping with boys, and she says I'm a good influence, so I guess she doesn't mind.
She also said she's never getting in that elevator again, though.
Personally, I'm not getting in any elevator again. Unless it's with Dutchy, and there's a guaranteed blackout, of course.
*
Well, Specs reasoned, I really can't write that, now can I? I mean… I guess I could write part of it. It is really romantic, aside from the "being caught naked" part. And the whole "sex in public" part.
But the "I love you" part is just wonderful.
He happily put his pen back to the paper and began to write. For me, the blackout was like a fairy tale. It had it's scary moments when I thought I was going to die, when I thought I was going to lose everything, but the ending was happy enough to make the journey worth it. I spent the first few hours of the blackout stuck in an elevator between floors…
He glanced around the room, threw a look back at Dutchy, who winked, saw Jack staring out a window, and cast a look at David, who sat next to him in the front row. David had already filled up almost half a page; while Specs had been daydreaming, he'd been working. Figured.
Specs realized that if he and Dutchy had caught a slightly earlier showing of a shorter movie and weren't home yet, then probably Jack and David were still in the movies when the lights went out. Jack. David. In a dark theater that got even darker… I'm not sure their story is appropriate, either.