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Andy lasts exactly one year at Harvard before he’s returning to Ohio with his tail between his legs. Boston hadn’t been bad, exactly, but it was too fast for him. It had felt like life only existed to pass by, rather than enjoy. The winters were brutal, the people weren’t as friendly, and Andy had found himself checking out in his pre-law classes, wishing he were back in his room playing his guitar.
It had been the plan all along. Mom was a lawyer and she’d always wanted him to follow in her footsteps. Andy’s extra-curricular activities of band and sports weren’t just things he enjoyed; they were meant to boost his college acceptance. He was valedictorian of his class and got a perfect score on his SAT’s. Andy Davis has always been meant for more than Chagrin Falls, or so he was told.
It’d been hard to break the news to Mom.
(“Sweetie, you gotta give it time. You’re just feeling like a fish out of water. I was the same way when—“
“No, it’s more than that. It isn’t what I want to do and it isn’t where I wanna be. I just. I just want to come back, okay? To you and Molly.”
Mom looked at him as highly independent, didn’t always understand just how scared of being alone Andy was. Maybe it was left over abandonment issues from when Dad left. He’d had to go to therapy for the first year. It was then that he began turning to his toys, losing himself in a fantasy world of his creating.)
But Mom was Mom, the best person around, so she just told Andy that his life is his own making and to come on home.
That had been two weeks ago.
__________________________
Andy remembers endless afternoons of playing in his backyard, running and jumping without a care in the world. He remembers thinking his toys were everything, and spending his days coloring in his room, enjoying being alone even more than playing with his friends. He remembers hearing his aunt whisper, “one day he’ll grow out of it all,” to his mom. Like there was something wrong with him.
She wasn’t wrong. Andy grew up, spent less time in his room and more time playing sports. He fell into popularity at school without even trying. He stopped caring about playing in the backyard and started caring about driving lessons and school dances. He kissed a few girls but realized pretty early on that he’d rather be kissing boys. His mom was the first person he came out to, considering she was his best friend.
He told the school when he went to senior prom with the captain of the hockey team, and then became a cliche when he lost his virginity that night. They didn’t last; Andy went to college, kissed a few more boys, and felt like he was stuck on a carousel.
Andy’s only 19, but it feels like his innocence was lost a long time ago, and that nothing will ever be as simple as playing with Woody and Buzz was.
________________________
Summer in Chagrin Falls is exactly the same as it was last year and the year before that. Not much changes around these parts. The Popcorn Store is still a Chagrin staple, with eager kids trampling through the door for their sweet and salty goodness. The falls are still flowing rapidly, and Andy still maintains the notion that it would be utterly romantic to kiss someone while sitting on the slippery rocks, the sound of rushing water in their ears. Andy probably shouldn’t like the fixity of this place so much. He should be rebelling against the monotony of suburbia, not embracing it like a warm blanket.
(Maybe he should go back into therapy.)
Molly’s away at summer camp, Mom is working 70 hour weeks doing discovery for a new case, and Andy’s got nothing but time on his hands. He’d planned on enrolling in community college this fall anyway, but decides to get a jump start on it and join the summer session. Chagrin is too small for a college, even a community one. The closest is in Cuyahoga County. Andy checks out the course offerings at their different campuses, and it looks like Tri-C in Cleveland is his best bet.
(They’ve got a top-notch music program apparently.)
Cleveland’s less than a 30-minute drive from home and Mom will probably be happy Andy isn’t completely shunning big cities. He shows up with his transcripts, copy of his SATs and is accepted on the spot. The woman at admissions clearly doesn’t understand what a guy who had a full ride to Harvard is doing at Cuyahoga Community College, but Andy just smiles wide and thanks her.
Classes begin the following week. Mom is relieved that Andy is “not going to be sitting around in his boxers eating chips and playing video games all summer.”
The following Tuesday, Andy arrives to the small campus with a bounce in his step, earphones hanging down around his neck, and a backpack full of notebooks and pencils.
He falters as soon as he takes one step into the room.
Sid Phillips is slumped down in a chair towards the back of the class. His hat pulled down over his eyes and his hair is mostly in front of his face, but Andy would recognize that John Bender wannabe anywhere.
Last thing he knew of Sid was that he’d dropped out at the start of senior year and was working sanitation. Suffice to say he is the last person Andy expected to see in a college classroom.
Andy ducks his head as he walks in. He takes a seat in the last row, placing him a few seats over and one row back from Sid. It isn’t where he normally likes to sit, but he’s less likely to be recognized here.
Sid had been Andy’s first crush. Sure, he had always been a jerk, but he also had that bad boy quality about him that undoubtedly appealed to someone as wholesome as Andy.
Andy’s clever plan lasts all of ten minutes when a piece of paper lands on his desk. He looks up sharply, but the teacher is busy writing about the birth of jazz on the chalkboard.
He unfolds the looseleaf with trepidation.
youre Davis right?
There are three options beneath the question:
YES NO FUCKOFF
Andy bites back a laugh. He circles YES, wishing he could lie, and feels like he’s back in high school as he tosses it forward.
Sid reads it, snorts, and crumples up the paper. He doesn’t send another note and Andy finds himself concentrating more on what the hell Sid’s game is instead of the lesson plan.
Class ends, and Sid doesn’t move. Andy shuffles his stuff into his backpack and slides by Sid’s desk, who finally gets up, nearly colliding with Andy.
“Weren’t you at to some fancy university? Why’re you slummin’, Davis?”
“How do you even know that? We barely talked.” And you dropped out before i was accepted he doesn’t say.
Sid shrugs and grabs his notebook and pen. He doesn’t have a backpack, because why would he. “You hear things on a garbage route.”
Andy flushes. “Yeah, well. If I’m slumming, then you’re slumming.”
Sid barks out a laugh and begins to walk toward the door. “Wouldn’t be anything new.”
Andy matches his stride, frowning as he does. He doesn’t know why Sid’s self-depreciation gets to him. Sid was an asshole when they were kids, and when their paths crossed in high school he was even moreso. Still, Andy knows he was dealt a shitty hand.
Rumors were unavoidable in high school. The ones that swarmed around Sid were that his dad was a druggie and in jail, and his mom was one paycheck away from bankruptcy. When Sid dropped out, some of his classmates speculated that it was less about his shitty grades and more about needing a job.
The fact that Sid has managed to not only hold down a career, while also (apparently) getting his GED in order to enroll in community college, makes Andy feel like he’s accomplished nothing in his 19 years on earth.
“I think it’s pretty cool, actually.”
Sid shoots him a blank look. “Sure you do, Mr. Ivy League.”
Andy bristles. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”
Sid stops, leans back against the hallway wall,m. He looks stupidly good as he crosses his arms over his denim jacket. Andy can make out a skull patch, flashes on the memory of a t-shirt glimpsed through the slats of a fence.
“You expect me to believe you’ve actively chosen to be here, Davis?”
“Yeah, actually.” His face burns. “I uh, left Harvard. I’ve moved back.”
Sid’s mouth works a few times, his face doing something complicated.
Andy’s fidgeting by the time Sid speaks. “You’re telling me you escaped this wasteland only to willingly come back?”
Andy shrugs and looks down at his feet. “Guess I’m not meant to live in big cities.”
“You’re a weird one, Davis.”
When Andy looks up Sid is smirking. It’s a good look on him.
“C’mon, college dropout.” He pushes off the wall and bumps into Andy’s shoulder “Let’s hit up Pizza Planet. Bet they don’t have those out East.”
Andy gapes after him for a few moments. Long enough for Sid to impatiently turn back.
“Yo! You comin’?”
“We’re not friends,” Andy blurts.
Sid’s eyes narrow.
“I mean. We were never—”
Sid rolls his eyes. “There is such thing as life after high school, Davis. Thought that fancy college would’ve at least taught you that.”
Andy blinks, wondering when Sid Phillips became so world wise. Smiling, he follows him out of the building.
_______________________________
They drive their own cars there. Andy in his blue Honda Civic and Sid in a black Ford pickup. If Andy imagines summer nights spread out in the bed of it, Sid hovering over him as they make out...
Well, no one can prove it.
They order a pie to share. Sid uses a fake ID to score a beer. Andy tries and fails not to judge him, while nursing his pop.
“God, you’re such a goodie-goodie.”
“Whatever,” Andy mutters. But it feels like Sid is pulling his pigtails. Which does nothing to slow down the steady reawakening of Andy’s long-dormant crush.
They talk about school. Sid is in his second semester at Tri-C. He has no idea what he’s going to major in yet, but he isn’t hating it as much as he hated high school.
Andy tells him about not wanting to be a lawyer despite that always being the “plan” and talks about his love for music.
It’s so weird, hanging out with Sid like they weren’t who they were as kids. Like everything that kept them apart in childhood is suddenly washed away.
Sid is happier than Andy remembers. More carefree. Andy can see the scars, though.
(“My mom’s shacked up with her new husband,” Sid had said when they got on the topic of family. “Took Hannah with her. I share a place with a few people now, it doesn’t suck.”
Sid’s eyes betrayed the nonchalance of his words. Years of shuddered hurt seeped through, and Andy saw someone who had been forced to grow up.)
It’s kind of like looking in a mirror.
Before he knows it, two hours have passed and they’ve devoured an entire pizza and two baskets of fries.
“I should probably go.”
“Why, you gonna turn into a pumpkin?”
Andy throws a fry at him. Sid grins and throws one back. “C’mon, Cinderella. Games.”
They abandon their table and play side by side in the arcade, something they never would’ve done a decade ago.
By the time they leave Pizza Planet it’s dark, the parking lot nearly empty.
They walk to their cars, Andy’s fingers tapping restlessly against his leg.
They come to a stop in front of Sid’s car. “Guess I’ll see you in two days?” Andy says, turning toward him.
Sid hums. He digs into his jacket pocket and comes up with a pack of cigarettes, tapping it with his index finger. Andy makes a face.
“Ugh. You really are a goodie goodie, Davis.”
“Andy,” he corrects, smiling when Sid puts the pack away.
Sid tilts his head, staring at Andy like he’s deciding something. “Yeah,” he says, right as Andy begins feeling anxious.
Then Sid is reaching for him with both hands, pulling Andy in by his polo and kissing him. It’s deep from the outright, a collision of teeth and tongue, lacking finesse. Andy’s hands flop uselessly at his sides before fitting them to Sid’s jacket collar and tugging him closer, the denim rough against his fingertips.
The kiss slows, softens, before picking up again. Andy’s sure the small moans are coming from his own throat. Sid isn’t laughing, though. Sid is simply kissing him harder until they both have to pull apart to breathe.
“Um.”
“Hey, Andy, do me a favor?”
Andy’s so surprised at Sid using his first name that he nearly forgets to ask, “What?”
“Don’t think so much.”
Then he kisses Andy one more time before turning around and getting in his car.
He leaves Andy standing in the middle of the parking lot with tingling lips and a dazed smile.
Sid honks as he drives away, one hand raised out the window in a wave as he goes.
Andy walks the few feet to climb into his own car. He smiles down at his still shaking hands as he places them on the wheel. He thought coming back home meant a return to familiarity. But maybe, just maybe, Andy is about to embark on an adventure in his own backyard.
Andy puts the key in the ignition and begins counting down the hours until he sees Sid in class again.
The End