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I’ve been looking forward to this evening for months. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous, but I’m excited. It’s been 21 years since I graduated, but only one year since I was last at a Truham/Higgs reunion. One year that has changed my entire life.
Part of me wants to say that Charlie’s the how and why, that Charlie is to thank for my life changing, but I know he’d argue with that. So would my therapist. And Mum, for that matter. They all tell me all the time how much work I’ve put in. That they’re proud of me. I’m proud of me, too. And my life really is enormously different. I still have Lilac and Sterling, but so much is new.
The first new thing, and I’m so grateful it was the first thing, is that I managed to really talk to my mum. I felt so much remorse over how much time I lost with her. I still do, but yeah, we worked hard to catch up on the things we’d missed. She loves larger than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’m deeply thankful she’s my mum. I finally, finally, came out to her, too, and her warm embrace that day will be a memory I hold dear for the rest of my life.
I also quit my job recently. I had plenty in savings, so at the encouragement of my mum and my friends, I’ve taken some time off to do my PGCE. Hopefully in a couple years I’ll be a proper teacher, like I always wanted.
The final big change is that after my own reunion last year, Charlie and I became friends. We met that night, and Darcy and Tara were insistent on planning a few events with Charlie and Elle and Tao. Having queer camaraderie was enormous, and I felt bolder to take more steps to come out. As the two single people among the four coupled friends, Charlie and I were often paired together, and we grew close. For reasons I couldn’t explain, he opened up to me and talked about an eight year long relationship that had soured a couple years previously, some guy who had always despised his own queerness and sort of projected that onto Charlie. He hid Charlie away; he was ashamed to tell people who he was with. For eight years.
I remember feeling so conflicted by that. I was fuming, hearing how he’d treated such an incredible man, but I also felt censure. I didn’t think I’d be any better as a partner, at least if I were to date a man. Not that I told Charlie. He didn’t need to hear about the uglier aspects of my relationship to my queerness, even if I was working on it. No, I just made sure to tell him how glad I was that he saw his worth and left that guy. Over the next few months, any time that relationship came up, I made a point to remind him that his last partner was a twat and that he deserved someone who was proud to be with him, who would shout it across the sea. Because it was true.
After a while, Charlie called me out. We were out in the nearest park by my place walking Lilac and Sterling. Something or someone had reminded him of Ben, and he froze. We spent a good while in a secluded region of the park. Sterling kept one paw on Charlie until he was back in the present again, and Lilac and I kept watch, making sure no one came close enough to further trigger him.
Once we were back at my house and Charlie was wrapped up in blankets with a comforting cup of tea, he told me about his flashback, a verbally abusive moment in which Ben belittled him in a way that no one ever deserves. I listened while my chest tightened, my heart aching for him and my anger towards Ben boiling. When I spoke, I tried to maintain a calm timbre as I reminded him how incredible he was, and Charlie looked at me and saw through it all.
“You tell me that all the time, Nick,” he said softly.
I shrugged and just said, “Because it’s true,” but he didn’t accept the deflection. He shook his head.
“No, I know you believe it, Nick, but it’s more than that. Elle and Tao tell me, too, but…”
“But what?”
“Elle says it encouragingly. Tao says it like it’s fact. But when you say that I deserve so much more, it sounds like… like a credo.” And I suppose it was. It is. Charlie Spring deserves the world. I believe that more than I believe anything. I told him as such, and he smiled in a new way—a small, sure, smile, at first looking off into the distance before his eyes caught mine again. “Most people just say ‘I love you’. You can just… say that. You know?” I remember that moment so viscerally. My blood felt cold in my veins as he stood and walked over to me. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked in a quiet voice.
He was right, obviously. I stammered—I had sort of become a master of stammering and tripping over my words around Charlie Spring. As someone whose entire job was public speaking, it was pitiable how easily one man tore down the most important skill I had. After a couple of minutes, I gave up trying to find the words, and just looked at him. I remember I felt so helpless in that moment.
He must have seen it, because he took pity on me and asked me an easier question, though I think it rested on an assumed ‘yes’ from the first ones. “Why did you not say anything? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“How could I?” I asked, breaking the eye contact he’d held for the past few minutes. “I’m still working on coming out. I couldn’t—I would never want to be another person who hid you away.”
Charlie then placed a hand over my heart and told me that my concern in itself proved I wasn’t like Ben. He assured me that coming out was entirely up to me—who I came out to, and when, and all of that.
Though there were a few obstacles, our relationship blossomed quickly after that day. I worked on the courage to live authentically. Charlie helped, and as I started therapy, the work I did there made it easier and easier.
Which brings me to today. It’s Charlie’s reunion this time. One year since we met, give or take a week. Our lives are so intertwined now. Mum loves him. Elle loves me, Tao tolerates me, and Charlie’s sister Tori has let herself be expressive in my presence, which I’m told is a sign that I’m in. I've met Aled in Zoom calls; he travels loads due to his podcasting, which we've chatted about. We have a bit of overlap in our experiences there, but his narrative podcasts are far more interesting than the self-improvement ones with smarmy hosts that had me on as a guest from time to time in my former life. I'm looking forward to finally meeting Aled and his partner Dan in person tonight.
We’re staying at my mum’s this weekend so we can just walk to the venue. Mum was out of town last night at her sister’s, so we brought the dogs. We had a good time taking advantage of the empty house; as I get dressed after my shower, I gaze at myself in the mirror, smiling sleepily at the love bites on my hips and thighs. I always wake up warm and happy and loved after sleeping next to Charlie, regardless of whether we had sex the night before. Both being with Charlie and being with Charlie has been a revelation. I have learned so much more about myself and my queerness—not only my sexual attraction, but also my romantic attractions and my desires and more. And Charlie’s touch never fails to make me feel grounded and remind me of who I am.
I have a lot of wounds to work through still, a lot of thoughts to reframe in order to alter my emotional life. But it all feels much more insignificant when Charlie is in my arms and looking at me lovingly, like he always does. Every time, I believe a little bit more that I'm worthy of the look.
After tea and a spot of breakfast, we head to the station to pick up Mum. Her train comes in just before noon and we walk home with her, catching up on her trip, on our lives since we came to visit last month, and just nothing at all. She falls into an easy conversation with Charlie about the books they’ve read recently, and my heart swells.
I’m still enormously surprised that I am where I am now. I never thought he’d come along. Our life together is so good, but I never really believed it was in the cards for me. I never thought this would happen to me—that something this good would happen for me. We all laze around the house together, Mum and Charlie land the dogs and I, until dinner's over and it's time to get ready. I head upstairs to change for the reunion. As I walk out of my childhood room wearing the cinnamon-colored suit Char picked out for me, I overhear Mum speaking to him in a hushed voice. I pause on the stairs, not wanting to interrupt, as she gushes about how thankful she is for him. As quiet as she is, her tears are evident when her voice breaks. “I feel like I’ve got my Nicky back, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Charlie says in a low voice. “But I think he deserves most of the credit, honestly. If you could see the work he does for his training and hear how he interrupts himself, even mid-sentence, to reexamine the sort of things he internalized for literal decades… God, I’m so proud of him.”
I blink away the tears that prick my eyes and rush down the stairs. It means so much to hear how they think of me, but I don’t really need to dwell on it. I’d rather just spend the time with them. Before I can enter the sitting room, Charlie walks into the hall. His pale blue eyes sparkle as he looks me over. He pulls me in by the waist and squeezes my sides, and I know without words to tilt my head.
I know in theory it's been less than a year since I first kissed Charlie, but the way we know each other, the way we anticipate and respond to each other, deludes me into believing it's been far longer. His soft lips press against mine, and my mouth falls open to yield to his tongue even before his wordless question. I pull him closer with a hand on the small of his back as my other hand curls around the back of his neck, my fingers brushing the soft curls without combing through them. He turns us slightly, pressing his body against mine so that I'm backed up against the stair railing. God I always lose myself in this man, but it's nothing like how I lost myself in the past. It's more like letting a different part of my senses take the reins, a drive I'd almost forgotten I had.
After another minute—or hour, or year, who can say?—Charlie breaks apart and runs up the stairs to my room, dragging me with him.
I'd hoped to stop by Truham itself before we had to go on to the venue, wanting to walk through the halls and relive some of the moments where we've each admitted to noticing the other. To reminisce on our pasts and reflect on who we've become, separately and together. But well... time got away from us. We pull into the same carpark where we finally met last year.
Charlie's indigo waistcoat with silver embroidery shimmers as we walk up to the hall under a sky that's rapidly deepening to dusk.
We start by finding the bar. It's not to better brace ourselves for the night, as I so often did, but simply to let loose a little more than we do on an average day.
The music already blaring from the main hall has me cringing. Some of my least favorite songs are pouring out of the speakers, but they're popular party songs, I suppose? Or at least, they're popular to adults whose heyday in clubs dancing to Top 40 hits ended about a decade ago. I reckon I probably should have expected the cacophony.
Charlie's schoolmates text us to say where to find them, but first we get caught up chatting with countless faces as we wander through the corridors. Some of the faces I know, most I don't recognize; but Charlie was Head Boy during his sixth form years, so it's no wonder so many people know him. Some of them seem genuinely interested in his life, while others seem more keen on determining if they've one-upped him by now (they haven't).
I introduce myself to the ones who don't already know me, but most, especially the folks who went to Truham, recognize me. They seem taken aback. The first couple times we get a furrowed brow or a skeptical look at the way we're wrapped around each other, I find myself feeling defensive. They know me as the 'Rugby King', or maybe they've even seen my old speeches; they've made assumptions about me, likely the same sort of assumptions that held me back for so many years. Assumptions I tried to live up to for too long. But Charlie's calm, assuring touches remind me of all the ways I've changed and everything I've gained in the past year. We exchange a look, I reintroduce myself to my boyfriend's former classmate, and we move on.
As the night winds on and we talk and dance and exhaust ourselves physically and socially, I can't help but feel elated at how different I am from a year ago. But also the same. I remember thinking I was still the same me, deep down. Really, the past year has been less about becoming a different person and more about becoming more me.
I take a break from it all for a few minutes. Ducking out to escape Mr Brightside, I spot a man who looks familiar. He slips out a side door to a garden, but I'm pretty sure it's one of Harry's cousins. Our last conversation plays through my head again. "I should 've been married by now... pride shit has rotted her brain... you aren't married, same as me, you should be angry." It aches, remembering how close to home it hit. I feel a twinge of smugness though too as I think, not for the first time, about how embracing my bisexuality—'pride shit', as Harry put it—has been a key to loving myself. It's the reason I'm planning a future with Charlie.
After a bit of recharging on my own, I find them all "dancing" again—more like they're jumping and screaming, "Why do you build me up buttercup, baby," at each other, and my cheeks ache from how wide I’m smiling as I join their circle. The chorus fades to the next verse and Charlie turns his gaze to me. “To you I’m a toy, but I could be the boy you adore if you just let me know!” he croons to me, a flirtatious look in his eyes. I just laugh and grab his hips, moving us to the beat while matching the silliness of the group.
When another classic song comes on, there’s a mix of groans and happy shouts throughout the room. As the music builds to the crescendo of the second chorus, a stupid pun comes to my mind. I reach out and wrap my arms around Charlie’s waist and sing to him, shouting my version over the lyrics pouring out of the speakers.
“SWEET CHARLIE MINE BUH BUH BUH GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD!”
He lets me swing him around, swept up in the motions, but he makes a face at me like he’s dismayed by the awful wordplay, offended that I’d use his name in such a travesty. But I see through it, I can see the smile he’s fighting as it tugs at the corners of his mouth. Sure enough, I swing us around again as I belt the next line, and he giggles as his feet leave the ground once more.
“I’VE BEEN INCLINED BUH BUH BUH TO BELIEVE THEY NEVER WOULD”
As I set Charlie back on the floor, his expression softens. I sway us more gently now as the song nears the final chorus. I know our friends are still goofing around right besides us, laughing like hyenas, but I can’t look away. The words I’ve just sung echo through my head, and Neil Diamond repeats himself, giving Charlie and I ample opportunity to speak volumes without saying a word.
The people and the noise falls away and Charlie and I just smile goofily at each other. We're in good times, definitely. And I think we both believe, no matter how much Charlie rolls his eyes at my sappiness, that any other "good times", whether in our past or in a different universe without each other... they never could seem so good as this.