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The year was 1948 and the season was spring. Students at Columbia University were anticipating the coming spring break with celebratory energy. For Tommy Fontaineaux, that anticipation was a little more bittersweet, because while he was preparing to visit home and see his family and friends for the first time in months, his roommate and best friend Vincent Whittman had once again declined to join him. It was hardly a surprise at this point; Vincent said more or less the same thing every time. “Sorry, Tommy! Maybe next time.” And he’d drop the name of some girl he’d be staying with instead, a different person every time, some of them Tommy didn’t think he’d ever met. And it would put a tiny little knot in Tommy’s stomach every time.
But Vincent’s rejections were always spoken with a twinkle in his eye and a particular crooked grin that warmed Tommy’s heart, so he couldn’t let the rejection bother him all that much. But, as much as he always loved seeing home again, he wasn’t looking forward to being apart from Vincent. When they were apart, he missed him and he worried for him. As incredible and driven as he was, Vincent had a tendency to get himself into glum moods that could last quite a while, and he hated the idea of that happening when he couldn’t be there to nudge him back in the right direction. It was so much harder to help when he couldn’t be there ay the onset.
He wished Vincent would just come with him next time. They only had one more year left of school, and there were only so many chances left. He wanted Vincent to see New Orleans at least once. Just once chance to show his most important person everything there was to love about his home city. That wasn’t so much to ask for, right?
But if the day would come when he’d be able to do that, it wasn’t today.
Tommy’s sulking was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, loudly, and then slamming shut even more loudly. Vincent came in and began huffing around the room, pacing and putting his things away with so little care that it was obvious something was wrong.
And Tommy, not one to disappoint, asked him what it was.
“I heard that Jenkins won the Student Journalism Award. So. That’s great for him,” said Vincent, with barely concealed irritation. Immediately he went into the bathroom, closed the door, and when the sound of running water finally stopped, he emerged only to collapse into bed, going unresponsive to all future queries.
It wasn’t an outrageous time of evening to go to sleep, really, but Tommy was certain there was more to this than a long day and Vincent wanting to get to bed early. Vincent had, after all, been in the running for the Student Journalism Award too, and while the winner wasn’t set to be officially revealed until next week, evidently rumors weren’t going to wait around that long.
This was a sign, surely, of stormy days ahead. Vincent had been coveting that award for months, ever since he’d heard the speech given by last year’s recipient. Even Tommy had to admit the speech had been particularly inspiring—the applause had been thunderous—so when Vincent had started talking about wanting to be the one at that podium next year, Tommy had been almost as excited as he was. If anyone deserved their efforts recognized, surely it was Vincent. He’d never known anyone else so driven by their passions.
The downside of that, perhaps, being that Vincent could get incredibly invested in the outcome of whatever his current passion was. And sometimes he got more emotional about things than other people tended to.
There wasn’t much Tommy could do about it right now, though. He made sure Vincent had some water by his bed and thought about what he should do in the morning.
It was a toss-up as to whether Vincent would willingly admit to being upset over the award in the morning, but that was fine. Tommy had a formula for these situations, and as long as he didn’t screw up his execution, he knew he’d be able to help his friend pick himself back up quicker.
Come morning, Tommy waited just long enough to be sure Vincent wasn’t going to wake up on his own and then left for breakfast. He didn’t get much more than a groggy grumble in response to his “Hey, Vincent, I’m grabbing breakfast. You want me to bring you back anything?” but he hadn’t really expected one. He headed to the closest cafe and ordered a smattering of his favorites—double helpings of anything portable enough to bring back to the dorm—and found a gathering of friends and acquaintances to chat with over breakfast. They’d all heard about Harold Jones winning the Student Journalism award too. True or not, the rumor had legs. But that was fine. It didn’t exactly change Tommy’s plans.
When he got back to the room, Vincent was still asleep. Or mostly asleep. Lying motionless in bed, at any rate.
“Morning, Vin!” he said cheerfully, depositing a plate of goodies on the bedside table. An assortment of grains, fruits, and other things he knew Vincent enjoyed. “It’s Saturday! Got any big plans for the day?”
Vincent grumbled and rolled over in bed, opening his eyes just long enough to mumble “Not really, no.”
“Aw, really? Well… The weather’s so nice today, I was going to go for a walk through the park! You should come along if you don’t have any other plans.”
“Not really in the mood for a walk,” came the reply, spoken into Vincent’s pillow.
“Come on, Vin! It’s Saturday! You can’t waste the day in bed,” said Tommy, and when this failed to rouse Vincent, he added, “I brought you a bagel. If you don’t want to come with me, at least eat something, okay?”
Vincent glowered at the plate, uninspired to reach for anything on it, but he did look at it, at least, and with another minute or two of prodding, he eventually sat up, ate a bit, and seemed more or less willing to stay awake and move around. The threat of having Tommy nearly hand feed him apple slices was particularly effective. Something to remember, maybe.
Still, lazing in bed all day had been averted, so that was step one complete!
Step two: give him something to enjoy.
“It’ll be worth it, I promise! They’ve got this new machine that makes gelato!” Tommy spread his hands with a flourish on the last word to emphasize how fancy it was. He hadn’t actually tried the stuff yet to confirm that it was actually as fancy and impressive as it sounded. But it did sound fancy and he’d heard it was impressively tasty, so he’d added it on to his agenda of a walk in the park in the hopes of further tempting Vincent to leave the room. If Tommy left without him, he would go back to bed and he would sleep all day and he’d continue to do so for as many days as it took him to pull out of this particular funk.
Tommy really didn’t enjoy watching him be so miserable.
“But I’ve been meaning to try it for ages, Vin. And it’ll be so much more fun together. You should come try it too! My treat.”
“I don’t know. Do they have it in orange creamsicle?” asked Vincent, who had begrudgingly stood up to pick some clothes out of his dresser while Tommy sat on the edge of his bed kicking his legs excitedly. Really he was more excited at how well his process was working than he was about fancy ice cream, but Vincent didn’t need to know that.
“Only one way to find out, Vin! Come on, let’s go try it!”
Vincent abruptly started undressing and pulled his nightshirt off, giving Tommy a startling eyeful of his bare chest before he managed to avert his eyes, which is what was best for everyone involved even if it was a little difficult. It wasn’t that he liked seeing his best friend’s body or anything! He just had a healthy admiration for Vincent’s dedication to staying so impressively in shape, and it just made him… embarrassed every time he was reminded of the stark difference between Vincent and himself, who would never be able to attain that level of fitness.
That was what he was prepared to tell anyone who ever noticed the heat that sometimes came to his cheeks in such situations, anyway. Including Vincent himself, whose friendship was far too important to Tommy to risk tarnishing with any uncomfortable truths.
Just a bit more prodding later, Vincent had joined him in the great outdoors that was campus. In truth it wasn’t quite green enough to be described like that, but it was greener than most of the rest of the city, and today the weather was pleasant, the air fresher than usual, enough so to put a bit of a springtime bounce in one’s step.
Tommy tried to keep Vincent occupied on the walk around campus. He had a feeling he knew where his thoughts would start to wander otherwise. So he babbled about the latest news, the gossip he’d heard earlier that week, running his supply of things to say until it was nearly dry. He was about to resort to talking about his hometown and his spring break plans, which Vincent had already heard about several times, when Vincent finally started to chat back to him!
That felt like a good sign.
When they did make it to the shop, the place was quite crowded, and it was no mystery why. Turns out going to try a popular new dessert at lunchtime on a beautiful Saturday wasn’t an especially novel idea.
Amid the crowd of strangers and distant acquaintances, a few familiar faces popped out to greet them—well, mostly Vincent, because who didn’t want to talk to Vincent?—and a few even expressed their condolences about the award. This made Tommy nervous, at first, but Vincent came to life under the attention, and he greeted everyone cheerfully, not letting any hard feelings show. It was encouraging, but Tommy knew Vincent would just as readily go back to bed and sleep the day away given the opportunity, so he couldn’t relax yet.
By the time they made it to the front of the line, the train of greetings had slowed, and they’d both had time to pick what they wanted to order. Two scoops for Tommy, chocolate and coffee; and three for Vincent, vanilla and lemon and a scoop of strawberry Tommy had tacked on to apologize for there not being any orange creamsicle.
Tommy paid, just as promised, and when he passed Vincent his bowl with a beaming smile, it earned him the ghost of one back. Not the showy thing he’d flashed all the people who had come to chat earlier, either. Something softer that made Tommy giggle in spite of himself.
Okay, okay! Focus! There were more important things to think about right now. Vincent needed him.
“It is a shame about that award, though,” said Tommy once they’d settled at a table to eat and finished debating which flavors were best and whether gelato was even any better than ordinary ice cream (Tommy felt it was, but Vincent didn’t seem to have the same appreciation for the extra smooth texture). “I wonder how he even knows he won. Nothing’s been officially announced, right? You reckon he’s got an uncle on the judge panel who rigged it for him or something? I hear that sort of thing happens surprisingly often.”
He hadn’t heard any such rumors about this particular case, but that wasn’t the point.
“You think? That’d be awfully convenient,” said Vincent. “Maybe he just wrote a really good article.”
“It would have had to be awfully good. When I saw what you wrote, I was sure you had it in the bag,” said Tommy, letting himself mope a little. He really had been hoping to see his best friend up on that podium giving an impassioned speech about the ethics and responsibilities of journalism.
Vincent shrugged. “Guess the judges thought differently,” he said, and that was the cue to change the subject again. No sense in pushing the issue so hard that Vincent just felt patronized. Baby steps.
So they talked about their courses for the next semester, about the nice weather and how long it was going to hang around, about the curmudgeonly old dorm supervisor and how he must spend all night pressing a stethoscope against their door and straining his ears for any sign of conversation past curfew.
It was fun. Talking to Vincent was always fun. Vincent was clever and funny and so talented—and very good-looking, to boot (it was fine for Tommy to admit this. They were roommates!). Normally, he was so full of ideas that he carried every conversation, so wasn’t it only fair that Tommy should do the same at times like this, when Vincent was in a bit of a slump? He didn’t think he was quite as good at it—Vincent would probably never have to stoop to talking about the weather—but that was fine! It wasn’t a competition. It was about keeping Vincent occupied and entertained enough to stop him wallowing in feelings of defeat.
And, while he supposed it was subjective, Tommy liked to think that his friend even seemed to be enjoying himself, just a little. Could he say that that was step two tentatively completed, at least for the moment?
They were done eating and about ready to leave by the time it felt like the right time to bring up his idea for step three (give him something to look forward to!).
“Say, Vincent. Got any plans for the very start of spring break?”
“The usual, I guess? Going to stay with Cindy.” Tommy didn’t know who that was. Could have sworn it was a different name than who Vincent had told him he’d been planning to spend the break with two weeks ago, even. “Why? I already told you I’m not going to New Orleans.”
“No, I know!” said Tommy, still chipper even though the dismissive way Vincent spoke about his hometown put a tiny little knot in his stomach. “It’s just, I’m not heading down right away this year. I have a few free days to kill here first, and so, I was thinking… Don’t you think it’s crazy we’ve never been down to the aquarium before?”
Obviously it wasn’t news to Tommy that Vincent liked aquatic life—that was why he’d picked this activity to suggest in the first place. He’d heard all about his favorites, most of which seemed to be sharks, many times. But, even when you knew it was coming, seeing Vincent Whittman’s eyes flicker over to you so sharply, watching his face transform into something more eager, with real anticipation tugging at the corners of his mouth… It would be enough to put butterflies in anyone’s stomach! Probably.
Okay, focus!
“I was thinking we could make a day trip of it! If—If you want! Just if you’re free. No pressure or anything.” It felt a little silly that he was still nervous to invite Vincent to almost anything, even something he was almost sure to enjoy. Maybe getting turned down so much was starting to have adverse effects. Or maybe it was that he’d just had to have the thought that what he was proposing sounded a lot like a date, and that was making his heart flutter. Which was absurd, because his motives were pure! He had nothing to be scared of.
“Mmm, I don’t know…” Vincent hummed and hawed for a while, making out like he was thinking really hard about it. Anyone could see from the smirk he was wearing that he was just pretending, but Tommy still didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he gave in and said, “All right. Since you practically begged me and all. I’ll come.”
And oh, there! There it was! The smile Tommy had been hoping to see! That cheeky, cocky, confident thing that never failed to either lift Tommy’s spirits or make him go a little mushy inside, but usually both at the same time. The smile that made it all worth it; the reason Tommy was sure he’d gladly help pull his friend out of a thousand ruts if need be.
“You mean it? Great! I’ll plan the whole thing out, don’t you worry. I heard they’ve got touch pools there, full of fish you can pet without hurting them! It’s gonna be so much fun!”
It was a shame they couldn’t spend all afternoon and evening together, too, but Tommy did have a study group to go to, and Vincent seemed to have bounced back enough that he probably wasn’t going to make a beeline for the dorm and his bed the moment he was left to his own devices. So the two of them parted ways until evening, with Vincent claiming he was going to make up for having missed his usual morning jog, and Tommy had no real reason to doubt this even though he was still a smidge worried.
He was often at least a little worried for Vincent, who had higher highs and lower lows than anyone else Tommy knew, and it wasn’t always easy to predict when they would come and go. Sometimes all Tommy could do was hope that it was within his power to help.
He could have worried about it all day, but he did his best to focus on the study group. He did have his own education to consider, after all, so he told himself it was best not to be so attentive that he smothered Vincent, and let the confusion and frustration of math consume his mind for a little while.
Tommy didn’t see Vincent again until later in the evening, but he was pleased to see that when he entered the dorm room, his roommate was still dressed and out of bed, working on homework.
“Evening, Vin! How was your day? Did you get your run in? Here, mail for you.” Tommy tossed a few envelopes onto Vincent’s desk before collapsing into his own chair and absently sorting through his own mail, which was all the usual. Coupons and ads, one of his magazines, a letter from home. He set that one aside to open later, when Vincent was out. Vincent never seemed to get many letters from home in the mail, which Tommy felt was strange and a little sad, but had no intention of ever commenting on or calling attention to.
“Sure did. Was a little warm for it with the sun out, though. My day was… fine. This lit essay is kind of a load of shit. Listen to this,” said Vincent. “‘Describe three moral lessons we can take from Don Quixote. Back up your reasoning with examples and quotes from the text. Eight pages minimum.’”
Encouraged by the enthusiasm of Vincent’s disdain, Tommy abandoned the rest of his mail and roamed to Vincent’s side of the room, settling on his bed. Vincent threw an arm over the back of his chair and looked over at him, clearly expecting a reaction as he went on.
“Are you hearing this shit? Moral lessons? How about, uh, keep your grip on reality, stupid?” he said, which surprised Tommy into giggling.
Vincent, further emboldened, continued: “Second lesson, don’t pick a fight with a windmill. Or anyone else, when you’re so high on your delusions a stiff breeze could knock you over. Lastly: Reading books will make you lose your mind, so preferably never learn to read in the first place!”
Tommy was more or less in hysterics now, half because he always found Vincent’s jokes funny and half because it made him so happy to see his best friend already bounced back enough to be cracking jokes.
“Don’t learn to read? Isn’t that a little extreme?” he laughed.
“Yeah, well. This stupid book makes me wish I’d never learned to read. Maybe I’m projecting.”
While Tommy descended into another fit of giggles, Vincent examined the letters that had been dropped into his desk, tore one open, and went unsettlingly still and quiet.
“…Huh,” was all he said, and in a flash Tommy was right there beside him, so eager to get a glimpse at the letter he almost didn’t notice he’d grabbed Vincent’s shoulders instead of the back of his chair.
“What is it? What’s wrong? It’s not bad news, is it?”
“Read for yourself.”
“…Oh, so we are reading now?”
“Tommy. Shut up and read it,” snapped Vincent. So Tommy did.
Dear Mr, Whittman,
It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been selected as one of the recipients of the Columbia Student Journalism Award of 1948. Please forward your reception speech to the following address for review…
“…Huh,” said Tommy. “One of the recipients. I thought there was only one winner last year.”
“There was only one last year.”
“Well—! That still means you won, right? Congrats, Vin! That’s great! I knew you’d do it!” exclaimed Tommy, remembering a little belatedly that this was exciting news and not just a mysterious occurrence.
He gave Vincent a light bop on the arm with a fist, and it seemed to shake him out of his own stupor.
“Yeah! Yeah. Great news. Now I can at least spend the rest of the evening writing something worthwhile, huh?” Now Vincent, too, was coming to realize what good news he was holding in his hands, his confused frown gradually correcting himself into an exuberant grin that proved infectious.
The two of them grinned and joked around until bedtime.
In Tommy’s opinion, Vincent’s victory speech blew Harold Jones’s out of the water and even outshone the one they’d both been so inspired by last year. He knew he wasn’t the only one to think so, either, based on the audience reaction to both speeches.
Tommy was practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation leading up to the speech; he hadn’t been able to stop congratulating Vincent all day, even when he started to look a little annoyed by it. After he stepped down from the podium and back into the crowd, though, Vincent never brought up the award in front of Tommy again.
Spring break came and went. They visited the aquarium and Vincent admired all the fish, but mostly the sharks, and Tommy mostly admired Vincent’s awestruck face. The semester eventually wrapped up and everyone parted ways for the summer, but through it all, not once did Vincent call back to the award or his speech or the adulations he’d received for it.
Part of him liked to think that his best friend was just that impressively humble, but even Tommy couldn’t honestly tell himself that humility was one of Vincent’s virtues. The reality was different; Vincent was always looking forward, not unlike the sharks he loved so much. Give it another week or two and he’d have some new goal to strive for, his previous accomplishments all but forgotten. Tommy did find it admirable how much Vincent pushed himself, how he never let himself get complacent, but sometimes he did wish his friend would learn to slow down once in a while to stop and smell the roses. Appreciate the little things around him.
Things like… the people he might not have all that much time left with. Tommy, at least, was painfully aware that as they entered their last year of college, the end of their time together was fast approaching. In just one more year, once they’d graduated, there was no guarantee they’d ever see each other again.
But being ambitious to a fault was just part of who Vincent was. Vincent Whittman, Tommy’s best friend, roommate (at least for a little while longer), and the man he was in love with. The man he desperately wished he could look forward to spending the rest of his life with, not just a few more months. Whom he definitely fantasized about kissing, sometimes, lying awake in bed on sleepless nights.
Vincent naturally didn’t know about any of that, and Tommy didn’t intend for him to ever learn (no mater how many times it gave him a flutter of hope to see Vincent show indifference to his many female admirers, sometimes even his own rotation of girlfriends). His biggest hope really was simply to persuade Vincent to slow down and enjoy this last year they had together, even though he knew that was more or less a lost cause. Surely bigger, better things awaited Vincent after graduation. He was always talking about what grand plans he had for his life. All Tommy had to look forward to was his looming engagement to a lovely woman he knew he’d never be able to love the way he was supposed to; the way she probably deserved.
He wasn’t ready yet to let go of the life he had now. He knew it couldn’t last forever, but… One year. One whole year. Just one year.
All he could do was try to make every day count.