Free With or Without You by Brian Farrey Page A

you understand? I’ve been laughed at my entire life and when you express this much confidence in me, it chokes me and I’d run but there’s nowhere to go because you’re the only place I’ve come to know .
    I don’t cry. I will later.
    It’s an odd sensation to get what you want and still feel terrified. Inside, aspiration accelerates, blurring everything I know. Outside, my face slackens, resolve masquerades as rejection. Erik sees the battle behind my eyes, the uncertainty in my posture. I watch as his shoulders slowly deflate.
    I set the ticket down on the bed. He’s still holding my face, his thumbs pressing gently just under my eyes. I slide my hands up to his shoulders and knead the muscles softly.
    “I love you, Erik.”
    We kiss. When he draws back, he’s crying.
    “I am such a jerk.”
    And the brooding resurfaces. I can see the ghosts of disastrous relationships hover over his head. His Kryptonite: insecurity over past failures.
    “This has always been my problem. I throw too much too fast at people.” He stands and wipes his eyes.
    I should feel completely smothered by everything Erik is suggesting. But in the presence of this mostly confident, slightly wacky, completely caring guy, I am strangely calm. Eye-of-the-storm calm.
    “Hey there, Self Pity, party of one.” I try to sound reassuring in my joke. “I love that you’ve put so much thought into this.”
    Erik half laughs, half sobs. “Yeah. Too much thought.”
    I want to say something to reassure him, but before I can think of what that is, he sinks to his knees.
    “Okay, Evan, look. I can’t take back anything I said tonight. Largely because I meant it all. But I don’t expect an answer right now. I don’t even want one. I want you to go home and just … think. It’s a lot to consider, I know. Take your time. We’ve worked too hard at this for you to make a decision at the speed of stupid.”
    I laugh. This was how Erik’s dad taught him to take his time when making decisions. He claimed that the fastest speed in the universe wasn’t the speed of light but the speed of stupid. Intelligence is slow, measured. Stupidity is lightning-quick, impulsive. Every decisionErik makes glides along at the speed of smart.
    He takes my hand and gets that very, very serious look on his face. “Don’t rush this. You’ve got all summer to come up with an answer. You’ve got, in fact, until August eleventh.”
    I ruffle his hair and he snorts. I’ve never done that. It’s usually vice versa. It feels good to turn the tables. To be the vice versa.
    “Okay,” I agree. “I’ll think about it.” The salmon-colored ticket is neither hot nor cold in my fingers. It’s barely there. I don’t need to think about it. I don’t want to think about it. But for him, I will.
    We’re both quiet. Erik stands, shifting his weight between his feet—back and forth—and nibbling the corner of his lower lip. My gut tells me this is a new entry for the DictionErik: Yeah, let’s talk about that is about to happen. He takes a deep breath.
    “There’s one thing, though. And it’s kind of important.”
    I nod. I know exactly where this is going and there’s nothing I can do.
    Erik smiles. No. Not exactly a smile. He tries to smile but it comes off looking more pained. “Evan, I’ve … I’ve been a good boyfriend, right?”
    I shake and laugh nervously. “Are you kidding? The best.” Does that mean anything from someone who has nothing to compare it to? I can only hope.
    “I mean, I don’t think I’ve put a lot of pressure on you. Well, not before tonight, I mean.”
    No pressure. I feel no pressure.
    He continues. “I’ve tried to be there when you needed to talk and I’ve let you have space when you weren’t ready. I’ve tried to be supportive without butting in.”
    It’s all true. Erik has been close when I needed him and retreated when the time was right. And I’ve allowed this. In many ways, I’ve encouraged it.
    Erik has infinite