Nocturne

Savannah

 

 

I tore out of Fitzgerald’s office door in a flurry, breezing past Nathan, who I’d honestly forgotten was waiting for me.

 

“That … sounded intense.” Nathan followed quickly behind me, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets as we neared the exit.

 

“You think?” I was still breathless from my face-to-face showdown. “Damn, he’s a prick. Did you hear what he said? He had the audacity to say that his treatment of me has nothing to do with my mother.”

 

Nathan shrugged and placed his hand on the exit door. “Maybe it doesn’t, Savannah. You know how Fitzgerald is. And, he didn’t even know who she was until a few weeks ago. He was on your case long before that.” His tone fell flat as he spoke.

 

“Whatever.” I pushed past him and out into the unseasonably warm late-March air. I was still worked up from my first-ever shouting match with a teacher, and I didn’t bother to put on my coat. Looking back, I saw Nathan lagging a few steps behind, looking at the ground. “What?” I stopped, waiting for him to catch up.

 

“He thought I was your boyfriend?” Nathan gave a slight nervous chuckle and brought his eyes to mine.

 

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “No kidding, right?”

 

He shrugged, looking just past my shoulder for a second. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Oh come on!” I rolled my eyes. “Gregory Fitzgerald is so damn out of touch with reality that he can’t even decipher your sexual orientation? You don’t find that the least bit humorous?”

 

Nathan’s face paled for a split second before his nostrils flared and he pointed his eyes damn near through me. “ Wait, you think I’m gay? I’m not gay, Savannah.”

 

I jumped as he shouted the end of his sentence.

 

Looking around the vacant sidewalk, I was knocked dizzy by his words. “Wait. Wait. What? Nathan. Wait.” I was out of breath, my cheeks heating and feeling dizzier still. “Aren’t you?”

 

“No!” He took a step back, running both hands through his hair before turning to the right and storming off.

 

What the hell?

 

“Nathan, wait!” I ran, nearly falling on the still-slick sidewalk before I caught up to him. I grabbed the fabric of his coat and pulled as hard as I could until he was forced to stop and turn to face me. I almost wish he hadn’t. There were actual tears in his eyes. “What do you mean no?”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Savannah? We’ve been friends for ten years!” He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

 

“Yes, I know!” I shouted, matching his volume. “And in ten years I never saw you date anyone—”

 

“We only saw each other during the summers at camp!”

 

“Stop yelling!” I took a breath and felt tears rising in my own eyes. In a much softer voice, I continued, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute. “You never once talked about any girls, not even when we talked during the school year.”

 

“I never mentioned any other girls, Savannah.”

 

“And that time at camp when I was fifteen, when you punched Jared Reese after he grabbed my boobs?” I felt anger at the slimy little saxophonist all over again.

 

“What’d you think that was?” he asked condescendingly.

 

My eyes bugged out. “Uh, sticking the fuck up for me, not you being pissed that someone else copped a feel!”

 

I felt bile rising through my chest and my face flushed.

 

Nathan grabbed my shoulders as I staggered back a step. “What? Are you okay? You look pale.”

 

“I’ve told you everything, Nathan. Everything. Oh my god.” My knees gave out and I collapsed, cross-legged in the snow-covered grass. Squeezing my eyes shut, I placed my head in my hands.

 

“What?” Nathan sounded irritated as he stood in front of me. “Get up, Savannah, you’re going to get soaking wet.”

 

“We hold hands, you kiss my head, I kiss yours … we dance…” I breathed for a few more seconds until I felt Nathan sit next to me. Looking over, I found his knees bent, arms resting on them as he looked ahead.

 

“I’m sorry…” He shook his head and looked at me from the corner of his eye.

 

“You’re sorry? For not being gay? Wait. I’m confused. Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me you weren’t gay?”

 

Nathan scoffed. “I didn’t realize it was an issue.”

 

“You never talked about any girls, Nathan.”

 

And then he said it again, the words that made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut. “No. I never talked about any other girls, Savannah.”

 

Looking over at him, I found Nathan pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about?” My voice was barely a whisper.

 

When he finally opened his eyes to look at me, he didn’t say anything as he stared at me, apparently waiting for something to sink in.

 

It did.

 

I squeezed my eyebrows together, certain I was misinterpreting.

 

Nathan shrugged and cocked his head to the side as he took a deep breath.

 

All of my dizziness and guilt I felt for assuming my friend was gay for the last ten years was instantly replaced by anger.

 

“You’re a bastard,” I hissed as I stood up. Brushing snow from my jeans, I took off in the direction of my dorm.

 

“Excuse me?” Nathan shouted as he ran after me, catching up to me. “You’ve spent the last decade thinking I’m gay and I’m a bastard?”

 

“Jesus Christ, I’ve told you everything! You knew about my first kiss, when I got my fucking period, and … fuck! I told you about when I lost my virginity to that jackass of a trumpet player during our last summer at camp together! This whole time you liked me, or whatever, and you just let me spill my guts to you over and over again?” My mind played over every secret I’d told him, every tear I cried on his shoulder over every boy that had broken my heart.

 

“We’re friends, Savannah, that’s what friends do.”

 

Andrea Randall & Charles Sheehan-Miles's books