Peter

Peter is the second friend that I have come out to, apart from Betty who I have befriended since young. I have decided to tell him the truth, aware of the devastating backlash should Peter be repulsed by my deception and spread the news of my sexuality around the varsity, because of that crazy Christmas night spent at his home. The feeling of guilt has been like a boulder weighing me down ever since, growing with each day, so much so that I cannot even look Selena and Peter in the eye without seeing myself as the worst kind of bastard. It was during my last year in the varsity and Peter being one year my senior was preparing for his and Selena's convocation. I have asked him out to East Coast on the pretext of wanting company to cycle. It was a Sunday morning and Peter did not have any plans to take Selena on a date.

"Yo, Good morning oh mighty Witch." Peter greeted. He had known about my faith as a witch and was very cool about it being a free thinker himself.

"Idiot! I asked you here to cycle not tell the world that I am a witch. You know I can jolly well turn you into a frog or make pimples break out everywhere on your face." I responded, a tinge of smile in my voice.

We have been baiting each other like this since that fateful afternoon when I brought him home after our Orientation camp and he accidentally chanced upon my books on witchcraft. That was 3 to 4 years ago. We had progressed from total strangers in a new institution to becoming fast friends after being doused with mud and soapy water, made to squawk like ducks and singing about safe sex in front of a condom shop before a sea of people. I had no choice but to explain to him about how witches are not what most people think we are. Thankfully, he did not freak out on me and our friendship had blossomed.

"Man, frog I can handle but Selena is going to kill me if she sees those red spots on my face." He grinned.

"That's the whole idea! Uhm, did you wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning? You look like crap." I commented, noticing his slightly unkempt hair and ugly combination of a pair of tights and a worn shirt with the words "Back off" scribbled in red at the front.

Peter wasn't good-looking by a long shot. It was true he had a fantastic built and was quite tall, being a volleyball player. His body was well developed, just the right amount of meat in the right places. No bulging chests and grossly disproportional limbs like those of a weight-lifter. A toned abdomen that had the shape of 8 cells of hard flesh but not too defined. The muscles that he had were sleek and continuous, like those of dancer's. But that was about all that was intriguing about him. There were pimple scars, not too many, on the forehead and his eyes are slightly sunken because of the hours of staying up late to catch up with his studies. He had more or less a normal Asian face, black hair and tanned skin.

"Duh, I haven't got time to look in the mirror this morning. But what difference does it make? We are here to cycle not model. Besides you don't look fabulously dressed Mr. Fashion Critic." He made a face to emphasize his point.

"Hello? You don't have to dress like a beggar to go cycling do you? The key is to be neat." I retorted.

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say. You sound like my mum who nags at me when I go to bed without changing into my pyjamas."

"I'm not your mother. She is a sweet lady but I don't look THAT old, no offense." I said, wrinkling my nose in a mock show of disgust.

Peter laughed.

"Okay, I get the idea. Now seriously, are we going to cycle or sit here and chat the whole day? We better move our butts if we want to skip the crowd."

"Erm, okay." I complied, making a mental note to force myself to tell him everything after the cycling trip.

East Coast is one of the favorite holiday haunts to hang out at during weekends or long breaks because of the great number of chalets and extensive space for recreational activities. One can cycle, roller-blade or picnic on the undulating green lawns. There is a variety of restaurants and food outlets for those who do not wish to cook or are particular about their meals. Arcade centres for the kids who tire of outdoor play. Its close proximity to the sea with a sandy beach makes it popular for people who want to get away from the barren city life of high rise buildings. As a result, it was quite packed that day and we had to wait our turn before we could rent two mountain bikes.

On foot, travelling the whole of East Coast may take several hours but on bike, it depends on how fast one cycles, probably an hour or more for the average person. Since Peter and I were there to relax ourselves, we decided to ride leisurely. The day was cool with generous breezes of salty sea air and we had a great time, although I noticed there was something amiss in Peter's attitude that I couldn't quite put a finger to. He was talkative and witty as usual but his attention was seriously lacking.

"Yo buddy, what's wrong?" I asked, slowing down to search for a place to rest.

Peter kept on riding. I called again. On the third time, he turned around and saw that I had parked my bike next to a tree and was sitting on a bench not far away. He reversed his bike and cycled back.

"I had to call three times before you responded. Are you sure you are okay?" I inquired with concern.

"Nah, I'm fine just that something is bugging me." He replied, flopping onto the seat next to me.

"Selena problem?" I questioned, stretching my arms into the air and letting the wind blow across them.

He made a face.

"Job problem then?" I continued, thinking he was having trouble getting employed. Fresh graduates are getting too common nowadays.

He shook his head.

"Nope. Selena and I had both found work. She is a financial controller at an accountancy firm whereas I am being hired by my attachment company as a mechanical engineer."

"Then what's bothering you? Oh I get it, not enough funds to go backpacking huh?"

"Don't be dumb. My parents have promised to pay for the expenses, besides I have some savings. Its more than sufficient."

"Uhm then? I am not Sherlock Holmes so cut the mystery and come clean." I feigned a serious look.

"Yes Sir. Don't want to get turned into a frog." He saluted and we both grinned.

"Well, it is something that I have been wanting to ask you for a long time" He paused a while.

"And?" I prodded, my interest piqued.

"I have been thinking about this and is in a dilemma as to how to broach this subject with you." He provided.

"Yeah, dilemma is spelt with a double M. Don't beat around the bush, mister."

"Okay.... Do you remember the Christmas night when I invited the gang and you to my house?" He queried.

My breath froze and my heart stopped in my breast.

"Ehhh...yeah" I supplied weakly, fully cognizant of where this was going.

"My Dad lost his gold Rolex watch at that time and had suspected it was you because you were the earliest to leave that night. I defended you to him but somehow I was skeptical about you too since nobody knew exactly when you went home. In the end, it was all a misunderstanding because Dad had misplaced his watch before he and Mum departed for the trip." He uttered in
a continuous flow.

I expelled a sigh of relief. He did not remember!

"I mean you are such a good friend and I did not trust you. I feel so ashamed of my behavior" Peter stated in a low voice, his ears blushing with embarrassment. It was an endearing trait of his when he had done something wrong, I realized.

Sincerity and honesty were what drew me to Peter. I was more of an introvert and required some time to warm up to a relationship. During the short interval of a week or so of freshman orientation, I knew it was a difficult task for me to make lasting friendships. But Peter's open and selfless outlook on friendship broke the ice between us. He seldom minced his words if I had done something wrong and was willing to give a helping hand whenever I needed one, no matter how busy he was. We gave each other support as we went through the trials and tribulations of university life. Peter, being the senior, was forever providing me with tips and frequently softcopies of reports as references. He did not expect any form of reciprocation on my part, except that I had to treat him as an equal and a confidant.

It were times like this when he cared enough about our friendship that he mustered the courage to bring things out to the open and cleared the cobwebs of distrust, which made me felt inferior standing beside him.

"You are not angry, are you Stef?" Peter looked at me.

I remained quiet, fighting the war waging internally.

"Come on, make acne sprout on my face or turn me into a rat or a mouse. It will make you feel better." He joked, hoping to disperse the cloud of unease that was forming.

"I...erm..." My mind was frantically looking for the words to tell him I was gay.

"I am serious about the frog and acne thing if that would make you happy. I don't want our friendship to end just like that."

I nodded, gulping down some saliva and wetting my lips. How silly it was of me to crack my brain for the appropriate phrases when I had long known them by hear.

"Peter, thank you for sharing that bit of secret with me. I know how hard it is for you. I too have not been completely honest with you either."

Peter's face beamed an angelic smile that was shortly replaced by a disconcerted look.

"I was sorta forced to escape home that Christmas night. Remember how everyone who was there had a blurred memory of the party?"

He cocked his head.

"I had been meddling with potions for sometime and well, somewhere along the way, my naughty side decided to play a joke on the gang. I had mixed an aphrodisiac and brought it to the party."

His eyes squinted while a confounded frown appeared on his forehead. He was about to interrupt when I motioned him to let me continue.

"You must be wondering why bring a potion that enhances sex drive to an all-guys night out? Think again about how you pestered me about why I didn't bring my girlfriend to our outings? Not once did I answer your questions directly, did I?"

He considered that notion for awhile, as those intelligent eyes of his rolled around in circles. His eyes shot wide open the instant what I was hinting at hit home.

"Jesus, don't tell me..erm....you are like...effeminate?" He held his hand in a female like gesture.

I had no idea if I should weep or laugh.

"The politically correct term is 'gay'. I am gay. No I am not feminine like, have you ever seen me act girlish before? No, right? I just happen to like guys more than gals. To be more exact, people of the same sex."

"Oh my god, so you are one of those......" He stopped, on the verge of using the unfair stereotypes commonly used.

"No, I am not one of those whatever they are. I am just like you and everybody out there. I am born of a woman. I fall sick, get hurt and yearn for love. The difference is I like men instead of women." I said, a bit offended.

"Chill man, this is way too much for me to handle. You like men. Whoa, that explains why you seem to ogle so much at those male athletes in school and knows practically all their names by heart. I can't believe it." He reasoned, a dazed look in his eyes.

"Holy shit, then there were those times when you pretended you had a girlfriend but was evasive whenever we asked to see her, making up excuses that she was out of the country or she was too shy to meet us. I knew there was something wrong, I mean it was preposterous a girl would be frightened to see her boyfriend's friends if she truly meant to go steady with him. She was a red herring wasn't she? To throw us off guard?"

"Peter, I..." I tried to pat him on the shoulders but he reflexively jumped out of my reach.

"I know this looks bad but I can explain" I tried to appeal to his logic but to no avail. Peter was hopping onto his bike in seconds and was peddling away. He did not even wave goodbye.

For days, Peter did not contact me and neither did I bother to call him. I buried myself in books and worked out my vexations through sweeping and scrubbing the house, from the floors to the walls, anything that could occupy my mind. Dad was unhappy and attempted to counsel me. That didn't work.

Papa used another approach, he ordered me to run errands, often for several hours non-stop, hoping that it would lower my defenses and I would cry out my sorrows when I felt tired. That didn't work either. Papa was considering to use the last resort, to walk into my mind, when an unexpected visitor came on a Saturday afternoon.

I was in the kitchen, slicing some carrots when I heard the doorbell rang. Finding it strange that we should be anticipating any guest since Antonio had flown to Japan in the morning after staying over for the night, I cleaned my hands and strolled out to the living room. Dad had answered the door.

"Hi Mr. Mcloughlin" the man rasped.

"Thank the Gods, Peter, its you!" Dad exclaimed.

"Is Stefan in?" Peter asked.

I was stunned, unable to move or think.

"Of course, come on in." Dad let Peter in and half pushed me to meet our guest.

"I believe the two of you have a lot of unfinished business to discuss. I will make myself scarce." Dad commented and made his way to the study that was round the corner, some distance away from the kitchen.

Somehow, my senses managed to kick into action and I gestured to Peter to make himself comfortable. But it seemed he would much rather stand.

"Uhmm..." Peter stuttered, apparently fetching for words.

I merely stared blankly at him.

"This...is...not going to be easy, buddy." Peter stumbled on.

Anger flared from nowhere at his audacity to call me on such friendly terms when he actually ran away and hid himself in his safe haven. I had believed our friendship to be over then.

"I..know you are..furious and I blame myself." Peter rushed on, accurately reading my mood.

"You can bet your arse I am" I ejaculated, frost covering my voice. I could not trust myself to speak anymore, less I got violent and did something I would regret later.

"I can..explain.."

"That sounds familiar." I sneered.

"You have got to hear my side of the story, man. Please?" He persisted.

Perhaps it was the desperation in the message or the sudden thought of how I would react if I were in his shoes that made me held back the caustic remarks. I crossed my arms and tapped my fingers impatiently, waiting for the ball to drop.

"Errmm..." He delayed and I shot daggers at him with my eyes.

"Okay...no need to look like you are going to chop off my head. Well, here goes. I have been contemplating for days, weighing our friendship and my beliefs and deliberating which to select. You have to realize all my life I have never known guys who like other guys and I have grown up believing a man must love a woman. Without warning you drop this nuclear bomb in my happy,
peaceful world. How am I supposed to cope with all that?" He explained.

I uncrossed my arms, relinquishing the pose of defense.

"I appreciate how you must have cared for our friendship to tell me that you are what you are. But you cannot expect me to suddenly say, Hey I'm cool, do you? It doesn't work that way. Witchcraft I can accept because its just another faith of course knowing that it is not worshipping demons helps a lot. You scared the living daylights out of me that day. I was thinking, god help me, here was a guy who actually wanted to kiss my arse. Physically and not metaphorically, mind you."

I bit back a smile. Much of my anger had dissipated. Peter saw my lips twitched with mirth and grinned a little. I immediately put on the mask of coldness again. I wasn't about to let him get away so easily.

"Frankly, I had spent these past days doing some serious thinking. There were times I really felt like giving up. I mean, that would be the fastest way out of the mess. My beliefs would remain intact but the catch would be I would lose a valuable friend. The thing that helped me made up my mind was this photograph."

Peter held up a picture of the two of us, half naked in a man-sized drain, our feet soaked in reddish-brown, clay filled water. It was taken during our orientation camp.

"Here was a guy who I had only known for less than two days and he was willing to join me in my humiliation. I knew then that we were meant to be friends, regardless of our backgrounds, likes or dislikes. Some may think what is the big deal with two men having a bath in mud, especially those who have been through the army. But to a foreign student who has been born with a silver spoon, borrowing that cliche, getting drenched with mud and cheering loudly about how I love it, no matter how false it sounds, is the worst form of punishment."

Peter held out his hand in a handshake. I hesitated.

"Friends?" He inquired.

"I think frogs and pimples are too good for you. Maybe a toad or a rat."

I shook his hand and nodded. Both of us smiled. No more words were needed.

We became even closer after this incident. I attended his convocation and he was at mine a year later. Even though both of us are now busy with our jobs and life, we still hang out on Friday nights once a fortnight. I have found a well-paid job at a leading company and Peter is hunting for another more challenging one. Selena is quite satisfied with her work, although Peter hasn't told her that I am gay without having my consent. I am still looking for a chance to tell Peter the rest of what happened on that Christmas night.