CHAPTER 5

Maybe it’s a bitter wind

That chilled from the pacific rim

That brought you this way

Naturally, Kurt’s decision to stay doesn’t solve all his problems. But it’s a start and it’s definitely much better than Lima, Ohio. His first priority now is to find a job – any job will work to start with. After I nag him long enough, he agrees to borrow a little money from me, for his basic needs – just until he gets his first paycheck, he insists. We also get a phone for him and on Monday he starts job searching. On Thursday evening I come from work to find Kurt not quite smiling – I haven’t seen him smile yet since he came here – but radiating satisfaction. He’s got a job at a café just around the corner. It’s not much, but it’s a step forward and now he can take his time looking for something better, maybe in one of the garages. We celebrate with wine after dinner and then, as days go by, settle into new routines.

Living with Kurt is just as easy as it used to be in the dorm. We still fit, still get each other without words. We know when to talk and when to leave the other in peace. No matter if we spend time together or busy ourselves with separate things in the same room, we feel comfortable and don’t crowd each other’s space. We take our turns shopping and cooking; it’s good to have him here. I don’t feel so desperate for human contact anymore now that I have Kurt to talk to every day. Even work has became more bearable, although it may have something to do with the blonde from Business Accounts finally finding another victim.

As weeks pass, I begin to see changes in Kurt as well. He gets rid of the scruffy beard and decides to go back to his old haircut. He gains a bit of weight back and elements of his old wardrobe slowly find their way back to his everyday outfits. It’s not as extravagant and flamboyant as it used to be, not yet, but it’s definitely more him. It feels like he’s slowly finding himself under layers and layers of foreign influence.

And I have no doubts whose influence it was.

I said before that I hated Marcus, that I didn’t think he was the right guy for Kurt. I’d seen them together; I heard the way they talked. I had noticed changes in my best friend – small, insignificant things at first that accumulated in time, but the process was so slow and gradual that I don’t think Kurt himself noticed it. Only someone who observed from the sidelines and knew him as well as I did could see that as anything more than natural development of his style, preferences and behavior.

Well, Kurt’s family also saw it, once he visited after months of absence, bringing his boyfriend with him. They hated Marcus too. I think they tried not to at first, but when they learned about Kurt’s leaving college and the promising internship, saw the way he acted around Marcus and changes in his behavior and attitude, they gave up trying to accept it. Assurances about their love and Kurt’s prospects in his boyfriend’s company didn’t change that one bit. Mr. Hummel told his son straight away, as tactfully as he could, that there was something not quite right about this relationship. But what could they do? After countless fights at home and over the phone, Kurt just stopped talking to them entirely. I know for a fact that he hasn’t seen his family or contacted them in over three years. Most of his friends even longer. And it’s all Marcus’ fault.

See, I’ve said that the guy was slick and slimy. He was also controlling. Dominating, but in a way that wasn’t obvious unless you looked carefully. And I did. And when I say that Kurt was putty in his hands, I mean it. He was in love, but that in itself wouldn’t be enough to turn my independent, critically thinking friend into a puppet. No, that required subtle manipulation. And I’ve believed since I first saw them together that Marcus was a manipulative son of a bitch.

Countless times I witnessed Kurt enthusiastic about something his boyfriend wasn’t crazy about, only to change his mind a couple of days later, seemingly of his own volition. I saw him give up his favorite music and movies to gravitate towards the sort of heavier stuff that Marcus preferred – he called it acquiring mature tastes. No more Disney and musicals for him. I watched as he alienated friends one by one; people he loved, until he had no one but Marcus and me. And then he pushed me away too.

But before he did, I had plenty of time to witness how Marcus called him princess and my lovely lady, even in public. How he just pulled Kurt away in the middle of conversation, when he was having fun, because he wanted to leave, now, Kurt! Twice I saw bruises on Kurt’s arms, but he swore it was from sex – things got a little intense, you know? He promised that Marcus would never hit him. I could tell he wasn’t lying and yes, he always bruised easily, so I let it go, but I didn’t like it. He slept at my place many times, having run after fights they’d had. He never did that before, never ran from trouble or fights; he learned it in this relationship. Marcus would always appear in the morning, with flowers and tears in his eyes. Kurt forgave him and they went home, a happy couple. I could see how fake it was, but what could I do? Nothing really.

Not that I didn’t try. Oh, how I tried. Subtly, not so subtly, bluntly; begging, pleading and explaining. I tried to open Kurt’s eyes to the fact that there was something wrong there, that it shouldn’t be like this, that his needs should count just as much as his boyfriend’s. It didn’t work. And this was what ultimately lead to him throwing me out of his life. It turns out there are only so many times you can criticize someone’s boyfriend before they lose patience; especially if said boyfriend doesn’t like you. I had to learn the hard way, doing it once too much. I’ve blamed myself ever since. I’ve told myself that I exaggerated, that maybe I was jealous of Kurt’s time and attention and saw things that weren’t there, that maybe I was overbearing and controlling myself.

But honestly, I don’t think that was the case. Even overlooking the way Marcus finished their relationship, I can see what those years did to Kurt – I notice it every day now that he lives here with me. Even after over a month he still has a hard time dealing with the way his life turned out. He seems to be having trouble moving on – his search for a better job has paused, he just courses between the café and the apartment, always quiet, sad, defeated. But that’s normal, I know how much it takes to get back on your feet after a bad break-up, and he has it worse than I did.

What this whole relationship did to him though, not just the break-up, is worse: it took away all his self-confidence. The way he speaks about himself, his abilities, talents, you’d think that he was nothing. Worthless. That’s how he sees himself now – that fierce, amazing man who took the world by storm, won contests and competitions, sang like an angel, was called a fashion prodigy – that man is gone. He thinks he’ll never get anywhere. He’s convinced that he’s unable to make the right decisions – any kind of decisions. That others know better. He looks in the mirror and doesn’t see the gorgeous man there is, but a collection of flaws.

He doesn’t say it all out loud, but I can see. I gather what little he says and what he leaves unsaid, I see the looks and expressions, thoughts written all over his face, and I understand. And I desperately want to help him, this boy who never smiles anymore, who stopped singing because Marcus didn’t like it, this man whom I had to remind for over a week that he doesn’t need to ask permission to do anything in the kitchen, watch TV, take a shower, anything. This guy who cowered when a plate slipped out of his hand and shattered, as if afraid I would yell at him. My best friend, independent to a fault once. There’s so much to untangle there, so much to stroke into calm, smooth into sense of safety… I want to help, yet I don’t know how. I’m here for him. We talk, we go out together sometimes, we listen to music, watch movies that we both liked years ago, and Kurt still loves them after all.

We’re back to being best friends, things are comfortable and easy between us, like we slipped back into a well-known routine, but there’s a wall there that Kurt keeps guarded. He doesn’t talk about Marcus, shares nothing about their years together. He bottles it all up. And he still defends him, like a demigod on a golden pedestal. Even after all this.

I just hope that time and Kurt’s own unbreakable nature will be enough to heal the wounds eventually.