Love, Kurt

***

“So, guess what?” Kurt started hesitantly as he and his boyfriend, Blaine Anderson, took their iced coffees from the barista at the Lima Bean. The cold beverages offered a bit of relief from the hot, sticky weather that had gripped western Ohio that July.

It was Monday – Blaine’s only day off each week from his job performing at Six Flags. The two boys had been glued to the hip every Monday so far that summer, feverishly making up for the time spent apart during the rest of the week.

Kurt charged forward without waiting for Blaine to respond. He was nervous about revealing his secret. “I started a blog last night.”

“Oh really,” Blaine laughed as he stirred sweetener into his coffee. His voice was hoarse from singing through 14 shows in the past six days. He looked up at his boyfriend with a glint of humor in his eyes.

“Yes,” Kurt replied seriously. “It’s an online fashion magazine. It’s called Kurtain Magazine. You know, k-u-r-t-a-i-n. The tagline is, ‘Lifting the curtain on fashion.’”

“Wait – what happened to Pip Pip Hooray?” Blaine asked as they sat down at a table together. He’d enjoyed listening to Kurt read lines and sing bits of music during their late-night phone calls and Facebook chats that summer.

“Oh, I’m almost finished with that,” Kurt said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “But that’s what inspired my blog. I kept wondering, why am I so interested in Pippa Middleton? It’s the fashion! She took the world by complete surprise when she stepped out of that car the day of the royal wedding. And that got me thinking. There’s probably a million other people in the world just like her: young, fashionable, gorgeous – but nobody knows who they are yet. I want to find the next fashion stars and trends before they explode onto the big scene. Try to figure out who’s next and what’s next. And help other people see it, too.”

“Lift the curtain,” Blaine murmured. He sipped his coffee, sighing as the cool liquid soothed his scratchy throat.

“Exactly!” Kurt exclaimed. He lowered his voice and leaned in toward his boyfriend. “Blaine…I think I’ve found my calling.”

***

Kurt knew exactly what he wanted to write about for his second article. For that, he’d spent a quiet Tuesday morning in the Hummels’ stifling attic, exploring the old leather trunk where his father kept all of his mother’s most precious belongings.

The heavy trunk lid creaked as Kurt lifted it open, sending a cloud of dust into the oppressively hot air. He leaned into the trunk and inhaled deeply. Kurt knew the smell of his mother’s perfume had worn off after nine years, but he still vividly recalled the scent every time he opened this box of memories.

Burt had saved some of his first wife’s favorite items – things he still remembered her wearing: a silk polka dot scarf, a slouchy blue sweater, a delicate gold chain necklace and matching bracelet. Kurt gingerly removed each item, lovingly stroking the materials before placing them on the floor beside the trunk.

Then there were the photographs. One album was filled with pictures of his mother and her friends as teenagers, modeling bright, baggy clothes against a white sheet backdrop. Kurt’s grin softened to tears as he paged through another album: this one of his parents on their wedding day, looking young and nervous and incredibly in love.

Next, Kurt lifted a stack of small, black and white photos out of the trunk. Gently, he untied a yellowing silk ribbon from around the pictures. They were all of Kurt as a baby: sleeping in his crib, grinning toothlessly in a high chair, toddling around the backyard with their old cat. His mother wasn’t in any of them because she’d been the one behind the camera.

Which led Kurt to the last important item he was looking for. Digging deeper, he finally unearthed a blue camera bag. Inside were an old 35mm film camera, a flash and a couple of lenses.

Kurt’s hazy thoughts and memories started to form into a narrative, which he sat down to write that afternoon after bringing the items down to his bedroom to examine once more.

***

July 26, 2011

Some of us develop our love for fashion as we grow up and see stars in movies and magazines. Others are simply born with it – it’s in our genes, right along with the color of our eyes and the shape of our nose.

My mother loved fashion. She always knew exactly the right outfit that would best show off her beautiful blue eyes and glowing smile. It’s no wonder my dad was drawn to her like a magnet. You can see her personality shine through in these old photos – laughing and full of life as she modeled baggy sweaters and bangle bracelets with her friends in her childhood bedroom.

Unfortunately, my mother isn’t here anymore. She died when I was eight. When she passed away, she left the two men in her life with a lot of grief. We only recently began to put the pieces back together.

But isn’t it funny how life works out? Here I am now, at 17 years old, picking up right where she left off. I have my own silly pictures with my friends, mugging for the camera as we model clothes in our bedrooms. I made my own outfit for junior prom, just like she made the gorgeous dress she wore to hers.

Even though she’s no longer physically present, my mother lives on in me. My dad tells me all the time how I’m just like her. I’m filling a small part of the void she left behind because I was born this way – with her love for fashion flowing through my veins.

My mother will always be my number one fashion icon. Now you tell me – who’s yours, and why?

Love, Kurt

***

Kurt spent the next few days figuring out how to use his mother’s old, manual camera. He decided he needed a model to practice on: someone beautiful, fashionable and confident. Santana.

He traveled to Lima Heights Adjacent to photograph the Latina vixen as she walked down the street in a blue, painted-on dress. Kurt loved how Santana’s smooth curves contrasted with the gritty, run-down buildings in her neighborhood. I’ll be shocked if this girl doesn’t someday appear in a much larger publication than my trivial little blog, he later wrote.

Between blogging, taking pictures and helping his dad out at the shop, Kurt mostly kept his mind off the fact that he missed Blaine terribly. Isn’t summer supposed to be lazy and obligation-free?

Kurt almost couldn’t wait for school to start back up. At least when school was in session, they could have regular morning coffee dates. And Blaine could spend his weekends with Kurt, instead of singing to thousands of strangers at an amusement park.

Plus, once school started again, they’d be one step closer to New York.

Blaine had his sights set on New York University – even though his family was prodding him incessantly to apply to Georgetown, his father’s alma mater. Rachel, too, wanted to go to NYU.

But Kurt still wasn’t entirely sure where he wanted to go and what he wanted to study. He loved fashion, but he wasn’t really interested in going to design school. He wanted to talk about fashion. Look at photos. Promote designers’ work. Help people choose pieces to wear.

He thought about majoring in English. Then marketing. Lately, he’d settled on journalism.

And then...

“I was looking at NYU’s interdisciplinary major program today. Did you see that in the prospective student materials they sent you?”

Kurt and Blaine were in the middle of one of their marathon Thursday night phone conversations. Thursday was their least favorite day of the week because it was halfway between Mondays. The delight of the previous Monday had worn off, but it was too soon for the sweet anticipation of next Monday to start building.

“No,” Blaine said, his voice muffled by his pillow. “I only looked at music.” He was still wrestling between applying for music performance or music theater. Kurt, of course, thought he should go for music theater. “It’s more versatile,” he’d opined to his boyfriend.

“It’s intriguing. You can basically create your own major. You work with an adviser and professors to build a class schedule and customize your reading. It has a big focus on internships, too.”

Kurt smiled at a vision that suddenly formed in his mind. He could see himself walking down the street in New York City, decked out in a fabulous outfit with a coffee in his hand as he headed to an internship at Vogue.

“But you have to apply with a proposed curriculum and find an adviser who’s willing to work with you. And, obviously, it’s very selective. It would be hard to get in.”

“You get good grades,” Blaine said through a yawn. “And you’re passionate about this stuff. I’m sure you’d have a shot.” He was starting to drift off. Eight hours of singing and dancing six days a week was taking its toll. Blaine hadn’t been able to stay awake past midnight since his first week of work that summer. He loved performing, but it was hard work.

They sweetly whispered “I love yous” to each other before hanging up. As Blaine fell fast asleep in his bed, Kurt sat down at his computer once again – this time to research fashion-related books he could propose for his college curriculum.

***

“…So it’d be like getting a degree in business and journalism, except with a concentration in fashion. I’d get to do a lot of internships, which would hopefully give me a better chance of getting a job when I graduate.”

Kurt let out a huge sigh as he finished talking. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath the entire time. He was just grateful he’d closed out his babbling speech to his father with a practical line.

Burt sat across the dining room table, his face tilted downward and his arms folded across his checkered work shirt. He wore a look on his face that Kurt knew well: vaguely skeptical, thoroughly confused, but
entirely amused by his son.

“Well?” Kurt asked hesitantly. “What do you think?”

Burt raised his head and lifted an eyebrow. “I think it sounds like you know what you want to do,” he said dryly. But he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.

Kurt broke out into a grin. “Yeah. It feels right.”

“You know, your mom always wanted to do something like that,” Burt continued, pushing his empty breakfast plate away. “Work for a fashion magazine. She was a good writer. She liked to take pictures, too. She woulda been great at that.” He stared down at the table with a small, sad smile on his face, lost in a memory from a time before Kurt was a dream in his parents’ minds.

Kurt looked at his father with surprise. He hadn’t told his dad about his trip up to the attic the other day. Kurt thought back to what he’d written for his blog. Some of us are born with it. My mother lives on in me.

“So ah, how much does this school cost, exactly?” Burt’s question brought both men back to reality.

Kurt gave his father a sideways glance as he picked up their dishes and brought them into the kitchen. “Let’s just say I’ll be cutting back on the McQueen accessories this year.”

***

When Monday finally arrived and Blaine came over, he saw two new framed photos on Kurt’s nightstand. He plopped down on Kurt’s bed and picked up each picture to inspect it more closely.

One was of a beautiful, blonde teenage girl making a pouty supermodel face. She was about their age, but clearly from a decade long past. Her big, blue eyes popped brightly against her pale skin and hot pink blazer. That’s Kurt’s mom, Blaine thought. The resemblance between mother and son was clear.

The other was a square, black and white photo of a baby boy. He sat on the floor, innocently staring up into the camera as he chewed on the toe of a high-heeled shoe. Kurt. Blaine grinned madly as he absorbed every detail of the two images.

Kurt was so preoccupied with his latest blog article – all about fall sweater trends, based on his very first comment from a reader! – that he didn’t notice his boyfriend’s captivated expression.

“So I looked up that NYU program you were talking about the other night,” Blaine started as he gently placed the photos back on the nightstand. “It sounds really cool.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said absently as his fingers raced over the keyboard. “I’m going to apply.”

Blaine rolled over onto his side to face in Kurt’s direction, his head propped up in his hand. “What if we end up going to the same school?” he said to the back of Kurt’s head.

Kurt paused his typing for a moment to glance backward at Blaine. “You don’t think we could handle it?”

Blaine smiled coyly. He decided not to tell Kurt that he already had plans in place for them to attend the same school a lot sooner.

“I think so. But we have to behave. No singing flirty duets with each other all the time.”

Kurt stopped typing again and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, his head cocked with false annoyance. “Okay, you know you were the one who always distracted me with songs.” He slowly started typing again. “If anyone should be worried, it’s me.”

“Do you maybe want to live together?”

Kurt froze. This time, he fully turned around in his chair to face Blaine. Shocked blue eyes stared into big, hopeful hazel ones.

They’d discussed going to New York together many times. But for some reason, Kurt had overlooked this critical detail. In New York, they would be adults – far from their parents’ curfews and watchful eyes.

A jumble of disconnected thoughts ran through Kurt’s mind.

If we live together, we have to sleep in the same bed. And have sex.

I kind of want to do that. No – I really want to do that. I can’t believe I really want to do that!

Why does he always drop the most important things on me out of the blue like this?

“Live together?” Kurt repeated dumbly, the spoken words not reflecting his rambling inner dialogue.

“Yeah. I mean, we could get an apartment eventually, but we’d probably have to live in the dorms for at least the first year. We could request to be roommates.”

“Okay,” Kurt heard himself say after a pause.

Blaine smiled at him; the same warm, smitten look that was plastered on his face the first time he told Kurt he loved him. Kurt returned the look as he got up from his desk chair and slid onto the bed next to Blaine.

“I see that blog is giving me some competition for your attention,” Blaine teased as he inched his body closer to Kurt’s. He moved his hand up to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said apologetically. “I know this is our only day together. I’m just really excited about writing.”

“I know, I can tell. It’s okay. I’m happy to see you doing something you love.”

“I’m excited about everything, though: the blog, graduating, New York,” Kurt said, his eyes shining with happiness. “Living with you.”

Their faces were only inches away. Blaine leaned forward to close the gap between them. Their eyes fluttered closed as their lips met in a soft kiss.

“It’s going to be a blast,” Blaine said as pulled his face away to look once more at Kurt’s glowing expression. “I can’t wait to be in New York with you.”