Our Souvenirs

RJ clung to my leg, as if he knew I was leaving. I knelt down on the carpet to play with him one last time.

“Your dog has really gotten used to me being here,” I said out loud. I scratched behind his ears a little and sat back against the bedside. I felt warm and cozy here in this apartment.

I got up and went into the bathroom to spray myself down with some chocolate Axe. I came back out and took off my hoodie.

“Here,” I handed it to Ranier, who packed it away in his suitcase. “Take care of it. I better get it back in one piece.”

“Thanks. You got my shoes?”

“Yeah, thanks for the Jordans. I really like them.” Ranier gave me some Jordans that he bought in the eighth grade. They were size 11, while he was only size 8 at the time. He thought that he would eventually grow into them, but he never did. I eventually came along with my giant size 11 feet, so the shoes made the perfectly convenient gift.

“So I’ll see you in four weeks?” he asked.

“Yep. April 24th-ish. Have fun in New York this week. Get me something!”

“Haha, you know I will.”

I sighed. “I’ll miss you, Ray. We’ve had one hell of a week.”

We locked ourselves in a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my chin on his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, too. See you in four weeks. Drive safely back to Irvine tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes, trying to turn our last few seconds together into minutes, hours. This hug would have to last me another four weeks. I took long, deep breaths.



“BRIAN WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

“Shit!” I pulled the steering wheel—“I’m awake!”—and jerked myself back into my lane. My heart was racing. This was going to be a difficult drive. I was only fifteen minutes into the drive; San Francisco was another forty-five minutes away.

After Super Saturday, Trung and I went back to my place to eat some of my mom’s Pho, but we didn’t have time to nap. I had to get back behind the wheel so that I would get to San Francisco by 6. We ended up leaving at 5:30, so hopefully, Ranier’s Funksters practice would last a little extra longer and he wouldn’t be waiting for me for a while.

I arrived at the City Dance Studio at 6:20, and for once, it did not feel good to be back. I parked my car at the opposite end of the parking lot and called Ranier to tell him to come out. I watched him through my rear view mirror has he came running out in his shorts and a tank.

I would be standing outside, my back turned away, and then suddenly I’d feel him leap onto me. I’d turn around and he’d plant a kiss right on my lips, not caring about whoever’s parents waiting around in their cars. That was how it was when we were still together.

I got out of the car—it was a chilly day in San Francisco—and he slowed down as he approached me.

He greeted me with a smile. “Hey!”

“Hey.” I couldn’t quite force the same smile. There was something about Ranier that I didn’t expect. He had a lot of energy today, which was perfectly normal. I mean, he just had practice, just spent a whole day with his friends dancing. I guess I would’ve been happy too.

“Is that Trung in the car?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you bring him? Are you guys finally back together?”

“No, what! The fuck?”

He laughed. “Just playin’.”

“Do you have my black hoodie?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He pulled it out of his duffel bag and handed it to me.

“Thanks. I uh, I brought your Jordans. Do you want them back?”

“No, they don’t fit me, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Keep them.”

“Ok, well,” I shrugged. “Business is done. I’ll see you around.” I lifted both my arms just as he held out his hand, and I almost walked my crotch into it. “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I was expecting a hug.”

“Oh, sure, let’s hug!” And so we did. It was kinda gross because I could feel the cold, sticky dried sweat all over his skin.

We said goodbye and I hopped back into my car. I chatted with Trung a little bit, and after a while, I decided that I did not drive all the way up to San Francisco just to get back a cheap fifteen-dollar Old Navy hoodie. I called Ranier out again and forced the Jordans into his hands. Trung also wanted to know how much it would cost to cross the Bay Bridge to get to UC Berkeley. I didn’t want to go because I thought it’d be five dollars (but really because I was fucking terrified of driving across the hella longass bridge), but Trung insisted that it’d be seventy-five cents. Ranier informed us that it was actually free. Any side of a bridge running away from San Francisco was free. Great.

We said bye once again, and I pulled out of the parking lot. Trung looked back at Ranier and the rest of the Funksters messing around in the parking lot.

“Oh my god, how cute! They’re playing tag, Brian! Raindeer and the Funksters are such adorable little kids.”

“Ray’s eighteen.”

“But he was only seventeen when you guys—”

“Why isn’t he fucking sad?”

“What?”

“Why is he so happy? He looked happy when he saw me.”

“You wanted him to be sad?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, I was sad when we broke up for hella days. I don’t even know if he was sad during those days at all. And today, I was also a little sad. But he’s just so fucking jittery today.”

“That’s because you were breaking up with a great boyfriend. He was breaking up with a huge fucking douchebag. And I thought you said you weren’t really sad?”

“Well, I felt empty. I didn’t really know how to feel for a few weeks. But then, just this past Tuesday, I decided to look through Ray’s...Ranier’s photobucket. I was just bored and wanted to see if he added any recent pictures; I still knew his password. But nope, the photos of us from Valentine’s Day weekend were still on the first page. And that’s when I finally realized it.”

“Realized what?”

“Maybe I was wrong,” I paused to take a breath and noticed that my emotions were starting to overwhelm me. “And maybe I’ve been wrong the last entire two years.”