Puppy wasn’t like other boys.

When we went out, he held my hand as we crossed the street. He looked like a renaissance cherub, will his soft pale blue eyes and pouty pink lips. The way he looked half asleep sometimes, with his head full of dreams of summer.

When we went to the end of year dance, we both wore tuxedos. It was Puppy's idea. I borrowed one of his. He gave me daisies and called me his Cherry, and we did the twist together. We were voted the cutest couple of the year, and I saw him blush. When we went to gardens together, he remembered flowers’ names. Gardenia, magnolia, snap dragon.

We went to ice cream parlors together, and he would give me the glace cherry on the top of his sundae, because he didn’t like how they tasted. We talked all the time, and my hand was always searching for his. I could talk to Puppy about anything. We talked about our fathers.

“My Dad died riding his motorcycle when I was four,” I told him. “I miss him. I wish I could talk to him,”

“I’ll look after you, Cherry” He said, and his smile said yes, to the ends of the Earth.

“My Dad knew I loved art, and he would tell me he was going to take me to Paris so we could see the Louvre. He would dress me up and everything, and even drive me to the airport,” He has whispered to me “But at the last second, he would start laughing and I would be confused, and he told me it was a joke, and we weren’t going anywhere,”

Puppy's eyes were trained on his napkin, and he started tearing it up into tiny pieces. The seagulls cawed loudly.

“That is so fucked up,” I was disgusted. “At least your Dad is alive though,”

“At least your Dad loved you,”

I felt hot tears fall. My throat hurt. Puppy put his soft warm arm around me and said, his own voice choked with tears, “We can be each others Dads,”

I shyly kissed his supple mouth, and he was surprised. I felt him smile, and I wanted to hold him for as long as I was alive. I whispered into his mouth “I love you, Puppy,”

We wanted to go somewhere together. We both wanted to stay in town for the weekend, and stay together in a hotel. We made plans.

--

I was excited, and so was Puppy. His eyes shone and he was so energetic, he couldn’t wait to see all the interesting sights. I just wanted to be with Puppy and feel his soft hand around mine, and his renaissance eyes always in sight.

The weekend came, and we took the train there. I fell asleep on Puppy’s shoulder, and he kept looking through the window and pointing out things. I dreamt of Puppy and I living together, with my Dad talking to us and wearing a helmet this time. The rhythmic rumble of the train was lulling to my tired eyes.

After much enthusiasm from Puppy, we arrived. In town, it was beginning to get dark. “Friday night!” said Puppy breathlessly “I’m hungry,”

I glanced at his cherub face, and it was more than just hunger. He wanted to experience the world in his short lifetime, to see the Louvre in the flesh and smile back at the Mona Lisa. To watch a Japanese girl dressed in a Kimono pour green tea into a delicate cup of china, and to lie back in a slowly swaying hammock in the heat of Jamaica. To see Graceland, and imagine Elvis being able to serenade again.

We went to a Chinese restaurant, and ate glossy noodles with Asian greens. We both wanted sake, but we didn’t bring enough money. Puppy hung around the entrance and let two older men buy us small bottles of it, and they smiled at him with glinting teeth and smooth red nails. We pulled off the metal caps with our teeth and swallowed the smooth, dry beverage as the men grinned wolfishly at Puppy.

We walked back to our hotel room, full of noodles and sake. I felt good and warm. I wanted to sleep in Puppy’s arms. I heard him murmur as we drifted off: “This is going to be wonderful,”. I dreamed of Puppy again, nodding off as a renaissance cherub with small white wings on his inviting yet wiry body.

The next day we watched a busker swirl many hoops around her voluptuous waist, and smile at us cheekily. Puppy tossed her coins and whooped. We went to a skate park and observed the boarders and skaters pull tricks out of thin air. We experienced as much as we could in one day, and devoured exotic, spicy curries at an Indian restaurant. Puppy’s energy was infectious, and we talked loudly and happily to each other. I shook a blind painters hand and encouraged him to finish his art. The towns energy was rhythmic, and everything felt perfect more than a moment.

We wandered through the streets as the sun began to set. I wanted to go back to our hotel room, but Puppy wanted to explore. I let him take me with him.

The night life was different. Men dressed as ladies in silk scarves as fire red lipstick swayed past us, and gave us disarming looks. Prostitute boys let their fingers trail lightly over Puppy’s arms, and flashed him provocative smiles. I gazed at black fishnet leggings pulled taut over smooth skin, and I felt myself cling to Puppy's arm. I felt an odd jealousy pull unpleasantly at my insides. “Let’s go back, Puppy,” I said in a low voice. The unpleasant feeling was still inside. I gripped Puppy's arm tighter.

Back at our room, Puppy flicked on the light and stretched. “I still have so much energy!” He exclaimed.

I felt tears prickle at my eyes. I wrapped my arms around him and pushed him onto the bed, kissing him blindly. My eyes were squeezed shut, and he was confused.

“Hey, Cherry, what-“

I slid my hands under his shirt, and choked back more tears. I wanted Puppy with me.

Suddenly I felt him go stiff. I paused and moved off him. He slammed his fist on the bed. It squeaked underneath us.

“I am trying so hard…”

“What do you mean?” I was confused and scared. Puppy groaned, rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“Puppy?”

“So hard-”

“What is it?”

“I just can’t do it…”

He was alarming me. I wanted my boyfriend back. He started again.

“Cherry-“

“You’re scaring me Puppy,” I was worried.

He gave me a long look, and covered his eyes with his arm like a shameful school boy. “I… Like guys. I’ve always liked guys. I wanted to tell you earlier, but…”

He trailed off, and began to cry quietly. I thought I was hearing things. Everything felt like it was ripped up and shoved back into the wrong place. Anger flared up inside me. Why didn’t he tell me earlier?

“How can you tell me this? I’m your girlfriend!” I said, near hysterics. He retorted, angrily:

“Who the Hell was I going to tell? My Dad, for fucks sake? Yeah, he’d take it fantastically-“

“I can’t believe this Puppy,”

I was sobbing, and I felt angry at myself for not seeing it. How could I have been so blind? He came closer to me, and I heard myself speak again:

“I can’t fucking believe this, Puppy,”

There was an awful silence, and I hiccupped loudly. “I’m your girlfriend, Puppy.” I repeated, still unable to believe my ears.

He let out a strangled cry, and swiftly left the room with a slam of the door. I started after him, but he was already disappearing down the street. He looked like a vulnerable boy, and I wanted to rush after him and protect him.

I looked in the mirror, with my eyes puffy from crying and my small nose and freckles. I looked like an ugly boy. Maybe that’s why Puppy was with me. I wondered if he felt sick every time he touched my breasts, felt my curves, or looked at me when I was wearing make up.

I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep. My mind was plagued with thoughts of Puppy being tempted into sexual oblivion by bitter prostitute boys, simply looking for a meal ticket. I thought I would never see him again. The sheets were scented with Puppy's shampoo: Apricot sun dance. I drifted off wishing that dancing in the sun, with his hair smelling sweetly of apricots, was still a possibility for Puppy and I.

I slowly awoke with sunlight peeking through the window and found my shoes and coat had been taken off, and a blanket pulled over me. Puppy. I cracked open a single eye and saw him with his back turned, curled up in the corner of the room. Had he slept like that all night?

“Puppy?” I said tentatively. Did he hate me for being angry? He jumped and turned to face me, and I gasped.

He had a heartbreakingly pained expression on his face. There was a long silence as I absorbed the sight of a new Puppy, one that was scared and confused.

“Puppy, what happened? Are you okay?”

“I danced with some guys. One of them wanted me to come with him to his apartment; he thought I was a prostitute. Cherry, I was so scared, he was violent. But I escaped. I was worried about you, so I came back and…”

I studied my fingernails and tried not to bawl. I missed my Puppy. We were both broken up inside, and despite my still shocked state of Puppy's ground-breaking revelation, an overwhelming tenderness filled me. Puppy was still on the floor, frightened and expecting a reaction: I realized that he thought I would be angry at him.

I invited him to sit next to me on the bed. His eyes said I’m so, so sorry as he crossed his legs on the white sheets. I studied his face for a long while before wrapping my arms around him and burying my head in his chest. Puppy let out a sigh and returned the embrace, and kissed the top of my head. I felt his body tremble as he began to cry.

“I am so, so sor-“

“It doesn’t matter, Puppy,”

“I still love you,”

I knew what he meant. During the time we had spent together, we had both platonically fallen for each other. We both needed the other: We were like two pieces of some wonderful puzzle. Although I couldn’t kiss Puppy's soft, renaissance mouth and call him my boyfriend, I loved Puppy, in the same way that I loved my Dad, or my friend.

“It will be okay, Puppy,”

“Thanks Cherry,”

“We can look after each other. We’ll be each others Dads,”