Spongebob Bubble Bath

The other day, I used the last of my SpongeBob tear free Bubblebath.  Hopefully, it won't present a health hazard because it's one of those items that has lingered on for years and years.  I actually remember buying that bubble bath with Richard in a local Wally World back in 2009.  In honor of Richard's memory, I used the last of the bubble bath.

I told my parents I was going on a trip with my friends for the weekend in the summer of '09.  At the time, I did not have a car of my own and it was a big deal for them to let me drive their car.  Equipped with my Motorola Infuse phone (yes, flip phone), I used VZW navigator to drive 191 miles down i-85 S until I approached the wasteland of strip malls 61 miles north of Atlanta.  The Jefferson exit was christened with a single Publix.  

I arrived in a cookie cutter neighborhood, where I picked up Richard.  We had to keep things obscure, of course.  He introduced me to his friend, Emily as his cousin.  I used my Nikon D60 graduation present to take a few photos of us.  Later, I would also be known to his family as "cousin Clay".  Richard liked rainbow wristbands, calligraphy, art, and the Mall of Georgia.  We spent many hours strolling around the suburban areas.

Of course, it was never without his Venti White Chocolate Peppermint Mocha, or as I prefer to call it, the pre-diabetes special.  Funny enough, I usually got a Tall.  As I cleaned out the "memory box" in my closet, I found two of our cups, the Venti labeled "Richard" and the Tall labeled "Clay".  The first time I came to Jefferson, Richard tried to grab my hand at the mall.  I was terrified.  I wanted him to be less expressive.  "Not everyone needs to know your sexuality".  Richard was not discreet.  Richard was not subtle. While holding my hand in the car, Richard got so distracted that he ran into someone's car while driving.  Luckily, the damage was small and the aggrieved driver did not collect insurance information.  

Blinded by puppy love and by a foreign concept of intimacy and maybe some mediocre driving skills. A local motel was $39/night.  It was called the Dandelion Inn.  We had to use cash so there wouldn't be any trace.   We loved to light candles.  A temporary home and a safe space for intimacy.  I remember dreading the housekeeping knocking, we were once again out on our own for the day.

Once I started school at Virginia Tech in August of 2009, things were a bit harder.  I spoke with Richard on the phone each day, but over time, we drifted apart.  I used to leave my phone on next to my bunk bed because it made me feel closer to him.  My friends at school had no idea that I was harboring a secret long distance relationship.  The 5 hour and 20 minute drive from Blacksburg to Jefferson was not fun either.  It was an utter bore once you left the mountains of Virginia.  One time, driving back, the fog was so heavy that I could not even see a foot in front of me.  I was sure I was going to drive off a cliff.  

Our lack of consistent shelter did not stop us from enjoying ourselves.  We had whatever adventures we could make in his small town.  It reminded of my childhood, where Taylor (one of my closest friends) and I would stay up late past bed time, playing with Barbie dolls and making up stories with our imagination.  Some nights, to save money, I literally snuck in through his bedroom window and hid in his closet if his parents knocked.  It was frightening.  The irony of me hiding in the closet literally is not missed, either.  The house was not big and any stir could have caused us to be outed.

Sometimes, when we were alone, Richard would show me pictures he had drawn in art class, or calligraphy, or photographs of his family.  He would explain to me the relationships and what life was like growing up there.

The first time I brought him to my house in Charlotte, we had this wild idea that we would somehow sneak Richard in for a weekend stay without my parents noticing.  Besides being completely irrational, our plan failed miserably.  My mom caught me trying to sneak Richard up the stairs and I immediately made up a story that he was a friend who got kicked out of his parents house.  I made him a bed on the floor in my bedroom and was scared to have him leave the room because I did not want us to interact with anyone else in the house.

We did eventually travel to Athens, Helen and, yes, Atlanta once.  It's hard to recall the precise feelings of love and adoration, or was it safety?  After all, I spent a lot of time at home or in hotel rooms while Richard worked shifts at Kroger, Waffle House and Cracker Barrel.  I used to tell my Mom, who was the only one who knew at the time, that I wanted Richard to move up to Virginia Tech and we could get a modest place.  I couldn't imagine my life without him.

One time, Richard, my mom and I went to Old Navy to buy Richard some "straight guy" clothes.  His pink tight fitting Abercrombie & Fitch shirt and skinny jeans were not exactly discreet.  We bought him a ball cap and a some new threads.  Then, "cousin Richard" came with me to my high school friends annual Holiday Party.  I am sure that my friends knew, but they pretended they didn't.  God Bless them.

While I was in school, things became extremely difficult and eventually, Richard broke things off with me.  He had to because I never would have.  At this point, I was spent.  I thought love was eternal and my heart was broken.  My best friend growing up, Taylor, came over and spent the day with me while I cried it out.  The summer of 2010 I would be single.

Years passed since I saw Richard again.  We still chatted on and off online and were on amicable terms.  Finally, I saw him a couple years ago during Atlanta Pride in 2016.  Richard, one of his friends, Corey, and I got dinner together and he selflessly paid for all of us, sharing the news he was back in school.  It was a pleasure to see him on his feet and doing things for himself.  

In the summer of 2017, I received news through Corey that Richard had passed away suddenly.  I later found on that he was misdiagnosed and suffered from bacterial meningitis.  I had no idea.  I read through his obituary online and saw all of the prayers and wishful thoughts for Richard and the devastation of all of those who he touched.  My heart was crushed.

I immediately reeled through every memory, intimate and personal, mundane and banal. I wondered how many of these people knew the beautiful soul Richard was.  The person that was hiding behind the goofy guy that liked calligraphy, art, who had to hide so much about himself just because those in his perimeter would not accept a simple fact about his sexuality.  Richards sudden passing was an abrupt reminder that life is all too short.  You cannot wait to express yourself or to free yourself from societal chains.