I MET CLAY WHEN he played the town drunk in our school production of Strindberg’s lost play, Veisalgia. We’d sit backstage and I’d coat his lashes with mascara because he was born with so little. The drama teacher favored him, showering him with roses after every performance. On Fridays, we’d suck on licorice drops and make out in the clover fields as the other boys whistled and gathered for the foxhunt. I took him home one weekend after he insisted we crash a Kennedy wedding but instead we went quahogging and had sex in an old dinghy named, “Merman’s Nipple”
Breaking Point: His deepening friendship with a hulking lacrosse player named Edan.