He was never a very talkative person. He usually kept to himself. It’s awkward when we’re together. It’s awkward when I try to make conversation with him. Maybe he got the impression that I was a creep. Little details, small things, can really make the big picture, or at least how you perceive it.

I first met him in the locker room of our ninth grade gym class. When I looked at him, three details stood out clearly to me. The first two were very unflattering. He was chubby. I know it sounds like a judgment I’m making, but it isn’t. I didn’t mind, it didn’t bother me. Little did I know that it would turn into something worse over time. He was heavy, and as I eyed him while changing into my shorts and gym shirt, I noticed that he was very self-conscious. Not only that, but he was also very nervous. He couldn’t decide between allowing his eyes to wander over the other boys or letting his chin drop to his chest.

“Yo kid, what’s your name?” one of the guys there asked him gruffly. We were all in the same grade, so by saying ‘kid’ this guy was obviously both demeaning him while trying to act tough. At that precise moment, I noticed that every other kid in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at the two of them. He had everyone’s attention. Some of the boys had smirks on their faces. Others watched carefully from the corner of their eyes, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

“…Guy,” he mumbled hesitantly, reluctantly. His body stiffened, growing more and more tense and uncomfortable as a hush descended over the room.

That was when the second detail really came out loud and clear. His voice was really gentle. It was delicate. It was effeminate. And I wasn’t the only one who picked up on it.

“Guy?! Really? Are you sure?” Two or three other kids laughed. Twice as many looked on with interest. One or two quietly slipped out of the room after having changed. They didn’t want to get involved.

Guy, as I now knew his name to be, didn’t respond. He nervously fumbled with his shorts. He still needed to change into his gym t-shirt, and with all of the attention he now had coupled with his self-consciousness, I saw the colour drain from his face as he stood there, his body rigid, his arms plastered against his sides.

I was disgusted. I was disturbed. But still I watched as four more kids left the changing room.

“What are you, shy? You know you need to change shirts, right? C’mon, let’s see you take it off,” the kid said with a nasty grin. He turned and flicked his head at the other guys behind and next to him. “C’mon boys, let’s see what this gay guy looks like underneath. I hear they like showing it off. What’s the word? Flamboyant? Showing pride?” he sneered. Another few kids hurried out.

I felt a lurch in my throat. My nerves seemed to fly out in every direction, and without even realizing what I was getting myself into, I reached out my hand and patted the guy’s arm to get his attention.

“C’mon man, just leave him alone. We’ve gotta get going,” I said, trying to sound calm, calmer than how I really felt inside.

“Why? Who the hell do you think you are?” he jerked his arm away and glared at me, challenging me. I was terrified as I daringly looked back into the menacing pools in his eyes, but I instinctively masked my fear with a look of confusion.

“What? About almost everyone is gone and already in the gym. We should get going before the teacher gets mad,” I said, hoping to get him to let it drop. He didn’t.

“What are you, the teacher’s pet? His lap dog? If you’re so scared why don’t you go on first? No point in getting your scrawny ass involved with something that’s none of your business, twig,” he hissed dangerously as he slowly advanced towards me until I was up against the door. He gave me a rough shove and I stumbled, flinching.

“Beat it, kid.” He didn’t give me much of a choice. The other guys looked at me, snickering, and I was embarrassed in front of Guy, knowing he knew I was trying to intervene but was too weak and instead made a fool of myself playing the rescuer. He pushed me out of the way and pulled the door open.

“Go on, get out,” he motioned with his chin. I was made to feel less than, and I felt even worse when I wordlessly complied. But I knew that this was where I would get the upper hand, although indirectly. I quickly turned and ran down the hall to the gym and spotted our teacher.

“Hey, where are the other boys? You guys are taking too long in there,” he said to me as I approached him.

“I’m sorry sir, but I think someone might get hurt. One of the boys there, he’s getting picked on and they won’t let him go,” I said rather frantically as I tried to catch my breath.

“Oh geez,” he groaned with displeasure as he tossed his clipboard onto the floor. “You guys stay here,” he instructed the other boys sitting on the benches. “What’s your name?” he asked me as he made his way out.

“Jason,” I replied.

“Alright Jason, come along. Do you know any of their names?”

“Only that the guy who’s getting picked on is named Guy. I don’t know about the others.”

“Okay,” he said. As we approached the locker room I could hear cruel laughter and frightened yells. Our teacher threw the door open.

Guy had his shirt yanked off. He had just been shoved to the floor. The leader of the group of four boys had his arms crossed as he cornered Guy. He was taking extreme pleasure out of tormenting him and while gaining the attention from the others.

“MALIK!! YOU THREE! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” our teacher roared angrily. All four of them jumped in terror as they were caught unaware. “First day and I already have to deal with you bunch!” How he knew that guy’s name, I didn’t know.

“Muh-Mr. Heath! We weren’t doing anything, I swear!” Malik squeaked while the rest of the boys nodded wide eyed. Guy’s face was furiously red. I could tell he was fighting a losing battle against threatening tears.

“Bullshit! You four get out and sit in my office.” Turning to me, he instructed, “Go look after Guy over there.”

Malik led the way to the door, and as he did, he shot a threatening glare at me.

“Don’t think you could get away with laying a hand on Jason here, or you’ll find yourselves dealing with some very serious consequences. Now move!” he barked.

They quickly made their way out with Mr. Heath behind them. He looked back at me and nodded. “I’ll be back,” he said. I returned his nod with one of my own.

Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the closing door and looked at the awful sight in front of me, feeling my throat tighten up. “Hey…Guy, are you okay?” He winced but didn’t respond. “Umm…never mind. Stupid question,” I mumbled as I jogged over to help him up.

He shamefully wiped his cheeks and stood up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them sooner. Those jackasses are gonna be in for it.”

Still he didn’t respond. I looked at him worriedly. “How…how are you holding up?”

He shrugged. He then pulled on his gym shirt. When he saw me looking directly into his eyes, he looked away.

I sighed inwardly. I felt awful. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to handle this. I didn’t know what to do, and if what I had been doing was even right.

The door opened again. Mr. Heath came in.

“C’mon, let’s go,” I said quietly.

And that’s when the third detail came to mind. He was silent. Not the peaceful kind, but the empty kind. The depressing kind.



----oooOOOooo----



That was grade nine. I remember sitting that year in the cafeteria during lunch breaks. I sat at a table of people like me – just a bunch of ordinary and plain kids who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere else. When Guy needed a place to sit, I invited him over. He sat with us a few times, but he never showed interest in any of our conversations. Even when it was just the two of us I would try to talk to him, to make him feel less…alone. I tried to show him that I was interested in getting to know him. He didn’t feel the same way. He might have taken me for a creeper. I guess he just needed someone like him, and I wasn’t that person.

That year we had one uptight teacher who seemed to take a certain disdain towards him. She was vocal with her irritation of his miserable state of isolation. But that wasn’t all. I would fume heatedly as I watched her purse her lips with disapproval whenever Guy spoke, whenever he dropped his wrist, whenever he crossed his legs ‘like a girl’, and whenever he flicked his hair to the side. She gave him a hard time with her ambiguously snide remarks, and he knew it but was powerless to do anything about it. I felt somehow responsible for not getting involved, so I tried to do the least that I could. I tried to do the small things. I sat next to him. I said hi and smiled at him. I, as I’ve mentioned several times, I tried to be as friendly and welcoming as I could.

He must have been really happy to not have to take gym class after that year was over. But by now in the tenth grade he gained even more weight, and I noticed that that wasn’t the only thing that was different. He became a perfectionist. He worked hard in school and became oblivious to everything else around him. His mannerisms, effeminate but natural, were deadened. He was using all of his energy and talents to build a wall around himself. His used his weight to hide who he really was underneath – to let others make fun of his size because it hurt less, because it was just the outside. He used his academic advancement to create a reputation so as to deter and distract others from seeing what he did not want them to see. It seemed to work. Malik now called him ‘Fat Guy’ instead of ‘Gay Guy’.

And I was still called twig. That year I had started joining a group at school to use the weight room. The group was called something stupid like ‘Boys to Men’. I didn’t know what I was doing in there for the first year. Weight training was something foreign to me.

Grade eleven came. I grew. I grew a lot. I was taller and bigger, and Malik and his goons were more cautious around me. I was strong. I was confident. I was happy.

Unfortunately I could not say the same was true with Guy. I almost never saw him again during our lunch breaks. And when I did, I found him wandering the halls on his own. I’d ask him if he had anything to eat yet. He would tell me he wasn’t hungry. This was the typical response every time I asked him this question. I thought it odd. Perhaps he was on some sort of weird diet. Maybe he was trying to lose weight. If it was, then I never figured out how that was brought on, why he suddenly decided to make this his goal. A few months passed by and I noticed that he had indeed lost a lot of weight. In fact, he was the very opposite of what he looked like last year. Day after day he grew thinner and paler.

On an unsuspecting day, I spotted him sitting by himself in the cafeteria. He was eating. He was actually eating. He had at least six slices of pizza and a large bottle of water. I was hesitant to walk over and join him. Instead, I sat and watched. He was ravenous. When he quickly finished, he chugged the entire bottle and made his way out. I sat there with a confused look on my face.

A few weeks later the same sort of thing happened again. I watched him make an exit through the doors as I stood by the trash can after having thrown out some used napkins. I then tool a long drink from the water fountain. Moving back to my seat, I plopped myself down and made small talk with a few of the regulars at my table. After several minutes, my bladder was full. I stood up, excused myself, and headed to the washroom.

I stood in front of a urinal and relieved myself. I heard a bit of panting from behind me and turned my head curiously. One stall was in use with the door locked. I looked away, but then turned to look again. I noticed a strange thing. From the position of the person’s legs and feet, he wasn’t sitting on the toilet bowl, nor was he standing in front of it. Instead, he was kneeling in front of it.

I finished, zipped up, and heard a muffled lurching noise and gurgling, followed by the sound of chunky contents spewing into the water of the toilet bowl. Someone was throwing up.

With a concerned look on my face, I went over to the sinks and washed my hands, every so often glancing over my shoulder to the occupied stall. I heard a flush. I took a few towel papers in my hand, wet them, and wiped my face. I then heard another flush, but it didn’t seem to pass through completely. I looked at myself in the mirror to readjust my hair, combing my fingers through them. I heard toilet paper being pulled off the roll in large amounts, over and over again. What exactly was this guy doing in there?

Finally, as I was finished and about ready to leave, the stall door opened and to my surprise, it was Guy. He quickly saw me and his eyes widened. He was mortified, and so was I.

“Guy…are you alright?” My eyes flicked to the toilet behind him and back. It was clogged with copious amounts of paper.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said still quite stunned, averting his eyes from me. He tried to walk past me to the sinks as I moved towards him, and then the smell hit me. I staggered back as he quickly washed his face and mouth. He took something from his pocket and, turning away from me, he brought a cupped hand to his mouth.

“Mint.” I stated. He turned around, pretending not to hear me, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. He tried to slip past me but I sidestepped in front of the door.

“It all makes sense now…” I said quietly.

“Let me go,” he said, getting slightly annoyed.

“Guy, this is serious.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m not going to stand by and let you destroy yourself like this.”

“What does it matter?! Why won’t you just let me go?!” he yelled. He raised his hands in reluctant defeat as his face contorted. He gasped suddenly and started to cry. “Don’t tell anyone. Please…” he begged miserably.

“It wouldn’t do any good for me even if I did,” I said. He stepped back and leaned against the wall with his head lowered in shame. “Guy, why are you doing this to yourself?”

He was silent for several moments as he stiffed and took laboured breaths. “Can’t you tell?”

“I need you to tell me.” I stood there waiting patiently. He shook his head back and forth in frustration. “Tell me Guy. Why are you doing this?” He clenched his fists and pulled his arms tightly against his sides.

“I’m fat, okay? I’m fat and I’m ugly. I…I hate myself and I just…I can’t do this anymore. I’m…I’m so…so confused,” he struggled. And then he cried even harder.

I bit my lips together, trying to formulate my thoughts into words. “If you’re trying to change the way how you look and feel about yourself, then you’re doing it wrong. You’ve got a lot more power to turn yourself around than you think you do. You need to believe that.”

“You don’t understand…I don’t know what to do…”

I paused for a moment, then lifted my head and spoke. “Start by readjusting your attitude. Tell yourself you look good in the mirror. Focus on your strengths, not your weaknesses. I know you’re great at school. I know you’re smart.” I paused once again to collect my thoughts and gauge his reaction. He remained there in silence.

“Someone once told me,” I continued “‘A lion that swims is still a lion. He’s not a fish. An eagle who limps still rules the skies.’”

“Metaphors,” he whispered.

“Clichéd pieces of wisdom,” I added.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is.” I was quiet for a moment before I continued. “We have weaknesses for a reason. They’re small things that can help us be better and keep us humble. But you’re letting them blind you. You look at your limp and forget that you can fly.”

He was silent as I spoke. I just hoped he was listening.

“As for the fitness side of things,” I said, changing course, “you need to stop starving yourself. Of course I know it’s much easier said than done.” I moved to stand beside him, leaning against the wall. “Eat a little less, but don’t starve,” I continued. “There’s no need to restrict the foods you love. No fad diets, no starving, no living off of four hundred calories a day. Take a walk around the block every morning for an hour, every day or every other day. If you get bored, put in earphones and listen to eBooks, podcasts. You’d be surprised at how much you could learn every day. Just small things like that.” I made it sound so easy, so simple. But I knew, in his situation, it wasn’t. “But…on a more serious note, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to see someone who could help you take care of what you’re going through. Professional help.”

Guy wiped his face and stiffed. He took a shaking breath, turned to the sinks, and washed his face once more. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look my way. I sighed to myself. Maybe I just need to shut up with the advice giving. Who do I think I am anyway? There was no reason for me to stay here any longer.

Before I stepped out, I turned my head to get one last look at him. He was staring at himself in the mirror.



----oooOOOooo----



“I’d be careful if I were you,” I said in a low voice next to his ear from behind as I watched Guy walk down the hall to his locker.

“Don’t bother. I wasn’t gonna do anything to your little princess,” Malik said, turning to smirk at me. It was now my turn to give him a challenging look as he took several steps back without wanting to risk turning his back to me. Once he felt he was at a safe distance, he flipped the finger and hissed “Fag lover,” before making a quit exit. Some people just never change, do they?

I looked back at Guy and watched him grab the textbooks he needed that night for homework. Another year had gone by and we were now in our last month before summertime. He looked much better, definitely healthier too. He was still quiet though, still withdrawn. I could see that he was still suffocating in this environment. He was still hiding, suppressing his mannerisms, never freely expressing himself.

I didn’t talk much to him anymore, not that I really did a whole lot of that before anyway. We were never close, and probably never will be.

Our final exams finally came, and I was exhausted from the amount of studying and fighting with sleep and boredom that I had to do. My English exam was the last, and I breathed a sigh of relief after laying down my pen that morning. It felt great to be sitting by the window with a bit of breeze and sunlight both warming and cooling my skin. I would look over my writing in a minute or two. That could wait for a bit. I wanted to spend a short moment staring out the window. I realized that this was going to be the last time I’d spend my days in a high school classroom. I looked at the lively and bright greenery and I knew that freedom was here at last, waiting to meet me on the outside. I grinned widely and shook my head, then picked up the pen and went back to reread my essay.

A few days later, I found myself spending my Prom night by myself at a bookstore. I didn’t feel like going. It wasn’t my sort of activity. I much preferred to celebrate it in solitude, surrounding by things of my interest, being free to absorb myself in it. I went through a variety of reading material, looking for anything new and eye-catching – everything from mystery novels to Flex magazines, from romance novels to comic books, and from philosophy texts to motivational self-help books. I took a few books I liked, tucking them under my arm as I finally headed to the cashier.

I crossed a bridge on the way home under the night sky with the highway traffic below me. I stopped for a moment and watched the blurred lines of light zoom past like a thriving electric ocean, breathing in the cool night air rushing about from the traffic underneath.

When I stepped away from the railing and kept walking, I saw the building, the hall that my school had rented for Prom. It was a nice fancy place, with a nice fancy name. I wondered how many kids were there with dates, how many would later go to the after party, how many would get wasted, how many kids would lose their virginity for the first time – to someone they didn’t care or, in the rare case, to someone they loved.

I don’t think I was really missing out on much. I was pretty happy with my books.

As I neared the building on the path to my house, I walked through a patch of trees and looking up. I watched the sea of stars. It was so expansive, filling my eyes to the limit. I opened my mouth to laugh, to laugh with freedom and joy.

But then I heard something. I heard someone. A human noise. I stopped and looked for the source of the sound. I found someone sitting on a bench by a small pond. He wore a suit.

It was Guy. He was alone. He must have gone to Prom, since he was dressed up for it. I didn’t know for sure, since I didn’t think he’d be one to go. But Prom wasn’t over yet. Why was he out here like this?

I slowly walked up behind him, resting my hands on the backseat. He had his hands covering his mouth as he sobbed and shook quietly. He hadn’t sensed my presence.

“You shouldn’t be here like this,” I started. He jumped up at the sound of my voice, startled.

“J-Jason?!” he yelped. He pulled his face away from me, cursed under his breath, and whimpered into his hands as he tried to calm himself down.

“Why do I always find you at your worst?” I said quietly to myself. He gritted his teeth as his face grimaced painfully. He rocked back and forth, gasping every now and then. I really shouldn’t have said that. Why I never just leave him alone in times like these, I’m not sure.

“I’m always at my worst. Some days…I just…I just can’t hide it anymore. I’m a mess. I can’t do this anymore,” he said. Then he fell silent again.

“You won’t have to,” I replied.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“Well…as I’m sure you are well aware of, after this there’s something called ‘Commencement’. You know, graduation. Then the real thing will begin, and all of this…filler, in a sense, will be over.” I paused for a moment for effect. “After that, you’ll be free to be yourself. You’ll leave this place behind and go to a new school. No one will care anymore.” I laughed at myself, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. “You’ll meet people like yourself – people with the same interests, the same experiences; people who’ll care about you, like you for who you are. It’ll be better, much better.”

I shifted my weight onto my legs and took my hands off the bench and to my sides. With one hand still holding onto the bag I carried my new books in, I reached in and pulled out a book that had caught my attention while I was at the store. I reached out and handed it to him. He took his face from his hands and looked at it curiously. He looked at me with confusion, then back at the book.

“Could you hold this for me for a sec?” He lifted his hands to take hold of it. “It’s pretty old actually.” He looked at the cover which read ‘Am I Blue’. “I read a short in there and liked it. It’s not bad,” I smiled at him, turning to leave.

“Wait! I can’t take this from you,” he said, surprised.

“It’s not mine anymore. It’s yours now.” I continued to walk away from him. “And, in case you’re wondering, it’s not a self-help book,” I chuckled.

“Jason!” he called out. I stopped. He had stood up and moved away from the bench. “You know…I never said thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Yes I do. I want to. I hate how…how I was…” he took a shuddered breath, “…in too deep to really notice what you’ve done, all of these four years. You…matter to me. I just…never realized it. I want to thank you…and say goodbye, now that I have the chance.”

I breathed deeply and turned to look at him one last time. “I never mattered. It was the small things, I hoped, that did.” I turned away from him as he stood there clutching the book in his hands, and walked home with a sad smile on my face.



----oooOOOooo----



“Finally! I was falling asleep in that lecture! Could that man go any slower?” Keegan, a new friend of mine, exclaimed. I had left home and now began attending a university while living on residence. It was my first year. The atmosphere was totally different. Life here was so different from how it was back at home, back in high school. Everything was different.

“Now that’s rare to hear you say. Usually you’re far more…composed, trying to play it off coolly,” I teased.

He stopped in his tracks, turned to glare at me, and stood at his full height. He crossed his arms in front of him. He had a very imposing presence and was easily intimidating at first glance. “Would you like to repeat that?” his voice rumbled dangerously.

“What, that’s all you’ve got?” I challenged him, meeting his eyes while I mimicked the same posture he assumed. We glared at each other for a few seconds before we both lost it and broke out in laughter. He then swung his arm over my shoulder while trying to get himself under control.

“I have never met anyone who was so at ease with joking around with me. Well, except maybe this one girl in high school,” he said.

“Oh…was she special?” I teased him again. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Not in that sense, though she did have a best friend whom she always flirted with. She was a fun character. And smart. Very smart.”

“Sounds like you wished something more had happened between the two of you. She settled for someone else, I see,” I teased him again.

“Jason, you clever little–”

“–Little?!”

“–Bastard!”

He reached out to tackle me, but I quickly slipped out from under his arms. We carried this on, laughing like children as we scampered and chased each other down and through the courtyard.

“Oh hey, what’s this?” I said, stopping our little silly game after stepping out from under one of the arches. I looked up ahead. It was some sort of gathering. They had a table set up with a variety of colourful pamphlets and brochures. I decided to check it out and see what the occasion was.

“Oh, just give me a second,” Keegan said, taking out his ringing cell phone. He answered it, made a few exchanges, and told me he had to meet a friend to exchange notes for a class that was missed.

“Alright. Is it a girl?” I asked.

“I don’t see why it would matter to you.”

“Well, I suggest practicing your flirting skills with your friend. Now’s the time to make up for missed opportunities.”

“Bastard!” he growled.

I grinned, winking at him. He shook his head and turned to leave. I’ve never been this lively before. There was something about him that brought out the best in me, and I’ve only just met him.

I returned my attention to the commotion out by the patio of one of the school buildings. As I approached the table, I noticed that the person who was standing behind it had a rather ambiguous gender. “Hi. What’s going on here?” I asked curiously.

“Hello,” she said. “We’re having an LGBTQ meet and greet. It’s one of the activities for Queer Orientation. Have you attended anything earlier on yet?”

“No, I…” I started, but my voice trailed off. Something caught my eye. With a curious expression, amongst the crowd I saw someone I thought I wouldn’t ever see again. I didn’t know he attended this university. He had a very different look about him. He had a new clean haircut with a streak of purple in the front. His clothes were form fitting – a fashionable jacket with a matching pair of trousers – along with a really nice pair of shoes.

But above all, he had a smile on his face. He was happy, and he seemed to be very engaged in a conversation with another boy his age.

And if I might add, there was a fourth detail, one that I could only see a hint of then but now was in full-bloom, one that I will not neglect to mention. He was handsome.

“I haven’t,” I finished after a long pause. “Anyway, thanks for your time. I should get going.”

“Not a problem,” she smiled.

I started walking away, but then decided to turn around and take one more look at him. The other guy had his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. Guy was blushing and bursting with happiness. He was free to be himself. There was no more hiding; that time has now passed. His life now began.

He didn’t see me as I watched from a distance. He was finally beyond the small things. Here was the bigger picture. Now was the time for greater things

They were the same sounds Julian last heard when he was 14 years old that summer long ago that made him stop, remember, and hesitantly walk to the tall doors of the old church he used to attend every Sunday with his mother before she died, and then a few more times later with Mrs. Riley and her son, Taylor. Julian suddenly had the painful urge earlier in the day to board the train and take a solitary stroll through his old neighbourhood. He had passed his old house and Mrs. Riley’s, though he didn’t think she lived there anymore. Even though it was dark and getting late outside, Julian decided to make one last stop that evening before heading home. As he stood there, he found himself drawn to the tall and slender house of worship, the warm music emanating from it, the rich choir voices and crystal clear keys on the piano, and was washed over by the fond memories of a time so distant it felt like a life not of his own, as if he was not entirely sure he had lived it. Julian was not comforted by the sudden intrusion of a series of bright haunting images he had tried both wishing away and recreating for years. The best, happiest memories never brought joy. It’s strange how over time, the happiest of memories did nothing but supplement the pain of the sad ones. Yet even so, he couldn’t help but allow himself to respond to the tug of the longing and yearning of trying to somehow reconnect with the past. Julian’s forehead creased, the corners of lips sinking in and down in bittersweet sorrow. He listened carefully as he opened the doors, shutting them silently behind him. He took leisurely steps gently across the lush red carpet, the footprints from the sole of his shoe leaving their faint imprints behind. He noted that the carpet was a new addition. It had not been here when he was much younger.

The music grew clearer as he entered the sanctuary. Julian bit his lip – the left half anyway – thinking the impossible before muttering to himself in disdain to dispel the ridiculous notion. But he couldn’t help but notice how familiar the pianist’s playing style was. It reminded him of Taylor, the way he would accompany the worship on the piano every Sunday service as they sang.

Perhaps the reason why fond memories hurt so much was because they reminded him of joy and beauty, only so that he might know that he could never re-experience them. It was lost and, try as he might, he could never recreate them. So he tried to forget, but could only end up pretending to. No one could truly forget, especially not something that changed the way they lived. In Julian’s case, he had discovered that the only way to rekindle one’s own flame was to have another candle share its own light. As much as it hurt him to hear the music and remember the days that time had long stolen, he felt himself drawn to it, beckoning him to come and stay. And he relented.

He allowed his heart to comply, and as he sat in the last pew in the far right – the pew he always occupied with his mother, and then later with Mrs. Riley and her son, Taylor – he first looked around and observed the grand room before watching the choir rehearse. No one was sitting in any of the long benches; he was the only one. The ceiling was high with wooden beams making x’s and triangles from wall to ceiling to support the roof. The windows had been renovated, and the dusty lamps that once hung on the walls were now replaced with newer and more modern light fixtures. The warm soft glow of lights around the room was still the same, bringing a sense of hallowed peace and comfort from the falling of darkness outside. The front of the sanctuary had been renovated as well. A new altar and stage took place of the squeaky one he once remembered, but the dark wooden pulpit still remained. With a new stage and more space, the old upright had been swapped with a polished black grand piano. From the way it was positioned, Julian could not clearly make out the face of the pianist. A choir of young men and women was conducted by an older woman with her back turned to him. There were a few children there, one of which was a very young boy, a young toddler who wasn’t singing as much, as he was rather simply enjoying himself just standing there with a big grin plastered on his face. His hair was dark brown, and Julian watched him at a distance with interest and curiosity for a while before switching his gaze to something else. The long benches were still the same as the ones he used to sit on years ago.

A sudden memory emerged in his mind and he found himself looking through the small shelves and slots attached to the back of the pew in front of him, which were used to hold Bibles and hymnals. Next to it was a small shelf padded with green velvet reserved for depositing the little clear plastic cups used for drinking a modest amount of grape juice during communion, which were then collected at the end of service to be thrown out. He picked at the old and rough green velvet – no longer smooth and now worn out – lifting it off from its cramped space. The glue had dried up long ago, and Julian felt a small smile spread over his lips as it broke away from its confinement, puffs of dust voicing protest at the abrupt disturbance from years of relatively undisturbed slumber.

Julian looked at the dry wood underneath, vague hints of markings and chicken scratches of old days could just barely be made out. He took a finger and carefully wiped the dust off. Yes, all of these years and it was still here. Julian wondered if anyone had ever discovered the simple message he and Taylor once carved into the wood with a key. But perhaps it had no meaning now. Only to Julian. All of these years he had finally convinced himself that Taylor was gone forever. Convinced…and yet he still allowed himself to dream and hope from time to time. So much for ‘convincing’. Perhaps it was the same as trying to forget.

When Julian looked up, he noticed that the choir members had broken away from their orderly formations to chat with each other, loosening up. Slowly they started making their way through a side door upfront. The lady conductor took her music stand and put it to the side. Julian watched her make her way over to the pianist. He didn’t stand up, and the slightly open lid blocked off a part of his face from view. The two spoke in hushed tones for a brief moment before she too made her way to the side door. The only two people occupying the sanctuary were Julian and the church pianist. Julian sat all the way at the back of the room, while the pianist sat at his piano all the way up at the front. Julian kept silent, his mind wandering with nostalgia as he remembered old days full of discovery and significance, but in no particular order.

Quietly, ever so gently, so unobtrusively, Julian’s ears perked as he heard the tender beginning notes of a familiar song, a song he had not heard in ages. After the first line or so, he remembered the humble, almost romantic piece, but could not recall the name. To suddenly and unexpectedly hear it for the first time in years sent a cold shiver through his entire body. He was surprised that he still recognized it. He watched the hidden man behind the black piano with curiosity. He knew the song well. He just couldn’t remember what it was called.

All he remembered was that he had first heard it played for him on his 14th birthday that month of July, 16 years ago. He didn’t forget it then, and he couldn’t forget it now. He might have forgotten the name, but not the memory.



----oooOOOooo----



Sometimes, whenever his father, Dan Todd, was having one of his episodes, Julian would make his escape into their backyard as his mother quickly whispered to him to make himself scarce. Julian found himself standing outside looking at the backdoor feeling awfully frightened, knowing his mother was in there trying to calm down his father on her own. He knew her to be a very fragile woman and he didn’t know how much more she could take. Some days he wished she would just wake him up in the middle of the night to make a great escape to someplace just for the two of them, some place far away.

Of course, that never did happen. Instead, his mother took him to church with her every Sunday. It was just the two of them, and it was a haven away from the place that was known as ‘home’. Even though his father objected for an entire year, wanting to keep them under his thumb, he finally relented, throwing his hands up. He wouldn’t hassle them about it as long as they obeyed his one simple condition – they were never allowed to tithe because, as he saw it, it was his money for his own use. Julian’s father always kept a close eye on their money, keeping count of every penny. Dan Todd was a controlling man. Julian didn’t know why. He never thought about it, never questioned it. He just learned to live with it, but he knew he could do without.

Julian’s mother, Sarah, had found friendship and community at the local church. Though she felt her newfound faith helped to make her life a bit more bearable, she primarily came there for the sense of community and family. Sarah knew it was best to take Julian along instead of leaving him at home. He was ten at the time, and although it was all new to him, he took comfort in the sense of harmony and amity of the people and the place.

Because their service was in the afternoon, he got to enjoy the moments when the sun would come down and shine through the immense stained glass window, flooding the room with warm orange and faint hues of red, blue, purple, and green. He loved it best when the atmosphere was accompanied by the doxology played at the end of every service.

For an entire year it was the same lady who played it on the piano. However, the following summer he noticed a new face every so often. The same new face. It was a dark haired boy a few years older than himself who would sometimes take her place. From the way it was positioned, he could never make out the face very well. The first good look Julian got of him was on a Sunday of the following month in July when Julian spotted his mother, Sarah, talking to the boy and his mother. Julian was eleven at the time, and that day on the way home he asked his mother who they were. She told him that they were new to the church, but that they knew the church pianist well. He also found out that they were moving into the area, and in fact would be neighbours. Not directly next door, but one over, separated by another home sandwiched in between. “We’ll be having new friends living close by. They’re the Riley’s,” his mother had said.

Julian didn’t know about them being friends. Indeed, he found the prospect of having the dark haired boy moving in close by exciting, but he didn’t think he could easily make friends with an older kid. He asked his mother how old the boy was. The boy’s name was Taylor, Julian was told, and he was fifteen, four years older than Julian. Julian frowned. He was afraid the boy might be intimidating and would want nothing to do with him if they were ever put together. Two days afterwards they moved in.

A week later in that hot month of July, Julian found himself playing with a tiny dark woodlouse in the backyard while his mother was out grocery shopping, and his father was still sleeping, only to wake up past noon. When he was younger still, he found the insects revolting. To a certain extent, he still did. But when his mother discovered him curiously looking at them, following their path, she smiled and told him a funny name for them. Chuggypigs, she’d call them. She showed him a little trick they could do, that they rolled up into a tight little ball when you touched them. She said they did that out of fright, sort of like they were trying to hide, to protect themselves. He thought that was cute, so with some trepidation, he tried it for himself.

He found himself doing that when he heard a screen door open a few meters ahead. He looked up and, through the wire fence, saw Taylor step out of his house. He quickly looked away, pretending he had not seen the boy. Taylor looked curiously at Julian for a moment before he decided to speak up.

“Hi,” the boy said. Julian looked up and made eye contact with Taylor.

“Hi,” Julian piped out in a very small voice.

“I think I’ve seen you at church before. I’m Taylor, by the way. What’s yours? Your name, I mean.” Julian thought Taylor’s voice was very deep. He was fifteen years old, after all. Julian still hadn’t gone through puberty yet, and he felt scared having to talk to such an older boy. Taylor was also a lot taller. Very tall, in fact. And he had the blackest hair Julian had ever seen. Black hair, black eyebrows, black eyelashes, and black pupils. Black as night. The reflecting light off of Taylor’s eyes looked like stars in black space. They looked deep and awe striking, like something from beyond. Something mysterious to be explored and discovered, to take a voyage into. They were welcoming and Julian took solace in them.

“I’m Julian,” he replied. Taylor smiled, trying to appear approachable and friendly to the younger boy. Julian didn’t know why an older boy even bothered to talk to him. He thought the older kids got, the less interested they were in children. Maybe Taylor just thought it would be rude not to say hi, Julian thought, especially since he already knew Julian’s mother.

“I saw you and your mom talking to my mom at church last Sunday,” said Julian, trying to avoid an awkward silence.

“Yeah, we were. She’s a nice lady, your mom,” said Taylor.

Julian smiled. “Your mom’s nice too,” he said, not sure of what he should say to repay the unexpected complement. Taylor laughed lightly.

“I guess you can say that. Unless when I get into trouble or something,” he grinned.

Julian nodded slowly. When he looked back down he could not find the woodlouse. It had already escaped when he was distracted. Julian frowned.

“What kind of trouble?” he asked, just to keep the conversation going.

“Oh nothing bad, don’t you worry. Just little things here and there,” Taylor shrugged. He stood there quietly for a few seconds before his eyes lit up as he stepped back into the house. “Hey, I think I’ve got something to show you. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Julian remained crouched, finding a stick to dig into the earth with the hopes of finding interesting pebbles or rocks. Just another pointless activity to keep him occupied. He dug around for a minute before seeing something blue. He thought it was a rock, and as he was carefully tugging it out, he heard an incoming buzz loom by his ear and he yelped, jumping away. Bumblebees frightened him, and his face twisted in horror as he yelped once again as it dived back at him. He fanned his face, trying to move away from it.

“I’m back–oh hey, what’s going on?” Taylor said, surprised to see Julian hop from one area to the next, his arms flailing about.

“I don’t like bees. It won’t leave me alone,” he winced.

“Oh, just keep away from it and try not to agitate it and it’ll leave you alone,” Taylor chuckled. “But I could try distracting that little guy with what I just went in to grab and show you. Let’s see if it works,” he said, grinning. He held a bottle in his hands, twisted the cap open, and blew a few bubbles in the general direction of the black and yellow pest. Within a matter of seconds, the bee became preoccupied with them and flew away from Julian, leaving the younger boy in peace.

“Hey…” Julian started as he observed the bubbles landing on the ground. “They’re not popping.”

“Yep. I know I’m probably too old for toys like this, but I thought it was just cool, so I grabbed myself one. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Yeah,” Julian replied with hushed awe in his voice. “I’ve never seen this before.”

“Here, try it,” Taylor said. “Can you catch?”

“Umm…I guess I can try.”

Taylor tossed the bottle across the backyard of the house in between them and Julian caught it in both hands.

“Nice catch!” Taylor’s complement lit up a smile on Julian’s face.

“Thanks,” he said, opening the bottle. He brought the ringed loop up to his lips and blew them towards Taylor. Taylor grabbed and popped a few.

“Ya like it?”

“Yeah.”

“You can keep it.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure! You’ll make better use of it than I would. I just bought it to try it out.”

At that moment, Julian heard the backdoor open and his mother stuck her head out.

“Sweetie, I’m back. It’s lunch time. Come back inside,” she said.

“Okay mom, just one second.” Julian turned back to look at Taylor. “Thanks Taylor,” he said happily.

“Who are you talking to?” Sarah asked, making her way down the steps and over to Julian. She looked across the yard and spotted Taylor grinning.

“Hi Mrs. Todd. Julian and I were just getting to know each other.”

“So you’ve met?” she looked back and forth between the two boys. “And what’s this?” she inquired, seeing the bottle in Julian’s hand.

“Oh, it’s just a bottle of bubbles I gave to Julian,” Taylor answered for him.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have. He wanted it from you?” she asked. Turning to her son, she raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask him to give it to you, did you?”

“Mom!” Julian whined quietly in annoyance, his lips pouting, though he didn’t overdo it to avoid embarrassment. “That’s not true.”

“No, no, it’s just my little gift to him. It’s nothing really, Mrs. Todd.”

“And did you thank him, Julian?” she asked, directing her gaze back to her son.

“Yes, mom, I did,” he sighed, slightly exasperated. Taylor watched the two, chuckling quietly to himself. Sarah ruffled her son’s blond hair, grinning.

“I’m just checking, that’s all.” Shifting her attention back to Taylor she asked, “Is your mom at home right now?”

“Yes, yes she’s just inside, no doubt getting ready for lunch. I should be heading back in to help now.”

“Okay then. In a few minutes I’ll be ringing your doorbell. I’ve got something for the both of you. Tell your mom so that she’ll know to expect me.”

“Okay, thank you very much Mrs. Todd. I’ll tell her right now.” He walked to the backdoor of his house and stopped to wave goodbye at Julian and his mother. Julian waved back, and as his mother turned to walk back into the house, he crouched one last time and managed to pull out the blue stone before following her.

“What do you have for the Riley’s?” Julian asked.

“Just an Italian rum cake I picked up at a bakery on my way home from doing the groceries.” She turned to him and saw he was clutching something else in his other hand. “And what else do you have in your hands now?”

“Oh, just a rock I found outside,” he said, opening his dirt covered palm.

“Wow, that’s a nice one,” she said, nodding to herself. “I wonder how it got there.”

“I don’t know, but if you’re going to go over to the Riley’s house, can I come over too? I wanna give this to Taylor.”

Sarah smiled widely, rubbing the back of her son’s neck as she shook her head. “An exchange of gifts, I see. Of course you can come. But wash your hands and the stone first, okay. It’s polite to be clean.”

“I was just gonna do that,” he replied.

Within a few minutes, they stood outside of Mrs. Riley’s front door and Sarah rang the doorbell. In a short moment, the door opened, revealing a middle aged woman with short hair as dark as Taylor’s own.

“Hello Beth,” Sarah started.

“Hello Mrs. Riley,” Julian chirped right after without missing a beat.

“Well hello! Come on in!” she gestured with her hand, waving for them to come into her new home. “Welcome, welcome!” Looking at the box in Sarah’s hands, she made sure her sound her gratitude enthusiatically. “Oh Sarah, you really didn’t have to! Thank you so much! You really should stay and have lunch with us. You too Julian,” she added with delight.

“Oh, I’m sorry we can’t stay. I’ve got to prepare food for Dan, my husband, to have now and then later in the evening to bring with him to work. Then I’ve got some errands to do.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. But thank you so much for dropping by and giving this to us. It smells really good.”

Julian skittered around them but didn’t have to go any further to look for Taylor, as the older boy had stepped out from within the kitchen to greet the two guests.

Julian smiled shyly at Taylor for a short moment before dropping his eyes as if he were taking a newfound interest in his socked feet.

“What’s up lil’ man?” Taylor grinned.

“Hiya Taylor,” he paused for a moment, now suddenly feeling foolish at his earlier excitement in wanting to give his new friend something he had discovered in his back yard. Maybe Taylor wouldn’t like it. Maybe he would give him an odd look and throw it away when Julian left. It must have been so childish! Julian held it tightly in his small hands, hiding it behind his back.

His doleful and shy gesture did not go unnoticed by Taylor. “Hey buddy, whatcha got there? Are you hiding something from me?”

“It’s…It’s nothing,” he said, unsure of himself.

“Not if you show me, it ain’t. Come on, I wanna see!”

“Umm…okay…” Julian hesitantly pulled his hands in front of him and revealed the blue stone. Taylor’s eyebrows shot up.

“Whoa, that’s really cool! Holy smokes, where did you get this?!” Taylor exclaimed.

“I…I found it in my back yard. It’s nothing really.”

“Nothing?! Whadya mean nothing?! This isn’t you common rock that you can dig up just about anywhere in the dirt. This is something special!”

“You like it?”

“’Course I do! I love it. That’s a lucky find, Julian.”

“Well…umm,” Julian’s smile re-emerged in full bloom as he teetered back and forth on his feet. “I want you to have it,” Julian began, sticking his hand further out.

Taylor looked at him, an incredulous expression in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Julian said, his enthusiasm suddenly returning. “Just, um, think of it as a gift…and my way of saying thank you for the bubble bottle you gave me,” he said with a goofy grin.

“Aww, you really didn’t need to!”

“Yeah…I know,” he said slowly, dragging out the words. “But I wanna. I want you to keep it. It’s just a stone anyway. Didn’t cost me anything,” he giggled, slightly embarrassed.

Taylor reached out and took it from him. He weighed it in his hand, tossed it lightly and caught it, and nodded his head with a happy smile.

“Well, to me it’s not just any stone. Thanks a lot buddy. I really like it.”



----oooOOOooo----



Julian had never tried rollerblading before, and so when Taylor found out about this as he took his skates out for a leisurely stroll around the block one day, he got the measurements, went out and picked up a smaller pair, and took Julian with him to the small alleys behind the garages and slowly showed the smaller boy how to skate. It took him a moment and a few tries to find his balance and to move smoothly from one foot to the other. He could only go slow, and had some difficultly breaking and turning. One day when he showed considerable improvement and with the older boy’s praise and encouragement, Julian made the mistake of going too fast and when he took a sudden harsh turn onto a slope of bumpy gravel, he swerved, crashed violently against a metal shack and some tin garbage cans, and collapsed.

The angry gash on his knee, the shock of the impact he had made on the gravel and concrete to his hands and elbows, and the awkward positions of his feet and ankles made him cry out. He gritted his teeth in pain and embarrassment. He tried not to cry, but it was harder than he could manage. Surely, he thought to himself, that Taylor would be embarrassed at having a cry baby around him. Surely Taylor would see him as an uncoordinated klutz. Subconsciously, he looked up to Taylor, wanting to prove he was worthy, that he was good enough to be around an older boy. He took sharp shuddered breathes through his aching chest. He tried hard to appear tough, brave, and strong. But when Taylor immediately ran to him with worry written all over his face, Julian couldn’t hold himself together anymore, and he tasted the saltiness drip to the corner of his lips soon after his vision had blurred. A reflexive and choking tightness caught in his throat, preventing him from speaking.

Taylor was beside himself. He carefully and slowly helped the boy up. In a short amount of time, he got Julian back into his house through the backdoor. He took care of the hurting and distraught youngster, cleaning his wounds and bandaging them up. He checked to see if anything was sprained or broken. Taylor held his hand when the rubbing alcohol stung, and when it was finished, he hugged Julian to himself on the living room couch, quietly consoling the boy, making sure to tell him that he was very brave, that it was just a little accident, that despite all of what just happened he was proud of him for the progress and enthusiasm he had in learning something new.

Encouraged, Julian found himself feeling adamant to try again, but just to take it slower and more carefully the next time around. He wanted to live up to Taylor’s praise. While his knee was still healing, Taylor bought him knee pads to use for their summer activity together, along with a helmet. Taylor scolded himself for not thinking of it earlier.

Besides play, there was also work. Julian’s mother got him some math exercise books to practice and learn from to keep him from forgetting and to prepare him for next year. Julian hated math. He would look at a problem and not know how to start. It was even worse for word problems, when he had difficulty translating English into math. It was overwhelming and he lacked confidence. Conveniently, fortunately, and unexpectedly, Taylor was quite proficient in the subject and he took it upon himself to help make math straightforward, understandable, and fun – and if not fun, then at least interesting. Though it was a struggle, Julian eventually got more and more confident when he successfully completed problem after problem, his mind making connections and seeing the patterns. Because Taylor could do it, he wanted to be able to as well.

The two ladies, Sarah and Beth, became close friends. Beth eventually learned that there were some family issues regarding Julian’s father, Dan Todd. Sarah appeared sullen whenever he was mentioned, and tried avoiding the subject as much as possible. Beth had never seen the man. He had never attended the church services with Sarah and her son. All Beth could do was remind her that if she needed anything, she would always be welcomed here. Both her and her son.

Taylor had already played the piano for some Sunday services when Julian first saw him – something he clearly was comfortable with and had already had experience with before becoming a member at this church – and he continued to once or twice a month. Julian didn’t know anything about music, and so one day, when he walked up to Taylor at the piano after service, he was shown a few basics and had the opportunity to try them out. Though fun, he found it hard to get his fingers to cooperate, but was reassured by Taylor’s encouraging and supportive attitude. After his hands tired and he put them down, Taylor had played for him a short little piece he had learned. Sometimes they would fool around as they sat together on the piano bench. It was during these playful moments that the two appeared literally joined at the hip – with thighs touching each other, Julian would instinctively leaned into him, while Taylor would respond by wrapped an arm around the younger boy, hugging him to his side. The setting sun through the stained glass window warmed their backs. The two mothers would find them and smile at each other, seeing they were as close as brothers, before calling them to come on over and that it was time to go home. This activity was also, on occasions, repeated at Taylor’s home, since Taylor owned an upright.

The next summer, Julian was caught unprepared as he plunged headfirst into puberty at the age of 12, and was frightened at the surge of sudden physiological changes his body underwent. His voice cracked and deepened and he grew taller. He found that he had to readjust his pants constantly and be careful in hiding his uncontrolled – and uncooperative – state whenever he got up from sitting. He grew clumsy, tripping over his feet. He became extremely self-conscious of the hair that grew in ‘those’ awkward places. Of course, he had general knowledge that this was to be expected, being told that it was ‘perfectly normal’ and ‘okay’, but he still felt afraid of turning into some dirty monster, that maybe he was growing too fast, too suddenly. Though some kids were late bloomers, he didn’t think that becoming quickly developed was something to be entirely proud of, either.

Then, he started realizing that he was ‘noticing’ other kids, taking an interest in them. Oh, he noticed them before, but didn’t realize it when he was at a much more tender age. When he found himself sitting in class, looking at Andy’s hands, the nape of Johnny’s neck, the smooth yet firm calves of Timmy’s legs, and Nigel’s golden locks, it slowly dawned on him that he wasn’t doing what the other boys were doing – looking at Mary’s long brown hair, Shirley’s slender and smooth legs under her skirt, or the slope of Britney’s shoulders and her young breasts. He was only looking at the boys, and he felt disconcerted. Nobody told him this was ‘perfectly normal’ and ‘okay’.

What was unique though, was when he saw Taylor on Sunday’s. It wasn’t like looking at any other boy. There was a strange funny feeling in his stomach. His legs felt weak and he would grow hot. He felt himself perspire beneath his clothes. He zoned out when he looked at Taylor, jumping when the older boy had to repeat himself. His knees dipped and he shivered with electric feelings whenever Taylor touched him, whenever he touched his arm, tapped his thigh, whenever the older boy slung his arm around him. Taylor commented on his fast growth, and when Julian timidly hinted that he felt embarrassed, maybe even ashamed at the changes, that he felt scared and didn’t know what was going on with his body, it was not surprising to find Taylor once again reassuring and consoling Julian, telling him that it was okay, that he was okay and what he was feeling and going through was all perfectly normal. He made sure to dispel any fears and made it clear that if Julian had any questions about anything, even as embarrassing as they might be, he could always coming to him about it.

Unbeknownst to Taylor, Julian did not tell him about his emerging interest in boys, nor the special feelings he began to discover he had for him. Taylor once talked about girls. Julian felt uncomfortable, as he realized he didn’t have anything to say about them. It also made him think Taylor liked girls, and it made him feel different. Sort of…alone…alone in what he felt.

The following year, when Julian was thirteen and Taylor seventeen, Julian finally realized the fact that all along he had been falling in love for Taylor. They had gone from friends to brothers, and now he felt something more. But his young heart ached with the firm belief that Taylor couldn’t and wouldn’t ever feel the same way he did for him, that he wouldn’t ever be able to share this newfound love he had for Taylor. He loved everything about him – from his visual appeal, to how genuinely caring and kind he was; that it didn’t matter to him that Julian was four years younger; that as an older youth he was more serious about things, that he was more experienced, paying attention to matters of importance rather than be consumed by the trivial, that he wasn’t like the other kids Julian knew – kids who were wild and up with latest gossip, kids who were so into themselves that they would hurt others to make themselves look better, and kids who copied other kids just to be part of a clique. It was all about themselves. Taylor wasn’t like that. Taylor cared about others, was humble and kind, fun and smart. Julian could not comprehend why Taylor could enjoy having a thirteen year old kid trail after him. Whenever Julian saw him again, his knees would dip ever so slightly in response to Taylor’s warm and exuberant “Hi Julian!” or “Hey buddy!”, and he would fall in love with him all over again. Though it brought Julian joy knowing that he had a true friend in Taylor, he felt despondent knowing that he was alone with these feelings and that he would and could never express them. Not knowing how to cope with the heartache, he eventually made a vow of silence, deciding that maybe it was better to live in the fantasy rather than risk losing the closest link he had to the boy he loved in a wishful attempt at making it a reality. Should Taylor love him enough as a friend to not push him away if he ever did tell the truth, his fantasies would be quashed with the definite knowledge that they could no longer be rooted in the realm of hopeful possibility. And even by some miraculous happening where Taylor actually felt the same way he did, he had a nagging fear that Taylor wouldn’t be reciprocal because of their age difference. With friends, it didn’t much matter. But with lovers…he wasn’t so sure.

It was also that year that his father, Dan, began heavily drinking. Sarah grew tired and distraught at her husband’s state. Julian’s father spent the money they earned on booze, and it increased his predisposition to anger. He reasserted his controlling behaviour – demanding records of every dollar spent and withholding money – demanded to know where they were when not at home, and continued to be verbally abusive. He suddenly forbade them from going out on Sundays. He didn’t like them forgetting about their place under his roof, re-establishing and reminding Julian and his mother who owned them. He was jealous that they were forming relationships with other people. Sarah could not accept his breach of their freedom, and so rebelled, standing up against him with defiance. That was when he started getting physical.

Beth and Taylor hadn’t seen the two of them for a week and concerned, Beth called them several times, each time having Dan lie to them that they weren’t home. She speculated that somehow Dan was involved. When Sarah answered the phone for herself, Beth came to her with worry. Dan monitored her from behind, his eyes boring through the back of her head, his hot rank breath thick on her neck. Silently, she choked back frightened sobs in her tight throat. Sarah quickly invented a lie, saying that she now had to work on Sundays.

Following the phone call her husband saw to it that only he had access to the home phone, which he then locked away in his room. Sarah now slept in the spare room.

He took it up a notch the following month. He forbade them from leaving the house unless it was for work, school, or groceries. Otherwise, they were to stay at home. The only small sliver of freedom was whenever he passed out from drinking too much, staying that way for hours, sometimes an entire day or two. Soon after, he lost his job, and it was up to Sarah to pay the bills and put food on the table. It became harder and harder for her. She didn’t dare reach out to find help – he had made his control on her absolute, he had conquered her, though he had not yet broken her.

Slowly the house deteriorated into a filthy slum. Julian watched his mother sink deeper and deeper into depression. Sarah worsened her condition by blaming herself for not being strong enough for her son, thereby sinking into self-loathing, believing that she had somehow brought upon their torture and demise. Julian had to take care of her. His father was tickled with anger at the sympathetic display of familial love, so he turned on his son.



----oooOOOooo----



Three months had gone by when one wintry afternoon, Julian stepped outside into his backyard to grab a snow shovel and some road salt from the garage. When he stepped out of the door with the shovel and bucket in hand, he saw Taylor outside on his side of the fence.

“J-Julian?? Julian!! Holy crap, I haven’t seen you in so long. Where have you been?!” Taylor exclaimed, stuttering at the unexpected surprise as he watched in astonishment.

Julian just stood there. In front of him was the boy he had been forbidden to see, the boy who he came to love so much, and could not say or do anything about it. How do you talk to someone you haven’t seen in what felt like so long?

“I…I’ve been at home…” his voice trailed off.

“At home? But how come whenever we – I – called…wait, what’s going on?”

Julian gazed at him, his body numb, before resolving that he had to get away. “I…I can’t say. I’ll get in trouble.”

“In trouble? What do you mean?” his brow knitted with an incredulous expression. “I don’t understand,” Taylor said, frowning with confusion and sadness.

“I…” Julian started but couldn’t finish, turning to go back in.

Taylor shook his head. “Come on, talk to me, what’s been going on?”

“I can’t say, he’ll…” Julian’s eyes widened when he realized he had carelessly slipped out a hint.

“He? Wait, your dad?! I knew he had something to do about this…” Taylor visibly reddened, clearly upset. Julian’s face twisted with turmoil.

“I have to go…” Julian said

“Please Julian, it’s going to be okay. Just tell me the truth. I can help you. My mom and I, we can help you. And your mom. Just tell me!”

“I…I can’t. I want to, but I–”

A crash. “That’s enough! Get back inside!” his father barked, flinging the backdoor open as he marched and snatched Julian by the arm, yanking him back inside. “And you!” he pointed to Taylor. “You stay away from him. He doesn’t need you,” he growled.

It all happened too fast for Julian to react, and as soon as they were inside, his father attacked him repeatedly. Julian failed to cover himself in time and was struck to the floor before he realized what had happened. Sarah came into the room and screamed, flinging herself over her son.

“Get off! Stupid woman!” he hollered.

“Dan! Stop! Leave him alone! Please! Stop!” she cried.

He glared at her with flared nostrils; his face flushed a dark and menacing red. “You call yourself a mother? I’m trying to teach that good for nothing son of yours a lesson! All you do is soften him up, make him weak. Just like you,” he snarled.

At that precise moment, the doorbell rang. He ignored it for three rings, keeping at his attacks while mother and son tried to defend and evade. On the fourth ring, his annoyance grew. Irritated, he went to the door and found Mrs. Riley on the other side.

Firmly, she began, “Excuse me, but I would like to see Sarah–”

He cut her off, threatening to call the police if she attempted to bother his family again. He shut the door in her face before she knew how to respond. She blinked several times, stunned.



----oooOOOooo----



Christmas day was bleak. Julian’s mother became withdrawn and reclusive. She rarely spoke anymore. She still responded to him when he needed her to, still loved him as always. But she was too weak, too tired. She started getting sick often. Julian knew he was losing her.

His grades in school fell dramatically, but they were still satisfactory, allowing him to graduate from the eighth grade and move on to high school – though without any awards or outstanding achievements. He didn’t talk to anyone anymore. His teachers knew something was wrong, but when they tried to ask him he was not forthcoming. His hair grew long and ragged and his clothes were old, unkempt, and a size too small despite being thin and pale from not having enough to eat.

Winter ended, Spring passed by, and Summer was just around the corner. During the morning of his last day of the school year in June, his mother went out to do the groceries and was shocked to coincidentally meet Beth. When Beth quickly walked to her and embraced her, Sarah was wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Beth took her long lost friend back to her home, keeping watch to make sure they were not seen by Sarah’s husband. Over a cup of tea, Sarah told her some of what happened, leaving out the sordid details, but begged for her to keep it to herself. Beth adamantly refused, but eventually lost her resolve after having been wavered by Sarah’s disturbingly distraught pleas.

Eventually Sarah had to leave to retrieve her things and head off to work – something that was becoming too taxing on her weakened body. When he entered the house, she realized she had forgotten to buy the groceries, and Dan, his face flushed from drinking, suspiciously demanded an answer for her coming back empty handed. She had made a grave mistake, and she found no way of getting around it.

He asked her the question again, and she swallowed hard before inventing a lie – saying that she had forgotten her purse. He snarled at her and in disbelief, moved forward to search her. She backed away, telling him over and over that she was telling him the truth. She lost her balance and tripped over a chair. Quickly, he saw his chance and lunged at her as she writhed and struggled to scamper away. Finding out that he had been lied to, he struck her face several times before snatching her by the hair, dragging her by it. He’d ask her the same question again, and she would refuse to tell the truth. Frustrated and furious, he pushed her into the washroom, tearing her clothes off.

She stood there, humiliated, her shoulders hunched up with her chest hollowed and pulled inward as his eyes wandered over her thin naked frame. The anger vanished from his eyes, and instead was replaced by something else, something far more disturbing. A glaze of sadistic anticipation. It was between the cold tiles on her back and his smothering heat on her front that he broke her.

Julian had absolutely no idea what had occurred when he got home. His mother did not go to work that day and instead locked herself in her room. His father lay sprawled on the wooden floor, drunk and oblivious to the world. When Julian could not get his mother out of her room he became worried. She told him from behind the locked door that she needed some time alone, that she wasn’t feeling well. She said that she loved him very much, and that she was sorry. He thought that strange.

There was not much to eat. Julian got out canned tuna and made himself a sandwich for dinner. Sarah took pills, enough to keep her full.

He had a dream that night. He saw his mother wake him up, quietly telling him to hurry up and get dressed, and to not be too loud to wake up his father. He made his way down to meet her at the landing of the stairs in record time, and she excitedly took him by the hand as they left through the front door. They boarded a train. Julian wondered if they needed to bring their belongings, but she answered his unspoken question and told him that they would find new belongings. He suddenly felt happy and he asked her where they would be going. She just smiled peacefully. All he knew was that this was their great escape.

Julian woke up in a cold sweat in the morning when his father threw open the door. He was gruffly told to get dressed and head downstairs, where he saw several policemen exiting the house. His father should have been either asleep or in a drunken stupor, but instead was wide awake and alert, something which made Julian feel awfully troubled and disquieted. This was unexpected and most definitely out of the ordinary.

“What’s happening? Where’s mom?” Julian asked, afraid at being unable to predict his father’s reaction.

“She died last night,” he said curtly. Julian blinked several times, having difficulty believing the words he thought unutterable, something he believed was impossible.

“…What?”

“I said she died,” he glared.

“How?” he whispered, stiff and ice cold, refusing to accept what he had just been told.

“Heart attack. Take the money on the table and bring home food. She was supposed to do that yesterday. When you’re done, clean out her room,” he commanded matter-of-factly as he left the house to follow the police and ambulance. Julian stood there, cold and shell-shocked. Not a tear fell from his eye. It was too sudden, too unexpected. He had just spoken to his mother last night in his dreams and there was no way she could truly be dead. He wouldn’t accept it, refused to believe it.

When he searched the house, he knew she was gone. Regardless, he kept telling himself that she would return, that maybe she just went out to work or to do some shopping. Maybe she forgot and went to church without him. Wherever she was, she was going to come back. She wouldn’t forget him. She would come back.

That night, before going to bed he went through her room and found something hidden underneath her bed. It was a green hardcover diary. He wanted to open, to see what was inside. At the same time he was afraid of being intrusive. One doesn’t read another’s diary, do they? Even if he wanted to open it, it was held together with a padlock and he didn’t have the key. He tried looking for it in her room but he could not find it. He decided to try another day. The diary was the only closest thing he had to his mother now, yet it was not accessible. He slept in her bed that night. It smelled like her.

There was no funeral. Sarah didn’t have any living relatives to hear the news. Julian kept himself steeled, not grieving for the loss of the one person who loved and cared the most for him in his life, but instead fantasizing that she was on a short trip somewhere and would return soon. He kept this fantasy up through the first week of July but, when day after day she did not come home, reality began settling in. It was about due time he called off his flirtatious affair with the imagination. With it, a sense of abandonment seeped its way in, terror like a ghost shook and reverberated against the hollow of his ribcage while his stomach seemed to twist in an effort to expel the emptiness. There was no one for him to hold onto, and no one to hold onto him. He grieved.

He had to get away, but he didn’t know how to take care of himself on the streets. He was used to living at home with his father, but, it was different without his mom. She made it bearable. Now that she was gone…it felt dangerous.

Perhaps he could seek out the Riley’s. Maybe they could help. They are…were once, like family. But it would be humiliating to turn up at their door after months of no contact. As debasing as it may be, he didn’t think he had any dignity left, so he might as well try before turning to another alternative. But even if things do work out, he still had to deal with his father. His father drank and sometimes passed out, but was that enough?

The next day when he did the weekly groceries, he bought a bottle of sleeping pills. When he got home, he secretly mixed it into his father’s drinks – not enough to kill him, but just enough to keep him from being alert for a while. His father, thankfully, took no notice and was susceptible to it. Within a few minutes, he was knocked out cold. Julian crept out of his house and went over to Taylor’s front door. After ringing the door several times and knocking on it hard, he began panicking. They weren’t home.

He realized it was a Sunday and thought that perhaps they were at church. Not knowing where else to go and not wanting to go back inside his house, he decided to walk there. Maybe he could find them there. If he was rejected, then he would have to face the streets on his own.

The sky rolled with thickening grey, like someone had spilled dirty paintbrush dipped water on a clean canvas. By the time he got to the front steps of the church, dark shadows loomed menacingly over him. Service was over an hour ago, but he spotted their car still in the parking lot. A sliver of joyous hope slipped through him. They were still here. They were still here, and they would help him. It would be alright. Everything was going to be okay.

He ran up to the doors and tugged at them. Locked. They were locked, and they shut him out. No…no, not now. He gritted his teeth as he tugged again, desperately. It started pouring heavy rain, and he had little choice but to sit outside on the concrete steps, waiting for them to come out.

He shivered as his clothes soaked with cold rainwater, his long and unkempt blond hair plastering his face. He could feel the water seep through to the tip of his toes. Missing his mother, feeling abandoned and choked stiff with terror, seeing nothing but bleakness, began forming a cavity in his sternum. He hugged his knees to himself and soon could not differentiate between the salt of the fresh cold rain and the salt of his own dirty hot tears.



----oooOOOooo----



“Julian?! Julian?! What are you doing here? Oh my god! Julian! You’re soaking wet!” Taylor gasped in horror. “Mom! Mom, come out here!”

“Taylor, you forgot your umbrella, you’re going to get soaked! I don’t need two umbrellas, here, take–huh? What’s going on?”

“It’s Julian!”

“Julian? Julian! What are you doing here?”

Taylor took his umbrella from his mother’s hand and opened it up, covering himself and the already drenched and shivering boy. Mrs. Riley had her mouth open in shock as she crouched down, putting her hand on the boy’s shoulder. Julian looked up, his eyes half closed with exhaustion, his teeth chattering and his lips pale. He was barely aware of what was going on; his mind was too fatigued. He was silent.

Beth’s eyes widened with worry. Taylor’s frown deepened and his forehead creased with confusion. No words were exchanged between mother and son as they gently lifted and supported the frail boy over and into their car where she drove them home. Taylor sat in the back seat, taking his cardigan off to dry Julian’s hair and then wrapping it around him. He hugged the younger boy tightly to himself, ever so often combing his fingers into the boy’s damp hair. He hadn’t done that in a long time.

Julian fell asleep during the car ride and when they got home – to the Riley’s house – Taylor carried his young friend into his bedroom, stripping and drying him before tucking him into his bed. He watched his chest rise and fall with every tired breath, wanting to reach out and touch him as if to reassure himself that Julian really was here, that this wasn’t some sort of dream. But fearing he might wake him up from his much needed slumber, Taylor held back.

After a while, Taylor stood up and left to meet his mother sitting in the kitchen. She had her hands in her hair, her face tight with tension.

“How is he doing?” she asked, looking up at him as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I’ve tucked him into bed. He’s all warmed up and is sleeping now,” Taylor answered.

“Good. Make sure you keep an eye on him, and call me to let me know if anything happens. We don’t want him getting a fever.”

Taylor took a seat in front of her on their small table. Not a word was said. Not a sound was made. And then Taylor broke the silence. A sniff. A sharp gasp. A hiccup or two. She looked up and saw how upset her son was. She reached out and held onto his hands.

“I know Taylor, I know–”

“–Why did this have to happen?!” he croaked loudly, painfully. She lowered her eyes to the table. There was no answer. “Why wouldn’t they let us do anything about this, mom?! Why was he outside there all alone and cold in the rain, waiting for us? Why did any of this have to happen?!” he cried, his voice cracking, straining with anguish.

“God…I wish I did…something,” she started slowly, guiltily. “But Mrs. Todd just wouldn’t have it. She begged me not to, and I had to promise her otherwise...” A disappointed, frustrated sigh rushed out as she paused. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s gone too far,” she said, her voice faltering. “As soon as Julian is awake and aware we’ll have to talk to him and get to the bottom of this. I’ll try to reach Sarah; otherwise I may have to call the authorities to intervene. I don’t know. There’s only so much we can do. Now go to bed. I’ll let you know tomorrow after work if I can find her,”

“Mom, I don’t want to lose him. He needs us.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.”



----oooOOOooo----



Julian woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He felt a pang of fear as he looked around, disoriented. He was quickly heating up and his side of the bed was damp – in fact, the t-shirt and shorts he wore were soaked. How did he end up wearing these? His discomfort grew and he slowly shuffled out of the bed, his mind blurred but his instincts told him he had to strip off the now freezing wet clothing. He jumped when he heard movement beside him, and then lifted his head and turned to look.

“Mmm…Julian? Is everything okay?” Taylor mummbled sleepily as he struggled to wake up and see what the matter was.

“Uhh…” Julian soon remembered the events of the evening. He realized that he must be in Taylor’s bedroom, although he couldn’t recollect how he had got here. “I’m just…really hot,” he said as he struggled drowsily to get out from under the sheet. Taylor sat up and shifting over, his hand making contact with the damp pillow and sheets.

“It’s damp. Did you wake up in a cold sweat?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh…I…I need to change…is there something I can, uh…change into, maybe?” Julian asked. He felt the blood and heat run up to his ears. He looked away shamefully.

Taylor turned on a dim nightstand lamp by the corner of the bed and got out, walking over to stand in front of Julian. “Yeah, no worries, I’ll grab you some of my clothes. Now give me your shirt and shorts. I’ll put them away and give you some new ones.”

“Th-thanks, thanks a lot,” Julian mumbled weakly as he fought and yanked the wet clothes off as it clung to his moist skin. Taylor went over to his drawer and grabbed a clean t-shirt and shorts. He turned around and saw Julian standing there shivering, his skin slick with sweat, his arms hugged around his thin frame. Taylor sighed inwardly as he looked at his livid friend.

“We’re going to need to get you dried up,” he said as he left the room. A few seconds later he came back with a damp washcloth and a towel. Julian’s face blushed as he realized he was almost entirely naked in front of Taylor.

“Here we are. I can give you a hand–“

“–No, no, it’s okay. I-I think I can manage,” he stuttered, his embarrassment growing. “I’ll just go to the washroom and get myself dried and changed.”

“You’re going to have to take your underwear off too. It’s wet and stuck to your skin,” Taylor said. “I’ll give you a pair of mine, if you’re okay with it.”

“Umm…” Julian bit his lower lip.

“Oh! Oh, it’s okay. You can take it off in the bathroom and take it out when you’re done. I’ll take it from you and put it in the hamper with the rest of your clothes,” Taylor said hastily, realizing that he must have put Julian on the spot. Julian relaxed, feeling grateful, and took the items with him down to the bathroom.

When he had finished, he felt his face grow hot when Taylor took his underwear from his hands. Taylor didn’t give him any grief and simply took it away with the rest of his wet clothing downstairs. Julian stood in the bedroom alone, not sure as to what he should do, with his side of the bed still damp and cold. He looked at it like an unsightly stain, as if he had defiled something clean and hallowed by soiling it. It was shameful. He hugged himself to keep warm. When Taylor got back, he noticed Julian’s distraught state and quickly realized why.

“Sleep closer to me tonight on the dry side.”

“No, I-I can’t do that,”

“Why not? It’s okay. Come on Julian, let’s go back to bed. You’re looking tired and you need some rest and sleep.”

“Are…are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Taylor said. He stepped toward Julian to close the distance. “Hey, is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

Julian shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. I’m really sorry about waking you up and having you go through all of the trouble just to help me.”

Taylor took a deep breath and sighed as he wrapped his arm around Julian. Julian grew rigid, his shoulders hunching upwards at the contact. “Come on Julian. Let’s go back to bed. Here, you take the side I was on. Don’t be afraid to tell me to scoot over if there isn’t enough space, K?”

“Okay. Thanks a lot, Taylor.”

“Anything for my best buddy.”

As they got themselves settled with the lights off, Julian faced away with his back turned toward Taylor. He felt the near proximity of Taylor’s warmth, feeling the older boy’s light breath on the fine hairs of the nape of his neck. He had missed this feeling, the feeling of security, of being cared for. He felt nostalgic of the summers they had spent long ago together – the good times, the new things he had learned and tried.

And then his father had to come into the picture and take it all away. His mother and best friend had been taken away from him. But now…now that a sliver of hope had slipped through the darkness, amongst all of the pain and loss, it made him realize just how afraid he was that this was all just a dream, that it was a mirage of water he was seeing in his hazy state of mind. Just when things might be turning up for him, he was afraid that it would all be taken away from him yet again. It felt so good, so safe now. He didn’t want to face the gloomy prospects of tomorrow.

He curled himself inward; a strange feeling of queasiness and fright flowed and ebbed through his body as his eyes welled up. They slowly overflowed and inched their way across his face – one crossing the bridge of his nose while the other slid to his temple. Despite trying to be discreet, a timid sniff was enough indication for Taylor.

“Julian?” Taylor whispered.

Julian’s face twisted in shame, knowing he had been found out. He did his best to remain silent, constricting himself to only accept shallow breaths. Taylor’s hand reached out and rested on his shoulder. Julian couldn’t do it anymore. He gasped and took a shuddered breath. A breath that would mangle your heart if you heard it.

“Oh no, Julian. Buddy…come here…”

He wept quietly, only loud with intermittent heaving breaths. It was too late now. Knowing that someone was now aware and feeling him – saw him naked and for what he was – was all it took. His shoulders shook violently and his breaths became sharp and ragged. Taylor scooted towards him, wrapping his arms around Julian. He turned the younger boy toward him. At first Julian resisted, but he eventually relented and was pulled in deeper by Taylor’s strong and gentle arms as he turned around, nestling his head between the older boy’s shoulder and neck. He had his arm bent up against his own chest, too afraid to touch his friend, the friend he loved.

“It’s going to be okay…it’s going to be okay…I’ve got you now. You’re safe here.” Julian now cried shamelessly.

He didn’t know he wasn’t the only person crying in the same room.



----oooOOOooo----

First day at school where I actually did what the adults in my family have been bothering me about mercilessly with all of the nagging and ridiculing, I got punished for it. Well… I guess I did more than what they wanted. They wanted me to socialize, for me to be more talkative and make friends. Like I really cared about what they wanted me to do; I wanted for me to be me. I can’t honestly say I get my fair share of respect from them, or that I ever have. They never really try to see things from my perspective, and so the more they tell me to do things, the more determined I am to do just the opposite. Except for when my aunt is involved. Like right about… now…
“Why are you late?! Where have you been?!” my aunt barked as she strode out of the kitchen, seething with fury. I stood there dumbly, taking off my shoes as I shut the front door behind me. I tried to appear calm and collected. Besides, I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment, so it was a bit difficult for me to suddenly adjust back to the role I am expected to take upon returning home.
“What, are you deaf?! You will answer me right now!” she shouted as she flew across the room in a blind rage.
“Uh… I-I was at school, just h-hanging with my friend. We were j-just—”
I hardly realized what had happened when she swung her hand and slapped me across my cheek hard. Twice. It was a shock to my system. I winced and whimpered as I recoiled, throwing my hands up to shield my face. My face became twisted and I squeezed my eyes tightly before peeking through narrow slits. She raised her hand and glared at me through fiery and piercing eyes that threatened more hurt.
“Drop your hands, NOW!”
I didn’t. Instead, I stepped back, cowering right up against the door. My hands tightened and turned into fists. She took that as a sign of defiance.
“You dare?! Well then, come on! Why don’t you fight me?! I dare you to, you stupid child!” She clenched her teeth and I could see fire in her eyes. Now would be the perfect moment for her to breathe it.
Of all the adults in my family, she was the one that instilled the most fear in me. She was the only one who could bend my will, the only one who could control me, ruling me, the other children, and sometimes even the other adults with an iron fist. Just because I was the silent type doesn’t mean it equates with me being the nicest kid around. Sure, I was nice enough, but sometimes my cup overflows and I refuse to obey orders. But that almost never happens when my aunt is involved. She has had a tight hold on me ever since I first knew her.
I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess. I should’ve known better than to play with fire.
“No… no…” My voice and arms trembled as I slowly lowered them to my sides like she wanted me to. She immediately saw her chance and struck out, her knuckles grinding into my skull. Like a snake, she quickly snatched my ear and pulled it, twisting it. I cried out in pain as she pulled it toward her and leaning in she said, “You’re lying! What friends? You don’t have any! Why don’t I know them?! Huh?! If you lie to me, you will know my hand!”
“I’m not! I’m telling you the truth! Why won’t you believe me?!”
“Hold your tongue, you ape!” She had lowered her voice to a deadly and menacing tone. “I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions! Lately you’ve been very daring and bold, talking back to me and actually thinking that you’re somebody. You’re filthy, bad, rude, and disgraceful! You are very lucky that no one else is home right now; otherwise I would make sure that they would hear about all of this. Then you’ll realize how embarrassing you are. You should feel ashamed of yourself.”
She shoved me backward, finally letting go of my ear. It felt like it was about to fall off. It was numb and I could barely feel any pain now. My eyes were brimming with tears. They threatened to fall, but I opened my eyes wide to keep them back. But it was pointless. After shoving me back, she reached out and slapped me again, for the third time. It knocked the tears from my eyes. They fell to the floor and the rest began sliding down my cheeks. Despite my predicament, I found it quite funny. I did my best to hold back my grin. She would roast me if she saw me laughing though, assuming that I was challenging her.
“Look at you. So weak and pathetic, standing there crying. Aren’t you embarrassed? Because I am, looking at you like this!” She moved away from me and towards the dining table. She snatched a box of tissues and flung it at me. I didn’t do anything to catch it. I just let it bounce off of my shoulder and tumble.
“Are you just going to stand there?! Pick it up and wipe those tears off of your face!” she ordered, and I obeyed.
I felt miserable and worthless. Twenty minutes ago I felt I had flown over the moon. Now I felt like I had been pulled back to Earth and everything that I’d felt twenty minutes ago was shattered before me. She was right. I did feel embarrassed. I did feel ashamed. I felt like I had awoken from a pleasant dream, only to find myself in a scorched and burnt room composed of what was now brittle wood as black as soot. I felt fear and self-loathing deep in my gut churn and bubble as it forced its way up to my throat. I hiccoughed and hyperventilated. My body shook and the muscles and fibres that covered my bones grew weak at increasing intervals toward disintegration. As I wiped my tears and blew my nose, I did my best to calm down and control my breathing. It was difficult and I placed one hand tightly on my heart as it pounded against my ribcage. With the other arm, I wrapped the other arm around my stomach and hugged myself, trying to regain control and calm down, trying to stop the vomit from reaching my throat.
My gesture and posture had an odd effect on my aunt. She let out a long sigh and groaned.
“Hurry up, we have to get going. Take whatever you need and get in the car. Do you have any homework?”
“Just a bit of math,” I said softly, just above a whisper.
“Louder, I don’t have time for this! I’m losing my patience!” she hissed.
“Just math,” I tried again, this time saying it firmly.
“Then why are you still standing there?!” she hollered, her face twisted with disgust. “Go grab it already! What are you waiting for? You want me to do it for you?”
“It’s in my backpack.” I had taken it off of my shoulders upon stepping through the front door and dropped it by my feet.
“Then take it and get in the car,” she shot back, grabbing her bag. I made sure to get out of her way and stepped out to wait by her red car. Shortly after slipping into her heels, she made her way down the porch steps and unlocked the car. I sat beside her in the passenger seat as she backed out of the drive way.
“You forgot we had somewhere to go, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I forgot.”
“Well, we’re going to be late now. I had to wait for you to get back home and didn’t know if I should check the school or not. I told you to go straight home from school today. You know your mother. She’s not going to be happy when we get there,” she grumbled irritably.
My mother and father, with my older brother Drake in tow, had just come back from their vacation in the Dominican Republic. My brother, three years older than me, had no interest in continuing with school and so decided that he wanted to make money as soon as he got out of grade 12. I can’t say everyone celebrated his decision, but they had little to no say in the matter. He wouldn’t have it. Not that it really mattered. He wasn’t the type you would expect to see going to college or university.
That puts me in grade 10 and at 15 years old. Drake was always my parents’ favourite. We used to play together and be a bit closer when we were young, but by the time I started school, he seemed to be more interested in roughhousing and bullying me. Eventually though, we became like strangers under the same roof. Well… maybe not like strangers, but we would rarely talk to each other, and whenever we did, it was whenever he was bored and felt like pushing my buttons for his own entertainment. My parents loved him more than me and took him whenever they went some place interesting. They bought him whatever he demanded, and fed him well. I was often forgotten, and I can’t seem to figure out why other than that when I was born they were at the pinnacle of their busy lives. My aunt had to take care and watch over me. She fed me, bought me clothes and books, and sometimes whatever I asked. Many times she would take me out to dinner. But she had a fiery and nasty temper. Even with all the things she gave me, she never really demonstrated any form of intimate love.
I mostly didn’t care if she did or didn’t, but it hurt me whenever she was with her other nieces and nephews. Just by watching the way how she interacted with them, you could tell that she had a lot of affection for them. But not for me, and it hurt. Whenever we would have family gatherings, I would only come up for the food. Other than that, I would just take a trip back to my room in the basement or stay in some secluded area. Even down there, I could hear what they said about me, that I was some antisocial loner; a shy boy, they would call me. They called me weak, comparing me to my cousins who were much more socially active and engaged in wild activities, running and chasing each other through the house. To them I was an outsider. I didn’t even belong in my own family.
“So, who’s this… friend… of yours? And how come I’ve never heard of him?” She cocked an eyebrow, quickly glancing in my direction before returning her attention to the road in front of us as we entered the highway. We drove out of the Brampton suburbs to pick up Drake and my parents at the airport.
“Just a friend, that’s all.”
“Just a friend? For how long? You haven’t had any friends since you moved to this school after your old high school shut down. And what were you doing that took you so long to get back home?”
“He’s a classmate. We’ve never really spoken to each other until today.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. He just needed some help on his schoolwork, the math homework.”
“I know a lie when I hear one. People lie all the time, even you. And you tend to be a good and sneaky liar. You probably got that from your mother.”
I don’t really know how I felt about what she just said, about my mother, I mean. My mother has never been close to me. She’s cold and distant. My aunt here—her English name is Margaret—is the youngest of all her siblings, whereas my mother is the oldest. In many ways they stand as a dichotomous force within the household; a polarity. My mother, a Vietnamese, married my father, an Italian. That makes me and my brother mixed. My aunt never married. She seems to have a thing against men. And besides, I wouldn’t know of any man who could put up with a temper like hers.
“Anyway, you’ve brought your books, so get started on your work,” she ordered. I was about to let out a sigh, but held back just in time. She wouldn’t tolerate any sign of laziness or disrespect from me, from anyone. I still didn’t understand how the other kids love her so much even though she was unbelievably harsh and strict. I guess I’m sort of used to it, but lately, it’s been really hard not to talk back, even though she still scares the hell out of me.
I took out my homework and tackled it like a mission objective. An ominous and threatening silence hung in the car. By now I had gotten rid of the urge to puke, but was still wary of her. She might decide to interrogate me again, and I didn’t want to have to lie. Telling the truth might not be so bad, I figured. The worst she could do is punish and hit me repeatedly, and maybe put me on restrictions or forbid me certain freedoms or activities. Well… maybe it wouldn’t be too nice, losing the little freedom I already had. But if I lied again, things might get worse—if they could get any worse, that is.
I guess I would find out now. I just finished my math homework, which was pretty easy to start with, and after putting away my stuff, she began grilling me, again.
“So, why did you lie to me? You know I don’t like that,” she began, picking up from where we had left off.
“I… I just don’t want to talk about it, please? It’s nothing you need to worry about—”
“You’re not taking drugs, are you?!” she glared at me with heat and anxiety.
“What?! No! No, I would never do that! You know me better than that! You taught me better!” Wow… I dared. I dared to go that far and say that. She tensed up, but couldn’t give me an intense gaze while driving.
“Good. You never know. There are bad kids in every high school, even ones with a whole bunch of smart Indians like yours,” she said curtly.
“Some are Sri Lankan.”
“Whatever. They all look brown to me. And smell like curry,” she snorted. “Is your friend brown?”
“Yes.”
“Does he do well in school?”
“He’s the top in our classes. He’s also really good at sports.”
“Is he a nice kid?”
“Yes, he’s really nice.”
“See what I meant when I said you were lying? If he’s smart and the top student, then why is he needing some help in math? If you wanted to lie, a better way would have been to say that you needed help in math, not the other way around.
“Now that you do have him as a friend, you should make sure to get his help in school whenever you need it. But not all of these guys are willing to help. Some hide their success and won’t share anything with you. So tell me, how do you even know he’s your friend?”
“Uh… umm…” I mumbled. Answering her question would require me to tell her a frightening truth, one that I was not ready to tell anyone, one that I was still having a hard time accepting myself.
“What do you mean ‘uh, umm?’ out with it! What are you hiding?”
“W-why do you want to know? It’s n-none of your business. Please stop asking me,” I boldly pleaded.
“WHAT?! Again?! Rude and insolent little ape! If it weren’t for me driving at this moment, I would beat you.” She was back to her old angry self again. What was new?
“Please, Aunty! Why are you always so angry at me? This is something… personal… and I don’t want to talk about it! Can we please not talk about this anymore?”
She clenched her teeth, but I could see she was surprised at my response. I don’t know why I had never tried this approach with her, or why I had started using it now. I guess it was because when I was younger, I felt scared and powerless, like how a slave would never dare speak up or give his opinion freely. I guess I was growing up a little bit now. In fact, I even felt a little older… but was being perceived and treated as an infant.
“There’s something I don’t like about you, the way you’ve been talking to me. You’re growing up. Fine. I realize I can’t control you as much as when you were younger, but I still expect you to respect me. Now, this boy you’re talking about. What is it about him that makes it so personal? What were you to doing together, exactly?”
I wouldn’t budge. I sat there frozen and stared through the windshield, trying to zone out. Eventually she shook her head.
“Answer me,” her voice plain and clear.
“I cannot,” my voice quivered.
A short time elapsed before she spoke. “Fine, I can’t force you. But if you get in trouble because of this kid, then that trouble will be nothing compared to what I will do to you. Not even your mother would stop me…” and then she mumbled, “… as if she would care. Puh!”
What surprised me immensely was how easy that had been. She actually gave up. Not only that, she even acknowledged that I was growing up and sooner or later the hold that she has had on me would eventually be lifted. I… I didn’t understand this sudden change. She was never like this. Knowing her, she would spend the entire day forcing the truth out of me if she had to. I once lied to her when I was younger, placing the blame on somebody else. She came close to believing me, but when she found out I had framed someone, she beat me and made me kneel in a room and locked me in it for a whole afternoon. I admit it was very wrong of me, doing what I did. Even though my mother never seemed to care about me, she ended up having a nasty argument with my aunt. Maybe that also explains why my mother always took her beloved oldest son, Drake, with her and away from Aunt Margaret. She didn’t want him to be ridiculed, to be subjected to humiliation and harsh punishments like the ones my aunt dished out for me.
“But, you will respect me. Do you understand?!” In a way, by ending off with this, it seemed as if she was trying to reassert her power and stature.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” she said simply as she parked the car into the parking lot. The lights were a harsh, yet dim yellow, the space large and stone cold. We swiftly made our way to the stairs and took them up with me following right on her heels. Nothing more was exchanged between us.
***
“Ethan, take these. Here. This too. And you’re late. What took you so long?”
“Hi Mom, Dad. Sorry we’re late,” I said softly.
“Uh huh,” my mother briefly acknowledged me. She looked over at my aunt with an accusing gaze. “Whatever. Drake, go follow Ethan to the car first. We’ll catch up.”
My father smiled at me before taking hold of his luggage by the handle. “How are you?”
“Same,” I shrugged. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my aunt shake her head. She hated it when people shrugged their shoulders. It was like a sign of disrespect, sort of an ‘I don’t care,’ gesture, in her opinion.
I turned and started heading back in the direction of the parking lot.
“S’up doofus?” my brother smirked.
“Nothing. Why are you calling me that? You know I don’t like it.”
“’Cause you’re younger. What? Can’t even take a joke? Why you so serious, kid?”
“I’ve had a rough day. It’s nice to see you again. But just please leave me alone in peace for a bit, okay? I’m not feeling too well.”
“Awww… I just got back and you won’t even give me a warm welcome? C’mon man! Lighten up? Why are you so serious, huh? Why you so serious?” He grunted and moved toward me, trying to shove my shoulder forward. I ignored him.
“Ah, c’mon, man! Maybe ah shud jus’ teach ya’ a lesson, huh?! Look at me when ah’m talkin’ to ya’!” His voice boomed in my ear.
“Drop the accent, Drake! Quit it! You’re attracting attention! Jeez!” I noticed people turning their heads at our direction. Drake was speaking loudly in a weird accent and we were getting noticed, big time.
“You disrespectful child! Imma strip you buck naked and rape you right in this damn airport and everyone will bystanderism you!” He flared his nostrils, attempting at achieving both a grotesque and humourous image. I was just not in the mood, and by now people had given us their full attention, which made me feel extremely humiliated. It’s one thing for your brother to tease with you, but another thing for him to taunt you and push your boundaries while purposefully making you look bad in front of others. I’m not like Drake. I’m quieter. He’s the loud, obnoxious type. I’m the bookworm. And throughout all of our years together, I’d wished he could at least try to understand me. Even though we’re brothers, we sure don’t appear to be. Not in public anyway. I’m his antithesis, and he’s mine.
“Hmph, well, you suck. You’ve always sucked. Whatever, doofus.”
By now we were in the airport parking facility with far fewer witnesses around. Suddenly, Drake yelped and clutched his head. Margaret had swung and smacked the back of his head. “Ow! What was that for?!”
“For making your brother and the rest of us look bad! I don’t care if you want to make a complete idiot of yourself in front of others. If you want to do that, be my guest! But if you drag us in with you, I will beat you to death! You hear me?!”
Drake had a surprised and incredulous look on his face as he reddened, stammering in anger and frustration. My aunt took notice and pointed directly at his face.
“Look at you. Look at your face! Are you angry? If you touch me, I promise you, you will die by my hand, and my hand alone!” Margaret was seething, as if she was about to torch the place.
“Step aside, Margaret. This is my son and you will not use that tone with him,” my mother intervened, her tone that of ice.
“So then who is this?” my aunt pointed at me. “You allowed him to be humiliated like that?! You baby and spoil Drake too much, it’s no surprise to me that he’s turned out to be nothing but a stubborn and hard-headed kid. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is filth!”
“Okay, that’s enough! Let’s just get into the car and go home! We just got back and already some sort of trouble is starting up again,” my father hollered. The entire exchange involving my aunt threatening Drake, and the duel between my aunt and mother, was not in any language my father would have understood—with him being Italian and having no comprehension of the Asian dialect—and he was only able to tell that the exchange was not welcoming, but rather hostile.
Without a word, both women eventually tore their eyes from each other and took their seats in the car before the rest of us got in. The ride home was dead silent. My mother sat in rigid form, whereas my aunt was visibly trying to contain herself from erupting.
***
Before I left for home that day, I was at my locker following the end of last period, grabbing my books, when I turned and saw Jared taking a sip at the water fountain nearby. Jared was a really nice boy, but he was not one in my world. We had the same classes, but had never really spoken to each other with the exception to a few hellos once in a while when it felt appropriate or whenever we made eye contact.
I noticed that he had been standing there for an awfully long time. I began feeling curious and from a slit in my locker, I studied his features with more attention to the fine details than I had ever been able to. I loved his hair cut; it looked fresh and clean. He had a slender yet powerful frame. His skin was of a smooth milk chocolate complexion. It was perfect. I didn’t understand how he didn’t seem to have any blemishes. He was really… I don’t know. Handsome? Pretty? Gorgeous? Beautiful? He’d been dating this girl in our class in September, but for some reason they stopped being together not long after I began at this school. They’d stopped hanging around with each other and he’d been on his own for a few months now. Still, he took it in stride. He brushed off any comments or questions like it was nothing important, and handled it in a simple manner. But he never really gave any straight answers.
I’d done my best to stay away from him ever since I’d first met him. He made my heart race, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that I had developed a huge crush on him. I noticed that he would glance at me every once in a while during class, always catching me looking at him. I would hastily jerk my head away and pretend to be looking at something else, while cursing under my breath for always getting caught like that. The feelings that I struggled to contain grew to a point where it hurt to see him anywhere nearby. The feelings were almost strong enough to make me approach him, to actually start some sort of conversation. I so wanted to talk to him, to know him, to have him talk to me.
He hung around with the other more social kids. He was a bright student, always getting top marks. He also dominated the playing field whenever it came to sports and gym class. He wasn’t the best there but he was among the top. He was a team leader and played his best. He never left anybody out when there was a game, and he tried to help everyone play well. He was well liked and seemed to know everybody… except me. For some reason, the same way he would catch me giving him a dreamy gaze in class, I would sometimes catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye. Even though he seemed to always go from person to person, making conversation and all, he rarely came up to me. Whenever he did, he seemed to have this nervous look in his eyes, shuffling his feet and darting his eyes back and forth. Maybe it was my turn to start speaking up instead of waiting to be spoken to…
And he was still standing by the water fountain, drinking. He must have been really thirsty. Feeling daring and having worked up my courage, I decided to head over and take a sip myself, that is, after he had finished.
He looked up at me when I walked over and pulled his smooth lips from the liquid arch. As he pulled his hand from the button, I noticed it had some sort of a dark black spot on it. I never got a good look at it to make out what it was, but I knew he had been sporting it every once in a while lately, ever since Valentine’s Day. He smiled adorably as he lifted his head to meet my gaze.
“H-hey Ethan. How’s it going? Gonna do anything tonight? It’s Friday, finally.” He gave a crooked grin, but his eyes betrayed him. He seemed a little nervous.
“I don’t know. Maybe have a little snack and do some reading. I have a few chocolate bars at home, so I might treat myself to them.” I shrugged. I pushed myself to give more than just a simple and boring answer. I wanted to say a little more, anything. I wanted to sound… open… inviting… I don’t know, really…
“Mmm! That sounds good! I think I have some chocolates in my locker. Well… I have a bag, actually, hehehe. Tracy gave ’em to me. I think she was trying to get me to ask her out though,” he grinned, and again his eyes betrayed him. It was easy to tell that he was extremely nervous. He looked unsettled, as if he was trying to talk while thinking about something perplexing. Yet I couldn’t figure out why he had just confessed that to me.
“Oh, no no, it’s okay then. They’re yours; she gave them to you as a gift. I shouldn’t take any, really.”
“Well, I’m not going to eat all of them, so they’re going to go to waste! Besides, think of this as my gift to you. It’s not nice to decline a gift from someone, even if it’s nothing special like a bit of chocolate. So have some, or else you’ll hurt my feelings and they’ll go to waste.” He gave me a wink. Woah… wait, what? He winked at me? Nah, he was just teasing, just playing around with me. Why was I getting ahead of myself here? Jeez…
I let out a sigh and a small, timid chuckle. “Okay, alright then. Thanks Jared.” I gave him my best beaming smile. He responded with a nervous laugh and allowed his eyes to linger on mine for a little too long, longer than what was considered… normal between two friends, let alone acquaintances.
“Okay, come by my locker,” he said gently, as if sharing a secret. I followed behind him, but then he slowed down.
“C’mon, walk beside me,” he said with an encouraging smile.
“Haha, okay, alright.” His eyes followed me as I joined his side and together we made our way past a row of lockers until we reached his.
“Here we are. Just let me take the lock off.” Within a few revolutions, it was off and he opened the door. He took out a red net that held chocolate hearts wrapped in pink. Wow… Tracy sure wasn’t beating around the bush! She really had wanted him to ask her out or something!
“How about we find a better place to eat these by ourselves!” he snickered. “Oh right, I also have a bag of skittles here.” He quickly reached out for it with the marked hand. “Where do you suggest?”
“I don’t know, anywhere you want to go. I’ll follow.”
“Okay then.” Jared stopped and thought to himself for a moment. “Why don’t we just go sit by the benches outside the school, under the library windows? Nobody hangs around there.”
“That sounds fine by me,” I smiled.
“Okay, cool. Let’s go,” He had this excited and nervous look in his eyes. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but should I get the opportunity, I might just ask him what the matter was. It was making me concerned.
By the time we made our way over to the benches and sat down, he was visibly shaking. It was a warm day in the first week of May, so I knew he couldn’t have been cold.
But if he wasn’t cold, then I was. What I saw next when he struggled to open the bag of chocolates was, very clearly drawn in black marker, the letter ‘C’ on his right hand. I felt a chill run through me and had my eyes glued to his hand. He smiled a little when he noticed that I was looking.
“What is it Ethan?”
Oh boy… I loved the way he said my name. He made it sound special. He made me feel… like a person. Like I was someone who was worth something.
“Oh, um… what’s that on your hand?” I knew exactly what it was and what it stood for, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. It had to be something else! It couldn’t be… could it?! No… no it can’t be!
“Erm… it’s… it’s nothing. I just felt like drawing stuff on me, see?” He showed me his other forearm and it had random letters drawn all over on it. “See? I just sometimes feel like drawing stuff on my arms when I’m bored.”
I knew it. It was nothing, nothing like I thought it was. My sudden hope was now quickly dissipating. But I couldn’t help but try asking again. I wanted to make sure there was no way he could be another kid like me. No freaking way.
“But… why is the letter ‘C’ on this hand on its own? You also don’t have anything written on your right forearm… does it… mean anything?”
“No… no it doesn’t… um… why, does it mean something to you?”
I hesitated. Blinking several times, I stammered and said, “Umm… N-no… well… maybe, I mean, I thought it was something else but… never mind. It’s not important.” I tried putting on a smile, but I knew he could see through it.
Jared suddenly sat up straighter and took in a deep breath. His eyes started to reflect something like hope, and he fully turned himself to face me.
“What does it mean to you?” He said, his eyes questioning me. “What does it mean to you?”
He had suddenly turned the tables on me. Now it was his turn to question me. I didn’t know what to do. His intense gaze penetrated my soul. I shook like a leaf. No… could it be true? Could he really be… but never in a million years would I have ever thought… I… what could I do now??! What was I supposed to say??!
“Just… erm… something from a… website I know of…” I stammered. I had given him the truth, but remained vague. “I-I, erm… sometimes draw a little ‘c’ on my finger nail. I couldn’t do what you did, drawing it on the back of your hand like that…”
“So… do you actually… you know…” his eyes never left mine as his paused and whispered, “read… the… the stories?” Oh my dear boy… he knew!
Very slowly, I shakily nodded my head. My throat was dry and I tried to gulp to wet it.
“Oh… oh Ethan,” his eyes glazed and locked on mine with an intensity I had never seen nor felt ever before. And he said my name in that beautiful way again. Oh Jared…
“Jared… this is… for real, right?”
He didn’t need to say a word to answer my question. All he had to do was gently take my hand in his. He took my hand in both of his and slowly nodded his head.
“Ethan, I… I had always thought I was the only one… never would I have ever thought…” his voice trailed off. He began shaking hard and the tears started rolling. I was taken aback at his sudden display of emotion. My world had changed. My head was bombarded with thoughts and I had trouble thinking straight. The most beautiful boy in my class was actually… like me? Gently, slowly, I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tightly. I don’t know where I got the courage to do that, but it felt right, and he needed me. And I so wanted to touch him, to hold him, to comfort him.
He wrapped his arms around me in a desperate and suffocating grip. “Ethan… I… I had always hoped you would be like me, but…” he suddenly pushed himself from me, keeping his head bowed. “I… I have to tell you something. It’s been eating me up, and I think I’m going to explode. If I don’t tell you now, then I might never be able to. I have to tell you something, and if you hate me for it… then I understand… I’ll… leave you alone…”
“Jared, you’re scaring me. What is it? I would never hate you. Ever! Tell me what’s been bothering you. I’ll listen.”
“Okay… just… I need to pull myself together here. How… how do I say this? How do I start?”
“Start in the middle if you need to. Or at the end. You don’t have to start from the beginning if you don’t know how to yet.” Where were these words coming from? I never used to be able to communicate and express myself to this degree, especially to such a beautiful boy that I had fallen so desperately for.
Jared’s hands shook like mad; his breath was jagged. I held his hands and squeezed them. It must have given him either hope or courage, because when I did that, he looked up at me and said, in a voice that quivered like a feather, “I really, really like you, Ethan. I’ve felt something like… love for you ever since I first saw you. I can’t stop these feelings. They’ve been growing every day. I… I feel something like love for you. And I’ve always hoped that maybe, just maybe, you might feel the same way about me as I do for you… but…” He took in a painful breath, as if injured. “It’s okay if you don’t though. I can leave you alone if you want me to. But please… please don’t tell anybody else about me. Nobody can know about what I’ve told you. Please keep this a secret. I’m… sorry, I… I should go,” he looked like he wanted to take back everything he had just said. He looked so scared, so sad. He face twisted as the tears flowed harder and faster, his breathing uneven and constricted.
This was beyond everything I could ever hope for! I couldn’t believe my ears. This was all so… surreal. I had never thought he was like me, and then for him to not only come out, but tell me that he liked me… loved me… it… it was almost too much. I never deserved any of this. I’m nothing but a worthless nobody. But if that was what he really felt for me, then I would have to tell him the truth about what I felt for him and comfort him. I didn’t think my feelings for him were anywhere near what he felt for me because I never felt myself worthy to have these dreams and affections, always trying to dismiss them as pathetic and wishful thinking. This was difficult for me to comprehend, and it was difficult for me to accept that this handsome boy… was in love with me. But now I knew and I had to say something before it was too late.
“NO! Please stay, Jared. I…” I took in a deep breath, and uttered, “I like you too…” I said it. I couldn’t believe I actually said it! His eyes widened, still brimming with tears, and searched my own for the truth, for any sign of deception.
“Do… you really mean that, Ethan?” he whispered.
“Y-Yes. I do.” I bowed my head, feeling more nervous and scared than I had ever felt in my entire life.
“Oh! Oh Ethan… I… I’ve always hoped for this…” he stared straight into my soul even though I was too scared to meet his eyes, his face only inches from mine.
With both hands, he reached out and held my cheeks, tilting my head up to meet his face.
“Can I, Ethan?”
I silently nodded my head. My heart raced and beat faster than it ever had before as those inches decreased, the space shortening and the closeness magnifying. He leaned in and our lips met, his warm, soft and strong lips grazing mine, and though we hardly knew how, together we learned and flew to the moon, reaching for the stars…
… But I had to go. I had already stayed far too long. I didn’t want to leave him, to pull away from his lips, his warm embrace. I longed for the contact we shared and I then decided to stay a little longer, sharing and allowing myself to be consumed in my, our, first kiss. And I held his hand and we sailed for Jupiter.
***
“Oh no! These are pretty burnt! Shoot!” I gasped.
“Ah, fuck. C’mon, let’s put them up higher. Turn the fire down,” Drake said. I quickly turned the knobs to lower the flames and examined the chicken legs.
“Why is this so hard? The insides are still raw and all.”
“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Well, you’ve got a bit more to go, but they’re callin’ me over. If you need any help, just ask my dad or something, ’K?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. How was I supposed to do this all by myself? It wasn’t easy, and I was doing a bad job. I shouldn’t have volunteered or shown any interest. I wanted to learn how to barbeque, especially because I didn’t know how and I thought it was not only pretty neat, but so I wouldn’t look useless all cooped up in my room. I was starting to feel a little pathetic and didn’t want the attention one gets for being different. I guess I just wasn’t good at being invisible. Or… maybe by being invisible, I just made myself more pronounced. I’m not entirely sure where I got the motivation from.
“Fine. Do whatever you want,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Jeez, what’s your problem?! We’re doing it ’cause I’m back, so I really shouldn’t be helping you out in the first place. I was just being nice, but if you’re gonna go all apeshit and pissed at me, then fuck you.” He threw his pair of tongs into the box that once contained the chicken. “And don’t get yourself burnt,” He hissed, without looking back at me as he walked away to our other cousins and three other guys his age that he had invited over. I’d seen them around some, and I knew they knew our family. But I’d never been introduced to them; my brother didn’t think I deserved to get to know his pals.
On their little trip, they had celebrated Drake’s birthday lavishly. Now that they were back, they were going to do it all over again, but this time with family. My aunt had gone out the other day before I came home late and bought a bunch of chicken and beef to be barbecued, marinating it and all.
Everyone was around and about socializing. The adults talked and laughed together in the living room, while the kids were off either running around and fooling with each other outside by the driveway, or making a ruckus in the basement, which was where my room was located. Had I been hiding in there, I wouldn’t have gotten any peace and quiet. At least I was out back by myself. I was pissed Drake left me like that, but I wasn’t surprised. What I was really worried about, though, was barbecuing the pieces of meat right. Already I had burnt way too many of them. I sure hoped nobody would mind too much. My father should’ve been helping me out. I didn’t even know where he was right then.
When I finished, I put the barbecuing stuff away and gathered the meat back inside to put on the dining table. The table was all laid out, but we wouldn’t start until maybe another fifteen minutes. My aunt came over to check out my job at grilling them.
“What is this… woah! What?!” She was stunned. “This is all burnt and black! Wh-What is… how are we supposed to eat this? Look at this! Do you think this is edible?! It’s toxic! This is disgusting! Do you know how much I paid for this? Do you even know how expensive this all was?! You can’t even do this properly!” She was so mad. She grabbed up a piece and waved it at my face. “Do you think people can eat this? Do you know how embarrassing this is? We have guests and family over! You think we can just feed them poisoned and burnt food? This is not meat, it’s coal! Do you know how bad that makes me look in front of everyone? You should be ashamed of yourself! Maybe now you’ll learn the meaning of shame and embarrassment! I can’t believe this! I’m exhausted from running around and taking care of things, then I come down here to find all of this, to find out that you’ve destroyed everything! What’s wrong with you?! Just what’s inside that thick skull of yours, huh? Tofu?!” She emphatically knuckled my head to get her point across. I winced, but stayed put. I began sweating heavily and felt hot all over. I was getting nervous. The weight of guilt and shame weighed heavily upon my shoulders.
“This is a waste, my money was wasted. I shouldn’t have let you do this. And even worse than you not knowing how to cook this properly, your father and brother should have been there to teach you! Where were they?! I told that idiot father of yours to look after you, and where did he go? Just like how the ape and your mother left you for me to have to look after. I have no idea where he is, but when I find him… and why didn’t you look for him yourself to ask him to check up on you, to see if the stuff was okay yet?” My aunt was absolutely horrified and her voice rose with every word. By now, she had everyone’s attention. I bowed my head in shame and great embarrassment. I was humiliated, and I felt ill.
“You stupid… demonic thing! You’re good for nothing. All you do is go to school, come back home, eat, shit, and sleep! That’s it; you’re useless.” She threw her hands up in the air.
Quickly noticing that most people had quieted down to hear what was going on between us, she grabbed me by the arm and jerked me after her as she stormed off. Taking me to the backyard, she threw me out and marched back in. I could see her through the window, and soon saw that she grabbed up a bunch of the burnt meat and angrily threw it into the garbage.
Why did I even volunteer to do this? Why did I get myself into this mess? Indeed, I felt utterly ashamed. I felt pathetic. It was all my fault and as I huffed in panic, my stomach became upset. I had done something they had always wanted me to do—get out of my room and be more engaged with the world. To some extent I did. I went out and volunteered to take care of the barbecue, getting a head start since all of the men who knew how to do it would show up late. My father was not in sight and so I started without him, with a few tips and pointers from Drake.
Another thing that slipped into my thoughts, which only served to make me feel worse about myself, was that I knew that other kids cooked at home. I knew that other kids had to make the meals for their families, and that they did a great job. It was just something that was expected of them. I’d been over at other families’ parties whenever my aunt would take me, and I’d seen the kids out grilling stuff before. They did a damn fine job at it, too.
What made me feel utterly horrible about this entire situation was that it was entirely my fault. I was to blame. I should never have even touched the stuff. Once again I was reduced to a great sense of humiliation and shame. I promised myself that I would never volunteer to do anything I didn’t know how to do. I was so stupid. Everything my aunt has ever called and said about me was true. I’m a bad person. I messed up big time. Why was I so stupid?! What was wrong with me?!
“Hey kiddo, what are you doing back here? Are we going to eat yet?” I heard my father behind me.
No… oh no… my eyes started burning. No. Not now. I would not let myself cry, I couldn’t! I would not let myself look even worse than I already did. Oh, why did he have to come now? I needed to get away from all of this…
“Where—Were—You?!” My aunt marched across the yard. She had a pot of a few other burnt pieces and flung them by my father’s feet.
“What kind of man are you?! You’re good for nothing! You were supposed to help him! Where were you?”
“What—I was sleeping! I couldn’t sleep last night from the jetlag! Nobody woke me up and told me it was time! How was I supposed to know? I was exhausted!”
“You’re dumb and useless just like your son, both of them! I shouldn’t have let either of them touch the food! They don’t know anything. I already told you what you had to do, and you just had to—”
My father examined the burnt pieces of flesh on the grass. “Oh, come on! It’s not that bad! And you’re throwing it all away! Don’t blame the kid for this!”
“Oh really?! If you think it’s so good, then why don’t you pick it up and eat it?! Go on! I am not going to have this on my table! Do you know how embarrassing and shameful that would be?! Why don’t you eat it then, if you think it’s so good?! It’s nothing but coal! Do you know how much money I wasted?!”
“Margaret, what is wrong with you? You’re always angry! You can’t ever be a happy person, not once!”
“That’s because I’m rightfully angry, I’m—”
“Why can’t you just forgive and forget! This is meant to be a happy celebration! If it’s that bad, I’ll order—”
“You just shut your mouth! I’ve heard enough!”
“MARGARET!” my mother’s voice sliced the air like a cold steel blade. She had somehow managed to come out without even making herself heard. She always had that talent. She could sneak up on you without even trying. It came naturally for her.
“You will hold your tongue and get inside. Dinner is starting and your behaviour is unacceptable. We will go back in as if nothing has happened and you will calm yourself.”
“What makes you think I’m going to listen to your orders?! I stopped doing that long ago, and I won’t be starting again anytime soon!”
“You do realize that this party is primarily for Drake’s birthday. How do you think he’s going to feel knowing his aunt is having one of her fits on his special day? I swear you must be demon possessed or something. You embarrass me, sister; you embarrass all of us.”
My aunt didn’t even say a word. She just stiffened her back and shoulders, turned away from us, and started walking through the side and to the front of the house. I wondered where she was going.
“And you.” Mother jabbed and dug a sharp fingernail into my chest. “You’ve made this evening into a disaster. You will sit at the table and eat with the rest of us, and know just exactly what it feels like to be a humiliation. You humiliated me, and now you will know what that feels like. I want you to pick out the worst pieces of…” my mother stammered as she glanced at the meat lying on the grass, “… this stuff, and eat them. I want you to be the fullest person when you leave the table tonight. Do you hear me?”
It was almost impossible to talk. I felt suffocated and my heart ached. When I spoke it was an embarrassing struggle and it frustrated me. “Mom… I’m very sorry, b-but… I-I don’t really feel like eating right now? I don’t think I…” I choked out, but my mother cut me off.
“Yes you will. I will not accept no for an answer. Now walk,” my mother ordered in an icy yet almost neutral tone, with little inflection. I had no choice. With my head bowed, I made my way back through the screen doors to find my place. Realizing that there wouldn’t be enough seats, as was usual, I stood by the dinner table to wait for it to begin. Then I would grab a plate and go over to the coffee table by the couch. My parents followed me in and took their seats at the dinner table amongst the adults.
“Alright, now that we’re all here, let us say grace. Vince?” my mother motioned to my father.
I bowed my head but did not close my eyes when my father said a few words of thanks and prayer. When he was finished, my mother spoke first.
“I invite everyone. Please dig in. The meat is a little bit burnt—forgive my son, Ethan. It was his first time. There are plenty of other better things here. The pasta is really good.”
I sank in my chair and wanted to disappear. I felt so… so horrible. Some of the adults tried the meat but pushed it aside and were visibly disgusted, making sour faces and instead going for other dishes. Some of them remarked on how dry and tasteless it was. My mother responded by apologizing for her sister, Margaret. Some of the kids at the other table took a bite. They hated it and made it clear to everyone around them what they thought of it. When they started asking around to figure out who had grilled it, I couldn’t contain myself and allowed tears to streak down my face. I was such a fool—crying because of a bunch of little kids. My brother occupied the far end at a second table with the other kids and they seemed to be having a great time, eating and teasing, laughing and joking with each other. I sat at the coffee table on my own as there were no more seats or space at either of the two tables, not that I really cared. The adults—be it guests or my other aunts and their husbands — eventually picked up conversation and resumed their jovial banter.
Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I swiftly left, having eaten almost nothing, took the stairs, skipping every other step, and shut myself in the bathroom before anyone, especially my mother, could notice my departure. I was not only reduced to tears, but I felt reduced to a helpless child. In this house, in this family, I never truly knew what it was like to be a normal teenager. I’ve always felt like I was 7 years old.
My goodness, what would Jared think of me if he saw me like this; if he saw what kind of a person I truly was like at home? I wouldn’t allow that. I couldn’t. It was too humiliating. Why did he feel the way he did for me anyway? I didn’t understand. Jared didn’t deserve me. I was nothing to him, even though he needed me. Could I face him tomorrow? Maybe I’d be there for him until he pulled himself together and then maybe he could find some other boy. I still didn’t understand why he’d told me what he had, why he felt that way for me. I felt far less than inadequate in being his friend, let alone his lover. I wanted to just disappear and be forgotten. Maybe once we got back to school I should tell him we couldn’t be together. But could I really do that?
For the rest of the evening, I sat on the lid of the toilet seat and wept bitter tears. I told myself I deserved this punishment and I smiled bitterly, congratulating myself for being such a screw up.
***
I didn’t see my aunt return for the rest of the weekend after she strode off. Later that night I found out through overhearing that the house my mother wanted was already built and finished. They would start moving into it by the weekend. She would leave this house to my aunt, even though it was pretty big for the two of us. I was content with having my room down in the basement and didn’t want to move up into the rooms on the second floor.
Back at school on Monday, I felt a sense of both dread and anticipation. I looked forward to seeing Jared again, but I was conflicted. When he walked into our first period class that morning, flashing me with a bashful but bright grin that lit up the room, a war raged within me. I didn’t know what I should do. I realized what I wanted to do was push him away, but could I really do that, to either of us? I mean, we’d just got to know each other a few days ago. Was now a good time, or was it too soon and sudden?
Why exactly did I want to do this? Because I thought myself unworthy of his love, unworthy of anything. And I had to prove to myself that that was true.
School today was a half-day due to parent-teacher interviews taking place from the afternoon to the evening. I never got around to telling my aunt, but after the first time she went when I was in first grade, she showed no interest and felt it a waste of her time. If my marks were low, she would take care of it with her hands.
We would be dismissed from school before lunch and we would be free to go home then. I realized that not in a single class did Jared sit anywhere close to me, so it was impossible for us to speak to each other. By lunch time though, Jared immediately came over to stand beside me. He had a skip in his walk, and his face shone gloriously. He looked more beautiful than ever before. Today, he had the letter ‘C’ drawn on his hand again, but this time it was in red marker.
“Hey Ethan. You look nice today,” he complimented. I didn’t look nice. My clothes were ordinary. My face was… ordinary at least. Or rather, I hoped.
“Hi Jared. I’m not wearing anything special though,” I said.
“Maybe, but that’s not what I was talking about. I’m talking about you. You look…” he turned around to make sure no one was watching us “… you look really good. You always have,” he whispered shyly.
I blushed furiously. “Thanks Jare…”
“Mmm… I like it when you call me that. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since Friday. Well… actually I’ve been thinking about you ever since the beginning of this school year,” he grinned. He reached out, but then pulled his hand back. We didn’t want anyone finding out about us.
I looked into his eyes and forced a smile onto my face, but he sensed that something was wrong.
“Ethan? Is everything okay?” he voiced suddenly became worried, his brow furrowed in concern.
“I… I need to talk to you. In private. Is that okay?” I asked timidly, my voice shook.
“Yeah, yeah of course. Do you want to go back outside to the benches again? Under the library windows?”
“Yeah, that would be good.”
“Okay,” he squeezed my shoulder. I saw worry in his eyes. “C’mon.”
We already had all of our stuff with us, so we didn’t need to visit our lockers. I started shaking as we made our way back to that spot where my world had changed just three days ago. Did I really want to do this?
Jared sat down close to me, our hips touching. He searched my eyes with a question, his worried smile an attempt to encourage me to speak. When I felt my voice wouldn’t shake, when I could finally trust it, I spoke.
“Jared… I… you’re a very special person to me. You make me feel whole. You’re the first person who has really shown me that you love me when I thought I was unlovable. But I… I’m not sure if I can be that person for you. I’m nothing special, and I don’t even know why you feel this way about me. You… you deserve someone better, and I don’t think I can be that person. I’m sorry Jared. I love you too, I just… I just don’t think I know how to love when I myself am unlovable.” I voice couldn’t go on and it cracked. The first of many tears made a trail down my cheek. I felt drained.
“Then we’ll learn together. Please don’t leave me Ethan. I love you. If you leave me I don’t think I would be able to go on living. Please Ethan, don’t do this to me. We’ll get through this. Please rethink what you just said.” Tears of his own brimmed in his eyes as he fought against his face contorting into a heartbreaking frown. No… what was I doing? I was hurting him. I was destroying him.
“I’m sorry Jare… I… just don’t think I’m worthy of having your love. You deserve so much better.”
“But you’re all that I want! I want all of you, everything. Both the good and the bad. I love you for who you are. Even your imperfections. Please don’t push me away Ethan. Please? I need you,” his voice cracked with the emotional strain and I realized I couldn’t do what I was doing. I would destroy him just to prove that I deserved the label of worthless. It was purely selfish on my part.
I sobbed harder, and when he saw that no one else was around, he cupped my cheeks in his palms just like the other day, stroking them tenderly and gently with an angel’s touch, and kissed away my tears, one by one. I raised my hand, using my thumb to brush his own away once he had taken mine.
“Please don’t leave me Ethan. Please stay. Let me help you.” He breathed in sharply. “Do you love me?”
“Oh Jare… you know I do.”
“Say it.”
“I love you, Jare.”
“And do you believe me when I say that I love you for all that you are?”
“I… I’m trying to.” 
“I would never lie to you, and especially not about this!” He continued stroking my cheek as he kissed one eyelid and then moved to place a gentle kiss on the other. “Trust me.”
“I’m sorry Jare… I… I need you, too.” I realized I couldn’t do this to us. He really did love me. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave you. I’m so sorry,” my voice cracked and wavered as I gave it my all to say what had to be said. I collapsed into his embrace and we melted into one that afternoon on that bench.
He held me and stroked my hair gently. I breathed in his precious scent and clung to him for all that I was worth.
“Shhh… everything’s going to be alright now. I’m here now. We’re together. We’ll get through this. Just trust me. And try to trust yourself, okay?” he whispered into my ear, stroking my back to calm the convulsions, the shudders.
“I’ll try.” I breathed in reply.
When the last of the tears fell, and once I had regained my composure, he took my hand in his and looked deep into my eyes, searching for my soul. I looked into his brown eyes and saw compassion and love.
“I feel like there’s something more that you haven’t told me; about why you feel so worthless. You can tell me anything, you can trust me. I want you to know that you aren’t worthless. You mean the world to me, even though we just got to know each other. You are worth it. I’m asking you to try loving yourself, to see that you are worth something.
“I love you, and I’ll never tire of saying it over and over until you believe me. I love the way you talk. I love your voice, your hair, how you’re just so smart in class…”
“Then…” I couldn’t help but ask, “why have you… avoided me, ever since I first came here?”
Jared very slowly turned away and bowed his head in shame, but he still held my hand. “I did it because… because I was scared. When I first saw you, I began having these… feelings. I didn’t know if I was…” he looked around, and seeing that we were not being observed, even though we knew we were secluded, he whispered, “… gay… but I knew that my feelings for you were real. I’m not entirely sure if I like other boys. Just you. You’re special. You’re different. And I was scared; I didn’t understand what my feelings meant at the time. It was really hard not to look at you in class, because you were just… beautiful. And it scared me whenever you would catch me looking at you. I didn’t know if you felt anything for me. I could only dream about it. I felt so lonely. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to get to know you, but I was too scared to do that… until three days ago on this bench.
“I’ve been watching and learning about you in our classes for a long time, and it was just eating me up. I didn’t know if I could risk telling you about how I felt for you. But even if I wanted to, I just couldn’t find the right moment. We were almost never together, alone, and whenever we were, I would get too scared. But now you know; now I know, and we’re together now. And I want to say that I’m sorry; that I’m sorry for avoiding you, for not getting to know you sooner, for not being brave enough to talk to you.
“I want to be with you through the thick and thin. Will you let me be with you?”
I couldn’t believe it. It all made sense now. We didn’t, couldn’t talk much the other day because I had suddenly realized that I was late getting back home and we quickly departed. But now I knew. I understood now. How could this amazing boy have so much love for me and carry it in his heart for so long? Why was I so lucky?
“Yes,” I nodded. And though I had never dared to initiate such tender physical contact, I leaned in and kissed his soft lips. I rested my hand on his neck and heard him whimper gently into my mouth.
In a silent language, he gently grazed my teeth with his tongue, silently asking me to allow him passage, to give him entrance. I welcomed him into my warm opening as his tongue probed and slid against mine. He was slow and oh so gentle, his tongue encouraging me to participate, to lose all fear and worry and succumb to passion. Slowly, I slid my own against his, and our tongues danced together. I worked up the courage and pushed my way into his mouth and was enveloped and welcomed into his moist sanctuary, his sultry insides. The sensation was indescribable, and I whimpered and shook. I trembled as he combed his fingers through my hair. He gave a gentle moan into my mouth as we continued our deep kiss. My breathing increased rapidly and my heart expanded and beat harder and faster with every second that flew by. As we leaned into each other, I felt his heart beating, beating for me. Our hearts beat together as we melted into one.
BEEP BEEP!
We both jerked and hastily pulled away, looking around for the source of the honking. What I saw made my blood run cold; my hair rose and I had a look of horror. Off to the side was Margaret’s red car. She opened the driver’s side door and stepped out.
“Oh no! Th-that’s my aunt! She must have seen us!” I gasped. He began shaking as soon as we had pulled away and he was at a loss of words. I began hyperventilating and wanted to run away, but I was rooted on the spot. My legs went slack and my eyes widened with fear.
Margaret stood by the car, leaning on the front passenger door. She observed us both but displayed no emotion. Maybe she hadn’t seen us kissing. Maybe she didn’t know. Oh god, I hoped she didn’t! I couldn’t let her know, ever! But why was she here?!
“Ethan, we have to go somewhere. Hurry up and get over here.”
I looked at her with more fear than ever, and then turned back at Jared. He stood and helped me up. I don’t know what happened next, but he must have helped us walk over to my aunt.
“Are you Ethan’s friend?”
“Yes Ma’am, I am. My name is Jared.” He put on a brave face and stuck out his hand. My aunt rarely shook people’s hands, and so hesitated as she took his. “How are you, Jared?”
“I’m good thank you. And you?”
“I’m fine. But we have to go now. It was nice meeting you.” My aunt made the exchange brief and motioned me towards the front seat.
“Nice meeting you too, ma’am.” Jared turned to me and gave me an encouraging smile. “Goodbye Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Bye Jared,” I whispered shakily. As I took my seat, I kept my eyes glued to his, and struggled to pull away from him emotionally as we drove off and he waved at me.
The car ride was silent. I kept my head bowed and avoided her eye contact. I didn’t know where we were going, but we definitely weren’t heading in the direction of home.
“You should be careful with who you kiss in public. Especially if you’re kissing another boy. You never know who might catch you together.”
I gulped and shrank into my seat, my breathing becoming difficult and jagged again. Oh no! She had seen us, had caught us together! What was going to happen now?! My world as I knew it would end. She wouldn’t let me live with this. She might tell the rest of our family! Possibility after possibility ran through my mind as fear coursed through my veins like poison. I couldn’t live anymore. My life as I knew it would be over, and it had just started…
“Oh, will you stop shaking like that?! You’re just like your uncle. I knew you’d turn out to be like him. I could already tell from when you were still a child. Everything from personality to mannerisms, and now sexuality. I can’t believe it…”
Huh?! Wait… what did she just say? I had an uncle?! But since when?! I had never heard of having an uncle before. This came as a shock and my curiosity was piqued. I had to find out more.
“Uncle? Since when did I have an uncle?”
“You never did. When I still lived in Vietnam, he was disowned after he was caught kissing another boy back when he was a young teenager just like yourself. I was a little girl at the time. He was just like you. He was quiet, and he kept to himself. The only time I ever saw him happy was when he was with this other boy, the boy he loved. They were very much alike, and one day I caught them naked together in his bedroom. Our parents weren’t home at the time, so it wasn’t a surprise that they would take the opportunity to be doing… that.
“I didn’t understand what all of that meant at the time. But what I came to know was that boys were only supposed to like girls, and if a boy liked another boy, he was going to have a hard life. One day, your mother saw them together in a secluded area among the trees and since she was older than him and had already taken the laws of who should love who to heart, she called my father and he flew into a rage when he saw them kissing. He beat both of them up brutally, until the other boy’s father came over and pulled him out. My father—your grandfather—fought with the boy’s father then, too.
“My father wasn’t that easy. He could have just thrown your uncle out, but he didn’t. He cursed my mother’s womb for giving birth to a sick monster and beat her too. Then, for the next two days, he continuously beat your uncle until he could walk no more. Your uncle was tied to a tree at the back of the house. If I was in his situation, I either would have tried escaping or killing myself. He did neither, and on the fourth day, he died of his injuries.
“The people of our village knew of this, but they couldn’t do anything to stop it. It’s not like how we could just pick up the phone here and call the police. Anyway, after you uncle died, my mother and I were the only people in our family to sneak to the back of the house to bury his body. Imagine, a mother and daughter burying their own son and brother. It shouldn’t have been that way.
“None of my other sisters cared about him. He was my only friend. I hated my father and sisters for taking him away from me and your grandmother.” She glanced at me to gauge my reaction. She hated my mother, but that wasn’t news. What was news was my having an uncle. A dead uncle. Who was just like me. I sat there lost in my thoughts, silently thinking, but not comprehending.
Margaret laughed bitterly. “I guess you could say I became a very angry person then. The next day at school after we buried him, the girls were scared of me for having a gay brother. Except for these two girls who loved to bully and bother me. They’d always bullied me but I’d never done anything to stop it. They made fun of me out during recess and called my brother names. I lost it. After that day they would bother me no more. I grabbed the first girl by her hair and jerked her head back so hard she fell to the ground flat on her back and stayed there frozen, crying silently. Her friend started yelling at me, so I scratched her face until it bled.”
I couldn’t believe all of this. This was too much. But it was all starting to make sense…
“I love my nieces and nephews, but you were different. I didn’t know how to handle you. I had no place in my heart for your mother, and you were growing up to be just like my brother—your uncle. I didn’t know how to deal with you.”
“So… so you don’t hate me for liking… boys?”
“Not anymore I don’t. I didn’t understand it then, but now I’ve just given up on trying to make sense of things. I talked to an old friend after I left the stupid party for your idiot brother. We talked about you, we talked about your uncle. But mostly, we talked about me.”
What did she mean? What was she saying. As I looked over to my aunt as she gripped the steering wheel with both hands so hard that I could see the whites on her knuckles, I thought I saw a tear slide from a corner of her eye. She wiped at it angrily and muttered to herself something I couldn’t understand. Why was she… crying? It disturbed me to see her like this. I had never seen her crying before, and I didn’t know what to think of it. I couldn’t honestly say I’d forgiven her for how she had treated me. What I could honestly say was how I felt. It was a mixture of pity and contempt, sympathy and antipathy.
“Where are we going?” I asked, changing the somber subject matter.
“I want you to meet that old friend. He was your uncle’s lover. I thought the last time I would ever see him was back in Vietnam before the war. Who would’ve known he’d come here too, and to the same city?”
“How did you find him here?”
“I saw him when I left the other day. I was sitting in a food court trying to eat, and then he saw and recognized me. You’re here because he’s the only person I know who can answer any questions you might have… and maybe undo some of the damage I’ve done.” What exactly did she mean by that?
Margaret turned the car and parked in front of a little house. It was newly built, as were most of the homes here in Brampton. It was made of beige stones and the curtains and blinds were pulled back to let in the sunlight.
“Here we are,” she said as she shut off the engine. I decided to take a chance and said something that was meant to be a question, but I phrased it entirely differently. It came out as a subtle way to get her to answer a question.
“Thank you for not being angry at me.” I kept quiet, looking away at her in case she made me take back what had slipped from my lips.
“Don’t thank me.” She shook her head hard. She clenched her teeth, but they couldn’t stop the angry, guilty tears from running down her face. “I’m a monster and you know it. Don’t pretend it’s your fault. If there’s anything you could do to make me feel better in your pity, then do this: don’t forgive me. Your forgiveness would mean nothing if I can’t even forgive myself first.”
She grabbed a tissue from the back and wiped at her face, then blew her nose violently. She avoided my gaze. Her change of heart made me all the more uncomfortable. I still didn’t understand. Was she crying because she’d become emotional from recounting her brother’s and her past? Was she crying because she was angry, and at whom or what? Or was she crying because she genuinely felt… guilty… or responsible, for the things that happened? Or was she angry at herself… for how she had treated me all of these years?
“Go up to the door first, I’ll be behind you.”
I just sat there, staring at her, not knowing if I should do or say anything more. Eventually I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved to open my side door.
“And Ethan?”
“Yes, Aunty?”
“Your parents will be moving this weekend into their new home. Soon the only two people left in our house will be us. I suggest you bring over your friend, Jared. I wouldn’t like seeing you all by yourself, all cooped up in your room alone. And…” she paused for a moment. “If you both want to, he can sleep over… in your room,” she said and blew her nose again and cleared her throat. “It’s about time you’ve made some friends, even if this one’s closer than what most would expect as a first. Just… be careful.” Stepping out of her car, she had trouble making eye contact with me and instead stared straight at the front door up the porch.
“Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”
***
I wasn’t exactly sure I knew how I felt for Aunt Margaret. It was difficult. I finally began to understand her, albeit just a little bit. There was a lot that still confused me. I felt a vicious and cold whirlwind of emotions, while my heart bled and dangerously glowed with fire. I was sad and angry. After that car ride I could never look at her the same way. I could never look at myself the same way either. She had a role in it, and so did Jared, especially Jared. And even that man I met.
It was now Saturday, five days from that eventful car ride.
That man I met had taken an English name: Nick. I can’t exactly place my finger on why I felt apprehensive at first, but somehow he had managed to get me to soften up a little; for me to be a little more responsive, I guess. He was informal and seemed interested in letting things sort of happen; allowing me to feel comfortable and relaxed around him. My aunt was rarely a part of our conversations later on, and he took on a sort of role model or mentor position, gradually. We both eased into our places. He told me a lot about himself and my uncle. Within only a few days, he had slowly gotten me to like myself a little more, to smile a bit, and to see that I wasn’t the worthless child that I grew up believing myself to be. I still had problems believing that I wasn’t worthless… but I have just started, and it’s a work in progress. I’ve always had to respect and fear adults and so I’ve always been more of a child than a teenager. I hardly could comprehend rebellion, so I guess he had an advantage—that I wasn’t going to fight back or be apprehensive as much; that I wouldn’t be someone tough to work with. Then again, maybe I was too trusting, too naïve. For the first time he allowed me to grow up a little more, to be a teenager. I still, even now, feel like a little kid, but now I’m starting to think for myself as an individual. I began visiting him afterschool. My aunt encouraged it anyway.
But now that I’m starting to see myself as more than a little child wincing at every adult’s gaze, I’ve begun feeling anger and hatred when I realize that I was wronged and that things weren’t always my fault. What was difficult for me was to feel justified, had I lashed out, due to my aunt’s sudden change of heart. I don’t know what happened to her, but she ended up being the one cooped up in her room. Her anger was still there, and I could still see her trying to contain it from exploding, but I could also see that most of it was directed at herself. She sometimes burned up, only to then throw herself out of my reach, shutting herself in her room upstairs like it was some sort of dark tower where entry was forbidden. She became quieter too.
My mother, on the other hand, had been drifting away for years at glacial speed. But over time that distance had become too great. Both my mother and father never really got to spend much time with me when I was just a baby. When I was born they were at the pinnacle of their busy lives. They had already gotten really close to Drake, and so favoured him over me. I learned that my aunt was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of me. She preferred being on her own and I guess that my existence took away some of her freedom. I spoke about that with Nick. He said it wasn’t because of my existence, but that it was because of my mother not being there and giving me up to someone else, and because of my aunt’s mindset and her regret over her poor treatment of me. It’s strange to think of it that way, but it’s starting to make sense. Like I said, it’s a work in progress.
The next day at school I met up with Jared and told him everything, because I felt I could trust him and felt that his feelings for me were genuine. It was still hard to accept that he felt so strongly about me. He sort of got a panicky look on his face when I told him that my aunt saw us kissing, but quickly told him that she was okay with it. From there, he had to take in a whole lot more, the bit about my uncle and all. Then I finally worked up the courage to invite him over for dinner the coming Saturday, and asked if maybe… maybe he could stay the night. I’d never had a friend over for a sleepover. I’d never really had a friend to begin with. And how exactly did sleepovers work anyway? What exactly were you supposed to do? Anxiety hung around my neck and constricted my throat. It was at my place too… so I was afraid of what he would think of me if I didn’t know what things we should do together. I was afraid of his expectations; that he would maybe feel a bit different about me.
Jared was the only person my age that I knew from around there that knew of Comicality and had read a number of the stories on his site. Ever since I first found that website, it had become my number one place where I got my reading material. My aunt initially didn’t know how to react to my sudden shift from reading novels to going on the computer often. Well… maybe often was an understatement. I could tell she didn’t like it, but she couldn’t find anything else for me to do, so she left me in peace to read Comsie’s stories. I’d read almost everything, and I’d come to highly respect the author and the things he’d done for other writers. I’d learned a great deal from the stories. I’d never written anything, and I was too afraid to contact him. Jared seemed to be catching up in his reading lately. He’s also proud to sport the ‘C’. I really enjoyed the times when we would talk about the stories. He was the only person I could talk to about… so many things. It was liberating. I felt safe around him, like he was my protector, my armour.
I heard the doorbell ring. My aunt went out to grab some food, so I skipped up the stairs to see who it was and to open the door, hoping and yet nervous about seeing Jared. He stood there with his backpack, a bashful grin on his face, as I opened the door to invite him in. He was so adorable. I gave a shy smile and stepped aside, looking down at my feet. I closed the door behind him once he stepped in.
“You are so cute!” he excitedly whispered. “Is your aunt here?”
“She just went out to get some groceries. She’ll be back in a—”
He took me by surprise and embraced me before I could finish. He gave me a deep and passionate kiss that made my knees so weak that I succumbed and almost completely fell into him. He staggered and took two steps back to support my weight. I kissed him tenderly and stroked his cheek. I felt his breath escape between his lips as he ran his arms oh so gently up my back, and then slowly, almost cautiously, down to my waist. I had missed his touch and was desperate to have him hold me. I panted heavily between those tiny fractions of time when we pulled apart, only to be rejoined in our lip lock. Once again, our hearts beat for each other through our trembling young chests. I breathed in deeply, taking in as much of his wonderfully sweet aroma as my lungs could hold, before breathing it out, only to replace it with more. His hands lingered on my hips for just a moment longer before he felt my stirring and growing bulge as he slowly lowered his quivering hands down to cup my cheeks. His touch was electrical, and realizing my member’s so sudden physical response, I ashamedly jumped back. I was more than embarrassed. I was mortified! I had never been so close to someone so that they actually felt my hardness through my pants.
“Hehehe… someone sure seems happy to see me!” he said, but then reached out immediately and held my hands, his eyes searching my face, his brow creased with worry. “Hey… it’s okay. Please don’t be embarrassed. I feel the same way about you too,” he whispered huskily, and he leaned in, allowing me to feel his throbbing member against my own as both of us tented the front of our pants, our excitement trying to fight a way to the surface. At that moment we looked straight into each other’s eyes as we were overcome with powerful emotions. Our young bodies melted into one as our fibres trembled with otherworldly sensations. We still had clothes on but even that could not stop the stimulation. His lips met mine once again, and he instinctively fell into a rhythm as he slowly ground his hardness against mine. Sexual urges and desires coursed through me as he let out a gentle high pitched whimper in ecstasy. It was ethereal.
“Oh..uh… J-Jared… w-we...mmm… uhhh…” I struggled to speak coherently. My voice was husky and my throat felt dry. “W-we… oohhh… we should maybe… maybe to go my room first…?”
He suddenly pulled away and had a look of extreme guilt, suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. “Oh..oh shoot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry…” his eyes fell to the floor as he nervously shifted from foot to foot. “I shouldn’t have been too… excited… I didn’t mean to be that intense. I should settle down first. I’m sorry for that,” he apologized profusely. It was adorable, but I wouldn’t have any of that.
“Hey, I really liked that too. I just… wanted for us to be in a more private place.”
“I-I’m sorry Ethan. If it’s okay, I’d really like for you to show me your room,” he gave a timid smile. I held his hand delicately in mine.
“Yeah, of course. You’re my guest!” I chuckled.
He smiled a small smile. “I’m sorry about that Ethan.”
“Oh, please Jare, don’t be. Besides…” I felt my face flush red as I whispered into his ear, “I really liked that and was hoping that maybe we could do it again soon.”
That brought back the radiance to his face and turning to me, he gave my cheek a little peck as I nuzzled into his smooth neck for a moment, enjoying the safety and warmth it provided. Then, once we had regained our composure, I led the way down to the basement where my room was.
When my parents and Drake lived with us, they took the bedrooms upstairs. There were only three bedrooms up on the second floor and so they had to build another one for me in the basement. My room was very plain and simple. It was tidy too. My aunt was adamant that I keep it clean and organized, and I guess you can say that I was used to having it that way as well. Jared looked around and took it all in. There was a very tiny window at the very top of the wall right up near the ceiling. It let in the orange sunset and filled the room with a beautiful and romantic orange warmth that welcomed an beckoned. He sat on the white sheets on my bed and patted beside him, telling me he wanted to have me sit beside him. He had a goofy grin as I plodded over and took my spot next to him.
“I have something for you,” he began as he reached into his pant pocket.
“What? But I don’t have anything for you,” I said in surprise.
“Yes you do. You gave me a place in your heart and invited me into your home. I have a little gift for you. It’s just a small gift, and it was the least I could give.”
“But you’ve given me so much already in these few days…”
“Hush.” He put a finger to my lips. “It’s nothing really. Just something neat I got. That’s all. But I want you to have it.” Pulling his hand out, he placed a keychain in the palm of my hand. It was a Letter C Rainbow Keychain, with the rainbow ‘C’ on a white circle and behind it, he had very carefully carved out ‘E & J’ inside a heart. It was a very small, simple, but beautiful and meaningful gift.
“Oh… oh wow… I… thank you! I… I don’t know what to say…” my voice trailed off.
“I knew you were a big fan of his works, so I gave you this, thinking it to be neat… but I put my own thing to it by carving out those letters,” he bit his lower lip and peered into my eyes.
I choked and an unexpected tear fell from the corner of my eye as I leaned in to kiss him once more. Our lips only grazed each other’s before we were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door.
“Oh! Uh, sorry!” my aunt yelped. She had a bewildered look on her face and didn’t know how to react to what she had just seen, the sacred intimacy between us. “Dinner’s ready. You boys can come up now. And it’s nice to have you here Jared.”
“Hello Miss…”
“You may call me Margaret. Don’t take too long now.” And with that, she pressed her lips together, shut the door, and hurriedly walked off to head up the stairs.
I hadn’t realized that I had held my breath the entire time until I quickly deflated and breathed in deeply. I felt shaky, but was soothed to tranquility when Jared pulled me to him, my back resting on his front, with him rubbing little circles on my chest to get me to relax.
“I can’t believe she caught us again!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, but don’t worry,” he said as he bent down and turned his head to meet my eyes. “We’ll have all night to make up for it, my love.” And that last kiss was replaced with a complete, fulfilling, and tender one that made me beg and hunger for more.

Joey used to be different. Very different, from the little guy I used to know. I say little because I think of him at a young age of around twelve or thirteen, the age I knew him best, while comparing him to his present day self – a sixteen year old teenager – and realizing how different the two people are. The age may be a little different for everybody, but in any case, I think I’ve discovered a fitting synonym for puberty. It’s a simple word actually: disaster. People change, some more than others.

It’s not the physical development I’m referring to here. I’m talking about personality, one’s way of thinking, of understanding themselves, others, and the world. Some eventually become mature, for others it takes some time, and the rest may grow up to be anything but mature. Now, am I mature, you may ask? I’m not sure if I can answer that question. I know I’m far from perfect. Perhaps it depends on perspective. But in any case, people can and do change – be it for good or for worse – and sometimes the change makes them unrecognizable. Now, of course, I am certain that there are a fair number of kids who may be considered mature for their age, even before puberty kicks in. Puberty isn’t a bad thing in and of itself. I merely said that tongue-in-cheek, that a synonym for puberty is disaster. In fact, it can be a terrifyingly wondrous experience. And with the experience, the physical, mental, and emotional transitions that one goes through, it can be awkward at times. And like I pointed out earlier, it can be a bit of an ugly mess.

So what does this all have to do with Joey? Since our first year in high school, I stopped knowing who Joey was anymore. Something was crushed inside my chest, a part of my mind broke away, when I found myself standing between him and another boy that first year; when my eyes diverted between a watery-eyed fourteen year old boy and a Joey with a smirk; when he opened his mouth to insult and taunt; when I looked at him dead in the eye with a furrowed brow and a face more distressed and saddened than perplexed; and when I asked him softly, “Why?”

It didn’t make sense. The Joey I knew was an overall nice guy, just a regular boy who was generally amiable, would sometimes get into trouble as kids tend to; a trustworthy guy, and a good friend. But I didn’t know him as a bully. And it tore down all that I knew and thought about him in my head, in my heart. I still remember those first few times I would stand up against him that year in grade 9. True, I did it because it felt wrong to stand by and watch him torment another person, but I often found myself at a loss of words whenever I did confront him. I felt as if I was the one who was driving a wedge between us, that I was pushing my luck with him. But I didn’t have it in me to argue and fight, to rebuke and criticize him. In fact, I felt so helpless in each and every one of those moments and confrontations that at most I just pleaded for him to stop. I pleaded for the Joey I once knew, the Joey everyone else knew, to come back.

But…eventually, I gave up. The Joey I knew died and another one had taken his place. Although I was never really close to him, I happened to get along and be, for the most part, friends with him and everyone else. He just struck me as a particularly unique individual, and it was a shame, if not devastating, that he had changed so much. I had hoped his closer friends would maybe help steer him back, but by the end of that year, they too had given up.

In grade 10 he suddenly stopped with the bullying and kept to himself so well that he was virtually invisible in the classroom. Every time I took notice of his silent, immobile, and lithe form that embodied a pale loneliness, I felt guilty that I had somehow failed, that I was doing exactly as everybody else was doing – leaving him alone, ignoring or forgetting about him, as if he was an outsider. Yet, many times I found myself walking over to try and make some small talk, and in response his silence spoke volumes, which I interpreted as his evident lack of desire to audibly talk to me or anyone else for that matter. I didn’t stop trying though. It didn’t hurt me to try. Well, not too much. I gave up hoping that the Joey I knew would come back, but I didn’t stop trying to let him know that he wasn’t invisible to me.

I sometimes wonder, through all of this time, if I had changed, and if so, in what way. When thinking about others, my thoughts usually turn around to assess their thinker – in this case, me. I think it would only make sense, in that I am trying to be fair in not leaving myself out of it. I put myself under the same scrutiny, if not more. I know I’ve done some growing and learning, that’s for sure. But at the same time, I’m still the same old Austin. A little older, a little taller, and maybe even a little wiser. Not perfect, but a little smarter, I think...

So smart that I’ve been trying to divert my current fixation of the filthy boy’s washroom to more intelligible things. Guess that didn’t work too well, now that my mind has stopped wandering. The boy’s washroom reeked of urine, flatulence, and adolescent sweat from three week old gym shirts that seriously needed to either be purged with heavy duty soap or otherwise be thrown out. The foul odour stung my nose, making my head throb as I fought against a reflexive response to gag. As I finished zipping up and washing my hands in the big round wash fountain, I noticed that there wasn’t any towel paper left. Frowning, I turned around and peaked into the stalls behind me. The washroom was empty. The first stall had some straw coloured urine that someone probably dispassionately sprayed into the white porcelain bowl. The roll of toilet paper had run out. Moving over to the next stall, I was disgusted to find that an entire roll of toilet paper had been thrown into the bowl amongst a whole swamp of other bodily wastes that I didn’t stick around to investigate. The third stall, however, was left untouched. Stepping in, I ripped myself a few thin squares of the translucent white paper and dried my hands with them. High school toilet paper was always cheap and thin. The paper soaked up the water on my hands, then ripped and flaked. That was when I heard the door burst open.

“You fucking with me, gay boy? Look at me one more time, and I’ll kill you!”

“Go to hell, man! Stop pushing me, jerk!”

I heard rapid movements, shuffling of feet and squeaking of shoes slipping for grip and balance on the cold wet floor. My eyes widened at what I suspected was the sound of somebody being thrown against the large circular wash fountain. Oh shit, I thought. This was definitely scaring me, big time. I wanted to get out of here, but then to get to the door I would have to pass them, which would probably end up getting me involved in the situation, a situation I wasn’t even sure I could do much about, and by not being out in the open with other people who could interfere and get help made me all the more terrified.

But…I didn’t suppose I had much of a choice. I had to intervene.

Despite the pounding in my chest, I was compelled to stick my head out and see what the matter was. From the sound of things, it seemed that the conflict would escalate. Somebody was probably going to get hurt. I knew I had to act fast and I didn’t have the time to think or plan my course of action.

Stepping out of the stall, what I saw made me draw in a sharp breath. It was Joey. But he wasn’t the attacker, he was the victim. I felt my face go pale as I watched Joey grimace, his lower back pushed hard against the edge of the basin with his hands gripping tightly on either side. The whites of his knuckles stood out against the brown tub as his teeth clenched. A larger guy had him pinned with his face merely inches away from Joey’s. The sight was terrifying, and before he had the chance to bark another threat, I acted upon instinct and pushed myself out of the stall, rushing him, throwing my shoulder into his side. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance and collapsed against the wall. Glaring at me in shock, he snarled and quickly attempted to regain his balance. Before he could get his opportunity, I stepped forward and slammed my forearm against his throat.

“Quit squirming, ass-wipe. If I were you I’d get the hell out of here before things get worse.”

“The fag was–”

“–I don’t care what he was doing. Whatever it was it doesn’t justify attacking him. Now, are you going to leave quietly, or do I have to crush your larynx to make myself clear?”

I held my steel gaze for several seconds before he quickly grabbed my arm with a single hand, throwing me back. I stumbled but quickly regained my balance in a sparring position. “Fine,” he glared at me, slowly walking out, diverting his eyes back and forth between me and Joey. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, and he stormed out of the door. He was one heluva tough guy, both bigger and taller than either one of us, and I was sort of surprised at how quickly he had relented. Once he had left, I turned my head back to ask what the hell was going on, only to find myself stop at the sight of Joey’s twisted face as he breathed hard. He was trying to hold back the tears and was simultaneously grimacing at the pain in his lower back. My face softened and my shoulders relaxed. Crying? It’s been a really long time since I last saw someone cry, especially a boy. There must have be more to this than a simple dispute, and I couldn’t help but feel concern and worry, even disturbed, at the sight of someone trying to hold back their emotions, hold back the tears, and on the brink of failing; at the sight of someone hurt and vulnerable; at the sight of someone so broken before you that if you were reckless, you could utterly humiliate and destroy their dignity. And reckless, careless, I would not, could not, be.

“First things first,” I said, softening my voice as I crouched down onto one knee. “Are you hurt?”

“I-ahh…I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” I moved to his side, putting my arm under and around his back to help support and lift him to an upright position.

“Yeah, I think so. Gah!”

I grabbed him as he lost his balance and slowly helped him stand. “Dude, you look miserable. Let’s get out of here.”

“I can walk out of here on my own.”

“I don’t think so–”

“Yes I can, just let go of me!” he hissed. I gave him a hard look. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I said something wrong. Damn.

“Fine…suit yourself,” I frowned. Removing my arms from him as I clenched my teeth in slight annoyance, he put one hand on his lower back and painfully limped a step or two before crying out and falling to the floor. I didn’t move to help him, sighing sadly to myself.

“Shit!” and that was when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into tears of frustration and humiliation.

Crossing my arms and looking away, I heard him cry a little harder, probably feeling further humiliated thinking that the reason I turned away was because I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I never thought I’d ever see you like this. First, you became a bully. Then, when you stopped and I thought that things were going to turn around, you instead kept to yourself and shut both everyone out and yourself in. Now, you’re being picked on. You won’t even accept my help. You can’t even help yourself.” All of this I spoke quietly, as he choked on his sobs. “Are you ready to let me in? Do you have the courage to do that, to let me help you, to help yourself?”

There was a pause, and when I thought he wasn’t going to reply, he spoke just as I opened my mouth, before I could speak. “Why? Why do you fucking care about some messed up nut-job like me?”

Why did I care? That was a good question. So many reasons, and this was one of them:

“Because I think, and I still believe, that you’re worth it; because I want the Joey that we both know to come back.”

“He died a long time ago,” Joey whispered. I turned my head to look at him as he lay crumpled against the wall, uncrossing my arms to hang limply at my sides.

“Do you really believe that, Joey? Is he really gone?” My questions were met with silence. “Why? Who took him away and locked him up? Because I can’t accept that he’s dead.”

He couldn’t meet my eyes, and he didn’t respond. I realized that I had asked rather accusatory questions. Questions starting with ‘why’ can have a sharp edge to them. I stood there, waiting for him to say something, just something. I sighed.

“Then I guess you’re hopeless. Maybe I should just make peace and say goodbye to that friendly boy everyone loved. I guess you’re just…an empty shell now.” There was a sharpness, a unsympathetic coldness to what I said. But I was also hurting. For him, and maybe even for myself. He opened his mouth to say something, but then held his tongue. Tears kept falling.

I turned to walk away, knowing that what I was doing was giving him one final chance. He had a choice to make. He could either find the strength or desperation to call me to come back. Or he could stay there…sinking into an abyss of thoughts. Thoughts that I feared would lead him to a dark place that he may never be able to come back from. I was scared and felt my hand tremble as I held onto the door handle, fighting against my desire to stay, readying myself to leave. I didn’t know if what I was doing was the right thing or not. I might end up regretting my words and actions, leaving him crumpled there. But he needed to make that choice. And a part of me needed him to make the right one.

I slowly pulled the door open. Still I heard nothing. He didn’t make a sound. My shoulders slumped as I now knew that Joey truly was dead. The only thing left was his body, and even I didn’t know if it would live for much longer. I knew that if he was gone for good, I would end up blaming myself. It might even drive me down a similar dark road. I wanted to help him, but I needed him to be desperate enough to reach out and accept my hand. Shit, it’s going to be all over soon. I can just feel it, a certain presence of doom. My heart sank as I stepped out of the door, and he still hadn’t spoken a word.

“HELP ME!!”

And from the pits of my stomach, my heart leapt to my throat as I hiccoughed and turned around, staring at him wide eyed. His scream had caught me off guard.

“Please…!” I stood there, frozen, stunned at the sudden energy that poured from his cries, cries I never expected he would vocalize.

“AUSTIN!!” And I finally snapped back and got a hold of myself.

“Joey…you fucking bastard!” And without caring about what he might think, without caring about whether or not someone would walk in on us, without caring about the fact that I don’t hug boys, I ran to him and enveloped him into my arms. Overwhelmed by the whole turnaround of the situation, tears of hope and joy slowly trickled down my cheeks as a trembling smile danced on my lips. My chest quivered with sense of hope, a sense of victory. I felt like laughing! Likewise, without restraint, Joey fell into me with his head on my chest, muffling his wails and whimpers as his body heaved and shuddered violently. I found myself, strangely, yet instinctively, stroking the back of his head as he held onto me tightly.

He had finally found the courage. The desperation had been too much for him. Maybe he had seen all what was left for him if he continued to shut people out. Maybe he had seen what I had seen, that if he refused help all of him would be gone. All of him would die. And maybe that scared him. With death comes no hope, no chance of anything more. No chance for joy, happiness, love, friendship. There is a time to grieve and have sorrow. And if we do not allow it to engulf us, we will find joy, and no one can take that joy, that happiness, that love, away from us.

Or maybe there were other reasons he finally found courage. Reasons I didn’t know.

We stayed together like that for a while, for how long I wasn’t sure. Soon, I found myself sweating a little from the heat of his warm body against mine. But it felt right, holding him close to me. It both stirred my heart and comforted me as I comforted him. Eventually I stopped stroking his head as his breathing relaxed, as his shudders subsided.

“Joey, I hate to do this, but we should get going soon to our next class.” I looked at my watch and noticed that I had been in the washroom for over twenty minutes. “Second period is going to start soon.”

“Crap, I’m sorry–”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m just here to help my friend.” As soon as I said that word – ‘friend’ – I felt an awkwardness drift between us as he pulled away, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Uhh…” he suddenly became nervous, perhaps even agitated. I realized what he must have been thinking, and finding humour in it, I grinned, reached out, and reassuringly clapped his shoulder a few times.

“You’re a good guy, Joey. You’re alright,” I smiled. He had trouble looking at me.

“Thanks. Thanks a lot. I…I’m sorry, for being a wreck looking like this.”

“Hey buddy, I said there was nothing to be sorry about. And I mean it.”

He took in a deep breath, and then let it out, shakily. He nodded.

“Alright then, let’s get out of here. By the way,” I had a thought, and looked at him to make sure he knew the words I would say next were genuine, “if you’re up for it, it would be really awesome if we could meet up together at lunch in the cafeteria today. Just me and my buddies. The usual. It’s up to you, but…what do you say?” I looked at him earnestly, my eyebrows rose with a sincere smile. “No pressure,” I winked.

“Heh…” he started. “It’s…been a while since I’ve eaten with anyone,” he said slowly, heavily.

“I know…” my smile slowly dropped. I suddenly felt sad, knowing that he must have felt lonely, whether or not people ignored him or that he had purposefully pushed others away.

“…Okay…thanks. I’ll join you,” he eventually managed.

My face practically split in two with a wide grin. “That’s great! Now come on, let me help you get up.” Slowly, he managed to stand up as he held onto me for support and as I held onto him to support. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Still hurts. I don’t think it’s anything too serious though. I hope it’ll be gone with a few nights’ rest.”

“Yeah, I know. Just be easy on yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, I think I should be able to manage. Thanks a lot…for your help.”

I turned my head to look him in the eye. He got a little nervous, but finally forced himself to meet my gaze. “And I’m glad you finally let me,” I said, rubbing his back to reassure him. He gave me a nervous wan smile.

“Hey Aust–” the door had flown open before we had gotten to it. In front of us stood a boy our age who shared most of our classes, Kenny. “–in. Um…s’up…Joey?” His eyebrows went up with surprise before lowering with a perplexed look. I felt Joey tense up in my arm as his face paled.

Kenny was the boy Joey picked on throughout his first year at high school. Life was already tough enough for a new kid in a new school, with new and different people, people he didn’t know. And before Kenny got the chance to make any friends, he had already found himself an enemy: Joey. I never could be certain what it was that Joey hated about Kenny. Was it the fact that he was shorter than most of us? That he was shy and timid? That he had a high voice? Kenny was absolutely harmless. And after two or three times of stepping in between the two of them when Joey was making fun of Kenny, simply trying to ruin his day, I started becoming friends with Kenny. He was a great guy if you got to know him – a very kind, loyal, caring, and intelligent individual. All of that and with his body…though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, I thought he was adorable. I found myself many times wanting to just grab and squeeze him tightly in my arms until he would squeal like a three year old. But I knew I just couldn’t do that.

“Uhh…Kenny…” Joey started, and I gave Kenny a wistful smile. Kenny had always been wary around Joey, yet at this moment he had a sympathetic look. Confused, but concerned. I felt tension in the air between the three of us, but when I turned to Joey, I was able to tell from his body language – from his twitching lips as if he were stammering unspoken words, trying to find the right ones; from his open palms not entirely revealed as if expressing his shame, as if begging for a chance to speak; from his shoulders, packed together and slightly hunched forward with nervousness; and from his eyes, moist and sad, a shivering gloss that wished to convey something that his voice could not – that something important was going to happen. I kept quiet and looked back and forth between the two of them.

“What’s going on?” Kenny said slowly, treading ever so slightly, feeling as if he had intruded on something secret. His gaze fell on Joey’s and he knew, then and there, that he couldn’t just walk around us, ignore us. His attention was desperately needed, and he knew not what to do other than stand there with a questioning look. An innocent, wary, and confused questioning look.

“Kenny…I…we…can we talk? There are some…things I need to tell you. Things I should have said a long time ago…”

Things that he should have said a long time ago? What was this all about, I wondered.

“Yeah…sure. Er…where, here, or…?”

“Um, I dunno. Er…well, I should probably let you use the washroom first…Um…”

“We have next period together, we can talk then, maybe?”

“I…I dunno…people might…”

“If it’s important, we’ll figure something out. Um…do you wanna wait for me once I’m done here? I’ll only take a sec or two.”

“S-sure! Sure.” Joey stammered. “I’ll be right here. We can walk together to our next class.”

“Okay…great. Just a second and I’m all ears,” said Kenny as he walked around us and over to the urinals.

“You’re gonna be okay here?” I asked Joey.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then. I’ll be heading off now. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yeah. And, um, thanks, Austin.”

I grinned at him. “It’s what friends are for, right?”

“…Right…” he responded with a small smile. I turned around and got out of the washroom. I guess being in there for all of that time must have gotten me desensitized to the odours. Still, it was a gross place for such personal and important matters. But it had to happen, then and there. There’s no time like the present, and I sighed in relief that we didn’t lose Joey.

Swiftly walking down the halls to my Chemistry class, I looked at my watch and realized that my first class was just a few seconds away from finishing. As I reached the classroom and turned the doorknob, I heard the class get up and begin heading towards the door. I slipped in before having to push myself through the swarm of students leaving in the opposite direction, and walked over to my bag and books. I packed up, swung my knapsack through my arms and onto my back, and headed out towards the door for my Biology class.

“Next time you should just drag me to the washroom with you. You took an awfully long time in there, probably enjoying yourself without me. I was so lonely,” said a girl who had quickly made her way beside me as we slipped back out through the doors.

“Lighten up Trish, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad!” I smirked weakly. The events of just moments ago were still playing in my head.

“You have no idea. There is no chemistry without you!” She wiggled her eyebrows seductively, and I busted out laughing. She was pretty good at cheering me up, I have to say.

“You’re one naughty, naughty girl, aren’t you?”

“Mmm hmm…” she purred dreamily, rubbing up against me as we made our way over to Biology class.

“Awww…looks like someone really needs it bad. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it tonight,” I said.

“Pssh! All talk, that’s what you are! Last time you never showed up. You were supposed to carry me up the stairs and to my bedroom, but you chickened out and didn’t even show up! We were supposed to DO things!”

“Shush! You’re so damn loud! I was busy!”

“Oh you don’t know loud, or busy…not yet, that is” she said seductively, her eyes sly and mischievous.

We stepped through the door and took our seats in another science classroom. It had long black tables for two people, as was typical with most science classrooms. We set our things down and took our notebooks and pens out.

“What are we learning about today?” I wondered out loud.

“Oh, I don’t know. The human body…” she said huskily, throwing me what she thought was a sexy glance as she slowly took off her sweater.

“Don’t even think about it, Ugly. My hand is better.”

She roared with laughter, which made most of the students nearby look at us, bewildered. Most thought we were such a weird couple.

Trish was gorgeous girl. She had long luscious blonde hair and preferred not wearing makeup. It just made life easier, she felt. Her body was slightly akin to the body proportions commonly found in fashion sketches in that she had long slender legs complemented by a nice fitting torso. She had a strong yet graceful presence, and she sat there, right leg neatly crossed over her left, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“Oh, you’re a funny boy. No, we’re probably going to finish off with the phospholipid bilayer or something. I can smell a test looming in the air,” she said in a cantabile manner.
I frowned. “Never been one to like tests.”
“Me either. Anyway, mind if I asked what took you so long last class? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure you weren’t sitting there taking a dump,” she grinned.
I laughed. “How would you know? Maybe I was taking a dump.”
“You said you needed to take a leak,” she gave me a disbelieving look, her eyelids dropping halfway over her eyes in mock boredom.
“Oh. Yeah. Right. I…forgot,” I said sheepishly.
“And I know you weren’t really playing with yourself ‘cause the stink’s distracting–”
“–ah, c’mon Trish, gimme a break. You don’t need to–”
"Okay, okay, sorry, I’m sorry." She got herself settled as the teacher entered and quickly set up the projector. “Er…yeah, forget I asked,” she chewed on her lip, her face disheartened.
“Hey, don’t be so apologetic. You’re the only one who I kid around with,” I said honestly. A lot had just happened and I had to get things to cool down a bit to think it through. Joking and flirting with her is fun…but there were some serious things on my mind that I needed to muse on.
“I know, but sometimes I’m afraid I go too far–”
“Oh stop it, it’s nothing Trish. I’m just...thinking...”

“Thinking? Hmm...maybe I should stop squawking so much and do the same...think, think, think...”
I respected the confidentiality of what had happened not too long ago with Joey, and I understood that what happened was quite private…maybe even a bit intimate. I couldn’t help but realize how…good it felt, holding him close, knowing how much he needed it, appreciated it, almost responding to it. The moment was a very personal one, and no one was going to know anything unless he wanted them to. Yet, there were a few things I felt Trish should be let in on. One of them was that, should Joey hang around with us during lunch, that we should be welcoming, not startled. I didn’t want Trish surprised to see him suddenly show up.
“Well, how about you think on this...”
I paused, and when she noticed that I didn’t finish my sentence, she turned to look at me questioningly.
“...Joey,” I finished.
“Hmm…” she began. “Okay...” She slowly leaned back into her chair. “What about him?”
“We spoke some last time. That’s why I took so long. It was all quite personal. Anyway, I invited him to hang out with us some. You know how he’s always alone, right?” Trish nodded. “Well, he might sit with us for a bit in the cafeteria today, if he feels like it. I hope so, anyway. It would be nice to see him not so…set apart.”
“I see...” She sat and thought. Our biology teacher was now going through her laptop, searching for the power point document.
“That’s...interesting. Is everything okay with him, aside from...the usual, I suppose?”
“I don’t know yet. He seems to be in a tough place, or rather, has been in one for a long time now. Maybe he’s finally ready to help himself, and maybe make some friends along the way?” I raised an eyebrow as I suggested the thought to her.
She frowned in contemplation, slowly nodding her head back and forth. “Yeah, of course. I’ve never been in eighth grade with you guys, so I’ve only known him since high school. Still don’t know too much about him either, and it sure looks long overdue for us to get acquainted.”
She straightened her posture and ran her fingers through her hair. "And he's cute, you know?"
I cleared my throat loudly and glared menacingly at her, pretending to be angry. "What did you just say?"
"What? Jealous much?" She teased.
"Maybe," I softened my features into a crooked grin.



----oooOOOooo----



“Y’all are here already!” I exclaimed.

“Yep, we beat ‘cha to it,” Kenny grinned.

“Hey Joey!” I beamed. “Glad you could make it.”

Joey smiled shyly, his eyes having some difficulty meeting mine. “Hi Austin.”

“What, no hellos for me?” said the girl next to Kenny. Her name was Steph and she has been Kenny’s girlfriend starting since last school year. She had her brown hair in a ponytail which swayed back and forth as she shook her head with a mock disappointed look. Kenny was lucky to have Steph. She was both charming and intelligent, kind and fun. They looked great together. Looking back, I would have to admit that I was quite surprised at how things had turned out for Kenny. He used to be at the end of Joey’s harsh jokes and had no one but myself as a companion. When Joey finally relented Kenny meshed well with the rest of us, so well that it wasn’t much later that I knew something was going on between him and Steph. I remembered being bored in math class one day, and when I looked over at Kenny, I noticed that he had eyes only for Steph and Steph alone. I had to stifle a laugh when I saw her turning back to look at him, only to blush and hesitantly jerk her head forward, as if trying to find a surreptitious way to disguise her reaction but couldn’t in her flustered state. It was cute watching the two of them stealing glances at each other in class, and I once found myself bursting into laughter during their little shy back-and-forth. That sure got the attention all on me.

And then, today, now, at this very hour, beside those two and directly in front of me was Joey. So many dramatic changes have happened to him. It was confusing to me, and I couldn’t quite figure out how he had gone from nice guy, to bully, to loner, and now shy. He smiled timidly at me. It sort of caught me off guard. Sure, that could all be explained from the awkward memory lingering over him from having me seen him in tears, having to embrace him, to hold him close to me protectively as if I was silently telling him that it would be alright. But still, it was one perplexing enigma that I couldn’t wrap my head around. This was all so weird, so strange. It left me feeling a little lost. I didn’t know what to make of it. How do you carry on somewhat normally after what had just happened in the washroom, after something so unexpectedly personal? And perhaps above all, I wondered what it was that has been shadowing Joey these past two years? These were questions to which I did not know how to go about finding the answers to.

“No, no hellos for you. I’m out. Sorry,” I smirked.

“You rotten kid,” she stuck her tongue out.

“You’re wrong on both counts. First of all, he’s a man, and secondly, he’s not rotten. He’s sexy. Very sexy…” We all turned at the direction of the voice, and saw none other than Trish herself.

“Shh! Dammit! Keep it down! You’re attracting attention again!” I said, incredulously.

“I’m soooo sorry Austin. But I just couldn’t help it. The timing was perfect!” Trish squealed in delight as she skipped over to my side of the table opposite of the other three. Slipping her arm to hook with mine, she stuck her lower lip out. “Please don’t be mad at me sweetie.”

“Ugh, you make me sick, lady,” Kenny snickered.

“Nah, you’re just jealous that Steph doesn’t give you that kind of treatment,” Trish shot back.

“Actually, we’re just a mature couple, you see,” challenged Steph.

“Hmm, really? Well, we could be “mature” too, whatever your definition of mature is,” Trish winked. She pulled away from me and calmed down some.

“Finally, I can breathe,” I mumbled. We couldn’t help but giggle at the silliness of it all. I looked at Joey and noticed that he was surprised at the witty banter, and I hoped it wasn’t too much to frighten him away.

“Gee, I’m sorry Joey, you must think I’m nuts,” Trish apologized. “Sometimes I can be a little out of it–”

“–You mean unstable,” I cut in.

“Shh! He’s not supposed to know that!” She grumbled through gritted teeth while elbowing my side. “Anyway, it’s good to see you here Joey. How’s it going?” she asked warmly.

“I’m okay I guess,” he gave her a wan smile.

“You’ve got something to eat?” I asked.

“Yeah I do.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a ham sandwich, a banana, and a bottle of juice. Kenny was busy eating his slice of pizza I assumed he bought from one of the stores around the school. Trish had a little thermos of pasta, and Steph had a chicken shawarma in pita bread. I took out a plastic container of last night’s lasagna.

“Mmm! I can smell your food Steph. That’s good stuff,” Trish remarked.

“Yeah, I got it from the new Arabian place that just opened down the street. It’s pretty good, but real messy once the juices start flowing and leaking down the bottom. It gets pretty wet and sticky too. Good thing I got myself a whole bunch of tissues to clean up.”

“Do you have to make everything sound so dirty?” Kenny wrinkled his face.

“Well, it is messy, I mean…” Steph looked at him in confusion. Trish and I started cracking up, and I could tell Joey was having a hard time holding it in as he tried to squeeze his lips together and look away. Kenny began chortling.

“Oh you sicko! You just have a dirty mind!” Steph pointedly turned away and tried, again, to discretely bite into the shawarma while holding it vertically, pointed up into her open mouth. “Oh god, this feels wrong…” she frowned, but was almost immediately overcome with giggles as the rest of us burst into laughter. Joey was trying hard to compose himself.

“You just need some practice, is all. You’ll eventually get the hang of it. Just, yes, close your lips around it better. Yeah, there we go, not too hard or you’ll send the filling shooting everywhere. Don’t let it all spill out,” Trish coached her without a single smile, doing her best to appear serious.

“You’re doing great baby,” I added.

Steph lost it and half choked, half laughed. The rest of us went wild and I was pretty sure that everyone in the school cafeteria was looking at us.

“That looks good. I’d like to try a shawarma sometime,” said Joey once we were all settled down. Steph had finally finished it and scrunched up the wrapping to throw out.

“What looks good? The shawarma, or the technique–”

“–Oh shut up Kenny! But yeah Joey, it’s pretty good. You should try one. It’s more expensive than pizza though,” said Steph.

“Or a hot dog,” Kenny suggested.

“Oh don’t you try starting it again mister,” Steph groaned, but couldn’t help cracking a smile in which she tried contorting into a smirk.

“Uh, sorry, who did you say had a dirty mind? ‘Cause I was just talking about hot dogs, plain and simple. What did you think I was talking about?”

Steph groaned while Kenny chuckled.

“You guys…” Joey cracked a lopsided grin, “…you guys are pretty funny. I didn’t know you could just joke around comfortably with each other like that.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Trish laughed. “But when it comes to the dirty things, it’s all talk…right, Austin?” she cocked an eyebrow at me, crossing her arms. I shook my head, chortling. Then I looked up at Joey, making eye contact. He quickly looked away, his eyes wandering to find something else to focus on. It made me feel uneasy, his inability to be relaxed around me.

“Anyway, all joking aside, I heard that soon we’re going to be getting some English project to do that’ll count for a lot of the upcoming English report card mark, right?” I asked nobody in general. Kenny gave me a dumbfounded look. “Huh? Wait, wha?” he babbled.

“Yeah, I think it’s a seminar thing. I think it’ll be on Hamlet or something,” said Joey. “I remember hearing that we would be partnered up in twos.”

“Right, I vaguely remember hearing her say that earlier a few weeks ago,” Trish said, referring to our English teacher.

“I hate analyzing literature and all of that mumbo jumbo. I suck at it,” Kenny groaned.

“Yep, hope we won’t end up being partners then,” I smirked. Kenny made a face.

Steph playfully leered at him. “I guess if we end up being partners I’ll just have you give you a hand,” she enthusiastically winked at Kenny. Trish rolled her eyes.

“I like English. It can be fun to study literature,” Joey said quietly.

“Hey, me too. Guess that makes the two of us,” I smiled.

“Ha?! The two of you? Once again Austin seems to enjoy leaving me out of it. First he doesn’t say hello, and now this,” Steph cocked an eyebrow, leaning back.

“What? Isn’t Kenny good enough for you? I’m sure he can keep you happy,” I teased. I turned my attention back to Joey, “Anyway, it would be cool for us to work together.”

“Yeah. Yeah it would,” he said softly, almost to himself.

And just at that moment, someone had the audacity to walk by and bump into Joey as he sat there, just innocently talking to me, finally have a good time with people who accept and respect him. And someone had the nerve to mutter a certain word directed towards him.

“Fag.”

I looked up and noticed it was the same kid who hurt Joey in the washroom earlier today. I swiftly got out of my seat and angrily strode over to him. “What the hell was that for?” I demanded rather harshly.

“Pray, tell me,” his voice rolled like thunder, “why you are always defending him. What, is he that weak? Gay and weak? And for some reason you feel the obligation to be, what, his protector?” He rose to his full height, looking down at me. His voice was deep and unwavering. He was a lot taller, a lot bigger, and definitely a lot stronger. And, judging from his choice of words, I could tell that he wasn’t your typical teenage high school jock.

“Care to enlighten me why the first words out of your mouth are of a homophobic nature? If anything, I’d say you are weak. My friend is a hell lot stronger than you’ll ever realize. What, are you trying to make his life miserable because yours is? Don’t tell me you’re some self-loathing–”

“Shut up asshole. You don’t fuck with me like–”

“Whoa, guys, let’s calm ourselves down and just walk away, okay?” Trish had stood up and put her hand on the guy’s chest, pushing him away.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

“Just who do you think you are? What did we ever do to you?” I hissed.

“Who do you think you are?!” He growled.

“Just another damn kid like you!” I glared at him. “I’m just another kid like you, just another kid trying to live his life in this messed up world. The only difference between us is that I strive to treat people with respect and dignity. Why can’t you do the same, huh?! What’s the world done to you to make you want to ruin other people’s lives? Nobody here hates you, so why do you have to go about hating others?” I locked my eyes on his as we stood there, rigid and poised in aggressive stances. I was angry, but soon felt it abate as his face slowly lost its tension and heat. We regained our composure almost as quickly as we had gotten angry. My words must have somehow reached through to him. But I still kept my eyes on him, wondering what had just happened, what I had said, what it had done to him, what he had heard, and what went through his mind.

“Keegan, I think you should leave,” Trish spoke.

His eyes broke contact as he looked over at Joey, sitting there, frightened, unsure of what to do. He clenched both his jaw and fists, taking a few steps backwards before turning and exiting through the door. I stood there, stunned, my chest heaving.

“His name’s Keegan?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ve seen him around. I’ve even known him from a long time ago when we went to the same middle school. He’s new this year. Must have transferred from another high school.”

“Now that…was a close one,” said Kenny.

Slowly, I turned and sat myself down beside a stiff Joey. Putting my arm over his shoulders, I quietly asked him, “Hey, everything okay buddy?”

“Y-yeah. Just a little shook up I guess.”

“I’m sorry that had to happen,” I frowned, squeezing his shoulders.

“That guy’s one nasty piece of work. Wonder what the hell his problem is,” Steph said quietly. We sat there, each one to his and her own thoughts.

“You know what?” I began, looking at Joey, “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be alright. We’ll all make sure of it.” I said.

He glanced into my eyes. “Thanks Austin,” he said just a little over a whisper. Turning to the rest of the group, he pulled up the corners of his mouth with a forced smile. “And thanks guys.”

Steph and Kenny nodded their heads. I noticed that Trish had a pensive look on her face. She was solemn, but thinking. Something else was bothering her.



----oooOOOooo----



“I’m assuming that you two had some kind of unpleasant run in with Keegan during first period. Am I right?” asked Trish as I spun my lock and pulled it free, unhooking it from the latch of my locker. Our last class had just finished for the day, and the halls were flowing and bustling with students at their lockers, either packing up to go home or hanging around in twos or groups, talking about their day or some interesting new piece of gossip. High school was, after all, a most unmistakably appropriate place for the manufacture and, in turn, mass production of rumour and gossip. Sighing, I looked up at the painted blue over the thin steel locker door as I swung it open, all the while without glancing at Trish to my right.

“Yeah,” I frowned. “How’d you figure?”

“From the way you quickly got up and confronted him in the cafeteria earlier. The way you two looked at each other, snapped at each other. It seemed like it wasn’t the first time. I just put two and two together and figured that there might have been some sort of connection with you telling me about talking some with Joey earlier on about personal matters.” I placed the textbooks I wouldn’t need for tonight onto the shelf and grabbed my jacket as she spoke. “I don’t mean to pry or anything. I just had a feeling,” she quickly continued.

“No, I get you. Yeah, Keegan, whatever his name is, was giving Joey a hard time and I had to break it up. The douche,” I muttered, shaking my head as I let my backpack drop to the floor to put my jacket on. “Dunno what the hell his problem is anyway. I was in the washroom. One moment it was quiet, and the next thing I knew this Keegan guy forced Joey into the washroom and hit him. It scares me to think what would have happened had I not been there.”

“God! How badly did Joey get hurt?”

“Oh, Joey got hurt alright,” I flicked my eyes to meet hers, “in more ways than one. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna let that happen again.”

Trish side stepped and planted an outstretched arm with her palm against her locker next to mine, resting some of her body weight against it. She sighed heavily. “You care a lot…” she muttered to herself.

“What?” my face twisted. “Of course I care. What do you mean, exactly?”

“Cool your jets, Austin. I mean no offense,” she raised her brows in an innocent gesture.

“Sorry. It’s just…ah, I don’t really know. Joey’s a nice guy. He shouldn’t have to deal with extra baggage coming from some scumbag who’s out to prove he’s tough by bullying others.”

“Extra baggage?”

I paused, thinking. “All I know is that Joey’s going through a rough time. I don’t know anything about it – just that he is.” I looped my arms through my backpack and zipped up my jacket. Trish still had that pensive look on her face. I could tell she wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t either because she didn’t know what to ask, how to ask them, or if she should refrain from asking just to be on the safe side, to not seem nosy.

“I’m assuming that you’re wondering why I’m…compelled…to suddenly be…I guess, a good friend to him…now?” I looked away. Thinking it over, it was a bit shameful to think that I wasn’t nearly as compelled before during last year when he was practically invisible, but that I was more so now. I couldn’t yet figure out why. There was probably more than one factor that contributed to my sudden desire to not only really care, but to actively do something about it. But I wasn’t sure what those reasons were. Another question I didn’t know the answer to. Another question for me to wrestle with.

“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.” She lowered her eyes to the floor.

Sighing heavily, I shrugged. “I don’t really know. All I know is how I feel at the moment. Maybe that’s good enough for me.”

“Fair enough. I won’t bug you with any more questions,” she looked up to me and smiled. “Anyway, I’ve gotta meet up with Steph. I’ll catch you later?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Keep warm,” I gave her a wan smile.

“I will,” she winked. “But you know, nothing can replace the warmth of your body, lover.” And with that, she spun around and gracefully made her way down the hall. I shook my head and laughed.

Slowly, I walked down to the other end of the hall. Turning the corner, I came face to face with Joey and stumbled back in surprise as he did the same. Regaining my balance, I laughed and reached out for his shoulder to steady him. “Wow, hey Joey! Didn’t expect to see you bumping into me.”

“Uh, yeah! Sorry about that. I just got out of class and was heading to my locker.”

“Cool, mind if I tag along? I can walk you out afterwards,” I raised my eyebrows, asking him.

“Yeah, sure. I guess I wouldn’t mind the company,” he had a hint of a small smile on his lips, and I returned it with a wider one.

“Lead the way.”

I followed Joey to his locker. As he put away his books, I couldn’t help but study his face, his form. His hair consisted of chestnut brown curls with a deep and alluring healthy glow that moved gently against the breeze he made as he moved his head ever so slightly, grabbing and putting away his belongings. His skin appeared smooth with a few pink spots whispered over his rosy cheeks. Few teens were lucky enough to be completely free against acne. But it didn’t matter. Not to me. Why would it? I could never allow myself to be selfish in regards to expecting perfection in others when I knew that I was far from perfect, far from handsome, far from genius. I could be harsh on myself for my own flaws, but I couldn’t judge a person by their own. And some flaws, or rather what most would consider to be flaws, I thought, were unique in my eyes, perhaps even beautiful. And I think it beautiful when you allow someone special to see those physical imperfections, someone you trust, because it was in and of itself a trusting and vulnerable act. True, you risk the potential of rejection, but sometimes there is beauty to be found in either imperfection or the humility of the act of surrendering yourself to another, baring your soul. Except for things like mental imbalances that drives someone to become homicidal. Now that was something completely different.

Another thing I thought was unique in imperfections was that by having some and acknowledging them, it allows you to connect and relate to others, to understand others. It keeps you grounded, from becoming condescending, arrogant, and egotistical. And it can make it easier to love others who are just like you when you know you’re not entirely beautiful. Of course, this isn’t absolutely foolproof. Some people are still snobbish and unforgiving to others even when they themselves are far from perfect. It’s unfortunate…but it happens.

“Mm?” With a slight upright jerk of my head I suddenly realized Joey was peering up at me from his eyelashes, his lips pursed with the right corner slightly upturned. Just slightly. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh, no! I just…kinda noticed that you looked a little bit…languid…looking at me there for a bit. It’s, heh…it’s nothing,” he seeming a little embarrassed.

“Languid?” I was confused.

“Um, yeah. Sort of, you know, dreamy.” He turned away from me and quickly closed his locker.

“Dreamy?! Oh, haha, sorry! I-I was just zoning out I guess. Just thinking things,” I sheepishly grinned. “Man, how long did you have to stare at me before I realized?”

“Stare?! Oh, I-I dunno. Not long.” Seeing that he had gotten his things together, I gave a little nod and the two of us walked side by side to exit the building. The cold chill signalling the nearing of winter crept over our skin as I pushed the blue school door aside. I winced as an icy breeze dashed across my face while Joey shrugged his shoulders upward as if trying to hug himself, while digging his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. I zipped up my collar to the very top to keep my neck warm as we stiffly walked out of the school grounds and onto the sidewalk. The sky was quickly darkening, as was usual in the final months of the year. It was only three in the afternoon, but it looked to be dinner time. I felt like I was late getting home.

“Damn, it’s cold.”

“And the streets are white and dry,” he added. I nodded in agreement.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked, turning to him.

“Um, well, it’s a bit of a walk, I suppose. It’s just down Grove Avenue before the intersection with Taylor, near the flower shop.”

“Oh, I see. I’m heading in the same direction, just that I have to turn down Taylor to the right and keep heading down it for some ten minutes before I get to my house. I never knew we lived that close by.”

As we continued walking we busied ourselves with small talk about school. Just general stuff. Yet I felt a sense of awkwardness, as if we were trying to seem normal around each other, trying to avoid a certain line of conversation, a certain topic. And I felt as if we both knew it, but just kept pretending it wasn’t there. I would ask a simple question, and he would answer. He would ask an ordinary question, and I would reply. It felt stilted. I wanted to talk about what happened earlier today, two instances to be specific, but I was afraid of getting into something thorny, afraid that I might appear to be poking or probing at a wound he was trying to conceal. I didn’t want to embarrass him. I didn’t want to anger him. Most of all, I didn’t want to hurt him, to shatter the little dignity that he still had left in him, to possibly create some misunderstanding between the two of us on a sensitive subject. Then again, even if none of it mattered, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I had questions gnawing at me, but I didn’t quite know how to coherently formulate them into comprehensible sentences. I wondered if some of the same things that were going through my mind right now were going through his. No…probably more. Worries, anxieties, frustrations, confusions. Probably more.

“How were your classes after lunch?” I inquired.

“They were…they were alright. A bit rough.”

“Rough? In what way?”

“Gym class,” he frowned. I assumed it was rough in terms of physical exhaustion, but I didn’t pry for more.

After a while we quieted, running out of ideas to keep up the bland exchanges. He shivered and bit down on his lips. It was the kind of shiver that was reflexive and spontaneous, the one you get in the cold where a tingle rapidly zips through your body and your muscles instinctually twitch. And it was funny seeing him suddenly shiver like that. Kind of…cute. Seeing that I had clearly noticed, he gave a nervous giggle as his cheeks reddened. I couldn’t help but grin widely.

“Happens to me all the time. No worries bud,” I said, playfully throwing an arm over his shoulders. Finding humour and companionable acceptance, a mutual understanding, he leaned against me, broadly grinning. And almost too soon I realized we had reached his house when he slowed down and straightened up.

“This is my place,” he glanced at me as if searching for approval. “Thanks for the walk.”

“Bah, don’t mention it,” I waved it off. “Just keeping a friend company, right?”

It wasn’t a smile, but his lips upturned at the corners, a silent acknowledgment. His expression seemed wistful for a moment before he took a backward step, almost bowing as he lifted his hand to wave goodbye. “K’. I’ll see you later then. Bye Austin.”

I mirrored his hand waving. “Yeah! Yeah, I’ll see you–oh wait, hang on a sec,” I nearly yelped at the sudden thought. Taking a step toward him, I pulled out my phone. “Why don’t we exchange emails and numbers. You down for that?”

“Oh yeah, sure!” His eyes showed surprise as he quickly fumbled and dug his hand into his jean pocket. Pulling out his cell, we typed in each other’s contact info.

“You can call, text, or email me whenever, about whatever. I won’t mind, and…” I paused for a second, gathering my thoughts together, “…I guess, sometimes it’s easier to talk about certain things through email that could be a little hard to be comfortable and spontaneous with face to face, if you know what I’m saying.” I think he understood what I was trying to tell him, but I didn’t know, couldn’t know for certain. Realizing that we were still not on a wholly comfortable level to openly discuss some things in person, I could only hope, by opening this channel of communication, that we could start building some trust. I knew he was troubled, and I wanted to be his sound board, possibly more. Someone he wouldn’t be afraid talking to. Someone he could come to, with anything.

I walked away that evening feeling unsure that he would be brave enough to contact me, and I kept doubting myself. Perhaps he wasn’t interested. Perhaps I wasn’t the one he needed or wanted to talk to. As a matter of fact, I didn’t exactly know what he needed, what he wanted. But I was willing to be a friend. Then again, perhaps I wasn’t meant to do or be any more other than that. If that was the case, then I would be respectful and understanding of that fact. Though I could not deny that it made me feel a slight twinge of despondency, what concerned me greater than my own state was his.

That evening was just like every other evening. We had dinner together – Mom, Dad, and myself. Nothing new. But it was peaceful and warm, in more ways than one. Definitely warmer than outside. With homework done and out of the way for the night, I passed time surfing the internet. Sometimes watching Youtube videos. I popped onto Facebook for a bit, just to scroll through the news feed. There were some funny pictures people had liked. I had a few laughs.

By now I had believed that Joey wouldn’t be making use of my number or email. Maybe I was just being a little too expectant, not giving him some time to think some things through, to make his own decisions – if he wanted to confide in me or not. Oh well, it’s not like I’m not going to see him tomorrow, that I’m not going to talk to him, right? Sighing, I thought to myself and hoped that he wouldn’t pretend that nothing had happened and go on living his life in silent isolation again. If it was his choice…then I wasn’t sure there was anything more I could or should do. I sighed at that depressing possibility.

But…what if he needed just one more nudge? What if he just needed me to reach out and reassure him, just one more time? What if he was afraid and wanted to hear from me first to know that he was safe, that I wasn’t fooling him or putting him in a position to potentially appear foolish and vulnerable? Should I send him an email to get him to warm up to me? But if I did, it might be interpreted as me being intrusive, not valuing his sense of self, and in effect appearing to be nosy or clingy. I didn’t know the right course of action to take.

And I still didn’t know why I cared so much.

Very soon I found that I had logged into my email account and had been staring at my inbox for the last several minutes. Shaking my head, I minimized the screen, stood up, and went downstairs to get myself a glass of water. After gulping down the cool clear liquid, I decided to call it a night as I packed my books back into my knapsack for school tomorrow. Once that was all done, I headed up into my bedroom and reached to log out of my email and turn off my computer.

But I didn’t. I had a new message in my inbox and I clicked to see it. I read and reread the email address but I didn’t recognize it.

And then I did. It was an email from Joey. I blinked a few times. My heart sped up. And then I opened his email.



Hey Austin,



It’s Joey here. I hope I’m not bothering you or anything, but I just wanted to take you up on your offer and say thank you. I’m sorry about the trouble I must have given you today. Twice. You know, first in the washroom, then at lunch…

I feel bad about it all. I feel pretty ashamed. About everything. You’re probably wondering just what I mean when I say everything. That, I think, I will someday tell you. It’s just…hard to talk about, you know? I’m sorry if I seem to be withholding some things from you. I just…there are some things I need to work out in my head first. Sorry for being vague.

I spoke with Kenny after the first time you helped me out today. When he realized that what I had to say weren’t for other ears, we “excused” ourselves from class. I’m really grateful that he did that, sacrificing his time for me. You have a good friend, Austin. For some reason a part of me hurts knowing that Kenny was good to me, that he cared, that he was kind when he essentially had no reason to be. It hurts because I realized how awful I had been, that I wasn’t a good person. He forgave me. I didn’t deserve it at all. I wish I knew why you guys are so kind to me. But even more than that, I wish I hadn’t been such a horrible person before all of this. It’s a regret I’ll never live down.

Maybe I’ll find the courage to tell you about it all face to face some day. Maybe then I can tell you what ‘everything’ is. I don’t know when, maybe when I’ve gotten myself together. It isn’t fair for me to leave you lost and confused when you reached out to help me when I needed it most. I’m sorry I’m not ready yet. But I will tell you, if by then you are still willing to listen.

It was cool being with you guys today during lunch. Hope you’ll have me again. You guys are good people.



Thanks a lot. I really do mean it.



-Joey



Oh…Joey. I sighed inwardly as I read and reread his email. There was a sadness I could sense, but his last few lines reassured me. I wanted to see him tomorrow.

I didn’t want him to feel the way he did. He felt bad. He was apologetic; probably had a whole bunch of self-hate festering inside of him. Kenny and I, the rest of us, just wanted to help him out, not indirectly hurt him. It was good to know that he and Kenny sorted some things out. Perhaps Kenny’s the one he’s comfortable with. Maybe I’ve done the most that I could do on my part. But I’ll still be here to listen. Joey’s email was elusive in certain areas – things he needed to figure out, the story behind it all, what’s really going through his mind, why he couldn’t tell me about it. I didn’t know if it was because he was uncomfortable talking about it or that it was something about me that made him uncomfortable, that with another person like Kenny he could talk it out with, but that there was something about me that he couldn’t. I really hoped that wasn’t the case. I liked him, I was worried and concerned. I cared. But I didn’t have to help if he didn’t want me to. As long as he had someone to lean on, someone to talk to, to walk with. And if it wasn’t me who was meant to do that, then I knew he would benefit greatly having Kenny as his buddy.

And then I smirked. I couldn’t help it. This entire notion of friendship was getting really mushy, a bit too affectionate.

But it wasn’t wrong. Being affectionate wasn’t wrong.

I responded to his email with one I struggled to write as friendly and caring as I could without being overly sympathetic, inquisitive, and I avoided using the simple word “you” in a condescending manner. Little things in how you speak or write can affect people in vast ways that may be wholly unintentional. That, I have come to realize, and I did my best to sound approachable, humble, and even, for good measure, trustworthy. I told him that he was a good person, and that I liked him – that my friends and I all liked and cared about him.

I lay in bed that night wondering if he had read my email yet, wondering how we would be like around each other tomorrow. I replayed the day’s events in my head, thinking about why I cared so much about him. I wondered what Joey was thinking about at this moment, what he was doing. Was he thinking through some of the same things I was? Was he also wondering about how we would be like around each other tomorrow, was he replaying the day’s events in his head, and thinking about why we – my friends and I – cared and accepted him?

But my final thoughts before I fell asleep that night was, oddly enough, about Keegan. What was his involvement in all of this, and why? And why was it that each time I confronted him, he seemed to relent far more easily than I had expected?



----oooOOOooo----



It was now December, and November had drifted by without incidence. Joey got along well with the rest of the group and we had the usual friendly banter at lunch. Joey and I shared some classes together, and I began noticing that slowly, he became less secluded and removed from the rest of the class. Things were started to look up. However, our email exchanges were few, and he never did tell me anymore than that night. I guessed I wasn’t meant to know.

Eventually with the little that I knew, I told Trish some of what happened on that day when I encountered Keegan and Joey in the washroom. I told her about Joey, how he evolved and changed throughout the years. Now that things were beginning to settle, with Joey fitting in comfortably amongst ourselves, I discerned that Joey was starting to put it all behind him. Though perhaps I may never know the answers, what was important was for him to heal, have his troubles dealt with, and to happily move on. However, I felt guilty for feeling melancholy in that he slowly stopped talking about it, for not confiding in me.

In today’s math class, by consensus we all wanted to do Secret Santa. I didn’t think anything when I pulled a slip of white paper out of the tin can. When I unfolded it, I was surprised to get Joey’s name. What were the chances of that?! I folded it up and avoided eye contact with anyone, especially him. I didn’t want to lead him on thinking I had gotten his name. That would ruin the entire purpose of the game.

I observed that whenever we ate in the cafeteria, off to the far side sat Keegan on his own, numbly eating his own lunch. He no longer caused Joey trouble, but that didn’t mean he didn’t stop paying attention to us all as we sat together. One time I saw Trish talking with him in the cafeteria at the table he occupied when I came in a little later than usual. We surreptitiously eyed her with curiosity.

“Is everything okay with Keegan,” asked Joey.

“Okay with him?” Steph asked incredulously, her eyes wide. “Since when did you care about him?”

“I’m just curious,” he stated innocently.

“Well in this particular case, curiosity would probably kill the cat,” Kenny smirked.

“Not if satisfaction brought him back,” I playfully sneered.

Trish didn’t say anything when she returned, so we asked her what was going on. Within a mere matter of seconds Keegan stood up and left the cafeteria.

“I was just chatting with him for a bit. We know each other, so he didn’t mind me coming up to him.”

“My dear Trish, please don’t tell us you’re interested in him,” Steph teased.

“Trish, this is no laughing matter,” I tightened my jaw, rising to my full height in a seated position. “Should I be worried?”

“Jealous much?” she purred, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Very. You belong only to me,” I whispered loudly. She laughed, as did the rest of us. Except for Joey. He was busy chewing his food as if he didn’t hear us.

That very same day Joey and I shared English for last period. The final assessment for the first semester was assigned and we were told to partner up in pairs. We had to examine a passage from Shakepeare’s play ‘Hamlet’ and conduct a seminar involving literary analysis of the selected passage for the class within a week – that was, starting next Friday and onto the following week. Lists of passages were handed around the class with suggestions to choose from.

When were told to get up and seat ourselves next to our partner, I stood up and turned to Joey. He did likewise.

“Partners?” I asked.

“Partners,” he said in agreement with a small smile, that innocent, bashful smile, with just a hint of an upturned right corner of his lip.

“I’ll come over,” I said, gathering my stuff. Joey pulled the neighbouring desk and seat to line up against his. He watched patiently as I made my way over.

Setting my stuff down, I sat and turned next to him with the play in hand. “Glad I got you all to myself before anyone else had the chance,” I said with a lopsided grin. He laughed nervously.

“No, I’m the one who’s glad,” he said firmly, his face decidedly lined with a sturdy smile.

“Oh, are you setting us up for the ‘who is or who isn’t’ game? As in ‘no, I’m glad. No, I’m glad’?” I poked him in the ribs. He suddenly jerked back and his mouth opened in surprise. “Ohhh, I see, we’ve got a ticklish one here, don’t we?” I teased.

“Passage 3 has already been taken. All of you better choose your passages and tell me them before the one you want gets taken by another group!” the teacher projected her voice as she made the announcement. Crap. Way to ruin the fun!

“Looks like it’s time to get to work! We can fool around later,” I winked at him.

“Hey! You’re the one who’s fooling around!” Joey shot back.

“Nuh-uh!” I grinned.

Eventually we refocused ourselves to the task at hand. We settled for the 6th passage, the confrontation between Laertes and King Claudius over Laertes’ father Polonius’ death, followed by his sister Ophelia’s entrance singing bawdy songs and giving out flowers. After reporting our selection to the teacher, we once again seated ourselves and discussed the passage. We came up with a lot of ideas and took down notes. We were on a roll, and it was just fascinating at how quick Joey was at identifying interesting points and literary devices. As I appreciated the contents of the passage, so I appreciated his natural skill and interest in the text, and I marvelled at him. I had no idea he was this good. It was fun, and I was in awe.

Our roll was halted when class was over, and it felt as if time had flown by in an instant. It was a shame. But then Joey looked up from the play in his hand and looked at me.

“Hey, um, I was wondering...would you be interested in sticking around at my place for a bit so we could sort out who will work on what for the weekend? We could also finish looking at the rest of the passage and figure out the important things to talk about, who will talk about what, and come up with our central assertions?” he looked at me hopefully. “It’s alright if you can’t or don’t want to. We can still call each other over the weekend, right?”

I smiled widely at him. “Dude, it’s a Friday evening and I have nothing planned other than homework. I think it would be a great idea to get some of this out of the way. I’ll come over if that’s an invitation I hear, for sure.” I had never stepped foot inside his house, and it had actually been a while since we were alone together. Though I couldn’t put my finger on it, I felt like there was also an underlying reason for his asking me to come over, judging from his time being so acquainted with independence and being alone that there must be some significant reason for him welcoming a school friend into his home. And it wasn’t just anyone. It was me.

Or maybe he just wanted company, or that he felt it convenient to get as much of our work done together as we could before we had to present to the class. It was ‘group’ work after all, and that required conversing, brainstorming, and discussion. Maybe I was just reading into things too much. Perhaps English class has influenced me in a way or two.

“Yeah, I’m inviting you,” he beamed nervously. “We can walk there together.”

English was our last class, so after leaving we headed to our lockers to retrieve our jackets and other books for the weekend and left. We walked from the school to his house in pretty much the same manner as we had that first day, with our shoulders huddled up near our ears as the cold winter air wiped and lashed at our faces. When we got to his front door and had it opened, the first thing I noticed was that his house was vacant and dim with the lights off. The second was the burst of warmth I felt as we entered. Immediately my stiff body loosened and relaxed.

“Ahh…it feels good being out of the cold,” I sighed contentedly as I shut the door behind us.

“Hang on, let me get some light in here.” Joey took off his shoes on the rug and placed them neatly aside. I followed suit as he took a few steps forward and flicked on the light switch.

It was a small house, a warm house, a neat house. We walked through the living room on dark hardwood flooring. A TV was against a wall with two mahogany couches along the adjacent walls. An oval coffee table was situated between the two couches and family photos and paintings were hung on the soft sand-beige coloured walls. Through the living room we entered what I supposed was the family room with a bookshelf and some cushioned seats. In a corner stood a Christmas tree adorned with tinsel, baubles with fine decorations and various sizes, purple and beige ribbons, acorns, and lights. Atop the tree stood an angel in a white and pristine dress holding a small candle in each hand.

“Wow…” I stopped, admiring the tree. Joey smiled warmly at my admiration. “It’s pretty,” I said softly, “really pretty.”

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“Is it alright if I see it with the Christmas lights on?” I asked.

He laughed contentedly. “Sure, my pleasure,” he said, reaching down to the base of the tree to turn the switch on. Then he stepped away and turned the light in the room off to enhance the visual effect. The tree came to life with its bright white lights, reflecting off of the ornaments and icicle decorations. The bulbs on the candles of the angel lighted up, and a star with multiple rays I hadn’t noticed before lighted up in a bright warm yellow glow behind the angel’s wings.

“That’s…it’s…” I turned to Joey. “…it’s beautiful.”

He held my gaze in the dim room, the only source of light emanating brilliantly from the tree. “Thanks,” he whispered softly, afraid to break the soothing trance-like peace in the air.

A few silent moments passed by as we stood next to each other in companionable silence. The moment ended when he turned off the Christmas lights. “C’mon, let’s pick up where we left off last time, shall we?”

“Right,” I nodded. He led me into the kitchen to a smooth wooden table for four. Setting his backpack down, he took off his jacket and offered to take mine to hang them both up.

“Oh, thanks. Just a sec,” I responded as I too dropped my bag by my feet, taking my jacket off. He took them away and came back in less than five.

We got to work as if no time had passed since our English class. We discussed, made notes, and assigned who would address and elaborate on which topic. During the scene in Hamlet that we chose, Ophelia’s erratic behaviour included not only the songs she sings before the other characters, but also the flowers she hands out to those individuals. With an idea, Joey decided to do some research on the computer, and he timidly invited me up into his room on the second floor.

“Behold, my humble abode,” he said with a crooked grin. “Welcome.”

“I am honoured,” I jovially responded in kind. I swept my eyes across the room. Directly in front of me was a window with the blinds drawn up, giving view to the dark evening sky. To the left was a single bed against the wall with white and burgundy sheets and a disheveled blanket I imagined he must have thrown aside as he drowsily got out of bed this morning. At a distance from the foot of his bed stood a white closet with a vertical mirror and a white dresser. On the right of the room was a dark brown desk with a computer and next to it towards the window stood a bookshelf. On his desk sat a picture frame. The photo was of a much younger version of him standing between his mother and father. He had his father’s hair and smile, and the shape of his face was akin to his mother’s with her eyes and nose. On the wall above his computer hung a calendar, and on the opposite wall above his bed hung a painting of a young lone boy crouched in yellow rain boots with an umbrella over his head, a finger testing the pond water. At the head of his bed was a painting of what appeared to be by the same artist, a painting of two young boys, one in red overalls and another in blue overalls, each wearing flat caps. They had their faces close together, their noses touching. They were happy.

“Are these two by the same painter?” I asked.

“Yeah. Donald Zolan. He does a lot of paintings of children and childhood,” said Joey. I looked at him and noticed that he was very still, keeping his eyes on the floor. It was as if he was afraid of what I thought. I guess he was.

“They’re cute, makes me feel like wanting to be a kid again,” I said warmly.

“Yeah…I guess you can say that,” he said slowly. He looked up to read my face, and I was sure all he saw there was sincerity, because he then smiled sweetly at me before taking a seat in front of his computer, turning it on.

After we finished our research on the meaning of the types of flowers the character Ophelia had distributed, I walked to the window and saw that it was snowing. Joey was still on the computer, just surfing on the internet, not looking at anything in particular. His forehead was creased in thought. He seemed uneasy and I wondered what was bothering him.

“Something on your mind?” I asked him.

“It’s…it’s nothing,” he said softly. I kept my eyes on his lithe form for a while before returning my gaze to the soft falling snow, drifting to the ground and roofs of other houses in the distance. I slowly found myself humming a soft tune.

“Whatcha singing?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m humming,” I grinned.

“Okay. What are you humming?” he asked, rising out of his seat to make his way beside me.

“Just a song from a movie I once saw. ‘La Nuit’ from ‘Les Choristes’. It’s a French movie. You’ve probably seen it in French class at some point.”

“Hmm…I don’t seem to remember. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“It’s a nice movie, I think. The song’s just about the night, how sweet and mysterious it is, how it can change everything to a happy dream,” I said as I gazed out in the dark.

“I…” he sighed heavily, “…I wish that was true,” Joey said softly. His voice was sad, and I turned around to meet his eyes. He looked away.

“Joey…” I started, gently, “…talk to me. Tell me what’s really bothering you,” I soothed. Still he didn’t look at me, but from his voice, from his slumped shoulders, his body language and posture, I could tell that he wasn’t just sad, wasn’t just…lonely, hesitant. He was scared. Scared of something, something that he might say, of what I might think…but was he scared of me?

“I…I don’t know if I should,” he spoke just above a whisper.

“You don’t have to be afraid. What you say won’t change anything between us.” He hesitated, and I wrapped an arm almost protectively around his shoulders, pulling him close to my side, as close as that first day we walked home together, as close as that time I held him against me in that pungent and stifling room after having fought Keegan off.

“I hate the night,” he began, slowly, hesitantly, “because it’s the only time where the loneliness and self-hatred creeps up on me, the only time where I let my defences down so it can bind me. It’s not sweet…or, or mysterious. I don’t have happy dreams. All I have…are tears.” I felt him shudder against me. I felt him straining to control his voice, but I had to ask him…

“Can you tell me…why you hate yourself?” I asked softly.

He paused, gathering his thoughts together, trying to steady his breathing. I squeezed his shoulder both to comfort and encourage. He was scared, but he plowed on, as if it was something he needed to say, something he had to do. “…Because of who I am. I’m a bad person…and I desperately, selfishly, want something I don’t deserve. Something I’ll never have. Something I’ve always hated but now…it’s gotten to the point where I can no longer hate it because it’s something that feels right, something that can take away the pain, the loneliness…” He was visibly trembling now, and my heart ached as I held and watched this wonderful boy, hurting, yet fighting for the strength to be vulnerable to me, to open up and share his secrets with me. He was delicate, fragile, and it hurt me to see him hurt. He shouldn’t ever have to hurt. I didn’t want him to.

“And what exactly is that something. Or…” I paused, deciding to risk it, “…is it a someone?” I carefully ventured.

He didn’t answer for a long time, and I waited patiently, giving him all the time he needed as I held him by the window. The sky grew darker still and the snow peacefully drifted down, gently landing on whatever surface it could grace.

“It’s a someone…and I…I think…no…I thought,” he paused, taking in a shuddered breath, “…I thought I had found him,” his voice shook as did his shoulders. I held my breath. He said ‘him’. It was a boy he had feelings for.

Slowly, I rubbed my hand against his upper arm soothingly. I didn’t let go of him. “You said you thought you found him, I’m guessing, a boy to love you…but what did you mean when you said thought…as in past tense?” I asked.

“I-it…it doesn’t m-matter to you that I’m…that I’m,”

“Gay? Or, or that you have feelings for other guys?” I whispered. “That you like…that the person you would fall in love with is a boy?” I asked.

Joey tensed up in my arm. “Y-yeah…”

“Of course not, buddy…of course not,” my forehead creased with genuine understanding and acceptance. It was almost too much to hear his soft trembling voice tell me something so secret, so intimate. “I’m really glad you told me.” Truth was…I had already suspected for some time now, and I supposed it was only a matter of time before he told me himself. Nevertheless…I found my heart racing…

We stood there quietly, with him close to my side, my arm draped over his shoulders. “Thanks Austin…” Joey whispered.

I smiled at him. “Nothing changes between us. You’re still my friend. But…do you want to…um, answer my question? You said you thought you found him…what did you mean?”

“He’s…he’s with someone. I just know. A girl. And they’re happy together. But I love him,” a tear trickled down his cheek and he turned away from me, wiping it with the back of his hand. “And it’s selfish of me to want him. I shouldn’t.”

“Oh Joey…” I bit my lip. “I’m sorry things are like the way they are. It must suck…”

His lower lip trembled. I rubbed from his shoulder to his elbow. “Tell me about him,” I said.

Joey raised his head and widened his eyes a little, trying to keep the other tears at bay, from welling up. When he lowered his head he whispered to me, “H-he was there when I didn’t deserve him, but when I needed him the most. He…he cared for me. He befriended me. All the bad things I did just didn’t matter to him. He’s…” he paused, trying to calm himself, to keep his voice from cracking, “…he’s good to me, and he’s beautiful.” My heart trembled hearing his soft voice quiver as he made himself vulnerable to me, as he told me a most personal, private secret he must have kept hidden inside of him every day and night.

“May I ask you something?” I started. Slowly, he nodded. “Is it…are you talking about…Kenny?”

He shook his head. “No. I…I liked him when we were all fourteen in grade nine, and I…I picked on him because I saw myself in him, because I liked him, and hated it. I was scared of it…” Another tear trickled down, but he didn’t care to wipe it away this time. “I’m ashamed of what I did…he deserved far better than that. And I can never forgive myself,” he sniffled woefully. “I no longer have…those sort of feelings for him. We talked about all of this after the time Keegan…you know…” I nodded my head. “Kenny knows all about it now…but no, it’s not Kenny that I...that I...” he stuttered as his voice began to give away.

“That you love?” I suggested. He nodded silently.

“Then…” I bit my lower lip, unsure if I should be so bold as to ask him the identity of this special someone.

“He’s someone I wish I knew as well as…as well as Tr-Trish does…”

I felt a shiver run over me as I realized who that other person was. And I knew this other person very well. But before I could say anything Joey pulled away from me, biting his trembling lips together.

“I…Austin I’m so sorry. I…you should go…” he began. “It’s getting dark outside and the snow’s getting heavier. Your parents might be worried.” I glanced at the clock in his room I hadn’t noticed before and realized that it was almost six. I had to get going, but I…I couldn’t leave him like this. I didn’t know what to do. And at that moment, it really didn’t seem like time mattered anymore, because something else did. Joey’s heart.

“You should go, Austin,” he repeated, his voice firmer, with more force, his jaw clenched tightly to keep his face from crumpling. “I…I’ll walk you out.” He quickly turned on his heels and walked out of the room and down the stairs, and I ran after him. But I was at a loss of words, and I didn’t know what to do.

His parents still weren’t home for the evening, and I assumed that they come home late from work every day. I gathered my things together, put both my jacket and backpack on, and he walked me to the door, keeping his eyes on the ground.

After I had slipped my shoes on, I turned to look at him once more. “Joey,” I said, wanting to extend a hand…just to…just to…to touch him. “Look at me.” He bit his lower lip and slowly raised his eyes to meet mine.

“I want to ask you to do something for yourself, and if not, then for me.”

“W-What…what is it?” he asked.

“I’m asking you…to forgive yourself. To love yourself. And not to lose hope. You’ll find the right guy. I know you will.” And with that, I swung the door open and stepped out into the cold winter air, into the fast falling snow that crashed and flew about in a thick white flurry. “It’s cold outside, don’t stand too close to the door, you’ll catch a cold,” I said as I turned around and saw him place himself between the door and the door frame to sadly watch me leave.

Joey didn’t respond, but he looked at me with watery eyes, begging for me – struggling to keep his face from crumpling, not wanting me to leave him – asking for me to stay. Inside he was scared and told me I should leave, but I knew his heart cried differently. And at this moment, his eyes spoke for his heart. And I heard him.

“Joey…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” and I left. In that moment, I knew and could no longer deny why I cared so much about him; I knew that it wasn’t he who was underserving of love. I knew he wasn’t the only person who fell in love, and I knew that I had broken his heart in that very moment. Because I wanted someone better for him. Because I was scared. Because I was afraid of losing him should I ever do something wrong if we were together. It was too good to be true, too surreal – to accept that above all others, he loved me. Me. I was a hypocrite. He harboured self-hate, and I asked him to forgive himself, yet he was not alone in self-loathing.

All along I’ve known that I loved him too, but I kept denying it. All along I’ve known why I cared so much about him, but I kept denying it, trying to find other reasons. He deserved someone better, someone who could give him more than I ever could. Someone who’s heart was ready, someone endowed with maturity.



----oooOOOooo----

‘Uncle M-M-Mike?’ I heard the nervous, disjointed voice say. The alarm clock said it was two thirty in the morning and my telephone had switched over to the answering machine before I’d had a chance wake up, shake the fog from my brain and pick up.
‘Fuck! Are you there? Please be there …’ he almost sobbed.
In an instant I was there, rolling over and sitting upright on the edge of my bed. Picking up the handset from its cradle I pressed the button to allow me to speak.
‘I’m here Danny. What’s happened? Where are you?’
He was my nephew. Eighteen years old and just setting out to find his own place in the world, having recently commenced his studies at the local university, before he would eventually take his place in the family farming business.
‘Oh, thank God you’re there,’ he replied, his speech now sounding slightly slurred. ‘I … think I need some help.’
‘What’s happened and where are you?’ I repeated, with all sorts of thoughts flashing through my mind.
‘I … ummm …’
‘Are you drunk Danny?’
‘No!’ he answered in a forceful whisper.
‘Are you hurt, or in some kind of trouble? Has there been an accident?’ I urged.
There was no reply, but I was grateful that I could still hear him breathing on the other end of the line at least.
‘Danny?’
‘Uncle Mike …’
‘Yes Danny.’
‘You c-can’t tell anyone.’
‘Tell anyone what?’
‘I’m at the … p-p-park. Central Park.’
‘Okay. I won’t tell anyone,’ I promised him, finally with at least some understanding of the situation, even without having had the facts presented. ‘Mate, what has happened?’
‘I … I don’t know what to do. They’re still out there. I can see them.’
‘Who is out there?’ I asked him. For a few moments there was just the sound of his breathing on the line, but then the line went dead.
‘Fucking hell!’ I exclaimed, slamming the phone back into its cradle. Getting to my feet I grabbed for my jeans and t-shirt, pulling them on as I headed for the door. As I passed the table in the hallway I picked up my car keys, along with the carry-all I kept beneath it which contained spare clothes and other essentials for quick trips away, then slipped on some boots and headed out the door.
As I ran for my utility one of the working dogs started barking at me from its kennel outside the house yard, but was soon silenced by a gruff, ‘Shut up!’
Jumping into the old Ford I quickly started it up and slammed it into gear, spinning the wheels on the gravel as I let the clutch out and jammed the accelerator down at the same time. There was no time to waste. Town was a forty five minute drive away on most days, but at this hour and with no traffic on the road I expected to be there in less than thirty. At least that was the plan.
As the miles sped by I went over and over in my mind what Danny had said to me. He was at the park. I couldn’t tell anyone. Someone was out there.
In calling me his actions explained a great deal and as I promised him, I wouldn’t betray his confidence. I just hoped that I would be able to get there in time to be able to help him with whatever the situation was that he had found himself in. I was deeply concerned for him, not just for what may lie ahead in the next few hours, but also for the immediate future, the days and weeks ahead, if my assumptions proved correct from what I was reading between the lines.
With not another living soul on the road at that hour it wasn’t long before I could see the glow of the city lights appearing in the skies ahead of me, and only minutes later when I topped the row of high hills to the east I could see it nestled below me in the valley, street lights neatly laid out in squares and twinkling away in the night.
I sped down the hill, passing what had previously been open grazing country and which was now rapidly being replaced by new housing subdivisions, past the racetrack on the edge of town, then the private boys’ school where generations of our family had been educated. It wasn’t until I was almost in the centre of town that I slowed down to a more acceptable — although still not entirely legal — pace, before then having to stop just briefly at the traffic lights. I was now just a few blocks away from the park and so I slowed down further, looking about me as I went at the few cars parked on the streets, looking for Danny’s new silver coloured Toyota Hi-Lux four-wheel-drive.
There was no sign of him or his vehicle as I reached the intersection at the start of the park. I continued driving slowly along the street, looking deep into the shadows of the park to see if there was any sign of activity about, but everything appeared quiet. Upon reaching the end of the block I turned right and drove down the western side of the park, still looking for any signs of movement. Then when I reached the turn-off into the car park area, I drove in.
I could see at the far end of the car park there was a single vehicle there, half hidden by shadows, so I drove toward it, pulling into a parking space just a few places away, stopping there and turning off the ignition.
Looking across at the other vehicle I could see that it definitely looked like Danny’s truck and so I got out and walked across to it. Upon trying the door handle I found it to be locked, so I tried looking inside through the window. Even though it was parked in the shadows I could tell that it was empty, so I stepped back and turned my attention toward the park, looking for any sign of movement or activity that I could find.
Cautiously I stepped over the curb and onto the start of the grassed area, standing in the shadows of a pine tree for a few moments as I let my eyes adjust to the light. There were paths running diagonally across the park from corner to corner, crossing over in the middle where a large fountain also stood. From all four side large triangles of grass stretched into the centre toward the fountain, while trees of various shapes and sizes stood along those paths and around the edges of the park. There were also a couple of buildings on the grounds, an old rotunda with ornate wrought iron decorations on the southern side where bands once played or speeches were given, while a building which housed the toilet facilities stood half way along the northern side, just down from where I now stood.
Sticking to the shadows offered by the trees along the side of the park I started walking toward the toilets, hoping that Danny may have taken refuge there, but when I walked inside the brightly lit building I found it to be totally empty.
Disappointed, I headed back out into the cool night, walking back toward where the two vehicles were parked and checking again to see if Danny’s truck was empty, then kept walking along that edge of the park. Once again I tried to keep to the shadows wherever possible, skirting around trees and looking for any spots where someone may be concealed, but found nothing.
When I reached the corner I started along the next side of the park, following the same pattern of skirting around trees and trying to keep in the shadows. If anyone had noticed me there they most definitely would have thought that I was up to no good, but thankfully I saw no one.
Coming to the next corner I turned and headed toward the rotunda, intending to repeat the process of looking amongst the shadows; however I soon came to a quite large raised garden area which was bordered by a rock edge about a foot high. Scattered throughout the garden there were quite a few flowering shrubs, while in the centre there stood a small clump of trees, growing quite thickly.
I studied the trees for a few moments, noticing that I could see through them, making out the open area on the other side which was bathed in light. Thinking that Danny wouldn’t be hiding in there I was just about to move on when I saw something move, stopping me in my tracks.
It could have just been a tree blowing in the breeze of course, but something made me take a second look and it was then that I could make out the outline of someone squatting there in the shadows.
‘Danny? Is that you?’ I called out softly.
The shadow moved slightly, but said nothing.
‘Danny?’ I called again. ‘I’m coming in. Okay?’
Stepping over the rock wall surrounding the garden I walked toward and into the clump of trees, soon being swallowed amongst their shadows. In the curious half light I could make out his shadow ahead of me, still squatting in the same position, but as I drew closer he stood up.
‘Uncle Mike?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes, mate. I’m here. How about we get you out of here, eh?’
He nodded then took a few unsteady steps toward me.
‘You okay?’ I asked him.
He placed a hand on my shoulder to steady himself and I could feel him trembling slightly. Whatever it was that had happened couldn’t have been good, I thought.
‘Thanks for coming,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know who else to call.’
Then he did something he hadn’t done in a few years. He hugged me.
*   *   *   *   *
When we got back to the vehicles I managed to get a better view of him. His face and clothes had blood on them from several cuts, while I soon discovered blood on me as well, obviously from when we had hugged. He also had an eye that was rapidly swelling. I didn’t ask him anything about what had happened, but I think I managed to come up with a pretty fair idea of what had transpired, all by myself.
Leaving his vehicle parked where it was, we took mine and headed a few blocks down the highway through the centre of town, thankfully finding a motel with a vacancy sign lit up.
I had thought briefly about taking him to the office that our farming company kept in town, which had a sofa bed in the back room and even a shower in the hallway between our office and the one next door, but that would have just led to questions being asked when the office girls arrived for work the next morning. Finding the motel proved a blessing and while I went inside and roused the clerk from his sleep to arrange for the room, Danny stayed in the car.
With a room key in my hand, after receiving a few funny looks from him in the process when the desk clerk spotted the blood on my clothes, I went back out to the car and drove down to the parking space in front of room seventeen. I got out and then, after retrieving my carry-all from the back of the utility, I opened the door to the room and motioned for Danny to come inside.
He got out of the car and met me at the door.
‘Thank you,’ he said to me as he came inside, sitting himself down on the edge of the nearest bed.
‘You’ve already thanked me,’ I said to him. I walked over to him and inspected the damage to his face. He had a few superficial cuts and his swollen eye was going to have a beaut of a shiner in the morning. There were also a few cuts on his arms, but I think all in all the damage looked worse than it actually was.
‘Now, how about you have a shower and get yourself cleaned up then get some sleep? We can talk in the morning, okay? In the mean time, though, how about giving me your keys and I’ll go collect your vehicle?’
With a nod he fished the keys from his jeans and dropped them into my hand.
‘There are some clean clothes in my bag if you want them. There are also some toiletries and a first aid kit if you need anything from those,’ I said to him.
‘Thanks,’ he said to me, then getting to his feet he picked up a towel from the end of the nearest bed and headed toward the bathroom, closing the bathroom door behind him and giving me one last sheepish look as he did so.
Moments later I let myself out and headed back up the road toward the park, my head swirling with a mix of thoughts, some of which I found quite disconcerting.
*   *   *   *   *
Danny’s vehicle was still there when I reached the park, as I had expected. The driver’s side door had a small dent, along with a few minor scratches. I also found a mark on the window, which could have been blood, but apart from that everything looked okay.
There was also another vehicle parked farther down, near to the toilets, though I paid no attention to that one, instead just unlocking and getting into Danny’s and starting it up.
After switching on the lights I backed out of the car park and as I turned the wheel the lights fell on some bushes not far away from me. Some movement caught my eye and I noticed a guy standing there, his hand shoved down the front of his trousers.
I watched him for a moment then said to myself, ‘Not tonight I’m afraid, sunshine.’ Then putting the truck I gear I revved the motor a bit and then let the clutch out, leaving that place behind.
Danny was already asleep when I returned to the motel, having crashed on top of the bed wearing only his shorts and with the room lights still on.
He looked quite peaceful there and for a few moments I studied him, watching the rhythmical rising and falling of his chest, seeing the way his brown hair fell across his forehead, delighting in the sight of the trail of fine hair running up to his navel and the wisp of hair on his chest, while being impressed by the muscle and weight he had added since I had last seen him, which was about a year ago.
He wasn’t quite as tall as I am, being about five feet ten to my six feet, but apart from that we weren’t too dissimilar, both having the build and tanned complexions of someone who spent most of their time working outdoors. Being older, I was also a bit heavier than he was of course, but with a span of less than fifteen years between us the differences weren’t that great and we could probably even have been mistaken as brothers.
Shaking some other unwelcome thoughts from my head I picked up a blanket and placed it over him, then switched out the lights and stripped down to my own shorts, before lying down on the other bed and managing, at sometime in the early hours, to eventually nod off to sleep.
*   *   *   *   *
When I awoke in the morning, with bright sunlight streaming in through the drawn back curtains, I expected to find Danny still out to it, but instead of that I found him sitting in a chair, still in his shorts and studying me from across the top of a coffee cup.
He was framed by the sunlight coming in through the window behind him and that first look at him took my breath away. There was no other way to say it, he was a gorgeous looking kid, the likes of which I would have happily woken up with in a motel room any day of the week. But this kid was my nephew. I couldn’t go there. End of story.
‘Hey,’ I managed to croak as I sat up.
‘Hey yourself,’ he replied.
‘Feeling better?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Coffee smells good.’
‘It’s only instant shit, but it’s okay,’ he replied, before taking another sip.
I got up and walked across the room to the counter where a kettle and tray containing the essentials for making tea and coffee sat, feeling his eyes follow me as I went.
‘That was quite a scare you gave me last night,’ I said as I switched on the kettle to boil some water.
‘I’m sorry Uncle Mike. I … I just didn’t know what to do, or who else I could call.’
‘It’s okay mate. You’re family. If you can’t depend on family then who can you depend on?’
For a moment he sucked on his bottom lip, before saying, ‘Some of my family members wouldn’t respond that way.’
‘That is true. But they aren’t the ones that are here, are they?’
‘No,’ he replied, giving me a wry smile.
I tore open a packet of instant coffee and some sugar, emptying them into a cup, then when the kettle switched itself off a few seconds later I tipped the water in on top and gave it a stir, before taking a sip.
‘That’s a pretty neat shiner you’ve got there,’ I said to him.
Gingerly he touched the side of his face and winced.
‘I’ve had worse,’ he replied.
‘Of course you have. You’re a Baxter!’
‘Yeah … well … three on one, even if the one is a Baxter boy still isn’t exactly fair.’
‘No. It’s definitely not.’
We both took sips from our coffee, both knowing that the next questions wouldn’t be easy, both unsure who would be asking what. In the end it had to be me to break the silence.
‘So, it seems we aren’t as different as some folks thought, eh?’
‘You figured out why I was there then?’ he asked in a very matter-of-fact kind of manner.
‘I think so. I mean, why would a good looking young guy be in a place like that in the middle of the night? It’s either sex or drugs … and even though I haven’t seen you in a while, you’ve never really struck me as being a stoner.’
‘No, I guess we aren’t that much different then. Are you shocked, or surprised even?’
‘I’ve always had my doubts about you,’ I added, with a grin. ‘When you were a kid you used to crawl up on my lap and go to sleep, or curl your fingers through my hair. You were a clingy little fucker,’ I laughed.
‘This might sound crazy, but I used to love the feel and the smell of you. Not that I knew anything about sex back then anyhow. It was just nice being with you … but then …’
‘But then you started growing up.’
‘Yeah. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I guess that’s why I stopped getting close to you … I mean I knew you were gay, hell, everyone knew you were gay, but I didn’t know how to handle that, or even if that was what I was. It was fucking confusing.’
I nodded, remembering all too well the pain of being fourteen.
‘I also saw how you were treated and knew I wouldn’t be able to handle that same crap. Being on the farm, too, I guess it was just expected that I would know all about the birds and the bees, but no one ever really explained this whole gay thing to me. It was something all together different.’
‘Nor was it ever explained to me, mate. But a guy has to figure these things out for himself and I always hoped that you would manage that on your own without any major issues, or without suffering too much.’
‘Dad certainly didn’t make it easier for me, the way he used to always go on about gays … “No son of mine will ever be gay” he used to say.’
It was my turn for a wry grin.
‘Yeah and don’t I know it!’ I laughed, remembering all too well the crap I used to cop from my older brother if I ever showed any sign of weakness. When I eventually told him that I was gay it was like I had suddenly turned into a leper or something. For a kid, being rejected by a family member can be a heartbreaking thing.
‘He used to go on and on about you, you know. It was like he was ashamed of having you as a brother.’
I nodded.
‘Why do you put up with him? How can you put up with him saying shit like that?’ he asked.
‘He’s still my brother,’ I answered. ‘Family, remember? Anyhow, he’s stuck with me now, along with your Aunt Phillippa and her kids, and whether he likes it or not, he’s stuck with you and your brother and sister too, especially now that you’ve turned eighteen.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, his face contorted by a frown.
‘Has the family trust ever been explained to you?’
He looked at me strangely, like I was talking a foreign language then slowly shook his head.
‘Okay then … maybe we’ll save that discussion for later.’
‘Why? What about it?’
‘First things first, mate. How about we get some breakfast and you can bring me up to speed on what has been happening in your life. Then you can tell me all about last night.’
‘Okay,’ he replied.
I didn’t bother finishing my coffee, instead just pouring it down the sink in the bathroom, then grabbing some clean underwear from my carry bag.
‘I’m going to have a quick shower,’ I said to Danny, ‘then we can get something to eat.’
‘Right-o.’
Shutting the door to the bathroom I stripped off and turned on the taps, then adjusted the water. I stepped in and quickly washed myself, gladly washing away the worries of the night before.
When I was finished and had pulled on some clean shorts I headed back out to the room, looking for my toiletry bag. Danny was there, dressed in his jeans from last night, but bare-chested. He was holding his shirt out in front of him and looking at it.
‘I tried washing them out last night,’ he said to me as I looked him up and down. ‘The jeans were okay, but the shirt’s fucked.’
Reaching into my bag I pulled out two t-shirts and threw him one. ‘That’ll get you out of trouble for today,’ I said to him.
As he caught the t-shirt, I took notice of the bruises, which seemed to have come out overnight. He had them on his arms and his ribs, and there was evidence of a couple of gashes on his arms as well, which already looked like they had scabbed over.
After spraying some deodorant on myself I pulled on my shirt and jeans, then my socks and boots.
‘Ready to roll?’ I asked him, as I stood up and pulled my car keys from my pocket.
‘Sure,’ he answered.
*   *   *   *   *
We found a little cafe downtown, just near the courthouse on the main street, where we sat on the side walk and watched the world go by. I didn’t want to go anywhere near the company office, lest word might get back to Danny’s parents that he was all battered and bruised and it was me taking care of him.
The food and the coffee were great, hitting exactly the right spot as far as I was concerned, though I sensed that Danny wasn’t quite back to his usual self, even after the little heart to heart we’d had earlier.
I had been watching him carefully, watching him scan the faces of everyone who walked by. It was as if he were expecting whoever it was that he had bumped into last night to jump out at him again.
‘So, what actually happened?’ I eventually asked him directly. ‘You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.’
He quickly looked around, as if worried someone might overhear, but there was no one else close by; we were alone on the sidewalk.
‘Now?’ he asked nervously.
‘We can go somewhere else if you like. It’s a lovely sunny morning for a walk.’
He played with his coffee cup for a moment then said, ‘Let’s head down along the creek.’
‘All right,’ I replied. I stood up and walked across to the counter, which was just inside the door of the coffee shop, where I paid for our breakfasts; then we set off down the hill towards the park along the creek lands.
‘You know what the place is like there, don’t you? And what they all do?’
‘Yes, Danny. I didn’t come down with the last shower. I’ve done the beats.’
Satisfied he gave me a nod.
‘I’ve been going there every now and then. Not every day or anything, just every few weeks or so, just to … you know …’
‘Get your rocks off?’ I prompted.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ he answered, while his face flushed red.
‘The first time anything happened was just by accident. It was last year, while I was still in school here in town. I had heard that things happened here, but never seen or done anything. Anyhow, one Saturday morning after sport had finished and I was heading back to school I called in there for a piss. This guy come and stood beside me and I thought he was doing the same as me, but then I noticed he wasn’t pissing.’
‘Still in school?’ I asked, somewhat surprised. ‘How old were you?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Go on,’ I urged, thinking that not even I had done that.
‘Well, I glanced across at him and he was just playing with himself. He had an erection. I couldn’t help it, I just stared at it.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been there and done that myself. What happened then?’
‘He … he reached across and put his hand on mine. He started stroking me and I went hard in an instant. Then before I knew it I was blowing my load everywhere. Then he just left.’
We came to a pedestrian crossing and walked across it to the park, then followed a path, heading toward the creek.
‘Then after that first time?’ I prompted.
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly my first time,’ he offered.
‘Was that at school?’
‘Yeah, but just a few wanks here and there. Maybe the odd blow-job. Nothing too serious.’
‘I know all about how serious it gets at that school Danny. I went there, remember?’
‘Fuck, this is embarrassing,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve never spoken to anyone the way I’m talking to you.’
‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. For some of us it’s perfectly natural. We just have to be careful who we talk to about these things.’
We had stopped walking and were standing facing each other, just away from where a family of ducks swam in the creek, the mother leading the way while a clutch of youngster swam in a single file in her wake. He looked around then his eyes focused on me. The look on Danny’s face was one like I had never seen on him before. It was like the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Suddenly he reached out and hugged me, planting a brief kiss on my cheek, before seeming to remember where he was and stepping back, glancing around as if to see if anyone may have noticed him do that.
‘What was that for?’ I asked, laughing.
‘For you being here. For you being you. I should have come to you ages ago. I can’t tell you how liberating it feels to be able to actually talk about this shit with someone else.’
‘We all need someone we can talk to, Danny. Let’s sit down for a bit. I want to know about last night.’
We found a park bench which looked out over the water and sat down. I didn’t push him, but he seemed to still be a bit reluctant to start.
‘It’s okay,’ I said to him, placing a hand on his knee. He looked down at my hand then placed his on mine, letting our fingers become entwined.
‘I had been at the office,’ he said, referring to the farms’ office here in town. ‘I go there to use their computers and photocopier and stuff for Uni. Dad arranged it with the girls who work for us and I have my own key.
‘I finished there at about nine thirty, then after I left I drove through Macca’s for something to eat. Then I drove by the park, just to see if anyone was about. There were no cars around, nor could I see anyone anywhere, but I stopped there anyway and ate my burger.’
‘Okay,’ I said to him. ‘Then what?’
‘When I was finished I got out and threw the rubbish in the nearest bin then went for a bit of a wander around. I still didn’t see anyone, so I went into the toilets for a piss. There was nobody in there and nothing happened while I was there, so I went back to the car and just sat there, watching to see if anyone showed.’
‘Obviously someone did,’ I remarked.
‘No, not then. That wasn’t ’til later.’
‘Oh?’ 
‘Yeah. It would have been about an hour later, at least half past ten, but it could have even been going on for eleven. A car pulled in down the far end and a guy got out and started walking about. I watched him for a while. He was going back and forth, dodging between shadows and stuff, but being dark and with him not coming anywhere near where I was I didn’t get much of a look at him.
‘I didn’t have anything else to do so I hung around there. I was a bit interested to see what he was like, but after about another half hour or so I was getting restless, so I got out and went for a walk around. I didn’t see him … his car was still there and he might have gone back to it, or he might have been hiding in the shadows some place and just watching. Anyhow, I went inside the toilets and stood at the urinal, looking out through the window into the park.’
I nodded, knowing the layout of the place well. Where the urinals were there was a window, or should I say just a frame where a window once was. The bottom edge of the frame was at almost six feet, so if you were around that height and stood on your tip-toes you could easily see out into the park to watch the comings and goings. If you were standing at the urinal and were tall enough, anyone outside could also see you standing there.
‘A couple of minutes later the guy appeared from out of the shadows and started to come my way. From a distance he looked tall, with a muscly build, and he walked back and forth a couple of times before stopping at a picnic table and leaning against it. He kept looking around, then looking my way then looking around again. Eventually he detached himself from the table and headed toward the toilets, with me thinking that the closer he got the better looking he was also getting.
‘A few moments later I heard the sound of footsteps on the path outside, then they grew louder, until I saw him come inside. He was older than I had imagined, but looked to be in good shape. He walked in and straight past where I was standing, giving me little more than a glance, before checking out the cubicles to see if there was anyone there. Then he turned and walked straight back outside. Apparently he doesn’t like twinks!’
‘You have come a long way,’ I laughed at him. ‘At least you know what a twink is!’
He grinned at me. ‘Yeah, but there’s still a lot of stuff that guys say that confuses me! I mean, for starters, what the fuck is an otter?’
‘I’ll try and explain all that later,’ I replied. ‘So, what happened next?’
‘Well, after he had left I looked out through the window into the park and watched as he started walking away. Ah, well … easy come, easy go I figured. It was just then that I heard a car pull up outside and then moments later I heard a car door slam.
‘Once again I heard the sound of footsteps on the path outside, then listened as they grew louder and louder, until finally they were inside and right behind me. I glanced around behind me and saw a young guy walk past. He stopped for a second and said “Hey.” I thought he was going to come and stand beside me at the urinal, but then he seemed to change his mind and went into one of the cubicles instead.’
‘Do you know who he was?’ I prompted.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘At first glance he looked like someone I had seen around town, but it wasn’t him.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Oh, Uncle Mike, he was breathtaking,’ Danny replied.
‘Oh Jesus, please!’ I laughed.
‘What? Haven’t you ever spotted someone who just took you breath away?’
My mind flashed back to earlier that morning when I had just woken up.
‘Yes mate. I can honestly say I have,’ I answered with a sigh, but I didn’t want Danny to stop there. I needed to know if Danny would remember the guy again if he saw him. ‘So go on, describe him. Every detail you can remember.’
‘Well, I think he was about the same age as me, or maybe a little older, it’s hard to tell sometimes. He was taller, taller than you too I’d say, and heavier. Not fat, just … solid. Like he worked out a bit. He had this tanned sort of complexion, not overly dark, but just right, if you know what I mean?’
I nodded.
‘He was very attractive. Short dark hair, dark eyes and sporty clothes. He was wearing light coloured shorts and a dark blue sports shirt with the number nine on the back of it and the name CLARKE was written above the number. I remembered that vividly as one of the guys I went to school with was a Clarke.
‘When he went into the cubicle I noticed that he didn’t shut the door behind him, and from where I stood I could actually see the top of his head when I turned to look that way. He was standing well back from the toilet, there was no sound of him taking a leak, but there was another sound I could hear … it sounded like that of a hand being rubbed over fabric.
‘I didn’t hear any other car doors close or any other noises from outside, so I figured he was alone … and maybe like me just looking to get off or something.’
‘I guess we’ve all made that mistake at times,’ which earned me a set of raised eyebrows. ‘Lets just say I’ve had the occasional close call. It comes with the territory, though most people don’t understand why we even take the risk.’
‘Well, what’s the alternative … go without?’ he remarked.
‘Looks like you’re a quick learner, kid.’
He just grinned at me.
An elderly couple came walking along the path just then, so he stopped talking while they strolled past. When they were gone I motioned for him to continue.
‘Well, I guess I figured that I had an idea of what the guy was doing in there, so I zipped up and went to leave, but instead of walking straight outside — like I should have done — I took a quick look around the corner at what he was up to. Sure enough he was standing there, side on to the toilet bowl, which gave me a good view of what his hands were doing, just rubbing himself up and down. he had this huge bulge in his pants … the outline of his cock was showing clearly.’
‘And then?’ I asked him.
‘He just looked up at me and smiled at me, so I said “How’s it going?” And that’s when things went all pear shaped,’ he said to me. Over the next ten minutes he told me everything that happened and while the longer he spoke for the more his colour seemed to be draining from his face.
*   *   *   *   *
‘What are you doing?’ the guy said to him.
‘Nothing,’ Danny replied.
‘What do you want?’ the guy demanded once more, walking out of the cubicle toward Danny.
Danny started backpedalling.
‘I said, what do you want?’ he repeated, only much louder this time.
‘Nothing mate. Sorry,’ he said, and that was when he received the first push, forcing him against the wall. Things weren’t looking too good.
Danny tried slipping past the guy, but he came around in front of him, as if to block the way out.
‘What are you doing you dirty cunt? Hey …’
Another push.
‘Sorry, I’m just going’ Danny had said, while thinking to himself how pathetic that was starting to sound.
He started to walk outside, having to push past the aggressor, only to receive yet another push in the back. That’s all he seemed to be doing … push, push, push … and of course getting louder all the time.
When they got outside, with Danny trying to get away and the guy continuing to come after him, pushing and yelling, that was when Danny saw the car there. It was parked in the shadows produced by the trees between the car and the street lights, a light coloured Commodore or Camry or something like that he said it was, but when he saw two other people sitting in it his heart sank.
I asked him about the first guy that had come into the toilets while he was there and then left, but there was no sign of him at all when the action had started.
Danny tried heading toward his truck, still being dogged by the guy, only now things were starting to really get sticky, as his two companions got out of the car and also headed their way at a trot.
‘What did you do you dirty cunt?’ one of them yelled as he ran up to them, landing a solid punch to the side of Danny’s head at the same time.
‘Nothing. I didn’t do a fucking thing,’ Danny yelled back.
As he fumbled in his pockets for his keys a couple more punches were thrown, another hitting the back of Danny’s head and one hitting his shoulder, as well as getting pushed hard up against the truck by the two of them, the full weight of both of them knocking the wind from his lungs.
Somehow they managed to turn Danny around so that his back was against the truck, crowding around him and pushing and shoving him. The more aggressive of the two newcomers apparently decided that that wasn’t enough and threw a punch at Danny, which he managed to duck. The guy’s hand smashed into the driver’s side window of Danny’s truck, forcing a loud yell from the young fool.
This was the first time Danny had actually had the chance to get a look at this guy. He was about the same age as the others, though not as tall and quite skinny, wearing a yellow top and a blue and yellow baseball cap sitting half askew on his head, how some young guys seemed to like wearing them these days. He also had a piercing in his left eybrow, with a ring in it.
‘Fuck it. I’m gonna kill you,’ the guy screamed in Danny’s face. ‘I’m gonna kill you …’
Just then another car turned into the street, its lights falling across the group of boys. His two main attackers turned to look at the car and that’s when Danny seized his opportunity, while their attention was elsewhere, and brushed past them, running for all he was worth.
‘As I ran away up into the park all I could hear was the sound of his voice ringing in my ears … “I’m gonna kill you … I’m gonna kill you … I’m gonna … . .” and also his laughing,’ Danny said to me.
‘I feel like such a wuss for running like that. But what else could I do, apart from get my head bashed in? I found that spot amongst the trees and that’s where I stayed until you came. They only left just before you got there. They were sitting down there drinking and getting louder and louder, so I wasn’t game to move.’
‘You did the right thing Danny, both by getting away from them and by calling me. You have nothing to feel ashamed about. Do you understand me?’
When I had finished Danny looked up at me and nodded. The relief in his eyes obvious. Someone who cared about him still loved him for what and who he was. Totally unconditional. Then he hugged me once more.
*   *   *   *   *
As bashings go I guess it really wasn’t what you would call a big deal, maybe a four or five on a scale of one to ten, but it certainly could have quite easily escalated into something worse. As it was I think Danny could consider himself lucky to have gotten out of it with just a few scratches and bruises.
I deliberately didn’t mention to him my own experience in this very same park when I was not much older than he was now, when I’d had a knife pulled on me. I did the very same thing that Danny had done, high-tailed it out of there, so for that reason alone I certainly couldn’t judge him harshly for what had taken place. Maybe I’ll tell him about that some time later on? Or maybe not.
I was just glad that this time he had escaped relatively unscathed, all things considered. It would be an experience that he would remember for a long time and quite possibly even carry around some emotional scars because of it, but it would be an experience that he would learn a great deal from and next time he felt the need arising to visit this place, assuming there was a next time, then he would be better equipped to handle it. Of that I was sure.
We stood up from where we had been sitting and walked a little further along the creek, following the concrete path as it followed the gentle curve of the waterway. Along each side of the creek there stood rows of massive willow trees, their leaf-covered branches reaching down like tentacles into the brown water, occasionally being whipped up by a breeze and flicking water here or there. We laughed as ducks were sent scurrying by the branches. Beneath these branches it was cool and refreshing, and we stopped and lingered in the shade of these trees a few times before continuing along the path.
As we wandered along we made small talk about a few different things, like how his parents and siblings all were, and what was happening back on the farms. I asked him how everything was going for him, with his university studies and living in town.
‘To be honest,’ he replied, ‘I’m really struggling.’
‘Really?’ I asked, my eyebrows raised.
‘Yeah, well, you know that it was mum who wanted me to go to uni, but I’m really not cut out for it. I struggle big time with my grades … I’m flat out keeping up. My place is at home, working on the farm, working with the sheep and cattle, or being on the back of a horse, or even driving a bloody tractor.’
‘Your mum knows that an education is important. She only wants what is best for you.’
‘Yes, I can understand that, but if I can’t hack it, then what is the point in pushing it? I’m cut out for working on the land, not studying books.’
‘Have you spoken with your folks about this?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to?’
‘I … I don’t know.’
Pretty soon we came to a road which intersected the park, leading back up toward the main shopping area.
Without comment we both turned, following this street back up the hill until we found the main street once more. We weren’t actually very far from where I had parked the car so we went to it and got in.
‘I don’t know about you,’ I said to him as I put the key into the ignition, ‘but after all last night’s excitement I think I could do with some more sleep.’
‘Excitement?’ he asked.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yeah, I think I do. So what are you going to do now?’ he asked. ‘Are you going to go back home?’
‘I think the more important question is what are you going to do?’ I replied.
He looked across at me with disappointment etched across his face.
‘Whatever you want to do in life mate, I will stand by you. I want you to know that. If you are miserable here and can’t seeing it making any difference to your future, then perhaps you should think about coming back home and working on the farms? There’s always plenty to do there.’
‘My old man won’t want me anywhere near him if he finds out about last night,’ he replied flatly.
‘Well, he’s not going to find out anything about it from me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘But having said that, you don’t want to let that, or him, rule your life entirely. I mean, sooner or later you are going to need to face your father about this … about who you are …’
‘I know,’ he sighed.
‘Just sleep on it,’ I suggested. ‘And speaking of sleep … that’s where I think I want to go right now.’
Starting the engine I backed out of the parking space and headed back in the direction of the motel. Danny was quiet as we drove the short distance back there.
I switched off the car and pulled the keys from the ignition.
‘No matter what happens Dan, everything will work out for the best.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Yes, I do,’ I answered. ‘Sometimes the path we have to take may not seem like the right one at the time, but we end up in the right place at the end of it.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Trust me,’ I said as I opened the door and stepped outside.
He followed me into the motel room and, as I pulled the curtains across to block out the sunshine, he switched on the air conditioning unit, then kicked off his boots and pulled off his shirt.
I walked over to him and checked out his bruises. They had darkened slightly in the few hours since this morning. Reaching up to his face I placed my hand on the side of it and brushed my thumb over the bruise on his cheek and around his eye. He winced slightly.
‘Maybe you better not go home for a little while,’ I said. ‘At least until the damage isn’t quite as noticeable.’
He reached up and placed his hand over mine, sandwiching it between his hand and his cheek. I could feel the heat of him on my hand.
‘I could always come and stay with you for a while?’ he asked, his eyes almost pleading with me.
‘Do you think th…’ I started to say, but was soon silenced by his placing a finger over my lips.
‘Please, don’t say anything,’ he whispered.
Despite the air conditioning unit humming away solidly, the temperature suddenly felt as if it was starting to rise.
Reaching his face forward he placed his lips over mine, lingering there for a few moments before pulling away and gazing into my eyes. It was almost like he was challenging me to push him away, but right at that moment I was powerless to respond in any way, shape or form.
My mind was in turmoil. Here was my own nephew, a young man whom I found incredibly attractive, throwing himself at me. I knew it was wrong. It was against every principle that I had ever known, yet … yet did those principals truly matter if there were two consenting male adults attracted to each other as clearly as the two in this room were attracted to each other?
Once more he reached forward and kissed me, lingering there for a long time, before then probing forward with his tongue.
I couldn’t resist. My lips soon parted, accepting his advances. This was all the invitation he needed as one arm reached around my waist and pulled me close to him, our groins coming together, each feeling the growing heat and passion of the other.
With a hand on either side of my waist he tugged at my T-shirt, pulling it loose then pulling it upward and over my head. I raised my arms to allow him to remove it then dropped my hands to his jeans, clumsily undoing the button and pulling down his zipper, as he did the same for me.
‘You’ve had some practice,’ I gently teased him one time as I came up for air.
‘But there is still so much for me to learn,’ he responded. ‘Will you teach me?’
I had to give him credit, he was certainly crafty. He had managed to get me to the point where I couldn’t resist him any further, so then it would have to be me who took us on the rest of the journey.
As we both stepped out of our jeans and came together once more I turned him slightly so that he was backed up against the bed, then while our lips were still locked together I placed one hand on his chest, gently pushing him backwards as I did so, until he lay on the bed beneath me.
Breaking contact with his mouth I started working my way down his body, caressing his neck, kissing each of the dark blue bruises that he was adorned with, kissing each of those well formed nipples which were standing to attention on his chest, kissing down along the well defined six-pack to his navel, into which I thrust my tongue.
Suddenly I found myself face to face with the engorged head of his penis, and an incredibly well formed, uncut, seven inch specimen it was too. Much to my surprise I found that he had trimmed his pubic hair, something which I had always found highly erotic.
From the tip of his cock a healthy drop of pre-cum oozed, glistening and inviting, so I reached for it with my tongue, scooping it up and savouring it. No doubt about it, the boy was sweet.
As I did this Danny gave a sharp gasp. He obviously liked it, but what followed was something he liked even more, as when my mouth engulfed his cock his moans were soon echoing around the room.
I worked on him for a few minutes more, teasing him by bobbing my head up and down, working my tongue around the head of his penis, before starting to work my way down his shaft, then back up again. Eventually I settled my mouth at the base of his shaft, taking first one ball, then the other into my mouth, gently tugging with my teeth at his sack with each one and also sucking on each testicle, before then nuzzling that sensitive area below his balls, licking and probing with my tongue.
‘Oh fuck, don’t stop that,’ he swooned, but I had to stop, as I wanted to save something for the next time I was down there.
He may have been disappointed when I went back to work on his balls, then up along his shaft to the shining head of his cock, but that was soon forgotten when I once again swallowed him whole. Quickly I built up rhythm, rocking back and forth while teasing the head with my tongue.
I soon felt his body tense beneath me and saw his testicles draw up tight to the base of his cock. It was almost time. There was no stopping now.
A few more strokes and he was finally over the edge, his cock spewing long ropes of precious semen into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I sucked and sucked and used my hand to squeeze his cock and milk every last drop from him, before finally rolling on my back and letting him go.
I hadn’t quite finished yet, however, so crawling up alongside him I was soon face to face with my angelic nephew, whose grin went from ear to ear.
Without giving him a chance to say anything I covered his mouth with mine, forcing his lips open with my tongue and allowing some of his own precious seed which I hadn’t swallowed to trickle down into his mouth. Much to my surprise, he wanted more and soon thrust his tongue into my mouth, searching every crevice for every last drop.
‘Oh wow,’ Danny said when we finally parted and I rolled onto my back beside him.
‘You liked that, hey?’
‘Fuck yeah!’ he replied, rolling onto his side and facing me, licking his lips as he did so.
‘I don’t think you’ve been entirely honest with me!’ I teased. ‘Just a few wanks and blow jobs at school?’
‘A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do,’ he chirped.
‘So it seems.’
‘So, what do you think? Can I come and stay with you?’ he asked.
Cuddling up close to him I said, ‘How about you just let me sleep on it?’
Of course, I already knew what the answer would be, but figured he didn’t need to know that just yet, and so, content in each other’s arms, we both soon drifted off to sleep.