Gay Fiction, Volume 1 Page 8

  I only touched it a little. Just the tip because it was wet.

  I need you.

  My penis twitched inside my fingers and I shivered.

  My knees bent.

  I cleaned myself up with toilet paper and flushed three times, but even after I had washed my hands, I could still smell that hot stuff on my fingers. I went back to Boone’s bedroom and lay down.

  I felt very tired all of a sudden.

  Boone came in later and climbed on top.

  He has a bunk bed and it squeaks a lot.

  “Are you asleep?” he asked.

  “I wa-was a little, but not really.”

  “Sorry ’bout what I said.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Do you wanna go for a bike ride down by the river tomorrow morning? We could try to find a turtle.”

  “Yes.”

  “Derek?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think my brother’s gonna run away soon.” Boone’s voice was full of doom. “I know it. He’s gonna leave, and he won’t say good-bye.”

  I tensed up. “He wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, he would. You don’t know Nick.”

  “I hope he-he stays,” I whispered, half for myself.

  *

  Nathan is in Toronto this weekend.

  Some sales conference. I swear, if it weren’t for salespeople, the hotel and food industry would go bankrupt.

  “Be good,” he said as he walked out the front door. “I’ll call you tonight. Have a good time with your folks.”

  A good time with my folks.

  That’s like asking me to enjoy guilt-free anal sex.

  I was there tonight, at my parents’. Mom looked well. Dad, not so much, but he always looks like he’s been sleeping under a train on Sunday evenings.

  “Aunt Fran passed by this afternoon.” Mom scooped some instant mashed potatoes on my plate. “Poor thing.”

  There’s nothing poor about Aunt Fran.

  “Says she’s been thinking about reuniting with God.”

  I smashed some fried onions into my potatoes.

  When Aunt Fran reaches the Pearly Gates, I have a feeling God’s going to ask her to hurry up before he changes his mind.

  “Have you been to church lately?”

  I glanced up.

  Me?

  “Father Neil was asking about you this morning.”

  Well. I’m sure he would love to bless Nathan’s and my homosexual marriage.

  “Maybe you should pass by the presbytery, you know, say hello. He’d like that.”

  Yes. And we can discuss Sodom and Gomorrah.

  “Dolores,” snapped Dad, causing the mush to stick in my throat, “why don’t you leave the boy alone.”

  Mom’s eyes hardened. “Just trying to get our boy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, that’s all.”

  Holy shit.

  I giggled.

  “Derek! I worry about your soul!”

  Yes yes, I know. So do I.

  I’d like to know where it went.

  “I want you to go to Father Neil and repent. Confess your sins.”

  “Dolores. Enough!” Some potatoes flew out of Dad’s mouth.

  “But, John, don’t you want —”

  “Enough, woman. Let us eat in peace.”

  Whenever Dad calls Mom “woman,” I’m always inclined to look under the table to check for shackles on her ankles.

  “Well,” said Mom, gathering our full plates. “At least I’ve made my peace with Our Heavenly Father.” She set them in the sink. “You two are on your own.”

  Dad shot an uneasy glance my way, then shrugged.

  I leaned back into my chair.

  Why not throw a little liquid nitrogen on these open wounds. “Mom, Dad—”

  Needless to say, the announcement of Nathan’s and my engagement didn’t go very well. Mom went through two boxes of Kleenex and Dad emptied the bar. I helped him a little. But it’s done. Out of the way. I think they may even come.

  By the door, Mom traced her finger along my chin. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re the way you are. Don’t know if it’s a malformation or some kind of mental disease, but I love you, regardless of it.”

  Malformation.

  “I don’t understand you, Derek. You’re so handsome. Smart too. You could have any woman you want. You could give us grandchildren.”

  Oh no, mother, this disastrous gene pool stops here.

  “I love you, honey.”

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  “Yes?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  *

  Nathan has hired a wedding planner.

  The boy is gayer than a bag of Skittles.

  He doesn’t breathe, he hyperventilates. I can’t stand being in the same room with him for more than three minutes.

  “Tu vas voir mon petit roux, ton marriage va faire revirer Cléopatre dans son tombeau.”

  He’s French too.

  That means expensive.

  “Are you sure we can afford all of—”

  “Don’t talk about money,” Nathan says. “It doesn’t sound good.”

  I manage financial portfolios for a living. Money is the only thing I’m comfortable talking about.

  “Besides, baby, I got it covered. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Sometimes I feel like I’m the hired help.

  “Gimme a kiss.”

  Okay, the hired help plus bonus.

  *

  Dear Bump,

  Dad isn’t coming home until March.

  You know how long that is? That’s a whole lot more than he had promised. But I don’t care. If he wants to stay up there until summer, that’s fine with me. I can take care of Aunt Frannie and Mom all by myself. I don’t need Dad to help me with anything. I already know how to change a fuse. I already know how to unclog the toilet. I already know how to shovel the snow, and I don’t even get any piled up on the sidewalk. I can do everything he does. I can make better sloppy joes, I bet.

  Except I won’t.

  I already told Aunt Frannie about my plans to be a vegetarian.

  “It’s very fashionable,” she said while she painted her toenails red. “Lots of sophisticated people are these days.”

  Oh, and Mom doesn’t need Dad either. She only needs you, but you’re in heaven. So. Too bad for her, I guess.

  C’est la vie.

  It’s snowing again.

  From my bed, I can see the snowflakes float past my window. They’re pretty. I wish I could go play outside, but there’s no one to play with. I’ve been all by myself since school let out for the holidays. The Lunds are in Florida. They always go to Florida for Christmas. They drive there. It takes so long that when they get there, it isn’t even the same season. It’s summer over there, I think. They swim in an ocean. Boone showed me pictures. The water is so big—it takes up the whole frame—and the sand isn’t like the one we have in the sandbox, no sir, the sand over there is almost white. Like Mom’s wedding band. Also, did you know that there’s crabs on the beach? Boone and Lene hunt for them. They have contests, but I bet I could find the biggest one, on account of how patient I am.

  The Lunds live in a hotel for two weeks. Boone says you don’t have to make your bed. They have people who come in when you’re out and make your bed for you, but of course, he’s never actually seen them.

  Once, I swam in a lake. It was pretty big too. I guess that counts for something.

  Nick almost didn’t go with them. He wanted to stay here, but Mrs. Lund made him. She threw his bag in the trunk and slapped the back of his head. I watched the whole thing from the living room window.

  When their van rolled away, I saw David turn the street corner.

  He was running, sprinting really, and he wasn’t even wearing his coat. Just a T-shirt.

  He yelled out Nick’s name, then kicked the snowbank and walked away.

  *

  Dear Bump,

  I found the Hudson Bay on
the map in my dictionary.

  You go straight, then left, then straight all the way to the water. It’s very far, but I don’t plan on walking. I’ll take the train, same as Dad. I have three hundred dollars and forty-five cents in my school account. Mom needs to sign a paper, but that’s all right because I can almost copy her signature. Just need a little more practice, that’s all. I’ll go to the bank on Tuesday morning. That’s when Aunt Frannie is going to take Mom to fix her hair. Then I’ll buy a ticket. It’s easy, there’s a train station in the city. I know where the city is. I rode my bike there this summer.

  I’ll find Dad.

  When Dad sees how far I’ve gone all by myself, he’ll be surprised silly. He’ll forget about the old me. He’ll only see the new me, and I can help him with his work at the plant. This way, he’ll get double the work done. He’ll be the fastest up there, and no one will ever say Irishmen are just good for drinking and sleeping. We’ll come back to Verdun and everyone will congratulate us. We’ll be heroes.

  Can you imagine what Boone would say if he knew what my plans are? His chin would drop to the floor, but I won’t get to see his face when he finds out about it, because I’ll be leaving before the Lunds get back.

  I’ll be gone before Aunt Frannie puts our 1987 calendar in the trash.

  *

  Dear Bump,

  I couldn’t go to the Hudson Bay on account of Mom being so sick from nerves.

  It happened the day before yesterday.

  I was downstairs, playing with my new Transformers, when I heard Aunt Frannie screaming. I widened my eyes and held my breath.

  “When are you gonna snap out of it, Dolores! That baby is gone! GONE!”

  Then I heard Mom. She was screaming too, but her words were like Dad’s sloppy joes. They didn’t have any order. It didn’t matter what place they took in a sentence.

  Aunt Frannie cried louder. “What is that boy gonna do without his mama huh? You’re breaking Red’s spirit, Dolores, and I won’t let you! He’s a sensitive boy!”

  Then there were some thumps.

  Right above my head. Some clanking too. It was raining furniture on top of me. My mouth was still open, but my eyes were closed.

  Shut tight.

  The fighting and screaming went on for a while.

  I kept looking out my window.

  Kept hoping to see Boone’s face in it. But he’s still in Florida.

  Building sand castles in the sun.

  Finally, just when I thought I was gonna have to go up there and suck on my medicine, it stopped.

  I rose.

  Put my Transformers away in the red bin.

  Sat down and folded my hands.

  Aunt Frannie knocked on my door. “Baby?”

  “Come in-in please.” I sat up straight, holding my chin up.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Mom is going away for a while. She’s going to be staying in a special place where they suck the blues out of you. Aunt Frannie says it’s only for a couple of weeks, but Mom packed her big suitcase, the one with the umbrellas on it. Her drawers are empty.

  She even took all of her books.

  C’est la vie.

  By the door, Mom hugged me. For a long time too. Her warm tears streamed down into my shirt. “I love you Red,” she whispered, “you’re my special boy. Be good to Aunt Frannie. Dad will be home soon.”

  *

  Could he be?

  No. Impossible.

  Complete paranoia on my part.

  Nathan would never.

  No.

  But…could he?

  Could he be that much of a two-timing snake?

  No. I’m being ridiculous. It’s self-sabotage, that’s all.

  I’m compelled to find something negative to dwell on.

  It is in my nature to measure loss before it happens.

  He would never do such a thing. He has too much respect for me.

  For our commitment.

  Nathan wouldn’t play with my life this way. We haven’t used condoms in a year. He wouldn’t play Russian roulette with my health.

  No way.

  It was just the bellboy, like he said.

  And the laughter?

  Nathan made a joke, yes, like he said, and I heard the bellboy laugh.

  *

  Dear Bump,

  The Lunds are back!

  Boone’s eyes look like blueberry Popsicles. His teeth probably glow in the dark. I think he grew five inches, but how can that be possible?

  Maybe I shrank.

  They pulled into their driveway this morning, and I watched them unload their luggage from my living room window. Boone and Lene laughed and tossed snow at each other. Mrs. Lund’s lips were the color of raspberry jam and a big smile hung on them. When Johan carried all of their heavy suitcases into the house, his face wasn’t twisted, or pulled down with fatigue. No sir. He smiled. A wide smile that stretched far into his scrubby cheeks.

  I kept my eyes sharp on his face, and I didn’t let them stray.

  Not one time. Nope.

  When Nick stepped out of their truck, I turned my eyes away from his face. I swear. I just caught a blurry image of his hair, but it was hanging down into his eyes, so I didn’t even see them. If I don’t see his eyes, then it doesn’t count. He wasn’t wearing a coat. Just a T-shirt.

  But I didn’t look. I can’t even tell you what was written on it.

  See? It’s over. I’m not going to think about him anymore. I’m not going to let the knot in my belly ruin my promise. I’m not going to touch myself.

  I’m going to be so good.

  Father Neil says, “Every day we are reborn.” I didn’t understand what he meant, but Aunt Frannie explained it to me when we were folding the dry clothes.

  “He means that every day is a new promise. We get to have a second chance. If you ask for forgiveness, then you start with a clean slate.”

  Every day is a new promise.

  Last night, I asked God to give me a clean slate, and this morning, I checked my eyes in the mirror. They look different. I think God scrubbed my soul clean during the night.

  Dad called this evening. He couldn’t stay on the phone very long, on account of how much it costs. He mostly spoke to Aunt Frannie. She whispered a lot.

  I was watching a movie about this man who experiments with machines and monkeys. This man starts transforming into the most disgusting creature you could ever imagine. I was trying to keep my eyes on my Rubik’s cube, but when the man started ripping his nails off, my jelly sandwich crawled up my throat.

  My aunt tapped my shoulder. “Baby, you shouldn’t be watching this nonsense.” She handed me the phone. “Your dad wants to wish you a happy new year.”

  I took the phone, but my eyes wouldn’t leave the TV.

  The man’s girlfriend was crying now. The man / creature kept asking her to leave because he was going to hurt her.

  He was going to hurt her.

  He couldn’t stop himself.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  No matter how much he loved her, he was going to come apart and hurt her.

  “Aunt Frannie says you’ve been real good. That’s good, Red. Real good.”

  But the woman didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t care about his nasty face. She didn’t care about his sickness. She wanted to stay.

  She wanted to help him.

  “Dad, when are you-you coming ho-home?”

  The nature of the thing inside him was too strong. He wouldn’t be able to fight it, the man warned.

  “Dunno, Red. Soon. Real soon.”

  The woman cried, but she ran. Ran all the way to her car.

  She left him.

  He could only watch her leave.

  “Dad. Is it co-cold there?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Dad?”

  She should have stayed. No matter how ugly he was. She should have helped him through it.

  They should have taken care of each other.
<
br />   “What is it, Red?”

  But sometimes, people get real scared.

  “Nothing. Thanks for the mo-money.”

  “Okay, Derek. I’ll see you real soon.”

  *

  I think I’ve made a friend.

  I was at my desk, working late. I have nothing else to do, as Nathan has been held up for another day of “team building” group activities in downtown Toronto.

  I was eating ramen noodles out of a cardboard bowl, scrolling down an impossibly complicated sheet of interest variables.

  “You know they don’t pay you for the extra hours.”

  I tore my eyes from the screen.

  Jake stood by my desk, smoking a cigarette.

  Yes, I know about the nonsmoking law in Québec, but apparently, Jake isn’t particularly interested in it.

  “What are you listening to?”

  I still had my earphones plugged into my ears, though the iPod had long ago run out of power. “Nothing.”

  Jake scowled, then smiled. “You realize me and you are the only losers still working at this hour?”

  I like when people who’ve never spoken more than two words to me call me a loser.

  Reminds me of home.

  “Susan says you drive a Ducati. That right?”

  A red Monster 1100cc with Desmodromic L-Twin engine.

  I nodded.

  “Yeah?” Jake looked me up and down. “You must have sold a kidney to pay for the insurance on that little Euro death trap.”

  I never saw the invoice. Just signed the form.

  “O’Reilly, let’s go for a drink.”

  Jake didn’t wait for my reply. He simply grabbed his jacket off the rack and punched the code in. “Coming?”

  I turned my computer off and tossed the noodles in the bin.

  We walked up Crescent Street.

  “Ever been here?” Jake asked.

  We stood in front of O’Hurley’s.

  “No.”

  “And you’re Irish?”

  I nodded.

  Jake opened the door and invited me in. “I thought all Irish boys celebrated their eighteenth birthday here. Thought it was some kind of rite of passage.”

  I smiled.

  Inside, the party was going strong. The place was packed, as if Monday had skipped this place on its way to Friday.