Sand-Man's Family

by CJane Elliott

  Sandy had been able to overlook Jade’s attractiveness, set as he was on his heterosexual path, until senior year when Jade showed up at school sporting eyeliner and an edgy new hairstyle, and Sandy suddenly had fantasies of kissing his pouty lips.

  Despite the fact that Jade set off heat waves in Sandy every time he passed him in the halls, Sandy wouldn’t have approached him if there hadn’t been that other thing about Jade—the fact that Jade was a truly nice and decent guy. Sandy had seen Jade stick up for other kids who were being bullied. He knew Jade drove his elderly neighbor to the grocery store and helped her with her shopping every Saturday. And whenever Jade settled down enough to have a real conversation with Sandy, they connected surprisingly well, and Sandy could tell that Jade respected his opinions. So he’d figured Jade wouldn’t laugh in his face or spread it around the whole school, even if he rejected Sandy’s proposition.

  Still, Sandy—usually confident in social situations—had never felt so awkward and ridiculous as when he’d taken Jade down a deserted hallway and broached the subject of having sex with him. Jade had made it easy, though, saying, “My God, Sandy! Are you kidding? I’d be honored. I’m elated you asked me!”

  Shifting under the covers, Sandy pictured Jade—lithe, dark-eyed, quick- witted Jade, who had surprisingly soft lips and a wickedly talented tongue, and hadn’t let Sandy harbor second thoughts. The very next day, backstage after drama rehearsal when everyone else had gone home, they’d had their tryst, but not before Jade had interrogated Sandy about whether he’d had straight sex before, and if so, had he used condoms. Sandy had replied yes to both questions, without mentioning Brittany’s name, rather indignant that Jade could think Sandy was stupid enough to forego condoms. Jade had made up for the awkwardness when he’d laid Sandy down on the old couch in the dressing room and showed him just how talented he was at giving head. Then he’d had Sandy help get him off with their hands. The whole experience had been so mind-blowingly hot, Sandy had immediately wanted a repeat.

  And that freaked him out. He’d look at the nuns and Father Gilhooly and think, If you only knew…. Hell, if Josh knew, or Connor, what would they think? No one at St. Ignatius but Brittany and Jade had any inkling that Sandy swung both ways. He wished he and Jade had talked more right afterward, but they’d both had to get home. I need to talk to Jade, he thought now. Maybe Jade could help him sort out the confusion he’d been plagued with ever since they’d gotten together.

  Girls still attracted him. He played sports and joked with his fellow teammates about the cute cheerleaders. He’d planned to take Brittany to prom, and their parents had cast approving glances at them when they sat next to each other at Mass. But then he’d catch sight of Jade sashaying down the hall, and… it kind of fucked with Sandy’s head how much he still wanted him. Jade hadn’t approached him for an encore, though, much to his (secret) disappointment.

  Then he’d feel relief that he didn’t have to deal with anyone knowing. Brittany told him he was probably bisexual and to own it with pride.

  Pride? Being gay in his neighborhood and school was not only considered a terrible sin, it was akin to a social death sentence, if not a literal one. He didn’t know how Jade stood the taunting. The only reason Jade had avoided getting beaten up on the regular was because his dad was a cop. Sandy watched them together in church when they came, which wasn’t all that often. They made an incongruous pair—black-haired and dark-eyed Jade with his slender gracefulness sitting next to white-haired and blue- eyed Mr. Byrne with his Irish stockiness. But they smiled and laughed, and appeared to be the best of friends.

  Listening to Connor’s soft snores, Sandy thought about what his own dad would do if he ever found out that Sandy swung both ways. Probably try to kill him. He shuddered and moved his body around in the bed to find a comfortable spot.

  Sandy stood in his room, filling his backpack for school. It had been a crappy couple of days since the big showdown. Brittany’s parents had thrown their own shit fit, and she was not only grounded but had had her computer confiscated and was being driven to and from school by her mother.

  Somehow her parents hadn’t made the connection that her smartphone let her stay in touch as much as the computer did, so she and Sandy were able to compare notes on their twin jail sentences. Sandy’s parents were serving up nightly lectures complete with Bible readings and threats to sic Father Gilhooly on him. The only thing keeping him sane was plotting his getaway to U of C with Josh.

  His hand fell on a copy of Out magazine Brittany had lent him, which he’d been storing under his mattress. Last night he’d read an article about suicide rates for queer youth and how so many had been forced onto the streets by their religious families. It had made his heart ache. Anger flared through him at all the homophobic assholes in the world, his own parents included. He thought of Jade being unapologetically who he was, standing up to the sanctimonious jerks at their school and church who condemned him as the worst kind of sinner. Mom had taken to snooping in Sandy’s room every day when he was at school. A part of him watched as he dropped the magazine in full view on his desk and left for the bus, then mused dispassionately about his destructive tendencies.

  The end of the end happened that afternoon. Dad and Mom didn’t wait until school was over—they came and picked him up, yanking him out of history class while his friends and teacher looked on in puzzlement, then drove him home, their faces set and furious.

  “What are you doing, having this filth in our home?” Mom cried, throwing the magazine on the living room table.

  “It’s not filth. I find it educational.” Sandy clapped his mouth shut, at a loss as to why he kept challenging them when he was already in the deepest shit he’d ever been with them. He glanced at his dad, but he had his head bowed and his eyes closed as if he were praying for something. Maybe he was.

  Mom glared. “What do you mean? Homosexuality is a sin and a sickness. You know that! What on earth has happened to you?”

  Sandy’s heart was beating so fast he thought he’d pass out. “Nothing. I don’t believe what the church says anymore, that being gay is a sin. There are millions of good people in the world who aren’t straight.” Like Jade. Like Uncle Phinney. Like me. “I can’t believe they’re all going to hell.”

  “You stop saying that crap to your mother.”

  “It’s not crap, Dad. It’s what I believe. People are born whatever way they are, and God made them that way. Gay, straight, or bisexual.” He braced himself, but Dad didn’t move.

  Mom piped up again. “God doesn’t mean for them to be that way. It’s like being born with a birth defect. Those people need help. They’re sick. Thank the Lord you’re not like that.”

  Later, Sandy couldn’t figure out why he said it. Something came over him in his rage at his mother’s ugly assertions, and the words came out of his mouth. “But I am like that. I’m bisexual.”

  Dad’s face darkened. “The hell you are!”

  “Stop it, Sandy. You’re confused, and you’re… not well. You’ve gone down a bad path, but we’re going to help you.” Mom looked at Dad. “This just confirms it. Should I tell him or do you want to?”

  “You tell him.” Dad folded his arms, and Sandy watched the muscle jump in his jaw.

  He turned his gaze to Mom. “Tell me what?”

  “We’ve decided you’re not going to University of Chicago.” Mom talked rapidly, not meeting his eyes. “We don’t think you can handle it right now, what with everything that’s been happening.”

  “Are you kidding me? You guys were thrilled I got into U of C! That’s all you could talk about! Now you’re not letting me go?”

  “We’ve talked to Father Gilhooly, and he’s suggested Canticle College. It’s a small Catholic college near here.”

  “What? Why are you doing this?”

  Mom twisted her hands together, looking pained. “You aren’t well. You need to deal with that before you go to a high-stress university like U of C. We think Canticle
is the right school for you.”

  Sandy could barely see her through the haze of his rage. “I’m not sick! And this is bullshit.”

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that!” Dad took a menacing step toward him.

  “Fine. I’ll stop talking. But I’m not going to Canticle. I’m going to U of C.”

  “You’ll do what we tell you to do, damn it!”

  “What the hell do you know about any of it, Dad? It’s not like you went to college.”

  The blow caught Sandy square across the jaw, causing him to stagger backward, and he raised his hands to cover his face while Mom shrieked and Dad yelled some more. He escaped up the stairs and into his room, slamming and locking his door behind him, then threw himself on the bed and fumed.

  He couldn’t believe they’d actually take away U of C. They’d been so damn proud about him getting in. Stupid Father Gilhooly and his stupid ideas.

  He texted Josh and Brittany with the news. Josh sent back a commiserating text while Brittany’s was more to the point: Get the hell out of there while you can.

  Oddly, he’d never even considered running away until that moment.

  That evening Mom and Dad delivered the final edict that spurred Sandy into action. They called him into the living room—their favorite spot for bad news—and Mom launched in.

  “We talked to Father Gilhooly again and told him what you said today.

  He’s very concerned about you, and so are we. But you can… overcome this sickness and be forgiven if you get yourself on the right path. Father thinks you need to get some counseling through New Beginnings. They also have a summer camp that we’re enrolling you in.”

  Sandy opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. New Beginnings was one of those “pray away the gay” centers. He wasn’t setting one foot in there or going to their creepy camp, either. A future of fighting with his parents over his sexuality stretched bleakly in front of him. Canticle College? New Beginnings? For a second, Sandy thought about taking it back about being bisexual. But what good would that do now? They were already saying he couldn’t go to U of C. Fuck this. Sandy wasn’t going to let them mess with his life anymore. He turned toward the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” Dad stared at him challengingly. “Did you hear your mother?”

  “Yeah, I heard her. I’m not going to New Beginnings. I’m eighteen now, and you can’t make me go.”

  Dad raised his voice. “You’ll do what we say as long as you’re under our roof!”

  Then it’s time to not be under your roof, you shitheads.

  “Okay, Dad. Whatever you say. Can I go to my room now? I need to do some homework.”

  After peering at him suspiciously, they nodded, and he took off.

  Safely back in his room, Sandy paced the floor, one thought repeating itself incessantly.

  I have got to get out of here.

  Sandy woke with a start from a bad dream, a wild panic seizing his lungs, and gasped for air. Something wasn’t right. Instead of Connor’s snores, he heard traffic noises and clanging outside, and a series of rhythmic squeaks inside the room. He sat bolt upright, then remembered. He wasn’t at home.

  He was in Chicago, on the lumpy couch in Dan and Fred DeMartino’s apartment. And that squeaking noise was from their caged hamster doing seemingly endless laps on its wheel. He’d forgotten that hamsters were nocturnal.

  He slumped down and checked his phone. Six o’clock Tuesday morning.

  If he were at home, he’d be getting up and arguing with Connor over who got to shower first. His eyes filled with tears at the thought of Connor. He’d had tons of text messages and calls from him in the three days since he’d run away, none of which Sandy had answered. He’d never kept Connor in the dark about something so major before, but this time he had to. He didn’t want Connor in the doghouse with Mom and Dad, not when Connor still had to live with them. Josh was the only one who knew where he was.

  Sandy let the tears run freely as the hamster wheel squeaked. He missed home. Caitlin and Bridget, the eight-year-old twins, used to tackle him every morning when he came down for breakfast, squealing with delight as he picked them up and ran around growling like a big-brother monster. Maureen would watch, pretending to be dignified, until finally she’d jump on his back, clamoring to join the fray. Mom would scold them from where she stood at the stove scrambling eggs, but she’d have one of her rare smiles. Mornings were a nice time in his family. Dad was either still asleep or awake and sober, and Mom was usually in a better mood.

  Running the back of his hand over his eyes, Sandy thought about the rest of what he was missing out on. They had a big baseball game this week with their arch-rivals, and he was going to be a no-show. Coach would kill him, if he could get his hands on him. There was a student council meeting that he was supposed to run. He’d been looking forward to the high school musical this coming weekend, especially to seeing what Jade would do with his starring role. And he and Brittany had planned to go to the cabin. Then later came prom and the sports banquet and graduation. How was he going to graduate now? He thought he had enough credits even without finishing his current classes, but how would he get a diploma out of St. Ignatius?

  Damn Mom and Dad. He longed to go home and keep living his old life. But that was no longer an option, not with Mom and Dad set on sending him to conversion therapy and Canticle College. He’d called them from a pay phone Saturday night to let them know he wasn’t coming home and not to look for him, and had hung up in the middle of their yelling. They weren’t going to change their minds, and neither was he. He put a hand to his cheek, which still ached slightly from his father’s blow, as bitterness washed over him from everything they’d taken away.

  Sandy sighed, his tears forgotten and the beginning of a headache pressing at his temples. It was scary to be on his own. Chicago seemed huge and alien, like he’d landed on another planet. The money he’d taken out of his savings account wasn’t going to last long. Dan and Fred, guys he’d known from Rockford before their family moved, were cool with him staying with them for now. And if he could manage to graduate and then make it to fall, he’d be able to start at U of C. Somehow. Even though his parents were no longer supporting him.

  Salvation came later that day in the form of a text from his favorite uncle. Uncle Phinney lived in Portland, Oregon, and had always been cool.

  Sandy knew he was gay, although they’d never spoken about it. He saw him every year at Christmas and enjoyed hanging out with him and talking about books and movies, especially those his parents disapproved of.

  The text came through as Sandy was walking back to the apartment with a small bag of groceries.

  Hey, guy, I hear you got out of Dodge. Send me up a smoke signal and let me know how I can help.

  Relief flooded Sandy from the new future rising up in front of him.

  He could move to Portland! Uncle Phinney would take him in, no questions asked. He didn’t care if Sandy was straight, gay, or a unicorn. The brisk March wind ruffled his collar as he called his uncle back.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sandy strolled into a funky hair salon he’d seen on his walk. The tattooed-and-pierced girl with dreads nodded to him.

  “Need a cut?”

  “No. I want it dyed. I’m moving to the West Coast tomorrow!”

  “Cool. Got any color in mind?” She beckoned him to a seat and draped a protective gown over him.

  Sandy considered himself in the mirror. Time to say good-bye to Opie.

  “How about green?”

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  The compartment door slid open and Cody walked in, Uncle Phinney behind him. “Hey, dude. Want a fry?”

  The smell of the fries proved a welcome distraction from his trip down memory lane.

  “Yeah.”

  “Take a handful.”

  Sandy grabbed a bunch of fries and munched, loving the salty greasiness. Yum.

  Uncle Phinney cast a disapproving glance
at him as he and Cody settled on the love seat. “Nachos and fries?” Then he smiled. “Just kidding. If Cody hadn’t come along, we’d still be eating junk food all the time.”

  Uncle Phinney’s virtues did not include cooking, but Cody had some serious skills in the kitchen.

  “Word.” Sandy licked the last bit of salt off his fingers.

  “And now that Cody’s got us eating so healthy, we can indulge. We’re on vacation!” Uncle Phinney gave Cody a giddy grin.

  Cody chuckled. “I don’t know who’s more of a kid anymore—you or Sand-Man.”

  “You made me this way, doll.” Uncle Phinney laid his head on Cody’s shoulder and legit batted his eyelashes at him. They kissed. Of course.

  “Barf, you guys. Is this how it’s gonna be the whole way cross- country?”

  When all they did was laugh at him, Sandy stuck out his tongue, then put his iPod buds in his ears and cranked up some electronica music. Then he thought about Dare. Ugh. He didn’t want to think about Dare—the guy who had broken his heart, as Uncle Phinney would say and Sandy would definitely not say. He wasn’t a sappy teenager in some romcom.

  It weirded him out somewhat that he was fixated on a guy and not a girl.

  He’d wondered when he moved to Portland whether his strong attraction to Jade would prove to be a onetime thing. But the first person who’d befriended him—besides Cody on the train—was also the first person he’d gotten attracted to. And that happened to be a skater dude named Dare Tyler.

  Crap. Cranking up the music, he tried valiantly to vanquish “Dare-brain,” what he’d come to call his obsessively reliving this past spring and summer in Portland. Thinking about it never got him closer to an answer about why Dare had split. But here Sandy was, Dare-brain in full-tilt boogie.

  So he gave in to it.

  Okay. First meeting. Had they “met cute” as befitted a romcom love?

  Kind of.

  Dare-Land—Meeting Cute at Burnside Skatepark

  Burnside Skatepark. April. A week after moving to Portland, Sandy stood watching the skaters, holding his own board and feeling lame. The Burnside Bridge soared overhead, the river sparkled, and the skaters swooped and spun. Sandy had skated plenty in Rockford, but there’d been nothing like this place, with its concrete ramps and whimsical shapes. Uncle Phinney had told him that the skateboard community had built the park under the bridge without permission, and the city had eventually made it into a public skatepark. Its rogue beginnings only added to its cool factor.