“Thanks,” Brandon replied sarcastically as the blankets knocked him back on the bed.
“There’re towels and shit in the bathroom, but you know that anyway.” Tommy pointed back towards the door with his thumb.
Brandon set the blankets down next to him and began chewing on his bottom lip.
“Well. If that’s it—” Tommy’s hands slid to his sides.
“Tom.” Brandon interrupted him, his eyes coming to look at the floor. “I…never mind.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“What?” Tommy asked.
“It’s nothing.” Brandon refused to look up, debating on whether or not to tell his best friend his deepest, darkest secret. He remembered the promise to himself, that if he was able to live his life again, he wasn’t going to do it in the closet.
Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, staring at his friend sternly. “Spill it, Daniels.”
Brandon sat silently for a few moments, contemplating the words he was about to say. Finally, he decided it was now or never. He raised his head and looked his best friend straight in the eyes. The words became lodged in his throat as he pushed with all his might to free them from their prison. Finally, the words flew out of his mouth.
“I’m gay, Tom.”
Just saying the words, for the first time in his life, especially to his best friend in the whole world, made his eyes water.
“Woah.” Tommy grabbed his chest, stumbled backward, and shook his head like a cartoon character who had been given the greatest shock of its life.
Brandon stared at him, trying to determine what was going on in his best friend’s head.
Tommy tilted his head to the side and scrunched up his face.
“Are you sure?” Tommy’s voice rose in pitch until it almost reached the sound of Brandon’s new teenage voice.
“I’m sure.” Brandon nodded.
Tommy took in a deep breath. “Okay.” He paused. “Wow.”
Tommy grew silent as he searched his memories. Sure, he had some suspicions in the forty-six years they had known one another, recalling one time fifteen years previously, when they were floating the river, and Brandon couldn’t keep his eyes off this young dude with pierced nipples who was diving off a rock. He guessed his best friend might possibly be bisexual, but dismissed it, since he never said anything in all their years as friends.
Nausea overtook Brandon, and he bent over to grab his stomach, rocking back and forth in a panic. “Please, Tom. Please tell me you’re okay with this.”
Tommy stood back and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he let the news sink in. “So, you’re saying you like the meat stick over the fur burger?”
Tommy’s mouth curled up in a wicked grin.
Brandon stopped and looked up at him. “Yeah.”
“Dude, honestly, I kind of suspected you might be a little bisexual.” He shrugged.
“You did?” Brandon’s eyes bulged as the nausea eased up.
“Dude. Come on. You flew to Vegas to see Cher. Not once, but twice. What straight guy does that?” He laughed. “And don’t think I haven’t seen that Cher doll hidden among those Star Trek figures in your office.”
“It’s from 1975. It’s highly collectible.” Brandon smiled.
“Yep. You’re gay. No doubt.” Tommy nodded slowly. “How long have you known?”
“Since I was twelve.” Brandon leaned back on his elbows.
“Dude. So, all these years, you’ve been pretending to be straight?”
“Yeah.” Brandon shrugged.
“You’re an idiot, Brandon Daniels. No wonder you were so miserable.” Tommy pointed at him. “Why would you live a lie all your life?”
“Dad.” Brandon sat up. “You know how he is.”
Brandon thought about how his father loved to bash gay people. It made Brandon feel both ashamed for hiding the fact he was gay, and angry at himself for not having the courage to tell his father to go fuck himself.
“Your dad is a controlling son of a bitch,” Tommy stated, angrily. “I’ve told you time and again, you don’t owe him anything, and I’ve never understood why you let that asshole control you. You don’t deserve it, Brand.”
Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, recalling the time Brandon’s father forced him to drop Home Economics in ninth grade because he thought only ‘sissy boys’ took Home-Ec. He even went as far as going to the school and having Brandon transferred to shop class without his knowledge.
“I know, dude.” Brandon frowned.
“Promise me you’re not going to let that man control you anymore.”
“I promise, man.” Brandon shook his head. “Never again.”
“Good.” Tommy glanced towards the door. “You got everything you need?”
“Yeah.” Brandon looked down at himself again. “I’ve got to get some clothes that fit, though.”
“We’ll worry about it tomorrow.” Tommy yawned. “I’m beat.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to feel that way myself.” Brandon got up and started making his bed. “I guess age regression taps you.” He laughed as he punched his pillow, fluffing it.
“I wouldn’t know.” Tommy laughed as he walked sleepily towards the door. He turned and looked at Brandon, who was pulling off his shirt. “Goodnight.”
Brandon smiled goofily. “You going to read me a bedtime story?”
“Screw you.” Tommy chuckled.
Brandon laughed as Tommy walked out, closing the door behind himself. Brandon finished undressing, turned out the light, and crawled into bed. He pulled the covers up around himself and stared at the ceiling fan spinning above. The moonlight spilled through the window, softly illuminating the room. He folded his arms behind his head and wiggled his feet, watching the covers move before running his left hand across his torso and marveling at its smoothness. I’m a kid again! He laughed out loud pumping, his fist and jiggling his entire body in joyful exuberance.
“Thank you, God!” He yelled loudly, not caring if Tommy and Kathy heard.
Chapter Three
Brandon woke the next morning wondering if the night before had merely been a dream. His body sprang up into a sitting position, and he looked down at his teenage body with a sigh of relief. Seeing the light peeking through the blinds, a smile formed on his face as he realized that he was about to begin his first full day as a teenager all over again. Jumping up, he grabbed his oversized clothes and ran to the bathroom for a shower. A half-hour later, he wandered into the kitchen to find Kathy and Tommy at the table. Kathy was reading her Kindle, and Tommy was eating a sandwich, going through their regular daily routine.
“About time!” Tommy quipped, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich.
Brandon looked at the clock above the sink to find out it was one o’clock in the afternoon.
“Leave his alone, honey. He’s a teenager now.” Kathy smiled as she laid her Kindle on the table. “Would you like some breakfast?” She asked Brandon.
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Kathy.” Brandon slid into a chair.
“Hey.” Brandon got Tommy’s attention. “I found these clothes in the closet while trying to find a belt to hold up those pants of Cam’s. They actually fit me.”
Brandon gestured at the blue tank top and basketball shorts he had on.
“They were Channing’s.” Tommy frowned. “I haven’t gone through all his and Amy’s stuff we brought back from Georgia after the funerals.”
“Oh,” Brandon said.
Tommy looked pensive as he thought about his runaway sister, Amy, who had been heavily involved in drugs and prostitution, and his nephew Channing, whom he had never met. The news of their tragic deaths in a car accident hit his family hard. Tommy’s father had asked him and his brother Chris to take care of their funeral arrangements and personal possessions.
“Poor Amy.” Brandon shook his head. “I always thought a lot of her when we were kids. She was always so sweet.”
“I know.” Tommy’s sighed, a frown blooming on his fac
e. “That fucking meth has messed up half my brothers and sisters. I told them to get out of that hick town or it was going to kill them. The only one that listened to me was Gabe.”
“I know, man. It was the best decision we ever made to move here to Arizona.” Brandon nodded.
Kathy set a large bowl, a box of Fruity Pebbles, and a carton of milk in front of Brandon.
“Thanks,” Brandon responded automatically to Kathy’s gesture as he looked over at Tommy, seeing that he had drifted off into thought.
Tommy suddenly shook his head, chasing away whatever thoughts he was having, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t you eat all my Fruity Pebbles.”
Brandon smiled mischievously as he tilted the box, emptying the entire contents into the large bowl in front of him. “Oops.”
“Asshat.” Tommy snatched his Coke from the table and took a drink.
“Dickhead.” Brandon shot back as he poured the milk.
Kathy just shook her head as she picked up her Kindle once again.
“So whhmmm r we gomma do?” Brandon’s cheeks bulged as he attempted to speak around a mouthful of cereal.
“Brandon, please don’t talk with your mouth full.” Kathy reprimanded Brandon, then winced at how automatic her reaction had been. Sorry. It’s a habit of having to remind Mr. Manners over here.”
“Eh. It’s okay.” Brandon shrugged and shoveled in another mouthful of cereal.
“First off,” Tommy said, “it’s a given we cannot tell anyone about this.”
“Definitely. I especially can’t let Cam or Marcia find out.” Brandon managed to mumble around the cereal in his mouth. “I want to get close to Cam without him knowing I’m his father.”
“Won’t he recognize you even as a teen?” Kathy asked, laying her Kindle down once again.
“I’m not sure he’s ever seen a pic of me as a teen. Honestly, there’re very few of them in existence. Hell, Tommy’s parents have more pics of me than my own parents. You know how proud Dad was of me.” He huffed. “Besides, who would believe I turned into a kid anyway?”
“He’s right.” Tommy agreed.
“Oh, shit, guys. I just had a thought,” Brandon frowned, his spoon full of cereal hanging in the air. “I can’t go home. Where the hell am I going to live?”
“Here, of course,” Kathy answered quickly.
Both Tommy and Brandon jerked their heads to the side to look at her.
“What?” Tommy was taken aback.
“He needs a place to live. He’s no longer a legal adult, and no one can know his real identity. I mean…what else is he going to do?” She shrugged. “It’s the only logical choice.”
Tommy thought about it for a moment and realized that his wife was correct. “Of course, you’re right, babe. You got a home here.”
“Seriously, guys?” Brandon looked back and forth between them. “You’d let me live here?”
“Of course,” Kathy said as she reached over to pat his hand. “You’re like family, Brandon, and you know that.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Brandon shook his head. “Thank you.”
“What about my name? I can’t be Brandon Daniels anymore.” He stuffed the last spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Tommy said as he picked up the salt shaker and began to mindlessly twirl it on the tabletop, the shaker making ‘wub wub’ sounds as the glass bottom spun against the wood. “In fact, I was up half the night thinking about it.”
“Why?” Brandon asked. “I mean, it’s just a name. I’ll just use a made-up one, like…John Smith…I mean, if it’s good enough for The Doctor in Doctor Who, its good enough for me.”
“Now that’s original.” Tommy guffawed. “No, dude, it’s more than that. If you want to go to school, eventually go to college, get a job…those kinds of things…you have to be a legal American citizen—especially with the administration we have now. You need a social security number, stuff like that.”
“Oh, shit.” Brandon hung his head. “How am I going to get a new legal identity as a fourteen-year-old?”
Tommy sighed deeply and slid the salt shaker from hand to hand, the swishing sound breaking Brandon’s concentration.
“I think I know of a way.” Tommy nodded his head. “It’s why I’ve been up half the night. You assume Channing’s identity.”
“What?” Brandon’s brow furrowed. “Assume your dead nephew’s identity?”
“I know his birth certificate is in one of those boxes. I was actually shocked that Amy had kept so many papers as fucked up as she was.” A sad sigh escaped Tommy’s mouth.
“But, won’t that bother you, Tom?” Brandon gave him a questioning look.
“I never met Channing, but…” Tommy shrugged as he began nervously playing with the salt shaker again. “Honestly, the poor kid probably had a pretty miserable life. The trailer they lived in was…well, it was horrible.”
Tommy recalled packing up his sister’s and nephew’s belongings after their deaths, and the millions of cockroaches crawling over every surface inside the mobile home. Spoiled food covered the kitchen counter while crack pipes, dirty needles, and crystal meth laid scattered throughout the trailer. Channing’s room had a dirty mattress on the floor but was a little neater than the rest of the house, which told Tommy that Channing did try to make the best of his living conditions. Even though he never met his young nephew, packing up his belongings was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.
Kathy, her eyes glistening, reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand, bringing Tommy back from that horrible place.
“At least, maybe this way, his name won’t be forgotten.” Tommy cleared his throat.
Brandon nodded sadly before changing to another equally sad topic. “I’ve been thinking, too, guys. There’re only two ways I’ll be able to explain my disappearance. Either I skipped town, or I died. I would rather go with the latter.”
“That you died?” Kathy gasped.
“Yeah. I know I was a bad father, but skipping out on Cam would be something I would never do. I’d rather him think I’m dead instead of thinking I ran out on him. Besides, this way, he can collect my life insurance policies, and he won’t have to worry about money for a very long time.”
“I’ve thought about that too, bud,” Tommy said. “I agree.”
“I thought life insurance won’t pay out in cases of suicide?” Kathy asked.
“I’ve had one huge private policy since Cam was born and one through work. Both pay out on suicide. I checked.” Brandon explained.
“I see. But how you going to fake your own death?” Kathy asked.
“So.” Brandon cleared his throat. “I hate to admit this, but I had a back-up suicide plan. I was going to drive up to the Gila River and jump off the 85 bridge.”
Brandon hated to admit it, even to himself, but if the thought of a bullet ripping through his body forced him to abandon his first plan, maybe jumping from a bridge might be a little less painful.
“Just how much planning had you been doing?” Tommy glowered from across the table.
“Too much,” Brandon admitted. “But it would make the perfect way to fake my suicide with the flooding rains we’ve been having.”
“You know, Brand, I know you think Cam doesn’t care about you, but I’ve known Cam all his life, and he’s a good kid. He does care, and it’s going to hurt him bad.”
Brandon shrugged. “I know, but he hates me. I think he’s better off without the man that was his father.”
“I don’t agree with you, Brand, but right now, we really have no other choice. I just hope you befriend Cam because he’s going to need help getting through this.”
“That’s what I’m planning on doing.”
“Do you have a will?” Kathy asked.
“I do.” Brandon nodded. “Cam’s gets everything.”
“You know Brand, you’re not going to be able to get to any of your money or anything
in your house ever again,” Tommy said.
“What do you mean?” Brandon asked before he realized what Tommy meant. “You’re right. It would look suspicious if anything were missing that would lead the authorities to believe I faked my death.”
The thought that he suddenly had nothing hit Brandon like a ton of bricks. He didn’t even have his own clothes. He was completely destitute.
“Guys. I have nothing.” An agonizing frown marred his youthful face. “I can’t even help you guys pay for any of my expenses.” He pushed his breakfast away, folded his arms on the table, and laid face down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
“Dude, you’re a teenager. Teenagers never have money.” Tommy tried to cheer him up.
“Yeah, Brandon. Tommy and I are doing okay. In fact, we’re doing better than okay. We’ve been talking about opening a branch office in Tempe.” Kathy added.
Brandon peeked out from the shield his arms created. “Really? I just don’t want to be a burden on you guys.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled. “Horus here doesn’t need a Harley anyway.” She leaned over, put her arm around Tommy, squeezed him close, and gave him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Uh-huh.” Tommy crossed his arms and pretended to be peeved.
“Horus.” Brandon sat up and laughed at the name Kathy’s father had mistakenly called Tommy the first time they’d met.
Seeing Tommy and Kathy still in as much love with each other as the day they were married made him hope one day he would have the same.
Tommy tried to look upset but broke into a smile.
“It’s all good. We’ll just take advantage of the free child labor.” He gave Brandon the evil eye and laughed maniacally. “Now, take out the trash.”
Brandon almost shot back a “fuck you,” but instead, jumped up, walked over to the trash bin, and pulled the full bag from the container.
“I was just kidding, dude,” Tommy said.
“Nope.” Brandon shook his head. “I’m going to help any way I can. You guys just make me a chore list. I’m not going to be a moocher. By the way, there’s about fifteen-hundred dollars in cash in the top drawer of my dresser. No one knows it’s there but me. Take it. It yours.”
American Dreamer Page 6