Memories with The Breakfast Club: A Way with Words

by Lane Hayes

  I froze. Literally. I couldn’t breathe or move.

  My breakfast sat like a lead weight in my gut and my heart sputtered ominously. I didn’t know what to do. I contemplated not answering, but I knew from experience avoidance wouldn’t work. Besides, I had a bad feeling this visitor had a key.

  Fuck.

  When he rang the bell again and called my name for good measure, I took a deep breath and forced myself to move toward the door. This was okay. Not a big deal, I told myself. Remy was in the shower. I had time to get rid of him if—

  “Open the fuckin’ door, Tony,” Mikey singsonged. “I brought donuts.”

  I licked my lips and pasted a weak-ass smile on my face and unlocked my front door.

  “What took you so long?” Mikey grumbled. He shook a bag of pastries at me and then headed toward the kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” I choked, listening to the sound of running water upstairs. Mikey wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’d eventually catch on that we weren’t alone. I had to get rid of him.

  “I’m here to make sure you come to our barbeque this afternoon. And…that you bring Karen. Please note, those donuts are from Spinelli’s. Her invite has been issued. You’re welcome,” he pronounced smugly.

  “Mikey, I told you I have plans.”

  “Right, but Karen said she didn’t know about any other plans so—”

  “I never said I had plans with Karen,” I snapped. “Look, thanks for the donuts. I appreciate it. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow.”

  I moved back to the door and inclined my head meaningfully. Mikey didn’t budge. He put his hands on his hips and gave me a searching look. When he glanced toward the stairs, my heart jumped out of my fucking chest.

  “Why didn’t you just say you were seeing someone else, moron? This is awkward,” he huffed derisively and stomped toward me. His blatantly curious expression didn’t bode well. “Who is she?”

  “Mikey, I—”

  I couldn’t talk. My voice was gone. The words wouldn’t come and after a painful twenty seconds of staring mutely at my cousin, I figured that was for the best.

  He cocked his head and frowned. “Are you okay, man?”

  The softly spoken inquiry was almost my undoing. I nodded and tried another smile I hoped was more convincing than the last.

  “Yes, I’m—”

  “Hey! I thought you were coming upstairs. Let’s get the show on the road, baby. Time is tick—oh.” Remy rounded the corner dressed in boxer briefs and nothing else. He stopped in his tracks and looked from me to my cousin and back again like a deer in headlights.

  An uncomfortable silence descended. It was claustrophobic and cruel and no one here knew the way out. I certainly wasn’t the only one at a loss. Mikey had gone from confused to looking slightly ill, and Remy just looked…worried.

  However, the guy in his underwear turned out to be the bravest among us.

  “Hi there. I’m Remy,” he said, offering his hand in greeting.

  Mikey shook it quickly then stuffed both of his hands in his back pockets. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Um, I’m going to get dressed.” He pointed toward the stairs and hurried out of the room, leaving me with my stunned cousin.

  A few lies popped into my head. He’s a friend who needs a place to stay. I’m always telling him to keep his clothes on, but he’s a free spirit. Or a weirdo. I thought a made-up story might come easier than the truth but still, nothing came at all. I massaged the back of my neck warily and waited for Mikey to finally speak.

  “Who is that?”

  “Remy.”

  “Yeah, he told me his name. I meant, who is he to you? He looks like the—oh my God. He’s the guitar player. The one in the park you eat lunch with. I knew you were chummy but—Jesus, he was naked, Tony.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” I deadpanned.

  Mikey gave me a sharp look. “Does Karen know?”

  Maybe it was strange, but that was the question that ripped the invisible muzzle from my mouth. “What the fuck does it matter if Karen knows anything about me? She’s not my girlfriend, Mikey!”

  He looked genuinely taken aback by my vehemence. He glanced toward the stairs and pointed. “Is that because he’s your boyfriend?”

  “I didn’t say that either.”

  “You’re talkin’ in code, Tony. I don’t get this. Are you fuckin’ queer or just confused or”—he snapped his fingers as though the words were too foreign to slip from his tongue—“bi-curious?”

  “I’m just me. That’s all,” I said evasively.

  “Yeah, but…who knows? Does your mom know or…God, did your dad know you—”

  “Shut up!” I thundered.

  Mikey stared at me in shock, no doubt wondering who the hell had taken over my body. I didn’t yell. Ever. I was mild-mannered, easy-going, and kind of quiet. And this man was like a second brother to me. We’d caught fireflies and camped in each other’s backyards as kids. We’d snuck alcohol from Gramps’s bar during our delinquent teen stage and yeah, I was his honorary Best Man at his wedding. He had to give the title to his older brother, but we all knew I was his first choice. He wasn’t someone I could brush aside.

  But I wasn’t ready to say any more than I already had either.

  “What am I supposed to do now? Tell me what to do,” he pleaded in a strained tone that freaked me out almost as much as him seeing my lover in his underwear.

  I gulped and pursed my lips. “Go. Please.”

  He nodded slowly and moved to the door. He opened it but hesitated before stepping outside. “Tony, I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to. I’m on your side.”

  I watched the door close with a detached sense of calm. I felt removed from myself in a way I couldn’t explain. It was like I was no longer in charge of my body. I felt unconnected to my limbs and ungrounded. I wished I was invisible. I wanted nothing more than to disappear and detach myself from reality.

  “Tony?”

  I closed my eyes and prayed a little harder. Please make this go away. I can’t deal with this.

  “Baby, look at me.”

  I complied. And immediately wished I hadn’t. Tears welled in Remy’s beautiful eyes. I reached out to wipe them away and pulled him into my arms instead, crushing him against me.

  “Remy, I’m sorry,” I choked. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “Hey,” He pushed at my chest and stepped backward. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have invited you here.”

  “You didn’t fuck up. I did. I didn’t know anyone was downstairs and—”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think Mikey’s gonna say anything.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered. “He guessed, but he doesn’t really want the truth. I can tell him something else.”

  Remy frowned. “What? How will you explain me?”

  “You’re a friend.”

  “A friend who wandered into your home in his underwear on a random Saturday morning?”

  “Something like that.”

  I couldn’t look at him. Lying to myself was one thing, but I couldn’t lie to Remy.

  “You’re driving me away, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not.” I scoffed but it was half-hearted at best. It took a well of strength I didn’t know I possessed to continue. “But I need to figure this out, Rem. Alone.”

  When he didn’t respond, I looked at him and nearly fell to my knees. He wrapped his arms around himself as if to ward off a rogue chill on the sweltering July day. His lips trembled and his eyes were wet with tears. His pain cut me like a knife. But so did my own.

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Remy.” I captured his face between my hands and showered him with desperate kisses before clutching him close again. “I don’t know what to do. I’m lost. I’ll find my way out, but baby, I—I don’t know how long it’ll
take.”

  “I can wait.”

  “I’m not sure you should. I can’t promise you what you deserve, Remy. I’m sorry.”

  He dried his eyes on his T-shirt and sniffed, glancing around the room before finally meeting my gaze.

  “If you need me, I’ll come. Anytime. You can call me in the middle of the night or…on your lunch break. We can talk or we can be quiet. If you want time, you can have it. I’ll give you whatever you need. I love you, Tony. I love you. And when I think about what I deserve…it’s love. You have to decide if you deserve it too.”

  He left me standing in the middle of the room with my heart in my throat and my chest on fire. He’d said the words. He loved me. I believed him.

  Love wasn’t the problem. The problem was me.

  ***

  Saturday passed in a blur of beer cans, baseball, and mindless action flicks. I drowned my sorrow in cheap brew and allowed myself the luxury of going off-grid. I turned off my phone and left the world behind. Sunday was harder. I woke up thinking about Remy, wishing all I had to do was roll over to find him. Our few stolen nights of playing house had been an eye-opener. I’d known it was dangerous, but I’d been lulled into complacency because being with him felt right. Now, it was all wrong. And I was lonelier than I’d ever been.

  I threw on a pair of khaki shorts, a black tee, and a baseball cap and started walking. I didn’t have a particular destination in mind. I just wanted out of my head. Two blocks in, I realized a stroll in my hood wasn’t going to help shit. Too many people knew me. Neighbors waved friendly greetings. My cousin Jamie was outside watching her kids ride their bikes and invited me over for a cup of coffee. I politely declined and continued up the street only to run into another cousin. I stopped to say hello. I thought about turning back but I put my head down instead and continued up the street, slowing when I reached my old elementary school and the adjacent playground.

  A sudden flood of memories washed over me. Dodgeball on the blacktop, spelling bees, Christmas programs. Slices of “normal” life. A suburban affair I’d thought would always be mine. I took that time for granted the way kids do, but age had given me some perspective. Everything in life was borrowed. I knew nothing lasted forever now and people you loved got older and eventually died. Sometimes too soon.

  And that was when it hit me. It was like I was observing a blip in time from my past, like a ghost. The vision was so strong, it was like looking at a hologram. I swore I could see my dad standing at the chain link fence twenty feet away from where I stood now. He’d walked us to school that morning, which didn’t happen often. I’d been more talkative than normal too, which was also odd. Dad listened to me gripe about the after-school tutoring my third-grade teacher had suggested to my parents. She was concerned I hadn’t understood a lesson and that I was too shy to ask for help. When the bell rang, he’d held my arm and given me a serious look.

  “No one knows what you don’t tell them. You need to find your voice, son.”

  Twenty-one years later, I heard him again. Loud and clear. Find your voice.

  “I’m gay,” I whispered. I tried again, a little louder. “I’m gay.”

  I remembered my dad saying the best things in life were simple. He’d claimed truth was the simplest thing of all. The problems started when people told “alternative” truths. I wasn’t so sure anything was simple at the moment, but I knew without a doubt that my sexuality was part of my truth. Remy was part of my truth.

  It was time for me to find my voice and tell my truth.

  Finding my voice took all damn day. I wrote a script in my head and practiced it in front of the mirror like Remy told me he’d done as a kid. I was too nervous to feel ridiculous and though it was tempting to put this off, I’d already wasted too much time. I studied the two-story brick house from the curb and swallowed hard before heading up the neatly trimmed path and opening the screen door. It was unlocked, which provided a much-needed diversion.

  “Ma! How many times do I have to tell you to lock the door?” I scolded as I stepped inside the foyer. “Ma? Where are you?”

  “In the kitchen!” she called out.

  I found her holding a crossword puzzle in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. She’d changed out of her Sunday best, but she still looked stylish and pretty in a yellow floral sundress.

  “Hello, handsome. I was just about to sit on the back porch and tackle my puzzle. Grab a tea and come join me.”

  I scowled, gesturing toward the front of the house. “You can’t leave the screen door open. I’ve told you a million times to keep it locked!”

  “This is a family neighborhood, Tony. I’m perfectly safe.”

  “No one is perfectly safe. Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then keep it locked.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Save the lectures for your future children. In the meantime, get a glass and come outside.”

  I ignored the pitcher of tea and followed her to the screened-in porch. “I’m serious. You need to be more vigilant.”

  She sat in her favorite wicker chair then glanced up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned upside down. “If you’re going to nag me—”

  “I’m not.” I paced to the far edge of the porch and stared at the small patch of grass and the flower garden beyond. “Your roses look good.”

  She huffed a laugh. “Thanks. Now come over here and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Why do you think there’s something on my mind?”

  “Because you’re here unannounced, you can’t stand still, and you’re snapping at me. And…because I’m your mother and I know you. Out with it. Did you have a fight?”

  “Huh? With who?”

  “Whom,” she corrected. “Karen. I should tell you I invited her for dinner again this week. She’s such a lovely—”

  “No.” I shook my head violently then leaned on the post for support when a wave of nausea hit me out of the blue.

  “No?”

  “No,” I repeated. “Invite her if you want but not for me. Karen is nice and I like her but not the way you want me to. Okay?”

  She narrowed her gaze and motioned toward the chair next to hers.

  “Sit. You’re hurting my neck.” She waited for me to comply before asking, “How do you think I want you to like her?”

  “Romantically. Like you think a boy is supposed to like a girl. I can’t do that, Mom.” I tried to infuse meaning into my tone but I knew my inability to maintain eye contact or quit fidgeting lessened the impact.

  Her smile dimmed to something unbearably sad. I hated that I was responsible for popping her happy bubble, but it was a false sense of reality. And while my inclination was to say or do what she expected of me, I couldn’t keep this up.

  “Sweetheart, please don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I don’t think you know what you want. I worry you have an unrealistic vision of some supermodel dream Barbie girl who simply doesn’t exist. I can tell Karen makes you happy and…”

  “Mom.”

  “…you should give her a chance. Not for my sake. For yours. Because…”

  “Mom.”

  “…you aren’t getting any younger, Tony. It’s time to think about getting married and starting a family and—”

  “Stop!”

  I jumped up and stalked to the kitchen door and then back again. I told myself I could leave now. Apologize later. No harm, no foul. I hadn’t said anything I couldn’t unsay. Yet.

  “Anthony. Sit.”

  I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. “I can’t sit. I can’t get comfortable and act like this is a regular day because it’s not a regular day. It’s not.”

  “What do you—”

  “Mom, I gotta tell you something and you may not like it. You might not even want me around anymore. I don’t know. But I can’t keep this inside. It’s wrong to lie. I’ve been doing it for too long.”

  “What did you do? Are you in trouble?
”

  “No. I—”

  “Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. Nothing can be that bad. Talk to me.”

  I bit my lip hard and moved back to sit beside her. I didn’t speak right away. Words never came easy to me. Fuck knew, they wouldn’t come now. But I couldn’t let her think this was the ax murderer or drug lord confession her frightened expression indicated she thought was coming.