“That’s right, Jacob. It would do you some good to spend some time with our church members! Everything’s already organized, all you have to do is get up early and wear some nice clothes, really ANY clothes would be okay.”
“Oh, and look, Jacob! We made signs of support and everything!” She stepped into the garage and came out with a huge sign that said “God Hates Fags”. I was a little speechless, confused or whatever, and walked out of the room.
Upstairs I rolled another joint and dug around in my closet for some clothes to put on. I found one of my old Reagan High Spartans t shirt and an old pair of jeans that still fit okay, they were a little tight across my thighs but that was fine. The sleeves of the shirt were tight around my biceps, and my chest and abs were pretty well-defined, so I left it on. I looked in the mirror and thought I was ready for a night out on the town in Dutchville. I found an old belt with a huge rodeo buckle and dug out my old boots, the ones I wore when my buddy Pete and I would go hunting in the fall. Everything felt familiar and comfortable. I dug into the duffel and pulled out a couple of pills, kind of a variety pack since I wasn’t sure what I’d get into tonight. Then I thought about the little right-wing fascists downstairs and grabbed a few more tablets.
I walked back downstairs. Daniel and Mary were on the sofa watching a sitcom with Bo sprawled out between them. I went into the kitchen and noticed the blender was still half full. I called out, “Hey Daniel, do you mind if I finish off this shake stuff in the blender, bro?”
“Don’t drink that Jacob, I was coming in there to get the rest of it during the next commercial!”
I scooted back out to them and grabbed their glasses, “let me do that for you—for y’all! I’ll be right back.” I ran back into the kitchen and ground up some E and some Viagra and dumped all of it into the blender. I threw in a couple ice cubes and let the blender run, then poured it between the two glasses. I took a sip and it still tasted like hell so I figured they’d never know the difference.
“Here you two go, no hard feelings about earlier, okay?” Daniel looked a little doubtful but Mary beamed at me. I was standing at the end of the sofa with my legs pressed against the arm and I realized my crotch was right in her face. I took a step back and said, “Uh, okay then. I’m going out to get something to eat and maybe check out the town. Bo, you wanna ride with me, boy?” He kept snoring so I took it as a no.
I slipped out through the kitchen and went into the garage to check out the Porsche. The keys were laying in the driver’s seat along with the garage-door opener. As soon as the door was half-way up I fired up the car and backed out. I sat in the driveway and checked out the dashboard to get a feel for where everything was, lit the joint, and then took off down the road.
When I got into town my first stop was the Fast-Mart. I put some gas in the car and then walked inside for a mountain dew and some food for the munchies I had going on. I grabbed a case of beer and was trying to stack everything on top of it when the clerk or cashier or whatever walked up beside me and she said, “Let me help you with that!”
I was looking at all of the chips and trying to decide what to get. When I felt the beer being lifted out of my hands I said “thanks,” and turned to face her and she was a dude, a he, whatever.
“Hi Foster! I thought that was you!” His voice was high and he definitely sounded like he played for the same team I had joined but definitely not the same position. And we were opposites, he was short and pretty scrawny, he had an earring in his right ear and a streak of purple through his hair. And that hair, it had this whole pointy-swoopy thing going on over his forehead, he looked like one of those guys auditioning for a make-me-famous singing show or whatever. I went to shake his hand but I realized neither of us had a free one, both of us had our hands full of all of my junk food and beer. He motioned to the counter and we set all the shit down. I looked at him again and realized I knew him from school. “Hi, uh, Jerry, right?”
He grinned and said “Close! It’s Jeremy, you were one year ahead of me at Reagan, but you probably don’t remember me.”
I looked around and realized it was just the two of us in the store. The Porsche was sitting out by the pumps, a collection of moths and other bugs and shit were flying around the lights out there and I realized it was getting dark outside. I made one more pass through the store, grabbing some candy and some mints and filling up a giant cup with fountain Mountain Dew. I walked back to the counter and leaned against it as he rang everything up.
“Hey, yeah Jeremy, I remember you.” I didn’t say that I remembered all of the jocks, including myself, harassing and torturing the poor little guy. I had flashbacks of us tossing him in a dumpster, sticking fag signs to his back, laughing at him in gym class—typical high school shit that I kind of felt pretty fucking guilty about right now. “So, uh, like what’s new with you?”
“Well, Foster, things are going just fantastic for me! Just look around you,” he raised his arms over his head and his hands swiveled all around. “I rule this place, I am the manager, I am the Que—the King, you know what I mean. And I’m taking a few courses at the community college; I’m trying to get my associate’s degree in HV/AC repair.” That kind of shocked me. I figured he was going to say hair styling or something like that. He was staring at me, “You know, you were kind of my idol in high school. You know, the whole popular, good looking, great athlete stuff—I hate to admit it but this girl did have a little crush on you!” I felt my face go red and looked around the store again just to make sure it was still empty. I went back around the aisles and picked up some more junk food, grabbed some more beer, studied the magazine racks.
“Well somebody is a hungry boy tonight! But anyway, like I said, I was so impressed with how muscular and cute and all you were in school, it made me feel bad, but then I figured instead of being jealous I should just hit the gym myself! I joined the YMCA over in Stockton!”
I started moving back to the counter and dumped the new pile of stuff on top of the old pile. I looked at his skinny arms and I really wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s great Jeremy, did you just sign up?”
He looked a little hurt at that but then he bounced right back. “Oh no, I’ve been going for about a year now! I’m in a spinning class, a yoga class, I’m taking beginner’s swimming, and I feel great!”
I was stumped so I changed the subject. “So what does everybody do for fun around here at night? Are there any new hot spots around here, anything to entertain me tonight?” I realized as soon as I said it that probably wasn’t the best question to ask him and my face went red again.
“Oh, well I guess the only thing around here is still Joe’s. I’m sure all your old friends will be there tonight, it gets really crowded on the weekend. I haven’t been in a long time, my boyfriend and I usually go into the city and hang out in the clubs there. Why don’t you come with us?! Those boys at the club will faint when a fine-ass straight boy like you walks in the place.”
I was getting panicky, feeling really claustrophobic, thinking about breaking into one of cases of beer and downing one at the counter. “No! Well, uh, I guess—well what I mean to say is thanks, but I think I’ll go to Joe’s and catch up with the old gang, you know how it is.”
“Well, I won’t ever set foot in Joe’s again! The last time I tried to go there it was terrible, just awful.” He was ringing up all the shit and throwing it in bags, and then putting them back on the counter. He was running out of room.
“Joe’s was awful? Has it gone downhill or something?”
“Well, the last time I tried to go I was only in there for a few minutes. I heard a bunch of glass breaking out in the parking lot, so I looked outside and somebody had busted all the windows in my car and flattened my tires.”
“Jesus, Jeremy! Why would somebody do that to you? From what I remember you were always a nice kid, you never caused any trouble. Did they catch the guy?”
“No, Buddy said he’d look into it and he took a police report and all,
but I could tell by the way he was acting he wasn’t going to do anything. And why do you think they would do that, Foster?” He pointed to the rainbow flag pinned to his shirt.
“Oh, well shit, I mean that sucks. This has always been like a pretty conservative place, I guess. Maybe you should make a move and live in the city, seems like you might be… more comfortable there, you know?” I really felt kind of bad for the little guy. I was a little uncomfortable with him being so, well such a whatever, but somebody being openly hostile toward him seemed pretty extreme to me.
“Part of me would move in a heartbeat, Foster! Sometimes I hate this place as much as it hates me! But I’m not moving, I’m taking care of my aunt, she’s not doing too well and she needs me here. And I have school, my boyfriend, the gym and I have our church. I’m just not gonna give up, not yet anyway.”
“Well good for you, man. Way to hang in there, it’s a brave thing you’re doing. And I’m sure your aunt is thankful to have you around. Those are good things, man. You should be proud of yourself. You’re giving it a hundred and ten percent!” That was about all I had in the way of a motivational speech so I shut up.
He looked like he was going to cry, and all he said was “Thanks, Foster, just—well, just thanks.” He stared at the counter, at all the bags and beer stacked up there. He pointed at the cash register, “That’s uh, well that will be $345.00, wow! I’ve never had to ask anybody in here before, but do you need some help out to your car with all this shit?” We both laughed and gathered up bags to carry out to the Porsche.
The car wasn’t really made for hauling groceries, but we managed to pack everything in there. “Thanks man, I’m still headed over to Joe’s, I want to try and catch up with Pete and the rest of the guys.” Before I could even think about what I was doing I heard myself saying, “But let’s have lunch, or maybe dinner, tomorrow, okay?”
He lit up and grinned, “Well that would be great Foster, dinner would be just great! I have to work until six, but I could meet you around seven after I check on things at home!”
I pulled out my phone and started punching in a reminder. “Okay, dinner it is, that’s good, that’s okay. Seven’s fine, just tell me where to show up, boss.”
He considered that for a minute. “Well, I don’t think you’d want to be seen with me around here--” I started to cut him off but he held his hand up. “It’s okay, Foster, I’m just trying to make things comfortable for both of us. How about the Pizza Hut out near the highway. You know where that is?”
“Sure man, that’s fine, seven tomorrow it is.” He smiled and started walking back into the store. I reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed a beer. Then I fired up the car and headed to Joe’s.
Friday, 9pm
I pulled into the dirt parking lot of Joe’s and grabbed a parking spot near the front door. I climbed out of the car and walked into the bar. As I walked through the doors the country music, the cigarette smoke, the familiar faces—it all seemed like I had only been gone a month instead of years. I made my way through the crowd, saying hello to some old buddies from Reagan and some folks from around town, exchanging phone numbers and promising to catch up with them before I left town again. Everybody seemed pretty excited to see me and I was feeling a little special, like I thought I was going to feel when I first pulled up at the house. I saw Pete and Betsy, his wife, over in the corner of the room by some open windows and made my way over to them.
Pete still looked pretty damn good. He had bulked up a little, his arms and shoulders were bigger than I remembered. He was an inch or so shorter than me but in anything other than baseball he kicked my ass in any sport we played. He was a natural athlete with short black hair and some matching stubble on his chiseled jaw. He still had that wild-eyed southern boy look that drove all the girls, and me I guess, crazy. While I was staring at him he and Betsy were laughing and bumping shoulders, they still looked like the happy couple they had always been in high school.
He glanced up and saw me coming; his eyes lit up and he jumped off his bar stool and met me halfway. We hugged and patted each other on the back and I realized how much I had missed him. We walked back over to Betsy and I hugged her, too.
I was so excited I yelled over all the noise, “Jesus it’s so fuckin’ good to see you two! It’s been way too damn long!” They kind of stared at me and I notice a big part of the crowd around us had gone quiet. I looked around and wondered what was going on.
“Hey, Foster, it’s good to see you, too,” he glanced around and had this awkward smile on his face. “But, uh, well this isn’t a locker room, Bo. You gotta watch your language. There are a lot of ladies here, you know, just go easy on the F bombs and whatnot.”
“Oh shit, I mean shoot, whatever. Sorry about that!” The noise level returned to normal and I made a mental note that I wasn’t at Hawthorne anymore, I needed to ease up on the language. Before I could say anything else Patty, the waitress who had been at Joe’s probably since before I was born, put two shots and two longnecks down on the little table next to Betsy. Patty pointed across the bar at two guys I recognized from the football team, Bucky and Tommy. They waved and Pete and I tipped the beers toward them.
I asked, “Well why didn’t they buy three beers, are you the designated driver tonight, Betsy?” She grinned at me and patted her stomach.
“Foster, honey!” Her voice had always reminded me a little of some kind of southern belle—all magnolias and honeysuckle and whatnot. “I’ve been the designated driver forever, it feels like! My Pete’s gotten spoiled! I didn’t drink when I found out I was expectin’ the first one, and now we have number two comin’ in about three months.” She and Pete exchanged glances and smiled. I felt something a little like jealousy or loneliness, whatever.
“Oh, wow, no shi—I mean wow, congratulations!” I gave her a hug and Pete a handshake. “You look amazing Betsy, just as pretty as you were in high school. So wow, you already have number two on the way! Seems like I have some catching up to do. So the first kid, it—she’s a girl, right?
Pete grinned, I was trying to listen but really staring at him, he looked better than high school, maybe a little tougher. With that buzz cut, the stubble on the jaw, the steel in his eyes, he looked like he could be on a poster for the Navy SEALS. “Yep, Foster, we have a little baby girl, Emily. She’ll be one at the end of the month.” We both had southern accents but his voice rolled out in a true drawl, he always sounded like he was saying something dangerous or dirty.
“That is just fu—that’s awesome you two!” I picked up my shot glass and Pete grabbed his, we tilted them toward each other and slammed them down. I wiped a little bit of bourbon off my bottom lip with the back of my hand. “So Pete, you still in the Marines?” Betsy looked a little confused and Pete took a long swig of his beer.
“Well Foster, I’ve been out of the Marines for a while now, it’s been a year or so now. I guess we do have a lot to catch up on.” Betsy was leaning back in her chair and looking around the room, things were getting crowded fast and the music and conversations were getting a little louder. Pete tapped on her shoulder, “You lookin’ for anybody in particular, honey?”
“Well, I was hoping Patty would swing back by, I could use a diet soda or something.” She kept looking around, “But I guess this crowd is keeping her busy. That poor girl will be serving beer until she’s in a walker.”
I took a look at the line at the bar. “I’ll tell you what Betsy, I’d be happy to get you a soda! You just stay here and try not to start any bar fights, okay?” She grinned and I grabbed my beer and winked at her. Pete started to get out of his chair and I shook my head, “I got this round Bo, be right back.”
Getting to the bar was a little harder than I thought, it seemed like everybody in Dutchville was here tonight. I waded through the crowd and had to stop to say hello to old teammates, old girlfriends, old teachers--basically everybody. At one point I had to stop in my tracks as Patty parted the crowd with an enormous tray over
her head loaded with beer, fries, and some burgers. I didn’t know where she was headed but I was pretty sure somebody was going to be wearing all of that shit before she got there.
While there was still an open spot in her wake I saw this guy standing across from me and staring. I gave him a quick once over trying to figure out if I knew him. He looked maybe five or so years older than me and was a stocky kind of guy—not fat, but not trim either. He looked like a rugby player, maybe. He had short blonde hair that was pretty thick with some kind of gel or something spiking it up. He was wearing a blue polo shirt stretched over his chest and biceps, and he had on khaki shorts that showed how muscular and tan his legs were.
The girl holding on to his arm was stunning in her own way. She had bleached-blonde hair that looked like she had just stepped of a roller coaster. Her dress was incredibly small, showing off the body of a Barbie doll or a stripper or whatever. She had on high heels, not the usual footwear for wading through the peanut shells and cigarette butts that littered the floor at Joe’s. Together they looked like a couple who had gotten lost or had a flat tire on the highway or something and had just stumbled into a Hell’s Angels’ clubhouse. When I looked back up at the cosmetic explosion of her face she was glaring, actually scowling, directly at me. I had a sinking feeling that she noticed I spent more time checking out her boyfriend than her.
I broke eye contact with her and kept moving toward the bar, still going upstream through the back pats and fist bumping from old friends. When I finally got up to the bar I realized there was one guy bartending and a crowd of thirsty people so I stood there and waited. The crowd kept bumping into me and I started to feel a little claustrophobic, and that was when I realized that whoever was behind was beginning to grind against my ass. And then I realized it was a guy grinding against me, and things were getting a little more firm as he moved. My first thought for some reason was that maybe it was Pete, maybe some kind of joke? I really didn’t have room to turn around, but I turned my head as far as I could and looked behind me, and there was the polo-shirt guy.
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