"No. Ick." He waved a hand, making a face. "I'm the height of class! I only send dick pics when they're requested."
"TMI," I told him, making a face in return and waving my hand as though to clear a bad smell.
"Would you shut up and help me? They're coming here, and they hate me. They literally want me to be straight. Me!" He flung his arms wide. "I'm like, the gay stereotype guy. I can't be straight! I can't!"
"Just don't let them visit you," I said. "Pretend you're not home." He could be a bit stereotypical sometimes, but I thought he was exaggerating a bit. He liked a reaction, and he liked sparkly clothes and loud music, that was all.
Okay, and he didn't have the morals of an alley cat, but whatever, he was my friend and I shouldn't be looking down on him. He was a good guy underneath every dramatic flair of his. I'd known him since high school. I'd kept him from getting beaten up so often, and he'd kept me in decent t-shirts. Back when I had to wear them every day.
"Darling, let me stay here," he pleaded. "I won't make trouble. I won't." He looked at me pathetically while the dogs licked his hands. He held them out, palms up, bangles pushed up his wrists. The dogs lavished him with affection.
I hesitated, my nostrils flaring a little with my indecision. "I—I can't."
He stared at me, affronted, and blinked.
"Hon, if it got out I let friends stay over, I wouldn't get any more jobs. Hell, you probably shouldn't be here this late at all. Please, just lock them out, or whatever. Or maybe there's somebody else you could stay with for a few days."
He covered his expression of naked betrayal quickly, looking away, swallowing. "But there's nobody I trust like you," he mumbled. He let the dogs lick his wrists. Then he rose elegantly to his feet. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll be going now." His mouth was firm, his chin raised.
"But you didn't—"
"Goodbye, doggies. Goodbye, best friend in the world." He stormed out, slamming the door before I could think of anything to say.
I looked after him with defeat. But I hadn't been wrong, had I? I couldn't just let him stay here and lose my jobs or whatever.
Shit. Why did he have to be such a…such a drama queen?
I was in a foul mood all the next day, and only partly because I hadn't gotten any decent sleep because of my grouchy tossing and turning. I wanted to look after him, of course I did, he was my best friend since high school, but we'd both changed a lot, and I couldn't keep up with him sometimes. He got himself into such dramatic messes. I couldn't let him stay over just because he asked. Not all the fuckin' time.
I managed to convince myself long enough to get a little sleep, but it didn't improve my mood much. I was scowling as I walked the dogs. They were pretty well-behaved for such big creatures, and very intelligent. Weimeraners are some of my favorites. They can tell when they need to be on guard duty and when they need to be friendly and trustworthy enough to be around small children. Not a neurotic breed, these dogs, although they do need a lot of exercise.
I took them for their run on the beach, and felt a little better myself. Then after a few quick chores, I went for a surf and felt a lot better. It was just beginning to be fretful enough for a storm, so the waves were nice, and hardly anybody but a few other surfers were out. I waved casually to a buddy or two, but mostly I surfed.
And surfed. And surfed, till every negative vibe was gone and I felt wrung out and mellow and clean.
I walked home, carrying my board. I always left my phone at home when I surfed. I turned it on again when I got back and checked just in case I'd heard from a certain somebody—not that I was expecting to.
Instead I found four texts waiting for me, each increasingly frantic. All from Caden.
They're here OMG. Help!!!1
Srsly Seth this is as bad as the rabbit. I need yr help. Plz!
Heading north on highway to de-gaying camp. Plz head off at the pass. IDK how soon theyll find phone. Help me. I owe u forev.
And the last text, most heart-wrenching of all, sent only a few minutes ago:
Im so scared seth
I stared at my phone, my heart frozen with fear. Caden's family was a little bit Bible thumpy, but they'd mostly seemed pretty nice, not like total jerks. I didn't think they'd gotten so bad. But Caden was clearly terrified and needed my help.
His parents were the distracted kind. Besides, they usually focused their concerns on his older brother, not him. But I didn't have a car, and I didn't think I could rent one quick enough, and a cab probably wouldn't be willing to help me cut someone off and go to the rescue the way I needed to.
I stood quite still for a moment, then I knew what I needed to do.
I wrote a quick text back: On my way. Stay strong. XO
Then I called Joe.
He answered cautiously, "Hello?" and I got right to the point.
"Joe, I need to borrow your car. You have a car, right? Or a truck. A truck would be okay. Something that can really gun it down the highway."
"Are you in trouble, Seth?" He sounded wary and worried.
I took a deep breath so I wouldn't let my voice shake. I needed to be calm and in control. "No, but Caden, my friend, is. His family came and took him away to a…one of those places that makes you not gay anymore. Or is supposed to, whatever. He texted me. He's really scared and I need to go rescue him right now, but I don't have a car."
He hesitated only a second. "Yes, come right over. I'll start up the truck."
"Wait, you're—"
"If you're certain he's not just yanking your chain, then yes, I'll come with you."
I could hardly breathe for a moment. Just like that. Is that my dream guy or what? My throat ached. "Um, yeah, he's serious. He mentioned the rabbit. He wouldn't make jokes about this kind of thing.
"Rabbit?"
"I'll tell you on the way." I hung up and grabbed what I needed, locked up, and went at a run.
Joe was in his driveway, in his truck. It was a big white pickup that he'd probably used in his construction work, before he had to retire for his health. He looked seriously competent behind the wheel, wearing sunglasses and a determined expression.
"You brought dogs?"
"Yes." I looked at him, held onto their collars, and they sat down beside me. They were very good dogs—and very big and protective.
He licked his lips and looked hesitant. "Maybe we'd better take the van. I don't want them jumping out of the back."
"Okay."
We took the van. There were a couple of paint cans and a folded ladder in it, but still plenty of room for the dogs. I wanted to stay in the back with them, but he said I'd best sit up front with him, wear a seatbelt and tell him what was going on.
"Okay. Is the van fast?" I snapped my seatbelt on, jittering in place, scared and trying to calm down. But now I was reliant on him, on the vehicle's speed, or lack thereof, and I was freakin' terrified.
"Yes, it's quick. Seth, tell me what's going on."
"O-Okay." I gulped hard, and swiped at my face with the backs of my hands. "So, his parents are, like, Christians, but they didn't used to be that sort of Christians, so I guess something's changed. Anyway, they didn't really like that he was gay, and they were out of contact for a few years, but now they're back and want to take him to get, like, deprogrammed or something. Or maybe reprogrammed, I don't know. He would be the worst straight guy ever. It's just not him."
He drove smoothly and competently out onto the road, guiding the van quickly into and through the traffic. I watched the road dully, knowing there was nothing more I could do right now than what I was already doing.
"The rabbit?" Joe asked calmly. "You said something about a rabbit."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, his older brother Nash is kind of a douche. He had a temper problem and experimented with drugs when we were younger. Caden was pretty damned scared of him, because he'd punch you on the arm unexpectedly, acting like he was playing, but he didn't pull his punches. And that was when he wasn't even angry, just trying to be toug
h. Caden moved out soon as he could, while his brother was in rehab. I don't know if he's gotten better or not, but I doubt it after today.
"Once, when we like ten, and Nash was four years older and a lot bigger, Caden called me. He was hysterical. He said Nash was going to kill his bunny. He had this really big old fat pet bunny that liked to stretch out on the carpet. It was the color of caramel. He'd gotten it from the pound when it was already, like, five. It was a sweet, trusting thing—but it liked to chew. So they had to be careful of cords and stuff. Anyway, it found one of Nash's video game controller cords left out one day. It wasn't plugged in, it was just sitting there because he hadn't put it away after his friends came over to play with him. And Candy chewed through the cord, and Nash threatened to kill him."
I fell silent for a moment. "I rode my bike over. Caden was crying and begging and so scared. His big, fat, happy bunny was in his brother's arms and the guy had his hand around the bunny's neck, and Candy was rigid with fear—just rigid, his eyes sort of bulging. I was too scared to stop and think, so I plowed into him, and then Caden started screaming, and grabbed a broom, and somehow Candy got unfrozen and started kicking with his back paws, and anyway, he got free. But he was scared of people after that. Nash caught us and hit us both and after that the rabbit never stretched out on the carpet again."
I took a deep breath. "Caden said I saved him and Candy, and he'd never forget. Candy lived for two more years, but he was scared of most people after that, and one day Caden just found him dead, under his bed, stretched out and on his back, and we never knew if he died for some reason or just from old age. But his face looked scared, and Caden was inconsolable for a long time. He loved that bunny."
I shook my head. "If he's bringing up that memory, it means he's really scared and desperate. He'd never fake something like that."
I stared grimly ahead, squeezing my hands against my thighs, making fists. "I wish I hadn't gone surfing. Maybe I wouldn't have missed his texts."
"You're doing all you can. Keep your eye out for the vehicle they might be driving. I would think a grown man could say no to his family, but…I take it Caden is rather…slight?"
"He's scrawny and so gay. He wouldn't hurt a fly, except maybe by mocking its fashion sense." I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes hard, trying to hold back tears. Then I got to searching the road desperately.
"We'll do all we can," promised Joe, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder. "If he does get checked into such a place, we can help him check himself out again. It's not legal to keep people against their will, and he is an adult."
I nodded, hoping he was right.
"If you could get my phone turned on and dial my lawyer for me—under L—and ask to speak with Grimstone, then hold it up for me, I can talk to him about some help. He'll be able to tell me where the nearest such place is and what we can do to help."
"He'd…know something like that?"
"Yes, he specializes in…one of his specialties…I went to him when I needed to get a divorce. He helped me not lose total visitation rights. He's up to date on such laws."
He meant "gay stuff" but couldn't seem to say it. I just nodded and dialed for him. Then held the phone. I bit my tongue to resist telling him he should get a headset. Really, if he was trying to retire, he probably didn't have one on purpose. Anyway, I didn't know if they were legal in this state. There was so much I didn't know.
"Oh, sorry if I took you away from your kids," I said vaguely after a while, when he'd finished his phone call and confirmed we were headed in the right direction. (It only took a few minutes; this Grimstone dude was right on the ball.)
He tsked. "They've left already, and anyway, this seems pretty important."
"It is," I promised, rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans again, trying not to hyperventilate. One of the dogs thumped against something in the back, and I turned and called, "Sit, boys!"
They sat. Good dogs, looking at me expectantly, knowing we were going on some important mission but not sure what.
Doubts assailed me as I realized their owners might not want them going on a mission to rescue Caden. But in for a penny, and all that.
If I'd just helped him last night like I ought to have. I could've found somewhere safe for him, if I'd applied myself. If I'd been less dejected and distracted about Joe.
I glanced at Joe now, feeling self-conscious.
I'd come to him immediately when I was in trouble. It just seemed like the thing to do. I'd run through the people I knew who'd be good in an emergency, and he made the top of the list.
Somehow, even though I barely knew him at all, and had a crush on him I was trying to get over, he'd made the top of the list.
#
"There!" I jumped up a little, bouncing in my seat. "He's there, there!"
A van was ahead of us, a long thin rainbow scarf fluttering out the back window, like a tail. It could only be Caden's inimitable cry for help.
I reached for my phone, texted him again.
Rainbows R Us.
No reply.
Maybe they'd found his phone after all. It was unlike him not to text every five minutes.
Well, he'd clearly left me a message with the scarf.
"I'll follow from a distance," said Joe, pulling back, letting another car in between us. And we kept a close eye on the van for almost twenty miles. It wasn't going fast, just chugging along.
Joe was right, his van was faster.
When they pulled over at a gas station, I almost shouted "Hallelujah!"—and not sarcastically.
He glanced at me, pulling into the station. "Get the dogs," he said quietly. I nodded and took off my seatbelt, scrambling into the back, brushing against him as I did so. I couldn't help it. But my skin tingled a little, even now, even like this.
Joe kept watch while I unhooked the door and got ready to go, holding onto the dogs' leashes, prepared to launch out.
"Now," said Joe, his voice firm and certain.
I slammed the doors open and we jumped down. The dogs followed my purposeful walk, calm and smoothly powerful. It had never felt so good to have such huge dogs flanking me. They weren't barking their heads off, either, the way less clever dogs might've. I heard Joe's door open and shut as he got out of the van. But I couldn't spare him any attention.
Somebody was pumping gas, but I couldn't see who. I didn't know if anybody had gone inside or not, or if they were just waiting in the van. There could be several of them. But Joe had said to go, and nothing was stopping me now. Caden needed me.
I moved to the van and yanked on the side door, trying to slide it open. The lock unclicked from the inside, and my second try made it.
Caden sat there in one of the seats, his belt already off, his face tearstained and hopeful and sort of shell-shocked all at once. He had a bruise on the side of his face and looked traumatized. He moved out of the van to me, and I got him next to me, between the dogs. They were sniffing him, and looking at the man in the van alertly. He was behind the steering wheel, and having second thoughts about getting out. I recognized Caden's dad, who looked uncertain and uneasy.
"He doesn't want to go," I said. "Come on, Caden." I led the way back to the van. The dogs kept looking back.
"Wait a damn second!" called someone. Caden flinched, hard. It was his brother. His voice had roughened a little but otherwise it sounded the same, just older.
"The van," I told Caden. "Go." I turned to face him, charging over from the pump, around the van. Nash was still bigger than me, and looked mean and angry.
The dogs bristled, and he hesitated, pulling up short. One of the dogs drew back his lips and snarled.
"We're going. Don't try this again, or we'll press charges," I said.
"I have to press one button to finish dialing 9-1-1," said Joe's steady, firm voice. "And one more to call my lawyer and arrange to press charges. Do you think there's any court in the land that would side with you?" He tried to sound scornful and certain, to play into the paranoi
a Nash might have about a "gay agenda."
I could see Nash hesitating, and their dad still hadn't gotten out of the car. He cleared his throat. "Come on, son. We were trying to help. But if they won't accept it, we've done all we can."
He didn't look at Caden. He started the engine.
We got back to the van before Nash's indecision could fade. Joe started the engine quickly and pulled out of the lot almost before I had the doors shut. Caden was huddling in the back by the paint cans, a sodden and sniffly mess.
The dogs crowded around his crouched form, licking at his tears. I got down on my knees and pulled him into my arms. He was limp and tense and shaking, tears still falling as he clung onto me. For once in his life, my talkative best friend didn't have any words.
#
Joe had to stop. He said, "You'll need to take over driving, Seth, if you have a current license."
I was immediately alert. "I do. What's wrong?"
He grimaced, looking apologetic, and rubbed his chest. "I'm afraid the excitement was a bit much for me. I need to take one of my pills and rest."
I scrambled to help him. He got into the passenger seat and settled back, after swallowing a pill from his pocket and half a bottle of water. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, a grimace on his face.
"I'm—I'm so sorry," said Caden, hiccuppy and shaken and not sounding like himself at all.
Joe didn't say anything, just rested.
"It's okay," I told Caden, hoping it was the truth. "If you need to go to the hospital, will you let me know?"
Joe nodded, but didn't open his eyes. He fell asleep as I carefully guided the unwieldy van back.
It didn't occur to me right away, but I didn't have a license for driving a large vehicle. I wasn't sure if I needed one or not. Anyway, I drove the unfamiliar van slowly and carefully, till we were back at his place, and then Caden and I and the dogs tumbled out, and I helped Joe inside. He leaned on me as we walked, but was looking better already, a little more color in his face.
The Way to Joe Page 3