by Sean Kennedy
No, not at all, he responded. She has money, charm, and an actual love life.
He wished he could see her expression when she opened that e-mail.
Knowing it was hopeless to do so, he opened the Grindr app to see if Pikachu95 had finally messaged him. Flicking through new messages he had received, none were from the guy he wanted to talk to. He deleted them all and went back to the main screen. The rows of men stared up at him, or at least the ones who had faces because many of them were simply torsos. Just about to hit the home screen to leave the app, his eyes focused on the green dot in the first square—which informed him that the torso in the picture was less than 200 feet away from him.
Intrigued, Micah hit the photo to enlarge it.
The torso was slightly scrawny—but with some definition in the arms, which Micah would later guess was probably from all the slamming of doors he did—judging from the one that held the phone away from his body in order to take the picture. But Micah looked past the body to the room in the background. A room that actually was familiar to him now that he had finally gained entry to the most exclusive bedroom in North Beach. Even if he hadn’t recognised the bedroom itself, the poster to the right of the torso gave the game away. Well, the bottom half did—a pair of legs in footy shorts with the words “Sam Mitchell” emblazoned beneath them.
And just like that, the picture winked out. The torso in question had gone offline.
It was like his brain had turned into white noise. Micah threw open the door to his room and covered the hall between their rooms in two steps and just as many seconds. He didn’t knock or pause for any kind of social niceties but burst through into Dane’s room. Dane was sitting on his bed, not even having enough time to hide his phone and pretend it wasn’t him or come up with some plausible story. He didn’t even berate Micah for invading his privacy. All he did was look up at him.
And it looked like his whole world had come apart.
The anger faded, from blistering rage to a dull throb. “Don’t even try and tell me that wasn’t you I just saw on Grindr.”
Dane sniffed. Oh fuck, he was ready to cry. “It was me.”
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long were you spying on me?” At Dane’s look of confusion, Micah huffed. “I heard you tell Sam he had no idea what I was up to on my time off. That’s what you were talking about!”
“I wasn’t spying on you,” Dane said. “I just saw your profile and put two and two together.”
Micah’s profile was the ubiquitous torso pic. How could Dane recognise him from that?
Dane preempted him. “I have seen you in the pool, remember? You and Sam barely wear shirts in the summer. All the better to show off your perfect football bods.” There was a note of bitterness in his voice. “Plus, you took the photo in the bathroom. You can see my toothbrush next to you.”
Wow, now he was busted. “Okay, so neither of us are going to be great undercover agents.”
Dane mumbled something.
“What?”
“Maybe I wanted to get caught. I was sick of it all.”
“Why the fuck are you closeted with your family?” Micah couldn’t understand this guy at all. “They specifically asked me to stay with them! You had to know they weren’t homophobic!”
“I didn’t!” Dane said. “I’ve hardly even heard them say a word about gay people, positive or negative, until they were thinking about fostering you. Then it was all, pride, pride, pride, I’m going to go on a float in the Mardi Gras!”
Micah smiled in spite of himself. The thing was, he could imagine the Mitchell clan on a float. Sam would probably go in booty shorts and nothing else just to be a good sport, with Maia egging him on every step of the way.
“Are you laughing at me?” Dane yelled.
“No, calm down, for fuck’s sake.” Micah sat down on the floor. “I might as well get comfortable.”
“Oh, what, are we friends now?”
“You wouldn’t be the shittiest friend I ever had,” Micah said. “Oh, hang on a minute. Yeah, you’d be the worst.” Really, how many closeted self-hating teen boys could Micah come across in his life? Then he remembered the drugs rattling around in his stomach, and knew that the closet had far-reaching self-destructive tentacles even for those who had escaped it.
“Are you going to tell my family?”
Micah shook his head.
“Why not? It’d be the perfect revenge for how I’ve acted to you.”
“I don’t do revenge,” Micah said. “Anymore.” He had to add that caveat. “But I think you should tell them.”
“After all this time?” Dane asked. “They’d think I was the biggest hypocrite.”
They wouldn’t be wrong, Micah thought before he could stop himself. New new new Micah still wasn’t without the judgement, it seemed. But he said, “They wouldn’t. They would be supportive. In fact, they would probably feel guilt not knowing beforehand and helping you.”
“Don’t you think I know how wrong I’ve been? I’ve felt sick over it. I’ve played at being this guy so long so they wouldn’t suspect it of me, and then I find out my whole family are secretly gay rights campaigners?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, they’re not so secret.”
“By the time I did notice, I was too scared.”
“Your brother wouldn’t have hated you. He doesn’t think much of you now, but that’s because he believes you’re an arsehole.”
“I have been an arsehole.” Dane said it so sadly Micah was tempted to give him a hug but thought it probably wasn’t a good idea. “It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.” Here he was again, Micah thought. Another homophobic closet case that he was helping. It was turning into a career. Maybe he should have gone and started a psychology degree instead of kicking a footy for money. “Let me tell you something. I knew a guy so deep in the closet that he cyberbullied me, and when I called him out on it he punched me unconscious. Don’t get any ideas,” he said as Dane shifted on the bed.
“I’m not!”
“Relax. I was joking. Anyway, my knees hurt.” He got up off the floor and moved over to the bed. “Scoot.”
Dane shifted up and allowed him enough room to sit. “So what happened?”
“I visit him every time I’m in Melbourne.” He left out the pertinent details on where exactly he had to do that.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Believe me, if it had been anybody else, or at least a straight anybody else, I wouldn’t be so forgiving. But that’s what the closet can do to you, so I’m prepared to cut people some slack on it.”
“Like me?” Dane sounded hopeful.
“Depends what you do from here.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you stop being such a dickhead to me, yeah.” Micah felt while he was in this strange, but no longer unique, situation he might as well give some further advice. “And listen, about Grindr—”
Dane was immediately defensive. “What about it?”
“Just be careful.”
“Of course I’m careful!”
“Yeah, well, I used to say that too.”
“I’ve only ever….” Dane trailed off nervously.
Micah remained silent, letting Dane make the decision whether to continue or not.
“I mean, I just used to go on and look a lot of the time. I just wanted to see that there were other gay guys out there. It’s not like there were a lot among my friends or Sam and his teammates. Until you.”
“Yep. Me, the token gay Docker.”
“Anyway, that’s how I used to see you, always on Grindr—”
“If I was always on Grindr to be seen, that means you were there just as often.”
Dane fell silent.
“True?”
“I guess. But you would go off and hook up. It’s not like I ever really got anything from it! The one time I met up with a guy, I was so nervous—”
�
��Do I really need to hear the details?”
“—I couldn’t get hard so I had to just end up wanking him off. He wasn’t that happy about it.”
Micah’s annoyance quickly turned to concern. “Did you get out of it okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t do anything, he was just expecting more, I guess.”
“Grindr hasn’t exactly been the land of opportunity for me, either. But then, I played the game just as badly as they did.” Micah couldn’t help thinking of Pikachu95 once more. “I’m not going to tell you not to do it, because that would be hypocritical. Just be more careful with it than me.”
Dane nodded, and cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being better about all this than I thought you would.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve matured a lot lately.”
Dane snorted.
“No, seriously. Anyway, what’s your next course of action?”
Micah grew slightly unnerved when Dane just stared silently at him.
“What?”
“Can I kiss you?” Dane swiftly moved in on him, his arm reaching out to cup Micah’s chin.
“No!” Micah leapt up as if he had been burnt.
Dane looked surprised, then hurt. A virtual cacophony of injured expressions danced upon his face. “Why not?”
“Because, contrary to popular opinion, I’m not the Closeted Teen Guy’s Blow-Up Doll to practise upon.”
Dane stared down at his hands, now in his lap. “Sorry.”
Micah sighed. “No, look, that came out harsher than I meant it. Just, I know where you’re coming from. But I can’t be that guy. You need to find your own boyfriends, have your own kisses that you want and go after, and I have to do that too. Just… be smarter than me. And always use a fucking condom.”
“I’m not that stupid,” Dane said, flushed.
Micah briefly closed his eyes, and opened them again. “Yeah, well, I thought I wasn’t either. Shit happens.”
“Are you okay?” Dane asked.
Micah thought about it for a moment. “Yeah.” And he meant it. “I’m getting there. What about you?”
“I don’t know if I can do this tonight.”
“It’s your decision. Just remember, though. You said on some level you wanted to get caught by me. Doesn’t that mean you want your family to finally know as well?”
Dane shrugged, then nodded. “Did you mean what you said?”
“About what? I’ve said a lot of things just now.”
“That you can forgive me. Because of the closet.”
“Yeah. I can.” The words came to him easily. Micah meant every one.
“And you think we could be friends?”
“As long as you don’t try and pash me again.”
This time Dane laughed. Micah stuck out his hand, and they shook on it.
But Micah saw the smile falter just as he left the room, and Dane was alone with his thoughts once more.
Chapter 17
BACK IN his room, Micah threw himself on his bed with a melodramatic sigh.
“Life is fucking strange,” he said to the ceiling.
It didn’t respond.
He heard Dane’s door open and close, and the sound of heavy footsteps going down the stairs. Poor guy. Micah hoped he was feeling at least a little bit better knowing that his secret was shared with at least one other person.
As usual, in a quiet moment, Micah was like most other young people his age. He pulled out his phone to fill the silence. After having dealt with Dane, at least momentarily, it was time to put an end to his other problem. He held down the Grindr app until it began shaking and the delete button appeared. Pikachu95 was obviously never going to respond.
But he found himself opening it for one last try.
And there, among the new messages, was the one he was hoping for but not expecting.
Yeah, I remember you. You’re hard to forget. Thought you were avoiding me.
Should he admit he had been? Or see if they could meet up and then admit it, face to face? How about that coffee?
He sent the message, closed the app, and smiled to himself. Deletion would have to wait for now.
GOING DOWNSTAIRS for dinner, Micah could hear the Mitchells on the patio. And really bad music.
Was that Peter Allen? Who the hell was listening to Peter Allen, and why was everybody else letting them?
Stepping into the sunlight, Micah was greeted by the sight of Sam dancing around his brother, shaking imaginary maracas and singing about going to Rio. Dane looked mortified, but also kind of happy. The rest of the Mitchells were laughing and Maia was singing along, doing the rumba in her chair.
“Am I missing something?” Micah yelled over the music.
“Micah!” Sam cried, sashaying over to him. Micah saw that he had tied the bottom of his t-shirt into a knot, accentuating the whole Peter Allen experience. “You’re not the only gay in this house! It’s true what they say: the gays are taking over the world!”
“Dane’s gay?” Micah asked, with a straight face. Every pun intended.
Sam slung an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, he’s already told us you knew.”
“Yeah, like half an hour ago,” Micah said. He sat down next to Dane. “So, did you give my member number to the Gay Agenda? If I collect a thousand points I get a free year’s subscription to DNA.”
“I’ll let them know,” Dane said.
“Look! He’s smiling!” Sam collapsed into a chair opposite them and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that.”
“I don’t think he thinks you’re an arsehole anymore,” Micah told Dane.
“You thought I thought you were an arsehole?” Sam asked, upset. “Well, I did think you were acting like an arsehole for a while—”
“Sam!” his mother cried.
Maia giggled.
“—But it doesn’t matter now!” Sam said. “The Mitchell Clan is one again!”
“I’ll drink to that,” the patriarch of the family said.
“Any excuse,” Sam and Dane said together.
Micah had to admit it was impossibly cute, how things could change in an instant.
I GUESS I can do coffee. When?
Micah was about to type a response when Sam sat beside him. Micah had escaped to the pool to get some privacy, but of course that meant Sam had to check up on him. “What are you up to?”
Micah quickly tapped Tell me where and when and sent it before Sam could try and peer over his shoulder. “Nothing.” He saw Sam was still wearing his T-shirt a la Peter Allen, and reached over and yanked the knot free so it covered up his stomach again.
“Hey!” Sam protested.
“You can’t carry that look off.”
“You’re just turned on by me. Can’t stand the sight of my washboard abs.” Sam lifted the hem, exposing his treasure trail.
“There are better abs in the change room,” Micah said.
“Really?” Sam leaned in. “Who?”
“Like I’m going to tell you!”
“I thought we said no more secrets?”
“Come on, I’ve got to have some.” Micah grinned.
“I think there’s been enough secrets lately to last us a decade.”
He could be right, Micah thought, but he wasn’t sharing any thoughts on how attractive some of his teammates were. “Okay. I’m arranging to meet a guy. For coffee,” he added quickly, lest Sam thought he was up to his old tricks.
“A date?” Sam crowed. “Micah Johnson has a date? This day keeps getting better and better!”
“Fuck off.”
“So who is the lucky guy?”
“Let’s not talk about me,” Micah said, deflecting. “Let’s talk about you gaining a gay brother.”
Sam smiled. “I didn’t gain him today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew he was gay. We all knew he was gay. We were just waiting for him to be comforta
ble enough to tell us. We tried to hint to him that he could, but he was always oblivious to it. I guess it’s just fear of rejection. But I know I didn’t want to push him until he was ready.”
“Wow,” Micah said. “What was it you were saying earlier about secrets?”
“I know.” Sam at least had the good sense to look a little shamed. “It was horrible watching him try to do it. He was so angry, and I kept trying to be his older brother, but he’d push me away. So we brought you in.”
Micah jerked involuntarily. “What?”
“We thought maybe you’d be a role model for him, showing him that we were okay with him being gay.”
“It actually made him feel worse.”
“I know.”
“So, you didn’t really want me? I was just a convenient pawn to out your brother?” Micah could hear the note of betrayal in his voice, even though he was trying to clamp down on it. He had thought he was welcome here, that he had been wanted for who he was, not what he could do for the family.
“No, not at all!” Sam winced. “Aah, this is all coming out wrong.”
“Much like I did,” Micah said.
“Come on. You’re a great guy, Micah. And we did want you because of you. So it was kind of like two birds with one stone, helping you out and hoping that would affect Dane and help him too. Is that such a terrible thing?”
“You wanted me here to be some kind of role model for Dane, and look at what you ended up with.”
Sam took a swig of his beer, as if he was preparing himself for a speech. “Micah, the mistakes you made weren’t because you were gay. Do you know how many other guys are in this exact same situation around the country? First year in the big leagues, earning more money than they’ve ever had before, drinking, hookups with girls after the game, just the same old thing. It’s part of the adjustment phase, and they’ve been trying to improve it and make it less difficult for the new players, which is where the fostering comes in. So I feel like I’ve failed you. I was meant to help you, and I didn’t.”
“You didn’t fail me. I hid everything from you.”
“But I should have known. And I did, on some level. I knew you weren’t exactly happy, but I didn’t know the extent. We were meant to protect you.”