Out of My Mind

by A. J. Truman

  At the hospital, Helen went up to the nurses station to find out if they were still allowing visitors. She worked her chatty magic. She seemed to make friends with everybody. Helen turned around and gave Mac a “follow me” nod.

  Mac held her hand as they made their way down the hall. Aunt Rita was not a person who was supposed to be in a hospital. She was vibrant and had a laugh that took over a room. Thanksgiving was coming up, her favorite holiday.

  “Look who I found,” Helen said.

  This was not the Aunt Rita Mac wanted to remember. Part of her head was shaved. Her pale skin didn’t match the vivaciousness struggling to be known in her eyes. She smiled at Mac.

  “Don’t tell me. I look awful,” she said. “Hospital gowns are not like evening gowns, I’m finding out.”

  She got Mac to laugh. Well, laugh with a tear falling down his face, but her humor was like a signal that this was going to be okay.

  “You look great, Aunt Rita.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  He went over and kissed her on the cheek. He pulled out the keychain. “Just in case you didn’t have yours.”

  She held it in her frail fingers. “Mine’s at home. I keep it in my underwear drawer. I like to think that’ll help me with my dating life.”

  Helen let out a loud chortle, and Mac smiled in much-needed relief.

  “Rita, what about the postman? I keep telling you he’s got a crush.”

  Aunt Rita leaned close to Mac’s ear. “He has B.O.”

  She kissed his keychain and handed it back. “You hold onto yours. Pull up some good luck for me.”

  “I will.” He kissed it and put it back in his pocket.

  “You didn’t have to miss school for this. I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what my roommate Gideon said. He said you’re a trooper, and this is nothing.”

  “He sounds great. I already like him better than Davis.”

  “Oh, no. He’s not my boyfriend.” Mac blushed at the mix up, though for that second, it was a nice thought.

  “Rita?”

  Mac froze when he heard that voice. Helen’s mouth dropped at who was behind him. His insides ran for cover. He wanted to do the same, but he balled his fists and summoned his courage. For Aunt Rita, for himself.

  His parents didn’t look much different from when he last saw them. Perhaps if he took a closer look, he would see more wrinkles from age and from the hard work of the hardware store. But the rush of feelings and anger and hurt flooded his system, as if time hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Hello, Cormac,” his mother said. She came over and gave him a hug, which Mac accepted and not much else.

  His father nodded hello at him. They went to Aunt Rita’s side, the opposite side as their son. Aunt Rita hated talking about her condition. Mac wanted her to go into surgery in a good mood. He wanted to give her some news that he knew would make her smile.

  “There’s actually this guy,” Mac told her. He glanced up at his parents, who did a silent recoil. “The new roommate. We’re friends, but I think…Well, I hope it can go somewhere. You’d like him. He’s a loud, opinionated New Yorker.”

  He felt emboldened by the defiance of talking about BOYS in front of his parents. Aunt Rita supported him, and she was the star of the show today.

  “So he can sneak me a good bagel.”

  “And something called matzo ball soup.” Mac smiled. The spirit of Gideon was here. “He’s smart and has those black hipstery glasses.”

  His parents looked away, probably wishing they could unhear this conversation.

  “I’ll be wishing you luck while under anesthesia,” Aunt Rita said.

  They rolled her into surgery a few minutes later. The four of them watched her go in from the hall. As soon as she was gone, and Helen went to grab a snack at the vending machine, the happy family façade crumbled. Mac’s defenses went back up to maximum strength.

  “You’ve gotten so tall, Mac,” his mom said.

  “Well, that’s puberty for you. You weren’t around for most of it.”

  “I’ve seen pictures.”

  “Pictures,” Mac said, as if that could make up for the distance, the distance they wanted. In pictures, they could tell themselves their son wasn’t gay.

  “Mac, we’ve tried to invite you back for holidays,” his dad said firmly. “We even made the trip up to Pittsburgh, but you refused to see us.”

  “That’s what you wanted. You wanted me gone, so I left.” Four years had passed, but the pain was as fresh as the day Aunt Rita told him he was staying with her permanently. “How’s church?” Mac asked with a snarl.

  “It’s fine,” his dad said.

  That was an arrow straight through the chest. “You still attend? Even though that asshole pastor and his dickface son are still there?”

  “Watch your language,” his mom said. “The pastor, he’s…he’s not the man you think.”

  He’s a guy on the ultimate power trip who cares more about lying for his son than doing the right thing.

  “He’s a liar. We weren’t ‘roughhousing.’ You know that, I know you do.” Mac searched their eyes for an answer.

  “We know,” his dad said. “The pastor was trying to protect you.”

  “What?”

  “We know the truth.”

  Mac crossed his arms. Nerves crackled in his chest. “What did he say?”

  His dad looked him square in the eye, no blinking. “You were…coming on to his son, pretty aggressively from the sounds of it.”

  “He said that?”

  “Justin shouldn’t have gotten violent, but you scared him and made him very uncomfortable.”

  Mac almost doubled over. What kind of Twilight Zone did he leave behind in West Virginia? “You believe that?”

  His parents traded looks with each other, as if to say “Yeah, of course.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “That’s what the pastor told us. His son was defending himself.”

  “His story’s bullshit. I told you what happened four years ago! I told you the truth. He attacked me.” Mac couldn’t stop himself. Being near his parents sent his anger to scorching hot fire in record time. “You really think I would do that? I hated Justin Weeks. You just…you believe what you want to believe. Anything to stay in the good graces of Pastor Weeks.”

  “Son, life is about choices. If you choose to be so open with your…lifestyle, then you need to accept the consequences.”

  Mac didn’t know how to answer that without screaming at the top of his lungs, which he would not do in public. “Well, at least you didn’t have to deal with my lifestyle. You were happy I ran away. You wanted to get rid of me.”

  “Mac.” His mom clasped her hands in front of her stomach, trying to stay calm. “You said horrible things to us.”

  “And you were horrible parents. Some things never change.” Mac stared at the swinging OR doors. He prayed that Aunt Rita made it through okay. He thought time healed all wounds, but as he left the hospital that day, he realized that the real wounds, the real things that cut us, never healed. They just got a Band-Aid that could easily be ripped off.

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  Gideon

  Gideon woke up to the silence of an empty apartment. It had one of those unsettling calms that made him feel like a guy about to be killed in a horror film. He filed it under eerie. There was no Mac shuffling around, none of his plates clanging in the sink before being hastily shoved into the dishwasher minutes later.

  He’d heard Mac leave early yesterday. He thought about wishing him a good trip. Instead, he stayed under the blanket and sent his Aunt Rita good vibes from his bed.

  Things were still weird from last night. He didn’t understand why Mac was so insistent on getting access down there. Letting a guy penetrate you crossed the line from doing gay things to being gay in Gideon’s twisted universe. Every time he thought about being on bottom, about having some guy put his dick inside him, he pictured his mother’s
face, pinching in disappointment.

  It was fucked up. He knew that.

  His mom had had such a tough past few years. First with his dad getting sick, then Noah, then more Noah. Gideon wanted to do right by her. More and more, he was the lone bright spot in her life, and he didn’t want to let her down. He didn’t want any more whispers.

  Whispers was what he called temple gossip. Temples and churches claimed that their main purpose was a place of worship. That was only a front. They served as gossip chambers for communities, places where people went to judge and be judged. He had confirmed it with his non-Jewish friends, too. The news floating in between the pews held more importance to congregants than what was being said on stage. It was like gossiping inside a church or temple allowed people to be instantly absolved of their sins.

  In temple, no family ever wanted to be the flashpoint of gossip. Gideon’s family was thrust into the spotlight when his dad passed away. He came for Shabbat services a few weeks after the funeral, and he heard it. He felt it. People whispered to each other and shot stealth and blatantly obvious glances at his family as they walked through the aisle to their seats.

  That poor family.

  That’s her. The one whose husband died. Cancer.

  A widow with two teenage sons. I feel awful.

  The temple congregation did come together to help out his family in the wake of his dad’s death. They sent cards, the rabbi paid them a visit, and members came over with homemade dinners for Gideon until his mom got off work. But he never forgot the whispers. He never forgot the unwanted spotlight.

  He heard the whispers every year, on every holiday, at every party. Anytime somebody got divorced, or bought a BMW, or got laid off. Gossip was the chum that religion fed the sharks to keep them coming back. And Noah was a prime feast.

  Can you believe he got arrested?

  Did you hear what Noah called his teacher?

  He dropped out to become a gambler. A gambler!

  My son said he was into drugs. Pot. But who knows what else.

  It must be so rough on Judy not having Alvin around to help with Noah.

  That poor family.

  Gideon couldn’t bear the whispers. He hated having to watch his mom put on a brave face. He didn’t want to make her life any more stressful, any more deserving of whispers. Even if that included keeping his room extra clean. He was going to be the best son in the world.

  Oh, but that Gideon. He’s so smart. He got into Browerton early decision.

  He’s a big shot on Wall Street. Earns a fortune.

  He has a beautiful wife and three adorable kids.

  Thank goodness for Gideon.

  His phone rang on his nightstand. He stared at the name before answering. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, brother.” Noah’s deep voice crackled on the line. “It’s all pretty exciting.”

  “Exciting,” Gideon repeated, as if that were anywhere near the adequate adjective.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad.”

  “Me, neither.” Gideon meant it. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “I talked to Mom. She seemed happy.”

  “You always know how to make me laugh, brother. She’ll come around. But you know what? Who cares. It’s not her life.”

  That sounded a little harsh. She did give birth to him, so it is kind of her life, in a way.

  “I have a favor to ask you, Gid.”

  “What?”

  “Will you be my best man?”

  The question broke through Gideon’s sarcasm shield. Despite the circumstances, being the best man at your brother’s wedding was still a major milestone in a sibling relationship.

  “Yeah, of course,” Gideon said, forgetting to be pissed at his brother for a moment. Noah was like a puppy. He meant well, but he couldn’t stop pissing all over the carpet.

  “Excellent!”

  “So you’re having an actual wedding?”

  “Yeah. It’s at her family’s church. There’ll be a reception, too. We made a deal with the bartender to serve her sparkling cider so it seems like she’s able to drink.”

  “You haven’t told her parents yet about the baby?” Gideon walked into the kitchen. No Mac dishes in the sink. He missed them.

  “They’re old school.”

  “But they can do math. And they know how to spell shotgun wedding.”

  “We’ll deal with that later. Once the baby’s born, they’ll be so happy, they won’t care what the math says. It’ll be fine.” That was Noah. Never worrying about anything. He could have five plates spinning in the air simultaneously and never think that they could break.

  “Make sure you warn Mom so she doesn’t say anything.”

  “Stop worrying about Mom.”

  “One of us has to.” Gideon checked the dishwasher. Empty. Nothing for him to run. Mac really left no trace this morning.

  “Let me give you some older brother advice, brother. Mom can be a powerful force, but don’t let her control you.”

  “She doesn’t control me.”

  “It’s your life, Gideon. Do your own thing.”

  “Like you?”

  “Exactly,” Noah said, not getting the sarcasm. “It’s your life.”

  Noah’s hearing was not in tune to the whispers, apparently.

  “I gotta go,” Gideon said. “Congratulations again.”

  When he hung up, he found himself sitting on Mac’s bed. What would the temple whispers say about that?

  Φ

  Gideon was doing homework on the couch when he heard the front door lock jiggle. The past two days had stretched with no sign of breaking.

  “Hey,” he called out to Mac.

  “Hey yourself,” Delia replied.

  They came into the living room. He did not seem happy to be home, or anywhere near Gideon. At least they had a buffer in Delia.

  “How’s Aunt Rita doing?” Gideon asked. He had never met this woman, but he felt like he knew her.

  “Her surgery went well.” Mac walked into the kitchen, and Gideon checked out his ass. (It wasn’t his fault. It was the jeans!)

  Delia joined Gideon on the couch. She gave Gideon’s knee a squeeze and continued where Mac left off.

  “The doctors said they got all the tumor out, and she should recover nicely.”

  “That’s great!”

  Delia glanced at the kitchen, making sure the coast was clear, before leaning over to Gideon. Her hand on his knee sent the wrong kind of shiver up his leg. “Mac’s parents were there. It did not go well,” she said softly. “Really not well.”

  “Still assholes?”

  “Very much so.”

  Mac rummaged in the kitchen, unaware of their conversation.

  “I can’t imagine that,” Gideon said. “Your parents treating you like that.”

  “Me, neither. And while his aunt is getting an operation. He’s a brave guy.”

  “He is,” Gideon said, with more meaning than he probably should have. But when they were just talking or joking or, um, doing other things, Gideon forgot the fucked-up life Mac came from. Mac didn’t carry around a “Woe is Me” sign. He did his best to move on with his life, something Gideon admired.

  “We’ll cheer him up,” Gideon said.

  “I’m sure you will.” The curve of Delia’s smile and the glint in her eye sent Gideon’s mind into Orange Alert levels of panic.

  Before Gideon could reply, Mac rejoined the couch. He tossed Delia a bag of peanut butter crackers and flipped on the television.

  “Is it okay if we watch some TV?” Mac asked. “We talked a bunch on the way back to campus, and I just want to zone out and laugh.”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  Mac turned on a Simpsons episode. It was a classic. Gideon wasn’t laughing.

  Φ

  After a mini-marathon of peak Simpsons episodes, Delia yawned herself out of the apartment. And then there were two.

  Mac closed the front door and sat next to Gideon on the couch. Gideon
was rigidly stiff. He could trade places with a corpse, and none would be the wiser. Well, except for the heart rate, which throttled his chest.

  “Thanks for your concern about my aunt. I appreciate it.”

  Gideon stared at the shut-off TV.

  “I know it’s late, but I think we should talk about what happened before I left.”

  “I think you’ve done enough talking.” Gideon felt a wave of fire in his throat. “You told Delia.”

  The expression on Mac’s face was a dead giveaway. “What?”

  “Don’t lie to me, Mac. We said we weren’t going to tell a soul. You promised!”

  Mac hung his head. “I’m really sorry. Seriously. It slipped out. But Delia won’t tell anyone. She won’t tell Seth.”

  “Why? Because you guys pinky swore? All it takes is one person, one time for her to get drunk.”

  “And then what? Your perfectly calibrated fortress of bullshit and lies crumbles to the ground?” Mac had on his game face, too. His dark brown eyes were like two shields ready for battle.

  “I trusted you!” Gideon yelled. “I trusted you to keep this a secret. Maybe you don’t care if people find out, but I do!”

  “Well, don’t worry, Gideon.” Mac’s voice was caked in a nasty sarcasm. “Because at least you were on top. You weren’t doing actually gay things, per your logic. It’ll be alright.”

  “This is a big deal for me. I’m scared shitless! This isn’t a piece of gossip. It’s my life.”

  “It’s a big deal for me, too.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Why? Because I’m gay?”

  “Yes.”

  Mac got off the couch. He shoved Gideon against the wall.

  “What’s gotten into you, Mac? Things were going great. We were having fun. Then you started acting all weird, and you haven’t stopped.”

  Mac’s face broke in two, and hurt flooded out. “I like you, Gideon. I really like you.”

  “What?”

  “I guess I’m out of my mind.”

  “Fuck!” Gideon yelled for the whole campus to hear. He squatted down and grabbed his head. “Fuck! Why are you doing this, Mac?”

  Mac was ruining everything. Everything! Gideon wanted to hold onto what they had, how perfect it was. Their relationship was a Jenga Tower of Junk, and Mac pulled the wrong crate.