Out of My Mind

by A. J. Truman

  He opened the front door and heard voices inside. He followed the noise into the living room, where his parents were surrounded by open boxes.

  “What’s going on here?” Mac’s body was already in fight mode.

  “Mac,” his mom said. He looked at his father.

  “Hello, son.”

  “How’d you get in?” His mom asked.

  “I have a key.” Mac dangled it for proof. “Since this is my home.”

  Crumpled newspaper lay on the floor. The box in front of his mom was labeled DONATIONS.

  “What are you doing? The body is still warm and you’re cleaning out her house?”

  “We’re only here for a few days. We want to make the best use of our time,” his dad said.

  “Why don’t you spend that precious time mourning your sister?”

  “I am,” he said firmly. “We are doing what we can, but we also have to get back to the store.”

  “Priorities,” Mac huffed.

  “We closed the store for a non-holiday for the first time in twenty years to come up here. You remember what it’s like,” his dad said heavily. “There’s only so much we can do up here.”

  “We’re not throwing anything out yet,” his mom said. “Just making preliminary piles of what would most likely be donated.”

  “You couldn’t even wait a few hours. Were you even going to ask me if I wanted anything? Since I live here and all.” Mac raced upstairs, realizing he was in the house where the only person who ever loved him died.

  He burst into his bedroom. It was still intact. But he had an icky feeling as he tiptoed to Aunt Rita’s room. He pushed the door open slowly. Her bed was stripped and the closet looked ransacked. He yanked open her underwear drawer. Completely empty.

  Mac launched down the stairs like a rocket of pure fury. His parents continued packing up. “Where is it?”

  They looked up, blank stares.

  “Where’s the keychain? The four-leaf clover keychain? It was in her underwear drawer.”

  His dad scratched his face. His apathy was a punch in the gut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “She kept it there.”

  His mom shrugged, as if Mac was just talking about a stupid keychain. “That tacky souvenir? I think I threw it out.”

  “What? You shouldn’t be throwing anything out. This isn’t your house!”

  Mac tore through the Hefty bag against the wall. His heart crumpled in his chest. He wouldn’t let them see him cry, and it took everything to hold the tears back. They wouldn’t have that satisfaction.

  May we always be each other’s good luck charms.

  The keychain was a damn needle in a haystack. His fingers slid against the sides of the trash bag. He pressed his eyes shut, hoping he could feel Aunt Rita’s spirit in this house. His thumb touched metal. He peeled off a ketchup-soaked Burger King wrapper covering the keychain. He wiped grease and more ketchup off the four-leaf clover. The anger was hot and liquid in his veins, lava ready to spew.

  He ripped a glass shell out of his mom’s hands. She jolted back, afraid of her son. Good.

  “Mac!” His father yelled.

  “What is your problem?” He yelled back. “You don’t get to throw out somebody’s stuff!”

  His mom didn’t try to take back the shell from him. “Look, I know this is sudden. Going through her stuff is another way for your father and I to remember her.” She sounded somber, and Mac was glad in a way that Aunt Rita’s death actually meant something to his parents. They weren’t devoid of emotion and compassion. Only when it came to him.

  “You should’ve called me. This is my house, too! What were you going to do with my stuff?”

  “We don’t know. We were going to talk to you about it at the funeral,” his dad said.

  Mac took in his final glances of Aunt Rita’s house. He didn’t want his last memories of this place to be of his parents ripping it apart. “You never told me about the funeral. You didn’t even call to tell me she died.” Tears fell down his face. “You knew how much she meant to me. You didn’t even call. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Watch that mouth of yours, Cormac.” His father pointed a stern finger at him. “You made it clear in the hospital how often you wanted to hear from us. Communication is a two-way street.”

  “Fuck you and your two-way streets. I hate you. I used to be mad at you and hurt, but now I really hate you.” Mac clutched the keychain as he headed to the front door. “Don’t touch my room.”

  Φ

  More family than Mac assumed would come showed up to the funeral, people he hadn’t seen in years. He was glad that they cared about Aunt Rita.

  This was the first time Mac had stepped foot inside a church since West Virginia. Aunt Rita was not religious. He imagined how much she would hate this service. The pastor preached from the front of the church, and people looked to be in their own worlds.

  Mac didn’t sit with his parents. He had a pew to himself. A few family members he recognized said hello and kissed him on the cheek, but they didn’t sit with him. They didn’t ask him to join him.

  “Let us remember and cherish the times Rita brought joy into our lives. Let us not dwell on the sadness we feel now, for sadness is only temporary.” The pastor made eye contact with Mac. At least one person here did.

  He zoned in and out of the sermon. He thought about the good times with him and Aunt Rita instead. Grand pronouncements about the meaning of life and death were a snooze compared to remembering their Christmases and the smell of the kitchen when Aunt Rita made pancakes.

  He wondered what was going through his parents’ heads, if they were in mourning at all. They didn’t talk to Aunt Rita much. When Mac first moved in with her, they would call for updates, just to make sure he hadn’t dropped out of school and spiraled out of control. Mac didn’t want to speak to them, and soon, they stopped asking to speak to him. He believed that that parent-child bond was unbreakable, but it was just as tenuous as any other relationship. As sturdy as a damn tissue.

  The ceremony moved out to the graveyard. The sun would not stop shining, which really pissed Mac off. It was the type of winter day everyone dreamed of. Crisp breezes and blue skies. Aunt Rita would’ve loved it, but she couldn’t get to enjoy it.

  His family congregated on one side of the casket, while assorted friends spread out around them. Mac stood off to the side. He was alone, unflanked by family. Even Helen had her two grown sons at her side. The crisp breeze morphed into a strong wind that slammed into his side.

  Aunt Rita’s casket was lowered into the ground. That was, so to speak, the final nail in the coffin. She was dead. She was gone. And she was never coming back. She would never get to meet Mac’s future boyfriends or attend his wedding or see what would become of his life.

  Mac sobbed into his sleeve, deep sobs that made his body shiver. He outsobbed Helen in the car and anyone else at the funeral. His face was soaked and hot. He was the only one making noise with his crying, as the rest of the funeral stood in solemn silence. He squeezed his four-leaf clover keychain between his fingers as hard as he could. Emotions ripped through his chest. His head vibrated with his crying, for Aunt Rita, for being alone in the world.

  He felt a calm as the wind stopped.

  Only it didn’t stop. Someone shielded him.

  An arm maneuvered around his waist and pulled him into a warm body. Mac wiped the tears off his face. He looked up, and Gideon’s green eyes shined back at him.

  CHAPTER twenty-two

  Gideon

  He missed those brown eyes so freaking much. Mac radiated a need that emboldened Gideon, made him stand up straight and puff out his chest. It wasn’t until he looked away from Mac and saw people staring at them that he realized how gay he was being in public. A man and woman across the plot shook their heads and grimaced. It was Mac’s parents. He just had that feeling. He could sense the disappointment coming off them in waves.

  As soon as the funera
l ended, Mac pulled Gideon away from the cemetery. They said no goodbyes, and nobody came up to say goodbye to them. Gideon hailed a cab and took them back to his hotel in downtown Pittsburgh.

  Mac sat in the desk chair in his hotel room, glassy-eyed. He looked like he just came from battle. Gideon rubbed his shoulders.

  “How did you…”

  “Delia told me. Then I called around to funeral homes in the area, found a last-minute hotel, and booked a bus here.”

  “You did all that?”

  “I want to be here for you.” He spun Mac around to face him. Gideon’s stomach did a somersault when those brown eyes were on him. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I feel like I’ve been pushing my whole life. Pushing to be somebody I’m not. Pushing anyone away that could expose who I really am.”

  When Gideon had left Mac’s apartment, things started to become clear. He let himself see who he really was and think what he really wanted to think.

  “Do you know what would go through my mind when I dated and hooked up with girls?” He squatted down to get eye level.

  Mac cocked an eyebrow, afraid to hear the answer.

  “I would say ‘Good job’ to myself. I would tell myself I was doing the right thing.” Gideon shook his head. Always the good son. It was so fucked up. “I spent so much time trying to convince myself that I didn’t want the things I wanted.”

  Mac placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re not the first gay guy to feel this. You are gay, right? This is you coming out?”

  Gideon nodded, silently grateful that Mac took those words out of his mouth for him. He still felt a ripple of shame when he heard them. He wasn’t ready for the world’s reaction.

  “What was going through your mind on the night we first met?” Mac asked him.

  “I thought I was lucky that I got to meet a cool guy on my first day at school.”

  “And when I kissed you?”

  The memory was still vivid in his mind. “I freaked the hell out. It all happened so fast. It was like going from having secret, fleeting thoughts about skydiving to being thrown out of an airplane.” Mac chuckled at the analogy. It was better than geology class. “I panicked.”

  “I’ve never been that forward,” Mac said.

  But now it was Gideon’s turn to be forward. He brushed his lips against Mac’s, breathing in his warm taste, realizing just how much he missed it now that he had it back. He planted tender kisses along Mac’s freshly shaved cheeks.

  “What if I told you that I really liked you?”

  “Then strap me into a parachute because I am ready to skydive.” Mac pulled Gideon against him, the kisses turning passionate and hungry.

  Their lips were magnets to each other. Mac dug his fingers into Gideon’s unruly hair and pulled him closer. It was different from the times in their apartment. For the first time, they could kiss each other without any pretenses, their true selves laid bare.

  Gideon hugged Mac into his chest. They couldn’t kiss each other fast or hard enough. Mac shoved his hands up Gideon’s shirt. His fingers prickled against the hairs on his chest and stomach.

  Gideon pulled away mid-kiss. He felt an intensity shaking his core. He needed this. He led Mac to the bed. They took off their suit jackets.

  “Are you sure?” Mac asked.

  “You tell me.” Gideon opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the bottle of Astroglide. “I figured if all went well today, we’d get to use it. And if you had rejected me earlier, I would’ve come back here and used it on myself.”

  Mac laughed. Gideon wanted to make him laugh and smile, especially today. This kid had been through so much. Gideon wanted to make him feel good.

  For weeks, Gideon was a house where the lights were shut off. He tried turning the circuit breakers, but they didn’t do a thing. Kissing Mac, feeling that hard body against his made Gideon the brightest house on the block.

  Those ferocious lips brought him back to life, and Gideon wanted all of him. Mac lay across the bed, his muscular frame sprawled out on the comforter. Gideon’s lips moved from his mouth and slid down his neck. Mac shivered at his touch. He groped Mac’s cock through his pants. His hands hovered over a Hanukkah gift all wrapped, waiting for him to tear it open.

  He looked up at Mac as his mouth moved further south. Mac’s eyes asked if he was okay. Hell yes.

  He unbuttoned and unzipped Mac’s pants. There’s a dick in my face, Gideon thought. A big one. He wondered what others would think. He closed his eyes and forced all of those thoughts out of his mind. They were other people’s words, other people’s beliefs. He focused on what he truly wanted.

  “What’s wrong?” Mac asked.

  “Nothing.” Gideon’s lips curled into a smile. There’s a dick in my face.

  He let Mac enter his mouth, as much as he could. He relaxed his jaw, and Gideon took in the sweaty taste of him. He focused on the now. No analysis. No neurosis. He had one of those rare experiences of living in the moment. He slapped the hard dick against his tongue. Mac groaned in delight. Gideon would never get tired of that sound, especially knowing that he was the cause.

  Gideon moaned as the hot, throbbing cock filled up his mouth. Mac grabbed the headboard to steady himself. He lifted his hips, sending his cock further inside Gideon’s mouth. Gideon rubbed himself over his pants. A rogue finger of his found its way to Mac’s ass. He pushed it in. Mac gasped like no one was listening.

  He pulled out his finger and tried to stand up, but Mac yanked him into a kiss that dared to suck his lips off. His tongue tasted the insides of Gideon’s mouth. Their warm bodies locked each other in a tight embrace. Mac’s erection branded Gideon’s leg.

  “Get on your back,” Mac commanded. His heavy-lidded eyes conveyed such force and lust that Gideon would’ve walked to China if Mac told him to.

  Mac whipped his shirt off. His pecs and biceps bulged as he undid Gideon’s pants and threw them on the floor. The cold hotel room air hit his bare legs and ass, but the heat coming off Mac made for a potent shield. Mac slapped his ass. Gideon spread his legs further.

  The anticipation sent him spiraling. He felt a finger circling his ass. Now he was the one getting impaled by the dildo in his fantasy. Except this wasn’t a dream, and it was going to be much better than a yellow sex toy.

  “Yes, baby. Yes.” Gideon slammed his head against the mattress. Mac pressed in further. It was ten times better than what Gideon did to himself in the shower. He hated that he’d passed this up, any of it.

  Mac licked his aching hole. As much as Gideon enjoyed rimming Mac, he had to say that receiving was overtaking giving at a fast clip. Gideon dug his fingers into the sheets. He was on horniness overload. He had to stroke his dick. It couldn’t be ignored. He needed to get out the urge boiling over inside him.

  Gideon jerked himself off while Mac ate him out. The bottom half of his body was a roller coaster zooming around loops at full speed. Mac shoved two fingers inside him. Gideon cried out and stifled his voice against his forearm.

  “Don’t do that,” Mac said. “Don’t cover it up. I want to hear you. Every sound.”

  He followed Mac’s order. He’d never let anyone call the shots like this. He didn’t have to think. He just had to react. With his free hand, Mac massaged Gideon’s balls.

  “Yes!” Gideon yelled out, damned if any other hotel guests heard him. His words had to wait for breath that wasn’t coming fast enough. Mac removed his fingers, and instantly Gideon was dying of want. His cock had never gotten this hard in his hand.

  “Want to…kiss you,” Gideon said, his body feeling a million amazing things at once. Mac’s imposing frame leaned over him. He tasted all of himself on those lips.

  “How far do you want to go?” Mac asked.

  “All the way, baby.” They gazed deep into each other’s eyes. Gideon saw past the sexy haze that clouded Mac’s vision, into his heart. Gideon had a place there. He kissed Mac softly, a brief respite in the passion.


  Mac slapped his ass hard. He pictured the mark of Mac’s hand, branding him like property. Gideon was nervous, but he rode it. When he had to make sharp turns in his car, he put his foot on the gas and went faster.

  “Do you have a condom?” Mac asked.

  “No. Is it okay if we try without? I haven’t been with anyone since Beth over the summer. Have you?”

  “Not since Davis, in the summer.”

  “Not Rafe?”

  Mac crossed his arms and arched his eyebrow. “Not Hannah?”

  They both shook their heads no.

  Mac prepared Gideon with lube, which was cold compared to everything else that had been down there.

  “Is it going to hurt?” It was finally happening, the final frontier. No turning back.

  “Yes, but hopefully the good feelings will outweigh the bad.” Mac rolled on the condom.

  Gideon didn’t know if he was talking about sex or life in general. But he trusted Mac.

  “If it hurts too much, let me know, and I’ll stop.”

  He sucked in a breath when he felt the tip of Mac brush against his opening.

  “You okay?”

  “Do it, baby,” Gideon said.

  “You’ve been calling me baby a lot.” Mac kissed Gideon’s neck.

  “I know.”

  Mac eased himself inside his ass. Gideon mashed his lips shut and grunted. Mac kissed his shoulder in support. He kept going.

  Gideon felt whole, but uneasy. It was a new sensation his body was trying to process. He didn’t stop Mac. He pulled out slowly, then slid back in.

  Don’t think. Just feel.

  Oh that Gideon. He has a dick in his ass. The whispers! Gideon focused all his mental power on blocking them out. He stared up at Mac, sweat dripping down his cheeks. Their feelings were stronger than stupid gossip.

  Stay in the moment.

  “Stay with me.” Mac cupped Gideon’s chin and directed him to look into Mac’s eyes.

  That shut up every whisper.

  Gideon’s grunting turned to moaning. His mind was dizzy with the thickness filling him up. There was dick inside me. Just thinking about it drove him wild. The more wrong it sounded, the more right it felt, like all of life’s best things.