by A. J. Truman
Gideon stole the ball and dribbled up to do an easy lay up. He bounced it back to Seth. “Eight-four.”
Seth returned to his methodical dribbling. Gideon was dribbling in a way. He found himself stalling all night long. This was Seth. His best friend. He was cool with Mac, but maybe that was because Mac was Delia’s friend, not his.
Gideon feared the whispers. The whispers could be non-verbal. They could be the different looks Seth would give him, or maybe Seth wouldn’t want to change in the locker room with him anymore.
He blinked, and Seth dribbled around him and sunk a two-pointer.“You’re off your game,” Seth said. “Eight-five.”
“I just…I figured I had to let you score just a little to make it a fair fight.”
Seth checked the ball to Gideon who immediately spun around him and headed for the basket.
“So where were you these past few days?” Seth asked. “Did you go home or something?”
The ball hit Gideon’s shoe and almost rolled away, but he caught it. “I did. I had to see my mom.”
“A week before we’re out for winter vacation?”
“Yeah. It was nothing. I just had a funeral.” That was kind of the truth. “My Great-Uncle Mort. He was ninety-two. So I went back to Westchester for the funeral and to sit shiva.” Gideon couldn’t stop. He had gotten used to lying so much throughout his life that it was second nature. Once he started a lie, he had to keep unraveling it. Watching his friend believe him made his heart ache.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s fine. He was old.” Gideon dribbled up to the basket. He didn’t take the shot. He thought about all the shots he never took.
“I’m sure he was a great guy. I lost my grandpa almost a year ago. He was ninety-nine, but it still hurt.”
“It’s…” Gideon kept dribbling. “Yeah, the service was nice. People made speeches.”
STOP
But Gideon couldn’t. This was what he did. Lies on top of lies. Giving the people the stories they wanted.
Oh that Gideon. He traveled home on a moment’s notice to be by his family’s side when his great uncle Mort passed away. He’s such a good son. He’s not “going through anything.” He’s always doing swell.
“Are you going to take the shot?” Seth asked.
Gideon bounced the ball up and down. He chucked it against the wall. The slamming sound echoed in the gymnasium. The ball rolled down the court. Seth didn’t touch it.
“Um, I think you airballed.”
Gideon went to the wall. He leaned forward, like he going to hurl. How was lying so easy and so freaking hard at the same time? His stomach and head were sandbags being dragged across the ground.
Seth’s shoes squeaked over to Gideon. “Let me get you some water.”
“No,” Gideon said.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
He shook his head no. He took deep breaths. “There is no Great-Uncle Mort.”
“I was talking about Mac.”
Gideon flung himself straight up, like a rubber band snapping back into place. He and Seth exchanged a look that dug deeper than their friendship had ever gone.
“The last time we played basketball, and I told you about Mac and Rafe, well…you seemed jealous. Really jealous.” Seth shrugged his shoulders, and Gideon saw the infinite wisdom of his friend. He had been watching the whole time.
“I…I really like him.” Telling the truth helped him breathe better. Unlike lies, where he had to keep telling them, there was only one version of the truth. “I was in Pittsburgh. I went to Mac’s aunt’s funeral and told him how I felt.”
Gideon bounced on his toes. More truth! “Delia told me about his aunt passing away. She’s known about Mac and me for a while.”
“So I was the only one who didn’t know?”
“I’m sorry, man.”
Seth didn’t seem mad. More of a little brother feeling left out of the cool older brother stuff.
“You don’t know how hard this is, not telling anyone.” And Gideon braced himself for the biggest truth of them all. “I’m gay, Seth.”
“I can’t believe I was the only one who didn’t know,” Seth said with a smile. It was the perfect reaction.
“I didn’t know how you’d react. Are you okay?”
Seth hugged him. It was the best bro hug Gideon had ever received.
“You’re happy. I’m happy.”
“Really?”
Seth looked at him as if he belonged in a mental institution. “Of course. You’re my best friend.”
Tears pooled in Gideon’s eyes. He couldn’t be crying on a basketball court. He tried to stop it, but they fell anyway. Telling the truth had possessed his body.
Seth picked up the basketball and checked it to his best friend.
“Eight-five.”
Φ
Gideon was on such a high from his game with Seth. He felt indestructible. A new version of his true life was being formed. He couldn’t wait until he got home. He had to call his brother the second he left the gym.
He sat on a bench in the freezing December cold.
“Hey,” Noah said cautiously.
Gideon wasn’t going to waste anymore time. “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m sorry I left your wedding.”
Noah didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Gideon’s throat closed up with fear. “I wish you hadn’t run.”
“Me, too.”
“You didn’t get to watch Mom cringe when they served iceberg lettuce in the salad instead of romaine.”
It felt good to laugh.
“Noah.” This would never be easy, he realized. There would always be a lump in his throat before he told people one of the most personal parts of himself. “You were right.”
“I always am.”
“I was…I mean, I am…”
“I know, brother. I know. It’s been a long road.” Noah always put everything so well. “Have you told Mom yet?”
“No. Has she said anything to you?”
“No, she’s just worried as usual.”
“Because of what you told her,” Gideon said. “When I spoke to Mom a few days ago, she said that you said I was ‘going through some stuff.’”
That had caught him off-guard during his phone call in his hotel room, more off-guard than talking to his mom while a naked guy was in his bed. He figured that it was a screw you move from Noah for ditching his wedding.
“I had to tell her something. You bailed on my wedding! She likes to worry, and you gave her something to worry about.”
Noah had a point. Gideon picked at peeling white paint on the bench. “I’ll tell her.”
He just hoped that his admission wasn’t drowned out by the whispers.
“I know you will. I say just rip off that Band-Aid.”
Noah lived his life by ripping off Band-Aids. Acting now and thinking later.
“Thanks for being an awesome big brother, Noah.”
“I’m not that awesome. I should’ve been there for you more growing up. I was so into my own shit. I kind of imploded when Dad died. I hoped you would just follow my lead, but you went in the opposite direction.”
Maybe there was a part of Noah in Gideon, a part that made Gideon kiss Mac for the first time, the part that made him book a bus ticket and hotel room five minutes after hearing about Mac’s aunt. Noah might have been a troublemaker, a vance as their grandmother would call him in Yiddish, but he followed his heart.
“There’s nobody else who I’d want as my brother,” Gideon said.
“Just ’cause you’re gay doesn’t mean you need to get all mushy on me. I’m already bawling at the first ultrasound photo.”
Gideon remembered he was going to be an uncle. “How does he or she look?”
“Like an it. Kind of like a potato.”
“Did you tell Christina’s parents yet?” Gideon got up and began his trek back to his apartment, where Mac would be waiting. His feet were nearly floating down the street.
; “We just told them. We told them and showed them the ultrasound picture at the same time, to soften the blow. Her dad gave me this look that almost made me shit my pants, but now they’re focused on the baby. So it all worked out.”
“It all worked out,” Gideon said. He hoped that saying held true when he spoke to his mom, whenever that would be.
CHAPTER twenty-five
Mac
After spending the past few days sleeping at Gideon’s apartment, they decided the logical thing would be for Mac to move back in with him. Mac spoke to his landlord, who said that if Mac could find somebody else to move in, he would let him break his lease. The landlord wasn’t going to do any advertising. It was up to Mac.
Mac and Gideon put the word out to their friends. In the meantime, Gideon continued to cover his rent and Mac covered his, both barely, and they got to enjoy sleeping in the same bed together.
Among other things.
Mac came back to his studio apartment after class to pick up a change of clothes and start doing some cleaning, just in case he had to move out fast. Even though he’d only lived in this apartment for a few weeks, he had managed to leave his mark. Dishes overflowed in the sink, which was strange since he never cooked. TV dinners stuck out from under the trash lid. Clothes were spread out like lily pads on his floor. Dust bunnies tumbled along in the corners. Mac was tired of looking at this place and eager to be a full-time resident with Gideon.
One reason why Mac never was able to clean in the past is that whenever he started, he would fall down a rabbit hole of looking at old pictures and old papers and letting memories play in his head. He and Gideon brought back some of Aunt Rita’s photo albums and scrapbooks, more stuff he could look through. He found a framed picture of him and Aunt Rita on Christmas with their matching Santa hats. A pang of sadness hit him square in the gut. He believed she would have loved Gideon.
There was one picture he had forgotten all about. He and his parents at Disney World outside Thunder Mountain. He was six and having the time of his life. It was one of the few pieces of evidence showing his dad capable of smiling.
Mac considered calling his parents. He hated how they left things in Pittsburgh. He appreciated Gideon defending him, but he didn’t like seeing them attacked. And his mother asking him “Is that what you think?” threw him for a loop. Some dark corner of his heart refused to let him outright hate his parents, the same corner that wouldn’t let him hate Gideon. Maybe it was a survival instinct to keep certain people in our lives.
He held his phone in his hand, pressing his fingertips onto the screen but not dialing. Someone knocked at his door, rescuing him from his awkward moment.
“It’s open,” he called out.
Rafe stood in the doorway. Mac had an epic “oh shit” moment.
“We were supposed to have a date tonight.”
Mac searched his memory, then searched his phone.
“We texted when you were on the bus to Pittsburgh. I said I’d come over when you got back and bring you chicken noodle soup.” Rafe held up a container of what could only be chicken noodle soup. The secret ingredient was guilt. “I guess you forgot.”
“Why don’t you come in?” Mac cleared off space on one of the dining chairs.
“Is this a date, or is this where you break up with me?”
“Break up? We weren’t exclusive. We weren’t even dating, technically.” That didn’t matter to Rafe, he saw. Rafe was someone who went all in right away. “Please, sit down.”
Rafe came in, shut the door, and had a seat. He waited for an explanation.
“This has been a really weird time. My aunt just passed away, and things with my family are worse than ever.” Mac stopped himself. He wasn’t going to drag Aunt Rita into his mess. “Gideon and I reconnected. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have.” Rafe was one of the good guys. He deserved better. “I’m really sorry.”
Rafe slouched in his chair, like a kid in detention. “So Gideon’s officially gay now?”
“He is. He’s in the process of coming out.”
“And you guys are like together-together?”
“We are.”
Rafe gave an exaggerated nod, which Mac did not trust. Curiosity got the better of him.
“What?” Mac asked.
Rafe didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward and had a dark look clouding his eyes. “You’re just jumping from guy to guy. Once you broke up with Davis, you started messing around with Gideon. You and Gideon got in a fight, you started dating me. And now you’re back with Gideon. I’m guessing this apartment is the first time you’ve been on your own.”
Mac looked at him like he was crazy. The kid must’ve been heartbroken. “I’m twenty. Of course I’ve never lived on my own.”
“Not lived on your own. Been on your own. Been able to stand up for yourself. When Gideon barged in here, I was the one who got him to leave.” Rafe stood up and surveyed his surroundings. “You can’t even keep a one-room apartment clean.” He kicked a box on the floor. “You can’t even unpack and get some basic furniture. It’s like you just expect other people to do things for you and clean up your messes.”
Mac stayed frozen at the table, heat burning between his eyes. “You didn’t seem to mind any of this when we were dating.”
“I thought we weren’t dating. Maybe I dodged a bullet then.” Rafe picked up a dirty T-shirt off the floor. “You were wearing this at the Christmas party.”
Mac ripped it out of his hands. “You don’t know what it’s like, Rafe. You grew up in cushy Arlington where everyone was so happy you were gay. You didn’t have fists slammed into your face. You weren’t practically disowned by your own parents. You don’t have to put on your game face whenever you see your mom and dad, just wondering what they’re going to say that will make you feel like complete shit!”
Mac kicked his nightstand crate over. Memories splayed across the floor. He hoped the Disney World picture shattered. “I’m not perfect, Rafe, but I’m doing the best I can.”
Rafe looked toward the door. He was the scared freshman, far too young and sheltered for the shitstorm that was Mac’s life.
Mac stared him down until he got the hint to leave. He left the chicken noodle soup behind. Mac sunk to the floor. Someone reached inside of him and yanked out all his dirty secrets.
He instinctively began to text Gideon, but he stopped himself. Rafe’s words reverberated in his ears. His apartment had been downgraded from mess to outright disaster. Mac put down the phone. He went to the narrow closet next to the front door and rummaged for the cleaning supplies Delia had forced him to buy. They were still in the shopping bag, in their original packaging. He pulled out the dustpan and brush set. He got on his knees and chased every single dust bunny in his apartment into submission. He shoved his overflowing garbage into a trash bag and tied it up. He lined his trash can with a fresh garbage bag and filled it up with dustpan after dustpan of trash. Next he filled up his sink with hot water and soap and soaked his dishes, then set them out on the drying rack, which Delia also forced him to buy. He made hard choices with his boxes of memories on what to throw out and what to keep. He got on his hands and knees and scrubbed his hardwood floors with a washcloth soaked in warm water.
Three hours had passed. He had laundry in the washer and the soup heating on the stove. He sat at the dining table, making a list of what he needed to buy for the apartment. Mac had this feeling swell within his chest, which he couldn’t describe, but it was like a compass telling him he was going in the right direction. Maybe Gideon was onto something about being a neat freak.
He texted Gideon to come over later for dinner and a movie. He was cooking. Well, he would go to the supermarket and pick up one of those pre-made meals that just had to be heated up. But still, he was in charge of dinner.
CHAPTER twenty-six
Gideon
Gideon took the stairs to Mac’s apartment three at a time, basically jumping up each flight, ready for whatever dinne
r Mac had concocted, and ready to see his man. He enveloped Mac in a deep kiss, complete with tongue.
They sat on Mac’s bed. Gideon couldn’t help but notice how clean the place was. Had Mac done this all himself?
“The place looks great, by the way.”
Mac pulled lasagna out of the oven. The box peeked out from the trash, but Gideon would let him have all the glory.
“Smells great!”
They ate at his dining table. The whole time, Mac seemed distracted, like how he was on the bus. After all the drama that happened with Gideon and him hooking up and then his parents, Gideon had to remind myself that Mac lost his closest family member. He was still fragile.
Gideon rubbed his hand over the table. “I really admire you, Mac. You’ve handled all of this so well.”
Mac gave him a half-smile, mostly for show.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate how I left things with my parents.” Mac hung his head, and Gideon could feel waves of stress coming off him.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But don’t forget what they did. They believed you were hitting on that kid. They pretty much sold you out.”
“Maybe they were just as scared as me,” Mac wondered aloud.
Gideon hated how Mac’s parents had this control over him. Despite everything, Mac was still trying to be the good son.
“If they want to make things right, they should make that first move.”
After dinner, Mac and Gideon sat on his floor and went through more of Aunt Rita’s photo albums. Mac showed Gideon all of his embarrassing school pictures. Gideon didn’t tell him that he found every picture of Mac freaking adorable, bad haircuts and all. Even as a third grader, that ear-to-ear grin held so much kindness.
“Holy shit.” Mac reached into a folder in the back cover of one photo album. He pulled out a handful of old letters.
“Oh? Did Aunt Rita have a secret lover?” Gideon scooted closer. Mac’s smile faded, and he showed Gideon the envelope.
“These are from my dad.” Mac’s eyes widened. He studied the letter in his hand, but couldn’t bring himself to open it.