by Gene Gant
We talked easily, drifting from topic to topic, sizing each other up. Dwight was a bit on the serious side, more so than most of the kids at Pemberton. He was maybe three inches shorter than me, which still put him on the tall side. Even in the jersey, his biceps bulged visibly every time he moved his arms, and I could see the way the denim of his wide-leg jeans draped against his thick quads with each step. He was the most ripped kid I knew. I thought his wispy mustache was a nice touch, but his cute face—and everything else about him—was boyish. He wasn’t a man. He was no Reece.
But I found myself liking him. He wore a tiny gold stud in each earlobe. That made me a little envious. Dad didn’t like the idea of guys wearing earrings, even though men his age were wearing them, and he refused to let me get my ears pierced until I turned eighteen. I brushed up on Dwight as we walked, feeling his hard arm against mine.
“You’re a regular he-man,” I said. “You belong to a gym?”
“No. I work out in my bedroom with this weight set my mom bought me when I was thirteen.” He gave me a head-to-toe glance. “Where do you work out?”
“I don’t, except for pushups and stuff in PE.”
“Seriously? Your body’s got great shape, the big shoulders and all. You just look like that naturally?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Man, you could really have a body on you if you lifted weights.”
“That’s what my dad says, but I’m too lazy.”
“I like working out. It makes me feel pumped up, and at the same time, it relaxes me. You should come over to my house sometime. I can take you through my routine.”
Suddenly, the idea of a workout seemed appealing to me. “Hey, yeah. I might just do that.” I spotted something on his right arm, peeking out below the sleeve of his jersey. I lifted the sleeve, revealing a name tattooed in simple block letters on his upper arm. “Who’s Sharon?” I asked, suddenly feeling miffed. “A girlfriend?”
“No. My mom.”
“Oh.” I traced my fingertip gently over the tattoo. It was so cool that he wore his mother’s name that way.
The air had gotten cooler with nightfall. I was glad to be wearing the denim shirt. We veered off the sidewalk, heading around the pavilion with its bright plastic play sets and into the sprawling park behind the mall. There were fewer lights here. Even in the dark, you could see that the trees were starting to turn, their leaves rustling gold and green in the breeze. We picked up the asphalt trail that wound its way through the park.
“You ever just feel alone?” Dwight asked. “Even when you’re in a crowd?”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel weird sometimes, as if I just don’t fit in anywhere. I feel that way a lot around Curtis and my other friends. They’re all chasing girls, and here I am, on a completely different wavelength.”
“All kids have got hormones working overtime. The only difference is that your boy Curtis’s hormones are telling him to go for girls and yours are telling you to go for guys. That doesn’t make you weird.”
“You never feel strange being gay?”
“I’ve been turned on by guys since I was eleven. It’s always felt natural to me. What’s to feel strange about?”
Dwight stopped walking and looked at me, his eyes full of disbelief. “You never, ever felt ashamed about being gay?”
“I feel bad when somebody freaks over it. Like that guy who spit on me, or like my dad. I think my mom has accepted me, but it worries my dad. It’s like he’s afraid of what could happen to me, being the way I am. And I think he’s ashamed for his guy friends to know I’m gay. That kind of stuff makes me feel bad. But being ashamed of myself? I never have.”
“Man. It must be great being you.”
We started ambling along again. “I know what you mean, though, about feeling alone,” I said. “I’ve felt that way a lot since my parents separated. Except for Ty, I don’t know a single kid whose parents are divorced. I hate this. I’d give anything not to ever see again the look on my mom’s and dad’s faces when they’re hating each other. Sometimes it seems like there’s nobody else in the world who could understand what that’s like.”
“Yeah. Sometimes it seems that there’s nobody else out there who can understand what it’s like to want a guy you can never have.”
When he said that, a sharp, bitter burst of laughter ripped up my throat so hard it choked me.
Dwight slapped me firmly on the back. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice full of alarm.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I replied, clearing my throat. “Something must have gone down the wrong way. I’m all right.” I cleared my throat again and gave him a big smile. “But, man, believe me, we’ve got a thing or two in common.”
For a few moments, we just walked along in silence. I reached out, and my hand found his. He gave a slight jerk, and I saw his head turn anxiously as he looked to see if anyone else was around. I held his hand tightly, and we walked on.
“JEEZ.”
His ship hurtled past mine, lasers blasting with deadly accuracy. Enemy ships blossomed one after the other into miniature, momentary suns and disintegrated. I tried to slip past him to take shots of my own, but his ship swerved back and forth, blocking me even as he pressed his attack against the invaders threatening us both.
“Jeez!” I hissed louder.
Back again at Dad’s town house, Dwight and I were sitting in the Corvette, cell phones in hand, playing Alien Death War over the Internet against two guys he knew from school. Ten seconds after Dwight’s last block, he decimated the remaining opponents and it was over.
“Dang, man,” I said, “you’re almost as good as me.”
“Yeah. Almost. That’s why I won.” The little smile lit up Dwight’s entire face. “I gotta go.” He declined the other guys’ request for another match and turned off his phone.
“It’s not that late, dude.” I glanced at the clock on my phone’s screen. “Nine thirty-seven. Come on.”
“My dad wants me home by ten.”
Well. That seemed ridiculously strict to me. Even I didn’t have that early of a curfew on Friday nights. But I didn’t want him getting in trouble with his pops. “All right, man.” I turned off my phone, tucked it into my pocket, and climbed out of the car.
Dwight got out, and we walked slowly across the parking lot to Dad’s town house. We stood on the porch, facing each other.
“I had a good time hanging out with you,” I said. “Thanks, man.”
“Yeah. I had fun too.” He stared at my mouth, looking sort of shy. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I like your face, man. You have a very nice face.” It seemed to surprise him to say that aloud. After a moment of hesitation, he rocked forward a little on his feet and stopped.
I knew what he wanted to do, but couldn’t. So I did it. I bent my head down and kissed him.
Adrenaline shot through my body in a tingle of electric warmth that made me shiver. His lips were cool and amazingly soft. I pulled back to look at his face, to see if he was okay with this. He came after me, pressing those fantastic lips to mine again. There was a low moan in his throat, and he closed his eyes slowly, his hands grabbing my waist. I closed my eyes, slipping my right hand around the back of his head.
“Oops.”
Startled, we both turned. Stephanie and Dad had apparently come around the corner of the building and there they stood, arm in arm, barely ten feet from the porch. Stephanie was smiling, her face contrite, a hand to her mouth. Dad’s face was twisted into a strange expression I couldn’t read. No, scratch that. I could read his expression just fine. He looked as if he was trying to hold down his dinner.
“We’re sorry,” Stephanie said quickly. “Just let us through and we’ll be out of your way.”
Dwight looked scared. He shot me a worried glance and turned back to the adults. “I have to go—”
Stephanie waved off the idea of him leaving. “No, it’s okay. We didn’t mean to intrude. Pardon us.” Taking Dad�
��s hand, she pulled him onto the porch as Dwight and I stepped aside. Dad didn’t look at either of us. He unlocked and opened the door, holding it for Stephanie. Planting her hand in his back, Stephanie pushed Dad inside and then turned back to us. “See you later, Kyle. Good night, Dwight.”
Dwight gave her a little wave. “Good night.”
Stephanie disappeared inside and closed the door.
Dwight turned to me. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” he whispered urgently.
“It’s cool, man. No sweat.” I wouldn’t have thought I was in any trouble, but from that look on Dad’s face, I probably was. Most likely, he was upset that I was kissing another boy right at the front door where any of the neighbors could see. I didn’t want to fight with Dad over something that would have been no big deal if Dwight had been a girl. There had been enough fighting in the family already. “I’d better get in there,” I said, pointing at the door.
“Okay.” Dwight grabbed my fingers and gave them a quick squeeze. “Call me tomorrow?”
“You bet. See ya.”
I stood on the porch, watching him until he made it back to his car and climbed in. He waved at me as he drove out of the parking lot.
I WAITED on the porch for about ten minutes before working up the nerve to go in. There was the sound of running water in the kitchen. I went there and saw Stephanie washing wine glasses at the sink.
“Hey, where’s Dad?”
“In the bathroom, scrubbing a gravy stain out of his shirt. We just came from dinner at his friend Burl’s house.”
“Is he mad?”
She frowned at me. “Why would he be mad? You were kissing your date good night. That hasn’t been outlawed in this state. Not yet, anyway.”
I didn’t know what to think. My knees started feeling rubbery. Clasping my hands on the top of my head, I went across the kitchen and leaned back against the refrigerator for support.
“Kyle, you know how much your dad loves you. You can talk to him about anything.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“Come on.” Her face lit with an encouraging smile as she placed the glasses in the dish rack. “Your dad’s not a Bible-swinging homophobe. How’d the date go?”
“It was fine. I had fun.”
“Good. Tell your dad that. He’ll want to know all about your first date.”
Women really were from Venus. Or maybe an alternate reality. I slid down the front of the refrigerator, plopping on the floor like a brick.
Stephanie came over to me. She bent down and kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay, Kyle. Relax.”
Dad came into the kitchen, wearing a different shirt. “You ready, babe?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie replied. She gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze and went to join Dad.
“Kyle, I’m taking Stephanie home to change, then we’re gonna hit a party. I’ll be back late.”
Translation: I’m spending the night with my girlfriend. “Okay, Dad.”
“Do your homework. And make sure you clean up that room of yours. That food you left in there has been stinking for days.”
“Good night, Kyle,” Stephanie said as Dad took her hand and led her out of the kitchen.
“Good night, Steph.”
In all that he’d said to me, Dad did not meet my eyes one time. For once, I was actually glad that he was staying over at Stephanie’s. If ever I needed a night alone, this was it.
I got up and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, grabbed a banana and a can of soda, and went to my room. After placing my dinner on the dresser, I stripped down to my underwear, tossing my clothes into the pile on my closet floor. When I turned, I spotted the book about swimming on my bed.
The image of Reece’s big, smiling, handsome face drifted instantly into my thoughts. And that image very quickly gave way to the one of his oh-so-fine naked body in the YMCA’s locker room.
The familiar desire began prickling at me. At once, the rational part of my brain screeched in protest. Jeez, stop it, Kyle!
I knew I couldn’t go on thinking about the man that way. But the images kept coming, like a rushing tide under the influence of the moon. Suddenly I pictured Reece and me at the pool again, only this time, we were alone. We were swimming slowly alongside each other, our mostly naked bodies flowing sensuously through the water. Abruptly, I veered into him, catching him by surprise, my arm going around his back. He laughed and sputtered, and he tried to wrestle me into submission. Our bodies rubbed together in the warm water. Slowly, we stopped wrestling, looking into each other’s eyes, captivated. Then our hands began to wander over each other’s chests, down our bellies, down….
I slapped a hand to my forehead, trying to smash the vision from my brain. Grabbing the stupid book, I shoved it deep between the mattresses.
Maybe I should just burn the damned thing.
Nine
SATURDAY morning, I slept until ten. When I woke up, the first thing I did was clean up my room. That consisted of making my bed, then collecting all of the scattered dirty clothes and stuffing them into one of the back corners of my closet, followed by me gathering up dirty dishes. In my boxers, I drifted on bare feet down the hall to the kitchen, where I placed the dishes in the sink. I filled the sink with hot, soapy water to soak off the dried food. It was all just the sort of mindless activity I needed then.
Dad had stocked up on Frosted Flakes. I grabbed a box and a bottle of Gatorade and parked myself on the living room floor in front of the television. I turned on some X-Men cartoon and ate cereal by the handful, chewing slowly. I was trying not to think.
In my dreams last night, soft lips had whispered against my mouth. I woke up wondering where Reece was and what he was doing.
I didn’t want to think about Reece.
Dad didn’t come home last night. The door to his room was open when I passed by earlier, and his bed had not been slept in. In the past, when I was at his place and he spent the night with Stephanie, he would always get home before dawn so he and I could have plenty of time together.
I didn’t want to think about why Dad had stayed away so long.
Chain had avoided me at school yesterday. I couldn’t figure why he’d gotten so pissed just because I took Jill on a walk around the block. And Jill was getting more erratic every day. Maybe she wasn’t just anorexic. Maybe she was doing drugs.
I didn’t want to think about Chain or Jill.
So I ate my cereal, drank my Gatorade, and stared at Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, and Phoenix battling it out with giant robot Sentinels, hoping the cartoon violence would blank my brain.
The sound of a key rattling in the lock sent a jolt of anxiety racing through my chest. I sat upright on the floor, where I had been slouching. The door opened and Dad stepped in.
“Hey, man,” he said as he shut the door behind him. He pointed at the cereal and Gatorade. “Breakfast of champions, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He breezed past me. “What do you want to do today?” he asked as he vanished down the hall. “Want to work on your driving?”
“That’d be cool,” I called after him.
“Well, get yourself cleaned up and let’s get going.”
He shut himself in his room, and about a minute later, I heard his shower come on. I switched off the television, put the cereal box and Gatorade back in the kitchen, loaded all of my dirty dishes into the dishwasher, got clean underwear and white sweats from my dresser, and dragged myself into the hall bathroom.
By the time I was all clean and dressed, Dad was in the living room, wearing blue jeans with black dress shoes and a short-sleeved red sweater. It was a combo you couldn’t have paid me to wear, but it worked for him in some crazy way, the kind of stuff you’d expect middle-aged men to wear. He was reading the newspaper. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps, and then he stood, putting the newspaper aside.
“Come on, Grandpa,” he snapped at me, his voice loud and peppy. “Put down the cane and get some str
ut in those steps.” He clapped his hands, urging me to pick up the pace.
I felt weighed down but couldn’t have explained why. When I reached the living room, Dad opened the door and held it for me.
“Got your learner’s permit on you?” he asked.
I patted the back pocket of my sweatpants, where I had tucked the permit. “Yes, sir.”
It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny. A couple of neighbors were out washing their cars. Kids were riding bikes through the parking lot, whooping at each other. Dad popped the locks on his car by remote, and I got behind the wheel with none of my usual enthusiasm for driving. Dad climbed into the seat next to me and handed me the keys. After I started the engine, he set the radio to a hip-hop channel. His present for me today, I suppose.
“Let’s head over to that church on Winchester,” said Dad. “You need to work on your parallel parking.”
Once we were underway, neither of us seemed to have much to talk about.
“Want to let the top down?” Dad asked, a little too cheerfully, after a few minutes. “Let some of that pretty day in here?”
I shook my head. “I’m cool with the top up.”
Another minute or two of silence followed, and then Dad said, “Hey, man, when we get home, what say we check out some colleges online.”
Oh, God. Mom had been twisting his arm again. “Nah. I’ll pass.”
“Well. It’s about time for you to start.”
“Dad, I don’t even graduate from high school for two years.”
“That’s not as long a time as you think, Kyle. There’s a lot you have to consider, and the sooner you start, the better.”
“Dad… what if I don’t want to go to college?”
Bewilderment opened in Dad’s face. “I thought you said—”
“Yeah, I know I told you I was going to college. But what if I change my mind about going?”