by Marie Sexton
He looked amused. “I know better than to get in the middle of a family argument.”
“Brian,” I entreated, “save me from your wife!”
Brian laughed but took pity on me and changed the subject. “So Matt, are you a football fan?”
“Of course.”
“You’re from Oklahoma? Are you a Cowboys fan?”
He actually grinned a little, and I could tell he was getting ready to let some big cat out of the bag. “I’m a Chiefs fan.”
“Oh no!” The whole table erupted. Lizzy started throwing rolls at him. We are a hardcore Broncos family, and declaring allegiance for our division rival, the Chiefs, was tantamount to heresy in our household.
Brian yelled gleefully, “Jared, you know better than to bring a Chiefs fan into my house! I should throw both of you out on your asses!”
“And you seemed like such a nice boy too,” Mom said mournfully but with a twinkle in her eye.
I was laughing. “Hey, I didn’t know! I assumed anybody smart enough to live in Colorado would know who the better team was!”
“All right,” Matt said. “Everybody calm down. You Broncos fans are so high strung!” That got him another round of razzing, and Lizzy threw another roll at him. He saw it coming, caught it, and turned to throw it at me. “You know, it could be worse. At least I’m not a Raiders fan!” And of course we all had to agree on that.
Right after dinner, Mom went home. I sent Matt out onto the patio while I went to fetch beer from the kitchen. When I walked in, Lizzy was beaming at me.
I tried to ignore that look and asked, “You coming outside with us?”
“Sure,” Brian started to say, “as soon as—”
“No!” Lizzy cut him off, slapping his arm playfully. “No. We’re going to give you boys some time alone.”
“Ah.” Brian looked a little troubled by that. I had a sudden Steve Atwater flashback.
Obviously, knowing I was gay was one thing, but this was the first time he had ever really had to think about me with a potential suitor. I hadn’t ever had a boyfriend serious enough to introduce to my family.
“Lizzy, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m pretty sure that’s not what he has in mind.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You two couldn’t take your eyes off each other all through dinner. I’ll just go upstairs, and Brian will clean up.”
“What am I supposed to tell him?”
“Are you kidding? Tell him the pregnant lady got tired and had to lie down. It’s not even a lie. I’m exhausted. But”—and she pointed a finger right at me—“I expect a full report in the morning.”
Two beers later, I was feeling completely relaxed. We were sprawled in patio chairs, enjoying the unseasonably warm evening.
“So, are you married?” I asked him.
“Nope.”
“Divorced?”
“Nope.”
“Ever come close?”
“No.”
Well, that seemed odd. At our age, I would at least have expected a near miss. Unless….
“Why not?”
He was starting to look uncomfortable now, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle. “Guess I just haven’t found a girl I felt that way about.”
“What about a guy?” it was out of my mouth before my good sense could stop it. And, of course, I really did want to know.
“What? No!” He looked alarmed and a little big angry. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
That tiny flicker of hope that Lizzy had lit within me died. “It was just a question. It’s no big deal. Sorry I brought it up.”
“I’m not gay!”
“Okay.”
“Why?” It sounded like a challenge. “Are you?”
“Yes.” He would have found out soon enough anyway.
He was taken aback. He frowned at me, looked me up and down. “You are? I mean, I was kidding. I didn’t really think that you would say yes.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “Well, I am.” I looked him square in the eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“Well….” To his credit, he actually stopped and thought about it. He was fidgeting with the label on his bottle again. “I don’t know. I never….” The label came off, and he seemed confused about what to do with it now that it was free.
“You know, it’s not contagious.” I was teasing now and hoping he would realize it. But I was also pretty sure he wouldn’t be asking me out for dinner or beers anymore.
“I know. Of course I know.” He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed a little. He shook his head. “I’m being an ass. It’s none of my business who you sleep with.” A pause, and then, “Just, I want you to know”—his eyes were on mine again—“I’m not.”
I smiled. “Hey, I’m not gonna kiss you or anything.” Although the thought of doing exactly that was enough to make my pulse speed up a little. But it was apparently what he needed to hear, because he relaxed the rest of the way with a sigh. “Anyway, no self-respecting Coloradoan would date a Chiefs fan.” That made him laugh, and after that, we were back on safe ground. The conversation seemed to be forgotten.
LIZZY called me first thing in the morning. “Well? What happened?”
“He’s straight.”
“Oh.” She sounded as disappointed as I was. “Are you sure?”
“He was pretty adamant about it.”
“Oh, Jared,” she said sincerely. “I’m so sorry!”
“Lizzy, it’s okay. Really. I barely know the guy. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.”
“I know, but you were so happy last night. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Lizzy. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t hoping. But he’s straight, and I guess that’s the end of it. I think I’ll live.”
CHAPTER 4
“GET a haircut already, you friggin’ bum!” Lizzy was harassing me about my hair again. It was one of her favorite topics. “Really, Jarhead, whatever that look is, it’s out.”
I’m not a Marine. Lizzy finds it amusing to call me “Jarhead” instead of Jared any time she thinks I’m being particularly obtuse. Which is often.
The length of my hair is one of her favorite things to razz me about. The truth is that haircuts present something of a problem for me. There are only two places in Coda to get a haircut. There’s Gerri’s Barber Shop, where most of the men in town go. But Gerri is old school, one of the few people in town who treat me like I’m a pariah, so I can’t go there. Then there’s Sally’s, the beauty salon that most of the women go to. I had been there a couple of times, but it was miserable. The girls seemed to think that me being gay meant that I wanted to gossip with them about who was sleeping with whom or debate the merits of Brad Pitt over Johnny Depp (neither is exactly my type). Once, I let Lizzy cut it, but that was a disaster that neither of us wanted to repeat.
My dark blonde hair is thick and coarse and naturally curly. If it’s too short, I end up with curls sticking out every which way. But, if I let it grow, the curls at least hang down. I could have shaved it, but that seemed like too much maintenance. So what I end up with is a wild mass of curls. Even I have to admit that it bears more than a passing resemblance to an old-fashioned mop. I try to tie it back when we’re at the shop; if I pull the curls straight, it’s just barely long enough to reach the rubber band. But by the end of the day, half of it will have escaped.
“Lizzy, I like being shaggy. This way you and I match, see?”
Her hair is about the same color as mine but longer, and her curls are more like soft waves. She flipped it over her shoulder and gave me the finger and then turned to Ringo.
“Ringo, tell Jared he needs a haircut!”
Ringo looked up in alarm from his schoolwork on the counter. Lizzy let him work on homework as long as we didn’t have customers. “What? Are you talking to me?”
She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Honestly! Nobody listens to me. What’s got you so perplexed over there?”
“Advance
d algebra.” He threw his pencil down on his book and pushed his hair back off of his face with both hands. “How can anybody do this stuff?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Lizzy assured him.
“How? I don’t understand any of it. My teacher just follows the book. My parents can’t help me. Nobody can explain it to me in a way that makes sense.” He picked his pencil back up and put his head in his hand as he bent back to his task. “I hate it!”
“Jared can help you.”
“What?” Ringo and I exclaimed in unison. I was horrified that she would suggest it, and he obviously was, too, judging by the look on his face.
“Jared’s really good at math. He’s supposed to be a physics teacher, aren’t you?” She gave me a piercing gaze, which I turned away from. “Maybe he can tutor you.”
“Maybe.” Ringo looked pretty skeptical. I didn’t say anything.
Lizzy left shortly afterward since she had opened the shop that day. We didn’t have many customers that afternoon, and Ringo spent most of his time trying to puzzle out his math problems. There was a lot of erasing going on, and I could tell he was getting frustrated. Every once in a while, he would glance up at me, and I knew he was debating whether or not to ask for help. I ignored him.
Finally, as I was closing out the register, he said hesitantly, “Jared, you really know how to do this stuff?”
“I really do.”
“What did she mean, you’re ‘supposed to be’ a teacher?”
“That’s what I planned to do when I went to college.”
“So why didn’t you?”
I could have given him the same answer I had given Matt, but for some reason, I told him the truth. “The same reason you don’t want me to tutor you. Some people think that just because I’m gay, I’m going to molest every young boy that crosses my path.”
He was quiet for a minute, and I could tell I had embarrassed him. I felt a little bad about it, but I couldn’t exactly take it back.
“That’s what my dad says.” His cheeks were bright red, and he wouldn’t look at me. “He says I shouldn’t be alone in the shop with you. I tell him Lizzy’s always here. He doesn’t know that she leaves sometimes.”
My hands were shaking a little, and I was trying to control the urge to slam things around. “I’ll be sure to keep my distance then.”
“The thing is, you’ve never tried anything with me. I’ve never seen you hit on anybody.”
“Kid, I’m gay. I’m not a pervert, and I’m not a pedophile.”
“I’m not a kid,” he said indignantly.
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Of course, being seventeen, he didn’t feel like a kid, even if he seemed like one to me. “I know. I’m just saying, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean that I can’t control myself. Or that I don’t have standards. Do you hit on every single girl you see? Even the ones that are only fourteen? Or the ones that are dating other people?” Well, he had just turned seventeen; so maybe that was a bad example. “What about Lizzy? She likes men, too, but you don’t worry about her making a move on you.” I actually saw the wheels turning then as he thought about that. But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Either he would figure it out or he wouldn’t, but I didn’t feel like staying on the soapbox. “Forget it, Ringo. I’m locking the doors. Turn the lights off when you leave.”
“Jared, wait!”
I turned around. He was chewing on his lip, tapping his pencil nervously against his book, but at least he was looking at me. “I’m never going to pass this class without help. I can’t pay you, but I’ll work off the clock if you’ll tutor me.”
“What about your dad?”
He shrugged a little. “He wants me to pass. I’ll work it out.”
His sudden change in attitude surprised me. Maybe I really had gotten through to him a little bit. Or maybe he was really that desperate to pass. Either way, I was also surprised to find that the idea of tutoring him wasn’t as dreadful as I had thought at first. I was actually looking forward to having something different to do. It might even be fun.
Fun?
That was a pretty sad indication as to the state of my social life. Still, sitting at a counter in a hardware/auto parts store wasn’t exactly stimulating. At least this would exercise some of my neglected gray matter. I could almost feel those unused parts of my brain waking up, stretching, and looking around to see what was going on.
Ringo was still looking at me, waiting for my answer. Why not?
“Okay, kid. Let’s see where you’re at.”
CHAPTER 5
RINGO turned out to be a good student. He had the bad habit of wanting to plug numbers into equations right away instead of working with the variables, but once I broke him of that, he started to make progress. He was also hindered a little by his pride. He often told me that he understood things before he really did, but he never gave up. I had been working with him for a couple of weeks when Matt showed up at the shop.
“Hi Jared!” he said as he came in. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.” I hadn’t seen him since that night at Lizzy’s when he found out I was gay. I hadn’t expected to hear from him again.
Lizzy immediately feigned great interest in a shelf of oil filters. I knew she was listening to every word but trying to look like she wasn’t.
“I still owe you dinner and a beer. How about it?” He glanced around at Lizzy. “You’re welcome to join us, of course.”
“What? Me?” She managed to look flustered and embarrassed about being caught listening. “No. Brian’s waiting for me, and I can’t drink until after the baby’s born. You two will have more fun without me.”
We walked down the street to Mamacita’s, our one and only Mexican restaurant.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked him before we went inside.
“Okay with what?”
“This is a small town. People will see you with me, and they’ll make assumptions.”
He frowned a little at that, and I realized it hadn’t occurred to him. But then he shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Once we were seated, our waitress, Cherie, came over. “Jared, who’s your friend?” she asked. Cherie and I went to school together from kindergarten all the way through high school graduation. Back then, she was gorgeous—blonde hair, brown eyes, curves in all the right places. She still is, I guess, but life has taken its toll. Some of the shine is gone, but she hasn’t totally lost it. She’s been married and divorced twice, both times to Dan, one of our local lowlifes. The rumors are that Dan liked to beat her up when he had been drinking, which was most of the time. She had even ended up in the hospital once. She at least had been smart enough to divorce him. Twice. And they didn’t have any kids, which I thought was a blessing.
“Cherie, this is Matt. He’s Coda’s newest police officer.” I was thinking about how Matt would undoubtedly be familiar with her ex-husband before too long. He was always getting in trouble for something. “Matt, this is Cherie. She’s…” Trouble? Desperate? Lonely? “An old friend,” I finished lamely.
“So glad to meet you!” She was practically batting her eyelashes at him. Somehow, I knew we were going to get great service while we were there.
He was definitely checking her out as she walked away. “So,” he said, once she was gone, “did you and she date?”
I laughed. “No.”
“Did you ever date any girls at all?”
Oh no. Not this conversation. Why did it always come down to this?
“No. I never seriously dated any girls.”
“So, you’ve never…?” He let the question trail off, but it was obvious what he meant.
“No. Never with a girl.”
“Well, how do you know—?”
I couldn’t stop from rolling my eyes. “I just know. The fact that I’ve never even wanted to is a pretty big clue.”
Cherie showed up with our drinks, beami
ng at him. He didn’t seem to notice. When she was gone again, he said, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No worries. People often think that if we just try it, maybe we’ll like it. But for me at least, it’s not like that.”
“For some, though?”
“I don’t know. Obviously there are guys who like men but who still manage to get married and have kids. It must be different for them. I can’t really say. I only know that I’ve never wanted to try. Women just don’t appeal to me.”
“Interesting.” He was blushing a little. “What about, you know, the religious implications?”
“Are you asking me if I think it’s a sin?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“I don’t believe in God, so no. Once you take him out of the equation, it becomes a simple matter of consenting adults.”
I could tell right away that made him uncomfortable.
“So you don’t believe in God at all?” He didn’t sound offended by the idea, just surprised.
“Not really. I just wasn’t raised that way. My dad was an atheist. My mom, well, I guess you could call her a spiritual agnostic with Buddhist inclinations, if you know what I mean.” The look on his face told me that he didn’t. “I guess I figure there may be something out there that’s godlike. Something we can’t even begin to comprehend. But I can’t imagine that he, or it, cares much who’s in my bed.” He didn’t seem to disagree so much as to just be completely baffled. “I take it you’re Christian?”
“I guess so. I don’t know. I’m not a Bible thumper or anything, but I guess I’ve always believed that it must be true. My family’s Baptist. Didn’t go to church that often but always said grace before dinner. That kind of thing. I just never really thought about it much. How can so many people believe it if it’s wrong?”
“The number of people who believe a thing has no bearing upon its truth.”