Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  He hoped this was enough to make Scott shut up. The bed dipped, and Scott slid in next to him, rolling onto his side so he was facing Evan’s back.

  “You remember when we used to do this when we were kids?” Scott whispered.

  “I was just thinking about that.”

  Evan begged, prayed to whatever God was listening that Scott wasn’t going to bring up the wet dream hump incident.

  “Heh.”

  “I don’t generally have sleepovers with my friends anymore,” Evan said, aiming for teasing, though it ended up coming out bitter.

  “Just your boyfriend, I suppose.”

  “Yeah.”

  He waited, letting the silence and the night settle between them.

  “I told him you kissed me,” Evan said, when enough time had passed he was sure Scott was sleeping.

  “What did he say?”

  Scott was clearly very much awake.

  “He was mad. I don’t blame him. I’m mad at me too.”

  “Don’t be. Let him be mad at me. I don’t care.”

  Evan sighed heavily and shuffled onto his back. “It’s complicated.”

  “It sounds it. How many men have you been with?”

  Evan’s face flushed, and he was glad it was dark so Scott couldn’t see. He wasn’t embarrassed about his sexual history. That didn’t mean he wanted to discuss it, though.

  “Five.”

  “How many women?”

  He laughed. “None.”

  “Then how can you be sure?”

  “How many men have you been with?” he retorted.

  “None. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Then you’re sure you’re greedy?”

  “I’m not sure what I am.”

  Just because he might be bisexual doesn’t mean he wants you.

  He did kiss you, though.

  And he doesn’t like your boyfriend.

  Evan shut the voices in his head up by rolling onto his side, away from Scott and the conversation he didn’t want to have.

  “Are you mad at me?” Scott whispered into the darkness.

  “No. I’m just tired.”

  “Oh. Okay. Good night, Evan.”

  Evan only hummed in response.

  THE NEXT morning was more awkward than almost all of the morning-after hookups he’d had. Scott was still asleep when Evan woke up and gathered his clothes. He dressed in the bathroom before going downstairs and hoping he could call his mom for a ride home before she started work.

  His plan was thwarted by the Sparrow house’s open-plan ground floor, meaning the moment he stepped into the hallway, Lacey called out to him from the kitchen.

  “How are you awake?” he grouched as he took his shoes from where they’d been left by the closet and walked through to the kitchen. Lacey sat with a mug of coffee and a magazine, slowly flicking through it.

  She shrugged. “It’s nearly eight, Evan. And I’m the only one who wasn’t getting drunk last night. I reckon the others will sleep awhile longer yet.”

  Evan looked at her and squinted. Lacey was a few weeks away from her sixteenth birthday now, though in the time he’d been away she’d aged about ten years, or so it seemed. All her baby fat was gone, and she had developed the perfectly disinterested demeanor of a teenage girl. And she was drinking coffee. When did Lacey start drinking coffee?

  “There’s more in the pot,” she said, flicking another page in her magazine over without looking up. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  By the time he’d poured his liquid wake-up serum and tied his shoes, there were footsteps on the stairs, and Evan internally cursed himself for not just getting the hell out of there.

  “Morning,” Scott croaked as he stumbled into the kitchen.

  He stole Lacey’s coffee and swigged from it, more to annoy her than because he wanted it. Evan was sure of that.

  “Asshole,” she snapped.

  “Uh-huh. You leaving?” he asked Evan.

  “Yeah.”

  “Gimme five minutes. I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Fuck off. Stay there.”

  The local radio station was still blasting out Christmas songs, a mix of carols and pop tunes, and Evan grinned as Scott belted along a harmonious accompaniment to Mariah Carey. The world seemed more alive than it had the day before. Kids were out playing in their yards, and the sky wasn’t quite so dark with snow.

  Evan’s neighborhood was hosting some kind of touch football game, probably organized by the kids from the high school. They were playing in the street, though it hadn’t been shut off, and they all moved to the side to let Scott’s car through.

  “Your mom’s at work, right?” Scott asked as they walked up to the house, barely listening to the kids as they started their game again farther down the street now.

  “She must have left already, yeah. Her car’s gone.”

  Scott stopped Evan as he went to unlock the front door, a familiar hand gripping his arm.

  “Empty house, huh?” he said, flirty smile, twinkling eyes.

  “Don’t, Scott.”

  “Why are you so scared of me?” Scott demanded. He stepped back, just half a pace, the distance enough for him to look at Evan and scowl.

  “What?”

  “You’re all out and proud, but you keep turning your back on me. I thought I was your best friend, Evan.”

  Evan shook his head. “I have a boyfriend. You don’t have to stop being my friend, Scott, but there’s someone else in my life now.”

  “Bullshit!” Scott exclaimed. “We’ve been close since we were kids, and now we have the possibility to do this, to find out what’s maybe been there all along.”

  “I’m not going to be the guy you experiment with,” Evan snapped. “If you want that, go to a gay bar. Fuck, you can go online and find someone. I’m not prepared to ruin my relationship and our friendship just because you’re confused.”

  “I’m not confused.”

  “Oh yeah?” Evan demanded. “Really? So you’ll go home to your mom and tell her you’re questioning your sexuality?”

  Scott blanched at that, almost physically recoiling at Evan’s challenge.

  “See, that’s the thing,” Evan said, poking his finger at Scott’s chest. “You want to play. To kiss a bit, maybe touch each other, but do you want to be out and proud? No. You don’t want people to know that you want those things. And I’m not prepared to be someone’s dirty little secret.”

  “I’m not asking you to be that.”

  “No? Sure fucking sounds that way to me.”

  “This is easy for you!” Scott yelled.

  It was cold out here, on Evan’s mom’s porch, and neighbors were far enough away to hopefully not overhear this conversation. Evan shivered and felt a new wave of annoyance trickle down his spine.

  “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

  “You came out, and no one cared, Evan. No one. You’re artistic and sensitive and sweet, and people just accepted that you’re gay. No one cares. I can’t have that.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you trying to say that because I’m an artist coming out was easy for me? Fuck you, Scott. Fuck you.”

  “I’m not saying it was easy. I’m saying people weren’t surprised. You never had a reputation for fucking around. You weren’t a player. You were a nice guy who was friends with girls and didn’t date them. I fucked around. I still fucking do. If I came out….” He broke off and shook his head.

  “What? So you’re bisexual. That’s a thing, you know.”

  “No, it’s not. Bisexuals are confused or in denial.”

  “Bullshit. The world isn’t black and white, Scott. There’s a whole world of gray out there. Stop being such a closed-minded asshole.”

  “If I came out and said I was bi, I’d be a laughingstock.”

  “And if you care about something like that, you’re an idiot. So don’t come out, then. Just admit it to yo
urself and you’ll be a hell of a lot happier. I guarantee it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Scott muttered, turning away and pushing his hand through his dark hair. Evan watched the motion and hated himself for still wanting his friend. Still wishing there was more.

  “No, listen to me,” Evan demanded. He was suddenly angry. “I didn’t have an easy time coming to terms with my sexuality like you seem to think. The past couple of years haven’t been a cake walk for me. I spent that last year of high school terrified that someone would figure it out and tell everyone. I thought it was fucking obvious that I was… that I had a fucking huge crush on you. People called us ‘gay’ all the time.”

  “That’s stupid kids throwing around stupid insults,” Scott said. He sounded tired.

  “Yeah, but when you are gay and you haven’t told anyone, stupid insults fucking hurt.”

  “You’ve never gone off on me like this before.”

  “Because you’ve never fucking needed me to before!” Evan yelled. He never yelled. “You’ve had this privileged life, Scott, where everything has been so fucking easy for you. You got two parents and a brother and a sister and grandparents, and pretty much whatever you wanted you got. Fucking scholarship into college because you had a fucking tutor to make sure you got the best grades in high school. Well, this ain’t something that you can just get given on a plate. You want it, it’s gonna be fucking difficult. It’s gonna hurt. People are gonna be disappointed in you. That’s what it is!”

  Evan took a deep breath, pacing from one side of the porch back to the other. Scott stood, a pained expression on his face, silently watching Evan stalk back and forth like a caged animal.

  “Look, you know I’m not going to judge you either way. I stayed in the closet for a long time, until I was ready to come out on my terms, under the right circumstances for me. I’m not going to force you out. That fucking sucks. But I can’t be the one to ‘help you figure it out.’ I’m a fag, Scott. I’m a big cock-sucking queer. And I’m not interested in being with anyone who can’t say the same.”

  “I thought you were my friend,” Scott said, his voice small, hurting.

  “I am,” Evan said, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t give you what you’re asking of me.”

  “Even though we feel the same way about each other?”

  “Maybe because of that.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to just let me walk away.”

  Evan let out a startled laugh.

  “What?”

  “You’re so arrogant,” Evan said, though he didn’t mean it as an insult. Not really. “You were the biggest thing in my life for a really fucking long time, Scott. But things move on. We’ve only just started our second year of college, and we’re already different people. We grew up.”

  “Grew apart.”

  “Yeah.”

  Scott shook his head. “Are we breaking up?” he asked, looking at his feet, letting his words fall in a breathless laugh.

  “I want you to have,” Evan started, before swallowing around a painful lump in his throat, “amazing things. I hope you figure this out.”

  “Me too.”

  “Don’t,” Evan said and screwed his eyes shut. “I can’t….”

  “I get it. I won’t.”

  I won’t be in contact. I won’t make this worse.

  “Take care, Evan.”

  They turned away from each other at the same time. Evan managed to get just inside the front door before he slid to the floor, the tears coming easy now. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just made the worst mistake of his whole life.

  Happy fucking Christmas.

  The Fifth Time

  January 2015

  IT WAS a grim, dark winter day, with the clouds hanging so low they blocked out almost all natural light and a grayish drizzle falling from the sky.

  Evan worked steadily, lost in the zone of graphic novel backgrounds. It was familiar work and engaging, meaning he often lost hours at a time to the repetitive task. His iPhone was hooked to the small stereo system he’d set up in the studio, and he listened to a Harry Potter audiobook while his wrist grew sore from inking.

  The first time his phone rang, Evan ignored it and took the interruption as an opportunity to use the bathroom and refresh his mug of coffee. His little house was toasty warm, thanks to the good heating he’d spent a fortune getting installed. He was grateful for it now.

  The phone rang again just after he got settled, and Evan got up from his desk in a fit of frustration, barely looking at the name on the readout before answering.

  “Tom.”

  “Hi, Evan,” he said.

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s… shit, Evan. It’s Scott.”

  And the world fell out from underneath him.

  “Tell me. Is he okay?”

  “He’s in the hospital. Here in Chicago. I just got here with Mom. Lacey’s on her way now with Dad and Anthony. They had to get a later flight.”

  “Shit, Tom, is he okay?” Evan demanded.

  “He’s contracted meningitis,” Tom said. “But it’s given him septicemia too, and he’s in a pretty bad way. He asked for you.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “Evan….”

  “Don’t,” Evan said, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “Just… don’t. I’ll pack my bag, and I’ll let you know when I’m at the airport. I’ll get the first flight out there.”

  “The weather here is pretty shitty, so you might not be able to get one until tomorrow. I’ll phone a couple of airlines, see when something is available.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “We only got here a few hours ago,” Tom said, and Evan heard the exhaustion in his voice for the first time. “We didn’t want to bring everyone out until we knew what the situation was.”

  “Is he… is he going to… shit, Tom.”

  “They don’t know,” Tom said, answering the question Evan was too terrified to ask. “He’s in critical condition right now.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell him that for me?”

  “Sure,” Tom said and ended the call.

  Evan took two slow, deep breaths, calming the terror in his belly, then bolted to the bathroom.

  HE ENDED up stuck in Norfolk Airport for almost six hours, waiting for a flight to be cleared to take off for O’Hare. For a long time, he paced, alternating between checking his phone for updates every few minutes and turning it off to conserve the battery.

  He’d only packed hand luggage, so the little suitcase was wheeled behind him as he walked up and down the length of the terminal.

  “You’re going to wear a path into the carpet.”

  Evan looked up sharply and blinked at the woman. She was calmly knitting, the thick dark red yarn slowly turning into a sweater while she too waited for her flight. At least she was managing to do something productive.

  “Sorry,” Evan muttered, not really sure what he was apologizing for.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, moving her purse to clear a seat for him. It seemed rude not to sit down now, so he did.

  “Not really. My best friend is in the hospital. They’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”

  “That’s hard. I’m sorry.”

  Evan shook his head. “I just want to be there.”

  “You will.”

  “Maybe not soon enough.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “Couple hours ago. I came straight here.”

  “Then you did all you could.”

  That was what Evan had been playing in his head, over and over, as he paced. All of this would be for nothing if he didn’t actually get there. If Scott died… if he died and Evan never got to say good-bye….

  “Don’t do it,” the woman said, not looking at Evan as she looped her yarn around thick wooden knitting needles.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Play the what-if game. It won’t help.”

  “Well, n
ot much else is helping right now. It couldn’t possibly get much worse.”

  “Look,” she said, nodding toward the departure gate. It looked like something was finally happening. The attendants who had been sitting there, as bored as everyone else, were now moving, firing up the computers.

  His eyes felt gritty and sore, like he’d been concentrating on something a little too hard. “Oh thank God,” he sighed and tipped his head back.

  TOM WAS waiting at the entrance to the hospital when Evan pulled up in a taxi. Scott’s brother looked almost as bad as Evan felt. Tom was tall, like Scott, and had the same dark hair. He’d grown a beard and looked good for it.

  Evan hadn’t quite been prepared for how cold it would be here. He’d visited Chicago before, but in the fall when the city had been bright and fresh. He had grabbed his winter jacket as he left his house, the one that was fine for the coldest weather in North Carolina. It was definitely not suitable for a Chicago winter. The cab driver had seemingly taken pity on him and cranked up the heat when Evan slid into the cab.

  Evan passed the driver his credit card to swipe, not wanting to think how much the journey had cost him, and grabbed his suitcase before rushing over to where Tom was huddled against the cold.

  “How is he?” Evan asked and let himself be pulled into a hard embrace.

  “Holding steady,” Tom said. “He’s sleeping a lot, but he seems to be lucid when he’s waking up in between. I told him you were on your way.”

  “Sorry it took so long. They weren’t letting any flights depart for Chicago.”

  Tom huddled them inside and led Evan over to a bank of elevators. “Dad had the same issue. It’s okay.”

  It suddenly occurred to Evan that he wasn’t family, that he had no reasonable claim to be allowed to sit at Scott’s bedside. “Are they even going to let me in?”

  “Got that covered too,” Tom said with a grim smile, pushing the button for the third floor. “Mom already told the nurses that her third son was on his way, traveling separate from the rest of the family because of where he lives. Congratulations, you’re an honorary Sparrow.”

  Evan chuckled softly. “I always did love your mom.”