Bi-Normal

by M. G. Higgins

  I want to tell her about Zach. About being bisexual. About what I’ve been going through these past two weeks. But I can’t risk it. She might tell someone, like her parents. Or Shannon. Then it would be all over the school. “It’s true, Jillia. I’m not kidding. This isn’t some convenient excuse. I have changed. For what it’s worth, I think we’re bullies too. We’re total assholes.”

  She pulls up in front of my house. Leaves the engine running. Looks at me. “For your sake, I hope you have changed. Good-bye, Brett.”

  I hold her gaze. Try to find the spark that used to be there. Want more than anything to kiss her, start the fire up again. But I guess that would be pressuring. In her eyes, bullying.

  I jump out and close the door.

  The sound of her van fades down the street as I walk slowly to the back door. The kitchen is empty. The TV is on, one of Dad’s shows. I realize I haven’t eaten dinner. I open the fridge, more out of habit than hunger. My stomach is churning. I let the door close.

  On the way to my bedroom, Dad says, “Call me next time you’re going to be late.”

  He’s slouched in his easy chair, staring at the TV. “Why?” I ask. “You don’t care.”

  He glances up. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing! Forget it.” I storm to my room. Slam the door.

  I hate this place! I pace across the floor. Pull at the roots of my hair. In one day I lost my girlfriend. Found out the guy I wanted to be gay isn’t. Bashed in Nate’s car. No one understands me. I don’t understand me either. I don’t know what I am. Who I am. I hate this! I hate me!

  I sit on my bed. Jump up again. Feel like I’ve got ants crawling over my skin.

  There’s a knock at the door. Dad sticks his head in. “What’s going on?”

  Man, this day just keeps getting better.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Dad walks into my room. Closes the door behind him. “Talk to me, Brett.”

  “I told you. Nothing is going on.”

  He stares at me. “How could you say I don’t care about you? Of course I care about you.”

  I throw my hands up. “You won’t let me get a job. The alternator on the truck finally went out today. Now I have to come begging to you for cash again. I need gas too.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” He reaches into his pocket. Pulls out some bills. “I had a good haul yesterday. The alternator is thirty bucks, right?”

  “Dad! That’s not the point!”

  He hands me a couple of twenties and a ten. I don’t take them.

  “Here!” He shoves the money at my chest.

  I back up. “I don’t want your money! Don’t you get it? I can earn it myself. I can help you, Dad. I can help us. I can even buy Darla a chicken or whatever. We’re a family, right?”

  He sets the cash on my desk. Scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t want you—”

  “I know! You don’t want me getting stuck in some dead-end job for the rest of my life. I promise I won’t.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Dad, I’m not twelve anymore. You don’t need to protect me from Mom dying. She’s dead. She’s gone. Let’s move on.”

  It’s like the air in the room has been sucked out. He presses his lips together. His eyes get red and watery. He opens his mouth to say something. Closes it. Sits on my desk chair like someone pushed him down. Rests his head in his hands. I can’t tell if he’s crying because he’s being quiet about it. But I’m pretty sure he is.

  Great. I don’t know what to do. I can’t believe what I just said. But it’s true. I’m not going to take it back. I sit on my bed. Wait for him to finish. I can’t stand seeing him like this. This has been such a crappy day.

  He finally looks up. Rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. Takes a deep breath. “Is the job at Earl’s still open?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  I nod.

  He gets up. Hesitates. Stares at me. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  “You can tell me, Brett. You’re right. We’re a family. Whatever is bothering you, I want to hear it.”

  I stare at my shoes. Wonder how much to say. “Jillia broke up with me.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’ve been there. It hurts.” He rubs his cheek. “Anything I can do?”

  “Yeah.” I wait a beat. “You can kill me.”

  I meant it to come out as a joke. But I guess my voice wasn’t all that funny.

  Dad doesn’t laugh. He crosses the room. Sits next to me on the bed. I smell fish. The aftershave he slathers on to cover the fish. “I know it seems like the end of the world. But you’re sixteen. You’ll have more girlfriends.”

  It’s such a stupid thing to say. I don’t want another girlfriend. I want Jillia. This does feel like the end of the world. But he doesn’t know how much worse it is. That Jillia is just the tip of the iceberg. I take a deep breath. Start thinking about earlier today. What Travis said about knowing who to trust. That it helps to tell someone. Tell my dad? It never even occurred to me. I’m not sure how he might take it. But I can trust him. No matter what I say, I know it won’t go any further than this room.

  “It’s not just Jillia.” I glance up at him. “It’s. …” I shake my head. I can’t. I just can’t.

  “Brett,” he says. “Tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

  I sit there for a long time. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Like he’s on his boat, waiting for the fish to show up. Slowly, I start talking. Tell him about art class. My feelings for Zach. Then I go back to summer camp, to Jerry. It’s painful. Embarrassing. As I trip over my words, I keep tabs on him. At the slightest sign he’s freaking out, I’ll stop. Tell him to forget it. It’s no big deal. I’ll get over it.

  But he sits still, listening. Stares at the floor, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. When I’m done, part of me doesn’t care about his response. I told someone. It’s off my chest. I’m relieved.

  Dad clears his throat. Rubs his hands on his thighs. “I’m not sure what to say.” He glances at me. “You’re pretty certain about all of this?”

  I nod.

  He reaches out. Rests his hand on my shoulder. “You’re my son, Brett. I love you. No matter what. Okay?”

  I nod again. Feel tears coming. Push them back. I did enough crying earlier.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks. “Do you want to see someone? A counselor maybe?”

  I shake my head. “I just want to live my life, you know? I want to play football. Have friends. Go to college.” I pause. “Fall in love. Maybe have a family.”

  “Of course.” He smiles and says, “Thanks for telling me. I know that must have been hard.”

  The door slowly opens. Darla sticks her head in. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Dad squeezes my shoulder and lets go. “Guy talk,” he says. “But I think we’re done.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah. You can come in,” I tell her.

  She bounds across the floor and leaps between us on the bed. She leans her head on Dad’s arm, and he wraps his arm around her. “So, a chicken, huh?”

  She winces. “Larissa kept crying when we ate her hen for dinner. I don’t think I can handle that.”

  I smile. Keep myself from saying I told you so.

  “So I’m thinking about a milking goat.”

  “A milking goat,” Dad repeats. He smiles at me over her head. “We’ll see.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Dad gets to his feet. “Come on. Let’s let Brett do his homework.”

  Darla runs out. As Dad’s leaving, I whisper, “There’s one more thing.”

  His eyes kind of bug out. Like, what more could there possibly be? But he nods for me to go on.

  “It’s a long story. But I was super-pissed off this afternoon and bashed a kid’s car with a baseball bat. I don’t thin
k anyone saw me. But if they did, I might be arrested. If no one saw me, I still need to pay for the damage.”

  He shakes his head. “Brett.”

  “I know! It was stupid. I just wanted to let you know. In case you have to bail me out or something.”

  He closes his eyes a second. Takes a deep breath. Then he reaches out and pats my arm. “Why don’t you find out if that job is still open.”

  “So you’re okay with me working?”

  “Yes. Just remember your promise. You’re not going to stay at Earl’s forever.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll remember.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Josh gives me a ride to school the next day. Asks, “So why did you skip out of the game yesterday?”

  I shrug. “Remembered something I needed to do.”

  “Okay.” He grins. “Funny. Nate’s car got wrecked during the game. The timing is kind of interesting.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He shrugs. “Whatever, man.”

  I need to play this out. “What happened to Nate’s car?”

  “The front was totally bashed in. Like, with a bat. You should have seen Nate crying over his poor car. Puffed out like he was about to explode. Accused us of doing it. It was hysterical. We calmly pointed out we were in the stands the whole game.” Josh laughs.

  “Wow,” I say. “Yeah, I didn’t notice.”

  My stomach knots. When we get to the parking lot, Nate’s car isn’t there. I wonder if he’s at school today. I have to talk to him. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to. But I can’t have this hanging over my head.

  At my locker I keep expecting Jillia to sneak up behind me. Tickle my sides. I want to smell her apple hair. Taste her blueberry lips. As I’m shoving books into my locker, I see her walking down the hallway with Shannon and some of her other friends. Jillia doesn’t even glance at me. She is so beautiful. My heart breaks all over again. Maybe, after a while, she’ll come around.

  But then I think about Travis telling his girlfriend about being bi. I don’t think I could ever tell Jillia. Partly because I don’t think she’d accept it. Partly because I don’t trust her to keep it to herself. I agree with Travis. I believe whoever I’m with has the right to know who I am. I guess that means I need to get over Jillia. I slam my locker closed.

  Art class. Great. I stand in the doorway. Zach’s there. I walk in. Sit next to him like we’re friends. Buddies. Because we are. I admit I spend part of the class admiring his broad shoulders. His ripped biceps. I smell his delicious arm when he reaches over to show me how to shade the side of the tree trunk I’m drawing. We also talk and laugh about stuff. Will it be painful keeping my feelings for him locked up? Totally. But it’s worth it to keep our friendship. Because I’m not sure what my future looks like. At some point I may need all the friends I can get.

  I skip out of class a little early. When I talked to Nate under the bleachers, he said he shared math with a couple of my football buddies. I’m pretty sure which class he was talking about. I wait outside the door. The bell rings. Fermio is the first student out.

  “Hey, Miller,” he says. We bump forearms. “What’s up?”

  As normally as I can, I say, “I have to talk to Nate.”

  He grins. “Gay Nate?”

  “Nate. Yeah. About an assignment.”

  He leans against the wall, still smiling. “This I’ve got to see.”

  “It’s not a prank, dude.”

  Nate comes out the door.

  “Nate!” I call.

  His eyes widen when he sees me and Fermio. He keeps walking.

  “Nate! Wait up!”

  “What’s going on?” Fermio asks.

  “Nothing. I’ll see you later.” I catch up with Nate. Walk next to him. “We need to talk.”

  He looks over. Slows a little when he sees Fermio isn’t with me. “What about?”

  “Your car.”

  He stops in the middle of the hallway. I pull him out of the way before we get trampled. Then I tell him what I did. And why. I apologize. Tell him I’ll pay for the damage. Or fix his car myself. His back is rigid the whole time I’m talking.

  In the hallway I hear a sing-songy, “Brett and Nate, sitting in a tree! K-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Fermio is walking past us with a couple of the guys. He kisses the back of his hand with a loud SMACK!

  I smile at him. Yell, “Screw you!” and flip him off.

  Nate’s mouth is open. He’s holding on to his orange backpack straps like they’re lifelines. “Okay,” he says. “I won’t press charges.”

  I take a deep breath. “Thanks.”

  He looks at the floor, then back at me. “Sorry about Travis. I should have asked you first if it was okay.”

  “Probably.” Then I say, “I have to get to English.”

  “Brett,” he says. “We’re having a GSA meeting on Wednesday—”

  “No!” I glare at him. “Look, Nate. I won’t harass you anymore. And I’ll try my best to keep my friends from harassing you. But that’s it. I’m not open, okay? And I expect you to keep what we talked about to yourself.”

  He nods quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

  Saturday, I’m standing at the back gate at Earl’s. It’s 7:20 a.m., ten minutes before my shift starts. Earl’s not here yet.

  I hear keys jangle behind me. Turn around.

  Earl is grinning. “Wow,” he says. “Eager beaver. I like it.”

  I shrug, feeling a little dorky. My first day at my first real job. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit.

  He unlocks the gate. Lets me in. “Did that alternator work?”

  “Yeah. Great.” On Wednesday Dad drove me to Earl’s, then to Fifth Street. He helped me change out the alternator. “Thanks for the discount.”

  “No problem. Other than your measly pay, that’s your only perk. Take advantage of it.”

  Once we’re in the store, he claps his hands. “Okay. Task number one. Make coffee.”

  The morning goes by fast. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. But Earl is patient. Mostly he sends me out to the yard to find parts and tear them out. That’s fine. It’s my favorite job anyway.

  During my lunch break, a sandwich in one hand, I’m out in the yard again. Searching. I find what I’m looking for—a Honda Civic. It must have been rear-ended. The back is a mess but the hood is in good shape. I think it’s the right year. I’ll have to check with Nate.

  Across from the Civic is a yellow Mustang. I shake my head at the coincidence and lean on the hood. Eat my sandwich. When I’m done with lunch, I pull out my phone. Reach in my back pocket. Pull out the business card that’s still there. Travis scribbled his cell number on the back. Taking a deep breath, I punch in the numbers. Think about what I want to say, what I want from him.

  I guess what I’m mostly looking for is someone who understands. Friendship, maybe. And courage, I guess. Because one of these days there will be another Zach. And he won’t be straight. And I won’t be in another relationship. And then. …

  Then I’ll have to see how brave I am.

  I press the Call button.