The Before Now and After Then

by Pen Name Publishing

  Dad laughed, “You boys always fooled people with your switching games.”

  “Hey I wasn’t trying to fool her. She was just too eager to kiss someone.”

  I noticed Dad staring at me hard.

  “Do you see him in me?” I asked.

  “Sometimes. But most of the time, no. Being the parent of twins makes you see the small details about people. Like the way your mom keeps one side of her hair longer in front so she can tuck it behind her ears. Or how you have a small mole on your earlobe that Sam didn’t have,” Dad said, stopping himself.

  I looked up at the cloudless sky, almost too perfectly blue.

  “Do you ever wonder where he is? Do you ever wonder if he knows what we’re doing or thinking?”

  “All the time. But if I had any question about an afterlife before, I don’t anymore. I’m sure of it.”

  “What do you think it’s like?” I asked.

  Dad sat back. “Do you remember that one summer we took you kids to visit your mom’s friend on Beaver Island in Michigan?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you remember that small house we stayed in and played cards at night, eating cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise? During the day we’d swim out in front of the house, the water of Lake Michigan as clear and cold as possible for late summer. I think he’s there, waiting for us. I think he swings on that old tire swing, Griffin running around his feet. Maybe they walk together on the beach and Sam makes him fetch sticks like we used to in the back yard,” and then he was really crying. “I miss him so much.”

  I started crying too.

  “Sometimes I think he’s going to run back through the front door or call me and ask if you guys can stay out later,” he said, wiping his eyes. “But I know he’s not. And that’s why we have to move through it and remember him the best we can. He would want it that way.”

  I think it’s funny how people say what dead people would want, as if they would know. But in this statement, he was correct. Sam would not want anyone stuck in time because of him. “I think he’s waiting for us on that swing too,” I said, smiling and wiping the tears away from my cheeks. “Now how about my car?”

  Dad laughed. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  We threw away the trash and got into the car. “I have one last place I think we can try.”

  As we pulled into the car lot, I was worried about Dad’s decision. It was filled with old junkers and a few classics that looked like they needed a lot of work. “You know how I said your car should fit your personality?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Well, I think you’re kind of an old soul. You’ve always been wise and soft, gentler than the rest. You need something that matches that.” He got out of the car and I hesitantly followed his lead.

  A man walked up to us. “Mr. Goldstein?”

  “Sure am. You got it ready for us?”

  “Absolutely,” the salesman said, almost too enthusiastically.

  I had no idea what they were talking about, but I followed them anyway. Parked in back, shining in the late afternoon sun, with a huge, red bow around it was a vintage, gold Mercedes convertible. Mom and Uncle Alex were sitting in the car. They began honking the horn excitedly when they saw me.

  I smiled but was so incredibly shocked I didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s a 1981 380 SL. It’s what the movie stars used to drive,” Dad said.

  I walked over to the car and Mom got out, giving me a hug. “Hope you like it honey.”

  I got in the driver’s seat and grabbed the steering wheel. “I love it.” I ran my fingers over the faux wood finish and turned around, taking in the two bucket seats in back.

  “It was Alex’s idea,” Dad said. “We were trying to figure out the perfect car for you and he suggested this.”

  I looked over at Alex, “Thanks!”

  “Yeah, I’m a little pissed. I was going to buy it for myself. I’m thinking of staying for a while and keeping your parents out of trouble. I’m going to need a car so you might need to let me borrow it from time to time.”

  I reached over and hugged him. Mom and Dad stood in front of the car, their arms around each other’s shoulders. It reminded me of the Mom and Dad I used to know before the accident.

  “You drive your mom and Alex home and I’ll settle the bill up with this fine man,” Dad said.

  I got out and ran over and gave him a hug. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, buddy,” he said.

  “Not just for the car. But for today too,” I said, tearing up a little bit.

  Dad smiled and lifted his head, forcing back tears. “It was the ideal adventure,” he said.

  I let go and got into the car. I started the engine, and revved it a few times before I took off. As I did, I could see Mom in the rearview mirror, squeezed into the backseat, her hair whipping with the wind while she smiled, and as she did, I smiled back.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was right before five when we got back to the house. Mom told me that she and Dad were going to have dinner and talk “about things”, whatever that meant, and I was going to go with Alex to a signing at a bookstore that he had booked earlier in the week.

  “You should ask Alex about what it was like for him being a gay teenager. Maybe he can give you some suggestions. Maybe he could even suggest some books you might like,” Mom recommended.

  I stopped on my way up the stairs and turned around. I looked at her for a second and then walked back into the kitchen. Mom was busy straightening up, putting away the bagels and wiping the counter with a paper towel.

  “I was his best friend, so I know it wasn’t easy,” she said. She stopped and looked up at me. “I just think maybe he could help you out, you know, in ways that your dad and I can’t.”

  By the look of pleading in her eyes, I could tell she was really trying the best she knew how. There was no textbook on how to be the mother of a gay son, let alone, one whose twin had died in a horrible car accident, leaving her the mother of an only child. If it weren’t for that look, I probably would have lashed out, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “Mom, I know you’re trying really hard to be cool and make sure I’m Ok.” She nodded. “But I’m not going to kill myself. I’m not obsessed with Internet porn and even though I’m proud of who I am, I don’t need to have a pride float following me through life.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, Mom. I just don’t understand why I can’t just be a teenage guy who happens to like other teenage guys. I don’t understand why you can’t just leave it at that instead of forcing it to define me,” I said.

  “I’m not forcing it to define you!” she sounded insulted.

  “Yes. You are. You bring me books and movies so I can relate to these characters who I don’t feel like I have anything in common with other than we’re all gay. You want me to talk to Alex because you think he can teach me secret gay ways to the world. Why can’t I just be some guy who happens to like other guys? I mean, I have awesome parents who are OK with me being gay. I’m not bullied that bad in school…”

  I noticed she clinched her teeth and tensed her body.

  “Come on Mom. You have to know by now that kids do not make it easy on me,” I said. “It’s not horrible and I can deal with it, but it hurts.”

  “What can I do about it?”

  “Nothing!” I shouted. “It’s mine to deal with. If I weren’t being made fun of for being gay, they would pick something else. It’s not that they bully me because I’m gay, it’s that I’m gay that they have something to bully me for. If it weren’t me, it would be some other gay kid, or some fat kid or some nerdy kid, or whatever. Hell, this Pat kid made fun of Cher’s saggy tits the other day!”

  Mom laughed and started to smile. “I get it, Danny. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “I have no plan on going anywhere Mom, unless you keep forcing me to be the poster child for Gay History.” I took a de
ep breath. “I don’t mind being gay. I like it. I’m not ashamed and I don’t think I’m a sinner. I don’t know why I’m gay. I just am and I don’t hate myself for it. And I don’t even know why I feel that way and other kids feel so bad about themselves for it. Maybe it’s because they have different parents. Or maybe it’s just something in how we’re programmed. But I’m just this guy who likes other guys. Cool?”

  Mom stood back and leaned against the counter. “How did I get a kid who was so damn smart?”

  “By having the coolest Mom in the world,” I said as I walked over to her and gave her a hug. “Just stop worrying about me, OK?”

  “I can’t completely stop worrying about you, but I’ll try to be better,” she said. “But Danny, you have to understand one thing. When you lose a child, it puts everything else into perspective. I suddenly became afraid. It’s not because you’re gay that I’m worried,” she took a deep breath. “I’m worried because I’m scared how society is going to treat you.”

  I thought about this for a second. “And we can’t do anything about that, can we?”

  Mom shook her head. “But you can promise to stay alive,” she whispered and started to cry.

  “I promise. And I love you.” I had had enough of weepy parents and drives down memory lane for one day. “Now go get ready for dinner,” I said, pushing her toward her bedroom. Mom tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled.

  I sighed and walked up to my bedroom. Alex was lying on my bed. “That was nice. Very well said. Actually, I don’t think I could have said it any better myself.”

  I stood there, embarrassed he had heard me talking about him. “I, uh, didn’t mean to say anything…”

  Alex stood up and put his hands on my shoulders. “Danny, let me explain something,” He said, looking deep into my eyes. “Your journey is your journey and my journey is my journey. I needed to write a book about a gay teenager who killed himself to help me come out because I was never OK with being gay. I thought if I forced people to see my gayness, they would have to accept it. But you’re different.” He sat down at my desk. “The thing is that I never realized I was giving people a reason to commit suicide. I never realized I was giving them an excuse. And your mom is just scared, OK.?”

  “Whoa. This just got really serious.”

  “This is serious, Danny,” he said. “And just because things don’t bother you now, doesn’t mean the day won’t come where your journey takes you somewhere else and you can’t handle it. That’s when you need to come and talk to me, because I do understand. It won’t always be easy. And your mother is right. We can’t lose you too.”

  I wasn’t really sure what he meant by all of it, but I stood there and waited for him to say more.

  “That’s all. Except for that I love you kiddo.” He stood up and walked out. “And put on something cute. I’m tired of seeing you dressed so boring every day. Being gay does come with a few perks.”

  Smiling, I closed the door and went through my closet until I found a pair of brand new Levis and a black t-shirt. Thinking about what Cher had worn the night before and how much I liked her style, I tried to make the outfit my own by rolling the cuffs high above my calves and ripping the neck of the t-shirt, before slipping it over my head and rolling up the sleeves, giving me a modernized 50’s look. In the back of my closet I found my old pair of black Chuck Taylors and slipped them on without socks. I stared at myself in the mirror and was quite happy with what I found.

  I started walking out of the room but realized I had forgotten my watch, and went back to grab it.

  Downstairs, Alex was waiting for me. He told me Mom had already left and she had said she might not be back until late. I wondered if this meant her and Dad might be getting back together, but I didn’t want to ask.

  “It’s just the two of us tonight, I guess,” Alex said.

  I drove as he gave me directions and when we finally got to the bookstore, we were two minutes late.

  We walked into the store and found it completely packed. In the back, next to the coffee shop, there was a large area cleared out with a table, piled high with stacks of Alex’s newest book, Surrender to Technicolor.

  “You can hang out up there with me or you can hang back and stay anonymous. It’s up to you,” he said, smiling. “I’ll read a few pages and probably something from Wasteland and then sign books for an hour. We can do whatever you want after that.”

  “I think I’ll just walk around for a bit and catch you at the end.”

  I watched him walk off and as he neared the back, people started clapping. I went to the coffee shop and bought an iced coffee and walked around the store. When I was younger, I had been an avid reader, but after sixth or seventh grade, I hadn’t really read at all, except for Alex’s books.

  Near the back, there was a whole section of his books set up on a table, with a picture of him staring down. A quote was scribbled across the bottom: “Half of two steps is one step in the right direction.” I didn’t get it.

  After a while, I got bored, so I stood at the back of the crowd and watched Alex read from a book. “In the end, we’re all just one big group of freaks I guess, trying to find ourselves in this crazy world. And I’ll always be that gay boy, trying desperately to find my own something to live for, never realizing that those things most important are always right in front of your face.” He closed the book and the crowd erupted into applause. He was a literary rock star.

  I turned away, catching a glimpse of something familiar mixed into the crowd. That hair. I knew instantly it had to be Rusty. I wound myself through the crowd, trying to get close, without being obvious, and as the people cleared into two separate lines leading to the table of books, I found him.

  I could tell he was surprised to see me. “Hey!” he said, excitedly.

  “Hey,” I replied, immediately feeling shy.

  He looked incredibly cute, much cuter than he did at school. He had on cut off jean shorts and an oversized striped vintage t-shirt. He wore the same Vans with black socks pulled up to his calves. I couldn’t stop looking at him.

  “You must like Alex Night too?” he asked.

  I laughed, “Yeah, he’s alright.”

  Rusty had a tattered copy of Suburban Wasteland in his hand. “I’m going to see if I can make it to the front to have him sign it. Have you ever read it?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, it totally helped me with coming out.”

  So he was gay! I could feel the obvious stupidity grow over my face with a smirk. He caught it quickly.

  “You really didn’t know if I was or wasn’t, did you?”

  I shook my head, “I didn’t know how to ask.”

  “But what about the gum?” he asked.

  “I just thought maybe you were being nice or wanted to be my friend,” I said.

  “I do want to be your friend.” I must have looked disappointed because he quickly corrected himself and said, “Your very good friend.” And he smiled. I could not stop looking at him. There was something about his eyes that were both flirtatious and innocent at the same time. “So about the book, yeah, it really helped me with coming out. I was so afraid of myself and what people would think, but I realized that in the end, it doesn’t matter. Life’s too short.”

  “You got all that from the book?” I asked.

  “Yeah, didn’t you?”

  “I, uh…” I wasn’t sure what to say. The truth was that I had never read that deep into Alex’s books. I had merely loved them because he wrote them.

  “Are you out?” he asked.

  “Yeah, totally, but I guess I didn’t really read the book that way.”

  “I think it’s the greatest love story I’ve ever read.” he said, tucking the book under his arm as he pulled out his wallet. “Do you want some more coffee? The line to the book signing is really long and I’ll probably never make it up there anyway.”

  “Sure.”

  “Like a date,” he said.

  We got in li
ne for coffee and neither one of us said anything. “You’re not very good at having conversations, are you?”

  I blushed, “Is it that obvious?”

  He nodded.

  “You make me nervous,” I admitted.

  “Me?” he laughed. “Why do I make you nervous?”

  I didn’t know how to explain to him that I had thought about him every night and wondered what he wore to bed and what kind of cereal he ate. I couldn’t tell him that I dreamed of kissing his lips, even though I had never kissed another guy in my life. I couldn’t explain to him that he made me nervous because just talking to him felt like a jolt from the most amazing drug ever created.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  He laughed, “Yes you do. Just be honest with me.”

  Honesty scared me. But I had been honest with Cher the night before and it hadn’t hurt anything, so I thought maybe it was worth a shot. “You’re just really confident. And I like you.”

  “I like you too,” Rusty said, smiling. And it wasn’t this solid smile but more of shy grin that crept over his face.

  I exhaled and turned to look at him. “No, like I really like you and I don’t even know you, but I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  And we stood there, staring at each other while the entire store seemed to stand still.

  “Next!” the girl behind the counter yelled. “Can I help you?”

  We dropped our gaze as Rusty ordered and asked me what I wanted. After our drinks came, we walked away. He looked at the huge line to the book signing and sighed, “I guess I’m not getting my book signed.”

  “Come on,” I said, ushering him toward the line, planning to introduce him to Alex.

  “No,” he replied as he took my hand. “I’d rather spend time with you. Let’s go sit outside and talk.”