Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1)

by Jamie Mayfield

  “There’s something we want to talk to you about,” Carolyn said, and she sat on the side of my bed while Richard stood next to her, holding her hand. The fear, so ingrained in my reflexes that it was automatic, began to rise and made my stomach churn. I didn’t want to think that they had just brought me home only to send me to another family, but I didn’t know what else could make Richard look so damned defeated. Whatever it was, it looked like they had already come to a decision.

  “This allegation, this horrible thing that caused them to take you away from us, it hurt so much,” Carolyn said, and I saw Richard squeeze her hand. They had done so much for me, and I had caused them so much pain, I thought caustically. I didn’t blame them for wanting to ditch me. “The very worst part was knowing that they were entirely within their rights to take you. They took our son, and there wasn’t a thing we could do about it. We don’t want that to ever happen again for any reason. We should have done it years ago, but we were so complacent, we’d never had any problems…. We’d never felt for the other children what we feel for you….” Tears fell slowly from her eyes, rolling over the deep lines in her face.

  “What Carolyn is trying to say, Brian, is that we want to adopt you. Would you consider letting us?” Richard asked, holding my gaze. “I know you might consider it some kind of disloyalty to your birth parents, and we’ll understand if you don’t want to….” I looked around, frantic for my board. Carolyn took it from the suitcase and handed it to me.

  You want me to be your son, your real son? Like forever?

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Yes, we want you to be our son, forever,” Carolyn said, smiling through her tears. “Will you let us?”

  Are you crazy? Of course I will!

  I threw the board onto the bed and pulled them both into a hug, my shoulders heaving from the effort not to cry. They wanted me. Forever. They wanted me to be their son. I couldn’t even describe how wonderful that made me feel. It was like someone had inflated a hot air balloon, full and warm, in my chest.

  Are they going to let you? I mean I’m almost eighteen, and with their questions?

  I looked at Richard, and he nodded.

  “This makes us really happy, Brian. You have no idea,” Richard said, finally smiling. “Now that I’m retired, we’ll be able to do more things together; I can even help you….”

  What do you mean retired?

  Richard let out a sharp breath, one more of resignation than anger.

  “In light of the allegations the state was investigating, the hospital thought it might be best if I took my retirement a little early. I’d been planning to do it next year anyway, so it’s not a terrible hardship. I just…. I wasn’t really prepared to give up my career. We’ll be fine financially, I’m just… restless, I guess,” he explained, shrugging. “We’ll be okay.”

  I’m so sorry, I wrote out on the whiteboard, and truly I was. Even if they were going to be okay financially, it really came down to the fact that he’d been forced out of his career because I was gay.

  “There isn’t any reason for you to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault this happened,” he assured me, but I still felt unconvinced.

  If I weren’t gay, they wouldn’t have thought what they did about you.

  “Maybe, but Hascomb, who is now unemployed, by the way,” he said with vindictive satisfaction I wouldn’t have expected from Richard, “was a religious zealot. One of that old preacher’s little disciples; he even went to that Bible college. We had a great case of discrimination, and our lawyer explained that to Hascomb’s supervisor. The detective, Miller, I think his name was, backed us up. He said that aside from some very minor scarring which on its own isn’t a significant indicator, they didn’t find any evidence of sexual abuse. Nothing in your attitude or your answers to their questions gave them any reason to think you were being abused. Hascomb tried to defend his outrageous reasoning, but they didn’t buy it.”

  Yeah, he told me about the scarring.

  I looked away, embarrassed that my sex life seemed to be a popular topic of conversation. I had done so many things wrong.

  What happens now?

  “Well, we have to go to court and tell a judge that you want to be our son,” Carolyn said, taking my hand.

  For the first time in my memory, I squeezed the hand of my mother.

  18

  “SO, MR. Brian Schreiber, I think that’s it for math. What subject did you want to cover next?” Kyle asked.

  The adoption wouldn’t be finalized for a few weeks, but he got a kick out of calling me that. Maybe because he was thrilled I’d finally found a permanent family who loved and accepted me. I could easily admit that I really liked the way it sounded. After nearly fourteen years of being alone, I was going to have parents. They may have been in their sixties, and it was less than a year before I was going to be an adult, but I’d still be able to call them Mom and Dad long after I was no longer a foster child. I’d be their son. Carolyn’s worry that I’d think it was disloyal to my birth parents, while justified, was simply not an issue. There was very little I remembered about my childhood, but my parents had died; they hadn’t abandoned me, they’d loved me.

  Let’s go over Gym next, I wrote, and he quirked one eyebrow at me behind his thin-rimmed glasses.

  “I’m not sure gym is on your home curriculum,” he said, obviously curious. The night before, Richard had brought up the subject of self-defense again, and I had to say that after my stint in Hudson House, I was more inclined to agree with him. My biggest problem was that I didn’t trust Coach Williams at all. Not that he’d given me any reason not to trust him, but in my life, I’d learned to be very thrifty with my trust. The one thing that would go miles towards that trust was Kyle’s approval.

  Richard wants me to take self-defense with Coach Williams at his dojo. Do you think it’s a good idea?

  “Honestly, I don’t really know him very well,” Kyle said as he started looking over my math test to make sure I’d answered everything. “He came to the school a few years ago, and I’m not exactly a social butterfly at work. Most of the teachers feel I forced myself on them by threatening the school board and don’t want to have anything to do with me.” He shrugged, like being ostracized at work was really no big deal. Undoubtedly, he’d had a lot of practice at it; I was sure it had been happening to him his whole life—just like it was going to happen to me, and to Jamie, our entire lives.

  Has he ever given you crap about being gay?

  He read my question from the board and said, “No, he mostly keeps to himself. If you’re asking for my opinion, Brian, I don’t know that you really have anything to lose. I don’t think he’d hurt you, and your parents are right, it will probably help. If nothing else, martial arts also helps with confidence, stress, and strength. Everyone can use a little pick-me-up in those areas.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and went back to my test. “It looks like you’ve answered everything, so I’ll turn this in to Mr. Butler tomorrow and get your work for next week.”

  I nodded, thankful that Richard was taking me tomorrow to replace the steel wiring on my jaw with rubber bands, and then at least I’d be able to talk slowly. He was also going to remove my cast, which would make my life a little easier. There was still more recovery time, so Richard had fought with the school, and I wouldn’t have to go back until my jaw was completely healed. It would have been hard trying to answer questions or fend off stupid teenagers.

  “Do you want to work on the essay for English or the homework for history?” Kyle asked as he looked down through the list he’d made of my assignments. I picked up my board to answer him.

  You don’t have to stay. I can get through this stuff.

  “Are you sure? Would you rather just talk instead? Maybe you can tell me why you’re worried about taking self-defense with Coach Williams.” He set the papers he’d been looking at on the table beside him.

  Kind of hard to hold a conversation with your jaw
wired shut.

  “That’s an excuse. If you want to talk, you know I’ll listen,” he replied, sitting back in the chair. Kyle and I had become friends over the last seven weeks of my recovery, and I felt comfortable talking to him about almost anything. However, what I really wanted to talk about wasn’t Coach Williams. I’d planned to go ahead and take the chance with the classes. I wanted to talk to him about something else.

  What are gay relationships like? As adults?

  “What do you mean?” His brow was furrowed behind his glasses.

  When I find Jamie and we can be together as adults, will it be easier?

  “I wish I could say that it was,” he sighed. “I guess it depends on the community you live in and what kind of support you have. Living on the north side of Chicago, for example, may be easier than living in the backwoods of Alabama. Wait….” He stopped, and suddenly his face was serious, almost grave. “You’re not thinking about going after him?”

  Not thinking about. Planning.

  “Brian, you’re just a kid,” he said, and when I started to protest via whiteboard, he put up a hand. “I know, you’re going to be eighteen, but it’s a hard life out there, especially for us. I don’t want to see you go off alone to a strange city hoping to find Jamie. Do you even know where to start looking?”

  You’re here alone. And yes, I have a plan.

  “Yes, I’m here alone because I had no other options. Do you have any money?” He wasn’t going to give up easily.

  I’m looking for a job.

  “Do you have a car?” He was starting to get a little frustrated now.

  San Diego has public transportation. I’ll take a bus to get there.

  “Where will you live?” The conversation we’d had about his father, and how Kyle had been forced to live on the streets when he was just a teenager, reminded me that he was just worried about me. He didn’t want me to have to suffer through what he had. Keeping that in mind, I tried to keep my temper in check; I didn’t need to justify anything to him.

  I’ve been looking online so I’ll have an idea how much I’ll need. As I get closer to leaving, I’ll start calling around for apartments. I’ll stay at a Motel 6 when I get into town until I find something.

  “Brian, have you even heard from Jamie?” His voice was quieter now, teeming with absolutely infuriating sympathy. Of course he knew I hadn’t heard from Jamie; I would’ve told him if I had. It was a low blow, and I refused to answer him. I just looked down at the blanket.

  “What if he doesn’t want you to come? He could be working on reconciling with his parents, or….” He stopped abruptly.

  Or what? Or he’s found someone else?

  I refused to entertain the possibility.

  I can finish this up on my own. Thank you for your help, I wrote on the board, hearing the petulant slam of the marker tip against the smooth surface as I punctuated the sentence rather violently. He didn’t understand. Jamie loved me. I’d been so unsure of that for nearly our whole relationship, but that night, our night spent making love, solidified his intentions, his feelings for me, in my mind and in my heart. Plus, Jamie had told me to never forget that he loved me, and I never would. Ever. I threw the board down on the bed, out of my immediate reach, indicating that, at least for me, the conversation was over.

  “Brian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that what you had with Jamie wasn’t real. I just… I’m scared for you.” I met his level gaze without any hint of backing down, and he sighed. “Okay, we’ll talk about this again, but for right now, I need to get home. I have a lesson plan to finish.”

  I nodded without any interest in picking up the board and saying anything else to him as he packed his bag in silence.

  THE saw scared the hell out of me.

  Richard, seeing my obvious fear, explained to me that the blade was just vibrating and could not cut my skin. Overall, the experience of having my cast removed and replacing the wires with rubber bands wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, compared to the previous two months of my life, it was almost a vacation.

  I still couldn’t open my mouth very much, but I could start eating soft foods. Talking was a little easier as well, so I wouldn’t have to rely as heavily on the whiteboard. My leg was weak from being broken and casted for weeks on end, but after some help from Richard, I started to get a little steadier on my feet. It felt wonderful to be mobile again.

  As we walked out of the hospital together, me in my first pair of jeans in two months, he said I was doing very well and I could start getting a little exercise.

  “I’ve talked to Coach Williams and let him know what your restrictions are. If you’re ready to start doing a little light work, learning positions and such, you can start on Monday. Carolyn or I will drive you and pick you up.”

  Very slowly, against the stiff tension of the rubber bands holding my mouth closed, I said, “Still working on that.”

  “Okay, just let me know by the weekend and I’ll set up a session with him on Monday.” I nodded, and we got in the car to go home. It was tempting to just stay in my bubble with Carolyn, Richard, and Kyle and not think about facing the outside world again. Honestly, the thought of going back to school in a couple of weeks frightened me. I still had nightmares about the attack, waking up in the middle of the night and screaming through clenched teeth. Richard and Carolyn were helping me to get through, but soon, I’d be on my own again.

  Kyle was waiting for us when we got back to the house, which was odd since he usually didn’t arrive for at least an hour after school got out. I hoped he wasn’t early to try and continue the discussion about me going to California. He could talk all he wanted, but I was still going.

  When I walked into the room and he looked up from where he sat in the chair next to my bed, he paled. Something about his demeanor scared me. He looked… sad—no… frightened. Forgoing the slow, slurred speech that came from talking through metal and rubber bands, I grabbed the whiteboard from the side table.

  What happened?

  Richard and Carolyn, sensing the atmosphere in the room, came to sit on the couch that had been pushed back against the wall to make room for my bed. Kyle looked first at them and then at me.

  “A boy in Dalton has been killed,” he said in a faintly trembling voice. “He was stabbed and left in a ditch a few miles outside of town.” Carolyn gasped, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. Her other hand landed on Richard’s knee in an almost unconscious gesture.

  Did you know him?

  “No, I didn’t know him.” Kyle’s eyes met mine, and I saw there was something else, something he wasn’t telling me. It was tragic and sad that a boy had died in a neighboring town, but why was he so upset about it, and why was he here early to tell me? Then I understood.

  He was gay, wasn’t he?

  “He had the word ‘fag’ scrawled across his forehead in permanent marker, so yes, I think he was.” I fell back onto the bed, clutching the board, trying to breathe. That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. It could still be me.

  What was his name?

  I didn’t know anyone from Dalton, but it seemed like an insult to be talking about this boy like he was an old discarded piece of lawn furniture. He needed to be honored, remembered.

  “His name was Ray Andrews. Apparently, he’d left school at the end of the school year because he was having problems. The details are sketchy as to how he met up with the men who killed him. I don’t really know much more than that. My information came from the music teacher over at Dalton High. She and I went to college together and keep in touch,” Kyle finished. One thought kept repeating in my mind as I tried to focus on what he was saying.

  It could have been me.

  As the initial panic began to subside, I realized the name sounded familiar, like I’d heard it before—on television, or maybe in a book. I stretched out my thoughts, trying to come up with it, like fragmented notes of a song I couldn’t get out of my head. I was sure, like the lyrics of the
song, it would come to me later. I continued to sit on my bed, thinking about how my own attack could have been so much worse. It seemed more important than ever for me to learn to protect myself. I knew that if someone wanted to kill me, they would. A black belt in karate wouldn’t stand much of a chance against a guy holding a gun, but I needed to at least stack the deck in my favor.

  Would you set up a session with the coach for Monday?

  I showed the board to Richard, and he nodded. Still on edge about the news he’d just told us, Kyle started to unpack his bag so we could get to work. It took a minute for me to come to terms with the notion that the world hadn’t actually stopped. The piece of news, while horrifying and frightening, didn’t change the fact that I had homework to do and papers to write. Though I thought maybe it should. How could I concentrate on answering questions about the Franco-Prussian War when I could be the next boy with “fag” written on his head, thrown away like garbage?

  Grabbing my history book, I settled back against the pillows on my bed. It was easier now that I had command of all my limbs. Richard and Carolyn quietly left the room, no doubt so Richard could reassure her in hollow platitudes that they’d keep me safe, that I would be fine. The pen shook in my hand as I read the same question for the third time.

  “It’s okay to be scared, Brian,” Kyle said, setting his bag on the floor next to him. “It could have been any of us, and that scares me too.”

  I looked up at him and tried not to imagine the reason Jamie hadn’t e-mailed or called me in over two months. What if he had ended up like that boy? What if his parents, or someone else, had hurt him? The fear ate at me. I wanted to leave right then and find him. I wanted to hold him. Goddamn it, I just wanted to hear his voice.

  BY THE time Monday rolled around, I was stiff and sore from just walking. I hadn’t been mobile in nearly two months, and the strain on my muscles kept me watching the clock to see when I could get my next ibuprofen. I was only taking the stronger pain medication Richard had brought home for me occasionally, usually when I wanted to sleep without the nightmares, which were always the same, huge lurking figures with bats or pipes. I couldn’t move, it was like being in quicksand, and I couldn’t scream because my mouth wouldn’t open. The blood ran like a river through the dream, and always at the end there was Jamie. He watched them beat me and then simply turned and walked away.