The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  “Your boyfriend. Is he your boyfriend?”

  I turned back and focused on him again. “Who is Razi?”

  “Man, are you on something? Try to focus here. Razi's the guy who grabbed your boy in the hallway just now. He's sure he knows him. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head. I was having trouble following this conversation. “Who are you?”

  “Tad.”

  “Tad who?”

  He made a face. “Tad Young if you must know. I'm with Razi.”

  I looked him over. “Speaking of tad young, aren't you a tad young to be in here?”

  “Like I haven't heard that before,” he said, rolling those huge blue eyes. “Why does it matter to you how old I am? Besides, you don't look that much older than me.”

  “I'm 18.”

  “Oh, well ok. Anyway, Razi thinks he knows him. What's his name?”

  I suddenly wasn't so sure I should say anything more. “Why should I tell you?”

  “Is it Micah?” he asked.

  I looked up sharply.

  “It is, isn't it?” he said with a grin, revealing perfect white teeth. “Razi was right.”

  “Who is this Razi and how does he know Micah?” I asked, deciding there was no point arguing and wondering why Micah had pretended not to know this Razi guy.

  Tad, if that was his real name, shrugged. “He's just some guy. I think they used to work together.”

  “Where?” I asked, suddenly interested. I knew next to nothing about Micah's life here in the city.

  Tad's eyes shifted away and he shrugged again. “I don't know,” he said evasively.

  “Yes you do.”

  “Why don't you ask Micah?” he shot back.

  “Because I'm asking you,” I snapped.

  “Sheesh. Excuse me for living. I should have never come over here.” He turned and started walking away. I was on my feet in flash. I grabbed his elbow and he turned to face me.

  “Hey, I'm sorry,” I said quickly. “Let's start over, huh? I'm Killian.”

  He smiled. “Hi Killian. You've already made fun of my name so we don't need to go there again.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It's ok. I'm used to it.”

  “Is that your real name?”

  He looked at me suspiciously for a second, then nodded slowly. “It's short for Thaddeus.”

  “So where did Micah and, uh, Razi work together?”

  “Look, I don't know for sure so I probably shouldn't say anything.”

  I pleaded with him with my eyes. With a sigh, he gave in. “Razi said he used to be in the business.”

  I frowned. “What business?”

  Tad gave me a measuring look. “You're not from around here, are you?”

  “Will you just...”

  “Ok, don't get your knickers in a bunch. The same business Razi is in.”

  “Which is?”

  He looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening, then leaned towards me conspiratorially, slipping an arm around my shoulder. “The escort business,” he whispered dramatically.

  It felt as if the room retreated from around me. So this was Micah's big secret, the one thing he couldn't trust me with. And now I knew why. Micah used to sell his body for sex. He'd been a prostitute.

  Tad yanked his arm back suddenly as if he'd been burned. The crowd came flooding back into focus as he hurried away. I started to call after him but I felt someone slip their arms around my waist from behind. I jerked my head around to find Micah.

  “Who was that?” he asked in a falsely bright voice. His eyes staring after Tad were troubled and distant. “Was someone trying to pick you up? I knew I shouldn't have left you alone.”

  I pulled away from Micah's embrace and turned to face him. “That was Razi's boyfriend,” I said, matching his faux-cheerful tone as his eyes flew open wide in surprise and his mouth turned down sharply with dismay. “You remember Razi, don't you? You used to work together after all.”

  Chapter 7

  “We need to talk,” Micah said softly.

  “You think?” I snapped.

  “Killian, it's not like it seems.”

  “Oh, my mistake. Then you weren't lying to me about the fact that you used to be an escort?”

  “For God's sake!” he hissed between clenched teeth as he looked around. So far, no one was really paying attention to us, but a few heads were beginning to turn as my voice climbed in volume. “I never once lied to you. I told you there was stuff in my past I wasn't ready to talk to you about; you knew that. Well, here it is. Now you know. Can you see why I wasn't all that eager to trot that little piece of information out on our first date?”

  “Our first date maybe, but we've been dating for months now. When were you going to tell me? Never?”

  “I was going to tell you this weekend.”

  “Oh please! You expect me to believe that?”

  “I was! Ask Steve.”

  “Steve? What does he have to do with this? He knew?”

  “It's what we were talking about the other night. I told him and he thought that you would be able to handle it, and that I should tell you too. I was planning on telling you while we were here.”

  “You told Steve before you told me?”

  “Will you stop twisting everything I say? I needed someone to talk to about this, someone objective. Can we not talk about this here? I'd rather continue in private.”

  “Fine, then let's go.” I stormed out the door without bothering to see if he was following me. An angry guy fighting tears and crashing through the hallways must not be too unusual for this place since I hardly garnered any attention during my dramatic (so I thought) exit. I arrived in the parking lot chest heaving and unable to hold back the tears any longer. I leaned against a pole and let the sobs come. Micah must have been right behind me the whole time because he was at my side in a second. He placed a hand on my arm but I jerked away from his touch.

  “Killian, please,” he pleaded, “I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise.”

  “Just get the car,” I choked out. He reluctantly backed away for a few steps before turning and jogging off towards the parking lot.

  “Men,” a husky, smoke-filled voice said acidly from behind me. I turned to find a tall, rail-thin black man leaning against the wall smoking a long, thin cigarette. While minutiae such as his age and general description were lost thanks to my bleary eyes, I could tell he was rather effeminate by his stance and voice. “What did he do, baby? Did you catch him with another guy?”

  I shook my head in confusion.

  “He'll explain all right. He'll have an answer for everything. I know his type. They think a handsome face can get them out of anything. Don't stand for it.”

  “I...”

  “Well don't worry your pretty little head about it. A pretty boy like you could have any guy in this place. You remember that. Oh, and also remember that all men are dogs.”

  “I don't...”

  A car pulled up behind me and I heard Micah call out, “Killian?” I was saved from trying to think of a suitable reply and turned almost gratefully to the car.

  “Remember!” the guy called as I sucked into the vehicle, “Dogs!”

  “What was that about?” Micah asked as I slammed the door shut.

  I just turned my head away and stared out the window. I had a lot I wanted to sort out before we got back to the room. I was in control enough to know that a hysterical attack wasn't going to get us anywhere. After a couple more unsuccessful attempts to get me to talk, we lapsed into a tension-filled, uneasy silence that lasted until we were alone in our hotel room.

  “Can we please talk now?” Micah asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

  “Now you want to talk?” I sneered.

  “Killian, you're angry and I can understand that…”

  “You're damn right, I'm angry. I can't believe this.”

  “Why are you so angry? Because I didn't tell you be
fore this or because of the way you found out?”

  As angry as I was I had to admit that was a good question. Would I have been this angry if he had told me himself? The answer was obviously no, I was angry because I'd had to find out from some glitter boy at a club. If what he'd said about telling Steve was true, though, and that would be easy enough to verify, then he had intended to tell me this weekend. With rational thought came a sudden deflation. I felt the anger drain out of me as if someone had pulled a plug. I wasn't ready to stop being angry though, damn it. The self-righteous anger served as a sort of shield against the other things I was feeling. Now that the anger was gone, I was left feeling terribly vulnerable. This man that I had given my body to just this morning used to sell his body for money. I was extremely uncomfortable with that knowledge, to say the least.

  My thoughts must have been written clearly on my face. “I think I need to explain,” he said sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. He patted a spot next to him but I took the one chair in the room instead. I wasn't ready to be that close to him again.

  “What's to explain?” I said flatly. “You used to be a…a…hooker.”

  Micah rubbed his face wearily. “It's not like that, Kill. You don't understand.”

  “You sold your body for money; how hard is that to understand?”

  “It's not like I was standing on a street corner picking up tricks.”

  I shrugged. “Does it really make a difference?”

  “Yes. Yes, it does. There's a big difference. Just let me explain what happened.”

  “I don't…”

  “Just hear me out, ok? Please?”

  I started to say no again, the guy's voice from the club echoing in my head about Micah having an answer for everything, but then I decided it couldn't hurt. The situation couldn't get much worse as far as I was concerned and it might possibly help me to understand. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  He sighed and sat there. It seemed now that I'd given my grudging consent, he didn't know where to begin. He took a few deep breaths and began. “I've told you that my parents were pretty supportive of me when I finally came out to them. I never had problems there, but we didn't have a lot of money, especially after all the legal stuff with the guy who abused me and all my counseling bills. They used almost every dime they had to pay for my first semester of college. I had some scholarships, academic stuff, but they didn't amount to much. I got a part-time job at some pizza joint but it wasn't much and the hours I had to work started interfering with my school work. My grades started to suffer and I was getting really discouraged. I was too proud to ask for help. I'd pretty much decided to drop out when one of the guys I knew at school suddenly started flashing cash around like he'd hit the lottery. He'd been in almost the same boat I was in; putting himself through college, so I knew something was up. I thought he'd gotten into drugs or something.

  “I'd managed to be pretty discreet up till then about being gay. Hardly anyone knew and that's the way I wanted it; but towards the end of the semester, when I figured I wouldn't be back for the next one, I just didn't care anymore. Word got around that I was queer and the next thing I knew, the guy with all the cash shows up at my room one night. He says he had an offer I couldn't refuse. I told him I wasn't interested and he goes, `But don't you want to know where all my cash comes from?' By that time, I figured what the hell.

  “He told me he'd been recruited for a local escort agency. He said it was a classy set-up. You got paid big bucks to keep lonely gay guys company and you didn't even have to sleep with them if you didn't want to, although you made more in tips if you did. He said they'd work around my school schedule and I'd make more in a single week than I made all month at the pizza place. He said if I was interested he could get me an interview.”

  He paused and looked up to gauge my reaction. On the inside, my guts were twisted into a knot that I didn't think would ever unravel, but my expression must have been neutral at the least, because he seemed satisfied with what he saw and continued.

  “You have to remember that my attitude towards sex then wasn't what it is now. I'd been abused as a kid and I'd still not worked through all that even with all the hours of counseling I'd logged in. I told you all that on our first date. It seemed like the perfect solution to all my problems. I asked him to set up the interview. It was only a few days later before I got my first interview. A week later I was hired.”

  He stopped and seemed to wait for me to say something. I didn't know what to say and the silence stretched out until Micah began talking again, as much to fill the void as anything.

  “It wasn't even that bad. They'd call me with a job. If it fit my schedule, I'd take it. I was taken to dinners at fancy restaurants, the theater, museums, art shows-places I would have never gotten into on my own. And yes, I slept with some of them-most of them. I didn't have to, and I never did anything I didn't feel completely comfortable doing. And the money…the money was unreal. There was no way I could have made that kind of money any other way. It paid for school and left plenty to spend however I wanted. You get used to that kind of lifestyle pretty quickly. Even after I met someone…” His words faltered as his eyes blazed with raw pain for a brief, unguarded second. I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. It was fresh pain I'd seen, not an old ache. He recovered and went on. “Even after I met someone, I stayed in the business. I stayed in it until I graduated.”

  He seemed to have run out of words now. Whatever hurt it was he'd felt appeared to have knocked the spirit out of him.

  “What is it?” I asked, the first words I'd spoken since he'd started his explanation.

  “What is what?”

  “Something's wrong. I mean besides us. I can see it in your eyes. Especially when you mentioned the person you met.”

  The reaction was there again this time, but not quite as strong. He looked away.

  “Don't keep more secrets from me,” I said softly, allowing the pain I still felt to be heard in my voice.

  “While I was working for the agency,” he began roughly. He cleared his throat and continued. “While I was working for them I met someone. His name is…was Paul.” I noted the past tense. “He was another escort. We became friends and then…”

  “Lovers?” I finished for him, phrasing it as a question.

  He nodded. “We moved in together. I'd dated a few other people but none of them could handle the fact that I was an escort. It was different with Paul. He understood; he was in the business too. We were happy together.”

  “Did you love him?” I asked even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. In truth, I already knew and I could plainly see that he still loved him.

  He nodded.

  “What happened?” I asked, unable to help myself.

  “Things started falling apart during my last semester. I knew I was going to have to move on soon, find a job, grow up. I wanted to do that with Paul, but he wasn't ready. I started seeing a counselor again. She was good-better than any of the ones I'd had before. She agreed with me that I needed a change, I needed to get away, and more than anything I needed to stop using sex as a tool to get what I wanted. I'd used it when I was younger trying to find love and now I was using it for profit. I already knew that by this time, I think it was the source of my restlessness, but hearing it from someone else made it all clearer.

  “When I graduated, I had several job offers. Two in particular were good offers. One was for a weekly in Washington and one was for the paper on the Shore. Paul wanted me to take the job in DC and stay with him, but I wanted out of the city and away from the business. We fought about it, talked about it, cried about it; but in the end, I took the daily job on the Shore. I asked Paul to come with me, but he said no, he wasn't ready to leave the city. Neither of us wanted to pursue a long distance relationship with all its associated baggage. Besides, too much had been said by that time. So we just broke up.”

  “Do you want to go back to him?”

  “What?” he asked wi
th mouth agape, genuinely surprised.

  “I can see how much it hurts you to talk about him, how much you obviously still love him. Do you want to go back to him?”

  “Killian, I let go of Paul and moved on a long time ago. I'll always care about Paul, he was my first love, but I wouldn't have said I loved you unless I did. I wouldn't have pursued a relationship with you if I didn't think I could give you one-hundred percent.”

  “Then what was that pain I saw in your eyes?”

  His mouth opened and closed a few times silently. I thought he was going to start crying but he somehow managed to pull himself together and attempted a halting answer. “The guy at the club? Not the kid who was talking to you, the other guy, the kid's boyfriend, or whatever he was?”