You Can't Tell by Looking

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You Can't Tell by Looking Page 21

by Russell J. Sanders


  “Because Timur’s going to jail, for one thing,” Gabe says.

  “And so? My heart is breaking for him. In many ways, I failed him. I wanted to be a mother to him, and I could have done better. But I have another son, here. A son who has been put through hell tonight. My heart swells knowing he’s okay, that he’s alive, that he can live to see this prom.”

  I look at her with all the love I can put in my eyes, my smile. But I can’t face going to this thing. Not tonight. I shouldn’t.

  “Kerem, love, I’m in the mood to celebrate. Celebrate that Allah spared you tonight. I will mourn the loss of Timur—and I will grieve, as I already have started—later, but now, won’t you humor me, and give me the joy of seeing my handsome son and his equally handsome suitor go off to make some happiness for themselves? And for me?”

  I can’t do it. I can’t play while my cousin—my brother—sits in jail for what he has done to me. If I’d treated him differently. If I’d shown him the love he deserved. If, if, if….

  I know Gabe will back me up.

  There is why-not? in his face.

  I can’t disappoint him. If he wants to go. If he thinks I should go. If, if, if…. What can I say? “Okay. But don’t expect me to be the life of the party.”

  “Just be the life,” he says. “I was so terrified that you couldn’t be that for me anymore.”

  Mary holds out her arms to Gabe. “Strip, kid.” Then she turns to Mama. “You do have a steam iron, right?”

  “Certainly,” Mama answers.

  “You hop in Kerem’s shower, and I’ll press your glad rags,” Mary says. “Kerem, get crackin’. You got a prom to go to.”

  She rushes off with Gabe’s suit, and he takes a five-minute shower while I finish dressing.

  Mama insists on taking picture after picture before she’ll let us leave. I guess Bennie will have that shot for his wall after all.

  With hugs all around, Gabe and I are off to prom, the dance we anticipated forever, the dance that we made history for, the dance that I hope will erase, or at least temporarily make me forget, what has happened tonight. Allah, if it be Your will, make this the night we hoped for, finally.

  And actually, though we are both a bit low-key, we do enjoy ourselves. We start our abbreviated evening with me full of guilt, and if I know Gabe, he is too, if only to support me. But everyone seems so happy to see us when we arrive. They are so alive. They are so accepting. We fought for this. We started this venture not knowing if we’d even be allowed to be here, then we had to screw up our courage to come out to everyone, then bare our souls to the entire community, and then, yes, fight our way here. Allah took care of us. We entered the fire. We needed to be here tonight. Allah will continue to take care of us, just as I know He will take care of my cousin.

  After all the crap that went down, I realize I am starving, so the first thing we do is hit the refreshments, old lady Simpkins flashing us the evil eye when we fill our cups of punch. Who has punch at parties anymore?

  Our bellies full, we make it to the dance floor. And unlike the wedding dance we shared, this time we do a slow dance, arms firmly wrapped around each other.

  It’s cool. Exactly like the movies. Everyone fades off the dance floor and makes a circle around me and Gabe. There in Gabe’s arms, I feel safer than I have ever felt. When the dance finishes, everyone applauds us.

  I realize something. During that dance, I didn’t think of Timur once. I know that he will be on my mind for the rest of my life, but for now, not thinking of him is blessed relief. Praise Allah.

  And then—the best thing of the night, the thing that makes the night and that I would have missed if I hadn’t reluctantly been pushed into coming here: Gabe and I are crowned King and King of the Prom. It’s the first office I’ve ever held I didn’t have to campaign for. An honor just handed to me simply because I love the right person.

  The night ends, and we head home. Gabe pulls up in front of my house. He walks me to the door, like a proper gentleman. At the end of the walk, he kisses me, a sweet and gentle good-night.

  I turn to open the door, and I feel him right up against me.

  “Hey,” I say, “what’s going on? Prom over. You go your house. I go mine.” I use the caveman voice to make him laugh, and it works.

  Then he says, “Let me walk you inside. I want a follow-up on Tim. If I know my dad, he’s still here with your dad. And besides, you know our moms are on pins and needles to get a prom report.”

  And yes, the two moms are sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee. As soon as they see us, we have to sit and tell them everything. Mama, who is not the squealing type, yelps when we reveal we are King and King.

  Baba and Ken acknowledged our presence when we came in, but then turned back to their conversation, sitting in the recliners in the family room.

  With the prom saga exhausted, Gabe and I go to the family room.

  “So how’s Tim?” I ask Baba.

  “He’s holding up. By the time Ken and I got him to the police station, he was babbling. The desk sergeant took one look at him, and I could tell he had compassion. I explained all that happened—by the way, you’ll need to give a statement at the station tomorrow, both of you—and the sergeant called the hospital. They came to take him away for observation. We don’t know yet what charges, if any, will be filed. You guys can go with your moms tomorrow morning. They want to talk to each of you.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t put him in a cell,” Gabe says. “He will get the help he needs, inshallah.”

  Baba looks at him with love.

  “So,” Ken says, standing, “you ready for this night to end? It’s been a long one.” Gabe nods at him. “Aram, if there’s anything—anything—day or night, you can count on Mary and me.” Then he calls out, “Mary, you ready to get outta here?”

  And Gabe’s mom comes to join us all, followed by Mama.

  Mama hugs Mary. “Thank you, love. Allah has blessed us with saints for neighbors. Or in-laws, maybe?”

  Both of our mothers look at Gabe and me.

  “Stop it,” Gabe commands. “Let us graduate high school first, at least.”

  And everyone laughs. Perhaps the first truly carefree laugh of the evening.

  I follow them to the door, holding Gabe back as his parents walk the sidewalk toward the street.

  Our eyes lock and I kiss him good night. It is sweet. Gentle. Joyful.

  “Salaam Alaykum,” I whisper in his ear.

  “Wa-Alaykum,” he says. Then he adds, “Do you think Allah would approve? Repeating these words as your warm breath is making my….” His voice trails off.

  “Oh, Allah approves, yes He does,” I tell him as I kiss his earlobe.

  When I return to the family room, Baba looks at me. “Evening prayers? Or is your mind fixed on carnal pleasures?”

  I feel the heat well up inside me as I turn beet red. He really does know.

  We spread our prayer rugs, and Mama joins us.

  The three of us say prayers, more fervently than I’ve ever heard them said. The last part, where we talk to Allah with our personal thanks, hopes, and wishes, takes longer than usual. I can’t look into Mama’s and Baba’s minds, but if their prayers are anything like mine, they are full of thoughts of Timur.

  LIFE CONTINUES. Before prom night, I would have taken that as a given. Now I’m very glad it does, thank Allah.

  Gabe and I graduate. The ceremony is long and boring and wonderful, for it marks a passage that I might not have been able to make. About the only lighter moment is Shaun’s little dance he does as he goes across the stage to get his diploma. The dance itself is funny, but what makes it even better is that he does it without his cane.

  Aysel is big as a house. The baby blew up in her very, very fast. And she milks it for everything it’s worth. I wouldn’t want to be Hasan. But it’s clear he loves her dearly. He caters to her every whim.

  And Timur. He is in a state institution. Allah willing, he will come out o
f this. Right now he’s lost in his madness. But who knows? Maybe someday, sometime, some doctor will lead him to a breakthrough. I pray for that—five times a day, seven days a week.

  At any rate, there was no honor in this attempted honor killing. There never is.

  Chapter 24

  Timur

  HE BROUGHT dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  He brought dishonor on our family.

  More from Russell J. Sanders

  It is 1969 when Dewey Snodgress, high school theater star, meets irrepressible hippie Jeep Brickthorn, who quickly inserts himself into Dewey’s life—and eventually into his heart. Meanwhile, Dewey prepares to appear in a production across town, a play about protestors of the Vietnam War, where he befriends the wild and wonderful Lucretia “LuLu” Belton, who is also determined to follow her dreams and become an actress—whether her parents approve or not.

  The show has a profound effect, especially on Dewey’s father, who reconsiders his approval of the war after his son’s performance. But Dewey knows his dad won’t be so accepting if he reveals the love he’s developing for Jeep, so he fights to push his feelings away and keep the peace in his family.

  Still, Dewey can’t ignore the ripples moving through society—from the impending Woodstock Festival to the Stonewall Riots—and he begins to see that the road to happiness and acceptance for him and Jeep might lead them away from conservative Fort Worth, Texas—and Dewey’s dad.

  Ethan Harker is the son of The Prophet, the stern, demanding leader of a small Southwestern polygamous community. Ethan has been groomed to one day take his place as the leader of this isolated cult.

  But things happen that compel Ethan to flee his stifling community and find his way in the world beyond it. Totally out of his depth, he is sheltered by a remarkable group of people from a loving and accepting church. From them, he learns what family truly means and begins to construct a life free from the restrictions he’s grown up with. Little by little he dismisses the assumptions he was taught about the “evil” people in the outside world.

  Amid all this, Ethan realizes something about himself when he meets rapper Kyan, a boy his age. Although he’s been brought up to fear and hate members of Kyan’s race, he can’t help falling in love with Kyan. Fueled by a new understanding and new friends, Ethan gains the strength and courage to conquer the confusing world he has been thrust into.

  With a beautiful girlfriend, a scholarship to a prestigious musical theater school, and talent to spare, life is good for high school senior Neil Darrien. He’s on his way to stardom, but then newcomer Zane Jeffrey secures a place in the school show choir, rousing Neil’s envy. Neil soon sees there’s more to Zane than a talented performer, though—he’s funny and charming, and the two boys become friends.

  Neil’s girlfriend Melissa doesn’t like Neil spending so much time with Zane, and she draws Neil into her church. There, Neil is faced with a choice between righting a wrong and risking revealing a secret that could cost him everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.

  As Neil’s relationship with Melissa deteriorates, Neil starts to see Zane in a different light—one that has him thinking of Zane as more than just a friend.

  Graduating senior, theater lighting wunderkind, and closeted gay, Nick Fortunati volunteers with The Streetwise Players in the dark corners of The Laughton, a creepy old movie palace decorated in Grand Guignol style. But his father wishes Nick would use his intellect and his scholarship to become a biotech engineer and earn a prosperous living for his future family. Nick loves his dad and wants to please him, but he dreams of a career in theater. And he wants a male lover. Unfortunately, his homophobic father won’t approve of either.

  When Nick’s at his loneliest, out of the corners of the theater and into his life comes trouble-laden Steve Stripling, a man with little memory of his past other than his name. Meanwhile, Nick’s introduced to the dashing Wash Vitek and is torn between the two men. His situation is further complicated because he doesn’t know if Wash is gay.

  Nick resolves to solve the mystery surrounding Steve and help the young man recover his memories, even though by doing so, he risks losing the first love he’s ever found.

  It’s a summer of revelations for Houston high schooler Jake Hardy. Along with his estranged father, Jake embarks on a trip to Nova Scotia to visit the Titanic museum and the cemetery where the victims are interred. There, Jake’s father’s biggest secrets are revealed. Hurt and confused, Jake flees—not only from his father’s confession, but from his own feelings.

  Jake is gay.

  Back home, the proposed Equal Rights Ordinance is polarizing people. As Jake faces a difficult choice about where he stands—and how far he’s willing to go for his beliefs—he soon discovers that he’s not the only one in hiding. When confronted with how his actions have hurt those he cares about, purposefully or not, Jake must learn to accept his friends, his father… and himself.

  Readers love Russell J. Sanders

  All You Need Is Love

  “All You Need Is Love is a beautifully written deeply touching story about coming of age in a very difficult time, and I highly recommend it!”

  —Gay Book Reviews

  “This story is well written and engaging. I think that Russell did an excellent job capturing the essence of 1969 in a precise, accurate manner.”

  —Rainbow Book Reviews

  Colors

  “Amazing story. Beautifully written. Simply incredible.”

  —Prism Book Alliance

  The Book of Ethan

  “I really enjoyed the diversity in this book… I will probably be on the look out for more from this author.”

  —Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

  RUSSELL J. SANDERS is a man on a quest. In his travels all over the world, he searches out Mexican restaurants. A lifelong Texan, raised on Tex-Mex, he wants to try the enchiladas and other delicacies that pass for Mexican food in the far reaches of the world. He has been pleasantly surprised in Tokyo and Indonesia and left wondering in Rome and a few other places. Sometimes what the menu says and what you are served is not what is expected. But the joy is in the quest.

  Russell’s also on a quest to spread a very important message: love is found in many forms in this world, and being gay or lesbian or bisexual or any other variation is normal, healthy, and wonderful. He wants his novels to bolster the confidence of gay teens and change the minds of or educate further all the others who may stumble upon his prose.

  Russell’s writing joins his long career of acting, singing, and teaching, adding to his passions for cooking and reading. He has won awards for his acting and directing and has taught theater to hundreds of teens. He has also taught additional thousands of teenagers the art of writing and the love for literature. He is always in the middle of a good story, whether reading it or writing it. And he can whip up a delicious meal in minutes. He does all this with the support of his husband, a man he has
loved for over twenty years and married a few years ago. They live happily in Houston, Texas.

  Website: russelljsanders.weebly.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/russelljsandersauthor

  By Russell J. Sanders

  All You Need Is Love

  The Book of Ethan

  Colors

  Special Effect

  Titanic Summer

  You Can’t Tell by Looking

  Published by HARMONY INK PRESS

  www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Published by

  HARMONY INK PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  [email protected] • harmonyinkpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  You Can’t Tell by Looking

  © 2018 Russell J. Sanders.

  Cover Art

  © 2018 Aaron Anderson.

  [email protected]

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected].

 

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