The Second Time Around

by Rowan McAllister

  FOR THE rest of the day, Jordan avoided close contact with him, but that didn’t stop the brat from throwing saucy winks and licking his lips every time he caught Russ’s eye in the yard or passed him on the way to some of the other animal pens. Jon and Ernie weren’t far off, and Phyl popped in from time to time, so Russ wasn’t able to get some of his own back until just before quitting time.

  Jon and Ernie weren’t staying for supper that night. Ernie had his daughter’s violin recital and Jon’s in-laws were coming up that weekend, so his wife wanted him home to get the house in shape. That left Russ and Jordan alone outside to finish up for the night while Phyl cooked supper. Russ had shaken off his earlier discombobulation and had worked up another full head of steam by then. He strode into the barn with purpose. The brat’s little comeback earlier had surprised him, and if he were honest with himself, it had gotten his dick’s attention to the point where it took over for a few seconds. But that continued over-the-top flirting all afternoon had just pissed him off. He didn’t like games.

  “Hey,” he called to Jordan’s back as he came down the aisle.

  Jordan was washing out some buckets, but he set them down at Russ’s approach and turned to face him. A flirty smile played across the brat’s lips as he leaned against the barn wall invitingly. He made a pretty picture. There was no denying that. But Russ was done with the bullshit.

  “You and me, we need to have ourselves a little chat,” he said, stopping a good eight feet away and folding his arms across his chest.

  “Sure. What about?” Jordan asked, with a look that said butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  “I think I need to set you straight on a couple of things, and I want you to listen real close, because I ain’t gonna repeat myself.”

  “Okay.” The brat stepped away from the wall, wet his lips, and sauntered a little closer. “I’m all ears.”

  “Good, then listen up. Phyl might be scared to step on your little pedicured toes, ’cause of how much your parents contribute to our little operation, but I’m not. She might feel pressured to be nice to you, but I don’t give a good goddamn how much money your folks have. You want to stay here? Then you pull your weight like everyone else and don’t make trouble. Otherwise I’ll personally kick you out on your ass without sheddin’ a tear. Ya got me?”

  Jordan’s mask slipped, showing a hint of something pained before his expression closed. Russ had worked long enough at the rescue to recognize a wounded creature when he saw one, even with only the tiniest glimpse. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Jordan was a full-grown man, raised with more privilege than some people could even dream of, not a defenseless animal, and he needed to be reminded that he couldn’t have anything or anyone he wanted with the snap of his fingers.

  “Now I’m not sure what you think you know about me, boy,” he continued relentlessly, “but just so we’re clear, I ain’t buyin’ whatever it is you’re sellin’. Got it? So you can keep your sashayin’ little ass out of my way. And you can stuff your winks and your smiles where the sun don’t shine while you’re at it, because I got no use for a spoiled little rich kid slumming it down here with the rest of us just so you can feel better about yourself, no matter how pretty you think you are…. Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt. Never goin’ back…. Now you stay out of my way, or you hop back in that expensive little toy that probably cost more than Ernie or Jon’s house and find somewhere else to ease your conscience or seek out your inner child… or whatever the hell it is you’re doin’.”

  Russ took a perverse pleasure in spinning on his heel and striding out of the barn, mimicking Jordan’s dramatic exit from earlier, even if a slight twinge of guilt cast a pall over his satisfaction as Jordan’s stunned expression burned itself into his memory.

  “It had to be done,” he murmured to himself as he climbed the stairs to his room to get washed up for supper. “He’s probably just never had anyone actually say no to him before.”

  As he put on a fresh shirt and readied to go down for supper, he heard the screen door bang and the thud of boots move up the stairs and down the hall. He waited, but he didn’t hear a door slam. He stepped out and cast a glance in the direction of Jordan’s room. The door was slightly ajar, but only a weak light shone through the small opening. Russ rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck to ease some of the tightness there as he descended the stairs and went to see if Phyl needed any help.

  Jordan said almost nothing at the supper table, and he never once met Russ’s gaze. He talked to Phyl a bit. His magazine-cover smile was firmly back in place as he pushed his food around his plate and barely ate more than a bird—as usual—but Phyl must have seen through it anyway.

  “Are you feelin’ all right, darlin’?” she asked.

  “I guess I’m just a little tired,” Jordan replied, his phony smile dimming a bit. “I think I’ll go to bed early tonight, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, hon. You go on. We’ll take care of things down here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jordan took his plate and glass to the sink before heading out of the kitchen. Phyl watched him go, a concerned frown knitting her brows, but a second before Jordan disappeared, she stood up and called after him. “Hey, hon, wait up a second. I need to talk to you about something, and it probably shouldn’t wait.”

  From the hall, Russ heard her say, “Let’s go outside and sit for a spell,” before the screen door creaked open and banged shut.

  Russ was actually relieved. He wouldn’t have to play dumb with Phyl. He could do the dishes in peace and head on up to bed for what he hoped would be a full night’s sleep at last, without being plagued by Jordan’s puppy-dog eyes or Phyl’s all-too-perceptive gaze boring into him. He’d get it from her eventually, if Jordan tattled, but she was unlikely to charge after him tonight with Jordan just down the hall, so he could go to bed free and easy if he was quick about cleaning up.

  Chapter Ten

  STILL RATTLED from the smackdown he’d received in the barn, Jordan wasn’t sure he could handle any more serious conversations that night, but he didn’t want to be rude, so he let Phyllis lead him to the rockers on the front porch and sat in the one she offered him.

  “I can see you’re tired, so I won’t keep you long. I promise,” Phyllis said gently.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She pursed her lips and studied him for a few seconds before her weathered face twisted in a grimace. “I guess it’s best if I just come right out and say it. No good ever came from dithering.” She drew in a breath and blew it out. “I talked to your mama today.”

  Jordan felt the blood drain from his face. His stomach roiled as the meal he’d just eaten threatened to come back up. Swallowing bitter bile, he asked, “You did?”

  Phyllis’s expression softened. “Yeah. I got an email from her yesterday that was kinda confusing. She said she had to cancel the visit she planned for later this summer because she and her son weren’t going to be able to make it. I thought it kind of odd that she didn’t mention your being here or ask after you at all, so I gave her a call this afternoon.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Now you know your mama’s never been one for, uh, sharing, per se—at least not with people outside the family, that I can tell—but even she couldn’t hide that she was upset.”

  “You told her I was here?”

  “I did. I didn’t know it was a secret, and she seemed awful worried about you.”

  He smiled bitterly. “She could have fooled me.”

  Phyllis frowned reprovingly. “Now darlin’, no matter what, she’s still your mama. Of course she cares.”

  “She hasn’t tried to call or text me even once, except to get my brother and sister to harass me to go back home and apologize to all of them. All they want is for me to pretend it never happened, and I can’t do that.”

  Phyllis’s lined and tanned face fell, and she placed a warm, calloused hand over Jordan’s on the armrest of the r
ocker. “I’m sorry. I had to read between the lines a bit, because she wouldn’t say it outright, but I think I know what we’re talking about here, and I’m so very sorry it turned out like that. Some folk are just taught to believe certain things their whole lives, and they’re afraid to change their minds… like if they did, it would change everything and nothing would make sense anymore. But that don’t make it right to hurt someone you care about.”

  Jordan had to turn away from her for a few seconds to get control. His eyes stung and his throat felt tight, and the last thing he wanted was to break down where anyone could see him. “Thanks, Phyllis, Phyl. Did she say anything else, after she found out where I was?”

  Her eyes filled with regret. “Sorry, hon. She thanked me for telling her, but that was about it.”

  Jordan swallowed and nodded.

  She squeezed his hand again and said, “I don’t know much about the ‘coming out’ or anything, since Sean and I only had the one girl and she’s happily married to a man in Tucson, with two grown kids of her own, but I do know family, and I got two good ears if you want to talk about it… anytime.”

  After a long drawn-out breath, he closed his eyes and nodded again. He was going to thank her one more time and make some sort of excuse to leave, but his stomach chose that moment for a full-on revolt. Too much was happening all at once, and the tidal wave threatened to drown him in feelings he didn’t know how to deal with.

  He clapped a hand over his mouth, leaped from the chair, and sprinted for the stairs as Phyllis called after him. He barely made it to the bathroom by his room before throwing up what he’d had at dinner. Over and over his body convulsed until he was left with only dry heaves. Tears spilled down his cheeks unchecked before he was able to beat back the floodwaters and put his walls back up.

  If he had some sort of plan, any plan, he might be able to face what was beyond those walls, but he wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t handle this now, especially after what happened with Russ. If he’d been even a little emotionally stable, he might’ve been able to brush off the slap across the face Russ gave him, but he was as brittle as glass, and he knew it. He had no defense mechanisms left.

  “You’re weak. You always have been,” his father’s voice said inside his head. “Such a disappointment.”

  Sitting down on the cool black-and-white tile floor, he wedged himself between the old bumblebee-yellow tub with frosted glass shower doors and the toilet, and shivered. After snagging a hand towel from the rod, he wiped his mouth, closed his eyes, and let his head thump back against the dimpled glass doors.

  It had been almost two weeks since he’d taken a sledgehammer to his perfectly ordered life, and the pain hadn’t lessened any. Wasn’t it supposed to get better over time?

  Suppress. Lock it away. Be proud. Be strong. Don’t let the world see you hurt…. These were the only tools he’d ever been given by his family, so much so that he’d never been completely honest with anyone, not even his therapist. He wished he had now, because those tools weren’t working. His walls were failing, crack by crack.

  RUSS HAD just finished filling the dishwasher when he heard someone run up the stairs and a door slam overhead. He moved to the doorway of the kitchen in time to see Phyl come in from the porch calling Jordan’s name. She looked really shook up.

  “What’s he done now?” Russ asked, ready to take him apart for putting that expression on her face.

  She leveled a glare at him that set him back a step or two, placed her hands on her hips, and all but yelled, “Russell Patrick Niles, you need to stop ragging on that boy like he’s done anything but show kindness, decency, and a generous spirit since the day he got here. Ya hear me? Now I need you to pull your head out of your ass for one minute, show the compassion and decency I know you’re capable of, and go up and check on that boy, make sure he’s all right.”

  Taken aback, Russ just blinked at her. “Me?”

  “Yes, you! Do you see me talking to anybody else?” she spat, narrowing her eyes.

  With a grimace, he took the dishtowel off his shoulder and wiped his hands on it, stalling. He cleared his throat and stared down at his boots as he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Me and him, we had a little exchange of words earlier. I don’t think he’s gonna have much interest in talkin’ to me about anything, especially if he’s upset about something.”

  “What did you do?”

  A quick glance up showed she was spittin’ mad, and Russ shrugged as the hairs on his neck prickled at the glare she was still giving him. “I just needed to set him straight about a couple of things, is all.”

  “Well, whatever it was, if you need to apologize, then you’re gonna march right up there and apologize. Then you’re going to dig deep for that sympathetic and caring heart I know you have, and you’re gonna listen if that boy’s willing to pour his heart out to you, you got me?”

  “Phyyylll….” The only thing that stopped it from being a whine was that his voice had dropped an octave since he was a teenager. He lifted his chin, cleared his throat, and straightened his shoulders. “Why me?” he asked in a slightly more grown-up tone.

  “Because, of the two of us, you’re the only one here who might have a clue as to what he’s going through.”

  Frowning, Russ threw the rag over his shoulder again and folded his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean? What could I possibly have in common with a twentysomething spoiled trust-fund baby from the East Coast?”

  That seemed to draw her up short, and Russ thought he’d dodged that particular bullet when she cast a glance up the stairs and sighed. That was, until she turned her soft, pleading blue-gray eyes back on him and said, “It’s not really my secret to tell, but I’m pretty sure we’re all he’s got right now. He’s been carrying this around ever since he got here, and none of us even had a clue. He’s obviously upset enough to literally make himself sick, and I’m afraid if he keeps bottling everything up, he’s gonna burst at some point.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  With another sigh and a slight grimace, she said, “He came out to his folks, all right?” After a brief pause to let that sink in, she continued, “And, needless to say, it didn’t go so well. From what I can tell, his momma’s in complete denial, and I obviously can’t know for sure, but his daddy was never what I would call the soft and understanding type. He’s from that Jerry Falwell fire-and-brimstone country up there—not that we don’t have more than our fair share of that here too, but you know what I mean.”

  Russ closed his eyes and slumped against the doorjamb. “Shit.”

  In the silence that followed his exclamation, they heard a toilet flush upstairs. When Russ opened his eyes, he found Phyl glaring at him again. “If you won’t do it for him, then do it for me. I want you to check on him, make sure he’s okay. If he won’t talk to you ’cause of whatever happened between you, fine, but you’re going to make an effort, you got me?”

  With a resigned sigh, he moved to the stairs and handed her the dishtowel on his way past. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise anything.”

  Her lips twisted. “I suppose that’ll have to do. Just be kind. I know you know how to do that. If you have to pretend he’s a horse, then do it.”

  Outside the bathroom door, Russ took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. He tapped on the door but received no response.

  “Jordan, it’s Russ. Can I come in?”

  “Go away.”

  Dragging a palm over his whiskers, he blew out a breath and tried again.

  “Now, Phyl won’t let me do that, not until I’ve checked on you. Can I come in?”

  “Whatever,” came the somewhat petulant response.

  Jordan sat curled up on the tile floor, crammed between the toilet and the tub. His face was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip. His blue eyes were red and wary, like a wounded animal, as he watched Russ step through the door. His fake smiles and flirty winks were nowhere to be seen, l
eaving only exhaustion and vulnerability in their wake.

  Instead of coming the rest of the way into the room, Russ slid to the floor and propped himself against the jamb.

  “She told you, didn’t she?” Jordan asked, his voice raw with emotion.

  “Yeah. Don’t be mad. She was worried about you, and she thought I could help.”

  Jordan snorted, and Russ shared a wry smile with him as he nodded. “Yeah. I told her I probably wasn’t your favorite person at the moment, but she thought I might be able to understand a little of what you’re going through.”

  “And do you?”

  “What?”

  Jordan sat forward a little and pinned him with intense blue eyes. “Do you understand? Did you fuck up your entire life by coming out, like me, or were your parents actually decent about it?”

  With a sigh, Russ pulled a knee to his chest and rested an arm on top of it. He worried the corner of his lip as he contemplated how to answer that.

  “Sorry,” Jordan rushed to say. “Of course you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. It’s personal. I get it. I know you don’t really want to talk to me. I—”

  Russ held up a hand to stop the flood of words. Jordan sounded so wounded right now, if he kept going, Russ would be over there pulling Jordan into his arms before he could stop himself.

  Damned bleeding heart.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, Jordan. I’m just not sure how to say it. My situation was a little different from yours. I’m not sure that I ever actually came out to anyone.”

  Jordan frowned at him in confusion, and Russ sighed. “Look, my daddy wasn’t exactly the kind of man I looked up to… like, ever. By the time I understood who I was, and that I wasn’t going to be taking Mary Jo to the prom—or anywhere else, for that matter—my daddy wasn’t in the picture much, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass for his approval of anything I did. I never bothered to tell him, because I didn’t care enough to let him know me.” He paused for a second and grimaced. “My mama was a different story, but not that different. She remarried a couple of times after my dad and had a few more kids, and since I was the oldest by several years—and a reminder of her early mistakes in life—I kinda got shoved by the wayside. I still got fed and had a roof over my head until I was eighteen, but I was more like a built-in babysitter than part of the family. She had a lot on her plate besides me, so when I could, I left. We exchange a Christmas card every year, but that’s about it. I never really bothered to have the whole talk with her either. I think she knows, since I never mention a wife or girlfriend and neither does she, but we don’t talk about it.”