The Mary's Boys Collection

by Brandon Witt

  The other officer walked closer, Vahin saw him begin to pull out his gun.

  Vahin started to argue, tell him he’d not even been read his rights, when a voice spoke out of the darkness.

  “Just so you all know, I’m filming every bit of this on my iPhone, and my brother is doing the same from a different vantage point.”

  Vahin nearly melted. Pat’s footsteps sounded over the sidewalk as she drew closer.

  She continued, “Officers, am I to understand this bartender served alcohol to a minor? That is the issue, is that correct?”

  Morris’s expression grew hard, his lips drawing into a thin line.

  The other officer spoke. “Yes.”

  Vahin could see instant fury wash over Morris, but he didn’t turn to look at his partner.

  “I thought so.” Pat drew nearer, then stopped. “Believe me, I know how this goes. You write him a ticket, or warrant, or whatever, you hand it to him, and then he goes to court. He doesn’t get in your backseat. He doesn’t get touched by you anymore. And he definitely doesn’t require you to pull your gun.”

  Over Morris’s shoulder, the other cop hastily slid his gun back into his holster.

  Triumph sounded in Pat’s voice. “I’m not sure you understand me, Officer. This is being filmed. Right now, your hand is on Vahin’s elbow. You’re touching him, and he’s done nothing more than deserve a ticket. I suggest you go ahead and write it and be gone.”

  Vahin finally glanced behind him, both marveling at Pat and afraid she was pushing things too far. Pat stood less than five feet away, high-heeled shoes planted firmly shoulder width apart, the frosted tips of her hair reflecting the lights, both hands holding her phone out in front of her as if she were the one holding a gun. Though her hands trembled, her voice didn’t.

  “So what’s it going to be, Officers? A ticket or does this video of you touching Vahin and whatever happens next continue to stream live on YouTube?”

  Morris’s grip dropped away. His eyes met Vahin’s with unexplained hate for several seconds, and then he moved back.

  In less than three more minutes, it was over.

  The officers got into their car and drove away.

  Vahin crumpled the yellow ticket in his hand and stuffed it in his pocket as he turned to Pat, who still stood pointing her phone at him. He moved toward her. “I think you can stop live streaming now.”

  Her voice finally started to shake. “I’m not live streaming. I have no idea how to do that.”

  Despite himself, Vahin let out a laugh and closed the distance between them, lifted her phone, and wrapped her in his arms. “Was it even filming?”

  She nodded against his chest. “Yeah, I think so, but Steven wasn’t actually at a window. He’s not even here. I followed you out.” A sob broke and her back shook.

  Vahin pulled her tighter. “That doesn’t matter.” He felt a tear run down his cheek. “Thank you, Pat. I don’t know what would’ve happened—”

  A door slammed, and there was more pounding of feet. Without releasing her, both Vahin and Pat angled toward the sound.

  ManDonna bounded toward them, her beehive wig wobbling back and forth. “The show just ended, and Alex told me. Are you two okay?” She looked around, not waiting for their answer. “Where are they?”

  Only then did Vahin notice ManDonna was barefoot, both of her stiletto-heeled shoes clutched in her hands like they were a pair of samurai swords. He had no idea why, probably because he was losing his ever-loving mind, but Vahin began to laugh. Laugh until he could barely breathe. Laugh until the tears truly fell, tears that had nothing to do with the laughter.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Marlon Barton

  He needed to be alone. Just to have half an hour to sit in his own mind so he could unravel… what? What needed unraveling? There was no great mystery to solve and really nothing to be done. As his father had said at the end of it all—“Now it is what it is, and you live with it.”

  But how was he supposed to live with the entire force knowing he was gay? Knowing that the man they’d worked beside for so many years wasn’t who he’d claimed to be.

  No, that wasn’t right. He was still the same person. He was. But he didn’t feel like it. Not at all.

  He felt exposed. Naked. Vulnerable.

  It didn’t help matters that he’d called in sick. Didn’t help that he’d have to face Chief Schmidt after his “be stronger, be better” speech, all the while knowing the man would have no illusions about what kind of sick Marlon had been. A case of the yellow-bellied flu. That was all.

  Marlon banged the hood of his car with his fist, then shook away the pain before leaning against it once more. He watched the reflections of lighted rollercoasters at Lakeside Amusement Park blur over the dark surface of Lake Rhoda. How many times had he sat here, the lights, music, and happy cries from the theme park drifting toward him as the white noise of I-70 buffered at his back?

  Ever since he’d gotten his driver’s license, this was the spot he came to think. There had been fewer houses around back then, but the spot still served him well. It was where in his senior year in high school, he’d come to terms with the fact he was gay. Where he’d wept over the loss of his grandmother less than a week before graduating college. Where he’d had to choose between a career in law enforcement or the friends who said he was betraying his race. It had always offered clarity.

  It didn’t that night. Too many thoughts crowded his mind, making him feel like a million people were screaming in his head.

  Maybe if he’d come here first. Not spent the entire day…. Honestly, he couldn’t remember how he’d spent the day. He’d wandered around his apartment aimlessly and then the city. Wandered until he’d found himself standing on his parents’ doorstep and then being ushered into his childhood home.

  For a moment, it had felt like the right decision. Instantly knowing something was wrong, of course, his mother had led him to the kitchen table and began reheating the leftover casserole she and his father had eaten earlier in the evening.

  Half of the plate of food was gone when his father placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward, his gaze leveled on Marlon’s. “Spill it. What’s happened?”

  Feeling like he was coming out to them all over again, Marlon struggled to find words. Then the words wouldn’t stop. Tumbling out of him in such number that the food was forgotten and cold before he ended.

  “It’s all gone to shit. I—” Marlon’s breath caught, and he glanced at his mom. He hadn’t let a curse word slip in front of her since he was thirteen. “Sorry. I mean, everything is wrong. Ever since Sam left to be with his mother-in-law, I started hating my job. I absolutely hate it. My new partner is a racist, a—he’s horrid and unsafe. I don’t know if I can do it anymore, if I even want to. Maybe if I… moved….”

  His mother, whose gaze had gone hard with the cuss word, instantly got teary. “No. No, baby. You can’t leave. Your home is here. We love you. Your nieces and nephews need you. You can’t—”

  His father cut her off. “Celeste, Marlon’s a grown man. He isn’t tied to Denver or to us. If he—”

  She interrupted him right back, an unusual act for his normally wives-should-be-submissive mother. “No. No, you don’t, Larry Barton. You’re not giving my son permission to leave me.” She turned a hard gaze back on Marlon. “And my son doesn’t run away. My son is a police officer. My son protects. My son is brave, and strong, and good. He does not run away.”

  He held his mother’s gaze for several seconds, feeling completely naked in front of her. Hearing echoes of the pride and joy both of his parents had felt when he’d announced his choice of law enforcement. When he’d graduated the academy. When he’d let them hold his badge. The one other time he’d felt his mother’s disapproval was when he’d confessed that he was gay.

  “They know, Mom. Everyone.”

  She didn’t need any other explanation. Her eyes widened in what looked like fear, and then hope seemed to take it
s place. “Maybe this is the time, dear.”

  Marlon didn’t require clarification; this was an old argument. An event he knew she prayed for constantly.

  She went on. “The Lord works how he does, Marlon. He’s provided you a fork in your path, and you can choose the way that leads to him. There will be no more shame, no more conflict. Nothing left of this issue because it won’t exist.”

  None of the old anger he used to feel at his mother’s belief that God would wipe away his “affliction” if Marlon would simply have faith rose up in him. Maybe he was too tired. He didn’t see judgment in her eyes. Only fear for her son’s soul and a rekindled hope of this new possible salvation.

  No. He felt no anger. More guilt, but no anger. By dumping all this at their feet, he’d opened her up to the illusion he might be different than he was, good enough, finally, for the God of his parents.

  He searched for the right words to correct his mother, but they didn’t come.

  His father, who had no less faith than his wife but was worldly enough to know his son, shook his head. “Dear, that isn’t why Marlon is here. And I don’t believe it’s a path he’s willing to start down.” He turned his attention to Marlon. “There’s nothing for you to figure out, Son. The truth is out, and you made your choice a long time ago. It’s too late to hide it anymore. Now it is what it is, and you live with it. No more hiding. Be the son we’re proud of.”

  Be stronger, better, tougher.

  He wasn’t sure if he could. He was tired. Like he was 1,001 years old. Just tired. Like he’d been waging war all his life and there was nothing left to fight for.

  Be stronger, better, tougher.

  He fixed his gaze on the uneaten food on his plate. “I met someone.” Blood pounded behind his ears. He’d not planned on telling them. Not tonight. Not for a long time, if ever. He and Vahin had barely met. Why would he bring it up now? He’d dated other men for months and never brought them home to meet his family. Never even brought them up to his family.

  But what had been planned about this night?

  He forced himself to look up and meet their stares and start again. “I met someone. His name’s Vahin. It’s… new. But I think….”

  His mother shook her head, ever so slightly. Probably didn’t even realize she’d reacted at all.

  Marlon nearly stopped talking. “For the first time, I think I might have found what you two have. I’d kinda given up on that.”

  No one spoke, but tears rolled silently down his mother’s cheeks. He could see the shift in her eyes. Maybe her healing fantasy was finally breaking.

  Finally his father cleared his throat. He started to speak, then cleared his throat again before words came. “So you’re telling me that my brave and strong son has met someone he might love and is thinking about running away because other people know?”

  Marlon wanted to argue. It wasn’t as simple as that. Sam was gone. Andrew was a nightmare. Something bad was going to happen with him; it was only a matter of time. He was tired. It wasn’t as simple as him running away because of Vahin or because everyone else finally knew.

  Or was it?

  Marlon leaned against his car as the night grew cooler, the breeze playing on the water, then washing over him. He watched until the cheers from Lakeside faded and the lights of the rides blinked out. He turned his attention to the stars, though dimmed by the glow of the surrounding city, as they twinkled down on him, but they offered no answers.

  There were no answers. No solutions. No miracles. No easy way out. He couldn’t change anything.

  Now it is what it is, and you live with it.

  When he showed up at Vahin’s Capitol Hill apartment, it was by choice, not a meandering accident. It was also intentional to show up unannounced instead of calling or texting. If Vahin wasn’t there, Marlon would go by Mary’s, though they’d closed hours ago.

  Despite his nerves, the pounding of his heart wasn’t laden with fear, at least not as much as before. His father was right. He’d made his choice long ago. He wasn’t sure if Vahin was truly part of that choice he’d get to live with or just a beautiful detour along the way, but he wanted to find out.

  He’d fix things with Vahin tonight and then face his fellow officers in the morning as if nothing had changed. He was still Marlon.

  The main door to the old stone building opened and shut, a figure emerging from it. Marlon was halfway up the sidewalk when the person spoke. “Oh, Marlon.”

  She had been silhouetted against the lamps by the doorway, but as she shifted, the streetlight washed over her face, allowing Marlon to recognize her. “Oh, hi. Um….”

  “Pat.” She smiled at him, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and touched his arm as she stopped beside him. “It’s good you’re here. I didn’t realize Vahin had gotten ahold of you.”

  He was about to ask if she lived in the building as well, but her words stopped him cold. “He didn’t.” There hadn’t been any texts in hours. Of course, Vahin hadn’t responded to the last one, so that was to be expected. “What’s wrong? Is Vahin okay?”

  “Oh.” Surprise cut across Pat’s features, and Marlon realized how exhausted she looked. “Ah, yes. He’s fine.” She glanced back at the apartment building, then again at Marlon. “You’re here to see him, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “Good. He needs to see you. I’ll let him fill you in on everything.” She must have noticed the fear cross his face, and she reached out and touched him again. “Vahin is fine. I promise. I wasn’t trying to worry you, but it’s not my story to tell. Go on in.”

  Marlon hesitated. “Maybe I should—”

  “No,” she cut him off, then smiled, though it seemed forced. “Go on. Hopefully I’ll get to see you dance on stage again soon.”

  Marlon tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out. “See you soon, Pat. Thanks.”

  Another squeeze and she passed by him.

  Marlon hurried up the rest of the walk and tapped Vahin’s number on the metal keypad by the door.

  There was a crackle, and then Vahin’s voice cut through. “Miss me already, Pat? I’ll buzz you in. Come on up and get whatever you forgot.”

  “No, it’s—” A loud buzz cut off Marlon, and the door’s lock clicked. “Vahin?”

  There was no answer, and the speakers were silent.

  Marlon gripped the door handle, considered calling Vahin back, then shrugged and walked into the building. He made it up the two flights of stairs and had barely knocked when the door flew open.

  “I swear you’d forget your….” Vahin’s words trailed off as he saw Marlon. “Oh.”

  “Hey.” Marlon gave a little wave, then let his hand fall down to his side, feeling stupid. “I, uh, tried to answer you down there, but you were already gone.”

  A mix of emotions played across Vahin’s face, and Marlon couldn’t tell if he was glad to see him or not. After a few seconds, Vahin stepped backward and opened the door wider. “Wanna come in?”

  Without answering, Marlon entered the apartment far enough that Vahin could shut the door before turning to him. He looked across the room through the large, arched window, framing the moonlight falling over the lawns of Cheesman Park. So much beauty in the world, and so much fucking stress. Marlon turned back to Vahin. “Are you okay? Pat made it sound like something had happened.”

  His brows knitted. “Pat called you?”

  “No. I ran into her outside. She was leaving as I was coming in.”

  Vahin seemed to consider his words, like they’d been a riddle. “So you were already coming here to see me?”

  “Yeah. I was hoping to talk to you. Face-to-face. I didn’t want to text. I hope that’s okay.”

  Still his brows were furrowed, and he looked as if he expected Marlon to make some dreaded announcement or something. “I take it your partner gave you a call, huh?”

  Marlon balked. “Andrew? No. Haven’t talked to him since yesterday. That’s part of why I came here. To tell you
why I disappeared yesterday.”

  “You were sick.” Vahin crossed his arms, then unfolded them and moved toward his sofa and took a seat on the farthest end.

  “No. I wasn’t. I—” Marlon stopped himself. “Wait. Are you okay? It seemed like something was wrong?”

  “You really don’t know?” Vahin’s expression began to soften.

  “Know what?” Marlon searched for what to say. “Vahin, I have no idea what’s going on here. I just came to talk to you.”

  Vahin thought for a moment, shifted in his seat, then folded his hands together in his lap. “Then talk to me.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He waved Marlon off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Talk to me. You came here for a reason, why?”

  Marlon tried to figure out if Vahin sounded angry or what he was feeling, but his handsome features were unreadable. Though the redness and puffiness around his eyes made it seem like he’d been crying. Marlon pointed to the free side of the sofa. “May I sit?”

  “Of course.”

  Marlon sat and felt crazy that he’d come over like he had. He’d done more talking in the past few hours with his parents than he’d done in years. He wasn’t sure he could do much more. He hesitated, glanced at Vahin, then away. Fuck, he was being ridiculous. Spit it out already.

  He looked back into Vahin’s brown eyes and refused to allow himself to turn away. “I went to work yesterday and found out that my asshole of a partner announced to the world that I was gay. I called in today because I wasn’t sure how to handle it, and I didn’t come over to see you last night for the same reason.”

  Vahin unclenched his fingers, and he leaned forward, his eyes widening. “Your partner told everyone?”

  At Vahin’s change of expression, Marlon felt a little relief. “Pretty much. I’m sorry I did a disappearing act. I needed some time. But I could’ve given you some explanation.”

  The relief on Vahin’s face was obvious. “It’s okay. It’s not like we’re dating or that you owed me anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.”