Through the Mirrorball

by Browatzke, Rob

  “When he came home, he went right to his room. When his father got home, it happened again. Michael was drunk that night, and that made it worse. He came home, and he went into Taylor’s room, and I could hear Taylor scream. The door was locked. I couldn’t get in. I tried. Oh, how I tried! I threw myself at the door over and over, and inside, I could hear the thump and thump and thump and scream and scream and scream. And he came out, and pushed me to the floor, and he went to bed. And I lay there, and I could see Taylor on the floor, bruised and bloodied and broken and crying. I crawled over to him, and I held him, there on the floor until he fell asleep. And then I went to bed, next to the man who had done that to him. What else was I supposed to do? I had to hope that was the end.

  “It was the end, wasn’t it, Alex? The gunshot woke me up, woke both of us up. I jumped from bed, but he just sat up, and said ‘good’ and rolled over. I found him, in the garage. I will never forget what I saw that night, in the garage. The gun was on the floor where it had flown from him, and he . . .” She was talking fast, and suddenly just stopped.

  “I remember seeing you at the funeral, Alex. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was angry at you then, for your part in it. I know it wasn’t your fault, now, but then, oh, I was angry at you.”

  “At me? You could have done something!”

  “Alex,” Steven said. “Stay calm.”

  “No, he’s right. I could have done something. I did do it, too late though. I kicked him out. He worked for my father. I got him fired. I tried to take away from him what he had taken away from me, but how could any house or job compare to my beautiful baby boy? He wore this jacket that day. I left it where he left it. I left everything how he left it.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Howard.”

  “Please, call me Sheila. Here now, we shouldn’t be in here. This is Taylor’s room. He doesn’t like it when I pry. Come boys, let’s go back to the living room. I can make us some tea. Would you like some tea? I do enjoy a nice cup of tea.”

  She walked past us and out the door. Steven looked at me, and then followed her. I took one last look around the room, and then squeezed my eyes shut, capturing the image of this dusty shrine forever. I followed them out and shut the door behind me.

  Chapter 42

  What should I say? What should I do? I had been carrying around this self-centered assumption that I was the one who was so broken by Taylor’s death. This woman, she was the broken one. Thirteen years of living where it happened, of knowing she could have stopped it. Kicking out her husband, getting him fired, they were petty revenges. They were no bandage on the gaping wound that was visible through those haunted eyes.

  She made us tea. I had no desire to spend one more second in that house, much less have tea with this woman, but Steven whispered that we couldn’t just leave her this soon. I used his phone to call my parents and tell them we’d be later than expected. My phone was still off in the car, and I should check it, but I was in no rush.

  We didn’t say much of anything as we sipped our tea. What was there to say?

  “Is this your boyfriend, Alex?” she said suddenly, and I choked a little on the sip.

  “Yes, I am,” Steven said, coming to my rescue again. And whether he meant it or not, right then, it meant the world.

  “That’s nice. You seem like nice boys.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse.

  “I wonder if Taylor would have a boy like this. He was a nice boy too.”

  “Yes, he was, Mrs. . . . Sheila. He was. And he would, indeed.” That boy could have been me. Maybe.

  “Such a sweet boy, you are. You always were. Here, one second.” She put her tea down and walked down the hall. In a minute, she came back, and, cradled in her arms, was Taylor’s jacket. She went to hand it to me. “Take this,” she said.

  I hesitated.

  “Please, it would mean so much to me, to know that you have it.”

  I reached out and touched it. She was holding on to it so tightly, and then let go and turned away. I pulled it close to me. It was impossible, that I could smell him on a jacket from a lifetime before. But holding it, there in that house, I could smell him, taste him, hear him. I could feel him.

  “You should go now,” she said. “I need to lie down.”

  “Mrs. Howard, thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re a polite boy.” She walked over to the window and looked out. “He’s not coming home, is he?”

  “No, Mrs. Howard. He’s not.”

  “No, of course not.”

  We walked toward the door, and paused as we were about to leave. “Can we do anything for you?” I asked. “Before we go? Or tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m fine,” she said. “You boys take care.” She came toward the door as if to hug us, but only put her hand on the door and started to close it. “Oh, yes, you can do one thing for me, Alex.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never forget my boy.”

  “Never,” I said.

  “Good,” she said, and closed it a little farther. Her face was only partly visible through the crack when she said, “The happiest he ever was, in his whole life on this earth, was when he was with you.”

  She closed the door, and I broke down in tears, burying my face in the jacket of the boy I once loved. And then, the man I loved now wrapped his arms around me and led me to the car.

  Chapter 43

  “Are you okay, Alex?” Steven asked as we drove to my parents’ Ahouse.

  It was a simple question. It was a loaded question. I was sitting there next to my maybe-still-ex-boyfriend, stroking the jacket of my dead-high-school-sweetheart. I had a crazy man sending me pictures of said dead sweetheart, and leaving voice mail for me.

  I was far from okay, but I could see okay ahead of me, and maybe not that far ahead. I could see Steven and me working things out, I could see me continuing to choose a different path than cocaine and alcohol. I could see the future I had once dreamed of, still just ahead of me.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said, and squeezed his hand even as I squeezed Taylor’s jacket.

  I gave Steven directions, and soon enough, we were there at my parents’ house. “What are we telling them?” Steven asked.

  “I’d been thinking that same thing myself. Let’s keep it light. Mom will worry. We’re here to visit some old friends. That’s all.”

  “I’ll follow your lead,” he said.

  “Well, let’s go in,” I said, and we were no sooner out of the car than my mom was coming down the steps to meet us. Her face lit up and she hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her, my chin on her head. I could smell her shampoo, and it took me back to being a kid, lying next to her on the couch as she read me a book before bed. A simpler time.

  “Okay, Alex,” she said, her voice muffled in my chest. “You can let go.”

  We all laughed, and she took us both by the hands and led us inside, where my dad was holding the door open. He clapped his hand on my shoulder as I passed. “Welcome home, son,” he said. “And Steven, good to see you, too.”

  “Come in. Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything? You ate already? Was the drive good?”

  “Slow down, woman,” my dad said, laughing. “Can I get you guys a beer?”

  Steven looked at me, a raised eyebrow asking my permission. I nodded. “Steven will,” I said, “but I’m good.”

  “I have some wine,” my mom said. “I could get you a glass? Here, let me get you a glass.”

  “No, Mom, I’m good. I’ve actually decided to stop drinking.”

  “Oh?” she said, her expression suddenly one of concern.

  There was too much to tell her, and no need for her to know it, not if I kept clean and sober. “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. I’ve just been thinking I want to make some healthier choices. You have your glass of wine though, and Dad, you and Steven have a beer. It’s fine.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” Dad said,
and he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Is everything okay? What brings you boys to visit? Are you here long?”

  “Jesus, Mom, one question at a time,” I said with a laugh. That’s how she was, a never-ending string of questions and worries and excitement. A little bit dramatic actually. Maybe that’s where I got it from, my tendency to feel and react before thinking things through. Her heart was pure, her intentions good, but it was nice, in a non-serious way, to think I could blame her for some of my more . . . theatrical qualities.

  We small-talked over drinks, sticking with the we’d-come-to-visit-friends-and-just-for-the-night story we had told them earlier. It was already getting late though, and it had been an exhausting day, physically and emotionally. Steven had barely finished half his beer before I noticed he was starting to doze off.

  Mom must have noticed too. “Well, look at us, keeping you guys up talking when you must be tired. Peter, you clean up. I’ll just show the boys to their room and then meet you in bed.”

  “I know where the room is, Mom.”

  “Now, now, you just let me play gracious hostess. You never come home. Why, this is Steven’s first time here, and you’ve been together a long time. Why, it must be over a year, now.”

  “A year today,” Steven said, stifling a yawn. “But yes, we’re pretty beat. Or at least I am. You can stay up, Alex.”

  “No, I’m done too. Besides,” I said to my parents, “don’t you guys both work in the morning?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about us,” Dad said. “We’ll be fine. We’ll make you guys a nice breakfast before you leave.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I said.

  “No. It’s done,” Mom said. “I already took the morning off. Bacon and eggs good enough for you both, I assume? Steven, is there anything you don’t like?”

  “I’m easy,” he said, and it was all I could do not to rise to that bait.

  Easy. Yes. That’s exactly what things were, right then, right there, between me and Steven. Things were clearer in my head than ever, days removed from alcohol and drugs, and spending all this time together, even under such circumstances, well, it put everything back in perspective. I was a very lucky man, to have found him not only once but twice. Or did this count as the third? If neither a crazy kidnapper nor my drug-induced drama could keep us apart, then that was a pretty strong sign that this was meant to be.

  “Alex?” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you coming to bed?”

  He pulled me up from the couch, and we hugged my parents good night. Mom insisted on walking us to our room, and kissing us both again at the door. “If you need blankets, there’s some in the closet. We’ll see you boys in the morning.”

  She opened the door for us and we stepped into the room as she turned on the light. She smiled, a smile that was warm and knowing and still a little bit sad, as she pulled the door closed behind her. And there we were.

  This wasn’t the room I had grown up in. My parents had sold that house. But it felt like it could have been. Even though there was nothing of my teenage years around, not like the shrine that Taylor’s mom had, I suddenly felt very weird. I had a boy in my room. With my parents in the house.

  Was that a feeling anyone ever outgrew?

  I looked at Steven, and he was standing there, uncomfortable, and blushing a bit. I guess he was feeling it too. I smiled at him.

  “Shut up,” he said, playfully punching my arm. It was nice to know that as much as he could read my mind, I could read his as well. Sometimes. “Let’s go to bed.”

  I sat down on the bed and pulled off my pants. Without even looking, I could sense Steven behind me, standing there, unbuttoning his shirt. I was suddenly all nervous. My hands were sweating. We had spent many nights in bed together. We had definitely seen each other naked. Why was I all blushing-virgin-bride all of a sudden?

  “Can I get the lights?”

  I turned, and Steven was standing there in his briefs (perfectly packaged), his hand on the switch.

  “Yes,” I said, and the room was plunged into darkness. I quickly finished undressing, leaving my undies on too. I heard Steven cross the room, fumbling his way back to the bed, swearing as he bumped into the footboard. We crawled under the covers and I lay there, staring into the blackness above, my arms at my sides, him next to me, his arms at his sides.

  “I . . .”

  “I . . .” We both spoke at the same time and started to laugh.

  “You go first,” he said.

  “No, you.”

  “Alex, just say it.” His hand found mine, on the sheets between our bodies. His fingers intertwined mine.

  “I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. I don’t know. For being you.”

  “You’re welcome, Alex.”

  We lay there. He stroked my hand with his thumb. “What did you want to say?” I asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “You were going to say something too.”

  “Oh. Just . . .” I felt him shift next to me as he propped himself up on his elbow. “I love you.”

  He leaned down and found my lips in the dark. Everything was right.

  He was calling to me.

  I couldn’t see him.

  The room was filled with people. Wonderland always was. There was no music though. Just people everywhere, milling around. I was standing there, in the middle of the crowd of generic, faceless people.

  “Alex,” he called again.

  “Steven?” I called out.

  “Alex!”

  And there he was, bobbing up and down above the crowd, waving his hands above his head.

  “Steven!”

  The room zoomed out, and more people came flooding in as the bar expanded. He kept getting farther and farther away, and I could barely see him anymore. Just a head among the heads. I couldn’t hear him now. There was a drone of people talking, gossiping, laughing, crying, His head disappeared, and it was just fingertips above the crowd. And then that was gone too.

  Steven was gone.

  Chapter 44

  When I woke up, Steven was gone. I hadn’t heard him get out of bed, hadn’t even felt him get out. I wandered downstairs, and found Mom making breakfast.

  “Have you seen Steven?” I asked.

  “Morning to you, too, dear. How did you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, or some juice?”

  I blushed. “Sorry, morning, Mom.” And I kissed her cheek. “Now, have you seen him?”

  She laughed as she poured me some juice, and suddenly I was ten again, and late for school. Except if I had been ten, I’d have been waiting for Nathan. We were inseparable then.

  “He went for a run. He said to eat without him.”

  Steven and his runs. He could be gone for an hour or two. The man loved to jog. And had the body to show for it. A fact I appreciated immensely, I thought, as I scooped out a heaping plate of bacon and eggs. Me, I wasn’t so big on the running. Luckily, my metabolism was still working in my favor. I was thirty though. That was bound to change.

  “You’ll be good here, if I leave?” Mom asked. “I would stay and visit but I have some stuff I really should get done before work. You’ll be okay? Lock up before you guys hit the road? Come by the store and say good-bye?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She kissed me on the cheek. “It was so good seeing you guys. You need to come visit more often. Your dad and I, we worry about you too. Since . . . well, since everything that happened. We are so happy to see that everything is working out now though.”

  After she left, her words weighed heavily on my guilty heart. I hadn’t lied. Not really. Evaded, omitted, but not lied. But she was my mom. Didn’t that mean she deserved to know the truth? The truth. Sex. Drugs. Breakups. Harassment. She was my mom. I couldn’t tell her those things. The despair and disappointment on her face if I ever did would be more than I could handle.

  It occurred to me suddenly that I hadn’t
checked my phone for a while. Not since I’d sent out the message with my new number to everyone, to Aaron. While Steven was running, maybe I should stop running, stop hiding. Turning off my phone had been a pretty chickenshit thing to do, easier than sitting there waiting for them not to reply.

  I took my coffee and my phone out onto the deck overlooking the backyard. Living in the gayborhood was great, the condos rising above the world. But I missed the simple things, like coffee on a deck. Steven had a deck. I loved sitting on Steven’s deck.

  Jesus, Alex, I thought, that doesn’t sound right.

  I turned my iPhone over and over in my hands, and then powered it up. For a moment, I wondered whether I wanted there to be messages or not, but then they began to roll in, and for good or bad, they were there.

  MWAH. Loads of love—from Dinah.

  Thanks Alex. Hope you’re well—from Colton.

  Should I pass this on to Allan so he can fuck you again? LOSE MY NUMBER—from Brandon.

  Does this mean you’re done being a douche?—from Jesse.

  SERIOUSLY LOSE MY NUMBER—from Brandon again.

  Hey thanks I am glad you’re sober and I am glad you’re doing better and I’m glad you gave me your new number. I’m sorry for everything that happened and I miss you. Just as a friend. I enjoyed having you back in my life. Let’s do coffee?—from Aaron.

  OK, I talked to Jesse and Colton and I guess we’re done being mad at you and that you’re seriously trying to get your shit together so you don’t need to lose my number but seriously, Alex, don’t fuck up again—from Brandon.

  They like me, I thought. They really like me.

  I sent a simple xo to Dinah and Colton and a yes yes it does to Jesse. To Brandon, I sent I swear. No more fuckups. No more drama. No more anything.

  And that left Aaron.

  Coffee would be good. I’m out of town right now. Should be back soon. Maybe this weekend?

  He replied almost right away. Where are you?