Through the Mirrorball

by Browatzke, Rob

  At my parents’.

  What’s that about?

  Where to even start, I thought. Steven and I came to visit. I wanted to get out of the city. That was innocuous enough.

  You and Steven, hey? Are you guys working things out then?

  I think so.

  Nothing ever happened with us, Alex. Well, ok, yes, that one thing happened between us, but not what you thought.

  I know.

  He loves you.

  I know that too.

  So we can do coffee?

  Yeah. I’ll call when we’re back.

  Sounds good.

  No three-ways though, I typed, smiling, and realized that just like that, if I could joke about it, it was done. Oh no. There it was. The picture of them kissing, back in my head, twisting in my heart. No! I wouldn’t let myself think that again. It was over and done with. Steven and I were moving on, and the past was in the past. I had to let it go.

  My interior monologue was getting increasingly gay, I thought, from Sally Field to Frozen in just a few text messages. Steven would appreciate it. He loved Disney movies. Every Tuesday, we would order in Chinese and watch an animated classic. We had to do it again. And soon.

  Where was Steven? He should be back by now.

  How are you doing though, really? Aaron texted. I know about the graffiti and Allan.

  Of course he did. Things are fucked up. But they’re getting better. Steven’s helping.

  And being sober helps too, I am sure.

  That it does. I paused. How is life for you?

  Life’s good. Work. You know.

  Anything new?

  Wonderland wants me to do a onetime comeback special.

  I smiled. The realization that Aaron had been Wonderland’s star entertainer, the Queen of Hearts, had been lost in the confusion and chaos surrounding Steven’s kidnapping. But he had retired from drag, the shortest career in the spotlight ever. He had been good though. So very very good.

  Are you going to do it? You should.

  I probably am. It’s a cancer fundraiser.

  Aaron had lost both his parents to cancer. That cause would be all it took for him to brush off his heels again. The first time Steven had said he loved me had been at a Queen of Hearts show.

  Seriously, where was Steven?

  I sent him a text do you have your phone with you? Are you almost done?

  The message showed delivered but sat there, unread. Maybe he had that feature turned off. No. He never turned it off. Oh well, he was probably just enjoying his run. He hadn’t gone for a couple of days.

  I hopped in the shower, and when I was done, and he still wasn’t back, I cleaned up the kitchen a bit for Mom (not that she had left much of anything for me to do). Dinah and I texted back and forth a bit more. She was giddy with excitement about the pregnancy, and very glad that the wedding would be before she got too big. Was it really only a month away? Time flew by when you were flying high.

  After an hour, I called Steven. The phone rang and rang and went to voice mail. Maybe he hadn’t taken it, I thought, and checked our room, and then inside the car. No. He definitely had it on him. It had all his music on it. He never ran without music. Why wasn’t he answering?

  It was just a feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I knew it was just because of before, because of what happened with Nathan. Of course he was fine. He was just running. Nothing had happened. There was no need for this paranoia.

  But it had been a couple hours. Not unheard of if he got into a zone. But where around here would he have gone for that long of a run?

  I figured I’d go for a walk, see if I could find him. The fresh air would do me good anyway. God knows I had spent enough time indoors without any exercise or sunshine.

  How’s the parents? Aaron asked.

  Same as always. They never change.

  What are you guys doing?

  Well, right now, actually, I’m going for a walk. Steven’s been out running for a couple hours. I’m curious where he’s gotten to.

  Probably just got carried away. You know how he is on his runs.

  I did know how he is on his runs. And I had to yell at my brain to be quiet about Aaron knowing that too. We had been friends, all three of us, for the brief window between kidnapping and threesome. That was all. It meant nothing.

  I went down the block, heading toward the river valley. That’s where Steven would have gone. He loved that river. This same river wound its way along the freeway, back to the city, our city, past our secret special spot. If you kept following the river, eventually, a few hours south and east, you’d get to Steven’s parents’ town. He had spent his whole life by the river.

  Steven? I texted again, though the other messages still showed up as unread.

  I started walking faster when more time passed with no answer. Something was wrong. Had he fallen? Was he hurt? Did he twist an ankle, or maybe get lost?

  I think something’s wrong, I texted Aaron. It’s been like three hours now.

  That’s a bit much, even for Steven.

  I don’t know where to look though.

  Don’t panic. He’s fine.

  That’s what I wanted to believe. That’s what I kept telling myself. That wasn’t enough to stop the voice inside my head from saying over and over again the thing I didn’t want to believe: that yet again, Steven was missing.

  Chapter 45

  It couldn’t be.

  Not again.

  Alex, you’re being paranoid.

  Think.

  Where else could he have gone? You’re just randomly hoping to run into him. He’s probably at the house, waiting for you, wondering where you’ve gotten to.

  That was it.

  That had to be it.

  I did an about-face and headed back home, steady, and then faster and faster. I was running, racing back to my parents’, where Steven would be.

  Where Steven had to be.

  Nathan was the one who had tried to hurt him.

  Nathan was locked up.

  Steven was safe.

  But the picture. The calls. Someone was messing with me.

  And Steven going missing, again, that would mess with me in a big way. A huge way. A call-the-Caterpillar way.

  Steven could not be missing.

  Steven would not be missing.

  But when I got back to the house, there was no Steven.

  And it was coming up on four hours now.

  I tried calling again, but there was no answer, again.

  And then it occurred to me.

  Oh wonderful Apple with your wonderful iPhones, and more importantly, your wonderful find-your-iPhone technology!

  When I got Steven back the last time, we had realized how much we never wanted something like that to happen again. Steven had told me his Apple ID so I could trace his iPhone. Just in case. Not that lightning ever struck twice. But just in case.

  How did I forget?

  I logged into his account and activated the feature, and there he was! Just blocks away!

  A wave of relief passed over me as I headed to find him, and the panic and paranoia fled from me in a nervous laugh. What an idiot, I thought. What were the chances really, of Steven going missing, twice in one year? It was ludicrous, laughable, and laugh we would, right away, as soon as I found him.

  According to the app, I was nearly there.

  And then there I was, and it showed him, right there. But I looked around and couldn’t see him. I was at the end of a road, and traffic passed by me, standing there stupefied on the corner. Was he in a passing car? No. He was right at this intersection.

  Except he wasn’t.

  I tried calling again, and I heard it ring.

  I spun around. He had to be right here!

  It went to voice mail, and I called again. Ring. Ring. It was getting louder. Ring. What the . . .

  And there it was. Steven’s phone. Just lying there against the curb. In the street. Without Steven. His earbuds were still attache
d.

  Panic rushed back in.

  This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all.

  I picked it up and looked around. Where was he? What had happened?

  I called Aaron automatically. “He’s gone,” I said as soon as he picked up the phone.

  “What?”

  “Steven. He’s gone. Again. He’s gone. I can’t believe it.”

  “Slow down, Alex. What do you mean he’s gone?”

  “I found his phone, just lying in the street. He’s missing. What am I gonna do, Aaron? I can’t go through this again.”

  “Calm down. Where are you?”

  “A few blocks from my parents’ house. It’s like he just vanished into thin air.”

  “Okay, I want you to take a deep breath. You’re going to hang up the phone and call the police. No messing around this time, okay? Just call them right away.”

  “Okay. I will.” My eyes were hot and heavy with tears I wouldn’t let fall as my chest heaved with panic.

  “When you get off the phone with the police, you call me back immediately, okay?”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I’ll call you as soon as I talk to the police. Tell me he’ll be fine.”

  “Of course he’s fine.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now call them.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Aaron. I . . . I know I could have called anyone, but . . .”

  “Hush, you. I know. Call the police, Alex.”

  “I’m calling them now.”

  I hung up the phone and closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing. My hands were shaking and sweaty. God, what if... how could he . . . So many thoughts ran through my head. I just needed to breathe.

  “Call the police, Alex,” I told myself out loud. “No messing around this time.” The phone slipped from my hand. “Fuck.”

  As I bent down to pick it up, I felt him behind me.

  “You won’t need the phone, Alex.”

  I knew the voice immediately. From the phone. From the voice mails. I spun around, and saw a man standing there, gray hair, gray scruff, gray skin, gray coat. I knew him though, I thought, as he took a step toward me and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a gun and held it to my side.

  “Don’t make a noise, Alex. Not one fucking noise.”

  “Who . . . why . . .”

  “Come with me,” he said.

  He jabbed the gun into my side. Into my right side. In my left hand, I suddenly realized, I had Steven’s phone. I glanced at my phone, on the sidewalk. His gray eyes followed mine.

  “Oh no,” he said, swooping down to pick it up. While he did, I dialled 911 with Steven’s phone, but as he came back up, he saw it in my hand.

  “Not quite, faggot,” he said, grabbing both phones and tossing them through a sewer grate in the road. “Nice try though, but no.”

  He pressed himself up against me, his hand clamping the back of my neck like we were friends, or lovers. “This way,” he said, and he squeezed tightly on my neck as he pulled me up the walk to a house. A normal house, in a normal neighborhood. He stank of booze as he pulled me up the steps to the front door. “Get inside,” he said, opening the door and pushing me in. I saw him glance up and down the street quickly before he came in and closed the door behind him.

  He pointed with the gun into the next room. “Welcome, Alex,” he said.

  It was a normal living room in a normal house in a normal neighborhood, but it was anything but normal. Who was he? His face was screaming in my head for recognition. I knew him.

  “I have waited so long for this day,” he said. “For the day a murderer like you gets justice.”

  Murderer? And suddenly I knew. I saw the picture of Taylor (You killed me). Taylor, with those playful loving eyes. Almost the same eyes that looked at me now.

  “Mr. Howard?” The words came as a croak.

  “Bingo, faggot,” he said. “Are you ready to die?” He raised the gun.

  Chapter 46

  “Alex!”

  Steven’s voice pierced me and I jumped away from Mr. Howard.

  “Oh no,” he said, grabbing hold of me. He was strong, much stronger than he looked. I strained against him as he wrapped his arm around my chest.

  “Steven!” I screamed back.

  “Shut up!” Mr. Howard said. “Shut up, or you’ll die right now and never see him again. Is that what you want? To never see him again?”

  “Just let us go,” I said.

  “No. You don’t get to walk away from this. You need to pay for what you did.”

  “What did I do? I didn’t do anything. Taylor killed . . .”

  I didn’t see the blow coming. My head was suddenly just exploding with pain and my vision was red, and my knees gave out under me.

  “Shut your fucking queer mouth! Shut it! Shut it!”

  He pulled me to my feet and shoved me in front of him, toward a closed door. He opened it, and pushed me through. “Get down!” he said, pointing toward the stairs with the gun. “Down!”

  Reeling from the pain, I stumbled down, blinking away tears. I stumbled the last few stairs.

  “Alex!”

  There was Steven, and I had seen this scene before. He was bound to a chair and he was straining against the ropes, and I saw it so clearly, what I had seen before, when I had burst in on Nathan. “Alex!” Steven called to me now, like he had done then.

  Mr. Howard threw me to the floor. “Well, then, here we are. And this is how it will finally end. After all these years.”

  “What are you doing? What are you talking about?”

  “You know what you did, Alex. You took my boy and changed him into something like you. A sick perversion. He didn’t want to be that way. He was strong, at the end. I made him strong. I beat him until he was man enough to end it all. He died a man.”

  I lay there on the floor as he talked, too scared to move. His eyes were wild, his eyes, Taylor’s eyes. I could hear Steven whimpering as he strained against the ropes that bound him.

  “Let Steven go,” I said. “This has nothing to do with him. He didn’t even know Taylor.”

  “Do not say his name! He was my son, and you twisted him. He was always a soft boy, but he never would have become . . . like you, if you hadn’t made him. You killed him, Alex, surely as if you had pulled the trigger yourself. Does that make you feel happy? His blood is on your hands.”

  “Well then, just shoot me. If that’s what you’re going to do, just be done with it.”

  “No, no, no. You need to suffer like I have suffered. You didn’t just take my boy away, you took my whole life away. That bitch, his mother, and her fucking father took away my job, my livelihood, my future. I have waited for this chance for years. You can wait now.” He waved the gun at me. “Onto your stomach,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Do it!” his voice boomed.

  Trembling, I did what he said. What choice did I have? Should I tell him that all that had happened was because of him, not me? I hadn’t done that. His hatred had taken it all away from him. His actions. His words. Words had power. I was seeing that now, but only if you let them. Words like faggot. It only hurt if you let it hurt. He chose words that hurt, that hurt Taylor, that hurt Sheila, that hurt himself. I was choosing other words, hopeful words. Loving words. But should I use those words here? Was there a point? I didn’t even care what happened to me. I just wanted Steven free. Maybe if I did what he said, he would let Steven go. That’s all that mattered.

  He pulled a box across the concrete and took a rope from it. “You will wait like I have waited,” he said. He wrapped the rope around my feet and tightened it. I could feel it biting into my legs as he pulled the knots tighter and tighter.

  “Why now?”

  “I saw you,” he said. “After so many years of only seeing you in my head, seeing you and hating you, there you were on the TV. Oh, how I wish that other useless kid had done it properly.
But oh no, you escaped, you and this other faggot here, and I knew if I wanted it done, I had to do it myself. A man does it himself. At first, I thought it would be enough to drive you crazy. Some paint on your door. The picture. The phone calls. I watched you, saw you unraveling. But it wasn’t enough.” He climbed up on top of me and pulled my arms behind my back and began to secure them with another piece of rope. “I followed you,” he explained. “To the prison. Around the city. I followed you back here. I knew this was my chance. When I saw this one running, I knew you would come looking for him. Like you did before.” I groaned under him. “That should hold you until it’s time,” he said.

  “Time for what?”

  He leaned down against me, and then pulled my hair as he breathed into my ear. “Time for you to die.” He spit in my face and then ground my face down into the floor. I screamed. “You can’t get out,” he said. “These knots are tight. Don’t even try.”

  “If I don’t try, will you let Steven go?”

  “He means a lot to you? This other faggot? He means a lot to you?”

  “Yes! Please! Just let him go. He won’t go to the police. Just let him go.”

  “If he means so much to you, you can watch him die first. I’ll shoot him in the head, just like you did to Taylor.”

  “No!”

  Mr. Howard got off me. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I need a drink.”

  He walked up the stairs and I lifted my head to watch as he disappeared. The room plunged into darkness and I heard the door close. I struggled against the ropes but he was right. They were too tight.

  “Alex, Alex, are you okay?”

  “Steven!” I called out and flopped around on the floor so I was facing in his direction. It was dark. The one window, high up the walls, was blocked by weeds from outside, and the light it did let in was barely enough for me to see Steven, his shape there. “Oh God, Steven. I am so sorry. Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I was running and he stopped me and asked me for help with a piece of furniture. When we came inside, he pulled the gun on me. But I’m not hurt. I can’t get undone though.”

  “Me either. Oh Steve, please believe me, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault. He’s insane.”