The Bad Seed

by Lee Hayes

  “All of this behavior can probably be explained by the death of his brother. I don’t think Brandon has properly grieved.”

  Brandon gasped.

  “Brother? What are you talking about? Brandon doesn’t have a brother.” She turned her head slowly and looked at Brandon, who avoided eye contact with anyone.

  “I’m talking about your other son, Brandon’s brother,” Cross said with confusion.

  His mother shook her head from side to side and looked down for a second. “I apologize for what my son has been telling you, but he has never had a sibling. He’s an only child.”

  Even while looking directly ahead, Brandon could see three heads turn in his direction and he felt the weight of six eyes glaring at him. He could see Cross staring at him, dumbfounded, his mouth open with astonishment. Even while the harsh truth circled around the room, all Brandon could think about was how he could get Cross to forgive him.

  “Brandon, baby,” his mother said with a peculiar calm, “wait in the hallway for me.” She patted his leg with her hand and smiled at him. “And close the door on your way out.”

  Brandon got up slowly, but he couldn’t let it go.

  “Why don’t you ask him what else we did that night at his house?”

  The room froze. Heads slowly turned toward Cross.

  “Mr. Jones, is there something you need to tell us?”

  “Not at all. I told you what happened at my house. He kissed me and I put him out; that’s what happened.”

  “Cross, that’s what he likes me to call him when we’re not in school,” Brandon said casually. “Why didn’t you mention the vodka you gave me? Why don’t you tell them about the things we did together?”

  “Brandon, stop the lies. You know that nothing happened.”

  “It’s okay, Cross. They know. You don’t have to lie about our relationship anymore.” Brandon reached down for his backpack, unzipped a pocket, and pulled out the pair of underwear he had stolen from Cross’s house. He threw them at Cross. “Those are a pair of his underwear that he gave me to remember him by. He said if I got lonely or horny I could smell them and think of him. If you’re gonna tell our story, then tell the whole story.”

  “That’s a damned lie and you know it, Brandon. I never gave you this underwear!”

  “So, they do belong to you?” Principal Harris asked.

  Cross looked at the underwear closely. “As far as I can tell, but—”

  “That’s enough, Brandon, I told you to go into the hallway. Now.” She didn’t raise her voice but the force of her words was strong.

  “He said he loves me and we’ll be together after I graduate,” he said before storming out of the room and slamming the door. The force of the slam caused the door to bounce open slightly and Brandon stayed within earshot of the conversation. Brandon believed in going down swinging.

  “Mr. Jones, I apologize for my son,” his mother began, “but I don’t need to hear what he has to say. I love him very much but I can’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth; I never could. He’s been making up stories and lying since he could speak. He tells lies so often that he believes them. I’m not sure he even knows what the truth is. You seem like a nice teacher who is genuinely concerned about Brandon, but don’t waste any more of your time. Brandon will be okay; he always is.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would he make up a story about having a dead brother?”

  Mrs. Heart looked at Cross from head to toe. “When Brandon fixates on something he likes,” she said, “he’ll do just about anything to get it, and I mean anything. Lying is his second nature. He’s always been like that, even as a little boy. I’m sure his story was to get closer to you; so that he could get into your good graces.”

  Brandon wanted to race back into the room and slap her mouth shut, but he restrained himself, for now. His lips quivered on top of clenched teeth. His hands were balled into angry fists. He continued to listen as she painted him in the worst possible light and revealed things a mother should never reveal about her son to strangers, even if they were true. She was supposed to defend him at all costs, but she sold him out. As far as Brandon was concerned, this was the final betrayal.

  Her truths complicated his plans of conquest. How on earth would he ever get into Cross’s bed now? Once again she had swooped in on her broomstick and swept clean his carefully laid plans.

  Incredulously, Cross spoke again. “He told me that his father would beat him, almost kill him, if he found out that Brandon was gay. Why would he lie to me?”

  “Mr. Jones, Brandon’s father is one of the gentlest men in the world and he adores Brandon, in spite of his behavior. Brandon came out to him when he was eleven. We don’t have a problem with him being gay. He is who he is.”

  “He’s been lying to me, all this time?”

  “Mr. Jones, Brandon has always been…difficult,” she said with carefully chosen words, “and we have done everything humanly possible to help him. We’ve taken him to therapy and he passed every test they gave him; we had him meet with our minister, who agreed that there’s nothing wrong with Brandon. We’ve loved him in every way we know how and we have supported him in everything he does. Brandon has a good life, a good home, and a good family, but he’s always been the bad seed, if you know what I mean. He makes up these outrageous stories in his head and he gets confused on what’s real and what’s not. We have been cleaning up his messes for years now and I suspect we’ll continue to do so. He’s my son, so what is a mother to do?”

  Cross remained speechless.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said as she stood up and starting gathering her belongings. “You’re not the first person to fall for my son’s charms or his lies and I’m certain you won’t be the last.”

  Brandon stood up and gazed through the window into the office. His eyes met Cross’s and Brandon felt like scurrying away. The look in Cross’s eyes was almost too much for Brandon to bear. It reflected hurt, disappointment, pity, anger, shame, and confusion. It was a look that tore through Brandon like a jagged blade.

  It was a stare he would never forget.

  Those eyes would never gaze upon Brandon again with any kind of fondness.

  He would never again feel a comforting hand from Cross on his shoulder.

  And, it was her fault.

  CHAPTER 11

  On the ride home, Brandon and his mother didn’t speak. Instead of voices, the car was filled with the sound of the air rushing in from the windows. His mother drove with purpose, but not with attitude. Anger didn’t separate them, but the truth had always gotten in the way. Every so often Brandon would eye her to see if her facial expression had changed; it didn’t. She looked pleasant, given the circumstances.

  Brandon wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t surprised; after all, she had been down this road with him many, many times. Over the years, she had been called to so many meetings in the principal’s office that the school district should have put her on the payroll. Time and time again she had arrived to clean up Brandon’s messes, as a mother should. But this time, she had gone too far. She had no right to confess his sins to them. With her loose tongue and careless words, she had taken away the only thing that mattered.

  Brandon wanted nothing more than to jump out of the car at the next red light and run back to Cross to offer an explanation. If he could find the right words to confess his love, maybe, just maybe, Cross would listen. He would throw himself at his feet and beg forgiveness. He’d do whatever he had to do to make it right between them. He’d sacrifice a thousand virgins or slaughter a field full of animals if a blood offering would make things right. Maybe that’s what he needed; a sacrifice.

  In his heart, he knew nothing would make this right, but he had to try. Nothing was more important than Cross.

  Once they arrived at their house, they walked in together as if everything was okay. No words had been exchanged until they crossed the threshold to their home.

  “Your fath
er says hello. He’ll be back Thursday evening,” she said casually. “How about I make your favorite dinner tonight, steak and mashed potatoes? How does that sound?”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, Brandon, don’t be mad. We’ve been through this before.” She moved about the house the same way she did every day. Today was no different. “Why don’t you go listen to some music while I cook? I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

  Brandon turned away, then headed toward his room. He could hear his mother humming a song in the kitchen, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He stopped in place and listened to her melody. Her humming sounds quickly became song. He instantly recognized the song: “God Bless the Child.”

  He turned and walked into the kitchen toward her, as if called by the soothing sound of her voice. Her back was to him as she stood at the sink and sang lightly. He saw what he needed on the counter and approached her.

  “I thought you were going upstairs?” She felt his presence and turned. He pulled her into him as if he was going to hug her.

  With a determined stroke, he stuck the long knife into her belly.

  She made an odd gasping sound.

  He felt her warm blood on his hands.

  He pressed the knife deeper.

  He listened to the gurgling sound as she spit up blood. She looked as if she wanted to ask the proverbial question of why, but the blade silenced her.

  The look of shock on her face burned itself into Brandon’s mind. He always wanted to remember that look; the look of a mother who had betrayed her son for the last time.

  He continued to hold her close to his body.

  He pressed the knife deeper and deeper into his mother’s womb until the light in her eyes faded to black.

  “God bless the child that’s got his own,” he sang in perfect harmony.

  CHAPTER 12

  Cross let out a deep breath when he got to the end of the story. Lorenzo sat on the couch absolutely mesmerized by the details.

  “Please don’t say I told you so, Lorenzo. That really is the last thing I need to hear. I feel like such a fool.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that, but I did tell you to be careful and to leave that boy alone,” he said mockingly.

  “I don’t even know why I bother to talk to you.” Cross jumped from the couch.

  “Wait, I’m sorry. I was only kidding. I was trying to make you laugh.”

  “This isn’t a laughing matter. This is serious.”

  “I know, I know. My bad. But, just be thankful that it’s over and the truth came out before some real damage was done. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if his mother hadn’t come forward?”

  “He was setting me up the whole time. I still don’t know how he got my underwear.”

  “These kids today are some sneaky bastards; you can’t put anything past them.”

  “I still can’t help feeling a bit sad. That boy is trouble. Who knows what he’ll do next?”

  “They moved him out of your class, right?”

  “Yeah, but if they don’t get him some real help, the next time there’ll be some real trouble.”

  “Okay, enough about that boy. I have an idea.”

  Cross looked at him cynically.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Your ideas usually involve a man and some vodka.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I was gonna suggest we get some margaritas; that’s tequila,” he said, laughing. “We could go to Atlantic Station and then go out. I mean, this is my last night in town. I have to go back to New York tomorrow evening.”

  “Man, I don’t think so. I’m exhausted. I want to take a long bath and drink some wine.”

  “What you need to do is find a man to take your mind off your troubles. Did you ever hear from Zeric?”

  “Nope. He never called and I’m not calling him again. It’s cool, though, because tonight I wouldn’t be good company for anyone.”

  “Are you sure? I wanted to catch the Stars of the Century drag show at The Jungle tonight. RuPaul’s Drag Race ain’t got nothing on them.”

  “I love a good drag show as much as anyone,” he said sarcastically, “but I’m tired. You go and have a good time. If you’re sleep when I leave for work tomorrow, I’ll wake you up to say good-bye.”

  “The hell you will. You better let my ass sleep.” They hugged in the event that they didn’t see each other in the morning. Cross lugged himself up the stairs, into his bedroom, and closed the door.

  Brandon’s plans changed when he saw the strange man leave Cross’s house. It was the same man that Cross was at the club with the other night. He had already eliminated one man, but this one continued to be a thorn in his side. He didn’t know who he was, but he was suddenly determined to find out.

  The car pulled out of the driveway and Brandon followed its red lights all the way into the city to The Jungle.

  At 2:15 in the morning, Cross was awakened by sounds that he hadn’t heard in a long time. At first he thought he was dreaming, but the headboard pounding against the wall was far too loud to be in his dreams. As annoyed as he was that Lorenzo had met some trick and brought him back to his house, and as annoyed as he was that he had to listen to his best friend having sex in the next room, he found himself oddly turned on. The banging against the walls and the muffled sounds of ecstasy warmed him up. He felt his dick stiffening. He could hear the bed squeak against their frantic rhythm. He touched himself. They were going at it full force and it sounded wonderful! In that moment, Cross wished he had fucked Zeric that night. At least then the hunger he now felt wouldn’t be so strong.

  He imagined Zeric’s strong hands on his ass.

  He imagined kissing those very lovely lips.

  He remembered his intoxicating scent.

  Cross decided that tomorrow he’d start living again. He missed the pleasures of the world and he longed for human touch, for companionship.

  As he masturbated, he imagined being loved; it wasn’t solely a physical need that he envisioned, but an endless, undying love. The more he thought about what it would be like, the more he jerked. He loved himself so many times that night, dreaming of love and listening to sex, that his dick became sore. When he was done dreaming of love and releasing his pent-up frustrations, he thought of Brandon.

  In the morning, things were clearer. He decided not to make a big deal about Lorenzo bringing a stranger to his home. After all, he had enjoyed it, too.

  Before he left for work, he lightly tapped on the guest room door. It opened slowly.

  Cross stepped into the room and moved over to the bed. He saw a single silhouette in the silk sheets; his boy toy must’ve found his way home. He was probably doing the walk of shame in front of his house right now.

  “Lorenzo, wake up. I’m leaving. I wanted to say good-bye.” He pulled the sheet back enough to reveal Lorenzo’s face. Lorenzo rolled over and wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Damn it, Cross. I told you not to wake me up. I’m tired as hell.”

  “You are always so cranky in the morning. You can at least say I’m sorry for waking me up last night when you were doing the nasty.”

  “Oh, you heard that?” he said playfully. “Ol’ boy was wild. Speaking of which, where is he?” Lorenzo sat up and looked around the room.

  “Good morning, Cross.”

  Cross turned his head slowly and saw Brandon standing in the doorway of the bathroom, completely naked.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Cross looked at Brandon and then at Lorenzo. “What the fuck is this shit?”

  Lorenzo sat up in the bed. “You two know each other?”

  “This is Brandon, the student I told you about last night—”

  “The crazy one?” Lorenzo asked with shock.

  “Crazy one? The only thing I am is crazy in love with you, Cross.” He stepped out of the door and into the room.

  Lorenzo leapt out of the bed and slid into a pair of boxers. “Cross, I
didn’t know this was him, I swear. He told me his name was Travis.”

  “I know you didn’t know, Lorenzo. Brandon, get your shit and get the hell out of my house!”

  Brandon’s face lit up. “See, I knew you loved me. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t be so upset. Now, I am sorry I had to fuck your best friend, but it was the only way. Don’t you see?”

  “Brandon, get outta here before this gets ugly.”

  “Are…are you threatening me?”

  “Boy, if you don’t get outta of here, you’re gonna catch one old country-ass whopping!” Lorenzo yelled.

  “Why don’t you shut yo’ little dick ass up before I bust you in the face!”

  Lorenzo lunged at Brandon, but Cross held him back. “Yeah, that’s right, you better hold your little dog back before he gets cut down like that other fool you had over here the other night.”

  “What? Who are you talking about?”

  “That muthafucka you met at the club. What? You think I didn’t know about that shit, huh? You think I was just gonna let you bring his ass up in here so he could fuck you? You must be out of yo’ damn mind!”

  “Did you do something to Zeric?”

  “Oh, how you gonna throw his name up in my face like that? See, you trippin’.”

  “Brandon, what did you do to Zeric?”

  “Let’s just say he shouldn’t drink and drive. These roads around here are a bitch and sometimes the bitch bites back. But, it’s okay now, baby. I’m here with you and nothing will stand in our way.”

  Cross looked at Brandon’s wild eyes and could see his detachment from reality. Brandon’s voice alternated between highs and lows and his mood swings ran the gamut of emotions. One moment he spoke with lucidity, but other times his words were as complex as a riddle. All the while he spoke he remained naked, completely unashamed of his nudity.