by Elaine White
“My mum wasn't a bad person, she was just seriously messed up. She grew up in London, in gang territory, came here when she was fifteen and she'd already lost three cousins and an uncle to gang wars,” he continued, shaking his head and looking sad. “I can kind of understand why moving here was so different for her and that having me around wasn't always a good thing. She was on her own and scared; drinking made her feel brave,” he admitted.
He nodded, wondering what Donald's life would have been like if his mother hadn't died in that car accident when he was eight. His eyes roamed to Donald's legs and couldn't spot any fault with them, though he couldn't see them through the superhero joggers he wore. They looked good on him.
Shaking it off, Ryder stuffed his mouth with another bite so that his new best friend couldn't see his smile. It seemed that Donald had a limp, though he hadn't noticed it much during their visits, and that was the reason he didn't try out for the football team. Not, as he'd thought, fear of Curtis.
In reality, Donald had suffered a severe gash to his left hip and leg during the crash that killed his mother, because she'd been drunk and had never taught her son to wear a seatbelt. Donald had been thrown ten feet, then suffered months in hospital, as his leg was put through surgery after surgery to save the muscles and his ability to walk. That was where his dad and Papi came in.
They were already looking for a child to adopt and had told social services that they were willing to dedicate the time and resources to difficult, or medically demanding, children that would otherwise be passed over by other adoptive parents. Donald had been the most in need of care and had medical bills that needed paid. Dad and Papi stepped in, took care of everything and never once told Donald why. They got to know him, spent time with him and eventually asked him if he wanted to be their son.
Ryder thought it was a beautiful story. The kind of fairytale dream that Donald deserved. But that damned limp was the reason he couldn't follow his passion of football and play the game himself. And why, according to Donald, he had a specially designed mattress on his bed, that had given Ryder such a great sleep last night.
“Isn't it weird to have parents, but remember having other parents?” he asked, knowing that he could ask such things, without Donald taking offence or misunderstanding his meaning.
“A little,” he allowed, with a brief nod of his head, “but I figure it's better to live with good parents and sometimes remember the bad than live with bad parents and dream of or remember good ones,” he admitted, sounding thoughtful and happy.
Ryder couldn't help but smile and nod his agreement. “I guess so.” He wanted to say something profound or important, but all that came out was, “I love your parents. I kind of wish mine were more like them.”
Donald raised his eyebrow, but took a bite of banana and let him vent.
“I didn't realise until I started talking about it with Pops, but I've never really been wanted by my parents. Nico gets everything he wants, but if I want anything other than the necessities, then I have to get a job and pay for it,” he explained, knowing now why that had happened.
It wasn't about his parents liking his brother more or not being good enough; it was because his parents saw him as the mistake that bound them to each other, back when they were young and free enough to start over again. If only he hadn't come along, that wouldn't have been ruined.
Ryder smiled and shrugged. “I've only spent one night around your parents and a few visits with them, here, but I already know that they're amazing. Welcoming, happy and just excited to help and be there for you.” He stopped as he realised he was gushing.
Then Donald reached across the table and held out his hand, palm up.
Ryder clasped it and watched their fingers link. “Will you go out with me?”
Silence descended, as Ryder realised what he'd just said and what it meant. Opening his mouth, he considered taking it back and laughing it off. But then he saw Donald's shy smile and felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers.
“Yes,” he whispered, in reply. Then he looked around the cafeteria and released Ryder's hand.
He prepared himself for bad news, but Donald folded his banana skin around what was left and packed all their snacks back into the Tupperware box.
When he stood up, Ryder stood with him, not sure what was happening. Until Donald held his hand out and waited for Ryder to take it. Taking his hand, he let Donald lead him out of the cafeteria and back to the privacy of his room. It was only when they got there and he sank onto the edge of the bed, that Ryder began to see where this was going.
When he attempted to sit beside Donald, his hands were gripped tight and he was held in place, standing there in confusion while staring at his best friend.
“Kiss me?” Donald asked, gazing up at him with a sweet, nervous look that surprised him.
Ryder took a half step forward until their knees bumped, and licked his lips. There was a split second of mental agony, as he contemplated whether to do this or not, and whether he should wait until Donald was out of the hospital. But he couldn't keep being afraid. He ducked down and stopped just an inch from Donald's lips, moving forward more carefully at that point.
Donald leaned up to meet him halfway, letting their lips graze delicately. It was one of the sweetest kisses he'd ever had and he couldn't help but part his lips to press a deeper kiss to Donald's.
When Ryder broke away, there was a small gasp from his companion, then the whisper of, “That...is the best first kiss, ever.”
He smiled, but didn't comment. He'd already guessed that Donald had never been kissed before. “So...you really mean it?” he checked, pretty sure that he wasn't a great catch as a boyfriend. “You want to be my boyfriend? Because, I've only been with girls, so I might not be a great boyfriend,” he admitted, only to realise too late that he was talking Donald out of it. Which was the last thing he wanted.
He laughed, instead of changing his mind, gazing up at him with soft, happy eyes. “I'm sure. I've had a crush on you for a long time, but I was scared to tell you. I've just enjoyed becoming your friend, these past few weeks,” he said, his laughter turning into a gentle smile that had a little sadness in it. “You...Ryder, you were my crush, then you became my hero. But having you as my boyfriend will be so much better.”
“Oh. Okay.” He didn't know what to say to that, but it was nice to hear. Ryder sank onto the bed beside his new boyfriend and squeezed his hand. “So, what do boyfriends do?” he wondered.
Donald laughed again and tilted to the side, to lean his head on Ryder's shoulder. “Exactly what you've been doing until now. Just be my friend,” he whispered.
Friend.
He nodded absently to himself, with a smile. Friend was good. Boyfriend was better. But, being both? That was something Ryder had never even considered.
Leaving Donald was hard, since there was so much he still wanted to say, but after talking for a few hours, Ryder needed to do something important. He texted Donald's dad as he left the hospital, to let him know what was happening.
Leaving Donald. Going home. Time 2 tell my folks what I think u and Papi already know. Going 2b hard and they're not home til after 4 p.m., so don't wait 4 me. I will get dinner l8r. Might need 2 think after.
He didn't want to leave them in the dark, while he was wandering around, as he had a feeling he might need to after talking to his parents. But he also didn't want them waiting to eat dinner with him, or worrying that he wouldn't eat. Ryder hoped he'd covered all bases with his text, so was pleased to get a reply quickly.
Ok. Be safe. Call if u need us.
He nodded his acceptance and appreciation for that offer, sent back a love heart to say how grateful he was and switched his phone off, to stuff in his jean pocket. He didn't want to be interrupted once he started talking and it was best to put it off now than end up being stuck to it when his parents got home, talking to someone or playing games. It wouldn't go down well.
Grabbing his keys from his other pocket, he
walked home, juggling them and swinging them on the keychain, as he contemplated what he was going to say. He was a few hours too early, but he wanted to be at home when everyone got back, all prepared for the conversation that would follow.
He was sick of lying and hiding. After talking to and clearing the air with both Donald and Karsyn, as well as the group, he was ready to face the music.
As expected, once he let himself into the house, there was nothing to do but wait. He began by going up to his room and packing anything of vital importance to him, in case this went badly. He packed three luggage bags and one backpack, leaving the luggage bags out back in his hiding spot just within the garden fence, while the backpack was placed at his feet, once he returned downstairs and sat on the sofa to wait.
As he did that, he thought about how the day had gone so far; his heart to heart with Karsyn and the way Jareth the dog had warmed up to him eventually. Being with Donald was a highlight of his day, as it had been for the last five weeks. Ryder just couldn't believe it had taken nearly all of that time to realise what was growing between them. Yet, when he asked Donald, he didn't look surprised at all.
“Exactly what you've been doing until now. Just be my friend.” As if being his friend and being his boyfriend were the exact same thing and, unbeknownst to Ryder, they'd already been dating all that time.
Still, there had been more good news on top of the kiss and Donald becoming his very first boyfriend. The doctor had stopped by as Ryder was leaving, to let Donald know that there would be a medical team meeting in the morning. Because everyone was happy with his progress and recovery, they'd get together – the doctors, surgeon, therapist and physio team – to decide if Donald could get home and finish his recovery there, with regular physio and psychiatric appointments as an outpatient.
It was such incredible news. Ryder had hugged his 'boyfriend' and left him with positive words, only to hear him picking up his phone and calling his dad right away, with the news.
From the way the doctor talked about it, he was pretty sure that Donald would get home, because of his improved mood, his openness to attend physio and therapy without complaint, as well as the fact that his tormentors were actually being investigated by the police.
That was the only frustrating part for Ryder; how long it took to get Curtis and his motley crew of bullies arrested. But, he figured that was to be expected. All he knew about crime and police matters was from shows like CSI: Vegas and Law and Order. It really shouldn't have been a surprise that things didn't work that quickly in real life.
By the time a few hours had passed, Ryder was in a quiet, contented place within his thoughts. When the sound of keys in the door alerted him to the arrival of his family, he set that state aside and hoped he could return to it later. It was time to take his life in his hands and face his family.
Glancing at his watch, he nodded on seeing that it was quarter to four, which was about how long it took for Nico to get out of school at half three and be picked up and driven home.
“Ryder!” Nico shouted in delight, as he rushed through the front door and sat beside him. “I thought you were going to call me tonight. You never said you were coming home,” he protested, punching his arm playfully.
Ryder hugged his brother, because it might be his only chance before the shit hit the fan. He could see his mother floundering in the doorway, while his dad looked ready to let off steam. “I'm not staying, kiddo. I just came to talk to Mum and Dad,” he explained. Maybe once he'd said what he came to say, he could go back to Donald's house and leave them to sleep on it. Hopefully, in a few days, he'd hear back from them. Or not. That was their decision.
“This isn't Ryder's home anymore, Nico. Go upstairs and do your homework,” his dad bit out, from the doorway.
But, he forgot that Nico was as feisty as he was. The moment he heard that this wasn't Ryder's home anymore – a concept that stung more than he thought it should – Nico sat up straight and did the one thing he'd never anticipated. He defied their father. No doubt it would be blamed on him later, that he'd come home and corrupted his little brother, but he would deal with one problem at a time.
“Nico, it's okay if you want to go upstairs,” he promised, since he didn't doubt that he'd probably hear every word anyway. No way was his dad going to keep quiet.
“No. I'm staying here with you,” he insisted, brave little tyke that he was, clasping Ryder's hand and sitting next to him.
Their mum was quiet as she rushed to shut the front door, probably worried that the neighbours would hear his dad, once he got going.
Ryder was past caring; he simply watched them circle around him and head into the kitchen, where they argued just quietly enough that he could hear their raised voices, but not make out the words. Then they reappeared five minutes later.
His dad stood just inside the front door, glaring at him, with his arms folded over his chest. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” he asked, as though he'd been the one in the wrong.
Shaking his head, Ryder realised that nothing would ever change here. “I didn't come to apologise, if that's what you think. I've done nothing wrong,” he argued, in the hope of at least making it through to his mother. “I didn't ask to find Donald that night, but I did and it saved his life. What happened that night...what I saw...” he stopped and licked his lips, “it won't ever leave me and I wish I'd never had to see it and that he'd never had to do it. But that's a perfect world and that's not realistic. I've been trying my hardest to work through everything that happened that night and move on, but it hasn't been easy. You haven't made it easy.”
His dad raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply, so Ryder kept venting.
“At first, I just needed to make sure Donald was safe and being taken care of; that he'd live. I never expected us to become friends,” he admitted, still not sure how that happened, “but we did become friends. And, in fact, we've become more than friends. Which you'd know or at least have noticed, if you ever paid attention to me. But you haven't. So you're still deluding yourself that I'm straight, but I'm not. I'm bisexual. I like boys and girls, but I prefer boys!” he explained, raising his voice as he grew angry with their silence.
Nico was quiet beside him, still holding his hand and not backing away as though he was something awful.
Ryder shook his head. “My whole life, I've been nothing more than a second class citizen in this house. I was only good for free babysitting when you wanted to leave Nico and go out, or the praise you got from other parents for raising me right, because I was good at football as well as smart,” he said, furious with them for having indulged in that praise so often. “I've meant nothing to you for a long time. I've just been a burden to a girl too pretty to keep her pants on and a guy too popular to ever think of using protection.”
And wasn't that the real truth, here? That his parents were nothing more than hormonal idiots, flinging themselves at each other in a club, to have a one night stand that resulted in a pregnancy. They'd known each other through mutual friends, come together to discuss the pregnancy and agreed to get married for the sake of their reputations and families. All because their families were deeply religious, while Ryder's parents only pretended to be. He wouldn't exist if they really had been.
And that was the problem. He was never meant to exist. He was a mistake. An accident of the unpleasant variety that they faced with gritted teeth and determination. He was bearable, but never really wanted. And everyone knew it.
“But, you know what?” Ryder got to his feet and released Nico's hand. “I've found somewhere I am wanted. Somewhere that I mean something,” he announced, only just realising how true that was. “Donald and his parents care about me. Can you imagine that, Dad? Two gay men care more about my welfare and what I've been going through than you have your entire life. And yet you're supposed to be my father,” he reminded him.
Glancing at Nico, he nudged his chin with the back of his finger. “I love you, kiddo. You know I'll always
be there for you, but I can't live here anymore. I can't live a lie and I can't deal with all the homophobic crap that's been thrown at me over the years, even before anyone even knew I liked boys,” he explained, with a faint smile. “You need anything; you know where to find me. But I'll suffocate if I stay here.”
Nico nodded, tears in his eyes as he grabbed Ryder's hand. “I love you, too. Boys or girls,” he whispered, in a solemn promise.
Ryder could only smile in return, too choked up to hear any more. He turned to his parents, clocked the speechless fury of his father and the mousy silence of his mother cowering in the background. He grabbed his backpack and walked around the sofa. His dad unfolded his hands and curled them into fists by his side, as he approached. But he wasn't leaving by the front door.
“If you walk out of this house, you'll be disowned. Do you hear me?” his dad bit out, spittle flying off his lips. “I won't tolerate you flaunting that sin in front of Nico, but you can be damned sure that no son of mine is going to live with a bunch of poofs,” he ranted.
“Well, considering you're going to disown me the minute my foot is out the door, no son of yours will be living with a bunch of poofs,” Ryder corrected him with relish, relieved to finally have it all off his chest and know the truth. All of his hidden, deepest, darkest fears that had only surfaced under Pops' therapy sessions were true. Now it was time to accept that and deal with the fallout.
“Oh, and just so you know. Those two men you don't want me to live with have treated me better in the one night I've stayed at their house than you have in my entire life. Maybe they'll get tired of me, maybe they don't really love me...that doesn't matter anymore. I've learned to stand on my own two feet, but it sure as hell wasn't you who taught me. It was Pops. The proud, gay man you've been paying for me to see, as my therapist.”
With that parting shot, which his dad would be fuming about for days, Ryder left out the back door, grabbing his luggage bags and trudging the long ten minutes back to Donald's parents’ house. He had a lot of thinking and explaining to do, but he wasn't going to do it tonight. Not with the good news that Donald might be getting home.