The Fifteenth of June

by Brent Jones

  “S’pose another fist fight broke out between you two.”

  “Dad, I found out Logan is gay.”

  Russell closed his eyes in annoyance, Drew observing his reaction. “Logan isn’t gay,” he said at last. “Never was.”

  “Dad, Logan is married to—”

  “I know who he’s married to.” He spluttered and hacked, small droplets of blood collecting at the corners of his mouth. “That fairy friend of his, Stephen. We’ve met. See, that’s the world we live in now, son. We let a man sodomize another man and call it marriage.”

  I sodomized a woman last night, and nobody seems to mind that.

  “Is it true, Dad? That you threw Logan out when he was a teenager?”

  Russell’s eyes twitched, his mind calculating a response. “I didn’t throw him out. I just told him he had to act right if he wanted to live under my roof.”

  “Act right?”

  More coughing, wetter this time. “Logan’s no faggot queen. He knows better. Says his mother always knew he was queer, but Angie woulda never stood for that.”

  She wouldn’t have?

  “You got real quiet after your mom passed, son. You stuck close to home, kept to yourself, minded your own damn business. Logan went the other direction—putting on a show for everybody, loud and proud and all that. Shopping in the women’s department, heading off to his fancy school with a bunch of fags, kikes, and liberals.”

  “And you hate him for that?”

  “I don’t hate him. I’m sickened by it, that’s all. Look, he wasn’t always this way, and people don’t change. People like—”

  Like you and me?

  “—like you and me,” Russell explained, gasping for air. “I told you, there’s two kinds of guys in this world . . .”

  “Guys who act like they’re in control, and guys who accept life as it is. Something like that.”

  “You’ve been taking notes.”

  “So what’re you saying?” Drew asked. “Logan thinks he’s in control when he’s not?”

  His father nodded. “Thinks he’s special, different from the rest of us. That’s what this is all about, you know. Thinking he can turn his back on who he is.”

  “You don’t think people can change?” It was Drew’s intention to discuss Logan, but at that moment, the topic at hand applied just as much to himself.

  “Don’t be a fool, son. Nobody changes. We’re put on this earth to live our lives. We do it, some of us even learn to accept it. Then we die. That’s it.”

  “What if I had been gay?”

  “You’re not.”

  “But what if I—”

  “Damn it, Drew. You’re not gay and neither is Logan. He’s just looking for love and acceptance wherever he can get it. Seeking attention, that’s all, like some kind of man whore.”

  “Did you ever think maybe he’s looking for love and acceptance, and you and I spent the last twenty years hiding from it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Maybe Logan is . . .” Drew hesitated, “. . . living his truth. And maybe we’ve been denying ours.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound like a fudge packer, too.” Specks of red saliva trickled from his father’s mouth. Drew handed him a wad of Kleenex to wipe his chin. “It’s all going to be over soon, son, but remember what I’m about to tell you. We’re all here to do one thing in this life.” He was trailing off, fatigued from their brief exchange. “And that one thing . . .”

  “Dad?”

  “Accept . . .”

  “Accept what?”

  “Accept it. All of it. Don’t change it. Remember that . . .”

  Drew felt his face burning, his eyes swelling with moisture. “I love you, Dad.”

  Russell returned to medicated rest.

  Drew stood in at his father’s beside for what felt like hours before making his way to the stairwell of the hospital, phone clutched in hand. He rocked in place, soothing his inner volatility and staring at the wall. He sent a short text message and waited for a reply.

  * * *

  Chapter 22

  Sierra was on the same bench when Drew arrived, her height unmistakable even when seated. She saw him approaching and got to her feet, outfitted in loose-fitting attire and running shoes, extending her long arms for a giant hug. “Hi, Drew. It’s good to see you again.”

  Drew wasn’t big on friendly embraces, least of all in public, dismissing them as superficial and contrived. But he had been the one to invite Sierra out for a walk. It seemed only fair to be amenable to her greeting. He wrapped his arms around her, their bodies linking for an instant. “Good to see you, too. Thanks for coming.”

  “How are things going?”

  He speculated that Sierra already knew the answer to her own question. If things were going swimmingly, he wouldn’t have texted. “Things are going all right, I guess.”

  They set off on foot, their pace brisker than their Tuesday excursion, and followed the paved trail, their shadows elongated under dim lamplight.

  “How’s Kara?”

  “Uh, good. Thanks for asking.”

  “Did you sleep with her yet?”

  “Jesus, you just get right to it, don’t you?”

  “I’m no good at small talk, dude. And neither are you.”

  “Good point.” A late night jogger passed them, but the trail was otherwise vacant in both directions. “She came over last night.”

  “Nice. Did she let you put it in her butt?”

  If Drew were prone to blushing, he might have done so at that moment. “Uh, yes, actually, how did—”

  She interrupted Drew with a high five. “Was it your first time entering a woman through the back door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I mean, sure, what’s not to like? It’s warm and tight and a lot like forbidden fruit.”

  “And she didn’t make you wrap it up, did she?”

  “Jesus, Sierra. Were you peeking through the windows or something?”

  Sierra laughed. “No, just a series of lucky guesses, that’s all. And I’m not judging you. I’m happy for you. If hooking up with Kara makes you happy, go for it.”

  “It was a bit like banging a porn star. I mean, Jesus, how many issues of Cosmo does a woman have to read to learn how to fuck like that?”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  “I guess so.” Drew shifted his gaze toward the effervescent night sky. “You know, I’m a little surprised at your reaction. The whole time we were going at it, all I could think of was how much you’d probably disapprove.”

  She stopped walking. “You were thinking of me while you were inside your girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Sierra smirked and resumed walking.

  “How about you?” Drew asked. “Get any quality action lately?”

  “Dude, I work all the damn time and when I’m not working, I’m usually reading or keeping active—”

  “Or meeting strangers for a stroll at the park.”

  “Point is I don’t have time for head games and one-night stands.”

  “Me and Kara aren’t a one-night thing. She’s coming with me to a friend’s housewarming party Saturday night.”

  “Well, you said you hoped to fall in love with her. This could be your chance.” She put her hands in her pockets. “Will there be drugs at the party?”

  “Probably.”

  “Is Kara into drugs?”

  “Kara’s into pretty much whatever.”

  “I figured.”

  “You figured what?”

  “Let me ask you something, Drew. Do you intend to spend the rest of your life with Kara?”

  “What? No. We met just a couple weeks ago—how could I possibly know that?”

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “Of course not. It sounds like a cheesy Hallmark slogan.”

  “It does, but don’t be so naïve. Ever spent a long
time in the wrong relationship?”

  “Yeah, my ex and I were together five years,” Drew confessed.

  “But you were drawn to Kara instantly, right?”

  “Are you saying I should save sex for marriage or something? Didn’t take you for a religious nut.”

  “Oh, God no, not at all. Have sex with anyone you wish, and definitely don’t marry someone for the wrong reasons. I’m just wondering what’s special about Kara. Why take her to a party when you could probably just hook up with someone there?”

  “I . . . like Kara. And she’s insanely hot.”

  “But you don’t love her.”

  “The closest I’ve ever come to loving someone is my dad, and, well, I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

  “Sure. But my point is that you and her aren’t exclusive. There’d be no harm in meeting someone new at the party, but you want to bring her anyway.” Sierra dragged her feet for a moment. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “I’m starting to learn it’s the only thing you know how to be.”

  “I think Kara’s like a drug. She’s intoxicating. She overwhelms your senses and clouds your judgment, kinda like a dose of heroin. She keeps you content for a while, almost like getting high, but she leaves your system sooner or later, and then you come crashing back down to reality.”

  That’s one theory.

  “So why did you ask to see me tonight?” Sierra asked.

  “I just came from visiting Dad.”

  “And he isn’t doing so good?”

  “He’s not, but that’s not it. I found out my brother is gay and Dad kicked him out when he was teenager.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “I asked him about it tonight. I wanted to know if it was true and why he would do that.”

  “He probably wasn’t comfortable with the idea of change.”

  Drew considered her suggestion. “That’s basically what he said—that Logan was only acting out for attention. And right before falling asleep, he left me with one final piece of advice. To accept life as it is and never to try and change it.”

  “Powerful stuff.”

  “You think so?”

  “I was being facetious,” she said with a quiet laugh.

  “Oh.”

  “It takes no power at all to be exactly the same person.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Sorry, I’m not trying to badmouth your dad.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’ve spent my whole life learning from his example. And I’m only realizing now that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. I thought he was content, just a simple man, happy to be left to his own devices. But I’m figuring out that he was actually pretty miserable for the most part.”

  Sierra absorbed his thoughts in what seemed like introspective solace, staring at the ground, apparently enthralled by the patter of their footsteps. “Let me ask you something. Earlier you told me you don’t want to spend your whole life with Kara. You just met her, you don’t know her all that well. That’s what you said, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Because you have your whole life ahead of you.”

  “And thinking about the future upsets me.”

  She nodded. “But put yourself in your dad’s shoes, back when he lost your mom. Do you think he decided right then and there to be miserable for the rest of his life?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Right. People rarely make a choice knowing it might ruin their entire lives.”

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “Dude, what I’m trying to tell you is that happiness isn’t something you work toward, the same way misery isn’t something you work toward. Neither arrives in the mail ten or twenty years down the road. They’re both achieved in the moment, special moments, small moments, one at a time, all strung together. They’re the end result of the choices we make.”

  It took Drew a moment to process her philosophical considerations.

  “Your dad didn’t plan to be miserable until the day he died. He just allowed himself to be miserable every day and it became a pattern. A habit of sorts. And those habits become our lives.”

  “You’re saying Dad should have just magically started being happy every day instead of being miserable?”

  “I’m saying that change is hard, but each day is a new opportunity for change. It’s filled with moments, chances to make tough choices and pursue whatever brings us joy.”

  “You’re right about one thing for sure—change is hard.”

  “Change is hard until you have a reason to change.” She delayed her next thought, giving it emphasis. “Ask yourself—is Kara your reason to change?”

  Drew shook his head.

  “How about the drugs, the booze—do they give you motivation to change?”

  “No.”

  “Does your dad encourage you to change?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Once you know why you want to change, the rest gets a lot easier.”

  Drew and Sierra had completed the loop of the short trail twice now, passing the bench again, continuing on for a third lap.

  “Let me ask you something,” he blurted out at once, apprehensive.

  “All right.”

  “Why did you approach me on this bench?”

  “You looked like you needed help.”

  “I don’t think you’re being completely honest with me.”

  “I like to feed the ducks.”

  “Sierra, please.”

  “If I dug deep enough, I’d say I felt drawn to you, like I knew we probably had a lot in common.”

  “You got all that from seeing me passed out drunk on a park bench?”

  “I figured we’d have a good chat at the very least.”

  “Good how?”

  She turned to face Drew. “Look at me, dude. I’m a five foot eleven Barbie doll with blonde hair, blue eyes, and big tits.” Drew’s line of sight darted to her chest, which was guarded by a baggy sweatshirt. “I keep them hidden, my friend, because the last thing I need is extra attention. I stick out everywhere I go. I intimidate women and men objectify me. And let’s not forget that I’ve built a reputation for myself around certain parts of town. So if I were to answer your question with complete honesty? I seek out people who I can have a real conversation with. People who enjoy talking about real things that actually matter.”

  “What do you mean by things that matter?” They resumed walking, faster than before.

  “Life and death, dude. Growth, change, empowerment, becoming your best self. The sort of thing you accused me of borrowing from a Tony Robbins book.”

  “Can I share something with you?” Drew asked. He hesitated, then added, “I’ve never told this to anyone.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “I’ve always believed, right or wrong, that life churns forward toward some kind of preordained outcome—a foregone conclusion, I guess. Something we can’t control.”

  “Sounds depressing.”

  “Maybe. But what I’ve begun to realize is that the people we meet along the way can influence the outcome, for better or worse.”

  Sierra listened, offering Drew her undivided attention.

  “The outcome doesn’t always change, but sometimes our perspectives do. Like the asshole that killed Mom. He changed my life and he didn’t even know it. The Sadness Doctor I met as a child—”

  “Coffee Breath?”

  “Yeah, her. People have a way of entering our lives without warning and departing the same way. And each of them leaves behind a piece of him or herself—a lot like a mishmash of different colors of Play-Doh. I guess what I’ve always been unclear on is whether I’m supposed to reshape that blob of Play-Doh into something new, or if I’m supposed to just appreciate the blob for what it is.”

  “You want my opinion?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Put the Play-Doh in a jar and find something else to do. Focus on the real world around you and spend your time o
n something constructive.”

  Their third loop was complete. They stopped in front of the bench. “Thanks for spending some time with me tonight,” Drew said.

  “My pleasure. I told you. I’m a big fan of deep talk, pouring out feelings, whatever you’ve got time for.”

  “One last thing.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s my reason to change?”

  “You have to figure that one out yourself. And you will, when you’re ready.”

  “That’s what you told me last time we met.”

  “It’s still early—if you’re not ready to change tonight, maybe you could give Kara a booty call.”

  Drew knew Sierra was joking, but he scowled under his breath.

  “Oh, lighten up, dude.”

  “I think I like Kara because she likes me.”

  “Did sleeping with her make you happy?”

  “At the time.”

  “Keep your chin up,” she said with a nod. “You’re only human.”

  Sierra was attractive, sure, but her best features were more than skin deep—her spirit, her wit, her boldness, her intuition, her undeniably strong conversation skills. He found himself at a loss to explain why she seemed to enjoy his company. Was he a pet project for her, an incomplete being in need of repair? Or was it possible that she, a strong, capable, and assertive woman, actually liked spending time with him?

  “Would you . . .” He trailed off.

  “Huh?”

  “Would you ever date someone like me?”

  “What do you mean someone like you?”

  “I’m flawed and broken. I’m fucked up. You’re not, at least not anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t date an alcoholic or a drug user if that’s what you mean.”

  “What if I changed?”

  “Don’t make me your reason to change.” Sierra looked stern, almost angry. “You have to find your own reason. And I’m not promising you anything. I like our talks, Drew, and I think we could be great friends. Don’t mess that up.”

  Drew ignored her warning and leaned inward, motivated by an unexpected surge of bravery, planting a clumsy peck on her cheek.

  She pulled away at first, stunned. “Drew, what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about Kara.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, and you said you were drawn to me.”