Boy

by James Stryker

  Luke’s crushed look inspired sympathy from Ginger, notwithstanding his recent behavior. The boy really had counted on him and Beau being together in their ignorance; their solidarity strengthening his argument. As he’d pitifully protested, they’d always been a team.

  “He asked me not to tell anyone.”

  “But you told Jake.” Luke seemed on the verge of tears, more upset than he’d been at either the viewing or funeral.

  “He’s my husband. I tell him everything.”

  Ginger’s thoughts drifted to himself momentarily. Beau’s statement was a sharp pinch. He was unable to say that he told his wife everything. Maybe he should admit the truth about the white box and—

  “But I’m your brother. I’ve known you longer. I knew you first. We’re partners. Tell me now. You have to.”

  Beau turned to Jackie, who gave a sigh and shrugged. She then looked to Ginger. He didn’t understand why his approval was necessary, but it made him feel good that it was requested. And what purpose was there in maintaining deception? He nodded.

  And now here it comes.

  Beau took Luke’s hands and sat with him on the couch.

  “Luke, Dad didn’t grow up normal like we did. With everyone seeing him as who he was. That’s why the yearbook photo is fake. Because until he turned eighteen and started treatment, the entire world saw him as a girl.”

  “What?” Luke’s voice sounded rusted.

  Ginger remembered having a similar reaction of disbelief.

  “Jay was a transgender man.” Jackie answered before Beau could.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means his gender identity didn’t match his body. His brain was that of a regular man, but his body didn’t develop correctly. He was born with the physical characteristics of the opposite sex, and that’s how he grew up,” she said. “When he was legally able to, he changed his name, he began hormone therapy, he moved away, and he started a normal life.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Ginger had asked this too. It seemed science-fiction crazy. But it wasn’t. Or if it was real, weren’t transgendered people only men who became women? Those sometimes unusual-looking women who were too tall, or had an Adam’s apple, or spoke with a low voice, and therefore warranted closer examination. He knew those were there. But he’d been in close personal contact with Jay for years. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him, no indication that he was anything but typical. He had passed so fully that he’d lived in the same house with Luke for twenty-six years, and the boy had never guessed.

  Beau wouldn’t have known either if their grandmother hadn’t stumbled into her room and terrorized her. In the woman’s delusion, she had seen in Beau the daughter she thought she’d had four decades earlier. Meecie kept calling Beau another name and blocking her escape. Jay had been too late in securing his mother in a locked room. The old bat’s raving had exposed it all.

  Years later, after Ginger had been trusted with the secret, Beau had described how Jay had told her over the kitchen table when she was twelve.

  “But it wasn’t the collected him, like you’ve always seen. Like I’ve always seen,” she said. “He was manic. He was so keyed up.”

  “Why?”

  “He was terrified.”

  “Of what? That you’d tell?”

  “No,” Beau had answered. “That I wouldn’t understand. That I’d think him less. Less a man, less a father, and just less of him overall. I’ve never seen him that scared. Not before and not since.”

  “He wasn’t like that when he told me. He was collected.”

  “He’d been preparing to have that conversation with you, Ging. But with me, it was on the spot, entirely impromptu. He was stumbling over his words, and at times I could barely understand him.”

  Beau had been correct in what she’d said—this was a side of Jay that Ginger had never seen. Jay truly must’ve felt his fears were valid.

  “And did you feel that way? Less? Even when he first told you?”

  “No,” she had said without hesitation. “Did you?”

  “No.” Jay was the same man. Still Jay. Still his father. He’d had a different upbringing. A difficult one. So had Ginger.

  And that’d been the end of it. Ginger hadn’t spoken about Jay’s secret again with anyone, and he rarely thought about it. He always pictured the lack of attention made Jay happy—to neither be a freak, nor special. To just be ordinary and not have layers attributed to his circumstance. He imagined this was the reaction Jay would’ve wanted from Luke.

  But although Jackie explained the situation to Luke first in detail and again in simple terms, the boy said what made the three of them cringe. “Are you telling me that the person I thought was my father was actually a woman?”

  I hope you aren’t listening, Dad. If you can listen, don’t.

  “No,” Jackie snapped. “Absolutely not.”

  “That’s what it sounds like you’re saying.” Luke took his hands from Beau and stood. “When you break it down, that’s it. You’re just putting a spin on reality.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “And who’s Tom DuBelle? What does he have to do with this?”

  “He’s the gentleman,” Jackie strained to get the word through her lips. “Who gave me the two of you.”

  “So Tom is my real father.”

  Ginger had believed it’d be Jackie to do it. But if she’d been planning to, she didn’t get the chance.

  There were no levels to the rage. No escalation to the brink of physical violence, remembrance of herself, and harnessing the willpower to refrain. Beau rose and, in a calculated move only Ginger caught, adjusted the jagged diamond of her wedding ring before she reeled back her left hand and struck her brother across the face.

  At first, Luke only stared at her. Beau had a fierce temper, but she’d never hit anyone.

  “Get out,” she hissed.

  Still bewildered, Luke touched his cheek and brought back his hand. The ring had sliced his cheek, and the blood on his fingers rekindled his passion.

  “You have a lot of nerve! You betrayed me! You’re just like them!” Luke yelled at her, but Beau didn’t flinch. “And you defend them! The whole fucking nest of liars! You’re one of them!” He turned next to Jackie. “And you! Whatever you are! A whore! Some kind of sick lesbian! What the—”

  He stopped midsentence as his mother took three steps in his direction.

  Jackie didn’t need to touch him. The look she gave was one of total apathy. It said she wouldn’t be the one to shred him in pieces, but she’d stand by and watch. She wouldn’t speak a word in protest as he was pushed through a meat grinder—inch by flesh-tearing inch. Jackie’s coldness suffused the room’s heat; it happened with such speed that steam seemed to follow her footsteps as she advanced.

  Luke stepped back too fast and lost his balance. He staggered and fell as if she’d really hit him. But no one laughed. Jackie gave the same command as Beau, “Get out.”

  The boy just sat there, and tears brimmed in his eyes. “I’ll go! I’ll never come back!”

  “Good! Go!” Beau was crying too, but when Ginger moved to comfort her, she shoved him away and turned to face Luke. “If you hadn’t come back in the first place, Dad would still be alive, you piece of shit!”

  “You’re the one who begged me to come home!” Luke stumbled to his feet. “And it’s good that I did! If I hadn’t come home, if he hadn’t died, I would’ve never met my real father! I would never have known he existed!”

  This time, Ginger caught Beau by both wrists. She screamed and fought him, but he refused to release her.

  “Save your strength to push out your satanic spawn.” Luke turned to Jackie. “Tell me how to find Tom DuBelle. He’s the only person who hasn’t lied to me.”

  “If you think he’ll take you in, you’re going to be sadly mistaken. He’s a self-centered jackass. That’s where you get it from; it’s in that gene pool. And no amount of time aroun
d a good man can fix being a plain fucking asshole,” his mother said.

  “Having never been around a good man, we wouldn’t know if that’s true or not.”

  Ginger was relieved that Jackie folded her arms and kept her icy, cruel exterior. Beau had stopped struggling, but she was still tense, and he didn’t dare let her go.

  “You’re stupid. A fucking, stupid little boy. And that’s all you’ll ever be. If you want to run to him, you find him. Idiot.”

  “I’m a regular son of a bitch, all right.”

  “For the final time, get out. I can’t stand to look at you.” Jackie walked back to her recliner.

  Luke left the room, and his footsteps pounded on the stairs.

  Ginger released Beau, and she sank to the couch. She seemed shaky and unsteady, as if the anger had drained from her with a velocity that stripped her energy. But before Ginger could panic, Jackie provided an additional directive.

  “Jake, go up there,” she ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t take anything that isn’t his. If he tries to fight you, or isn’t out the door in ten minutes, I’ll call the police.”

  He knew better than to disobey.

  His worry was mitigated as he heard his mother-in-law’s voice behind him. The couch creaked as she must’ve repositioned herself next to Beau. “Breathe, honey. You’re fine.”

  Ginger climbed the staircase, his eyes fixed on the only open door. And I’m not concerned at all about you. Mom is right. You’re just a stupid little boy. And that’s all you’ll ever be.

  Chapter Twelve

  With an immediacy that staggered him, Luke felt terrible about what he’d said to his mother and sister. His face stung where Beau hit him, but it paled in comparison to the shame he felt as he took the stairs three at a time. He had a right to be angry, but he’d let his temper get the better of him. He’d said cruel things he didn’t mean because he was hurt and wanted them to hurt too.

  First Jackie had rejected him. He’d kept his end of the bargain and just followed the expected motions throughout the rest of the funeral. But when he tried to claim the prize he’d earned, he hadn’t gotten two words out, and she’d started ridiculing him.

  And dragging in that fucking bastard! When all I did was ask him to be quiet!

  It’d been Beau who yelled at Luke for that, but he couldn’t fault her. She was under Jake’s evil influence. Both of them were. That’s why Jackie had persisted in trying to lie after he’d presented the overwhelming evidence. She was further under Jake’s control than he’d imagined.

  And Jake had stood when he went to Beau, as if he planned to block her from him. Luke had been prepared to punch Jake in the throat if he’d tried to intervene. But he’d reached Beau and taken her hand, trying to rally her.

  It’d been obvious they were alone against those liars. He’d pleaded with his eyes: Please, Beau. I’m the only one you can trust. All we have to depend on is each other. We’re a team. Partners. We’ll go away. You can divorce that sack of shit. You’re going to lose the baby anyway.

  It was an awful thought, but it was better for the situation. If she lost the baby, it would be much easier to cut ties. She could find a better husband who didn’t steal other people’s families.

  But the plan had crashed in flames.

  Beau had admitted to having known everything for years. And if she’d found out before Meecie died, she’d known even before Jake. She’d kept the guarded secret about their father for over a decade.

  I’m your brother; you don’t keep secrets from me. We have the same DNA. We’re almost the same person. I’ve always trusted you. I confided in you.

  Beau’s treachery dominated the actual secret. He’d heard the sought-after answer under water. Jay had been a transgender man. He connected the description to individuals he’d been acquainted with in New York. He knew transgendered people and had no difficulty with the concept. It was more unorthodox than being a homosexual, but Luke still didn’t care. The shadow of Beau’s deceit hung over everything.

  You betrayed me. You betrayed me, Beau.

  Luke had stared at her, disengaged from his surroundings. She’d looked back in earnest, willing him to breathe a sigh of relief now that he knew. They could move on. The silence was over.

  But what matters is that the secret was there to begin with.

  Not only had Jay not trusted him, or Jackie, or Jake, but Beau didn’t trust him. His twin sister. His first and best friend.

  And you’re not sorry you lied to me. You’re not asking for forgiveness. You’re expecting me to roll over like it was nothing for you to lie to me for years!

  The ultimate disloyalty hadn’t been Jake carrying off his family. It wasn’t his parents consenting to be led astray. True, they couldn’t be absolved from drinking the Kool-Aid, but what had topped it was Beau. However, he knew what to say to peel back the skin of all three of them, as they deserved; their pain being a small consolation prize. And he’d launched into pressing every weak spot he could think of.

  And now I’m fucked. Fucked.

  Even if he’d misinterpreted the fight where his father had asked him to leave, Jackie couldn’t have been plainer.

  Luke didn’t know where he’d go. Saying he would go to Tom DuBelle had been primarily to cause them pain. They didn’t know Tom had told Luke not to try to find him. Although he hadn’t seemed the “self-centered jackass” Jackie had declared he was, Tom had been furious. If Luke was able to locate him, would Tom be willing to talk to him again?

  But I have to leave now. I won’t give them the satisfaction of staying or admitting I may have said things I didn’t mean. Maybe I’ll go to New York, or I’ll find Tom somehow. But fuck all of them. Fuck—

  “Mom wants you out in ten minutes, or she’ll call the police.”

  Luke turned to see Jake in the doorway. What kept him from charging at his brother-in-law in rage, especially for referring to Jackie as “Mom,” was that he could see Jake wasn’t happy.

  I thought you’d be fucking ecstatic.

  Jake had that look people gave when they weren’t thinking of themselves or how to screw someone over. It made Luke hesitate, before remembering he was still evil.

  “Ten minutes? You’ve been wanting me out for more than ten years.” Luke resumed packing. “Since the first time you saw me.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve only ever wanted to be your friend, Luke.”

  “Lies atop more lies. Keep them coming.”

  “I didn’t ask Dad to tell me and not you. I hate to say it, but if you’re going to be angry at anyone, you should be angry with Dad. This was his game.”

  “It’s not a fucking game. It’s my life.” Luke crammed several pages of sheet music into his bag’s front pocket.

  “I know. That’s why he should’ve told you.”

  When Luke briefly regarded Jake again, the expected cynicism was absent.

  “He should’ve told you,” Jake repeated. “You shouldn’t have had to hear it this way. You’re right; it’s not fair. And Beau shouldn’t have hit you, but—”

  Yeah, I knew you weren’t on my side.

  “You also shouldn’t have been cruel. You can’t have meant those things.”

  Keep telling me what I can and cannot mean. What I can and cannot do. Like you’re in charge of me. Like you know me. No one knows me. I’m completely alone.

  “And if I did mean them?” Luke slung the bag over his shoulder.

  “I don’t believe you did.”

  “I don’t believe a fucking thing you say either. Get out of my way.”

  Luke didn’t need to ask him to move. Jake stood against the doorframe, and there was plenty of space to step around. But Luke didn’t so much as want to brush past him.

  “Where will you go?” Jake positioned himself in the middle of the doorway, blocking Luke’s escape.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “Do you know how to find him?”

  “I said it’s none of your damn busin
ess.”

  Luke regretted the clipped response as soon as it left his mouth. If he’d answered “no”, or said nothing, he’d have left the door open for any aid Jake might be able to provide. He’d fucked himself again.

  Why can’t you have a dress rehearsal in real life? Fuck.

  Jake studied the floor, and when he raised his head, the tightness of indecision appeared in his eyes.

  “You think I’ve never wanted to be your friend, and that’s not true. It wasn’t my intention to take anything from you, and I’m sorry if you feel I have. I only wanted to share your family. But you did have something taken from you.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “I told Tom DuBelle when I called him that I didn’t agree with Dad’s actions or the secrecy, but I’d honor the request he made of me. I stand by that.” Jake reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. “But Dad didn’t ask me not to give you this.”

  He offered a business card, and Luke took it. On the front was the name and address of an attorney in Utah, but written on the back was Tom DuBelle’s name and phone number.

  Luke met Jake’s eyes.

  “Tom isn’t your father, but he can tell you about him. I believe you can handle it. And I’m sure if he’d had the opportunity, eventually Dad would’ve told you. But he was taken from you,” Jake’s voice frayed. “He was taken from us. Not by me. By God.”

  Luke tucked the business card into his wallet and took a step closer to his brother-in-law.

  “He had twenty-six years of opportunities to tell me, and he chose not to. And Beau had fourteen years of opportunities to share what she knew, and she chose not to. I find it difficult to give any of you the benefit of the doubt that you’d have told me of your own choice. However, thank you for being respectable enough to realize that you’re all a bunch of assholes.”

  “Should I say ‘you’re welcome’?”

  “No. You should get out of my way.”

  Jake moved aside to let him pass, and Luke pulled out his cell phone to call a cab. He felt himself watched from the landing as he descended the stairs. And it occurred to him, as he shut the door of his childhood home, that this was the second instance where he was leaving in a fiery tempest. Only this time, he had no plan of returning in triumph. He had no plan to return at all.