Riding with Brighton

by Haven Francis

  I snap a few more, but then I can’t handle it anymore. I go to him, wrap one hand around his waist, and pull him to me. He lunges at my mouth, and he kisses me like he did the first time—all need and desire and frustration and lust. I blindly snap another picture of us. This is something I want to remember. He finds the hem of my T-shirt and pulls it off me, then puts his mouth back on mine. He grips greedily to my chest and neck. I snap more pictures. He turns me and pushes me into the wall. He’s growling and he’s needy. He shoves his crotch up into mine and bites me. I snap another picture and grab on to his ass with my other hand, pulling him harder into me. His mouth moves from mine, and he bites hard on my neck. I snap a picture. His lips and tongue move down my body. He bites and sucks, and I watch him through the face of the camera, so turned on I don’t know if I can handle it. He undoes the button on my jeans….

  And then there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t seem to hear it, so I push him away. He looks up at me, his face full of lust and confusion. I nod toward the door.

  “Jay?” Quickly, he pulls his shirt back on, and I do the same.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  The door opens, and Tom peeks his head inside. He smirks at us. “Just wanted to make sure you boys weren’t losing track of time. Brighton, you’re free to stay as long as you want, but Mom will be home in fifteen minutes.”

  “Got it. Thanks,” Jay tells him.

  His dad gives us one more smile, then closes the door.

  “Shit, Brighton. You make me lose my damn mind. That could have been bad. I mean, he’s cool and all, but….”

  I plop down on his desk chair and start texting the photos to his phone.

  “Jesus,” Jay says, leaning over my shoulder to look at them. “I want those.”

  I laugh and tell him, “They’re all yours.”

  “Look at you,” he whispers.

  “Me? Look at you.”

  “No. I want to look at you. You’re not posting those, right?”

  “No. These are ours.”

  I close the texting stream and open my Instagram account. “I’m willing to share, though. All those hungry stalkers can have this one,” I tell him about the first photo I took. Which, honestly, I’m willing to share in a “look what I have!” idiotic sort of way, but I’m not so excited about reading the comments I know every guy who looks at my page will leave. I load it and tag it #sorryboys #hesmine #livinthelife #withthisone. Before I post it, I tell him, “There’s a lot of kids from school who follow me.”

  “It’s just a picture of me.”

  “Well, yeah… with your shirt off. And with me telling everyone you’re mine. You want me to take that part off?”

  “Uhh…. No. Trust me, I’m more concerned that those guys know that we have something going on than I am with kids at school getting a confirmation that I’m gay.”

  “All right,” I tell him, pressing the Post button. “That was distracting. We were supposed to be cleaning.”

  “I can handle it. I don’t want to waste my last few minutes with you cleaning.”

  “Okay.” I stand and wrap my arms around his waist, then duck down to kiss his neck, but I’m not about to get carried away with him again. His dad’s being cool, but Jay’s right; there’s no way in hell he’s that cool.

  I nab another photo book off his shelf. I open it to a random page and see a picture of him and Colette at last year’s prom.

  Jay laughs. “I forgot that was there.” He grabs the trash bag and opens it for me.

  I flip through a couple pages, looking at Jay with his arm around a beautiful girl, both of them looking pretty happy. “Was this hell?”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and sits at the edge of his desk. “Everything with her was pretty much hell, but I think that would have been the case whether I were gay or straight. That night was actually pretty fun. We went as a group, and I had fun with my friends.”

  “That’s gotta be weird, though, right? Having sex with a girl?”

  “I knew it was weird that I had to close my eyes and pretend in order to get off. But I still managed to tell myself it was all normal… that I was enjoying it. In retrospect, yeah… it’s weird. I can’t picture doing that anymore—having sex with a girl. You’ve never…?”

  “What? No. God, no.”

  “Eww… girls,” he says, laughing.

  “Gross… boobs,” I agree.

  He shakes his head, and his smile is huge. “Are you gonna keep that or throw it in the bag?”

  I toss it in the bag.

  “You should probably get out of here.”

  “What if I don’t want to go?” I ask him.

  “I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want you interacting with her. Not yet at least.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe I can charm her… you know I’m good with older women.”

  “Sure. That’s an excellent idea—hit on my mom. I’m sure she’d love that.”

  “No?”

  “Maybe next time. This time, I think you should probably just get the hell out.”

  “Wow. That ain’t cool,” I tease him.

  “I never want to see you again,” he says, facetiously.

  “Well, that sucks ’cause I want to see you again. I noticed your bedroom window is right above the porch. I could get on top of that little eave pretty easily. I could totally break into your room later if you wanted me to.”

  “That sounds like a terrible idea. But maybe my mom will end up kicking me out of the house, and I’ll have to take refuge in your spare bedroom.”

  He’s smiling and the thought of him staying at my house is beyond enticing, but those words bring this situation back into focus. He and I are good. But outside of this bedroom, things are bad. Really bad. Way worse than he’s letting on. I run my hands through his hair and grab on to the back of his neck. “Try to work things out with her. Try and help her understand. What she’s doing is wrong, but she believes it’s right. You just have to help her see that it’s not right.”

  “I know,” he whispers, bringing his forehead to mine. “I’m not giving up on her. I don’t want her living like this anymore.”

  “I think your dad was right—eventually this is gonna be good for her. Not everything can be resolved in one day. Give her time.”

  He nods and takes his forehead from mine. “I’ll give her all the time she needs. You really need to go, though.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I tell him reluctantly, leaning in to give him a soft kiss before forcing myself to let go of him and head out of his room.

  We stop in his dad’s office to tell him good-bye. I can tell that both of them are tense because they’re worried about me getting out in time. I’m tempted to stick around, just to see if she’s as bad as they’re both making her sound. But for their sake, I keep my good-bye and my parting kiss with Jay short before heading out the door.

  I make it all the way down the long driveway and onto the street when I see a minivan approaching, the same minivan I watched back out of the driveway. I don’t look at the passengers, but when the van comes to a literal screeching halt, I know the driver’s spotted me.

  I have no choice but to turn my head. The look on Jay’s mom’s face is fierce. As in fiercely angry. As in irate. Somehow I manage to smile and nod at her.

  She steps out of the van and slams the door shut behind her. I glance at Tyson for a moment. He definitely looks pissed, but he also looks embarrassed. He’s running his hand through his hair, just like Jay does.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hall,” I say to her.

  “Were you just in my home?” she asks, seething.

  “Yes, I was. Jay isn’t having the easiest day, so I came over to talk to him.”

  “Talk to him?” She chortles. “Really? You wanted to talk to him?”

  “Yeah. This is hard for him. Really hard. He needed a friend.”

  She shakes her head and takes a step toward me. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she says under her breath, “but my
son is not gay. I don’t know what you said, or did to him, but he is not like you. You need to stay the hell away from him.” She reaches out a manicured nail and stabs it into my sternum.

  “You know this is hard for him, right? You know if it were possible for him to be straight, he would be. No one would choose to go through the things he’s had to go through over the last two days. No one would choose to hide themselves, to hate themselves, for their entire lives. No one would choose to have their mom hate them. No one would choose to have their family torn in half. This isn’t a choice he’s making, Mrs. Hall. It’s just who he is. There’s nothing he can do about it. You get that, don’t you?”

  “What I get is that Jay was happy. He had beautiful girlfriends. He was popular. Everyone loved him. And then you came into the picture, and he threw his life away. You seduced him. You lied to him. You made him like you, but that’s not who he is. That’s not who he wants to be. It is a choice, and you made him choose perversion and shame.”

  My heart clenches at her words. This is Jay’s mom. This is what he’s up against. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I know you’re scared. I know you feel like you failed him. But trust me, Mrs. Hall, when I tell you that he is happy. For the first time in his life he’s happy. And not because of me but because he’s finally free to be himself, to be honest with the people he loves and to stop lying. You can understand that, right? You can see the difference between happiness and sadness. I know you want him to be happy. I know you want all the people who you care about to be happy. But you don’t get to decide what makes anyone besides yourself happy. That’s up to them. I hope someday you can be happy with him. You both deserve that—to know each other, to love each other… to be happy.”

  She stares at me intensely, with the same blue eyes Jay has. “You stay away from him. I don’t want to see you again.”

  “Okay,” I say, appeasing her. I don’t need to cause more problems for Jay, but clearly I have no intention of staying away from him.

  She gets back in her van, slams the door, and pulls away. Jesus. Maybe things with Jay and his mom will never be okay. God, I hope that’s not true.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jay

  AFTER BRIGHTON leaves I head back to my bedroom. I want to look at the pictures he sent me. Those pictures of us kissing are amazing. The look on his face… so amazing. His Instagram page is still open, so I hit the Refresh button so I can gloat about what his admirers are saying.

  “Whoa,” I mutter to myself when I see how many comments are already there.

  Who the hell is he? Is that your man? Sexy. Ménage à trois? Share please. Living for this. I don’t believe you. Post a pic of the two of you.

  It’s all entertaining, and a little fascinating. I don’t have Instagram or Facebook and really Brighton’s is about the only page I look at. It’s weird that these strangers give a shit. That a picture of me, or Brighton’s potential man, can make strangers happy or angry or offering to hook up with us.

  When I scroll back down to the bottom, there’s a new comment. I go to school with these guys. His name is Jay Hall. He’s straight. I look at the name. It’s from Kari Lawrence—Colette’s best friend. I don’t know how I feel about that—the comment that is. This is just what she does: gets in the middle of everyone’s business.

  Responses come in immediately—again from people who I don’t know, who Brighton probably doesn’t know either: Too bad, doesn’t look like he’s straight, #poser, #inthecloset, #livinthestraightlife, Hey Brighton… I’m totally gay.

  Now I’m getting pissed. Like I’m not gay enough. Like I’m ashamed. Like I’m not good enough for Brighton.

  I grab my phone and do the thing I’ve thought about doing a hundred times. I open up the app and click the Create an Account button. I use the photo Brighton posted of me as my profile pic, then go back to Brighton’s page.

  The comments are still pouring in. Most of them happy that Brighton’s potential love interest is straight, plenty of them disappointed that they’re not gonna see pictures of the two of us together. I want to give them that even though I know I probably shouldn’t. But… fuck it.

  I go back to my profile and scroll through the photos Brighton texted me. They’re all pretty damn intimate, but there’s one where you can see both of our faces pretty clearly and that’s about it. Just our mouths kissing. I post it with the comment Yay, Jay’s gay! and tag Brighton. And then panic. Immediately.

  Comments are coming in on the new photo fast and furious. More about me being confused and in the closet and not good enough for Brighton. Kari posts that it’s disgusting, and I smile when a barrage of comments come in calling her ignorant and a bigot and jealous. After that the comments are leaning toward pro Brighton and Jay.

  And then Brighton comments. Fuck yeah, Jay’s gay. Yaaaaay!!!

  I smile. And then my phone rings. When I see Brighton’s name, I answer it.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey?” he says, and he sounds confused. Oh shit. Is he pissed that I posted that?

  “Yeah… hey. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I’m just a little surprised that you’re so busy on Instagram. Have you seen your mom since I left?”

  “Um, no. I don’t think she’s home yet.”

  “She’s home, Jay. She caught me leaving your house.”

  “Oh shit. What did she say to you?”

  “Well, she’s not happy with me. I’m surprised she didn’t bust in there and tear your head off.”

  I reach up and turn down my stereo. Sure as shit, I can hear her yelling at Dad from all the way across the house. “Shit,” I mutter. “You’re right. She’s home. And yelling at my dad. Shit.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I tried to talk to her.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should get down there, though. My dad’s the one she’s gonna blame.”

  I hear him exhale a long breath. “Yeah, okay. Can you please call me as soon as whatever’s gonna happen happens?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, my finger hovering on the End button.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks… for posting that picture. For not being ashamed of us… of me. Call me.”

  I smile for a moment. And then the line goes dead. And my mom’s voice infiltrates my head again.

  I head downstairs and toward the argument. Ty’s in the living room, pacing the floor. When he sees me, he stops and stares. The anger in his eyes is obvious. I stare back at him for a minute as we listen to our parents arguing.

  “How am I supposed to stop this when you’re letting that boy into our home?” she yells at him.

  “You can’t stop this. Can’t you see that? Don’t you understand what you’re trying to do to him?”

  “He’s not gay, Tom. He’s confused. It’s that kid. That kid that you let into our home,” she screams.

  “He is gay, Kim. And the sooner you can accept this, the sooner we can all finally start living a normal life. One that’s not ruled by your insanity,” he screams back. I’ve never heard Dad scream. Ever.

  “Is that what you think? You think I’m insane? He ruined my life, Tom. I will never forgive him. My father gave me up. He gave his life up so that he could sleep with men. I thought you understood. I thought you were on my side, but clearly you’ve been lying to me too. Clearly my life with you has been a lie too.”

  “Stop it, Kimberly. Just stop it. I love you. All I’ve done is love you and try to make you happy. What you’re doing is tearing us apart. The two of us and this family. It has to end. You have to forgive him. You have to move on. Your dad loves you. Jay loves you. I love you. You have to stop fighting us.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me that. My dad loves me? Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “How can you do that to someone you love? He doesn’t love anyone but himself. He’s a selfish godless man, and if you’re willing to accept this, if you’re taking Jay’s side, then you’re selfish
and godless too.”

  “I am taking his side because he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s my son and I love him, and he needs us right now. Why can’t you see that?”

  Jesus, this is hell. Listening to them self-destruct. Over me. While my baby brother stands in front of me, his fists clenched. His angry face shaking in disbelief.

  “I didn’t want this to happen. I don’t want them to fight,” I tell Ty, taking a step toward him.

  He takes a step back, and his eyes cinch closed. “She’s right. You’re selfish, like him. You ruined everything. You’re going to ruin her. You’re going to ruin them.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I plead.

  He opens his eyes and tears fall down his face. “Leave. Just go, before she does.”

  I can feel my face mirroring his. Would she really do that? Would she really leave? Did I really just destroy my family?

  “If you can’t back me up on this, if you can’t see how much this is killing me, then I can’t do this with you. You’re not the man I thought you were,” I hear my mom say as if she’s answering my silent question.

  I wait for my dad’s response, but nothing comes.

  And then she tears out of his office, her face, once again, red from crying. When she sees me, she stops in her tracks and stares at me, shaking her head just like Ty was.

  “Mom, please. Please, talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say, Jay? I’m never going to accept this. I’m never going to be okay with this.”

  “Why? Why can’t you try to accept this? Why can’t you just talk to me and try to understand?”

  “It’s not natural, Jay. I did everything I could for you and one kid comes along and ruins all of it.”

  “Mom, it’s not his fault. He didn’t turn me gay. I’ve been gay. I’ve always been gay.”