by John Goode
I forced myself not to point out that if he was so damn stressed about time, he could have saved a good half hour by letting me shower like a regular person, but I refrained since it would fall on deaf ears. As I soaped up, I wondered if Kyle would be out there waiting for me. It was an odd thought because before today, I had never worried about it. I would come out, and he would be leaning against my car like he had always been there. I was sad for a moment because if he wasn’t there, I had no idea what to do. Should I go home? Should I go to his house? I used to have a life where I did whatever I wanted, but now it was all different shades of Kyle, and I didn’t want that to change.
Of course, those thoughts led to the future and what happened after high school, but that was too terrifying to contemplate, and I shoved them away as fast as I could.
“Quit stroking and move it, Greymark!” the coach shouted from the locker room. I quickly finished up and changed into my street clothes. I left the locker room with my duffel bag over one shoulder, Coach Gunn right behind me ready to lock up. As we walked out into the dying afternoon sun, he warned, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you wandering around like a zombie on the field today. You play like that after the break and you won’t have to worry about choosing if you’re going to play baseball or not.”
Dammit.
“Yes sir,” I replied in a low voice.
“Get out of here,” he ordered gruffly, but I could see he wasn’t really mad.
I turned to my car, and I honestly caught my breath as I saw Kyle standing there.
He held up his arms and asked with a smile, “How do I look?”
He looked fucking incredible.
Now before I get ahead of myself, let me state I was the head of the Kyle Stilleno is Hot fan club. His baggy pants and oversized T-shirts drove me crazy. They went with his shaggy hair and clown-sized Converse shoes, making him look like a cartoon character sometimes. A hot, ridiculously cute, skater cartoon, but a cartoon nonetheless. But there he was, all dressed up in actual clothes, and let me tell you….
Oh, fuck it. I instantly threw wood.
He had on a pair of black jeans with a vest over a button-up shirt, the tails sticking out…. I can’t even describe it properly. He looked two years older and a thousand times hotter. He suddenly had a waist and a chest and… man, I am screwing this up something fierce.
He just looked hot. Well, hotter than normal. Hotter than I could have imagined. I must have just stood there gaping because his face got serious, and he asked in a halting voice, “You hate it, right?”
“I hate the clothes so much I want to rip them off your body,” I said, rushing toward him. “You look hot!”
I saw him blush, and I knew he liked them too but would never admit it. I had spent most of our time together trying to convince Kyle how hot he was, and he always ignored me, but I could tell the way he wore these clothes that he liked them. A lot.
“Seriously?” he asked in a warning tone. “’Cause if you’re just being nice, I swear I will get you back….”
I dropped my bag and scooped him into my arms. “If I toss you in the backseat and take you right now, would that be proof enough?”
He murmured a quiet “Shut up,” but I felt him lean into me and hug me back.
“You really like it?” he asked after a few seconds of—oh hell, snuggling. There, I said it.
I nodded eagerly. “Smoking hot. What’s the occasion?”
“Jennifer said I should have something to wear to The Party.” His eyes got wide after a second, and he asked me, “Is it okay or too much?”
I hadn’t even thought about what he would wear. Leave it to Jennifer to be three steps ahead of me when it came to social crap. The people who would be at The Party would tear Kyle apart if he showed up dressed like he normally did. I mean, I had no problem with his clothes, but baggy jeans and a worn T-shirt was not party apparel. I guess I could have lent him some of my stuff, but Kyle is way skinner than me, and they would have just looked like crap.
“They’re perfect,” I said and saw him hide his face in my chest again. “Do you like them?”
He looked up and nodded, his face exploding with a smile.
“Then that’s all that counts.” Which wasn’t the truth, but it was close enough for this discussion. I didn’t want Kyle’s first introduction to an actual social life to be a room full of assholes laughing at his clothes. “You hungry?”
“Am I ever not hungry?” he replied with a grin.
“No, and I am still trying to figure out where it all goes,” I said, squeezing his sides and waist looking for mass.
“Brad, stop!” he cried out as my touches became tickles.
I hadn’t seen him this happy… well, ever.
I took him to Nancy’s. We found a booth in the back where we could sit together and no one would stare at us. Gayle, the waitress who had waited on us that first day we came here, was there as usual. She had taken a keen interest in us as a couple ever since she found out that had been our first date. She put a menu on the table and gave us a wide smile. “And what can I start you two lovebirds out with?” There was a thrill from hearing someone refer to Kyle and me as a couple in public that I couldn’t deny.
“Coke and iced tea?” I said, checking Kyle to see if that was okay. He nodded, and I added, “And a huge plate of onion rings.”
“Let me put that in while you guys figure out what you want for dinner.” She took a few steps away from the table before turning back. “And I have to add, you’re looking mighty sharp there with your vest.”
I felt Kyle bury his face in my arm in response.
“He’s shy about it. Tell him how good he looks in it,” I said, teasing him.
“I almost didn’t recognize him at first. Then I saw the hair and realized one of you dressed up for date night.”
I waited for her to walk off before I whispered to him, “So, need any more proof? You’re a bona fide hottie.”
He peeked out to make sure we were alone. “Does it look that good?”
I leaned in toward him. “You are going to have to admit it,” I said before my lips touched his. “You’re officially cute.”
I lost track of time while we were kissing because the next thing I knew was Gayle clearing her throat. I looked over, and she was holding our drinks. “You guys coming up for air to eat, or you just gonna make out all night?”
I began to answer “make out,” but Kyle ordered us two burgers before I could say anything.
“Coming right up,” she said, taking our menus.
“You were going to say ‘make out’,” he said, his voice just slightly louder than a whisper.
“Well, duh,” I said, leaning in for another kiss.
It was rudely interrupted by a male’s voice calling out, “Why in the fuck are those queers in here?”
Kyle pushed off of me in a flash as I turned to see what the drama was this time. Standing in the middle of the diner was Tony Wright’s father. I hadn’t said one word to Tony since he beat me down in the locker room. We just kept our distance since there was nothing much to say. In fact, him standing behind his dad right now was the closest we had been since that day. I’d never noticed Mr. Wright before, but as he glared at us, I realized for the first time how big he really was. Where my dad had just grown soft and fat, Mr. Wright looked like he was still a linebacker. His fists looked like they were shaved ape paws as they trembled at his sides.
I began to stand up, but Kyle’s hand clasped on my jacket prevented me. I looked over at him. His eyes were wide with fear, and he shook his head very quickly.
“I’m talking to you two!” the man said, slamming his hand down on the table.
My head spun around as I readied myself to kick this old man’s ass. I didn’t have an idea how to do that since he was built like a brick house, but I was too mad to even care at this point. “What is your problem?” I asked, trying to keep my temper under control before I said something we would all regret.
“You are.” He sneered at me. “You and your queer boyfriend here making everyone sick to their stomachs.”
Tony pulled at his dad’s sleeve again, and this time I could hear him. “Come on, Dad, let it go.”
But Dad was not letting it go. In fact, Dad was doing the exact opposite of letting it go by looking over at Kyle and then to me. “No one wants to watch you and your fancy fag girlfriend kiss. You aren’t welcome here!”
I pulled away from Kyle’s grip and got to my feet. “But they allow you in here without a leash; go figure!” I started toward him, and he pushed me with the palms of both hands. I was expecting King Kong over there to take a swing or something; the slap fight was straight out of a nine-year-old girl’s playbook and caught me completely by surprise. I tumbled back onto the table but caught my balance quickly and came up ready to swing.
Which was when Gayle appeared out of nowhere.
I mean it. It was like watching Bewitched. One second she wasn’t between us, and the next she was. I had never seen the older woman twitch her nose or anything, but from that point on, she was on the list as a possible witch. I towered over her, and Mr. Wright was even taller than I was, so when I say she was looking up at him, it isn’t a joke. If she was aware of the size difference, it didn’t show in her voice as she began to berate the man. “Anthony Wright, you should be ashamed of yourself! What do you think you’re doing?” You could visibly see the gears in the man’s mind try to downshift as he looked at the wagging finger of the woman as she dressed him down. “Where do you get off coming in here harassing my customers?”
“Th-they’re queer!” he cried out as if even saying it out loud was a threat to his manhood.
“And you’re an asshole, but I’ve served you for fifteen years,” she shot back in a flash. “But that is about to change. Listen to your boy and get out of here. And never return.”
She said it in the same tone that old guy in Lord of the Rings said “You shall not pass.” I mean, I think I heard echoes and everything.
Mr. Wright just stood there in slack-jawed shock for several seconds.
“I mean it,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hands at him. “Do not ever come back in here again. Ever.” She then looked around him and addressed the entire diner. “That goes for anyone else as well. This diner is a place couples have come and eaten since before most of you were born. In fact, looking at a few of you, I can tell you with some certainty if it wasn’t for this diner, you all wouldn’t be here to bitch. I have never once stopped a couple from stealing a kiss now and then, and I am not going to start now. So if you are like this idiot and have a small mind when it comes to what makes a couple, then start eating somewhere else.” She looked back at Mr. Wright and Tony. “What are you still doing here? Get out!” she barked at him.
“You’re serious,” he said numbly.
“In a second I am going to be past serious and move right on into pissed, and that point I will go in the back, and when I come out I will have my shotgun. Get. Out. And. Never. Return.”
“Let’s go, Tony,” he said, not taking his eyes off of her. “I don’t want to eat anywhere they’d serve queers.”
“Then don’t go over to the Rusty Kettle, because Paul has a gay nephew, and he won’t serve you after I call.” Gayle began listing off places on her fingers. “And I suggest finding breakfast somewhere other than Joanne’s because her brother is gay, and she will spit in your coffee as you watch once she hears about this.” With every place she mentioned his eyes grew wider and wider in outrage. “And Bobby Richards has a gay brother-in-law, and once I tell his wife what an asshole you are, I will put money on the next time you pull up into Star’s, you’ll get your car keyed. So good luck with that.”
“Fucking bitch,” he said under his breath as he made his way to the door.
Someone in the back of the restaurant shouted, “And stay out, asshole!” which got some people laughing and then clapping. By the time he slammed the door behind them, the entire place was clapping and hollering at him as he got into his car out front.
“Can we go, please?” I heard Kyle ask softly behind me. I turned with a smile, about to ask him why, since these people were so obviously on our side.
The front of his vest was soaked with both of our drinks.
He looked like he was about to start crying when he added, “I haven’t even paid for it yet….”
“Do you want me to get a towel or something?” I asked as I turned toward Gayle, who was making sure Mr. Wright was truly gone.
“Brad, please,” he said, on the verge of losing it. “I just want to go.”
I slipped off my jacket and handed it to him as he got out of the booth. “Okay, come on.” He huddled into it, trying to cover the fact it looked like he had just said “I don’t know” on a Nickelodeon show. Gayle saw us walking past her. “You boys don’t have to leave,” she said, concerned.
“That was epic,” I said to her as Kyle hurried out. “Thank you.”
She looked at Kyle, who made a beeline to my car. “He okay?”
I nodded. “He doesn’t do well with attention,” I said, opting out of explaining that his new clothes were ruined.
Her face got serious for a moment. “He does know there are more people like that asshole in Foster than people like me, right?” She phrased it like she was asking if Kyle knew, but I knew she was actually asking me. I nodded. “Take it from me, everything passes. You two always have a place here. That’s a promise.”
I gave her a hug; it was nice to know there were some people on our side. “Thank you, Gayle. You rock.”
She hugged me back. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” I gave her a confused look, and she laughed. “It’s from a play. It means there is more to life than what you expect it to be. Foster is not the world. Things out there do get better.”
I nodded, not sure what she was talking about but not wanting to get into it with her. “I better get.”
“Go on, tell Kyle it will be okay,” she called after me.
It was a nice sentiment, but I doubted he’d believe it.
KYLE
I HUDDLED in his car, miserable.
I could say I was mortified, but, honestly, the word was not strong enough to convey how horrible I felt at the moment. I was heading into a panic attack, so I began to list all the different ways I could say how I felt. Abased. Abashed. Belittled. Disgraced. Humiliated. Ridiculed. Shamed. By the time I got to vexed, Brad slid into the driver’s seat.
“You okay?” he asked. I knew he was concerned, but he had just asked the stupidest question I had ever heard in my life.
“I just want to go home,” I answered, trying to keep the thunderous waves of emotion that were rolling around in my head away from my mouth. I wasn’t mad at Brad, but he was here and asking me questions he knew the answer to, and that was enough to set me off.
“Kyle,” he said softly, “you can’t let people like that get to you. There are always—”
“Take me home!” I screamed, unable to stop the words or their volume. I imagine if I had pulled a gun on him, he would have the exact same look on his face he did at that moment. In a much more subdued tone, I said, “Please, Brad, just take me home.”
Without another word, he drove me home.
If you are curious, I did feel like shit for treating him like that, because he hadn’t done a thing to warrant it, but there was just no way to stop myself. I felt like I was falling apart. Falling apart has always been something I did by myself. I didn’t want him to see me cry because some pop got spilled on my fucking clothes. I mean, just saying it like that showed how stupid it was. I was going to cry because my clothes were wet? It wasn’t about the clothes, and it wasn’t about the embarrassment of some redneck humiliating me in public.
It was something worse than that.
“Do you want me to come in?”
I looked up, and we wer
e in front of my house.
I shook my head and began to get out but stopped myself. I turned to him, and I could see the confusion and fear in his face. “I love you,” I said quickly. “And I am not mad at you, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just broken.”
I went to slide out of the car, and he grabbed my hand. “Then be broken with me,” he pleaded.
I squeezed his hand back and then pulled away. “I just can’t right now, Brad, I’m sorry.”
And then I ran in my house like a fucking bitch wearing one glass slipper who knew in about ten seconds she’d be wearing a flour sack. My mom sat in the living room with some friends. I ignored them as I rushed into my room and slammed my door. I could imagine what my mom was saying. “Ignore my daughter; it’s that time of the month.”
I started to rip the clothes off before I realized I still hadn’t paid for them. That shocked some sense into me, and I slowly took them off before I tossed them into the corner. The vest was ruined; I was pretty sure the front was silk or something. The shirt was stained. I had no idea if it would come out, but I did know I couldn’t bleach it or the stripes would fade. Finally I gave up and just left everything all sitting there.
Grabbing a towel, I ducked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
I waited until the water was just this side of scalding before crawling in. I just sat in the tub and watched the pop drain out of my hair as the inevitable tears began to fall. So like I said before, it wasn’t the clothes, and it wasn’t the humiliation that drove me to cry. It was something much worse.
See, I cried because I should have known what had happened had been coming at me. None of it should have come as a surprise. This is what happened when I dared to be happy in my life. When I stuck my head out of my turtle shell and dared to smile, fate made sure to lay the smackdown to remind me I was not allowed a life like everyone else. Good things didn’t happen to me, and that was for a reason. I wasn’t allowed to be with a great guy without getting attacked at school for it, I couldn’t own good clothes without them being ruined, and I wasn’t meant to go to parties like normal kids were. Not me, that wasn’t my lot in life.