Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles)

by Derrick, Zoey

  "That's precisely why I kissed you just now."

  "I don't understand."

  He sighs and steps farther into my apartment. "I needed to know if you'd rejected me."

  "I could never…"

  He nods at me. "I know that now. But this isn't going to be easy for either one of us."

  "But you kissed me and you seem to be doing okay." I give him an encouraging half smile.

  He gives me a returning smile before replying, "After last night, I realized in the right frame of mind, I can do a lot of things. When I got here and you opened the door, I was so relieved to see you that I didn't know what else to do, I let instinct take over."

  I smile, "Your instinct can take over anytime."

  "Good."

  "But I still don't know anything, Cal. I need to know more about this, more about you, more about what happens when you're triggered. I really want to talk to Dr. V."

  I see sadness color his features, but he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet which he opens and he pulls out a card. He places it between his index and middle finger and extends his arm in my direction. "What's this?"

  He gives me a smile, "It's Dr. V's card. You have an appointment with him tomorrow morning at ten."

  "You'll be there?" I ask as I take the card from him.

  He lowers his gaze and turns toward my couch. "No, tomorrow is for you."

  "That's not fair, I'd feel like I was talking about you behind your back."

  He turns back to me, meeting my eyes. "You're not. I made the appointment. I wanted to give you a chance to meet him by yourself, ask all the questions rattling around in your mind about me, about my situation without the burden of me being there. I thought it would make you more comfortable. I know, just like I'm sure you do, that you'd hesitate to ask something for fear of offending me and I don't want that for you. I want you to be able to ask anything of him and I have given him carte blanche to answer any and all questions you have."

  "I don't know what to say."

  He smiles. "Say you'll come to dinner with me tonight. Then tomorrow you can go to Dr. V's office. He's cleared his schedule for you all day tomorrow."

  "I don't need all…"

  "Shh, I asked him if he could, knowing the extent of the information he has, the millions of questions you have combined with the fact that we're not in town long. I thought that if you had enough time to chat with him that you could get all your answers at once."

  "I'm sure I can't possibly ask him everything."

  He smiles as he sits down. "No, but he's a good doctor and he's agreed to help us both. You understanding me and us." He pauses as he crosses his ankle over his knee and leans back into the couch, putting one arm on the back of it. Settling in, he continues, "I've decided that I've fought this part of me for long enough. I need to figure out how to make this work and in order for me to do this I have to have as much support on board as possible. That is, if you're willing to go through all this."

  "Where did all this confidence come from?" I ask him with a playful smirk on my face.

  He smiles back. "You," he states simply.

  "Huh…so you mean that we could have had this conversation eight years ago?"

  He laughs. "I highly doubt that. I was too caught up in ‘who I was supposed to be' to see who it is that I am. But this will not be easy and a part of me already feels like giving up this battle."

  "If you're not…" I interrupt and he continues anyway.

  "But I know where that part comes from, that part comes from the behaviorally trained part of me. The part of my mind that doesn't want to let this go, unwillingly mind you. Eric, I want this more than anything else, which is how I know you need to start with Dr. V and we go from there."

  "Alright," I agree softly.

  "WHAT made you change your mind?" His question is legitimate and I want to answer it, but I don't know for sure where to begin.

  "A lot of things really."

  He comes to sit on the couch, but on the opposite side from me and I don't like the distance between us, but I don't know if I can bring myself closer. I was honestly so overwhelmed that he was okay and with seeing him half-naked that I couldn't stop myself from kissing him when he opened the door. That was the final validation that I needed to know that I'd made the right choice.

  "Can you be more specific, please?" he pleads.

  "Well, Dr. V helped," I tell him.

  "How so?" he asks the obvious follow-up.

  I scrub at my face. "Well, I called him this morning, before I tried calling you the first time, and I told him that I needed to see him. But he didn't have a lot of free time today so we talked on the phone, which is pretty normal for him and me." I'm rambling, I know that, but I'm trying to organize all the thoughts in my head before I start spewing everything all over the place. "I told him that I told you almost everything last night. Told him that I broke it down, explaining it to you and that I'd done my best to tell you about everything." I pause, taking a deep breath. "I told him about what happened when I kissed you or what didn't happen for that matter." I watch as his nose scrunches up. "You need to understand something about Dr. V, I tell him everything. I have to. It's the only way that he's able to help me through a lot of what goes on within me when certain things happen, like kissing you, or picturing us together. Without the gory details, he can't work out ways to help me through it."

  "No, I get that, and I am certainly very glad you can tell him everything, but it just feels so, I don't know, personal."

  I smile at him. "It is personal. What happens to me directly affects anyone that I'm with." I stand up and start to pace again, I can't control the urge to keep moving or to keep my mind occupied on menial tasks like walking. "Being with women," I can't ignore his scoff, right as I turn back the other direction. "You need to understand that I have nothing else to compare this to," I tell him.

  "What about before all this shit happened to you, you said that you were with other guys?" I turn to look at him, his face has relaxed and I'm distracted by his naked chest, the tattoos covering his chest and shoulders, down his arms, are a site to behold. A hodge-podge of life forever marking his skin but in the center of it all is his demon, with wings spread wide. My mouth waters with a desire to lick it, and him. To savor his taste…I stop the thought, knowing what will happen if I let it go any further.

  I swallow and turn back around. "I was, but it's hard to compare the me then to the me now. Back then my biggest fear wasn't even about getting caught, it was more about getting hurt, emotionally. Sure, my father had caught me a few times," I subconsciously rub at my cheek, "But I tried to justify his actions, I tried to rationalize away the reason why he did the things he did."

  "How so?" he asks me.

  I sigh, I knew that we were going to have to talk about everything my father ever did to me, tell him the story of how my father came to be a drunk asshole, but I hadn't planned on it being today.

  "Cal, if we're going to work through this, we can't keep secrets anymore."

  "No, I know that. I just…" I look at him again and our eyes meet, "I hadn't planned on laying it all on the table so fast."

  "How did you justify it?" he counters with a less complicated question and for that I silently thank him.

  "He was a drunk. Lost in his own world. Sometimes I would think that it bothered him because he was hell bent on keeping the farm in the family. He was determined to force me into running it and somewhere in the back of his mind if I was gay, he didn't think it would be something I could do." I run a hand over my head, calming myself down about the whole mess. "He was right, it wasn't something I wanted to do, but it wasn't because I was gay, it was because I didn't want to do it. Sure, I grew up on a farm, I knew the ins and outs of everything that happened there, had to happen and how it happened. He made sure of that. But it wasn't for me. I craved the city. I craved the big town environment. I hated the small town gossip, the small town life of church on Sunday's. Birthday parties that br
ought every kid in the town out, just everyone being up in your business all the time. I hated it, and as graduation drew closer, I was saving my money for college. Something else he didn't think I needed, but that was the reason I saved my money. So that I could do it without him. He knew deep down that if I ran off to college, that I would never come back."

  "What about your mother?"

  "She was already gone. She died when I was six."

  "Fuck Cal, I didn't…"

  "It's okay. Even though I was young, my mother wasn't exactly the nurturing type. She cared more about her Ladies Aide Society and the church than she did about her own family. She cared more about the image of being a farmer’s wife than she did about being a mother."

  "How'd she die?"

  I snort. "Honesty, I'm not sure I know anymore. I was told it was a car accident throughout my childhood. But as I grew older, so did my suspicions about what really happened. I often wonder if it was my father who ran her off the road. He was a miserable son of a bitch before she was gone and her death amplified whatever demons he was hiding behind. Honestly, by the time I was old enough to question it, I was hiding behind my own problems and I gave up." I turn to him. "You know how they say hindsight is always twenty-twenty?" He nods. "Well in hindsight, when it comes to my mother, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd just run off. My father, to save face with the town, convinced the sheriff, who was his best friend, to stage an accident and he told the town she was dead." I shrug.

  "That's a pretty elaborate lie to pull off."

  I snort. "My father is or maybe was, a pretty powerful man in that town. He could do and say just about anything to manipulate people into believing whatever he wanted them to believe. Including me. I was too young to really know better and to be completely honest with you, I don't even remember crying afterward. That, my friend, is pretty fucked up."

  "I'd say so," he agrees.

  "As I got older, I started to notice certain things, boys and girls, the differences between them, and then I started to notice that boys held my attention better than any girl could. Sure, I dated a few, but I never made it past second base with most of them. You know, copping a feel and all. I never had much of a desire for them. Then finally one day, when I was fifteen, working in the field, Billy caught me staring at him and it was pretty much downhill after that. Though he was the true definition of a closet homo." I chuckle at the memories of Billy.

  "Why was that?"

  Our eyes meet again and I'm momentarily lost in him before I answer. "He was captain and quarterback of the football team, held that position since freshman year. Aw man, he was good looking, but he always had chicks lined up ready to drop to their knees in the middle of the hallways at school. Most of the guys in my school assumed I was gay and they made no secret of telling people that. Including Billy." I shrug, "But three times a week, after school, we'd be at my house working in the fields, side by side, eventually the looking turned to touching, then kissing and then finally blowjobs and other things. The irony about that scenario now is the fact that if he got his rocks off first, he'd be so repulsed that I usually ended up rubbing my own out while he ran screaming from the barn."

  "What a dipshitidiot."

  I laugh at his term. "Where the hell did you learn that phrase?"

  He laughs too, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  I lift my chin in a challenge, "Try me."

  "From Jess, though she pulled it out of a book somewhere."

  I laugh, "Well, be sure to thank her for me, it suits him perfectly."

  "Do you know whatever happened to him?" he asks as I come to stand in front of the patio doors, looking out across the city. Eric's apartment is high enough in the building and elevated enough by hills that Los Angeles lays out before me. Though you certainly can't see the whole city, it's still a sight to behold. I was jealous of this view when he moved in. His apartment is smaller than mine but no less luxurious.

  I sigh before answering, "Nope, I don't. I don't entirely care either. Though after the second to last time my father beat me, he finally told his buddies to shut the fuck up and grow up when they'd start teasing me at school. So I guess that was his way of making amends for running like a little girl when my father caught us."

  "So if you were back in school after that, what happened that got you locked up?"

  I run my hand through my hair. "The same, though I'd given up on Billy after that day. I started driving to Decorah, a college town not too far from us, where I would meet guys, and you know. But one time, one of them came home with me, and I was naive enough to believe that my father would still be at the bar, but he wasn't. That time, he didn't beat me up too bad. I think he learned after the last time with Billy that I was bigger and stronger than he was and that I was going to fight back. Instead, he threw my friend out, put me in the house, locked me up in my room and he left. If I'd had any idea of what was coming for me the next day, I would have broken out and left."

  "What came?"

  "Men in white coats," I say somberly. "Literally. They were men who had the same right-wing beliefs my father did that being gay was an abomination of God. That being gay was a learned trait. I think my father probably blamed himself since I never had my mother around. I grew up around him and men who worked for him, so he was pretty sure these doctors were capable of ‘curing the gay' out of me."

  "But it's not a choice."

  I look at him and smile. "No, it's not a choice. It's what defines you, it's a part of you, whether you want it to be or not." I sigh, looking back out the window. "But my father believed it was a choice. That by sending me away to the nuthouse I could be cured of my ‘gayness', and in a way, I was."

  “I don’t see it that way.” He looks at me, confused. “I see it as some group of crazy ass whack jobs bending you to their beliefs.” I shift on the couch to look at him better and he continues, “Think about it. It’s not much different than someone pushing off their religious beliefs on you to the point that you can’t help but believe what they’re saying is the truth. Which it might be, but some people are more susceptible to believing what they’re told, versus the reality of a situation. You were manipulated to believe that being gay is a sin, that being gay is the ultimate blasphemy and nothing more.”

  “But it doesn’t stop my physical reaction.”

  “No, and there is a chance that you might never be able to rid yourself of the physical reaction, but I think if you break down what exactly it is that makes you shake, what makes you sick, you might actually see that the trigger in your mind is what you were made to believe. Like that all gay men are raped or are rapists, or that all gay men are beaten or killed, which we both know is not the case. But in your mind, that’s what you believe. That is ultimately what we need to reverse in your mind.”

  I’m confident that there is nothing I’m telling him that Dr. V hasn’t already said to him, if not him then certainly someone else has. I watch him carefully, lost in thought, lost in understanding and I can see the determination on his features.

  “How, though?” he finally asks.

  “How, what?” I cock my head at him, vying for his attention, but he keeps staring out the window.

  “How do we reverse it?”

  I smile. “Time, patience, perseverance. Like anything else, Calvin, it won’t be done overnight. But right now, we’re taking steps in the right direction by talking about it. For me, I need to know what boundaries I can push with you. Like earlier, when you kissed me, I was afraid of touching you, afraid of triggering you and more importantly, afraid of losing the moment I was granted. I’m also afraid that if I do something, like touch you or kiss you…”

  “You’ve touched me for years and nothing has ever happened,” he interrupts.

  ‘You’re right, I have, but when I’ve touched you, it wasn’t a lover's touch. Like touching your cheek, or hugging you - which isn’t something we do often,” I tell him. “I’m worried about instigating something as simple as kissi
ng you. You’ve kissed me twice in less than twenty-four hours, but both of those times have been at your lead. What’s going to happen if I take the lead and try and kiss you?”

  I watch as he shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. The two times that you did, both times I’ve had negative reactions.”

  “And they were two times where I let my hormones get the better of me and I kissed you out of nowhere with no right to do so.” A lightbulb clicks in my head. “Oh my god, Cal…do you honestly believe that I would do something to you against your will?”

  His eyes shoot to mine, first there is fear and concern then finally he softens and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you would.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t. It’s not who I am and it is certainly not in my nature to do so, but if you think about it, that is your trigger.”

  He squints at me, trying to read me, trying to see what it is I’m trying to say.

  “I went after you, both times, in unprovoked, unwarranted and certainly unwelcome circumstances,” I tell him and it all starts to make sense to me, better sense than it did before.

  “But none of those times did I ever feel that way.”

  “Consciously? No, you didn’t, you wouldn’t feel that way, at least not after our chats last night and now today. Don’t you see, you were still fighting yourself, you still are. Fighting a battle between your mind and your heart. Ask yourself, what does my heart want? And there you will have your answer.”

  “I want you.” His voice is soft, somber and convincing.

  I smile warmly at him. “And I want you,” I tell him and I stand up. “But right now, the only thing you can do is learn to trust me. Trust me wholeheartedly that I would never ever do anything to harm you. Once you’ve established that trust, then you will be able to see that I’m not your mind’s enemy.” I take a couple of steps toward him. “When you’re with women, who takes the lead?”

  “I do,” he answers confidently.