Larsen was choked up. “I-I can’t believe that.”
“The dude lost his trucker’s license for life and was sentenced to three years in prison. So, if he served his full term, he would have just been out for two years. Whatever he does for a living, he’s not a trucker anymore.” River leaned back in his chair to absorb the shocking information he had just relayed. “You going to tell your mom?”
“And risk her going off on me again? And him, too? No. Not now, anyway. This is some seriously messed-up stuff.” Larsen took a few moments to catch his breath and think about all that had happened. “You know what Martha Joy told me? She said I shouldn’t let my mother’s problems become mine. She said if I did, they would haunt me forever, and I wouldn’t be able to move on … Wow … guess something like that happened to her. She was right, Riv. I’m not going to let my mother’s sickness get in the way of my happiness. I don’t know how I’ll get around her objection, but I know one thing: I’m taking that job with your mom.”
`*`*`*`
Larsen walked aimlessly up and down the supermarket aisles trying to figure out what he could buy before going home. When Arielle had called River to say that she and Mick would be home around eight, two hours later than planned, Larsen decided to leave the Dalworths’ home. Just having been a guest for dinner on Friday, he hated the idea of being there when Mick and Arielle got home from a long, tiring day. No matter how much River insisted he stay, Larsen was adamant that it was time to go.
He planned to tell his mother he had eaten dinner at the Dalworths’. He didn’t want her cooking for him when she wasn’t even speaking to him.
“Larsen?”
Surprised to hear his name, Larsen turned around. “Mrs. Winterstrom. From the cafeteria, right?”
“That’s me. And, please, call me Kathryn.”
“I couldn’t …”
“Really, it’s fine. And I’m very impressed you remembered my last name. I don’t think it’s a very difficult name, but I often have to repeat it several times before a person learns it.”
Larsen smiled. “When someone shows me a kindness, I make it a point to remember his or her name. It’s only right.”
“You’re a very polite young man. What are you doing on a Sunday evening walking down the snacks aisle? If I’m not overstepping my bounds by asking.”
“Uh, just looking for something to eat.”
“Don’t you have food at home, Larsen?”
Hesitating, Larsen looked down at his shoes, then raised his head to answer Kathryn. “Yes, I do. But I don’t really have the best home life. It’s just me and my mom, and she …”
“She what, Larsen?”
“Um … she just doesn’t like me too much, that’s all.”
Kathryn shook her head. “It breaks my heart to hear that. You know, Larsen, I had a long week preparing lunches at the school. And tomorrow starts a brand-new week. I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I’m in the mood to get a nice hot dish at the deli and sit in the food court and eat my meal. I hate to eat alone, though, and I do that most every night. Would you let me treat you to dinner? The company would sure mean a lot to me.”
Looking into her kind, eager eyes, Larsen could not refuse her offer. “Thank you, Mrs. Win … Kathryn. That’s very kind of you.”
Twenty minutes later, Larsen and Kathryn were comfortably seated at a booth in the food court. Having told Kathryn the condensed story of his home life, he felt very much at ease with her.
Kathryn daintily wiped her mouth. “Thank you for telling me your story. And I’m very sorry that your mother doesn’t want you to take the theater job with Arielle Dalworth. I hope she’ll have a change of heart. If it’s okay, I would like to tell you something about me, and maybe you’ll understand why I feel such a connection to you.”
“Sure! Please, I’d love to know more about you.”
“Well, I’ve been alone for many years. I used to have a wonderful son, Peter, and a handsome husband who both made me very happy. My son was a bright, shining star in my life, Larsen. And like you, he was gay, and like you, he had theatrical aspirations. He had the most beautiful baritone voice I’ve ever heard. It was so distinct, so rich. A music critic from Palm Springs once referred to Peter’s voice as having ‘lusciously dark tones.’ It was nearly impossible to hear Peter sing and not feel uplifted and joyous.”
Finishing the last bite of his dinner, Larsen laid his fork on the plate. “Just from what you’ve said so far, it doesn’t sound like you had any problems with him being gay.”
“My biggest worry about Peter being homosexual … that was the accepted word back in 1968 … was that he would go through much of what you’re going through. Only back in those days, there was a lot more open prejudice than there is now. That said, there’s still way too much today. Our society has not come nearly as far as I had hoped.”
“Yeah. For sure.”
Kathryn sighed. “Peter often worried that he had disappointed me. I told him I would rather have a happy homosexual son than an unhappy heterosexual one. And I meant that. I just wanted to see him graduate, follow his dream, and live a fulfilled life.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine my mother ever feeling like that. I hate to ask, and you don’t have to tell me, but what happened to Peter?”
Kathryn took a sip of water to fortify herself. “Well, when Peter was fifteen, he met a young man who was also gay, and they fell very much in love. I worried for him. This was 1971. Peter’s boyfriend’s father was not supportive or tolerant in any way.” Kathryn paused to drink some more water. “That’s putting it mildly. Believe it or not, Larsen, this man was far angrier than your mother. He threatened our family on numerous occasions, telling us to keep our ‘damn queer’ away from his son.”
Larsen looked angry. “He wasn’t accepting that his son was gay, right? He was one of those people who think being around someone else’s gay child is the only thing making their child gay.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly right.”
“Nicholas, my husband, tried to warn Peter and his friend to, at the very least, keep their relationship secret. For a short while, they did, but due to circumstances, it was rather impossible.” Kathryn lowered her voice. “I haven’t told anyone this story in a very long time. It still feels like a fresh wound.”
“You don’t have to say any more; it’s okay.”
Kathryn spoke with emotion in her voice that took Larsen by surprise. “I absolutely do. I would never tell you this much and stop here, but for now, I will leave out the details. Instead, I will tell you that the other boy’s father followed through with his threats. He staged an accident to kill not only my son, but also his own flesh and blood.”
“Say what?”
Kathryn managed to maintain her composure. “Larsen, Peter died at the hands of this monster. His own son survived, and he went on to brutalize him until he died.”
Larsen reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m so sorry. That’s just awful.”
“I miss Peter every day of my life. I miss his smile. I miss his passion for music and his beautiful voice when he sang my favorite songs. I miss his hugs, his laughter. Oh, he had a terrific sense of humor. Very dry. I would have given anything to see my son grow up and live the life he deserved.”
Larsen hung his head. Kathryn’s pain encompassed him. He related to every nuance of her tragic story and felt her sorrow as if it were his own. “What happened to your—”
“To my husband?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind telling me.”
“Nicholas could not handle his grief. He wanted to grieve with me, to comfort me, but he couldn’t. He blamed himself. He was so angry.”
“Oh, no, I hope he didn’t—”
“No. After two years, he just left me. We divorced, and he moved away. I have no idea if he’s dead or alive. I’ve never tried to find out. Being abandoned was more than I could take. I had to rebuild my life as best I could. Dwelling on my ex-
husband just pulled me back into my pain.”
“So how did you get through it?”
“It was very hard. It still is, though the pain has dulled over the years. I had a very wonderful neighbor, one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She was my best friend. Her empathy and warmth saw me through many hard days. She saved my life. And so did my work. I found a job as a housekeeper for a terrific family. I stayed with them until their children were grown. Then I came to work at the high school.”
“Didn’t the guy who killed Peter ever get caught?”
Kathryn took another sip of water. “No, Larsen. He didn’t. And I should explain that it wasn’t until many years later that I learned that Peter’s death wasn’t an accident. My husband was long gone, and there was nothing I could do. My heart couldn’t handle it, either.”
“Thank you so much for telling me.”
Kathryn’s face brightened. “No, thank you for listening. I rarely tell the story, and it is almost never that my listener understands as you do. I have spent my life working around children, and it brings me as much happiness as I will ever know.”
“So, I want you to come to me any time you need me. I’m going to give you my phone number and email address, too. You are welcome to contact me any way that is good for you. I want to be there for you if you’ll let me. And I want you to stay safe above all else. Please, Larsen. Stay safe.”
Chapter 7
The split second Larsen opened the front door, he regretted coming home.
Drunk and disheveled, his mother sat slumped on the couch with a glass of Jack Daniels in her hand, and Reggie, with his shirt off and his fly unzipped, sat next to her, eating corn chips and salsa, watching a recap of the San Diego Chargers’ game.
Raylene curled her upper lip as she looked at Larsen. “Well, if the little gay liar hasn’t come home. Hungry, boy? Hope not, because I’m not getting off this couch to cook you squat.”
“I had dinner with a friend.”
“Didn’t know you had but one friend.”
“Well, Mom, there’s a whole lot about me you don’t know.”
Reggie chewed the large handful of chips he had just shoved into this mouth, then swallowed them uncomfortably. “Damn, Raye. Looks like he’s got himself a boyfriend.”
“Oh, hellllllllllllllllllll no!”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. Not that it’s any of your business if I did.”
“Everything you do is my business. I hope you told that Dalworth lady where to stick her job offer.”
Reggie let loose with a large belch, then picked up his drink and took a huge gulp.
Larsen was disgusted but ignored the interruption. “She and her husband had plans this weekend. I haven’t seen her since Friday night.”
Raylene grabbed the bottle and refilled Reggie’s glass as she spoke. “Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about some strangers’ weekend plans. You just make sure you turn that job down, boy. You’re not going to embarrass me any more than you already have by working in a damn theater.”
Larsen was stoic. “Who have I embarrassed you in front of, Mom? Name one person.”
“For starters, Reggie here. Didn’t even have the decency to let him teach you how to drive a truck. You could have learned something.”
Larsen snorted with disgust. “Really? I embarrassed you because I didn’t let a guy who lost his trucker’s license teach me how to drive a truck?”
Livid, Reggie stood up, trying unsuccessfully not to wobble. “How the hell do you know I lost my trucker’s license? Like I told you, Raylene, this boy is a lying snoop. Seems pretty clear to me why he made up that story about my poor deceased wife, God rest her soul. Only the likes of pond scum would stoop so low like that just to deprive his poor overworked mama of some male comp’ny.”
Raylene looked up at Reggie. “You lost your license?”
Reggie fell back onto the couch. “Ancient history, Raye. Nuffer now.”
Revolted, Larsen couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “What does that mean, ‘nuffer now’?”
“He said ‘Enough for now,’ boy! Seventeen years old, and you’re losing your hearing already.” Grabbing a chip and shoving it into her mouth, Raylene chewed as she spoke. “Well, isss one story you damn well isss gonna tell me, Reginald Lee White.”
Larsen looked into his mother’s eyes. “You thought he was a truck driver all this time. And you call me a liar?”
Washing the chip down with Jack, Raylene narrowed her eyes as she looked at Larsen. “Reggie never told me he was a truck driver. Told me he used to be one.”
“That’s right, boy. I work on a date farm outside of Thermal. Not that it’s any of your damn business. Still know how to drive a truck. Could’ve hooked you up with any number of good buddies I have.”
Raylene cackled with inappropriate laughter as she taunted her son. “Ha! Cat’s got the liar’s tongue. Liar, liar, pants on fire!”
Walking toward his room, Larsen turned to Reggie. “Better than having my pants unzipped.”
Embarrassed and boiling mad, Reggie stood, zipped up his fly, and called to Larsen. “You ain’t going any damn where, boy.”
“Dat’s right, Larssssssen. You don’t be speaking to my man that way. Now you get back here and stand up to him like a man. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
Larsen took a calming breath. He did not want to be involved in the escalating madness and knew he had to stay cool and maintain what little control was left. “I am a man. I am a proud gay man.”
So drunk that in her anger she knocked over what was left of her drink, Raylene stood, shouting at Larsen. “You are a mistake! You should never have been born! I never want to see another homosexual as long as I live!”
He wanted to scream back at his mother. He wanted to shout a thousand things that had been festering in his mind and in his soul for years. He wanted to turn the coffee table upside down and throw the four dining room chairs, one by one, against the wall, until the room looked exactly like the tornado whirling in his head. His mind felt like the homes of the hoarders his mother watched on reality TV: junk, piled high, everywhere. Nowhere to walk. So many things that everything, even the most valuable of treasures, became worthless junk. He could not navigate his way out. As his mother continued to scream at him, voices, in his head, screamed back at her, while Larsen stood there, seemingly still and almost utterly unaffected.
Raylene continued to scream at him, her anger intensifying with each ugly word. “Answer me, you lowlife, pathetic excuse for a son!”
With great difficultly, Reggie walked toward Larsen. “Answer your mutherr, boy. Show some gotdam respect, you spineless SHIT!”
“Is everything all right in there?”
Larsen exhaled as they all turned toward the front door. Immediately, Reggie hurried back to the couch and sat down.
The strange man’s voice grew loud. “HELLO, IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT IN THERE?”
Larsen ran to open the front door to find a concerned neighbor, who looked sorrowfully into his eyes. “You okay, son?”
“Thank you. Thank you for coming.”
“It’s all right, son. The police are on their way. My wife and I heard everything.”
Without looking back, Larsen nodded in gratitude, then, running for his life, he took off into the dark desert night.
`*`*`*`
River had tried for hours to reach Larsen on Sunday night, but every call went to voicemail.
Walking to school on Monday morning, River’s stomach flipped and flopped as he thought about his friend. As he approached Mystekal High, earlier than usual, he was surprised to see what appeared to be someone or something on the ground against the side wall of the building. Running quickly toward it, River was stunned by what he saw.
“Lars! Are you okay? What happened, man?”
Dazed and half awake, Larsen, wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall of the school
, looked up. “No, not okay. Not ever gonna be okay again.”
“Sure you will, dude. I know it’s bad. I know it’s worse than any shit that’s ever happened in my life, but don’t give up. That’s not like you.”
Larsen looked down at the ground. “Whatever.”
“How long have you been here? Lars … come on.”
River noticed as a look of shame washed over Larsen’s face. “Dude, you been here all night?”
The look on Larsen’s face was the only confirmation River needed. “Oh, man, I know some heavy shit must have gone down. What I don’t get is why you didn’t call me and come stay at my house.”
“No, Riv. I’m not going to impose on your family like that. Besides, all you need is a sleepover with me to really get people talking.”
“Eff that bullshit. What do you think matters more to me, where my friend sleeps at night or what drivel spews forth from the pieholes of the ignoramni.”
“I never met anyone who talks like you do.”
“You’ve already told me that before. C’mon, don’t change the subject on me.”
As more students headed for school, those who noticed the boys on the side of the school craned their necks or whispered their speculations to the person closest. But when Kathryn saw Larsen sitting on the ground as River stood over him, she ran toward them as quickly as she could.
“Larsen! Are you all right? Who did this to you? I’ll have them arrested! Was it Jax Reinhardt and his friend Antonio?”
Ashamed to make eye contact, Larsen looked down. “No.”
“He’s been here all night long, Mrs. Winterstrom.”
As Kathryn realized Larsen was wearing the same clothing as he had worn the night before and looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, she gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
River tapped Larsen on his shoulder. “Dude, can you get up?”
Larsen looked vacantly out into the desert. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Kathryn fought to hold the tears inside. “Please, Larsen, River and I will each give you a hand. You need to get up, okay?”
Desert Star Page 7