Gabe pulled his Black BMW into the driveway. He turned off his engine, and jumped out. He had to see Corey. He raced into the house, slamming the door behind him, making a mad bolt for the staircase, when his Father called to him. Begrudgingly, he stopped, walking backwards to the archway leading into the living room.
His Father was standing alongside his Mother, and across from them, rising from the other sofa was Mayor Layton and his young wife. Mr. Cavanaugh approached Gabe proudly, “Here’s our champ! Gabe, you know Mayor Layton and his lovely wife, Sandra,” Martin introduced, leading his son toward them by the shoulder.
Gabe reached out, and the Mayor shook his hand vigorously. “We met at the town picnic a few months ago. I was just telling your Father how excited we were to have one of our own heading off to such a promising future.” Gabe hated this. It sickened him to have people floundering over him, exalting him, worshiping him, and expecting him to be picture perfect in every manner of the word.
They all sat down again. Gabe sat next to his Father, who seemed all to delighted to be showing off his golden son, and to the Mayor no less. His Father scooted near the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, “Gabe here, he’s going to make us all proud. Ever since he was a tiny boy, he succeeded at every little thing he did.”
Gabe felt his stomach turn. Sure, he was glad to have made his family proud, isn’t that what people strive for? But what Gabe had done was for him. He excelled at Football because he had passion for the game. It was what he needed to do. It fulfilled his athletic hunger. He didn’t want to have people expecting great feats from him. What if he failed and let everyone down? He would be cursed for the rest of his life, known as a big disappointment. That was a lot for him to carry. He didn’t mind doing this for himself, going out there and making an effort, just to see if he really could, but he didn’t want all of Sadie watching.
Gabe noticed that the Mayor was staring at him, smiling condescendingly. He straightened his posture, and wiped his finger along his wiry mustache. “We keep every newspaper article printed about you in the town log. We plan on documenting your rise to the top. You could do a lot for Sadie, Gabriel. You could be a role model for our young, strapping athletes. You could help support the morals and ethics we try to preserve in this town. I know you’re a God fearing man, and, Lord knows, too many of our youth have wandered off the straight and narrow. Then they look at you, honor student, firm, Godly foundation, an academic scholarship to a prestigious school, and to top it all off, well dug roots, right here on Harrington. They see that being a good citizen, and having great trust in the Lord and a lot of discipline can earn great rewards, just like it did for you.”
Martin Cavanaugh patted Gabe on the knee, “He’s at church every Sunday, front pew.”
The Mayor stood up, rubbing his stubby fingers across his protruding belly that hung over the waist of his slacks. Everyone rose to their feet along with him. “We wanted to let you know that the whole county is behind you, son. We’re all rooting for you.”
Mr. Cavanaugh jumped forward and shook the Mayors hand, and they all escorted him to the front door. “You keep watching Mayor. My boy’s going to be a star,” Martin gloated as the Mayor walked off the front porch onto the sidewalk. Mayor Layton turned, throwing up his arm in a half wave, “See you at your graduation party!” He called, making his way to his car parked along the curb.
Mr. Cavanaugh shut the door. He turned and held his arms open, leaning back, releasing a loud bellow. He hugged his son tightly, squeezing him in a glorified bear hug. Mary chuckled as she held onto Gabe’s arm. Martin released his son, holding up his arms and eyes to the ceiling, “Thank you Jesus! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He celebrated.
Mary ran into the living room, then rushed back holding the sports section of the Bugle, “Look, It’s you, Gabe. They did another story on you. Front page of the Sport’s section!” She squealed in thrilled voice. Gabe took the paper. His senior photo had been blown up, and placed at the center of a huge cover story. The headline read, “Lincoln High Graduate, Gabriel Cavanaugh, meets the big time!” The bold, black letters jumped out at him. He read the byline, “Scholarship winner heads to Harvard.” His Father was now dancing around him, like an Indian around a fire.
Gabe stood like a statue, staring beyond the faces of his parents, past the walls of the house, searching, desperately, for a place to hide.
Corey laid in his bed. It seems as if the days were so short. Like the sun hit an invisible ceiling, then bounced back down. His arm was tucked behind his head, and the other rested across his sunken stomach. He was thinking about Thomas. Witnessing his smile, again, and again through pictures in his mind. They way Thomas would look at him, so boldly. Probably just a friendly gesture, yet still, it piqued his curiosity. Thomas seemed so coy, but there was something about him that invigorated Corey. Maybe it was because he had been swept by Thomas’ compliments and that gave him the renewed confidence he’d needed to function in this place. He knew he hadn’t known Thomas for but a day, but he liked him. He made him feel comfortable.
Oh No! It had already begun. He had a crush on Thomas. He couldn’t do this. It was crazy. Thomas had given him no green light. Corey was thinking about a guy who was probably beyond being interested in him that it was ridiculous. Besides, all was not lost. There was still Chris. Chris had expressed an interest, and honestly, Corey was a little taken by him as well. How come, the second a cute guy was friendly to him, he began searching for hints? Any sign of a flirt? It was all Cupid’s fault. That wretched little monster who enjoyed toying with him. Was this punishment? Denied love. Searching, yet never finding it. It was like Cupid knew he was looking and purposely eluded him. “Uh oh, that pathetic, desperate, gay kid is looking for me again. Better run!” Corey had started to hate love. Hate the very idea of it. It was evil. It made him feel like crap. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what lengths he went to, it laughed at him. “Ha Ha. You’re still alone.” All of his friends back home, both gay and straight had someone. Someone to buy a gift for on Valentine ’s Day. Someone to cuddle with on Sweetest day. Corey wanted a Valentine! Where was his sweetest? Probably a million miles away. Where else? Was it to much to ask to have a drop-dead gorgeous guy come marching over the shaded horizon on a white stallion? Where was that kiss he’s always dreamt of? The one that would inspire a thousand poems? Like the end of a love story, when the man and.... well, other man, give in to their feelings, kiss as the music swells behind them, and they ride off into the sunset. It was a valid fantasy. Look at Gone with the Wind or even Meet me in St. Louis, by far his favorite movie of all time and of which he had chiseled every single solitary word of into his memory. When Judy Garland boards the trolley and her would be lover chases after her as everyone on the streetcar breaks into song, that was romance. Or the scene where Tom Drake, so blind to her affections escorts Judy around the house to turn out the lights, and she so desperately wanted him to kiss her, or give her some sign. Instead, he leaves her standing alone in the foyer. Then, she sings from the stairwell, as she extinguishes the remaining candles.
Alone. That was Corey. Always wanting to be loved, but it didn’t seem to be possible. He’d come so close, that one time. That one time he wished he could go back and change, tell Jason he loved him, and he wanted to be with him. But, that too, was not to be.
A hard knock came to the bedroom door. Corey jolted so hard, that he bounced himself right off the edge of the bed. His Dad opened the door and poked his head in.
“You in here?”
Corey’s head appeared just above the mattress as he sat up from the floor, looking rather perplexed.
“What are you doing on the floor?” His Father asked curiously.
Corey pushed his hair back from his face and offered a calm response, “I like the floor.”
Timothy stepped in still looking at Corey as if he’d lost his mind, “Figured I’d say good-night.”
Corey
stood up, wincing as he held his lower back.
“You don’t have to get up,”
Corey offered a sarcastic sneer. “It’s okay, trust me, I was just getting up anyway.”
He walked over and stood before his son, kissing him gently on the forehead. “You know if you need to talk, I’m always down the hall.”
Corey looked up into his very own eyes. He knew his Father loved him. More than life itself, he loved him. Corey was his only son. All he had left of the woman with whom he’d shared so much of his life with. “I know, Dad.”
Timothy grinned, shaking his head as he walked out of the door, closing it behind him.
Corey moved to his desk and collapsed into leather overstuffed chair. Things like this always happened to him. He was like a magnate for dumb accidents. A button stuck on stupid.
He was prone to accidents. That he was perhaps his own worst enemy was no exaggeration. There was the time he hoped to surprise his Mother by building her a bird house. His Dad let him use the nail gun, and he nailed the birdhouse to the floor, and then to make the situation ten times better, he nailed the skin between his thumb and pointer finger to the wood. It didn’t hurt much, he just couldn’t move until his parents came home. The entrance to the attic at their old house was only a thin door. You pulled the cord, a ladder flew down, you climbed up. He pulled it; the ladder flew down, and knocked him out for a half an hour. He lost a ring in the bathroom of a department store once, stuck his finger down to retrieve it, and had to have the fire department cut him loose. Humiliating. His shoelaces got stuck between the steps of an escalator. He had taken the fine art of orchestra in seventh grade. He played the violin and kept breaking his strings. They would slice through the air like razors. The Orchestra leader asked him ever so nicely to think of another hobby, or his fingers would be scarred for life. Naturally, being musically inclined, he then joined the High School Band. Trombone was his instrument of choice. While trying to march and play, he fell out of step and got to close the Marie Dephus. He popped her in the back of the head with his slider and sent her rolling over her bass drum.
He dubbed himself The Oaf of San Francisco, and carried the title well. Corey couldn’t help but heckle at himself as he reminisced. He was a one man show. A clown at a circus. A jester in a court.
The phone beside him rang. “Hello?” He answered still laughing at himself.
“Hey there.” The voice said on the other end. It was Chris.
Corey liked the sound of his voice. It always gave him something to look forward to. “Hey you, I was hoping you would call,” Corey confessed.
“You were?” Chris asked with an element of surprise noted in his voice.
Gabe was watching him through the telescope from across the street.
“Absolutely, It kind of gives my day a.-” He sighed as he arched back his neck and gaped at the ceiling, “-A nice finale.”
Gabe stood up from the telescope, and stepped across his dark room to his bed, “I saw you with Thomas this afternoon. You left with him.”
Corey jerked forward, “If you were there, how come you didn’t say something. How come you never introduced yourself? What is this?” He sounded almost accusatory.
“I’m just, you know, I want it to be the right time. I want to make a good impression.”
“That’s ridiculous. You already have!” Corey asserted as he flipped on his computer.
“Well, I’m shy.” Gabe raised his hand and placed it over his eyes in torment.
“You don’t have to be. We’ve already gotten to know each other. I would assume we were past all that now, the whole ‘breaking the ice’ phase.”
Gabe was silent.
“If you don’t want to meet me,” Corey began meekly, “You should just say it. I don’t want to play games, Chris. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be friendly and compassionate to the new kid. I know how things work.” He allotted politely.
Gabe sat up, frustrated, “It’s nothing like that Corey. I just want things to be different. I wish things were different, but they’re not and I like you, I really do-“
“But...” Corey interjected; here came the ‘but.’ ‘I like you Corey, but..,’ there always seemed to be a ‘but.’
“But things in my life are just really complicated,” Gabe finished. What a lame excuse. He hated himself.
Corey didn’t make a sound what seemed an eternity, but when he spoke, his voice trailed, “I see.”
“No you don’t, you don’t see. You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
“Then tell me!” Corey snapped, “I don’t get what the big deal is, Chris? Would I shame you? Do you find me disgraceful? I don’t understand. You call me up, you talk like you’re my best friend, and you refuse to show me who you are.”
Gabe felt his heart sink, pressure built against the backs of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Corey held the telephone as close as he could, “You found out I was gay, didn’t you? You’re afraid if we’re friends people will think the less of you, don’t you?”
“Corey... I’ve been watching you... sitting there at school, and I can’t stop. I think about what it would be like to touch you, or smell your hair. Just to talk to you, face to face, that would be... heaven,” Gabe revealed trembling.
Corey sat intrigued. Neither of them uttered a syllable for about ten seconds. “Tell me why you’re so afraid?”
Gabe felt a tear race down his face. It ran over his lip. This would kill him. “I’m not gay, Corey. I’ve never found another guy attractive. I’ve never thought about another guy the way I think about you, and I’m afraid I like you... more than I should,” Gabe said, his voice breaking.
Corey was speechless. What should he do? Console this confused soul, lost in a world of chaos and denial? He remembered Jason. “I had a friend once. I don’t think he was gay, but I believe he loved me. He never said it, but there were moments when I knew he did. Some people are born with this preference. I was, I know. But there are others, others who find that one person who makes them... complete, and that feeling surpasses every scientific definition, or social mandate. It’s just there, and there are so many people who run from that, thinking it’s just not right. They lose out on something so much more precious than a label.” Corey could have been talking from his own experience. It was his theory. Love, or the meaning of love wasn’t bound by social definition, despite most letting it define their lives. They let themselves be told what, and whom they should admire.
“It’s not that simple, there are people who know me. People look up to me. I have to be an example.” Gabe wiped his face roughly.
“So be one!” Corey issued, “You think because you like another human being, you can’t be respected, or be a role model? You think you’re any different than you are right now if you like a man. Hate is a sin. Hate and living a lie. If you live a lie, then you’re not being who you’re truly meant to be, and God wants every one of us to lead happy, full lives. That’s why we’re here.” he paused and took a short breath, “You know, just because you like me doesn’t mean you are Gay, Chris. Maybe it just means you hold me in some regard, or could it be that I remind you of someone else.”
Gabe glanced out his window toward Corey’s. “Do you believe in God?”
Corey sat quietly. God. He’d been over that in his head on more than one occasion. His answer came briefly, “He took my Mother.”
Gabe watched as Corey rested his elbow on the surface of his desk, and placed his hand to his forehead in detriment.
“Oh. I didn’t know.” His words faded as he regretted the inquiry.
“It was about a year ago. She was coming home from work. It was her birthday, and she had just called from the car to say she was on her way. I baked her a cake. Chocolate was her favorite. I lit the candles and I sat down and waited. She never came home. I called her cellular, and a man answered. It was a policeman. �
�Where’s my Mother?’ He didn’t answer me. I could hear the crowd in the background. I could hear the cars. Then he told me there had been an accident. She was hit by a drunk driver, who lived. I hung up the phone, and I waited. I still waited for her to come home. I still do,” Corey strained to hold in the wall of tears that built behind those glassy windows of sorrow.
Gabe shut his eyes. His chin quivered. He wanted to take all of the sadness from Corey. He wanted to hold him close and let him know he needn’t weep alone any longer. “Life is cruel sometimes. It’s not fair. Nothing is fair. But you’re still here, Corey. You’re still here to take what you’ve learned and use it. They say everything happens for a reason. Maybe your Mom had to go, just to show you that you weren’t as weak as you believe. I know it sounds crazy, and you can’t see it now, but in time, you will.”
Corey turned off his computer. “Maybe,” he started, “Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life...”
Gabe interrupted, finishing Corey’s sentence. “Crying alone at night?”
“Maybe.”
“Now, why don’t you tell me, which one of us is afraid?” Gabe stated.
Corey shook his head, “No, Chris. It’s not the same, you’re afraid of a silly little feeling you have for a guy. You’re afraid that you’re gay. Your fear is entirely cosmetic. It’s probably nothing. I’m sure every guy has considered it. Contrary to scientific belief, it’s in our nature to be curious.”
Gabe continued to watch him, “I’m not just curious. If that’s what you want to think, Fine. Then, you’re stuck in the same hole, Corey. You’re in the dark hole because you’re afraid that if you let your sadness go, the memories will follow. You’re afraid to stop mourning her. You’re at a crossroads, and you can go anyway you want. You can move on, and still keep part of her with you,”
“What makes you think I haven’t moved on?” Corey shot back.
Gabe took a while to reply. “Because you’re still waiting for her.”
A hush befell the line. Gabe went on, “She already came home, Corey. She’s home,” Gabe said softly, “She’s in heaven, and she’s watching you, and loving you... still loving you.” He listened to Corey’s uneven breath. He was still missing, still fighting. “Look out your window,” Gabe said quietly.
From the darkness of his own room. He watched Corey’s figure appear.
Gabe proceeded, “Look for the brightest star in the sky, brighter than all the others.”
Corey glanced upward. One star stood away from the rest, its light glowing steadily, “Why am I doing this?”
Gabe could see his thin shirt blowing against his frail body. He hoped for a moment that Corey would see him, and he would smile. He didn’t.
“That’s your Mom’s star. Every time you feel sad look up, and there she’ll be. High up in the sky, brighter than all of them, because she’s shining for you. Just like when she was alive, she’ll always be there for you. And you’ll always remember her when you see that one star. You’ll never be alone.”
Corey took a lung full of air, closed his eyes, and felt his grief lift. A calm expression found its way to his face. “Thank you, Chris.”
Gabe lowered his head sadly. He wasn’t Chris. “Don’t thank me. You did it all yourself.” He wanted to tell him. Tell him everything. Tell him he loved him. That he wasn’t just confused. He wanted to let him know he was Gabe. Not Chris. Gabe.
Corey remained framed in his window, “I want to see you.”
“You will,” Gabe promised.
“I want to see you tonight,” Corey persisted.
Gabe felt his heart start to race, “Why?”
“I want to look into your face. I want to see who you are.”
Tell him! Tell him now! Gabe wanted to run to his window, “I’m here, I’m right here,” he wanted yell. He readied his feet against the carpet, like he would explode toward the window and yell Corey’s name. Then he halted. No. He had still lied. He was still a liar.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Then Corey disappeared from the window. The moment was gone.
“Where tomorrow?” Corey solicited.
“Meet me in the Gym after school. It’ll be empty.”
“Okay,” Corey agreed, “Good night, Chris.”
“Good Night, Corey. Sweet dreams.”
The phone went quiet.
That morning, Corey walked through the halls of school smiling. He looked his best. He wore his oversized, white dress shirt, the only one he hadn’t spilled something on. His faded blue jeans and black shoes. He was confident on this day. He put his bag in his locker and turned to see Angie coming down the hall. She was followed by several girls, talking and laughing. Corey could see she was beaming. She was now one of them, or better yet, they were like her.
She approached him with her entourage behind her, smiling as she rolled her eyes. “Look at what you did- All the sudden, I’m Miss Popular.” She grumbled mockingly.
Her hair was neatly curled, and not nearly as greasy as it had been. Corey even detected a hint of red lipstick and eye shadow. This was not the gloomy Angie he had introduced himself to, not so long ago.
“You look fabulous!”
“Sabrina taught me how to put on make-up. I know, I gave in. What can I say, I’m weak. We all went shopping yesterday, and I helped the girls pick out some new clothes. I’ve had three guys ask me out just this morning,” She spouted gleefully. “I have one question to ask you, Corey Evans?”
Corey watched her closely. She was even more beautiful than he imagined. “What’s that?”
Angie embraced him, “Where are your wings?”
Corey didn’t reply. He smiled at her contentedly as she walked away and stepped around the corner to his home room, and took his seat. This day couldn’t go by fast enough. He felt unusually optimistic; nothing could ruin this, not even if the sky should fall.
And it did. A paper airplane landed on his desk. He looked up, searching the room. Everyone sat quiet. More quiet than they ever had.
He unfolded the paper and saw a revolting drawing, the caption was even worse; “Aids Faggot.”
He felt his stomach tighten and cramp, like someone had just punched him. He looked at the faces that stared, peeling away his skin with their hateful eyes. He stood up from his seat, leaving the paper on his desk. He had to get out of there. He started down the aisle when someone stuck their foot out. Corey crashed to the cold ceramic floor, landing on his arms. The entire class roared with laughter. He didn’t move right away. He felt humiliated... degraded. Finally, he got back up on his feet and ran to the door. He collided with Gabe, who was just entering. Corey didn’t even look into Gabe’s face. He just moved around him, and then took off down the hall.
Gabe turned back to the rowdy class. He walked toward the back of the room, and as he came to Corey’s desk, he saw the paper. The words cut him like a knife.
Corey sat in the bathroom stall. He was crouched between the wall and the toilet. His knees were drawn to his chest, and he cradled himself. Why? Why would someone want to hurt him? He hadn’t done anything to these people, yet they wanted to hurt him. He decided he hated Sadie. This freakish little backward town. This was not a place where he ever dreamed he’d end up. This was like the places he’d heard horror stories about. Things happen in small towns like this. Scary things. What could his Father have been thinking? Why would he have moved so blindly. He heard the bathroom door open, then close.
Great! Someone followed to add insult to injury. Maybe they wouldn’t notice him. Maybe they would just leave him there. Leave him alone. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. No one had ever went out of their way to be vicious. That his Father would expect him to successfully adapt to a place like Sadie, Connecticut was unthinkable. Back home he had never been directly exposed to such bigotry. This type of mentality simply did not exist is his world, and now he found h
imself in the middle of it.
He heard the stall door jostle. He looked up as it slowly opened. Rachel Porter appeared.
“Corey?” Her eyes were torn and concerned.
Had she come after him? Did she want a laugh too? Rachel took a step closer to him. She knelt down beside him, staring into his pale face. She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him to her chest. Then he sat up, taking a piece of toilet paper out of the dispenser to wipe his nose.
“How did you find me?”
Rachel leaned against the wall beside him, “I came in to be alone, I heard you in here.”
“Do you always have alone time in the Men’s bathroom?”
Rachel grinned, “This isn’t the Men’s bathroom.”
Corey whimpered and buried his head in his hands. “Figures.”
“What happened?”
“People. Mean people. I hate mean people,” he explained sniffling.
“Me too. Thankfully, not everyone’s like that. You have the good and bad wherever you go. You just, weed out the bad. Ignore it. If you let them hurt you, they’ll keep on hurting.”
“Why, what’s the purpose?” Corey examined.
Rachel let her head fall back against the wall, “Just to be cruel. It’s like that show, National Geographic. You have the hunters, the hunted, and the people who just sit back and watch. You can be strong, and gain a cruel streak of your own, or you can be timid and weak and run from them, hoping they don’t catch you. Or...” She paused in great thought, “you can just observe. Withdraw from the game, refuse to play, and stop letting them force you into taking part in something you’re above.”
“What are you?” Rachel pondered the question. What was she? She certainly wasn’t a hunter. “I always believed I was an observer. Watching all the madness inside, from the outside. But I began to think I was invincible. I had everything I needed in this plastic bubble, and no one could take it away from me. No one could hurt me, and then... someone did.”
“Who?”
Rachel stared at the tiles on the ceiling, “Someone I’ve loved for many, many years. Someone I imagined myself marrying, having children with, growing old with, dying with. Now he’s not in love with me and I feel so blind, like everything around me, everything I’ve always counted on and trusted to be real and everlasting is only an illusion. My illusion. I guess I did it to myself, you know. I walked around with this ignorant sense of stability, like I was on solid ground, and then you realize, in an instant, it can all crumble beneath you.” Her voice grew hoarse. Rachel had faced the more brutal side of her existence. She now carried her first major battle wound. One most teenagers are inflicted with early on in life. But the world, and the torrential conditions swarming beyond the invisible walls of Sadie had found its way to her. Perhaps she would be swallowed up by reality. Consumed by real significance.
“You’re seventeen, Rachel. You’re a young, vibrant, beautiful woman. There’s so much in store for you, so much knowledge and wonder. So, you lost your boyfriend. So, your plans have changed. There’s a valuable lesson in this.” Corey concluded.
Rachel turned to him, “What?”
“From the moment I met you, I saw this sweet, pure, girl with this sincere innocence. I could tell you had a privileged life, probably a cheerleader, liked by everyone. And I knew that if the most incidental thing in your life shifted, your house of cards would fall. You’d be asking yourself what the hell happened. You can’t rely on other people to hold you up, Rachel. You have to understand that bad things will happen. No matter what you do, or how you try to avoid it, you will be thrown a curve ball. Your whole direction could change, and instead of suffering major shock, you need to be prepared, and say, ‘Okay, so things won’t turn out the way I hoped they would. I’m a beautiful, smart, young woman and I will survive because I’m strong, and I’m brave.’” He realized, as the words tumbled from his lips, he could do well with taking his own advice.
“Is that what they teach you in California?” Rachel grinned.
Corey tried to stand, his bones ached, “That’s what they teach you in the real world. Sadie, as far as I’m concerned, is not the real world.”
“Then what is it?” Rachel took his hand, and he helped her to her feet.
“A nasty, practical joke.” He laughed as they walked out of the stall.
When mid-day finally rolled around, Corey sat quietly at the table in the corner of the cafeteria. He had felt better since his talk with Rachel. So a few people didn’t like him because he was gay. So what. Uneducated barbarians, he thought, and he pitied these poor simple folk. He always had. He was a compassionate individual. Feed the children. Educate the ignorant. That was his motto. Well, maybe he would make it his motto.
Every time Chris crossed his mind the hair stood on his arms. After all they had said, all they had confessed, they would finally look each other in the eye. This was so important to Corey. His relationship with Chris had become so charged with wonder, and possibilities. It was strange, how he felt about this guy. This kid he’d never met before, never had the opportunity to prejudge, had worked his way into his life. He cared about Chris. He waited to hear his voice during those peaceful nighttime hours. He had become such a part of his life. He had grown to mean so much to Corey. Even if there wasn’t a romantic tendency, the friendship alone was priceless, and true. Wait a second. Why wouldn’t there be romance? Chris had already admitted to liking him, and Corey could easily feel the same way, maybe he already did. This may be his happy ending. No- not ending, his happy beginning. The beginning of happily ever after. Like a fairy tale. He could see it all now. They’d step into the gymnasium from opposite sides. It would be just them. All alone. They would step toward each other. No words needed, because the emotion would be so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Raw emotion. They would stand before each other for the first time. They would gaze upon each other’s face. The music would rise, they’d kiss, and credits would roll.
Corey was drenched in his fantasy. He looked across the room. The music from the speakers had found him. “Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me,” was beginning. Corey slipped further away. The lights of the cafeteria dimmed.
The garbled voices around him faded as the male cook behind the buffet jumped up onto the table, singing into his soup ladle. “Hold me, Hold me, Never let me go until you’ve told me, told me, What I want to know and then just hold me, hold me. Make me tell you I’m in love with you.”
Corey watched as the students danced in synchronized motions around him, singing the background vocals. Kicking up their legs, and twirling around. The cook sang directly to Corey, reaching down, taking his hand and pulling him up onto the table. “Kiss me, Kiss me, and when you do I know that you will miss me, miss me, if we ever say ado so kiss me, kiss me. Make me tell you I’m in love with you...”
Corey held up his hands and spun in circles, then fell into the crowd, and they caught him, carrying him over their heads. They placed him up onto another table and serenaded him.
“Never, never, never let me go! Never, never, never let me go!” They chanted.
“COREY!” Angie yelled. Immediately, Corey was brought back into his real surroundings. He stopped twirling, and looked down at Angie, then around at the many students watching him. He realized he was standing on a table. He looked down at the kids below him. They all held their trays away from his feet. Feeling dizzy, he dropped to his knees.
Angie rushed to help him off of the table, “What were you doing?”
“I was singing,” Corey replied in disbelief. He couldn’t believe the fantasy had become so real. He couldn’t believe he just danced across lunch tables in front of everyone.
“That’s obvious,” Angie replied grinning, “Even I’ve never done that.”
Corey held his hand to his head, it spun. “I guess I got a little carried away,” he offered. Like that was a good excuse for losing his mind.
Angie led him back to the table, “Well, it was a nice number, I was impressed. But, I’m not so sure about those guys who were sitting at that table you paraded across.”
“I was fantasizing. People were dancing and singing to me. Like in one of those old musicals. No one ever stared at Judy Garland.”
Angie smirked, “Judy Garland never sang in our cafeteria either.”
Corey settled back into his chair, “Where’s your fan club?”
Angie took a cherry from her bowl of ice cream and placed it aside wincing, “They cut lunch to go shopping. I was starving, so I stayed behind, lucky for you. Otherwise you would’ve been going into the seventh chorus of some Barbara Streisand song by now.”
“I’m meeting Chris today. In the gym.” Corey offered excitedly.
Angie remained calm. It wasn’t the reaction Corey had hoped for. Angie placed her fork down on the napkin and cleared her throat, she appeared troubled. “Is that really what you want?”
Corey was distressed by her lack of enthusiasm, “Angie, this guy is so different from everyone else around here. Everything he says takes my breath away. He’s the most wonderful person; he’s interested in me, Angie. Do you know how rare it is for me to actually have a guy like me? I mean, this is a good thing. This is so right, Angie. This guy is the real deal. You should be happy for me. I want you to be happy for me.”
Angie forced a false grin, “I am happy for you, Corey. Congratulations.” She tried hard not to let him see her reservation. She didn’t want to see her friend hurt. He had done so much for her in just the short time she’d known him, and she couldn’t tolerate seeing him in pain. That would be unbearable, for she knew pain. It was her only friend for so long, and she wouldn’t let it recruit him. She never wanted him to feel that sorrow.
At the chime of the three o’clock bell, Corey jumped from his seat, and ran to his locker. His heart pounded against the wall of his narrow chest. He tossed his books into his locker and slammed it. Chris was probably already there, waiting for him. He rushed down the hall, slid around the corner, nearly falling on his face, and stopped in front of a pair of large metal doors marked “Gymnasium.” He could not quit smiling. He wanted to burst in and hug Chris. Maybe he shouldn’t hug him, that seemed to forward. He would shake his hand. No, too formal. He would... well, he would wait for Chris to make the first move.
Corey gripped the metal door handle, inhaled, held it, then pushed it open and walked inside. It was empty. Completely empty. He moved farther into the gym. His footsteps echoed off the far walls and high ceiling. He felt so tiny in there. So minute. He stood in the center of the room and bounced the toe of his shoe on the floor nervously. Chris hadn’t arrived yet, but when he did, he would see Corey standing there, dressed to impress. He would show Chris he had nothing to be afraid of, and he would regret not meeting him sooner.
He hummed the theme to Meet Me in St. Louis as his leg supplied the beat. He tossed a basketball toward the hoop. Never made one. He walked back to the gym doors, peering down the empty school hallways to see if anyone remained. He watched the clock high on the wall as it came upon the five o’clock hour. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.
Finally, he heard the heavy doors creak open. He instantly perked up, watching in anticipation for Chris to come around the corner. His blood sped through his veins. The Janitor wheeled his mop bucket into the gym. Corey watched him mop half of the floor. He never said a word, but he wondered why this young boy sat in there alone. The old man finished his job then wheeled his bucket back out of the room.
Alone again.
Corey hung his head. Chris wasn’t coming. He had left him here to wait. The florescent lights above darkened with a loud click. The sunlight spilled from the windows onto the wooden, laminated floor. It was now absolutely still. The room had become a mixture of shadows and light. Orange and gray. He felt like the last soul on Earth. He could scream at the top of his lungs right now and no one would be there to hear. He didn’t want to move, it would disturb the silence that surrounded him. He felt paralyzed, as if the air that hung on him weighed a ton. As shards of radiant sunlight crawled up the opposite wall, he mustered the energy to stand up. They would lock the doors soon, he knew that. Moving from the shadows into oblong squares of on the floor, he threw his bag over his shoulder and glanced around.
So much could’ve happened here today. Right in that very room, two people would have introduced themselves into each other’s lives. It was not meant to be. Maybe after deliberating on the matter, Chris found that it was only passing curiosity and he really had no interest in Corey at all. This was his way of dismissing the idea. Leaving him here. He heard the door open again. Yeah, yeah. He was leaving. He was sure it was the janitor returning to tell him it was time to go.
He turned to find Angie coming toward him. She stopped a few feet away, not speaking. They scanned each other’s faces. Angie didn’t have to be told. She knew. Just by his expression and way he stood, so lonely.
“He didn’t come,” Corey said somberly, his voice weak. He was embarrassed. He should have not been so ignorant, so naive.
Angie tilted her head sympathetically. The sight of him made her want to weep. She took the few steps that remained between them and took him into her arms. There he cried. It was safe to cry. He knew she understood. She caressed his hair and held him close. There was nothing she could say to take away his hurt. But the silence said enough. She didn’t have to say anything; despite there being so much she needed to say. “I love you,” She thought. “I could love you like you deserve.”
She had fallen in love with him, or what she believed to be love. All she knew was that this was a feeling she had never felt before, one she never knew she could feel. She loved Corey, and the worst pain she had endured, worse than the years of torment and seclusion, worse than the endless tears she shed at night during those years was knowing he could never love her. She understood that, and it would be okay. She would survive, and though she would love him for the rest of her life, she would never tell him. Corey had saved her. Taken her as a homely caterpillar and transformed her into a butterfly. He had set her free. That’s why she would love him always. For now, she simply took solace comforting him. There they would remain until the light of day had withered.
The desire to call him had become a near obsession. It invaded her every thought, no matter how she tried to distract herself, the awareness would creep in and inflame every attempt she made to resist. Insecurity had reared its ugly head and thoughts, which she acknowledged as ludicrous, polluted her mind, silly thoughts, like he had found someone else, someone better, someone prettier. She wondered if she was no longer enough, if somehow she had neglected some critical part of their relationship. She was completely consumed by the events of recent... what had moved him to turn on her as he had, to speak so cruelly... to abandon her? He had not bothered to phone. Sunday came and went and he never showed for their walk.
Rachel sat upon the edge of her bed, defeated. With every part of her soul, she fought to pinpoint the moment things changed and she came up empty handed.
Gabe had never been callous; it was simply not in his nature. It must have been something she had said, something she had done that would instigate his sudden distance... but what? Perhaps there was someone else. Someone he felt more deserving of his companionship. Someone smarter. Someone more....
She dropped her face into her hands, but wouldn’t cry. She was frustrated, angry even. She was doing it again, piling over that singular event that had altered her ability to function since its occurrence. How can someone impact us in such a vile way? How can we be so dependent on another without even realizing it? If it didn’t matter to him enough to even call her, why was it killing her? Why could she not stop thinking? Why did the heart not come with an off switch? His must have, and for no apparent reason, he had flipped it.
How could he do this to her? She had been not
hing but loyal, nothing but loving and supportive, submissive and understanding. What- WHAT- happened?
It wasn’t so much his departure that drover her to brink of insanity, it was her own pathetic need for him. She stared hard at the phone, she willed it to ring. Where was he now? What was he doing? Who was he with? Was he thinking of her, regretting his actions? Was he even sorry? So many questions, and he didn’t even care enough to allow her the opportunity to ask. No closure was extended, not even a good-bye. It was eating away at her from the inside, literally controlling her, and she was angry at herself for giving him that control. The greatest part of her wanted to rise above it and say out loud, so what, who cares? But it would be a lie. She cared. And she was angry at herself for that too.
She blew a wisp of air from her mouth and stood before her full length mirror. She pulled off her shirt and took her flannel pajama top from the edge of her bed. She turned back to the mirror and stopped dead in her tracks.
This was not her reflection. This was not her looking back. Had it been so long since she looked at herself? Really looked at herself? Where had the freckles gone from across the bridge of her nose? The limbs that seemed way to long for her gangly body? She ran her hand down from her chest over her full breasts. Her nipples tingled as her fingers passed them. Her breasts were so beautiful. Her skin so sensitive.
She felt her way to her naval. Her fingers barely touching her milky flesh. She couldn’t take her eyes from the mirror image. The little girl was gone forever. This was some unfamiliar woman whose body she inhabited without realizing it. She felt attractive and empowered. This was what she had become. What all girls wait to be? She liked this body, this face, these breasts and the softness of it. It was all her. This was Rachel Porter.
Her muscles tensed as she moved her hand farther downward. At first she jolted, gasping shortly. A tickling sensation began in her stomach. It was like something electric had forced its way under her skin and sparks erupted inside. A flood of emotions, all at once had been unleashed. She closed her eyes tightly. It seemed even through the blackness, she saw the color of red emanating from her pores, like heat waves from a fiery furnace. She burned. This body, this new body moved and craved in such ways, ways she never dreamed, something foreign, something unexpected. Sweat beaded on her face. Her mouth hung open slightly in an almost pained expression. She rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, her veins pulsating. Her long, dark hair fell in waves across her bare back.
Corey sat on the steps of his front porch. A red Thunderbird pulled up to the curb of his house. It was Thomas. He walked up the sidewalk toward him, and Corey welcomed with a smile.
“Hi, I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
Thomas sat next to him, folding his hands between his legs, “I had to get out of that house.”
“I didn’t see you at school. Everything okay?”
Thomas took a minute to answer him. He looked out across the lawn at the streetlights that had just begun to glow, “I didn’t feel that great. I wanted to go, so I could see you, but I figured I’d just catch you later.”
Corey pushed his hair back, if only because he didn’t know what else to do with his hands, “I was thinking about what happened yesterday.”
“What’s that? “
Corey looked at him surprised, “With your Father...”
“I know. He looks like he can be really cold.” Thomas admitted. ”I was worried that he might have scared you.”
“Is that why you’re so afraid to tell anyone? Is it your Dad?” Corey asked.
“I guess to be quite honest... he is a big part of it. I just don’t know how he would take it,” Thomas observed.
Corey sat up straight, “I guess I’m really lucky to have such good parents... parent. My Dad has never questioned it. He just accepts me for who I am... so did my Mother,” he fell quiet for a moment, then added; “I’m always here, anytime you need me.”
Thomas glared at him. He had to get it out, “I have something I want to say. I figure I’d better say it now-“
Corey began fidgeting with button on his shirt sleeve.
Thomas struggled, “I- I want to make sure I say the right thing and I don’t sound like an imbecile... I thought-“
Corey stopped him. He knew what he was going to say. He’d heard it all before. I like you, but I want to make sure that you don’t expect me to be anything other than a friend. He didn’t need to hear it before getting the point. He wasn’t stupid. “I already know, Thomas. I don’t want to be anything but friends either. I mean, look at us, we’d look ridiculous together. I know your situation, and we’re best as friends and only friends. I’m unlucky at the love game anyway, so with my track record, it would be over before it began. Friends are forever.” HA! He got it out first. He beat him to the punch. Thomas probably thought he was psychic. By the look on his face, he was definitely startled.
“Okay... Sorry I’m bothered you with it,” Thomas sighed. Although he showed no sign of it he was shattered, but he expected rejection. So, why didn’t it make it any easier?
“Friends.” Corey smiled, placing his hand on Thomas’ back.
Thomas jerked forward gasping through clenched teeth. He arched his spine in pain.
“What’s wrong?”
Thomas exhaled slowly, lowering his shoulders, “Nothing, I just slept wrong that’s all.”
Corey stood, “Come inside with me.”
Thomas got up and began walking backward, suddenly anxious “No, I should get home. Thanks for the talk and all.”
“Please come in,” Corey persisted.
Thomas stopped. He studied Corey who was framed under the veranda. He hovered on the step for a minute and then relented, following him inside.
They walked through the foyer, and headed up the stairs and into Corey’s bedroom. He closed the door and turned directly to Thomas who stood in his trademark white T-shirt and ragged jeans.
Corey took a step closer to him, “Show me.”
Thomas just stared at him precariously. He felt his knees weaken. He shouldn’t have come here. He should’ve just kept going.
“What?”
“Please.”
Thomas glanced around the room rapidly. There was no way out. He wanted to run as fast as he could, he wanted to get away. He could laugh, pretend it was a joke, but nothing would come from his throat. It had tightened.
“Please,” Corey repeated.
He watched as Thomas lifted his shirt over his torso and then above his head. It fell to the floor. He looked deep into Corey’s eyes.
Corey returned the stare. “Turn around.”
Thomas hesitated for a moment. He swallowed hard and then turned. His back was covered with swollen welts that had sliced through his skin. He could see scars of old wounds that ran beneath the new ones. Black bruises ran from the top of his shoulder blades onto his scalp, hidden under his hair. When Thomas would move, the welts would separate and expose deep gashes. Pink flesh was visible between the sides of each gaping slash.
It was silent.
He tapped the wounds with a warm washcloth gently to soften the dried blood and wipe it away. Thomas lay on his bed, one arm folded under his head.
“Why does he do it?” Corey demanded; his anger evident in his tone.
Thomas wasn’t facing him, he faced the open window, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Corey wet his rag in a bowl of water and Epsom salts, “How come you never told anyone?”
Thomas felt the sting of the salt, “What for? So they could save me? Rescue me? I don’t need rescuing. I can handle myself.”
“Can’t you go live with your Mom? Anyone?”
Thomas turned toward him, watching him as he placed the cloth on his back. He was so lovely. “My Mom left when I was three. I never heard from her again. She just took off one day, and never came back. She couldn’t take the beating
s, so she just... disappeared.”
“Why didn’t she take you?”
“She couldn’t. He had legal claim to me. If she would’ve run away with me, he would’ve used the law to find us. She would have been a kidnapper and he would’ve probably killed her. He would do that. He can be pretty psychotic,” Thomas pointed out.
Corey picked up the gauze and surgical tape from the first aide kit at his side. He softly laid it on Thomas’s back. “Don’t let him hurt you again.”
“Don’t worry about me, Corey. I always get a few punches in before going down. Besides, I’ll be eighteen in a month. Then I’m gone. Far away from here.” His voice fell to a whisper and then he cringed from the pain as Corey set another bandage.
“Where is far away?” Corey inquired, distracting him from the stinging.
“Don’t know yet. What about you?” He retorted.
Corey moved his fingers along the edge of the gauze, “San Francisco. Hoping I’ll be a famous writer.”
“Then you will be.”
Corey applied another bandage, “I think so. You’ll probably be a famous artist someday. You have real talent... from what I’ve seen!” He teased.
“It embarrasses me when people look at my drawings. I hate being judged by strangers who have no concept of my purpose. How can anyone honestly say whether something is really good or a piece of shit when they have no idea what it represents? I draw what’s in my heart, and to have someone criticize it would really bother me. Don’t laugh, but it’s true,”
Corey smiled as he began tearing off another piece of tape, “I’m not laughing. I’m the same way when I write. It’s always exceptional moments, or exceptional people that inspire me... like my mother, she was inspiring,” Corey found himself discreetly reminiscing.
“Yeah, well... if she was anything like you,” Thomas remarked. Looking up at Corey, who was taken by his words, he smiled, “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” Corey answered quietly.
They were trapped in each other’s gaze, which could have lasted forever had not the telephone rang, pulling them out of their trance.
They both peered at it, discreetly bitter. “Get it,” Corey stated. His hands were full of gauze.
Thomas picked the telephone up from the night stand, he held the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” Nothing.
Gabe stood in utter shock. It was Thomas, at Corey’s. What was he doing at Corey’s?
“Hello?” Thomas spoke from the other end.
“Is C-Corey there?” Gabe stuttered.
Thomas held the phone toward Corey, “It’s for you.”
Corey gently applied the last bandage and ran his fingers along the tape. He took the receiver, “Hello?”
“We have to talk,” Gabe announced anxiously.
“No we don’t,” Immediately he hung up.
Thomas looked at him curiously, “That was the fastest conversation I’ve ever witnessed.”
“If he calls again, just let it ring.”
“Okay, but, why?”
Corey jumped from the bed and placed the medical kit in his dresser drawer, “It’s some guy who keeps playing head games with me. We’ve only talked on the phone but he refuses to meet me. He left me sitting in the gym for two hours waiting for him, now he wants to offer me some lame excuse.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Corey scoffed.
Thomas sat up as the telephone began ringing again.
Corey listened intensely.
Thomas watched him. He could tell he wanted to answer it.
“You like him.” Thomas concluded.
Corey rolled his eyes. He walked over to the phone, picked it up, and slammed it back down on its base.
“You do, don’t you?” Thomas pried.
“I don’t like him. I don’t even know him.”
Thomas scooted to the edge of the bed, “Then why are you so mad?”
“I’m not mad!” Corey spat, then calmed, “I’m not mad. I’m just irritated.”
Thomas bit his tongue, “You’re mad.”
Corey pulled his hair off of his shoulders and fanned his neck. It was getting hot. The phone screamed again.
Thomas stood from the bed and walked up behind Corey. “If you didn’t like him, Corey, you wouldn’t be so angry.” Secretly, his heart was breaking.
Corey sighed heavily, “No, Thomas,” He forced a condescending laugh, “Besides, he’s just a voice on the phone. Just a voice.”
Thomas put his powerful hands on Corey’s shoulders. Though his hands looked rough, the touch was gentle, “Really,” he whispered, He placed his head against Corey’s, breathing him in. His soft black hair moved against Thomas’s face. He smelled so good. Like a new blossom in spring. His eyes closed as he moved a strand of Corey’s thick mane across his lips. He had loved him. He was loving him now. He forced his hands from Corey’s body, waiting for him to turn, but Corey didn’t.
Thomas felt a weight in his chest as he slowly walked toward the bedroom door. He wanted Corey to call him back. He needed to hear him say he cared. Thomas never heard a sound. He walked out of the room stopping once in the doorway. He debated whether to turn, whether he should bother even saying good-bye. He knew that if he turned and went back it would be impossible to leave him again. “I hope this one works out for you. You said you were unlucky in this game, maybe you’re due for a win.”
Corey didn’t reply. He didn’t even acknowledge that Thomas was still there.
He was overcome with confusion. Why did he care about Chris so much? What was it about him? That voice that calmed his fears and eased his pain. The awareness that there was this guy out there watching him in secret. The way Chris seemed to understand the way he felt, and suffered with him. Or was it the mystery? This grand mystery that had become such a part of him. Yes, Chris occupied his thoughts and piqued his imagination. He had brought the side long dead back to life. The side that still believed in magic. He did care for Thomas, but he couldn’t entertain something that would never be. He couldn’t toy with himself like that. Wait... isn’t that what he was doing with Chris? He had been so fascinated with this riddle of his nightly caller. Obsessed with this mirage. But this too was a false indulgence. Something that would never be.
Meeting Thomas’s shy advances with deaf ears, Corey had unknowingly ignored the reality for the fantasy.
Corey turned to Thomas, only he was no longer there. He had left, and Corey didn’t blame him. Thomas may hate him now. What an insult, so taken with a voice on a phone, over a series of digital circuits that he ignored him, he hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye. He ran to the window as Thomas reached for his car door.
“Thomas!” Corey yelled.
Thomas looked up. He seemed so small out there in a world that held him prisoner. He smiled up to Corey, who returned it generously.
“I’ll see you soon?”
Thomas grinned, “Anytime.”
He got into his car, and drove off down Harrington.
The phone rang again. Corey rushed to it and unplugged the cord from the wall. Then he sat on the edge of his bed. Why was Chris doing this to him? Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?
Gabe listened as the tone went dead. He was going crazy. He had to talk to him. He had to hear his voice. He paced across his floor, bothered by the distance that separated them now. There was still so much he had to say. So much he wanted Corey to know. His breathing grew shallow, his pulse pounded. He felt shut out. Locked away from the one he had grown to care so much for. Without thinking, a tense expression filling his face, he flew to the window, his body shaking with desperation. “COREY!”
Corey spun around. His name still echoed in the distance. Though it had only been called once, it had not yet faded. Thunder rolled across the evening sky, giving notice of an impending storm. He stared through the open window, the sheer curtain
s flapped lightly in the breeze. It seemed so dark from where he sat. He saw nothing.
He trembled where he stood, locking his knees for fear they might give out. His skin began to crawl. With one slow step at a time, he made his way to the window, looking down upon the lawn. Nothing. He looked down Harrington both ways. It was empty. He felt like he was on the edge of a towering cliff waiting to fall. How could Chris get here so fast? He had only unplugged his telephone seconds ago. Corey left his window and raced to the phone jack, plugging in the telephone once again.
It rang instantaneously. He lifted the receiver to his ear. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. He swallowed and then tried again, “Hello,” he whispered in a tone somewhere between excitement and fright.
“Don’t hang up on me. Never hang up on me again, I can’t bear it,” Gabe begged, on the verge of tears.
Corey stood up; an ominous chill ran over his flesh. He stepped back to his window. “W-Where are you?” He asked, shuddering.
Gabe listened as the rain began to fall on the other side of the blinds he had pulled over his window, “I’m right here.”
Corey was silent as he walked out of his bedroom. He descended the staircase, his senses now fully alert. He cautiously opened his front door, peering out into the steady black sheet of rain. Still holding the phone to his ear he took one step onto the porch. “Why can’t I see you?”
Gabe watched him through a narrow slit, “I can see you.”
Corey spun around quickly, searching all directions for any sign, any movement, or reflection. “Don’t bother Corey, you can’t see me,” Gabe informed, as if to taunt him in some sadistic way.
A tear swelled on Corey’s eyelid, “Why are you doing this to me?” He pleaded in despair.
“I needed to hear your voice,” Gabe answered.
Corey raced to the edge of the porch and leaned over the edge. Why was he hiding like this? He looked out over the lawn as white lightening flashed across the sky. “Show yourself, Chris. Come out now.” Corey barked impatiently.
“Why? You hate me for leaving you in the gym, I know you do.” Gabe scowled.
Corey felt the cool mist from the ground hit his face, his anger was steadily building, “I waited for you for hours. I waited and you never came. Now you’re here... somewhere, and you’re hiding from me all over again. Chris, I’m tired of this game. I thought you were my friend... you’re only a coward.”
Gabe slammed his fist into the wall; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet him. It was the fear of the consequence that drove to these measures. He could love him, in secret, for there no one could laugh, or criticize him for falling victim to this crushing obsession he had with Corey. “Meet me in the park at the end of the street; I’ll be there this time.”
“No. You come here right now, come out where I can see you. You come right up to me and... and.. tell me why,” Corey fought.
Gabe pressed his head against the oak pane of the window. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to be a part of you. Talk to you and know you heard me, and you talk to me, only to me, and you gave me that. I never meant for it to go this far, I never meant to fall for you the way I have, but I have, and it’s killing me inside. So much of what I feel conflicts with my life, like it just can’t be. I can’t feel this way, but I can’t stop.”
His voice trickled into Corey’s ear. It would be impossible not to pity Chris, he was fighting so hard to reason with himself. Corey listened attentively. He walked off the porch and stood in the rain. It felt good on this warm night. He saw steam rising up from the hot street pavement, and the round globes of the old fashioned street lamps. “Can you still see me?”
Gabe wiped the tears from his face and glared below, “Yes.”
“Look at me and place my voice with my face. This is more than I can deal with, and instead of hating you, Chris... Don’t call me again.”
Gabe grabbed for words, any words… “Wait!”
Corey hung up and let his hand fall to his side. He looked up and let the drops of rain hit his face and slide down his slender neck. He turned and walked back into his house.
Gabe moved against the wall to the corner of the dark room. He quietly cried as he collapsed to the floor, drawing up his knees, cradling himself to the serene tune of the summer rain that sang for him, the Earth shaking blast of thunder that scolded him. What have you done? What have you done?
Damned you are… and Damned you’ll remain. You love another man.
Then I shall be damned, for damnation is tolerable.
What about God? Are you denouncing your savior?
I am denouncing my pain. What is a savior that allows you to bleed? Bleed in silence.
Repent and you shall be forgiven for your trespasses.
And when I repent, what shall I say? I am guilty of loving another human being. I am guilty of nothing else.
Leviticus 18:22 Thou shall not lie with mankind, It is an abomination.
It is an abomination to have never loved. To lay with anyone without love is an abomination. To lay with someone in the presence of love is a blessing, a gift. My love is pure. My love is holy. Alma 39:19 Abominable above all sins save it be the shedding of innocent blood. I have shed no blood. I have lived my life according to the testaments, now, that I love another man, am I cast away? Tell me, why allow such a divine emotion, and then damn me for it? Is that not an abomination itself?
Real love is between a man and a woman.
My love is equal. It is said the same, spelled the same, and felt just as a man for a woman. Just as precious, just as real.
Romans 1:27, Men... burned in their lust toward one another.
Is that it? I shall burn for loving? What of those who hate, and despise, should they not burn? Should I die alone, would that be acceptable? Should I pretend to love a woman, and bear her false adoration? Or shall I burn for that to? Tell me, what should I do?
Repent, and be saved from drowning in your lake of sin.
I will repent, as soon as I find a sin suitable of repenting for. Otherwise, I will love, and be loved, and be happy. Am I not your loyal servant? Do I not deserve happiness? Do I not deserve to feel the love of another? I am a man, a man created by God himself in his own image. Did God make a mistake? Am I a defective product off of some heavenly assembly line? No, God doesn’t make mistakes. I am who I am because God made me this way. To curse myself for feeling love would be a sin. That would be a sin suitable for repentance. Isn’t that what being human is about? loving? A feeling no other species on this planet is capable of recognizing as love. We are the one kind that understands the word love. God made one intellectual kind with the ability to reason and act on our feeling, one kind bestowed with the gifts of love. Everyone wants to be loved, we need to be loved. It’s like a hunger. If we’re not fed, we die. How can such a beautiful thing shared between two beings of this one maker be sinful? If I am damned for this, then take me now. Take this needy soul from my body, because I do not want it. I will not live in a world that allows me to be hated and abused because I have loved another. Send me to a place where love is welcome and appreciated, and hate doesn’t exist. Take me to a place where lives can be shared, not based on gender, but on the degree of love bestowed on one another. Let me be in a safe and harmonious place where I will not have this battle raging inside. A place where the law IS to love, and the abomination is to deface those who do so. Is this very thought so unimaginable? Or is the place I speak of heaven itself? I shall love there too. You cannot remove this from me like a dying organ. This roots much deeper than anything touchable. Even long after I am dead, buried and my corpse rots beneath the ground, you can’t take this from me. It is mine and mine alone. I shall love in heaven, I shall love in hell. The conversation between us now, You telling, me I shall burn, I am an abomination… Isn’t that birthed from hatred itself? Doesn’t that spawn others like you to believe I am evil
and defiant of you? That I am less of a human, less of what you created because I love another man. If this is my God, if this is the standard to which I must live my life, this acceptance of cruelty, then I renounce you.
The voice in Gabe’s head fell silent. He had fought a victorious fight. He made a convincing case. It was the truth. He fought for the truth and won. Unfortunately, his fear remained, and while he knew it wasn’t wrong to love Corey Evans, others would hate him for it. Strip him of his dignity and laugh. Cruel world. The fear seethed like a cauldron of poison. It could kill him, this fear. He couldn’t stop it. Though he was strong and disciplined, he thrived in a society that would prefer to see him die than let him love. The battle with the voice had been won, but the war with his fear continued. How many were stumbling through this very war he was now? How man across this world suffered as he was. There were many he imagined, all on the front lines fighting for their right to love. It would take the courage of a thousand men to win, because fear held millions in its grip. It was truly the most formidable enemy. One strengthened by its followers. Thirty feet tall, breath of fire, teeth of metal. It would swallow up the weak, and spit out the remains. It had claimed many victims and would many more, probably even before the break of day. Where were the other soldiers? There were none here, most fought in secret just as Gabe was. He would break down these stone walls around him and free himself of his mortal reigns, for this was a cry for freedom and he would fight to the death. All for the love of Corey...
And it was driving him insane.
five
The Season of Rachel
Sadie Stories Page 4