The Importance of Being Kevin

by Steven Harper

  Loser!

  Maybe I was just overreacting. Maybe I had just imagined it, or he had brushed up against me accidently. Maybe—

  “Algernon! Algernon! Yo, Kevin!”

  I snapped back to the real world. Everyone was looking at me, including Iris, the one who had spoken to me.

  “That’s your cue, Algernon,” she said. “Pay attention. And Les—it’s your job to cue him if he forgets.”

  Les saluted with the pencil. “Sorry, Iris. My fault. I didn’t prompt him.”

  “Go back to your entrance, Algernon,” Iris said.

  I entered and tried to call up the Algernon shell from the audition, but Les’s handprint burned my skin, and I couldn’t concentrate. Peter looked down at his script, and his hair fell across his forehead. I wanted to touch it.

  “Gwendolen is as right as a trivet,” he said in a crusty English accent. “As far as she is concerned, we are engaged.”

  “For your next line, Jack, clap your friend Algy on the shoulder in a stiff, British sort of way,” Iris called.

  “Her mother is perfectly unbearable,” he said as he clapped me on the shoulder with an air of sorrow. “Never met such a gorgon. I don’t really know what a gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady Bracknell is one.”

  For a moment I was back in the park with his hand on my shoulder. Then I was back in the theater. I let Algy smile a little at what his friend was saying. Out of the corner of my eye, Les looked annoyed. I decided to ignore him.

  “I beg your pardon, Algy.” Peter moved his arm around to my other shoulder so he was half hugging me. I liked that a lot. “I suppose I shouldn’t talk about your own aunt in that way before you.”

  “She said clap, not hug, Peter,” Les interrupted. “Save the love for later, dudes.”

  I pulled away from Peter like he’d turned into a snake. “Hey—what?”

  “He’s right, Jack,” Iris put in. “Save the love hug for when you find out Algy is your long-lost brother. A clap on the shoulder will do for now.”

  “Got it,” Peter said in a neutral voice.

  Shit, I thought.

  “Your line, Algy,” Iris said.

  At ten Iris called it quits. “See you all tomorrow onstage at seven sharp,” she said. “Work on memorizing those lines. I want everyone off book in two weeks. Kevin and Peter—”

  Both of us jumped a little as everyone else drifted away.

  “I’m seeing great chemistry between you two. Keep it up.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. Peter whacked me on the back, hard, and said, “Thanks” to Iris. In a lower voice to me, he said, “See you outside in a bit.”

  A while later I was outside, unchaining my bike from the silver street lamp. My heart pounded. My hands shook. I couldn’t wait to see him.

  The steel door creaked open, and I turned. “Hey—” I began.

  “Hey,” said Les.

  I straightened, startled. “Oh! Uh… hi, Les.” What the hell?

  He strolled toward me, hands in his back pockets. I backed up a wary step, bike lock still in my hand. The memory of the way he’d touched me oozed around my head. I didn’t like him, didn’t like this.

  “Long ride home?” he asked.

  “Kinda,” I said.

  And then he was directly in front of me. He put his hand on my shoulder the way Peter had done. I felt cold and unhappy, but I couldn’t move either. The thought of running was… frightening. Like I’d make him mad if I did. And Iris had said not to piss him off because he was the stage manager. What if he got me kicked out of the play? My probation could get revoked.

  “I thought I’d walk through the park with you,” he said with a half smile. “I could show you a cool shortcut.”

  It took a second for it to sink in. When it did, another chill ran over me. Those were the exact words Peter had said to me. How had he known?

  Les grabbed my crotch. I froze. Thought fled my brain like a flock of frightened birds. I had no way to think, no way to react. His hand groped around, tugging and feeling through the fabric of my shorts.

  “I like shortcuts,” Les was saying. “And you’re pretty short.”

  The tiger in me roared to life. I shoved Les with both hands hard. He fell back on his ass, face twisted by surprise and then anger of his own.

  “Don’t touch me!” I snarled. “Leave me alone!”

  Les sat on the warm tarmac. He didn’t look sly or slender or half-wry. He looked furious as boiling poison. “I know what you are, you little shit!” he shouted. “You want me to—”

  “What’s going on?” Peter was suddenly there, tall and strong. I swear for a second he was wearing a suit of armor. “Is something wrong here?”

  “Nothing.” Les scrambled to his feet and stormed toward the door. “Nothing at all.” He slammed his way inside.

  I rubbed my face. My crotch felt bruised and violated. Peter turned to me. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “It’s nothing. Nothing happened.”

  Peter looked at me, then at the door, then at me. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It was just… stupid.” No way was I going to talk about this with Peter. He’d think I attracted weirdos. I’d deal with it later. “Come on. The shortcut, right?”

  We walked through the park, my bike ticking along beside me. The nearly full moon floated serenely above us, and the road stretched ahead like a silver river beneath soft air. Peter brushed my shoulder as we walked, and I let the entire shitstorm with Les fade away. I was walking with a guy who had kissed me and who might kiss me again.

  “Can I say something stupid?” Peter asked.

  “Uh… sure.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today. And I couldn’t wait for rehearsal tonight.”

  I was going to float away, but I said, “That’s pretty stupid.”

  “Hey!” Peter glared at me. “You’re supposed to say I’m not stupid.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I’m not very good at being a… you know.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Is that what I am?” The road crunched beneath my shoes. “I mean, we’ve gone on exactly two walks and had exactly one kiss.”

  In answer Peter turned and kissed me. It wasn’t as powerful as the first time, but it was close. When we finished, I was surprised to find we were still standing on the ground instead of up in the clouds. I had to remember how to breathe.

  “Two,” Peter said.

  “You don’t even know me,” I murmured. “I could be a jewel thief or an ax murderer for all you know.”

  “Okay.” Peter took a deep breath, and I wondered if he was remembering how to breathe too. “Have you ever murdered an ax?”

  “Smartass.” I slugged him on the shoulder.

  “Ow!” Peter staggered with mock pain. “You’ll pay for that!”

  He flung himself at me, and we rolled across the soft grass, grunting and laughing like puppies. My muscles pushed against his; his body was hard against mine. I felt free and safe at the same time.

  Abruptly I was sitting on Peter’s stomach, pinning both his wrists above his head with my hands. Panting a little, I looked down at him. He grinned. There was no way I had gotten him in this position without his permission, and he knew I knew. The bastard. I grinned back, then leaned down and kissed him. This time we were slower, more careful. I let myself explore his mouth and got a little rush at the way his hands were pinned. The grass rustled beneath us, and the entire world narrowed to just us.

  I pulled back. “Three.”

  Peter grinned again and turned his head. “What was…?”

  “What?” I looked too but didn’t see anything.

  “I thought I saw a light over there. I guess not.”

  He pushed me aside and sat up with his arm around me. I would have preserved that moment in glass forever. We were next to the river, and the current made small rushing sounds in the darkness.

  “You we
re right. I don’t know anything about you. Where do you live?”

  Normally those kinds of questions would have thrown me or made me uneasy, but at that moment, I would have told him anything. “With my dad. Outside of town.”

  “What about your mom?” He picked up a pebble with his free hand and tossed it into the river. It vanished with a tiny splash.

  “She left a long time ago, when I was about nine. I don’t even know where she is.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “I’m okay with it,” I said, not quite lying. I avoided thinking about Mom as much as possible. “What about you? You’re in college, right? Studying drama?”

  “Nah.” He tossed another pebble. “I’m not good enough to go pro, and I don’t want to teach. I’m studying architecture. I love drawing buildings, and I want to see them made real.”

  “That’s right—it was one of your truths.” I inhaled his scent, one I was learning to recognize as completely his own. “You’ll do it. I can see you.”

  We sat that way for a moment longer, me happy in Peter’s arms. Then he said, “I hate to do this, but I have to get up early. Summer class.”

  I sighed. “’Kay.”

  We retrieved my bike, and Peter gave me another long kiss. “Four,” he said and walked down the path the way we had come, hands in his pockets. I watched him go until the darkness swallowed him.

  I have a boyfriend! It was the strangest idea, and one I never thought I’d hear inside my own head. For once the nasty little voice was silent about it. A boyfriend! Who likes me for me!

  “Hey.”

  I whipped around. Les was standing there, a lazy smile on his face. A smartphone glowed faintly through his front pocket. A jolt went through me.

  “Jesus!” I yelped. “What the hell are you—”

  Les grabbed my shirt, yanked me toward him, and kissed me hard. I froze a moment, just like I had done when he groped me, but this time I recovered faster and broke away from him.

  “One,” he said, and the word sent a chill down my back. He knew about me and Peter. He had seen us, listened in with his cell phone on. I felt like someone had run a dirty hand over my soul. The tiger snarled inside me.

  “Who do you think you are, asshole?” I yelled. “Leave me—”

  He shoved me hard. I went sprawling backward on the grass. Les was on top of me in a flash, his hands pinning my wrists just like mine had done to Peter’s moments earlier. Les looked down at me and grinned. Saliva glistened at the corner of his mouth.

  “You’ll kiss him, but you won’t kiss me? You give some to him and won’t give any to me? Little pervert.”

  Les’s head came down in a snake strike, and he kissed me again. It stole my breath. I tried to squirm away, but he was heavy, and I couldn’t get any leverage. Terror tore through me.

  “Two,” he said.

  My heart pounded. My hands shook. I couldn’t wait for him to leave.

  “Leave me alone, asshole,” I tried to growl, but I couldn’t get much air, and it came out as more of pitiful gasp. “I’ll call—”

  “The cops?” Les sneered. “And tell them what? That you’re a little faggot? Gonna tell everyone in the police report that you’re a little faggot? A little pervert?” He leaned closer, his iron grip around my wrists. “I’ll tell the cops what you did with Peter. He’s nineteen. You’re sixteen. They’ll tell the news. They’ll tell your dad, little pervert.”

  The terror was crushing my chest. They’d tell my probation officer. She’d send me to juvie if I got in trouble with the cops. Everyone in school would know. And Dad—what would Dad say?

  In a fast move, Les flipped me over on my stomach with my hands behind my back. He was so strong. My face pressed into the grass, my nose mashed dirt. What came next hurt worse than anything I thought could ever hurt. I went away for a while. At last Les’s weight left me. I lay on the ground.

  “I can tell you liked that, little pervert,” Les said. “It’ll be even better next time.”

  Next time? The words were red snakes.

  Les knelt next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the summer. I’ll definitely be seeing a lot of you.” He kissed me on the temple. I flinched—I couldn’t help it. “Three,” he said. And then he was gone.

  For a long time, I lay there. I didn’t want to move. Everything hurt. I wanted to sink into the ground and let that spot become my grave. But finally I had to get up. Moving like a zombie, I pulled up my shorts and put one foot in front of the other until I reached my bike. I couldn’t ride. Slowly, I wheeled it out of the park.

  I barely remember the walk home. It must have taken hours, but time passed in a haze. When I got to the trailer, I had the presence of mind to get a screwdriver and open the air valve on my front tire. It hissed flat. Then I went in.

  Dad was on the couch, staring at the book in his hands, but I didn’t think he was reading. The box fan stirred the hot air. He shot to his feet.

  “What happened to you?” he snapped. “It’s almost two in the morning. I’ve been worried sick.”

  I looked at him. For half a second I wanted to grab him in a hug and bawl like a little kid until he stroked my hair and said it would be all right. Then I remembered what Les had said in the park. The cops. The news. Peter. Dad.

  Little pervert.

  “I got a flat tire and had to walk my bike home six miles,” I said in a tired voice. “Check my bike if you don’t believe me.”

  Dad wasn’t ready to give in. “Why the hell didn’t you call?”

  “No pay phones between here and there.” I had to get out of there before I started to cry. “I’m wiped. Need a shower, then bed. Night.”

  I turned the shower as hot as I could stand it, then made it a little hotter than that. I washed every inch of me, but the memories hovered around me in the steam.

  It’ll be even better next time.

  It still hurt. I scrubbed myself dry and swallowed some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. When I lowered the towel in my room, Les yanked my shorts down again. I clutched the towel tighter around my waist.

  I’ll definitely be seeing a lot of you.

  Somehow I got another pair of shorts on and curled up on my bed. Robbie looked at me from his picture frame. I stared back without knocking on it.

  ACT I: SCENE IV

  KEVIN

  ROBBIE STILL looked up at me from his frame, though now it was morning, and I was outside under one of the trees in the front yard. I hadn’t really slept. The morning air was cool, especially in the shade of the yard. A cute little birdie twittered on a branch over my head. Any second it would shit on me.

  I heard Dad’s footsteps coming, and he squatted next to me in thick work boots and a blue denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “You shouldn’t do this, Kevin. It ain’t healthy.”

  He reached for the picture, but I whipped it out of his reach. Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. I set the photo facedown on the grass where Dad couldn’t reach it. I didn’t want to talk.

  “Listen, Kev,” he said, “I don’t know how to help you. I wish we could afford for you to talk to someone, but—”

  Anger burst out of me. I rounded on him. “Why? You think I’m crazy? I need a shrink?”

  Dad looked tired. It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, and it always went the same way. “I’m saying I don’t know what’s going on with you. This started long before all that stuff with… with those other guys.”

  I picked up the photo again and looked down at Robbie.

  “Look, I know you think I won’t understand. I thought the same thing when I was a teenager. But I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be sixteen. Talking about it can help.”

  Dad, I’m gay, I have a boyfriend, and last night I got…

  Robbie looked up at me like he always did. Dad squatted next to me, silent.

  … raped.

  My hand shook, and the photograph trembled a tiny bit
. It was my fault. I should have fought back more, should have made sure Les hadn’t seen me and Peter together.

  I looked at Dad. He tried to be a good dad. I knew that… mostly. Even if he’d missed most of my childhood because of prison. He could help. I wanted to talk. I opened my mouth to say the words. But what came out was, “You’re wearing work clothes. You get a job?”

  Dad looked disappointed, and I felt even guiltier. “Yeah. Temp thing putting up drywall for a few days.”

  “Under the table?”

  “No taxes that way.” Dad gave a small smile. “Every cent for us. What are you doing today?”

  I managed a small fake smile of my own. “Probably memorizing my lines. The play opens in four weeks, so I have to get to work.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget to eat lunch. See you this evening.” He rose to go, then hesitated. “Kevin….”

  “I’m fine, Dad.” I looked down at the photo again. “Go to work. You’ll be late.”

  He hovered there a moment longer, then clumped away. The truck drove off in a cloud of dust.

  Just then the phone rang inside the trailer. “Shit,” I muttered and ran inside, the photo still in my hand. I had to be the only teenager in America who didn’t have a cell. We couldn’t afford one. Even our landline had a cord, and it always twisted. I snatched it off the wall.

  “Hey, Kevin,” said Peter.

  All the strength went out of my legs, and I slid down the wall to the floor. I couldn’t decide if it was because his voice made me happy or scared. “Hey,” I said. “Uh… how did you get my number?”

  “It’s on the contact list Iris handed out, doofus.”

  I wrapped the cord around my hand. “Oh. Right. So… what’s up?”

  “My class is out for the day. You want to get together? We could work on our lines or just hang.”

  For a second I was back in the park. Peter was kissing me. Then it was Les. Then it was worse. I pulled my knees up to my chin.

  That’d be great! Where? “I can’t. I’m supposed to do stuff around home today.”