A Gay Polyester High School Romance

by S. W. Ballenger

  “This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head. “Who are you?”

  Granny spoke up. “Willy, this is your cousin Shane.” Granny pointed at me with her crochet needle.

  “It’s Shawn.” I gave him a friendly smile, annoyed that Granny got my name wrong yet again.

  “Why have I never seen you before?” he asked as he walked closer and held out his hand.

  “I’ve only been here a few times in my life.” I shook his hand. “I guess we just missed each other.”

  “I’m William Bellums,” he shrugged, “Will.” He gestured with his palms up. “Stand up.”

  I rose from the chair and stood up straight where we both stood eye-to-eye.

  “Holy fuck!” He glanced toward Granny and put his index finger over his mouth. “Oops.” Granny kept right on working, obviously not hearing him. “I feel like I’m looking in a mirror.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I gasped, reaching up and pulling on a strand of my straight hair while I contemplated his curly locks as being the only physical difference I could see between us.

  “Where you from, I mean how are we related?” he asked, his voice sounding so much like mine.

  “He’s from Connecticut. That’s your Great Aunt Mary’s son,” Granny spoke, obviously choosing to ignore the swear word earlier or else not understanding what the word meant.

  “Oh,” Will said. “That makes us first cousins once removed.”

  He lowered his voice to where Granny couldn’t hear. “My Grandma Elizabeth and your mom are sisters.”

  The mere mention of my mom’s sister Elizabeth sent chills down my spine. I knew some of the stories about Mom’s oldest sister. She was crazy, and I’m not just talking a little crazy; absolutely nuts would be more fitting. Mom had told me stories about her sister hearing voices in her head and trying to kill herself when she was in high school. Both she and the baby she was carrying at the time survived, but then she started having weird hallucinations and tried to kill my grandparents by putting rat poison in their food. After that, she was committed to a state hospital where she has remained ever since. I’d never met her, but I’ve oftentimes wondered if Aunt Elizabeth might have been the reason Mom became a psychiatrist.

  “Yeah,” he said as he noticed my reaction. “We don’t talk about Grandma Lizzie,” he whispered with one eye closed, pointing his index finger at his temple and making circular motions.

  “I understand.” I chuckled.

  Granny interrupted our conversation. “Willy, why don’t you take Shane and show him your play pretties.”

  “Play pretties?” I wrinkled my face in confusion.

  “She means toys.” Will sniggered. “You want to go see my cars and trucks? I even have a fire engine with a siren and everything.” He mocked a five-year-old’s voice while bobbing his head up and down like a child.

  I cracked up. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  At that moment, I’d just as soon play in a sandbox like a five-year-old than spend another moment mindlessly staring into space.

  I grabbed my coat and we headed outside.

  Stepping out onto the porch, Will closed the door behind him.

  He walked over and leaned against the porch railing. “You’ll have to ignore Granny; she still thinks I’m eight. Some days are worse than others. She’s getting senile.”

  “It’s okay. She thought I was in sixth grade.”

  “How old are you?” he asked as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small can, opened it, took out a pinch of something and put it between his lips and teeth. He held the can out offering me some, his eyebrows raised.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I thanked him, not knowing the contents of that container, but assuming it had to be some sort of tobacco. “Fifteen. You?”

  “Same. Sophomore?”

  “Yep,” I replied as I watched him turn his head and spit brown liquid at the chicken pecking on the ground below the porch.

  “I wonder why I’ve never met you. Damn, we could be twins!” He laughed.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think Mom likes coming up here. I’ve only been up here a few times in my life.”

  “Yeah, family avoids this place like the plague. You bored out of your mind yet?”

  “Hell yes,” I replied, glancing back at the door.

  “My house is just down the hill if you want to hang out.” He indicated the large oak tree that sat at the top of a long-descending hill.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Come on.” He motioned as we walked over to a yellow dirt bike parked just outside the fence.

  “That yours?” I pointed.

  “Yep. I call her Bumblebitch.” He kicked the tires. “Sometimes she starts, other times…well…you get the idea.”

  He threw his leg over the seat. “Hop on.”

  I looked at the motorized bike. Although I had seen them before, I had actually never ridden or driven one. Shrugging my shoulders, I pulled myself onto the seat behind Will.

  “Put your arms around me and hold on tight,” Will commanded. Then he stood up and kicked his foot down on the starter causing the engine to roar to life. He looked back to me and said, “She’s being a good girl today.”

  I laughed.

  Will hit the gas and the bike leapt forward, almost throwing me off the back. When he said hold on tight, he wasn’t kidding.

  Flying like a bat out of Hell down the hill, I said a few Hail Marys as he sped full-throttle over the rough terrain. After we jumped a couple of small hills, my anxiety actually lessened and I started to feel exhilarated by the whole experience.

  “You okay back there?” he yelled over the sound of the buzzing motor.

  “Yeah,” I yelled back.

  As we pulled up in front of a small brick home, I noticed the wood-paneled station wagon parked in the front yard.

  “Home sweet dump,” Will joked as he stopped the engine.

  I laughed again.

  As we made our way to the house, I noticed there were no chickens in his front yard and the house looked in much better shape than my grandparents’.

  We entered the home into a very modern living room. I took a look at the green shag carpeting and furniture that looked only a few years old. A swag lamp hung from the ceiling in the farthest corner of the room. A large twenty-five inch RCA color console television sat in the corner. Although the home was small, it felt very cozy.

  “You have a TV!” I said with surprise.

  “Yep. We sure do. We got indoor plumbing last summer. You wouldn’t believe what it was like before,” he said evenly as he started to lead me down a hallway lined with dark wood paneling.

  “Are you serious?” My mouth gaped open.

  “Cuz, I’m joking.” He started laughing. “Of course we have indoor plumbing. We’re not Amish!”

  “Well, after being in Granddad and Granny’s house, I just thought that was the way country people lived,” I stated as he led me to his bedroom.

  He huffed. “City Slicker.”

  I stood just inside the doorway and checked out his room. Red and blue ribbons hung around trophies filling a large bookshelf. The trophies definitely didn’t look like any I’d seen before.

  Will began sliding his coveralls off. “I need to get a shower.” He sniffed his sleeve and wrinkled his nose. “I smell like cow birth.”

  “Gross.” I shook my head and wandered to the bookshelf where I noticed a photo of him with his arm around a long-haired, redheaded girl seated on a Ferris wheel.

  “My girlfriend. Patricia…well…ex-girlfriend.”

  I glanced back and raised an eyebrow.

  “Ex?” I asked him questioningly. “Why do you still have her picture on your bookshelf?”

  “Eh.” He shrugged as he pulled his pants off and stood in his underwear. “My parents still think we’re a couple. I don’t want my mom pushing me to get back with her, so it’s easier just to pretend we’re stil
l together.”

  I turned back to the shelf and began inspecting the odd trophies on display. Most of them had gold-embossed pigs or cows on them. I grabbed one with the gold pig on it and read the inscription: Best of Show: Dutchess County Fair 1971.

  “What’s Best of Show?” I asked, turning around and finding him standing stark naked.

  “I show livestock.” He walked over and causally took it from my hands. “This one was for my pig, Suzie. Raised her from a piglet. She was quite the beauty.” He stared up in the air almost dreamily.

  “Um,” I hesitated, feeling very awkward that my cousin, whom I had just met, was standing mere inches in front of me talking about a pig, showing absolutely no concern whatsoever for his state of undress, “Um…what happened to her?” I tried to keep my eyes focused anywhere but down.

  “Oh. We ate her last winter,” he answered as if it was nothing to slaughter his pet pig and causally eat her for breakfast along with a couple of scrambled eggs.

  “You ate her?” I narrowed my eyes at him not believing that they would eat his show pig.

  “Yeah.” He put the trophy back on the shelf. “All these animals,” he swept his hand toward the prizes, “we either slaughter or sold. They’re livestock, not pets. They get old.” He shrugged.

  “Wow. I hope no one kills and eats me when I’m old,” I joked.

  “Just don’t go wandering around these woods at night and you’ll be okay.” He clicked his tongue.

  “Shit.” I grinned, tempted to punch him on the shoulder, but refrained, given I was more much more embarrassed by his nudity than he himself.

  He cackled as he walked over to the bedroom door.

  “There’s the latest edition Pig Breeder Digest on my nightstand if you want to do some light reading.” He pointed.

  “You’re not getting me this time.” I pointed at him.

  He pointed back and clicked his tongue before exiting, leaving the door open. I wonder if he walks around like that when his parents are home? I asked myself before shaking the thought from my head.

  I began exploring my newly-discovered cousin’s room. From the posters I could tell he was into dirt bikes, sports, and cars. I peered down at another framed photo on his desk of him in a baseball uniform kneeling next to a large trophy.

  I walked to another bookshelf on the opposite side of the room and examined the books neatly pressed together. Bits of paper containing handwritten notes stuck out the tops of them like mini-bookmarks. Turning my head to the side, I read the titles: Catcher in the Rye, A Tale of Two Cities, Moby Dick, War and Peace.

  War and Peace? My eyes widened. “He reads War and Peace?” I said aloud, not believing this country boy read classic literature. The little notes piqued my curiosity.

  Pulling out the massive novel, I opened it to one of the bookmarks and read the handwriting.

  Lise is superficial, almost empty. I feel Prince Andrei’s struggle to escape the confines of a relationship based on a social status. Patricia is my Lise, she only dates guys that she feels will elevate her popularity.

  That’s deep, I thought to myself.

  I continued flipping through the book reading the comments. Some were very personal and I felt a little guilty as though I was reading some form of a diary.

  After closing the book, I stood in awe. There was a whole other side of Will that I would have never guessed existed. This country boy was obviously very intelligent.

  Turning my head to the door, I listened to the loud singing that echoed from the bathroom down the hall. The Country and Western song he sang made me chuckle when I’d heard the words “drinking” and “pick-ups” every now and again.

  Just as I was about to place the heavy book back into its proper place, I felt something fall out and hit the top of my shoe. Glancing down at the folded piece of paper lying on the floor, I picked it up.

  I held the piece of notebook paper in my hand and debated on whether I should read it. I didn’t know my cousin, neither did he know me, but the temptation to find out more about him was too great.

  I glanced at the door again as Will’s baritone singing continued. Slowly unfolding the paper, I examined the very neat cursive handwriting and quickly began reading.

  Will,

  Things are not going well since we moved to Bangor. I hate it. I know Mom had to leave to escape my father, but I miss you so much. I think about us all the time, especially last summer when we hiked down to Miller’s pond and camped out under the stars. I’ll never forget that night and us sharing your sleeping bag together. You were so gentle with me and I knew you loved me even if you never would say it.

  I know us leaving was the best thing for Jennie, Mom, and me, but I just wished we weren’t so far away. I feel like I’m a million miles away from you.

  I miss you, Will; not only were you my boyfriend, but you were my best friend. I only hope I will see you again someday soon. I love you always.

  Marc.

  “Marc?” I said out loud, my jaw dropping. Will had a boyfriend named Marc? Will is gay? Holy shit!

  Few things in my short life have ever really shocked me, but this was definitely one of them. Will seemed like the straightest guy I’ve ever met in my life. The fact he had a boyfriend further shattered my previously held belief that homosexuals were effeminate. Maybe Will and I are more alike than I ever imagined.

  My mental ramble came to an end when I heard the singing stop. I quickly placed the letter back in the book and shoved it back onto the shelf before running to the bed.

  Just as I sat down, a naked Will re-entered the room.

  “Well, that feels better.” He strolled over to his dresser and stopped. He looked up at the mirror, catching my reflection. I smiled innocently.

  “Umm…you okay?” He tilted his head slightly.

  “Yeah.” I fidgeted nervously. “I’m fine.” I repositioned myself to where I didn’t look like a trained soldier sitting at attention.

  “What’cha been doing?” He looked at me a little suspiciously.

  I quickly looked around the room for an answer. “Those.” I pointed to a set of long skinny metal tongs hanging on his wall that looked like a giant wishbone. “What are those?”

  “Oh.” He turned around. “Those are ice tongs. I found them in Granddad’s barn.

  He walked over and pulled them from the wall. “Years ago, before electricity and refrigerators, there used to be icemen. Basically, they were these guys that came around in wagons selling these giant blocks of ice which people put in these enclosed wooden boxes, called iceboxes, to keep their food cold.” He opened and closed them. “They picked up the blocks with these things. I thought they were kinda cool so I hung them on my wall.”

  “Oh cool,” I said as he walked over and handed them to me. I tested them out, opening and closing the handles, trying to imagine picking up giant blocks of ice with them. The tongs dinged every time the two rods came together. It then made sense why Granny had called the refrigerator an “icebox” earlier in the day. I just thought she had a mind slip at the time.

  “Well, that’s the story Granddad told me, anyway.” He shrugged as he walked back to the dresser to hopefully put on some underwear.

  I glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and blushed when I accidentally looked too far down. Admittedly, I was shocked to see just how much our bodies were alike.

  Unable to resist asking him the one question on my mind, I rested my eyes on his. “Um. Do you walk around like that all the time?” I nodded, indicating his state of undress, unable to imagine being that casual about being nude in front of a complete stranger.

  He looked down as if he was oblivious. “Oh, naked you mean?” He laughed. “Most of the time, except when Mom makes me dress for dinner. I’m a practicing nudist.”

  My jaw dropped again.

  “You are so gullible.” He threw his head back and let out a boisterous laugh.

  “Would you stop that?” I yelled at him.

  He pul
led out a pair of underwear and slipped them on. “And to answer your question: that would be a big ‘no’. I don’t want my mother seeing Mr. Happy. You’re a dude and you’re family, so I didn’t figure you’d care.” He shrugged his shoulder.

  “Mr. Happy.” I scoffed.

  He slanted his head and lifted his eyebrows. “Muscle Russell?”

  “Pffft.” I laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Yep. Completely,” he said as he grabbed a pair of jeans from his closet.

  “So, Brother from another Mother, you wanna go watch some TV?” he asked after pulling on a ratty old T-shirt that had red paint splatters all over it. I had to admit my cousin was certainly unconventional, but I was really starting to like him.

  “Sure. Better than gathering around the radio listening to The Lone Ranger,” I said mockingly remembering Mom had told me it was her favorite radio show when she was a little girl.

  “Yeah, I don’t know why they won’t get a TV. Dad’s even tried to give them our old black and white one and they won’t take it.”

  At least I wasn’t the only one that thought my grandparents were crazy for not wanting one.

  We made our way back to the living room, and I sat down on the black vinyl sofa, the coldness of its surface permeating through my jeans. Will went over and turned the TV on. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he pushed his hair back over his ears. Even his hand gestures were like my own. Why I had never met Will in all my fifteen years didn’t make sense to me. Rotating the channel knob, he finally settled on a re-run of Gilligan’s Island.

  “I love this show.” I leaned back, pulling my eyes away as he turned around.

  “Gilligan!” Will imitated The Skipper’s voice as he sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, folded his arms behind his head, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

  As The Skipper flogged Gilligan with his cap, I cut my eyes to my left. Not only could my mind not grasp our resemblance, but the fact that he liked guys just like me.

  About that time, the front door opened, startling me and breaking my stare. I looked up at the big burly man with black hair and a beard entering. The vision of the Brawny Paper Towel Lumberjack popped in my head. His black-and-red checkered flannel shirt reinforced the image. Standing at least 6’4” or 6’5”, he looked as if he could take care of anyone that got in his way.