Chapter 23 #2
I couldn’t relax. I put on some pants and went outside to get some air.
I thought I was alone, but as soon as the smell of a cigar hit my nostrils, I realized that I was mistaken. My grandpa was smoking on the porch swing. He was an old vet with thick whiskers and permanently furrowed brows.
In Vietnam they shot at his ear, but he could hear perfectly out of his other one.
“There’s someone with you, I heard it.”
“He’s a friend. He’s crashing here.”
“You’ve never brought a pretty girl here,” he griped, swallowing the smoke.
“In that case you would’ve given me crap because I’d brought a girl here to spend the night,” I pushed, making him grimace with disappointment.
“In that case your old man would be bursting into cheers, Jax.”
I froze. “What?”
“I don’t like that you sleep with other men.” My jaw dropped. I was speechless for a little while.
“I told you. He’s a friend of mine. I—” I had to stop myself and swallow again. “It’s not the ’50s,” I finished weakly.
“What’s that gotta do with anything, son?”
Grandpa pushed on the arms of the chair and slowly got up. I was inundated with the persistent, nauseating smell of cigars.
“I mean, times have changed and men sleep together even if they’re not lovers. There’s nothing to be embarrassed by,” I explained.
“Do you think I didn’t sleep with my fellow soldiers?” He knit his thick eyebrows.
“Exactly, you see, it’s the same thing.”
“You’re the one who’s different, Jax.”
Those words stabbed me in the gut.
“Good night, Grandpa.”
I turned to the French door, but he pointed in index finger at the sky.
“Always think of your dad when you do what you do, Jax. And ask yourself if he’d be proud of you.”
It didn’t seem like a good time to think about either of my parents. They died two years ago when they were picking me up from a party that they didn’t even want me to go to. I shook my head and without saying anything more, I went back to my room feeling like the lowest of the low.
James was asleep on his stomach, both of his arms covered by the pillow and the sheet that caressed his thighs. He was a portrait of perfection.
My eyes didn’t stay open long.
>> <<
I awoke with a start to the smell of coffee in my nostrils.
“Where’d that come from?” I asked, stretching out.
My back cracked a bunch of times. I’d slept so badly that I felt every muscle screaming at me.
“Your grandma brought it to me,” replied James hoarsely, lying on my bed looking at his phone.
“Were you at least wearing underwear when she opened the door?” I barely got up off the floor.
“I just woke up. I just showed her what I looked like in all my glory.”
Mortified, my jaw dropped.
“Are you a fucking idiot? Of course I had underwear on,” he rushed to clarify when he realized that I’d taken it literally.
I looked in the oval mirror on the wall. The bags under my eyes were the first thing I noticed.
“Who is it? Taylor?” I pointed at his phone. What I saw on the screen was clearly two tits.
“She’s trying to get me to forgive her for the other day, but it won’t work. We’re over.”
“She’s always forgiven you for everything, but . . .”
“Whose fucking side are you on, Jax?” he snapped, getting off the bed. He picked up an abandoned eye pencil on the desk and approached me. “After the way she chewed me out in theater class, I’m not seeing her again. Not even if she gets down on her knees.”
He held my chin between his thumb and index finger. He concentrated and pointed the pencil at my eyelids, letting the soft part brush along the rims. “Do you put it on too?” I asked.
“No. My eyes are sensitive first thing in the morning, I start to well up.”
The ease with which James told me certain things always left me breathless. I wanted to be with him, for him to accept me for who I was and maybe for what I thought I was right then.
I’d tried everything I could to make myself like girls.
But nothing compared to this. I could’ve screamed it at the top of my lungs to get it off my chest. I knew my friends wouldn’t judge me.
James was the first one to not label himself.
He was the first one to feel free, but I wasn’t like that.
The mere thought of showing myself for exactly who I was ate away at me.
A shirtless James headed for the door. “See you at practice.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, perplexed.
“I’m going home to change.”
“Do you want to borrow something?” I pointed to the closet.
He smiled. “You’d be doing me a solid, thank you very much.”
I watched him fling the closet door open and rummage through.
“So what are you doing with Hood today?”
“Jackson, Jackson, you know that I never think before I act. Thinking is for idiots. I rely on pure inspiration.”
“Quit watching that movie when you’re wasted, your brain’s gonna rot.”
“A Clockwork Orange is a great movie! And it certainly won’t be what fucks my brain up.
” He shot me a crooked grin. “You don’t have anything more subtle than this, do you?
” He pulled out one of my brightly colored vests then bit his lower lip.
“Why not? The religion teacher will have a stroke if I show up wearing only this.”
“Where’d your uniform go?” I asked him, focused on finding mine on the recliner with a pile of clothes that had been on it for days.
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he muttered before grabbing a gray hoodie.
“Hey, this is mine!” he shouted, and I froze.
“Oh yeah?” I tried to use the most innocent voice possible, but he caught me red-handed.
“Yeah, what the fuck is it doing here?” he asked, then sniffed it. “Did you at least wash it?”
“Um.”
“It reeks of smoke and the scent of my shower gel. Nasty, you could’ve washed it.”
“I never put it on. I forgot I even had it.” He put on my favorite vest over his hoodie.
“All right, I’m going. I’ll see you at school.”
Fuck, no, don’t take it away from me, I thought.