20. Mac
TWENTY
MAC
TWO YEARS AGO
Sawyer and I sit on my couch. One of the legs is busted, so it’s an effort to not end up on top of him. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I brought him here. We were down at the docks, and I finally told someone I was gay.
I felt so good, like I confessed my sins and God forgave me. I finally told someone, and Sawyer just smiled at me.
Of course, I knew Sawyer was safe. Not just because he’s gay, but because he’s always blushing around me. Always smiling shyly. He’s into me.
But looking at him sitting in my trailer as we pass the forty-ounce bottle back and forth, I wish I was into him.
He’s a great guy, and attractive, but he’s not him.
Sawyer is smaller, almost delicate, and he’s put together.
Apparently, I’m into hot white trash who wears duct-taped Chucks.
Men who always have dirt under their nails and stains on their shirts.
Sawyer’s mom works at the thrift shop in town. She’s always giving him the best clothes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was wearing makeup. I’ve never seen a man’s eyelashes look like his.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop wishing Sage was here instead. A fucking pipe dream. I take another swig of the forty ounce and grimace. I’m drunk, but I still have some taste buds.
Sawyer laughs and takes it back. The delicate column of his throat works when he swallows. I’m nervous. I’ve never kissed a guy before. I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin, and it’s fucking pathetic.
The forty is placed on the coffee table, and he’s blushing. He’s always blushing around me. For a while, I was afraid that would give me away. Like everyone would know I’m gay because the one gay guy knew somehow.
Sawyer’s looking at me, flushed with sparking eyes.
He’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me.
I lick my bottom lip, and he watches with lasered focus.
Fuck it. I close the gap between us, crashing my mouth to his.
It’s awkward and uncomfortable. Teeth crash into teeth, lips smash too close together.
But Sawyer doesn’t stop me; he moves closer.
His lips are so soft. I didn’t expect them to be so soft. Then his tongue is licking into my mouth with practiced ease. My nerves morph and twist into lust.
His hand lands on my crotch, my dick practically jumping into his hold. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! I’m actually kissing a guy; a guy is touching my dick. Everything feels amazing. His lips, his hand, his skillful tongue making my mind hazy.
When his hand slips inside my swim trunks, I jerk off my couch. His hand is so soft curled around my hard dick. Fuckkkk. I’m going to blow too soon. I’m gonna jizz in my pants and completely fuck up everything.
“What the fuck?” A booming voice crashes into the trailer. And everything stops. My body locks up. Every fiber of my body is coiled so tightly. Fear slams into me so brightly I don’t think I breathe. Time abandons me. I’m paralyzed in this moment.
No! No! He shouldn’t be here. It’s Saturday. Every Saturday he goes…somewhere. He doesn’t come stumbling in until Monday, at the earliest. I thought we’d be safe. I thought…
Sawyer jumps away from me, stumbling around the coffee table, hands held out to stop the fight that’s coming.
“I knew you were a fucking queer.” Dad’s voice is like the devil’s. Sinister and evil. I’m moving, my body forcing what my mind can’t. Pulling my shorts up. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, like that will erase what he saw.
Dad’s laugh is so cruel and lifeless, a cold sweat breaks out. I’ve always feared my dad. Always thought he was larger than life. But right now, he stands like a mountain.
“Dad, it’s not what—” He moves, stepping towards me with giant steps. Sawyer steps back, bumping into the wall. A photo falls to the ground, the glass cracking and shattering. Dad’s focus shifts, bloodshot eyes moving from me to Sawyer.
My body moves again without my saying so, stepping in front of Sawyer to get Dad’s focus back on me. Sawyer wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. He’d be safe at the docks or at home. I brought him here. I can deal with Dad.
“Sawyer, run!” I whisper, or shout, or mouth—I’m not sure. There’s a ringing in my ears. My eyes can’t move from Dad as he snarls and growls like a rabid dog. But Sawyer hears me as he steps to the side, glass crunching under his flip flops.
“Dad. It was nothing, just kids fucking around. I’m not gay,” I lie.
True fear has a taste. It’s bitter and ashy. Sharp and acidic. I can’t taste the lie on my tongue, only the fear in the air. But it keeps my dad’s focus on me. Keeps Sawyer forgotten.
Dad jumps over the broken couch, feet slamming down, cracking the frame further. But Sawyer is running. He’s running past him and out the door. He’s safe. At least I did that. The screen door slamming shut after him gives me a moment of relief.
But Dad is grabbing my shirt, screaming into my face, spit and rage landing on me. “You’re a fucking faggot! I should have killed you.” I flinch in his grip, knowing what comes next. Knowing I can’t stop this train.
The first hit has me wavering in his hold. My vision swims, and black fog descends. My movements are slow and staggered after he hits my head again. His fist slamming into me makes my thoughts rattle in my skull.
I fall back, landing in the broken glass. I cry out. Or I think I do. Dad’s screaming and raging, and everything hurts.
Punches, kicks, I can’t get away. I ball up, trying to make myself smaller. Make myself disappear. Tears and blood.
Voices. Voices other than Dad’s. Dad’s being pulled away. His fists can’t reach me anymore, but his foot hits my ribs. I can’t hear anything around me.
White noise. Static filling my ears.
He stopped.
Sawyer’s face fills my distorted vision. NO! He can’t be here. He left. I protected him. His hands frame my face. His eyes are so wide, so afraid. His mouth is moving. My name, he’s saying my name. Possibly screaming it, but it’s lost to the static. Only a choked sob is my answer.
He’s helping me up, my body too big for him to hold up completely. Everything hurts. I feel like I’m dying. Every inhale is like shards of glass in my lungs. But I stand, unsteady on my feet, arm slung over Sawyer’s shoulder, his around my waist. His body almost crumbles under my weight.
Four men are in my trailer. Four men holding my dad back as he fights against them. Sawyer’s brothers, and one of their friends. He came back to save me.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Mac! Do you fucking hear me, you piece of shit! If I see you again, you’re dead!” My dad spits the words, throwing a grenade at my feet. “No son of mine will be a fucking fag!” One of Sawyer’s brothers presses his arm against Dad’s throat, cutting off his rant.
“Shut the fuck up, Dave!” one of the brothers tells Dad.
“Come on, Mac, it’s ok.” Sawyer helps guide me out the door. Every sob sends waves of pain and nausea. Every breath is agony when air presses against my ribs.
The next thing I know is Sage. His brown eyes. His shaggy, blond hair. Tears are falling down his face. I try to wipe them away but end up dropping my arm when it hurts.
“It’s ok. You’re ok. Fuck, everything is ok,” Sage mutters, to himself or to me, I don’t know. He’s holding something to my head, wetness is dripping. Blood. Why am I bleeding so much?
Everything feels wrong. Everything hurts. But Sage is here. Everything will be ok.
My dad’s threat hangs over my head like a sword. I can’t let him find me here. He’ll go after Sage or Mom. I can’t let him hurt them. Panic floods me, strangling my throat in a chokehold. I try to stand, but my body fails me. I crash back to the floor, a shout ripping from my throat.
“I have to go. We. We have to leave! Sage, please!” I’m pulling him by his shirt, blood bleeding into the fabric from my hands. “Please! Please fucking come with me?” Sage is shaking his head, his hand pressing me back so I can lay on the ground.
“We aren’t going anywhere, ok? You’re safe here, Mac. I promise you’re safe.” But I’m not. I’m not safe, not from Dad. He’ll know I came here; he’ll find me here. But he won’t stop at me. He’ll hurt Sage, too. Hurt Mom.
I thought I knew what fear was. But the thought of Dad hurting Sage or Mom shows me I knew nothing. It’s suffocating. It’s all consuming. Filling my stomach with dread and the taste of ash.
If he won’t leave with me, I’ll have to go on my own. I have to leave. I have to keep him safe. If I stay, he has a target on his back. I can’t let him get hurt because of me. I’ve caused his life enough pain.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
Later, I wake up in Sage’s bed. Everything throbs with separate heartbeats. My left eye only opens enough to see a slit of light from the hallway.
Sage sleeps with his back plastered to the wall, giving me as much space as he can in the tiny bed. His hand is wrapped around my wrist, fingers over my pulse point. He was making sure he could feel I was still alive. My heart stutters with that.
I don’t remember much after I got to his place. It’s all blurry and foggy. Muted by pain and panic. I must have passed out, but I don’t know when. Sun light is just starting to filter in through the window, casting Sage in a soft glow.
I greedily watch him sleep, memorizing every feature I’m afraid I won’t get to see again. I have to leave. I have to leave, and he won’t come with me. I get why he won’t; his mom would never survive if he ran. And she’s too much of a mess to take with us.
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave him. But I can’t stay here. He’s not safe if I do. My tears land on the pillow we share.
When the sun gets brighter in the room and an unknown amount of time has passed, I gather every ounce of strength I have. It’s not much. But I climb from the bed, carefully peeling his fingers off my wrist last.
I don’t want to do this.
My heart pounds in my chest so fast I think it might break free. Break free and stay with the guy who has had it this whole time.
With one last gluttonous look, I leave. I walk from his room and out the front door. Every step is agony, physically and emotionally. The path ahead is blurry, and stars dance along my vision.
But I walk.
Heading out of the park I’ve called home my entire life. I won’t miss a lot of it. But a few people will hate me for leaving. June, Luna, Sawyer, Levi, Mom, and God, Sage. He’ll never understand. He won’t forgive me for this. Their faces flash around in my fucked head.
I force my body to keep walking. Every step feels like a hurdle I have to cross. Blood stings my eyes along with the tears.
Then everything fades black.
The curtain falls.