Ozrik #2
With his hands stuffed inside the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie and his shoulders near his ears, he faced me but said nothing. The haunted expression he wore when he answered the door remained.
I took his silence as my cue to speak, but before I opened my mouth to apologize for my behavior, the situation and Gale’s insistent precaution brought a thought to mind. Instead of expressing regret and asking for forgiveness, the words that came out were not the ones I planned.
“Your dad doesn’t know.”
It wasn’t a question, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Gale dodged. “Why are you here, Ozrik?”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Gale to look more distressed, but he managed it. Hurt bloomed in his eyes, and I stumbled on, hoping to repair the damage I’d caused.
“It was… impulsive. I didn’t mean any harm. I was fucking around. You told me to back off, and I didn’t listen. I guess… I’m used to hanging with the guys, and they know what I’m like. We’re rarely serious. We tease each other all the time. I took it too far.”
Still, he said nothing.
“I’m sorry?” The apology came across as more of a question, since Gale wasn’t giving me any clues about what he was thinking or feeling.
I shifted my weight and glanced at the house.
“Can you say something? I feel ten kinds of stupid right now, and I’ve spent the past three days kicking myself.
We’ve got a system brewing over Tulsa, and I don’t know if you’ve heard the latest from Charles, but he wants us to…
combine our resources.” I rolled my eyes at the audacity. “I don’t want things to be weird.”
Gale continued to silently stare.
“Fuck. What can I say to fix this? Are you mad? Do you want to punch me?” I spread my arms. “Take a free shot. I deserve it. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Why?” His voice was barely audible.
“Why? What do you mean why? I don’t understand.”
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Oh.” Was he serious? “Because I wanted to. I wrongly assumed you might want the same thing.”
Gale didn’t confirm or deny my assumption. For a while, he focused his gaze on the ground. Then, without a word, he continued walking. Away from the house and into the dark.
Unsure what else to do, I followed a few steps behind.
After a time, he entered a lightly wooded area and didn’t stop until he reached an ancient walnut.
He ran his sneaker over a protruding root and absently kicked the trunk a few times.
He picked at the bark, surveyed the surrounding trees, then glanced at the canopy overhead.
The branches and leaves blocked the stars and sky.
Eventually, he spoke, his voice quiet and strained. “He doesn’t know. No one does.”
I didn’t have to ask who or what he meant. I’d never been one to shy away from my sexuality, but I knew tons of people who fell on the queer spectrum who did. Living a loud, proud, and open lifestyle wasn’t for everyone. I respected that. The world was unkind, especially in our neck of the woods.
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
He didn’t respond, still staring at the treetops. A thin slice of moonlight bled through the canopy and kissed his pale cheeks. It hugged the curve of his lips, chin, and neck. I couldn’t help staring. He looked… vulnerable.
More questions surfaced, and I took a chance since we were alone. “Is that why you joined the seminary?”
A sad smile tugged at Gale’s mouth. “No.”
Considering his earlier reticence with the topic, I didn’t expect him to elaborate, so when he kept talking, I stayed quiet and still so I wouldn’t disturb the moment.
“It had nothing to do with it. At the time, joining the seminary seemed a logical next step. I wanted to dedicate my life to God. I guess you could say I was drawn to it.”
“Like a vocation?”
“Sure.”
He paused long enough that I chanced asking, “Is it why you left?”
Gale huffed a humorless laugh and turned to me. “You think I left the seminary because I suddenly discovered I was gay? No. I knew I was gay long before I joined.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Why is that important?”
“It’s not. I’m curious, and I want to understand what happened in the Jeep the other day.”
“There isn’t anything to explain.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “I disagree. I kissed you, and you ran like your ass was on fire. Can I ask you something?”
Gale tensed and closed his eyes like he was bracing for impact. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either, so I plowed ahead.
“Are you… um…” It dawned on me that what I wanted to ask was highly personal and none of my business.
“Am I?”
“Are you… like, celibate?” I winced. “I mean… You left the seminary, and not all religions follow that practice, but do you follow that practice?”
Gale side-eyed me. A sardonic smile tugged at his lips, but I didn’t know what it meant.
When he didn’t speak, I added, “I only ask because, well, I thought, maybe… I broke code or something.” A nervous laugh escaped. “I’m sorry if that sounds stupid. I don’t know how these things work.”
“I’m not a priest. I haven’t taken a vow of celibacy. I don’t even go to church anymore. God and I have a… different relationship now.”
“Oh. Okay. Good. I mean… Is that good? I don’t know if that’s good.” I laughed at myself because I’d never felt this uncomfortable in my life.
“It is what it is.”
“Regardless, I should have listened when you told me to back off, and I shouldn’t have teased you about…
” For whatever reason, I didn’t want to say erection to a guy who valued religion, so I made a gesture to my crotch, encompassing what I meant.
“I’m not that person. I don’t want to be that person. I’m truly sorry. I was an ass.”
Gale studied me for a long time. “I thought it was an act. I thought you were making fun of me and would race off and tell your friends and out me all over town. Humiliate me. Call me names. I don’t know.”
“I would never do that.”
“How would I know?”
“Is that really what you thought?”
He shrugged.
The fact that Gale’s first instinct was that I might do something so horrible bothered me. A lot. “Well, I’m telling you I would never do that. I hope you believe me.”
“Are you really bisexual?”
“Yes, and I really wanted to kiss you. I… should have approached it differently.”
The wary crease returned to his brow, and I wasn’t sure what caused it, nor did I know what else to say. Perhaps it was time to bow out. Maybe Gale would prefer to be alone.
As I was about to retreat, he spoke. “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?”
Gale ducked his chin and stared at the ground. “For freaking out. I’ve never—”
“Kissed anyone before?”
“No.” An edge of irritation entered his tone. “I have. Once.”
“At the seminary?”
“You’re very stuck on that. Let it go.”
“Sorry.”
He kicked absently at the protruding root before saying, “It’s a long story, but… I made a mistake with a guy once, and the consequences were devastating.”
I really wanted him to elaborate, but talking about that part of his life seemed to upset him, so I stayed quiet and took what he was willing to give.
“The point is, I’m afraid to… I don’t trust… People have been cruel in the past. I’m pretty messed up.”
And I’d done nothing to prove I was any different. A person could only say they were sorry so many times. It was time to walk away, but my feet refused to move. Kissing Gale wasn’t what I regretted. It was how I’d gone about it.
For all the world, I didn’t know why I wanted to do it again. I was the last thing he needed. Ozrik Devereaux was not someone who did relationships, and Gale was certainly not a man who would support emotionless flings.
His focus was on the ground, but when I stepped forward, entering his line of sight and personal bubble, he lifted his chin and met my gaze. Worry, mistrust, and a metric ton of panic radiated from his eyes.
“I was wondering,” I started, “with your permission, if we could try that kiss again.”
I held out my hand, an invitation. An offering. He could accept it or reject it. I would respect his decision either way.
Gale took an eternity to decide. He studied my face, glanced at my extended hand, and stared back in the direction of the house that was out of sight. Distress marked every inch of his face.
After several minutes, I lowered my hand, accepting that it was not something he could do. I wouldn’t admit to being disappointed, but deep down, I was.
“Have a good night, Gale. Thanks for listening.”
As I walked away, his thin voice called out, “Wait.”
I turned. He was in shadow, but a hint of moonlight glimmered in his eyes.
“I want to try again. I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m…”
I suspected the missing word was afraid, but he didn’t say it.
Gale held eye contact as I closed the distance. Tension radiated off him in waves.
I stopped when we were toe-to-toe. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance.
Slowly, I raised a hand and brushed the back of my fingers over his jaw. He flinched but didn’t move away.
“Are you sure?”
Gale offered the faintest nod, so I kissed him.