Chapter 9 #2
“I do,” I say quietly, then look at him with wide eyes. I’m not sure if that’s something I’m supposed to let him know. I don’t want to make this fake relationship awkward.
I can’t quite decipher the emotion on his face. Longing? Hopefulness? I’m not sure because it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “Come on, my creepy, creepy friend. We have a suit to pick up.”
He leads me to his car, and we climb in and pull off. I reach over to turn the radio down and Ethan gives me a curious glance. “What’s up, creep? Something wrong?”
“No. I was wondering,” I say, taking a deep breath to fortify myself against whatever answer he’s going to give me, “are we going to Homecoming together? Or am I going to meet you there? Crystal would give me a ride.”
He glances at me with a raised eyebrow. “We’re going together. I thought that was implied since you’re my boyfriend.”
Even though my heart flutters, I murmur, “You don’t have to say that when people aren’t around.”
He glances over at me and opens his mouth as if to say something, but just sighs and says, “Okay.”
“So, I’m riding with you.”
“Yeah, creep. You can either stay the night after the game or I can pick you up on Saturday from your place.”
“No!” I practically yell. Ethan shoots me a look. “No,” I say in a lower voice. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll pack enough today to last through the weekend. Is that cool?”
I don’t want to get ready for Homecoming at my house. It’ll take me too long and my mom will probably find a way to ruin my suit or my night. I’d rather stay with him so we can go together.
“Fine with me. I like having you around.”
“Why?” I ask, still not sure. I mean, I enjoy his company, too.
I like talking to him and hanging out with him.
Watching movies, and even dancing in his living room with him, was more fun than I’d had in ages.
But what am I offering him? I barely speak louder than a whisper half the time, and he carries the conversations the other half.
He shrugs, turning into the mall parking lot. “You make me feel like I have a real friend.” Before I can ask him to elaborate, he turns the engine off and gets out.
Like he has a real friend? He has plenty of friends. He’s the most popular guy in school. Everyone likes him.
I get out as well and follow behind him. To my surprise, he reaches out and clasps my hand in his. I don’t try to pull away because I know he’ll just grab it again.
Todd greets us warmly as we step inside the shop, and hands the suit over. He opens the garment bag and shows us the final product, making sure we’re okay with it. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, so I leave it up to Ethan.
When we leave the mall, he drives me to my house and idles on the curb. “Want me to come in with you?” he asks. “I can help you grab the stuff you need.”
I shake my head quickly and climb out of the car. I barely know what I’m going to encounter when I walk in my house. It could be filthy, my mom drinking on the couch, food everywhere. No, I’d rather he didn’t see any of that.
I’m glad I didn’t invite Ethan in. My mother is sprawled in the middle of the living room floor in just her bra and panties, an empty gin bottle beside her.
I hate days like this. Days when she’s so drunk she sleeps where she lands, and I have to clean her up because she might have thrown up, spilled alcohol on herself, or both. On these days especially, her filter is gone and she says even more hurtful things than she usually does.
Sighing, I consider leaving her there. Just walking to my room, grabbing my shit and taking off. But I don’t. I can’t leave her like this.
After I drop my backpack in my room, I drag myself back to the living room.
I nudge her with my foot, wanting to see how bad off she is. “Mom. Come on. Get up.” She doesn’t budge. Again, I sigh and bend down to her. “Mom. Wake up.”
She stirs, curling into a ball and waving me off. “Go away, Leonard.” Leonard is my father. He’s always at work, so I don’t know why she thinks he would be the one helping her up off the floor.
“Come on, Mom. It’s time for bed.” I get my hands under her arms and drag her up. While my mom is small, I’m not very strong, so it’s not easy to pull her upright.
Her head lolls to the side, leaning on my shoulder. I slide my arms around her back and work to get her standing. Once on her feet, she pushes me away and staggers down the hall. “Get your hands off me. I can walk.”
Still, I follow behind her, making sure she doesn’t fall down on her way to bed. She didn’t throw up and only her breath smells like gin, so she didn’t spill it on herself either.
She collapses on the bed and I pull the blanket over her. “You’re sweet,” she slurs, reaching a hand out to me. I grasp her hand, thinking this is one of the moments where she actually loves me, even though she’s pissy drunk.
I don’t get so lucky. “Probably why you’re a sissy. No real man is this sweet.”
I drop her hand like it burns and turn to leave.
Unfortunately, she’s not done.
Before I can shut her bedroom door, she says, “We’ll never be grandparents, Leonard.”
Against my better judgement, I stop, wanting to know what else she’ll say. I want to know what she says when she’s talking to my father. “Homos can’t have kids. I’ll only ever be a mother. What did I do so wrong that I was cursed with a gay son?”
Holding back tears, I go into my room and pack a bag. I’m not really paying attention to what I’m throwing in, but I know it’s more than what I’ll need for the weekend. I just keep stuffing it with whatever my hands touch.
When I’m done, I race outside, stumbling when I hop down from the porch. I slide into the passenger seat, holding my bag to my chest.
“You okay?” Ethan asks, concern lacing his tone.
I open my mouth, intending to answer. Instead, I burst into tears.
“Shit, Jakoby. What happened? What is it?”
He reaches over to me, but I shrink away from him. I don’t want to be at my house anymore, and if he hugs me, I’ll want to stay in his arms for hours. “Just drive, please,” I choke out, dropping my head in my hands to cover my pain.
I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why I let her words hurt me. No one else’s do. But no one else is supposed to love me unconditionally. No one else is supposed to protect me from the world. No one else is supposed to always be in my corner.
That’s my mother’s job. She’s the one who’s supposed to have my back when people say hateful shit to me, not be the one saying it.
I should want to come to her when someone hurts me, telling her about my pain and expecting her to make it better.
My mother shouldn’t feel like I’m a curse on her just because I’m gay.
I’ve been a good son. I make good grades, I’m never in trouble, I don’t do or sell drugs. I stay out of the way, barely asking for anything, not even love and acceptance. But no matter what I do—or don’t do—it’s never enough. I’m never enough.
The tears are still coming hard and fast when Ethan stops, but I’m no longer audibly sobbing. I blink and see that we’re not at his place, but at a lake with a pier.
Ethan gets out and comes around to my side of the car, taking my bag from my hands and pulling me out. He places the bag in the backseat, then grabs my hand and walks me to the end of the pier.
He sits at the edge and offers me his hand. “Come here,” he tells me quietly, and pulls me down to sit beside him. “You want to talk?”
Though I want to say no, I nod. I look out over the water and sigh. “My mom. She’s always…so mean.” My breath hitches and I feel more tears pour from my eyes. “Mainly about me being gay.”
I look at Ethan and he looks extremely sad. “Damn, I didn’t know. Am I making it harder by saying you’re my boyfriend?”
“No. She doesn’t know that. She’s been saying horrible things to me since I came out to her and my dad. Tonight, she said…” I pause to wipe the tears from my eyes. She really has a way of fucking me up. “She said she was cursed with a gay son.”
Her calling me names isn’t the worst part. It’s that she thinks I’m a curse. It’s not like I chose to be gay. This is how I was born, how I was made. Did God curse me, too? Did he make me this way so I could have such a horrible life?
I put my head in my hands and the sobs start again. Ethan pulls me into him and I wrap my arms around his waist, using his strength as the comfort I so desperately need. He rubs my back and tells me it’s okay. Even though it might not be true, it’s exactly what I need to hear.
Ethan is making me feel safe. He’s making me feel like I can be vulnerable with him.
It’s probably the reason I opened up and told him what only Crystal knows.
With his arms around me, I know if I ever break down, if I ever need to get my emotions out with tears, Ethan will be there, being strong for me when I can’t be strong for myself.
When my tears start to dry up again, Ethan kisses my forehead and asks, “Better?”
I nod and wipe my face, feeling embarrassed by my crying fit. It’s not like my mother said anything new. I’m sure she and my dad probably had that discussion more than once without me knowing. My dad and I aren’t close, but I always thought he would at least not hate me like she does.
Guess that’s too much to ask.
We sit at the pier for a little while longer so I can get myself together and calm down. I hear him fumbling beside me and see him take out his phone. I give him a questioning look, but he’s not paying me any attention.
Music pours from his phone and I give him a shaky smile. It’s the song I was singing in the car when we were on the way to his house the first time. Ethan wraps his arm around my shoulder as I face the water and sing.
I’m shocked that he remembered I’d said I sing when I’m sad, and even more shocked that he remembered the song I was singing. It’s one of my favorites. A classic, like my father would call them, when we would sing early in the morning when I was a kid.
That’s why it’s my favorite. It’s from a time when I didn’t have a care in the world and I knew my parents loved me. Not like now, with my mom talking down to me, attacking my character because of who I choose to love.
The song isn’t very long, but by the time it ends, I feel better. I’m glad Ethan brought me here. It’s peaceful, puts me at ease.
Ethan pulls me closer to him. “How do you feel now?” he asks me quietly, like he doesn’t want to disrupt the evening by speaking too loud.
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
My ‘thank you’ is for more than just him asking how I am. It’s for sitting with me. It’s for being my friend. It’s for being here with me, even if he didn’t say anything. It’s for remembering my favorite song and allowing me to release my pain the only way I know how. It’s for being him.
“Good. Wanna stay here longer or head home?” he asks.
“We can go. I’m okay, I promise,” I say quietly.
He stands, then takes my hands to help me up. I peer up at him and he’s looking at me with sad eyes, but thankfully, they don’t show pity. I think I’d break down again if he pitied me. My life is pretty fucking tragic, but I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Once we’re inside the car, he turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod. I put my hands between my legs nervously, thinking he’ll ask something about my mom or my home life. I’m not ready to tell him everything just yet.
Taking a deep breath, he turns his body fully to me and says the strangest thing I've ever heard. “Will you go on a date with me?”
Huh?
“A date?” I squeak out. What is he playing at? No one knows we’re fake dating, so he doesn’t have to go out with me.
He shrugs and looks down, as if shy. “Yeah, a date. I figure that’s another thing you haven’t done yet. We can get some food and, I don’t know, hang out and talk.”
Ethan is blurring the lines bad. A date? My head understands what he’s trying to do, but my stupid traitorous heart is jumping for joy, leaping at the thought that I could possibly be going on a date with my crush of many years.
Clearing my throat and looking at my hands in my lap, I murmur, “We can go as friends. No one is going to see us out anywhere, so we don’t have to pretend.”
For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything. I peek up at him and see that he’s giving me a weird look like he’s…sad? No, can’t be.
It doesn’t take him long to school his expression, and now he’s giving me that bright smile that I love so much. “Of course, creep. Friends. Is now cool? Unless you’d rather go home?”
“Now is fine. Where to?”
“Uh uh uh,” he tsks at me. “I’m not going to reveal my secrets. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Let your ‘boyfriend’ take care of you,” he says with a wink, air quoting the word. Even when he says it as a joke, my heart flutters.
I’m in way over my head.