Chapter 7 The Worst Night of My Life #4
“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “I just lost my son because of you. Don’t even think of crying.” Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, and for a second I worried she was going to drive one of them into my face. “How long was it going on? The sex. How long were you two . . .?”
I looked away. “Just the once,” I whispered, embarrassed. “Just that night.”
“Kent wouldn’t say a word about it after he got home.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath like she was trying to calm herself down. “Were you at the lake when it happened? Were you a part of it?”
I gaped at her. “You think I hurt him? You think I was striking matches with them?” I took a step back, repulsed by the accusation.
It made me feel physically ill. “He’s—” I choked back a sob.
“He’s my Half-pint. He’s my everything. I could never hurt him.
I would never lay a hand on him.” I took a step back, dizzy and unable to focus.
He was gone. He was really gone, and I was alone.
The dreams we were dreaming, gone. My one chance at getting out of this town, gone.
The love of my life, gone. Trevor wasn’t ever going to unhook his claws from me.
I’d seen what he did to Kent. He’d do the same to me if I even thought of coming out. My future was gone.
“You loved him?”
My knees gave way and I fell down on my bed, gripping the sides of the mattress and holding on for dear life.
“More than anyone.” I looked up at her, needing her to know it.
“More than God.” I wasn’t sorry for saying it.
I knew it would probably damn my soul to Hell, but I would burn endlessly for Kent Fox.
“I’ve always loved him. From the very first day.
” It felt like my body was caving in on itself.
Pressure pressed down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
“Grayson,” she said, her voice softer than before.
I was pleading with my eyes, desperate to make it all stop.
To make us go back to that night at the lake, before everything blew up.
I would lead him to the place where Kate brought him pleasure instead of to my room.
We’d sit and snuggle for a while, laughing about how ridiculous he’d been for thinking I’d be mad at him for being gay, and for how unnecessary his attempt to turn himself straight had been.
There was no need to fix himself or hide that part of him, because we weren’t born broken.
“You have to go find him. You’ve got to bring him home. He’s no good on his own.” I wiped my cheeks with my palms. “I’m no good on my own, either. “
“I can’t,” she said, her face falling into a picture of resignation, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She closed her eyes, and her hands were shaking. I’d never seen her look so small. “Joel won’t let me.”
“Kent is your son. He needs you. He needs us.” I stood up, feeling a new spark of hope. “We’ll go together. Me and you. Let’s go find him and bring him home.” I grabbed my wallet and keys off the dresser.
“I can’t,” she repeated. She sounded so sure of it. It was like she’d been digging a hole for herself, knowing she’d never be able to crawl back out.
I felt like I was going to be sick, my stomach clenching and spinning at the same time. “What kind of mother are you?” Her eyes widened in shock, and so did mine. I’d never spoken to anyone like that. I’d never raised my voice at a lady.
She swallowed, breaking eye contact and looking at the floor.
“A heartbroken one,” she answered, her voice small and ashamed.
She took a deep breath, shaking her head.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a terrible mother.
I let him down when he needed me.” Her jaw worked, back and forth, side to side, tears spilling over.
“So did I,” I whispered, so ashamed of myself I couldn’t even look her in the eyes.
“I know I hurt him and I probably can’t ever take that hurt away, but we have to try.
If we can just find him, we can find somewhere for him to stay.
Miss Dottie would probably let him stay with her. We can’t just sit here and—”
“Grayson!” Trevor’s voice boomed into the room, echoing off the walls, engulfing every square inch of my bedroom. He was standing in the door frame, right behind Sister Fox. “Don’t say another damn word to her.”
Sister Fox’s hands were balled into fists, her knuckles white, little red lines stretched across her the creases in her skin.
She slowly turned around, and I don’t know what look she was giving Trevor, but it couldn’t have been good, because he took a step back like he was worried she was going to hit him.
“You ain’t welcome here, Caterina.” I’d never heard him sound so heartless. He sounded like he wanted to dig a hole to the center of the Earth and toss her into Hell himself. “You’re upsetting my brother.”
I gaped at him. He was being hateful on my behalf, but I held no hatred for Sister Fox. I didn’t need him to defend me. Sure, I might have said some nasty things to her a few seconds earlier, but Trevor was her son’s attacker. He was the whole reason we’d both lost Kent.
“Don’t ever speak to me again,” she growled.
I’d never heard that level of venom in her voice.
She had always had a baby-like tone to her voice, but every trace of that softness was gone.
“You’re a monster. A damn demon straight from the flames of Hell.
” Rearing back her arm, she slapped my brother with every ounce of strength she had in her.
Trevor took a stumbling step back, his cheek scarlet where she’d struck him.
Trevor’s shocked expression shifted into a sneer, and he took a step forward, lording over her intimidatingly.
“Tell your fuckin’ faggot son I said hi.
” The corner of his lip curled higher. “Oh, wait. You can’t, can you?
He’s on a bus right now, and you ain’t ever going to see him again.
Your husband will see to it. We talked about it when I called and told him what happened.
” He turned his gaze to me. “He’s dead to them.
Pastor Fox said so.” Cocking his head to the side, he smirked at her.
“Are you proud of yourself, Cat? Coming over to bully my family because you're too much of a fucking coward to get off your ass and go take care of your son?”
Mrs. Fox looked like she was ready to end his life, and so did I.
I launched off the bed and rushed forward, shoving Trevor into the hallway wall.
He was so much bigger than me, I barely made an impact at all.
As I dug my fingernails into his chest as deeply as I could get them, he laughed at me like I was amusing him.
“You don’t want to do this, Grayson.”
“Fuck you!” The word felt foreign on my tongue.
I never swore, but Trev dragged the word out of me, and once it was out, I couldn’t stop.
“Sister Fox is right. You’re a demon, and I hope when all this is over you get just as much as you gave to Kent.
I hope someone crushes everything you love and—” I stopped myself, watching in horror as he balled a fist and punched me in the face.
It sent me stumbling back and falling against the floor.
My head hit the wall and a picture frame fell, crashing down on my head, glass shattering, my head throbbing with dull pain. I let out a sob, unable to hold it in.
Trevor turned and glared at Sister Fox, whispering, “If you don’t get the fuck out of the house, I’ll do the same to you. Don’t ever come back here. Don’t look at my brother again. Don’t speak to him. You and your faggot son can stay the fuck away from my family.”
Sister Fox was trembling, and whether it was from fear or anger, I couldn’t be sure. Footsteps reverberated up the stairwell, and then my mother was in front of us, staring down at me in horror.
“What happened?” Momma asked. She knelt beside me, taking a handkerchief out of her pocket and placing it against my nose. “Why is your nose bleeding?” I couldn’t get a word out. I tried. Really, I did, but I couldn’t make my mouth work.
“She just ran up here and punched him,” Trevor said, feigning sympathy as he ran his fingers through my hair.
He was trying to come across as soothing to hide the truth from Momma.
When his hand rested against the back of my head—out of Momma’s line of sight—he curled his fingers, gripping my hair and pulling as hard as he could without being noticed. “Isn’t that right, Grayson?”
My face was aching from where he’d hit me, and the pull he had on my hair felt like someone was ripping each hair out, strand by strand. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted everything to stop.
“Yes,” I cried out, hating Trevor for forcing me to hurt Sister Fox again, and hating myself even more for going along with it.
I watched as Momma slapped Sister Fox across the face. “You get out of my house. You’re not welcome here.”
Sister Fox stared down at me, holding her cheek, looking shell shocked. I opened my mouth to argue in her defense, but with Momma distracted, Trevor leaned in, bringing his mouth to my ear.
“Tell her to leave,” he whispered, his voice hitting like poisoned darts. “Tell her to get the fuck out, or I swear to God, Grayson, I’ll drag your ass to the lake and give you the same treatment I gave your queer boyfriend.”
I stared into Sister Fox’s eyes, tears dripping down my cheek. “Go,” I choked out, the words feeling like a betrayal. “Get out. Just leave, Sister Fox.”
She let go of her cheek, her hand falling to her side, and the looks she gave me sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t anger or rage or devastation. It was disappointment. Resignation. The realization that we’d both just lost the most important person in our lives, and we could never have him back.
She nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’ll pray for you, Gray.” Then she was gone, like she’d never been there at all.
*
Later that night, Just a few minutes past midnight, my bedroom door creaked open. I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. He stood over me like he was God, staring down at his creation, prepared to send a flood to wash the world clean.
I didn’t fight it. We both knew I wouldn’t. There was no use.
I stood by the door as he rummaged through my things, collecting relics of my life with Kent.
An old sweatshirt that still smelled like him.
A VHS tape I was planning on giving him for his birthday.
Trevor left no space untouched as he searched out my hidden history with the boy I loved.
By the end of it, he had an armful of Kent’s belongings and a small bag of mementos that I’d hoped might get me through losing both Kent and the rainbow-colored sparkle in my heart.
Trevor led me through the hall, down the stairs, and toward the kitchen. We didn’t stop until we were out back, behind the barn. Trevor must have been planning this for a while, because there was a burn barrel set up already.
I knew what was coming next, and I hated him for it. I probably should have fought him, but he’d already taken so much from me. What was the point? All it would earn me was a black eye or another bloody nose, and a heart even more broken than the one I already had.
As he poured gas into the barrel, I managed to sneak an old picture of Kent and me into my shorts, tucking it into my underwear. If Trevor found it, he’d probably smack me around again, but I was long past caring.
Trevor lit a match and let it fall, sending up a beacon of fire and brimstone into the sky.
For a second, I hoped God might see it and take me home.
That He’d know how bad I was hurting, and He would show mercy.
I closed my eyes, imagining walking through those pearly gates.
There would be floors of marble with golden pathways leading up to His throne.
He’d be sitting up there, His arms held open to welcome me home.
“Grayson,” He would say, His voice loud and filled with thunder.
“Well done, my child,” He would say, and I’d know He’d meant it. That I’d passed His test.
Trevor pointed at the barrel. “Chunk it in there. All of it.”
I kept my eyes on him as I did it. It felt like it was my only way of standing my ground.
That if I stared deep enough into his eyes, I might pierce his soul.
Maybe it could crack some of that concrete he’d slathered around his heart.
I didn’t know if it was possible to hate anyone more than I hated him.
The fire burned beautifully, sending flaming embers of Half-pint and his Two-liter into the Texas sky.
When I got back to my room, I pulled the picture of us out of my underwear.
and stared at the smiling face of the man I loved.
In the picture, we were happy. Through his wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Kent Fox was staring at me like I’d just given him the world.
Maybe I had. Maybe by letting him go, I gave him some form of peace.
An escape from this God-forsaken city and its God-damned people.
In Dallas, he could burn bright, like a lighthouse in the dead of night.
Maybe one day his light might be able to guide me back to him.
There was a framed picture of Jesus on my nightstand.
I didn’t have a lot to say to Jesus or God at the moment, so I turned it around and opened the tabs that held the cardboard backing in place, and removed the picture of Jesus.
I knew I couldn’t keep the photo—not in its current state, at least—so I did the only thing I could.
I stared down at Kent’s lovestruck face, and I said goodbye.
“I love you,” I whispered, low enough that only God could hear.
“Be safe for me, Half-pint.” I stroked his cheek in the photo.
“Be happy.” I brought the picture to my lips and gave him one last kiss.
“Come home to me, one day.” Finally, I folded the edge of the picture back, tucking Kent away.
Out of sight, but never out of mind. It was my only way of keeping him safe.
Keeping him hidden from prying eyes that would look upon him with shame.
I buried Kent Fox behind the cardboard, but I buried a part of myself, as well.
The part I could never let them see. The spark that burned beautiful, just for him.