I stood at the bottom of the stairs, considering which path I should take as I glared at my parents. I couldn’t believe they had the unmitigated temerity to face me and want to talk after what they did to me! They had completely destroyed my life, and here they were, wanting to speak to me as if nothing had happened! Well, I didn’t want anything to do with the bastards.
“Brian?” Chris called softly, his face asking the question.
“Tell them I’m not here,” I said coldly, staring directly into my father’s eyes.
With a deliberate, unhurried pace, I climbed the stairs back to what was now my room and shut the door. Sitting on my bed, I began rocking gently with my knees held close to my body. I felt hot, burning hot. Sweat covered my face. The pain I was trying so hard to contain had flared up again when I saw my parents’ faces and their eyes met mine. I had literally felt my body tense up. The adrenaline level in my blood had skyrocketed and my vision swam as the fight-or-flight reflex had kicked in. It had been all I could do to keep my voice steady.
Tears soaked my shirt and cooled rapidly on my chest. Silently, I cursed them and the emotions that produced them. Pete was out of my reach. That was the way things were. That was reality, and I needed to come to terms with it quickly if I was to go on and not lose my sanity.
A heavy knock sounded at the door. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to see anyone, but if it was Chris, I could use his support to help me through. I could finally see that.
“Come in,” I said in a voice made gravel-rough by my crying.
The door opened and revealed my father whose eyes were hard and jaw was set. I was on my feet in an instant, standing on the bed and ready to launch myself away from any aggressive move he might make as the adrenaline kicked in again. My eyes narrowed as he slowly approached.
“Stop,” I said forcefully, the tenor of my voice making the word a command. “Don’t come any closer.”
My father’s unforgiving tone spoke volumes. “It’s not enough that you leave us, is it? You have to go and walk all over your mother’s feelings every time we see you, when we see you. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her? You’re destroying her, and you’re destroying our family!”
“You did that, not me!” I growled. “You should have thought about it before you betrayed me!”
“Don’t give me that shit about you loving him. You’re only thirteen for Christ’s sake. You were only boyfriends,” and he loaded that word with contempt, “for four days. If you even know what real love is.”
“Do you?” I shouted lividly. “Do you treat someone you love like you treated me? Like you’re treating me now? No! If you really loved me you would have told me Pete was leaving so I could at least say good-bye, and maybe find a way for him to stay! You would have believed me when I told you I loved him! Now I know the reason you didn’t. You don’t want a fag for a son! Well, you got your wish! You don’t have a son anymore! Do you hear me? I am not your son!”
A shot rang out in the confines of my small room. I hadn’t even seen it coming, but I certainly felt the aftereffects. I was knocked backward against the wall and slid down to a seated position on the bed. My father was standing over me, his nostrils flaring on his bright red face. Unsteadily, I regained my feet. Stars were swimming in front of my eyes and my ears were ringing. My cheek throbbed in time with my accelerated heartbeat, as did the back of my head where it had impacted the wall. I stared into his eyes while placing a hand on the wall to steady my stance.
In my mind, it was like I was standing behind a glass wall, seeing everything as it happened, but unable to do anything to stop it. I didn’t care. It really didn’t matter what he was going to do to me. He could even kill me. I didn’t care anymore.
“So that’s the way it is?” The pain caused me to slur my question. “You want to bash your little faggot son?”
Dad blinked as I stepped toward him. He took a step backwards when I got off the bed and onto the floor. The vertigo induced by the first blow caused me to nearly lose my balance, but the desk chair helped me recover. My father still wore a mask of rage.
“Huh?” I asked him again. “You want to beat the shit out of me?”
I continued to advance on the man.
“Well, here I am. Go ahead! Do it!” I taunted him cruelly.
“Brian, stop it!” he yelled, his uncertainty clear in his voice.
“Fuck stop it! What are you waiting for?”
I punched my father in the chest. He grunted from the impact, but I’m certain I did no damage. He pushed me away and I staggered to my left, but I came at him again when I regained my balance, screaming my defiance.
“Come on, dad!” I roared derisively. “Do it! Kick my ass. I’m just a fag. Are you afraid of me?”
“Brian, don’t!”
Using his reluctance against him, I punched him in the gut, not quite causing him to double over. Reflexively, he pushed me away again. I fell between the foot of the bed and the dresser, once again hitting my head against the wall. I immediately stood up on rubbery legs and advanced on my father again, using the wall for support.
“What are you doing?” I bellowed. “What are you waiting for?”
I swung again, but my dad blocked it, and the three punches that followed.
“Get it over with!” I roared. “Kill me!”
Those words had a tremendous impact on my father. He suddenly backed out of the room, causing me to stumble forward in my rush toward destruction. We both stopped. I was breathing hard while leaning against the closet door and he was just outside the room in the hallway. Our eyes met and I saw a single tear fall down my father’s cheek from his now mournful eyes. Defeated, he turned away and walked down the stairs.
I slammed the door closed and went back to my bed, sobbing. I gathered up my pillows and held them tightly, chewing on my hand to stifle my screams. I couldn’t stop crying.
A basal urge overwhelmed me, and I raced out of my room to the bathroom across the hall. I barely lifted the toilet lid in time. My stomach took over at that point, expelling everything that was in it. The spasms continued for an uncountable number of heaves.
A short while later, Chris opened the bathroom door and peeked in, then raced to my side. I was feeling dizzy, unable to concentrate on anything but the toilet bowl in front of me. The whole world was spinning around me, making me ill. Another spasm took me into its clutches.
“Brian, are you okay?” Worry colored Chris’ tone. “Look at me, buddy. C’mon. I need to see.”
I did as he asked, and my vision closed in. His gasp was the only thing I heard before the blessing of unconsciousness fell over me.
I awoke in my bed and groaned in pain. I heard someone breathing next to me, and the rustle of a newspaper.
“Brian, honey, can you hear me?” Kathlene asked in a soft, comforting voice.
I grunted in response. My body ached all over. Pain registered in my head, face, arm, shoulder and back. I didn’t want to open my eyes. There was no point. I just wanted to die.
“How do you feel, Brian?”
I deliberately turned my back on her, rolling toward the wall. I didn’t want to talk to her, or anyone else for that matter. I could feel tears forming in my eyes and the weakness that allowed them made me angry. It made me furious. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?
I jumped out of bed, heedless of my state of undress. My shorts were sitting on the floor, and I pulled them on and fastened them over my naked body. I carried my shoes and socks downstairs with me, followed closely by Chris’ mother.
“Brian, where are you going?” Kathlene’s voice took on a new tone: that of alarm and concern backed by the hard edge of a parent who would brook no nonsense.
I sat on the bottom step, pulled on my socks and shoes, all the while ignoring what she was saying. I only had one thought on my mind, and that was to get away. Finished tying my shoes, I stood and headed to the front door.
“Brian, it’s cold and raining. You can’t go out like that!”
Still ignoring her, I opened the front door and ran off into the darkness. Kathlene called after me several times, but I paid no attention. My mind was no longer operating on conscious thought. A primal need had made itself known and commandeered my body. I moved only to meet that need.
“Running away won’t solve anything!” Kathlene’s words echoed in my ears as I ran down the street.
I remember running to La Playa field, and I remember sitting on a bench for a long time. The rain had thoroughly soaked the meager clothing I wore and ran down my mostly bare body. Although the wind whipped around me, I felt no cold. The inner heat caused by exercise and rage kept me warm.
I was jogging around the perimeter of La Playa Field when I truly regained conscious control of my body. Stopping in my tracks, I took stock of my condition. Everything considered, I felt well. The pain in my head and face was still there. My arm and shoulder ached a little bit, and I saw a black bruise near my elbow in the yellow light of a nearby streetlamp. My back ached abominably but I decided I could live with it.
Having no idea what time it was, I decided to head back to the Forn house. It was certain that Chris and Kathlene were worried sick over my sudden departure, so I started for home immediately. A car horn startled me as I came off the grass and into the parking lot leading to the road home.
Danny’s baritone voice cut the air. “Want a ride?”
The raw pain of betrayal had been compounded by the incidents of the day, and he was just as guilty as my parents. His share of the blame was even bigger, because he was gay and knew what it was like to love another boy. Instead of answering him, I glowered at him and continued my run. Danny paced me in his squad car for about a block before I couldn’t take it anymore and darted off the road into an alley that came out on a trail Chris and I ran occasionally. It would be foolhardy in the extreme to run it at night and in the rain, so I resigned myself to walk the rest of the way home.
The rain cooled my body quickly. By the time I came in sight of the house I was shivering slightly. My brain was on overload and it felt as if I were being crushed by an invisible weight mad heavier with each passing moment. I knew that unless I found a way to cope with the torturous thoughts dominating my consciousness I would collapse both mentally and emotionally. I couldn’t allow that because I needed to stay healthy if I were to find a way to be with Pete again.
Danny’s car was sitting in the driveway of the darkened house when I got there. Not wanting to face him, I did what I could to sneak around the back of the house to the weight room. I never knew if Danny saw me or not.
When I stepped into the weight room and turned on the light, I immediately noticed that I wasn’t the only person there. Chris was sleeping on a double air mattress, having made room for it by moving one of the weight benches out of the way. He was startled awake by the sudden brightness and then smiled sleepily when he saw me.
“Hey, Bri,” he said through a yawn. “Thought you’d crash here.”
“You did?” I asked suspiciously.
“Sure,” he confirmed as he stretched, his muscles rippling under his tight skin. “It’s where you came last time you ran away. Made sense.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said in a preemptory manner while holding up a hand to emphasize my words.
“I didn’t ask.” Chris stood and held out a plastic bag. “Put everything you’re wearing in this. I have a towel and a pair of sweats for you to put on. If you don’t want to go in the house, you can sleep here with me.”
I took the bag from his hand and said, “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” Chris asked curiously.
“Sleep here with you?” I asked, being more dense than usual.
“Sure,” he said with a nod. “That’s why I have the mattress. I don’t like sleeping on a hard floor.”
“You don’t have to sleep out here. You have a bed inside.” I was perplexed.
“So do you, Brian,” Chris said, sympathy and concern filling his quiet voice. “You have more than that, too. Mom was so worried about you, she called Danny and asked him to look for you.”
“I know. He’s sitting in the driveway,” I quietly said, eyes downcast.
“He is?”
I nodded. Chris was silent for a moment as he studied my face. Unable to bear his scrutiny any longer, I turned my back and stripped out of my wet, dripping clothes.
“Brian,” Chris continued, voice still thick with emotion, “don’t you understand how mom feels about you?”
I chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah. She thinks I’m a pain in the ass.”
“She does not!” Chris said defensively. “She loves you, Brian! She thinks of you as my brother. We’ve talked about it a lot. She wants you to stay here.”
“For now,” I said caustically.
“Forever, you dope!” He snapped heatedly.
I turned to look at him, searching his face.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? She loves you. Damn it Brian... I love you, too. I don’t want you to go, either. You’re my brother, just like Davey.”
Chris sat on the displaced weight bench and ran his hand through his close-cropped hair. His glare made me want to shrink where I stood.
“I need you to be here with me, Brian. I don’t like being alone with just mom for company. I hate being alone. I can talk to you about stuff I wouldn’t ever talk to mom about; stuff that I can’t and won’t tell her.”
“Like...” I asked as I dried myself with the towel Chris had provided.
“I don’t know. Stuff like sex…or growing up…or whatever. It doesn’t matter,” he explained and then continued with sincerity, “I trust you, Brian, and I hope you trust me enough to talk to me about what’s bothering you. I’m here for you. It’s not like I feel I have to be here…I want to be here. And I want you to be here for me. Shit, I’m not saying this right.”
Chris was flustered, but his words were sinking in. In my heart I found it difficult to believe he really felt what he said, but his sincerity was slowly convincing me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I pulled on the sweats he’d brought for me. He sighed as his shoulders slumped in frustration. When I looked at him directly, I caught the glint of light off a tear rolling down his cheek. He glanced at me, but turned his head and rubbed the tear away when he saw me watching him. I stood silently for a few minutes, just watching Chris. Every now and then, he’d wipe away a tear and sniff loudly.
“Chris,” I asked softly, “why are you crying?”
“Because I can’t make you believe me!” Chris barked angrily. He continued haltingly after a mighty sniff. “Do… do you know what I miss the most about Davey being gone?”
I had some ideas, but I wasn’t certain about the answer he was looking for, so I just shook my head.
“Sometimes when I was really upset… sometimes he’d hold me until I fell asleep,” Chris told me. “Sometimes, he’d let me sleep with him. I felt so safe when I was around him. No matter what the problem was, Davey would protect me.
“He’s gone now, and so is my dad,” Chris said sadly. “Every time you run out like you did… I’m afraid that I’m going to lose you, too.”
He stared at me for a moment and then asked, “Don’t you ever wish you had someone to hold you?”
A sudden pang of intense pain washed over me and Chris saw it in my eyes.
“Oh God. I’m sorry, Brian. I didn’t...”
I waved him off. I knew he didn’t mean to invoke Pete in my mind, but I hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of the emotions his words had brought forth within me. I did miss being held. It wasn’t the same when Kathlene held me. She was an adult. It was weird, but there was a difference when Chris held me, like when I told him what had happened between me and Pete. It was like Chris could understand exactly what I was saying and understand it at my level. I didn’t have to worry about an adult dismissing my thoughts or judging me against some unspoken criteria.
“Chris, I know exactly what you mean,” I said slowly. “I’m sorry if I’m not... if it seems like I don’t trust you. I can’t help it. After what mom and dad did... I trust you the most out of anyone I have left. It’s just really hard to open up again.”
I moved to the bench and sat next to Chris. I hesitantly put an arm around his bare shoulders, and pulled us together.
“I’m trying, Chris. I really am.”
He looked down at me with an intensity that caused me to push away from him. His expression was indescribable. It took everything I had to meet his gaze as Chris stared into my eyes. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest, more tears leaking form his eyes. I pulled him to me and held him close until he wound down, and then we climbed into the sleeping bags. I slept behind him with my arm thrown over his body, both of us comforted by the contact.
The dream I had that night nearly destroyed me all over again. It was the happiest dream I’d had since Pete left. I dreamt we were alone and together, with no one to stop us from expressing our love. I woke up just as I climaxed in my dream, only to realize where I was and that Pete wasn’t with me. Chris somehow heard my quiet sobbing and threw his arm over me, pulling me tightly to him. We slept that way for the remainder of the night.
Kathlene was already gone by the time we went into the house to get ready for school. She’d left us five dollars each for lunch and snacks and a note that she’d talk to us after practice that night.
The following day was rough. When I arrived at school, people were asking where the black eye from my father’s blow had come from. I told everyone who asked that I did it in my sleep. They laughed, but didn’t believe it anymore than I did.
Chris kept a close watch on me the whole day by meeting me between classes. I would fake a smile for him, and he sighed each time. He would squeeze my shoulder in encouragement before he trotted off to his next class.
I didn’t pay attention to half my teachers, but they either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I did the assignments as they droned on and on, not remembering that Chris depended on us doing our homework together. I brought no homework home for that entire week and Chris didn’t ask me for help with his coursework. It took me a while, but I finally got it through my head that I had agreed to tutor him, and I wasn’t living up to my end of the deal.
Football practice was the only place I wasn’t affected by my loneliness, by missing Pete, and, so secretly I couldn’t admit it to myself, by missing my family. I turned all that emotional energy outward, throwing myself across the field with reckless abandon, aggressively attacking anyone that came at me.
Back on the home front, Kathlene spoke to Chris and me about what had happened the previous Sunday. She was not happy when she saw the shiner that had bloomed on my face. She asked me to tell her what happened but I refused, informing her it was a personal issue. Chris had certainly filled his mom in on what he knew and Kathlene figured out the rest, because she didn’t press me.
Ironically, the reason my parents had shown up in the first place was to drop off my grades. Mom had given them to Kathlene while she was at work that day, since I wouldn’t take the report card from them directly. When she came home, Kathlene asked me if I wanted to know how I did. I feigned disinterest. I told her the same thing I told Chris: I’d passed, and that was all I needed to know.
She smirked and handed me an opened envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Kellam. With distaste, I opened it and removed the contents of the envelope. I looked it over briefly, put it back in the envelope, handed it back to Kathlene and walked up the stairs to my room. Chris called to me just before I closed my door.
“Brian, wait up!”
Reluctantly, I did as he asked. Tears were already forming in my eyes, and by the time he reached me, they were running down my cheeks. Chris stopped short when he saw my desolate expression.
“What did you get, Brian?” He asked cautiously.
“Go ahead and look.” I said as I tried to shut my door.
Chris stopped me and quietly said, “I’d rather hear it from you, bro.”
The phrase caused a wave of sadness to pass through me, reminding me of what I had gained since coming to live with the Forns and the terrible price I had to pay to get it.
“I got a four-point, Chris.”
He smiled widely for a moment, but the smile fell as I gently pushed my door closed. Through the door, Chris informed me that he’d be there if I wanted to talk. I thanked him, but then curled up on my bed clutching my pillows to me.
A fucking four-point. I knew I had been doing well, but not that well. All I could think about from that point on, though, was the cost I had paid to get that four-point. I’d lost my soul-mate and my family. What a terrible price to pay for a relatively small accomplishment.
A knock sounded at my door an hour or two later. I’m not sure exactly when but it was dark outside. Kathlene’s voice asked permission to come in, and I assented.
“Brian, honey, are you feeling okay?”
“I guess. I’m okay,” I said listlessly
“Chris told me that you’re upset over your grades,” Kathlene informed me. “Can you tell me why?”
I thought about refusing her request but quickly realized that all it would accomplish was to make our lives more stressful than they needed to be.
Without rolling over, I said, “I feel like... I don’t know. I’m pissed at my parents for what they did, and I’m angry that if they hadn’t treated me like shi... crap, I wouldn’t have gotten the grades, and that means that Pete had to go, too! All this bad stuff had to happen, and I go and get straight ‘A’s. It doesn’t seem right!”
“How did you get your grades, Brian?” Kathlene asked calmly. “Did your teachers just give them to you?”
“No, I had to work for them,” I responded, unsure where she was headed.
“So you earned the grades?” She queried.
“Yeah, I guess,” I replied, my tone colored with doubt. I rolled onto my back so I could see Kathlene.
“You did earn them, Brian, and guess what? You earned them because you applied yourself to your studies for the first time.”
“No, I use school to get away from everything!”
“Regardless of the reason, it’s the effort that earned you the grade, not the events that spurred you to give the effort.”
“That doesn’t make sense!” I protested.
“It might not right now,” Kathlene assured me, “but it will in time.”
She watched me stare at nothing in particular as we sat quietly for a few moments. She then sat next to me on the bed and put her arm around me. I flinched at first, but managed to relax a bit after a moment. A few more minutes of silence passed before I asked the question that had been bouncing around in my skull since I woke up in the hospital the morning after Pete left.
“Why did he have to go?” I pled quietly, on the verge of tears.
“I don’t know, Brian. I don’t know,” Kathlene sighed. “But I do know that things will work out the way they’re supposed to. God promises that.”
“I don’t know if I believe in God,” I said. “If He exists, He wouldn’t have let Pete leave.”
“Brian, God does things for His reasons alone. Sometimes He shows us what part certain events play in His plan, but not until He is ready. Trust me: God exists, he loves you, and if there wasn’t a reason for you and Pete to be separated, you would still be together.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked incredulously, hurt that she would raise false hope within me.
“Because I’m trying to explain how I know things will work out as they’re supposed to.” Kathlene’s voice was filled with quiet confidence.
“I....” I slumped into her, defeated.
“What, Brian?”
It was still hard to trust her with my heart. Logically I knew I could trust her and her words, but my heart didn’t believe my mind.
I wearily said, “I’m tired, mom. I want to go to sleep.”
“You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” she said with concern.
“Not hungry.”
Kathlene held me tightly for a few more seconds before releasing me. She stood and walked out of the door, but turned around to wish me a good night. My only thoughts revolved around the nightmares I was sure to have.
Over the following days and weeks to come, practice continued to be the main outlet for my anger and aggression, and it did not go unnoticed by my coaches. They pulled me out of practice on Wednesday and said if I didn’t get control of myself, they’d bench me because I was going to hurt someone, and that someone would probably be myself. I fumed as I sat on the sideline, watching my backup in the safety position get run over by ball carriers time and time again.
They finally let me back in during drills. I was assigned to cover Chris as he ran post patterns for our quarterback. It was a strange experience for me, because I didn’t think of Chris as being Chris, I thought of him as just another guy trying to get past me. For the entire sequence, I hit Chris as hard as I could. When he’d get up, he gave me the strangest look before going back to the line of scrimmage and doing it all over again.
I didn’t realize what I was doing until Chris said something after a particularly brutal hit that drove him into the ground. He mentioned that we were on the same team, and it would be best if I saved all that power for the game on Saturday. It jarred my brain enough to realize Chris was right, so instead of tackling him, I just wrapped him up in my arms without taking him down. The coaches observed this, and questioned me immediately. I simply told them I’d been hitting Chris all day, and rather than risk injury, I thought it best to tone it down a bit. Of course I was read the riot act about not doing as I was told, but when I asked the coach if he wanted me to break Chris’ back, he told me he’d talk to me later about it later, his tone threatening dire consequences. I shrugged and got back to practice.
The coach, in his infinite wisdom, assigned me laps after practice for insubordination. I think he was expecting me to complain, but I ran them without comment. The run was actually a blessing in disguise, because it allowed me to clear my mind and relax for a while. It did not go unnoticed that I ran almost double what the coach assigned, either.
The next day I was put up against one of the huge guys for another passing drill. Mac Bedler was a stocky black kid who was as strong as an ox and built like a fireplug. He played halfback on offense and end on defense. I didn’t know much about him, having never really talked to him as a result of my isolating myself from everyone. Before the drill, Mac introduced himself, and we shook hands. The drill began shortly thereafter.
Hitting Mac was like hitting an inch-thick steel plate as opposed to Chris’ brick wall. Mac was powerful. He had very little give in him, and was difficult to take down because of his low center of gravity. More often than not he’d knock me on my ass, but I still stopped him most of the time. We shook hands again at the end of practice.
The game on Saturday turned out to be a hard-fought battle. Our rival had a flawless record, and thought beating us would be a cake-walk, but we quickly disabused them of that notion. Our coaches had come up with a new defensive scheme, using stunts to confuse our opponents, where we had never used them before. I loved it. They called safety blitz numerous times through out the game, and I gladly threw myself into the fray. The one play that stands out in my mind was hitting their quarterback squarely and knocking him on his back. I was about two-thirds his size, and it felt great! I could hear the other team wondering where I’d come from. I laughed exultantly all the way back to the huddle, getting slaps and helmet butts the whole way.
Despite our efforts, however, the other team beat us by the score of fourteen to seven. We had surpassed all expectations with our performance, and as we walked back to the locker room, several people congratulated me on a game well played. One of their receivers even asked me how I got all that power in a shrimp of a body. It was a backhanded compliment and kind of insulting, but I took it to mean I’d surprised him.
Time passed. A winless football season came to an end, but Chris and I agreed it was a good season. We both had fun, and in our estimation, accomplished what we personally had set out to do. I went right into wrestling and threw myself at it just like I had football.
Home life had developed into an easy, open relationship with Chris and Kathlene. My personal trials seemed to be affecting me less and less. My parents left me alone with any communication being funneled through Kathlene, and I did likewise.
Chris and I still worked out regularly after the season ended. We’d lift when we got home from school and stop in time to get cleaned up for dinner. After we ate, Chris and I would do our homework together until we were done or it was time for Chris to get some sleep. I stayed up late nearly every night in an attempt to avoid bad dreams, but it didn’t work. In the end I figured the less I slept, the fewer dreams I would have.
The nightmares were the only thing that really bothered me. I’d have dreams about Pete and Chris, my parents and Danny. They all ended up the same way. I’d wake up thinking I’d screamed. Kathlene sometimes looked in on me after I woke up from one of these terrifying visions, but I’d pretend I was still asleep until she closed my door again. Sometime in early November I became afraid to sleep at all because of these nightmares. I survived on a bare minimum, and somehow managed to keep on top of everything from my schoolwork to the sports I played.
By Thanksgiving, I was running ragged. It was patently obvious I was sleep- deprived. Kathlene noticed it first when I fell asleep at the dinner table. She woke me by shaking my shoulder, and then walked me upstairs. Kathlene stood in the doorway as I absentmindedly prepared for bed.
“Brian, I think you’re trying to do too much. You’re exhausted all the time. I want you to cut back.”
“What should I cut out? Class work? I have a four-point going for the semester, and maybe for the year, so I can’t let up there. Wrestling? My coaches think I’ll do really well, and the season hasn’t even started. I can’t give up working out, because it helps me with my wrestling.” Seeing her face darken, I added, “Maybe I’ll take a break after wrestling.”
Kathlene shook her head and said, “Your parents want you to talk to someone. He’s a counselor, and he might be able to help you with your nightmares.”
“Why should I do what they want?” I asked with considerable heat.
“Because they’re worried about you,” Kathlene earnestly responded, “and frankly, I am too. You’re only thirteen, Brian.”
“So? My parents don’t know that. They didn’t even acknowledge my birthday.”
“They didn’t think you’d want to hear from them,” Kathlene said sadly.
“They were right,” I said sullenly.
I climbed into bed and rolled away from her. The conversation was over.
The holidays were a very difficult time for me. Everything about them reminded me of what I’d lost, from my family, to my home... to Pete. I spent Thanksgiving in my room sulking, obsessing about Pete and wishing he was with me. Kathlene and Chris left me alone for the most part, allowing me time to attempt to grieve the loss, but all it did was fester and bury itself even deeper.
Wrestling practice started in earnest right after Thanksgiving. I tried out for the squad and made the team. After the initial awkwardness, I took to the mat like a bird takes to the air. The coaches saw something in me, and regularly pulled me out for individual coaching, then put me back out on the mat to try what I just learned. It was awesome.
The practices weren’t all rolling around on the floor, though. We practiced early, starting at six in the morning. The first thirty minutes was spent running a circuit around the gym, up the stairs to the balcony, and back down to the gym. It was pretty brutal, but I was in good enough shape that it didn’t bother me too much.
The coaches put me in the one-hundred-twenty pound weight class. I only weighed one-twenty-three, and I could maintain it and lose the necessary weight before each match. They asked me if I wanted to go down to the one-hundred-fifteen pound bracket, but I said I’d have to think about it. They’d already measured me at less than five percent body fat, and I’d have to lose six pounds before each match. In the end, I told them I’d stay where they originally put me.
I spent a lot of my time at home pretending to be happier than I was. I owed Kathlene and Chris that much at least. They seemed relieved when my demeanor changed as a result, which took a load of pressure off of me since I wasn’t being interrogated at every turn by Kathlene, but the stress of maintaining the façade built as time went on.
Kathlene did, however, make me go to the counselor my parents had chosen. He asked me much the same question Kathlene had about doing too much, and I answered him the same way: School was fine, I was getting good grades, and wrestling was fun. I didn’t need to change anything, because everything was going well. When the shrink asked me about my nightmares, I lied to his face and told him I didn’t have them anymore. For his next query, he asked me why I hated my parents so much. I didn’t answer him, and when he said they missed me, I told him they should have thought ahead before betraying me. I stopped answering his questions at that point. The interview was over.
Kathlene thanked me for seeing the asshole, and I told her she was welcome. She asked me what was said, and I answered her honestly, including the reason I terminated the meeting. She made no attempt at conversation for the remainder of the drive home, a thoughtful frown lining her face the entire way.
Christmas vacation came, and the Forns had a surprise visitor. When we came home from school on Friday, David was sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich. Chris’ reaction was immediate. He dropped his books where he stood and charged him. David barely had time to stand up and catch Chris before they both went over. I watched the brothers’ reunion with trepidation. What would David think about me? Was I going to be alone for the entire vacation by losing Chris’ companionship to his brother? I knew how close they were. Not a day went by where Chris didn’t mention David at least once.
With a sense of foreboding and loss, I quietly climbed the stairs to my room and gave them the privacy they deserved. When I sat on the bed I realized that this was David’s room, and I needed to make room for him. I pulled out a duffle bag and packed it with enough clothing for two weeks. I was just finishing when someone knocked on the door. David was outside the door when I opened it.
“Hi, Brian. How are ya’ doin’?” He asked amiably.
“Okay, I guess,” I replied, not really in the mood to talk.
“Whatcha packin’?”
“Clothes. A few other things.”
“Why?”
I threw my toiletries into the bag and zipped it up before I answered him.
“I need to clear out so you can have your room,” I said in a neutral tone.
He frowned. “Say again?” David seemed confused for some reason.
I shrugged and said, “This is your room. I’m getting out so you can have it back.”
An annoyed frown set itself on David’s features as he said, “What are you talking about? This was never my room. Chris is in my room now.”
“You have to have somewhere to sleep, Dave.”
He replied, “I have a place to sleep: downstairs.”
“But-“
“No buts, Brian. This is your room for as long as you’re here. I’m not goin’ to kick you out. I wouldn’t do that to a friend, much less family.”
“Family?” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Yes, dummy, family. Mom and Chris took you in. Chris thinks of you as his brother and mom thinks of you as another son. They love you, Brian. So get unpacked and stay awhile.”
I stared at him trying to decipher the motivation for his actions. Was he just doing this to make points with Kathlene and Chris or did he actually mean what he said? Did he share Chris’ and Kathlene’s feelings? I didn’t know him well enough to be certain.
“Okay, Dave,” I responded after a slight hesitation.
“Good. Chris and I’ll be downstairs waiting for you. We’re gonna shoot some pool.”
He turned to go, but I stopped him.
“Dave? How much do you know about what happened to me?”
His face went curiously blank. “Does it matter?”
“Um, yeah, it does to me.”
“I know all I need to, Brian,” he said flatly. “Don’t take all day.”
He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time, yelling for Chris to rack the balls, our conversation already forgotten.
For me though, the conversation ran through my head like a stampede, my mind dissecting every nuance and inflection, and the result did nothing to quell my rising anxiety.
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