Chapter Four
By the time lunch rolled around, I was a nervous wreck. Pete and I hadn’t been at odds like this since our trip down south in June, and it made me edgy. His anger with me for my slipup was understandable. I had done what I could to assure him that Coach Sarvino was not going to out us to the rest of the school. Sarvino even offered to talk to Pete, but Pete wasn’t interested in meeting the man. Pete’s intransigence after I assured him that we were safe disturbed me more than a little.
Tomas, Will, Sterling and Terry sat with us and carried on an animated conversation about the game on the prior Saturday, while Pete and I sat in silence and ate our meal. Tomas was aware that Pete and I were having a disagreement and that we were going to settle it after practice, but that didn’t stop him from frowning at us from time to time. Pete and I caught each other’s eyes every few moments, but we broke contact as quickly as we made it.
Chemistry was our next class. Pete and I separated to get our books as usual and then made it to the classroom with a few minutes to spare. Pete was watching me as I pulled out my homework, his expression uncertain. I stared back impassively, waiting to see what he would do. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the bell rang, leaving Pete with a pained, disappointed expression. Ms. Taylor got class started immediately, giving us no opportunity to speak, and she ran the class until the bell sounded.
As we gathered our books, Pete said, “Bri, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I answered. “We’ll talk about it tonight, Pete. We don’t have time right now.”
He sighed and meekly replied, “Okay, Bri.”
We walked out the door together and parted ways to go to our sixth-period class. Pete’s introduction-to-law class was on the opposite side of the school from my U.S. History course. Class flew by for me, not because the material was all that interesting, but because I was anticipating seeing Pete again and maybe the two of us seeing Sarvino together. By the time I made it to the locker room, however, Pete and Sarvino were already in the office.
Shrugging to myself, I went to my locker and dressed down for class. The tardy bell rang, but the office door remained closed. Conversations sprang up all around me as we waited for our instructor to come out and take roll. I ignored any comments directed at me and watched the office door, as though staring at it harder would enable me to hear what was being said. When the door finally opened a few moments later, I couldn’t read Pete’s expression. He sat on the nearest bench as Sarvino took attendance. After, as the class went outside, I caught up to Pete.
“How did it go?” I asked amiably as we strode toward the field
“Like you said, we’ll talk about it tonight.”
Pete jogged forward, calling Will Beck’s name and engaging him in conversation. I watched the two of them grin and then chuckle. A surge of jealousy and a pang of fear struck me simultaneously, and both stayed with me until we got home that night.
Pete and I didn’t speak much until we went to our room for the night. Kevin and Mom both noticed that something wasn’t right between Pete and me. They asked each of us if there was anything wrong, and as tempted as I might have been to tell them there was, I refrained and decided to wait it out and see what would happen. A tension hung in the air until dinner was finally finished. Pete went straight to our room while I helped clean up. Mom noticed this as well.
“Brian, what’s happened?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” I replied. “We need to talk and we haven’t had the chance today. We’re going to talk now.”
Mom asked, “What about your homework?”
“This is kind of more important, Mom,” I responded with some sarcasm.
“It’s serious then?”
“Jeez, Mom, lay off. If there’s something to worry about, I’ll let you know.”
I set down the last armload of plates for Dawn to put in the dishwasher and went off to find out what was going on in Pete’s mind. When I opened the door, he was sitting at the desk, poring over one of his texts. He gave no sign that he knew I was there. I sighed and sat on the bed.
“Can we talk now?” I asked quietly.
“I’m not done with my homework.”
“Pete, please? I want to get this taken care of. I hate this tension between us.”
“What’s your hurry now?” Pete asked mildly. “You were fine with putting it off earlier. A few more hours shouldn’t make a difference.”
“You’re being immature, Pete.”
“Actually,” he replied in a cool manner, “I think I’m handling this rather well, considering what happened.”
“I admit I screwed up, and I’m sorry,” I said, trying to emulate his calm state. “What more can I do?”
Again in an even tone, Pete said, “To begin with, you can start acting like you understand how serious this is.”
“I do know how serious this could have been,” I asserted. “Nothing is going to come of it, so I don’t see why you’re over-reacting.”
“Over-reacting? Over-reacting. Come here. I want to show you something.”
Pete turned in his chair until he was almost facing me and held out his left arm. He pointed to a scar just below his elbow that ran about three inches toward his wrist.
“Do you see this scar? Do you know how I got it?” Pete asked, his demeanor unnervingly calm.
“You said you slipped and got cut by a knife.”
“It was about a year after I got to Portland. I came home from school to find Curt sitting on the couch sucking down beer and cutting an apple with his knife. The moment he saw me, he started in. ‘Look what the fag dragged in. Get fucked today, faggot? No? Well how about we take care of that for you!’” Pete’s eyes were locked with mine, his face screwed up into an expression of profound hate. “He was on me before I could get the door open and leave. I ducked his first swing, but he caught my arm as I escaped. He would have killed me that night.”
Pete stood and glared down at me. I simply looked back, uncertain of what I should say.
“Look here, Brian,” he continued in a rapid fashion, “I got that one from him shoving me into the glass door of our entertainment center. And here,” he said, pointing out a rough patch of skin about the size of a silver dollar. “I got that when he shoved me down the stairs… with his fist! And this one – he got drunk and threw his knife at me, but I got lucky. The knife hit handle-first. The cut on my arm is from the blade skipping off my chest. I got all of these from that mother fucking bastard because I love a boy!” His voice fell to a whisper. “Because I love you! And this is what happened.” Pete raised his voice once more. “And you wonder why I over-react? I know what’s out there. I know what’s possible, because I lived it!” Pete’s voice crescendoed into a roar as he continued, “So you’ll have to pardon me if I fucking over-react!”
I looked up at him, absorbing this new information. I knew he had been abused by Curt and his mother, but he’d never given me specifics until that moment. Every scar he’d pointed to he had explained away as accidents, never giving more then a bare-bones account of how they came to be, and changing the subject immediately after. He’d lied to me, but the deceptions were immaterial in my mind, as was the fact he had yelled at me: trivial considerations compared to the revelations I’d just heard. My mind was racing, trying to determine how to best help Pete. Would he want sympathy? Would he want me to be angry for him? Did he simply want me to bear witness to his pain?
The door to our room flew open. My mom stood in the doorway, looking for the spilled blood. When she saw neither of us was hurt, she stared at Pete, who was fuming.
Pete spun on his heel and strode toward her, saying, “Mrs. Kellam, I’d very much appreciate it if you would learn how to knock!”
She backed away from him in fear, far enough that he could slam the door in her face. He locked us in with a quick flip of the handle.
“Brian!” she called, her voice panicked.
“Mom, I’m okay. Leave us alone.” I was proud of the fact my voice hadn’t quavered.
“Brian…” she started again.
“Not now!” I barked.
Pete stood at the door, staring at me with his nostrils flaring. I watched him in return, waiting to see what he would do.
Neither of us moved.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I said quietly. “I can’t change what happened.”
“No shit!” Pete drowned the words with sarcasm.
“So what do you want me to do?” I inquired earnestly. “Move out? I can bunk with Ray for a while if you’d rather I not be here.”
Pete snapped, “Don’t be stupid,” and ran his hand through his hair.
“Tell me what you want, then.”
“What I want?” Pete grated. “How about what I don’t want. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder. I don’t want to worry that another Curt is sneaking up behind me. I don’t want to worry about you getting hurt because someone hates what we are.”
“What did Sarvino say?”
“Exactly what you said he would, but that’s not the point. The point is he heard what you said. It could have been Langley or Lasko or Krogh. Then what would have happened?”
“We don’t know,” I blandly commented.
“I do,” he said with finality.
“No, Pete, you really don’t,” I said in rebuttal. “I’m sorry, but you are working yourself up into a frenzy here and blowing things all out of proportion, even given what happened to you. We can’t live our lives being paranoid. If we do, then they win.”
“So what do I do?” he asked, half angry, half desperate.
I shrugged. “Take what happened as a lesson learned and move on. I already have.”
“Just forget it happened?” he asked incredulously.
“That’s not what I said. It’s a reminder that I have to be even more careful than I already am. It’s the first time I’ve slipped, and I got caught. I have to make sure I don’t slip again. And you have to make sure you don’t slip, too.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Brian.”
“Of course I do. I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”
Pete sat back down at the desk.
“I’m not happy about this,” he huffed.
“You’ve made that very clear,” I replied diplomatically. “I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
“Will you get real?” my boyfriend shouted, standing again. “You’re talking like you don’t care!”
“You know better, or I thought you did.” Pete let out an exasperated sigh and was about to speak when I continued. “Look. Do you really think that I don’t care about what happens or who finds out? Seriously?”
He held my gaze until he couldn’t meet my eyes any longer.
“No,” he admitted softly, collapsing onto the bed next to me.
“I can understand why you are so afraid, babe,” I assured as I lay on my side next to him. “Do you know you told me more about what happened when you lived with your mom just now than you ever have in all the times we’ve talked about it?”
“I don’t like to think about it,” he stated.
“ I know,” I replied, “but it’s important, don’t you think? I mean, your entire reaction to what happened comes directly from that.”
He snorted. “Duh.”
“Sorry,” I said petulantly as I rolled onto my back.
A silence floated around us for a moment. I glanced at Pete. His eyes were closed, an expression of pain on his face. A stray tear ran across his cheek and into his ear. I lifted myself up to get a better look.
“Pete?”
He sniffed and looked at me, his eyes haunted.
“It was so bad, Bri. I was so fucking scared, every day. I didn’t know what I would be coming home to. I never knew….”
He sniffed again and wiped his eyes on his shoulders. He pulled himself up and leaned against the headboard, clutching a pillow to him.
“When I would get home before they did, I would go to my room and do my homework until I heard one of them at the door. Then I would go for my refuge.” He snorted lightly. “Some refuge. It was barely wide enough to sit down in, and not long enough to lay in, especially when I started growing. It was cramped, dark and dusty. But it kept me safe sometimes.
“Sometimes, when I was hiding out, I heard them getting drunk, and then they’d go at it wherever they were until they passed out.” Pete shuddered. “It was gross seeing them like that when I got up to go to school in the morning.”
“Some nights I would come out of my place and be so stiff that I couldn’t hardly move. If Curt had caught me then, I don’t know what would have happened.”
He watched me as I sat next to him at the headboard. I tentatively rested my hand on his leg, and he grabbed it immediately, squeezing tightly.
“Pete, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I reminded him gently.
“No, Brian, I do – at least some of it,” he insisted. “Maybe that will help you understand better.”
“Okay. If you need to, I’ll listen.”
Pete threw the pillow aside and pulled me close to him. We slid down some so I could put my arm around him. He settled in with his head on my chest.
“One time,” he resumed, “one time I actually tried fighting back. It was shortly after Mom had him move in. They’d already been getting on me because I was gay. I woke up one morning and was getting ready for school. I went into the bathroom. I didn’t know he was in there. I walked in, not paying attention. He was getting out of the shower. I tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Pete, you don’t…”
“Yes, I do!” he cried plaintively.
I held him more tightly to me as he went on.
“He asked me… he asked me… he asked me if I liked what I saw. I said, ‘No’. Then he hit me.
“I tried to hit him back, but I couldn’t. He was a lot stronger than me. He finally hit me in the head, and my head hit the wall. I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t know if he… made me do things or not.”
“Jesus. Why didn’t you go to the cops, Pete?”
“And say what?” he demanded angrily. “That I’m gay and my mom’s boyfriend beat me up when he was naked in the shower?”
“Yes!”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t, Brian. If I had, they’d have taken him away for a night, maybe two, and then he’d have been right back, beating the shit out of me. It was easier and less painful to do nothing.”
“Your grandparents?”
“I never saw them when I had visible bruises or anything. Mother wouldn’t allow it. She locked me in my room if they came over. It wasn’t until I pissed Mom off so bad that she kicked me out. That’s when Mom let me move in with them.”
I hugged him to me. “I’m sorry, Pete. I really am.”
He squeezed me in return and then sighed. “It gets worse, Bri. A lot worse.”
“Why haven’t you told me?” I quietly demanded.
“You had your own things to deal with. I didn’t want to add to that.”
“God damn it,” I swore, “That is so much bullshit!”
“Yeah, I know, and I had the exact same response when you said that to me. I hope you can understand now why it scares me so badly.
“The other reason I didn’t tell you was that I was afraid you would find Curt and kill him.”
“I still might,” I growled into my boyfriend’s ear, and then continued softly, “I’m sorry, Pete. I’m sorry for …”
“I know, Bri.” He looked up at me. “And I’m sorry for being such an ass.”
“It’s okay, babe. I promise to be more careful, okay?”
“Okay. Me too.”
We lay together for a short while before I patted his back, signaling my desire to get up.
“I need to tell my mom everything is really okay. I think you scared her.”
Pete answered, “She never knocks. She deserved it.”
I grinned. “Maybe. Be back in a few.”
I found my mother sitting on the couch holding Kevin’s hand, her expression anxious and worried. Kevin jerked when he saw me and tried to extricate his hand from my mother’s. I waved him off in an effort to show I was okay with it. Mom looked up more slowly. When she met my gaze, she bit her lip.
“Mom, it’s okay,” I said in a soothing tone. “Pete and I had an argument and that’s it. You and Dad have those sometimes, remember? We worked it out.”
“You’re sure?” she asked uncertainly. “He sounded very angry, and the way he came at me frightened me.”
“He would never hit you, Mom. And he does have a point. You need to knock and wait for us to answer. There are some things that you probably don’t want to see, or that we don’t want you to see.”
“Don’t change the subject, Brian,” she said crossly. “He may not hit me, but he’s already hit you.”
“That is between Pete and me and no one else,” I said stonily. “It is not something I’m going to discuss with you. He won’t hit me again.”
“You’ll discuss it if I tell you to discuss it, young man!” she stated crossly.
“Lisa,” Kevin broke in. “Brian is right. He’s almost sixteen; he’s not a kid anymore. It’s his relationship with Pete. How they handle it is up to them.” Kevin turned and glared at me, “Right up until someone gets hit. If that happens, I’ll step in, too. Got me?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I got you.”
I turned to walk away and said over my shoulder, “Remember, Mom: knock from now on. That goes for Ray’s room, too. And the bathrooms.”
She didn’t respond.
When I got back to our room, Pete was working on his homework again. I sat on the floor against the wall near the desk, spreading my books out so I could finish the work I was too preoccupied to finish in class. Pete finished well before me and lay on the bed as I completed the day’s assignments. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked, but the sensation didn’t bother me.
“Just about done, Bri?” he asked.
“Another ten minutes or so.”
“Okay.”
Pete rose from the bed, put on a pair of shorts, and crossed the hall to the bathroom. He came back a few moments later, and I couldn’t help but look at his body. He was well defined without being even the slightest bit bulky, where I carried around a considerable amount of mass for someone my size and age. He was tall and lean, and I liked him that way.
Shaking my head to rid myself of that distraction, I went back to my work. I finished what was remaining in a few minutes’ time. When I was done, I packed my books into my backpack and set them aside so I wouldn’t kick them in the night should I get up. Changing my clothes, a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth, and a quick goodnight to my mom, Kevin and Ray completed my nightly routine.
As I walked in, Pete had spread some of the candles we have around the room. His face, softly lit by the candles, held a smile, and his eyes danced with the flames. I returned his gentle smile and shut the door, making certain to lock it behind me.
“Come here, baby. I need you close tonight.”
A moment later, I fell into his arms, the events of the day just a bad memory.
I awoke when Pete’s hand fell onto my face. He had rolled away from me sometime during the night and was now moving spasmodically on the bed, his limbs jerking here and there. A quiet whine came from his throat, which grew louder as the seconds passed. He jerked sideways, as though avoiding someone or something.
Pete’s whine changed into a whimper as he pulled himself into the fetal position, covering his head with his arms. The word “no” came from his mouth clearly, and was repeated again and again at a louder volume each time.
I reached out to touch him just as he rolled toward me, my hands making solid contact with his arms.
Pete barked a final, loud, “No!” as he extended his arms, catching me fully in the chest. With incredible strength he shoved me away, catapulting me off the bed and onto the floor, where I landed with a sickening crack.
“Brian?” Pete said breathlessly.
I groaned.
Pete rapidly crawled across the bed and turned on my reading light. “Brian? Are you okay? Oh, man, did I push you off the bed?”
He slid down next to me, obviously worried.
“Yeah,” I answered, “you did. I’m okay. I just landed funny.”
“Oh God, Brian, I’m sorry. I… I thought…”
“You thought I was Curt?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me helplessly and nodded.
“Help me up?” I asked.
He reached down and pulled me up slowly. A twinge in my lower back caused me to grimace. My head ached. A quick glance told me I’d hit my head on the books in my backpack.
“Bri, are you okay?” Pete asked worriedly.
“I think so. You were having a bad dream.”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Talking about what happened tonight… it brought a lot of stuff up I haven’t thought about in a long time.”
I looked at him for a moment and then pulled him into an embrace.
“It’s okay,” I said as I consoled him. “I know what nightmares can do, remember?”
“You don’t have them anymore. Not very many, anyway.”
“No, I don’t. Maybe it’s because I’ve made peace with my past,” I speculated.
“Maybe.”
We heard a small knock at the door. Pete sat me on the bed and then opened the door, hiding his naked body behind it as I pulled the sheet over me. I heard Ray’s voice.
“Are you guys all right? I heard something.”
“Yeah, Ray. I had a nightmare.”
“Pete pushed me out of bed is all,” I added.
“Oh. Okay,” Ray said through a yawn. “G’night.”
“Good night, bro,” Pete responded.
Pete closed the door and moved to kneel in front of me. I pulled him into another embrace, and he sank into me.
After a moment, I said, “I’m going to make an appointment for you to see Will, babe. You need to.”
“Okay. The sooner the better,” he agreed quiety.
“I’ll call tomorrow morning.”
He inquired, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Try to go back to sleep, babe. I’ve got you.”
It was no longer than fifteen minutes before Pete’s gentle snoring informed me he was asleep. His breathing was deep and even. I could feel his heart beating against my ribs. Inside, I was seething.
I realized that if I had known even half of what Pete had revealed to me that night, I probably would have tried to maim Curt when he lunged at Pete that first day in court.
A deep breath calmed me, somewhat. The movement of my chest briefly disturbed my boyfriend, and then he settled into a deeper, more restful sleep. I listened to him, concentrating on his breathing, until I fell asleep.
When morning came and the alarm sounded, neither of us wanted to move. It wasn’t often that Pete woke up in my arms instead of the other way around. I hugged him to me for a moment, enjoying the sensations of my boyfriend waking up next to me. A moment later, a pounding on the wall told me that Ray had been awakened by our alarm. I unwillingly slid over to turn off the radio.
“Oh my God, Brian, does that hurt?” Pete exclaimed, hurrying over to me.
“What?”
“That!”
He touched me on my lower left side. A sharp pain shot through me and I cringed.
“Oh, Bri… I’m soooo sorry!”
I reached behind me and prodded my body, searching for the extent of my injury. What I found was an area the size of a plum that was tender to the touch, with the center producing a sharp jab of misery. I decided I could live with it.
“Pete, it’s okay,” I said calmly. “It’s just a bruise.”
“A bruise that I gave you!” he said miserably.
“When you were sleeping. It’s okay, Pete,” I affirmed gently, turning into him. “I’ve had a lot worse.”
“Well, that’s one you shouldn’t have had,” he groused.
“You were asleep, babe,” I said gently. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t know it was me. You thought I was Curt.”
After a short silence, Pete said, “I don’t even remember the dream.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I asserted. “Don’t feel guilty, all right? Don’t pull a Brian on me.”
The phrase elicited a smile from Pete, and I let him go, heeding the demands of my bladder. I slipped on a pair of sport shorts to cross the hall to the bathroom. My mom passed as I opened the bathroom door.
She greeted me, “Good morning, Brian.”
“Morning, Mom,” I answered cheerfully, entering the bathroom.
As I was shutting the door, she asked, “Brian? Where did you get that?”
I looked back to find her pointing at my new bruise.
I craned my neck around to look and said lightly, “I fell out of bed last night onto my backpack. Must have hit the corner of one of my books.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Quickly sliding into the bathroom before my mother could query further, I shut the door and relieved myself. When I opened the door to return to Pete, I found Ray standing there.
“Smooth, Brian,” he commented with a wry grin. “Good save.”
“What? I told the truth,” I insisted.
“Or part of it,” he said as I got out of his way. “Still, good save.”
“Hey, Ray?”
“Yeah?”
“Do me a favor?” I asked.
“Depends on what it is,” he said suspiciously.
“Don’t mention what happened last night to anyone, okay?” I requested quietly. “Pete feels horrible, and my mom doesn’t need to know.”
“What about Kevin?”
“If he needs to be told, I’ll tell him. Okay?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ray responded. “Sure, Brian. I won’t say anything.”
I reached over and squeezed his shoulder firmly. “Thanks, Ray.”
“You’ll pay me back. You think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart?” he demanded with a diabolical grin.
“What heart?” I retorted. “And yeah, actually. I think you have a big heart, Ray.”
“Awww, you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cry,” Ray grated as he slammed the door.
“RAYMOND!” came my mom’s call from the dining room.
The door opened again, and Ray yelled back, “What?”
“Language!” she barked at him.
“Maori!” Ray shot back before closing the door again.
I glanced toward the dining room and saw my mom standing at the table, hands on her hips. A grudging smile overtook her grim expression, and she chuckled to herself.
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