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“Holy fuck!” We were sitting in the living room one evening watching the local news when Ray’s outburst caught my attention.
“Raymond!” Cried my mother from the kitchen. “Language!”
“A mode of communicating thoughts or ideas using symbols or sounds!” Ray shouted back. “Pete, you have to see this!”
I raced around the corner from the bathroom felt my face pale.
A local news reporter’s voice came loudly from the television speakers. “Curt Jackson of Aloha was arrested today after a child in a local school alleged he sexually assaulted her. Authorities detained him at his residence and have him in custody pending his indictment.”
Curt’s picture over the reporter’s left shoulder stared out of the television, his eyes glaring right through me. I shuddered and sat hard on the arm of the couch.
The anchor continued, “Police suspect that this is not the first time he has abused a minor, and are asking that anyone with knowledge of other instances involving Mr. Jackson contact the Aloha Police Department on their child abuse hotline. And on the other side of the city, a four alarm fire in a Tigard doughnut shop…”
The drone from the television continued on to the next story, but I didn’t pay any attention. I could not believe what I had heard. I felt frozen in place. I knew what I needed to do, but I did not want to do it. The last thing I wanted to do was confront Curt again, and I knew that was exactly where this was heading. The thought of facing him again was terrifying. Panic built quickly while my mind flew in all directions, unable to form a coherent thought
“Pete?” Ray’s voice came quietly from beside me. “Pete, are you okay?”
I managed to focus my eyes on him, and my brain began to function again. “I can’t do it,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to,” Ray said quietly, staring into my eyes, “but this is your chance to make that fucker pay. He won’t ever hurt you or anyone else again.”
“I don’t want to do it, Ray,” I said, the fear I was feeling leeching into my voice. “I’m… I…”
“You can do it.” I cut my eyes to my left and saw Brian leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his green eyes boring into mine. I felt my jaw go slack as I looked at him. Those had been the first words he had said to me without me pursuing him. “You’re strong enough, and you know it’s the right thing to do. You have your family backing you up, and you know they love you.”
“Brian….”
“You can do this, Pete,” Brian said softly, staring into my eyes. I did not see the love I was used to seeing, but neither did I see the hostility that had been there since the night at the party. Instead I saw the quiet strength that made him a force to be reckoned with in any arena. He nodded, and then turned around to retreat to his bedroom.
I looked back at Ray. His eyes were moist. “He’s right, Pete.”
I glanced around and saw Kevin, Dawn, Jason and Lisa watching me. Each nodded to me in turn, and I took a deep breath before returning their gaze.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
“And how do you feel about going to the district attorney now, Pete?” Will asked me.
“Better, but still scared. This is going to cause a lot of publicity, and after… what happened with Brian, it’s going to make me look like an even bigger hypocrite. I didn’t want anyone to know I was gay, so I ran away from him. Then I started dating Ryan, and Brian caught me at that party with him. And he was right. I am a hypocrite.”
“This is different, isn’t it? How many other people have come forward since you did?”
“Four, but I don’t think it’s any different,” I replied. “My name is all over the news, especially after the interview I did on channel two asking for others to come forward. Now two whole states know I’m gay.”
I quailed at the thought, but at the same time I felt somewhat proud of myself. I had not just called the district attorney and reported the abuse I had suffered at Curt’s hands, I agreed to do an interview to get more people to come forward. It had been a successful plea, as three more boys and a girl had called the prosecutor’s office. With six people accusing him of abuse, Curt was fighting hard to get a deal, and the district attorney was refusing. The odds I’d have to testify were getting more slim each time someone came forward, a fact I was grateful for. I did not want to have to confront the bastard who had hurt me.
My memories of what Curt had done to me were still vague for the most part. I only remembered a few instances of abuse, but what I remembered was enough to make me ill and pray not to remember anything else. Snapshot memories of him in front of me with his pants down were enough to turn anyone’s stomach.
“Have you talked to Brian at all about any of this?” Will asked.
“No. The last time I talked to him was a week ago when I saw Curt on the news. He told me that I was strong enough to handle pressing charges.”
“How are the nightmares?”
“It’s bad,” I said with a sigh. “It’s the same dream over and over.”
“Tell me about it,” said Will, his voice soft yet demanding.
“I don’t want to,” I answered back, my voice plaintive.
“I know, but you need to tell someone, otherwise the dream keeps its power over you. If you really don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but you should know that it will help in the long run to share these things.”
“I’m laying in my bed in my mom’s apartment. The door bursts open, and Curt comes walking in with this evil grin.” I swallowed and continued softly. “He unbuckles his pants and tells me that I know what to do. I get off my bed and kneel in front of him. He grabs my head and….”
My voice trailed off and I looked at the carpet, unable to continue.
“And he made you take him into your mouth?” Will asked gently.
I nodded in response.
“You have memories of this happening?” Will asked again, just as gently.
“Yes,” I croaked, my mouth and throat suddenly dry. “At least three times. I’m sure it was more.”
“What makes you think that it was more?”
“There are days… nights… times I don’t remember. It’s like they were cut out of my memory.”
“I see,” Will responded neutrally. “How does it make you feel knowing what he did to you?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Obviously you are angry about what he made you do. How do you feel about having done it?”
A surge of nausea struck me as a particular recollection rose to the surface. A foul taste again filled my senses as those memories flooded my mind. I barely kept myself from throwing up on the man’s Persian carpet.
“It makes me sick,” I answered through tears that I did not realize were there. “I hate it and it makes me feel dirty and like I’ll never be clean again.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Pete,” Will said insistently. “He was bigger than you, and stronger than you. There was nothing you could have done to stop him.”
“I could have bitten his dick off!” I shouted at Will, who watched me impassively.
“Then what would have happened?”
“He would have killed me.” It was a simple fact.
“Yes, he most likely would have killed you, and then you wouldn’t have met Brian again.”
“And I wouldn’t have lost him if that fucker hadn’t made me blow him!”
“Probably not.”
“God I hate this!”
“I know.”
“And you know what the worst part is?” I demanded.
“That you had Brian, and now you don’t.”
“Partially. I had Brian, and I made him leave. That’s the worst. It’s my fault we’re not together now.” The tears continued to fall.
“You could try to get him back.” Will suggested.
“I could… but I don’t think he wants to be together any more.”
“Why not?”
I sighed deeply. “Every time I see him, he looks at me like I’m just another person. Anything he might have felt for me seems to be gone.”
“I doubt that is the case,” Will inserted quickly.
“You haven’t seen him around me. It’s like he looks through me… like I’m not even there.”
“If he means that much to you, and I know he does, why not try? What have you got to lose?”
I thought about it for a minute before answering. Will was right— I had nothing to lose, and Brian to gain.
“Okay. I’ll try to talk to him.”
“Good,” Will said with a smile, and we moved back to talking about my nightmares.
When I got home, I found my dad unpacking his clothes into the dresser in my spare room. We had talked about him moving in, and although it was not what I wanted, he insisted, saying that he did not want me to be alone while I was having nightmares. After thinking about it some more, I assented to letting him stay. Since I was not seeing Ryan any more, I had no particular need for privacy beyond my bedroom.
While he finished, I completed the little amount of homework I had, and then started dinner. It was early, but I was hungry, and judging by the growls from my dad’s stomach, he was too.
Our conversation started as light hearted banter, discussing nothing of consequence as I moved through the kitchen. More serious conversation took place as we ate. Ryan came up, and I told dad the truth— Ryan had dumped me because he did not want to deal with me while I was struggling with the aftermath of the abuse suffered at Curt’s hands. Dad commiserated with me, and then asked me more directly how I was dealing with things. Again, I told him the truth. I thought I was dealing fairly well, even if I was waking up two or three times a night, unsure whether or not I had actually called out in terror. If I had, my father was kind enough not to mention it to me.
A week later, I awoke to find my dad sitting on my bed gently shaking me. He had heard me crying in the middle of the night and woke me from a dream of Curt hitting me repeatedly. Kevin woke me up before it could go any further than that, but the memories that the nightmare brought forth told me that there was much more behind them.
The most confusing part of the entire thing was that I did not remember him ever hitting me more than once or twice at a time until I started having the dreams. The memories of my life during that time period held no residual pain from the beatings, and I did not remember anyone mentioning any bruises that must surely have resulted from the encounters.
I visited the doctor for an examination to look for signs of the abuse. The man was sympathetic and gentle with his examination, telling me what he was going to do before he did it so that there would be no surprises. I got the impression he had worked with abuse survivors before. Between the visual exam and the colonoscopy, nothing definite was found, but there was some scarring that could have been a result of Curt assaulting me. When I asked if they could possibly be from something that Brian and I had done together, the doctor asked me if Brian had ever hurt me during our sex play. When I said no, the doctor replied that Brian could not have caused what he had found. The interview was one of the most embarrassing things I had ever been through, and I was not sure if I was more comforted or disturbed by the lack of evidence.
Lisa called me on a Saturday morning about a week before Christmas and she told me how worried she was that Brian was slipping back into his old ways of destroying his body. She begged me to talk to him and attempt to get him settled down. I was not sure that a discussion with me was the right thing to do, but I agreed to see Brian. It would give me the chance to apologize to him again.
I opened the door at a knock and saw Brian standing behind his mother, looking around the complex outside of my apartment. I stepped out of the way and motioned them inside. Lisa smiled as she passed, and then Brian stepped in. I smiled as I watched him take in my apartment, his eyes darting around, taking it all in, and not missing a thing.
“Hi, Brian,” I said softly. “It’s good to see you.”
His eyes flicked to me and then away, and he shrugged. A pang of regret struck me as I realized that I deserved nothing more from him considering my actions in the weeks after his fight in school.
“Come in. Please sit down.” I motioned him to the living area, and he sat on the couch on the edge of the seat. I looked at his mom, and she raised her hands to her side in an expression of uncertainty.
“I’ll be back later to pick you up, Brian,” Lisa said. “Call me when you’re ready to come home.”
“I’ll run home, Mom,” Brian informed her without turning around.
“Call me when you leave?” Her request was more of a plea for his cooperation.
“Okay,” he answered flatly.
Lisa smiled at me and let herself out the door. The silence left in her wake was oppressive and tense.
“Would you like anything to drink? Juice? Water?”
“No, thank you,” he answered with a slight shake of his head.
I went to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of orange juice. I could feel Brian’s eyes on me as I moved, and I managed to slop some of the juice on the counter because I was shaking from the tension. I wiped it up with a paper towel and threw it into the garbage.
“Sure you don’t want anything?” I asked, hoping that he would at least take a glass of juice from my hands.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Brian responded, his voice neutral.
“Okay…” I put the juice back in the fridge and sat down across from him. I watched him as I took a sip. He looked at the floor with an impassive expression. “Your mom asked me to talk to you about how you’re doing. For some reason, she seems to think you’ll listen to me.
“I’m doing okay,” Brian replied, his voice neither warm nor cold. “I’m not doing anything I haven’t done before.”
“Your mom told me you aren’t eating right.”
“I’m eating fine,” he said lightly. “Just because she doesn’t like the way I’m eating doesn’t mean I’m eating wrong.”
“And she says you’re overdoing the workouts.”
He didn’t react to the accusation except to say, “I work out two hours a day using a routine I developed.”
“Are you running?” I inquired.
“An hour or so after school.”
“So you’re spending three hours a day exercising?”
Brian showed his first sign of emotion, becoming visibly frustrated. Still keeping his eyes on the floor, he stated, “It’s not just exercise. It’s how I wind down. Look, I don’t know why she brought me here. My mom seems to think that I care about what you think of me.”
His jab hurt me, but I tried not to let it show. Still, I had to ask. “You don’t?”
“Not anymore,” he answered, his expression and tone daring me to argue the point.
I watched him for a moment until he looked away. “Fair enough,” I sighed. “What do I tell your mom, then?”
Brian snorted. “Tell her whatever you want. I’m not doing anything wrong. I have everything under control. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Brian…”
Brian met my gaze for the first time since entering my apartment. I could tell that he was on the edge of a tirade. His jaw was tight and his eyes were flashing. He was tired of his mother’s continued interference in his life. She had forced him to come to my apartment in one way or another. That much was clear.
I swallowed before I spoke again. “Do you think we can ever be friends again?”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with a faggot.” Even though I was expecting hostility, the heat in Brian’s voice still caught me by surprise. “Oh wait- that’s right. You don’t want anything to do with this faggot, but other faggots are okay!”
I swallowed again. “I’m sorry I said those things, Brian. I was wrong. Really, really wrong.”
“And you want me to say it’s okay and kiss and make up?” Brian asked, his eyebrows raised. “Get real! Do you have any idea what—“ Brian shut his mouth and looked away from me.
“I know it’s not okay, Brian,” I said softly. “What I said and did hurt you a lot. I know that. I can see than more now than ever before.”
“Congratulations,” Brian quipped, no humor in his voice.
“Brian…”
“Pete, I know exactly why you did what you did. I accepted it then, and I accept it now. But—and this is a hell of a big but— you went beyond that into cruelty. You dismissed everything we had and told me to fuck off. And I took it and tried to respect your wishes. You went out of your way to make me fucking miserable!”
I listened to his words and knew them to be true. “Go on.”
“What more is there to say? You did what you needed to do. You’re doing what you need to do now, and I’m doing what I need to do.”
“You’re right— I am doing what I need to do,” I agreed, “and Brian, I need to say this so there is no misunderstanding.” Brian’s eyed glared at mine. “I am so very sorry for what has happened between us since the day of the fight. If I could change it, I would.”
Brian’s jaw dropped slightly, as though my words caught him by surprise.
“You son of a bitch. You think that makes it all better?”
“No, of course not!” I exclaimed. “But I’m hoping we can at least talk now and then.
“Talk?” Brian nearly shouted, his voice cracking under the strain.
“Yes,” I answered calmly.
Brian jumped to his feet and hurried toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked quickly, worried that Brian was going to do something unwise.
“For a run,” he said distractedly. Brian opened the door and was off into the bright winter day.
“Brian, you can’t run away from everything!” He did not respond. “I’ll let your mom know you’re on the way home!” I called after him. Brian acknowledged me with a backward wave and then disappeared around the corner.
“Well, that went well, asshole,” I said to myself as I shut the door.
“Pete, is Brian there?” Lisa asked as I answered the phone one evening a few days before Christmas. Dad and I were sitting on the couch watching television together.
“No, he’s not. Why would you think he would be here?” I queried. “I haven’t seen him since he was here four days ago, on the nineteenth.”
“We can’t find him. He wasn’t here this morning and he left a note saying he was going somewhere. I thought he was going for a run and then over to Terry’s, but Terry hasn’t seen him, and neither has Tomas.”
“Maybe he was going over to another friends?” I suggested.
“But who? Pete, after everything that has happened, Brian knows to keep in touch, to let us know where he is.”
“Did you have an argument with him?” Dad looked at me and then turned down the volume on the television as Lisa responded.
“No, I didn’t have an argument with him!” Lisa all but shouted into the phone. After a moment’s silence, she continued, “I’m sorry I yelled, Pete. I’m just scared. I don’t know where he is!”
“Okay, I understand. I’m on my way over. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes with dad.”
“Oh thank you, Pete!”
“No problem. See you in a few.” I hung up and looked at Kevin. “Lisa thinks Brian is missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh as I stood up. I told him the entire conversation and finished, “I told her that we would come over.”
“Looks like I should get dressed, then,” Kevin stated rhetorically, and we were on our way three minutes later.
When we arrived, Lisa was just short of hysterics, and Ben, who had flown in that afternoon, was trying to calm her down with limited success. When he saw me he walked over and gave me a hug.
“Pete, it’s good to see you,” he said with a smile.
“You too, Dad,” I answered, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, son. So where’s our boy?” An unexpected sob struck, and he tightened his arms around me. “Hush now… it’s in the past. We need to move forward. It’ll take some time, but you and Brian will be friends again. After that… who knows.”
“Brian doesn’t want me anymore,” I cried softly.
Ben gently pushed me back to arms length. “Brian doesn’t know what he wants, Pete. If you really love him, and you want him back, then don’t give up.”
I smiled sadly and sniffed. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Yes it is, but it’s something for later. Let’s figure out where he is.”
“I’m not sure that he’s really missing. He’s probably still running, especially if he has a lot to think about… and after our conversation a few days ago, I know he has a lot to think about,” I stated.
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
“We talked about his exercise routines, and some about what happened between us. I apologized for what happened. He didn’t accept it, and bolted.” I shrugged. “I told him I hoped we could be friends.”
“I see. Lisa told me that he wasn’t eating right, and that when he was eating, he was purging,” Ben supplied.
“I wish she had told me that when she brought him over,” I sighed.
“She just figured it out this morning,” Ben explained. “Brian got careless and didn’t clean up like he usually does, I guess. We really have no idea how long this has been going on then.”
“Knowing Brian, it probably started about the time the fight happened,” I posited. “That would have been when he was… when he…”
“When he lost it emotionally,” Ben finished.
I nodded, and noticed Lisa, Ray, Jason, Tomas and Terry listening to our conversation.
“Hi,” I said sheepishly.
Terry and Tomas approached me, and one at a time shook my hand and pulled me into a half-hug.
“It’s good to see you, Pete,” Terry smiled genuinely as he spoke. “We miss you, bro.”
Tomas added, “It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“You mean you don’t hate me?” I asked, surprised at their actions and words.
“Hate you? No,” Terry responded. “Disappointed? Yeah, some, but that doesn’t mean we’re not your friend.”
“And given what you’ve been through, not so disappointed, either,” Tomas nodded. “What you’ve been through… man… it would have thrown anyone. For what it’s worth…”
“Thank you, guys,” I answered, my eyes moist. “That means more than you know.”
“So where is he? Do you know?” Terry asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“He left this note on the table,” Ben informed me as he handed over a small piece of paper. The words were written in Brian’s neat but small block capitals. It was short and to the point.
Mom, Dad,
I have something that I have to take
care of, and it’s going to take a little while to do it. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back when I’m done.
Love you,
Brian
Ray and Jason came over while I read the note. Ray’s expression was worried, which spoke to his true level of concern. His usual flippant manner was gone, replaced by a solemnity that I had only rarely seen on his face.
As he embraced me, I asked, “Did he say anything to you?”
I felt Ray sob and his arms tighten around me.
“It’s my fault, Pete!” Ray exclaimed into my ear. “We had an argument, and he shut himself up in his room, and then he was gone this morning…”
“What do you mean,” I whispered in return, squeezing him harder.
“He was working out in the weight room, and I got on him about how much he’s been working out. He’s been avoiding everyone since he talked to you, spending most of the time out there or running, and the rest of his time barricaded in his room. I laid into him, and he took it all without saying anything back. He just sat there, and I made him run away!”
“Ray, you didn’t make him do anything. There was no way you could make him do anything he didn’t want to do. You know how stubborn he is— almost as stubborn as you are!”
“Fuck you,” Ray chuckled as he pulled away.
“Raymond! Language!” My mom chided him.
“Sioux!” Ray immediately responded with a slight grin.
A sudden flash of insight hit me. “Let me make a phone call.” I raced over to the phone and dialed the unfamiliar number. After two rings, the answering machine picked up. When the greeting was done and the beep sounded, I left a message asking for a return call as soon as they got the message.
“Chris isn’t at home. I left a message for him or his mom to call as soon as they can.”
“You think he called them, Pete,” Lisa asked worriedly.
“Maybe,” I answered. “I was hoping. How was he last night?”
“He got back here and seemed okay, but he was distracted. He went straight to his room without eating, but that’s not that unusual…” Lisa’s voice trailed off.
“Well, we can call the police, but I don’t expect them to do anything until he’s been gone twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Ben sighed.
“Forty-eight,” confirmed Kevin. “Where else might he have gone? Does he have anyone else he hangs out with at school?” Kevin asked the room, looking at Terry and Tomas.
“No one he hangs out with,” Terry said, “but he has all sorts of people talking to him in the halls now that the CIA is running. It’s amazing what a change it’s made. The entire school feels different.”
“Yeah,” agreed Tomas and Ray at the same time, and Tomas continued, “All the freshman are walking around actually looking where they’re going instead of at their feet. There’s more interest in the Gay-Straight Alliance, too.”
“So the answer to my question is no?” Kevin inquired with a grin.
“Um, yeah, no.” Terry said. “I mean yes, your answer is no.”
“So all we can do until the forty-eight hour mark is wait?” Ben asked Kevin.
“We can call the police and tell them we think he is missing,” Kevin said. “Maybe they’ll do me a favor and put the word out on the street to keep an eye out for him. Or they may tell me we have to wait. It’s worth a try.”
“Please do that, Kevin,” Lisa requested quietly. She was obviously distressed, and if I knew her, she was blaming herself for Brian’s departure.
“I know Brian is okay,” I told her quietly when I caught her eye. “He won’t do anything to hurt himself.”
“You mean other than starving himself to death?” She asked flippantly, and then waved her hand. “I know what you meant, Pete, and I’m sorry. I just hope you’re right.”
“I am,” I responded with more confidence than I actually felt. “I am.”