Brian and Carey

by Colin Sherman

“Nah, I can walk.”

  They got out of the car and stood awkwardly. This was always the worst part of an evening. The goodbye.

  Chapter 11

  “That was really fun,” Brian said. “Did you have fun?”

  Carey nodded. “Yeah, it was great.” He glanced around the neighborhood. It was only six ten in the morning and no one appeared to be up. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a pink glow everywhere. It looked especially good on Brian.

  Brian nodded. “Even losing so badly at poker was fun.”

  “You don’t have much of a poker face,” Carey snickered.

  “I have a hard time containing myself,” Brian acknowledged.

  Carey reached out without thinking and touched Brian’s cheek. “I can’t believe you got Hello Kitty painted on your face.”

  “Everybody loves Hello Kitty,” Brian said. “A rainbow would have been so last year.” He flourished his hand dramatically.

  Their eyes met, and Carey dropped his hand.

  “So, how was your dance with Mark?” Carey asked out of the blue. It had been on his mind since the couple first stepped out on the dance floor. He wasn’t planning on pushing Brian to decide his feelings. But he worried that it was now a choice between him and Mark, and he needed to know where he stood. Brian danced with Mark, but he held Carey’s hand.

  “I’m sorry I danced with him,” Brian said. “Even though he was a jerk to me, I felt bad saying no. He did apologize, though.”

  Carey nodded. “That’s good. Anything else?”

  Brian swallowed. “He asked if I wanted to go out with him again.”

  “Oh.”

  “I said no.”

  Carey allowed himself to smile a little. That was encouraging. But he still wasn’t sure where he stood.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you,” he said quietly. “I was being a big chicken.”

  “Carey, you’re right to be cautious. If you’re not ready to come out, you’re not ready. Not everyone will take it well. Especially family.”

  “Your parents did.”

  “I didn’t have to come out to them. They always knew. I never realized I was supposed to try and hide it when I was little.”

  “No, you weren’t supposed to hide it. Or at least, you shouldn’t have had to,” Carey said.

  “Neither should you.”

  Carey nodded. “Except, I did. And now it’s going to be a big deal.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brian said reaching out to touch Carey’s shoulder. “I wish this wasn’t so hard for you.”

  “Thanks.” Carey pulled Brian into a hug. They’d hugged hundreds of times before. But this time it was different.

  When they pulled away, they didn’t let go completely. Carey’s mouth had gone dry and he tried to swallow. He knew what was going to happen. What he hoped was going to happen. Like magnets, their mouths were drawn to one another. Unlike their first kiss, this one had purpose and meaning. Neither one was, by any means, proficient at it. Yet it was the most memorable either had given or received.

  They leaned back just enough to gauge one another’s response. Encouraged by what they each saw, they kissed again. Carey, being the more experienced, albeit with girls, took the lead. He slowed Brian down to a more leisurely pace and dared to brush his tongue against Brian’s. Receptive, Brian tilted his head and allowed Carey to explore his mouth fully. They kissed, leaning up against the car, losing track of time, and the world around them. Carey’s fingers tangled in the soft curls of Brian’s hair, something he’d been wanting to do for as long as he could remember.

  A car horn in the distance reminded them that they were in Carey’s driveway in full view of anyone who cared to be up and about at dawn on a Sunday morning.

  They pulled away and giggled.

  “I should be going,” Brian said, breathless.

  “Yeah, me too. Uh, Brian, I, um . . .”

  Brian smiled, touching his forehead to Carey’s. “Me too. Call me later.”

  “Okay.” Carey watched Brian start to walk down the street to his house for a minute before going into his own house, carrying his tux in a plastic bag.

  He started to go past the kitchen on his way upstairs but stopped short.

  “Dad? What are you doing up?”

  “Have a good time?” Mr. Reid asked, his expression neutral.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Carey stood awkwardly, unsure if his father was going to say more, or if he should offer up details.

  “The after-party was pretty cool,” Carey told him. “There was volleyball set up, and a casino in one room. And–”

  “I saw you.”

  The color drained from Carey’s face and he suddenly had the need to sit down. But he was afraid to move.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, playing dumb, on the off chance his father wasn’t talking about his kiss with Brian.

  Carey’s dad hit the table with a flat hand, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “You know what I mean. That kid is never to step foot in this house again. I knew it was just a matter of time before he tried to force himself on you.”

  “He didn’t force himself on me. He’s my best friend. We just got caught up in the whole prom night celebration,” Carey lied.

  Malcolm Reid stood. An imposing figure of a man already, he scowled and put his hands on his hips.

  “I’m not stupid!” he yelled.

  Carey shrank back a step. He’d never been afraid of his father, but then again, he’d never seen the rage in his father’s eyes like it was at that moment.

  “I, I didn’t say you were,” Carey said weakly. “I just meant that it was nothing.”

  Malcolm took a long stride toward his son. “I saw you. You kissed that little fag. What the hell is the matter with you?”

  Jeannie came down the stairs in a hurry.

  “What’s going on? It’s six in the morning.”

  “Carey and I are having a conversation. Man to man. It doesn’t concern you Jeannie.”

  Carey looked to his mother, his eyes pleading with her not to leave.

  “Well, it’s a loud conversation,” she said. “Why are you yelling? You knew he was going to be out all night, didn’t you?”

  Malcolm pursed his lips. “If I had known what he was going to be doing, I certainly wouldn’t have let him.”

  “Why is everybody up so early?” Michelle wandered down rubbing her eyes.

  “Go back upstairs!” her father yelled at her.

  Not needing to be told twice, Michelle ran back up, but stayed at the top of the stairs to listen.

  “Malcolm, was that necessary?” Jeannie frowned.

  “Yes. You think I want her to know what her brother’s been up to?”

  “Mom?”

  “Shut up,” Mr. Reid ordered. “I told you that faggy kid was going to turn him one day. But you wouldn’t listen. You said he was harmless and that being a homo wasn’t contagious.”

  “Malcolm, what are you saying? What happened?” She looked to Carey, concerned.

  “I saw him making out with another boy. A boy! That disgusting Brian.”

  Jeannie looked to Carey. “Honey? Is that true?” She took his hand.

  “You think I’m making it up?” Malcolm barked.

  “I’m asking him,” she said forcefully. Carey couldn’t recall his mother ever really yelling at his father, but that was about as close as she’d come. “Carey?”

  Carey knew that she knew it was true, but to say it in front of his father scared him more than just about anything.

  “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  “God dammit! I told you. If I ever see that kid again, I’m gonna–”

  “What?” Jeannie interrupted. “You’re gonna, what? Beat him up? He’s literally half your size.”

  “So what. He’s asking for it.”

  Carey’s fists clenched at his sides. He felt he’d always been a coward when it came to the school bullies. He stood beside Brian through it all, but he
never used force against them. Partly because, even though he was bigger than Brian, he wasn’t exactly a powerhouse. But also because he didn’t believe more violence helped. As he watched his parents argue back and forth over whether or not Brian turned their son into a fag, his blood began to boil.

  He banged his fist hard on the table, immediately bringing the argument to a halt.

  “Shut up!”

  Malcolm’s face grew red. “How dare you tell me to–”

  “It’s not Brian’s fault I’m queer, Dad. I’ve always been. And if you touch him, I’ll . . . I’ll never speak to you again.” He couldn’t bring himself to threaten his father with bodily harm.

  “You’re not queer.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I am.” Carey said calmly.

  Jeannie pulled him into a hug.

  “Don’t hug him for that,” Malcolm spat.

  Jeannie glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me not to hug my own son. This is hard enough for him without you being such an ass.”

  “Did you know already? You knew he was a homo and didn’t tell me.”

  “If this is your reaction, can you blame me?” she asked.

  “You did know.” Malcolm was livid.

  “Yes, I knew. What difference does it make?” Jeannie’s voice was raised, not quite yelling, but loud enough.

  “If you had told me, I could have prevented this. I would have insisted he stay away from Brian. We could have had him do more sports and hang out with normal kids.”

  “Brian is a normal kid,” Carey interjected, and was ignored.

  “Do you hear yourself, Malcolm? You sound ridiculous. You can’t turn somebody gay.”

  “That’s what that kid is trying to do, and Carey is an easy target.”

  “He is not. He didn’t even start it,” Carey said. “I did. I love him.”

  Carey wasn’t even sure what happened after that. He found himself on the ground, and his cheek hurt. He looked up in time to see his mother slap his father across the face with a hard crack.

  Malcolm looked down at Carey on the floor, then to his wife. His mouth dropped open.

  “Son,” he said softly.

  Carey scrambled to his feet and took off out the front door. He heard his mother yelling at his father, even from outside.

  “Carey!” Michelle screamed out the window of Carey’s bedroom, which faced the street. He could see that she was crying.

  “I’m okay,” he yelled back. He waved his arm for her to go back inside.

  Instinctively, he ran straight to Brian’s house. He knew it was probably not a good idea, but that was where he always turned when he needed a friend.

  He tentatively knocked on the front door. The Stricklands were most likely still asleep, and Brian had probably gone to bed as soon as he got in the house. He waited a few minutes and knocked again. He backed up and looked up to Brian’s window. It was dark.

  Thinking it was awfully cliché, Carey picked up a stick and threw it at the window. He repeated the action a few times before Brian finally looked out the window. He lifted it and yawned.

  “What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

  “Can I come in?”

  “What? Aren’t you tired? Go to bed,” Brian said.

  “I can’t. I . . . I had a huge fight with my dad.”

  “About what?” Brian asked.

  Carey glanced around and said as quietly as possible yet still allowing Brian to hear, “He saw us. Kissing.”

  “Oh shit. I’ll be right down.”

  The front door opened almost immediately, and Carey wondered just how fast Brian ran down the stairs.

  “Jeez, so what happened?” Brian asked. Then his face became grave. “Did he do that?”

  “What?”

  “That mark.” Brian reached out and touched Carey’s face. “Carey, did he hit you?”

  “I don’t think he meant to. He looked just as shocked as I felt.”

  “Oh my God, he really hit you?” Brian pulled him into a hug.

  Until then, Carey had been able to hold himself together on pure adrenaline. But feeling Brian’s protective arms around him allowed him to let go and feel what happened at his house. Carey cried for a long while as they stood in the kitchen.

  “Come on. Let’s go upstairs,” Brian suggested.

  Carey started to follow, then stopped. “Should we be doing that?”

  Brian shrugged. “Why not? You’ve slept over a million times.”

  “Yeah, but that was before.”

  “Don’t trust yourself?” Brian laughed.

  Carey pushed him from behind. “Jerk.”

  They walked upstairs and went into Brian’s room. Carey took up his usual spot on the futon in the corner, while Brian crawled back into bed.

  “You okay?” Brian asked.

  “Yeah. Thanks Bri.”

  Though Carey was asleep within a matter of minutes, Brian lay awake for a bit thinking about how his and Carey’s lives were going to change in the days ahead.

  ◆◆◆

  At seven-thirty, Carey sat on the futon, biting his nail as he listened to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. He vaguely heard Brian stretch and yawn from the other side of the room.

  “What’s going on?”

  “My parents are here,” Carey said absently.

  “Do they know you’re here?”

  “Your dad said he didn’t hear you come in this morning.”

  “What should we do?” Brian asked.

  “I don’t know. My dad is going to flip if he finds out I’ve been in your bedroom.”

  “But, you’ve stayed over–”

  “It’s different now! Don’t you understand that?” Carey raised his voice enough to stop the conversation downstairs. “Crap.”

  They heard footsteps. “Brian, are you up?” Mrs. Strickland called.

  He got out of bed and opened his door. “Yeah, Mom.”

  “Is Carey up there with you, honey?”

  He looked to Carey and whispered, “What should I say?”

  Carey nodded.

  “Um, yeah, he’s here.”

  “Can the two of you come down?” she asked, somehow managing not to sound judgmental.

  “Sure.” To Carey, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault my dad’s a psycho.”

  Butterflies were churning in Carey’s belly as he followed Brian down to the kitchen. His parents were sitting at the kitchen table with Brian’s. His mother stood as he entered.

  “Carey, you should have let us know where you were going.”

  He only nodded in response. No matter what happened with his father, he should have let his mother know he was all right. His father didn’t meet his gaze but sat with his jaw clenched.

  “We were only sleeping, Mom,” Brian said. “I swear. Carey was on the futon.”

  She smiled. “No one is saying you did anything wrong. But Jeannie is right. You’re welcome here anytime, Carey, as long as you have your parents’ permission.”

  Malcolm snorted.

  “Carey, it’s time to go,” Jeannie said. “Thank you, Lori, John, for letting Carey stay here.”

  “No problem,” John said. “Um, I think we may have to set some new ground rules, though.”

  Jeannie smiled. “Yes. I’ll call you later.”

  As the Reids left the Strickland’s house, both Carey and Malcolm looked like scolded puppies with their tails between their legs. They were all silent as they walked the block and a half home. As soon as they stepped in the house, though, Mrs. Reid spoke.

  “I think you both have something to say.”

  “Son, I . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” Malcolm rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Carey answered curtly.

  “Carey, don’t you have something to say, too?”

  “Me? He’s the one who–”

  “Carey,” Jeannie cut him off. “You told your fa
ther to shut up and you threatened not to speak to him.” It was clear that he wasn’t going to get out of an apology.

  “Sorry Dad.” He said the requisite words but didn’t necessarily feel them.

  “I think we all need to have a calm, rational talk about all this. But now is not the time. Carey, why don’t you go on up and get some more sleep.”

  “Okay. I am still really tired.”

  “You should probably take that tux and hang it up,” she suggested, pointing to the plastic bag.

  Slowly, he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Michelle quietly opened her door as he walked by.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “Yeah. I guess you heard everything?”

  She licked her lips. “Yeah. It got bad after you left.”

  “Worse than Dad hitting me?”

  “I’ve never heard Mom so mad. She told him that if he didn’t at least try to understand and accept you, she was going to leave him. And if he ever hit you again, she would call the police.”

  “Holy crap.” He cradled his head. It was beginning to ache. “This is all my fault. Why couldn’t I just be normal?”

  “Carey, there’s nothing wrong with you. Dad just doesn’t know how to react. He’ll come around eventually.”

  “He said horrible things about Brian. I knew he wasn’t comfortable around him, but I never thought he found him disgusting. He must think I’m disgusting too.”

  Michelle opened her mouth to respond, but instead put her arms around her brother. He returned the hug.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

  He was almost inside his room, when Michelle asked, “So, are you and Brian going out?”

  He shrugged, then grinned. “I guess so.”

  “Cool.”

  Rather than hang up the tux, Carey laid it carefully over his chair and got in bed. He slept for four hours straight.

  ◆◆◆

  Carey rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. The sun was streaming through his window making him squint. He groaned, remembering the events of earlier that morning. He could hear his parents talking downstairs. At least they weren’t yelling.

  He sat up and grinned. Not everything that happened that morning was bad. His stomach did a little flip thinking about the kisses he and Brian shared. It was scary to think about how much their relationship was going to change. But it was liberating to be free of his secrets, if only to his family.