American Dreamer

by Shawn Wesley Ballenger

  Brandon thought about the last time he had asked Cam to mow two years before, and all he got in response was a ‘Yeah. Right.’

  “Sorry.” Brandon frowned, knowing that he was missing a golden opportunity to spend time with his son.

  “Don’t sweat it. We’ll hang on Wednesday. You can ride home with me.” Cam brushed it off.

  “That sounds great!” Brandon said, sounding a little too excited.

  “Cool.”

  Cam started towards his car.

  “Later, man,” Brandon yelled.

  “Later.”

  Later that evening, Brandon, Tommy, and Kathy had just sat down to eat Kathy’s homemade spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

  “I’m surprised you made friends with Cam so fast,” Tommy said as he put a piece of garlic toast on his plate. “I guess age didn’t make a difference.”

  “Yeah. He asked me to come over and hang out. Of course, I think me being your nephew helped.” Brandon smiled as he filled his plate with a generous helping of pasta. “Remember when we used to hang out and play video games all day?”

  “Yeah.” Tommy laughed. “That is until we discovered chess.”

  “Nerd alert.” Kathy teased as she placed her napkin in her lap.

  “Yeah, I know. Speaking of nerd alert, I had a dude in my programming class hit on me.”

  “Was he cute?” Kathy laughed as she smoothed her napkin on her lap.

  “Not my type.” Brandon dipped a few meatballs out of the service dish, not wanting to mention the details of the awkward encounter.

  “So, what kind of guy is your type?” She asked, her raised eyebrow indicating her curiosity.

  “You should see Cam’s friend Logan. Oh, my God, he’s so cute!” Brandon answered, sounding way more like a lovestruck tween than he intended.

  “Ooh. Do tell.” Kathy wiggled in her chair as if she was about to receive the juiciest piece of gossip she’d heard in ages.

  Tommy remained silent.

  “Well, he’s got this long black wavy hair, he likes to push out of his face in a way that it so cute.” Brandon stopped what he was doing and gestured the movement. “He’s got these gorgeous blue eyes and muscles out—”

  “He’s seventeen.” Tommy interrupted.

  “So?” Brandon shrugged. “He’s only three years older than me now.”

  Tommy chuckled. “You sound like a lovesick schoolgirl.”

  “Oh, leave him alone, Tom. He’s a teenager now. Besides, it’s nice to have someone to talk about guys with.” Kathy turned back to Brandon. “Go on, sweetie.”

  “There’s not much to tell. He’s straight as a board.” Brandon frowned.

  “Has he got a girlfriend?” Kathy asked.

  “Yeah. I think so. I saw him talking to some cheerleader after practice. I’m pretty sure they were a couple.” Brandon took a bite of bread. “I’m going to the LGBTQ Club meeting next week. Maybe I’ll meet a cute guy my age in there.” Brandon smiled optimistically, hoping that the person wouldn’t be another Lo.

  “Oh,” Brandon looked to Tommy. “I need to borrow the push mower tomorrow.”

  “Why?” Tommy asked as he shoveled spaghetti into his mouth.

  “Corbin and I are going to be partners in a lawn mowing business.” Brandon beamed.

  “Corbin? Your lawn boy?” Tommy asked with wide eyes and a mouth full of spaghetti.

  “Yeah. He and I have a class together. He was so impressed with what I did with your pitiful lawn that he asked me to be his partner.” Brandon smiled proudly.

  “I think that’s great, sweetie.” Kathy jumped in. “You’re already starting to fit in.”

  “Well, just don’t tear it up.” Tommy swallowed. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

  Brandon frowned. “You’ve waited all your life to share that classic dad idiom. Haven’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.” Tommy nodded with a long piece of spaghetti hanging from the corner of his mouth.

  Kathy shook her head in amusement.

  Sometime after midnight, Brandon lay in the guest bed, tossing and turning in a very restless sleep. His unconscious mind mingling his thoughts and memories into very life-like dreams.

  The doorbell rang, and a middle-aged Brandon opened his door.

  “Hi, Mr. Daniels,” Logan said. “Is Cam around?” He pushed the hair from his eyes.

  Brandon stood eye-to-eye with a shirtless Logan. A trickle of sweat beaded around his neck and rolled slowly down the valley of his hairy chest, memorizing Brandon. Brandon reached down and pulled a red Velcro wallet from the front pocket of his cargo pants, his eyes still glued to the glimmering drop of dark blue liquid that swirled towards Logan’s navel. He heard a “Kkkkkrrrriiiissshhh” sound as his youthful hands pulled open the wallet, distracting him for a moment. His eyes shot to his wrist, where a blue calculator watch began beeping. He glanced at his t-shirt with a ‘Biff’s Car Wash, Hill Valley, California” graphic.

  “You okay, Brand?” Logan asked as the door and walls of Brandon’s house melted away into a pool of brown paint.

  The paint moved in rolling swirls as the familiar walls of Brandon’s childhood bedroom morphed into place.

  “Yeah, man. I’m cool.” He gazed at the Pac-Man maze on his TV screen and felt the Atari joystick in his hand. His eyes shot down towards the shag carpeting as his iPhone dinged, notifying him of a text.

  A text from Steve, telling him there was a problem in accounting they needed his help with.

  Brandon felt a sense of dread but then felt a hand squeeze his upper thigh. His head jerked to the left.

  “Has anyone ever told you how cute you are?” Logan winked.

  “No.” Brandon blushed and felt himself immediately getting aroused.

  “Well, you are.” Logan leaned in as Brandon felt himself being drawn toward Logan’s luscious wet lips. Brandon felt the heat of Logan’s breath against his face as their lips touched. Brandon closed his eyes as Logan’s mouth worked its magic, and his hand glided across Brandon’s thigh, finally landing upon his arousal.

  NOOOOOO! Stop! This is wrong!

  Brandon screamed as he opened his eyes and sat straight up, breathing hard and covered in sweat.

  “Oh, God!” He looked down at his teenage body before laying back down, raising his hands to his head to rub his forehead and temples.

  What the fuck was that? His mind reeling.

  Brandon ran his hands over his body. When his fingers slid over his chest and found the warm evidence of his wet dream, his nose turned up in disgust. It had been a long time since he had worried about such things. He threw the sheet back.

  “Gross!” He stared at the mess.

  It then hit him as to the identity of the protagonist of his weird nightmare. Oh, my God. I had a wet dream about Logan? His mind started wrestling with itself over the morality of French kissing a seventeen-year-old boy. He felt almost like…a dirty old man.

  You’re fourteen now, Brandon. You’re fourteen, he kept repeating to himself knowing the age of his body was influencing his mind as far as who he found attractive.

  “It was just a dream, Brandon.” He tried to calm himself before he got up to clean up his mess.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Brandon peered down the sidewalk while he anxiously waited for Corbin to show up with his push mower. They had a large property to mow and had agreed it would go faster doing it together. Brandon had only been outside a few minutes, but already he was sweating. A slight breeze rustled the leaves on the trees every now and again, which provided welcome relief from the dry heat. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He anxiously recalled the look on Corbin’s face from a conversation earlier in the day.

  Why was I so stupid? He asked himself for the hundredth time. If only I had kept my cool.

  A shaggy blonde-haired figure about his height, pushing a red push mower, appeared in the distance. Brandon’s mind reset to the incident that played out in Programming Lang
uage I earlier in the day.

  “Hey, man.” Corbin had come in like a whirlwind and plopped down at his terminal next to Brandon.

  “Hey.” Brandon smiled as he watched Corbin kick his backpack under the table and pull his chair up to the keyboard.

  “Ready to get that bread this afternoon?” Corbin pounded on his keyboard.

  “You bet!” Brandon dragged the Queen of Spades to the King of Spades and clicked his mouse, killing time while waiting for class to start.

  “The lawn tonight shouldn’t take us more than an hour working together.” Corbin opened Visual Studio. “It’s the main house and two empty lots.”

  “Sounds good.” Brandon stretched back in his chair, letting out a huge yawn.

  “Sounds like you need sleep instead of work.” Corbin chuckled.

  “Nah.” Brandon dismissed him. “Rest is for the weary, sleep is for the dead.”

  Corbin closed one eye and tilted his head towards him. “Sixth Doctor. Attack of the Cybermen. Season twenty-three. Episode One.” He exclaimed.

  “Season twenty-two.” Brandon corrected him.

  “Dude!” Corbin held out his fist out to bump, which Brandon did. “You watch classic Doctor Who?”

  “Love it! Much better than the new series.” Brandon said. “I grew up on it.”

  Brandon recalled that he and Corbin had this same conversation a year before when they discovered their mutual love of the old series. Sometimes Corbin would hang out, and they’d watch Classic Who.

  “Me too!” Corbin said excitedly. “Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

  “The sixth Doctor, of course,” Brandon said without thinking. “He’s so fucking arrogant and that coat he wears…I love it!”

  Corbin’s face dropped.

  “What?” Brandon shook his head, not understanding his reaction.

  “There’s only one other person I ever knew that actually said his favorite Doctor was number six for the same reason,” Corbin gave Brandon a strange look, “and that was Mr. Daniels.”

  Brandon’s face dropped. Very few people in the Doctor Who fandom ever said that the sixth doctor was their favorite. In fact, most fans ranked him at the bottom of the list as far as Doctors went. Brandon was definitely one of the few fans who found his arrogance and style entertaining.

  “I, um,” Brandon sputtered before the teacher interrupted.

  “Class, please open up the file named Assignment Five on your desktop.” Miss Landeau interrupted.

  Brandon quickly turned his head towards the monitor as Corbin continued staring at him before he finally turned to do as the teacher instructed. For the rest of the class, Brandon would catch Corbin glancing sideways at him. As soon as the bell rang, Brandon grabbed his backpack and shot out of the room like a bullet.

  Standing on the sidewalk as Corbin came closer, Brandon immediately noticed the stoic look on his face. Most of the time, Corbin was a happy-go-lucky kid. He definitely had something on his mind. Brandon decided to keep his wits about him and play like the conversation earlier in the day had never happened.

  “Hey, man.” Brandon cheerfully greeted Corbin as he stopped in front of him. “I forgot to get gas. I hope you have some.”

  “Mr. Drake will have some.” He said expressionlessly.

  “Cool, dude!” Brandon faked a smile as the butterflies in his stomach swarmed. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” Corbin pushed his mower to the street.

  Brandon took the spot alongside him. They walked in silence to Mr. Drake’s house. Brandon knew exactly where the man lived but made sure that he didn’t screw up again by taking the lead.

  Finally, Corbin turned to him. “Where did you say you were from again?”

  “Georgia. A little town outside Valdosta.” Brandon answered as a car passed them.

  “I see.” Corbin nodded as silence fell once again.

  The clanking of the lawnmowers on the pavement began to wear on Brandon’s already frayed nerves.

  “So how much we making off this yard?” Brandon asked, hoping to shift the focus from his dubious background.

  “Sixty bucks. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.” Corbin answered dryly.

  “Coolio,” Brandon chirped, trying to act more like a teenager. “You mean you don’t want to go sixty-forty? You know, give me a little extra since this is my first job, and you said I was so good at doing Uncle Tommy’s lawn?”

  Brandon punched him playfully on the shoulder, hoping to break the tension.

  “I didn’t say it was that good.” The corner of Corbin’s mouth rose slightly, which let Brandon know his operation to distract him was working.

  “And you think you could do better?” Brandon turned towards him and grinned.

  “Of course.” Corbin finally smiled. “I have more experience.”

  “Pfft, experience doesn’t mean shit when it comes to lawn-mowing. As long as you keep a straight line, you’re good.” Brandon laughed. “Anyone can do that.”

  “Ha!” Corbin pushed Brandon on the shoulder playfully. “Staying straight is a skill.” Corbin thought for a moment on how that sounded and backtracked. “I mean…you know what I meant.”

  A nervous laugh escaped Corbin’s mouth.

  “Yeah, straight boy,” Brandon said, quoting Lo.

  Corbin grunted in frustration. “Lo is such a little perv. He used to stare at my crotch during class until one day I told him I was going to shove that designer handbag of his up his ass if he didn’t stop.”

  “Did he stop?”.

  “Oh, he stopped.”

  Brandon laughed. “Would you have done it?”

  “Nah.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But he believed me, and that’s all that matters.” Corbin laughed. “I have nothing against gay guys, just don’t come on to me knowing that I’m not into dudes. You know?”

  “I won’t. Don’t worry.” Brandon played it casually to see his reaction.

  “Good. ‘Cause I got a girlfriend.” Corbin didn’t bat an eye. “You got a boyfriend?”

  “No. I’ve only been here a week.”

  “You should join the LGBTQ Club. Bet you’d meet someone there.” Corbin pulled a packet of gum from his pocket, took one, and offered one to Brandon.

  Brandon pulled one from the pack and unwrapped it. “Yeah, I’m going to next week.”

  About that time, Corbin stopped in front of a house with two overgrown lots on either side of it.

  “Well, here we are. Mr. Drake owns those two empty lots that need to be mowed as well. If you want to start on the left one, I’ll start on the right one, and we’ll both do the main property.”

  “Cool.” Brandon agreed. “I’ll mow the front of if you want to take the back of the house?”

  “Sounds good.” Corbin nodded. “There’s gas in the shed in the back if you need some.” He pointed towards the house.

  “Cool!” Brandon started towards the shed while Corbin started his mower and went towards his assigned lot.

  It took about an hour of them working together to get the properties completely mowed. Brandon waited on the sidewalk as he watched Corbin collect the money from a portly man wearing a business suit standing in the front door. As Corbin walked towards him, he waved three twenties in the air at him and smiled. Brandon laughed.

  “You got change for a twenty?” He asked Brandon.

  “Negatory. But I’m sure Uncle Tommy has some.” Brandon said. “Or you can just give me the forty, and you can keep the twenty.”

  “Greedy little bastard, aren’t you?” Corbin teased.

  “Well, I’m saving for my own car, too, you know?” Brandon shot back.

  Corbin’s face dropped once again. “I never told you that I was saving for a car.”

  Corbin looked Brandon directly in the eyes, unflinching.

  Fucking hell, Brandon, He cursed himself. You did it again!

  “Umm…yeah, you did. Remember? At lunch today.” Brandon hoped his acting abilities would save him this time. “Y
ou said your parents were too overprotective and wouldn’t buy you one.”

  “No. Channing,” Corbin stated, his tone clipped and suspicious. “I didn’t. I’ve only told one person I was saving for a car, and that was Mr. Daniels.”

  “Umm…oh, yeah.” He paused. “Uncle Tommy said that Mr. Daniels told him and Uncle Tommy told me. That’s right.”

  “Why the hell would Mr. Daniels tell him that? Like your Uncle Tommy would give a rat’s ass about how I spend my money.” Corbin narrowed his eyes.

  “Well, they were best friends, you know.” Brandon looked away.

  “Cut the bullshit, Channing.” Corbin’s voice rose as his eyes grew wide. “You’re Brandon Daniels!”

  Brandon laughed hysterically, his voice quivering.

  “Are you crazy? I’m Channing Burkhart. I’m Tommy Burkhart’s nephew from Georgia.” Brandon would not look Corbin directly in the eye.

  Corbin grabbed Brandon by the shoulder and yanked him around where he could look him directly in the face. Brandon stumbled and looked down.

  “Look at me!” Corbin yelled as Brandon moved his eyes up to Corbin’s chest.

  An awkward silence followed as Brandon’s eyes made their way upwards until they stared directly into Corbin’s eyes. The wind died off as the sounds of lawnmowers in the distance echoed through the neighborhood.

  Finally, Brandon sighed and said it. “Yeah, Corbin. It’s me.”

  “Holy shit! It’s impossible!” Corbin’s voice cracked, making Brandon feel better about his own immature voice.

  “I try to believe six impossible things before breakfast.” Brandon laughed nervously, trying to make light of the situation.

  “Don’t be quoting Doctor Who at me!”

  “It’s actually the Doctor quoting the Queen from Alice in Wonderland.” Brandon shrugged and turned his head away shyly.

  “Holy shit!” Corbin repeated. “How?”

  “Youth potion.” Brandon looked down and felt like a little kid having to admit to his mother he’d broken her favorite vase. His mind was racing a million miles an hour.

  “Wow!” Corbin began laughing unexpectedly. “You finally got it, didn’t you?”

  “Got what?” Brandon looked up at him, not understanding.