by Jay Bell
The judge had more to say, but Connor didn’t hear. A month in jail. Away from David. After that, who knew? Connor reminded himself that it could have been worse, but he still felt like his entire life was ruined. Maybe David would still want to be seen with him, and maybe that job would still be waiting in Florida, but nothing was certain anymore.
“Your sentence was reduced to battery,” Mark said in the courthouse hallway, looking victorious. The escorting officer had his hand on Connor’s elbow. “The month in county will fly by, and your life will be back to normal before you know it. I promise. How about that call?”
Connor nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Mark left him with the officer, who took him to a small room with an old table, a couple of chairs, and a phone. Then the officer stood guard by the door, as if Connor would make a break for it. Ignoring this, he sat and started dialing home before he hung up again. Tommy usually answered, and for some reason, hearing his voice would be too hard right now. Instead he dialed another number.
“Connor?” David’s voice sounded frantic. “Are you okay? I called the station, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I’m fine. I just got out of court. Look, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I don’t know. I just am.” Connor took a deep breath. “I’m going to jail, David.”
The other line was silent a moment. “For how long?”
“A month.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Connor laughed. He couldn’t help it. David sounded so sincere, so cheesy, but they were exactly the words that Connor needed to hear.
“Thanks. You stay away from Chuck, okay? When I get out, we’re getting the hell out of Kansas. You were right. We never should have left Florida.”
“Can I come see you?”
“I don’t know. Listen, I need you to call my parents. Better yet, go by and explain things to them in person. I know I should tell them, but I can’t handle it.”
“Okay.”
“And make sure Tommy doesn’t know. Have them say you and I took another trip or something.”
“I will. I love you, Connor.”
He felt his lip tremble. The stupid cop at the door was staring at him with no intention of looking away. Fuck it. “I love you too. I’ll make this up to you, David. I promise.”
If David responded, Connor didn’t hear it. He hung up the phone and steeled himself. Whatever the next month held, he knew he would have to be strong.
* * * * *
David was used to living in a state of panic. All the bullying he had suffered left him weathered to stress. He wasn’t immune, by any means, but he had long since learned to cope, to shove anxiety aside so he could keep functioning like a normal human being.
All that training was failing him now. Getting beat up by Chuck was nothing. That unpleasant event took a backseat to Connor being arrested. Hell, it wasn’t even in the car anymore! Riding shotgun next to David, screaming over the radio’s music and distracting him from the road, was the knowledge that Connor was going to jail. And David could do nothing about it.
David’s father came home early, as promised the day before. David was upstairs on the computer when he came into the office.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Not really.” David quadruple clicked the stupid link he was waiting to open and shoved the mouse away with disgust. They needed a serious upgrade.
“What are you doing?” his father asked.
“Researching how jail works.”
“Why?”
David turned around in the chair, and his father’s chin dropped. He hadn’t seen the injuries today that were now an ugly polluted purple. “Because Connor’s going to jail for beating up the person who did this to me.”
His father looked like he wouldn’t mind taking a swing at Chuck himself. “Maybe we should go talk to the police today. Let them see what this other boy did.”
Yes! “Okay. Maybe then they’ll let Connor go.”
His father’s mouth snapped shut, jaw flexing before he spoke. “David, I understand why you sympathize with Connor’s situation. You think he’s a hero for what he’s done, but real heroes work within the confines of the law. Chuck deserves to be punished, and I’m afraid Connor does too. It’s just as well since I think you two should spend some time apart.”
“What?” David stood. “Why?”
“Because a little time off will help you rethink your priorities, and because there’s such a thing as feeling too passionate. Refocus on your goals, and you’ll find Connor there waiting for you when you’re back on track.”
“Like Mom waited for you?” David shouted. “Are you completely heartless? You’re like some insane computer that only thinks about my education. I don’t care about any of that! Don’t you get it? I’m not going to some stupid school! I’m waiting until Connor gets out of jail, then we’re going to Florida, whether you like it or not!”
David shoved past him and ran down the stairs. The car keys were hanging on their hook, so he grabbed them and was out the door before his dad could stop him. David had promised to tell Connor’s family what happened, and that’s what he meant to do.
On the way, David passed the police station. Connor was there, waiting to be shipped off to some county jail, from what David had read. The county jail used to be across from the police station, but it had been cleared out and was being renovated. He didn’t know where Connor would be taken, but once he did, he would be the first one there on visiting day.
If Connor went to jail at all. As David pulled into the trailer park, he began to hope. Once Connor’s parents were told, they would go to the police and talk to them. Connor was legally an adult, but he was still a teenager who lived at home. That had to be worth something. Surely they could take him into custody, maybe putting him on house arrest instead.
Connor’s father answered the door, greeting David like everything was normal despite his cuts and bruises. Past him, David could see Connor’s mom cooking in the kitchen, her back to the door. They were oblivious to what had happened.
“Sorry, David, Connor’s not home. We thought he was with you.”
“I know,” David said. “I need to talk to you and Mrs. Williams.”
Connor’s father eyed him for a moment before stepping aside and holding the door open. “Sure. Come on in.”
Mrs. Williams greeted him, wooden spoon in one hand, looking puzzled. “Connor isn’t with you?”
David asked them to sit, and their expressions made him realize how stupid this was. Now they probably thought their son had died or something, so he hurriedly told them the basics. Then it became serious. Mrs. Williams turned off the stove, and they both made him tell them every detail.
“We have to go up there, Steven.”
Mr. Williams nodded at his wife and stood. “I’ll get Tommy from the neighbors.”
“Actually,” David said, “Connor doesn’t want him to know. I thought we could just say he’s out of town or something. I don’t know. Why don’t you guys go talk to Connor. I’ll stay here with Tommy.”
Under the circumstances, David’s suggestion was welcomed. In a daze, Mrs. Williams showed him how to finish the tacos she had been cooking. The meat was done. David was sure he could handle chopping lettuce and shredding cheese. He busied himself with the food until they were gone. Once he heard the car pull away, he went into Connor’s room and sat on his bed, looking around at the side that housed Connor’s life. It held even less than usual. Connor had been packing. Except for the battered old guitar on the wall and his tangled bed sheets, there wasn’t much to see.
David lay down, breathing in Connor’s scent and praying that something could be done for him. Mr. and Mrs. Williams would return with their son, and Connor would laugh at the clumsy job David had done in the kitchen. Then Connor would finish cooking for them and his whole family would gather around the table, celebrating his return.
The scr
een door slammed, jarring David from this fantasy, and he heard Tommy call out. David got off the bed, put on a brave face, and went to meet him. His puzzlement at finding David there turned into a hug as he ran to David and wrapped his arms around his waist. Then he looked up and scrunched up his nose.
“What happened to your face?”
“Bike wreck,” David lied.
“Is Connor in our room?”
“Nope. It’s just you and me.” David tried to make this sound like the best news possible. “Your parents had to run an errand and left me in charge. Do you like tacos?”
“Yeah!”
Food was a welcome distraction, but Tommy’s inquisitive mind was working even as he was munching away. “If you’re here, is Connor at your house eating dinner with Gordon?”
“No. Your brother is out of town. A friend of ours was in trouble, so Connor went to help him. Your brother is a hero, you know.”
“A superhero?”
“Pretty much!”
“When’s he coming home?”
David wished he knew. He shrugged and started talking about toys, which was enough to distract Tommy. After dinner they staged an epic battle with all of Tommy’s action figures and were still playing when Connor’s parents came home. Alone.
Mrs. Williams fussed over Tommy, her face strained, while Connor’s dad motioned to David that they should step outside.
“Fucking pigs,” is how he started the conversation. “You would think they couldn’t charge a man’s son without letting him know.”
“Must be his age,” David said as diplomatically as possible.
“I know.” Mr. William lowered his head. With only a single weak bulb by the door to provide light, his features were lost in shadow. “They let us see him, at least.”
“Is he okay?”
“Mm.” He might have nodded. “There’s no getting around it, though. A month in county jail. He’ll be okay there. I’m not proud of it, but I served a stint in county myself. Boring as hell, but it’s not dangerous like prison is.”
David was eager to fill the awkward silence that followed. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Connor wouldn’t be in trouble if I had stood up for myself.”
“Two against one? There’s no shame in backing down from that. It’s the other boy who should be in jail, but of course he’s at home right now, probably being tucked in bed by his mother.”
“What?” A wind picked up, making the trees around them sway.
“Well, we asked after him, and they said the other boy was out of the hospital. I wanted to know if this person was being arrested and sent to jail for what he did, but they said he’d been sent home. Does that sound fair to you?”
David’s heart started pounding and didn’t stop until he was nearly deaf from the blood rushing in his ears. He said goodbye to Mr. Williams and drove home in a trance. How could Chuck get away with this? Was it money? The family lawyer? Or maybe Dr. Bryl bribed the judge with free dental work, sliding false teeth across the table like gold. The method they used to escape justice didn’t matter. The idea that Chuck was free to make everyone’s life miserable while Connor sat behind bars—that mattered.
David didn’t remember driving home or walking through the front door.
“Where have you been? Young man, I’m speaking to you!”
He didn’t bother responding to his dad. David went down to his room and threw himself on his bed. The next month was going to be hell. No doubt his father would pressure him every day and Chuck would find some cowardly way to get back at David, all while Connor’s parents quietly went about their lives, knowing their son was in jail. And David would be alone, unable to see the person who mattered most to him. All of this infuriated him so much that he fantasized about finishing the job Connor started.
Of course, then David would end up in jail too.
He hopped off the bed before he could over-think the idea and opened his closet. There, in the back, was a never-used baseball bat given to him by a clueless uncle as a birthday present. The bat had been in the dark recesses of his closet for years, but now it was of the utmost importance. David wrapped his hand around the cool aluminum cylinder, lifted it, and stared at its brushed surface.
Then he left through the window that Connor had so often used. He feared his anger would ebb away as he walked to Chuck’s house, that he wouldn’t have the guts to go through with this, but instead his fury increased. Every time he had been picked on and every injustice he had suffered swam to the surface.
But chief among them all was the reason why. Chuck’s motivation—the one thing they had in common. The part of David that had made him happier than anything else, had even given him a sort of strength since he would never compromise on it—was Chuck’s greatest fear.
As soon as David could see the silver Mazda in the driveway, he ran toward it. A primal scream escaped from his throat as he raised the bat and swung it down for the first time. The car alarm shrieked, but this only fueled David’s rage. The passenger-side mirror was batted to the concrete before David started on the windows, cracking three of them and breaking another. He was pounding the hood out of shape when a man’s voice shouted at him.
David stopped long enough to look at an older, fatter version of Chuck with grey temples in his thinning hair. Then he noticed the monstrosity standing beside him. Both of Chuck’s eyes were nearly swollen shut, his face more black and blue than any normal skin tone. Connor had indeed done a number on him.
David couldn’t do the same, even now. The bat was meant only for the car, which David resumed striking while screaming. Chuck and his father had disappeared inside, no doubt calling the police. David grinned wildly before taking out another window. Then he hopped up on the rear of the car, and with the baseball bat across his legs, he waited.
When the police came, they didn’t point their guns at him and demand he drop his weapon. They didn’t need to. He tossed the bat aside and almost laughed with joy when they told him to turn around and put his hands on the car. A second police car pulled up while he was being patted down. Soon after, Chuck and his father came back outside again.
“All because you’re a fag!” David shouted at him. “If you had the balls to come out or even live your life in secrecy, I’d call you gay, but you’re the worst of us. People like you are the faggots, Chuck! That’s why you feel so free to fling that word around, because it’s what you call yourself every time you look in the mirror. It doesn’t matter how much you hate me or anyone else who’s gay. At the end of the day, you’re still going to crawl into bed and hear that word echoing in your head. Faggot!”
The police handcuffed David and were dragging him toward the car. Chuck’s eyes were as wide as they could manage, and his father looked on the verge of a heart attack. David stared at them for as long as possible, even turning in his seat as the police cruiser drove away. He wanted to memorize every detail of their miserable faces so he could describe them to Connor when they were together again. Tonight, David realized as he turned back around and tried to make himself comfortable. He and Connor would be together again tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
“Why are we here?”
The question may have sounded existential, but David meant it literally.
“This is your house, isn’t it?”
Yes. It was. That was the problem. The other squad car had disappeared into the night, and the car David was in had driven him straight back home. The officer left the engine running and went to the front door alone. David swore when the door opened, framing his father in a rectangle of light. Did they need his permission before bringing David in?
No. It was much worse than that. The two adults spoke together, David’s father signed something like he was accepting a package, and together they returned to the car. David had thought his rage purged, but it came back again as he was taken out of the vehicle and escorted to the front door.
“I’m going right back there and doing it again,” David th
reatened as the handcuffs were removed.
The officer hesitated, but David’s father quickly reassured him and shut the door, leaving them alone. It had been a long, long time since David had been spanked, and when he was grabbed by the arms and shaken, he feared his father was coming out of retirement.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you on drugs?”
David was so shocked he couldn’t respond. Even during their recent arguments, he hadn’t seen his father truly lose his temper. In fact, David hadn’t seen him this angry since he was still together with Mom.
“Tell me you have a reason for acting so stupid. Please! Show me you’re still capable of reason and that I shouldn’t give up on you completely.”
“I wanted to be with Connor.”
His father’s face turned a darker shade of red. “In jail?”
David nodded numbly.
“Go sit on the couch.”
David did what he was told. His father stayed in the entryway with his back to David, trying to compose himself. Just how close had he come to getting hit? When his father finally came into the living room, he seemed calmer, but not much.
“Do you realize,” he said, “that none of what you are doing is normal?”
David glared at him. “Like getting beat up is normal? What did you want me to do, write Chuck a thank-you letter?”
“Law breakers don’t have the crimes they committed turned against them—we don’t operate under ‘an eye for an eye’ rules. As a society, we don’t steal from thieves or kill murderers.”
“Unless they get the chair.” David knew he shouldn’t push back, but he did.
His father’s response was cold. “Lethal injection, which is much more civilized, only occurs after a trial and no doubt many appeals. There is a system in place, and had you used it, neither you nor Connor would be in this situation right now.”
David hated that this was true, but it wasn’t the complete picture. His father was stripping away emotion as he always did, relying instead on logic. If a mother saw someone hurting her child, she wouldn’t calmly call the police and wait for them to arrive. No, she would fight with teeth and claws to protect her baby. That’s all David and Connor were doing.
