by John Goode
I was glad Saturday seemed to be a dead time here, so it was just me raging and two kitchen workers who watched me warily. Why was this happening to me? No, that’s not fair. I refuse to be just another self-absorbed product of my environment like everyone else I know who’s my age. Why was this happening to my mom?
And the moment I asked that, the answer “Karma” came back really quick.
I suddenly felt like a piece of shit, because I couldn’t count how many nights I’d spent crying tears of rage, staring up at my ceiling, wishing she would die. Yeah, I know it sounds horrible and it probably is, but if you ever had to deal with what I did growing up, you might have wished it once or twice yourself. But why now? She just seemed to be getting her act together and now God, fate, whatever decided to take her legs out?
That’s just bullshit.
I felt someone behind me, and I turned around expecting to see Jennifer or maybe Robbie, with that worried look they’d been wearing since I walked into town. Instead I saw Father Mulligan staring at me with a slight smile.
“Hello, Kyle,” he said in a comforting tone.
Maybe it was because the ghost of who I thought my father might be had just been proven as wrong as Bigfoot, or that I was worried my juvenile wishes had been made real by a God who had way too much time on his hands, or maybe it was because he had green eyes that made me long for another boy, but whatever it was, I rushed toward him and wrapped my arms around him as I started to cry.
Thankfully he hugged me back instead of asking why a kid he had spoken to, like, once was wrapped around him like a howler monkey. “It’s okay,” he said, pulling me close. “It’s going to be okay.”
I pulled back. “You don’t know that. Why do people say things like that? You don’t know that things are going to be okay—in fact, they could be completely shitty, right?”
He nodded slowly. “They could, but that’s not what I meant.”
I reviewed his words in my mind. “Then what did you mean?”
He gave me one of those smiles that seemed to make the whole world a little calmer. “You want to sit down and talk?” He gestured to one of the booths, and I realized we were standing in the middle of the cafeteria like we were ready to throw down.
“Sorry,” I said, slipping into one side as he took the other.
“No apologies needed,” he assured me. “It’s a bad time for you; what happened should affect you.”
“So what did you mean?” I asked, pushing past him trying to calm me down.
“I said things are going to be okay, which they will.”
“But you don’t know that!” I snapped, exasperated.
“No, I don’t know anything; but I have faith that what’s happened to your mom will turn out the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Oh, perfect. Here we go—let me guess? This is all part of His plan and so everything is perfectly fine, right?” He nodded. “So then tell me this: what kind of asshole causes cars to crash? Allows babies to starve? Lets horrible people get away with murder and does nothing? Tell me more about this plan, and while you’re at it, try to sell me a swamp in Arizona or something.”
His expression didn’t change from sympathetic. If he was angry, there were no indications of it. “Do you know who Willem Kolff was?” I shook my head. “He invented what we now call dialysis. He also pretty much created the field of artificial organ engineering, for organs like artificial hearts. He was a doctor before World War II and was part of the Dutch resistance that tried to stop the Nazis. He organized the first blood bank in Europe and, while trying to keep his friends and family alive, discovered a way to oxygenate the blood as it passed through a machine.”
He stopped talking, so I just stared at him. “Okay, and?”
“And he discovered dialysis during the war. He invented the process with sausage casings and orange juice cans and it ended up saving millions of lives.”
“Yeah, but how many millions died in the war?”
“And how many millions more will be saved because of his work? Are you telling me, sitting where you are, that World War II didn’t work out for the best?”
“Not for the Jews,” I shot back instantly, and he got quiet for a moment.
“Not for all of them, no. But if you were to ask them if their sacrifice was worth saving all those lives….”
I cut him off. “But no one asked them. No one asks anyone; it just happens no matter what you do. What’s the point of being a good person if you can just die the next day?”
It wasn’t obvious, but I could see a change in his attitude by the way his expression hardened a little. “So if you’re a good person, you don’t deserve bad things to happen? Is that what you’re saying?” I nodded, but I could feel the ground beneath my argument starting to shift. “See, that kind of thinking is what’s wrong with the world, Kyle. People do good things and expect some kind of reward, and when they don’t get it, they use it as proof there is no God or that God is cruel. God does not reward good behavior, Kyle, the same way he doesn’t punish bad. If you were being good for his sake, you’re wasting your time.”
“Then why bother trying?” I asked him. “Why even go through the motion of being good when it’s easier to just get what you want doing whatever you need to do to get that thing, and damn the consequences?”
“Being good is its own reward. You should do good things because it’s the right thing to do, not because you think that it will get you brownie points with someone. Doing good things so that God will take your side isn’t doing a good thing, it’s doing something to get you ahead of others, which is just selfish.”
“So then there’s no reason to be good? Because no matter what you do, good or bad, God will still just strike you down for fun?”
“God doesn’t strike people down, Kyle and you know it. I know you’re upset about your mom, but he wasn’t behind the wheel of that car; she was. You want to look at your mother’s accident as proof he doesn’t exist, yet I see the fact she had a fence post slammed through her neck and is still alive as proof that he does.”
My eyes began to sting.
“Horrible things happen, Kyle. It’s just that kind of world. Sometimes people do it and sometimes they just happen, but if all you’re looking at is the bad stuff you’re going to miss the good. Yes, World War II was a horrible experience, but we got plastic, radar, microwaves, penicillin, and even artificial organs out of it. You want to blame the war on someone, blame it on bad people, but you ask me where God was, and I’ll say he was helping Willem Kolff find orange juice cans.”
“She’s going to die,” I blurted out before I started crying again.
I felt his arms around me as he moved to my side of the booth. “We don’t know what’s going to happen yet. But we have to have faith that it’s going to be all right.” I looked over at him and he gave me a smile. “You want to come pray with me for your mom?”
I nodded.
“Come on, let me introduce you to my boss,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder.
Matt
I HATE flying.
And it’s not because I’m scared the plane might crash or some bullshit; I know how safe air travel is. It’s because I’m six foot five in bare feet, and they just don’t make seats for people like me. Well, that’s not true. They make them in first class, but it was sold out, which meant sitting on a Southwest flight to California in a seat that would make Skinny McNoEat feel like she had to lose a few pounds.
Added to this was the fact that Tyler had lured me back into working out with him, which meant I was a little bit wider than normal in the upper body department. That translated into me having nothing that was meant to fit in such a small place. Jennifer and Mr. Crest Whitening Strips found seats together, so I was sitting next to an elderly woman who was either senile and thought she knew me or found it appropriate to share every single detail about her daughter’s life with me.
The things I do because I don’t like someone.
Wow, I really disliked this guy.
You ever meet someone like that? They just hit every single one of your buttons at first sight, and no matter what they do, you just dislike them. I was going to say “hate,” but I don’t hate Sebastian; I just don’t trust him. He’s every pretty boy who has ever thought the gay community owed him something because he was young and beautiful. Which, by the way, is not an accomplishment. We’re all young at some point, and just because your parents passed on a set of genes that allowed for symmetrical perfection doesn’t mean you did a fucking thing. It means you were born and that you haven’t aged yet. Period.
When it comes to beautiful people, I prefer people like Tyler. He knows people find him attractive but doesn’t let that go to his head. I mean, it’s not like every single woman, and a few guys, don’t give him a glance when we’re at the grocery store or something. He’s a great-looking guy and in damn fine shape, but do you see him walking around like the world owes him something because of it? No. If anything, he’s a little put off by the attention his looks attract.
Not people like Sebastian.
No. People like Sebastian think you should pay to be around pretty people because they’re just automatically better than everyone else. I don’t blame Robbie for jumping his bones—I mean, come on, Sebastian is definitely fuckable—but dating him?
That was a bomb just waiting to go off.
I had just settled into the straitjacket that was my seat and Gladys—I had no idea what her name was, but Gladys seemed to work—was just getting to the part where her daughter had ruined her life by dropping out of junior college when Jennifer walked up to our row.
“Everything okay?” I asked, almost hoping there was something wrong so I could get away from Gladys and the train wreck that was her daughter.
“He wants to talk to you,” she said in a tone that told me she didn’t think it was that great an idea either.
“Right now?” I asked, even though I understood the genius of it. I mean, we were, like, forty thousand feet up; what was I going to do? Step outside to get away from him?
She nodded. “I’ll wait here,” she said, still not noticing Gladys.
I jumped up before she could. “No problem. Gladys, this is my friend Jennifer.” The woman paused for a moment, no doubt wondering who the fuck Gladys was. “Jennifer, this is my friend Gladys. Make sure to ask her about her daughter; it’s a great story.”
Poor Jennifer wasn’t old enough to know the old saying “Never trust a fag bearing introductions” or she would have known I was throwing her to the wolves.
Actually, wolves might have been kinder. Or at least quicker.
My legs appreciated the chance to stretch as I walked back to where Sebastian and Jennifer had been sitting. He was looking at something on an iPad, and part of me wondered if he had talked Robbie into buying it for him.
“You wanted to talk?” I asked, not sitting down.
He didn’t look up for a few seconds, and I wondered if he’d even heard me. It was a cute trick, and one I’d seen before. He was trying to grab control of the conversation by making me wait. Obviously he had attended a seminar on how to be the most important person in the room when he was in LA. If he thought his crap was going to work with me, he could think again.
“Fuck it,” I said, turning around to walk back to my seat. Gladys was better than mind games.
“Matt,” he said quickly. I turned around and saw him pulling a pair of earbuds out of his ears. “Sorry, man, got caught up in this letter, didn’t even see you there. Sit down. I think we should talk.”
He sounded sincere, but for all I knew it was just another mind game.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I thought I should clear some things up before we land and this whole thing starts to get crazy.”
I had to chuckle at that. “The three of us jumping on a plane and heading across the country to hijack an eighteen-year-old kid doesn’t seem crazy?”
He paused and put the iPad away. “No. I think Jennifer and me coming is right there on the edge. I think you coming as well makes everything slide right past crazy and into stupid.”
“So this is the ‘I shouldn’t have come’ speech?” I snapped at him.
“No, this is the ‘you have no idea who I am and just about everything you’ve said and done in regards to me has been complete bullshit’ speech.”
I just gave him a half smile. “Oh, is it?”
He nodded. “It is, and I know this little talk isn’t going to change your mind because you seem like a judgmental asshole who thinks his shit don’t stink, but I promised myself I was going to at least try. This is me trying.”
“By calling me a judgmental asshole?”
He gave me a look and asked, “Like everything you’ve said to and about me has been Miss Manners, right?”
I gestured for him to continue because he was right.
“You don’t know me. I’m sorry if some guys were mean to you when you were coming out, but I’m not them. You never dated me, you never fucked me, and I never lied to you and didn’t call you back or slept with your best friend or whatever. I never gave you crabs, I never borrowed money and then skipped town. I never said we were a couple and then said I had Grindr on my phone to make friends, and I never, ever, even once did anything to you.”
He waited for me to say something, but I just sat there.
“I understand you’re protective of Robbie. So am I, but if you think I’m going to stand here and let you bad-mouth me to my face and not say something back, then you’re as dumb as you think I am.”
We both paused as we tried to figure out that last bit.
“Whatever,” he said, waving his hands. “The bottom line is this. I’m not that guy and you’re an asshole for assuming I am. You didn’t need to come on this trip, but now that you’re here, understand this. I’m not going to let you continue to trash me because you have issues with whatever. Got it?”
“You done?” I asked him.
“I am done, and if you have something to say back, save it. I don’t care what you think. Not even a little bit. You said your piece, I said mine, now let’s go grab Brad and bring him back and try to act like adults doing it.” He put the earbuds back in. “You can go back whenever you want.”
And damn if the guy did not just dismiss me.
I thought about making him listen to me, but honestly? What did I have to say? He was right. I didn’t believe him, and nothing he said made a damn bit of difference. I got up and walked back to my seat, counting the minutes until we landed and snagged Brad.
Robbie
SO I was sitting in the waiting room, halfway through explaining to Tyler exactly why his boyfriend had bought a ticket and followed mine across the country. Suddenly Billy came barreling through the door like the devil was on his tail. He looked at us with wild eyes and screamed, “Keep her away from me!”
He rushed into the ICU and was gone.
“Was he bleeding?” Tyler asked me, confused.
Before I could answer, the waiting room door opened again and Gayle swept in, looking fifteen different kinds of pissed. “Lemme guess. The little turd went running to hide behind sick people? He’s lucky he’s already in a hospital, because I am going to kill him.”
I’m pretty sure the question was rhetorical because she didn’t wait for an answer and just walked into the ICU.
“Did she just threaten his life?” I asked Tyler.
Before he could answer, the waiting room door opened again and an older, stocky man came in huffing like he was having a heart attack. “She… get him?” he asked.
Tyler just pointed at the ICU door.
He nodded his thanks instead
of talking and followed after Gayle.
We both looked at each other for a second before Tyler said, “Well, I’m not going to miss this!” and got up like a little kid eager to see a fight.
I followed, but I’d like to think I did it with a little more panache.
Still, if there was a fight I wasn’t going to miss it.
By the time we made it inside, Billy was hiding in Linda’s room and the nurse was standing between Gayle and him, trying to keep them apart. Gone was any resemblance of the kind and understanding woman I had known the entire time I lived in Foster. What was left resembled a dragon, or maybe a nightmare brought to life to wreak havoc on Billy’s soul.
If he still had one.
“Eighteen years,” Gayle was raging. “Eighteen years it took her to get the garbage you put in her head out. Do you know how many times a story of hers starts with ‘Billy had an idea…’?”
I looked at Tyler, who nodded in agreement.
“She was just cleaning up. Just getting that shit out of her system, and lo and behold, here you are. If I find out that you had anything to do with her accident, I swear on all that is holy—”
And enter the rent-a-cops and the hospital guy again.
Childs looked like he was ready for round two, but when he saw it was Gayle screaming and not a teenage boy, he paused and reconsidered his options. Gayle saw him and her gaze leveled on him. “Barney Childs, you have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Does she know everyone’s first name?” I asked Tyler in a whisper.
“I think so,” he whispered back.
“Gayle, look….” Childs began to stutter.
“What is that man doing in her hospital room? And where is her son?”
“It’s not that simple…,” Childs tried again.
“He abandoned that family years ago. Tell me why he’s in there.”
“They’re still married,” Childs spat out.
“And?” Gayle asked, not even pausing. “He’s a criminal, slime who has brought nothing but pain and darkness into her world, and you let him in there with her?”
