Out of My Mind

by A. J. Truman

  Gideon knew the look in Mac’s eyes well. He’d seen it on row after row of templegoers that first Shabbat after the funeral.

  Pity.

  “I’m going to sleep at Delia’s tonight. I’ll work on finding a new apartment as soon as possible.”

  Gideon gazed through the window into the night as Mac packed a bag and the front door clicked shut.

  Oh, but that Gideon. He’s so smart. He got into Browerton early decision.

  He’s a big shot on Wall Street. Earns a fortune.

  He has a beautiful wife and three adorable kids.

  He’s not gay. Only gay guys take a dick up the ass or in their mouth, and Gideon hasn’t done either.

  Thank goodness for Gideon.

  SIX WEEKS

  Later

  CHAPTER Seventeen

  Mac

  Mac rested on his bed on a cold night the first week of December. His bed and his nightstand were in the center of the room—the only pieces of furniture to his name. The rest of his junk splattered around the edges of the apartment.

  He lived in a studio, and even with such small square footage, it felt large and empty, like a motel room. He could hear sounds echo off the walls. The kitchen was a fridge, stove, and oven against the wall. Paint cracked around the windows. One bad rainstorm could send the roof tumbling down.

  He frowned at his humble abode. It wasn’t homey like Gideon’s. No fireplace. No chaise sofa. And no Gideon. Mac was proud of himself for telling him off last month and standing up for himself, but that still left him alone in a barren studio with a roof one rainstorm away from becoming a colander. He fired up his computer to watch some TV. He scammed Internet from the coffee shop next door.

  Mac jumped up at the knock on the door sometime later. Delia held out a carton of eggnog in one hand and a box of saltines in the other. He took them and tossed them on the bed. She wrapped him in a tight hug.

  “How are you holding up?” Delia ripped open the saltines and jammed a handful into her mouth. “Seth can’t eat these, and I’m staring down the barrel of finals. Let me have this moment without judgment.”

  Mac held up hands up in surrender. “Eat away.”

  “This place has a lot of potential. It really does.”

  He pointed to the chipped paint and poorly patched cracks in the ceiling.

  “Focus on the positive,” she said. “Hardwood floors. We can do a Target run.”

  “I can’t swing it right now.” Aunt Rita was recuperating fine, but the medical bills had made money tight. Mac took on an extra shift at his work study job to help cover some of it. The money didn’t matter to him. He was just happy that Aunt Rita was improving after surgery. Color returned to her face and new hair grew on her head.

  “I think it’s good you’re living on your own.” Delia brushed crumbs onto the floor. Mac didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t own a broom. “And that you’re on your own, in general.”

  “What does that mean?” Mac didn’t mean for it to come off so pointedly. Delia treaded lightly.

  “You started dating Davis right away freshman year. Then as soon as you break up, you’re kinda sorta with Gideon.”

  “I was never with Gideon.” That come out even harsher.

  But Delia held her ground. Like a good friend, she seemed to know when her wisdom was needed the most. “Maybe not technically, and not publicly. But in some way, you were.” She rubbed his leg. “I thought you’d be a wreck. You and Davis were together almost two years, then he dumps you and goes with somebody else. But you were happy. Genuinely happy this fall. I saw it on your face.”

  Thanks to Gideon. She didn’t have to say that last part. It hung in the air like a cloud of smoke at a bingo hall.

  “Even if it was just some hooking up.”

  She was wrong, but Mac didn’t want to correct her. He liked that she only knew half the story. The other half, the one with feelings and the way they cuddled and talked for hours after “just hooking up,” was a secret, Mac and Gideon’s own B-side. Even though there was no more Mac and Gideon.

  “Fucking Gideon.” Mac fell back on his bed. “You haven’t told Seth—”

  “Nothing.” She mimed zipping her lips. “He may be a straight guy, but he’s not totally clueless. I’m sure he’s figured out something is up with how Gideon’s been acting.”

  Something in Mac’s head beeped wildly. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Different.” Delia brushed off some crumbs that wound up in her hair. “Even I’ve seen it. He’s just been in a funk.”

  “I wonder why he’s acting like that. I mean, I thought he was happy with his new girlfriend,” Mac said, thanks to some apt Facebook stalking. He wondered if his fishing was as obvious to Delia as it was to him.

  “Fuck him. He’s my boyfriend’s friend, and therefore my friend, but between you and me, fuck him. Whatever happened between you guys, it shouldn’t have ended this way. My sorority sister Lorna had a friend-with-benefit, this cute Indian guy in Kappa Kappa Sig, and after it ended they stayed friends. Speaking of Kappa Kappa Sig, they’re having a holiday party, and you’re coming.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really in the party mood.”

  “I will not let you become a hermit! You have a life and a six pack.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Mac opened the fridge and pulled out a can of Sprite. It was a pure impulse purchase—not to remind him of Gideon. His insides got all warm from the fizz, and only from the fizz.

  “I don’t hate Gideon,” Mac said. “I want to hate him, for many reasons. But I can’t. It pisses me off.”

  Delia shrugged and munched on more saltines. “Someone annoying said that love is stronger than hate, I guess.”

  “Even when you stop being friends with someone, you’re still connected to them.” Mac knew that if he let himself hate Gideon, then it would ruin every memory they had together. He wasn’t ready to taint the past with that filter. “I just…I can’t hate him.”

  Anger and hurt simmered in his chest, but so did longing. He drank his damn Sprite.

  “You’re a better person than me.” Delia offered him crackers. He let her eat the rest of them.

  Φ

  Sometime after Delia left, Mac watched TV on his laptop. It was while staring at the screen as a studio audience howled with laughter that Mac realized Delia had left behind the bottle of eggnog.

  He gulped down most of the drink, letting its sweet and spicy flavors distract him from the alcohol content. Mac pulled out his phone. Gideon was still in it. He was happy that Gideon was in a funk, but he felt bad if he was the cause. Damn, why can’t I just hate you?

  Mac found a different number to call, thanks to his liquid courage.

  “Hey, Dad!” He said. He was more ebullient than a float at Disneyworld. Eggnog must’ve been spiked with holiday cheer, among other things.

  “Hi, Mac,” his dad said cautiously.

  His dad’s nervousness only pushed Mac to make up the conversation deficit. “I’m drinking eggnog in my apartment.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Tis the season.” Mac sprawled out on the bed. Life went sideways. It was quite a trip. “So Dad, I’ve moved apartments. Not like you need it, but I can give you my new address. I really liked my old living sitch, but my roommate and I got in a fight because I’m gay. Just like old times, huh? No bruises this time, though, at least none that anyone can see.”

  There was a pause on the other end. Mac’s dad liked to think about what he said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mac.”

  “Are you, though? Or is this like one of those ‘thoughts and prayers’ comments on Facebook that people say to be nice even though they don’t really give a shit.”

  “There’s no need to use that language.”

  “This is kinda like what happened in high school. You said I brought it on myself. I guess I did here, too. Me and my stupid gayness. You were right again!” The TV spun and spun, suckin
g Mac into its orbit. “But here’s the thing, Dad. I can’t help being gay, even though it’s mega hard. I don’t want to get beat up and keep moving around like a vagabond, but I don’t want to live my life as a lie. You think I’m being so audacious by living this ‘gay lifestyle,’ but I’m just trying to get by. It’s a vicious circle. Or cycle. I don’t remember the correct phrase. But anyway, how is the store?”

  “I think you should get some rest, son.”

  Mac remembered being tucked in by his dad, followed by a kiss on the forehead. All those memories were tainted with the bad filter.

  “Will do, Dad. Sorry for the cursing. I’ll be sure to watch my fucking cunt cock shit damn Barack Obama mouth.” Mac threw his phone on the floor. Luckily, a pile of dirty clothes cushioned the fall.

  Mac did take his dad’s advice and get some rest. He passed out, the side of his face mashed into a pillow.

  CHAPTER eighteen

  Gideon

  “Relax, it’s going to be great.” Hannah massaged Gideon’s arm and slid her hand down to interlock fingers. “It’ll all work out.”

  Gideon rested his head against the window. The train whizzed past snow-capped mountains framed by a gray sky. He didn’t realize Pennsylvania could be this beautiful.

  Hannah squeezed his hand in support. Gideon continued staring out the window. “This weekend is going to be great. For everyone.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Hannah laid her head on his shoulder and moved it around. “You are a bundle of stress.”

  “We are entering a stressful situation. I don’t think I’m stressed enough.”

  Gideon had spent Thanksgiving weekend getting his mom to come to terms with the wedding. When he first spoke to her about it, she seemed resigned, but as the event neared, and more people found out, her collected façade had broken apart.

  “You don’t want to miss this,” Gideon had told her over leftover turkey. “I know you’re shocked and upset and angry, but if you don’t go to this wedding, then your relationship with Noah will never be the same. And you might not have a chance to make it better.”

  Tears ran down his mom’s face in the kitchen. Gideon consoled her with a hug. He wondered if this was the role his dad played before he died.

  “It’s not the end of the world, Mom. You’re going to have a beautiful grandchild.”

  “Whose grandmother is barely a decade older than the mother.”

  “But who will still love you and your matzo ball soup.”

  “The women I play mah-jongg with haven’t mentioned a word about the wedding. I know they all know about it because your brother won’t stop posting about it on Facebook. I see it in their eyes.”

  The whispers were at it again. Gideon rocked her back and forth. He set about cleaning up the kitchen and then the rest of the house. He liked seeing things in order. It gave him hope. A clean house cheered everyone up.

  He saw hope in the mountains out his train window.

  “Noah’s wedding is going to go off without a hitch. Your mom is going to have a great time. And then we’ll be back on campus before you know it.”

  Hannah had this way of making the biggest deals seem like trifles. Her voice sang with the tone of It’s all going to work out. His mom was thrilled that one of her fix-ups worked out. Hannah reminded Gideon of Beth, in that she made him comfortable and their relationship was a natural progression.

  Hannah kissed him on the cheek. “So, how should I introduce myself? Should I say I’m your friend, or that girl you’re dating, or…”

  She was fishing. Gideon took the bait.

  “My girlfriend.”

  “Okay, then.”

  He and Hannah had gone on a few dates over the past month. It had thrilled his mom, and he liked the feeling of being normal again, of having a plausible story to tell people. If Hannah wanted to make things official, then so be it. It didn’t matter much to Gideon, not when he couldn’t stop thinking about Mac.

  “You got your mom to come to Noah’s wedding and be excited about the baby.” Hannah offered him a sip of her water. He declined, and she slipped it in the seat pocket in front of her. “This weekend is going to be great.”

  Gideon remembered the hug his mom gave Christina when she and Noah came over for a post-Thanksgiving dinner. It was stilted, but he could tell she was trying.

  “Thanks for bringing me with you,” Hannah said.

  “Thanks for coming.” Gideon had pangs of guilt whenever he looked at her, like he was cheating on her. Which he was not.

  He held her hand. He couldn’t get through this weekend alone. Which was funny because he’d be with his family, the very people who weren’t supposed to make him feel alone.

  “Is there anything else? You just seem off.”

  Gideon looked at her and pushed down his memories about Mac, about his now-empty apartment. “Just stressed.”

  A sly smile came on her lips. She dragged her hand up his thigh. “Well, maybe tonight we find a way to relieve that stress.”

  Her hand had the opposite intended effect. He crossed his legs, knocking it away. “I don’t know. I think I’ll be wiped out. We’ll see.”

  “I didn’t peg you for the guy to take things so slow. It’s cute. Very old-fashioned.”

  “Isn’t that what girls want?”

  “We want some things.”

  But it was no use. An erection seemed like a Herculean task.

  Hannah put in her ear buds and rested against his shoulder as the train continued its voyage to Westchester.

  Φ

  “Oh, Jesus,” Gideon’s mom said.

  She wasn’t being dramatic. There was Jesus, bloody and suffering, hanging from a cross on the altar. She shook her head at him in a “Can you believe we’re here?” gesture.

  “At least we’re not the only Jews in here,” Gideon wrapped his arm around her. “You’re doing great.”

  They and Hannah stood in front of the altar while an organ played. Gideon knew this wasn’t what his mom wanted. But she was being a good sport. The lines on her face were fully creased with worry and stress, more than her typical levels.

  “You love your son,” Gideon whispered to his mom.

  “I do.” They were here for Noah. “I do.”

  “Are we sure Jesus was Jewish?” Hannah asked them. “I don’t know any Jewish person with hair that smooth.”

  And then Gideon heard a sound he thought he’d never hear today: his mom hysterically laughing. She bent forward and heaved out laughs, giggling so hard her face turned red and tears beaded at her eyes.

  “Although I guess if he can walk on water, he probably doesn’t need a hair straightener,” Hannah said.

  Gideon looked behind them at the guests finding their seats, probably wondering what the hell those Jews were laughing about in their church. But he didn’t stop his mom. Her laughter was music to his ears.

  “Thank you, Hannah.” His mom held Hannah’s hand. “I needed that.”

  “Whenever today gets to be too much for you,” Hannah said, pointing to Jesus. “Just think of his hair.”

  “I like this one, Gideon. At least I’ll get to plan one Jewish wedding.” His mom dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  A pit belly flopped in Gideon’s stomach. “Not for a long, long while.”

  “I know.” His mom raised an eyebrow, as if to say not too long. “Well, Hannah, let’s go find our seats. Gideon has to go with the wedding party. I have lots of questions to ask you.”

  “Can’t wait!” Hannah walked to the pew with his mom. She turned around and flashed panic in her eyes. Gideon gave her a thumbs up for encouragement.

  Φ

  After the Catholic mass that would not end, Noah was officially a married man. The reception took place at a banquet hall down the block, one whose décor probably made Gideon’s mom want to claw her eyes out, but she was putting on her strongest game face.

  “It’s very nice,” she said to Noah’s new mother-in-law, the
ultimate test of her strength.

  At least there was an open bar. Gideon headed straight for it like an oasis. He had the bartender make him a double. Some part of him told him to take it slow, but it drowned in a sea of gin.

  Gideon meandered through the gathering guests, doing his best not to stumble. He didn’t know most of them. Noah invited very little family. His mom wanted to keep it a small wedding since it was last minute, but Gideon knew the real reason. He felt grateful that he was spared having to engage in awkward chitchat with distant relatives who still thought he was in middle school.

  Hannah grabbed his arm. “Easy there. You don’t want to fall into the wedding cake.”

  “That’s from 28 Days! I love that movie! One of Sandra Bullock’s best!”

  The deejay (another test of his mom’s game face) put on the first song to get everyone on the dance floor. Hannah reluctantly pulled Gideon onto the floor. She held him close, and usually he’d be all on it. Why wasn’t he now?

  Stop being an idiot! He told himself. Pull it the fuck together.

  He and Hannah swayed to the beat, and he let his body loosen up a little bit. Not too much. Not like how he was at Cherry Stem. Straight guys weren’t supposed to dance that way. Straight guys weren’t supposed to let their thighs rub against another guy’s legs and fingers weren’t supposed to touch. Hannah reached her arms around his neck, which because of their height difference she could barely get up there. For a second, he pictured it was Mac. He thought his feelings for Mac would’ve waned by now, but they only grew stronger, like they were planning a hostile takeover of his body.

  Gideon did his best Seth impression on the dance floor. Stilted and rigid. Christina’s family doesn’t need to see Noah’s brother acting weird. Being a blah dancer was taking so much out of him. It was like holding his breath over and over.

  “I’m going to the bar.” Gideon pushed away from Hannah. “Do you want anything?”

  “Slow down, Gideon,” she said, somewhat forcefully. She was a good person. Gideon hated doing this to her.

  I’m not doing anything to her.