by Gene Gant
“You know how I’ve been spending all this time with Gina Marie, getting to know her and stuff. I could tell she was into me. She always told me how good I look, how she liked my muscles, that kind of crap. But she’d never let me kiss her or touch her.” He glanced around, apparently making sure no one was sneaking up on us. “Somehow, that Donna girl would show up whenever I’d get Gina Marie alone. And the funny thing is that Gina Marie never had a problem with Donna kissing and touching her.”
My eyebrows went up.
Mac pointed at my face. “Yeah, man. That’s exactly the way I looked when I first saw them at it. I always thought two people of the same sex bumping lips and stuff was just plain freaky. But damn, man, watching Gina Marie and Donna go at each other turned me all the way on. I wanted to jump right in the middle of that stuff. Gina Marie knew how much I liked it, and sometimes it was like they did it just to put a show on for me.”
“Okay. So what’s the ‘but’ in all this?”
Mac got a doubtful look on his face for a moment. Then he took a breath and plunged ahead. “Gina Marie and Donna were putting on shows like that for Lester too. He’s been chasing Donna, but she treats him the same way Gina Marie’s been treating me. Almost from the time I started talking to her, Gina Marie would ask me all these crazy questions about Lester, if I thought he was good looking or hot. I told her I’m not gay and I don’t think about dudes that way. But she kept at it, going on about how girls didn’t have any problem saying another girl was hot and telling me guys should be man enough to admit it when they see another guy who’s hot. She kept on and on, saying she couldn’t see herself with a dude who’s insecure, until finally I just said to hell with it and… told her that, okay, I think Lester’s a handsome guy.”
He shot me an anxious and guilty look, to see how I would react. He didn’t have anything to worry about on my end. For the record, I thought Lester was handsome, too, although I wasn’t willing to admit that to Mac. And I was hardly going to do anything so stupid as to laugh at him or call him a fag. He was my friend, and friends don’t go around saying or doing things to hurt each other’s feelings. More importantly, if I laughed at him or said anything the least bit derisive, Mac would hammer me into the ground like a stake. I made a show of snorting off the whole thing. “Hey, man, so what? Saying that about Lester is no big deal.”
Mac exhaled loudly, a sound of relief, but he still looked troubled about something. “That’s not all of it, Jer. You remember how Gina Marie had me come over to her place last Saturday while her folks and her sister were out?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Donna and Lester were there. Gina Marie and Donna really went at each other. It got Lester and me both worked up to where our tongues were, like, hanging out. And then Donna said she and Gina Marie were glad to put on a show for us, but now it was time for Lester and me to put on a show for them.”
My eyebrows went up again. This time, my mouth also fell open.
“Yeah, man,” Mac said, answering my unspoken question. “Donna said the four of us could all get busy together, but the only way that would happen is if Lester and me got busy first.”
I was stunned. I was excited. I was so jealous I could have kicked Mac in the gut. Why didn’t hot things like that ever happen to me? Bad Jericho! Shame on you! Such unholy thoughts! “Uh… you didn’t… do anything… did you?”
“Man, truth is, I wanted to do Gina Marie and Donna both. I wanted them so bad that, just for a split second, I thought I could do what they wanted me to do with Lester if it got me them. But then Lester grabbed my shoulder and turned me. He had this crazy dazed look in his eyes, and I saw that the fool was actually gonna kiss me. He actually leaned in to kiss me. Something in me went ‘Hell-freaking-no!’ and I popped Lester dead in the mouth with my fist.”
“Oh damn,” I sighed. I felt relieved, but it was for the wrong reason. My relief wasn’t that Mac had resisted temptation and avoided committing a sin. It was that he hadn’t gotten to have the kind of fun that I wished I could have had. Make out with Lester, Donna, and Gina Marie? Sign me up!
There you go again. Bad, bad Jericho!
“That’s had me messed up in the head ever since it happened. I feel like Gina Marie and Donna played me, and I was a fool to let them do it. But what really scares the hell out of me is that split second where I thought about getting freaky with Lester.” Mac glanced around again, and then looked at me. “It’s not like that makes me gay or anything. I never thought about touching a guy like that before, and the only reason it even flashed across my mind for that second is because I wanted to get at two girls. And that’s not weird or anything. Right?”
I had enough weird thoughts and feelings of my own, thanks. I didn’t need to take on Mac’s too. “Damn right, man!” I declared boldly, giving Mac a very manly clap on the shoulder. “Forget all that crazy stuff. I’m hungry as hell. Let’s get something to eat, damn it.”
ON THE walk home from school Friday afternoon, Mac, Hutch, and I decided to get together Saturday and go bowling. So at ten o’clock Saturday morning, Hutch climbed out my bedroom window, circled the block, and by the time I stepped onto the front porch, he was walking down the street waving at me as if he’d just come from his (former) house. We collected Mac and had a fine time at the bowling alley. At two o’clock, Hutch and I thanked Mac, who’d paid for our games since the two of us were broke, and Hutch took off as if he was going home. I was shut away in my room by two fifteen, and by two thirty, Hutch was sneaking back through my window. We put on a movie, dove into the bag of pretzels I swiped from the kitchen, and settled in for a nice, quiet afternoon.
The nice, quiet part came to an end about thirty minutes later when a door slammed open somewhere in the house. That was followed by rushing pairs of footsteps coming our way. Hutch and I exchanged one brief, wide-eyed look of sheer terror, and then he was under the bed with me stretched out on the floor to block any possible view of his hiding place.
I heard my mom say, “London, wait—” and then the door to my room flew open. Dad came in with a carefully blank face, but from the way he repeatedly opened and closed his fists, I could see there was some undefined and barely contained emotion raging in him. Mom walked in behind him with concern on her face. I couldn’t tell if that was for Dad’s blood pressure or for what she thought he was going to do to me. They both had on jackets, gloves, and knit caps.
I put on a show of being offended. “Hey. What happened to privacy—?”
“Oh, I think you’ve had a little too much privacy lately, boy,” Dad said, stopping in the middle of the room with Mom beside him. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” I thought the dumbfounded look I manufactured was pretty convincing.
Dad smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Your mom and I were sitting out by the fire pit just now, having a nice conversation, when Ethel—Mrs. Ohlemacher—next door came out into her backyard and joined in. She wanted to know if we were aware of the nice-looking young man, as she put it, who’s been climbing in and out of your window. Your mom and I were aware of no such thing, so we thought we’d come in and ask you. Jericho, do you know anything about a ‘nice-looking young man’ who’s been climbing in and out of your window? Hm?”
Now the look on my face was just dumb. “Uh….”
“Where the hell is he?” Dad ripped open my closet door and started pawing through the clothes hanging in there.
“Dad—” I protested, panic tightening in my throat. But the only other hiding place in my room was the one Hutch was in, and I knew Dad would look there next.
I stood up and closed my eyes. “Hutch. Come on out.”
Chapter 17
HUTCH and I sat on the side of my bed, saying nothing, looking as forlorn and scared as two lost little boys. Dad was pacing back and forth across the room, his face shifting from one emotion to the next so fast it seemed to be made of rubber. He didn’t yell or curse, thank God. Even better, he didn’t hit Hutch
or me.
“Barry, I can’t believe your father did this to you,” Mom said. She was still examining Hutch’s black eye. The bruise looked way better than it had a week ago, but it still brought out a big dose of Mom’s concern. “From the sounds of things, I’d say he gave you a concussion. You should have seen a doctor.”
Mom and Dad had taken off their jackets and other outerwear. The stuff lay in a big pile on my desk. Dad shot a look my way. “I don’t understand why you would keep something like this from us, Jericho,” he said. “Why the hell would you do that?” He paced some more. Then he shot a look at Hutch. “And why the hell would your parents kick you out of their house? I don’t get that either. What could you possibly have done that would make them do that?” He stopped pacing and stood squarely in front of us. Apparently, those weren’t just rhetorical questions.
This was the moment I feared most. I looked at Hutch desperately, my mind unable to come up with anything but the truth. He had to come up with something fast, an unshakeable, plausible lie that would save us both.
Hutch was still staring down at his lap, the way he’d been since Mom and Dad sat us down there. He didn’t look my dad in the eye, but he said with quiet boldness, “Dr. Jiles, I’m gay. My mom and dad threw me out because I’m gay.”
You could actually hear the old-fashioned skillet clock that hung over the fridge ticking away in the massive silence that instantly filled my room. None of us moved. I don’t think any of us even breathed for something like half a minute.
Then, slowly, Dad turned his head to look at me. It was a questioning look, and I didn’t even wait a moment for him to ask me anything, afraid of what may come out of his mouth. I blurted, “Dad, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Hutch was here. I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Dad said, his voice coming out in a croak as if he hadn’t used it in years. “Afraid of what?”
“That you and Mom would kick him out too.” And me with him, maybe.
“Jericho!” Mom was appalled. She looked back at Dad, who seemed just as offended at what I’d said as she did.
Dad sighed angrily. “Jericho, I don’t even know where to start with you. First of all, you never should have kept this from us. You should never be afraid to tell us anything. We’re your parents. You can come to us any time you need help. Second, your mom and I would never just turn a child out into the street. I’m insulted that you would even think that of us.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked over at Mom. “I’m really sorry.”
“Boys, we are going to work this out.” Mom lifted Hutch’s face with her hands, brushed the hair from his forehead, and gently kissed him over his black eye.
“I’m going to call your parents, Barry, see if I can talk them back into their senses,” said Dad. “You’re underage, and they’re responsible for you. It’s against the law for them to throw you out this way.”
“Don’t do that, Dr. Jiles,” Hutch replied anxiously. “Please.”
“Barry, I may be able to convince them to let you come home.”
“I don’t want to go back there,” said Hutch. “They don’t want me.”
Mom stroked the back of Hutch’s head. “Oh, child. Don’t say such a thing.”
“It’s true, Mom,” I spoke up. “They treat him like dirt. They beat him.” I pointed at Hutch’s fading black eye, as if she needed proof.
Dad pulled the chair away from my desk and sat. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and looked from me to Hutch. “Well, boys, then just what do you want to do about this situation?”
I knew what I wanted. Hutch had to stay here. I needed to know that he was safe, and the only way I could be sure of that was if he was here with us. But I couldn’t say that to Dad because I didn’t think there was any way he would agree to it. Hutch didn’t say anything either. The two of us just sat there and waited to see what my mom and dad would do.
“There’s one thing we must do,” Mom said. “We’ll have to call the Department of Human Services.”
Hutch rolled a frightened look at me. We’d talked about that option already. He didn’t want to be turned over to Human Services. “Uh, Mom, you can’t do that,” I protested. “The state will stick him in a foster home with strangers. And once they find out he’s gay, the foster parents could be just as nasty to him as his real parents were.”
“So the solution is for Barry to live here with us,” said Dad. “Is that it?”
“Well?” I looked from Mom to Dad. “Can he?”
Dad leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Your mother is right, Jericho. There are all kinds of legal issues here. We have to turn this over to Human Services.” He turned to Hutch before I could respond. “Barry, your parents abused you. That’s a crime, and it has to be reported.”
“But… that means I’ll have to testify against them in court or something. Doesn’t it?” Hutch answered, fear shining suddenly in his eyes. “I don’t want to do that, Dr. Jiles. I don’t want to have anything else to do with them. And I don’t want to go into any foster home.” He stared at Dad in a way that was uncertain and determined at the same time. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’ll just leave.”
“And go where?” Mom asked, looking worried again.
“I’ll find a friend I can stay with. And I’ll get a job, something after school. I know this law—”
Dad shook his head. “Barry, we won’t let you leave here without knowing that you’re taken care of.”
“Exactly,” Mom agreed. “We’ll have you stay here with us for the time being.”
“And Monday morning,” Dad added, “I’ll start making some calls to see what we can work out for you that doesn’t involve foster homes or having you face your parents again.”
Sometimes my folks amaze me. “Mom… Dad… I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Of course we are,” Mom replied. “It’s the Christian thing to do.” She turned to Hutch. “Now, what do you need, dear?”
“What do I need?” Hutch repeated, confused.
“Yes. When a person is thrown into the streets, there’s usually not time to pack.”
“Jerry went back and got some of my stuff that my mom and dad threw out.”
“And where are those things?” asked Mom.
Hutch looked embarrassed. “Under the bed.”
“Let me see them.”
Hutch got down on his knees, reached under the bed, and retrieved the green plastic garbage bag where we kept his clean clothes stashed. He handed it to Mom.
Mom dug around in the bag with her hand, looking through the contents. “Three pairs of jeans… four shirts….” She looked at Hutch. “Are these all the clothes you have?”
“Yeah. Except for my winter jacket. It’s hanging in the closet. My backpack’s in there too, with my school stuff.”
“What about shoes?”
“I’ve been wearing some of Jerry’s.”
“Well, that won’t do,” said Mom. “Put on some shoes, Barry, and get your jacket. I’ll take you out and buy you some more clothes.”
Hutch seemed overwhelmed by everything. Still kneeling beside the bed, he was speechless for a moment. He got to his feet. “Mrs. Jiles, you don’t have to do that.”
“This isn’t up for debate, Barry.” Standing up, Mom handed the garbage bag back to Hutch. “Around here, children are expected to do as told. And you don’t have to sleep under the bed. Take your things upstairs to Jericho’s old room. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Okay. I’ll be back down in a second.” Hutch grabbed his jacket and a pair of my old sneakers and left the room with his bag of clothes.
“The poor thing,” Mom said once Hutch was gone. She grabbed her jacket from the desk and held it out to Dad. As he helped her into the jacket, she said, “We shouldn’t be gone long, London. I won’t spend too much.”
“Get him whatever you think he needs,” Dad said.
Mom kissed Dad on the cheek
and left to get her purse.
“I’ll come with you guys.” I snagged my jacket from the closet and started to follow. I made two steps before Dad caught me by my right ear and tugged me back. “Ow! Ow!”
“You will be cooking dinner today,” Dad snapped, “and while you’re doing that, the two of us will have a little talk about keeping secrets from your parents. Hm?”
Yeah, I was really eager to have that conversation. But it was all good. At that moment, I loved my mom and dad more than ever.
GIRLS have this weird, incredible ability to make a guy feel as low as dirt with just a look or a tone of voice. They’re like parents in that way.
I had just survived a harsh lecture from Dad about trust that cut five feet and eleven inches off my height. As if that weren’t bad enough, he embarrassed me more thoroughly than he did when he gave me the talk years ago about boy parts and girl parts and how he’d absolutely kill me if I put the two parts together before marriage. When he was done sandblasting me for hiding Hutch in the house, Dad wrapped up with this:
“I am proud of you, Jericho. You may have gone about it in the wrong way, but you did everything you could to help a friend who’s in a desperate situation. That’s a perfect example of loving the sinner.”
I was in the process of peeling carrots for the chicken stew I was making. The one in my hand snapped in two with a distinct pop. “Loving the sinner?” The remark left me feeling as if I’d been hit in the head. I just stood there, frozen.
Dad took the carrots from me and started peeling them himself. “I’ve always liked Barry,” he said. “He seemed like such a fine boy, more levelheaded than that knothead you run around with from next door.” (Side note: Mr. and Mrs. Travis probably said the same thing to Mac about me.) “But if Barry has embraced homosexuality, he’s headed down the wrong path. You did your best to save him physically. Now he needs for you to help save him spiritually. Talk to him, boy. Try to get him back on the path to being the kind, upstanding young man God wants him to be. If you can do that, Barry will make as fine a husband and father as you will, son.”
