His Own Way Out

by Taylor Saracen

  It took a few minutes for Mr. Trasker to run the tests and report the findings Blake knew he would.

  “He’s clean,” the director announced.

  Evidently, that was the officer’s cue to fuck off, which he did, leaving Blake to deal with Trasker and his broken curfew.

  “We have a zero-excuse policy for tardiness,” Mr. Trasker reminded, “which means tonight will be your last night as a resident of this house.”

  “Are you serious?” Blake cried, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. “No excuses even when they’re valid?”

  “Zero-excuse policy,” he reiterated, coolly.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Blake asked, his voice wavering with emotion.

  The older man shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  Blake inhaled deeply before letting out a sputtering exhale. He had enough problems. He didn’t need this one.

  17

  Blake’s first night in the homeless shelter was horrible. The place stunk like piss and dust, with a mustiness permeating every blanket and cot, making items that were bone dry feel damp. Before, Blake’s mistakes had never been so tangible, but lying on the springy surface of the shelter cot, he couldn’t avoid the discomfort of his new reality. It was cold, since the shoddy HVAC system was no match for the chill in the winter air. While theoretically Blake knew he was lucky to have a place to sleep that was indoors and relatively safe, it was hard to feel anything but defeated. How had everything gone so wrong?

  Holding his belongings tight to his chest, Blake barely slept, protecting his things from sticky fingers that were ready to take them. Desperation was a powerful motivator and the shelter was rife with need. It would be tempting fate to let his guard down or allow his mind to rest.

  It was strange to be in a position he never imagined himself in. Many times, Blake had daydreamed that he won the State championship for wrestling or became the valedictorian of his senior class. Sometimes he was in college, or a famous actor, but in all his wildest fantasies, he was never a homeless man. He’d never considered that one day he could be in a place like the one he was in, surrounded by people who had struggles he’d been blessed to never face. He wondered how many of them had a mother who cried herself to sleep every night worried about them, or a brother who was more than willing to give them guff, only because they cared. They probably didn’t have a Greg, who rooted for them despite the mistakes they made, or a Claire, who they felt fulfilled by, even if they only had bobs and bits of a relationship.

  If Blake would have found himself in the shelter after the car crash, he would have understood his lot, felt like he earned the punishment, but it was hard for him to rationalize why, after an innocent mistake, he was lying among the brutally mistaken, those who had sacrificed their lives for their vices. He didn’t want to be like them, he hardly wanted to be like himself.

  It was the morning after night two that Blake knew he had to do something to get out of the shithole. He thought about going back to Unionville and staying with Greg, but he knew it would be a hard sell to his friend’s parents and that he couldn’t attend WCHS again. He needed to find a place to stay that was in a different district. His top priority was to graduate, and he couldn’t do that in a shelter or in his hometown. Knowing exactly who he needed to call, Blake made his way to the phone in the lobby, keeping his cell phone tucked safely in his pocket. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he had one.

  It had been so long since he’d spoken to Ryan, and even longer since he’d spoken to Ryan’s mother, Sandra. Blake missed them, and not only because it was looking like they were his last chance at a normal life. They lived in Jasmine County, a farming community thirty miles southwest of Lexington, a place where Blake knew he would have the ability to focus on finishing his senior year. Though his goals weren’t far-fetched, they felt like they may be as he crossed the lobby floor. As sad as it was, nobody expected anything from the shelter’s residents. He wondered how many of them knew differently about themselves like he did, how many saw beyond the societal views and reconsidered their own potential. Maybe it was true when people said that success took sacrifice. After all, Blake was sacrificing his pride to get in touch with a friend from fourth grade to ask him for a favor.

  “Ryan?” Blake asked when a guy answered the landline with a standard hello.

  “This is Ryan,” he confirmed.

  “Hey, it’s Blake.”

  “Mitchell?”

  “Do you know another Blake?” he laughed.

  “I hardly know one,” Ryan ribbed.

  “That’s fair,” Blake sighed. “I should’ve been better at keeping in touch.”

  “It takes two,” Ryan assured. “How have you been?”

  “You know, okay,” Blake lied, tapping his fingers on the desk as a man walked passed him, his clothing brushing against Blake’s, too close, an invasion of space. “Is your mom around? I should probably talk to your mom?”

  “Uh, yeah, hold on a minute,” Ryan uttered.

  Though Blake couldn’t see his old friend’s face, he could visualize it. There were years and miles between them, but Facebook had softened the impact of the distance.

  “Sunshine?” Sandra exclaimed when she came to the phone. “Is that really you?”

  “It’s really me,” Blake answered, smiling at the nickname. It had been so long since he’d heard it.

  Although he didn’t think of Sandra often, hearing her voice brought back warm memories of their time together. Blake had spent a significant amount of time at the Dempsey house growing up, and much of it was sitting at the kitchen table with Sandra, listening to her stories and telling her his. Though he was only nine, Sandra treated him like a young man, making Blake believe that his words and thoughts mattered. He hoped he did the same for her.

  “It’s been so long. How are you doing, Blake?”

  “I’ve been better,” he admitted, clearing his throat in an attempt to swallow the rising emotion.

  “What’s going on?” For every ounce of fear in his voice there were three more of worry in hers.

  “So much,” he sniffed, willing his eyes to hold in the tears that were threatening to spill from them. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start at the end and work your way to the beginning.”

  “I need a place to stay. I got in some trouble and I’m in a shelter right now.”

  “Oh honey,” she sighed. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Weed. I was expelled from school, went to rehab and then to a halfway house,” Blake confessed, thinking the words sounded alien coming from his mouth. It was one thing to live the bizarre life he was living, but it was another to acknowledge that it was his.

  “And why aren’t you at the halfway house now?”

  “I got kicked out. I was riding a bike, got lost, and missed curfew. That was it. One mistake and I was done.”

  “Were you out doing drugs?” Sandra asked.

  “No, not at all. They gave me a drug test when I got back. I’ll give you the director’s name and he’ll confirm I was clean. I missed curfew, that's it,” Blake promised.

  “You would have a curfew here, Sunshine, and I wouldn’t take kindly to you missing it.”

  Blake had never been so relieved to receive a warning. “I swear I’d never miss it. All I want to do is go to school and graduate. That’s it.”

  “That would be my expectation. You go to school, you stay out of trouble, and you keep the drugs out of my house. Ryan’s doing well.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Blake said. “You’re a great mom.”

  “You don’t have to butter me up, Sunshine. I’m already telling you that you have a place to stay.”

  “I said it because it’s true,” he replied, earnestly. “Thank you, Sandy.”

  “You won’t thank me when you get your chore list,” she joked, with her signature giggle.

  “I still will,” Blake laughed. “Believe me.”

&nb
sp; “Now, tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you after work.”

  “I’ll probably try to go somewhere else today. How about you pick me up by Triangle Park? I’ll stand at the corner of Main and Broadway.”

  “Sounds good,” Sandra confirmed. “I’ll be there around five-thirty, maybe a little later if traffic is bad.”

  “Take your time,” Blake said, easily. “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you later. We’re having biscuits and gravy for dinner, so I hope you have an appetite.”

  Blake inhaled as the tears began to well again. He was hungry, but it was powerful how a show of kindness could be so fulfilling. “I have a big one.”

  “Then I’ll make sure we have seconds.”

  She hung up, but Blake kept the phone pressed to his ear for a moment, relishing in the tenderness of the conversation for a bit longer.

  “It’s my turn,” a man stated gruffly from behind Blake. “Get off.”

  “I’m off,” Blake said, hanging up the receiver quickly. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  Power walking to the cafeteria, Blake found Pastor John handing out apples and government cheese.

  “Pastor John, I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done. I found a place to stay.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, Blake,” the white-haired clergyman smiled. “I hope you go with faith wherever you travel.”

  “Thanks,” Blake replied, still impressed that the old man managed to remember everyone’s names, even those who were new to the shelter.

  “Apple?” the pastor offered, holding out the fruit.

  Blake grinned and took it, grateful to have something to put in his stomach until he could fill it with Sandra’s cooking later that night.

  Exiting the shelter, Blake considered calling his mother and telling her what happened with the halfway house, but ultimately, he decided against it, knowing that her disappointment would be too much to bear. As he made his way toward State Street, he thought of calling his father, too. While he wasn’t sure what his dad was doing or where he was, he knew for a fact he was busy. It had been so long since he’d spoken to him and it was an exhausting prospect to think of explaining all that had occurred. So, he decided not to. Instead he kept his head down and continued on his way, unsure of where he was going, but intent on never going back to where he’d been.

  18

  Settling into the Dempsey house was as easy as Blake had expected it to be. Ryan and Sandra radiated a positivity that Blake feared he’d forgotten how to muster. Regardless of how much he wanted to look past the things that had happened, Blake couldn’t help but perseverate on his inability to stay out of trouble. He’d gotten lost in Lexington and promptly lost the opportunity he had to finish school in the city. It was a freak happening and it would be a permanent imprint on a pivotal page of his life. Maybe it was an analogy for some greater struggle, or perhaps he was an unlucky motherfucker. Either way, he still couldn’t believe it had gone down the way it did. It didn’t matter anyway; sleeping on the couch in Sandra’s apartment was more comfortable than the halfway house, mostly because of the company. It was as if no time had passed between him and Ryan, and Blake was sure he’d feel forever bonded to Sandra, just because she was a salt of the Earth kind of person. Not only did he want to do well for himself, but he wanted to make Sandra proud, and his mother, though she wasn’t aware of how far left shit had gone. He needed to focus on school and getting his diploma. Blake wasn’t going to let circumstances and bad decisions stand in the way of his progress.

  As expected, Ryan was a great influence. His old friend wasn’t perfect, but he was pretty fucking close. He managed his school work, participated in track and field, and volunteered with elementary school kids on his afternoons off. Somehow, he managed to make time to let loose on the weekends and play a massive amount of video games, which made Blake happy as hell. While he wasn’t interested in indulging too heavily in old habits, Blake wanted to blow off steam and he found that getting lost in a video game with his old friend was just what he needed. He couldn’t deny that things with Nick had gotten out of control the year prior, but he was past the need to numb, and focused on lighthearted fun.

  Blake found, however, that there was less opportunity to partake in the physical variety of the fun he was craving. There wasn’t anybody at Jasmine County House School that interested him as much as Claire did, and there surely wasn’t a gaggle of gay or bi guys openly looking to bang. Sexual frustration was at a peak, which was problematic given his very open sleeping arrangement. Blake never took more showers in his life. Something had to give and hopefully that something was a someone, ready to give him head.

  “So, you like both guys and girls equally?” Ryan attempted to clarify as he and Blake sat in the park after school.

  “Yes.”

  “I always thought if a guy fucked around with guys he was gay,” Ryan admitted, “but I guess that’s not the case.”

  Blake shook his head. It never ceased to surprise him how little people understood about bisexuality, but he could get why it was confusing for someone who grew up relatively sheltered by the conservative ideals of a red state like Ryan had. “I fuck around with girls, too. Would you consider me straight?”

  “Not if you mess with dudes.”

  “Right, so I’m bi. Both,” Blake reiterated, grinning at his friend. “It’s nice to not have just one side, I guess.”

  Ryan nodded as if he was trying to process the information. “Sorry if I’m asking dumb questions, man, but I think I have another one.”

  “I don’t care, Ry,” Blake said nonchalantly. “What have you got?”

  “You’re only attracted to certain guys, right? Similar to how I’m only into certain girls?”

  Blake flicked the paper or his cigarette, watching as the shimmering embers disintegrated before hitting the grass. “Exactly like that. I’m only into certain girls and guys. Being bi doesn’t mean I want to fuck everyone. It’s more that I want to fuck some people of both sexes.”

  “This is fascinating stuff,” Ryan noted. “I thought long and hard about whether I’ve ever been into guys when you told me this bi stuff.”

  “Oh yeah?” Blake asked, raising his eyebrows in interest. “What did you come up with?”

  “I’m straight,” Ryan sighed. “I tried to imagine being with a guy and I couldn’t get into the image.”

  “You know, I have to give it up to you for the effort. A lot of guys are too uptight to explore the option, even in their thoughts.”

  “I don’t care what people say. There’s something badass about getting a dick shoved up your ass.”

  “I don’t really do that,” Blake confessed. “I mostly top guys.”

  “Well, the guys you top are badasses then,” Ryan laughed. “I’m not gonna give you the credit if it’s not where it’s due.”

  “Since when is sex a competition? They enjoy it just as much as I do. Believe me.”

  “You’ve always been cocky, Mitchell.”

  “Yeah well, my cockiness swelled with age,” Blake joked, grinning when Ryan’s hazel eyes went wide. “What? You opened it right up for that one.”

  “I did,” Ryan laughed, reclining to his back.

  Blake took the cue and laid next to him, staring up at the dense clouds creating a stratified grey sky. He wondered how long they had until they’d be walking home wet. Winter had been harsh in circumstance but not in weather, and Blake was still waiting for the snow that never came, only rain.

  “Are you into me?” Ryan asked softly.

  It was a fact of life that every time a straight male friend found out that Blake was bi they asked if he was interested in them. Eventually, it stopped being annoying and became expected.

  “Nah.”

  “Why not?”

  The tone of the question reflected more disappointment than Blake had expected to hear.

  “Do you want me to be?” Blake asked, propping himself up on an elbow in
order to get a view of Ryan’s face.

  “No. I’m curious,” he answered, busying his hands by picking dead blades of grass.

  “I don’t know why I’m not. Maybe because you’re Ryan.”

  “What’s wrong with being Ryan?” he asked defensively.

  “Nothing,” Blake chuckled. “It’s hard to see you in any way other than how I did when we were kids.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” Ryan said quickly. “I don’t know. It feels like there’s something wrong with me?”

  “Because of what I said?” Blake questioned, surprised that a handsome, amazing man like Ryan could be insecure.

  “No,” Ryan promised. “No, no, no, no. I just don’t have much luck with girls. I mean, I’d like to be with one, but none of them seem interested.”

  “Why?” Blake wondered out loud. “You’re a good-looking guy. You’re smart. You’re nice...”

  “I think that’s it. The nice thing. Girls don’t seem to want a nice guy. Do guys?”

  Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not an expert.”

  “I think it’s the glasses. People assume you’re an expert on a lot of things,” Ryan teased. “Professor Mitchell.”

  “I like it,” Blake smirked. “It has a ring to it.”

  “I think so,” Ryan agreed.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “Don’t ask me shit like that. It’s embarrassing!”

  “Who’s around?” Blake asked, holding his arms up to display the empty park. “You can be real with me.”

  Sighing, Ryan bit his lip. “I’m sure you already have your answer now.”

  “Seems like it. A girl in my Spanish class asked about you the other day.”

  “Oh yeah? Who?”

  “Her Spanish name is Marisol or something. I think her name is Maya?”