Rusty Knob

by Erica Chilson

  “I don’t think Bren is trying to out anyone,” I reassure Jack. I haven’t had the balls to ask Bren outright, but his reasoning is obvious to me. “I think Bren’s trying to find someone he can trust. That BJ you had with Jessica must have confused him. I mean, the guy says he’s bi. He has no problem getting girls, but that itch has got to be growing. An itch he ain’t gonna let Francis scratch.”

  “Jesus Christ, yes!” Jack shouts, flinging the dishrag to plop on the kitchen floor. “Shit! I got a bit overexcited there,” he mutters as he picks the rag back up. His cheeks are redder than a ripe tomato. “Sorry. Speaking of itches that can’t be scratched, as cute as he is, Franny doesn’t do it for me. Just not my type.”

  “No shit, sugar.” I bust out laughing, thrilled that I’m finally able to understand my best buddy. “No wonder you always look sick when Bren is mock-flirting with his Franny. You’re jealous. You’ve got a bit of a crush, don’t ya?”

  “But I can’t do anything about it, even if I wanted to.” Jack slumps, hip propped up against the countertop as he tugs at a frayed string on my dishcloth. He won’t look at me. “God, this conversation is bizarre. Never thought I’d be having it.”

  I think about that for a split-second, and then shrug. “It’s freeing, actually. I feel better now that it’s out in the open.”

  Satisfied that I’m not judging him, Jack continues. “Bren flirts with Virginia Duncan in the group because I’m listed as a bi female. We get away with it and no one bats an eyelash. But truth be told, we’re dealing with a gay kid who uses a false identity and a bi guy who could have anyone he wanted as long as they didn’t have a dick.”

  “First, Royce knows what’s up, so Bren’s daddy ain’t stopping him. Second, no matter how he plays, Bren isn’t stupid, either.” I tug the dishcloth from Jack’s grip. “Your last name is Duncan, for cripes’ sake. Bren knows you aren’t a girl and he knows it’s you, and he flirts with you anyway.”

  “Nobody ever says anything,” Jack grumbles. “We all go online and commiserate, and then pretend it never happened while we hang out every day. I don’t get it.”

  “I can’t answer for the rest of ‘em, but I was waiting for you to spill the truth to me, not wanting to put pressure on you. Not to sound like Mentor KM, but you coming out should be your choice.” I dry a plate, and then put it in the cupboard. “You’re my best friend, and Bren is like the pesky little brother I never had, so I’ll watch your back if you can’t wait until you get to college to scratch that persistent itch.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll wait.” Jack hesitates, choosing his words wisely. “Can you…”

  Fuck it!

  “Penny can finish these dishes she promised to do in the morning. If she doesn’t, I’m eating her sack lunch myself. That would fix her wagon.” I toss the dishrags into the empty basin, leaving the dirty dishes to soak in the other side of the sink. I grab ahold of Jack’s sleeve to tug him out the screen door.

  I sit on the top step of the front porch, marveling over how different my life was from a few nights ago. It isn’t as dark here in town, but there is a peaceful sensation that settles over me, blanketing me in that feeling I call love. Hearing the peepers not getting drowned out by the bellowing of coonhounds is a pleasant surprise. I thought it would be nosier in town with all the people living here, but it’s quieter somehow. Sometimes silence is deafening. But then again, Daddy’s bitching isn’t echoing off the hilltops.

  Jack bumps my arm with his shoulder, being that he’s almost six inches shorter than me. He does it again, trying to gain my attention while comforting me. “Do you even know what the itch feels like? I don’t want to rub it in, but I’m curious.”

  “Truth be told, yes and no.” I sigh, finally putting a voice to something I’ve always left unsaid. “The empty void is suffocating, and I’d do anything to fill it up. I can’t help but wonder if it’s worse than how you feel. I mean, I get horny for something I don’t understand. I know how to take care of business, but it just isn’t very filling. Like living off PB&J when you really want a steak.”

  “You’re good at dealing with going without, for sure. But, do you… do you ever look at someone and want them?” When I don’t answer or protest, Jack starts lobbing questions at me left and right. “What’s it like when you jerk it? I know you weren’t using porn, so what do you visualize?”

  “What’s it like for you?” I ask instead of answering something I don’t know how to explain.

  “I kept… I kept looking at girls how everyone else was, but it did nothing for me. I bet you feel like that all the time. I would concentrate on it so hard, it would give me a headache.”

  “How’d you know?” I finally ask the one question that I’d been too hesitant to ask. “How’d you figure out you were gay?”

  My buddy releases the most ironic laugh I’ve ever heard. “JV basketball changed that for me. I couldn’t stop popping chub in the locker room. It didn’t take long for me to figure out why. All those naked, sweaty boys. It was a buffet put on just for me every practice. The showers are my greatest pleasure and nightmare combined.” Jack shoulder bumps my arm again. “Now I enjoy the view while feeling petrified someone will notice I sprouted wood.”

  Feeling envious, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Then there’s the itch?”

  “Then there was the itch that started to tingle and turn into a burning need when I was around Bren. It’s like my body picked Bren, knowing we’d both like the scratching.”

  My voice comes small, unsure. “Did you ever feel that with me?”

  “The itch?”

  “Yeah.” My breath catches, scared our friendship is about to change.

  “Nah,” Jack rasps after a heavy pause. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re the best view in school. But I never burned for you.”

  Bitter disappointment flows through me, and I’m surprised at its source. “Guess that means your body is telling you I’m not gay then, eh?”

  “Don’t know if that’s how it works or not. We both know Franny is gayer than gay. I just want to protect him, not diddle him.” Jack gently head butts my arm this time, so I know I’m not going to like what comes next. “Sorry, I can’t help ya out, bud. I don’t know what you are.”

  “Me either.” I take a deep breath. “I was kinda hoping you could tell me. It’s one of the reasons why I tried to…” Feeling closer to Jack more now than ever, I blurt out the truth, being selfish enough to force my best friend to help me shoulder my burdens.

  In a rush, “I tried to kill myself Friday night,” I spew before I can take the words back. “I couldn’t deal with the long stretch of misery without someone to make me feel warm, ya know?” I shudder, my body reacting to the endless cold I suffer with. “Warren and Penny have each other, no matter how tough shit gets. Royce? He’s alone, yet he’s got Bren to hold onto. You? At least you know what you want. Having a crush, even if you can’t act on it, must make you tingle something fierce.”

  Reaching for me, “Shit, Wynn,” Jack cries. Smaller than me, he tries his best to wrap me in his arms, rocking us slightly on the front porch steps. I grip him back just as fiercely, fingers clenching into his shoulders, twisting in the material of his t-shirt. I try to ignore the fact that I’m drenching his shoulder from my leaky eyes, and I pretend I can’t hear the sniffling sound emanating from his nose.

  If I’m busy, I can ignore what I’ve done. But in the quiet, it comes rushing forward, causing my heart to beat a rapid tattoo against my ribcage as the panic sets in.

  I was a hairsbreadth away from not experiencing this moment– not being here for Jack when he needed me most, and my best friend wouldn’t have felt useful because I wouldn’t have been here for him to comfort and support. We need each other, and I almost destroyed that. Almost, but only because of Warren. Because I did pull the trigger.

  I’ve never felt this level of shame, even with who my parents are and where I come from, and I have no idea how to handle it. All I can do
is suffer through the assault as my body violently shakes to release the pressure.

  We don’t speak for a long while, but it’s comforting just the same, calming my anxious reaction to the truth of my actions.

  The pleasant warmth buzzes its way through my body, unfreezing me. I know it’s not the same thing Jack was describing, but at least I know I won’t grow cold as long as I have loyal friends and good family.

  Jack pulls away first, having to tug my arms from around him. He leans to the side, far enough away so he can look me dead in the eyes. “Someday, you’re gonna meet somebody, and they’re gonna rock the world beneath your feet. It’ll feel like an earthquake. It will be petrifying yet exhilarating. You’ll feel sick– heartsick. But you’d do anything to continue feeling that way, no matter how much it hurts.”

  “That sounded like that was from firsthand experience,” I mutter as I finally release Jack out of our embrace. “You got something to tell me, Jack?”

  “I better get going.” He rises to his feet, and then hops down the steps before I can stop him. “We’ve got school in the morning, after all. Gotta get rested up.”

  “Uh-huh,” I grunt, not appreciating his evasion.

  Jack goes a few feet down the walk with his back turned to me so I can’t see his face. His words flow quiet, but I can hear them well enough. “I may or may not have had a kiss a few months back. A kiss that dropped my ass to the ground. I will not admit that what was once a crush is now something more. But I’ll say, seeing the person I might love fuck a swath through Rusty Knob, feels a lot like dying. Especially when said crush loves every minute of it.”

  My eyes drink in the sight of Jack’s slouched shoulders as he walks away from me. I don’t know what it must feel like to want someone so much that you’d get jealous. But I think finding out would be worth the pain. Getting that type of kiss, now that would be worth everything.

  With a heavy sigh, feeling weary to my bones, I stand up to walk back into the house. I open the screen door and nearly careen into a tiny slip of a girl wearing a floor-length nightgown.

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” Penny murmurs. My heart aches to see tears swimming in her eyes, but it’s pounding furiously for another reason entirely. “I’ll pull my own weight. I promise.”

  Hesitantly, I ask, “You didn’t hear anything on the porch, now did ya?”

  “Not a word,” Penny agrees, but she’s lying to comfort me. She steps forward to rest her cheek against my chest, silently asking me to kiss the top of her head. I oblige, slipping a hand around her back to hold her for a moment longer.

  I pull away with a, “Night, Penny,” and then walk through the house toward my bedroom.

  Penny’s, “Wynn, you better promise to live to be one hundred and ten,” will haunt me for the rest of my days, because the gravity of what I tried to do is finally sinking in.

  Wynn Gillette Bought Me a Drink

  Standing in the hallway of the little school, with Hayden holding my left hand, I try to wrangle Hayley with the other. The mommas walking their kindergarteners and first-graders keep stopping to say how cute I’m being, calling me a good big brother. I don’t bother to tell them I’m the uncle, because not many kids become one at the tender age of eleven. Looking at how Hayden and I are behaving, the townsfolk assume we’re one of them, compared to the wild young’uns running down the halls without any supervision.

  “Now let me fix your dress.” I squat down to adjust the hem on Hayley’s dress, but she squirms and strikes out at me with her tiny fists of fury.

  “I don’t wanna wear no dress.” Hayley hits the top of my head, but her words are filled with pouting instead of anger. “I want my pants back.”

  “Double negative, Sissy. You’re a girl. Girls wear dresses.” Hayden informs his sister, earning her ire. He’s an old soul who sounds just like Warren when you get him going. A budding misogynist who begs me to teach him the proper way to speak. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around that.

  “Hayden.” I roll my eyes and shake my head as I reach up to tug Hayley’s shorts back into place. We have to keep her tushy covered while on the swing set. “Girls can wear pants all they want. Hayley, the reason you’re in a dress is because I had to toss your clothes out. We’ll go after school to the Salvation Army and get you some pants. Okay? Will that do? Will you be good now?”

  Hayley grunts at me, but I take that as a good sign. “Let’s get you kids to Mr. Marx.” I rise to my full height, taking a tiny hand in each of my own. A fluttering of laughter fills the hallway, so I glance over my shoulder to see a young momma checking out my ass.

  Blushing, I mutter, “No shame, I tell ya,” underneath my breath. I should feel flattered, but all I feel is envious that I don’t get to experience whatever brought heat to that momma’s face.

  This is the first time I’ve done this with the kids. Where we come from, the parents tell us to get on the bus. We ride around the hills for over an hour, picking up our neighbors, then we get dropped off in the parking lot. It’s up to chance whether or not the kids get to where they’re supposed to go. The teachers do their best to keep everybody in line. It’s how I was raised, and it’s how Hayden and Hayley spent kindergarten and most of first grade.

  But this morning, I saw all the kids in town skipping down the street. Most were with their older siblings, but the little ones were holding their mommas’ hands. So I took the initiative to deliver Hayley and Hayden to Mr. Marx personally. Plus, Kaden Marx and I have some unfinished business to attend.

  Mr. Marx is wearing a huge smile, not that I give a hoot what else he’s wearing– teacher clothes, I guess. But the smile is bright and happy, completely the opposite of the icy, taut scowl he gave me on Friday night.

  I snort in amusement when knee high to a grasshopper comes to mind. Mr. Marx is so tall, the first graders aren’t much taller than his kneecaps. He’s standing in the center of a circle of kids running around and around him while giggling and acting silly.

  I feel a bit envious of Mr. Marx. The fact that he loves his job radiates from him, glowing pure happiness. But my envy is quickly replaced with that warm sensation, because I’m glad that someone is doing right by these kids and loving every second of it.

  The twins yank on my hands, alerting me to the fact that I stopped in the middle of the classroom to watch their teacher play with his students.

  “Sorry,” I mutter brusquely, shaking out of it. “C’mon,” I give a tug to get us all moving again. I grip their hands tightly, not wanting them to scurry off to their friends. I’ve got to show Mr. Marx how fresh they look and smell.

  I step up to the circle, but I don’t break into the arc the kids are creating. “Mr. Marx.” I clear my throat, waiting impatiently while the twins yank and tug, trying to run off.

  “Uncle Wynn,” Hayley whines, fed up. “Let go.”

  My hands start sweating, so I have to grip tighter. The little brat figures this out, tugging harder and harder. “Hayley Willamina Kennedy,” I warn, using her full name to get her attention. She freezes beside me, huge blue eyes flicking up to light upon my face.

  Mr. Marx’s smile transforms into something naughty. His lips curl up at the edges like he finds me amusing. That dang smirk tightens my belly muscles, but it angers me more because he’s making fun of me with just a look.

  “I can mind these kids better than you can,” he’s thinking.

  “Well, I should hope so. It’s your dang job,” spills from my mouth.

  Shit!

  Mr. Marx chuckles while waving his hands about like they’re fluttering in the wind. “Go on, now. Go on and play,” he sweeps the kids away from him, and they scatter to the four corners of the classroom. “It’s a bit like herding cats, or using a funnel to collect water.”

  My kids just stare up at their teacher like he’s their god.

  Figures.

  I stand frozen beneath Marx’s heavily-lidded stare, unsure what I was going to say or do. It’s odd, being
looked down upon. I don’t mean judged– that’s an everyday occurrence from everyone. I mean literally looked down upon. I’m six-foot-two, and I’m staring at Mr. Marx’s nose instead of his eyes.

  “That’s some rocking locks, ya got there, Hails.” Mr. Marx flutters the top of Hayley’s curly fauxhawk. “Setting a trend in the elementary school with your Rockabilly dress and hardcore hairstyle.”

  Hayley tugs on my hand to get my attention. She whispers like it’s a secret, “I want more dresses, Uncle Wynn.” The little minx is already crushing in the first grade.

  Fuck!

  I just bust out into hysterics– a combination of stress and amusement. I let go of the kids’ hands, and they finally slip free. Hayley doesn’t want to leave her teacher’s side, but her brother won’t allow it.

  “Girls should wear dresses,” my nephew is going off again. “But I think you ought to be wearing pants. C’mon over to the reading nook. I want to get a good book before they’re all taken.”

  Trying to contain his laughter, Mr. Marx is biting the corner of his lip, his crooked front tooth leaving a dent. I ought to know, I seem to keep staring transfixed in that general vicinity. With a deep breath, my eyes snap up to meet his, deciding I better do what I came here to do in the first place.

  “I have something…” I get a bit tongue-tied because he’s not glaring at me for once. Kaden Marx was one of Warren’s friends when they were growing up. I saw him constantly when I was a boy. But I haven’t been around him much since. When I am, he’s usually glaring at me. I’m a bit thrown off by the old Kade making a reappearance. “I have something for you,” I try again.

  “Oh, yeah?” Mr. Marx relaxes, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his teacher pants. He’s telling me he’s Kade now, just another kid from the hollers. “The kids look really good, Wynn. I… I’m happy that you got the fuck away from your parents and took the twins with you. I couldn’t stand by and allow their futures to be trampled. We all know social services will not breach a boundary line for fear of their lives.”