“Yeah,” Warren says enthusiastically. “After work, I’ll check to see if I can get a good deal on some reels. Dr. Kline would definitely approve of this as an appropriate hobby. Tying flies is creative, and then you’re left with something useful, and fishing is calm and soothing. Fruit for your labors. Plus, whoever cooked this spread, would make a mean fish fry.”
Bren leans into me and whispers into my ear while Warren goes on and on about food and hobbies. “Dad should have known better than to try to cock-block you. You’re too smart. He always traps me in my own shit. I’ve made his skills rusty.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, managing to pull off looking guilty and innocent at the same time. “You’re invited too. I’m just wanting to spend some quality time with my big brother.”
“Uh-huh, sure ya are.” Jack leans forward so he can talk to me without Bren’s head in the way. “I’ll be joining ya just to see how this train wreck plays out.”
“Mmm… mmm… this is real good grub.” Warren wipes his mouth with a paper napkin. “It’s quite the spread. I know Wynn didn’t make it since it’s not covered in pepper.”
“Ass.” I toss a dinner roll across the table, the trajectory is Warren’s face. My brother grabs the roll before it smacks him upside the head, and then takes a big bite out of it. “I’ll have you know, I taught Penny everything she knows about cooking.”
“It’s true,” the girl in question pipes up from her seat on Warren’s lap. “Wynn got me this huge cookbook with a red gingham tablecloth on the cover. It has yellowed pages, but it’s got a lot of great recipes in it.”
“It was a long road to edible food,” I drawl, causing Hayley and Hayden to giggle. “In three months of grocery shopping, Penny kept forgetting the pepper. Then, when I’d bring it home, it would up and disappear.”
“Imagine that,” Penny breathes in disbelief.
“I like to fish,” Royce announces out of nowhere. “No one goes fishing until Wynn has made poles for everyone at this table, and Warren has fashioned us some flies. No one hits a fishing hole without all of us,” he declares.
“Dad’s got mad skills,” Bren breathes into my ear.
I grin, happier than a pig in shit. Bren thinks I’m trying to get Kade alone so I can molest him. That’s not the case. I want to get to know him. It’s not sexual, no matter what my dick is shouting. I just want to spend time with the people I care about. Nothing would make me happier than all of us spending time together as a big, happy family.
Warren and Willa are addicts, but so am I. I’m addicted to that warm sensation that surrounds my heart. I never had a stable family, and I’ll do anything to feed my addiction.
“Here, baby.” Warren spoon-feeds Penny some potato salad. “We’ve got to keep you from starving our little feller.” Rubbing her belly while feeding her with the other, I drown out the rest of the syrupy sweet words flowing out of Warren’s mouth directed to Penny and her baby bump.
There is sweet, and then there is overkill. With anyone other than Warren, I’d say they were empty words.
I look across the table at Royce, who’s still glaring at Kade because I sat next to him. “I’m glad I’m coming home with you. I would have shot myself again if I had to put up with Warren’s baby talk.” All conversation ceases, so I throw in a, “too soon?” as a joke.
“Dr. Kline thinks you should see a therapist,” Warren says pointedly. “I agree.”
Betrayal slams into me out of nowhere. A surge of violent pride grips me. “You had no right!” I shout, fist hitting the side of the table. “No right to talk about my shit with a stranger.”
“You need help,” Warren says calmly, but then grins. He points at my red face and the vein throbbing in my forehead. “Proof you’re a Gillette, after all.”
Seething, I draw breath in and out of my lungs to calm myself. I concentrate on Kade’s hand gripping my knee, centering myself on his nails digging in. Warren and I are two sides to the same coin. I’m capable of acting like him, and he’s capable of acting like me.
“You cured me,” I whisper.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Warren presses. “Dr. Kline gave me the number to a therapist who specializes in kids who are gay. Not to, like, cure it. But for you to understand it, so you won’t keep trying to blow your brains out.”
“My taking a shotgun barrel to the chin didn’t have a dang thing to do with my dick.” I shut my eyes as I close in on my breaking point. My fists clench on the table edge. My breathing becomes shallow.
Kade stands abruptly. “I have a loose riser on my back porch.” He grips my shoulder and yanks me from my seat. “Wynn’s gonna fix it. We’ll be back when we’re through.”
“No!” Warren shouts.
Royce shocks me with a, “Go!”
Head whipping to the side like in the Exorcist, Warren glares at Royce, then looks back at me. “Sitcha ass down, baby brother. I know who you are, even if you won’t admit it. I also know Kade real well. I ain’t gonna allow you to use ‘carpentry’ as a way to forget that you need professional help.”
“Carpentry isn’t a euphemism for that,” Kade sputters, insulted. “Neither of us do that, especially not together.”
“Bullshit!” Warren sneers. “I thought we were friends, and here you are stroking some part of my baby brother’s body underneath the table.”
“So much for not being an asshole,” Kade growls. “I’d hoped you’d grow up in rehab, but I guess not. Wynn’s about to go Gillette on your ass, fuckface, and I’m saving him from himself.”
“Euphemism for what?” I mutter, confused, as I’m dragged away. I keep looking over my shoulder at my brother, who’s being held in his seat by Royce. It cools my need for violence some, but not by much. “I doubt Warren knows what the word even means.”
“You’re so innocent, it terrifies me. Some asshole could take advantage of you, and I don’t mean physically.” Kade yanks me across the street by gripping my arm, and then veers us around his house to the backyard. He pushes me down until my ass lands on the porch step I’m supposedly repairing.
Suicidal Tendencies
“Don’t move, take steady breaths, keep your eyes on the gnome in the middle of the yard, and wait while I get us some iced tea.” Kade’s feet fall heavily as he pounds up the stairs. “I’ll be right out.”
My mind is spiraling out of control. Every emotion I could possibly feel is hammering me at once. My heart is battering the inside of my ribcage. A violent shaking starts in my fingertips and works its way through my hands, up my arms, and into the rest of my body. A cold sweat beads at my brow. My lungs are collapsing and expanding as I exhale and inhale rapidly.
Doing as I was told, I locate Kade’s gnome. A shocked snort manages to erupt through my involuntary rage. Kade’s backyard is dinky, with a small dog run for his pug and little else. There’s a perfect square of garden pavers, and on the central most edge sits the gnome.
“Who has a zombie gnome?”
“I do,” Kade mutters from behind me, and then a glass of tea is lowered in front of my face. “Here.”
I reach up, taking his offering, with a lame, “Thanks.” I wrap both hands around the glass damp with condensation, but I don’t take a sip.
“Zombie gnome’s name is Suicidal Tendencies. It’s a coping skill I learned from one of my therapists.” Kade takes a seat next to me on the step, his hip and shoulder brushing mine. “The gnome is a focus object. When I’m hit with emotions I cannot control, I’m to come out here and focus them on the gnome. Sometimes he’s my best friend. Sometimes he’s my worst enemy. Suicidal Tendencies can’t talk back or leave me– he’s very patient, never judges, and always listens to my shit.”
Turning toward Kade, “Is Warren right?” My voice dips low, flooded with fear. “Do I need a therapist?”
“No,” Kade whispers. “You need someone who will listen. Someone who understands. But that person can’t be clinical. You need to connec
t with them in order to trust them. And that person has to have been in your shoes at one point. You need a constant. But unlike me, yours needs to be flesh and blood.”
“What’s the difference?”
Kade takes the glass out of my hand, and then sets it on the step beneath us. He rests his arm on my thigh, with the inside facing up. “Shit,” I whimper when I take in the puckered scar bisecting his arm up the middle, from his wrist to elbow.
First I trace the line with a fingertip, causing Kade to shiver, then I cover it with both hands, trying to pretend it never happened. It reminds me of when Kade was covering my face, trying to erase the fact that I almost pulverized my entire skull with a shotgun.
“I meant it, too,” Kade breathes, and then lifts his right arm to show me it looks the same as the left. “I was resolved. I was through living. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. I researched how to do it right.”
“How did you…” With the shoe on the other foot, I stumble over the words, just now realizing how difficult it is for others to ask this question of me. “How did you survive?”
Kade leans forward, picks up the glass, takes a long sip, and then puts the glass back down. “I nicked the artery in a few spots, but missed it entirely the rest of the way. It took a lot of blood to bring me back to life, which now makes me feel guilty because I took blood away from people who really needed it. Maybe someone died who shouldn’t have because they wasted it on me.”
“Oh, Christ,” I groan, fingertips biting into Kade’s forearm. I experience a light bulb moment of my own. “What a pair we make. Now I understand why everyone wants to throttle me when I pull that martyr bullshit. The shoe’s on the other foot now, and I want to punch you in the face for saying shit like that.”
The corner of Kade’s mouth tilts up into a sardonic smirk, and then his crooked front tooth is pressing into his bottom lip. “Make sure you tell Royce I cured you of your self-deprecation. Maybe he’ll stop glaring at me when you’re around.”
“No way, man… no way. That’s between you and Royce.” I shift uncomfortably, worried Kade doesn’t want me to know the details, but I need to know them. “I get how you survived– medically. But… how did you not bleed out? Who was your Warren?”
“Your brother is an asshole, but he’s the best asshole ever.” Kade chuckles, a wave of emotions rolling over his features, as if he’s remembering their good ol’ days. “My social worker found me during a surprise home visit. She was making sure I didn’t trip again.” He does the drink routine again, as if nervous. “She was the same lady I was going to call to remove Hayden, Hayley, and you from your home.”
“I guessed right on that, then,” I mutter to myself, somehow knowing if I hadn’t left my parents, we would have been taken from them instead. Permanently this time. Knowing I did it on my own gives me a sense of power over my life.
“I had a lot of stitches, and even more therapy. I was removed from my grandfather’s care, but he had supervised visitation. Since I had no other family, I was placed in a foster home.”
“Royce?” I guess, because it has Royce Kennedy’s signature written all over it. No doubt, the twins and I would have been given over into his care anyway.
Same destination. Different path.
“Yeah. I was sixteen, almost seventeen.” Kade leans back, resting on his elbows. I sneak a glance at him, and follow the direction of his eyes. He’s connected to his focus object, talking to Suicidal Tendencies instead of me.
“I get how hard this is for my friends and family now.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs, feeling hopeless– lost –and for once it’s not about me. “I can’t imagine… I can’t imagine the world without you in it.” My throat goes tight on me all of the sudden. Whether it’s a glare or a grin, I look forward to just being around Kade. Always have. “Jesus, this is hard. Why’d you do it, Kade? Why’d you try to kill yourself?”
Voice taut with painful emotions, “Grief mostly,” Kade breathes the words. “I lost my mom when I was real young, and my dad stepped up. I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone as much as I loved him. He was a kind and gentle giant. Soft-spoken and patient. He was my daddy, my momma, and my teacher. Dad was my best friend– my hero. He was my world… and one day he was gone.”
Voice changing from soft to harsh, Kade gruffly grits out, “Logging accident at work. He was felling a tree, and the chainsaw kicked back. The tree fell in the wrong direction, and it landed on his chest– pulverizing everything beneath it.”
Tragic, there are no words, so I simply rest my hand on Kade’s knee like he had for me earlier.
“For hours on end, I would just sit and stare at the door, waiting for Dad to come home. Only thing was, he was never coming home again.” With a deep breath, Kade looks up and away, and then his eyes settle on Suicidal Tendencies again. “Still to this day, I’ll lay in bed, trying to remember the deep timbre of his voice, remember the way he smelled like sawdust and pine sap, or the way his eyes would crinkle up in the corners when he was smiling.”
Kade rests his hand over mine, twining our fingers together, seeking comfort. “Dad reminded me of a big bear. He was taller than I am now, with a wide chest and shoulders. But I was never afraid of him, even when I barely came up to his knee. He wore flannel, jeans, and huge work boots, and sometimes I dress like that to remember him.”
“I can’t imagine how comforting it would be to look in the mirror and have someone you love staring back at you.” I gaze at Kade, instinctively knowing he looks exactly like his father. “I want to punch my reflection sometimes, hating how perfect Gillettes look when we’re broken in every way that matters… but this isn’t about me. Your hair? Did your dad wear it long?”
Kade’s deep laughter stuns me stupid, causing a sensation I’ve never experienced to slither up my spine. “Dad shaved his head, hating how people would comment on his hair. My grandfather made some shitty homophobic slurs, so I started growing it out when I was seventeen as a way to spit in his face. When I visit him, I make sure to wear it down.”
“Rebel,” I mutter with a smirk.
Kade squeezes my hand, signaling the happy portion of our conversation has met its end. “When I talk of suicide, I tell everyone it was because my grandfather was a drunk bigot who abused his faggot grandson. But that’s not the entire truth. Three months after Dad passed, I woke up so terrified I had pissed the bed. I couldn’t remember… I couldn’t remember my father.” Kade’s voice is lifeless yet panicked, as if he’s nothing but a ghost of himself.
“I could remember nothing of him. Not even what he looked like. I was so distraught, I didn’t realize I could just reach for his photograph. Instead, I took my grandfather’s hunting knife to my forearms.”
I gaze at the zombie gnome, and its name hits me so hard I recoil backward. “You’re not tempted to do it again, are you?”
“Sometimes,” Kade admits the truth like it doesn’t wound me. He leans back upright again, and rests an elbow on his thigh, keeping our hands connected on his other leg. “I miss Dad to the point I feel alone in this world.” Kade’s voice hitches, forcing him to pause. “But I know he would be furious at me for trying to kill myself.”
“He’d blame himself,” I mutter, another realization dawning.
“Just like Warren is blaming himself right now. Royce too, ya know?”
“I get it,” I gulp out. “Sometimes I want to kill myself because I was so goddamned stupid for trying it the first time. I know it makes no sense, but I have to punish myself somehow.”
“There’s a reason you’re alive. It’s best you deal with that fact,” Kade orders. “We all have a reason for existence. I’m still here to save others like me. It’s why I became a teacher, but I’m waiting for the guidance counselor position to open up. When I applied, all we had was first grade available. I was qualified.”
“I wanna grow up to be someone’s Royce,” I admit. “You want to grow up to remember your daddy.”
“Warren was wrong,” I admit. “I wish I could say I was gay, or straight, or bi, or asexual. Anything. I don’t need a therapist to help me embrace it. I’d welcome the truth with open arms.”
“You need the label,” Kade points out. “Without it, you feel lost. Ya know, I was the same way.”
“What?” I gasp out, shocked, and Kade just looks at me while nodding his head up and down.
“I was confused. All of my friends were fucking girls left and right, your brother especially.” Kade’s grin is huge when I recoil from the turn our conversation has taken. “Warren took to sex like it was an occupation.”
“Oh, my God,” I groan, tearing my hand away to clasp my ears. “Please, no more. Penny tells me too much. Some things you can’t unhear.”
Kade just laughs at me, and then reclaims my hand in his. Warm. Strong. Larger than my own but softer. I like his hand wrapped around mine. Something so simple warms me like the hottest of fires.
“I wasn’t interested. At all. I tried to be interested. I felt empty like you did, I’m sure. I didn’t understand what was going on. Then one day, right after I tried to kill myself, I was visiting a friend, and I saw this manly kid running around in just a pair of dinky shorts with his little round, hard ass cheeks hanging out. I had known this boy since he was born– it was nothing new. But that day, it was like being struck by lightning. After it clicked, my dick was finally able to communicate with me.”
“I’m not there yet,” I mutter, ashamed, and then the truth just spills from my lips. “My dick does as it pleases, and I don’t know why it does, or that it’s even doing it. Most of the time, I have to look down to see that I’m hard. I must look like a fucking moron, cupping my crotch all the time, checking to see if my dick is still attached.”
Rusty Knob Page 16
