Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1)

by Jamie Mayfield

  THANKFUL that Carolyn wasn’t home when I got there, I kept running until I reached my bedroom. Then, with as much force as I could muster, I slammed my bedroom door. Before I could even reach my bed, the tears had started. I hadn’t cried in a long time. When you’re in the state home for boys, crying only makes you look weak. Weak kids are easier to pick off.

  Lying down with my face buried in the pillow, I let it all out. I let out the frustration of not being able to openly love whomever I wanted, of the pretenses and the lies, of the hiding and the shame, and finally of it not being me Jamie was kissing in that room.

  I must have fallen asleep, because sometime later, as the light was dimming in my room, I heard a distant pounding. Not caring at all what the source of the noise was, I rolled back over and slept. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have any dreams. It seemed my body and my mind were too exhausted to come up with anything to reveal to me or even torture me with through a dream. For the uninterrupted rest, I was grateful.

  When my alarm went off the next morning, I had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed. It was Friday, and the last day of the school year. Turning it off, I rolled over and stared out the window. After about half an hour, Carolyn came up to my room to check on me.

  “You’re going to be late, darlin’,” she said from the doorway, only halfheartedly. Since I hadn’t been out of my room since I’d gotten home from school the day before, I’m sure she had figured out something was wrong. I remembered at some point during the evening hearing my bedroom door open and close. Obviously, she’d come to call me for dinner, but since I had been sleeping, she decided to let me rest.

  “Carolyn, I haven’t missed a day of school all year, and I’m not feeling all that well. I’d really like to stay home,” I said, rolling back over to face her. She came into the room and sat down on my bed. Her touch was gentle and caring as she put her hand on my forehead.

  “Boy, you are burnin’ up,” she said with a small wink. “I’m going to have to call the school and let them know that you won’t be in. Do you have anything you need to do today at school, any tests or papers due?”

  “No, ma’am, nothing, and I cleaned out my locker the other day. There’s just some books in it. I can stop by on Monday and pick them up.” She nodded and brushed my curls out of my eyes.

  “Then you just stay up here and rest. I’ll bring some sandwiches up later.” She stood up and walked to the door.

  “Thank you, Carolyn,” I told her. The gratitude in my voice was unmistakable. The last place I wanted to be was at school. Even though I knew I’d have to at some point, I didn’t want to face Jamie and Emma. I just wanted to lie in bed and imagine a world where Jamie and I could be together.

  As promised, around noon Carolyn brought up a couple of sandwiches for me, and I devoured them. Having missed supper the night before, I was ravenous when she set them in front of me. Two creamy peanut butter and apple jelly sandwiches and a huge glass of milk improved my outlook on the day. Grabbing a paperback book from my shelf, I spent the rest of the afternoon reading on my bed. By the time I had finished the first quarter of the book, I was dozing lightly in the midafternoon sun.

  When I woke, Jamie was sitting on the end of my bed.

  Sitting up, I quickly set the book on my bedside table and then adjusted my blankets, not looking at him. It was an effort to contain the hurt and the sense of loss I felt because he was in the room with me. The whole incident had become fairly abstract overnight, but with him sitting there, the realization and the memory came forcefully home. When I finally met his eyes, I noticed they were shadowed and a little bloodshot.

  “You know why I have to do this,” he said, and the twinge of condescension in his voice made the bile rise in my throat. Of course I knew why he had to do it, why he needed to make out with little Suzy Geek in the band room: because I was a guy. That didn’t make it any easier, and that was exactly what I told him.

  “Maybe you’ll just decide it’s easier to be with her,” I commented, tracing the geometric pattern on my sheets with my index finger. “She’s the right gender, has the right family, goes to the right church, and apparently has the right lips.”

  “You’re right; it would be easier to be with her. There’s one major flaw in that plan, however,” he said, pausing for just a second as he grabbed my hand. My heart nearly stopped as I waited for him to tell me the argument that would cause it to start beating again. “She’s not the one I’m in love with.” My eyes met his as I realized the full impact of his admission. He’s in love with me. Jamie had just told me he loved me. For a long moment, I looked into his face, too shocked to speak, not even daring to breathe. But I found my voice.

  “What?”

  “I love you, Brian. The look on your face when you saw me with her, that horrible shocked, devastated look… it broke my heart. I almost told her then that it was over, but it wouldn’t have done either of us any good. She was already starting to get suspicious. That would have just sealed it for her.”

  I wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that we couldn’t be together anyway. We’d always have to hide, and he’d always have to lie and live in fear with me. I wanted to tell him that maybe it wasn’t worth it, that we couldn’t possibly hold this together. But I couldn’t, because it would have been a lie.

  “I love you too, Jamie.” I had for what felt like my whole life, because really, my life hadn’t started until I came to the Schreibers. Although we had grown up together and shared the love of friends, it had grown into something more, something so much stronger. I leaned forward, wishing for nothing more than to seal the momentous occasion with a kiss, but it occurred to me that I hadn’t brushed my teeth since the day before. Just before our lips met, I clamped my hand over my mouth and jumped off the bed. After brushing my teeth and hair quickly in the bathroom across the hall, I returned within minutes to find Jamie absolutely cracking up on my bed.

  “I thought you were going to be sick for a minute,” he laughed, trying to catch his breath. “Then I hear the water and the sounds of you brushing your teeth. So much for the perfect moment.” As I sat on the bed next to him, he leaned forward and captured my lips with his own. We weren’t wound around each other like we normally were when we kissed for the physical pleasure of it. The feeling of his hand wrapped around mine, that simple innocent gesture, was so perfect. Soft, tender kisses chased one another as we moved closer to each other, reveling in our intimacy. It wasn’t about sex.

  It was about love.

  7

  IT HAD been a couple of weeks since I had stayed over at Jamie’s on a Saturday night. It would have looked suspicious for me to stay over every week, especially since he was dating Emma. So when he asked me over, I jumped at the chance. Even if we had to spend the time listening for his parents, at least we would be together without his little girlfriend. We needed it so much, or at least I felt like we did. Before his revelation of telling me he loved me, I had started to feel distanced from him, and I hated it. When I got to Jamie’s house early that afternoon, I was rather confused to find him trying to haul the inflatable mattress up the tree house ladder.

  “What are you—?” I started, but he stopped me almost at once by jumping down from where he was perched halfway up the ladder, landing with a thud right in front of me.

  “Help me get this up there,” he said, out of breath from the exertion. I climbed the ladder and threw my backpack of clothes into a corner as I climbed up through the trapdoor. Then, lying flat on the floor, I reached down through the open door and grabbed the end of the mattress Jamie was proffering from his position near the bottom of the ladder. Being exceedingly careful not to snag it on anything, I pulled the deflated mattress up through the door. Next, he handed me the pump and then disappeared into the house while I laid the mattress and the pump near the wall.

  Then I realized that other items from Jamie’s room had somehow found their way into the tree house. His fan stood near one of th
e open windows, and his radio was on top of a crate. Again, I wondered what the hell was going on. Are we sleeping up here, or is this just to make things more comfortable when we spend time here? Whatever the reason, I was thankful for the fan, because even that early in June, the heat in the tree house was staggering.

  “Brian!” Jamie called up from under the window. I looked out to see him holding a long extension cord. “Catch!” He laughed and tossed one end up toward the window. It took three tries before I finally caught the damn thing and pulled it through into the tree house. Still chuckling at my abysmal attempts, he climbed up and closed the trapdoor behind him. He was in better spirits than I had seen him in a while. He flopped down on the floor next to where I was sitting, leaned over, and kissed me hello. When he pulled away, a brilliant smile lit up his face.

  “I talked Mama into letting us camp out in the tree house whenever you stay over this summer,” he said, still slightly out of breath. “At first, I didn’t think she’d go for it because she thought we’d sneak girls up here.” He chortled and said, “As if,” and then continued, “I promised her there wouldn’t be any girls, and then told her how much I really missed camping as a family. We haven’t gone in forever because her back is so bad. Then I brought up how we should get use out of the tree house before Daddy tears it down. In the end, she said it would be okay.”

  I couldn’t believe it. We would be alone, really alone.

  I practically tackled him in a hug.

  “Okay, let’s get this stuff set up before supper,” he said, standing hunched over in the low space. Jamie laid out two open sleeping bags, and we spread the mattress on top of them and inflated it. Then, while I put the bedding on the mattress, Jamie plugged in the fan and radio. On another crate, he emptied the contents of his school bag: chips, sodas, and a few cupcakes. We had the perfect clubhouse, and it was all ours. It almost felt like we were moving into our own little place.

  Everything was set up and ready in time for supper, and it was a beautiful night to sit outside and eat. Mr. Mayfield grilled some burgers while Mrs. Mayfield laid out potato salad, coleslaw, corn on the cob, and watermelon slices on the patio table outside their back door. Jamie must have done quite a number on his mama for her to go all out like that.

  We spent the evening sitting on the stylish but comfortable patio chairs, relaxing and talking with Jamie’s parents. We didn’t want to seem too eager to get up in the tree house, so while Mr. Mayfield told us stories about fishing with his daddy and brothers and Mrs. Mayfield reminisced about camping trips they’d taken as a family, Jamie and I waited.

  After the sun had gone down and the supper dishes were cleaned, Jamie and I were able to grab a couple of flashlights and escape to our sanctuary. That tree house felt like a safe harbor surrounded by stormy seas. There were storms at our homes, storms at school; we were surrounded. The tree house was one place where we could be free.

  Climbing up the ladder into the dark tree house alone with Jamie made the physical side of our relationship much less abstract. We were finally completely alone. The reality of it made me suddenly nervous. What does he expect to happen tonight? I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I wasn’t sure what I was ready for yet. My apprehension grew with each step I took up the ladder.

  When I came through the trapdoor, Jamie was turning on a battery-operated lantern next to the bed. The knowledge that he was getting the bed ready for us made that anxiety in my stomach twist into knots. I was glad he had already turned on the fan. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in the small space, but I was starting to sweat. I stood back near the closed door as he tossed his shoes into a corner, took off his shirt, and sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for me.

  Going over to the radio, I turned it on, reducing the volume until it was just background noise. Then, still stalling, I took off my shoes and arranged them neatly next to his. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, folded it neatly, and set it on top of my bag. Blowing out a deep breath, I climbed onto the mattress and sat across from him.

  “Brian, I…,” he started, but then abruptly stopped. He struggled with what he wanted to say, the words getting stuck before they were able to get out. “I just….” He sighed and looked down at the mattress.

  “I’m not sure what you’re expecting,” he continued in a rush, “and I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to… to go all the way.”

  I laughed; I couldn’t help it. His hurt eyes met mine, and I knew he thought I was laughing at him.

  “I’ve been thinking that very same thing ever since we finished the supper dishes,” I said and took his hand; he relaxed and looked somewhat relieved. He must have been as worried about disappointing me as I was about him. “We don’t have to do anything other than just lie here and talk for a while.” Reaching over, I angled the fan so it blew directly on us, and then I relaxed onto the pillows next to him. Seeing his open arms, I rolled over into them without any hesitation or doubt, resting my head on his warm, bare chest.

  “Do you think it hurts?” Jamie asked in a whisper. I knew he was talking about sex, and I was kind of glad he couldn’t see my face, which was turning pink.

  “I don’t know… I think it probably does… at least at first,” I stammered. “If it hurt, no one would do it, though, so it must feel good for both of them.” Worried a little at his question, I reached down and took the hand that wasn’t stroking my arm, holding it loosely in mine.

  “The more we do together, though, brings us closer. I just… I wanted to talk about it… with you. You know?”

  “I know,” I said, nodding and turning my head to kiss his chest. “I want to talk to you about it too, because I love the things we do together. One day I want to take that step with you, but I want to wait until we’re both at least seventeen.”

  “I think that’s a good plan,” he replied, still stroking my arm. I ran my hand lightly over his chest, loving the way his bare skin felt under my touch.

  “How do you think guys in a relationship decide who is going to… uhm… give and who… receives?” I asked in a heated whisper, almost afraid to ask it out loud, confirming that I didn’t know. Receiving sounded like it would be painful, at least at first, having something that big put… up there. The thought of having Jamie inside me like that, though, as close as two people could possibly be, was exciting to me.

  “I don’t know; I think maybe they try out different things and see what they like. Otherwise, how else would you know?”

  I felt his finger under my chin and looked up into his face.

  “We’ll make our own rules and go as slow as we need to. It’s not a race. I just want to make you happy, Brian,” Jamie whispered before pressing his palm to my cheek and kissing me very gently on the lips.

  “I am happy, Jamie.”

  We lay, quiet and unmoving in each other’s arms, for a long time before I spoke again.

  “Jamie, what are we going to do after graduation? I mean, assuming we survive senior year,” I said half-jokingly. I didn’t necessarily mean surviving as in living, though if Jamie’s parents ever found out about us, that was certainly a consideration. I was really referring to our relationship and if it could survive a whole year of hiding, of lying. We were strong now, but would we stay that way if he had to keep up the charade with Emma?

  “Are you still writing those essays?” he asked while stroking my shoulder with his thumb as we lay comfortably in each other’s arms. The deep sound of his voice resonated through his chest as he spoke, and I nodded against his warm skin. Jamie had spent so much time in Emma’s company lately, I had been able to crank out five more scholarship essays. It seemed like every scholarship a student applied for required some kind of essay, and, of course, they weren’t similar topics, so papers couldn’t be reused.

  “I was also planning to get a job next year,” I said. He pulled back to look down at me.

  “Where?” he asked, but before I could answer, he continued. “And how are you g
oing to get there or keep up your grades? If your grades slip, you won’t be able to get a scholarship.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. He raised an eyebrow in obvious inquiry.

  “Okay, first, you sound just like your mama. Second, I’d planned to head over to the cotton mills first to see if I couldn’t get a three-to-eleven shift. I can do homework for an hour or so after my shift. I can also do it in study hall, at lunch, and on weekends. You’ll help me with the stuff I need help on. I can’t count on scholarships that might not come. I want to go wherever you go, and if I have to work full-time to get there, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes,” I finished with conviction. Jamie stared at me, and then slowly, he nodded. It must have been evident to him that he wasn’t going to change my mind. “Have you thought about where we should go?”

  “I think it’s going to depend on what we can afford and what we want to study.” Kissing the top of my head and pulling me tighter against his chest, he continued. “I’d like to go somewhere more progressive than the University of Alabama, someplace we can be together and not have to worry. I’ve been thinking of maybe majoring in engineering, or maybe something at a school like UCLA or SUNY. California and New York City seem like they’d be places where we wouldn’t have to be afraid.”

  “We’d still have to be careful that your parents don’t find out, or they’ll pull the plug on your tuition,” I said, turning to kiss the soft skin of his chest.

  “Nope. I love my parents, but they have nothing to do with my tuition. Mamaw left me some money when she died, and Mama and Daddy put it away for my college. The account is designated for tax purposes as an educational account; it’s my money, not theirs.” His smile was triumphant, and I couldn’t help but feel optimistic about our future together. If we could just get through the next year, we would be fine. We had the beginnings of a plan. We were in love. We were going to be together.