by Kevin Craig
One day they will both wake up and they will know they can’t do this, or can’t say that, or can’t dance to this, or can’t like that, or can’t just be who they are. I know in my heart they're both straight. Don’t know how I know, and I’ll allow for the possibility of being wrong. But I also know I’m not wrong. They’re straight. That’s all there is to it.
Even now, they’re aware that the thing they know about me is just between us. That Dad can never know. But I think all three of us suspect the truth there, also. Dad knows. It’s just easier to live in denial of the truth, isn’t it? Until I tell him I’m gay, we can both live in the relative comfort of the lie.
Only, for me, there is nothing comforting or comfortable about living in the lie. Every day I drag the lie over into another day, I want to die for having done so.
Walking in, I hear the boys arguing about whatever it is they’re watching on TV. Typical.
I go into the kitchen and see my mother. I smile.
“Hi, sweetie.” She’s preparing supper. It’s almost done. The aromas filling the kitchen are telling me it’s a pasta night. Not that I can really smell the pasta dish, whatever it is, but the garlic bread aroma is more than a little bit punch-ya-in-the-throat overwhelmingly garlicky.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How was your day?”
This is the point at which my heart breaks and I want to kill someone. I want to tell her that, as far as days go, it might have been one of the most magically wonderful days of my life. I want to tell her I cried for a man whose head was kicked in thirty years ago. Both because this happened to him and because he is alive now and he’s a beautiful soul who has, in the end, gotten to live the life he wanted to live.
I want to tell her I made a huge compromise today. That I have accepted the fact I will have a wonderful new friendship with the boy I have loved for years, both because he is amazing and because loving him in friendship will be the next best thing to loving him romantically.
I want to just grab her and hug her because I have all the feelings at once.
But I am at home Ezra right now. I can’t tell her any of these things because they are not this Ezra’s reality.
“You know,” I say. “It was okay.”
“Oh, Ezra,” she replies. Her smile slumps because I’m closed off. Like always. “Why are you always so sullen?”
And there it is. We can’t go any further in this conversation, both because I have nothing to add and because whatever I add will be bitchy and made up.
“I’m going to my room. I have a math test to study for.”
“Okay, well, supper is in five. So, maybe just take your books up for now and then freshen up and come back down.”
Freshen up? Really, Mom?
“Yep,” I say.
So I storm upstairs, past the din of argument in the family room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Malcolm holding the TV remote up over his head and Theo jumping for it like a dog reaching for a treat held just outside its reach. Poor Theo. The youngest is always tormented the most. Especially when your older siblings are both boys.
Clearly, Dad’s not in there. They wouldn’t be arguing like that if he was. They’d be sitting on the couch like little robots staring at the idiot box.
I almost get inside my room before I virtually plough into Dad in the hall. He’s coming from his bedroom and he looks grumpy.
“Ezra. Slow down.”
“Sorry, just wanted to get ready for supper.” Head down, hand on the doorknob. Almost there. Almost on the other side with the door closed.
“Hey.” He stops me in my tracks. I take my hand off the doorknob. Almost made it. I turn around, knowing the protocol. We all do. When he talks, we approach and we listen. Even Mom does it. We’re like soldiers well trained by the drill sergeant. “Do you know the Severe boy?”
“Um,” I say. In a split second, I make the decision. I want to say no. But if he likes Will he would like that he was my friend. Or at least that I alluded somehow to being in the vicinity of his orbit. “Yeah. I know Will. Talked to him yesterday, actually.”
What? This is not a lie. We talked.
“Did you hear he was up for a full scholarship?”
The urge to roll my eyes is stronger than the urge to breathe. But I manage.
“Yeah. Football or something, right?”
He gives me that scrunched up, what are you talking about? look. “Yeah, Ezra. Or something. Of course Football. What were you talking to him about, the weather?”
Nah. Clearly I was talking to him about football. I mean, I love it, right. God. I just want to blurt everything out about the name-calling and the fight. But I know my place. My place is as Ezra Caine, nothing in particular. In his eyes, he would rather I be a blah nothing nobody than a disappointment and a freak. No, we never had that conversation. I just know.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I just don’t like football.”
“Yeah, you’ve said. Well, what do you like?”
Not Will. But boys. I like boys.
“I don’t know. Do I have to be obsessed with something? I like a lot of stuff.”
“But a scholarship. Ezra, you could have pulled something like that off. If you only tried. You don’t need to love football to be good enough to earn a scholarship. You just have to play your best. You were a great player.”
“I was a great player when I was eight and you sent me to a football camp one summer and all the other kids were seven. And I just had a growth spurt. And they didn’t.”
“Nah. You had talent.”
“That’s your thing. Not mine.”
He says something under his breath and walks away towards the stairs. I could either finally get inside my room and have the protection of the door between me and the rest of the family…or, I can ask him what the hell he just said. I know by the way he said it that it was somehow insulting.
And let’s face it, I’m feeling a bit empowered from the highs of my day.
“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t catch that last part. What did you just say?” I’m leaning over the banister now and he’s a couple stairs down, so we're almost face to face.
“Nothing, Ezra. Don’t worry about it.”
“But you said it. Must have been something.”
“Never mind. Why don’t you get ready for supper? Stop dragging your ass.”
Sometimes I wonder if the under the breath comments are somehow homophobic. Whenever I do ask him to repeat, he backs down. He’s probably struggling with this secret as much as I am. We’re both skating the edge of the truth, getting right up to the brink of the disaster…and then backing off. It’s so obvious, it’s stupid.
“Okay, whatever. Just, I don’t care what happens in Will’s life, Dad. I know you’re friends with his dad, but the kid is a total douchebag. Nobody likes him. Not really. If you think he’s the bomb, or whatever you want to call it, you’re wrong. I’d rather kill myself than be in the same room with him. I mean, good for him that he won the stupid scholarship, but the guy is a shithead of the highest—”
His hand comes sweeping across the side of my face before I realize what’s happening. I knew I was going too far, but just couldn’t help myself. The momentum presented itself.
“Ow,” I say. “Jesus.” I rub my face to stop the burn.
“You always have to knock everything. Why can’t you just be different?”
“I am different, Dad.” I wasn’t this empowered. Or at least I didn’t think I was. Again, that song is playing in the back of my head. The new soundtrack to my life. Rise up, rise up. “That’s what you don’t like. You don’t like that I’m not football obsessed. I can’t be a loudmouthed obnoxious dude, Dad. It’s not me.”
The slap didn’t really hurt, but I’m still rubbing my face. I feel myself getting more theatrical the more we talk. Just so you know, he doesn’t often slap me, but when he does I know he’s holding back. I’m sure when I finally make him snap, it’ll be a fist he uses on me.
“Stop
it, now. Just go get ready for supper, Ezra. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it.”
He’s standing still on the stairs. I’m grateful he hasn’t come back up to get closer to me for the next strike. But I don’t want him to leave. I want to poke the bear a few more times. It’s the adrenalin of my day.
“You never do want to hear things.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mr. Man?”
I know he’s mad when he pulls out the Mr. Man. I could escalate things like wildfire right now, or I can shut it down. He wants me to shut it down. We come to this point often. Neither of us wants to cross the invisible line. I mean, I want to cross it like crazy mad crazy. But I also don’t. I really don’t know what the extent of my punishment will be when it eventually happens. But I’m pretty sure I won’t have a place to live.
“Nothing, Dad.”
“That’s what I thought. Get ready for supper.”
He continues down the stairs and this time he doesn’t attempt to speak under his breath. He says something loud enough for me to hear every word.
“You could learn a thing or two from Will Severe. He’s a good head, just like his father.”
A bigot likes a bigot. Quelle surprise.
I just shut the door, resting my back against it. Then I slide down into a sitting position. Right here, I can keep the world at bay.
We haven’t even announced the club to the school yet, and already I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I don’t know how I’m going to even do this.
This sensation like we’re gearing up for a battle overwhelms me, but I think we are. Anything could happen. I just hope the world has changed enough by now so that none of us ends up like Gary did so long ago.
Tears spill, but it has nothing to do with the slap across the face. Like I said, that didn’t hurt much. No, it’s more about the deceit. The deceit game I play with my family and they play with me. I said it before, I will say it again. A person should most be who they really are when they are home. Of all the struggles I have with this, the biggest is being someone I’m not when I’m home. I hate it so much, I could die.
But I’ll just sit here behind my door and keep the world out. With the door shut, I am me. Ezra Caine. Gay.
But it’s not like that’s the only thing I am, anyway. I am so many things. But that’s the thing they’re going to focus on when it comes out. That’s the only way my father is ever going to see me again…once it’s out.
CHAPTER 10
I enter the school with my head down so I don’t immediately notice. But when I finally look up, I’m amazed.
There are posters up all over the hallways asking us to cast a vote for the name of the all new school club. Mr. Reason was right when he said committee members wouldn’t always know what other committee members were doing. Looks like Alex and Nettie have been busy.
Name the new gay-straight alliance club! Enter today! Prizes!
This is the poster on the wall beside my locker. I wonder what hoops they had to jump through to get going on this. I know the drawings on the poster are all Alex. He chose all the stereotypes, represented each of them on this tiny poster. Yep. All Alex. But it looks great.
Choose a name! Gay-Straight Alliance Club begins soon! Ballot Box outside Main Office! says another poster.
I’m actually more excited about things than I already was. I didn’t know that was possible.
Then I remember Jordan and Will’s threat. I imagine them running through the school ripping all these posters down. And I try not to get too depressed realizing this is the reason there are just so many posters everywhere when half the amount would have done the trick. Alex is poking the bear.
At the water fountain, I take a deep slurp of courage and walk through the hallways with my head up. I feel both invigorated and anonymous. Invigorated, because I know it has begun and the momentum will see us through. Anonymous, because not everyone in the school will immediately know that I’m involved in this. Maybe I can gauge their reaction by keeping myself anonymous for a while.
“That sounds kind of neat,” Someone squeaks to me while I’m still sipping water from the fountain.
“Huh?” I say as I straighten up and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
It’s that little kid. What’s his name? I think he’s in grade ten. He’s been here for a while, anyway. I see him all the time. He looks like he should be in about fifth grade.
“Oh,” he says, seeing that he caught me off guard. “The posters. About the new club.” He points to yet another poster on the wall above me. “Pretty cool.”
“Oh.” The kid is about the most adorable boy I’ve ever seen. But, he is a boy. I know he’s probably only a year or so younger than me, but he looks prepubescent. I know I’m one to talk since I almost need a stepstool to reach the fountain, but he’s even smaller than me. “Yeah. It’s about time.”
“I figured it was you who did it, Ezra.”
So much for anonymity. I’ve never spoken to this guy before. I think Marc might be right about me not being able to pass.
“Oh? Really?” I say. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you and Alex. You’re the two coolest gays in school. I just figured…you know, that this is something you guys would do.”
“Huh,” I say, more to the situation than to him. “Yeah. I guess I’m guilty as charged.” I smile, and he smiles back.
“I hope it starts soon.” His left eye is covered by a swoop of black bangs that he carefully swipes behind his ear in order to introduce himself. “My name’s Hank.”
When he puts his hand out, I feel awkward for not taking it right away. But he kind of surprises me. I can’t shake the feeling he’s a little kid playing dress-up or something.
“Hi, Hank,” I say after a short silence where I try to collect myself. “I’m Ezra. But you already know that. I’m glad you’re pumped about it. To tell you the truth, we can use all the support we can get. I’m kind of worried it’s gonna tank.”
“Nah,” he says, with so much optimism he practically convinces me. “This is something we’ve been waiting for. It’s gonna be good, Ezra. Thank you!”
“Okay. Well, I’m glad you like the idea. Watch for announcements. We’ll be mobilizing the troops soon.”
“I look forward to it. I already put a name idea in the ballot box. I kinda wanted to ask you, though…”
“Anything. Go ahead.”
“Is it okay to enter more than once? I keep getting more ideas. I want to enter a few suggestions. I didn’t see anywhere in the rules that we could only enter once, so…”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. This is just too cute. “Sure thing, Hank. Enter as often as you like. Thanks for checking.”
“Okay, dude.” His expression is priceless. And I see this kid who’s like my baby brother trying to pull off dude and I hold back a grin. Because, yeah, that’s who he’s reminding me of…my baby brother. Who won’t even be in high school for another thousand years or something. “See you around.”
“See you,” I say. I watch as he swaggers away, this teenager trapped in a little kid body and kind of rocking it.
* * * *
“Would it be wrong to break into the ballot box and check how things are going?” Alex asks.
We’re in the cafeteria, walking to our table with trays. On mine, I have an apple, a yogurt, and an orange juice. On Alex’s, a plate of clumped rigatoni from the Pleistocene Epoch, Jell-O from 1954, and a Coke. He really looks after that rail-thin body of his.
“Um, yes,” I say. “It’s a sealed ballot box, Alex. You can’t break the seal. We got some pretty cool prizes, so kids might think it was fixed or something if the seal is tampered with.”
“Seal, schmeal. Everyone’s been coming up to me and telling me how excited they are. Even people I wouldn’t imagine entering are entering. I’m just dying to see how popular it is. I want to count the ballots, maybe peek at a few of the entries. That’s all.”
“No. This club is going to
have a hard time. We don’t need a controversy at the beginning just because you can’t wait a frigging week to see the ballots. Just wait.”
“You, sir, take the f out of fun.”
“What does that even mean? You never make sense, Alex.”
“I speak. It’s up to you to figure out what I say. If you don’t, well, I don’t give a cat’s ass.”
“How do you feel about rats?” I ask, just to poke the bear. We sit down and he dives into his cold congealed rigatoniesque lunch. I eat my apple. We don’t even stop to think where Nettie could be. Until I start looking around the caf out of boredom.
“Oh. My. God.”
I wait in indignation for Alex to pick up on my words, my delivery, and my mood. But he’s face-deep in bad food and unreachable.
“I. Said. Oh. My. God.” This time I slap his arm to get his attention.
“Ow. What did you do that—” His eyes follow the death stare I’m shooting across the room. Right to the corner table where Marc and Nettie are sitting side by side practically in a huddle, discussing something seemingly important. “Oh, man. Girl done jumped the shark.”
I stop my indignant staring for a second to look at the idiot. “You don’t even know what that means, moron. It doesn’t mean that.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean. Your best friend is schtupping the boy you’ve been dreaming of schtupping for like a decade. Doesn’t matter what we call it, that’s low, bro.”
“They’re just talking,” I say, totally unconvinced. Why wouldn’t they sit with us if they were talking about the club? “About the club. Obviously.”
“Then why is your face a murderous shade of red. Fury has nothing on you, dude. I think me needs to investigate further.”
“Just shut up and eat your puke,” I say. “I’m going to go over there and find out what’s going on.”
