After a busy day, my head was spinning, but I knew I had to talk to Rafe. Well, I didn’t have to, but whereas I could do without Rafe and his bullshit in my life, he needed his brother. They were blood, I wasn’t.
I stopped by the police station around six that evening and went straight to his office after verifying he was in. I knocked on the door and he bid me entry.
When I opened the door, Rafe looked up and his eyes widened. “Woody. I’ve been trying to reach you. What—?” He rose out of his seat but I waved him back down.
As I closed the door behind me, I said, “I’m here only to talk about Serge.”
He frowned and started to speak again. I lifted a hand to stop any further comment. “Rafe, I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t even care that you’re a closeted, hypocritical homophobe who has the nerve to try to make others feel guilty and ashamed for being themselves. I should care, but that’s your issue and act of cowardice. You caused me more pain than you’ll ever know, but your own flesh and blood brother is hurting because of your careless words and your goddamn drinking.
“This shit needs to stop. Get help, or you might lose Serge. What kind of example are you setting for this town, for its citizens, for your officers? You don’t think they laugh at you behind your back? You think it’s funny for me to come pick you up in a bar on the weekends because you drank one too many and became a jerk?”
I took a breath. “Bottom line…clean up your act and apologize to Serge. For the sake of your family and maybe to regain some self-respect, get a grip. You’re all each other has now, with your parents and sister so far away. He’s blood, man. Figure out a way to do this, because you’ve already lost his respect. You don’t want to lose his love, too.”
“Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?” he roared.
“Someone who’s brave enough to stand up to your bullshit and tell you the fucking truth,” I shouted back.
He shot out his chair, causing it to clatter against the wall, and rounded his desk like an angry bull. He pinned me against the door. His breath smelled of booze. Damn it! I shoved him, but he shoved me back.
And then the weirdest thing happened.
I saw it coming but I was too surprised to stop it. Rafe slammed his mouth on mine so hard, my bottom lip split under the pressure. He pushed me into the door, and I felt his cock—his frickin’ hard-as-steel cock—press against mine. I tasted blood, and his tongue and my senses were overwhelmed. The shock of it all lasted five long seconds, until I pushed him back hard and punched him in the face. He fell against his desk and moved it an inch. Stuff spilled all around him and he appeared dazed.
I wiped my mouth on a sleeve. “Fuck you, Rafe. You don’t have the right to do that. Jesus.” I took a second to calm down as I watched him. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. You reek of alcohol, you haven’t shaved in days, and your hair’s a mess. Do you want to lose your job, along with your self-respect? See the bigger picture, would you? You will lose Serge forever if you don’t get a grip and make this right.”
Rafe stumbled to his chair and sat. “You think it’s that bad?”
“He’s really angry. You need to fix this. Soon. And while you’re at it, use some mouthwash. Your breath stinks of stale beer.”
I opened the door. “Don’t tell him I talked to you. After all, I’m the fucking ingrate that was barely tolerated by your family all those years. I wouldn’t want to be any more of a burden.”
I left his office but heard Rafe coming after me, like a bull in a china shop. “Woody, stop. Come on!” The bullpen was quiet as I continued toward the front door, ignoring the sheriff. I felt eyes on us, but I didn’t care. The staff almost certainly overheard our argument, as loud as we’d been.
I nodded to the officer at the front desk and went out to my truck. As I started the engine, I saw Rafe standing on the sidewalk, hands hanging listless at his side while he stared at me, mouth glistening, jaw sporting a darkening bruise and with his uniform shirt askew. He seemed unsure for probably the first time in his entire life.
Maybe that was a good thing.
* * * *
The end of June came before Rafe finally showed his face at the cabin to talk to Serge. Up until that moment, neither Serge nor I had brought him up in conversation, though I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wandering in his direction. I did my best to put the inappropriate, explosive kiss out of my mind and trained with Loralei, taught my summer-session students and worked on weekend projects. Serge worked on building his business.
Of course, by then, the good people of our upstanding, tongue-wagging town had noticed the lack of communication between the three of us. The owner of the daycare center, Gregory Wang, usually so reticent in adult company, actually asked me if everything was okay on the home front. Leonard, Sheila Landrum’s boyfriend, who worked at the grocery store on the nightshift, was concerned, too. It was weird.
It was a Friday evening and the sun was still bright at seven-thirty. Serge and I had decided to barbecue and play Frisbee on the lawn. As I tossed the plastic disc to my friend, I heard a car pull up. I turned to see Rafe getting out of his dusty SUV. He looked the worse for wear.
I heard Serge grumble, “Hell, no,” as he stalked off into the cabin.
Rafe walked up to me and stopped. Hands in his pockets, he looked at the ground and practically shuffled his feet. “Hi.”
“If you want to talk to Serge, you’re gonna have to make the first move. It’s been almost a fucking month, Rafe.”
“I know. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed he’d shaved and his breath was minty fresh for a change. He had circles under his eyes.
“Don’t tell me. Tell Serge.” I moved around him and went to check the food on the grill. I hoped they would be able to work through things, however long it took. It was past time for them to act like a family again. Like brothers.
As he walked by me to open the cabin door, Rafe said, “For what it’s worth, Woody, I’m sorry. Those things I said to you, the kiss I forced on you…I was out of line and…yes, I have a drinking problem.”
I said nothing in response and kept my eyes on the chicken as he continued into the house.
It took an hour of yelling and things being tossed around, from what I could hear—someone would be fixing what was broken and it wouldn’t be me—before the two men came outside. Rafe had a black eye and a busted lip. Serge had a bruise on his cheek. They weren’t smiling, but at least they were communicating now, one way or another.
“Food’s ready,” I said and made myself a plate before sitting down to stare out at the ocean below us. Rafe and Serge murmured their thanks and made themselves comfortable.
I was glad they were at least speaking to each other. As for Rafe and me, I wasn’t sure we could go back to what we were before all this, since I really didn’t know who he was anymore. Did he?
Later on, I left the brothers to play Frisbee without me and went to the workshop to take out my frustrations on the headboard. I turned on the overhead light after the sun set and carved more of the design I’d created specifically for this piece.
I was so intent on it, I didn’t realize someone had come into the shop until Serge said, “Thank you.”
I squealed like a stuck pig and he chuckled.
“You always get so intense when you’re working. It’s like nothing else exists.”
After glaring at him for a few seconds, I went back to work. “So you and the sheriff are talking now?”
“It’s a start.” He tapped my hand to get my attention. “He wouldn’t admit it, but I know you’re the reason he came by today. Of course, I also heard that you two had a huge blow up at the precinct, so…”
I shook my head. “This damn town.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
Serge clasped my shoulder and squeezed. “Seriously, Woody. You put yourself on the line to get us back together, and I’ll never forget it.” He sat on a stool and watched me work. “Raf
e says he’s been to two AA meetings.”
My eyebrows rose at that declaration. “I see. Well, good for him, I suppose.” I sanded a curve in the wood.
“He also kinda, sorta admitted to being gay, but about choked on his tongue while saying it. And said he tried to apologize to you for his poor behavior, but you didn’t respond.”
I felt anger well up inside me. “How nice for him ‘kinda, sorta’ coming out. How nice that he thinks a simple apology will remove the words that made me fucking mute for two days because they hurt so much and cut so deep. If he thinks that’s enough, he’s fucking wrong. He’ll have to do a hell of a lot more than that.”
“I know that, and I told him so. He’s a little lost right now, Woody. He’s been living in a self-created world of loathing and deception that’s going to be hard to get out of. The alcohol helped him cope with things, and without it, it’s all right in his face. You might be the only one who can help him.”
I was so shocked it was laughable. “Say what now?”
“No, really.” He leaned forward. “You remember how he reacted when you came out, and then when I came out? Worlds apart, right?”
“Yeah, I remember.” It hadn’t made any sense at the time. “So?”
“I think he’s hiding something.”
“Duh.”
“No, I mean something that even he’s not aware of, and it has to do with you. He doesn’t treat any other members of the gay population in this town, me included, the way he does you. He’s never made crass jokes to me, only you. He’s always teased you, singled you out. Think about that.”
I considered our recent kiss, but shoved that back down. I laughed humorlessly. “Don’t tell me that you think he’s been attracted to me this whole time and just didn’t know it. What’s this, grade school? A boy likes another boy and he puts snails in his desk to show he cares? I call bullshit, my friend.”
Serge didn’t waiver. He was actually serious about this. “I don’t call bullshit.” He got up. “I’m going to bed. He needs you, Woody, more than even he knows, or can understand. You’re likely gonna have to be the one to explain it to him.”
“I did what I did for you, not him. I’m done playing fix-it with this family.”
“Woody…”
“No way in hell, buddy.”
* * * *
The three of us spent Independence Day together along with a huge crowd on the beach doing barbecues, playing games, and later, watching fireworks. As the month went by, Serge and Rafe hung out a lot, even more than they used to before the “incident,” as it was now called. I thought that was great and I was happy for them.
I continued to keep my distance from Rafe, basically out of self-preservation. He was unsure around me now, which made it easy to stay away. I gave him space. No matter what, I didn’t want him to feel so uncomfortable in my company that I jeopardized his relationship with Serge.
I also didn’t want to consider what my best friend had theorized, but the thing was, I had thought about it in the past. And now, there was the kiss. Watching this new, uncertain Rafe, who no longer made lame “woman” jokes and was mostly tongue-tied in my presence, had me at a loss. I figured I’d endured enough pain and trauma in my life to not have to deal with this, too.
But damn it, my conscience kept bugging me to help Rafe, if only because I knew how difficult it was to come out of the closet, even in this brave new world. And here he was, a man heading toward forty and holding a highly visible position in town. Rafe was deathly afraid of repercussions, if he went public, and I understood his fear. Crap.
Finally, one Saturday afternoon, as Serge, Rafe and I were hanging out in the workshop—I had Rafe measuring and marking wood so he’d keep all his digits intact—Serge announced he had an appointment he’d forgotten about. Rafe looked nervous and I was pissed. We’d been set up.
After Serge—the ass—left, I continued tweaking a drawing for a rocking chair ordered by someone in town. There was silence between Rafe and I for a good fifteen minutes until he broke first.
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked as he set aside the paper and pencil he’d been using to make notes.
“For?” I wasn’t going to make this easy. Didn’t see why I should.
“For insulting you. For…all the nasty things I said, for being a hypocrite and a fool, and forcing myself on you.”
I sighed and looked up. Rafe was sweaty, his black hair stuck to his forehead and T-shirt molded to his chest. I ignored that part. “Was it the alcohol, or was there some truth in what you said?”
He straightened his shoulders and replied fervently, “No truth at all, I swear it. I was unbelievably stupid, hurtful, and my use of alcohol made me a jerk. You are the last person, next to Serge, that I would ever want to hurt in this world. I look back on my behavior over the years, especially of late, and I’m ashamed of myself. I used hateful words toward you because, well, then I wouldn’t have to think about…myself.”
Rafe stared at the table while he played with a pile of sawdust. “I’ve known, since I was fifteen, that I was gay. But I couldn’t be, you know? I was the jock, I was the homecoming king, I played college sports, and then I became a cop. In none of these scenarios did I think I could be an out-and-proud gay man and be taken seriously.”
It was amazing to me that we were even having this conversation, but I went with it. “You internalized your homophobia.”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
I cut a piece of wood before my next question. “Serge says you’re going to AA now. How’s that coming along?”
Rafe shifted on his stool. “It’s tough. Being sober is frickin’ hard. And by the way, yes, I knew all about the comments people made regarding my drunken shenanigans. I brought it all on myself, though.”
I shrugged. “All you can do is take a step at a time.” I made a note on my sketch. “It’s the same way with coming out. To truly be yourself, to be at peace with who you are, you have to accept it. You have to own it, not run from it. Not everyone wants to fly the rainbow flag, but you can still be out and proud to where you’re comfortable. Hiding who you are always comes back to bite you in the butt. I really don’t think you’ll have to worry about this town. Everyone knows your brother is gay, and we have a highly visible gay population. It’s likely that you’ll be respected even more because you told the truth, for once, and you’re trying to clean up your act. Hold your head up, like the rest of us do. It gets easier each time you do it.”
He smiled nervously. “You think so?”
“Take it from someone who’s been the subject of gossip in one way or another since the age of three. I know so.”
* * * *
Later that evening, Rafe followed me inside the cabin. I gave him a can of soda and had water for myself. Since finding out he’d been going to AA, I’d gotten rid of the beer in the house. Serge and I had never been big beer drinkers anyway.
He sat in the kitchen and watched as I cooked spaghetti. “Woody…Serge said you stopped talking for a couple days after I acted like a turd. I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be the cause of a setback, and God, I felt like such a shit heel when he told me.”
I groaned. “Jesus, can Serge ever keep his mouth shut?”
Rafe gave me a tiny smile. “He loves you like a brother and would do anything for you, and you for him. It was always the two of you, wasn’t it? Thick as thieves. I was a little jealous of that special relationship you both seemed to have, and then later…”
“Later, what?”
“Nothing.” All of a sudden he wouldn’t look at me. “I should go. I’m on shift tomorrow and I’m tired. Being sober wears me out, funny enough.”
“Not so fast, man. We’re talking now, so let’s make the most of it.”
Rafe stared at the table as he tapped the side of the can. “I was fighting feelings for…someone.”
Something occurred to me as I shared out our meal. “Have you had sex with a guy, Rafe?”
He didn’t respond, so I glanced at him. His face was bright red.
“You have, haven’t you.”
A minute nod.
I sat across from him. “How often?”
He ate a good portion of his meal before he replied. “Often enough.”
I really shouldn’t be surprised. “You were safe, I hope?”
He cleared his throat. “Not in the beginning. I had a scare, but it passed, thank God.”
“Jesus, Rafe.”
“I know.”
Curious, I asked. “Did you enjoy it? More than the women you’ve slept with?”
He was a little flushed in the face when he said, “A lot more. In fact, the only reason I could even get it up with women was by fantasizing about men.”
“I see.” I shared out second helpings for both of us. “Planning on doing that anymore?”
“Sleeping with women, you mean? No.”
“How about going out with a guy, in public, and not in the bathroom stall of a bar? That was the reason for your STD comment the night you were piss drunk, right? You almost got one, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I was dumb.”
“As long as you’re smarter about things now, it’s a lesson learned.”
He swirled spaghetti around his fork. “Can I ask you something?”
I got him another soda from the fridge and more water for me. “Sure.”
“When was the last time you went out with a guy? Or even to a club?”
“It’s been a while. I’m fine with things as they are.”
“Really? You’re okay being alone? Don’t you have…needs like everybody else?”
“Sure.” I grinned. “That’s what my fist is for.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. After all you’ve been through, you deserve to be with a…man who would move heaven and earth and love you beyond reason.”
I was surprised that he would say this. It was so far outside his comfort zone, it wasn’t funny. Still…“After the things you’ve done, the way you’ve made fun of me, I’m not sure how to take that.”
Norwegian Woody Page 3
