by J P Barnaby
He kicked back the Jack and poured another. After years of not drinking, the alcohol made a fiery path through his esophagus and into his empty stomach. He coughed, unable to stop the spasm in his throat. Aaron heard the refrigerator door slam closed, and Spencer thrust a cold can of Coke into his shaking hands. It took two tries for him to pop the top, but eventually he let the icy carbonated sugar settle his scratching throat.
“Better.?” Spencer asked and rubbed his back in light circles. He moved again, still uncomfortable with the touch.
“I should get home. My mom was with my grandmother most of the day, so she’ll probably need help with dinner.”
“I thought you were going to stay for the weekend?” Spencer signed, and Aaron couldn’t keep looking at his wounded expression. He had to get away. Every time Spencer touched him, it just reminded him of why he didn’t like to be touched. Like the last three years hadn’t happened and he was back to that boy who freaked out every time someone came in contact with him. He hated that guy, but sometimes it was just easier.
“Spencer, I need some time,” Aaron said, not adding the “away from you” that got stuck somewhere between his brain and his hands. Spencer, who knew him better than anyone, read between the lines and figured it out anyway. He backed up, taking himself out of Aaron’s personal space, and after a moment Aaron found that he could breathe again.
“I do not want this to come between us, Aaron.”
“A lot of things seem to be coming between us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Look, I need to go.”
“Will you come back and stay tomorrow night before I have to go back?”
“I will try.”
“Sure you will.”
“I will see you at the cookout.”
It took an effort, but Aaron kissed Spencer’s cheek before he walked to the front door and grabbed his shoes. Spencer didn’t follow, and Aaron couldn’t really blame him. They’d had a really nice weekend planned for Spencer’s four days at his father’s house, and Aaron had ruined it. He’d ruined it because he couldn’t cope when that prosecutor showed up and shattered the illusion that his rapists had been abducted by aliens, or disappeared from the planet, or maybe just got deported to some third-world country somewhere. Instead they were being held in a cell within driving distance of Aaron’s home. One break in security and they could come for him. They could send friends for him. They could finish the job they started five years ago.
He finished tying his other shoe and looked back over his shoulder. Neither Dr. Thomas nor Spencer came to see him off.
Later that night, as he sat propped up against the headboard, half ignoring the laptop sitting on his legs, Aaron tried to piece together the fragmented thoughts racing through his head. He’d already tried to erase the guilt of leaving Spencer on one of his only weekends back in the suburbs, but he couldn’t erase from his mind the disgusted look on Spencer’s sweet face if he knew the whole truth about his attack. Finally, he just started reading. Dr. Thomas told him to use different techniques to distract himself from what happened inside his head if it got to be too much. But he had problems concentrating on the book. His mind wandered from the stark white electronic pages of his Kindle app and back to the dark place inside that garage. The place Spencer never ever needed to go.
Ding
The sound startled Aaron because he hadn’t expected Spencer to want to chat with him. He was even more surprised to flip over to the chat window and see that it wasn’t Spencer.
[MissingTwin] I hope you don’t mind that I added you to chat.
Aaron had been exchanging comments and private messages with the mysterious MissingTwin through the PTSD site for the past week. They’d talked about a variety of different generic subjects from music to books to the classes he was taking in college. They seemed to have a lot of common interests, including the big elephant in the room, the reason they both surfed a PTSD support group. Neither Twin nor Aaron had brought up the trauma that caused them to seek out other damaged people.
[Aaron] No, man, that’s fine.
[MissingTwin] What are you up to?
[Aaron] Trying to forget my life. You?
[MissingTwin] I’ve had days like that. I was trying to watch a movie but just couldn’t get into it.
[Aaron] Yeah, you keep losing your place because your mind wanders.
[MissingTwin] Yeah. So, why do you want to forget your life?
[Aaron] Bad day. Ever had an epic meltdown?
[MissingTwin] Yep. Some days I can’t even get out of bed.
[Aaron] Yep.
[MissingTwin] Wanna talk about it?
[Aaron] Nope.
[MissingTwin] Fair enough.
[Aaron] What movie were you trying to get into?
[MissingTwin] Lord of the Rings. I like action, but I’m not fond of guns.
[Aaron] I totally get that. I’m not fond of knives.
[MissingTwin] I’m Jordan, by the way.
[Aaron] Aaron. Can I ask why your chat name is “MissingTwin”? You don’t have to tell me.
[MissingTwin] I lost my twin brother Dylan in a school shooting when I was in 10th grade.
[Aaron] Jesus.
[MissingTwin] Yeah. Your turn.
[Aaron] My best friend Juliette was murdered when I was in 11th.
[MissingTwin] Did you see it?
[Aaron] Yeah. You?
[MissingTwin] Yeah.
[Aaron] How long ago?
[MissingTwin] Five years ago last April. You?
[Aaron] It will be five years in October.
[MissingTwin] Year five isn’t any easier than year four.
[Aaron] Nope.
[MissingTwin] So, what happened to cause your epic meltdown? Flashback? Trigger?
[Aaron] They caught the guys who did it.
[MissingTwin] That’s supposed to be good, isn’t it?
[Aaron] Did you have to testify? Describe what you saw? What you felt? In detail?
[MissingTwin] Shit.
[Aaron] Yeah.
[MissingTwin] Hey, do you have Lord of the Rings?
[Aaron] Yeah, why?
[MissingTwin] Pop it in and start it. We can watch together, maybe fight off a few demons.
[Aaron] Seriously? And what, run a play by play? You could be on Mars for all I know.
[MissingTwin] Not quite. But yeah, that’s what I mean. I have a couple other friends that I watch with. We like to put up quotes on chat and follow them up with “in my pants.”
[Aaron] How old did you say you were?
[MissingTwin] 20.
[Aaron] Uh-huh.
[MissingTwin] For example, you remember the part where Galadriel and Frodo were at that basin thing and saw the future?
[Aaron] I’m afraid to ask.
[MissingTwin] I know what it is you saw, for it is also… in my pants.
He couldn’t help it, the snort exploded from him, and he laughed longer and harder than he had in a long time. It took him a minute to be able to respond, but he agreed and asked Jordan to hang on for a minute. He climbed off the bed with more energy than he’d had that day and went down to the family room where they kept the movies. He grabbed the extended version of the Fellowship of the Ring and stopped in the kitchen just long enough to pop microwave popcorn and get a Coke from the refrigerator. He got back up to his room just in time to see the message come in from Jordan.
[MissingTwin] Okay, I’ve got popcorn and Grape Crush, the best movie watching combination since Siskel and Ebert!
[Aaron] LOL I have popcorn and pop too. The credits just started.
[MissingTwin] Sweet. Let’s do it.
Ten
THEY’D BEEN cleaning all day. Even Anthony and his surly whining didn’t get out of helping. He and their father spent the day mowing the lawn and cleaning up the hedges because of a “request” from Mom that wasn’t actually a request. Aaron spent the day in the kitchen chopping things for his mother as she got ready for h
er annual Labor Day cookout. His jobs were to fight his terror of knives by hacking up vegetables for a dip tray and conquering spuds for potato salad. Later he would face the ultimate challenge: picking up his grandparents. It seemed that Grandma Alice had been right. If his mother just treated Aaron like a normal kid, not one who had been left for dead, he’d turn out all right. And he did, right? Sure, everything was just hunky-dory in Aaronland.
Spencer and Dr. Thomas would be over later for the cookout too. They weren’t a couple together in public often, and without Allen to run interference, his grandparents would undoubtedly say something. God, he just wanted the day over with. Though he really was looking forward to seeing Spencer. Maybe he’d be able to stay over at Spencer’s that night if things didn’t go horribly wrong with the family during the cookout. He could easily see a meltdown between serving the burgers and cutting up the watermelon. Maybe he could have a screaming, crying jag into the banana pudding.
He’d just scraped the last cutting board full of roughly chopped boiled potatoes into the bowl for his mother to turn into the miracle of potato salad when his phone chirped. Pulling it out, he expected to see Spencer’s name on the display, but instead, he saw Jordan’s.
[Jordan] What did the blonde call her pet zebra?
Aaron looked at the screen for a long minute, a smirk rising on the ruined side of his face.
[Aaron] Harry?
[Jordan] Spot.
He snorted, and his mother looked up in surprise. Waving her off, he switched over to the web browser on his phone and did a search for blonde jokes. Aaron didn’t have much in his humor arsenal in the way of jokes, but he had access to millions on the Internet. It took a minute to wade through the stupid and truly crude ones before he found one he liked.
[Aaron] Why was the blonde staring at the orange juice?
[Jordan] Because it said “concentrate.”
[Aaron] Heard that one, huh?
[Jordan] When you’re blond, you hear them all. ;)
[Jordan] Up to anything exciting today?
[Aaron] Just the obligatory Labor Day cookout with the family. You?
[Jordan] We’re taking advantage of all of the families doing the Labor Day cookout thing and going to Shedd. We go every year because Dylan used to love the aquarium.
[Aaron] Shedd Aquarium in Chicago???
[Jordan] Is there another one?
[Aaron] I’m near Chicago too—western suburbs near DeKalb.
[Jordan] Seriously? I’m in DeKalb.
[Aaron] Huh.
[Jordan] Maybe next time, we could watch that movie in person?
[Aaron] Maybe.
Aaron threw his phone back into his pocket. He wouldn’t think about that right then, how fast he’d found an easy friendship with Jordan. It scared him. Instincts and knowing who to trust had never been his strong point, though he’d lucked out with Spencer.
“It’s nice to see you smiling,” his mother remarked as she dropped dollops of mayonnaise—not Miracle Whip, God have mercy—into the bowl of chopped potatoes, celery, pickles, eggs, and other assorted foods he couldn’t readily identify. She grabbed one side of the large bowl with an arm and manhandled the big serving spoon through it, and then again. He watched in fascination as she tamed the ingredients into something edible. “Spencer telling you they’re on their way?”
“Actually, I met a new friend, Jordan, through one of the PTSD support groups that Dr. Thomas had me sign up for.”
She frowned as she folded the potato salad over again in the bowl.
“Was he…?” She couldn’t get the entire question out, but the word “raped” hung in the air like a cloud of acid rain ready to let loose on them all.
“No. He lost his brother in a school shooting at his high school. He saw it happen.” Aaron began to clean up the leftover celery leaves and hearts he’d piled up while chopping for his mother. She stopped stirring and looked at him. The careful way in which she regarded him made him wary.
“That’s terrible. Honey, I’m glad you’re making new friends, but do they have to be….”
“What, damaged?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
He shrugged. He wouldn’t let it bother him that she considered him damaged, because he was. As he scraped everything off the counter and into the garbage, he wondered if she thought Spencer damaged too.
“Football players hang out with guys from the team, people who like to read hang out with other bookworms, it makes sense that I’d befriend people who get me. Jordan knows what it’s like to be afraid of things with no logical reason. He knows what it’s like to keep himself isolated or have a meltdown in the middle of the living room. I can talk to him, and well, he makes me laugh.”
“Who makes you laugh?” Dr. Thomas asked as he carried in a covered slow cooker, followed closely by Spencer, who carried a box of buns and paper plates. Spencer had caught what his father asked, and both newcomers looked intently at Aaron.
“I met this guy through one of the PTSD websites. He’d been in a school shooting about five years ago. We talk and text, and it’s fun,” Aaron explained, not mentioning the movie they’d watched the night before because they were both too edgy to concentrate on anything else without breaking into tiny pieces. He didn’t want to bring up the bad memories of Friday and the prosecutor, not then. Instead he wanted to keep things light and easy and have a good day with his family before those thoughts crept back in.
“Is. He. Local.?” Spencer asked. Aaron didn’t like for them to sign in front of his mother because he remembered how it felt before he’d learned to sign.
“Yeah, actually. He just told me he’s from DeKalb.”
Spencer nodded once, but Aaron couldn’t read anything in his face.
“Where. Do. You. Want. This.?”
Aaron took it from his hands and set it on the counter. They usually did a buffet on the island, so he put the buns and the paper products near the head of the line. Spencer didn’t say anything; he merely stood back and watched.
“Aaron, it’s about time to go get your grandparents. You want to take my car? Spencer can go with if he wants,” Aaron’s mother said, looking at her watch. “I’ll give them a call now to make sure they’re ready.”
“Sure, Mom.”
Spencer had to move Dr. Thomas’s car so they could get out, but after a few minutes, they were on the road. It would take them twenty minutes to get to Aaron’s grandparents’ house, so they had a bit of time to talk. Spencer sat looking resolutely out the window.
Aaron set a hand on his leg, and Spencer took the hand in his without hesitation.
Well, that was progress, right?
Aaron squeezed Spencer’s hand, and he took the hint and looked at Aaron.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No., You. Should. Be. Allowed. To. Have. Other. Friends….” Since Aaron couldn’t focus on his signs while driving, Spencer was forced to answer aloud.
“Wait, you’re upset about that? I thought it was because I’d gone home.”
“I. Did. Not. See. What. You. Said.,” Spencer said, and his voice sounded frustrated. Aaron checked over his shoulder and then pulled to the side of the road so they could talk.
“I asked if you were upset about Jordan.”
“I feel like we are coming apart. Since I took the job. And now you are talking to another guy. I just feel….” Spencer shook his hands in frustration, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
“Threatened? Jealous?” Aaron supplied, and though the situation should be funny, it wasn’t. “Are you kidding? I have trouble making out with you. You think I am going to go make out with someone else?” Aaron put the car into drive again and pulled back out into traffic. He didn’t want to think about what that did to him, for Spencer to think it would be so easy just to slide someone else into his life to fill the gaping hole left when Spencer moved away.
“No., Aaron., Of. Course. Not… I. Am. Sorry… It. Is. All. Happening. So. Fas
t….” Spencer turned in his seat to rest his head on Aaron’s shoulder and lace his arms around Aaron’s right arm, holding him the best he could while Aaron drove. They looked like a football player and his cheerleader at the drive-in on a Saturday night. It made Aaron smile just a little.
They pulled into the long drive leading to a small one-story ranch set back off the street. Grass grew through the cracks in the driveway, and the little flowering bushes that lined the front of the house were overgrown and wild. The yard had always been a source of pride for his grandparents. His grandmother loved to plant flowers in the small garden she kept beneath the magnolia tree out front. Death seemed to loom over the house, just waiting to catch up with its inhabitants.
Spencer slid a hand into his as they approached the front door. Though they knew Aaron was gay, his grandparents hadn’t had much opportunity in the last few years to see it in practice. Aaron didn’t much care and knocked on the door, hand in hand with Spencer. Aaron’s breath caught as the door swung open and his grandmother, who had aged twenty years since he last saw her at his birthday, leaned heavily on her new walker. His grandfather stood behind her, holding her purse and waiting for Aaron to get the door.
“Hi, honey,” she said as Spencer held the door open, and Aaron helped her get the walker over the little step in the doorway and down to the sidewalk. “Oh, and hello, you’re Aaron’s friend.”
“Spencer….” he said with a smile and continued holding the door for Aaron’s grandfather, who harrumphed and followed them very slowly to the car. It took nearly as long to sidle down the walk as it had to drive over to their house, but Aaron remained patient and helped them to the car. Aaron’s grandmother rode up front, and Spencer climbed into the back.
“You’re gonna want to take Central up to that main road and make a left,” Aaron’s grandfather commanded from the backseat, as if they hadn’t just found their way to his house unassisted. Aaron followed his directions, though they took him a bit out of the way. Everything was going smoothly until his grandfather asked, “So, when are you gonna settle down there and find yourself a wife? You’re gonna be outta school soon, aren’t ya?”
