by Gene Gant
We closed our eyes and kissed each other. Then Jessica took my hands and put them on her breasts. At the time, her chest was almost as flat as mine.
“Okay, we’re through making out,” Jessica announced and pushed my hands away from her. “Was it incredible and terrific?”
“Uh… no.”
She looked hurt and confused.
“Jess, I’m gay,” I added.
Jessica broke into a relieved smile, and I knew I’d made the right decision in telling her about my thing for boys. “Well, that explains it.”
When I got home that evening, I told my parents I’d come out to Jessica (minus the part about making out).
“That’s wonderful!” Mom and Dad exclaimed. Dad declared my coming out to a friend another cause for celebration, and he took the family out for ice cream and a few rounds of miniature golf.
There’d been no such celebrations since, because I never came out to anyone else.
So there I was two whole years later, at a surprise coming-out party thrown in my honor, with emphasis on the “surprise” portion. When I looked at Toff, he seemed just as shocked as I was.
One of my girl cousins tugged me into the open space between the living room and dining room, compelling me to dance with her to a second round of Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out” while my two aunts clapped along. I tried my best to look happy, but I felt violated and cheated, although I didn’t fully understand why. A steadily growing anger burned behind my smiling face. This party was my dad’s doing. Sure, Mom helped, and obviously Jessica was in on it, but I knew without a doubt it was my dad’s idea.
After my cousin and I finished dancing, I tried to get to Dad as he made a beeline for the kitchen. Carson Meyer intercepted me before I could follow.
“Hey, Geordi,” he said, smiling at me in a serious sort of way. He was African American too, his skin maybe a shade lighter than my own. He was wearing loose, knee-length black athletic shorts, a white tank top, and sandals. God, who’d wear that to a party?
“Hey, Carson.” I wanted to push past him, certain he was just going to taunt me in some slyly homophobic way, but my parents expected me to be polite, even to a not-exactly-a-friend-and-not-exactly-an-enemy like Carson. So I just stood there awkwardly with him, waiting for whatever came next.
Instead of being snide and snarky, Carson just looked a bit shy and a lot uneasy. He was now a few inches taller than me, and I hated that I was forced to look up at him. “So, uhm… gay, huh?” he said slowly. “You’re really, like, gay.”
“Yeah,” I replied cautiously. “I am.”
His smile widened. “I think you’re a brave dude, man, coming out and all. You’re braver than I’d be if I was gay. Gotta give it to ya. You’re like, gay Superman.” Then he reached over and gave me a pat on the back.
I was speechless for a few seconds after that. Even though I’d heard the words directly from Carson’s mouth, part of me didn’t want to believe he actually meant them. I kept waiting for the punchline, or an actual punch, to follow. Carson, with that admiring smile still on his face, ambled over to the table and poured himself a glass of ginger ale.
“Thanks, man,” I finally mumbled to his back, feeling as good about myself as I did about that oozy sludge Mom made me wash out of our garbage bin every other week.
Suddenly, Dad came out of the kitchen at a rush, carrying a tray of tortilla chips and cheese dip. My attention refocused and I went after him. Tall and long-legged, Dad was moving so fast I had to run to catch up to him. “Dad, hold up—”
Uncle Ronnie came out of nowhere and intercepted me. “Here’s the party boy,” he said, his big booming voice rising over the music and chatter. He threw his arm around my shoulders. “Come here and let me talk to you.”
“In a minute, Uncle Ronnie, okay?” I shrugged his arm off. “I need to talk something over with Dad.”
“Aw, he’s too busy for you right now. Come on with me. This won’t take but a few minutes.” He was Dad’s older brother by something like a decade, gray-haired and cranky. He put his hands on my shoulders and guided me to a corner in the living room. “You know, the world sure has changed. When I was a kid and a young man, I didn’t know a single gay person. Now gays are everywhere, on television, at church, in the sports bar. Hell, these days you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a gay in the face. You’re not gonna be one of those gays who go around putting all your business in the street, are you, Nephew?”
“I’ll try not to be, Uncle.”
“I’m just wondering, what with you coming out and all. It’s okay to keep some of your business to yourself, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” I cut an annoyed glance at Dad as he offered the tray of chips and dip to my neighborhood friends. “Believe me, I know.”
Dad began to move off with the tray. I started to pull away and follow, but Uncle Ronnie grabbed me by the arm and stopped me.
“Well now, here’s something else that’s got me concerned,” Uncle Ronnie said. “When it comes to gay guys, I hear there’s tops and there’s bottoms. Are you a top or a bottom, Geordi? Please tell me you’re not a bottom.”
I frowned impatiently, confused. “I don’t have an answer for that, Uncle. What’s a top and what’s a bottom? Explain it to me and then maybe I can answer you.”
Uncle Ronnie suddenly looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Oh. I think your Aunt Rita is waving for me to come over. See you later, Nephew.” He rushed off to where Aunt Rita was having a lively conversation with Jessica’s mom.
Whatever.
Dad was in the dining room, making space for the chips and dip on the table, which was already crowded with platters of food. I started after him, determined to find out why he felt it necessary to force my gay side out to the world at large. I really wanted to ask him to stay out of my business, but I’ve never been particularly good at telling people off. Especially my parents.
Toff was standing just inside the dining room. As I started past him, he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Just a second, Toff. I need to say something to my dad.” I tried to shake off his hand.
Toff grabbed my arm tighter, and I turned to him, surprised. He looked hurt and angry.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought we were friends,” he said.
“We are friends, Toff.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I tell you what?”
“That you’re gay. You told everybody else. I’m your best friend, and I had to find out from a dumb sign.” He gestured bitterly at the “Out of the Closet and Loving It” banner dangling from the ceiling behind us. The doorbell rang, and Dad hurried toward the front door, a big, welcoming grin already spreading across his face. In a flash of irritation, I started after him. He opened the door, and one of his coworkers from the museum walked in.
“Hey, Ben,” said the coworker. He had a small, brightly wrapped gift in his hands. “Where’s the kid of the hour?”
Dad looked around and spotted me coming up behind him. “There’s His Majesty now,” Dad said.
The coworker walked over to meet me. “Congratulations, Geordi, on your coming out. I picked up a little something for you to mark the occasion.” He held out the gift to me.
I took the present, and part of me wanted to smile and offer thanks. At the same time, I wanted to grab Dad before he could take off again. And I thought of Toff, who was angry with me for reasons I didn’t understand, and I wanted to find out what was going on with him. My brain must’ve short-circuited from all the conflicting impulses, because I froze for several moments and didn’t do anything.
Then Toff took it upon himself to solve part of my dilemma. He ran past me and out the front door.
Chapter 3
AS THE sun settled below the horizon and the western sky burned red-orange, I was sitting high in the branches of the big sugar maple tree just beyond the wooden fence at the edge
of our backyard. The tree was in the yard of the neighbors who lived directly behind us. I’d been taking refuge in that tree since I was thirteen, whenever I needed privacy from my dad.
The neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Caple, a retired couple in their seventies, were home. I caught a glimpse of their silhouettes, sitting in front of the TV in their family room, right after I’d climbed into the tree. I was pretty sure they were aware of my periodic trespassing, but they never said anything to me or, as far as I knew, my parents. Maybe they understood that I needed a getaway every now and then.
I watched a jet soaring over the horizon. It was so far away and so high up it looked like a silvery dot skimming lazily along, leaving a cloud-like tendril of white condensation behind it. I wondered what it was like to be the pilot, shut away in a cockpit close to the edge of space with the world turning distantly below you. No one could get to you up there.
Something rustled softly below. The sound grew louder as someone climbed up into the tree. I didn’t bother to look down. Other than the Caples, only two people knew of my hideout, and one of them apparently wasn’t talking to me now.
Jessica pulled herself up and sat on the massive branch across from me, her feet dangling. “Figured you’d be up here,” she said. “Your mom and dad are looking for you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. They’ve been blowing up my cell phone.”
“It’s kind of rude to duck out of a party when you’re the guest of honor.”
“So shoot me.” I turned to her. “I had to get out of that place. This is probably not gonna make any sense, considering all the people in the house are my family and friends, but I started feeling really lonely in there.”
Jessica nodded. “I’ve felt that way too, when I’m around people who just don’t get me. My brother never gets me.” She pulled a pear from her pocket and bit into it.
“Toff got mad at me and walked out of the party. And before you ask, I didn’t do anything to him. I don’t know why he’s so pissed at me.”
“I do.”
I waited for her to explain, but she just sat there chewing down a mouthful of pear. “Well? You gonna enlighten me or you want me to pay you first?”
“He’s angry because you didn’t tell him you’re into boys. I know because, just before he got in your face, he told me how hurt he felt that you hid something like that from him.”
I grew even more annoyed. “Well, that’s just dumb. I didn’t personally come out to most of the people at that fick-facking party, and none of them got all whiny about it. What’s the big deal? It’s not like Toff was gonna date me or anything if he’d known earlier.”
Jessica chomped another plug out of the pear. “Come on, Geordi. You said you and Toff have been friends since you were seven. That’s a long time, like half our lives. Be honest. If Toff had dyslexia or something but never told you, and you only found out by accident, how would you feel?”
The answer became clear to me instantly. “I’d feel like he didn’t trust me, like maybe our friendship wasn’t as tight as I thought it was.”
“Exactly.”
“Shit. I’m a rotten person.”
“If it helps any, you should know that Toff’s angry with me too. He asked if I knew you were gay, and I told him you came out to me when I was twelve. So he’s pissed that I knew and didn’t tell him.”
“Well, why didn’t you fill him in?”
“I thought that was your story to tell, not mine.”
If only Dad felt that way…. “But Toff must’ve known about me before the party. He helped you get me away from the house, and then he helped you get me back home when I wanted us to hang out and eat pizza.”
“Your parents just told us to get you out of the house so they could set up for a surprise party, and they texted me to make sure we got you back in three hours. Toff and I just assumed it was gonna be a regular party. They didn’t say anything about you coming out. Maybe they thought you’d already told Toff and me since the three of us are so close.” She shrugged. “They were half right, anyway.”
I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Toff, something I’d already done several times since taking refuge in the tree. Toff never turned off his phone in the summer and, unless he was asleep, he’d always text me back right off. I waited a whole minute, staring at the screen on my phone. “Toff still won’t answer.” I sighed. “Maybe I should go by his house—”
“I wouldn’t do that, not right now,” Jessica said quickly. “Maybe you should just give him some time to cool off.”
“Come on, Jess. He can’t be that pissed over me not coming out to him.”
“It’s not just that. You know things aren’t that good for Toff. Your parents are always making a fuss over you, throwing parties for you, taking you on trips. My mom goes overboard doing stuff for me and my brother. Next month is my quinceañera, and Mom’s making a huge deal out of that. All Toff has is his dad, and his dad barely acknowledges Toff’s alive. I think your parents throwing this surprise coming-out party really got to Toff.”
An ache shot through me, making me even more anxious to go to Toff’s house and patch things up between us. And my general sense of aggravation found a single focus. “This is all my dad’s fault.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “You think every bad thing in the world is your dad’s fault.”
“That’s because every bad thing in the world is my dad’s fault.”
She threw her pear core at me, which would have hit me smack in the middle of my forehead if I hadn’t ducked. I watched as it dropped to the ground. “Hey. That’s littering,” I protested.
“You shouldn’t have ducked,” said Jessica. “Besides, it’s biodegradable.” She reached over and patted me on the knee. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your party.”
“Can you do a brother a favor and just stab me instead?”
“Not this time. Your dad sent me to find you. I think he’s kinda expecting me to bring you back alive.” She slipped off the branch so suddenly it scared me, dropping down to snag a lower branch with her hands. She hung for a moment, feet dangling about eight feet off the ground. With a kick of both legs, she swung her body back and then forward, letting go of the branch at the apex of her outward swing and dropping to the ground. She touched down on the grass with all the quiet, nimble grace of a cat landing on its feet.
Not to be outdone, I slid off the branch intending to drop feetfirst onto the same lower branch, jump off, and reach the ground in an Olympic-style landing. My feet slipped on the lower branch as if it had been slathered with oil, and then I slammed down on my butt and bounced into the air. I struck my head on the underside of the upper branch, hit the lower branch again, this time on my left hip, and fell heavily to the ground, landing flat on my back. Somebody screamed just about the whole time I was falling. I’m pretty sure it was me.
“Geordi!”
My eyes were closed, and the sound of Jessica’s shouts were kind of muffled. I think I was a little stunned for a few seconds. I felt her kneel anxiously beside me. “Jeez. Are you okay? Geordi?” She put her hands on my shoulder and shook me. “Are you hurt?”
My back, left hip, and the top of my head ached like crazy, so yeah, I was definitely hurt. But I was ten times more embarrassed than hurt. I kept thinking, Jessica saw me tumble out of a tree like a fool, and she’s never gonna let that go. She’ll tell all our friends. I won’t be able to show my face anywhere without somebody pointing me out to some little kid and going, “That’s the overgrown idiot who fell out of a tree. Don’t be stupid like him.”
“Geordi?” She shook me harder. “Say something or I’m calling 911.”
“Am I dead?”
“Well… no.”
Dag.
IN THE kitchen Mom was stirring up a fresh pitcher of lemonade. She froze when I walked through the door. “What on earth happened to you?”
“Oh… nothing.”
She came over to me. “Look at you, Geordi,” she said,
frowning in concern as she brushed her hand over my head. The party was still going strong: I could hear laughter and music rumbling from the living room. “You’ve got tree bark in your hair. Your shirt’s ripped. There are grass stains all over the back of your pants. And that bruise on your arm…. Geordi, what on earth—”
“I was just playing a little football with the guys, Mom. No big deal.” I pulled away from her. Every time she stroked my hair, the top of my head flared with hot pain. It was a wonder she didn’t feel the lump that had swollen dead center over my skull.
Mom has a bullshit meter like nothing in this world. It puts lie detectors to shame, and if she could figure out a way to package and market it, she’d be a trillionaire. She gave me her I-know-you’re-lying-through-your-teeth look. “No, you weren’t playing football. Tell me what really happened. I know it has something to do with a tree. You got freaky in a tree, didn’t you? And you got so caught up you fell out of the tree on your little narrow behind—”
“Oh-kay Mom. Nice chatting with you. I’m gonna change clothes and get back to the party.”
“Smart choices, son,” she said to my back as I rushed out of the kitchen. “I keep telling you to make smart choices when it comes to your life.”
I locked myself in my room. Thanks a lot, Dad. If he hadn’t thrown that stupid party, Toff wouldn’t be mad at me. If he hadn’t sent Jessica after me, I wouldn’t have bounced my butt out of that tree in front of her. With anger steaming in my head, I got into a fresh pair of jeans and the “Progressive Tennessean” T-shirt Mom brought back from her teachers’ conference in Nashville last month. The idea of pulling the shades and hiding under my bed was mighty tempting, but Jessica had probably told Dad I was back already. If I didn’t show my face, he’d come down and personally escort me back to the party.
I put on a smile and walked into the living room. None of the guests had left, much to my regret. In fact, even more people seemed to be present. There was Jake Butcher, the son of my dad’s boss, dancing with my cousin Mae. I’d known him since we were eight years old. We hung out maybe three or four times a year, usually at museum functions. Jake was now a tall, buff, and mighty good-looking brother. Mae was staring at him as if she wanted to stick her tongue all the way down to his stomach. As handsome as he was, I personally would never kiss Jake. He used to swallow live bugs on a dare and, knowing him, he probably still did. I’m not keen on the idea of putting my tongue anywhere bugs have been crawling. Just saying.
