by Gene Gant
I’d never seen an actual condom outside its packaging. I shrugged in an offhand gesture. “I guess.”
“I don’t want you to guess, honey. I want you to be sure. There are a number of diseases that can be transmitted sexually, such as gonorrhea, syphilis, and HIV. A condom can help protect you from those diseases.” She opened the box and pulled out an individually wrapped packet, which she held up in front of me. “First of all, check the expiration date. If that date has passed, the condom is useless because it can tear or break while you’re having sex. When you open this, you want to be sure you don’t damage the condom.” She tore the tinfoil-type packet carefully and pulled out a pale yellow, slicked down, rolled up deflated balloon. “The condom comes out like this. You don’t want to unroll it before you try to put it on, and you don’t want to put it on until the penis is erect. The condom goes on before your penis comes in contact with any part of your partner’s body, or your partner’s penis comes in contact with any part of your body. There’s a tip at the end to hold the semen. This part is placed over the head of the penis. Make sure this ridge here is on the outside of the condom. If it’s inside, you have the condom on the wrong way. Roll the ridge down, over the shaft, all the way to the base of the penis.” She held up two fingers and demonstrated the procedure. “You should always use a water-based lubricant with condoms. I have some in the bag here. Never use lotion, petroleum jelly, or anything oily. When sex is over, always hold the base of the condom before you pull out to make sure nothing spills. Do you have any questions?”
“Well, not a question. More of an observation.”
“And what is that?”
“Mom, this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with you.”
“There’s no reason to feel weird, Geordi. This is necessary information. Now, do I need to go over this with Toff?”
“No! No, thanks, I can show him how everything goes. In case he ever decides to have sex… you know, with someone.”
Mom took the condom off her fingers, stuffed it back in the packet, and flicked a two-pointer right into the trash can. My eyes widened in astonishment. She crooked a smile at me. “Didn’t know I played basketball in college, did you?”
“Mom, sometimes you amaze me.”
“You amaze me too, Geordi. Let’s cover one last thing on the subject of you and Toff and sex before we move on, my darling son. When it comes to any relationship, but especially a romantic one, always be honest, honey. With the other person as well as with yourself. Promise me you’ll do that.”
Dag. “Well… I’ll try.”
“Good.” She reached over and took my hand again. “Geordi, are you having a problem with your dad?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I can sense some kind of tension between the two of you. I asked your father. He told me you got into a fight with someone over some pictures, but he didn’t want to talk about what’s going on with you and him, so I’m asking you now. If you don’t want to talk about it either, that’s fine—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. I won’t push you. But whatever it is, don’t let it linger. No problem gets better when you just let it dangle there. And we don’t always have as much time to fix things as we think. If you need to talk, about anything, I’m always here.”
“I know.”
She reached into her bag again and handed me a small tube of K-Y Jelly along with the box of condoms. Then she stood up, leaned over, and kissed me on the forehead. “Good night, honey.”
“Good night, Mom.”
I FELT clean and refreshed from my shower and was tucked comfortably in the bed farthest from the door because Toff said he wanted to sleep in the other one. The overhead light was off, and the small lamp on the nightstand between the two beds gave the room a soft, intimate glow. Tired and with the clock well past midnight, I turned on my side and drew my knees up in my favorite slumbering position. I lay that way for ten minutes, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Maybe it was the hiss of the shower that kept me awake. Or the sound of Toff bumping around in the bathroom. I rolled onto my back and stuffed the extra pillow under my head. That didn’t help either. I just stared up at the slowly circling blades of the white ceiling fan.
The shower shut off. More thumping and bumping followed. The blow dryer came on for a few minutes, its hum drifting soothingly through the semidarkness of the room. Then the door opened and Toff emerged naked from the bathroom. Jeez. Ever heard of boundaries, man? At least I put my underwear back on after my shower.
Toff eyed me as he walked across the room and stopped beside the other bed. His spiky hair was still a little damp, and his body gave off the pleasantly warm scent of shampoo and soap. “What’s wrong, Geordi?” he asked.
“Nothing.” You’re just making me fick-facking nervous with your junk hanging out all over the place.
He sat down on the bed with his legs spread apart. I looked up at the ceiling fan again. “Your mom chewed you up for bringing me out here, didn’t she?” he said.
“Yeah. She’s gonna ground me or something when this is all over.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad I could be there for you.”
Toff rubbed his hands back and forth over his scalp several times, as if trying to tame his hair.
“Are you okay, man?”
“I don’t know, Geordi.” He let his hands flop down beside him. “I feel kinda crazy in the head. I just want to know. I just want to know what happened to my dad.”
“You will. That sheriff will find him.”
Toff got up and walked over to the minibar. Mom raided it before she left, taking all the liquor and leaving only two small bottles of cranberry juice. “You want some juice?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No, thanks.”
With his back to me, he twisted off the cap and turned the bottle up, tipping his head back. I found myself looking at him again. God, my friend was hot. My friend was so damn hot.
After downing the juice, Toff dropped the empty bottle in the trash can. He squinted. “There’s a used condom in here,” he said in a what-the-hell tone.
“Oh. Uh… yeah. My mom was giving me instructions on how to use one. Did your dad ever teach you that?”
“My dad never taught me anything.” He crossed the room and threw himself on the other bed. He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
“Do you want to talk?” I asked.
“I thought we were already doing that.”
“I mean do you want to talk about your dad.”
“No.” His voice was flat, but I could still hear the pain in it.
“Toff, I don’t think you’re doing yourself any good holding everything in about your dad.”
“What am I supposed to say, Geordi? Huh?”
“Tell me how you feel about him.”
“What good is that supposed to do? I feel angry that he was never there, ever, in fifteen years. I feel afraid for what might have happened to him. And I feel confused because I never understood him. I feel confused because I don’t know if my dad ever really loved me. Telling you that doesn’t make anything clearer in my head. It just makes me feel like I’m going out of my mind. So what good is talking about this?”
“It helps to remind you that you’re not alone in this. I’m here. I’m listening. You’ve got somebody in your corner. And it helps me to understand you.”
Toff paused for a few moments, as if letting what I’d said sink in. The angry scowl on his face softened. “Thanks, Geordi. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you.”
“You’ve got Jess too. And Jake.”
“But they’re not as close to me as you are.” He turned on his side, facing me. “Is it okay if I come over there with you?”
Oh jeez. “Yeah.”
He slid off his bed, walked over an
d lifted the covers off me. As he raised his knee to climb in, I held up a hand. “Wait, Toff. Can you… put on some underwear or something?”
He smiled as if I were making a joke. “Why?”
I thought about being honest with him. I thought about telling him the truth, that the idea of having his naked body next to me in bed was scary as hell.
“Never mind,” I said, putting his comfort ahead of mine once again. “Just get in.”
He reached over to turn off the lamp. Then he climbed in next to me and pulled the covers tight over us both.
We didn’t talk after that. I don’t know about Toff, but my mind went south once his chest and thigh were pressed against me. We lay together, motionless and silent, for what seemed a very long time, taking comfort in each other after one long monster of a day. But gradually something gloriously magical and intense blossomed out of that intimacy. Toff’s body was firm, warm, his skin smooth, and the scent of the soap from his shower was intoxicating. I’d never slept in the same bed with another guy before, especially not a naked guy. My heart started pounding. Why was I so afraid?
Toff pressed closer to me, and I realized my heart wasn’t pounding from fear. Heat rose through my body, and suddenly it felt good and right that Toff was the naked guy in bed with me. He had his arms around me, and I couldn’t remember when that had happened. Toff kissed me, hard and greedily at first, then soft and tenderly. So much pain. He was in so much pain. I could feel it in every kiss, in every caress he gave me. Toff. Oh Toff. I wish I could take your hurt away.
There was more than pain in his touch, however. I could feel how much he loved me, how much he needed me. I reached for him with a passion I’d never felt before. No, wait; I had felt this passion, many times, I’d just never given in to it before. Toff slid his hand beneath the waistband and down the back of my shorts and grabbed on, and there was nothing horrible about that. Nothing at all. His body in my arms was like finding a part of me that had long been hidden away somewhere.
He got me out of my underwear, we rolled our bodies together between the sheets, and I discovered how much hotter it is to have another guy’s hand on the rudder. So to speak.
WE SHOWERED again, together this time, washing the residue of fresh sweat off each other’s bodies. Then we dried each other with thick, cottony towels bearing the logo of the bed and breakfast, and we climbed back in bed. Toff curled on his side, took my wrist, and pulled my arm protectively around him. I snuggled in close behind him. He closed his eyes, looking more relaxed than he had in days, and said something so softly that I didn’t understand a word of it. But his message came through clearly anyway. I felt his gratitude and his affection in the placid, settling moves of his body.
In two minutes he was asleep.
I was glad he’d found some peace, though I couldn’t be sure how long that would last. Something had changed for me too, something perhaps more lasting. I didn’t try to puzzle out that something. It was very late, close to two in the morning, and I didn’t have the energy to analyze my own feelings. I watched Toff sleep for a while, accepting the wonderful satisfaction of having this moment with him.
Then my satisfaction carried me gently down into slumber.
Chapter 15
FAR, FAR away, a phone rang. A jangly, annoying sound.
It rang for a long time.
Jeez. Stop already.
Something or someone moved, reached out. There was a click. “Hello?” The voice was husky with sleep. Toff’s voice. “Okay… yes, we’re up. Just give us ten minutes and we’ll meet you there…. Okay, bye.”
A clunk and a click as the receiver went down, and then an elbow nudged me in the side. “Hey. Geordi. Wake up.”
“No.” My voice sounded like gravel rolling over gravel.
“That was your mom. She says it’s nine o’clock. She wants us to come to breakfast.”
“’Nother time….” I reached over and tried to haul him back against me.
He laughed and pulled away. “No. Your mom said now.” The bed bounced slightly as he rolled out. He walked around to my side, leaned over, and kissed me on the chin. “Come on, let’s go.” Then he swatted me on the butt. Hard.
“Owwy! Who died and made you boss? Dag.”
While we were getting dressed, I paused for a moment to send a text to Jessica. I got back a response that went: Jessica doesn’t have cell phone privileges. Try her again in about 100 years.
Eek.
“Is Jess okay?” Toff asked.
“Oh yeah. Sure. She’s fine.”
THE DINING room was cozy like the rest of the place. There were eight tables, enough to accommodate guests from every bedroom. Four of them were occupied with older white couples who chatted happily over their morning meals. Mom and Dad sat at a table on the north end of the room, beside a sunlit window with bright yellow curtains. Dad waved and smiled for us to come over. Thanks, but no. I waved and fake-smiled back and had the hostess seat Toff and me at a table on the south end of the room.
“Are you mad at your dad?” Toff asked.
“No,” I replied, gluing my eyes to the menu.
“Geordi, don’t hide stuff from me. What’s wrong between you and your dad?”
“It’ll work out, Toff. Don’t worry.”
The waitress, a slim middle-aged woman in jeans and a pink blouse, appeared before Toff could press further. “Good morning, guys. What can I get for you?”
“You know what you want, Toff?”
“I’ll have a BLT on wheat with mayo and pickles and a glass of cranberry juice.”
“All right, sir.” As she jotted down Toff’s order, the waitress turned to me. “And what about you?”
“I want the banana pancakes and a glass of milk, please. Oh, and that’s my mom over there.” I pointed. “Make sure she gets the check.”
TOFF AND I had a good time talking possible plot points in the upcoming Star Trek sequel, which would be opening next Friday. We made no plans for making the opening together, however, since I didn’t know if I’d be allowed out of the house then. We talked long after we’d finished breakfast, sipping on refills of milk and juice the waitress graciously provided. I could have sat with Toff that way for the rest of the morning, but then Dad got a call on his cell phone. After he finished the call, he spoke to Mom, and then he pulled money from his wallet and put it on the table to cover our meals. When they stood up, I could already feel a cloud of dread settling over my good mood.
They walked over to our table.
“Boys,” Dad said, “the sheriff just called. She wants us to come to the station.”
THE SHERIFF’S station was a short distance off Highway 64 on Route 24 about two miles outside Selmer. It was a sprawling, single-story building with a glass front on one end where the main entrance was located, tucked beneath two massive oak trees in the middle of an otherwise open field. Dad parked at the end of a row of four gray and black patrol cars. When he and Mom walked into the front office with Toff and me following, a uniformed deputy seated behind a wide counter looked up at us with a friendly smile. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” Dad returned. “We’re the Quintrells. Sheriff Villanova asked us to come in.”
“Oh yes. She told me to bring you right on back.” The deputy stood up. “Her office is this way.”
He led us down a hall to a frosted glass door. He rapped a knuckle on the door’s metal frame. “Yes?” Sheriff Villanova’s voice, though muffled, was as cool and commanding as it had been last night.
The deputy pushed the door open. “The Quintrells are here, ma’am.”
The deputy held the door and ushered us into an office cluttered with metal file cabinets and shelves lined with books and copies of various penal codes. Sheriff Villanova was sitting behind a big metal desk, her eyes on the screen of a computer monitor. She was still wearing the same uniform she’d worn last night; I could tell by the small tear in the seam of her shirt over the left shoulder. The fact that
she had just pulled an all-nighter didn’t show on her at all. She gave us a restrained smile and said, “Good morning, thanks for coming in. Please have a seat. If you boys would sit here, next to the desk….”
She waited while Toff and I took the two chairs at the side of her desk and Mom and Dad sat down in chairs at the front. Toff kept moving his hands—patting on his knees, flexing his fingers, rubbing his palms over his thighs—while Sheriff Villanova went to one of the shelves behind her desk and pulled out a big manila folder.
She returned to her desk and said, “There are a couple of things I want to go over with you.” She placed the folder on her desktop. “We took a suspect into custody at the forest preserve last night. I’d like for Sandor and Geordi to look at some photos to see if they can identify the man who attacked them. Sandor, you first.”
The sheriff opened the manila folder and held it out to Toff. He peered inside the folder for maybe ten seconds before jabbing his finger at something. “That’s him.”
“Okay,” said the sheriff, shifting the folder toward me. “Now you, Geordi.”
In the folder was a large photo sheet bearing eight headshots of white, twenty-something guys. I spotted Blondie right off, the second photo from the left on the bottom row. “That’s the guy,” I said, pointing.
The sheriff nodded. She grabbed a pen and handed it to me. “I’d like you boys to initial the photo you selected.”
As Toff and I took turns with the pen, Toff said, “Who is this guy? Did he do something to my dad?”
