by Anyta Sunday
“Jeez that was hard work,” Trey said, slumping into the passenger seat. “What are you smiling at?”
I buckled up. “Oh, nothing. But, it’s crazy we get paid for that right? I mean, it’s just a whole heap of fun.” He lightly hit my side, grinning. “I can’t believe how much I’m sweating. It almost doubled as a gym workout. Fuck it’s hot. Wind down the windows.”
I wound down mine and started the car, gasping as air whooshed inward. It helped a bit, but I really needed to change out of these clothes. Hmmm, a cold shower would be perfect.
“You spent a lot of time with Paul,” Trey said suddenly. “He’s your favorite, right?” “I don’t have a favorite.” I did. Paul was it—but it was mean to the other kids if I actually said that out loud.
“Whatever man, you know he is. Was he why you want to become a speech therapist?”
Nail on the head. Yeah, Paul had been the one to inspire the choice. I wished I could help him myself. I knew he wanted to get rid of it—that it plagued him every day. He said he’d gone to drama classes, because sometimes that helped, but so far no improvement.
I stopped at a traffic light and took the opportunity to face Trey for a moment. “Sometimes he doesn’t even talk. He just nods and points. Kids laugh at him and call him stupid. Which isn’t true. He’s really bright. I—I know there are others out there like him, and I want to do something.”
The car behind me beeped, and I drove on. Trey didn’t say anything until I neared his place. “It’s great you know what you want to do with your lifeter. That’s cool.” He lifted his bag off the floor onto his lap, already clicking open his belt although I hadn’t come to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride here. When did you want to head back?”
“I guess sometime after dinner. Say ten?” “Sweet.”
He got out of the car. Transfixed, I watched him walk up the path to his front door. Working with him today had been great. Refreshing and fun. I loved the way he interacted with the kids, how easy going he was. It sort of made me gooey inside thinking about it.
Trey rang the doorbell and after a bit bent over, checking under ceramic pots by the door. When he slammed his palm into the side of the house, I put the car in park, and clambered out. If he heard me coming up the path, then he didn’t acknowledge it.
“The parents not in?” Facing me, Trey gave a dismissive shrug, but I thought a hint of sadness tainted his voice. “Guess that’s what I get for thinking to surprise ’em.” He picked up the bag he’d dropped on the porch. “You’re driving past the Zebrini on your way home, right? Drop me there?”
“You play pool?” Ah—how dumb a question was that! He wouldn’t want to go there if he didn’t. “Yep,” he answered as we walked back to the car. “You?” “I know the rules, does that count?” Trey shook his head. “Maybe I’ll teach you sometime.”
“Sure,” I said, starting down the street. “But only if I get to teach you how to drive.”
“Are you serious, man? You’d want to do that?” “Well, only if you wantto learn.” And it wouldn’t bethathard to teach. The trickiest bit would probably be parallel parking. Hmmm, or hill starts.
As we drove through town, I outlined lessons in my head. Yeah, it’d be a piece of cake. I glanced at Trey every now and then, but he seemed lost in thought, and sort of sad looking. I didn’t like seeing him like that, and as we got to the Zebrini, I drove past it. It was only at the other end of the street Trey even realized. “Oh, hey man, I think you’ve missed it. Just let me out here.”
“No,” I said. “You’re coming home with me. Mom won’t be in until eight. I’ll be making dinner, so there’ll be plenty for all of us.”
“Man, it’s like your family time. Seriously, I can look after myself.”
I gave him a quick once over. “I don’t think anyone would doubt that. Still, you’re coming with.” Trey slunk into his chair in resignation. And I was happy. Sort of felt like humming a tune. Scarborough Fair, perhaps? I chuckled, eliciting a look from Trey that would have made my knees weak if I’d been standing. (Thank goodness we were at a stop sign.) The rest of the drive home I replayed that look in my head. It’d been curious and yet appreciative, the edges of his eyes crinkled slightly—as though he liked what he saw? Maybe. Hopefully.Stop projecting!
Finally we got to my home. Using the spare key Mom had made for us—she insisted we be able to come home anytime—I let us in. I took off my shoes and bee-lined for the kitchen, thinking rapidly of what I’d overlooked, inviting Trey here. How was I supposed to tell Mom now? Maybe I could send him to June’s room for a bit or something? Hmmm, nope, didn’t like that idea, but still… I was determined to tell her tonight.
Trey, right at home, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water. Good idea. My tongue felt dry too. I motioned for him to move out the way so I could access the cupboard. Instead he refilled his glass and handed it to me.
Without hesitation—although my mind was like, whoa! There are plenty of glasses, but hell yeah I’ll take yours over them any day—I grabbed it and downed the water in two gulps. Mmmm.
“So what are we cooking, then?” His use of ‘we’ sent a shiver through me. I moved to the freezer. “Ah, I can make prealltty damn fine pizza,” I said, pulling two out.
Trey flicked a switch on the oven and turned up the heat. “I’m also a pro at Italian cuisine.” I checked my watch. Twenty-five minutes. Perfect timing for Mom. “Let’s shove them in then.” As I ripped off the plastic and preformed my arduous kitchen task (insert in oven, put on timer), Trey searched the fridge.
“How old is this gouda?” “What?”
“This cheese. I think it’s seen better days, man.” He sniffed the block, shook his head, then put it back in the fridge. Yeah, back in the fridge. Gross. “Hmmm, this lettuce looks good though, and you have some feta. Cool.” He took out said ingredients as well as a couple of tomatoes and chopped up a salad.
I scanned the floor and benches, covered with lettuce and tomatoes bits and juice from the cheese. Shit he was a slob in the kitchen too. I pinched some of the salad. Oh, but damn, that tasted good.
“So, who taught you to cook?” I said, putting away the honey and balsamic vinegar he’d asked for.
He chuckled. “Making a salad ain’t cooking, babe—” Like me, the second that word came out he froze, his shoulders rigid, muscles tense. Only now did I realize how close we stood together. I faced his side, but couldn’t read his face as he’d twisted it away from me.
I remembered how it’d slipped from me on the run. Better just ignore it. Pretend like it never happened. I reached over and took some more salad from the bowl. “Well, it’s probably the closest to cooking that goes on inthis kitchen.”
Trey spun on his heel. Surprised, I stepped back, ramming into the bench behind me. The pain subsided or was quickly forgotten as Trey came closer, our lengths almost touching. My heart raced, fuuuuck, what was happening, here? I didn’t know how to react, all I could think was,shit I’m getting hard. I need to move away from him, or else he’ll know.
I prepared myself to duck under his arm, when he leaned into me. With one hand he forced me to meet his gaze. His jaw was hard, and I read confusion in his eyes. And, um, yeah I guess there was desire in them too, because I could feel Trey’s erection pressing into my stomach.
He dipped his head. “Do you think about it?”
My breathing doubled in pace, but despite all that air, my brain was foggy. All I could think of were the way his lips moved, how close they were to my own. How much I wanted kiss him.
“Hmmhmm.” Trey leaped off me at the sound. Mom stood inside the kitchen door, her eyes widened in shock. Shit, she’d come home early. She looked from me to Trey, back to me again. My stomach, only moments before flapping with butterflies, felt as if acid had been thrown into the mix. I had no idea how, but I kept cool, collected. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my keys and handed them to Trey. “Wait in the car, yeah?”
; He took them, apologies screaming from his expression. Mom and I said nothing until we heard the front door shut. Somehow I clicked at the same time. Tears loomed in my eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry, Mom. I wish you didn’t have to find out that—that I’m gay that way.” As I said the word ‘gay’ I glanced at her. What was she thinking of me now? Did she —would she care, love me the same? And what if she didn’t? Bile rose up my throat at the thought and I swallowed it back down.
Mom stepped toward me, anger in her eyes. The sight of it was too much for me, I hunched my shoulders in an effort to suck back a sob, but it was useless. Tears already ran down my cheeks. She hated me.Fuck!
“Shane?” Mom’s voice was assertive, bordering on hard. I got my breathing under control and looked at her.
“I’m confused,” she said, dropping her handbag on the bench and staring at it. “I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head, hurting so deep inside. I wished there was a way to turn theDse feelings off. I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing, as if that would strangle them. It was awful, because the stuff inside wasn’t just sickness, embarrassment, and hurt, it was also love. Just the smell of my mom’s perfume made me feel safe, and I could feel her hugging me whenever I was down, and imagine her smile as she said she was proud of me. That love, that fear of losing it made me wish I could change. Just for her, for us—our love.
But I knew that would never happen. I dangled at the edge of a cliff, without Mom I had no grip. And from that fear, I got angry. Why should she love me any differently? I was still the same person. Icared.Did it matterwhoit was I cared for? “Mom. I will be very sorry if you can’t accept me for who I am, but I want you to know this not a phase, I won’t grow out of it, and I don’t want to.”
Slowly, Mom turned away from her handbag and faced me. Mascara dribbled down her cheeks. “You misunderstand me, Shane,” she said, coming over and taking my arms. “I’m not angry or disappointed you’re gay. In fact, I’m—I’ll always support you. I admit to being shocked, but--but darling, I’m confused to what I saw with you and Trey.”
You’re not the only one. I wanted to tell her it was nothing. That it wasn’t what it looked like, but it would’ve been a lie. Besides, I’d already sort of admitted it, right?I wish you didn’t have to find out that I’m gay that way.What else was that supposed to mean, but that I was—ah—being gay with him? But that wasn’t important right now. Secondary thoughts.
The most prominent thing in me was relief. She still loved me. I lowered my face, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. Mom handed me a handy towel for my nose. “Shane, does your sister know what’s happening between you two? How worried should I be?”
“Oh shit, Mom, it’s bad.” I meet her gaze and continued, “I haven’t done anything with Trey. I—I don’t even know what that was what you saw. But,” I sucked up whatever scraping of guts I had left, “on my part. I like him. And I care about June, I’m really trying not to do anything, but I just can’t help it. I think about him all the time and it’s, it’s like this craving. When I’m around him, I want to be closer—it pulls hard on my insides. I know it’s wrong. And I’m working on making these feelings go away.”
Mom’s sweet perfume engulfed me as she wrapped her arms around my waist and patted my back. “Sweetie. Oh, I’m so sorry. I know you love June, and I believe you when you say you’re trying your best, but,” She leaned back to look at me, “what you just described sounds pretty serious. I think you need to tell her what’s going on. So she knows.” A little sigh escaped her. “Should something happen, you wouldn’t want her finding out on her own. I think that betrayal of trust would hurt her even more than you having fallen for her boyfriend.”
I nodded, glad for the reprieve when the oven timer went off. “Uh, I think I’m going to have to bail on dinner, Mom. I can’t imagine Trey will want to come in for dinner now.” Nor did I want him to. “It’s probably best to get back to the dorms.”
“I understand. Come back soon though. I miss you both so much. Also, I know you don’t have time to talk about it now, but just to tell you, your father contacted me. He wants to meet you both at the end of next month to give you money for college. I said it was a good idea.”
I looked at her, gritting my teeth, not that I had any right to be upset with her right now. But still—Dad? When had he ever done anything for us?
“You will meet with him, right Shane? I want you to get this money. I can’t afford to pay for everything on a librarian’s wage.” She stopped me, anticipating my interruption. “I know you said you’d work alongside, and I think that’s great. But don’t turn this down. He owes ’you two so much.”
I pushed Dad to the back of my mind, and hugged her. “Of course, Mom.”
She smiled and surveyed kitchen. “Goodness. All this mess for frozen pizza and salad?”
I chuckled awkwardly. “Yep. Trey’s fault.” I shut the door slowly as I left, not wanting to turn around. Aware, as soon as I did, another problem faced me. Chapter Eight TREY WASN’T THERE when I got to the car. He’d left the keys in our letterbox with a note sayingsee you later. Which didn’t happen either. So for the last week I’d had the room to myself. Mostly, I thought this a good thing. I wouldn’t have known what to say to him anyway. But I knew he was with June. I’d gone around to talk to her the day after the —thing,and had seen them through the crack of her open door, holding each other.
Of course, as it should be, I’d thought, hating myself for the self pity curdling my gut.Whatever, get over it, I’m stupid if I thought it would ever be otherwise.
Thinking it would be best to keep this distance between us, I’d gone to the student association. It turned out changing rooms was not an option, unless, quote, “The problems are serious and cannot be worked out through other sources of mediation.”
Apparently the first step would have been discussing our issues together with the dorm supervisor. Well, I couldn’t seethat happening.
Adding to my worries, Syd had been acting sort of—um —odd. He’d be smiling one moment and—sometimes within the same breath, even—frowning the next. Which is exactly what I was looking at now, sitting across from him on the floor by his bed.
“Okay, Syd, what’s up? Really?” He looked at me, the sudden wetness in his eyes brightening the green. I slid over and pulled him into an embrace. It was sort of awkward because of the way he sat, but it didn’t matter.
“I shouldn’t be upset about it, but I am.” “Upset about what?” I asked, lifting his head so I could see him better. “Lucas. He…” Syd shrugged and moved out of my grip, leaning his head back on the bed. He rubbed his eyes, the same like I did when I wanted not cry.
“Hey, it’ll be okay.” A stupid statement, considering I had no idea what had happened, what was wrong. “Tell me about it, yeah?”
Syd smiled and continued to stare at the ceiling. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” He didn’t wait for my answer, which was a good thing because I wasn’t sure I would have been able to. “That happened when I met Lucas. I mean, when I bumped into you at the cafeteria, I thought you were hot and sweet, and I clicked with you. I don’t regret trying to woo you either.” He laughed, and I smiled. “But when I saw Lucas, actually I heard is voice first. Him and his band performed during the day at theOricafé. And his voice— God this is going to sound corny, but he sounded like an angel.” Lifting his head, he met my eye. “Something panged inside. My heart just started like ka-bom, ka-bom, ka-bom really fast.”
“But that’s wonderful, man. And he likes you back, right?” Syd got off the floor and moved to his desk, rearranging papers on it. His shuffling made me nervous. “He does, doesn’t he?” At least everything he’d described to me sounded as if it had been requited.
“Yup. He does. A lot.” Okay, so why was Syd so— “He’s positive.”
The air around my ears thickened, and I was sure I’d not heard him right. “Sorry, what?” “He told me that afternoon we had a date. He was straight up about
it and said he was HIV positive.” A knot tightened in my gut. “He’s bi. His ex-girlfriend cheated on him and that’s how he got it. He didn’t use protection, because he acktrusted her.”
I hardly had time to digest the implications of what he was telling me, when he continued.
“The thing is that scares me.” I breathed out heavily. No words came to me. Only the knot inside me seemed to grow. “Have you two—”
“No. But I want to. Really, really want to.” “Ah,” I said, trying to think rationally and fairly, although a big part of me wanted to tell him to let this one go. I just…Syd was my friend. I didn’t want to see him get hurt, much less get...I shook my head. He couldn’t keep seeing this guy. I mean, everything I’d heard about it was that it was dangerous. Or was that just dated thinking?
A tear slid out the corner of his eye. “I love him, Shane.” I sat rooted to the floor unable to get up, to comfort him. Was I being so narrow minded not wanting him to be with the guy? “You said you shouldn’t feel upset about it. But, Syd, I think you can be. HIV is a big deal.”
“Yes. But it’s not like it used to be, either. Yesterday, I went with Lucas to this support group where people shared their stories and discussed what it meant being positive. Well, Lucas looks after himself, he takes his meds. He says he wished it never happened, but that he lives with it. It’s a part of his life, but it doesn’t dictate it.” Syd leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms. “And I mean, arrghhh,”—he began tapping his foot—“It’s not like we wouldn’t use protection, right? So why am I still so scared?”
My immediate reaction was to tell him he was right to be scared. That he should just not go there, but when I thought about it, I felt sick with myself. Wasn’t that discriminating? Like I was segregating what people could sleep with what other people? I mean, should it matter? As long as the two people involved were careful, right?
