Silence.
“Please?” I beg.
My please breaks through to him. So when he eases the car over to the shoulder of the road, I have to gird myself for whatever it is, because well, it’s big again. Considering the last big thing he laid on me, I have to prepare for anything to come out of his mouth about now.
“My mom, she shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“No. She shouldn’t have. But thank you for defending me.”
“Like I wouldn’t? You’re my boyfriend. She’s my mother, but you’re my boyfriend.”
“I’ll always be your boyfriend.”
“No you won’t,” he comes back with, way too fast.
Uh, no I won’t? He still stares straight ahead when I turn to look at him, taking his hand in my hand. “Why would you say that?”
“Because the Supreme Court voted in favor of marriage equality. When we’re done with school, I’m going to marry you. Then you’ll be my husband.”
“Oh you nut-crack.” I laugh out, even as I relax. “You scared me.” And I can see that he meant to. Note to self: Don’t underestimate the autistic guy. He’s sneaky. “Something else’s going on, I can see it on your face.”
Silence.
“Come on, Rid. There’s nothing you can’t talk about with me. I love you, remember?”
“So you’ve never had sex in a backseat, right? Because we never have?”
“Nope.” I say, honestly. Trying very hard to contain my smile. “Do you want to have sex in the backseat?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be different than in the bed. Is that okay?” I ask.
Ridley looks down at his lap, but with one of his huge communication smiles. “I know. It’s with you, so it’ll be good. I like how you make me feel being with you. Besides, you said we could whenever I wanted.”
“I did, didn’t I? What brought this on?”
“Just lots of pent up energy. My mom knows about us now.”
That she does. “Want to now? We’re pretty secluded here.”
“Yes.”
Things do go differently this time. He’s been taking charge more, which has been good for the both of us. I let him lead. However he feels like attacking our coital positioning, fine by me. Since the backseat sits three uncomfortably, we have to change up. Rid doesn’t let it faze him and our windows fog good and cloudy.
As human beings we’re capable of experiencing a range of emotions, even those among us who can’t properly express them still feel them. Of all the emotions satisfaction wouldn’t be the most popular by far. You’re not still hungry, not stuffed to the gills, you’re satisfied. Not overly excited with the result, but not disappointed either. You’re satisfied. No it may not be the sexiest, but I’d wager it’s one of the most important. And I’d wager that because as we lay across the backseat, cramped as we are, and he holds me to his chest, stroking the purple hair by my temple I’m satisfied, and it’s a glorious emotion.
“Will you be there with me when I tell my mom about school? I’ve been going back and forth about whether or not to ask you. I think I want you there.”
“You know I will.” Yes, his smile will absolutely be the death of me. So I turn to kiss him instead of dying.
We stay in our own thoughts again for a while, mine take me where I don’t want them to go because his mother is a bitch, but it’s somewhere he needs to go. “Don’t write your mom off just yet, okay?” I ask.
“I don’t know if I can forgive her,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice almost undoes me. Which squeezes my heart in a really good way.
“I know. And I love you for being so protective of me, of us. But it’s just been you and her for so long. Remember, it couldn’t have been easy for her to raise such an awesome son. I’ve never been a parent, but I’ve heard it’s challenging.” I brush my lips tenderly over his skin, just a peck on the center of his chest.
He laughs.
“Especially by yourself. Let what you’ve told her sink in. Then we’ll decide how to go forward with her.”
“I can do that,” He answers.
“Know you can, Rid. Just keep in mind, it’s really hard—”
“That’s what she said,” he cuts me off. My boyfriend, my autistic boyfriend made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke. And she thinks I’m a bad influence? Please? We both throw our heads back and laugh in a way, I for one, haven’t laughed in far too long. When we’ve both pretty much calmed down he holds my hand, eyes pinned to a spot outside. “John said when I tell my mom about us, then I should start taking you out on real dates. Movies, ballgames, whatever. Just you know, couple’s things.”
“I’d love to, Rid. What do you think about it? Big step putting us out there for the world.”
“What do I think? I think I have the best boyfriend in the world and people should know. I have autism so it’s harder, might take longer for me to understand or express my feelings. But you know I still feel, like any other man.”
“You have nothing to prove to me or for me. I know what we have.”
“Are you kidding? I have more to prove to you than anybody. You’re the one taking the chance on me. You have the right to expect as much from me as any normal boyfriend.”
“Hey. You are a normal boyfriend.” I use my firm tone, the talk him down from a meltdown tone.
“Not yet,” he counters. “Because I haven’t taken you out on any real dates. We hang out, but you deserve more. Mom knows now. So you’re just going to have to deal and date me.”
I cover my mouth to suppress the laugh which desperately wants to bubble back up, and I breathe in through my nose, hold it, then tell him, “Okay. I’ll deal…and date you.”
Chapter Ten
Rid drives us around on the back roads for a while longer, until the sun begins to dip below the horizon. He’s not ready for night driving yet, so after pulling over, we switch places and I drive us back to my parents’ house. We decided to ask my mom if he could sleep there because of his mother’s reaction to us.
Once we make the turn onto my street, I see the police cars parked in front of my house immediately. Rid sees my panic click in and squeezes my knee for reassurance. The driveway has been blocked off by police cars so I park across the street. When we run up to the house, I’m scared out of my mind, but knowing Ridley’s running right along with me helps a little.
As soon as I throw open the door and rush inside yelling, “Mom?” I’m immediately grabbed by the wrist by one of the police officers, swung around and pressed face first against the wall next to the door.
“Leif Fraser?” The officer asks as he’s cuffing me? What if I wasn’t Leif Fraser?
“Yes,” I answer him right away. “What’s going on?”
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping, and forced unnatural sexual acts upon a mentally incompetent person.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Once I’m cuffed, I notice the other officer allows my parents to leave the kitchen.
My mother walks over to me, “We’ll get a lawyer on this. I just can’t believe…”
“Who have you been forcing unnatural sexual acts on, Leif?” Rid asks.
“I don’t know, babe. This has to be a mistake.”
But it’s not a mistake. I know it’s not a mistake when a third police officer turns to Rid and asks, “Are you Ridley McAllister?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, you need to come with me son. Your mother is very worried.”
When Rid furrows his brow and asks, “My mother?” his voice hitches on mother. I know it’s because his heart is breaking a little bit more. I can’t believe she’d be this evil.
“Don’t worry son, you aren’t in any trouble. You did nothing wrong. But she’s waiting at home for you.” The cop pats the air in a ‘calm down’ motion like he thinks Rid’s scared.
Then he grabs ahold of Rid’s arm. He’s autistic. They don’t like being touched by people they don’t trust. Rid starts to fr
eak.
“Settle down son. It’s okay,” the stupid cop coos.
“Let go of his arm,” I say. “He doesn’t know you. You can’t grab his arm. Rid. Calm down. Go with the officer.”
“My son is right. I work with autistics all the time. Let his arm go. But Ridley is hardly a mentally incompetent person.”
“I suggest you call that lawyer, ma’am. These are very serious charges.”
The first officer tugs me hard to get me walking. I’m not resisting at all so I don’t know why he’s acting as if I am.
The third cop leads Ridley outside to a different cruiser. Rid yells to me, “I’ll talk to my mom. We’ll get this taken care of.” Before the officer shoves Ridley in the backseat.
We leave in different directions.
***
I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life. Never even been busted on an underage drinking charge. Now I can say I’ve had a mug shot taken and been finger printed. And I’m sitting in a jail cell waiting for whatever it is I’m supposed to wait for.
My parents have already been in with my dad’s colleague, for representation. The firm felt it better my dad not represent me because he’s too close to the situation. I guess I agree. Because right now, I need my dad to only wear the dad hat.
Yeah, I said it. I’m nineteen years old and need my dad.
After spending the night in jail, that is, the whole rest of the freaking night, I’m bonded out. My dad’s firm is good. But I guess not that good because I’m being labeled as a predator by everyone. And I’m told under no circumstances am I to contact or accept contact from Ridley.
Being labeled a sex predator.
Utterly humiliating.
Rid’s not supposed to have any contact with me.
Utterly crushing.
Upstairs in my room, once the reality catches up with me, I cry like a punk. I melt down like a Ridley meltdown. If that woman was in front of me now, I’d be going back to jail on capital murder having wrung her neck.
She’s trying to ruin me, I could spend the rest of my life as a registered sex offender and not be allowed any contact with Rid. I could spend the next couple decades in prison. But almost worse, the way she made Rid feel at my arrest.
God his face.
The crushing, crushing sadness and betrayal written all over his face. All of it’s too much. I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried.
My mom pushes open the door and comes in, closing it behind her.
“What the hell is her problem?” I yell through my tears. “All we did was fall in love. That’s it. That’s it Mom.”
“I know, sweetheart,” mom says back. Slowly, very slowly probably because I’m acting like a wounded animal with my freak-out, she makes her way over to my bed where I’ve crumpled onto the bedding.
She holds me, holds me in a fierce hug. “Apparently after you two left, she went up and searched his room. She found the condoms and a lubricant and uh…” Her cheeks turn pink. “Some toys.”
“Dammit.”
“I applaud you both. Not exactly an activity you want to rush into without some prep first. Not if it’s the first time.”
“Mom.” I yell again. “Are we really gonna talk about this now?”
“Yes, well. It’s just a really big step.”
“Yeah, it is. A big step Ridley initiated. I didn’t force him into anything. And how can she call her own son mentally incompetent? He’s more competent than most people I know.”
“We’ve already spoken with John Hammis.”
“Is that John the therapist?”
“Mm-hmm. He’s willing to talk to whomever he needs to talk to, to let them know Ridley is very capable of making these decisions on his own. My friend Nancy, from work, is going in to talk about homosexuality in autism. I can’t do it because you’re my son. And from what John says, Ridley has already scheduled an examination by the court appointed psychiatrist to test his mental capability.”
“He’ll pass.”
“I know he will, sweetheart. I’ve been around him. He’s a smart, capable man. We’ll get these charges dismissed.”
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you and Dad. Bet you aren’t so proud now that the whole world knows you’ve got a gay pervert for a son.” I push out of her arms to turn away.
“Hey. Turn back around now.” Mom hasn’t spoken to me in that tone in probably years. So I roll back over. “We are still very proud of you. Even if you’re being a bit drama. The whole world, really Leif?”
“But—”
“Screw buts.”
“Already do.” I didn’t mean to say that to my mother. Never to my mother, it just popped out. But my unfazeable mom, she pauses any further words, blinks twice and throws her head back laughing. And she continues to laugh as she hugs me, using the sleeve of my T-shirt to wipe the laugh tears from her eyes. Somehow I feel better. The woman is a bonafide miracle worker.
Morphing her face back to practical mom, she settles and kisses the top of my head. “We’ll get through this.”
“Rid’s birthday is in two weeks. He’s going to be twenty. What if I can’t celebrate his birthday with him? Twenty birthdays he’s never celebrated one that wasn’t just him and his mom. Amanda and I were going to take him out. I love the guy and can’t celebrate his birthday with him? His bitch of a mother ruins everything.”
She doesn’t answer. How could she answer when an answer doesn’t exist? What she does, pushes up from my bed and squeeze my shoulder a brief squeeze. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” My mom leaves me to my thoughts again.
Sure enough, at the tail end of the hour we’re all summoned to the table by my dad standing at the foot of the stairs yelling, “Dinner.”
With all the upheaval in my life right now, really all our lives because of my upheaval, having my dad keep up the tradition, it’s a godsend.
Back when we were little, my mom made the mistake of telling my dad to call us to dinner. He thought he’d be funny and really call it out. Hence the tradition.
Let’s face it, any godsend is a welcome godsend right now no matter how it comes about. Because to say I’m nervous about seeing the rest of my family would be akin to calling Jaws a goldfish. That much of an understatement.
I’m the last to make it to the table.
As I slip into my seat, my sister says, “Glad you’re home.” That’s the most anyone says about the situation. The rest of dinner they spend talking about fun, happy, exciting and irritating things happening in all their lives. Just like we would have before my legal fiasco.
My mother didn’t even make my favorite dinner to lift my spirits or any crap like that. She made my dad’s favorite, sauerbraten and spätzle, for winning his case.
I have nothing to bring to the table. My heart’s not in it and really, what would I add? The only things going on in my life are Ridley and the arrest. Though, it’s fun to take myself away from my troubles for even a short while.
***
When I can fall asleep, it’s fitful. Most of the night I can’t shut my brain off enough to sleep. On about my elevntyith flop from one side to the other, my phone chirps with a text. I reach over to my nightstand to grab it.
Amanda.
Why would Amanda be texting me at… I look at the time on the phone, two-thirty in the morning? Immediately I swipe to read.
Hey Leif. It’s Ridley. Amanda and I switched phones. I miss you. Please text back.
Rid? We aren’t supposed to have contact.
Please. Please, I’m going crazy without you. No one will know I’m contacting you. Amanda is contacting you. See?
Babe. I miss you so damn much too. Only a couple of days, it feels like years.
Meet Amanda at the back gate tomorrow. By the automaton. At one.
I close my eyes and huff out a breath, then open them again. He’s arranging for us to see each other. If we get caught, I’ll be in so much trouble. But I need to hold him. Decision made, I type: I’ll be there
babe. I love you.
I love you too. He texts back. Night.
Night, babe.
I feel lighter now than I have since before the arrest. Finally I’m able to close my eyes, knowing that I’ll be having sweet, sweet dreams about seeing Ridley tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
I get to the back gate of the park early. But don’t stay too close. I spend my time walking in circles along the beach until one. Subterfuge could be exciting, but scary as hell.
On my probably fifth pass along the chain-link fence at the back of the park by the automaton, I see Amanda, the real Amanda, walking toward the back emergency gate. The park is old, it’s not hooked to an alarm. The gate just opens out from the inside.
She opens it for me and I slip in. When I go in to kiss her cheek she whispers, “Go into the underutilized restroom. I’m keeping watch.”
Amanda stays close as I slip inside the men’s room. I only have to wait maybe five minutes, which feel like five hundred thousand minutes when you’re filled with nervous energy, like I’m filled with nervous energy, before Ridley slips inside too.
He’s nervous. His smile gives him away. We both know how risky it is for me to be here now. Rid doesn’t waste any time taking me in his arms, resting his forehead against mine. We hold each other. Breathe each other. We’re so close I feel his heart beating. Then he kisses me.
While our lips touch, none of the evil in the world exists. His mother’s not a bitch. I was never arrested. We’re just Ridley and Leif. In love.
“I’m sorry about my mom,” he finally whispers, against my lips actually. And it feels great.
But I pull back because he has to see me. He has to understand. “Babe, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault, got me?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t nod. He changes the subject. “I go in tomorrow for my test. The court psychiatrist will decide if I’m mentally capable to decide who I have relationships with. Then we wait. My court date is scheduled for my birthday, your lawyer’s doing. Got us fast tracked.”
Summer of the Boy Page 9
