“Yep,” I answer her proudly, if not a bit drunkenly, and lean over to kiss Rid’s cheek. It’s a game I started tonight. Every time one of the old crowd asks me, “You’re gay?” I kiss Ridley. Not to prove a point. Just my version of a drinking game, without shooting a shot.
By the way no one really seems to care that I’m gay, and that one of the girls from Amanda’s pom squad who’s here tonight came out as a lesbian when she went away to school. And another kid we graduated with, an artsy girl who always wore her hair in a pixie cut, she’s not here tonight but we found out from Caitlin, that wasn’t just a pixie cut and she’s no longer a she, as in he’s in the process of transitioning fully from Lena to Len. I wish I had the guts to say something sooner.
High school’s a bitch.
But maybe I wouldn’t have hurt Amanda the way I did. Although she’s forgiven me, it’s a regret I’ll hold onto forever.
“Hey Caitlin, where’s Gabe tonight?” One of my former teammates, not one of the one’s who harassed Ridley at the beginning of summer, calls out. He’s having a hard time standing, swaying side to side on his drunken feet.
It probably would’ve been comical to see the way the three of us; me, Ridley and Amanda, stiffen and whip our head up in unison at the mention of Gabe’s name. Not that any of the people here are sober enough to have caught it.
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” she says. A twinge of hurt crosses her face.
“What? You two break up or something?” The guy asks.
“A couple days ago. I found out he’s been cheating. Don’t know who with, the picture is too dark.”
“Picture?” I ask.
“Yeah. Someone sent it anonymously to my phone. His body is blocking the bitch, but he’s clearly… Well let’s just say, the bitch is on her knees and his head is thrown back in the throes of ecstasy.”
Now I feel bad because I can see her picturing that look on him as I’m remembering that look too.
Maybe one day he’ll find the courage to be who he is, if it’s gay or bi or whatever other label he chooses. Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad Caitlin extracted herself from the situation. She’s pretty nice away from Gabe. And the first thing she did when she saw Ridley was apologize for being a jerk and not standing up for him at the carnival. Even going as far as to tell him she never wants to be that person again.
She sounded sincere.
“It’s cool,” she continues. “State’s a big school and we don’t have the same major. He’ll go his way. I’ll go mine.” She says it with a drunken bravado, but I can clearly hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m thinking maybe I’ll try dating a hockey player next time. Those dudes are hot.” We all laugh. She raises her bottle of some fruity wine cooler type beverage and calls, “To hockey.”
The rest of us raise our bottles and return. “To hockey.”
I look over to Rid, taking a long pull from his beer. I think aside from his smile, his superpower might be drinking. He never has before, but manages to keep up with the best of us. The guy’s no lightweight.
August
Chapter Thirteen
The alarm clock on the nightstand where I’d placed it directly across from my pillow—not one of my better ideas—buzzes obtrusively loud, making me wish I’d sprang for one that chimes instead.
Of course last year, I wanted the annoying buzz to spur me to get my butt up. Now the last thing I want is to leave the bed. Not with Ridley’s heat pressing against me from shoulders to feet. His arm slung over my waist hanging heavy.
Going to sleep next to him. Waking up wrapped in his arms has been the best part, well okay, the second best part to our adventure.
His mom still hasn’t called.
I know it hurts him. I can read him. But even if I couldn’t, he tells me. We talk all the time. Not just light banter, but talk, talk. I swear the guy’s like a human Cosmo magazine with all these relationship edicts. Edicts such as, ‘relationships won’t last without open communication.’ Truth be told, I love having someone I can be so honest and open with. Someone I can let it all hang out with and know at the end of the day he still loves me in spite of, or maybe because of what I’ve told him. Who the hell knows?
Living every day with Rid has its challenges. He has quirks I’ve had to get used to. Though isn’t that the way for any couple combining lives?
We helped Amanda move into her sorority house at State. And by we, I mean my whole family, along with hers. Then we, minus Amanda and her parents, continued on to Atlantic Tech to move Rid and me into our only slightly off campus apartment.
The building isn’t new, the apartment not nice. What it is, is ours. Mine and Rids. None of the other stuff matters. Mom helped us make it our own, decorating as mothers are wont to do. She even found these painted black bookshelves for his superhero collectables and black frames for his posters to make them look more like artwork on our walls. Since she’s the best mom out of all moms, she understood the separate universes. DC to the left when you walk in, and Marvel to the right. She even found us a Superman shower curtain that looks like a comic book.
Then there’s the black, white and red towels, and a red toothbrush holder we’re now the proud owners of along with the brand new comforter she bought us for the brand new queen size bed we found at the outlet store. It’s cool with a black and white photo of the Empire State Building.
Dad made sure we had a grill for the balcony and a new flat screen and cable paid up for the year because when he comes to visit at Thanksgiving he’s not watching the big game on my crappy television. Apparently Rid and I are hosting Thanksgiving for the Fraser family.
They stayed for a couple of days. Yesterday was our first alone. Alone in our apartment, well it’s different than even when he moved in with us on his birthday. Sure we shared a bed, but we shared a bed in my old bedroom in my parent’s home. There is something significant about sharing a bed in our home.
I miss my family, but I’m glad to be starting this next chapter in my life, in our lives.
Yesterday, our first day alone, I wanted to spend in bed doing all our favorite in bed related activities. No such luck. Autistics and stress. We spent the day walking every inch of campus, showing Rid all his classes and mapping out the quickest routes for him to get to each. Even going as far as to decide on the dining hall we’ll meet in for lunch, the one that sits, according to Ridley’s calculations, exactly halfway between his and my last classes before noon.
We checked in with the student’s with disabilities center to introduce him, and have him find out the exact procedure he needs, step by step, for his classes. Again, autistics have quirks. Then last night, we met his cousin Jordan for dinner. It’s no wonder she and Rid were so close when they were younger, even living hundreds of miles apart. She’s a non-autistic version of Ridley. We made plans for her and her boyfriend to come grill with us later in the week.
“Come on Leif, get up.” Rid rolls over to kiss my jaw. “You want the shower first? I’ll make coffee.” Because he’s precise and uses the scoop, he makes better coffee than I do by my dump a pile of grounds in the filter method.
“Sounds good, babe.”
He rolls out of bed. I’m excited for him. First day of real school. Rid, as do I, only wears boxer briefs to sleep in, so if I have to get up, at least I can do it watching that gorgeous backside walk away to make us coffee.
I’ve got a head full of shampoo suds and a tally running in my mind of all the things I have to do today, when Rid pops in the bathroom to tell me the coffee is ready.
“Thanks. Hey Rid?”
“Yes?”
“Come here for a sec. I need your assistance.” I stick my soapy hand out through the shower curtain and waggle my fingers until he takes them in his hand. The moment he does, my hand closes around his and I tug him inside the shower with me.
Standing shocked and probably a bit confused, he asks, “I thought you needed my assistance?”
“I do,” I say.
&n
bsp; “Now my underwear are wet.”
“Guess you’d better take them off, then.”
Rid smiles up at me through those naturally thick lashes most women would kill for. “Leif, we have class.”
“We have time, babe.”
So we have to suck down our coffee out of travel mugs and eat raw pop tarts for breakfast to make it to our classes on time? Ridley’s shower assistance was totally worth it.
The closer we get to the campus, the more his nerves show. Leg bouncing as he opens and closes his fists on his lap. Staring out the window. He’s silent and the man hasn’t been silent with me since we moved here. So now I’m nervous for him. This must be how a parent feels dropping their kid off for the first day to school, though I’m nothing close to his parent.
I find a spot to park and at this point I don’t care if anyone is uncomfortable with our public display of affection. He needs my strength right now, so that’s what I intend to give him, and I gently pull him to meet me halfway over the gear shifter to kiss him.
He melts, some of the nerves seeming to vanish.
“You’ll do great, babe. You’ve got this.” I press my lips to his again, this time cupping his face so I can rest my forehead against his. It’s become our thing. He doesn’t let anyone else touch his head. Yet another privilege I, alone, have been granted. “Go out there and show them who Ridley McAllister is.”
“Have I told you today that I love you, Leif? I couldn’t do this without you.”
I still get a thrill whenever he says he loves me, but the other part just isn’t true. “Yes you could. I’m proud you’re allowing me on your adventure, but you don’t need me.”
He inhales a deep breath and lets it out in a puff. “Okay,” he says. “I’m ready.”
With backpacks slung over our shoulders, we move along the picturesque route of stone walkways weaving between the buildings built to look old and covered in ivy to give them an ivy league, New England feel rather than plunked on the Georgia coast. We stop under a tree in the center courtyard to shade us from the blazing sun. It might look like New England, but feels inherently Georgia.
“You want me to walk you to class?” I ask.
“No. Thank you, but I better do this myself.”
Ok.
I bend in to kiss him one more time, then we set off in separate directions. “Rid?” I call over my shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Remember, you got this.”
God, the smile he beams at me. If I could bottle it, I’d be a millionaire and the people of the world would forget what sadness means.
I reach the double glass doors of the science building, and pull them open, ready for my first class of my sophomore year.
***
My first two classes of the day turn out to be an even split. The early one should be a breeze. Class number two, not so much. Physics in the morning, what had I been thinking?
I’ve been waiting on Rid now for ten minutes in our previously decided upon dining hall to meet for lunch, straining to see his head of sandy blond hair through the throngs of other students passing in and out of the dining facility. I try calling to see if he maybe got lost or turned around or something. He never picks up.
One call. Two calls. Did he stay after class or is something wrong? Please don’t let something be wrong.
Finally my phone flashes with his number, “Hey,” I answer. “Where are you?”
“Do you know the guy who owns this phone?” A girl’s voice asks me.
What?
“Yes.” I rush out. My stomach pitches. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know what happened, but he’s having a major freak-out.”
“Where?” I feel like I could vomit.
“Kendall Hall.”
“I’ll be right there.” No sign off, I disconnect from the call and take off full sprint toward Kendall Hall. He’s not outside, but it doesn’t take a genius to know which way to run once I get inside. I can hear him melting down from the door.
Shit. Ridley hasn’t had a meltdown of this magnitude since we first met. There’s a crowd of gawkers gathered around the door to the classroom.
“Move.” I order them. Most of them do, even with the shooting of dirty looks or eye rolls. Standing just past the crowd, there’s Rid hitting his head, over and over, as he cries.
“I’m so stupid,” he screams through his tears, as he hits his head hard again. Really freaking hard. Leaving red marks and his nose has blood dripping. And they all just watch like this spectacle was put on strictly for their enjoyment.
They all just watch.
“I’m so stupid.”
“Security’s on its way,” the, I’m assuming, professor tells me. Or I should say the short, balding professor with an obvious boulder-sized chip on his shoulder snidely tells me. The way he rolls his eyes and looks down his nose at Rid, even though he has to look up to see him.
Who does he think he is making judgements about anyone? He needs to slink back inside his Hobbit hole and leave the rest of us alone.
“You don’t need security. Ridley.” I use my firm tone.
“I’m so stupid.”
“Stop. Now,” I order. There’s a crack where he hears me but doesn’t stop completely. So I try again. “Ridley. Stop.” Once he hears me, and maybe because it’s me he hears, my voice specifically, it’s like flicking off a light.
He just stops. Then turns his head to look at me, “Leif?”
“Yeah babe.” Relief. “Can I touch you?” I ask.
He nods.
From my pocket I pull a crumpled up napkin to wipe the blood from his nose.
After that’s been dealt with, with permission, I wrap my arms around him and hug. His arms are drooped to his side, so he doesn’t hold me back, but it’s fine. He needs my strength. I’m here for him to absorb it.
With the show over, the crowd disperses. A few stragglers hang around by the door, my guess to see if Rid will start back up again. Looky-loo idiots. He won’t, not that they know this about him. But he won’t, at least not while I’m here.
“What happened?” I need the details before I start going off on people. Rid’s still too shaken up to explain yet which means the professor needs to answer some questions.
“What happened?” I ask the guy.
“He tried to use a microphone with his iPad. I told him he couldn’t in my class. Teachers have the right of preference. He kept it out, so I took it away, told him he could have it back end of semester.”
“You took it away?” Is he freaking kidding me?
“Right of preference,” he repeats himself. It’s such a lame excuse I have to check my urge to punch him in the gonads.
“Not when it’s part of his plan. Did he introduce himself at the start of class?”
The asshat cocks his head and blinks, just blinks.
“Didn’t he give you the information from the student disabilities center?”
He blinks again.
“Sorry, blinking is not an answer. Did he?” I push. My hand curls into a fist at my side in preparation for whatever excuse he’s about to come up with.
“Yes. Though I was busy and didn’t read it.”
Breathe, Leif. In through the nose out through the mouth.
Nope, not working. Gonad punch imminent. Expulsion would almost be worth it.
Ridley finally lifts his arms to hold me back. His breaths hitch, but at least he’s calm now.
“He’s autistic, has an aversion to pens and pencils so he’s allowed to use the microphone hooked up to his iPad,” I explain and it’s so hard to keep civil.
“Well I just—” He tries to argue his point, but I’m not having any of it.
“Give it back now,” I demand.
The man doesn’t move very fast, obstinate to the end. He sets the attaché case on the closest desk to open it and pulls out Rid’s external microphone. Security arrives then.
“We were told there was a disturbance,” the se
curity guard says.
“It’s over,” I answer. “If he can get out of this class, don’t think I won’t report you.” I brazenly tell the professor. Yeah, I’m that pissed.
Taking Rid’s hand in mine, I lead him out of the classroom. There’s only one girl left and she’s not gawking but waiting with Ridley’s backpack and phone.
“Thank you for calling me,” I say.
“Is he switching out of that class?” she asks. “Professor Wellman’s a dick on his best days.”
I nod, agreeing on both accounts.
“Well, I’m the teaching assistant in the class across the hall,” she continues, pointing to the door to her classroom. “I’d been leaving when his meltdown started. My little brother is autistic, so I’m fairly familiar with autistic meltdowns. Anyway, if he wants to switch into my lit class, no pre-recs and I can look out for him.”
“Oh wow, that would be great. What do you think, Rid?” I ask.
Even with his eyes red and puffy, when he smiles his Ridley Smile at her, she blushes.
“That smile would mean yes, by the way. I’m Leif. If in the course of your class he has any issues, call me just like you did. I’ll come running right away.”
“It’s good he has a friend like you.”
“We live together. We’re together, together.”
Her lips mouth a knowing ‘oh’ then slide into a smile of her own.
“So we won’t keep you. Would you mind writing down the course number for us? We can get him switched.”
She gets right on that scribbling down the information and hands me back the paper which I stuff into my pocket. Then Rid and I take off to change him out of the asshat’s class. It’s English, there’ll be other professors to take next semester.
We spend our lunch hour in the registrar’s office. The add/drop paperwork goes relatively quick. It’s the waiting in line for that brand new shiny schedule that takes forever. The lines to change classes are always outrageous the first week of school, but I think half the school might actually be in here today. Rid looks wiped, as I’m sure a major meltdown would do to a person. He needs food and rest. And apparently he reads my mind.
Summer of the Boy Page 11
