Date Me, Bryson Keller

by Kevin van Whye

  I go numb.

  I feel nothing.

  I hear nothing.

  Donny grips me to hold me up. I’m sure without him I’d crumble.

  This secret that I’ve tried my hardest to protect is now out there.

  Coming out is supposed to be by choice.

  It isn’t meant to be like this.

  Never like this.

  30

  My numbness doesn’t last long. Soon I am filled with pure, undiluted rage. I’ve never before had strong enough feelings to say that I hate someone, but I’m pretty sure that what I feel toward both Dustin and Shannon right now is hatred—the bone-deep kind.

  If they were trapped in a burning building, I would hesitate to save them.

  In the end, though, I would because I’m not a goddamn monster. But with the article, it’s clear that both Shannon and Dustin are. They set fire to my house while I was locked in the closet.

  “Kai, are you okay?” Priya asks.

  I can’t speak.

  “Where’s Bryson going?” Donny asks. “It looks like he’s going to murder someone.”

  I look up and watch as Bryson storms into the school building. The start-of-day bell rings.

  “We should get out of here,” Priya suggests.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Donny says. He reaches for his car keys.

  “No.” I start walking to assembly. I won’t run away, even though I really want to. I have done nothing wrong. I will not let Shannon and Dustin win. I walk into the auditorium. I try my hardest not to care about the pointed stares and fevered whispers.

  The fifteen minutes of announcements drag by, but I focus on every word the principal says. I ignore everyone around me whispering about the article…about me. Donny and Priya stick close to me. They become my shield. I offer them a small smile. It’s all I can afford right now—a token of my appreciation.

  The bell rings and everyone leaves the auditorium. I keep my head down and wait for drama to start. I feel the weight of eyes on me. It makes my skin crawl. Blood rushes to my face. Not because I’m embarrassed that I’m gay, but because I hate the attention. I hate that who I was born to love is now the latest gossip within Fairvale Academy. It shouldn’t be sprawled on the front page of a newspaper. My being gay isn’t news. What the hell was Shannon thinking?

  I stand and take a seat away from everyone else. I pull my play from my bag and stare at a random page until Mrs. Henning arrives just before the start-of-period bell rings.

  “Good morrow, my thespians.” She scans the class as she comes to a stop in the center of the stage. “Where are your plays? Why are we so distracted today?” Mrs. Henning claps. “Please, everyone, work with me.” She sighs and opens up her playbook. “Shall we cast the roles for today?”

  Not me, not me, not me…It becomes my mantra. Maybe even a prayer. Each time a role is assigned without my name being mentioned is a blessing. I am able to breathe.

  “Now, for the role of Juliet?” Mrs. Henning looks up from her own play, searching for a volunteer among the sea of students.

  “Yes, Isaac?” Mrs. Henning calls when she notices a hand waving in the air. “Would you like to read?”

  “No,” Isaac says. “But I think Kai might. I think he’d be perfect for the role.”

  I startle at the mention of my name. And it hurts more because it’s him. The snickers start then.

  “What’s so funny?” Mrs. Henning asks. “The roles of women were often performed by men. Kai, would you like to?” That she doesn’t get it makes this worse. Her question is another jab to the heart. I can’t think. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.

  Everyone is watching me, judging me. I want to crawl out of my skin. I want nothing more than to run from this room and never come back. I swallow and lean forward. Do I do this? Do I give everyone the satisfaction of performing as Juliet, like they want? Or do I ignore it?

  “I’ll do it.” Just like last Monday, Bryson walks into drama late. His voice is loud and clear. Everyone watches Bryson as he makes his way to the stage. I don’t. I can’t.

  “You’re late, Mr. Keller,” Mrs. Henning says. “See me at lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bryson says. “But even so, please let me read the role.”

  “As you wish.”

  Bryson sits. I want to ask what happened, where he went, but I’m in no position to do so. Instead, I turn my attention to the page in front of me. I stare at it right until the bell rings.

  I don’t wait for anyone. Not even Bryson. I’m off the stage and out the door even before the bell finishes ringing. I walk-run toward my next class with my head down. It is my sole focus. I realize too late just what hell awaits me next.

  Fairvale Academy is on a two-week schedule. So every two weeks the same timetable is followed. Last week, I didn’t have PE second and third period, but now I do.

  It’s well after the changeover has ended, and I’m standing and staring at the doors to the gym. I’m trying to convince myself to enter when someone comes to a stop next to me. In a daze, I turn to find Bryson there. His chest is heaving because he ran all the way here, ran after me. We’re the only two in this hallway.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Bryson says. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Go to class,” I say. Bryson doesn’t have PE with me. “I don’t want to be the reason for you to be outed, too. I refuse to let them do it to you, too.”

  Before we’re seen together, I head into the gym and walk toward the locker room. I can hear the other boys already in there. Dread turns my blood to stone. The door swings open and everyone stops to stare at me.

  “I think you’re in the wrong room,” one of the boys says. “The girls’ locker room is next door.” I flinch. The words are like rocks.

  Anyone who thinks that homophobia doesn’t exist in this day and age has never been the gay boy standing in a boys’ locker room. I should say something. Defend myself. Make a quip or a joke or something. But I don’t. I can’t.

  The door swings open behind me. Briefly, I hope that it’s Bryson. That he didn’t listen to me, and he’s come to defend me, to save me yet again. I know it’s unfair to expect that of him, but my heart doesn’t care.

  “I warned you.”

  I turn to stare into the face of Dustin Smith. He has a freshly busted lip, but he looks smug—happy, even. Rage floods my whole being. I turn to him and grab him by the shirt. Dustin is everything I thought he was before….No, actually, he’s worse. “I told you I’d use the pic. I was going to delete it, but I saw you yesterday at his house. You don’t listen. I figured Shannon would know what to do with it. I didn’t realize she’d been working on an article all along. I guess it all worked out, huh?” Dustin says.

  “How could you?” My voice is low, but somehow everyone in the locker room stops what they’re doing and watches me.

  Dustin smirks. “Listen, Kai, I’m flattered and all, but I really don’t like dudes.”

  The boys at my back snicker. This is all funny to them. It’s like they haven’t realized they’ve changed my life forever.

  I step back, dumbfounded. Dustin isn’t sorry about this at all. I retrace my steps until I’m outside the gym.

  “Kai, are you okay?” Tears blur my vision, but even without being able to see him clearly, I know that it’s Bryson. He hasn’t left. He was waiting for me. “I don’t like seeing you like this. Let me help you. Please.”

  The sincerity of his request is like a tidal wave crashing into my resolve. I almost give in—almost. I study him. Bryson’s uniform is untidy, and his fists are bruised. Is he the cause of Dustin’s freshly busted lip?

  “I want to be alone,” I say. I turn to walk away. Bryson calls after me, but I ignore him.

  I need to think.

  I need to feel.

  I need to brea
k.

  And I need to do it all by myself—I need to do it alone.

  31

  I walk with no real direction, only the will to leave this place and never come back. My feet carry me, and I follow them without argument. Those students who linger in the halls stop and stare, but I don’t care. I’ve shut down from the hurt.

  My house is ten minutes away from school by car, but today I walk. By the time I reach our street, my feet ache in my shoes, and I’m pretty sure that my socks are wet with more than just sweat. Again, I don’t care. I feel too empty to do so.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I barely take notice of the things around me. I don’t notice Dad’s car in the driveway, and it isn’t until I’m through the front door that I realize he’s working from home today.

  “Kai, what’s wrong?” Dad, without any hesitation, crosses the room and hugs me.

  My tears start then. He pulls me to his chest and holds me as I release everything I am feeling.

  Dad has never shied away from showing me affection. He’s never believed that boys shouldn’t be hugged, kissed, or loved. And so Dad stands there holding me tight while I sob.

  Between my sobs, I tell him everything. I unload about everything that’s happened at school. And even when the words stop and all I have left are my tears and snot, he holds me.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, Kai,” Dad says. His words are what I need right now. “I’m sorry, and I love you. I always will.” He holds me at arm’s length. “How about I make you something to eat?”

  I follow him to the kitchen and take a seat. I watch him work in silence before he clears his throat.

  “I want to apologize,” he says. “Mom and I messed up on Saturday.” Dad’s grating cheese onto a plate but stops to look at me. “I’m sorry for how much we must have hurt you. I know nothing can make up for that, but I’m sorry anyway.”

  Dad’s sincerity is like a balm to my raw emotions. For the third time today, I feel myself on the verge of crying.

  “I didn’t choose to be this way,” I say.

  “I know, son, I know.” He moves around the island and comes to hug me again. “It must have been so hard for you to carry this all alone.”

  I nod. “I wanted to be the one to tell you, when I was ready.”

  “I’m sorry that it happened this way. But I’m not sorry that we know.” Dad bends down so that we are standing eye-to-eye. “I want to tell you that I love you and that I accept you.”

  “I’m scared, Dad,” I admit. “Everything’s changed now that people know. I’m not just Kai Sheridan anymore. I’m Kai Sheridan—the gay one.”

  Dad sighs. “It’s going to be tough, but I want you to live your life for you from now on. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to love and be loved.”

  “What about Mom?” I ask. “Will she ever be okay with this? Okay with me?”

  “Of course,” Dad says. And he sounds so sure that I find myself wanting to believe him with every fiber of my being. “I know it might be unfair to you, but give Mom some time. She loves you, and nothing is ever going to change that. Nothing could ever.” Dad sighs again. “I think it’s just the shock of it all that has us acting foolish. That isn’t on you, though. I want you to be happy.”

  I want that, too. I want to be happy. I want to live—it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  Dad returns to the cheese. He finishes grating, gets bread, and starts to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I watch as Dad butters both sides before placing the sandwich down in a piping-hot pan. It sizzles. Dad’s making me my favorite.

  I smile. Though things are uneasy between us, I can tell that they will get better. Nothing ever stays the same.

  As I start to eat, Dad leaves the kitchen. He returns with his laptop and sits down next to me. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. Just having him next to me helps. Dad places a folded piece of paper in front of me. I open it and read it:

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  I have never been this disappointed to be your child before. I hope you’re aware that your treatment of Kai was totally unacceptable, and you should both be very ashamed of yourselves. I understand that we grew up religious and I know our faith matters, but does it matter more than the happiness and safety of your son? No one is asking you to not believe in God. You can do that and continue to love and support your son. The two are not mutually exclusive. Please reflect on what you have done and make amends. Until you do, I, Yasmine Sheridan, will not be speaking to you both.

  It is with a heavy heart that I have written this letter, but it was necessary. I hope to see some improvement in your behavior soon. Please do not disappoint me again. Even though I am angry at you, I still love you both.

  —Yazz

  I choke back tears, but I’m also smiling. My sister is amazing.

  “It’s true when they say that children aren’t born with hate or prejudice,” Dad says. “It’s us who teach them those things. I’ll never stop being sorry to both you and Yazz, Kai.” Dad pats my shoulder. I turn to look at him and find that he’s blinking back tears, too. I reach for him and hug him. Dad hugs me back.

  “Here.” I hand the letter back to Dad.

  “You should keep it,” Dad says.

  I nod.

  * * *

  • • •

  I’m at the sink washing my dishes when I hear the screech of tires. The front door opens with a bang and Mom storms into the kitchen.

  “I got your text. What’s wrong?” Mom asks Dad. I don’t look at them, focusing all my attention on the dishes. Dad tells her what’s happened with the Fairvale Academy Herald.

  “What?” she shouts. Mom spins on her heel and races out of the room.

  “Honey!” Dad calls out. He’s stopped her at the front door. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to deal with those fuckers.” Mom’s swearing causes me to drop the plate. It shatters, but I don’t move to pick it up. Instead, I turn to look at my mother.

  Mom never swears.

  That’s when I realize that Mom may not understand me quite yet, but she loves me regardless. I am her son. It doesn’t make up for how poorly she handled my being gay, but I feel my heart mend just a little bit. Actions speak louder than words, and right now Mom is showing me that she will always love me.

  Mom leaves Dad standing there, and a moment later, he runs out of the house, too.

  I run to our front steps. Dad is chasing after Mom. By the time he gets her to stop the car, she’s already in front of the neighbor’s house. I think that Dad is trying to convince her to come back home—to talk things over. But instead, he climbs into the car, too.

  I watch as my parents rush to Fairvale Academy.

  As they head into battle for me.

  32

  I’ve barely slept at all. My mind races with all that’s happened. I reach for my phone and find it dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it. I haven’t bothered to do much of anything aside from lying here and staring at the ceiling.

  It’s fast approaching midday and I’m still in bed. Beneath these covers, the world outside ceases to exist. I’m happy to pretend. Or at least I would be if I wasn’t starving.

  Last night I heard Mom say she would work from home today. It’s another reason for me to not want to leave my room. There’s still an awkwardness between us. I sigh. I’m curious to know what happened yesterday, but when I close my eyes, I can vividly recall the hurt. It hasn’t scabbed over yet.

  There’s a knock at my door and I pause. I even go as far as holding my breath.

  “Can I come in, Kai?” Mom asks. Her voice is soft and unsure. I wait for the turning of the door handle, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she stands and waits.

  “Uh…sure.” I sit up and run a hand through my bedhead curls.

  Mom enters my b
edroom like it’s her first time doing so. She looks around before her eyes settle on me.

  She exhales. “We need to talk.”

  I nod. She crosses the room and takes a seat at my desk. Mom’s hands rest on her knees, and she’s gripping them tightly. She seems nervous. I am, too. The last time we spoke in this room it did not go well. I hold my breath and wait for her to start.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom says. She looks me straight in the eye when she says it. “I messed up and I hurt you and I’m just so very sorry.” Mom shakes her head. “I was selfish. I thought only about my feelings and not about yours. I can’t imagine what you’ve had to go through. When I think about those assholes at school I just get so angry, but then I remember that I was one of them.”

  Tears spring to her eyes, and Mom tries and fails to blink them back.

  “I hurt you, that I know. Saying sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I can do. I failed you, Kai. But I promise to try, to keep trying so that it never happens again.”

  “I’m sorry that I disappointed you,” I say. Tears are streaming down my own cheeks.

  “You didn’t, Kai. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Mom buries her face in her hands. “My son is perfect just the way he is.” She sounds as if she’s talking to someone else.

  I stand and close the distance between us. I only hesitate once before hugging her. Mom’s arms wrap around me instantly. She clings to me. We stay like that until both of us have stopped crying. Mom pulls back and reaches for my face. She cups it between her hands and uses her thumbs to wipe away my drying tears.

  “You’re perfect, Kai Sheridan,” she says. “And I love you a whole lot.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “You should get washed up,” Mom says, looking at her watch. “Then come eat breakfast. Or lunch. Your dad cooked it. I’m just in charge of reheating.”

  “Thank God,” I say, and we both laugh.

  “You’re insufferable,” Mom says. She stands up and leaves me alone in my bedroom. I close my eyes and bask in what just happened. Piece by piece I feel my heart retaking shape.