What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I having these thoughts about guys like I do girls? I’m so confused right now. It doesn’t make sense. First the kiss with Brad, then sex with Susan, and now I want to touch one of my teammates? What is this, some sort of weird sudden sexual awakening? I like girls. I want to touch girls, not guys. It may not be a choice for homosexuals, but I have a choice. I will be normal!
~ Shawn
• • •
Another day had passed and Brad was still a no-show at school. Now I was officially worried about him. I made up my mind to stop by his house after swim practice to see what was going on.
As I opened the gate of the small white picket fence surrounding Brad’s tiny house, I glanced at the peeling paint of the old wood siding. A broken lawn mower rested near the house; turned upside down from its last attempted repair last summer. The tall dead grass brushed against my pants legs.
From around the corner I heard a bark. Suddenly, the sight of a panting Saint Bernard racing toward me from around the house caused me to stop. I braced for the impact. Within seconds I was hit with the force of a hundred pound ball of fur.
“Bunky!” I laughed as he placed his paws upon my shoulders and begged for me to scratch his head.
I, of course, obliged and was met with a deluge of slobbering licks. I scrunched my face and laughed, wiping the wet kiss from my face.
“Now, Bunky, I like you too, but we’ve talked about this slobbering thing.” I continued petting him while attempting to remove his massive paws.
Bunky had been Brad’s dog since he was nine years old. His aunt had given him the runt from the litter of puppies her dog had birthed. Bunky was most certainly Brad’s second best friend. Well, maybe first now.
I scratched behind Bunky’s ears a few more minutes before he got his fill and slogged off toward the chew rope lying next to the broken mower.
I made my way up the steps and treaded across the creaky wooden slats of the porch. I reached for the doorbell before forgetting that it was broken, so I rapped on the door with my knuckles.
A few moments later, the door opened, and a thin lady with long blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a ratty floral-print shirt and faded green polyester pants peppered with bleach spots. She stood with her arm in the air holding a lit cigarette.
“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “Shawn.”
“Hi, Mrs. Norris. Is Brad home?” I glanced at the cigarette. Rarely did I see Brad’s mom without one in her hand. I guess you could have called her a chain smoker. Surprisingly, the smoking did not take away from the fact that Mrs. Norris was a very attractive lady; however, she always looked as if life had beaten her down.
She glanced over her shoulder as if checking that no one was around. Quietly stepping outside, she pulled the door behind her.
“Oh, Shawn. I’m so worried about Brad.” I could see the concern in her tired eyes. “He complains his stomach hurts and that he’s sick, but he hasn’t got any fever. I would take him to the doctor, but we really can’t afford it right now.” She sighed. “He seems depressed. Do you know what’s going on?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I do. We had an argument and haven’t spoken in over a week, but I’m here to apologize,” I answered, hoping she wasn’t going to ask me the reason for our fight.
“Good.” She put her palm on her chest and sighed with relief. “At least that explains why he’s not eating, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something more. He hasn’t been acting like himself in months. Has he said anything to you?” She tilted her head and looked at me questioningly.
“No, ma’am.” I felt bad for having to lie to her, but I really had no choice since telling the truth would send both our worlds crashing down.
She nodded and turned back to the door.
I followed her inside. “He’s in his room,” she said before retreating to the kitchen.
Walking down the wood-paneled hallway, I glanced at the family photos that lined the wall.
Reaching the end of the hall, I hesitated a moment before knocking on the flimsy imitation wood-grain door.
“Yeah?” I heard a soft voice of a guy that sounded as if all happiness had been sucked from his life.
“Hey, man. It’s me. Shawn,” I answered just loud enough for him to hear.
I heard springs of a creaking bed mattress, and a few seconds later the door opened to a shirtless Brad, clad only in pajama bottoms. His hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days, and the smell of sweaty socks and body odor hit me like a ton of bricks.
“What are you doing here?” he asked solemnly.
“I want to talk.”
Hesitating a moment, he nodded and stood back, letting me enter.
My eyes widened at the state of his bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Several half-eaten bowls of cereal containing soggy Corn Flakes in clabbered milk lay on the worn yellow carpeting next to his bed. What looked like cherry red Kool-Aid soaked the carpet near his desk showed no signs of an attempted clean-up. I guess it really didn’t matter anyway since the carpet had large tears that had been repaired with gray duct tape.
The thought occurred to me that allowing a pig to live in here would be considered cruelty to animals. He shut the door then stepped over piles of clothing and sat down on the bed. I looked around for a place to sit and found the only available spot to be the one right beside him.
As I sat down, he pointedly faced the window refusing to look at me.
“Brad,” I began, “I’ve thought a lot about what happened that night…and…well…I was wrong to react the way I did and I’m sorry.”
He slowly turned to face me and I saw the pain in his eyes.
“No, Shawn. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. I just…don’t know what got into me. Believe me, I’ve wished a million times over I’d never done it.”
“It’s okay. I know you have been confused and I overreacted. It’s just…you surprised me is all.” I hung my head. “I just want to forget the whole thing and for us to go back to the way we used to be.” I cut my eyes to him. “I miss my best friend.”
Brad nodded. “I miss you, too.”
I hesitated a moment, thinking of Susan’s advice. I had to be firm but fair. “Brad, even if you are…that way,” I furrowed my eyebrows, “it’s okay, but I’m not and…that cannot happen ever again. Understand?”
“Oh no, I promise.” He shook his head adamantly. “Never again.”
“Good. Then let’s just pretend it never happened.” The corners of my mouth lifted slightly letting him know all was forgiven.
“Consider it done,” he answered doing the same.
My eyes scanned the room before coming back to him. “Dude, you’re a pig,” I wrinkled my nose, “and you stink.” I waved my hand in front of my face and jerked my head away from him; the smell of his exposed armpits overwhelming me.
Brad chuckled. “I know. I haven’t showered in three days.”
“Dude! That’s really gross.” I scooted farther down the bed away from him.
“Yeah, I know.” He looked down at himself. “I feel gross.”
I thought for a moment. “Go shower, get some clothes on, and let’s go get some pizza. My treat.”
Brad’s face lit up instantly. “Yeah, I like that! It’s a date.” He suddenly realized what he said and backtracked. “I mean, it’s not a date. It’s two best friends going out for pizza.”
I laughed. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s a little weird now, isn’t it?” He frowned.
“It’s okay, man. We’ll adjust.”
He stood up, smiled, and jumped over piles of clothes to the door.
After he closed the door behind him, I stared down at the half-eaten bowls of Corn Flakes; the spoiled milk gave off a putrid smell that made me want to gag. I pinched my nose and decided that I could not stand the mess any longer, so I started picking up his room.
I cleared the floor of clothes, made up the bed, and gathered up an armload of dirty dishes. Proceeding to the kitchen, I passed the hallway bathroom, chuckling at the sound of Brad in the shower singing Smoke on the Water. Obviously, he was feeling better.
Entering the kitchen, I eyed Mrs. Norris standing over the sink peeling potatoes for dinner.
Hearing my footsteps she stopped, turned, and spotted the dirty dishes in my arms. “Good Lord.” She shook her head. “I wondered where all the bowls had disappeared to.”
I laughed. “Brad’s a pig.”
“I know. That kid of mine.” She shook her head, picked up her cigarette from the ashtray on the counter, and took a quick drag. “Just put them in the sink, please.”
I nodded and did as she instructed.
Standing beside her, she lowered her voice. “You and Brad okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” I washed my hands. “I’m taking him for pizza. I hope it’s okay if he skips dinner.”
“Oh yeah. No problem.” She waved her hand dismissively and went back to her potatoes. “He’s not a real big fan of Spam, anyway.”
“I’ve only eaten it here a couple of times, but I liked it. You’re a great cook, Mrs. Norris,” I complimented as I dried my hands on the kitchen towel.
“You’re a sweet boy, Shawn.” She leaned over and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me closer and giving me a quick peck on the forehead. “Brad’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“I feel the same way,” I said with a grin.
She chuckled. “I certainly hope your parents will like my cooking as much as you do.” She stopped peeling and picked up her cigarette again.
“What do you mean?” I leaned against the counter.
“Oh. I guess your mom hasn’t told you. She’s hired me as your new housekeeper. I’ll be doing cleaning and meal prep five days a week. She’s paying me enough where I can finally quit Molly Maid Cleaning.”
“Oh.” I felt the blood rising to my face. “She hasn’t told me that.”
Mom never mentioned hiring Brad’s mother as our housekeeper. She had talked about finding another housekeeper since Mrs. Pickthorn moved to Des Moines to live with her daughter, but Mrs. Norris? Now things were going to be awkward. I mean, Brad’s mother would be washing my underwear and cleaning my toilet. A mental picture popped into my head of me and Brad hanging out in my room, while his mother is in the next room, bent over my toilet scrubbing skid marks with a toilet brush. Mom should have consulted me first. It made me wonder if Brad knew about his mom’s new job.
My train of thought was interrupted when I heard a truck door slam outside.
“Oh, that’s John.” She looked up at the clock above the kitchen window. “I didn’t realize I started dinner so late,” she said frazzled.
The last person I wanted to see was Brad’s stepfather. I couldn’t stand the man, knowing how he treated Brad.
“Well, I better see if Brad is about ready. I’ll see you later, Mrs. Norris.” I hastily made my retreat.
Back in Brad’s room, I lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the news Mrs. Norris just shared with me.
I was startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening and turned my attention to Brad, who was clad in a thin, tattered towel tied around his waist.
“Dang, dude!” His eyes lit up as he scanned the now clutter-free floor. “What did you do?”
“Cleaned up your pig sty,” I replied while checking out his hairy legs. “It’s actually livable now.”
He laughed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I shrugged.
My eyes followed him as he headed toward his bureau and pulled out a clean pair of briefs before dropping the towel. Immediately my stare went to his naked behind and I felt that familiar tingling feeling all over again. Stop it, Shawn! Look away! I shouted to myself.
As if mesmerized, I stared as he slowly pulled on his briefs before finally turning around. I flipped on my stomach to avoid him seeing what was happening in my own briefs, and stared at the headboard.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Did you know your mom is going to be my family’s new housekeeper?” I mumbled as my chin rested on his pillow causing my mouth not to open entirely.
I heard his closet door opening. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Is that going to be weird for you?”
“No. Why should it?” I heard the sound of hangers sliding along the metal rod.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged again.
“Hell, she picks up after me all the time, now she’ll be picking up after you, only she’ll be paid to do it.” He laughed.
“I suppose.” I flipped back over now that my problem had shrunk. Brad pulled on his jeans and I checked out his exposed upper body again. “At least I’m not as messy as you are.”
“You’re just a neat freak,” he said as he went to his bureau and pulled out an old gray football jersey with the sleeves cut out.
“And you’re a slob,” I shot back as he pulled on the jersey, my eyes going to his biceps.
Fully dressed, he presented himself. “You ready?”
“Yep.” I sat up. “Let’s go,” I said quickly, not wanting to give my problem a chance to rise up again.
Chapter Seven
For the first few days after Brad and I had made up, things returned to “normal”. I told him about my adventure in New York with my parents, but left out the part about having sex with Susan. I thought it best to wait a while before I shared that piece of information. Tabitha finally got the message that I wasn’t interested in her and stopped bothering me; instead she began whispering about me to her friends anytime I was near, and shooting me dirty looks.
It was lunch time on the following Friday when Brad, Matt, and I sat at our usual table eating the delicious cafeteria selection of soybean burgers and soggy French fries. I glanced to my right at a silent Brad, slumped in his chair picking at the top of his hamburger bun and stuffing the tiny pieces of bread into his mouth.
I cut my eyes to Matt who was stuffing his burger into his mouth, taking oversized bites.
“Dude. You need to slow down.” I nodded toward his lunch tray.
“I’m…ungy,” he tried to speak; his cheeks bulging.
I shook my head trying to understand how he could be starving enough to shovel down this awful food. Then again, shoveling it down meant not having to taste it as much. “You’re gonna choke.”
He took a few moments to swallow. “Nah. I always eat like this.”
My eyes went back to Brad, who remained silent. I could tell something was on his mind.
“Hey, you okay?” I elbowed him.
“Oh.” He gave me an obviously forced smile. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” I replied, giving him a look of doubt. “You staying the weekend?”
“I can’t.” He pinched off another piece of bread. “I got to help John fix our furnace.”
“Oh.” I took a sip of my milk. “You could come over after you’ve finished.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“How come you never ask me over for the weekend?” Matt jumped into the conversation.
“I don’t know. How come you never ask me over?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I don’t know,” he replied before stuffing a French fry in his mouth.
While Matt was a friend, he was more of what I call a “school-only” friend. Matt was one of those types of people that can only be tolerated in small doses. I invited him over after school once when we were in seventh grade and after about an hour, he became as annoying as hell with his “agreeability.” By that, I mean he never had an original idea of what to do to have fun and relied on me to come up with every activity. Each time I asked him what he wanted to do, his response was always: “Whatever you want to do.” By the time his mother picked him up two hours later, I was mentally exhausted.
I shook my head and
glanced at Brad again whose focus now seemed to be across the lunchroom. I followed his eyes to Roger Coltrane who sat giggling among the group of the weirdo girls that were all dressed up in glam makeup. I watched as he flipped his wrist in a very feminine manner as he told an obviously funny story.
Brad just stared and a moment later, I watched as Roger quit laughing and gave Brad a serious look.
Brad’s eyes shot instantly to his burger once again.
“Oh…dude,” Matt spoke up. “Did you hear that Tabitha and Billy Tumlison got caught screwing in the school basement?”
“What?” My jaw dropped, tearing my mind away from Brad and Roger’s weird behavior.
“Yeah.” Matt said very causally. “Mr. Rumsford caught them. I hear Tabitha’s mother is threatening to sue the school for leaving the basement door unlocked.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Brad spoke, finally coming out of his trance.
I looked at Brad for a moment, letting his words sink in. He’d been right about Tabitha from the beginning. I should have seen the writing on the wall.
“Yeah, me either. She sounds like a slut.” My eyes smiled at Brad’s as I quoted the words he’d said to me a few weeks earlier.
A smile crept onto his face.
“I’d still make out with her.” Matt waggled his eyebrows.
Brad scoffed at him. “I’m sure you would, Matt.”
Matt looked across the cafeteria at her. “Hey, she’s still a fox even if she’s a slutty one.”
About that time, the new guy on the swim team walked through my line of vision carrying a food tray, and I felt a familiar stirring below. I quickly looked away, not allowing my mind to go there. I had to stay focused on the problem at hand: figuring out what was going on with Brad once again.
A Gay Polyester High School Romance Page 11
