Disclaimer: This is a story about a romantic relationship between two teenage males. If that kind of story offends you, then please do not read the following story. Also, if you are under the legal age to read stories of this type, then don't. Please do not reproduce this story without permission, since that is a copyright infringement.
Okay, this will be the last chapter before Turkey Day, and a happy holiday to all of you. :) But, due to RL, Chapter 6 is going to be a little slow in coming, so please bear with me and don't forget about this little tale. Comments go to dreamer@shell.monmouth.com. Feedback is always very much appreciated.
Humor Me
-Chapter 5-
"Mom? Got a minute?"
I hovered at the edge of the living room, the sun burning off the last vestiges of fog on Sunday morning. We all had out Sunday rituals: Shane would go out for a run, I'd finish leftover homework, and Mom would enjoy a cup of hot coffee and the Sunday crossword puzzle in the living room. In ink. Smart woman, my Mom.
So, these acts are an accepted pattern for the Kowalczyk Sunday Morning, and this is generally regarded as Mom's Personal Time, with the little 'tm' next to it for emphasis. Personal Time as in Do Not Disturb, Trespassers we be tongue-lashed. On this seventh day, she rested, and anyone who bugged her got a one-way ticket back to Hell.
And that's exactly why I picked that time to talk to her. Granted, I could talk to her any time, as Shane so emphatically reminded me yesterday morning. Out household was like that. But to come to her in this room at this time, despite unwritten family tradition, that meant I meant business.
When she turned to look at me, I noticed a few small, gray strands in her hair, which was dark as night. My brother and I took after out father, with light hair and eye color. Mom looked almost exotic, in comparison. But the gray in her hair, that was new. When you're a kid, you never picture your mother as Old. Older than you, yes of course, but not Old. There's a difference. Mom wasn't Old, not yet, but my subconscious knew it was coming. It would happen, just like Shane growing up. Just like myself. Though, I was having doubts about that last bit.
Mom got the message. Her eyes narrows as they met mine, but it was a look of worry than of annoyance. Slowly, carefully, she folded up the newspaper, laying it across her lap. "Of course," she said, and then paused. "God, Jonas, you look like hell."
"I love you too, Mom," I said, and sat down on the couch closest to Mom's chair. I shifted on the cushions, still a little stiff, then turned to lay down. Despite getting home relatively early last night, I didn't really sleep. I stifled a yawn, finding the couch a little too comfortable after a night of tossing, turning, and fighting off wave after wave of nausea. "I...really need to talk to you."
Leaning back, she crossed her right leg over her left. "To me? Are you sure?"
"I know. I...haven't been talking to you lately."
"I'm aware of that, my son."
It was a very Zen moment: What is the sound of one whip cracking?
If there was a way I could have buried myself under the cushions right then, I would have. Another can of gasoline to be thrown on the Guilty Jonas Bonfire.
I tried not to let it bother me for the simplest of reasons: I deserved it. I brought this on myself, and hurt damn near everyone I cared about in the process. I deserved whatever comments and emotional banishment people decided to give to me.
I closed my eyes, exhaling. "Point taken," I said, "and I'm sorry. I wasn't sure you could relate, or anything."
There was a quiet moment as Mom got up. I could hear that, but not see it. She didn't speak until I felt the couch cushion under my waist sink as she sat down beside me, on the edge.
"Well, that's why mothers are so wise. We're not born, nor did we grow up, but sprang fully grown from our father's skulls."
I opened my eyes and winced. "That's really not fair. I'm trying to be serious here. It doesn't work that way."
Mom smiled, and patted my hands, which were folded across my stomach. "I think you want it to work that way."
"Excuse me?"
"You expect people to know everything that you do," she said, and raised a finger before I could open my mouth to defend myself. "Don't even /try/ to deny that, Jonas. I raised you, in case you forgot." She smiled again. "Do you remember, when you were younger, and you used to ask your father and me questions? Why this, what is that. Sometimes, we didn't know."
I felt the pain in my head start again. I knew exactly where she was going with this. Mean woman, my mother. "I remember."
"Do you remember how angry you used to get, if we didn't know?"
If I lived to be a hundred, I knew for a fact that my mother was never going to let me forget that. But right now, I was more concerned with making it to twenty before I drove myself insane in a fit of self-punishment for being a complete and utter asshole. Which I was.
I exiled myself to my room last night, right after I had gotten back home. All in all, that had only made me feel worse.. I had promised Shane that I'd talk to Mom, but I went right past that to put myself in solitary confinement. I lay curled up on my bed, unsure of whether to cry my eyes out or break something. I deserved no less. But, I ended up doing neither, and giving myself twenty lashes from my conscience over what I had done.
I had started to hate myself again, for being an asshole. One day, everything was...beautiful, and I couldn't keep it together for even a single day. He was happy. Mike was so happy, and I don't think I'd ever seen him in a better mood. And in my selfishness, I hurt him. Hurting him was what I had spent the last two weeks trying not to do, but I ended up doing it anyway. And all because he wouldn't tell me something that obviously still hurt him. But I was too fucking blind to see it then, and not everything was screwed up beyond help, and I had no one to blame but myself.
"Mom," I said, fighting back a sudden rush of tears. "It's just, when you're a kid, you expect your parents to know everything."
"And we didn't. You got so furious."
I shuddered. I wanted to cry so badly, but I wasn't going to. I wasn't even sure if I had the strength left to do it. "Mom," I said again, the skin on my neck constricting around my throat. "Please. I know how much of a schmuck I am. I don't want more reminders."
A look of concern crossed mom's face, and stayed there. "Jonas, what's wrong? Why are you a schmuck?"
I decided to deal with the incongruity of my mom saying 'schmuck' later. "Because I haven't been telling you stuff. Shane already got on my case about it, but..."
"But what?"
"I want to be able to tell you anything."
Slowly I felt her fingers lace through mine. "You can. That's the point, honey. You can tell me. You always could."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"I'm gay."
I had seen a movie once, a couple of years ago. While I don't remember which film it was, one thing stuck out. In the movie, someone or something has unleashed some kind of powerful bomb on a city. What the viewer saw was the flash, then a white light growing from the center of the blast as all sound ended, right there. No explosive rumble, no screams, it seemed as if in that instant, all sound simply ceased to exist, if it ever truly existed at all.
That silence, that absence of any sound. That's what my house sounded like after I said that out loud.
"I'm gay."
I froze where I lay. I didn't want to move, and wasn't sure if I could. If I could, I knew I could go anywhere but back. There is no going back' not after saying something like that.
Time started again as Mom's hand squeezed mine, gentle and shaking. "Are you sure, Jonas?"
"I am," I whispered, turning my eyes away from hers. "I wasn't sure for a while, but I am now. Well...one of your kids is a genetic dead-end."
I heard more than saw her intake of breath. "That's a horrible thing to say," she said, the shock all too apparent.
"But it's true," I said. "You're going to have to depend on Shane. Hope you like Grandkids with forearms like Popeye."
"Look at me," my Mom said, voice sharp. I didn't want to. The darkness was so soothing, and I felt so very, very tired. "Jonas, look at me," she commanded, putting two fingers under my chin to twist me head back around.
"It's one simple truth," she went on to say, as my eyes opened to focus on her face. I could see the lines around her mouth and at the edges of her eyes. Her gaze, however, held onto a determined look. "And somewhere, Jonas, under all the comments and masks you put on, you know this. I raised two good boys. Different as oil and water, but good boys nonetheless. You have no idea how proud I am of both my sons."
"Were, Mom," I replied, shaking my head. "Were proud, you mean. On the bright side, you pretty much have a new daughter who fucks everything up. Considering it trading up from what you had."
I nearly jumped as I saw Mom's eyes blaze. Zero to really pissed off in about two-point-five seconds. "Let's make some things perfectly clear," she said, her voice tinged with ice. "You're not a girl, I /am/ proud of you, and I wouldn't trade you for anything. Anything. I've supported you in anything you've ever done, and I'm certainly not going to stop now. Being gay doesn't change anything, including the fact that you are my son, and I do love you more than anything." Her hand tightened over mine, squeezing my fingers to the point of pain, probably to make sure I was paying attention. "Are we clear?"
I nodded, solemn. "I...think I needed to hear that."
She leaned in, giving me a light peck on the forehead. "Good. Now, will you please explain why you've been a basket case the last week?" She tilted her head to the side. "This all has something to do with your new friend, right?"
"Mike," I said, correcting her. It had been the first time I said his name in the conversation, and the single word held a lot of feeling, still. "Yeah," I admitted. "It's complicated."
"Most things are simple. You tend to overcomplicate things," Mom came back with.
"I do not."
"Yes, you do." Mom smiled. "Remember the one time, when you were...what, eight? Dad asked you why the sky was blue. I think he was expecting a...younger answer. But no, you went, found your brother's science book, and gave your dad a lecture on solar power and atmospheric light refraction."
I looked up, exasperated. This was the story she always told, to all my relatives, and they always shared a laugh over it. "Well, he asked," I complained.
Mom laughed. "You couldn't have just humored him, and said that God made the sky blue or something similiar?"
"I thought it was a valid question."
"And maybe your father just wanted to hear you be a kid, for once. You were never young, I think." My hand was squeezed again. "Now, what does this have to do with Mike? Do you like him?"
I nodded.
"And he...doesn't feel the same way?"
I shook my head. "He does. A lot. But neither of us knew we liked each other until last Friday night?"
The softest of smiles crossed her face. "If you hadn't been miserable for the last day, I'd have said that was wonderful. But...was this what happened at school?"
"No. Mike stopped by the house Friday, when I was in the back yard."
Her eyebrows lifted. "So that's why you have that tent?"
God, what is it with this family? "No! No, Mom. He came by uninvited, because he wanted to know why I was avoiding him, and we started talking."
"Just talking."
I sighed. I was so not my brother. "Yes. Just talking."
"And he didn't feel the same way?"
I pulled back, sitting up a little, my back on the arm of the couch. "He does," I answered, which got a surprised smile from Mom. "Or, he did. I don't know. We did do a lot of talking Friday, and he slept over." I narrowed my eyes a little. "And that's all we did. And, we were going out. But...I fucked it up."
"Watch the language."
"Sorry."
Mom relaxed a little. "What happened? You broke up?"
I nodded. I told her pretty much everything that happened in the last day. The talk with Shane, what I was feeling the whole time, and I was starting to choke a little when I got to the part about our trip to the mall. I proceeded slowly, talking about our argument, and my leaving. Suddenly, I was tired again. God, it hurt. It hurt to speak of it, and it damn hurt to think about it again, replaying the words in my mind over and over.
Mom listened, impassive, until I got to the meat of why I was upset. Once I was finished, she ran the palm of her hand down her face. "Honey, I want to ask you something."
I sighed again. "Go ahead."
"Right now, when you told me you were gay, and with what you just told me about Mike and you yesterday, how did it feel?"
I removed one of my hands from hers to wipe my eyes. I would not cry. I wouldn't. I'm supposed to be strong, aren't I? "It hurt," I replied. "It's like I'm showing you a cut. Or like a gaping chest wound. It hurts, and I was scared of what you would think."
She nodded back at me. "A part of you didn't want to tell me, right?"
"True."
"Because it still hurt, and you thought I wouldn't like you anymore?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
Her eyes went dark as she locked gazes with me. If the stare of a cobra could be maternal, I imagined the look on Mom's face would be roughly what it would be like. "And did it ever occur to you that maybe Mike didn't want to talk about something because he felt the exact same way? Did you ever think he might still be hurting over something?"
I didn't answer. I knew it already. "But-"
"But nothing, Jonas. And I know you. I gave birth to you, and you were just as demanding then as you are now. You probably thought you could just give him a royal command, and he'll reveal the innermost part of himself, when you two have been seeing each other for barely a day?" She frowned, and it felt like I was being smacked. "Your impatience made this happen, and nothing else. And, while I love you, if you're coming to me to solve all your problems with this, you're shit out of luck. You dug your own hole, now you get to dig yourself back out."
"But what am I supposed to do?"
"Jonas, you can't expect me to punish you like you broke something in the house. It doesn't work that way. Call him if you want, but you should wait until later. You need more time to think about what you've done."
"Mom," I said, shivering. "That's torture."
"Oh, I know. Learn some humility for a change, and some patience for that matter." She sighed. "If you like him that much, life is far too short to walk away after something so...petty as your pride. Trust me, I know."
I turned away, knowing what she meant. "You miss him, don't you?"
"Every day, Jonas. Don't you?"
"Of course I do."
My father. Sometimes, when I talk about it, I wish I had some other story to tell about him. I did miss him, but in a lot of ways, I hardly knew him. You don't get a lot of details when you're an eight-year-old kid. It was a car accident. Driving home from the office one night, his car swerved off the road, and wrapped itself around a telephone pole. There was no drunk driving, no collision, and no blame to put on anyone, including my dad. It...just happened. No rhyme, no reason, just something completely random. But it didn't matter, because he was still gone.
I remembered all of us crying for a long time, after that, and it felt like years before the house seemed like anything relatively normal again. But, that lack was still there. I wish I had known him better, like Shane did. But none of us were given that option. Mom went on, while Shane took over the male role with me as best he could. He wasn't a replacement for dad, and we both knew it, but despite all the rivalry between us, I respected him for trying.
Mom placed her hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. "Now get your homework done, and...it'll be okay. I'm sorry for yelling at you."
"It's okay. I was pretty much a twit about all of it."
"Yes, you were." When I answered that with a shocked look, she laughed, and pulled me close. "I messed up relationships, too. You're not getting any sympathy from me."
"Understood. Is a hug okay?"
As she did so, she stroked my hair with a free hand. "Love you," she whispered. "Never forget that."
"Love you too," I said.
As she pulled away, she smiled. "I'll order out for lunch, all right? Just go and do your work. Now."
"All right, all right..."
Dani was waiting for me at the front doors of the school as I got off the bus.
I had gotten through Sunday, somehow. Occupying myself with homework and Chinese food, I kept myself level-headed. Well, mostly level-headed. There were times that I spent staring at the phone, wondering if I should call him or not. Maybe, just maybe, if I could talk to him, I'd be able to heal the damage of what I've done. Maybe.
In the end, I had decided not to. As I spent a good part of Sunday night brooding over it, I decided that anything I wanted to say, I'd rather say to him face-to-face. Maybe I was chicken for not calling, but I felt I needed to the time to think before I made things worse. I felt that talking to him in person would not be as cowardly. And, a part of me wanted to see him again, one last time. To look upon those eyes as I said what was in my head, as I begged forgiveness.
I formulated the words in my head over and over as I rode the bus to school, distracted from damn near anything else. As other kids chatted, I had my headphones plugged in, absently drawing my finger against the window, sketching little things with the impressions my fingertip left on the clear glass.
In all of my thoughts, I had forgotten, again, that I needed to have a talk with Dani. Again, I pleaded inside my head that I've been distracted.
She started walking with me as I entered, after I took off my headphones. Absently, she handed me a clear plastic bag, filled with Cheerios. The Cheerios thing, that was pure Dani. She wasn't big on eating chocolate all the time, but she always felt it was good to have something around to snack on, just in case. In case of what, I never really asked.
I took a small handful of the cereal, dry, and tossed them into my mouth as we headed to our lockers. "Okay," I said. "I need to figure out where to begin, because things are fucked up all over again."
She sighed. "I can't leave you alone for a minute," she muttered. "Damn it, Jonas, you're supposed to be happy, and you can't even keep it going for a weekend? Are you sure you're not reverting-"
"No," I said, cutting her off damn quick. I was not going near what she was hinting at, and that was something else on my 'do not need to deal with right now' list. "Not even." I looked at the new batch of cereal in my hand. "No sugar?"
She snorted, and shook her head. "What would the teachers think if they saw me carrying around a plastic bag full of white powdery stuff?"
"That you decided to join the Drama Club?"
"That's not funny."
"We've seen their parties."
"I know, but it's still not funny." She shook her head, setting the mop of red-gold curls on top of her head bouncing. "And you're changing the subject."
"I didn't know we had a subject," I said, opening my locker to stuff most of my books in.
All at once, I was spun around, my back slammed into the locker. "No more fucking around, Jonas," Dani growled, staring me down. "You've had me worried fucking sick for a week. Then you're happy, then you're not, and you're going to tell me what the hell is going on, got it?"
"I'm gay."
Well, it seemed those words stop women in their tracks, based on the reactions by both Dani and Mom. If I listened close enough, I could almost hear Dani's mental gears come to a grinding, screeching halt. She gaped at me, looking like a hooked fish, before speaking up.
"I knew it."
I raised my eyebrows. "You knew? How?"
"It's hard to explain. Just something about you, Jonas. Maybe it was the way you kissed me, or just some of the things you said. I...suspected it, but wasn't sure how to ask you."
"You, who ask me everything else."
"But I didn't know if /you/ knew yet. If you didn't know, and I asked you if you liked guys, what would you have thought?"
I sighed. She had me dead to rights. She as always did. The girl could give Hannibal Lecter a run for his money on a study of human nature. She'd have given Freud headaches, I'm sure, if she lived in his time. I nodded, defeated again. After this weekend, I was used to the defeat. "I get it," I whispered.
"Is that what this is about?"
"Yes."
"And what's got you so upset?"
"Jonas?"
Well, the answer to that came up on our side just as we were talking. Both of us, deep in conversation, didn't even hear Mike arrive. He stood there, hands in his pockets with his backpack half-slung over his shoulder. He went with a blue-and-purple tie-dye shirt, worn loosely over a pair of black jeans. The colors on the shirt looked like a bruise, if you saw it in the right light.
He...looked tired, with a few dark spots under his eyes. I winced, knowing I had done that to him. Oh, God, I'm so sorry...
"Mike," I said, trying to be calm as I dislodged myself from under Dani's hand. "I...really need to talk to you."
"Me first," Mike said, also solemn. It wasn't tiredness I had seen, just then. He looked absolutely drained, like a color picture that faded after being left out in the sun too long. His voice cracked, once. "Please?"
Dani took a step back, and I heard her gasp. "Holy shit," she said, apparently putting it together from the looks on both of our faces. "Holy fucking shit..."
I sighed. "Okay. But I want to talk, too."
"S'cool," he said, looking down at the floor before facing me again. "Jonas, I'm sorry. I...should tell you what's been going on with me, because it looks like I'm driving you away. I still like you, a lot, and I'll tell whatever you want to know. I...don't want you mad at me any more."
I shook my head, feeling those Cheerios coming back up. "No," I said. "Don't do it, Mike." I spoke as I rummaged in my backpack, for something I brought with me. "The one who should be sorry is me. I shouldn't have pried, and I shouldn't have gotten pissed off when you wouldn't tell me something that obviously really, really hurts you." I took the folded sheet of paper out of the folder I was keeping it safe in. "I drew this, right when we first met."
Mike looked, seeing that picture of him with the skateboard I had done after that first night he walked me home. Students passed, but paid us no heed, having their own things to do before homeroom. His eyes came alive when he saw it. "You never told me you could draw like this," he whispered. "Does...this mean we're cool?"
Dani did take the time to look over Mike's shoulder. "Damn," she muttered. "Thousand, fifteen hundred words," she added. "And somehow, Jonas, you're going to tell me every one of them."
"Agreed," I told Dani, then turned back to face Mike as Dani came back around to stand at my side. "And, Mike, we were always cool. But I've been thinking."
He smiled at me, and I softened inside. Well, most of me did, at any rate. "About what?"
"What I did. Mike, I hurt you, and I've been sick over it for two days. I promised myself I wouldn't do it, and I did, and it was all because I'm a selfish prick, sometimes. See, the thing is, maybe until I know more about being in a relationship with someone, maybe I'm not really ready for this."
Mike's face fell like a stone, as he just stared at me. His mouth opened, as if about to speak.
And I was so intent on what he was going to say that I didn't see her coming.
The only warning I had was Dani saying 'Allow me, Mike.' Then, my world tilted forward as stars started the breaststroke before my eyes. It's what tended to happen when someone smacked you upside the head, just like Dani had done.
"Ow," I almost yelled, shaking the spots out of my vision. "What was that for?"
"Nice shot, Dani," Mike added, chuckling.
"Jonas, you're a moron," Dani said, gripping me by the shoulders and making me look at her. "Be glad I didn't de-male you just now. Now listen, and listen damn good. Being in a relationship is not something you get out of a fucking book. You learn by doing, and if you make a mistake, you make a Goddess-damned mistake. If you hurt him and didn't mean to, or if he does the same to you, that's Life. It's how you learn. You're human, Jonas, and it's past time someone told you that. Deal with it, and don't make yourself a damn martyr or sacrifice because you don't everything right the first time." And just as quickly, she spun me back around. "Jonas, do you like him? Do you," she repeated, giving my shoulders a shake.
I nodded, once my world stopped spinning. I met Mike's eyes again, and drowned into a blue-gray world. "I do. I never really stopped. Mike, I'm sorry."
Mike nodded, all smiles again, like I wasn't being manhandled. Or was it womanhandled? I didn't want to ask right then.
"And you Mike? After all this idiot has said and done, you still want him as yours?"
"Yeah," Mike said, stepping forward. He slipped his hands around to the back of my neck. In one fist, hidden until now, he had the chain he had given me balled up, and it jingled as he slipped it back around my neck, the colored links loud and clear. "Give it another go, Jonas?"
I nodded, welcoming the feel of the cool metal against my neck, and the smell of him near me again. "Just...slowly, okay? Need to work this out."
"Hey," Dani said, peering closer to my chain. "Nice collar."
Mike and I turned, speaking in unison. "It's not a collar."
"Okay, okay. Don't bite my head off, guys."
Laughing, Mike turned back to me, pushing me slowly back to the lockers, putting me between himself and them, my back to the doors again. "I missed you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine.
"I did too," I said. "We're cool?"
"Always," he said, and I closed my eyes as he leaned in.
Our lips met again, feeling soft, tender, and oh, so right! His body pressed against mine, pinning to me to the locker as I rose to my toes, arching my back for a better angle to his mouth. The warmth, the taste of him flooded into my mouth again, and I rose to it like finding water in the desert. I crossed my arms across his back, pulling him closer, embracing him. God, I had missed him, his touch, his kisses. And I almost lost it all.
I fucked up, and I had his forgiveness, and...all of this as well. Maybe it could work. But I still needed to understand a lot about people.
In the corner of my consciousness, I heard Dani say 'Awww,' in direct defiance of her earlier hyper-macho verbal roasting of myself. "You two are cute," she said.
It was than that the other sounds started. Slowly, at first, as I held onto that kiss like it was going out of style. A mutter here, a chuckle there. Someone gasped, and I know I heard someone say "Woah, look at them. Go, Jonas."
I had forgotten we were in the hall.
I had forgotten other students were around.
And they just saw everything.
Oh, crap.
-End Chapter 5-