Live For Me

RIVERTON REBELS

Live For Me

 

I shivered lightly as Michael turned the heat on. "That feel better?" He asked kindly. I nodded my approval silently and reached into my dress pants before realizing the rain had soaked through them and drenched the handkerchief beyond use. Michael reached into the glove box and handed me a pile of fast food napkins. I used them to dry my eyes and nose before he spoke again. “That was a nice funeral," he remarked in barely more than a whisper. I was overtaken by emotion again, and my body racked with sobs as Michael pulled me to him and let me cry into his chest. "There, there, Jay," he whispered as my tears soaked into his nice shirt. "Gabe is in a better place now. There's no hate up in heaven."

"What if he's not up there?" I choked out between sobs. "Father Kelly always says queers don't go to heaven."

"Gerald Steven Jameson," he started, causing me to wince at his use of my full name. "Gabriel was a good person. Good people do NOT go to hell. Especially if they're..." his sentence trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking.

"Murdered?" I whispered, looking up into his brown eyes.

"Stop that," he snapped as I pulled away from him and sat upright in my seat. "It's not important how he was taken away from us. He was a good person, and it was too fucking early." Each of the last three words all came out slower than the one before it, and by the end I looked over and saw tears in those dark brown eyes. Michael was a traditionally attractive man. With his wide shoulders, muscled build, and square jaw, he had his pick of most girls at our school. He had extremely dark brown eyes set into an olive skin tone and the softest hair I had ever touched. I reached over and took his free hand as he drove us out of the cemetery.

Michael drove me all the way across town without saying a word. After fourteen years of friendship, each of us knew that the other didn't want to talk. I climbed out of the car and looked sadly at him. "Thanks," I murmured.

"Call me if you need anything," he responded, "I know it's gotta be hard for you, losing your first boyfriend like this. But I'm here for you." I forced a smile as thunder clapped overhead before I rushed inside.

As soon as I stepped into the house, I wanted to leave. The entire house was already dark as the cloud cover outside let in virtually no sunlight. Only one light was on in the ground floor of the house, so I had to squint through the darkness to see my father as he said sternly, "We need to talk."

"Now?" I questioned, looking through the darkness. I was soaked to the bone from the rainy funeral and just wanted to shower and change.

"Yes, now." I could tell from the tone of his voice he was serious, and knew there was no reasoning with him when he got like that.

I moved to sit next to him on the loveseat, but heard my mother clear her throat, and was left to take the seat in the corner. The way our family room was set up, it had a loveseat directly across from the TV on one wall, and the only other chair was a simple wooden chair from some long-forgotten dining set that was placed in the corner too close to the TV to see it. The chair was seldom used since I had outgrown being put in it for time-out. As I sat, I realized the only light was placed directly behind me and just over my head, leaving me to feel like a criminal being investigated. I sat in a stiff, awkward silence, as I waited for my parents to say something.

The tension of the situation brought me flashbacks of when I had first brought Gabe home to meet my parents. They were surprised at my coming out, to say the least. My parents were devout Catholics, as was much of our little town of Riverton, Alabama. They were brought up believing that homosexuality was a sin, and that's what they had always told me. I knew better though. It was how I was, and nothing was going to change that. Not even the shouting fight that my parents and I got into the moment I had said the word "boyfriend," sitting next to Gabe on the loveseat, holding his hand. Once I had broken into tears when my mother told me I was going to hell, Gabe pulled me from the house and we went back to his house. His parents knew we were together but, being from outside Riverton, were much more accepting of their son. He held me that night as I cried for hours. His parents had allowed me to spend the night there until my father called for me the next morning and told Gabe's father that he didn't want "his damn son staying with that faggot wetback."

My mother was the first to speak up. "Your father and I believe you should start seeing a girl."

"I see plenty of girls at school," I responded, although I knew what she meant. We had the same argument almost every day, but I was determined to make her say it.

"What your mother means," my father continued for her, "is that with Gabe being out of the way, this would be a good time for you to diversify your friends."

"OUT OF THE WAY?" I shouted, standing up in anger. "My boyfriend was murdered and you say he's 'out of the way?'" My voice had reached a new high, and I could feel myself starting to go hoarse.

"Sit down, Jerry," my mother commanded calmly. "We just thought that he was a bad influence on you and now you can have a wider range of friends."

"Bullshit." I exclaimed. "You don't want me to have a wider range of friends! You want me to have friends you approve of!" My mother stood up from her seat and was now staring me down in the dark.

"Gerald, I am your mother and you will not defy me like that,” she stated emphatically as my father turned the rest of the lights on so I was looking right into my mother's anger-filled eyes.

I tried to put as much hate as I could behind my next words. "Mother, I am sixteen and I will not have you tell me who I can and cannot see, in ANY sense of the word."

"He was a bad influence and…" My glare cut her off mid-sentence, and I was suddenly glad that I had received that trait from her.

"He was not!" I yelled.

"He turned you gay," she stated.

"Maybe if I wasn't afraid all women were like you, I would be straight," I responded with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

Up to this point, everything had happened so quickly, I hadn't had time for things to sink in. Tears jumped to my eyes, however, when I heard my father speak.

"You will not talk to your mother like that, you little faggot," he yelled.

Rage boiled inside me and I felt my hands ball up into fists. I swung my fist at him and connected with his jaw, but had little effect. At five-foot-seven and barely one hundred and thirty pounds, I was fairly small for my age. My father, however, was the archetype of a construction worker powerhouse. He wrapped his hand around my throat and glared into my eyes, which I'm sure were full of fear.

"Get out of my house now, and I don't ever want to see you on my property again," he ordered through a clenched jaw.

I choked for air, and he released me by shoving me as hard as he could towards the door. I looked to mom, hoping against hope that she would come to my aid, and saw her staring at me with her arms crossed, and a cold look on her face. I quickly scrambled to my feet, and left what used to be my home.

I walked down the driveway and to the corner of my street blankly before emotions hit me like the truck that I watched speed through the stop sign right in front of me. I started to wonder if maybe I should have stepped out in front of it and gotten hit. Ending my life and going to Gabe sounded like a pretty good idea to me. But that wouldn't have worked. Suicide is a sin, and sinners go to hell. 'Just like faggots,' I heard my dad's voice say inside my head.

I had been having problems with my parents for months, though, ever since I came out to them. They had never been happy with me being gay due to the overall religious nature of our little southern town, and often had blamed Gabe for "converting me to the ways of the devil," as they so often put it. I never believed that they would kick me out of the house simply for refusing to find a girlfriend. Tears formed in my eyes as I realized that this was only the latest in a long list of fights I had gone through with my parents. They tried banning me from seeing Gabe, and only got angrier when they found out I had snuck around to see him, using my few other friends as excuses. They would ground me, but I'd only find new ways to get around their rules and see Gabe. That's pretty much the way my life worked in the months leading up to Gabe's murder.

I wiped my eyes on the cuffs of my white shirt as I thankfully realized that the rain had stopped. My first instinct was to call Gabe, before I remembered that he was gone. The only person I had to call was Michael. I pulled my cell phone out and dialed his number, but the automated voice told me that my service had been suspended by the account holder's request. Apparently, my punishment was not as spontaneous as I had thought.

After walking about a mile down the road, I came upon a gas station. I deposited my money in the slot of their pay phone and dialed Michael's number, waiting patiently for him to pick up.

"Hello?" he finally answered.

"Hey, Mikey," I responded nervously.

"Jay?" He asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's me," I replied.

"Spill it, boy, what's up?" he asked seriously.

"I kinda need some help. Mom and Dad kicked me out and I need a ride." There was silence on the other end for a few minutes, and I knew he was trying to collect his thoughts so he wouldn't say something he would later regret.

"Where are you?" I told him my location and that he could meet me across the street at the little burger joint where we used to hang out.

I made my way across the street and got a couple burgers, fries, and a soda before taking a seat at a booth. I could only imagine what kind of mess I looked. A  short, gangly teen with a mop of wet blonde hair and green eyes, bags under my eyes, in soaked dress clothes sitting at a booth all alone, munching forlornly on some fries. Luckily, it wasn't long before Michael's SUV pulled up outside. I was getting tired of the strange looks people were giving me.

I threw away my trash on the way outside and climbed into his vehicle.

"You OK?" he asked, concerned.

"Sure," I responded sarcastically. "My boyfriend was murdered, my parents kicked me out, and I blew all my money on lunch just now. I'm great."

We sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes as I looked out the window.

"Sorry," I eventually said. "I'm just under a lot of stress lately and...never mind. If you could just drive me to a hotel or something..."

"Hotel?" He interrupted. "No way am I letting you stay at some seedy hotel. Besides, you said you're broke."

"I'll hook," I said adamantly.

"You'd never make any money." He laughed, and a smirk even crossed my lips for a few seconds. "You're coming home with me, and that's final."

"No way. I can't face your parents after I got their nephew murdered." The last word came out as barely a whisper.

I had been thinking about that for the past few days, but found it much harder to actually say. I looked up into Michael's sad eyes and realized they were the same as his cousin's. I saw Gabe in his eyes.

"Nobody blames you for Gabe's death," he said firmly, but I knew he was wrong. I blamed myself for Gabe's murder, and I believed other people should too.

It was Friday when it happened. I was sitting in Mr. Miller's algebra 2 class and, as usual, I wasn't paying a shred of attention to the teacher. My phone had been taken away the day before, so I had no way to contact my boyfriend for the seven hours in which we were locked into good old "Hellhole High."

Whenever I had my phone taken away, Gabe and I traded notes at lunch. I was in the middle of writing one of the most corny, sappy, romantic notes of my life, detailing to Gabe what I wanted to do with and to him over the upcoming spring break. I felt a sharp pain in my side and, glancing angrily to my right, saw a disgusted look on the face of the resident jackass, Nick Nash. I felt my face drain of blood as I saw his steel-blue eyes travel slowly from the note to my face and back.

"You're a fag?" he hissed. I gulped and tried to stammer out an excuse. "And Gabe?" He continued, each word getting slightly louder so that soon half the class could hear him.

"Gabe Lorenze?" a girl in front of us asked, a disappointed look on her face. "But he's too cute to be gay."

"Well, he is," Nick responded snidely. "And apparently," he continued, now speaking to the entire class, "Jerry here wants to spend all week cuddled up in his arms."

I sat in stunned silence as Nick divulged the contents of my letter to the entire class, outing not only me, but also my boyfriend. The teacher tried in vain to stop the class laughing as I stood from my seat and ran to the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. I don't know how long I cried there before the lunch bell rang. I initially wanted to disregard it, but I realized that Gabe didn't know he had been yet. With the way news spread around a small town, especially it's high school, the entire school would know by the end of the day. I stood up and wiped me eyes quickly on my sleeves as I made my way to the cafeteria.

By the time I had made it to the cafeteria, a crowd had amassed in the center, an obvious sign of a fight. I gulped as I heard Nick's voice through all of the people.

"Nobody wants you on our team, faggot!" Nick yelled, referencing their positions on the school baseball team.

"Up yours, Nick," I heard Gabe retort.

I tried to push my way through the crowd to get to him, but nobody would let me through.

"I don't take it up mine like you and your little boyfriend." I heard the sound of fist meeting face and watched through the gaps in the crowd before Nick fell to the ground.

Gabe turned around to leave and we saw each other through the crowd. His face lit up, then suddenly went cold and I saw Nick stepping away from him as Gabe sunk to his knees, then hit the floor hard. I saw Nick run past me through the crowd, as I fought my way in.

"Gabe!" I yelled. I grabbed his bleeding body and pulled his head into my lap, crying harder than I could ever remember. "Gabe..." I whispered. "Come on, Gabe...live for me."

This time, nobody laughed as I cried.

I spent that night in the emergency room with his parents, crying as the boy we all loved died. I was told that the cause of death was determined to be a knife wound in his back. The police found the weapon in Nick Nash's possession on Saturday, and he was in jail. Gabe's funeral was on a Sunday, and we all held each other as we cried yet again. Even though I explained the circumstances involving Gabe's death to his parents, I don't think that they ever actually blamed me for his death.

Nick's brother Carter, however, did blame me for Nick being arrested. I heard from a few people around my neighborhood that he had promised to "make that queer regret messing with Nick," a threat that never failed to send chills down my spine.

I ran my fingers through my hair as I looked at Michael. "You promise that nobody else blames me?" I asked softly.

I blushed some as I saw him trace an x over his heart with his pinky, something that Gabe always did to signify a promise. He held the pinky out to me, and I locked mine in it, a small smirk forming on my lips from the memories.

Michael's father was a big-shot lawyer for a very prestigious firm in our town and his mother was a teacher at the local college, so to say they were well-off financially was a bit of an understatement. They had more garage than my parents had house, and it was about a half a mile to their nearest neighbor. I remember the first time I rode up their driveway with Gabe and Michael to some sort of family function that I had been invited to, I asked what the name of the road we were on was. They laughed and informed me that it was in fact their driveway, and never let me live that embarrassment down.

Walking into their house was always an awkward experience, and this time was no different. His mother was sitting on their couch working on something out of a notebook, and looked up when she heard us walk in.

"Oh, hi, Michael. Jerry, what are you doing here?" The question wasn't bitter or angry, simply curious.

"Mom," Michael responded, "we need to talk for a few. Jay, you wanna go up to my room real quick and I'll meet you up there in a few?"

I nodded and walked slowly up the stairs to his room. I couldn't hear what Michael or his mom were saying, but I suddenly felt very intrusive as I sat on the edge of his bed. I would never have agreed to stay with Michael had I known that his parents didn't know about it. I sat a while before Michael walked in and sat next to me.

"I don't wanna be a bother," I said softly.

"You worry too much," he responded as he put an arm around my shoulders. "I told Mom everything and she said it's ok for you to stay as long as you want. Dad's going to swing by your house after work and pick up the things you'll need; at least through spring break." I sighed softly as I remembered what it was like to have supportive parents.

I forced a smile. I had a place to stay for the next seven days, even if it would be awkward living with the aunt and uncle of my dead boyfriend. "Is there somewhere I can get a shower?"

"Right over there," Michael responded and pointed to a door in the far corner. I sighed softly as I stood up and walked to the bathroom.

I stripped down and turned the water on before stepping into the shower and letting the hot water wash away my fears, worries, and troubles. It felt so good to finally be in a familiar situation that I wanted to stay in that spray for the rest of my life. I knew, however, that this was not an option. Eventually, I would have to get out of the shower, and Gabe would still be gone. My parents would still hate me, and I would still be all alone in the world except for Michael.

 I was brought back to reality by a knock on the door. "You want dinner?" I heard Michael call out. I shut off the water to reply.

"No thanks, I'm just tired."

"Ok, well your duffel bag is on the bed. And you can sleep in the guest bedroom. You remember where it is?"

"Yeah, down the hall on the right," I replied.

"Ok, cool," he said.

I stepped out of the shower and quickly dried myself off before stepping back into Michael's room. I pulled on some boxers and a pair of pajama pants and carried my light bag down the hall to the guest room. All my possessions, I realized, were contained in a single duffel bag. I could hardly fit what I wanted to take to a friend's house for a sleep-over into a duffel bag when I was younger, yet now it was all that I owned.

I tossed and turned for what must have been hours in the bed before I was able to finally fall into an uncomfortable sleep. The next few days I felt incredibly awkward. Both Michael and his parents worked during the day, leaving me alone in the house. They told me to make myself at home, but I didn't feel right doing much of anything. We were in completely different social classes, and I didn't even belong. I spent most of my time in their backyard with my feet dangling in the pool, doing a lot of thinking. I never actually got into the pool, though.

By Tuesday, I became fed up with just sitting around and doing nothing. I took some money from a jar in Michael's room which he said I could borrow whenever, and took a bus to the cemetery. It took me a while to find the spot, but I finally found a small, simple headstone.

Gabriel Lorenze

Loving and Beloved Son

March 8, 1992-April 3, 2010

 

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, trying to brace myself against the cold. "Want a jacket?" a strange voice asked from behind me. I turned around and saw a boy I didn't know standing there, casually looking me up and down.

He stood about six-foot-four with long jet black hair and the most piercing green eyes that I had ever seen. I felt as if he was judging me, and yet for some reason I felt extremely safe around him at the same time. The second I saw him, there was no doubting that he was gay.

"What?" I asked awkwardly.

"I said, 'do you want a jacket?'" he repeated slowly. I almost felt as if he was mocking me, but I could tell that he wasn't.

"No, I'm ok," I responded politely.

"Nonsense." The sentence was short, but by the time it was over, he had removed his hooded jacket and thrown it at me, revealing a flimsy blue t-shirt with a smiley face printed in the center. It was an awkward fit, pulling his grey and white striped jacket on because he was much taller than I was.

"So...do I know you?" I asked, trying not to sound rude.

"You're the boyfriend right?" he asked back, not even bothering to look away from the headstone.

"What?" I questioned, blinking back my shock. "How did you know?"

"Tasha told me all about you and Gabe and that bastard Nick. He can rot in hell for all I care."

"Tasha," I repeated to myself as I scanned my memory for anybody with that name. It didn't take long for me to draw a blank. "I don't think I know her."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't know you," he responded cryptically. "Everyone knows Jerry. Or is it Gerald? Maybe Jay?" He had a very elegant way of talking in circles without giving me answers. I felt strangely like I was dealing with a character in Alice in Wonderland. It was starting to make me mad.

"Jerry, to you." I snapped. "And everyone may know me, but I don't have a clue who in the hell you are."

"Sorry," he responded politely as he extended a long, thin hand to me. "I'm Rusty Delmore."

I shook his hand, but still didn't know quite what to make of this guy. He seemed to be at both poles of all traits simultaneously. Kind and vicious, open yet mysterious, comforting but unnerving. And I still didn't even know why he was there. "So did you know Gabe?" I asked curiously.

"Not particularly. I'd passed him a few times in the halls back when I was in school and was just waiting for him to come out. You're lucky you got to him first."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure," I replied without thinking. "I mean, I love him, I still do, but this is a lot of heartbreak to go through at seventeen." I started choking up and turned to leave when Rusty put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't go," he said.

"Why not?" I questioned as I turned back to look at him.

"You still got my jacket." He smirked, showing it was a joke, so I forced a smile. "And you need some lunch in your tummy."

"I...I don't have much money," I admitted as I felt my face redden slightly.

"My treat," he responded with a kind smile. I was starting to like that smile.

"Oh, no thanks, I couldn't," I started, but was cut off by him grabbing my wrist stubbornly.

"Nonsense. Tasha said you would need a friend, so I decided to find you." I dug my heels into the ground as he started to walk away.

"Who is Tasha?" I asked him.

"She goes to school with you," he stated simply. "She's my eyes and ears there. When she heard your story, she thought maybe I could help you get through things."

"Thanks," I said pulling my wrist from his grip. "But no thanks. I'm not some kinda sad-sack charity case. I can do just fine on my own."

"Maybe you can," he responded softly, "but I can't."

“What are you talking about?” I asked, turning around and coming face-to-face with one of the cutest “puppy-dog” looks ever.

“I don’t wanna eat lunch alone. Please don’t make me,” he begged in an over-done attempt at a pathetic voice. “PLEASE,” he cried out, sinking to his knees in sheer melodramatic comedy. I laughed and blushed at the same time.

“Ok, fine. Just stop; you’re making a scene,” I almost begged.

He stood up and brushed his knees off with a cocky smirk. His smile was infectious and soon I, too, was smiling as we walked out to his car. “I’m still really confused,” I admitted as we climbed into his Chevy Cavalier. “So this Tasha girl, who I don’t even know, heard that Gabe was murdered and decided I needed a new friend?”

“It’s more than that,” he responded as he drove. “I’ve been through some bad shit myself. I’m good at coping. I figured maybe I could help.”

“But why?”

“Why what?” he asked confused.

“Why would a stranger I don’t even know offer to help me out?”

“Cuz I’m amazing,” he responded playfully. “But seriously. Nick Nash and his brother have been causing shit for us for way too long. Nick blames you for finally getting locked up, and that means the shit is about to hit the fan for you. It wouldn’t hurt you to have a few more friends.”

I sat there in silence for a few moments. Not only did Nick murder my boyfriend, he blamed me for getting arrested and, from the sound of it, planned on making my life hell for it. Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, God always found a new way to shit on me. “How could he do that?” I asked once I recovered. “He’s in jail.”

“Honey, Nick may have been a complete and total asshole, but he still somehow had friends,” he replied.

“I don’t get how,” I said while making a face.

“Me neither.”

We both laughed and talked as he drove us to a Wendy’s. For life being so horrible at that time, I felt oddly at peace around Rusty. I knew next to nothing about him, but something about his demeanor relaxed me.

He had a certain elegance to his walk as he strutted into the restaurant. I would have felt extremely inferior around anybody except Rusty. Even though he had an extremely confident aura about him, I could tell that he didn’t feel he was better than anybody else. We got our food, which he paid for, and walked towards a small table in the back. As we walked, people stopped to stare. I wasn’t quite used to people staring at me for being gay. I never really set off people’s suspicions the way that Rusty must have. It was uncomfortable for me, but I could tell he was used to it.

“So you used to go to my school?”

“Yeah,” he responded a little hesitantly.

“So did you graduate?”

“Not really...” Again, I detected a note of hesitation in his voice. I decided not to press the issue.

“Oh, ok,” I responded as I idly played with my French fry.

“I dropped out,” he said bluntly. “I was catching too much crap and you don’t need school to be an artist.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “I didn’t know. Who would try to start shit with you?” I reached across the table and gently rubbed his arm.

“I would have totally helped you out.” He grabbed my hand and held it gently in his on the table, but I had to pull mine away quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No,” I responded as I felt my face redden. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just...”

“I know,” Rusty replied sympathetically. “I understand completely.” I smiled at him as we both finished eating, and then I stood up and threw our trash away.

Rusty led me out to his car and unlocked it just as we saw a white Buick roll into the parking lot. I felt my heart stop. I recognized the car immediately. “Just get into the car,” Rusty said as we watched the large car roll up next to his. I was frozen in place, however, and couldn’t move. That was Nick’s car. How could he be here? He was supposed to be in jail. “Jerry, I said get into the car.”

“I’m not running away,” I said boldly.

I stared at the car and watched as a boy got out. He looked much like the one who had haunted my dreams since murdering Gabe, only taller and with a hooked nose. Those same steely blue eyes bore right through me. There was no denying that he was Nick’s brother.

“Oh, look,” he said cruelly. “The faggot has a new boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Carter,” Rusty responded protectively.

“Must not have taken you long to move on,” he continued, ignoring Rusty and talking straight to me. I balled up my fists in anger, blinking back tears. “So if you don’t love him, I guess you won’t care what we did at the cemetery.” My blood ran cold as he said that. Surely he wasn’t evil enough to touch his grave.

“Shut the fuck up, Carter!” Rusty was suddenly right in his face, pushing their noses together as he screamed. I watched as three other guys got out of the large white car, one holding a baseball bat. They were Nick’s friends and Gabe’s former teammates.

“Let’s go, Rusty,” I said and we climbed back into his car. I saw the four boys mocking us as we drove off, but couldn’t hear what they said.

I noticed Rusty was gripping the steering wheel incredibly tight, so I rubbed his thigh gently to get him to relax. “I fucking hate those low-life maggots!”

“I know,” I responded. “I do too.” I wanted to cry, but knew I had to be strong in front of Rusty. “I wanna go see what they did.”

Rusty drove us to the cemetery and we got out of the car near Gabe’s headstone. I was nervous as I ran ahead of him. I felt my body go cold and tears jump into my eyes when I saw the two poster board signs that were attached to Gabe’s grave. “God laughs when fags die,” one read, with confetti, streamers, and a party hat stuck on it, as well as an obnoxious large smiley face. “God bless Nick Nash,” the other simply read.

I ripped the signs off and threw them to the ground before falling to Gabe’s grave crying. Rusty helped me to my feet and wrapped his thin arms around my shoulders as I sobbed. “Why do they hate us?” I cried softly.

“I don’t know,” he responded, gently stroking my hair as I cried into his shoulder. “But I swear to God, I am going to make those fuckers pay.”

 

 

Life is like a game of Russian Roulette. The more bullets you put into the gun, the more chances you have of blowing your brains out. Apparently being gay is a lot of bullets, because my life had been blown to pieces ever since I came out. My parents hated me, my boyfriend was murdered, and I was kicked out of my house. Now it seems half the school hates me and the rest view me as a charity case to throw a pity party for. Sure, Rusty seemed nice enough, but I couldn't help but feel that when he dropped me off at Michael's house on Tuesday he was only being so nice because he felt sorry for me.

I didn't want people to feel bad for me. I'd gone through three and a half years of high school relatively unnoticed. Sure, I had made a few friends here and there, but nobody that I really felt close to or open with. I had kept my grades remarkably average in an attempt to stay anonymous to both teachers and the other students, and it had worked. Until now.

According to Rusty, the entire school now knew who I was, and what had happened to Gabe. And what made it worse was that it didn't sound like many of them were on my side. It was safe to say that I wasn't looking forward to going back on Monday.

It was a Thursday afternoon and I was alone in the guest room as usual when the doorbell rang. Curious, I trotted down the stairs and opened the front door. Standing before me I saw a very tall and slightly odd-looking woman.

I couldn't quite place it, but something about her seemed off. She had slightly stringy blonde hair and stood about six-foot-seven, partially due to her high heels. Not even her shape was quite right. “Jerry?” she asked in an unmistakable voice.

“Rusty!?” I asked, starting to laugh hysterically.

“That's Miss Use to you,” he responded as he gently pushed his way inside.

“You are one very strong 'woman,'” I remarked. He struck a dramatic pose, and I fell against the wall laughing. “Why are you dressed like that?” I managed to ask him between breaths.

“Psh, you know I look good,” he responded with a giggle. “We got a show tonight. And you're coming.”

“What? No way! There's no way I could dress...like that.”

“You don't have to, silly. We need an audience to perform for.”

“What do you mean by 'perform?'” I asked.

“All kinds of things. It's quite a show; you'll see when we get there. Now go make yourself presentable.”

I'm sure I turned a deep shade of crimson when I realized I was wearing only a pair of flannel green pajama pants and nothing else. Embarrassed, I turned and quickly climbed up the stairs. I stepped into the shower after stripping down and realized that I had left a relatively unknown man alone in a house that not even I belonged in. After a quick shower, I got out and wrapped a towel around myself before stepping out into the guest bedroom and finding Rusty sitting on my bed. “Hi,” he said nonchalantly. “Pretty simple room ya got here.”

“I told you, it's not my room. I'm just staying here until college.” I blushed slightly as I felt myself rising under the towel from the sight of Rusty on my bed; even if he was dressed as a woman. “What are you doing in here anyways?”

“I was going to help you get ready. But apparently I need to donate some of my art to you so you can decorate in here.”

“It's fine the way it is,” I defended. “And I can get dressed by myself. Been doing it since I was six.”

“I've seen the way you dress,” he kidded me. “You need my help.”

I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, earning a disapproving looks from Rusty. “What?” I asked.

“Don't you have anything...sexier?”

“Who's gonna see em?” I questioned.

“You'd be surprised,” was all he said as he walked over and picked up a small pair of light blue boxer-briefs from years ago that I had almost outgrown. “These are much better,” he remarked.

“Um...ok, I guess.” I was completely embarrassed having Rusty go through my underwear. Did he picture me in them? I watched as he walked over to my closet and opened it up. After minutes of analyzing my clothes, he pulled out some khaki pants and a green polo shirt.

“Here, wear these.”

“But you could totally see my boxer-briefs through those pants,” I informed him, pointing to the thin pants. He smirked.

“I know.” When he saw my stern look, he replaced them in the closet and pulled out a pair of black jeans. “There you go, if you wanna stay a virgin forever.”

“I'm not a virgin,” I corrected him quickly. I don't know why, but something made me want to tell him that vital piece of information.

“Well ooh-la-la,” he responded playfully. “Neither am I.”

I waited for him to leave the room, but he just walked over and sat on the side of the bed. I cleared my throat, and he just looked at me innocently. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Uh, I gotta change.”

“Yeah, so? Oh! You want me to leave?” He started laughing, but I failed to see the humor. “Honey, I've seen it all. More times than you can imagine.”

“Fine.” I sighed as I turned around and dropped my towel. I pulled on my boxer-briefs and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw Rusty turn his head away quickly. I blushed but didn't call him out on it as I pulled my jeans on.

“You got a white t-shirt?” he asked looking me over.

“Yeah, why?”

“Throw it on underneath the green one. The layered look is hot,” He advised me.

I slid a plain white shirt over my fairly thin torso before pulling the green polo over top of it. “Let's go,” Rusty said as he rose from the bed.

“What about my hair?” I asked. He looked me over quickly, and smiled.

“You're alright.”

He led me out to his car and I was suddenly hit by the strangeness of the situation. I had just gotten into the car with a cross-dresser that I hardly knew to go to some mystery event that he would tell me nothing about. He didn't drive very long, however, before I got my answers. He pulled into the rather full parking lot for a large building simply noted by a neon sign as “Over the Rainbow.” I knew what it was; I had heard my father talking about it on many occasions. It was the gay club in our town, the center of controversy among many of the church-goers in Riverton. “No,” I protested. “I can't go to a gay club.”

“C'mon,” he replied. “I need a fan there.”

“I can't,” I insisted. “Not without Gabe.”

“Honey,” he said, rubbing my shoulder gently. “Gabe isn't around anymore. He can't go to a club with you.”

“I know, but...I'm just not ready yet.” He certainly didn't make it seem like it was an issue that would bar me from entering. But, the main problem I had was Gabe. He had died before he got to go to a club. Why should I cheat his memory? How was it fair that he got this opportunity taken away from him, and I got to experience it? Rusty seemed to think that I was over-reacting, and he said that he needed a fan in there. Even though I barely knew Rusty, I oddly felt a certain loyalty to him. I don't know why, but the thought of disappointing him made me extremely sad.

It was about a half hour after Rusty left before I finally got out of the car and walked nervously towards the club. Nobody was at the door to card me, so I just walked inside. The first thing I noticed was how dark it was inside. Aside from the flashing strobe lights around the dance floor and the ones lighting the stage where two drag queens were singing a song which I didn't recognize, there were only a few dim lights spaced around the club. I couldn't find Rusty, so I made my way through the crowd to the bar and took possession of a stool there.

From what I could see of the crowd, many of the men and women at the club that night were around my age. I guessed it to be some kind of teen or young adult-themed night. From what I had learned in school, they were likely trying to reach a new demographic. I had heard that the club drew mostly older men and women, so they were probably trying to get a younger crowd in with a night that catered to them.

“Hey, baby. What's your drink?” I looked in the direction of the voice and saw a rather handsome man in a tight shirt. I noticed his pants hugged tightly to his crotch and blushed.

“I don't drink, thanks.” I stood up with the plan to get away, but he kept talking to me.

“Come on, what's a cute little twink like you doing all alone in a club like this?” he asked, reaching around and grabbing a handful of my ass.

“I'm not a twink,” I replied as I pushed his hand away angrily. I wasn't entirely sure what a twink was, but the stranger seemed to like them, so I was determined that I wasn't one. I pushed his hand away from me, but he responded by moving closer.

“You look like a twink,” he whispered in my ear. I shuddered as I felt his tongue run slowly along the skin under my ear. “You taste like one too,” he purred.

“Not interested,” I snapped. I pushed him away from me and saw Rusty walk over between us.

“Step off from my boyfriend,” he snarled. The other guy stepped back, putting his hands up in defense.

“Sorry, bro. I didn't know he was yours.”

I turned around and ran from the club. I didn't know what Rusty was thinking. Hell, I barely knew what I was thinking anymore. I certainly didn't want to give him that impression until I was sure for myself. I did like him, to an extent. But Gabe passed away just days ago and there was no way I was ready to even consider moving on.

I sat against the wall. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hid my head in my hands and cried. It felt like I was doing that way too much lately. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't do it. My life had spiraled out of control, all because of one note. I'd gotten my boyfriend of two years murdered, been kicked out of my house, and didn't have a clue where my life was headed. At one point I had wanted to be a psychiatrist. Now I felt more like I needed one.

I don't know how long I sat alone crying before I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders. I jerked my head up in alarm, but it was only Rusty. He didn't say anything, just held me comfortingly as I cried.

“Why?” I eventually was able to ask him.

“Why what?” he responded.

“Why is my life like this? Where did I fuck up to make God hate me this much?” I asked as he kissed the top of my head paternally.

“You didn't fuck up,” he said sternly. “Bad things happen to good people.”

“I must be a really good person then,” I replied with a solemn laugh, as I turned to look at him.

“You are a good person.” His eyes held my gaze as he said this, and I saw his head move towards mine slightly. I leaned towards him slowly, and I felt our lips connect.

His lips were soft, yet the kiss was firm. Our lips held together for a few seconds as we sat on the ground, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, before I felt his tongue press to my lips. I pulled away immediately after that and, seeing the want in his eyes, I felt tears appear in mine. “I'm sorry, Rusty,” I said as I stood up. “I can't do this.”

“Do you want a ride home?” his voice was blank, but I could see disappointment obviously in his eyes.

“No. I'll be fine alone.” I put my hands in my pockets and walked away, leaving him sitting on the ground by himself.

It was very dark when I left, and I couldn't even see the names on street signs until I was inches away from them. Even if I did have a destination in mind, I would have quickly gotten lost in the black night. As it was, I simply wandered aimlessly through the streets, eventually coming to a park and settling on a bench there. I had no way of knowing what time it was, but I felt like it would have to be well past midnight by how long I had been walking and how dark it was still.

The darkness wasn't just physical, but felt like it encircled my mind as well and prevented me from thinking clearly. I could see backwards thanks to one light, and I saw Gabe. As I tried to walk towards him, he only got further and further away. The harder I tried, the more distance was put between us. I ran for hours upon hours, until my muscles quivered like Jell-O and I couldn't run anymore. And still I was no closer to getting to Gabe. Giving up, I turned around and walked into the darkness alone.

I suddenly awoke from my dreams and was completely disoriented. I remembered the events of the night, and what led to me waking up on a park bench in the middle of the night. I must have slept for no more than an hour, I figured, because it was as dark now as it was before. I stood up and decided to try to find my way back to Michael's house. He must have been worried about me.

There are very few cars out driving in the early hours of the morning, so when I was walking down Elm and some high-beam headlights hit me in the eyes, it stunned me for a few seconds. When they were turned off, I saw a white Buick. I gulped and broke out in a cold sweat as I saw Carter Nash climb out of the driver seat, backed up by two of the largest men I can ever remember seeing. “Whatcha doin' out so late, fag?” Carter drawled as he staggered ominously towards me. He was obviously drunk.

“Prob'ly out whorin',” the stupider-looking of his friends responded, equally as drunk as his leader.

“Fags can't get enough dick,” the other, who sounded remarkably sober, chimed in. I turned around and started to run as fast as I could, but didn't make it very far before I felt somebody hit me from behind, knocking me face-first into the pavement. I tasted blood in my mouth as Carter ordered his friends around.

“Get the bat,” he said to the one who wasn't on top of me. “Pick it up,” he commanded the other coldly.

I was yanked roughly to my feet by the guy who was on top of me. I thrashed around trying to escape, but my struggles did nothing but make them laugh. “You cost my brother his friend,” Carter announced, accompanied by a punch to my stomach. I realized in sickening horror that he was referring to Gabe as Nick's friend as I doubled over in pain. I felt his knee fly into my face as he continued his drunken monologue. “And then you got him arrested!” I started to fall over, but his goon held me up. “Why did you make Gabe a faggot?” He sounded far away as he pulled my face to look at him. I could see in his eyes that he honestly believed that I had converted Gabe. My arms were pinned behind my back, so I did the only thing I could do. I spit right into Carter's face. I watched in terror as he took the metal baseball bat from his friend's hand, and connected it hard into my head.

I was standing in the darkness again, unable to see anything except for Gabe behind me. This time I didn't try to reach him. I knew what would happen. I walked forward scared, still unable to see. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see Rusty's smiling face. He took my hand as we walked forward into the darkness. I didn't know what lay ahead, but Rusty and I would face it together.

The next thing I knew, I heard Rusty's voice from my side. “I don't know what happened. We were at the club and then he left. I came over as soon as I read about it in the paper.”

“He hasn't woken up yet?” That was Michael.

“He's been out like a lot.” I didn't recognize that raspy voice, but it sounded like a girl's.

 “They say he could have a lot of damage to his brain.” That was Rusty again.

“Yeah, the doctors said his vision may be impaired or...lost,” the girl added. I gulped when I heard this, and their conversation stopped.

“Jerry?” Rusty asked surprised. I nodded slowly, and felt an excruciating amount of pain in my neck. “Can you open your eyes?”

I started opening my eyes, but stopped as soon as I saw the light. “It...it hurts,” I choked out. My throat was extremely dry and I didn't want to talk. I felt a hand grab mine on the right, and I squeezed it softly.

“I'll go get a doctor,” Michael said and I heard his footsteps leaving the room.

“Rusty, I'm scared,” I whimpered. I felt his lips press against my cheek as he stroked my hand.

“It's ok,” he said softly in my ear. “I can't say what's going to happen. But whatever happens, I'm here for you.”

“I don't wanna be blind.” I said sadly.

“Don't worry, you'll be ok.” I actually almost believed him.

 “Wh...what happened?” My head was throbbing and I could hardly remember a thing.

“You were attacked on Elm on Thursday. There's blunt force trauma to your left temple and you've been out ever since,” Rusty explained.

“What day is it?”

“It's Sunday. School starts back tomorrow,” Rusty replied.

“Great.” I rolled my closed eyes and I heard him giggle. “What's so funny?”

“You look cute like that.”

 “Oh, well I'll make a note to get attacked more often then.” He laughed again.

“But seriously, do you remember who did this?” As soon as he asked, the door opened and I heard two sets of feet enter the room.

“I'm Doctor Young, and this is Officer Washington.”

“If you'll excuse us,” spoke a gruff voice that I could only assume belonged to Officer Washington. “We need to speak to Jerry in private.” I felt Rusty stand up and heard him leave, along with feet that I assumed to belong to Michael and the mystery girl.

“Now, Jerry.” That was the Doctor's voice. “I need you to try to open your eyes.”

“It hurts,” I told him bluntly.

“I know, but you have to try. I don't think you should have any problems. Just try for me.” I opened my eyes a fraction of an inch, and saw that the lights had been turned off. I slowly opened them a little bit more, and could start to make out some of the signs that I was in a hospital room.

“Can you see ok?” he asked.

“Everything's a bit blurry,” I said. “But I can see.”

“A little blurriness is normal. I suspect your eyesight will be back to normal soon.” The young Asian doctor spent the next while talking to me about the damage to my brain. It had swelled up considerably, and part of my cerebrum had pressed into my skull, affecting my memory. He also said a dime-sized piece of my skull had been pushed into my brain and could hamper my motor abilities. Instinctively, I raised my right and left arms. Feeling a strain in my left arm, I looked over there and saw an IV dripping liquid into my body. Doctor Young informed me it was painkillers. He then asked me if I felt up to talking to Officer Washington. I nodded.

I watched as Officer Washington took a seat next to my bed. He was a large man in a police uniform with a bushy red mustache. He reminded me of a walrus. He was trying to put himself on my level to make me more comfortable. It wasn't working. “Jerry, do you know who did this to you?” I strained my mind, but came up with nothing.

“I...I can't remember.”

“Jerry, I need you to try as hard as you can,” he replied with a disappointed look on his face. “Without your testimonies, we can't do anything to help you or anybody else. Your friends had theories, but we can't arrest people off of theories.”

“Well who did they suggest?” I asked, hoping it could jog my memory.

“I can't tell you,” he replied with a frown. “It may plant false memories and corrupt the investigation.”

“Can I have a glass of water?” My throat still felt extremely dry, and all this talking was not helping. He filled a paper cup with tap water and handed it to me. I drank it quickly, and he continued the investigation.

“Can you think of anybody who may have a motive to attack you?” I closed my eyes again as I thought. I couldn't remember that night at all. I could only remember one person hating me. Nick Nash detested me, but I couldn't remember why.

“I remember a guy named Nick Nash. But I can't remember why he hates me,” I told him.

“Nash has been in jail ever since the murder of Gabriel Lorenze,” he said.

“Oh,” I said softly. “Why was he murdered?”

“He was gay,” he informed me. “It was a hate crime.” I realized then why Nick hated me. I sighed softly as I wondered if Gabriel and I would have gotten along. Probably not.

“I'm sorry I couldn't help more, Officer,” I said regretfully.

“It's alright. That's the biggest lead we've had yet.” I smiled as he handed me a card. “Call me if you happen to remember anything.”

He left and my room was almost immediately filled with people again. Michael walked in first, followed by Rusty and a short white-blonde girl who had her arm linked in his. “So Doctor Young says you may not remember much,” Michael said.

“Do you remember us?” Rusty asked hopefully.

“I remember you and you,” I said, pointing at Rusty and Michael. “But, um...not you.” The girl turned bright red. She had a familiar face, but I couldn't quite place it.

“I'm Tasha,” she said kindly.

“Rusty's friend?”

“That's right.” Rusty seemed genuinely proud of me for remembering that bit of information. I realized that I had seen her around school on a few different occasions, but had never spoken with her before. I looked between the three of them for a few minutes before asking the question that had been playing at my mind for quite a while.

“Are you, like, the only three who care about me?”

“Well...you didn't exactly go out of your way to make many friends,” Michael told me bluntly. “My parents care about you, but they didn't come yet because they didn't want to overload you with visitors.”

“What about my parents? And the rest of my family?”

“About that,” Michael said somberly. “They kinda don't approve of you being gay.”

“So they know?” I asked. “And you know?”

“Yeah,” Rusty responded. “We all know.”

“The whole school knows now,” Tasha commented.

“What? How do they know?” I asked surprised.

“Well, after what happened with Gabe....”

“Tasha,” Rusty interrupted her. “Can you come with me to the cafeteria? I need to get a drink.”

“Me too,” Michael said suddenly.

“You're all just gonna leave me here?” I asked.

“We'll be right back,” Rusty said as the three of them hurriedly left my room.

I may have just come out of a coma, but I wasn't stupid. I knew that the three of them were keeping something from me. Officer Washington mentioned a Gabriel being murdered, then Rusty stopped Tasha from talking about a Gabe who somehow made the entire school know that I was gay. I couldn't figure out why some kid dying made everyone think I was gay.

Michael walked back into the room a little while later and handed me a roast beef sandwich which I quickly started to devour. “Slow down,” he said chuckling and causing me to turn a bright shade of red.

“I'm hungry,” I said defensively.

“It would be a shame for you to die that way after everything you've been through,” he said. “So, who did it?”

“I dunno,” I replied with a shrug. “Why does everyone keep talking about Gabe?”

Michael's face showed his discomfort as he shifted in his seat. “Gabe was my cousin.”

“How does your cousin being murdered make people assume I'm gay?” I asked.

“He was one of your closest friends.” I watched him fiddle with the leg of his pants as he talked. “Once people found out about him, they started questioning you. Eventually you just came out.”

Rusty and Tasha walked into the room and our conversation ended. Tasha sat on the empty chair as Rusty took a seat on the edge of my bed.

“You look like shit,” he remarked to Michael.

“Gee, thanks,” the older boy responded sarcastically. I could tell he wasn't offended.

“Well you said you haven't been sleeping much since Thursday. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

“Would you mind, Jay?” Michael asked. “Rusty will stay with you.” He said it almost like a command to Rusty, so I shook my head to indicate that it was fine.

“You too, Tasha,” Rusty said.

“Oh, I get it,” she said.

“Get what?” Rusty asked, blushing like crazy. I got it too. Rusty wanted to be alone with me.

 

 

 Tasha stood up and kissed Rusty's cheek and both she and Michael kissed me on the forehead on their way out the door. Even though there were now two empty chairs in the room, Rusty continued to sit on the edge of my bed. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Just a lot of answers,” I responded bluntly.

“Ask away,” he responded. A hint of nervousness played at the edge of his voice, and I definitely noticed that.

“Are we boyfriends?” Rusty acted a lot like he was my boyfriend, but nobody had said that he was. While I knew Rusty to be gay, I wasn't sure about Michael. I did know that I felt a strange attraction to Michael, while being unsure of my feelings towards Rusty.

“Honestly? I'm not really sure.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, we kissed the night you got attacked. But you ran off right afterwards, and that's when it happened.”

“What about Michael? Is he gay too?”

Rusty shrugged. “I don't know. I only met him today. But I really doubt it. He's far too masculine.” His voice seemed strange through this entire conversation, and I had a feeling that he was hiding something from me.

Rusty stayed with me the rest of that day. Something about him relaxed me, and it seemed very easy to have a conversation with the attractive teen. A while after Michael and Tasha left, I announced to Rusty that I needed to get to the bathroom. Earlier in the day, I had tried to stand with the help of some doctors and realized that my legs were very weak at that point. “Need some help?” he offered.

“You just wanna see my dick,” I teased him.

“Do you kiss your boyfriend with that fucking mouth?”

“Only if he's lucky.”

“Maybe you should wash it out first,” he teased.

“With soap?”

“Nah.” His smirk turned in to a laugh that soon took both of us over.

“Just help me get to the bathroom, please.” He stood up and helped me to slowly rise from my bed. I draped my arm over his neck as he wrapped his longer arm around my waist. I leaned gently into him, and started walking on unsteady legs.

“Just take your time,” he coached. “No need to rush and hurt yourself.” I took a few steps before almost collapsing, and Rusty stopped with me when he felt me struggle before I leaned on him again. “Just take your time, dear,” he whispered in my ear. “Let me know when you're ready.” I took another step, and Rusty walked forward with me. He didn't rush me at all, and I thanked him for that mentally. He got me to the bathroom and turned the light on before going back into the main room.

I did what I had to do, and stood up using the small sink for support. I washed my hands by myself and flushed before calling out Rusty's name. He opened the door quickly, and saw me leaning over the sink. “You ok?” he asked, quickly helping me to lean on him again.

“I'm fine.” I was panting rather heavily from the exertion, though, and was starting to get pretty mad at myself. I didn't want to be dependent on Rusty or anybody else. I wanted to be strong again. To be normal.

Rusty helped me back to my bed and into a lying position before sitting on the armchair that he had positioned next to the head of my bed. When I commented on how sweet that was, he responded that he wanted to be nearer the remote for when I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew after lying back down, I was awakened by Michael and Rusty talking to each other. “Yeah, I'm sure,” I heard Michael say. “You've been here since he was found. You need to take a break. And I'd like to spend some time with him; he is as much my cousin as Gabe was.”

“Well, ok, but I'm only going home to take a shower and maybe a quick nap. I'll be back within a few hours.” I looked at the two of them and they suddenly noticed that I was awake and listening to them. “Is that ok with you, Jerry?” Rusty asked. I nodded, and he kissed my forehead before leaving.

Michael sat by my bed in the armchair that Rusty had put there. “You ok, dude?” he asked softly. I nodded and forced a smile at him. I was actually missing Rusty and kind of wished that he had stayed instead of Michael.

“I'm ok. Just a little confused.”

“Well, if you have any questions that I could answer, I will. We know each other pretty well.”

“And how is that?” I asked.

“Well, like I said yesterday, Gabe was my cousin. But we were more like brothers, and since you and he were best friends, you spent a lot of time at our house.” I continued to look at him, unsure of what to say.

“So we were all good friends?” I asked after an awkward silence. Another pause followed.

“Yeah, basically,” he replied.

“Basically?” I asked.

“Yeah, we were all friends.” I noted a slight tinge of sadness at the edge of his voice. I chalked it up to missing Gabe.

“So how long ago was it that Gabe passed?” I asked softly.

“He was murdered on Friday. It's been just over a week,” he answered.

“That's not very long.”

“No... it's not.”

Our conversation ended there, and we turned our attention to the TV in the corner. The program he picked, however, was boring, and it didn't take long for my attention to drift from the show to Michael. He was definitely an attractive man, and he had beautiful eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if I liked him before I lost my memory. Something about him seemed very familiar and I felt like I was starting to fall for him, if I hadn't already done so. But he never mentioned being gay or having any sort of feelings like that for me.

“So, can I ask you a question?” I asked softly as the show went to a commercial break.

“Sure, go ahead,” he responded kindly.

“You're not married, right?”

“Right. How did you remember that?”

“I've got parts of my long-term memory,” I explained to him. “I've got parts of my short-term memory too. I can remember quite a bit, but some things are just... gone.” He nodded solemnly, and I continued. “So why aren't you married yet? You're old enough.”

“I know,” he told me with a chuckle. “I just haven't found the right girl yet, not one that I'd like to settle down with.”

“So, you do like girls?” I asked. He laughed at that, but stopped when he must have seen that I was slightly offended by that.

“Yes. I like girls. Gabe was gay, but I'm straight as an arrow.” I smiled at him, but was a little bit hurt. I didn't want him to be straight.

“So do you have a girlfriend?” I asked him.

“Not yet, but hopefully soon.”

“Oh yeah? Who's that?” I inquired.

“Well you know that Tasha girl...?”

After many tests and a lot of medicine, I was released from the hospital on Wednesday, signed out to Michael's care. I had to be released into somebody's care who was over the age of eighteen and, since my parents couldn't have cared less when people told them about me being attacked, Michael signed for me with his parents’ permission. They still wanted me to live with them, they said. I wanted to get out though. I didn't want to be a bother, and I knew that that's exactly what I was.

Michael, Rusty, and Tasha were all there when I was released. Michael rolled a wheelchair up to my bed, and Rusty helped me scoot over into it. I remained silent through the whole thing. “You ok?” Rusty asked me, concerned. He had learned that whenever I was quiet for very long, something was usually upsetting me.

“I'm fine,” I lied.

“No you're not,” he said bluntly. “What's the matter?”

“I don't wanna talk about it,” I told him tersely. “I don't want to dump all my problems on you, ok? I'm tired of being a sad-sack charity case. So just drop it and let things be, ok?”

“Babe, please... tell me.” Rusty put his hand on my shoulder as the three of them walked and pushed me along. I shrugged his shoulder off and grabbed the wheels of my chair.

“I'm not your 'babe’,” I snapped at him. I started to push myself away down the hallway, and Michael grabbed the handles on the back of my chair.

“Jerry, talk to us. Please.”

“Let me go!” I yelled at him. I started thrashing around in my wheelchair, trying to loosen his grip on me. “I don't wanna fucking talk!” My screams echoed down the empty hallways, and I was sure that all of the other patients heard me. I didn't care. I started pushing myself down the hallway, and Michael's grip loosened on my chair so that I could get away.

I rolled down the hallway, feeling the tears forming in my eyes burning. I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, and felt myself stop suddenly. I opened my eyes to realize that I was at the end of the hallway, looking out the window out over the hospital parking lot. I just sat there looking, thinking, and trying not to cry. “Jay, what's the matter?” I heard Michael talking behind me, but I ignored him and stared forward. “Jay, please.” His voice was softer now, and he knelt by my left side. “Jay, I wanna help you. Tasha does too. And so do my parents. But we can't help you unless you help us to help you.” Again, I ignored him. “Jay,” he said softly after about a minute of silence. I heard tears in his voice, and had to blink back some of my own.

“I don't want to be a bother anymore,” I told him. “I don't want to live off of you and your parents. I don't want you and Rusty giving up your lives to stay in the hospital with me. I don't want you pitying me anymore.” I took a break to blink back some tears. He tried to rub my arm, but I pulled it away from him. “I'm moving out tonight.”

“Jay, you can't. You don't have anywhere to go. You don't have anything to do to make money. You don't have anything.”

“Thanks for fucking reminding me,” I snapped. “But living off of you and your parents isn't gonna be any better for me.”

“Jay, stop this. This is your problem. You worry about other people too much. You need to stop living for other people, and start living for yourself.” I shut my eyes tightly again, holding back the tears as best I could, but I felt a few roll out anyway. A thumb lightly brushed them off, but I pushed it away. I opened my eyes, expecting it to be Michael, but instead I saw Rusty.

“Jerry, he's right. You're too good of a person.” I forced a smile, and he chuckled slightly. “You worry about other people too much. All you ever talk about is being a bother to other people, and how whatever you do affects others. You need to stop that, and start looking out for number one.”

“Who?” I asked. He poked a thin finger into my chest and smirked.

“You, silly.” I forced a smirk.

“I'll try,” I said. In all honesty, I knew that I wouldn't be able to change something that was that big of a part of me.

“Promise?” Michael asked, holding out his pinky to me. I hooked it in mine, then crossed my heart with my pinky. He grinned at me as Rusty and he stood up. “You ready to go, Jay?' I nodded, and he pushed me back down the hallway to the elevator.

The four of us entered the elevator and Michael pushed the button to take us down to the ground floor. I sat silently in my wheelchair even as we passed doctors and nurses who wished me well. I still wasn't feeling right about living with the Lorenzes, but I didn't want to say anything to hurt Michael's feelings.

He wheeled me out to his SUV, and Rusty helped me to stand and climb into the backseat. He took the seat on the other side as Michael and Tasha climbed into the front. I rested my head back against the rest and closed my eyes pretending to sleep. “Jerry?” Rusty asked me after a few minutes. I stayed silent. ”Do you think he'll be ok, Michael?”

“He'll be fine,” Michael responded. “He's always been emotional. It's just how he is. I'll keep an eye on him and help him out, don't worry about it.”

“Please do,” Rusty said back to him.

“You like him, don't you, Rusty?” Tasha asked him.

“It's just... it's been a while since I've been around somebody like him. I can't even remember the last time I fell for somebody this fast.”

“Why don't you tell him?” She asked. “It's not like you to not tell people things.” I heard Rusty sigh softly.

“I can't. After everything that he's been through, the last thing he needs right now is a boyfriend. Especially one like me.” He laughed solemnly. “I don't want him to get hurt any more, and I'm not good for him. In fact, maybe I just shouldn't hang around at all.”

“Don't you dare leave him,” Michael said tersely. “We're all he has right now. And without you, he probably wouldn't be coming home today. If you leave now, he'd be more hurt than anything that you could possibly do by sticking around.” I felt us turn and the SUV started slowing down, so I knew that we were going down the driveway towards Michael's house. “Just promise me you'll stay, ok, Rusty?”

“Deal.”

A few minutes after I was sure their conversation had ended, I raised my head up and slowly opened my eyes. “Are we almost there?” I asked in a groggy voice.

“Just about,” Tasha told me from the front seat. “I'm kinda excited to see your house, Mikey.”

“Mikey?” I asked, holding back a laugh. “Nobody calls you Mikey.” Michael shot me a look through the rear-view mirror, and I quickly shut up.

“I wish I had time to give you the grand tour, but we have to get Jerry settled back in,” Michael said to her.

“I can help with that,” Rusty offered. “You two love birds go and have your fun.”

“You sure?” Michael asked, a little bit too much eagerness in his voice. I looked at Rusty and pantomimed shooting myself, causing him to laugh.

“Yeah, I can handle him.”

We pulled into the garage at the end of the driveway, and the three of them got out quickly. I opened my door, and Rusty and Michael were both standing there to help me climb out.

“Guys, I can do this,” I said. “I'm gonna be walking at school tomorrow, and you two aren't gonna be there to help me stand. Besides, I got most of my leg strength back.” I stepped slowly down from the SUV and faltered a bit. Rusty was there to help me, but I grabbed onto the open door instead. “Rust, I got this.”

“Maybe you shouldn't go back to school tomorrow,” he said, obviously worried about me.

“Rusty, I'll be fine. I promise.” I gave him an adamant look, and saw that he wasn't going to protest anymore.

“If you two wanna go on now, I'll take Jerry in to the guest room,” Rusty told Michael and Tasha.

“Ok, let me know if you need anything,” Michael said as he and Tasha walked off.

I walked to the front door, Rusty walking by my side. “You know, you can go hang out with them,” I told him. “I really don't need any help.”

“Oh, is that what you want?” he asked sadly.

“No, it's not that,” I said hurriedly. “I just didn't want you to feel like you had to help me.” I said as I opened the door and walked inside.

“Jerry, I'm not sticking around out of guilt. If it was just guilt that kept me around, I wouldn't have taken you to the show. I wouldn't have been at the hospital with you all that time. I wouldn't be here in the foyer telling you that I love you.” He stopped as soon as he said it, locking up in shock. I just stood there staring at him, unable to believe what he said.

“Wh... what did you say?” I asked softly. He looked down at the floor, blinking quickly.

“Nothing. Just forget it,” he said quickly. By the time I had a chance to react, he had walked out the front door. I followed after him on weak legs and saw him get into his car.

“Rusty, wait!” I called out to him. He ignored me as his car turned around and he sped down the long driveway. I watched him go, then sat on the porch and pulled my knees to my chest. Michael and Tasha walked around the corner, his arm around her waist as they laughed.

“Where's Rusty?” Michael asked. I raised my head from where it was resting on my knees and looked at him.

“He drove off,” I responded softly.

“Why?” Tasha asked. “What happened?”

“He told me he loved me.” I saw their reactions were about the same as mine was, mostly shock with a lot of confusion. “I didn't know what to say to that right away, and he ran off.” I stood up and looked at Tasha. “Do you know where he could be going?” She shook her head.

“Any number of places, really.”

“Well, where does he live?” I asked.

“He has an apartment over on Dahlia Lane,” she told me.

“Get in,” Michael commanded.

“Huh?”

“I'm going to take you to go find Rusty.” He grabbed his car keys from his pocket and opened the car door for me. I climbed into the back as he and Tasha got into the front.

Michael's driving was never what you would call the safest, technically speaking, but anytime he was in a rush, it got even worse. He was definitely in a hurry on the way over to Rusty's, and it showed. I was grabbing onto the seats at times to keep from sliding across it, even though I was buckled in. Eventually we arrived at the Oak Ridge Apartments building and I didn't know whether to kiss the ground or look around for Rusty's car first. I decided to look for his car, and got out quickly.

I walked all through the parking lot, scanning for Rusty's beat-up old car, but saw no sign of it. “It's not here,” I told Tasha.

“He may just not be here yet,” she responded. “The way this maniac drives, I wouldn't be surprised if we beat him here.” She giggled as she said it, but stopped when she saw my serious expression. “Jerry, he'll be ok. I can tell you're worried about him, but he's done this before. He gets emotional and drives around for a little bit. He'll either do that or come back here and paint. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.”

“Where do you plan on doing that?” Michael asked as she got out of the car.

“I have a key to his apartment.” She walked towards the building, and I followed her.

“Can I come in, too?” I asked. “Like, wait for Rusty to make sure he gets here ok?” She nodded.

“Well, I'm gonna go grab some dinner for us then,” Michael told the two of us. He drove off and we walked into Rusty's apartment, number 2B.

The apartment was surprisingly clean, but all the furniture looked rather aged. It didn't look like a thing in the living room was out of place. A tattered couch sat against one wall, opposite a small television. Only a low counter separated the living room from the equally clean kitchen. An art easel sat in one corner of the living room, opposite the door. On it was a half-painted picture of two boys. Tasha went to the bathroom down the hall, and I walked over to the easel.

The picture, I realized, wasn't just two regular boys. In the picture I was sitting on a bench, with Rusty behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind in a hug. We were both immediately recognizable, a compliment to Rusty's apparently amazing artwork. I noticed other works scattered around the apartment and hanging around the walls of the living room. Not all of them were portraits of me, but I noticed a couple that were definitely my likeness.

Laying next to one on the coffee table, I saw a small purple book. Feeling curious, I picked it up, and opened it to the first page.

“May 7, 2008.

Today, I came out at work. They wasted little time in firing me.”

I quickly realized that the book I was holding in my hands was Rusty's journal. Hearing the toilet flush, I started to panic. Tasha would be pissed if she saw me reading through Rusty's journal. I thought about throwing it back to the table, but the bathroom door had already opened. Quickly, I stuffed the book down the back of my pants and arranged my shirt to cover the slight bulge that it caused.

“Everything ok?” Tasha asked, walking out and seeing me looking at the painting on the easel.

“Yeah,” I responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You sound weird. Are you freaked out by the picture?” She asked.

“No, not at all. It's sweet.”

“He doesn't mean it like he's stalking you or something,” she told me. “He draws everybody. He doesn't paint himself in very many though.”

“Well, like I said, it's sweet. I've never been drawn or painted before. And he's really good. He got my best side.”

“I have a hard time thinking you'd have a bad side,” she said.

“Oh, you'd be surprised.”

 

 

It had been a while since I'd been to church, yet that was where I found myself going back to. Saint Paul's Parish on Main Street had once been a source of extreme comfort for me. However, since coming out to my parents and being preached at about eternal damnation every Sunday for an entire church service, I hadn't gone back. If God had given up on me, I figured, why should I waste my time worshiping him?

Rusty had showed up at his apartment after Michael had gotten back with our dinner, a bucket of chicken from the local restaurant. We were sitting eating as he walked through the door and stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“We came to look for you,” Tasha explained. “You just ran off, and never told anybody where you were going?”

“Didn't you think that was a sign?” he snapped at her. “I didn't want to see any of you people.”

I stood up slowly and walked towards him. “Rusty, please, we're trying to help you,” I told him as I approached. He pushed me away and I smelled beer coming from his breath.

“I don't need your damn help,” he told me coldly. He looked dead in my eyes as he spoke his next words. “I don't need you. I don't want you. I never want to see you again.”

I took s few steps back and looked down at the ground, tears forming in my eyes as I wondered why he would say such a thing just hours after telling me that he loved me. “Rusty, I...” When I looked up, I saw Michael swing and punch Rusty square in the jaw, knocking the taller boy to the ground.

“Don't you ever say that to Jay again,” he growled.

“Michael!” I yelled at him. Tasha got between him and Rusty to stop him from doing anything else, and he turned to look at me. “Stop it! Don't hurt him,” I pleaded.

“Jay, he was...”

“I don't care,” I told him. “You shouldn't have hit him.”

Rusty stood up. “Leave,” he commanded. “All of you.”

“Rusty,” I said softly.

“Leave.” Michael put his hand on my lower back and guided me out the door, followed by Tasha. A sad look was etched across her face, and I hugged her quickly.

“It's ok,” I told her. “It's not your fault.”

“I should have figured he'd come back drunk,” she told us. “He does this sometimes.”

“Tasha, it's ok,” Michael told her. “Let's just get on our way. We can drop you off at your house and then Jerry and I can go home.”

“Actually, Michael,” I said as we walked towards his car, “I'd like to drop by my church if you wouldn't mind dropping me off.”

“Saint Paul's?” he asked surprised. “Sure, if you're sure you wanna go.” I just nodded and we climbed back into his SUV. He started the car, and we pulled out of the parking lot, me sitting on Rusty's journal.

I walked nervously up the large stone steps and opened the wooden door nervously. It had been nearly a year since I had opened that door, and it was heavier than I remembered. I stepped slowly into the entrance room, bracing myself against the cold that I knew was to come as soon as I walked into the nave. No matter what the weather was like outside, my church always found a way to be cold.

There were a few people sprinkled throughout the pews, but it was far enough away from the start time of the service that very few people would be here. I was glad for that. I went to the very back pew, knowing that the front few would be filled up first. Everybody in Riverton that went to church had to make sure that everybody else in Riverton who went to church knew that they went to church. I knelt by the pew, did my cross like a good boy, and side-stepped in slowly.

Lowering the kneeler with my foot, I sank to my knees on the cushion. I crossed my hands in front of me and closed my eyes just like I had been taught so many years ago, back when my parents still loved me. Back when they felt like I was going to heaven. Back when they cared if I even did. Keeping my eyes closed, I raised my head slightly towards the roof of the church.

“God,” I said inside my head. “This is Jerry. I know it's been a while since we've talked, and I'm truly sorry for that. I don't know if you really hate me or not. I was always taught that you were loving and forgiving, though, so I'm hoping that you can do me a favor. It's about my friend Rusty. He's gay too, but I'm hoping that you don't really mind about all that.” I sighed softly before I continued. “I just want him to be happy. I think he's going through a lot of stuff right now, but I was hoping that maybe you could help him to get through it alright. I want him to be happy again, like when we first met. Even if you need to get me out of his life to make him happy again, I'm ok with that. I'm used to losing people.

“Also, if you happen to have any miracles left over, I wouldn't mind maybe getting a little bit of peace myself. At least for like a day or something? That would be wonderful.” I felt a hand on my shoulder, and jumped slightly at the surprise. I opened my eyes and looked at it's owner, ready to apologize for taking their pew, and instead saw Father Shepherd's kind face smiling at me.

“Jerry, it's been quite a while since you've been here,” he spoke, his voice thick in Irish accent. I always used to think that he sounded like Big Bird when I was younger.

“Hi, Father Shepherd,” I responded, forcing a smile. “I'm sorry about not being here for a while. It's just after I...”

“Came out?” he asked, his calm hand still resting on my shoulder. “Father Kelly doesn't take kindly to those kinds of things. I told him he should let up on it some, but he is one stubborn man.”

I blushed slightly as he so bluntly exposed the situation to me. “So...you mean, you don't have any problem with it?” I asked him nervously.

“Problem? No, not at all. My brother's gay, in fact, and there is no way that he is going to go anywhere but straight to heaven. And besides, all hate does is drive people out of the church and, therefore, money out of the collection plates.” He winked at me as he said it, and I laughed slightly. “So what brings you back to our church tonight?” he asked me.

“Well, I honestly wasn't planning on attending the service,” I told him. “I just needed to come in for a few minutes to pray about a couple of things.”

“Well, you're more than welcome to stay for mass,” he offered. It was obviously not a command, but merely an invitation. I shook my head slightly.

“I'd rather just leave,” I told him.

“Is it about the homosexuality thing?” he asked bluntly. “If you have a few minutes, I'd like to speak to you in my office about that.”

I stood up nervously, and he walked me to the front of the church, his hand still on my shoulder. I heard some of the people that were already in the pews whispering amongst each other, but mostly ignored them. I was sure that Dad had told everybody why I had stopped attending church, and it was the gossip of everybody. They sure didn't have anything better to talk about.

Father Shepherd opened a small wooden door by the altar and guided me inside a cramped room. I sat in the little wooden chair on one side of his desk, and he took a seat in the much larger chair on the other side. “So you stopped coming to church because you were afraid God judges you for your homosexuality?” he asked.

I nodded. “That's what Father Kelly says, and so do my parents. It even says so right in the Bible.” If I knew anything, I knew the parts of the Bible that condemned me. I had heard them enough that I had them memorized.

Leviticus 18:22 'do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman. That is detestable.' That was always one of my Mom's favorites. My dad was more prone to Corinthians 6:9-10, which said 'do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.'

Father Shepherd chuckled slightly, taking my off guard. “The Bible says a lot of things that people don't listen to anymore,” he told me. “People just choose to listen to those verses that suit their own needs the best. Has your father never gotten drunk?”

“Well, yes sir, he has.”

“Then he too, shall be banned from inheriting the kingdom of heaven. Has your mother eaten shellfish at any time in her life?” I nodded. “Well, no kingdom of heaven for her! Leviticus 11:10 says that's an abomination as well. Have you ever argued with your parents?” Again I nodded. “Well, then, we have to put you to death. Leviticus 20:9. Has your father ever trimmed his beard?”

I started laughing at this point, and he chuckled. “I assume you get my point by now?” he asked me seriously.

“Yes, father,” I responded. “But why do people choose to listen to the hateful messages of the Bible and not the nicer parts?” I was sure that I sounded like a small child when I asked, but he just smiled back at me.

“People do that with everything. But the Bible is accepted by a large percentage of the world as fact. It is the ultimate truth to many people. With great power comes great responsibility.” I laughed as my priest quoted Spider-Man. “Unfortunately, some people decide to abuse that power to force their own views and opinions into other people's lives. But just like I don't judge all gays on the acts of one, you shouldn't judge all Catholics on the acts of a few.”

“Are you trying to get me to come back to church?” I asked.

“I'm not going to force you into anything that you don't feel comfortable doing, but if you would like to come to church on a regular basis, I wanted you to feel more than welcome to.”

“Thank you, Father. But...I think I'd rather not. I honestly would like to avoid seeing my parents as much as possible.”

“Problems between the three of you?” he asked kindly.

I told Father Shepherd all about what happened between my parents and me, starting as far back as I could remember. As I talked to him, I found more and more of my memories returning to me.

 I ended up telling him the entire story of my life, confessing the things that I had done and how my parents had reacted. I told him about them kicking me out after I refused to find a girlfriend, and about going to live with Michael. I told him all about meeting Rusty and how I felt about him, as well as being apparently attacked on Elm. I also told him about the way that Rusty had acted when he told me he loved me and how he acted right before I had shown up at the church.

“I wish I knew what to say to you to help make it better,” he told me sincerely. “If you ever need anything, even just to talk, I'm here for you, as I'm sure anybody else in the church is. You need but to ask. As far as trying to avoid your parents, you could sit in one of the back pews,” he pointed out.

I nodded solemnly. “I'll consider it, Father.”

“Well, unless you need anything else, you are free to go whenever you wish.” I stood up and walked to the door, but stopped before opening it. “Is something the matter?” Father Shepherd asked.

“My parents are out there,” I told him softly. Tears formed in my eyes as I swallowed down the lump in the back of my throat. That was the first time I had seen them since they kicked me out of the house and, apparently, their lives. They didn't even show up when I was attacked. They didn't care enough to see if I was even alive.

“Do you want me to walk you out?” he asked. I knew they wouldn't say anything in front of the Priest, so I nodded.

“But can we not make a show out of it?” He laughed as he stood up and put his hand once again on my shoulder.

“Of course.”

We walked out of his office and I flinched slightly as the door creaked. The entire congregation turned their heads to look at us as Father Shepherd walked me out the door and down one of the side aisles. I looked towards my parents and made brief eye contact with my father before looking down at the ground again. I heard hushed whispers throughout the pews, but Father Kelly continued on with his service. I heard him stress the words “sinner” and “damnation” a few times.

At the back of the church Father Shepherd hugged me quickly. “Peace be with you,” he whispered into my ear.

“And also with you,” I responded before turning and leaving the church. Michael was sitting in his car waiting for me, just as we had discussed before I had gone in. I walked over and climbed inside, a slight smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

“Did it go ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, how about with you?” He blushed bright red, and I grinned. “So you got some, huh?”

“Shut up,” he whined. “It's not like that. But Tasha and I are going to go out this Friday. And she also agreed to watch out for you when you go back to school tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I responded softly. “I forgot about that.”

“Do you feel like going back tomorrow?” he asked me. “You know you don't have to if you'd rather stay home for a few more days.”

I shook my head. “No, I need to go. I missed a lot in the hospital, and I need to be sure that I can graduate so that I can get into a good college.” He just nodded and drove us towards his house.

******

It's funny how being the town sad-sack suddenly entitles you to be much more popular than before. I got out of Michael's SUV and met Tasha in front of the school, forcing a smile at her. “You ready for this?” she asked.

“Hell no,” I responded laughing some. It was only partially a joke, and she knew that. She forced a smile back to me and clutched her books to her chest as we started the long walk towards the school. People had a tendency to gather in groups standing in the courtyard of our school, and those groups had a tendency to gossip. Apparently the gossip machines were in full effect the day that I decided to go back to Riverton High.

“Hey, dude, where ya been?” one guy asked. It was obvious by his voice and laughter that he didn't hold any concern for my well-being at all.

“There's a lot of dick around here to suck,” his friend replied. Their laughter doubled in volume, and started to spread to other small groups nearby.

“Just keep walking,” Tasha said under her breath. “They'll grow up eventually.”

We walked into the school together, and I saw tears forming in her eyes. “What's the matter?” I asked.

“I'm sick of all their shit. This is exactly what happened to Rusty, and I don't want to see you go through the same thing.”

“I'll be fine,” I told her. “I was a nobody for so long, maybe some ridicule will be a refreshing change of pace.” She looked at me, and I gave her a goofy grin to let her know that I was kidding. All I got from her was a giggle.

She hooked her arm in mine and we started walking towards my homeroom. Unlike on the outside, nobody inside of the school said a word to me. Normally, that wasn't a problem, but this time people actually stopped their conversations to stare at me as I walked past. “They think I'm a freak,” I said to Tasha out the corner of my mouth.

“They're the freaks,” she responded, anger pouring out of her words. “Fucking parasites just live to feed off of other people's misery.” She gave some chick the finger as we walked into homeroom and I took my seat in the back. “I'm gonna hang out with you until it's closer to the start of homeroom,” she announced, sitting on my desk with a smile.

“Hey,” one guy said to me as he walked in the room. “Did they get back together?”

“Who?” I asked, my confusion likely showing on my face.

“Your butt cheeks,” he said, laughing as if he just heard the funniest joke ever. Some of the idiots around him joined in.

“Alright, listen here, ass-face!” Tasha had stood up and was face-to-face with the boy who had made the joke before I had time to react. “Just because Jerry is gay doesn't give you the right to make fun of him! You're not all high and mighty. You're no better than he is!” She was yelling right in the boy's face, and he didn't have a response for her at all. “He, unlike you, is nice and sweet and caring and actually gives a flying fuck what other people think!”

“Tasha, what is going on here?” my homeroom teacher asked as he stepped into the room.

“Oh, sorry Mr Brite,” Tasha responded sheepishly, a far cry from the angry tone that she had just a few seconds earlier. “I was just defending my friend.”

“Well, if you could leave my class, that would be greatly appreciated. I'd like to get the day started without a fight.” Tasha left the room, and Mr Brite walked over to me. “Hey, Jerry. You doing ok?” he asked kindly. I nodded and put my head down on my arms. It was going to be a long day.

My classes followed that formula for the majority of the day. I avoided teachers' questions as much as possible while shrugging off jokes, insults, and stares. I was never quite so happy that I could remember as when the final bell rang, signaling my dismissal from hell. At least I was going to go to college at the end of the year, I told myself.

I met up with Tasha out front of the school, and we walked together over to Michael's SUV. She climbed into the front as usual, and I sat in the back. “Hey, you two. How was school?” I grunted from the back seat and Tasha rolled her eyes. “No good?” he asked.

“They treat me like a side-show freak,” I groaned.

“Some assholes were picking on him, but I stopped them,” Tasha told him.

“Hardly,” I told her bluntly. “At lunch I was walking with my tray and people kept backing up in their chairs just so I couldn't walk through any of the aisles.”

“Well, fuck all of them,” Michael said. That was his solution to any problem that he didn't know the answer to, and a large reason why he failed a couple of math classes over the years.

I sat in silence until we got back to the house, at which point I climbed quickly out of Michael's car and walked inside with my backpack. “Hello, honey, how was your first day back?” Michael's mom greeted me.

“I'm sorry, Mrs Lorenze, I'd really just like a nap. Can we talk later?” She nodded, and I went up the stairs two at a time to the guest room. I opened the door and threw myself on the bed, laying on my stomach as I dug Rusty's journal out from under my pillows and opened it up.

I hadn't read any more since the day before, so I opened it up to the first page.

“May 7, 2008.

Today, I came out at work. They wasted little time in firing me. I really liked that job, but I guess that's how the fairy tale goes. Boy meets girl, boy gets job, boy comes out, boy loses job. And they all live happily-ever-fuckin-after.”

I turned the page, and read on.

“May 13, 2008.

Being broke sucks. I've started to sell some of my paintings, but the money is too little and infrequent to really live off of. I think I'm gonna have to find something else to do to make ends meet.”

“May 18, 2008

Today I did something I never thought that I'd do. I turned a trick. I had sex with a man for money. I sold my body. I gave away the only thing that I can really call my own. I abused my body and let a man use me, all for a mere $200. The worst part of it? I'm too ashamed to even spend the money.”

I gasped slightly when I read that. Rusty had sold his body? I couldn't even believe it. It seemed like there was any other number of ways for him to make money, and he chose to do that. I closed the book and tucked it safely back under the pillows.

“Jerry!” Tasha said as she busted into my room suddenly. Her voice made it obvious that she was holding back tears.

“What?” I groaned in a fake-sleepy voice. “I was trying to take a nap.”

“It's Rusty,” she told me, starting to cry. “He's been arrested. They think he murdered somebody.”

 

 

 

“What are you talking about?” I asked sitting up in bed surprised. “Who did he murder?”

“They don't know if he actually murdered anybody,” Tasha told me. “But they think he was the one who killed Carter Nash.”

“Good,” was the first thing I said. “I don't mean that,” I corrected myself quickly. “It's not good that he's dead, or that Rusty killed him. But...I'm glad that he got what was coming to him.”

Tasha made a disappointed face at me. “Oh, come on. Didn't you hate him too, Tasha?”

“I did. But I don't wish murder on anybody. Do you really want his family feeling the way that you felt about Gabe?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What about Gabe? He was just my friend.”

“No, he was your best friend,” she told me. “The two of you were like brothers. And once he died, you didn't know what to do with yourself.”

“Why are you saying it like it's past tense?” I asked her. “I hardly know what to do with myself now! I live in someone else's house because my parents hate me. I have amnesia and can't remember half of my past, and God only knows if I have a future at all. And now you're telling me that one of the few people who pretend to give a fuck about me is going to go to jail for murdering a guy who I hated, and I can't be happy about that?”

“Look, I just thought you'd like to know about what happened to Rusty. Now you know, and I'll leave you alone.” She turned and walked out of the room. I walked over to the door and slammed it shut behind her.

I heard the sounds of dinner downstairs about an hour later, and was surprised when nobody came to ask me if I'd like to eat. I just lied there on my stomach, staring out the window at the head of my bed. Rusty really murdered somebody? I couldn't even imagine him doing that. He got mad at times, but it never seemed to be to the point of murder. I saw a bird sit on the window sill and stare inside at me. I stared back until he flew away.

There had to be a reason behind Rusty killing Carter, if he even did. I stood up off the bed and changed out of my school clothes into something more relaxing and walked downstairs. I saw Michael and Tasha laying together on the couch, her leaning against him as he lied back on the arm of the couch. I sat in one of the lounge chairs and looked at whatever TV program they were watching.

“So why do they think that Rusty did it?” I asked.

Tasha looked at me a bit surprised. “Well, he's pretty much the only person that they could put any kinda motive on. I mean, it's not exactly a secret that he and Nash hated each other.”

“So is he just a scapegoat?” I asked surprised.

“No, not really. He didn't have an alibi for the time that Carter was murdered,” she told me.

“So Carter's really dead?” I asked softly. I still could hardly believe it.

“Yeah,” Michael spoke up. “They found him outside Over The Rainbow laying in a pool of his own blood. They didn't find a weapon, but they think that he was shot.”

“How did you two find all this out?”

“Rusty called me from the jail,” Tasha said. “His arraignment is tomorrow afternoon. He asked that you and I both show up.”

I nodded solemnly. “Did he do it?” I asked her softly.

She looked down at the floor. “He didn't deny it. The only thing that he's going to argue tomorrow is that it was self-defense. He's going to try to get a low sentence and see what he can do from there. He doesn't have the money to pay bail, so that's not really an option.”

I nodded solemnly. Rusty really did kill Carter Nash. But he told Tasha it was in self-defense, and I believed him. I could see Carter going to attack Rusty and being shot. I just hoped that Rusty would be able to get a low sentence.

Michael's parents let me stay home from school the next day, and I spent much of it reading through Rusty's journal. I figured that maybe if I got to know him a little bit better, I could talk to the judge and convince him that it was actually self-defense.

Tasha came to Michael's house at three o'clock and helped me pick out some clothes to wear. I dressed up, trying to look nice so that I would look better for Rusty's character, and we left in Michael's car at 4.

We arrived at the court house, and were let inside. A lady at a desk told us to go into the waiting chamber and pointed us into a large, empty room. “This is eerie,” I whispered to Tasha. “I've never been involved in the legal process before.”

“It's not my first time,” she shrugged. “It's really not as scary as they make it seem. I mean, as long as you're telling the truth, you really don't have anything to be scared of.”

I nodded. “But what if I say something to get Rusty into even more trouble?”

“We don't have to speak at all,” she told me. “The judge will probably just ask if we have anything to say to attribute to Rusty's testimony, and we can decide whether to talk or not. If you think what you say will hurt, I'd suggest not talking.”

I just nodded and put my hands in my pockets as I looked around the large room. Within seconds I realized that there was nothing to see, and just stood there. A few long minutes later, a door opened up and a man in a police uniform waved us to follow him. We stepped into the courtroom and I instantly felt my stomach fill with butterflies.

There was a small table set up in the middle of the cavernous room, with a briefcase on top of it and some papers strewn about around it. Rusty was standing behind it, looking nervous in what I am assuming are the nicest clothes that he had, with a stone-faced man in a suit standing next to him that I assumed was his lawyer. Tasha and I walked over to Rusty and he hugged both of us in turn. “You ok?” he whispered in my ear.

“Are you?” I asked back.

He pulled back from me and forced a smile. “Always living for other people,” he said.

I jumped slightly as I heard the judge bang the gavel on his stand, and turned quickly to face him. He was an older man, in his early sixties, I'd say, and he had a stern look on his face. “Rusty Delmore, you have been charged with murder in the first degree. Do you understand your legal rights as they have been presented to you?”

Rusty nodded. “Yes, your honor.”

“Would you like to submit a plea at this time?” He nodded again. “And your plea?”

“Guilty.” Tasha and I both looked at the floor, and the judge shifted slightly in his seat. Rusty said it so confidently that it must have taken him off guard. “However, your honor, this was not murder. Yes, I killed Carter Nash. I am not going to deny that. But, I have to tell you that I did so in self-defense.”

“On what grounds do you claim that it was self-defense?”

“If you look back into Mr. Nash's criminal history, of which I assure you he does indeed have one, you will see that he is a brazen and unabashed anti-homosexual. Now, your honor, I believe that nobody in this town would argue that I am quite obviously a homosexual. The place where Carter's body was found was a homosexual-friendly club.”

The judge nodded. “But what proof do you have that Nash was threatening any harm against you?”

Rusty bit his lower lip. It was the first time I had seen him show anything but the utmost of confidence. “I know that there was no weapon found on Nash's body, but he has threatened me a number of times over the years in which we have known each other. In fact, he and his friends were a large part of my reasoning behind dropping out of school. On that particular day, I was with a...friend of mine. We were leaving the club to go out to his car, and that is when Carter approached us and started using anti-gay slurs and threatening to injure both of us. He also threatened Jerry, as he has been seen doing before.”

“I assume that you are Jerry?” the judge asked looking at me. I nodded. “And do you have anything to say about this?”

“I don't know the exact situation surrounding what happened between Rusty and Carter, but I do know Rusty very well personally. He is a good person that would never hurt a fly unless provoked, and I believe him when he says that the death of Carter was self-defense. Your honor, a lot of bad things have happened to me lately. My world has fallen apart. I have been kicked out of my house for being gay, and my parents have abandoned me. But through everything that has happened, Rusty Delmore has been one person that I have been able to depend on through everything.” I started tearing up, and Rusty put his arm around my shoulders. I sniffled, and continued.

“Your honor, Rusty is a good person. Carter Nash, however, I have a much lower opinion of. His brother, Nick Nash, murdered my boyfriend, Gabriel Lorenze, in cold blood right in front of my eyes.” I heard Rusty and Tasha both gasp as I said that, but I continued. “I have no trouble believing that his brother could and in fact could do the same to Rusty.”

Rusty whispered in my ear, his arm still around my shoulders. “You know?” he asked. I just nodded.

“Does your other witness have anything to say regarding this arraignment?” Tasha shook her head, still looking over at me occasionally. I could tell she was surprised about me knowing.

“You understand that by pleading guilty you will face up to 25 years in prison?”

Rusty looked at the ground and nodded. “Yes, your honor.”

“However, I do believe that it was in self-defense. We’ll leave it to the court, though, whether to rule this as a justifiable homicide or not.”

Rusty looked up and smiled. “Thank you, your honor,” he said graciously.

“I’m going to rule that you have to stay in police custody until the date of your trial.”

“I understand.”

We were allowed to go, and the three of us left together with Rusty’s lawyer. The stone-faced man said a few words to Rusty outside of the building, then left to go to his own car. Rusty looked at me and forced a smile.

“So you know, huh?” I nodded, looking back in his eyes. “How did you find out?”

I pulled his journal out of my back pocket, and handed the small book to him. “This is yours.”

He took it and forced a smile. “You know a lot about me, then, huh?” he asked. I noticed that Tasha had walked off, leaving us to ourselves.

“Well, I know that you’re in love with me. I know that you are a drug user, and that you have sold your body. I also know that you lied to me, in order to make me fall in love with you.”

“That’s not it at all, Jerry,” he protested. Two police officers came out of the court house, and placed him in handcuffs.

“Time to go, Delmore.” They said to him and led him to their cruiser. I watched as he was placed in the back, and they drove off. Tasha reappeared from around the corner.

“You ready to go?” she asked. I nodded. “Are you mad at me?” she asked. I shook my head.

“You didn’t know me as well back then. You were just looking out for Rusty. It’s him and Michael that are really to blame for it.”

“Jerry, that’s not what happened.”

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” I told her.

“Ok, well, Michael’s going to pick us up as soon as I call him. You ready?”

“You go on ahead,” I told her. “I have somewhere else that I need to go first.

“You sure?” she asked. I just turned around and started to walk.

I made my way to the cemetery, and found my way back to Gabe’s grave. I sat in the soft dirt, and traced his name on the headstone with my finger. “”Hey, Pooh bear,” I said, using my pet name for him. I pictured him blushing like he always did when I called him that. “Things aren’t going so well…” I looked up at the sky and trailed off. I really wanted him to be there just to give me a hug.

“I’ve been attacked, I’ve been kicked out of my house, I’ve been lied to, and I’ve been hurt in so many ways. I wish you were here to make it better.” I sighed softly as I looked back at his headstone. “Gabe, I love you. I always will. That’s why I haven’t been able to move on. I miss you so so much, and I am extremely sorry that I forgot you. I hope you forgive me.” I felt tears form in my eyes, and start to fall into the dirt that marked the spot where my boyfriend was laid to rest.

“Gabe, I don’t know what to do. Rusty says he loves me. But I can’t feel that way about him anymore. Gabe, I can’t promise you that I’m going to stay single forever. I know you wouldn’t want that. But I also know you wouldn’t want me to be hurting as much as I am right now. So I’m going to do some things that you probably wouldn’t like very much. But please forgive me, I promise that it’s just to make me happy. I know you’d want that.”

I stood up and left the cemetery, walking back to Michael’s house. By the time I arrived, it was well after dark and I didn’t know who would be awake. I saw Michael and Tasha sitting on the porch together, a glass in each of their hands.

“You ok?” Michael asked. I just nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him.

“Where were you at?”

“I went to go see Gabe.”

“I figured as much, but I wanted to give you your space.”

“Thanks,” I told him. I walked past them and inside.

“Jerry,” Michael said as he followed me inside. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” I said coldly. “I don’t want anything to do with either of you liars anymore.”

“Jerry, don’t talk like that.”

“Why? You don’t want me to be upset? Well it’s too fucking late for all of that now! I found out about Gabe, and I found out about how you and Rusty really are!”

“So what? You don’t want any help anymore? You don’t want me in your life?”

“Not if I can help it,” I spat.

“Fine. If that’s how you want it, that’s how it’s going to be.”

“Good. Fuck you.”

I didn’t say a word to either of his parents before going upstairs and lying down in bed, where I quickly fell asleep.

I didn’t talk to Michael much over the next week. I stayed to myself as much as possible in order to disconnect myself from him and Rusty. I didn’t even go to the trial, partially due to Rusty asking Tasha to tell me not to. He said something about not wanting to put me through anything else. According to him, the murder of Gabe was going to be a large part of the evidence.

I remembered Gabe as soon as I read about him in Rusty’s journal. “I felt really bad for not telling him the truth,” it said. “But it’s for his own good. He doesn’t need to remember all that pain. Sometimes I wish I could get amnesia, myself."

“Jay,” Michael said to me one afternoon.

“Yeah?” I asked looking at him over my shoulder. I was lying on the bed as usual, just doing a lot of thinking.

“You have a visitor.”

I stood up and walked out onto the stairs. As I walked down them I saw Rusty standing nervously at the front door. “Rusty,” I said awkwardly.

“Jerry.” He grinned when he saw me and opened his arms for a hug, which I denied.

“I take it you're not in jail.”

“Nope, I'm not. But Jerry, why are you being this way?”

“Can we take this outside?” I asked him, and stepped out onto the deck without waiting for his reply.

“Ok, we're outside now. Now you owe me some answers,” he demanded.

“I owe you answers?” I asked him, turning to look into his eyes. “I think it's you who owes me some answers. Do you know what you've done to me?”

“Jerry, I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to find out.”

“And that makes it better?” I asked incredulously.

“No, it doesn't. But that's...Jerry, we did it to protect you. I didn't want you hurting anymore. Michael didn't want you hurting anymore. If you didn't have to remember the shit you've been through, what is the point in it?”

“Maybe because that shit was the love of my life!” I yelled at him. “Maybe I want to remember the good times that Gabe and I had! Maybe I loved him, and still do!” Rusty looked at the ground, and I almost felt bad for yelling at him. “Rusty, I do love Gabe. I can't forget him. I never will.”

He nodded sadly. “I understand. And that's why I came over here. I wanted to tell you goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” I asked.

“Jerry, I can't be just your friend. But I know that we'll never be able to be together. I love you too much to see you happy with somebody else. And I also know that I am never going to be good enough for you.”

“Rusty, don't-”

“Please, Jerry,” he cut me off. “I'm all kinds of fucked up. I know that we can't be together. I don't deserve a boy like you. You're kind and sweet and funny and...everything that I need. But you're everything that I can never have. I wouldn't want to hurt you, and that's all that I ever seem to do to anybody. Jerry, just remember that I do and always will love you. I respect you so much for everything that you have gone through. But I have to leave.”

“Rusty, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe I am, but I do love you way too much to be able to stay anymore. Can I just have one last kiss before I go?”

I nodded silently and he took a step towards me. I made the move this time, and our lips pressed together for only the second time. This kiss was just as gentle as the last, but I felt more passion inside it. We held the kiss for what felt like a long time, but couldn’t have been more than a minute. He broke the kiss when I tried to push my tongue towards his.

“Thanks, Jerry. I will remember you forever.” I opened my mouth to say something, but felt the words catch in my throat. Rusty turned around, got into his car, and drove off.

I graduated in May, my grades still remarkably average. Michael and I had made peace with each other before the ceremony, and both he and Tasha, who I found out was a year below me, attended the ceremony. I marched down the aisle with the rest of my class to Pomp and Circumstance, feeling proud of myself, but a little bit numb. My parents didn’t care to come to the ceremony, even though I had sent them invitations. I looked into the crowd for them, but didn’t see them. I did, however, see a surprising face sitting next to Tasha. Rusty had attended my graduation. I smiled at him, and he forced a sad smile back.

Afterwards, I rushed outside to find my friends. “Michael! Tasha! Where’s Rusty?”

“He left, Jerry,” Tasha told me. I nodded silently. I expected as much.

“Cheer up, Jay,” Michael said to me. I looked at him and forced a smile. He handed me a small envelope.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Read it, smart one.”

I looked on the envelope, and read. “To Jerry, From the Lorenzes.” Opening it up, I found a one-way plane ticket to California, where the college I had been accepted to was located. “Happy Graduation, Jerry,” Michael said and gave me a big hug.

I looked forward to getting out of Riverton. I looked forward to leaving my old life behind. There was too much drama and pain in that town for me to be able to go to college there. I looked forward to getting to start my new life. Maybe Rusty was right, and I needed to leave all my old pain behind. But Rusty was certainly right that I needed to stop living for myself, and start to live for me.

Contents

Click any link below to go to the corresponding section.

 - Live For Me

 

   

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live For Me - Back To Top
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live For Me - Back To Top

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live For Me - Back To Top

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live For Me - Back To Top