Determination (29 page)

“Where does your relationship with Brian stand now?”

“It’s not standing anywhere.” My voice cracked with the pain of the admission. “Except for a reply to the text telling him I’d finished detox, I haven’t heard from him at all. At the hospital, he said he couldn’t trust me because I’d bought drugs behind his back. But he also told me he’d go through this with me, be my best friend while I went through this program, and he’s nowhere to be found.” The bitter feelings I’d kept bottled up for the last few weeks spewed out over her perfectly polished desk like bile. He deserted me. After all the hundreds of times he’d told me he’d always love me, he had left me on the side of the road like a stranger. It made me angry. It broke my heart. It made me crave a chemical escape from the pain. I closed my eyes, willed away the image of two E tabs in my hand, and focused on the present.

“You need to focus on Jamie, so maybe it’s a good thing that Brian is keeping his distance for the time being,” she suggested, and her voice had taken on a soft quality that made me think maybe she did understand something of heartache. I knew she had a point. My father and I hadn’t talked again about college, but the rehab program would be over in just two more weeks, and I needed to do something with my life.

I nodded, not wanting to voice my concession aloud.

186

Jamie Mayfield

“Are you having any nightmares?” she asked, looking down at a single loose-leaf sheet of questions. Apparently, she’d checked Brian off her list and could move on. I wish it were that easy for me.

“I have the occasional dream about Steven, but mostly I’ve been sleeping better since I started taking the new meds.” I’d been thankful for that, too, because better sleep meant fewer seizures. With the combination of rest and the new medication, I’d had only one seizure that week. It felt like a miracle. “I also have nightmares about prison.”

“To this point, I’ve been reluctant to talk about Mr. O’Dell, but I think it’s something we need to resolve so that you can move forward.

Would you feel comfortable using the session today to talk a little about your relationship and about his death?” she asked, and while her voice made her request sound compassionate, it also didn’t sound like I had much choice. If I wanted to get out of rehab, then I’d have to talk about Steven. Slipping out of my shoes, I pulled my feet up into the overstuffed chair where I’d been sitting during my sessions with her.

Resting my chin on my knees, I wrapped my arms around my legs and found I was at a loss as to how to begin. At least she didn’t want to talk about the police.

“I’m not sure what you want to know. Where do you want me to start?” I hedged because I didn’t want to talk about Steven. I’d already been over this shit with the cops, and I didn’t want to get into it with her. Steven was dead—he couldn’t help with my rehab. Shifting in my seat, I curled in on myself. Maybe if I disappeared altogether, she’d stop asking all of these questions.

“Why don’t we start with how you met…?”

Determination

187

Fifteen

THE sun reflected off the garage window and shone directly in my eyes as Mike and I lay on the twin lounge chairs on the back patio of my father’s house. A slow, lazy fall breeze blew over us as I grabbed my soda from the small table between the chairs. I wished more than anything that I could have put a little bit of rum in it, but alcohol didn’t mix well with my meds, and I didn’t particularly want to wake up dead one day. The dusting of wiry brown hair on Mike’s tan chest caught my eye as I looked over at him. He winked at me, and I blushed before becoming ridiculously interested in my drink.

“Rehab is going to be over next week, Jay. Any plans?” Mike asked as he threw an arm over his eyes and stretched his long, lean body on the chaise. A quiet strain of music, unrecognizable at that volume, flowed from an old radio in the garage. The scent of freshly cut grass still hung heavy in the air from the work Mike and his crew had done that afternoon. I swirled the contents of my bottle and stared out into the expanse of the yard. A hummingbird landed in the plastic bird feeder that hung from a post near the corner of the garage. I guessed my mother had left the feeder when she’d abandoned her family.

“My dad used the threat of a lawsuit to force the center to release my high school diploma, so I don’t have to worry about taking the GED.” The memory of that phone call with the great Reverend Carmichael would stay with me for a while. The man yelled at my dad so loudly I could hear him even though the phone wasn’t on speaker.

My dad yelled right back. Finally, in the end, Dad conferenced in his 188

Jamie Mayfield

lawyer, who explained to the good reverend that it was in his best interest not to draw attention to his abuse of gay kids, especially “in the current sociopolitical climate.” I had to hold my hand over my mouth to muffle a laugh as Carmichael relented.

“Good. That place is a nightmare. They didn’t much like Brian and me showing up on their doorstep looking for you,” Mike said with a smirk.

“Brian told me. The kiss might have been a little over-the-top,” I said with a laugh. Mike half shrugged and closed his eyes against the sun. I noticed the soft red undertones in his short hair as the sun caught them. I could see where Brian would be attracted to him because he really was beautiful, funny, and a fierce friend. I was glad I finally got to call him one.

“So, are you going to hang around the house and mooch off Daddy?” His voice had a small measure of humor in it, and his mouth turned up at the corner so I knew he didn’t really think that.

“My dad took me over to the college yesterday, and I filled out an application. It scared the hell out of me,” I admitted. The San Diego Liberal Arts College was also the closest college to our house, and I’d be able to actually get there. Mike sat up and threw his legs over the side of the chair so he faced me and put his elbows on his knees.

“Why did it scare you?” he asked in almost a whisper. I watched a squirrel scamper across the top of the fence and run up the yard’s huge oak before I sat up and matched his position.

“I don’t know… the change, maybe? Freaking out in the middle of class? I mean, what if I can’t do it? I can’t live off my dad forever. I need to become a functioning human being again,” I said with a frustrated sigh and put my head in my hands.

“You’re not going to know if you can do it unless you try, Jay.”

Mike’s hand hovered over my shoulder like he didn’t know if he should touch me. Either he wanted to respect my personal space, or he didn’t want to touch his best friend’s… whatever.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. The new semester starts in a month. With a little help from my dad’s position and, of course, a sizeable donation, they’re fast-tracking my application.” I looked up at Mike as he started to laugh.

Determination

189

“Damn, I need friends like that,” he said, and I couldn’t help but grin. “The only thing my dad ever did for me was… oh yeah, nada.”

The lack of bitterness in his voice surprised me. Brian had told me a bit about Mike’s history with his family that night after Steven beat Mike up at Hartley’s. At least I was an adult, technically anyway, when my parents—no, my mother—had thrown me out into the cold. I couldn’t imagine trying to survive at fourteen or fifteen.

Feeling a little awkward at his statement, I picked up my empty soda bottle and shoved it into the empty chip bag. So many other kids sat cold and alone on street corners and in alleys waiting for their knight in a shining Mercedes. I don’t know why mine came while theirs didn’t. It wasn’t fair. I was no better than anyone else, and I wished every day that I could do something about it.

“Did you decide on a major?” Mike asked, and the concern in his face told me he’d noticed where my thoughts had gone. As I watched, he twisted off the cap to his soda only to tighten it again a moment later. Again and again he opened and closed the bottle. A little hiss of air, diminishing with each opening, accompanied the nervous gesture.

It wasn’t like Mike to be nervous—he was the most self-confident person I knew. Nothing seemed to faze him. His attitude made him such a good match for Alex who, before he had met Mike, had no self-confidence at all. I didn’t feel comfortable asking him about it, so I walked over to the cans next to the house and threw away my garbage.

“Nope, I don’t even have a clue. I brought home some of the pamphlets and stuff they had on different careers and majors, but there are things I just can’t do anymore. Anything analytical or technical isn’t going to work for me. I spent most of my time looking through liberal arts degrees,” I told him, my cheeks flushing. Admitting my weaknesses had never been easy for me, but since there were so many now, it just didn’t seem as important anymore. Mike wanted to help me, and he couldn’t if I wasn’t honest. Honesty had become important to me since the hospital—for my dad, for my friends, and for Brian. I didn’t want to be a junkie who lied, stole, and hid things from everyone. Dr. Fisher taught me that.

“What does that mean? You’re going to, like, paint and shit?”

190

Jamie Mayfield

“No, though I was pretty good at drawing before my hands started to shake. Liberal arts degrees would be like psychology, sociology, history, or writing—things like that.” I thought about the stack of little books and papers they’d given me at the college sitting upstairs on my desk. I’d given them a cursory glance when we’d picked them up, but the seizure I’d had that morning wiped any excitement out of it.

“You could be a therapist. Your experiences with drugs and kids on the street would make you really good at it,” he suggested as he continued to twist the cap on and off his soda bottle. A lawn mower started up nearby, which drowned out the soft little hissing sounds that were growing fainter with each twist.

“I thought of that, and my dad even suggested it. In order to be a therapist, I’d have to get a PhD, and the state my brain is in, I don’t think I’d be able to defend a dissertation. Not to mention how freaked out a client would get if I had a seizure in the middle of their therapy session,” I explained as Mike burst out in laughter. My brow furrowed as I looked at him, not sure exactly what he found so funny.

“Sorry, but oh my God, could you see some poor guy as he’s talking about his wife bonking the mailman and you start to…. Oh man… I am a horrible person,” he choked out as he continued to laugh.

The corner of my mouth turned up as I stared incredulously at him. The idea of having a seizure wasn’t funny, but Mike’s continued giggles were kind of infectious.

“You’re an idiot,” I said as my own chuckle finally burst through.

“I know,” he replied as he got himself under control. We talked for a few minutes after that about the police investigation. They hadn’t been back, but I felt like they were watching me wherever I went. It was paranoid and not doing much for my stress, but I felt like a fish in a bowl with a huge cat just waiting for its moment to pounce. One day soon, the axe would fall, and not even my dad would be able to protect me. Soon, Mike decided it was time to get home to Alex. The tender way he said it made my heart ache for Brian.

“How is he?” I asked my weekly question while Mike pulled his battered tennis shoes on over bare feet. After he finished, he stood up and looked at me. The seriousness in his gaze after the humor of a few Determination

191

minutes before put emphasis on how much his friendship with Brian affected him.

“When he’s working, he’s almost normal. Somehow, he’s able to push everything down and get the job done, almost like he turns it all off. But when he’s at home with us, he’s not really there. He doesn’t go out, he doesn’t talk to us, he doesn’t drink, he just… exists. It’s scary, Jamie. I’ve never seen him like this, not even when he couldn’t find you, and I don’t know how to reach him. I think… I think you’re the only one who can.” Mike’s face strained with the effort of holding back his emotions. He hurt for Brian, and so did I on some level, but I hurt for me too.

“I don’t think I can. I’ve tried everything to get him to talk to me, and he won’t. You know better than anyone that I’m barely holding myself together as it is. The new meds are helping, but my seizures are still basically uncontrolled. I want to get high every day. I just… I’m not what he needs right now,” I admitted through the heartbreaking pain.

“Em, on the other hand….”

“I know…,” I told him with a quiet sigh. “He kissed me the morning after he and Alex stayed over. I keep trying to tell him I’m screwed up and I’m in love with Brian, but he just keeps saying that he’ll wait. I like him, but I… I don’t know what I’m going to do about him.”

“Whatever you do, just don’t jerk him around. I know he’s a little over-the-top sometimes, but he is a good guy. When you and Alex came into the picture, almost together, and there was no more Mike, Brian, and Em anymore, it hurt him. I never intended to hurt him. I never thought I’d find… anyway, just be careful.” Mike took off his camouflage baseball cap and ran his hand over his short hair. Damp with sweat, it looked almost black instead of its normal dark brown.