Omorphi (22 page)

“You know it. I did some research.”

“And?”

“All I can say is that I hope she likes me.”

“She’ll love you.”

“Hope so. Go write Christy a love letter. Later, bro.”

“Later.”

If he weren’t so tired, he’d do just that. Speaking of letters, he hadn’t read Christy’s three-page letter. He forgot that he had it and felt guilty for not remembering. Had Christy expected a reply from him? He got out of bed and rummaged through his backpack until he found it. He turned on the bedside lamp and began to read.

Michael,

Below is my class schedule as requested.

Michael made it to the beginning of page three and faltered. Christy could write with so much feeling, and if this was what went through his mind constantly, it was no wonder he was angry and afraid most of the time. Michael mustered his will and forged on.

I have endured horrors you cannot imagine. I liken my past to the young life of Ivan the Terrible. The political figures surrounding him thought he would be a threat to them when he grew old enough to rule Russia. In their attempt to humble him and prevent him from ever believing he could control them, they abused him mercilessly from a young age. Rather than humbling Ivan, it made him indescribably cruel. By the time he was ten, he began throwing dogs off the castle walls only to see if they could walk on four broken legs. I often wonder why I have not become so.

Much of my past, I cannot tell you. Some because I have yet to be able to put it to words, most because I simply do not want you to know. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for my secrecy. While selfish, it is not without concern for you in mind.

Because of you, Michael, my heart begins to grow wings.

Filos,

CTAC

Christy’s fury now made sense. Christy thought he’d read the letter and, rather than accepting Christy’s story at Christy’s pace, he thought he’d gone to Rob for more information. Michael’s heart ached for Christy even more, and he desperately wanted to help him, to ease the pain and horror of his past, to give him a new beginning and a life to look forward to.

He got out of bed, went to his desk, and opened his laptop. He sat for a measured moment. Christy would feel betrayed if Michael tried to find out what happened to him. Yet, after this afternoon and Rob’s nonanswers, he felt powerless to help Christy. And what would Christy do if Michael accidentally did something to trigger some horrible memory? Would Christy do something extreme, or would he just fall apart? He drummed his fingers on his thigh, then closed his laptop. Christy would tell him when he was ready. He’d be patient and pray like hell that he didn’t make a mistake. He rose and went to the kitchen. He set Christy’s three-page letter in the center of the table with a sticky note that said
READ THIS
and set his father’s paperweight on it. He took another sticky note and jotted Christy’s schedule and room numbers down, then headed to bed.

M
ICHAEL
stumbled into the kitchen at six on Saturday morning and found two bedraggled parents still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Steaming cups of coffee warmed their hands.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” they said in unison.

He reached into the refrigerator for the orange juice, drank from the carton, and wasn’t criticized. Something was definitely wrong. He looked at them from the slits that were his tired eyes and realized his head hurt like hell. Jason had really clocked him.

“Did the kid make it?”

“No.”

“Sorry, Dad. You guys okay?”

They didn’t answer, and he turned his full attention to them. His mom had that “come sit and let’s talk” look. He hated that look.

“Where’s the Tylenol?”

Bobbie leaned back in her chair and studied him. “Cabinet to your left.”

He grabbed the bottle and brought it to the table with the carton of orange juice. He exchanged looks with each of his parents and realized that they all looked like hell. “We all look rode hard and put away wet,” he said, faking his best Texas accent.

Bobbie winced, apparently the best she could muster in her exhausted state. “A horse metaphor?”

“Cowboy. Western. Horse. Means our steam wasn’t walked off. We weren’t cooled down before being put away for the night.”

“We’re familiar with it,” Mac offered.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Did you have sex with Christy yesterday?” Bobbie asked.

Uh-oh.
“Are we awake or is this, like, some form of communal nightmare?”

“Would you like to be pinched?”

“No, I’m good, thanks. Ah, wow, that’s direct. Is there a reason you ask?”

“Yes.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“Not yet.”

It was way too early in the morning for this. Michael cleared his throat and scratched his head. “Okay. Well, yeah, kind of. We were, ah, close, and things just sort of, well, he moved, then I moved, then we moved together, but not, well yeah, it was together, and then, well, you know.
It
happened. You know that thing—”

Bobbie held a hand up to silence him. “We understand the mechanics.”

“Good, well, then you have the general idea. I’m eighteen. And we kept our clothes on. And it was my first time. If you tell my friends that I’m honest with you about sex, I’ll deny it. You’ll ruin my image as a stud.”

Mac turned to him. “Your first time?”

“Yeah. You think I need a shrink or something?”

“Laundry lessons,” Bobbie answered.

“Laundry lessons,” Michael repeated flatly, now very unsure where the conversation was headed.

“If you’re going to…. Don’t leave your clothes on top of the washing machine. Take the time to put them inside, add detergent, and push the appropriate buttons.”

Michael flushed crimson. He meant to do exactly that and forgot. “Ah, okay, no problem. I meant to do that. Any other pointers?”

“Add fabric softener.”

He gave her a thumbs-up. “Good to know. Anything else?”

“Christy’s letter is incredible.”

Michael’s nervous system ratcheted down so fast he felt faint. “Do you read the sadness in it? The absolute….”

“Destitution,” Mac finished.

“I think that’s what he’s trying to say when he says he wonders why he didn’t turn out like Ivan the Terrible.”

“What do you see when you look at him?” Bobbie asked.

“Shy, smart, stubborn, artistic, responsible, caring beyond reason, very emotional, and terrified of his own shadow. Basically frail.”

“Frail,” Bobbie repeated softly.

“Do you think he’ll be okay? I mean, he seems okay to me now, but after the therapy, after he leaves Wellington?”

“Only time will tell, son,” Mac said.

“Mom?”

“I’m not a doctor, honey—” Michael began to speak, and she silenced him with a raised hand again. “But I think he certainly wants to be well. God knows, he glommed onto you. That’s a good sign.”

“Me? Why?”

“People who have been mistreated tend to remain victims. They socialize with or put themselves in positions to be around those who would victimize them over and again. Christy has clearly made a conscious decision not to be a victim any longer. You’re utterly normal, Michael, and a good person.”

“There are a lot of people who would argue that, Mom. I’m gay.”

“Oh, screw them.”

Michael smiled. It wasn’t often that his mom snubbed others. “You guys get some sleep. I’ll see you after the meet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re going.”

“No way. You haven’t slept.”

“We were able to catch a few winks at the hospital.”

“What happened to the kid anyway?”

Mac sighed. “She went through a plate-glass window. Her entire system eventually shut down.”

“That sucks. How’d she end up going through a window?”

“A skateboard ramp on the patio set too close to the window.”

“She wasn’t wearing a helmet?”

“She was. The glass entered her neck and back and nearly severed her spinal cord.”

“The parents must feel horrible.”

“Not as awful as the older brother who set the ramp up for her.”

Michael grimaced. “Man, I could never do your jobs. I’ll see you after the meet.” He stood and put the Tylenol bottle away and the orange juice carton back in the refrigerator. “I have a date tonight.” It was the first time Michael had said those words in relation to a guy, and it made him feel tingly all over.
Gawd, I am so gay.

“Do you?” His mom was definitely pleased.

“A double date. Christy hooked Jake up with his cousin, Sophia.”

“How nice. Where are you going to go?”

“If we win today, the party. If not, we’ll hit the party to be polite, then go down to the waterfront, grab something to eat, maybe play a little pinball down at Carrello’s Arcade.”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, and if you do, do it well.”

Michael grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

M
ICHAEL
answered his ringing cell as he packed the last of his gear for the meet. “Speak.”

“Hey.” Jake didn’t sound happy.

“Hey.”

“Bad news. My dad’s too good at his job.”

“Jason’s out?”

“Yeah, an attorney zealously advocates for his clients, don’tcha know?”

“Man, Jake, this is bad for business. It’s probably in the newspaper. It’s going to look bad for us. This is our championship.”

“No friggin’ kidding, and we have some serious problems.”

“Like what?”

“Dad said one of the things Jason ranted about while he was locked up was ‘that little queer at our lunch table.’ He said he was going ‘to teach him to stay away from us when he got out.’”

Michael stopped packing and swore a low oath.

“That isn’t all. Coach O’Malley told Jason not to show for the meet. Dad said Jason flipped Coach off and told him he couldn’t stop him from going. In that same rant he said he had to, quote unquote, take care of the little faggot in the bleachers.”

“What the f—hell?”

“My dad thinks Jason should stay locked up and told his dad as much. Get this. Jason’s dad fired my dad the minute Jason was released. It’s bad, Michael. There could be trouble today. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t tell Christy and Sophia to hang back.”

“You think Jason would be stupid enough to do something in front of a crowd?”

“After last night on DILF Street? Hell, yeah, and how bad would you feel if he caught Christy alone, like in the bathroom?”

Michael’s heart sank as he swore again. This was going to be the first time he had ever had a boyfriend in the stands. “Yeah, all right, I’ll call Rob. I’ll tell him that we’ll pick them up around six. Who’s driving? You or me?”

“I’ll take this one. Dad will let me use the Mercedes. Neither of our SUV’s cut it for a date like this.”

“Okay. See you there.”

Michael called Rob and explained the situation.

Rob was not happy. “You said the altercation wasn’t about Christy.”

“It wasn’t. Jason was hassling another guy on the team, and I got in the middle of it. Jason’s angry at the world and has a serious problem with gay people, so he’s taking it out on anybody he thinks is gay.”

Rob sighed audibly. “Due to her celebrity status, Sophia travels with her own security. I’ll inform them of the circumstances, and I’m certain it won’t be a problem for them to attend the meet.”

Interesting.
“Make sure her security knows Jason is dangerous, and ask Christy and Sophia to sit in the front row behind our bench.”

“I will. Thank you for keeping me informed, Michael.”

“No problem. Thanks, Rob.” Though his spirits lifted at the thought of Christy at the meet, he still worried about Jason as he slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed out.

M
ICHAEL
pulled into the parking lot at Cicero Field and found Jake leaning against his SUV in its usual spot. Rather, spots, far away from the locker room. Michael laughed to himself. The quickest way to get your car keyed was to take up two spaces. He retrieved his duffel from the back of his car, and they headed to the locker room.

“You’re going to love this, Jake. Sophia comes with her own security. They’re coming to the meet.”

Jake frowned, unhappy.

“Why are you emo-ing? I thought you’d like it.”

“If she comes with security, she also comes with media attention. I get enough crap from my dad about handling the press right. I don’t need any more.”

“Bro, I’d look at it like, for once, you’ll be hooked up with someone who knows how to handle them.”

Jake considered this for a moment; then smiled as they walked. “You’re pretty smart for a dumb English Lit guy.”

Michael grinned. “Ain’t I, though?”

“Do we have to ride with her security tonight?”

“Hadn’t thought about that. Could make for an awkward night. We’ll figure it out.”

M
ICHAEL
and Jake walked through the locker room rallying everyone, bumping fists, slapping high fives, and offering encouraging words. They changed into their track uniforms and listened as Coach O’Malley announced the rules and updates for each event. When Coach announced that Stephen would be replacing Jason in the four-hundred-meter event, everyone cheered. Michael put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Give it your best, man. Don’t be nervous. Don’t think about the crowd. Just think about running. Remember, track is different from any other sport. It’s the only one that requires two balls instead of one. You can win, Stephen.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“You got it. Let’s get out there and show ’em how it’s done!”

Michael led the team onto the field to cheers and thunderous applause. Their school had held the state championship for the past three years, and leading the team onto the field felt magnificent. Today was even more glorious because his
boyfriend
was in the stands. He searched the crowded bleachers until he found his number-one fan. Next to him sat Sophia. If Michael hadn’t thought they looked like twins before, he sure did now. For all intents and purposes, they were identical.