When Jeff Comes Home (20 page)

We headed out of Wayne onto a series of backcountry roads. I began to recognize the landscape, small, hilly farms and ranches. When we passed a sign advertising the turnoff for Mark Twain's cabin, I knew we would soon reach the bridge over New Melones Reservoir, the dividing line between Tuolumne and Calaveras counties. Before the bridge, though, Vin turned off, taking a left so sharp for a breathless second I thought we were on two wheels.

Still speeding, Vin headed down a narrow road lined on either side with bushes and oak trees. I caught a glimpse of Melones Reservoir as we swerved around a corner.

"Okay, I give up. Where are we going?"

Vin took his time answering. "Down to the reservoir."

After we passed two picnic areas, Vin turned down another road that declined steeply. The whole reservoir was visible now, looking gray in the cold sunlight. I saw that the road we were on eventually turned into a boat launch. Just before it did, Vin veered left, into an empty parking lot the size of four football fields put together. The lake spread out before us, and I could see the green hills of Calaveras County across the water.

It was dead silent once Vin turned the truck off. I didn't see or hear any signs of life, not even birds.

"You come here a lot?" I said quietly, knowing suddenly that he did.

"Yeah, I guess." Vin looked sheepish. "We come out here to drink. After hours. Me and the guys."

I nodded. "The guys."

"I come out here by myself sometimes too. It's a good place to be alone."

"So why are we here, Vin?"

"Because I'm sorry." Vin clenched his fists and stared at them. "I just have this feeling if you walk off I'm not going to see you again."

I closed my eyes in sudden pain, tears pricking at my eyelids. Damn him.

When I trusted myself to speak, I reached for anger. "I'd think you'd be glad about not seeing me again." Vin looked at me quickly. "What do you think school's going to be like tomorrow? For you, I mean. Someone might have seen you leaving with me. And what happened in the gym, they'll be talking about that."

"So what," Vin said, angry himself. "I'm your friend, and I'm not ashamed of that."

"Not anymore, you mean." I stared at him.

"Right," he said, unflinching. "I was ashamed before. Embarrassed. All that. Jeff, you put me in a hell of a spot. You made me look like an asshole in front of those guys. You had your reasons, I know, I know." Vin raised his voice as I tried to respond. "But if you had told me the truth from day one, I could have found a way to tell them and make it right before they even saw you again."

I shook my head. "I can't believe that you would have known what to do if I said, 'Yeah, Ray molested me,' that day on the bleachers. Come on, Vin. You would have wanted
out,
and fast."

"You don't know that," Vin said, but he looked away. "You should have given me the chance ..."

"Maybe," I conceded, not believing him. "But God, Vin, I can't... I can't think about it myself. ..."

You don't think about anything else.

"I can't talk about it with my dad, with anyone, and you expected me to tell you? Why? Just because you asked?"

"We were friends," Vin mumbled, looking at his hands.

"Right. We were friends. Three years ago."

Vin did not respond.

I shifted on the hard seat, restless. "I knew I wasn't ready for all this. But my dad ... all this stuff, school, friends, you." Vin flinched. "This is his idea, and I'm not goddamn ready. You're right, I should have warned you off. That night you called, Christmas, I should have told you then to stay away from me. That's what I wanted to do, but I didn't know how to say it. I was afraid, I guess."

Vin glanced over, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "You were afraid of me?"

Were?

"Yeah." He didn't respond and I was freshly embarrassed. "This is stupid, Vin. Let's go back now."

"Why were you afraid of me?"

I sighed, shaking my head.

"You mean you were afraid to tell me, right? About you and that guy. Okay, I can see that."

As much as I wanted out of the conversation, I had to respond to that. "You don't know what you're talking about," I said softly. "You have no idea what it was like. And you sound like an idiot pretending you do."

He looked at me swiftly. "Hey ..."

"What do you think happened between me and 'that guy'? Some big romance?"

"Jeff..." Vin shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"No," I said. "What do you think you're trying to tolerate here?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"He kidnapped me." I spoke the words flatly but inside I wondered if Stephens was right, if Ray's story would be the one people believed.

"I don't think you did anything wrong, Jeff." Vin watched me solemnly until I met his eyes, absurdly grateful, trying not to show it. "Let me try to explain, okay?"

"You've got the keys," I said coldly.

He nodded once. "Andy, Ryan, all of them—those guys are not my friends. I stand around with them before school and during lunch. We cut each other down, rank each other out, and tell dumb jokes together. That's not friendship, it's killing time."

"Yeah?" I said, letting my anger show in my voice. "Then why ..."

Vin sighed. "Why did I cut you off, why did I listen to them? I don't know. I was pissed at you for lying, but it wasn't just that. That was my excuse, maybe." He looked straight ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "The truth is, they think I'm . . . weird for caring as much as I do. I guess it was a relief, not having to care."

I was quiet, afraid of what he was going to say next.

"I told you how messed up I was when you disappeared. Crying in class, all that. Lots of people were like that at first. Including some of them." He shook his head. "Wayne Elementary held this memorial service for you like you were
dead
or something. At eighth-grade graduation they released a white dove in your memory."

"Stop," I said, sickened. "You're making this up."

"No. I wish I was. But see, all that faded. People went on to the next thing. Summer came, and then we started high school, and I was the only one still talking about you. I kind of knew the guys were starting to roll their eyes. But one day Andy came right out and told me to shut up, that I sounded . . . pathetic."

We sat silently for a moment. Then Vin turned to me. "Actually he said I sounded like I was queer for you."

"Oh," I said after a while.

"All I had to do was tell Andy where to shove it. He would have backed down; I know that now. I didn't say anything, though. I let him scare me." Vin hesitated, then spoke in a rush. "I guess I was afraid he could be right. I knew I felt more for you than for anyone else in my life and
that
scared me."

"It's okay," I mumbled, wanting him to stop.

"God, I can see this all now. Andy's always been jealous of you; you're everything he isn't. Even now."

Even now.

"You were my best friend. I should have stood up for you, whether you were there or not. I want us to be friends again, and I don't care what anyone thinks about it."

I shrugged, wanting to detach from him, to end this.

"Jeff, I'm telling you we can go back to school right now and turn this thing around."

"So you're volunteering for the job," I said coldly.

"You want to be my big brother, my protector, my friend. Is that right? Do I have it?"

"Yeah, that's right," Vin said, his eyes challenging me.

"You want to be here for the trial, when Ray trots out all the dirty details?"

"Yeah," Vin nodded. "Whatever, I want to be here for it."

"You don't know what you're talking about. If you did—"

"Jeff,
I don't care.
Okay? Do you get it?"

"I don't believe you," I said flatly. "And it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not coming back to school. So ... " I caught my breath. "Just forget it, okay?"

"I'm not going to forget it." Vin spoke quietly. "I'm not giving up on you."

My eyes filled with tears. I brushed them back angrily, horrified at myself.

His face stricken, Vin reached over and tapped my shoulder. "Hey, Jeff ..."

I drew back from him violently, snarling, “
Don't fucking touch me."

Vin pulled his hand away as if I'd burned it. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to —" For the first time, he seemed vulnerable.

"What, are you queer?" I taunted him. "Is that what this is all about? Because if it is ..." I stopped suddenly, ashamed.

Who's the queer
?

Vin regarded me for a long moment, his face reddening.

"This is about me trying to be your friend," he said finally. "When you're ready for that, you let me know."

The ride back to town seemed twice as long as the ride out, and neither of us had anything to say. At my house, I jumped out of the truck, holding the door open so Vin wouldn't roar off like I knew he wanted to.

"Thanks," I said. He stared straight ahead, expressionless. "You know, for what happened in the gym. I'm sorry—"

"No problem. See you around, okay?"

I drew back into myself. "Sure," I said, trailing off, unable to lie to him again. "Goodbye, Vin."

I WAS SPRAWLED ON THE LIVING ROOM COUCH,

staring into space, when Charlie and Sherry came in for lunch. Sherry greeted me casually and didn't mention what had happened in the gym.

"I'll be in the kitchen, Charlie," she said, retreating tactfully.

"Okay," Charlie said, her eyes on me. "Jeff, have lunch with us."

I shook my head no, but smiled at her.

"Well . . . you want to play a video game or something later? We could all take turns."

"Nah. I'm fine. Go have your lunch." Charlie nodded, but stayed where she was, hovering at the edge of the room.

"What?" I said, trying to hold on to my patience.

"I talked to Vin," she said abruptly, coming a few steps forward.

I sat up, staring at her. "You talked to him about me?"

After a brief hesitation, she nodded.

Furious with her, I took a deep breath. "Don't do that, Charlie. Don't talk to him about me. I mean it."

"It wasn't like that," she said, backing up a little. "I just asked if he wanted to come over for lunch today. He said he couldn't."

I nodded, sinking back into the couch.

"But, Jeff! He said he'd like to some other time. He looked really sad, like he—"

"I don't want to talk about this," I warned her. She nodded unhappily.

"Hey," I said, knowing I owed her something. "What you did today took guts." Charlie looked at me. "You stood by me, when all that stuff was going on. Not everyone could have done that. Vin couldn't, at first. So . . . thanks."

She smiled slowly, brilliantly, her eyes lighting up. "I liked doing it, Jeff."

"Okay then," I said awkwardly. Charlie came forward and kissed me on the cheek, leaving to join Sherry in the kitchen. I sank back into the couch, thinking about my next hurdle. Dad.

I spent the rest of the afternoon anticipating Dad's arrival, creating and discarding the arguments I would use to convince him I could not go back to school. Charlie returned home around three-thirty, Connie and Brian an hour after that. I barely noticed, cocooned in my room, waiting.

I was too close to Ray and the life he had pressed upon me to fit comfortably into the world of my peers.

The point seemed so obvious now. Why hadn't Dad been able to see it? Worse, why hadn't I fought him on the issue, walking instead into a situation I knew I was not prepared to face?

I knew why, of course. Dad had conspired along with me.
I'm fine,
I had told him so many times, and he had chosen to go along with that, too afraid—too disgusted—to help me face the truth.

Connie announced dinner at six o' clock. I went downstairs only to avoid an explanation of why I could not eat. But she seemed as preoccupied as I was, glancing up at every noise outside, obviously waiting for Dad. When I finally asked what was keeping him, Connie was tight-lipped, saying only that he had been delayed by a problem at work.

By ten o'clock I lay rigid on my bed, furious.
He
was the one pushing school for me, and then he wasn't even around to see how I had done. I should have been relieved, for I still didn't know what I was going to say to him. But as the hours passed, I had only grown more tense. I wanted to tell Dad
now
; have the argument
now,
that I would not be returning to school.

I turned on my side, under the covers, dressed for bed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, miles away from sleep. Ray spoke to me—

Love you.

And Vin—