That Feeling - 19. Why Why Why

Driving to school never felt like so much work before, like I was driving up a mountain and couldn’t actually drive and was probably going to fly down into the valley any second because the car couldn’t take the speed. It’d be over, though, and maybe I’d be happy then. But it’s none of that, it’s really the normal drive to school: Cassie fiddling with the radio, cussing when a song she doesn’t like plays, her small glances at me every now and then as she applies make-up in the sun visor mirror. She knows what I’m thinking; why my breath is shallow and my knuckles white on the steering wheel and my eyes dead and set forward, but she doesn’t comment. I’m thankful for that, because while I can say ‘I’m ready’ and ‘I want people to know’ and ‘being “out” is so freeing’, it is still terrifying. But why is that? Why is it so terrifying to just be, to live and have people know you are alive and happy and you? And I know the answer to that question, I think. It’s because of fear and even though I may get picked on or beat up or worse, I fear the rejection the most. No one even has to say a word, just look at me differently or not nod their head toward me as I walk in or immediately whisper to their friends as I walk by. Because that will hurt more than a beating, I think. I don’t want to be different; I just want to be me. I’m just a normal kid and I want to do normal kid things and not have people look at me and laugh and make rude comments as I walk by, because I can’t do anything about it. I wanted to control this. But now I can’t. I’ll walk in and people might not know immediately, but they will. And they’ll pick apart my every move and guys will swear I looked at them that one time and that feeling they got in the locker room when I walked in was right even if it is total bullshit and nothing ever even happened. I’ve heard it before, and I was a part of it. I smiled and giggled and maybe said something while my heart sunk into my stomach. But it was bullshit and it’s a façade put on to save ourselves from the spotlight of knowing glances. Are there others? Will a guy look at me today and call me a fag as his heart sinks somewhere inside his chest despite his best efforts to keep it up? Will he look at me and hate me while a part of him yearns to be me? A part of me wants that. I want someone to see me and know that maybe it’s okay, even if I’m not okay.

Most of all, though, I’m worried about Jake. I don’t want to know how he’ll deal with this. I don’t know how I’ll deal with this, but I was at least imagining the idea; he could barely fathom it, no matter what he says to the contrary. I want him to be okay, but I have a feeling it won’t work out that way. I have a feeling everything is about to fall apart and that’s probably what I’m most worried about because things were just starting to stay together. The falling apart kills me the most because it tells me nothing will ever work out for me. Maybe that’s me being sixteen and dramatic but it’s a feeling I have as I park the car in the student lot. If I can’t pull it together, if my first real relationship ends before it even begins, then what does that say about me? Am I a hopeless wreck destined to drift from guy to guy, always blocked by my inability to keep it together? I want to see Jake; I want to touch him and let him know that it’ll be okay and that he shouldn’t worry. I want to see him smile and maybe kiss him quickly on the cheek while someone watches. I want him to whisper something in my ear, reassure me too, because God knows I need it. I want him. I want Jake.

We sit quietly in the car for five minutes, me staring into the parking lot, not really seeing anything, Cassie watching me closely. She finally touches my arm and brings me back. “We should get going, yeah?” She smiles and I see it. She is saying it all with her eyes: “Be strong” and “I’m here” and “Fuck ‘em.” I smile and nod my head as I open the door. The air outside is cold, colder than usual for Georgia and I zip up my jacket. It feels like I’m arming myself for battle as I swing on my backpack and march towards the school. The student lot is almost empty by now, a few people still mulling about, some rushing into their spots. No one pays attention to me at first, until we get close to the school. Cassie has her arm linked with mine, her body bundled close. A guy I recognize from school waves at me and calls my name, then makes an obscene gesture with his hands and laughs. Cassie flips him off and he calls her a bitch. But I can’t feel anything, because I can feel it happening. I can feel myself hardening and retreating and I know this feeling. Cassie must sense this, because she tells me it’ll be okay. We walk into the school and she lets go and kisses my cheek.

“I’m gonna go, okay?”

I panic, but I know it has to be this way. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t let them get to you, Caleb. Promise?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” I take a deep breath as she goes down a hall, looking back at me every few steps. I don’t move for a minute, until someone bumps into me. It’s a senior from the football team, Kirby Kakowski.

“Oh, hey, Caleb. ‘S’up?”

I’m nervous, but he’s alone and doesn’t seem angry. We’d not talked much, just about football. “Uh, fine.”

He looks at me and looks around, but this part of the hall is pretty empty, most people already in the mall hall, waiting for the bell to ring. “So, uh, is it, like, true?” He looks nervous, but I am more nervous. It feels like my insides are moving around and jumping and my face must show how I feel because he suddenly looks horrified, “Oh! Sorry! I shouldn’t have asked. Just dumb rumors. I’m sorry.”

He goes to walk away, but instead I say, “Wait! Kirby!” He turns around and looks at me. “What, uh, what do you mean?” I know what the answer is, but I need to hear it from someone else.

He looks confused for a moment. “About…you know,” he looks around and then whispers, “your being gay. With Jake Holley.”

I panic for a split second even though I knew this was coming. I could deny it here and start down that road, but what’s the point? I could get mad and hit him. But I’m not. “Oh. Yeah. That.” I look at him and he’s looking at me, but more curiously than before. “Yeah, that’s true.” It feels like a thousand electricity bolts are going through my body and I have to catch my breath. He’s still standing there, watching me.

“Oh. Wow. It’s just…” He looks around again, “you don’t look gay.”
At first I’m not sure how to respond, but the situation seems so odd. And I laugh. I just start laughing and he looks at me like I’m crazy. He stays until I catch my breath, but looks unsure of even how to move. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just, what did you expect?”

He scrunches his eyes, “I, I don’t know. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. But gay people don’t have to look a certain way, Kirby.”

“Yeah. Of course. That was dumb.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, um, I guess I should, uh, go.”

“Okay, and, uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah, dude, for what?”

“Not beating me up, I guess.”

He smiles a bit. “Oh, no, that’s really dumb, dude.”

I chuckle as he walks off and wonder if that’s the worst of it. If that is all I’ll have to deal with then maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can get through the day. I walk towards the mall hall, looking for Carson or Sara or even Jake. It’s crowded, but mostly with freshmen and sophomores who don’t seem to even notice me. A group of juniors I barely know snicker as I pass, one of the boys catcalling and shaking his butt. I look at him disgustedly and he stops as a few of the girls scold him. For the most part, though, no one even notices me. It feels like I built this moment up to some huge thing, where people would snub me and say hurtful things and try to harass me, but mainly no one even realizes I’m here.

Suddenly, someone calls my name and I turn around to see Joey stalking through the crowd toward me. His face looks neutral, but his body language seems hard. Maybe this is it; maybe he’ll be the one to make my fears come true. Although he’s a grown man, I can still see the child in him as he walks, the boy I slept with on hot summer nights at the lake, his face rounder and body smaller and I want him to remember me too. I want him to remember the boy I was and am and will be. He gets close and a few people are looking over as he grabs my arm roughly, dragging me towards a side hall. He doesn’t speak at first, not until we’re alone. He pushes me against a locker, but not hard. I just stand there as he paces a bit.

Finally he looks up at me, “What the fuck, Caleb?”

“I –“

“No, I don’t wanna hear any excuses!” His voice is hoarse and barely above a whisper. His hand grabs the neck of my shirt.

“I – I don’t have any.”

“I feel like, like…shit!”
“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not, you and Jake fuck around and then fucking Ethan has to tell me about it?”

“I didn’t –“

“Jake thinks he can do anything, you know. Thinks he can fuck around with whoever and whatever and expects no one to ever get hurt. He thinks I never knew. He gives fucking blow jobs in the fucking Walmart parking lot and still things that no one ever knew! He’s a fucking idiot, Caleb, and he’ll show it before long.”

My heart starts to beat fast, but my head is trying to piece it together. “Wh-what?”

“You’d be smart to stay away. He’ll only hurt you.” His eyes are boring into mine and I feel uncomfortable. I want to fall away and puddle on the floor and maybe cry a little.

Then, I hear the heavy clink of heels coming down the hall seconds before Carson’s voice rings down, “Joey! Let him the fuck go!” It seems like in seconds she’s on top of him, hitting him with her bag; I tell her to stop, but she doesn’t; she’s wailing at him; he’s got his hands over his head and I finally grab her around the waist and pull her away. He looks at us for a second, his eyes teary and runs off, mumbling something about his “fucking bitch sister.” Carson struggles and I finally let her go. Curses escape her lips as she straightens up her blouse and checks her make-up. We’re quiet, save for her occasional mumbling.

“You know, Carson, he wasn’t hurting me.”

“Wasn’t he? He had you around the neck.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t hurting me. He was warning me.”

“Warning you? That fucker. Outs you and then warns you? I’m gonna stab him in the eye with my fucking Louboutins.”

“No! He was warning me about Jake. That I should stay away from him.”

“Don’t listen to anything that stupid little boy has to say! He has no brain!”

“No. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Jake is a bad idea. I mean, I’ve thought it too.”

The bell rings as Carson looks outraged at my suggestion, but I just shrug and head towards my locker, hoping something will be clearer by the end of the day.

The rest of the day is monotonous, nothing interesting happens, apart from what I knew would. People whisper as I walk by, or snicker as they say a joke that I just missed. In Spanish, a girl asks if I’ll go shopping with her, but I gracefully decline. By lunch, I’m worn out and just want to go home. It seems that most people just ignore me, which never bothered me before. I wanted people to just ignore me. But now it seems like a struggle, because the people who used to feel like a burden now seem like a curse as they look away as I approach. Not everyone has been a complete dick hole. Some people have been cool and offered words of support. Which I appreciate, but I’m not dying. I’m still here and I’m still the same person I was yesterday and it all feels a bit empty. Because shouldn’t we always support people and let them know it’ll be okay? Why do we need a reason?

I’m not that hungry, so I skip the lunch line. That’d be a hassle I don’t want to deal with anyway. At the table, Carson looks at me angrily as she eats her Greek yogurt. Sara sits down and rolls her eyes.

“So, a thousand people today have asked me about you, Caleb.”

“Yeah?” I try to muster up some enthusiasm.

“I hope you told them to fuck off.” Carson doesn’t even look towards us as she slowly dollops yogurt down her throat.

“For the most part, yeah. This one guy in Ceramics seemed interested though, so I gave him your number.”

Carson gives her the death glare, but I’m more amused. “Oh, did you?”

“Yeah, his name’s Justin something. He’s cute enough.”

Carson is shooting daggers at us, “You didn’t really, did you?”

“Jesus, Carson, no, I didn’t. But a guy named Justin did talk to me about it. Have a little humor.”

“Yeah, Carson, it’s cool.”

“Sorry I’m the only one worried about your safety around here.”

“I’m not not worried, Carson. But things have been okay. No one’s been…mean.”

“Not just that Caleb. But who’s gonna be the person to pick you up when you go down again? Who’s gonna hold you and tell you it’s gonna be okay? Is it gonna be Justin? No. It’s gonna be me and Sara and Cassie again and I for one don’t want it to get to that point.”

“Carson, I’m good. I’ll be okay.”

“You say that know. But what about when someone says something to you you can’t handle? What about when Jake says something? What about when things aren’t okay? I love you Caleb, and I want everything to be good, but this is something and we have to deal with it.”

“If I’m so much of a burden, forget it. I don’t need another mother.”

She rolls her eyes and looks away, back at her yogurt. I feel bad, because I know she just wants to protect me. But I don’t need her protection, I just need her. We eat lunch quietly for a while, Sara and I glancing at Carson occasionally. She tries hard to ignore us, averting her gaze quickly when we look her way. When we catch her, she just shakes her head stubbornly.

By the time lunch is almost over, the cafeteria seems roaring. I notice a few tables that occasionally look over at me, pointing. I try to ignore them, but it got harder as lunch progressed. When we have about ten minutes left, a boy named Jeremy comes and sits across from me. He smiles as we all stare at him. It feels like hours before he says anything, but it’s really only seconds. I know why he’s here. I can see the table he came from snickering as they watch him.

“Hey Caleb, ‘S’up?”

“Uh, hey.” I respond. Sara rolls her tongue up her teeth, making a smacking sound as she glares at him. I don’t know Jeremy all that well, except from classes and the occasional party. He’s grinning big and seems relaxed, which makes me even more nervous.

“Doing anything after school?” He looks so earnest; I want to get up and hide.

“Uh, well, no.” I hear Carson make a noise and Jeremy’s grin gets wider. More people have taken notice of what’s going on and I start to turn red. My face feels hot and I feel it coming, something I don’t want to hear or see or both. I just want this day to be over. I just want to be at home in my bed and not have to worry about the Jeremies and the Joeys. He keeps looking at me, though, his head crooked a bit and he looks almost sincere.

“Wanna go to the river after school? Maybe have a little fun in my car?” He moves his hand to his mouth and moves it back and forth as his tongue bulges his cheek. I want to sink into the floor. “Guys do it better anyways. At least…Jake does.” He winks as he gets up to leave and I feel as if I might vomit. I want to die. I want to go back to the day of my birth and crawl back into my mother’s vagina. I want to close my eyes and open them tomorrow in a different city with a different name and a different life.

Before he’s up good, Sara reaches across the table and grabs his arm. Her nails dig into his skin. He stares at her hand as if it’s burning him. I watch his eyes as they look slowly up the tanned arm, the quarter length peach blouse, the black hair falling around the shoulders, to her face contorted in a look of pure disgust. She glares at him as if her stare alone could turn him to ash. I glance at Carson, who has shifted in her seat, leaning slightly toward Jeremy, but looking at Sara. When she speaks, it’s clear and loud and everyone nearby listens as if she’s giving a speech: “Look here you fucking low-life cum rag. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna walk out this fucking school, go home, and remember what I’m about to say to you. You hear me?” Jeremy doesn’t respond and she tightens her grip, “Do you fucking hear me?” He shakes his head and mumbles something, “What did you say?”

“Yes. I hear you.”

“Okay. Then listen. If you ever, and I mean ever, so much as breath in Caleb’s direction again, I’ll cut your fucking microdick off and feed it to my fucking dog. Jake might suck that thing till he’s blue in the fucking face, but Caleb wouldn’t get anywhere near that nasty-ass excuse for an infant dick unless he damn well decides he wants a herpes, syphilis, and gonorrhea buffet. Unlike your other whores, Caleb isn’t a river rat cum-dump. So run along, lick some whore’s cunt, and get some fucking trashy marícon to suck that termite dick before I decide es necesario que mi perro morfe tu chotita!” She stops and we all just look at her. When she lets go of his arm, she stands up straight and watches as he stumbles backwards. A few people laugh as he trips into the table behind him, but most people are stunned into silence by Sara’s little speech. She glares at him a bit longer, before he turns and disappears down a side hall. The cafeteria seems to fall quiet as word spreads that something has just happened, something I can’t quite wrap my head around yet. Sara is still standing when the bell rings and everyone remembers that they are still functional, that her words hadn’t paralyzed them, that something happened, but other stuff must happen now.

I stand up, my legs a bit weak, and I feel odd: not upset, but not happy either. Sara looks at me and frowns as she grabs up her bags. She says, “I’m sorry, Caleb,” as she walks down a hallway. Carson looks at me, letting me know what she thinks. ‘We have to protect you.’ She grabs my hand silently as we immerse ourselves into the throng of students moving through the halls.

Later that day, after I’ve arrived home and eaten an entire bag of veggie chips, processed today’s events, and talked myself into calling Jake, I pull out my phone for the first time and try not to read any of the thirty-four texts that populate the tiny red bubble in the corner of the messaging app. Instead I call Jake, who doesn’t answer any of the five times I try. My phone once again finds itself taking the brunt of my anger when I throw it into the bed. As I lay there, my mind starts to wonder. What if Jake has run away? What if he’s killed himself? What did Jeremy mean about Jake? Had they had sex? Well, it seems like they had, at least oral anyway. And how do I feel about that? I’d known Jake had… been around, but how do I really feel about that? It’s one thing to know a fact like ‘He’s had sex with a lot of people’ and another to really know it, to see it, to hear another person acknowledge it. Just this, just knowing made me want to find Jake and demand more explanation. How many and who and why? Why? Why?

So I find myself getting out of the bed and pulling a sweater on. I walk down the stairs and to my car and drive the fifteen minutes to Jake’s house. I walk to his door ring his doorbell and then, when no one answers, knock on the door, lightly at first, then hard, banging my hand against the wood. I feel as if I’m in a trance, the why why why floating in my brain but I’m no longer sure what I want to know. Because that ‘why’ could mean a host of things, like ‘why you?’ or ‘why me?’ or ‘why this? Why now? Why not?’ I try the door handle, but it’s locked. I know he’s here; his car is parked in the driveway. But I’m not me and so I walk around to the gate and it’s unlatched. I go around to his back door and it’s unlocked and I go in. His house is quiet and cold and smells like disinfectant. I don’t hear the TV, so his mom must be away. I make my way through the house to the stairs and carefully make my way up. His room is at the end of the hall, his door slightly ajar. I continue walking, push the door open and there he is. He’s lying on the bed, face down, in pajama pants. I say his name and he doesn’t move at first. I move closer and say it again. When I sit on the bed, he turns onto his side.

“Jake, please say something.”

“Go away.” His voice is groggy, like he hasn’t talked all day.

“Jake, just, talk to me.”

“I don’ wanna.”

“Please.” He grunts and rolls onto his back, his side pressing against mine. I lay back, next to him, our bodies close, my head resting in his arm. He starts playing with hair. “I’m sorry,” I say, although I’m not sure what for.

“Why? It’s my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault. It just happened.”

“No. It didn’t just happen. I let it happen. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so damn beautiful.” My heart flutters and I feel like a thirteen year old girl. He keeps stroking my hair. When I don’t say anything, he continues, “I don’t know if I can do it, though.”

“What?” My heart constricts, because even though I know it’s dangerous, I want him, too.

When he speaks, his voice is slow and deliberate, like he’s rehearsed this speech. “I can’t be this guy,” he motions his hands between us, “with a boyfriend who I kiss and date and love. Before, I knew I was a joke. And that was okay because I could pretend like it never happened because they all pretended too. I could suck a guy off or let him fuck me and that was it because he didn’t want to talk about it and I didn’t either so that was it. I could fuck a girl the next day and brag about it and everyone could just pretend they didn’t know what was going on, even though everyone did. I’d go to a party and guys would leave the hottest girl there just to let me go down on him. And I’d do it, too. It was easy and fun and I thought it always would be.”

I sit and listen and want to cry. “Joey says I should be careful around you -- that you'll hurt me."

“He’s probably right.” We’re quiet for a while. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Just breathe.”

“It’s not that simple. I don’t know what I’ll do if everyone knows for real.”

“They already do.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I look over at him. He’s crying and I roll onto my side to hold him.

“I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t.” He’s still crying and I rub his hair and hold him. “I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“Shhhh. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll see. I’m right here and it’s gonna be okay.”

I hold him until he falls back asleep, hoping life doesn’t prove me a liar.