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- 10/25/2013
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
That Feeling - 20. The Return
I don’t get home until almost midnight. Jake fell asleep in my arms and I felt bad leaving, but my mom kept calling. That’s the hard part about this, because no matter how adult I feel, how many adult messes I get myself into… I’m still just a kid who still has to go home when his mom calls him. And so walking into my house, it feels right to be here. It’s quiet and dark and I like it. I don’t have to explain anything to this place or anyone in it. It takes me and accepts me and nothing can hurt me. There’s a note on my bedroom door from my mom, saying we’ll talk tomorrow. I have a feeling Cassie’s told her something to placate her, something to hold her over until then, when she’ll expect me to spill out everything and fess up to whatever is happening. My room is dark and smells like home. I flip on the light and a head pops out of my bed. Cassie rubs her eyes and squints toward me.
“Cassie?” I sigh.
“Finally, you’re home.”
“I was, uh, with Jake.”
“I figured.” It’s quiet for a while as I take off my shoes and sit on my bed. “And?”
“He’s a mess.”
“Oh.”
“I’m worried about him.”
“Yeah. Uh, Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
“How…far have you gone with him?”
My chest constricts and I want to yell at her, hit her, rip her hair out, but instead I inhale deeply and answer. “Almost nothing. Except…you know.”
“Yeah. Okay. It’s just…I’ve heard things. About Jake. And I just want you to be careful.”
I fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling like maybe it’ll just suck me up into nothingness. “Not you too.”
“Yeah. It’s just, this girl in my geography class told me some shit. She hooked up with him at a party over the summer. He gave her chlamydia.”
My heart wanted to stop, but instead beat harder. This is what I dread. Knowing the idea of something is never as bad as the reality. Jake sleeps around is one thing. But a laundry list of people, actual people I can see and hear and –visualize. “Oh.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Caleb. But another boy, a sophomore, told me about Jake. That he’s very…well…slutty.”
I inhale deeply again. When my voice finally comes out it’s a bit shaky. “Yeah, I know.” And then a rush of something comes through me, like my brain can’t handle the disappointment of knowing and feeling and experiencing this anymore. I start speaking, unsure of exactly what I’m even saying, “But who gives a fuck? So he likes sex? He’s a fucking sixteen year old boy! Sex is fun. He knows what he wants and he fucking does it, who the fuck cares? Besides, it’s no one’s fucking business who he sleeps with or how many or whatever!” I’m sitting up now, the feeling still inside me, rushing out, “Maybe I’ll start fucking him! Maybe I’ll just be a slut and fuck a bunch of guys! Is sex such a fucking big deal, anyways?”
Cassie looks at me for a second as my heart beats faster. Her face is hard to read, but I know she’s upset. She quietly gets out of my bed and walks to the door. “Sex is just sex, Caleb. But that. That’s not you.”
She walks out and I follow her with my eyes as she disappears into the hallway. I collapse back onto the bed, burying my face into the duvet. She’s right. I’m not that person. Sex is a big deal to me and I think that’s okay. I couldn't be Jake and fool around with every random Dick and Sally. I wouldn't be able to smile and look my mother and father in the eye if I did that. A little piece of my soul would die, I think. I want sex. I want sex badly. But I want it with someone I care about, when it’s right. It was easy for so long. Sex wasn't an issue. Avery had clear boundaries and I was her boyfriend and I was happy to obey. I was only dutiful and respectful and no one could question it. But now that it’s out, now that I’m on the record gay with a seemingly viable and insatiable “boyfriend,” sex seems to be an ever looming cloud on the horizon. How do I want it and when do I want it, not to mention the logistics of it? I’m not totally stupid, I've seen enough Internet porn to know what goes where, but that isn't exactly real. Will I want to be the guy getting fucked? Or the one doing it? What about Jake? What does he like? Do I even want to go there with Jake? Because I’d be embarrassed. He’s been with so many people and I’m a total virgin. What if I’m horrible? Or what if I’m just another lay to him? The questions keep mounting up until I feel on the verge of a panic attack. Cassie’s right. I’m not that person and I’m not ready yet. Just the thought makes me want to vomit.
By the next morning, I feel like shit after lying in bed all night worrying about things that may never matter. All of Tuesday at school I continue the endless circling of questioning, especially when Jake is once again MIA. I want to sneak into the bathroom and call him when none of my fifteen or so texts get responses. A part of me worries he may do something stupid. I don’t think he’ll kill himself, but I’m really just unsure. By the end of the day I’m anxious to talk to him, but not sure I want to go over there and see him this way. I want the Jake I’ve always known, who smiles and tells silly jokes and flirts with the wall. I want the Jake who at one time was my friend. Maybe relationships between friends are doomed to fail. Maybe we see a person a certain way as a friend, but differently once they cross that line. We expect something different of them and they don’t live up to that expectation. I think that’s what’s happening with Jake. I want him to be so many things for me. Jake the friend, who is silly and fun and cool, and Jake the boyfriend, who is loving and sweet and perfect. And this picture I have of him is failing, because Jake has his own head to think with and I can’t fit him in a box. He is complicated and full of as many quirks as me and that’s hard to understand, much less accept. At some point in the evening, he finally responds to my texts. It’s simple, saying he’s okay and he’ll be back tomorrow and that’s it. No further explanations. No more responses. I tell myself it’ll be okay. He’s just working through some stuff and it’ll be okay. He’ll be okay and we’ll be okay, even if I don’t fully believe myself, it will be.
The next day at school I see Jake immediately upon parking. He looks right at me as I get out of the car, and turns the other direction. I start to feel hot all over, like suddenly I need to take a cold shower after a four-minute mile. I want to crawl under something and hide. Cassie hadn’t noticed and looks at me like funny.
“You okay?”
I contemplate telling her, but don’t, just nod my head and walk forward, wrapping my arms around my chest a little tighter.
At lunch, it finally hits me that Jake is ignoring me. All morning he doesn’t look at me, and if he does, he turns and heads in the opposite direction. Every time this happens, I feel a piece of my heart break off into my chest and lodge in my lung. Everything I worried about seems to be coming true. He’s abandoning me and I want to shut down. I told myself this would happen. They all warned me and I didn’t listen as I pranced along humming romantic melodies and now I can only blame myself. Why can’t something work out for me, just once? Am I destined to be alone forever? Will I always find guys who reject me because they can’t handle something? Or am I being overdramatic again? Sara asks if I’d talked to Jake yet, I just shake my head and look down at my food. It’s quiet at our table and I see Jake sitting a few tables over. Occasionally they’ll look at me and laugh. I want to know what they’re talking about. I know they’re talking about me, but I want to know what they’re saying. But then again, I don’t. I want to float through and never have to face the bad things.
Carson looks at me, frowning, “Would you stop staring.”
I exhale. “Why is he ignoring me?”
“He’s an asshole.” Sara gives Carson a dirty look and puts her arm around me. “It’s true. I’ve heard he’s denying everything.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t heard. No one tells me anything anymore.
“Caleb, it’ll be okay. Even if it’s not with Jake. Guys are jerks.” I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone as I shook my head. Sara is usually the hard-ass bitch and Carson the mother. Something must be up.
Jake continues ignoring me the whole day as I walk mindlessly around school. People talk to me like nothing is wrong, but I can see it in their eyes…they pity me. I’ve turned into the newest charity case. Poor Caleb, whether or not they believe Jake’s denial, I’ve been had. If his denial is true I’m a desperate liar and if it isn’t, then I’m a sucker who fell into his trap. Either way, I’m the sucker. I want to go home.
Later that night, in the safety of my duvet, my cell phone rings and I don’t want to take the call. Talking feels like such a chore and I don’t want to be bothered right now. I want to waddle in my own self pity and bemoan the fact that I’m pretty much worthless. I pick up the phone, seeing his name, Jake H, across the screen. My chest constricts and I battle with myself if I should answer it or not. Do I put myself through it? Do I even care what he has to say? I slide across, as if drawn to my own death.
“Hello?”
“Caleb? Hey. I didn’t think you’d answer.”
I was quiet. I didn’t know what to say.
“Look. I’m sorry. I - don’t know what to say.”
Suddenly I felt angry. “Then why’d you call?”
“I need to see you.”
“Didn’t seem that way at school today.”
“Just...meet me. At the park behind the library. In...fifteen minutes?”
I sat for what felt like hours. In my head, I knew I should tell him no. I should tell him to go fuck himself and never talk to him again. But I couldn’t. “Okay.”
-----
Ten minutes later I was sitting in a swing at the park. It was dark and and windy. I could hear the water from the creek trickling into the pond and I thought about what it would be like to strip and jump in. Maybe even drown. Then I saw the headlights from Jake’s car shining in the distance, on top of the hill. They cut off and I can’t see much anymore, just a few lights along the footpath. He’s there in five minutes, his hands in his jean’s pockets, a UGA Bulldogs cap on his head. He looks so innocent, like a little boy. I chastise myself for even thinking this. My guard has to be up more than this. He has to work harder than this. I stand up and walk toward him.
“Hey.” His voice is low and apologetic, but I will myself not to buy it.
“Surprised you showed up.”
“Caleb...don’t be like that.” He moves toward me and puts his hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off and he frowns.
“What do you want me to be like, Jake? Want be to run and fling myself at you? Just ignore the looks and laughs at school? Huh? What?”
“Caleb…”
“What?”
And he kisses me. Hard. Our lips smash together and I feel like I’m suffocating. This kiss doesn’t feel like other kisses we’ve had. It feels more base, like an animal mauling it’s prey. His tongue shoves itself into my mouth and I accept it even though I know better. My brain tells me to push him away, but every other part of my body want him to come closer. I let him get closer and his hands start to run along my back. He’s pushed me against the frame of the jungle bars and I feel heart all over, even though it’s cold outside. His hands feel like hot iron running along my sides, his mouth moved to my neck, sucking. His hands snake under my shirt, my bare skin burning.
I want to push him away the whole time. I tell myself I will, just let him know what he’s missing by ignoring me a bit longer, what we could be, if only he'd let it be. His hand eventually finds its way between my legs, rubbing my crotch, feeling what he’s done to me. I gasp. I can’t do this anymore. Not here. Not with him. Even if I think I want to.
I push him away. Inhaling deeply, I step away from the tree as he stands there watching me. I finally look up and I can see the confusion in his face.
“I can’t do this.”
“What?”
I motion between us with my hands. My heart is beating faster and I’m starting to feel worked-up. “This! Us! You can’t ignore me at school and then feel me up in the park at night. I’m not some trick.”
“Caleb. It’s just you and me right here and nothing else matters.”
“But you’re wrong! Everything else matters because you've made it matter!”
“You better than anyone should know what I’m doing.”
I breathe out. “No. It’s different.”
“How the fuck is it different?” I don’t know how to answer it, but everything feels different somehow. I was hiding from everyone, even myself. But Jake is open enough to be here with me and countless other boys and can even name his desire. “Look, Caleb, I’m sorry, okay? I...want to be what you want me to be. But it’s gonna take time, okay?”
“You can’t ignore me at school.”
“Okay.”
“You can’t talk about me behind my back, like I’m some joke to you.”
He looked guilty for a moment, then said, “Okay.”
And even though I felt better, I somehow knew it wouldn’t last.
-
9
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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