Just Love Him - 1. Story

Just Love Him

By Dion

Patricia Lawton winced at the sound of the bedroom door slamming. I guess I could’ve handled that better, she thought guiltily as she turned back to the stove. But still… he’s only fifteen. There’s no way he could possibly be in love at his age – let alone be in love with…

She suppressed a shudder and went back to her cooking. Not my son, she silently vowed. No way my little boy is… Still feeling uneasy, she turned off the burner and headed for Cory’s room.

Rapping lightly on the door, Patricia called, “Cory? It’s suppertime, honey.”

“…Not hungry.”

“Cory,” she said. “You’ve got to have something to eat.”

The teen’s voice was choked with sobbing. “Leave me alone!”

Patricia stood uncertainly. It was at times like these when she wished Darren was still here. He’d know what to say to Cory, of that she had no doubt. “Cory…” she began again. “I know you think what you’re feeling is love but you’re too young to know that for sure. Everyone gets a little mixed up at your age, sweetie. I’m sure that when you calm down and think about it, you’ll realize…”

The door flew open suddenly, revealing a slim, dark-haired figure with deep blue eyes – eyes that were rimmed in red from crying. “I’m not ‘mixed up’!” Cory hissed between clenched teeth. “I didn’t get lost on the way to the store, Mom! Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being…” Cory waved a hand in frustration. “Being so pig-headed about this! I thought you, of all people, would be on my side!”

Patricia reached for him but he shrank away. “Oh, honey,” she began. “I am on your side. I believe that you like Mark a lot – you two have been best friends for a very long time.”

“I’m in love with him, Mom. And he’s in love with me. Why can’t you understand that?”

“I’m trying, Cory,” Patricia insisted. “But you’re really too young…”

Cory groaned loudly. “I am not too young! I know what I feel, Mom!”

Folding her arms, Patricia asked, “What do you feel, Cory? Tell me.”

“I know that when I’m with him all the things that drag me down don’t matter anymore,” he replied immediately. “I know that I spend all day thinking about him. I know that when I can’t see him I can hardly wait until I can, and when I’m with him I don’t ever want it to end. I know it hurts – bad – when we have to say goodbye to each other.” He paused. “Isn’t that love?”

“What about girls?”

“What about them?” he retorted. “I don’t look at girls, Mom. Never have.”

She blinked in surprise. “What about Katy Summers? I seem to recall hearing Mark tease you about kissing her.”

“I kissed her on a dare, Mom!” Cory said. “Mark dared me to kiss her because she kept following me around school, batting her eyelashes at me.”

The uneasy feeling returned. “That may be,” Patricia said at last. “But I still don’t think fifteen is old enough to decide that you’re…”

Cory shook his head. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Not that I’m in love but that I’m in love with a boy. Admit it, Mom. You don’t want to believe your son is gay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I told you – girls don’t interest me. I don’t look at them.” He sighed heavily. “Other guys in my school talk all the time about T & A and how they’re going to score with what’s-her-face next weekend at so-and-so’s party.”

Patricia cocked her head. “And you’re right in there with them – I’ve heard you.”

“Of course I am,” Cory said. “Do you know what they’d do if they found out I don’t want it too? I have to go along with it.”

“And what are you going to do if they find out?” she asked. “What if everyone thinks you’re gay and ten years down the road you meet the right girl…”

“I’m not… You know what?” Cory said suddenly. “This is pointless. You aren’t even listening.”

Sighing, Patricia asked, “What if it’s just a phase, Cory? Lots of boys your age experiment…”

“About two years ago!”

“…And after a while they realize they made a mistake,” Patricia continued, raising her voice slightly. “I don’t want you messing up the rest of your life, Cory. Maybe it would be best if you and Mark spent some time away from each other.”

Tears trickled down his cheeks. “I never thought,” he said slowly. “That there would be a day that I would say this.”

“Say what?”

“I hate you!” The door slammed shut. A moment later the lock clicked. Patricia lifted her fist to pound on the wood but thought better of it. Instead she turned and headed back to the kitchen to put away their cold supper and turn off the lights.

He’s too young for this, she thought as she pulled a nightgown over her head and then slid under the covers. What did I do wrong? I can’t deal with this on my own! Rolling onto one side to face the open window, Patricia spotted a streak in the night sky. I wish I had someone to help me with Cory, she mused as she drifted off to sleep.

“Patty.”

Patricia opened one eye. Sprawled in the rocking chair by the window was a man, his features cloaked in shadow. She sat up in alarm, reaching for the phone.

“It’s me, Patty-girl.”

Something in the man’s voice seemed familiar and her hand froze, hovering over the cordless on the bedside table. “Who – who are you?” she stammered in a voice barely above a whisper.

The figure sat up slowly, the light of the full moon shining on his face. “Don’t you remember me, little one?” he asked.

Patricia’s eyes widened as she recognized the wide gray eyes, chiseled jaw and unruly dark hair. “Daddy?” she whispered. “Daddy – is that really you?”

He smiled, although he looked sad. “It’s really me, sweetheart,” he replied.

“H-how…?”

“You needed me,” he answered her unspoken question. He spread his hands. “And here I am.”

Patricia stared at the broad palms for a moment before her gaze traveled up his arms and took in the army fatigues he wore. “This isn’t real,” she muttered to herself. “I must be dreaming.” The faint musk of sweat, mingled with the smell of cordite and the iron tang of blood tickled her nostrils. “This isn’t real,” she repeated.

Her father chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “Okay,” he agreed. “You’re dreaming then. Does it matter?”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you,” he replied. “You needed me.”

She shook her head. “I mean, why now? Where were you when Darren died?”

The man sighed and clasped his hands between his knees. “You had your mother and Darren’s parents to help you,” he said quietly. “You didn’t really need me then – not like this.”

Sitting up, Patricia crossed her legs and stared at her father. He seemed young – no more than twenty-five, the age he would’ve been when he was killed. She could almost remember the day her mother received the telegram… “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she began slowly. “But why didn’t Darren come?”

He paused, turning his head to stare out the window. After a few minutes had passed he looked back at her. “Darren couldn’t help you with this, Patty-girl,” he said at last. “Just me.”

“Why?”

“Before I get into that I want to tell you a story,” he said. “And I want you to listen – really listen to what I have to say. Can you do that?” He waited for her to nod. “It’s important that you keep an open mind, Patty,” he continued. “Cory’s life depends on it.”

Panic welled in Patricia’s chest. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What’s going to happen to Cory?”

“Promise me you’ll listen,” her father said instead. “Promise me, Patty-girl.”

She stared at him, willing the fear to subside. He needed her to be open-minded, for Cory’s sake. No matter how confused he was, Cory was still her little boy. She would do anything to keep him from harm. Silently vowing to listen to the whole story, Patricia nodded.

He sat back, toying idly with the flap on his thigh pocket as he began. “When I was growing up, I learned a lot about what a good Christian should be,” he said. “How you shouldn’t want what other people have, how you should treat other people the way you want to be treated, how you should love your neighbor…” He paused. “…Unless your neighbor happened to be colored, or poorer, or speak a different language. That wasn’t allowed.”

Patricia scooted backward as unobtrusively as possible, leaning against the headboard. He glanced at her and she nodded for him to continue.

“Then it was the sixties,” he went on. “Flower power and all that. My folks – your grandparents – didn’t like what was going on… and they didn’t mind talking about it whenever the mood struck. Wasn’t a day went by I didn’t hear about ‘those damn hippies’ and what they were doing to undermine our ‘good, Christian society’.” He laid his hands over his stomach and looked out the window. “Whenever the words ‘free love’ were mentioned, my parents all but spit on the floor. It about tore me up. I didn’t – couldn’t – think the way they did.”

Patricia cocked her head to one side. Somehow, she’d never seen or heard of this side of her grandparents. They were loving, understanding individuals ready to do whatever they could to help a person in need. She held her tongue, though, and waited for him to continue.

“My best friend Mike came to me one day and told me he was signing up to go to Vietnam,” he said at last. “You gotta understand, Patty-girl. I loved your momma right down to my bones – married her right out of high school – but…”

When he fell silent, Patricia waited a moment and then prompted, “But?”

He shook his head sadly. “But I loved Mike from my soul.”

She considered this. Mike was his best friend. It was only natural that he loved him… Wait. Loved him… like that? “Are you telling me you were gay?” Patricia demanded.

He nodded slowly, watching her reaction. “Mike didn’t know – no one did – but I knew. I knew I loved him and I knew that if he was going… so was I.” He sighed, the sound barely detectable over the breeze outside her window. “I couldn’t fight, though… I knew that, too. I signed up as a ‘conscientious objector’ and they put my application through as an I-A-O.”

“Which means?”

“Noncombatant.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “If they’d found out about me I’d have been rejected – and that would’ve been bad in more ways than one.”

Patricia frowned. “Did Mom ever know?”

“I don’t think she did, no.”

Silence fell between the two of them. Patricia let her eyes wander over the man in the rocking chair. From the mud-spattered boots to the worn fatigues; from the tattered and filthy armband that marked him as a medic to the matted and glistening darker patch of hair. It really is him, she thought in wonder. Just like the picture in Mom’s bedroom…

“Is… is that how…?” she tried to ask, nodding at his head.

He lifted his right hand and touched his hair. “I don’t know what happened,” he said absently. “One minute I was running to help one of the guys and…” He let his hand drop and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Whatever,” he said. “We were talking about something else.”

Patricia swallowed. “Your feelings for Mike,” she offered. “I still don’t see what that has to do with Cory.”

“Cory told you tonight that he’s gay…”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “Cory told me he thinks he might be in love with another boy. He’s only fifteen, for Christ’s sake! What does he know about it?”

“Patty…”

“He’s probably confusing hero-worship with… with love. Or maybe it’s strong friendship. I mean, they’ve been practically inseparable since they were three…” She knew she was beginning to sound desperate.

“Patty.”

Rushing to speak over him, Patricia continued, “No kid knows where they’re at by fifteen. I know I didn’t. Hormones raging all over the place…”

“Patricia Lynn!” His angry tone brought back long-forgotten memories of being sent to her room. She fell silent, shrinking against the headboard. “Patty-girl,” he said gently. “If Cory actually came out and told you, then he’s already gone over it six ways from Sunday. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your little boy – my grandson – is gay.”

“He can’t be,” she whispered. “He just can’t.”

“Why not?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Because…”

He nodded once. “He’s the same little boy you brought into this world, Patty. The same boy he’s been for fifteen years. The only difference now is you both know more about him.”

“This isn’t what I wanted for him,” she whispered.

“We rarely get what we want.” He spread his hands wide. “You think I wanted to end up like this? To miss seeing my little girl grow up?” He shook his head. “If you reject him, Patty-girl, then you’re going to drive him away from you. There’s no pain in the world that’s harder to bear.”

Patricia wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose him,” she confessed. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do – what to say. I don’t know him anymore!”

“You just do what you do best, sweetheart. Love him. That’s all he needs.” He smiled gently. “Just love Cory as you always have. The rest will take care of itself.”

Nodding, she asked, “You said Darren couldn’t help?”

“He was a good man, Patty,” her father replied. “But he wouldn’t have been able to get past this. His fear was too strong.”

“He never talked about it.”

He rose from the chair. “He knew how upset you would get. And that, Patty-girl, he wouldn’t have put up with either. It would have been the reason he gave when he threw Cory out, if he were still alive.”

“Threw him out?” Patricia’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he would have?”

He nodded somberly. “I’ve been watching you. I’ve met him. I know he would’ve.”

Patricia felt her eyelids grow heavy. “I need to talk to Cory,” she said around a yawn.

“He’ll be in here first thing in the morning, sweetheart,” he replied. “You can talk to him then.”

“Daddy?” Patricia asked as she slid lower in the bed.

“Yes, Patty-girl?”

She yawned again. “What happened to Mike?”

His eyes shone warmly in the moonlight. As he pulled her covers up to her chin and smoothed her dark hair, he answered, “He was in a Huey that went down in the jungle just north of the Ia Drang valley. The Army listed them all as MIA.” His smile widened. “I found him, though.”

Patricia returned the smile. “You told him,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“I did,” he agreed. “Turns out I should’ve told him a bit sooner. We’re together now, though.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, the touch so light it could’ve been mistaken for the wind. “Kiss your mother for me,” he whispered. “I love you, Patty-girl. Don’t forget.”

Her eyes drifted closed as she murmured in reply, “I won’t, Daddy.”

Patricia sat up suddenly, blinking in the bright morning light. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a slight figure standing, shoulders slumped, in the doorway to her room. “Cory?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I…” the teenager began hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Mom. For what I said.”

She squinted, taking in the drawn features and reddened eyes. “I know, Cory,” she said gently. “I’m sorry for the things I said, too.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom.”

“I know, honey.” She lifted the covers beside her. “Come on in.”

Cory crossed the room at a run and jumped onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Patricia’s shoulders and began sobbing anew. “I was so afraid…” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“It’s alright now, Cory,” she soothed, rubbing his back in slow circles – something she hadn’t done since he was very small. “We’ll deal with this together, okay?” She felt him nod. “I love you, Cory. That won’t change, you hear me?” Another nod. “Alright then.” Patricia pulled back slightly, smoothed a dark curl from his cheek and said, “Make yourself comfortable, honey. I want to tell you about your Grandpa.”

©Dion 2008

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