Things Are Different - 15. Chapter 15

Things Are Different – Chapter 15

By necessity I learned to be a light sleeper. I never knew if we would have to make a sudden departure or if a particularly unsavory sort had accompanied my mother home from wherever. As a result when something happens in the middle of the night I wake up instantly with an adrenalin fueled fight or flight response, usually flight. That night I didn't really sleep at all, hovering just below consciousness as images of Scott and Devon tumbled about in a jigsaw landscape of 'what if'.

What is wrong with me? The question kept my mind whirring. Yeah, Devon is hot looking, but Scott is so much more and hot too. But how much do I really know about Devon, except that he is straight and dating Dani so there is no reason I should be thinking about him anyway. Of course, there is nothing wrong about fantasizing about somebody. Yes there is when he is a friend and I am already involved with somebody else.

Things were usually very calm and quiet at my grandmother's and I enjoyed more uninterrupted nights of sleep than ever before. That is probably why I instantly jumped out of bed when I heard Edgar Allen Poe's gentle rapping. I was on my feet before the tapping stopped and I think I scared him more than he startled me. Illuminated by the motion sensitive light on the patio, Devon stood outside the French doors that led from my room to the gardens. His hand was still raised to strike the door again. I was glad I wore boxers to bed.

My veins were still pounding with adrenalin, so I am sure I sounded more than a little curt when I asked, "What the hell are you doing here?" as I opened the door.

"I am so sorry," Devon leaned against the door jam, "I am so sorry." It was evident that he had a few drinks.

"How did you get here?"

"I climbed the gate at the bottom of the garden," his normally pristine polo was smudged with dirt and it looked like he fell more than once in the garden.

"Did you drive?"

"Yeah," he responded with a sad smile.

"Jeez, Devon what were you thinking?" I said helping him through the door.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Well, at least you are safe. Now, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm so sorry."

"You said that. For what? Driving drunk?"

"That too, I guess."

"What's wrong?"

"It's my dad."

"Something happened to your dad?"

"I wish! He is such an asshole! Grrrr! I just . . . you know..." he punched the air and almost fell, so helped him into one of the chairs.

"Whoa, settle down."

"I'm sorry," he looked down at his hands, which were a little cut up. I suddenly panicked.

"Did you do something to your dad?" I asked. He looked at me with a startled expression on his face. The cogs and gears of his brain were mired in the miasma of alcohol, but they slowly churned out the conclusion that was troubling me.

"I could never . . . no matter how mad he made me," he paused, "besides, it would be like hitting a bloated marshmallow. I doubt he would even feel it. I don't think he feels anything, except maybe anger anyway."

"Okay, so what is going on? Is it Dani?"

"No . . . it's you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, he heard about your little coming out in the lunch room."

"Oh, I take it he isn't big on coming out?" which I had already figured out long before.

"To put it mildly," Devon started to lean back in the chair and his eyes were half closed. I knew I was going to lose him shortly.

"Yeah?"

"Mostly he heard that I was sitting with you and Scott and..."

"And?"

A sob escaped him, "and I didn't get up and leave when you did it."

"Oh, shit," was all I could say.

"Yeah shit! Fuck!" he wiped at the tears in his eyes.

"So, what now?" I asked, "Still friends?"

"Really?"

"Always."

"Always."

Devon stood up and he would have fallen over if I had not caught him. Of course he was so much bigger that me I almost tipped over backwards. His arms went around me in bear hug.

"I better get going," he said.

"Yeah, going to bed. No more driving for you tonight," he fell into me, leaning his head into my neck as I tried to maneuver him over to the bed.

"My dad is a royal prick."

"My grandmother agrees with you."

"Wo-hoo! You should hear what he says about her!" He was talking into the side of my neck as I duck walked him to the bed. When the back of his knees hit he pulled me down on top of him as he fell back.

"I hate my dad, but . . . I like the way you smell . . . all clean, like soap," he giggled.

Crap, I thought to myself, we are not going there again. I am sure that if Devon had not been drunk and half passed out, I would not have been able to extricate myself from his grasp.

"Well, once again you smell like a brewery,” I lifted up his legs and swung them onto the bed.

"It's the only way..." he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"It's the only way..." he was quickly descending into an alcoholic slumber and I decided to let him drift off. Of course this left me with Devon in my bed again. It was up to me to decide what to do. Despite the churning confusion that haunted my sleep it turned out to be easier than I thought. It was incredibly cheesy, but I smoothed his normally perfectly coiffed hair and said, "Sweet dreams my pastel prince," before turning off the light and heading up to the couch in the living room.

My grandmother must to be the only one that that can move around without instantly waking me. It was the aroma of coffee that roused me from my sleep. I peeked over the back of the couch to see her pouring two cups of coffee. We both drink it black.

"Morning. Trouble sleeping?"

"You might say that. By the way you will need a third cup of coffee," she gave me a quizzical look, "Devon showed up late last night."

"I didn't hear the door."

"He came through the garden and knocked on the patio door," she treated me with raised eyebrows. "He had been drinking."

"Is he alright?"

"I don't think things went well with his father."

"I can imagine. I can't say I hate that man, because I won't say that about anyone, but I certainly don't like him. Here, take this down to Devon. He probably shouldn't sleep too late. Besides, you have a busy day too." We were heading to the Saturday Portland Farmer’s Market because Scott was performing there with Vanessa and his uncles. It was Scott’s first real public performance since his incident and we wanted to show up and lend our support. I didn’t know what else we had to do that would keep me busy. She handed me another cup of coffee and I went back downstairs. I eased the door open and sun was streaming into the room, an empty room. The bed was neatly made and there was no trace of Devon.

"He's gone," I told Grandma when I returned to the kitchen.

"Oh!"

"It's almost like he wasn't really there."

"I think that boy has more issues to deal with than is readily apparent," she said and left it at that. Other than an asshole for a father I wondered what other things Devon could have to deal with. It seemed to me he had a mostly great, normal life.

"Well, we'll get breakfast at the market. It will be crowded. Good thing I still have a university parking pass." I don't know why, but I fretted a lot about the way I was dressed and it took me longer than usual to pick out my clothes and get ready. The early September rains had given way to what I thought must be unseasonably warm and sunny weather. That didn't mean I wasn't going to wear jeans, but after trying on and discarding several shirts I, somehow, ended up with my old favorite; SpongeBob. There was a nagging mental itch at the back of my mind and SpongeBob always managed to make me feel more comfortable.

I had never been to a farmer's market before, but I don't think this one was typical. It stretched for what seemed like miles, but in reality only a few blocks on the South Park Blocks between the buildings of Portland State University beneath a canopy of ancient oak, maple and elm trees

It is no secret that I don't like crowds and this was very crowded. Throngs of people, some with double wide strollers or pulling carts and most carry baskets over flowing with purchases. It wasn't just farmers hawking organic produce, but wine, cheese, meat, baked goods and every other sort of edible thing imaginable. One booth had tables heaped high with earthily fragrant mushrooms and fungi while another was what you would expect; bins of green peppers, tomatoes ranging in color from green to purple and bushels of leafy greens presided over by two guys that looked about my age, but clearly buffed out from hard farm work. They were the quintessential blond and blue-eyed farms boys, complete with the jeans, work boots and worn John Deere caps. I didn't get a chance to ogle them for long, not that I was trying to . . . but some things you just can't help notice as my grandma wielded a large wicket basket before her to push her way through the crowd.

"God! This place is insane anymore. I remember when it was less than half this size and it was tomatoes and apples, not all this other hipster-yuppie stuff," I followed mutely behind her, "Where's Scott?"

I shrugged my shoulders. All I knew was that he and Vanessa were performing. We had already passed a couple of people just standing in the open spaces amongst the vendors playing guitar or handmade drums.

"Let's get some breakfast burritos and we will look some more," she suggested.

We found Scott as we were standing in line at the vendor when Vanessa's voice carried over the general din of the horde. Under a canopy before a bunch of tables was, not just Scott and Vanessa, but his uncles as well. I excused myself from the line and went over to be front and center.

His uncles had traded their kilts in for denim overalls, cut off above the knee with work boots and no shirts, revealing thick pelts of hair on their chests and shoulders. One was playing the fiddle while the other was working a washtub bass. Vanessa was also wearing overalls, cut very short, construction boots and a gingham blouse that went to her wrists. Her raven hair was tied into braids with pink ribbon.

Then there was Scott. He was concentrating on playing the banjo and I don't think he saw me, at least not right away. He was also wearing denim bib overalls without a shirt. The clasps of the straps lined up nicely with his nipples. A frayed straw hat sat atop his head and the cuffs of his overalls were rolled up to just above his ankles. He was the only one not wearing boots, going barefoot instead. I don't know why, but it was the hottest thing I had ever seen. My body responded in an embarrassing fashion, which made me think that I should wear something besides boxers.

"You must be hungry," my grandma commented when she came up beside me and shoved a burrito the size of a semi-truck into my hands.

"Huh?"

"The way you are drooling with your tongue hanging out you must be starving, or..." she tilted her head towards the stage. I am sure I turned crimson, but it also made me immediately deflate. She let out a good natured guffaw. I bit into the burrito in an effort to avoid any more embarrassment, besides I really was hungry.

They were in the middle of a set so Scott couldn't say anything, but when they noticed us they each waved before starting the next song. His uncles swapped out instruments several times including guitar, mandolin and washboard. Scott played either the banjo or the mandolin, while Vanessa sang and occasionally worked a tambourine. Grandma and me made ourselves comfortable and clapped like maniacs between each song. I was annoyed when I realized that most everyone else was ignoring them, talking amongst themselves and shopping. I wanted to yell at them "Hey! People are performing here, be polite! Pay attention!"

They finally announced a break and they headed straight for us. Without even waiting each of his uncles enfolded me in a real bear hug. It was a new experience to be embraced by a shirtless bear and I thought Bob would snap my spine he squeezed me so hard, even going so far as to lift my feet off the ground.

"I knew you would make Scott happy," Bob said. Scott was grinning like I had never seen before, not his lopsided smirk, but a truly toothsome smile.

Scott took Bob's place and gave me a much gentler and almost sensual embrace. I was filled with the unique perfume that was Scott. Once again I could feel a part of body respond with Scott's proximity. After a brief hesitation where I had to tell myself, fuck it, I don't care what others think, we traded a chaste kiss. Involuntarily I also scanned the crowd for a reaction, but as when they were performing, the crowd seemed more interested in other things.

"Okay quit with the homomush," Vanessa said and inserted herself between us to give me a hug too. Maybe I should get used to this hugging thing.

"What a wonderful band you have here," Grandma said.

"Well, not so much a band as some misfits that occasionally belt out some tunes whether anybody is listening or not," Robert explained.

"Mostly, they are not listening," Bob said.

"Well, they should," she responded.

"Why don't you kids go get some coffee or something while Robert and I continue to try to charm this nice lady?"

"We can hang out with you guys," I said.

"Oh, for crying out loud! I'm giving you an out. Now go have some fun. Just be back for the next set." Bob chastised me, while Grandma and Robert giggled in the background.

"Come on, we can go someplace less crowded." Scott pulled me away by hand with Vanessa following. Once clear of the crowd Scott broke into a skipping run, dragging me along. He leapt over fire hydrants and balanced on the edge of garden walls and abstract sculpture looking like an urban Huckleberry Finn. I followed suit by dint of the fact that I had no choice since he would not relinquish his grip on my hand. Vanessa was right behind me, goosing me in the rear anytime I tried to slow down or be more cautious.

We finally stopped in front of a Starbucks on the east side of the park. I had to admit I was smiling like a little kid at our cavorting.

"Scott wait here and we will get you something," Vanessa said as we got to the door.

"Why does he have to wait here?" I asked.

"Hello! No shirt, no shoes, no service," Scott said striking a pose.

"Even though you would service him in a heartbeat," Vanessa commented to me. My ears got hot, because that was exactly what I was thinking. I think I found my first fetish; Scott in overalls.

Vanessa pulled me inside.

"I heard about your big announcement at lunch Friday."

"Oh yeah, that," I looked down at my shoes.

"Kind of dramatic for you isn't it?"

"Maybe, but I have you to thank," I looked into her eyes.

"Me? Why?"

"Well, maybe not the way I did it, that was not planned, but the fact that I did it at all. Anything else would have been less than honest to Scott."

"Well you seem much more relaxed and maybe a little bit more carefree."

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

"Dr. Seuss. A very wise man."

"I have to keep repeating that to myself. It's all kind of different for me now. I never had people in my life that mattered before."

"You know you make Scott very happy," she told me as I put copious amounts of sugar in Scott's coffee.

"Not as happy as he makes me."

"But he worries about you too."

"Worries? About me? Why? I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. I've been doing it a long time."

"He knows that and is afraid of losing you, because he knows you don't really need him."

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to say 'I need him too,' but that worried me. What would it mean if I really do need him? The future, if anything, is unsure. Things were going well, too well, and it just seemed to be a matter of time before the rug would be yanked out from under me and I would be in a free fall through the trap door that it concealed. I absently stirred Scott's coffee, staring at eddies created by the circling stick.

When we went back outside, Scott was across the street trying to climb a tree. It was a large oak without any lower branches and a broad trunk so he had wrapped his arms and legs around it and he was trying to shimmy up the trunk.

"Whoa squirrelboy, what are trying to do?" Vanessa shouted at him. Scott leapt down from the tree. He was only about three feet off the ground.

"I was trying to remember the last time I climbed a tree and it seemed like forever, so I thought I should do it again," He responded when he grabbed the cup of coffee from my hand.

"Well come on squirrelboy we have people to entertain."

"You going to hang out with us the rest of the day?" Scott asked me.

"My grandma said something about us being busy today, but I don't know what that entails."

We wandered back over to the market and met up with Scott's uncles and my grandma.

"Jay, we have an errand to run, but it can wait until they are done here," I still didn't know what errand she was talking about, "that way Scott can join us if he wants."

I looked at Scott.

"Well, it will be a couple of hours, because we have to break everything down and take it back to the shop."

"Don't worry about that, we can take care of that. Just make sure you put on a shirt and shoes," Bob said, "I swear, this one would run around naked if you let him." Something new I didn't know about Scott. Scott didn't disagree or act embarrassed. He just shrugged his shoulders. How I longed for his confidence in himself.

We found a comfortable spot on a wall and enjoyed the rest of the concert. Occasionally people would stop and listen to the music, but Grandma and I were the only ones that seemed to be there for the music. I didn't know what would be worse; performing in front of a crowd with all eyes on you or performing in front of a crowd and being ignored.

Of course nearly all of my attention was on Scott, though I really enjoyed the music too. I think Vanessa garnered the most attention with her strong voice and, quite frankly she looked hot. Every once in a while, during a break in the music somebody, usually a very burly looking guy would come up and say hi to his uncles. Hugs would be exchanged and frequently a kiss on the mouth. I can understand kissing Scott or getting a kiss from my grandmother, though that had not happened yet, but I couldn't imagine kissing anyone else. It made me wonder if they had one of those types of relationships.

When the performance was over Scott slipped on a beat up pair of Vans and a plaid shirt. He had to unhook the bib to put on the shirt and I secretly wished for a slip that might reveal all. It was obvious that he was not wearing any underwear.

"So where are we going?" Scott asked as we both got in the back seat. I shrugged my shoulders. Grandma was being more than a little mysterious.

"Where are we going?" Scott then asked my grandmother.

"Oh, just to pick something up." Scott looked at me after her answer and I just shrugged my shoulders again.

We pulled up to a brick building just below I-405 where it started to transition from a raised highway to one that cuts through downtown in a concrete canyon below street level. The sign on the side of the building declared it to be Radio Cab. Grandma pulled right into the open garage doors. A tap on the horn and she got out motioning us to follow.

"Hi Doug," she waved to an older man with a clean bald head in grease stained mechanics coveralls.

"Sue, I'm glad you decided to give me that call. It was shame to leave it in storage."

"Well, I just didn't know what to with it until recently. Doug meet my grandson Jay and..." she looked at us with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "his boyfriend Scott."

"Nice to meet you both," he shook each of our hands in turn. I couldn't help but feel a little nervous at her cavalier pronouncement, but his smile and demeanor put me at ease . . . mostly.

"I guess I should give these to you," he said has he took my hand and dropped a set of keys into it. I just stood and stared at the bright brass unsure of what was going on.

"Want to see it?" Doug asked. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"Hell yes, um . . . I mean heck yes," Scott piped up excitedly.

He literally had to lead me by the hand to the parking lot next door that was dominated by the black and white colored cabs.

"Here it is," he stood me next to a low convertible sports car. It looked a little like pictures of old Porsches that I had seen, but I don't know anything about cars.

"It's not as sporty as it looks. I hope you are not disappointed," my grandma said. "It's a Kharmann Ghia. Your grandfather has had it since it was new. We had so much fun running around in it when we were young and he brought it our every summer and we would still tool around in it. It was always fun to take it out Route 30 to Astoria and the coast. I should have gotten rid of it, but it was in storage and I just didn't think about it . . . or I tried not to think about it." As she talked I just stood there dumbfounded. Was she giving me a car? Me? Scott ran around it like an excited puppy. If he had one, he would have been wagging his tail.

"This is too amazing!" he exclaimed.

"I..." I didn't know what to say, or rather, how to say it.

"I think you should take Scott for a ride before he piddles all over himself," obviously Grandma had the same impression as I did of Scott as he kept circling the car peering in the windows.

I turned to my grandmother with tears in my eyes. It had stop crying so much, it is getting ridiculous.

"I can't accept this," I said holding the keys out to her, "I could never ever pay you back."

"Don't ever think you owe me anything. I told you, I owe you and that I was going to spoil you. Besides, I seriously doubt you want me driving you to school you every day," she said and pushed my hand away.

"I don't mind."

"Bullshit! What teenage boy wants to be seen getting out of his grandmother's car every day."

"This one. I never dreamed I had grandmother. How could I dream I would have a car?"

"Well, now you have both. Of course, both are on the old side, though I know Doug has made sure that the car is in top running shape. Wish he could do the same for me."

"You never give me a chance," Doug said with a smile and a wink.

"Now, despite its looks, this is not really much of a sports car. It looks fast, but it really doesn't have much more power than a big riding lawnmower, so it's not good for mountains or racing, but it will get you around."

"You really don't have to do this," I told her again.

"No, but I want too. Now take your boyfriend for a ride. Oh my god, I didn't say that did I?"

"Thanks," I gave her a big hug.

I had to unlock the passenger door first, because Scott was practically pawing at it. The car was so low to the ground that getting in it was like sitting on the ground.

"Now this is an old Volkswagen, so the reverse is a little a tricky," Doug explained leaning through the open window, "Try it a few times before you pull out. Like she said, don't expect to be drag racing or even passing anyone, unless they are on a bicycle." He slapped the hood as I sat with the keys poised over the ignition. I decided to try the stick shift a few times before I started it and he was right, reverse would take some getting used to.

"Ready?" I asked Scott.

"Hell yeah!"

I turned the key and instead the throaty roar of a Porsche it responded with the sputter and rattle of Volkswagen lawn mower, but it thrilled me from my toes to the tips of my hair. Feeling the vibration honestly gave me a hard on. I honestly had never thought about having my own car, no matter what kind. I suppose a lot of kids in my situation daydreamed about fancy cars and winning the lottery . . . or finding a long lost rich relative, but I guess I was always just too much of a pragmatist for that. My goal had always been to just get through another day.

The engine idled and we were ready to go.

"So where do we go?" I asked.

"I don't know," Scott answered hesitantly, "Why don't we go to my uncle's shop to pick up my gear and help them out a bit. I feel a little bad leaving them to clean up. If that's cool with you?"

"Show me the way."