Things Are Different - 16. Chapter 16

Things Are Different – Chapter 16

It was a good thing that I learned to drive on a standard in the first place, but I still managed to stall the little car twice on the way to his uncle's shop. Apparently Grandma told them about the little surprise that she had for me, because they immediately came out of the shop when we drove up and asked how I liked the car.

Like usual, I stammered a little, before Scott stepped in and gushed about what a kick-ass and cute car it was. Cute really was the word for it with its powder blue paint job and classic styling. Bob ran his hands along the fender and talked about his first car; a little MG that he said was similar to the Kharmann Ghia. Robert poked him in the stomach and told that was back in the days when he could still get in the car and challenged him to try to sit in the driver's seat of the car. He walked around the car and opened the door defiantly before pausing and shutting the door again.

"I'm really more of a jeep guy," he said. I tried not to, but I joined the rest of them in a good laugh. Of course Bob and Robert had a good laugh at me when we went to put Scott's gear in the car and I went to the back of the car and opened what I thought was the trunk just to be greeted by the sight of the engine. Robert popped the trunk, which was in the front of the car, only to reveal a space that was too small to put much of anything more than a small suit case. Scott was going to have to ride with his banjo between his legs.

I looked over at Scott, with his banjo case held between his knees before I started the car.

"Both," he said.

"What?"

"You were going to say; is that a banjo between your legs or are you just glad to see me? Both," he said with his mischievous grin.

"No, I wasn't," I replied and looked at the steering wheel. Yes, I was.

We pulled up to the front of his house and I didn't know what to do next, which is a fairly common occurrence for me. Especially in the last few weeks, I was often at a loss.

My hand was on the stick shift. I was gripping it a little harder than necessary, considering the car was parked and off. A soft touch drew my eyes from the wheel to my hand. Scott was delicately tracing patterns on the back of my hand.

"You need to learn how to relax," he said.

I stretched my fingers out, releasing the knob of the shifter. My eyes traveled from where his hand rested on mine and up his arm to those eyes. Oh, those eyes. Finally my gaze came to his mouth with its quirky, mischievous smile. I wanted to kiss him and for some reason that made me feel embarrassed. Why? We had kissed . . . a lot.

"What are you thinking?"

I turned back to the steering wheel and shrugged my shoulders.

"Maybe you just think too much," he said and took he took my chin in his hand, turning me towards his own face. It was awkward with the banjo, but he leaned forward, pulling my mouth to his. Our lips touched. Our tongues were just starting to find each other when we were both startled by a rap on the window. Startled? I almost pissed myself.

Scott rolled down his window.

"Scott. Jay," his dad said, "I thought that looked like you two. Is this your car Jay?"

"Um, y-yes," I stuttered, "I mean, no. It's my grandmother's. She is letting me drive it."

"Actually, his grandma gave it to him," Scott said.

"Nice. A classic. I had a little Sunbeam myself, back in my college days. I hate to break this up, but Scott, you have chores and homework to do."

"Okay, Dad,"

Mr. Ford turned away to go back to the house.

"I'll talk to you later, Okay?" He leaned over to give a quick kiss and he squeezed my hand where it still lay on the shift knob.

"Okay," I muttered as he extricated himself and his banjo from the car. I watched him walk up to the front door. He turned around twice as he walked away before giving me a final wave as he closed the door.

I took several deep breaths and adjusted myself. Kissing Scott always had that affect on me.

After I pulled away from the curb Scott's words came back to me. Did Grandma really give me this car? Was it mine? If so, what did that mean?

I was glad that I had I learned to drive a standard rather than an automatic and it did not take long for me to get used to the quirks of the Volkswagen. The car was responsive and I was able to maneuver easily through city traffic.

Going up to Grandma's there was a sudden transition from the controlled grid of the city to the more natural serpentine roads that wound up through the hills. Despite what the mechanic said I found the little car had more than enough pep on the inclines and curves.

It wasn't just Scott that had got me excited. The vibration of the engine had a definitely pleasurable effect on me.

If I had to, could I just take the little car to the ends of the Earth? Instead of walking away, wandering down the road on foot, if I had too, couldn't I just drive off into the sunset? Was it really my car, or would that be stealing? Would Scott come with me?

I was not really paying attention to anything but the feel of the tires on the road the thrum of the engine . . . the lingering sensation of Scott's lips and the pain of too tight jeans on an engorged crotch. I took each tree crowded corner a little faster than the one before as sunlight flashed through the trees.

It was a dream, but it wasn't a dream. I wasn't on Maui. I wasn't with Scott or Devon. I was alone in car on a curving road in Portland, Oregon.

I came around the corner and it was already too late. There was a thump even as I braked and swung the steering wheel away. The car skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the road, the bumper mere inches from a tree that clung to a sharp drop off.

Time was lost as I stared at the moss encrusted bark, my heart was leaping out of my chest and my breath came in short yopping gasps. I didn't feel that I could look behind me.

I slowly got out of the car. Despite the recent rains, it had been sunny and dry today and the side of the road was dry and dusty. Leaving the door open I walked to the front of the car. I ran my hand over its light blue hood and chrome bumper. There was no mark. Cars used to be made out steel. I finally screwed up my courage, something I do not have in abundance, to look at the road. It was clear, but knew I was not mistaken. I felt the impact.

I stood in the middle of the road, heedless that another car could come around the same blind curve.

There it was, at the far side of the road. I walked with the weight of a ships anchor attached to each foot and finally stopped a good ten feet away. I couldn't bring myself to go any closer. I was close enough to see that no breath flared the nostrils or expanded the bellows of the breast.

It was a beagle, like Snoopy, with a dark patch on its back and a white tip on its tail. Nothing was askew. It could have been playing dead, ready to pop up at the right command wagging that tail, tongue panting, and eyes gleaming. That was not going to happen.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The worst thing was the collar with the shiny bone shaped tag.

Fuck!

What do I do? What do I do?

I stumbled backwards until the back of my legs touched the rear of the car and I sat on the rear hood. My hands on my knees, I let my eyes fall to the space between my shoes. My new shoes. They were like my old ones, but not from Wal-Mart. They were real, not a cheap look alike. I liked them. I liked the car too, a lot. I started to wonder, was it really mine or just mine to use? I got back in the driver's seat and popped open the glove box. The registration and insurance was right on top. My name was on it. So was my grandmother's, but my name was on it!

I'm not sure why, but my chest felt tight and I started to hyperventilate. I took hold of the steering wheel and forced my breathing to calm, counting as I breathed; one, two, three, four...

Fuck!

Okay, I thought to myself, if a tree falls in the woods and I am the only witness, do I have to tell anyone? It's not like it is the first secret I have kept to myself. It wouldn't be the first lie. The car was fine. I was fine, so all I have to do is start the car and drive away.

The car started. No problem.

I started to pull back into the roadway when another car whipped around the curve, laying on its horn as it sped by. I slammed on the brake, causing the little car to stall.

But you're mistaking speed

For getting what you need

And never even noticing

You never do arrive

Cause you're

Driving sideways¹

Sometimes the wrong songs come into my head at the worst times.

Shit. My stomach threatened to disgorge its contents and my hands shook as I turned the key in the ignition again. I inched back into the road. I carefully followed the speed limit all the way home.

By the time I got inside the familiar knots had tied my gut up like the Christmas packages I never had.

"How was driving the car?" Grandma called out when she heard me.

"Great!" I responded with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, just like a teenager with a new car should. Or so I thought.

"I never could get used to the transmission on that thing. You didn't have any trouble did you?

"Not once I got the hang of it," I paused, "my stomach is a little upset, so I am going to lie down." Sometimes the truth is best, even if it isn't all of the truth.

"Do you want me to bring you some herbal tea?"

"No, I just want to rest."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything."

So that is what I did. I stayed in my room mostly, telling anyone that I was not feeling well. I even told Scott the same thing. It wasn't a lie; my stomach was once again inhabited by miniature dragons. Whenever he called I promised I would see him on Monday.

Life goes on, even when it doesn't for some. Even when that someone is a dog.

I drove to school on Monday, very carefully following the rules of the road. I even picked up Scott on the way to school, something that would be a regular thing. The one big difference was Devon wasn't hanging out with us at lunch. Since he was a junior and I was sophomore we didn't have any classes together and Dani said that his dad was keeping him busy most of the time.

Scott and I spent as much time as we could together. Fortunately that was a lot because we had so many classes together. We had an excuse to "study" together, but was there something missing?

"How are things going with you and Scott?" Grandma asked over the Sunday New York Times.

"Why?"

"Don't get defensive. You two have been seeing each other for almost a month now and I just wanted to make sure you are happy. You know you don't reveal much, don't you?"

"Sorry," I wanted to answer truthfully, but my natural reticence had to be overcome, "I am happier than I have ever been. Not just because of Scott, but because of you and everything everyone has done for me here. I love you and I am pretty sure I love Scott too."

"But..."

"But, I feel like I am taking advantage of everyone. You've given me so much more than I ever dreamed of and Scott, just the way he makes me feel. I don't know how to repay him or you." And I am afraid of when it will all end, I did not say, but thought.

"Well first off you never have to repay me anything. I told you in the beginning that I owed more than you can imagine and that I would probably spoil you. Do you think that Scott feels the same way?"

"I don't know how he could. I would like to think, but . . . shit . . . sorry. How can I show him how much he means to me?"

"This might sound indelicate, but have you two had sex?"

I would have been shocked, but I had gotten used to my grandmother's forthright nature. I shook my head.

"No, that's another thing . . . I want to, but it kind of scares me, not just the physical, you know, because you know..." I stammered and blushed.

"Has he pressured you?"

"No, not at all. He is really patient and kind and nice and attractive and . . . it's not like we haven't kissed, a lot, but..."

"It sounds like you both are maybe experiencing some of the same things."

"You think? I don't feel pressured, but what if I take too long and he gets . . . bored."

"I'm old and if I've learned one thing about relationships, as wonderful as the physical can be you need more. And I don't just mean that wonderful endorphin rush you get when you are with someone. I know at your age it is hard to get past that sometimes, but I think you and Scott are old souls and will appreciate what I have to say. You have to be with someone you can talk to, because eventually that will be all you have. Think about it this way; if something happened to Scott, he was paralyzed from the neck down, would you stay by him?"

I really didn't have to think about it before answering. "We spend a lot of time talking. We talk about music and movies and his life. He doesn't judge me. So yes, I would stay with him no matter what." I did not say that I did not talk much about myself. Considering his suicide attempt I was sure that there were things that Scott was keeping to himself as well.

"So the physical will happen when you are both ready. Don't be afraid to talk about it. You guys haven't done a real date have you? You know to a restaurant and all that?"

"No, I don't even know how or where or even how to ask him or pay for it."

"Stop that! Leave all that to me. This Friday you are taking your man on a date. Make sure he dresses appropriately."

"Really? Where?"

"I told you, leave that to me."

"How do I ask him out on a date?"

"Oh good grief. Give me your phone." She held out her hand and I reluctantly handed it over. She opened my contacts and held it to her ear.

"Hello Scott, this is Jay's grandmother. No everything is fine. What are you doing on Friday? Well you have a date with Jay. He will pick you up at seven and dress appropriately. Bye." She handed the phone back to me. I was probably a very lovely hue of embarrassment pink.

My phone buzzed.

"You should answer that," Grandma said as she picked up her coffee and newspaper and walked away.

Of course "dressed appropriately" also meant I needed to get something to wear. Since Grandma was being cagey about the details I had to actually ask Dani to help me go shopping. Especially since I wanted it to be like a real date and surprise Scott too. Have I mentioned before that I hate shopping?

"I know you are uncomfortable in anything except jeans and a SpongeBob t-shirt, but we can get you something really classy. A jacket and a tie." She said as we headed to several stores downtown. My mouth hung open.

"What do you mean SpongeBob?" I thought I was usually careful and wore SpongeBob under another shirt.

"Oh, please, some of those shirts you wear let old SpongeBob peek out. Not only that, but you usually wear him when you are having a bad day."

I didn't say anything. Was I that obvious?

Dani just giggled and grabbed my arm, dragging me into and out of way too many stores.

She made me, or rather my grandmother, spend what I thought was way too much money, but I had to admit I liked the outfit. Afterwards we went into the fanciest Starbuck's I had ever seen in my life. It had leather chairs and served beer and wine. We settled on to a couple of barstools facing each other over a high table with my shopping bags at our feet.

"Ready for your big date?" Dani asked sipping at a Vanilla Latte.

"Yes. No. I'm oddly nervous. My grandma has planned something and I am not sure what it is and I've never been on a date before and I want it to be special and I don't know how and -- and I'm so nervous I'm rambling, which I never do."

"I noticed. Don't worry; everything will be great, because you two are like the perfect couple."

"Whatever. Speaking of couples, how is Devon? I only get to see him from a distance?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"I don't want to call him and get him in trouble with his Dad."

"No I mean, why don't you ask him yourself?"

A pair of muscular arms encircled me and lifted me off the chair.

"Dude!" was yelled in my ear.

"Devon!" I squeaked out.

"Did you miss me?" He gave me an even tighter hug. I thought he was going to break me in half. He then took a seat next to Dani, planting a quick peck on her cheek.

"Yes, I have missed you. How have you been?"

"My Dad is still riding my ass and I have to spend extra time helping out at church, so right now my life pretty much sucks."

"I'm sorry. I know that is my fault." I stared into my cooling coffee.

"No, it's my Dad's fault."

"But, if I hadn't decided to stand on a table and make a fool of myself..."

"My dad would have found something else to ride me about. It is what he does."

"Well, at least you could then still hang out with us."

"I'm hanging out with you now."

"You're not going to get in trouble are you?'

"For what? Having coffee? Come on, we're not Mormon. Besides, most of the people in my church avoid downtown. Too many sinners here." He reached around me and pulled me into a one armed embrace again.

It was nice to hang out with Devon and Dani again and just talk.

"Devon is that you?" a voice said behind me.

"Oh, hi Mr. Collins," I could tell Devon was using his best salesman/politician voice. A large man approached, not as large has Devon's father, but his suit coat could not be buttoned and his tie had a ways to go before it could meet his belt.

"What brings you here?" the man asked.

"Have you met my girlfriend Dani? Dani this is Pastor Collins."

"Associate Pastor," Mr. Collins corrected.

"It's a pleasure sir." Dani held out her hand, which he accepted in a hand that looked like it was made of knockwurst.

"Who is this young man?"

"Um, I'm Lee, a friend of Dani's from school," I responded. There was something about him that made me feel very uncomfortable and I refrained from putting my hand out to shake, even though I knew I should.

"Well nice to meet you Lee and of course you too Dani. Maybe Devon will invite you to join us for service sometime?"

"I'll do that sir." Devon dutifully responded.

"I have to run. Say hi to your father for me Devon."

Both Devon and Dani looked at me when he left and simultaneously said, "Lee?"

"I didn't want you to get into anymore trouble for hanging out with that queer kid Jay," I said.

"You didn't have to do that," Dani said.

"No, but I wanted to."

"Don't let those assholes keep you from being who you are. I can handle any crap they send my way. I've been doing it my whole life," Devon told me.

"Where did you come up with the name Lee?" Dani asked.

"It's my middle name; Jayson Lee Westwood."

¹Aimee Mann, “Driving Sideways”