Life in a Northern Town - 2. Chapter 2

The alarm is going to die.

It is only a matter of time before I just break the damn thing. I groan a little as I force myself across the room and silence the devil machine. I needed to place it across the room to keep myself from just shutting it off and going back to sleep. I did sit back down and stretch since I was in no hurry. I'd been dodging Nick and Randy for weeks now and arriving for my bus at the last minute was a major part of my strategy, since they both rode in Nick's car. I pull boxers from the drawer and pad to the bathroom for a shower.

Afterward I'm close to human again, although my feeling towards that vile mechanization hasn’t changed! I pull on a white undershirt, a light V-neck sweater, and crème colored khakis. I pull my sneakers from their resting place under the bed and grab socks. I then open my drapes to reveal a morning that shouldn’t be wasted on a school day. Dew clings to the cars and shrubbery all about. The tree in front of my house has droplets everywhere, and the pine across the street looks like it has been dusted with diamonds. I lie back on my bed for a moment looking at the blue azure sky, and then sit up, and pull on my socks, and every now and then glance out the window, feeling at peace with the day.

Then he enters without so much as a knock.

"Adam are you…Oh, you’re up. Do you want a lift to school?" Bernie asks.

"I don’t know where you were brought up, Bernie, but we usually knock here before walking in on someone’s private space,” I say to him with an acid tone.

His face stiffens and he slams the door shut. I can hear his retreating steps down the stairs and the ensuing rumble has to be him bitching to my mother. Great, a new lecture on being respectful to him after he was disrespectful to me. I steel myself and then descend the stairs for breakfast.

I enter the kitchen and find just my mother sitting at the table, looking worn. I kiss her cheek and build a breakfast for myself using a bowl, some milk, some cereal and a spoon. She sits quietly smoking, which actually seems to make things worse. I sit quietly, eating cereal with my appetite waning. She smokes in silence, crushes out the butt and inserts a new cigarette in her mouth and lights it, beginning the cycle again. I can’t take it anymore.

"Mom, I’m sorry I was rude to Bernie. But he pissed me off! He should know better!" I say quickly. “I could have been undressed in there or something – it's my room.” She sits, unresponsive and nonplussed by my statement, perhaps not even listening. I place my spoon in the bowl to resume eating when she bursts into motion, grabbing the candle in its lead crystal holder and throwing it across the room. It whizzes by my head, and I felt the air stir – it was that close! With a metallic bang and the sound of tiny shards rattling to the floor, it shatters against the stove.

“What the fuck?” I blurt, looking from the enormous dent in the stove to the plaster wall that had been hit by the ricochet.

"Why can’t you just be a man?" she intones, ignoring my volume and language. "Why can’t you just stand up and be a real man? You little motherfucker, are you trying to ruin everything for me? Just like your father!" Her voice reaches a shattering crescendo, and then silence.

I sit stock still, shocked into stillness. Then I get up quickly and grab my backpack on my way out the door.

I step out my front door and sit heavily on the steps. This was how things have been going lately. My mother has turned into a basket case. Bernie is just weird and makes more problems than he solves. Randy keeps looking at me funny. In fact, he looked at me like he knows something I don’t. Ah, Christ, Randy. I'd feel better if I could talk to you, but I don't think I can this time. Even though he defends everyone and has never said a mean word against anyone...how would he feel if I tell him I'm queer? Queer for our friend, Nick. Queer enough that I noticed Randy himself was awfully good looking.

I still had a hard time accepting that. I can't imagine the circumstances where I'd say anything to anyone – not even Randy. I liked guys. I'm attracted to them sexually. I feel embarrassed and ashamed that, essentially, I perv on the best friend that ever was and now I'm totally and completely smitten with Nick and his accent. I can barely tell myself, In fact I still try to lie about it sometimes – a lot of the time. Can this really be who I am?

Anyway, he and Nick have been spending a lot of time together, and that has cut into my time with Randy, ‘cause I don’t trust myself around Nick anymore. In the past few weeks that I have known him, he has become a focal point of desire and frustration. I have admitted to myself that I’m gay, at least in a roundabout way. I mean, I can appreciate a pretty girl, even lust a bit if I work at it. But in the end, I’d much rather date her boyfriend, nine times out of ten. Well, I do have some standards.

But, all I think about is his face, his laugh, his walk. Nothing else fits, my mind is ruled by thoughts of Nick. And that’s the problem. See, Randy looks awesome, but he’s like...untouchable. I don’t think I could even, well, I can't even think about it, but if he wanted to do anything, I couldn't, cause he’s like my brother, and, well, ew. I mean, not totally, but still...

Nick, though, that’s different. All I do is dream about his lips and what it might feel like to be kissed, how it must feel to be held in those arms, and how unfair it is that I can’t even tell him. I guess in the past month, I have realized that being his friend isn’t enough, and I have pushed him away. In fact, I have not answered the phone when the caller ID says it’s his number, and the sick part? I don’t even know where he lives. Do you have any idea how much worse this would be if I could look at where he slept? Touch those sheets, inhale the air an scents from his most private and inner sanctum? These thoughts have kept me up nights, literally and figuratively. I sometimes get up and write on the computer about my feelings just to get them out in the open somewhere.

I get up and start down the street to walk the three blocks to the bus stop. As I head for the street corner, I am met by Nick’s car rolling up beside me.

"Hey, you want a lift?" comes his soft southern breeze of a voice from the open window. I turn to see him, and am once again struck by the gentle features and quiet sexiness that seems to envelope him, as I am each time I see him.

"Sure, thanks," I say, automatically opening the passenger door and wondering why I am doing this to myself. I sit quietly, all the while my mind churning with thoughts about this fellow next to me. I have never thought about someone in these terms, really. I mean, Randy is attractive to everyone, I think. Just one of those lucky people, blessed with such good looks that the only people that aren’t attracted are the insanely jealous ones, so I kind of feel like I could deal with that. You know, feeling that I am in the same boat as everyone else in appreciating Randy Proctor's physical beauty. That's why I hadn't felt gay with him - 'cause it was Randy.

But this guy, Nick? Well, I am continually noticing small things, like his smile, and eyes that sparkled like diamonds in deep water that flash with an inner light. I am daydreaming a bit about Nick having stopped for me, when he turns right and heads up to Randy’s place. I suddenly realized that he must have been coming up for Randy and just happened to see me and thought to stop. Well, doesn’t that just blow the wind from your sails!

We pull up and Randy comes trotting down the walk, exuding coolness. I open the door and am about to hop in the back seat when he places a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place, while he climbs in the back himself. I stay put somewhat reluctantly in the front seat, a now familiar tension in my body. Randy and Nick supply the bullshitting, while I don’t trust my tongue to keep my awkward emotions under control. I look out the window at the passing scenery, houses built seemingly so close to the next that it appears a giant has butted one house against the other. I think about where Nick might live, what his room would look like, what he’d look like in those form fitting compression shorts…What?

I turn and look right at Nick, who I realize has been frequently glancing at me, with a look of…expectation. Uh oh, while my mind was wandering, a question has been asked and he is waiting for an answer.

"Hello, ground control to Adam, please respond!" Randy needles me from the backseat.

"Ah, I am sorry, my mind was…"

"In someone’s pants, no doubt." Randy finished.

“You know me so well,” I say as I blush mightily."What was the question?"

"No question," Randy chirps happily. "I just stated the fact that you like to hump water buffalo. That’s all, just nod your head in agreement." I turn quickly and slap him square on the forehead.

"You weren’t supposed to tell!" I hiss in mock anger as he rolls back in his seat howling.

"I was asking if you guys wanted to come hang at my house on Saturday," Nick breaks in. I think he knows if he didn't speak Randy and I would never get back to the conversation. Crap, he's smart, too.

My mind freezes as I try to figure out how to answer, how to save myself. "Maybe. I kinda promised Mom I’d help around the house, so we’ll see how much she dumps on me," I say evasively.

"I’ll come over and help you, then we can meet at Nick’s around noon. Cool?" Randy asks Nick.

What the hell? I had just been roped in without so much as a ‘What do you think?’

I start, shaken from my thoughts by an instructor that wants my attention. Go figure.

"I’m sorry, what was the question?" I asked abashedly.

"The question has to do with the Conference of Vienna and its ramifications across Europe. Do you think you can enlighten us?" Mr. Bater asks. We all called him Master Bater behind his back, and he also has a habit of falling asleep in class. Fortunately, history is a favorite of mine, so the question is easy enough.

"The Conference of Vienna was an effort to step back in time to a more feudal system of government, in effect a power play by those that were losing power."

Bater raises an eyebrow. "Very good, Mr. Castle."

Class continues and I fade into the background again. So what was going on with Nick and Randy? I have a nagging feeling I am being set up here, but why? Am I just being paranoid? I mean, no one knows about my little lusting after Randy, and certainly no one knows about my much heavier crush on Nick. Ah, Nick, that sweet boy. So beautiful and he looks soft to the touch as well. I sigh.

I trudge to my locker at the end of class, my emotions slowly unraveling, fear eating around the very edges of my soul. I smile: am I melodramatic or what? The question remains about what exactly I should do, however.

This is how my days are going, and now my plan of just avoiding the whole thing has backfired, since Randy has decided to open his big mouth. That isn't all, of course. My subconscious has been turning over my parental confrontation this morning and come up with nothing. What did she mean about my father, and why was she being so damned weird? What was all that about me ruining her life and being a man?

My dad died on a business trip in his hotel. He had a heart attack in his sleep and never woke up. The people at his funeral had clucked and said he drank too much, smoked cigars and ate too much fatty food while on the road – it was bound to happen. Well, between dredging up thoughts of my dad dying, my whack-a-doodle mother and hiding myself from Randy and Nick, I am about at the end of my rope. If I wasn't such a stubborn punk I'd consider swinging from the end of a rope.

I decide to walk home that day, even though it’s a few miles. I just don't think I can take the loud voices and the cramped space of the bus. Randy has started some football variant the school is trying, spring ball or something, and by avoiding the parking lot I can also avoid Nick. I grab my book bag and walk out the back door, heading north, following the numbered streets. My mind swirls between each of my troubles and I began to feel sick to my stomach and my head starts to ache. As I reach the third corner, the football team jogs by doing their running drills. My stomach heaves and I splatter some foliage with protein. I stay like that for a moment, bent double, trying to spit that horrid taste from my mouth. I stand and, from the corner of my eye, I see one of the players drop from the back of the pack and return to me on the sidewalk.

"Dude, why are you walking?" Randy said.

Oh Jesus, could this day get any worse? I can't tell him and it's killing me! My mind just bends then, I imagine I feel it tearing away from its underpinnings and rushing through cold air, headlong towards madness. I look into Randy’s eyes and open my mouth, but no sound issued forth.

"Proctor! Get your candy ass over here!" comes the voice of Coach Canfield. It seems to be the shot of reality I need to bring me back a bit. I really hate Canfield.

"Just feel like walking, Rand. That’s all," I whisper. I feel irritated that my voice wasn't stronger. I try to move past him and continue. Randy places a restraining hand on my arm.

"Hang on, I’ll go with you. Walk back with me so I can get my stuff."

"PROCTOR! Goddamnit, get your ass over here! What the hell do you think this is, social hour?"

"Coach Canfield! Kiss my ass, I quit," Randy replies, and turns with an arm around my shoulders, and walks me back to school. I don't fight it. I feel sick and Randy makes me feel better even if I can't tell him anything.

"So you came back." She pauses. "You had better get a few things straight, you little faggot. I will not have filth and perversion in my house, do you hear me? Bernard filled me in on your defending that other fag at school, that political brat, and you will not act that way in this house!" She takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Your father was shit. I am sure you got this from him. Do you know how he died? I’ll fucking tell you, Adam. He died handcuffed to a bed in Greenwich Village with a man fucking him. He was bent over getting buggered while his family was home waiting for him to come back from a business trip. Put that in your fucking family history, buddy boy." She crushes out her cigarette and promptly lights another.

“They said it was a heart attack. You lie!” I scream. “You fucking lie!”

"Are you two fucking now?" She asks, ignoring me and gesturing to Randy. "Or are you still having a fight with your precious Nick? You know, Bernard sees this shit all day, more than you think. He knows you have the hots for this kid, you fucking piece of trash!"

Each word is like a physical blow, and I felt my mind bend again. She knows. Randy knows. Bernie knows – everyone knows. “You don't know shit about Nick,” I say, my anger white hot and all I have to hold on to.

"You want to know what else, buddy boy? I found that shit on your computer, all that crap you write about that kid. About how you can’t trust yourself around him. Maybe I should call his parents and warn them to keep their son safe from you,” she sneers while pointing at me with her cigarette.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, Mom!” I scream. I feel Randy's hand on my shoulder, but I just scream obscenities at my mother while my words began to slur and I began crying. Soon my words are no more than incoherent wailing.

“No, no 'fuck me'! You want to take it in the ass, go do it somewhere else!” she yells. She picks up her ashtray and flings it at me. She misses, and it sinks into the plaster wall with a puff of dust and ash.

Randy spins me on my heels, disorienting me, and propels me back out the door and forces me up the hill to his house. Not that I was resisting, at least I don't think I am. He sits me on his bed, and that is when I become conscious of the tears that are streaking down my cheeks, and of the growing wet spot on my shirt where my tears have found a resting place. Randy reappears with his mother who dabs at my cheeks and makes all the appropriate coos for the scene before retreating back downstairs. An argument ensues, but it must be on the phone because no one is yelling back at Mrs. Proctor.

Randy sits next to me and places an arm around me and then draws me in to rest my head on his shoulder, tucked under his chin. I draw a long hitching breath and then start to cry all over again. Tears of loss, frustration, rage, and pain. I cry until I no longer am conscious.

I wake in Randy’s bed and turn my head slowly to look at his clock. Nine thirty? I've slept for hours. My head is sore from the screaming and crying. The heat from earlier is gone, and now I am feeling empty and cold. The dimly lit room reveals Randy and Nick on the floor playing at doing their homework.

"So what’s wrong with Adam? C’mon Randy, you already know how I feel; it’s not fair to hold back. I want to be there for him too," Nick says quietly. " I love him."

"I know, but that’s not my call, dude. I told you that. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you."

"But I don’t understand why he’s pushing me away. Have I done something?"

"Not that he’s said to me, but we don’t see each other as much as we used to, and that has to change. I mean, we used to hang all the time, and this really scares me, 'cause I had no idea it was coming…"

"What was coming?"

"I can’t," Randy says quietly. "It’s not my place, Nick. Please understand, it’s his private affair and it just wouldn’t be right."

"Okay. I guess I understand. But if I can help, you know..."

"Yeah, I know, man. Thanks."

"Yeah, so I’ll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, dude, I guess so."

I see Nick’s form rise and he throws his pack onto his back, and then he walks over so he's next to me. I fake sleep and feel his gentle touch push the hair from my brow. I draw in a sudden breath and reach for his hand. He tries to draw back, but I hold his hand to my forehead, and then to the tears that are escaping my eyes once again. How could I have any left? I draw his hand to my lips and whisper the words, I set them free.

"I love you too, Nick"