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- 12/01/2016
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Predator Prey - 11. Turned Loose
Everything happened so fast after Christmas, he barely had time to keep track of the changes.
The day after Christmas, he'd asked Marc to drive with him down to the dealer who sold him his car. He'd gotten as good a deal as he could hope for, and put the money into his one remaining bank account.
Thirty-six hours later, the account had perhaps two hundred dollars left in it, but he owed nobody anything anymore. Except Marc and Lee, who had possibly saved his life. Marc and Lee, who point-blank refused any money he offered them in thanks for their help.
And within another hour after that, Marc had sauntered into the kitchen, grinning. Something was up. Marc's smirk gave that away in a split second.
"You're going to need to pack," he was told.
"Pack? Where am I going?"
He watched uncertainly from the other side of the table as Marc pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I've found you a job," Marc announced.
That was a shock. A job? He hadn't even started looking. Then he remembered the time pressure he was under. He had to go. After all, the parents were coming. Marc had found a way to get rid of him.
"Doing what?" he asked warily.
"I have a friend of a friend down at the Marine Research Station," Marc said diffidently. "He said their research vessel – did you know the University owns its own ship? – needs some volunteer crew for the January term. If you show up tomorrow, they'll sign you on."
He considered this. A month on a research ship wouldn't be all bad, would it? Not much chance of running into Ted and redhead there; plenty of opportunity to stare out over the lonely sea and re-think his life. But – volunteer?
"How much do I get paid? Anything?" he asked.
"You heard me say 'volunteer,' right?" Marc rejoined. "You get to eat, sleep and I think they pay you a stipend. That's university-speak for glorified shit," Marc grinned.
So there would be something at the end of January. How much? Did it matter? It really didn't. This was a chance to get away, get out, and get started again. Maybe figure out a way to make some real money. Maybe figure out a way to forget what had happened to his life.
"Okay," he nodded. "So, how do I get down there?"
"I drive you down tomorrow at seven – in the morning," Marc said.
"Shit, you don't leave me much time, do you?" he complained. Why did he feel guilty about complaining? Because Marc was doing him a favor.
And Marc was grinning, like it was a joke. In a way, it was. Back in the dorm, for the brief time they'd been…together…he'd never been one to get up early.
Marc was speaking again. "Nope. Not much time at all. Listen, I'm sorry about that. But I thought this was a good opportunity for you, and well…"
"No, it's all good," he jumped in, not wanting to show how uncertain about this he felt. He could make a clean break tomorrow. Start over.
So he packed everything he currently owned into a duffle on loan from Marc – it looked as if it had seen plenty of better days – and tried to sleep. Unlike the last few nights, he heard nothing from the bedroom down the hall.
Lee was up with Marc in the early morning darkness to see him off.
"I made you some coffee," Lee said quietly, handing him a full travel mug.
Marc already had one.
"It was nice getting to know you," Lee said to him, awkwardly. "I'm glad you followed us home." And under Marc's watchful gaze, Lee offered him a brief, warm embrace.
"Thanks for everything," he said into the hug.
And then they were out the door, loaded into Marc's ancient Toyota, and on the road down to the coast. It wouldn't take long to get there; perhaps an hour. Traffic was light – the early hour and the time of year combined to make it so. Headlights from the few other cars on the road glared at them in the early morning dusk. Scrubby palms, alternating with banks of lush, tangled growth, dotted the roadside.
They were silent.
Finally, he couldn't contain himself. "Marc?"
"What?"
"Why are you doing this?" he had to know.
Marc remained quiet so long that he thought he was being ignored. But the figure behind the wheel spoke, eventually. "Because of Lee. Because Lee tries to see the good in everyone, and actually believes in love and mercy and all that stuff."
Marc paused a moment, then went on: "And because I love him, I try to live up to that, too. I'm learning to do that. Love. Feel. Have a conscience. If it had been up to me, I'd have fucking slammed the door in your face."
The blond nodded. He knew that.
Marc kept going. "Lee's parents and friends gored him. Lee's boyfriend abandoned him and scrambled so deep into the nearest closet, he got dry cleaned. His own parents practically tore his heart out and sacrificed it on an altar of respectability. And Lee's so-called friends turned their backs on him so fast, you'd think it was choreographed. And despite all that, Lee tries desperately to keep in touch, send cards, and tell them all that he loves them, still. Because he thinks loving is better than hate. I can't come close to living up to that. But I'm going to try, because I love him."
Another mile went by. "So, when I found out about this internship, I knew it could be what you needed. And I knew it was what Lee would have done for you. I made a couple of calls, got it set up. You show up, it's a done deal," Marc said neutrally.
"You've been more than good to me, and I don't deserve it," he began.
"Damn right, you don't, you heartless bastard," Marc interrupted sharply. The anger was still there, despite the days he'd spent with them. "How many kids did you use up on your way to filling your pockets?"
He didn't argue. He knew it was a fair rebuke.
Marc took a moment to calm down, get himself under control. "So when Lee said I needed to forgive you, I tried. Damn and fuck, I tried. And I have to give you some credit; sometimes, I think maybe, just maybe, something behind that frozen mask might have thawed, and you've changed. But sometimes, I think it's all an act."
He sat there, stunned by the vehemence and the truth behind Marc's words.
"But you know, there's one thing, one big thing that makes it really, really hard to forgive you, for what you did to me, to all those boys, to everyone."
He waited, while the painted road stripes zipped past and the sky slowly brightened up in the side mirror on his right.
"You never said you were sorry."
There wasn't anything he could say to that. Every word was true, and every syllable felt like a dagger stabbing into his flesh.
They arrived at the small coastal town where the marine science research station was located in silence. The station itself had once been a marina. When the operator went bankrupt over a decade before, the university stepped in, bought the place, and began converting it to its present purpose. About $120 million of government stimulus money later, the university could boast of a state-of-the-art classroom and laboratory center, a harbor and slip for two handsome research vessels, plus some added marina space to be leased or lent to special friends of the university.
The parking lot was empty as Marc rolled through the gates to the facility. The car drove right up to a spot close to the water. A large vessel was moored broadside to the shore. A boarding ramp connected the dock area to the deck.
He got out, and unloaded his duffel from the back seat. He slammed the creaking door shut. The sun rose over the horizon, blinding him temporarily. He turned to go, but heard Marc calling out the passenger side window.
"Listen," Marc said hastily, over the idling engine, "there's something I forgot to tell you. To get this job? You have to change your major. You're a Marine Science major now. I'll make sure to change it for you."
He started to protest. He knew shit all about marine science. His last biology course had been in freshman year – of high school.
But Marc cut him off. "And for the record, just so you know. I don't hate you anymore."
And with that, Marc put the car in gear, and drove off.
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