Storms - 33. Loz

I went through the rest of the day in a daze. When I got home, I did my homework and stayed in my room until the others came home.

‘Lawrence.’ Dad stood in the doorway to the bedroom. ‘I got a phone call from school today, saying you didn’t turn up for your morning lessons.’

‘I . . . I was feeling sick,’ I told him. ‘After you’d left. I told them when I got there.’

Dad nodded. ‘Okay. Have you finished your homework?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Chicken pasta bake for tea today,’ said Dad. ‘Should be ready in an hour. Unless you’d like to help?’

I hesitated. ‘Can I help tomorrow instead? I’m just a bit knackered. Weird being back. Went okay, though.’

‘Good.’

Dad left and I lay back on my bed with a sigh. I had no idea what to do now, what would happen next. Was Daniel really living with Griffiths now? Was his mother that ill? She’d seemed tired when I pretended to be Griffiths and spoke to her on the phone that time, but I had no idea it was this bad. It made me feel even more guilty. My stomach ached with it, and I turned over into the foetal position.

I couldn’t go on like this. Something had to happen.

The next day I arrived at school on time. Jason and the others ignored me when I walked past. I was perfectly fine with that. They hadn’t been my friends before, and they certainly weren’t my friends now. I was on my way to my first lesson when someone said my name.

It was Michael Storm. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said. I tried to get a read on his facial expression. Did he know? He was Daniel’s friend. Had he told him? And if not, what could he want with me? Michael’s face was impassive. I gauged nothing from it.

I nodded and followed him over to the basement stairwell, away from the crowds. There he stopped and turned to me.

‘I know what you did,’ he said. ‘And so does Griffiths.’

I swallowed, heart hammering in my chest. ‘I . . . that I did what?’

Michael’s hands balled into fists and he hissed, ‘You fucking know what! I’ve known since my party, that it was you who hurt him like that. I’d like to bash your fucking skull in for it.’ I sighed, lowering my gaze. That would be no less than I deserved. ‘But for some reason, Daniel feels sorry for you or something, so here’s what you’re gonna do:

‘You’re gonna confess. Tell them what you did. All of it. The changing rooms and the posters, everything. Griffiths knows, but he probably hasn’t had time to talk to the school yet. You can beat him to it if you confess now. And for some fucked up reason, Danny doesn’t want things to be worse for you than they have to be.’ He stepped close, into my space, and said in a deadly whisper, ‘Consider that, Loz. That’s how amazing a guy you hurt.’

I felt tears pressing at my eyes and blinked them away, swallowing. ‘I know,’ I whispered. ‘I know how amazing he is.’ I closed my eyes. ‘I know exactly.’

‘No, you don’t. You don’t know him like I do. And you never will.’ There was something unspoken in his words, and then I knew. I understood. The two of them were together. Daniel was lost to me. Though, of course, I had never had him to begin with.

‘Take care of him.’ It was the only thing I could think to say, and I turned and walked away.

I didn’t know where to go, who to talk to. Mrs. Penn was the obvious choice, but I didn’t really know her, or like her very much. Then I realised where my feet were taking me, and soon I was standing outside Mr. Griffiths’s office. I really hoped he wasn’t there. But when I knocked, his voice said, ‘Come in!’ And I did.

He had clearly only just arrived, as he was in the process of removing his coat. When he saw me, Mr. Griffiths stared at me in stunned silence. It only lasted for a moment, though, and the fury that followed scared the fuck out of me. I was sure that if Griffiths had been a lesser man he would have beaten the shit out of me right then.

‘I did it,’ I blurted. There was no graceful way of saying it. ‘I . . . I printed and put up the posters, and I . . . I hurt Daniel. I . . .’ I couldn’t go on, didn’t know how to say what I needed to say, and the tears came. ‘Fuck . . . I hurt him. I forced him!’ I searched Griffiths’s face in pure desperation. Did he understand? Michael had said Griffiths already knew. But how much of it?

‘I know.’ Mr. Griffiths stood up, barely contained rage evident on his face. He didn’t look at me. ‘Come with me,’ he said, voice deathly calm. We left his office and headed towards the stairs. Mrs. Penn, then. Or Mr. Hugh. It didn’t really matter. I had to say this. Had to say it out loud, to them. To someone. And this would be it. After today, I knew I’d never be coming back here. I was fine with that. I didn’t belong here. Better I just disappear.

* * *

They called my dad. They told him that they were going to have a meeting about this, to decide my fate. They told him Daniel didn’t want to contact the police. They told him that I would likely be expelled.

His expression was stony when he came out of the office. He didn’t say a word, only gestured at me to follow him out to the car. We drove home in absolute silence. He didn’t even look at me, kept his eyes on the road, acted for all the world as if I wasn’t there. I wished I weren’t.

When we got in, he went toward the kitchen. I stood in the hall, uncertain of what to do. Did I follow him? Did I go to my room?

‘Come on, then!’ he barked from the kitchen, and that answered my question. First words he’d said to me since he arrived at school. I went into the kitchen, sat down at the table opposite where he sat, and waited.

For a long while, we just sat there. I felt his eyes on me. Saw, out of the corner of my eye, how he ran his hands over his face and through his red hair. He released several deep sighs. Finally, voice low and quiet, he said, ‘Why did you do it?’

My eyes welled up with tears. ‘Because I’m in love with him.’ It was barely more than a whisper, and then I sobbed, tears dripping down onto the table.

He laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh, desperate and humourless. ‘Because you’re—What the hell kind of reason is that? They say you raped that boy!’

I tried to speak but only cried harder, my words catching in my throat whenever I opened my mouth. What could I even say? Finally, I managed, ‘I—I did . . .’ I hadn’t said it before, not like that, not even to myself. But now I knew it was true. I understood. After that, I couldn’t get anything else out. I fell forward over the table, pillowing my head on my arms, and cried harder than I ever had before. I was shaking. I had. I had raped him. I had raped Daniel. First I made him do those things, and then I . . . Twice. Fucking twice, I’d done that.

I don’t know how long it took for me to calm down, but Dad remained sitting opposite me the entire time. After a while, I managed to regain control of my breathing and my body, managed to stop shaking and gasping. I stayed as I was until Dad spoke.

‘Lawrence, look at me.’ I did. His blue eyes were cold. ‘What you’ve done is the most horrifying thing one human being can do to another. Do you understand that?’

I nodded. ‘I know. I . . . Dad, I . . .’ I swallowed, not sure what I wanted to say.

‘You said you’re in love with him.’ I nodded again. ‘Are you gay?’

I met his gaze, swallowed again. ‘Yes.’

Dad sighed, sat back, shook his head. ‘How long have you known?’

I bowed my head again. ‘I don’t know. Not until . . . I didn’t want to be. I . . . blamed him. Thought he’d made me that way and if I just—’ I couldn’t finish.

‘Loz.’ I looked up at him sharply. Dad never called me Loz. It was always Lawrence. I couldn’t read his expression. Couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. ‘How could you possibly think any of this was okay?’

‘I didn’t,’ I mumbled. ‘I didn’t think anything. I just . . . did. Like I wasn’t even in there.’ He didn’t say anything, and I cleared my throat, hesitated, went on. ‘I didn’t want to be queer. I thought if I was, if you found out, you’d . . . I don’t even know what I thought, you guys just always—’

‘Yeah. I know. Shit . . .’ Dad didn’t swear in front of us often. When he did it was with good reason. I guess finding out your son is gay and a rapist on the same day will do that. He sighed. ‘This is my fault.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s not.’

‘It is. I’m your father. I’m responsible for you, and I didn’t even realise that things weren’t right. That you weren’t . . . right.’

That hurt. It hurt more than anything else, and before I could control it, I burst into tears. I wasn’t right. I was gay and that was wrong. I was fucked up. ‘I’ll stop,’ I sobbed. ‘I’ll stop being gay, I’ll just, I dunno, I’ll stop . . .’

‘Loz, what are you talking about?’ And then Dad had come round the table, sat in the chair next to mine, and hugged me. He hadn’t hugged me in years. Not since before I hit puberty. ‘You can’t just stop being gay, son,’ he said softly. ‘And you shouldn’t have to. There’s . . . there’s nothing wrong with that, that’s not what I meant. God, that must have . . . Hearing that kind of language from us every day when you were . . .’

‘Dad . . .’ I put my arms around him in turn and cried into his shirt, and he hugged me tighter. Held me. Rocked me.

‘Shh. It’s okay, son. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.’

‘Don’t . . . don’t tell Darren and George. About . . . what I did, or that I’m—’

‘I won’t tell them anything. When you’re ready, you can tell them yourself, or not.’

‘They’ll wonder why I was kicked out.’

‘Violent behaviour,’ he said. ‘It’s true.’ He let me go and looked at me. Smoothed back my hair with his hand. ‘I’m sorry. We don’t say it enough in this house, but I love you, Lawrence. You’re my son and I’ll always love you, no matter what. Always. And you’re not alone. We’ll get through this together. You’ll keep seeing Mr. Morelli. He’ll help you. You’re lucky the kid doesn’t want the police involved and his foster parents are listening to him.’

I wiped my nose on my sleeve and sniffed. ‘I . . .’ It was hard to say. I hadn’t said it in so long. ‘I love you too, Dad.’

‘You’re still grounded, mind you.’

I couldn’t help laughing. None of it was funny, but I just had to, or I thought I might lose my mind. Maybe I already had. The fact that I hadn’t killed myself yet was, frankly, a miracle. Or perhaps not. I was too much of a coward to kill myself.

‘I deserve to be grounded until I’m thirty,’ I mumbled.

‘That’s about the gist of it.’ He stood up. ‘I’m not going back to work today. George can manage on his own. I need to give him a ring, and Mr. Morelli. They’re sending a social worker over later, to talk. But I’m here, if you need to talk more, or want to do anything. Okay?’

I nodded. ‘Thanks Dad. It’s . . . this, it’s, I don’t deserve this. After what I’ve done . . .’

‘You’ve done an awful thing, Loz,’ said Dad. ‘But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be loved. You’re being given a second chance, here. We’ll make the most of it, right? And . . . I’ll do better too. I’ve thought it before, but I’ve never reprimanded your brothers and I’m not much better myself. That’s going to change. I promise.’

I nodded. ‘All right.’ And then, because it hadn’t been said in so long and I needed to say it again, ‘I love you, Dad.’

His smile was sad, regretful. ‘I love you too.’ Then he combed his fingers through my hair, his touch lingering for a moment, and left the room.

* * *

The social worker arrived at half past three. Her name was Amanda. She talked to me first and then to my dad. She asked me questions about my family and my home life. She asked me if anyone had ever done this sort of thing to me.

I just stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

She spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘I mean, has anyone ever touched you inappropriately, or otherwise done the sort of thing that you did to Daniel? An adult, perhaps.’

‘No!’ I shook my head violently. ‘No, of course not! What, do you think my . . . ? No. No, piss off, no.’

Amanda gave me a pained smile. ‘I’m sorry, Loz, but I have to ask.’

‘Why?’

‘Because sometimes children who have been sexually abused will do to others what’s been done to them.’

I shook my head again. ‘No one’s abused me.’

The following day, I went to see Mr. Morelli. He asked me the same question. It made me angry again.

‘Why do people ask me that? No! No one’s done to me what I did to Daniel. I don’t have that excuse, it’s all me. I’m a horrible person.’

Mr. Morelli shook his head. ‘You did a horrible thing. That doesn’t make you a horrible person. You’re troubled, and you’re struggling.’ He paused. ‘I’m guessing this is due to what we spoke about earlier. That’s why you did it?’

I pulled my feet up into the chair and hugged my knees, looking away, and nodded.

‘Did you think it would make him fall in love with you?’

‘No. I dunno . . . I didn’t really think. I just . . .’ I trailed off, unable to think of anything more to say.

‘I’d like you to tell me about it,’ he said. ‘If you feel like you can. It will help me understand, so I can help you.’

I hesitated. If I told him about it, all of it, if I said it out loud, it would make it more true. More real. ‘What—how much do you want to hear?’

‘As much as you’re willing to tell. You can be honest with me. I’m not here to judge you, and you can’t shock me. Start at the beginning.’

‘I . . .’ I licked my lips. I didn’t want to tell him all the details. But so far, Mr. Morelli had given me every reason to trust him, and I knew he wanted to help me. Truth be told. I didn’t feel comfortable telling him anything, but maybe I just had to do it anyway.

‘Daniel started this term. No one really knew anything about him. He was quiet, and no one really bothered talking to him, either. Except to bully him. He was easy to bully. I didn’t do anything to him, but I didn’t defend him either. Caught him looking one time, though. At me. I liked it, and then I hated myself for it.

‘One Monday, in October, I left my scarf in the changing room after PE. I went back to get it, and the showers were still running. Looked to see who was still there, and it was Daniel. I . . . He was naked, and I . . . I took a photo, the one I used for the posters. And I took my clothes off and I went in.’ I blushed, couldn’t look at Mr. Morelli.

‘You can tell me,’ he said simply.

I nodded. ‘I . . . I got him off, and I tried to make him do the same to me, and he just ran.’ It came out in a rush. ‘I . . . I felt so fucking betrayed. And then I was angry with myself and I thought, fuck him for making me feel this way. But then, the next day when I saw him again, I couldn’t help myself. I waited for him after school, and I made him promise not to tell or I’d tell everyone he was gay. And then I made him do it.’

Now that I’d said it, it was easier, somehow, to speak. ‘After that, I started doubling back to the showers after PE. He always waited until everyone else was done. So he was always there, and we did it again. Just . . . just handjobs.’ I blushed. ‘I kissed him a few times. He never really kissed me back, but I did it anyway. Some part of me felt like we were kind of boyfriends, I guess. Like we were doing this in secret. But we weren’t doing anything. I was. For a few weeks. And then . . .’ I took a deep shaky breath. ‘Then he made friends with Michael and, like I said before, I was so angry! So I cornered him, and he called me gay and I just, I snapped.’ I felt the tears coming, and for once I didn’t even try to stop them, just let them come.

‘I . . . I pushed him up against the wall in the shower. And it was like I wasn’t even there, like it was somebody else. Fuck . . .’ I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. ‘I was just so angry . . . angry that he made me feel that way, and I needed to get it out somehow. Then I told him to stay away from Michael. It was . . . I did it one other time, two days later. I rang Daniel’s mum, pretended to be Mr. Griffiths. She told me he’d stayed over at Michael’s, and I’d never felt more livid, so I made him come to the changing rooms after school and I did it again. To . . . to punish him and show him he was mine . . .’ I broke down into sobs, and for a while I couldn’t say anything. Mr. Morelli offered me the box of tissues again.

After a few moments, I managed to calm down enough to speak. I blew my nose and went on. ‘Afterwards I felt really guilty. Like I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to be nice to him. I kissed him, and I gave him my scarf cause I . . . I’d left marks . . .’ I cleared my throat. ‘But he didn’t react at all. Didn’t say anything. And that pissed me off, cause in my head I’d been nice to him, right? And that’s when I came up with the posters. You . . . You know the rest.’

Mr. Morelli just looked at me for a little while. ‘So, what made you decide to tell the school what you’d done?’

‘Couple of things . . . Monday, I saw him again. He freaked out and ran. I’ve never felt worse about myself . . . It’s like it sank in, properly. And then I found out what had happened, that he’d moved out of his mum’s place and Griffiths was looking after him. Already then I felt like . . . I ought to do something. Make amends somehow, but I didn’t know how. It . . . kind of dawned on me that I’d taken this poor, sad kid who was already going through so much and just hurt him, made everything even worse for him.

‘Then, yesterday, Michael cornered me when I arrived at school. He told me to turn myself in. Told me Daniel wanted to . . . wanted to give me a chance, to do that, but that Griffiths knew so even if I didn’t . . .’ I paused, took a breath. ‘They’re together, him and Daniel. He didn’t tell me, but I could tell from the way he talked about him. Not that I ever stood a chance, but it was all over, and still he . . . I’d done all these things to him, and he still wanted to give me the chance to set things right.

‘So I did it. I went to Griffiths, who already knew. Wouldn’t have blamed him if he beat the stuffing out of me. He looked like he wanted to. And . . . and that’s it. That’s all of it. I’m getting expelled, and that’s fine with me. I know it has to—I shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t ever have to see me again, much as I wish I could just apologise. Fuck.’ I sighed. ‘Wanna tell him how sorry I am, but it’s not like sorry’s gonna make up for any of what’s happened. I’d probably just make it worse.’ I fell silent. There was nothing more to say.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ said Mr. Morelli softly.

‘It’s fucked up,’ I said and sniffed.

He seemed to weigh his words for a moment, and then he said, ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ I blinked and looked at him. He gave me a wan smile. ‘Hey, you were honest with me. I should be honest with you in return.’

I uttered a short laugh, because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. ‘So . . . how fucked am I? I mean, is there a rapist scale? From “drunken mistake” to “irredeemable, requires chemical castration” or something?’

He almost smiled. ‘You’re definitely not irredeemable.’ Then he gave me a serious look over the top of his glasses. ‘You’ve made terrible, terrible mistakes, Loz, and you’ve hurt another person in a really, really bad way that may affect him for the rest of his life. But you’re fifteen, and you can change. You have every chance of becoming a better person. You’re already on that path. You’ve realised what you’ve done. You’ve accepted responsibility. That’s a good start.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Er . . . I came out to my dad, too.’

‘How’d he take it?’

‘Better than I thought he would. He hugged me. Even told me he loved me. He hasn’t done either of those things in a long time. Not telling my brothers, though. They don’t know what I did.’

‘And they don’t have to know unless you want them to. All right, I think our time’s almost up. I’m setting up another session for next week. I think you’re gonna need it.’

‘I think I’m gonna need a lot of sessions . . .’ I swallowed. ‘Thanks. For . . . for making me say this stuff. I think I needed to.’

Mr. Morelli stood up. ‘It’s my job. But, you’re welcome.’