Semi Charmed Life - 2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Jack was reading a textbook in preparation for an upcoming Physics exam. His grades had been slipping in that class since he and Alyssa started going steady and spending more time in class flirting than actually focusing on the material. His parents and Carson were out of town for one of Lucy’s gymnastics tournaments, and he was taking advantage of the quiet house, sprawled on the couch with his books and notes around him. He was a little annoyed he was wasting having the entire house to himself by doing something as boring as studying, but he needed to get all the info on electrodynamics down before this test, or he would risk falling behind and having to work harder to catch up. Alyssa was also annoyed he was missing church with her, but also understood about falling behind, since she was struggling herself.

Jack was working his way through a long bit of text with a highlighter when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, losing his place and feeling annoyed at the interruption. He tossed his book aside in irritation and picked up his phone. It was Marie, Damon’s mom.

“Hello,” Jack said, answering in his most polite voice.

“Is Damon there?” Damon’s mom asked brusquely. “I’ve been trying to call him, and he hasn’t been answering his phone. He said he was going to your house.”

“Oh…yeah, he’s here,” Jack lied. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed an energy drink from the fridge. “We’ve been studying. He might have left his phone in his bag and forgotten about it. He’s in the bathroom, but I can have him call you when he gets out.”

“Don’t bother. I just wanted him to pick up some things from the store before he heads home tomorrow. I’ll just text it to him.”

“Okay. Have a good night.”

Marie hung up without saying anything else. Jack dialed Damon’s cell and waited for him to answer while he opened up the energy drink.

When Damon picked up, Jack’s ear was assaulted by a cacophony of discordant noise.

Jesus, no wonder he didn’t pick up, Jack thought.

“Hello?” It was obvious Damon was shouting, and it was still hard to hear him.

“Where the hell are you?” Jack said.

“Hold on,” Damon shouted. There was another whirl of noise, then Damon spoke again, easier to hear this time. “Sorry, what?”

“Where the hell are you?” Jack asked.

“Um…” There was a giggle on the other end of the line. “Party, dude.”

Jack frowned. Damon’s voice was thick; the words were slurred.

“Are you fucking drunk?” Jack asked.

Damon giggled again. “And high too. Don’t forget that.”

Jack tried not to laugh. “Your mom has been trying to call you.”

“Uh…yeah?” There was another flurry of noise and the sound of someone retching.

“Are you with someone?”

“Uh…they left, I think.”

“Need a ride?”

Damon sounded sheepish. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Okay. Tell me where you are.”

“Uh…” He could hear Damon call to someone else. “Hey, where the fuck are we dude?” A muffled reply and a bark of laughter, then Damon was back on the phone.

“Well…we don’t know.”

Jack rolled his eyes, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Turn on your Snapchat location dumbass.”

“Oh, good thinking,” Damon said.

“Sit tight, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Right-o boss.”

Right-o? Jack thought. He left the house, and after checking his phone multiple times, he found himself in a sketchy part of town he wasn’t familiar with. He could hear the party in question before he saw the house.

He parked and, anxious not to leave his car unguarded for too long, went in search of Damon.

He didn’t see his friend after a cursory search of the yard and headed inside. He wondered if it was possible to get a contact high from all the pot he was smelling.

It was fortunate Damon saw him and waved from one of the couches in the back of the room, because Jack nearly didn’t recognize him. His dark hair was streaked with liberal amounts of red dye, and instead of it hanging loosely around his face, it was styled into spikes and peaks. At some point, he had added a nose ring to his collection of piercings. He was wearing a black and red shirt with fishnet sleeves and a pair of black leather pants that were heavily decorated with chains and straps.

Jack watched him take a hit off a joint, then turn and kiss the girl sitting next to him on the couch and felt an unexpected flare of anger.

Gay when sober, straight when drunk, he thought. It’s usually the other way around.

He picked his way through the crowded room, and had to step over one guy near the couch who was laying on his back and giggling madly.

Damon, grinning, got to his feet, a little unsteadily, as Jack approached. Jack saw Damon was wearing sparkly silver eye make-up, and his lips and a little of the skin around it, were stained a bright red

“Gotta go guys,” he said, and the crowd gave a collective groan. “The warden is here.”

“C’mon, warden!” someone called, and Jack held up his hands in an “it’s out of my hands” gesture.

Damon approached, moving slowly and carefully. The boy laying on the floor, grabbed at one of his straps playfully, and Damon stumbled and wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulder to steady himself, leaning on him a bit too much more than Jack thought was necessary.

“Warden, huh?” Jack asked, guiding him out of the melee. “Because I’m ruining your fun?”

“Because you keep me out of trouble,” Damon replied.

“Yeah? Like kissing a girl at a party your crush is at?”

“We weren’t kissing,” Damon insisted, although he didn’t address Jack’s guess about his crush being there. “We were shotgunning weed.”

“That’s disgusting,” Jack declared, thinking of having to share mouth microbes with a total stranger.

“Not really,” Damon challenged. “If you want something really disgusting, try snowballing.”

“I don’t want to know,” Jack said feverishly. “I don’t want to know.”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” Damon caroled brightly, allowing himself to be steered out of the house.

Once away from the light of the house, Damon tripped on thin air, got his feet caught on each other, and fell against Jack’s chest. Jack caught him around the waist, trying to steady him until he regained his balance. “Geez, what have you been drinking?”

“Jello shots. So many,” Damon mumbled. “They were good.”

“Cherry?” Jack guessed, remembering the red staining his friend’s mouth.

Damon giggled against his chest. “Cherry, right.” He pressed his face into Jack’s shirt. “You smell nice.” He glanced up at him, and Jack felt something strange in his chest, like it was expanding and tightening at the same time. Damon was smiling up at him, and his face, usually closed off or cloaked in sarcastic humor, was open and vulnerable.

Damon hooked an arm around Jack’s neck and used it to pull himself up more firmly on his feet, but it also caused him to invade Jack’s personal space a little more.

“Hey, Jack,” he said, softly.

“Yeah?” Jack asked. He wanted to step back, pull away, but he was still fascinated by the unexpected openness in Damon’s eyes, and didn’t want to do anything to break it, to cause that sarcastic, sardonic mask to slide back into place.

“We’re still friends, right?”

“Duh,” Jack replied with a smile. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here to drag your drunk ass home.”

“Best friends, right?” Damon was close, so close, too close. He could feel one of Damon’s hands on his hip.

“Right,” Jack breathed out, still watching Damon’s eyes, trapped in the intensity of their gaze. Damon moved in close, close enough for Jack to smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the damp exhalation against his skin. The world seemed to close in around them, narrowing down further, to their heartbeat, their breath, and the space between them narrowing as Damon slowly moved closer.

There was a loud, abrasive crow of laughter, and Jack jerked back. A group rounded the corner, two people, a guy and a girl, supporting a third guy between them, who was stumbling and alternating between yelling and laughing.

Damon stepped back and dropped his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “My head….” he moaned.

“Okay buddy, let’s get you into the car,” Jack decided, trying to pull away from Damon, who clung on even tighter.

“Carry me,” Damon wheedled.

“I’m not carrying you,” Jack said. “You weigh a ton.” Actually, Jack probably could have picked up and carried Damon, who was much lighter than he was, but he didn’t want Damon to keep pressing his face into his shirt like that. It felt weird. Nice, but weird.

“C’mon,” he said, trying to pull away again. “I’ll take you to Taco Bell, okay?”

Damon grudgingly let him go.

There was no more mention of the weird moment they shared at the party, and Jack pushed it to the back of his mind. He refused to think about it when picking up Taco Bell for his friend, or when playing video games and watching television until he was able to steer a tuckered-out Damon to bed.

He settled Damon down in his own bed, with a wastebasket right next to him just in case. Normally, Jack would just sleep in there next to him, but after considering the events of the night, he gathered up some sheets to sleep downstairs on the couch, telling himself it was in case Damon threw up in the middle of the night.

But he knew he was lying to himself as he lay on the sofa, looking at the unfamiliar outlines of objects in the dark.

It was going to be a kiss, Jack thought. It would have been if someone hadn’t interrupted. There was no way to mistake Damon’s closeness for anything else. And Jack was about to let him.

Damon was drunk, Jack reminded himself, closing his eyes and turning into the cushions. It doesn’t count if he’s drunk. Jack ignored the thought he didn’t have an explanation for how he was going to let it happen.

 

Jack slept in and had just gotten up from his makeshift sofa bed when he got a text from his parents. They wouldn’t be in until later that evening. Lucy had broken her nose during a vault event, and his mom had taken her to the ER and had been there most of the night. The incident had triggered a meltdown from Carson, meaning he and his father didn’t sleep much either, so everyone was napping for a few hours before heading home.

He could hear Damon moving around upstairs, then the shower being turned on.

Yawning and stretching, he ambled into the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker and pulling some bacon and eggs, the height of his culinary expertise, from the refrigerator.

Damon came down while he was cooking. He looked extremely tired and much younger without his wild makeup and his unstyled hair hanging damply against his neck. He was still wearing the leather and chain pants from the previous night, and, to Jack’s annoyance, his favorite Deadpool T-shirt.

Jack poured a mug of coffee as Damon collapsed at the kitchen table, trying unsuccessfully to smother a grin. Damon took the mug and started adding sugar.

“Do you have some Advil, or something?” Damon asked, after taking a sip.

“Headache?” Jack asked, pulling open a cabinet where his mom stored some over the counter remedies. If it wasn’t in here, he would have to break into the medicine cabinet in his parents’ bedroom and that would be a pain.

“The worst,” Damon said. His voice was rough and gravelly, and when Jack looked at him over his shoulder, he saw Damon massaging his forehead with long, darkly polished fingers. He found a bottle of Aleve in the very back, behind an ancient looking bottle of Delsym cough syrup.

“Catch,” he said, tossing it over. Damon caught it and opened it, shaking out three and swallowing them with another sip of coffee.

“At least get some food in you first, idiot,” Jack said, scooping some scrambled eggs, only slightly burnt, onto a plate and topping it with some strips of bacon. He stuck a fork into the eggs and sat it down in front of Damon with a flourish.

“Do you have any ketchup?” Damon asked.

“Monster,” Jack said, placing the bottle down near his plate. He allowed himself a smile as he turned to pour himself his own cup of coffee and fix a plate. He didn’t realize, until now, how much he had missed this, just hanging out with his best friend. And best of all, Damon wasn’t acting at all weird about anything that had happened the night before. Hell, he might not even remember it.

Damon stayed over most of the day, until Jack’s parents came home, and he exclaimed over Lucy, who proudly displayed her broken nose, which had some tape applied over it, and her black eye that accompanied it.

 

Jack ended up bombing his Physics test, but thought it was worth it.

 

The next weekend, he had invited Alyssa and Damon to hang out at the local coffee shop. He didn’t think Damon and Alyssa would be friends, they were too different, but since they were both important to him, he at least wanted to formally introduce them to each other.

It went okay at first. Jack bought everyone drinks and they sat on a couch and talked about school and hobbies, and Damon kept his dark jokes to a minimum.

Then Alyssa started to turn the conversation back to religion, which Jack had asked her beforehand not to do. Damon had never discussed his belief system in depth, but Jack had heard enough to know that Damon knew plenty about the Bible and didn’t like most of it.

“So what church do you go to?” she asked, sipping her triple mocha frappuccino.

“I’m not really a church person,” Damon said.

“But do you read the Bible?” she pressed. She pulled her own Bible out of her bag, and Jack buried his face in his hands. This couldn’t be happening.

“Some of it,” Damon shot Jack a pointed look.

“Aly--" he started, but she held up a hand.

“What parts?”

“Oh, the usual. Genesis, Exodus, Ester, Jonah. I like the old testament stuff.”

Jack could tell Damon was getting annoyed, but Alyssa seemed to think she had found a kindred spirit, despite Damon’s crossed arms and slouched posture.

“Why? Because of Psalms?”

“No. Old Testament God is a bad ass. He’s all ‘fuck with me and I’ll smite your ass’. He’s not all love and forgiveness like in the New Testament. People didn’t mess with Old Testament God.”

It was the most about religion Jack had ever heard Damon say.

Alyssa looked a little stunned, and Jack thought she was about to drop it, but then she plowed ahead.

“Do you have a favorite verse? Mine is Corinthians 13:13.”

It was clear Damon was reaching the end of his patience, tapping his foot and openly glaring at Alyssa,

“How about Ezekiel 23:20?” he asked.

Alyssa looked it up in her Bible and turned an interesting shade of magenta.

“Oh my God.”

Jack, who had never heard Alyssa blaspheme before, looked over her shoulder to read.

“Dude, that’s sick,” he said.

Alyssa stood up so sharply her shoulder connected painfully with Jack’s chin.

“I’m leaving,” she announced and stalked from the coffee shop.

Jack watched her go, her indignant stride making her curls bounce against her shoulders.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he finally said, turning on his friend.

Damon still looked annoyed. “What?” he asked. Alyssa had left her half-finished drink behind, and Damon grabbed it and took a sip. “Did you know your girlfriend wears coconut flavored lip gloss?”

“Don’t try to change the subject!” Jack said. “That was gross.”

“It’s a verse from the Bible, and she asked,” Damon shot back. “It’s not my problem if she doesn’t like the answer; I didn’t ask the question.”

Jack was still smoldering when he dropped Damon off at his house and drove home. They had argued in the coffee shop and most of the way home. Jack was more upset about Damon’s adamant refusal to believe he had done anything wrong than he was about him bringing up the verse.

He was mostly mad that Damon had ruined any chance of cordiality between him and Alyssa. Alyssa shouldn’t have brought up religion, as Jack had asked her specifically not to, but it was such a part of her life he couldn’t really blame her. It was annoying, yes, but Damon could have easily taken the high road, and given a different, more acceptable answer. Something from Psalms or Corinthians, or John. But no, Damon had to go straight to a verse about donkey dicks. And he didn’t need to look it up either, indicating he knew it from memory.

Then he had to call Alyssa and listen to her rant about Damon, and when he gently reminded her he had asked her not to bring up religion at all, had to listen to another rant about how her choices were valid (whatever the hell that meant), and he was trying to devalue a very important part of her identity.

By the time he got off the phone, Jack was annoyed with both of them.

 

“Well, how was this afternoon?” his mom asked at dinner.

“Terrible,” Jack said.

“They didn’t get along?”

“That’s an understatement.” Jack looked down at his plate. His father was on his phone, his sister had her nose in a book, and Carson was focused on smearing as much food on the table as possible. “I like both of them, but they can’t stand each other. I think it’s a personality clash. I don’t think it’s something either of them can overcome, and I don’t want to be caught in the middle.”

His mom nodded. “That can be tough, especially if you don’t want to take a side. Maybe they both feel threatened by the other person? Damon might be afraid of losing your friendship, and so he lashes out at Alyssa. And Alyssa may be worried she can’t compete with all the years of history you and Damon have.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. Trying to cover his hesitation, he forked up a bit of food and chewed it while thinking. He had never considered each of them might be insecure about their place in his life.

“Well, I don’t want them to feel that way,” he finally said.

“I would talk to them,” his mom advised. “See if they can at least respect each other, and their place in your life, even if they don’t get along. If they really can’t manage that, then I would choose your girlfriend. Your loyalty has to be to her first, your friend second.”

Jack thought about that the rest of the night and called Alyssa the next day to apologize. She accepted graciously, and Jack decided from now on, the best thing to do would be to just keep Damon and Alyssa away from each other as much as possible.

 

As a result of his decision, Jack soon found himself spending more and more time with Alyssa and her friends. He wasn’t crazy about most of them. Alyssa was popular and had many friends, but she had a core group of five people she liked to hang out with--three girls and two boys.

The girls were the worst, in his opinion. Her friend Deidra was pretty and actually very funny, but her humor had a mean edge to it. Nathalie managed to turn everything she did into someone else’s fault and had playing the victim down to a fine science. Karen was the worst one-upper he had ever met. Have a headache? Karen had a migraine. Had a bad day? Karen’s was catastrophic. One day, Deidra was bitching about cramps, and Karen said her gynecologist thought she might have ovarian cancer. Deidra, who Jack later learned had lost an aunt to the same type of cancer, slapped Karen. The resulting drama had been seismic, and he and Alyssa had wisely kept out of it until the dust had settled.

Her guy friends, Charles and Hudson, were a little more tolerable, but they were both fairly pretentious in Jack’s view, and Charles also had a little bit of a “nice guy” problem going on.

But Jack liked Alyssa, so he dealt with her friends, though he preferred one on one time the most. He would spend hours talking to her, bringing up morally gray topics and listening to her reason out why something was acceptable or unacceptable. Besides knowing a lot more than he did about the Bible, she was smart and clever, able to take an argument, work through it and apply it back against the person who originally brought it up, which was usually him.

It didn’t hurt she was pretty either. He liked the way the sun hit her hair, catching in the strands and turning them to spun gold fire, shining back at him. It was soft, when she let him touch it. He liked the scent she wore; it was warm and sweet and made him think of things baking. She had a pleasant, girlish voice, and didn’t cuss. When he brought her home, his mom had loved her.

“Such nice manners and quite good-looking,” she had told him later. “She’s a keeper.”

In fact, the first time he found a side of her that wasn’t sweet, was during the night that changed his life. His parents had taken the kids hiking and Jack, taking advantage of an empty house for once, had Alyssa over. Alyssa, who was good with computers, had offered to fix a problem with his mom’s laptop and then wanted to watch A Walk to Remember. Jack thought that sounded awful and boring, but he was hopeful to entice her into a bit of a make-out session. He harbored no illusions about going further than that. Alyssa was anti-premarital sex and guarded her virginity accordingly. She had even shown Jack her purity ring and said it wasn’t coming off unless it was replaced with a wedding band. Jack respected that and didn’t try to push her, but he would like a little more than hand-holding and pecks on the cheek.

Alyssa was pouring some microwave popcorn in a bowl when there was a knock on the door. Jack opened the door, hoping his parents hadn’t decided to come home prematurely.

Damon stood on the other side. Jack instantly knew something was wrong. Damon’s eyes were very red, and despite being without his usual eyeliner and dark lipstick, he somehow looked paler than ever. He had a backpack over his shoulder and was gripping his violin case.

“Hey,” Jack said.

“Hey,” Damon said quietly, his voice hoarse.

“We’re about to watch a movie, wanna join us?” Jack invited.

“Us?”

Alyssa, curious to see who Jack was talking to, came out of the kitchen with the big bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“Hi,” she said, her voice cooling slightly. Damon nodded in acknowledgement, before turning back to Jack. “Listen, can I talk to you for a minute?” He eyed Alyssa. “Privately.”

Alyssa slid an arm around him in a possessive gesture. “Jack and I have no secrets,” she said. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me.”

Damon looked annoyed. “Fine,” he said, looking like he had hoped Jack would object and disappointed that he didn’t. Damon shifted nervously, his eyes skating over the interior of the house before settling on Jack again.

“Um…this is pretty embarrassing, but…uh…” He took a deep breath. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Is that all? Jack thought. With the way Damon was acting, he was expecting Damon to be in some kind of trouble…. shoplifting or caught smoking pot maybe.

“Why?” Jack asked.

Damon’s eyes strayed to Alyssa again. “It’s personal. Really personal.”

“Aly, here, take the popcorn to the rec room. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Alyssa scowled, but took the bowl and left without argument.

“Is everything okay?” Jack asked. Damon could stay, of course, but if the police were looking for him, it might be best to take him somewhere else. The Greyhound station was close by.

“No,” Damon said, biting his lip. His eyes were shiny, and his voice caught when he spoke. “Mom kicked me out.”

“Shit man!” Jack said, astonished. “Why?”

“The gay thing,” Damon said. “I came out to her, and all she said was Claude wouldn’t permit it. I had some choice words about where Claude could shove it, and she said I had to leave. Told me I could come back when I stopped messing around with the gay stuff.”

“That’s awful,” Jack said.

“I agree,” Alyssa said from behind them. She had wandered back in from where she had obviously been listening. “It’s awful you have chosen a gay lifestyle and disrespected your parents.”

“Want me to tell you where you can shove your opinion too?” Damon shot back.

“Cut it out guys,” Jack said. “Aly, can you go start the movie?”

Alyssa ignored him and took another step forward, watching Damon.

“If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death, their blood is upon them.”

“Why don’t you obey the teachings of 1 Timothy?” Damon retorted. “You know, the parts where they say women should shut the fuck up?”

“You’re an abomination!” Alyssa snapped.

“Yeah, well you’re a self-righteous cunt!”

Alyssa’s face went the reddest Jack had ever seen it, and before he could stop her, she had stepped forward and slapped Damon across the face.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Jack said, losing his temper. “I mean it!” he added when he saw Alyssa open her mouth to argue.

He stepped outside on the front porch with Damon and shut the door behind him so Alyssa couldn’t continue to eavesdrop.

“Look,” he said. “I understand you are in a shit position right now.”

“I know, I know,” Damon said. “I’m a piece of shit for calling your girlfriend that.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed. “Alyssa is my girlfriend, and while the two of you don’t need to be good friends, you at least need to respect each other.”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the part where she slapped me in the face?”

“I would have too, for calling her that!”

“After she called me a fucking abomination?”

Jack pressed his fingers against his eyes. He could feel a headache starting, an angry brewing near the base of his skull and along his temples. “Look, I’ve got no problem with who you are or who you love. But I can’t change the way Alyssa feels. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let you stay here. Not after that.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes.”

Damon’s look of open vulnerability tore at Jack. It reminded him of the night when he picked Damon up from the party. Damon stepped closer.

“Please man, just for one night. I can sleep on the floor, or the couch if you’re mad, it doesn’t matter. I just need a roof over my head while I pull myself together.”

Jack thought of their almost kiss when he went to pick Damon up from the party. He thought of Alyssa, waiting for him inside. He remembered the sharp electricity between him and Damon when he held onto Damon’s hand too long. Remembered his mother’s words: “Your loyalty has to be to her first.”

“Sorry man,” he finally said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Damon asked. The vulnerable look was gone, replaced by hard anger. “Because of her? We’ve been friends for sixteen years, and you’re taking the side of a chick you’ve known for a couple months?”

It was hard for Jack to look at him, to confront that angry gaze, so he kept his eyes down, focusing on an ant crawling along a crack in the sidewalk.

The silence stretched between them again, like the afternoon when Damon came out to Jack. This time it was Damon who broke it, stepping back with a disgusted sigh. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are—” Jack started.

“I used to think you were solid, that you would be there if I needed help.” He punctuated that statement by shoving Jack, hard, harder than expected from someone Damon’s size. Jack stumbled but managed to catch himself before he fell.

“What the fuck man?” Jack shouted. He was growing more annoyed by the minute. Damon had put him in a difficult position, and now he was being a pissy little drama queen because it didn’t turn out the way he had planned.

Damon pulled his backpack up, hitching it more securely on his shoulders, and picked up his violin case.

“Fuck both of you, but you especially,” Damon spat, cold venom in his voice. “You’re a shit friend, and not the guy I thought you were.”

“I’m trying—”

Damon shook his head, taking a step back. “Fuck you. And from now on, stay the fuck away from me.” He turned and started to walk away.

Jack stood and watched him go, his mouth agape. He was expecting the argument to continue, until it was resolved, not for Damon to turn around and just leave. He stood there for a while, watching the silhouette of Damon grow smaller and smaller as he walked down the road. He wanted to do something, call out for him to stop, or run after him, but he couldn’t make himself move. He felt lost in the maelstrom inside his head.

Feeling like he was on autopilot, Jack turned and went back inside, shut the door, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, feeling stunned. He and Damon had a fight. A real fight. Not the good-natured arguments they had about video games, not an awkward moment shared between them, but an honest-to-God fight. A bad one. A real one, something that couldn’t be resolved with a coffee from Starbucks and his mom’s leftover tetrazzini. He remembered Damon’s smile from the night a few weeks ago, the open trust and affection in it, and his stomach seized. He felt sick.

He didn’t notice Alyssa approaching until she was there, sitting on the floor next to him and sliding her small, cold hand gently into his.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No,” Jack said. He felt sick and cold, now that the enormity of what he did hit him. He had turned away his friend, his best friend. Damon needed help, and Jack had turned him away.

“I made a mistake,” he said, fumbling for his phone. “I’ve got to call him back—"

“No!” Alyssa promptly nabbed the phone from his hand, and Jack felt the first stirrings of real anger.

“Give me my phone,” he said, in carefully measured tones.

She held it back out.

“Just listen to me, please,” she said. “I’m just worried, okay? I know you love your friend, and I like that about you. But he is making a choice, a sinful choice, and you have to be careful to distance yourself from it. Satan will use people you love against you, and you need to be strong.”

“He’s my friend,” Jack protested.

“Yes, and you should still be his friend. And love him and support him. But you need to do so without…condoning the lifestyle he has chosen. People make bad choices, about sex, drugs, crime, and I think you can be there for him when he decides on what path he wants to take but without supporting it. If he got kicked out of his house, that’s sad and I feel sorry for him, but that is a consequence of the choice he’s made.”

“I—I feel bad. I want to help him.”

“I know you do,” Alyssa reached up to touch his face. Her fingers were cool against his skin, which felt overly hot. “Because you’re his friend, and you care about him. And because of that, you have to be strong, for him. Let him know you are here for him if he decides to follow the right path, God’s path, laid out for us in the Bible. But if you let him in, it’s like you are approving of what he is doing, which will push him further down the path of sin.”

“He’s not sinning,” Jack pointed out. “It’s not like he’s dating someone.”

“Jack, he wouldn’t have come out if there wasn’t someone he at least wants to date. A man and a man should not be together. God made Adam and Eve for each other, man and woman, and that is who He wants us to be with. Leviticus even says so.”

Jack thought Leviticus had some messed-up shit in it, but he didn’t say anything. He had already pissed off one friend today.

He decided to forget about it and watch the goddamn movie, but Alyssa was acting cold after their argument, and Jack fell asleep halfway through the movie, which only soured her mood further. Jack ready to write it off as just a shit day all around.

 

“Jack, you’re pretty quiet,” his mother noted as Jack gathered up the dishes after dinner.

Jack shrugged and carried the plates to the sink. The kids were in the living room, arguing over the remote while his dad drank some wine and looked over the paper.

“Is anything wrong?” she gently pressed, pulling out another bottle of wine and digging through the utensil drawer for a corkscrew.

Jack stared at the plates, then started to scrape the food remains into the trash. “Alyssa and I had a fight.”

“About?”

“Damon.”

His mom found the corkscrew and fit it onto the top of the bottle. “Why?”

“Damon got kicked out of his house and asked to stay here, but Alyssa said he shouldn’t. Anyway, she talked me into turning him away. And I feel like an awful person now.”

His dad looked up from the paper. “Marie kicked out her son? Why?”

“Because Damon told her he was gay.”

His mom’s mouth dropped open, but it was his father who spoke.

“Well, good on her then,” he responded, ruffling his paper.

“George!” his mom exclaimed, casting a dark look in his direction.

“No,” his father said. “Jack did the right thing by not letting him in the house. Marie is not going to stand for it, and neither am I. Not with children in the house.”

“He’s gay, not a fucking pedophile,” Jack interjected, feeling stunned. He had thought his parents would be on his side. His mom was silent, concentrating on uncorking her wine, but his dad bristled.

“You watch your language young man. This is my house and I will not tolerate any faggots under my roof. That includes you, if you decide to go that route.”

“Jack has a girlfriend,” his mom said, grabbing a wine glass from the cabinet. “And you are not kicking any of my children out; I won’t allow it.”

“Well, if we keep our kids away from bad influences like that Hanlin boy, we won’t have to worry about it.”

Jack finished rinsing and loading the dishwasher in silence, then went to take a shower before retreating to his room. He held his cell phone in his hand. He was reading over the last few texts he had exchanged with Damon, trying to figure out what to say. His usual “hey” was too casual and friendly after what had happened. He thought about asking him if he had found a place to stay, but it might seem like he was rubbing Damon’s nose in it. In the end, he set his phone down.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Jack called, expecting Lucy or Carson. To his surprise, his mom came in.

“Honey, I want to talk to you a minute.”

Jack gestured for her to sit next to him on the bed.

She smiled at him, and reached up to smooth his hair back, something she hadn’t done since he was close to Lucy’s age. She smelled strongly of wine.

“I’m sorry about what your father said, but I hope you know I would never let him kick you out. If you were…you know…homosexual--" she shuddered a little bit with the word. “I would let you stay here and get some help.”

“Like a conversion camp?”

“God, no. No, I would turn to the church first. They might have a program for people…people like that.”

“Gay people?”

His mother shuddered again. “The thought of it, just…ugh. But no, I wouldn’t kick you out. I think Marie should have tried to help her son, but I can’t tell her how to parent.” She looked pensive. “Do you have any questions about…about what Damon is?”

“No. I don’t get it, but he needs to live his own life. But I’m worried I shouldn’t have turned him away. Alyssa said if I let him stay…it would be like approving what he was doing. And by doing that, but acting like it was okay, then I would be leading him further down a sinful path.”

His mom nodded. “Makes sense.”

“But--” Jack felt himself struggling for words. The way she hadn’t said the horrible things his father had, made him feel like…maybe… “I thought God accepted all people.”

“Yes, but if someone doesn’t follow what the scripture lays out, is he accepting God?”

Jack felt confused. A headache was beginning to pound in his temples again. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally said, frustrated.

“I know. That’s a part of growing up honey. You’re going to find some people, even friends, can make some choices you can’t abide by. It’s up to you to decide what kind of things you can accept in friends and what you can’t. You can decide having a gay friend is something you can deal with and remain friends with Damon, but you also might have to come to terms with the fact Alyssa and your father will not.”

She didn’t say it, but the implication was there. He would have to choose between his best friend and his girlfriend. Choose between his best friend and his family.

“What would you do?” Jack asked.

His mother looked down at her hands, which were laced in her lap. “I had a friend once who was gay,” she said after a minute.

“You did?” Jack asked, surprised. He knew most of his parents’ friends, and they were all married.

“Yes. This was back when I was dating your father. Her name was Patricia. She told me she was a lesbian.”

This was the first time he had heard his mother mention her. He shifted a little, so he was sitting crossed legged on the bed. “What happened? Were you able to stay friends?”

“For a while.” His mom looked sad. “I was able to be friends with her while she was a single woman. But she started to date a woman; I think her name was Kathy. And she wanted to us to go on double dates and come over for dinner with the two of them and I—I just couldn’t do that. I liked her and she was my friend, but she was embracing a lifestyle I couldn’t agree with, and therefore I couldn’t take part in. I told her about how I felt, how same sex relationships weren’t valid in the eyes of God, because he has made men and women to go together. It was in our biology.”

Jack nodded. His mom had given him the biology lecture before, and he wasn’t in a hurry to hear it again.

“So…you didn’t stay friends?” Jack guessed.

“No. I couldn’t approve of what she was doing, even though I liked Pat as a person. She thought I was being homophobic and prudish. She also thought I was letting your father color my opinions. So we grew apart, and I haven’t seen her in years.”

Jack thought this over. He thought of his friendship with Damon growing strained and cold before ending, like his mom and her friend, Patricia. A cold, glum feeling of misery settled over him like a melancholy blanket. Then he thought of Alyssa, simple and cheerful and wholesome. He thought of the disgust in his dad’s voice as he talked about Damon that night and of the warm approval when his mom talked about Alyssa.

“Thanks Mom,” he said, leaning forward to hug her.

She hugged him back.

“I’m pretty tired,” Jack said, as he drew back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up from the bed. “Good night, honey.”

“Night, Mom.”

She left the room, and he brushed his teeth and climbed into bed.

  

Jack laid in his bed later that night, way after when he should have been asleep. He had tossed and turned for several hours. He felt tired, but his mind kept returning to that afternoon, Alyssa’s fiercely righteous expression, the hurt betrayal in Damon’s eyes.

Everyone around him seemed to think he did the right thing. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it and go to sleep? He tried deep breathing, tensing and relaxing his muscles, counting backwards, sticking one of his feet out of his sheets. Nothing.

Thoughts flooded into his head, as they often did at night when he couldn’t sleep; thoughts Jack didn’t want to acknowledge or dwell on. Despite the reassurances from Alyssa and that weird as hell conversation with his Mom, he still felt shame creep over him at the way he had treated Damon. He had turned him away. His friend had needed him, had come to him for help, and Jack had turned him away.

It had seemed so complex earlier, with the fighting between Damon and Alyssa, and how angry everyone had been, and how Alyssa told him if he wanted to be a true friend to Damon, then he had to be strong. Now, however, he didn’t feel right or strong, he felt vindictive and cruel. Like his father.

Deciding he didn’t want to follow that train of thought either, Jack turned onto his other side. God, he was so exhausted. He just wanted to sleep, but his mind would not shut up.

Maybe if I jerk off I can sleep, Jack thought. It had worked in the past. He crept to his door, made sure it was locked, then went back to bed. He pushed his sleep pants down his hips until his cock, still limp and flaccid, was free. He fumbled for the lotion in his bedside table and rubbed his palms together to warm it, then wrapped his fingers around his member and started to stroke. He tried to think of Alyssa, what she would look like undressed, but that didn’t do much for him. She had no curves to speak of. He tried to imagine stroking a small breast, toying with the nipple.

But thinking of Alyssa also made him think of Damon. He wondered where he was right now. If he was sleeping on a park bench, or crouched, miserable and cold, in an alley somewhere. Maybe he was staying with the mysterious boyfriend Alyssa was certain he had.

He remembered the way Damon had bit his lips when he was trying not to cry. His thoughts lingered on Damon’s mouth, and his cock finally gave a twitch of interest.

His thoughts drifted back to the night of the party, when Jack had gone to pick him up--the almost kiss. The kiss that definitely would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. The way Damon had been looking at him, the vulnerable trust in his eyes. It was like a gift, seeing him like that, one Jack knew he didn’t deserve.

For the first time since that night, he held the memory and let it unfurl in his mind. What might have happened.

Damon would have moved forward and gone through the kiss. That was given. He tried to imagine it, feeling Damon’s mouth against his. Alyssa had kissed him a few times, gentle and chaste and quick, but he doubted Damon would kiss like that. Damon was intense, and his kisses would be the same. It wouldn’t be a quick peck, it would be…deeper. That hand on his hip would slide around, push against the small of his back, bringing them closer, chest to chest….and hip to hip.

Jack opened his eyes. He had been subconsciously moving his hips, causing his full erection to rub against the sheets on top of him and his lotioned up hand had been sliding down, his fingers curling loosely around the base. He jerked his hands away.

No! he thought. No way. I’m not doing this.

He sat up, rested his head on his updrawn knees. Okay, jerking off is a bad idea right now. He resolutely fixed his clothes, rubbed the lotion off his palm, and crossed the room to unlock the door.

He laid back down, his erection still throbbing heavily, and tried to ignore it.

What the fuck was that? he asked himself. What am I doing?