True As It Can Be - 8. Chapter 8

This can’t be happening to me, I’m stuck in a dressing room through the manipulations of Gary Gaston, one of the worst human beings ever to exist. The bastard planned all of this, too. The feeling I had a Ralph Lauren wasn’t sales pressure, it was my innate animal sense of danger, a flight or fight response.

I stare appraisingly at Gary Gaston; he is 6 feet 2 inches with a lot of muscles. He has brown hair like me, but he has a crew cut that offers a clean appearance. He’s good looking, but there’s lust on his face that makes me shudder at the thought of being touched by him. I would have no chance at fighting him, being so small. I would not be fast enough to dial for help on my new smartphone. Beyond my clothes and the bag of new clothing from Canada Goose, I had nothing I could attack him with. He’s blocking the only exit out of the alcove and probably has bribed the saleswoman outside to ignore us in here. He’s caught me completely defenseless. I feel like curling on the ground like a little kid trying to hide from a bully, who is about to beat him up despite knowing it’s a useless gesture.

No, I can’t think like that, I am in a department store; even if he somehow got a salesperson to turn off the camera in the dressing room, he wouldn’t risk me yelling. The store may be mostly empty, but a nosy shopper or another salesperson passing by would hear me. He can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to, it’s my body.

Before I resolve to scream, Gary interrupts my train of thought, “Oh Beau, if you are thinking of acting hasty, I have a story to tell you about a really tragic guy,” I notice he has something in his hand, a gun by its barrel, “A star college athlete is stalked by someone from the same university, who threatens him with a gun without bullets to have sex. Based on a previous incident with administrative affidavits from their university, the stalker was re-assigned to another dormitory out of concern about his behavior towards the athlete. The deranged stalker makes the mistake of screaming loud enough for others to hear. It causes a scene, so he drops the gun on the ground. However, his fingerprints are on the grip and trigger of the gun. The star athlete tells the police the “believable” story, because people respect and trust him. The deranged stalker tells the police a wild story about the star athlete conspiring to get rid of his friends, the fingerprints on the gun coming from biometric data collected from their university, and, most absurd of all, the athlete wanting to rape him instead of the other way around. The stalker’s friend were not present and nothing they say could support the stalker’s claims. The police would not believe him, so he quickly gets sent to prison, where a bunch of inmates enjoy taking turns with his mouth and ass. A tragic story that would have been avoided if the guy had not cried out.”

Involuntarily, I move backwards, further away from Gary’s arms reach and conversely further away from the only way out of the alcove. I know I have no way out of here, I just want to delay the inevitable, praying for…the image of a disfigured boy with lion-like hair and sapphire blue eyes appears in my mind. I know he wouldn’t be here; he’s sedated in bed at Keller Hall, but I pray for another intervention by him. I pray it will be his arms and skin on mine, not Gary, who is the true Beast.

Gary approaches me, I close my eyes. I don’t want to see what happens or know how he violates me. I start counting in my head, 1, 2, 3…the chirping sound of a bird is strangely heard…4, 5, 6, 7, 8…I feel a pair of soft hands around my face, I start crying, knowing what will…9, 10, 11, 12…the hands pat my head and I hear a familiar calming voice.

“Beau, sweet child, I’m sorry about all of this. I have texted Warren to meet us at the mall’s security office, we have to get Paki and leave before he wakes. I don’t know how long the effects of tasers last.”

I open my eyes to see Mrs. Potter’s lovely face and take her arm as she guides us out of the dressing room. My mind and emotions are all over the map, nothing feels real, except this wonderful woman in front of me. She grabs the gun on the floor besides the face down body of Gary and places it in her purse. She puts an arm around my back like I was her child, when she notices my shaking. She gives the saleswoman at the nearby cash register a stern stare, which causes glances at my shocked expression and Mrs. Potters arm around my back. I’m not sure what Gary might have told her or what he gave her to keep the dressing room cameras off, but Mrs. Potter’s appearance and motherly soothing gesture towards a 4 feet 11 inches boy like me, probably made the saleswoman freak out. I hear her calling someone in frantic tones as we walk away.

We left the overpriced department store in a rush and met Warren at mall security. His shirt is stained with a small dark brown splotch, several inches below where his heart should be. Warren’s scowl turns to pure empathy as he grabs me in a hug, which noticeably causes him to wince as he hugs me with his entire body, including the parts which were burned.

Warren asks, “Are you okay? I only got the text that something happened to you in the dressing room and Paki is being held by Mall security. Tell me what happened?”

I can only say one thing, “Gary Gaston was there.”

A look of realization, shock, disgust, and a deep sense of sadness radiates from Warren as he pulls me even closer despite the obvious pain showing on his face, “I am so sorry for leaving you guys. I am so sorry...”

He hugs me until the pain was too much for him and releases me as tears flow down his face, ruining his makeup. I’ve seen Warren angry, frustrated, and ready to pounce, but I have never seen him like this. I’ve only known my new friends for less than 2 days, but I can’t hide the feeling of belonging they give me. That feeling though heighten my guilt. I don’t deserve their unconditional support; I haven’t earned it. It makes me feel even more shame from what Gary did again.

At that moment, Mrs. Potter brings Paki out of the mall’s security office, where an officer on duty is apologizing to her and Paki about the erroneous identification. Paki takes one look at my shell-shocked expression and Warren’s tear-ruined makeup face, then turns towards Mrs. Potter with a questioning glance.

Mrs. Potter does not answer Paki, but addresses us all, “Let’s leave this cesspool. I’ll drive you to the Cambridge-side Mall, you can finish your shopping there. They have a smaller selection, but still have a Macy’s and Cheesecake Factory. I’ll tell Cook what happened and he should not expect us for dinner, tonight.”

We nod and follow her, like the famous Boston ducklings following their mother in a straight row, down the street to the parking spot of her Silver Toyota SUV. As we walk like that, I feel guilty for dragging all of them into my mess. Gary Gaston would never have bothered any of them if it wasn’t for my connection with them. I should probably just leave Keller Hall and drop out of college. If Gary Gaston still hunts me down and hurts me, it will just be me.

We were all quiet, probably each thinking of the prior events, as we enter the car, but Mrs. Potter did not allow us to hold it.

“None of you boys did anything wrong, especially you, Beau, never forget that. I wish men like him do not exist in the world, but they do. My ex-husband Earl was like Gary Gaston, taking what he wanted and putting others down while he does it. I still charge and carry a taser; though, he’s been gone for years. I can never forget what he did to me, but I have stopped being his victim.”

Paki’s eyes widen as he hears Gary’s name, then stares at me, “Xolo, I should have been there for you, Beau.”

I shake my head in disagreement, “He’s the reason why you were held by Mall security and Warren had to go to the bathroom due to the hot chocolate…” I tell them the entire story of what happened, what Gary Gaston had told me in the dressing room as a threat, and what Mrs. Potter had done to save me.

Warren in anger asks Mrs. Potter, “Can’t we do anything?”

Mrs. Potter sighs, “Sadly, Gary Gaston created a strong defense and has money on his side. Beau will be safe for the time being and Gary had to do a lot to distract both of you before he made his move.”

Realizing that Gary will know who rescued me, I cringe at the thought of what that monster will do to Mrs. Potter. She has Chip in her life and a house full of boys, who need her far more than me. Thinking about Chip’s bright and vibrant nature, my guilt grows despite what she had said earlier. I know logically it’s not my fault, but I can’t help feeling if I wasn’t involved with them, Gary wouldn’t care about any of them.

In a moment of shame, I softly speak, “I’m so sorry for getting everyone mixed up in this,” directing my vision to Mrs. Potter, “I worry Gary will find out, you saved me. What if he does something to you? I’m not worth all this trouble.”

Mrs. Potter is silent until she parks the SUV in the underground garage of Cambridge-side mall, then she addresses my concern, “I would do anything for you boys. When I am around any of you, I imagine Chip in each of your situations. He was the reason why I filed for divorce and the restraining orders against Earl. I became an advocate for my son, before I learned to be an advocate for myself. Beau, your resemblance to Chip, makes it even clearer today that I had to do something. Any mother, who deserves to be called “Mom”, wouldn’t hesitate to protect others. I have no regrets about helping you, no matter the consequences.”

Her words are reassuring, but it doesn’t chase away the feeling of fear and awkwardness. We went through the motions at Macy’s to buy shirts, jeans, and a few khaki pants that were on sale. Paki, Warren, and I try to find the right outfits like we did at Prudential mall, but Gary Gaston’s specter haunted the entire trip. I needed one of them in the dressing room with me, because I was to wound up to be alone in a tight space like that. They didn’t mind and Warren even undress in front of me for the first time, allowing me to see the full extent of his burns. The right side of his body from his right ear down to his right calf is covered by scar tissue. I’m too shaken to concentrate on his body or the gesture he was making of revealing himself to me. We completed the shopping trip at Macy’s department store, I spent $543.59 for everything from several packs of socks and underwear to shirts and pants. Warren also directed me to buy 3 new pairs of shoes: 1 pair of ASICS all-terrain sneakers, 1 pair of Timberland winterize boots, and 1 pair of Bostonian leather loafers.

We walk down the mall, eying the various storefronts along the way, to reach the entrance of the Cheesecake Factory. I’ve never been to this restaurant before, being both unable to afford luxuries like a cheesecake and there were no Cheesecake Factories in my area of Minnesota. I had thought this was just a dessert restaurant due to its name, but my first impression was incorrect.

We sit at a table and receive extensive menus that cover what I perceived to be the entire spectrum of world cuisines. They have standard items like burgers, pizza, pasta, steaks, and seafood, but there’s also exotic items that appears to originate from Asia and South America. However, unlike my morning desire to be adventurous, I could not muster any excitement to order from the menu. I notice a table near us was being served raw tuna like a Japanese dish from Iron Chef, which reminded me of Min sobbing back at Keller Hall, further souring my mood. Mrs. Potter orders a Steak Diane for me. It’s delicious and the sauce is something that would usually make me bounce. I notice Paki and Warren are also not able to fully enjoy the meal, either. However, dessert is a success. Paki got the Hazelnut cheesecake, Mrs. Potter receive the Chocolate Cheesecake, and Warren appears to have gotten an Apple pie with vanilla ice cream. My strawberry cheesecake at the end of the meal is sugary and creamy, it lifts my spirits slightly, enough to speak.

Mrs. Potter probably hoped the food would brighten our spirits; it did help lighten our moods. I feel an obligation to thank her for that as we finished our desserts.

“Thanks for the meal suggestion, Mrs. Potter, it was really good.”

She shakes her head, “I did not cook it, but I am happy that it was good for you.”

Paki finishes licking his spoon clean of the hazelnut frosting, then adds, “These cakes are quite delicious, do you think Cook can make them? I can eat a dozen slices like this.”

Warren snorts, a little bit of his normal dismissive personality returning, “Paki, these things pack like a thousand calories a slice. Are you sure you want to do that? You won’t be able to lift yourself with one hand anymore.”

Paki cheerfully replies, “Well, Francis is strong enough to carry me and I bet Noah wouldn’t mind carrying you around either, if you let him.”

Warren smirks at the mention of his boyfriend, “Noah hasn’t been able to carry me, since we were 8 years old and he only did that, because I sprang my ankle racing him. I’ve been carrying him more often in recent years, including on the wrestling team.”

Joining in, I note, “Noah looks really cute, does he like to surf a lot?”

Warren enthusiastically nods, “Yes, he’s been paddling out to catch waves for years. He said it was because of the hot surfer guys on the beach with their wetsuits. He lost his virginity to a surfer in Miami, when he went down there for his 17^th birthday. He has calmed down now, since we became boyfriends.”

Paki laughs, “Uyakuthanda,” then realizes his language slip, “He loves you.”

Warren gleamed with pleasure, “I know he does, I don’t know why though. I don’t want to trust this feeling, but I know him far too well to doubt his feelings. When he is serious about something, he will follow through on it.”

I blurt out without thinking, “Noah seems like a great first boyfriend to have, you are lucky.”

Warren and Paki’s moods shift instantly with my words. Paki looks at me with a strange expression, I cannot define it. Warren shifted from happy and jovial to sad and angry. In the uncomfortable silence, I consider the words I said and realize an assumption I made.

I tentatively correct, “I…sorry, I did not mean to imply anything.”

Warren does not look at me, “Noah would have been a great first boyfriend, if we had acknowledged it earlier. I had liked him before I met Derek, but I never said anything. According to Noah, he started liking me around the time we were 17, but he was uncomfortable telling me. If shit worked like a fairy tale, I wouldn’t have started messing around with a closet-case like Derek and his parents wouldn’t have caught us. That bastard Derek wouldn’t have said I came onto him, while I had a 9-inch strap on filling his asshole. His dad wouldn’t have thrown motor oil and a match on me for being a “freak”. Derek left town after blaming me for causing his dad to be thrown in prison and ruining his life. If Noah and I were just honest with each other earlier, everything would have been different.”

Silence descends on our table, no one said another word. Mrs. Potter pays the bill and we pick up our shopping bags. The drive home is silent as well; I feel like I had ruined everything. I shouldn’t have said what I did about Warren and Noah. I was the reason Gary Gaston went after Warren and Paki earlier, too. My feeling of guilt just grows with the silence.

We all go to our rooms at Keller Hall, I went up to the isolated 2^nd floor, where Mrs. Potter and Chip stayed as well. I can hear the excited laughter emanating from Chip’s room, he’s still playing his new video games. Mrs. Potter goes into Chip’s room to end his gaming, but it doesn’t sound like there’s any success.

Cook comes upstairs and tries to talk to me, but I don’t speak to him. He gives me my space and leaves.

I ignore most things as I consider my options and decide to leave Keller Hall. The guilt is just too much, I can’t stop blaming myself for everything that happen today. Truth is everything that went south today was brought on by me. Yes, Mrs. Potter can argue that Gary Gaston performed the actions or Warren’s ex-boyfriend’s father was the one to burn half his body. However, those arguments don’t look at the immediate factors of the situations that happened today. I am the reason why Gary would interact with anyone at Keller Hall, I am the person who brought up the idea about Noah being Warren’s first love. It’s like what the police shows always point out to people aiding a murder, I am an accessory even if I am not the direct cause. I dress in the clothes I brought with me, not the ones that were bought with Brad’s credit card today and prepared to leave the safety of Keller Hall and the University. There’s a very large possibility of Gary Gaston ambushing me and having his way with me somewhere in the world, but I have given up on that fight. I can’t ask other people to defend me and I can’t ask to be a burden on these generous people anymore.

I walk downstairs and head in the direction of Brad’s room. I want to say goodbye to him. The room is strangely lit with a noticeable light and there’s pop music coming out of the room. It’s very odd to see and hear these things, I wanted to know what it meant for Brad. When I opened the door, my eyes see a fully clothed disfigured boy reading from a kindle tablet as One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful” is playing in the background. I haven’t heard that song in a while and for some reason it fits Brad, because he’s beautiful despite what his physical deformities may indicate. The room has been cleared of the destroyed pieces of clothing and cutouts from magazines are gone. Most surprising of all, I can see Brad smiling, there’s no reason for it. I knew Cook has probably given him his weekly dose of Methadone.

As I enter the room, Brad notices me, his smiles grew bigger if it were possible and his eyes try to focus on me, “Who are you? I know you…” he thinks for a moment, “…You’re Beau...You read to me...I really like you…I don’t feel sexy...The medicine takes that away.”

Brad seems more docile after his medication. It’s better that he doesn’t have great memory if I am about to leave, it won’t cause him pain later to think of me.

“Brad, I’m going to leave now. I want to tell you…I wish we could have met in a different way without anything from Gary Gaston. You’re not a Beast, you have friends who do care about you, if you just let them in. I wish I could be one of them, but I need to leave.”

Brad frowns at me, “Gary hurt me…he almost hurt you…Don’t want you to get hurt…Don’t go.”

I sigh, “I have to go, Gary can hurt you and everyone else here if I don’t. I hurt people here, because I am what he wants and I don’t know what to say to make other people happy.”

Brad puts away his kindle, turns off his music, and shakes his head, “Bullshit…What happen to you?”

Assuming he will likely not remember any of what I am about to tell him due to the methadone, I tell him everything that happened today. I told him about the fun adventures we had on Newbury Street, the encounter with Gary Gaston in the dressing room, and my bad choice of words at the Cheesecake Factory regarding Warren. When I was done, Brad’s expression didn’t change from the happy disfigured guy I saw earlier.

Brad stands to his full height of 6 feet 3 inches and points at me, “Come to bed with me...No sex…I can protect you…I am stronger now.”

I try to walk away from Brad, but he blocks me with his body. I turn around to the door and he blocks me with his body. It’s almost like I am arguing with a 7-year-old, Brad is smiling like we are playing a game. No matter what I do or say, Brad just will not accept that I am leaving Keller Hall. He never lays a hand on me to prevent my movements or force me, his words are simple and genuine with no hint of sexual innuendo that I have come to expect from him. It’s cute like a child’s non-threatening protest, ebbing away the guilt and shame that has been welling in me throughout the day. I don’t remember everything about the effects of taking Methadone, but mood swings and short-term memory issues are pretty common with a lot of medications.

In the end, I agree to sleep in his bed, placating him hopefully for a few hours. He stows away his tablet in a desk drawer and turns off the lights in his room. I place my light jacket and old shoes near the bed, so I could retrieve them in the middle of the night. I settle in bed with a thinly layered T-shirt and jeans, along with sox facing the blue rose garden. Tinted as the windows are, the vibrant blue roses still appear to show a faint glimmer of light in the darkness.

However, Brad wraps his arm around me and uses his weight to turn my body to face him. His sapphire blue eyes shines brighter than the blue roses outside, even in the gloomy darkness of the room.

He whispers, “Don’t want to make you do anything…Just want to see you…want to hold you…Gary can’t have you…You happy with me.”

As I feel him cradling me in his arms, pressing our bodies together, the expected sexual surge did happen. Yet, it was my sexual urges alone. His dick remains placid and soft, while my own rose to full hardness with the pressure of his much larger body on my own. I had thought the moment that our bodies touched like this, it would be a frenzy of his passion and anger like Jeremy was in the shed, but Brad truly didn’t want anything from me.

My mind buzzed with an unknown feeling that I dare not hope, I whisper back to him, “Why are you hugging me, if you don’t want sex?”

Brad presses closer to me, my nose can scent the musk coming off his chest, “I want to protect you…I want you to be happy.”

Those are the words I feared most of all, the words that mean I can’t leave Keller Hall. There’s no magic in it, no instant admission of love like romantic movies are famous for. Jeremy used to tell me he loved me every time before he fucked me behind his farmhouse in Minnesota, never gave me release, and kicked me away once he orgasmed. I am used to being told by people they loved me, but not meaning it. Like my own parents, who disowned me for being gay, when I turned 18. No, what I want to hear from a guy wasn’t “I love you”. The words that I longed to hear was “I want you to be happy” with no preconditions or terms. I just want to find that one guy who wants my happiness. In turn, I knew in my heart; I’d give everything to that guy to make him happy, as well.

I wish things were different, I wish there wasn’t Gary Gaston hanging over our heads, and I wish I was less emotionally wrecked, but I don’t wish to change this one perfect moment where a beautiful disfigured boy is comforting me in his bed.