Wild Card - 1. String from Your Tether Unwinds

Chapter One—String from Your Tether Unwinds

There was a time when I thought Texas in winter was cold. Cold enough to wish for those triple-digit summers. Hell, there was that one snowstorm a few years back when we got like a whole inch of snow overnight, and they had to close down all the schools. And, then there was the “graupel” thing more recently that looked like someone had thrown bean bag stuffing all over the place.

I remember layering hoodies under my warmest jacket and wearing my compression pants under my jeans (and then contemplating wearing my sweatpants over that) just to make it through the day. Before they left for college, my brothers and I would fight over the extra blankets to put over our beds at night.

Well, they fought, and I just crawled in bed with whoever won.

Usually Connor.

Strange how things change.

I’d grown accustomed to the colder Virginia winter, and the thick comforter Mom had on my bed had been too much. I thought I would need it since I was used to having an extra blanket over me, as well as a very hot wide receiver-shaped bed warmer, to keep me nice and toasty, but I ended up shoving the heavy comforter off the bed in the middle of the night. I switched to the lighter comforter I used during the summer, but even that didn’t last long. I’d been sleeping with just the top sheet for most of my stay back home.

But, even that was getting too hot. I had just rolled over, waking up, yet again, sweating my ass off. I kicked the top sheet off my legs and flipped the pillow to the cool side. Although, if I’m honest, I think it was more my excitement than the relative warmth in my old bedroom that was keeping me up tonight.

I was finally going to do it. After years of tossing the idea around in my head, of going back and forth with Keenan about it, I was finally going to come out. I was still worried about how my family would handle the news. Cameron had already found out about me, and he seemed cool with my secret enough to keep it under wraps until I was ready, but we hadn’t really talked about what I was doing. However, if his reaction was any indication, this would work out pretty well.

I kept running that through my head as I lay awake, but the doubts kept circling. I was fairly sure my parents would be okay with it—your mom and dad will always be your mom and dad; they’re the ones that love you no matter what. Sure, Dad can be harsh, but I’d never heard him say anything really racist or homophobic. I’d even heard him correct a friend who’d said some racist shit. Dad had told him that all the guys at the plant worked hard, no matter what race they were, and he respected that. And, I’ve always been Mom’s baby. We grew close when I was little, because it was just me and her at home when Dad was at work and my brothers were at school, and we grew even closer when my brothers had all gone off to college and started living their own lives. I didn’t really doubt my parents’ love. But, I didn’t know how certain I could be about Connor and Caiden.

I love my brothers a lot. I mean, I feel closer to them than my friends feel to their own siblings. I’ve idolized them for as long as I could remember. I don’t know if I could live without that bond, especially with Connor. God, the thought of him hating me, of never wanting to see me again, made my stomach twist into agonizing knots.

I had a lot to lose if this went wrong.

But, I had a plan.

My brothers weren’t coming home until Christmas Eve. That gave me today to tell Mom and Dad. I’d take that leap, then enlist their help over the last hurdle. I didn’t know if we’d tell my brothers before the holiday, and get it out of the way, or after, when we weren’t so riled up by the holiday. However, I was pretty certain Mom and Dad would have an answer.

I sat up in bed, having given up on sleeping, and got a good start on the day with a nice shower and a cup of coffee. I shot out a text to Keenan, since we were meeting up later. Maybe he’d help me celebrate. That reminded me to text Preston, as well. And, I know it had been all of seven hours since I’d last spoken to Efrain, but I texted anyway. I thought back to last night when I had told my boyfriend all about my plan for today.

I thought I had kept the explanation short and to-the-point, but my “So, what do you think?” had been met with a decidedly groggy “Huh? Tell what?” Which wasn’t surprising. Efrain had been sending me Snapchats all day as his family dragged him all over hell and creation while getting ready for Christmas. His reaction made me chuckle, and feel slightly guilty. He and I had stayed up pretty damn late the previous night talking on the phone, and over Skype. It had started out innocently enough, but then our families were definitely asleep for the night and our inhibitions dropped faster than we could drop our pants. I had bought a couple toys yesterday afternoon; had to sneak over to San Antonio so no one I knew would see me walking in or out of the store, let alone what I had picked up, and I had been pretty turned on by my own daring. I couldn’t wait to watch him lose it while watching me play with myself, but I realized that he was too tired to even carry on a phone conversation.

I didn’t want to let him go last night, but I felt bad making him stay up when he needed to sleep. I wouldn’t really have another chance to play with him over Skype (sharing a room with your older brother wasn’t conducive to late night video cam sex), but I’d be seeing him after the holiday anyway. I could live with a quick text while he slept.

As I set down my phone, I reminded myself to hide my recent purchases before my brothers got home. Or, better yet, before my parents woke up. I pulled on some lounge pants and a t-shirt, then grabbed the black plastic bag that screamed “I bought naughty stuff at a sex shop”. I threw on a hoodie and shoved the bag underneath before I even stepped outside my bedroom. My shirt somehow magnified the sound of plastic crinkling, rather than muting it, and I swear to God it got worse when I walked across the front porch. That, along with the sound of my bare feet crunching through the gravel in the driveway, echoed from one end of the neighborhood to the other, announcing for everyone within a three-mile radius that Connor and Elaine’s youngest son now owned a buttplug.

I juggled the bag under my sweatshirt while I looked for a likely place to hide everything. I couldn’t risk it under the front seats, where anyone could just look under and find them. If I separated them, I could put one box in the center console, and another in the glove box, and the last one in my toolbox. Of course, that would be inviting disaster. Could see Dad going for something in my truck and coming across a random cockring or whatever. Plus, that plan would require removing things from the bag, which I was not about to do. The moment I pulled out the lube would be the moment that nosy old biddy across the street looked out her front window. That woman loved to rat me out. Why did my parents have to settle down right in front of the only old lady in the whole world who didn’t immediately love me? However, that whole line of thinking became a moot point when the ball gag box tumbled out.

“Shit!” That curse was soon followed by another when the whole bag dropped as I scrambled after the box. I prayed the swishing curtain was just in my head.

It took me longer than I thought it would to find just the right spot, but I eventually settled on folding the bag up in an old hoodie and shoving it one of the little cubbies behind the back seats. Maybe I was being paranoid. There could be any number of reasons a guy would have anal and kink play things, but I didn’t want their discovery to come on the heels of my family learning that I had a boyfriend who’d be using them on me.

I noticed the tree as I came back inside. This had been the first year that I didn’t get to help put it up, but Mom saved special ornaments that we’d get to put on later tonight. Since she and Dad were still in bed, I decided to put out the Virginia Tech charm I got for her James Avery bracelet and the socket set I got Dad. I even secreted a few things in their stockings—a car decal, this cute little stick figure in a football helmet and a VT jersey, to go with the stick figure family Mom had on the back of her SUV, and a small VT pennant with my name and jersey number on it for Dad to put up in his cubicle with the ones he got from my brothers.

And since I was already there, and they still hadn’t come out, I had a little peek underneath the tree. A few things were already out, mostly stuff from out-of-town relatives or family friends. Dad’s parents would be here tomorrow to open gifts with us, so their gifts weren’t under here yet, but there were a couple things for me and my brothers from Mom’s family.

Mom’s parents never spent the holiday with us, and preferred to go either to Uncle Johnny’s or Aunt Mary’s. I was never sure of the details, but there had been some kind of falling out before I was born, which meant I didn’t get to see them a lot. We almost didn’t get our gifts from Mom’s side of the family, let alone visit with them, until thirteen years or so ago, when Uncle Johnny convinced Dad that it was important for us to know both sides. My uncle had a pretty cool relationship with my dad as he was the only one who could get Dad to change his mind.

As we grew older, our presents from the Frederick side tended to be of the gift card variety. There were three or so card-sized envelopes for each of us, however, the one with my aunt’s handwriting on it was attached to a large garment box, all nicely wrapped up with a bow. I shook the box a little and heard soft rustling. Clothes, maybe?

I hid all evidence of snooping and headed for the kitchen to get some coffee going. Despite the time I wasted secreting my stash and peeking under the tree, Mom didn’t wake up until well after my first cup.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“It’s a good day to be up early.”

“Oh, is it now?” She pulled out a huge pale green mug with botanical prints of each of the five species of Texas bluebonnets painted on it, and started rummaging in the cabinet. “Shouldn’t you college boys be sleeping in past noon? I couldn’t get your brothers out of bed for nothing when they came home for the holidays. Oh, where could it…” She looked at my hands. “Uh oh.”

I looked down at the mug I’d pulled out at random. One side was maroon with the Texas A&M logo, and burnt orange with the UT logo on the other. The words “A House Divided” were printed along the handle. I got Mom a shirt with something similar done in glitter and rhinestones the Christmas after Cam and Caiden went to college. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re using your father’s mug,” she said.

“Since when has he had ‘a mug’?” I laughed. “Didn’t he just use whatever was in the cabinet?”

Mom frowned.

“You can’t be serious.”

“He likes that one,” she said, then shrugged.

“I’ll get a different mug,” I said, rising from my usual seat at the end of the breakfast bar.

But, Mom waved me off and selected another mug, a black one with “Aggie Dad” in maroon and white. Probably something he got from the guys at work, as they’d gotten him a “Longhorn Dad” travel mug when Connor went to school. I wondered if they’d give him a “Hokie Dad” mug.

“It’s okay, he likes this one, too.”

After Mom poured coffee for herself and Dad, and went to their room to rouse him, I hopped off the barstool. I picked up how to make pancakes from Efrain and figured I’d try my skills out on my parents. Soon enough, I had sausages going in the cast iron skillet, the griddle getting to just the right temp, and a decent batter whipped up. I used biscuit mix, which I was not going to tell mí lobo about, but the results were just as fluffy and tasty as the ones he made for me on Sunday mornings (well, it was close enough).

I was pulling the first batch off the griddle when my parents shuffled back out of their room.

“Smells wonderful, Cory,” my mom said. She pulled back out the egg carton to start the scrambled eggs.

I ladled on another round, then leaned against the counter and sipped my coffee while I waited for the right amount of bubbles on the surface before I flipped them over.

“Mug thief,” my dad grunted.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up and he patted my shoulder. “You make a mean cup of coffee, so all’s forgiven.” Dad filled his mug, and sat at the breakfast bar while Mom and I finished up.

We’d already caught up over the last couple days, so most of our breakfast conversation centered on our plans for the day. I told them about meeting up with Keenan this afternoon, and Mom talked about last minute cleaning and preparation for my brothers’ return. This would be the first Christmas since Connor got married, so Mom was excited to have a daughter-in-law for the holiday, even though Leslie had been coming for Christmas for years (along with Cameron and Caiden’s girlfriends).

And, that’s when my palms started sweating.

I knew what question was coming next. Mom had asked Connor about it his first holiday back, and asked Caiden and Cameron when they’d returned. I had already planned for this; this was my opening. I could either take the plunge now, or blow the opportunity and have to screw up the courage to go for it later.

“So, have you met someone special yet?” she asked. Mom was all sly and nonchalant about it, but I knew she was going to pump me for details.

“Yeah, actually,” I said, feeling a small blush come up.

“She got a name?” Dad grunted. He knew Mom’s game and I think he wanted to hurry it along. He had some shows to watch, and the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could run through Mom’s “honey do” list. Neither of us would be let out of her sight until everything was done to her satisfaction. Breakfast was a mild reprieve.

I took a deep breath.

“He,” I said. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.

“He?” my mother repeated.

I nodded, feeling more confident now that I’d set the whole thing in motion. “His name is Efrain.”

“His name?” she said.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” I said. “He’s on—”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all. I have picture I can show you.” I pulled out my phone and started looking for a better picture, since we had our shirts off in the one I had as my background image. Couldn’t have my mom looking at my guy without his shirt on, no matter how hot as hell he looked. “His parents weren’t really surprised when they found out about us. Actually, they pretty much knew already. Even had bets going. I met them when I went to his house for Thanksgiving. Hey, maybe you could come out for Parents’ Week this spring, and I could introduce you!”

“Oh, Cory,” my mother sighed.

“I suppose you’ve suspected something about me, so this might not be a shock.”

“Why couldn’t you have found a nice girl to date?” she asked, and that’s when I finally looked up from my phone. Mom had an almost pained look on her face; Dad was staring at his plate. “What about that girl you took to senior prom? Tonya Lewis, right? Or, Amaryllis Guzman. You took her to homecoming. She was a pretty thing, and you two looked so sweet together.”

“Mom, Amaryllis and Tonya are just friends. And, I do like girls,” I said. “But, I like guys, too.”

“But, why—”

“I did date some girls at VT,” I shrugged. “But, sparks just flew with Efrain.” I felt a smile creep up on my face, deepening the blush. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“I can’t believe this.” Dad threw his fork down.

“What?”

“Since when have you been gay?”

“I’ve always been like this, Dad,” I said. “Also, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, so you’re straight, but choose to fuck around with men. Is that what you’re learning over there?” he demanded.

I felt the color drain from my face, and my body went cold. “I didn’t learn—”

“Is this what my money is paying for? This faggot shit? You’re fucking ‘in love’ with some cocksucking child molester?”

I tried to defend myself, but my words died in my throat. I looked to Mom for help, but she looked away. Panic set in, but Dad was far from done.

“Goddammit, Cory,” he ranted. “First, your ass had to go out of state, then you had to start sleeping with other men. Now, you come back trying to show us filthy pictures of this man. Holy hell, it was bad enough when you were bringing colored and Mexican girls home. What’s next, you going to start messing with little boys, too? Start fornicating with…” Dad let the statement hang there.

Something in my brain snapped. “Since when have you been a racist homophobic asshole?” I got up from the barstool. “Maybe I missed something, but I don’t remember you being this much of a prick!”

“You will not speak to your father that way!” Mom snapped, choosing that point to re-enter the conversation.

“What?” I said, pointing at Dad. “You’ll defend him, but you won’t even stand up for your own goddamn son?”

“Boy, do not cuss at your mother,” Dad growled.

“Fuck you,” I told him. I turned to her. “Fuck both of you.”

He stood up and walked around the breakfast bar. “I oughta beat your—”

“My ass? How?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, knowing how the move made my pecs and biceps stand out. “You stopped spanking us when people stopped calling you ‘Big Connor’. All four of us are bigger than you, especially ‘Little Connor’.”

“Listen here, you little shit,” he shouted.

“No, you listen,” I shouted back. “One, I’ve been this way since the beginning. I’ve not changed, not ‘learned’ to be bi. You don’t ‘learn’ to be straight, so why should someone ‘learn’ to be gay or bi. I got the hell out of Texas so I could just be myself and not worry about people like you.” I knew my voice was rising, but didn’t bother controlling it. “Two, you ain’t paying for shit. I earned my scholarships. Fuck, I have overlapping scholarships. I’m fucking swimming in goddamn scholarships. And, if those fall through, I’ll take out some fucking loans because you told me you weren’t paying for me to go out of state.” I closed the distance between us, getting right up in his face. “And three, there’s nothing filthy or wrong or bad about dating someone who’s the same sex or a different race. I’m not a pervert. I don’t fuck little kids. I don’t fuck animals. I’m fucking a guy, one guy, and we’re in love, so fucking deal with it!”

“Boy, don’t come in my house,” he said, “and tell me what I need to do. This is a Christian home—”

“’Christian’ my ass,” I said. “When was the last time you went to fucking church? Huh?”

“I don’t need to go to church to be a good Christian man,” he answered. “The Bible says—”

“Like I give a flying fuck what ‘the Bible says’! Fuck your goddamn Bible!”

“Cory!” Mom shouted, putting her hands in the middle of our chests and shoving her way between us. “You will not talk like that in my house!”

“Fine, my ‘Christian’ father and I will take this fight outside.” I narrowed my eyes and dropped my voice to a low growl. “Let’s go, old man.”

My father looked between me and my mother and, like the little pussy shit I always knew him to be, he backed down. He started cleaning plates off the breakfast bar, which was something because he’d never cleaned up after himself or anyone else. The fucking prick was all but running from me.

“That’s what I thought,” I snarled at him, my teeth clenched. I was still spoiling for a fight. I think I finally understood Efrain’s need to punch things. As if sensing my rage, Mom’s hand remained on my chest, holding me back.

“Cory,” she pleaded. I looked down at her, tears close to spilling down her cheeks, and felt myself deflating. “Please, Cory, it’s right before Christmas.” She sniffled.

“Sorry, Momma.” I pulled her into a hug.

“You can still find a nice girl,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “There’ll still be time once you’re done with this phase.”

I let my arms fall away from her shoulders. “That’s not how it works.” I pulled out of her embrace. “I might meet a nice girl, but I’ve always preferred men. I won’t say I’m sorry for it, because I’m not.”

“Please, don’t do this now.”

“Then, when?” I said, flatly. “When do I get to be myself? When do I get to stop lying about who I am?”

“Cory…”

“I’ve always been bi, Mom. Always,” I said. “I’ve only had more girlfriends because I wasn’t out here, but I still dated guys. We kinda snuck around, kept it private.”

“You mean to tell me,” my dad said, moving closer, “that you’ve been messing around with boys under my own roof?”

“No,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“Don’t lie to me. That’s all you perverts are about. Nothing but sex,” he said, throwing the dish towel he’d been drying his hands with down on the counter. “All those sleepovers. I told you, Elaine, he shouldn’t be having sleepovers.”

“Cory, don’t…” Mom pleaded with me again.

I took a deep breath. “It’s not just about sex. And, I never had a boyfriend sleep over. And, I never did it in the house because I didn’t want you to find out.”

Dad folded his arms over his chest. “Liar. I know you’ve been bringing boys over here so you can fuck them in the goddamn ass, like the goddamn deviant you are.”

I took another breath to steady myself, turning my head to crack my neck, before I answered his accusation. He wanted the pervert, so I gave it to him.

“Believe it or not, but none of us have fucked in the house. We share bedrooms, remember? Nope, no fucking in the house, we used your wood shed for that.” I had to laugh when Dad’s eyes bulged. “Oh yeah, we fucked all kinds of girls in your wood shed. Used to have a nice big condom and lube stash behind your workbench. It’s probably still there, if you want to look for it. And, before you ask, I sure as hell snuck guys in there. You wouldn’t believe how many loads got shot in there. Forensics would have a field day trying to figure out whose cum is in there. Fuck, even if you don’t include the members of the Card College Football Dynasty, it’s still gotta be in the double digits. A fucking who’s who of who fucked Cory Card. Once had I guy in there who could hit the ceiling. Dude was a total blast.”

That last bits had been a lie, but it was still gratifying to watch Dad choke on his words.

“And before I forget,” I said. “I rarely fucked guys; they fucked me. Yep, I let other guys pound my ass all over your wood shed. How do you think I broke your old saw horses? Don’t worry, Dad, totally got fucked on the new ones, too. Those things are the perfect height. Good choice.”

“Get out,” Dad said.

“Of where? The kitchen?”

“Get out,” he repeated a little louder. “Get out of my house.”

“Connor—”

“Elaine, I want this boy out of my house, now.”

“That’s fine with me,” I said. “I’m out.” I headed for my bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“To pack my shit.”

“You don’t own anything in this house, boy; I paid for it all,” he said. “You aren’t taking a damn thing.”

I turned around and held my arms out. “Stop me, then,” I challenged.

“Cory, why are you doing this?” Mom cried.

“I’m not the one doing it,” I told her, dropping my arms. I walked out of the kitchen. “This is all you two.”

I half listened to my dad rage in the background as I went to the room I once shared with Cameron and packed my belongings.

I considered myself lucky since my family (well, former family, as I heard Connor, Sr. disowning me in the kitchen) had dealt with three other boys leaving for college and knew to have most of our stuff boxed up for when we graduated from college and moved out for good. Mom had plans for the vacated rooms once they had the house to themselves. She had already turned the other bedroom into a guestroom, and I guess she was going to get her crafting room sooner.

I knew I wouldn’t be back here, so I grabbed as much as I could and shoved it into the bed of my truck. But, eventually that filled up, and I had loaded up the back and passenger seats with so much stuff that I could barely see out my side view mirrors. I decided, as I tied down the tarp I’d stolen from the wood shed, that there were some things I would just have to live without. Breakfast had soured in my stomach hours ago, so I focused on that discomfort instead.

I went back to my old room to make sure I got everything I would need, packing random things in one of Cameron’s old duffle bags. The remaining bits got crammed into the closet, in the unlikely event that I’d be able to return for them. I hefted my bookbag and the duffle bag on either shoulder and went to find my now-estranged parents in the living room. Mom sat on the couch, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and listening to Dad while he paced, still raging about his sexual deviant son-who-was-no-longer-his-son. Both turned to me as I stood before them, keys in hand, not knowing what to say. I guess Mom didn’t know either. Dad did.

“Leave, now.” He placed his hands on the couch behind where Mom sat. “Or, I will call the police and have you removed.”

I sighed. “I’m gone,” I said with a mock salute and was about to remove myself from their presence. However, the Christmas tree, all covered in lights and ornaments, caught my eye. I turned and made my way to it.

“What are you doing?” Dad asked. “I thought I told you to leave.”

I didn’t answer him as I grabbed all the presents with my name on them and stuffed them in the duffle bag before I walked out the door.

I tried not to think about how I’d left home back in June. I’d been so excited then, but now I just felt so overwhelmed, my whole body fighting off the need to rage and the urge to cry. I forced those thoughts into the back of my mind, walled them off, then fell into the void left behind. My truck started up, and I pulled out of the driveway, not bothering to take one last look at my childhood home as I drove off. There would be time to think on these things, but for now, I needed to drive away and get someplace safe before I came undone.

~*~*~*~

I’d mostly remembered the way to Virginia—get on this highway, turn onto this interstate, keep going until you reach this exit, etc.—so I pretty much traveled on auto. When the sun went down, I turned on my headlights. When it came back up, I turned them off. I didn’t feel like eating, or stopping to rest, even though I knew I needed to. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold any food down or fall asleep with how agitated I felt. Besides, it would be hard to find anything open this close to the holiday outside of the occasional gas stations I stopped at to refuel.

So, I just drove on.

It had taken all of an hour for my phone to die. I’d forgotten to charge it last night, and couldn’t find my car charger in all the mess. Not like it would matter. I was on my parents’ cell plan, and while I paid my share of the phone bill, it was only a matter of time before they cut off my line. I left my phone in the center console and didn’t bother with charging it; the music was irritating me anyway.

By the time I made it into town, it was already late-morning. Which meant it was officially Christmas Eve all the way back home. The streets were empty save for a few cars here and there. All the college students who could had gone home, and everyone else was at home with loved ones. I thought about my mom and dad, who were probably welcoming my brothers home, making the sick feelings rise in my gut once more. I tamped down those feelings as I turned down Indie’s road. The driveway was empty—no trace of Indie’s silver BMW, or Efrain’s blue Honda, or Preston’s red Mazda, or even the crotch rocket Gio said he’d be bringing back.

Somehow, that empty driveway made the loneliness that much sharper.

The empty house made it ache.

I dropped my backpack at the door, along with my shoes. It wasn’t like there was anyone here to give a shit. My stomach rebelled at the thought of eating, but my fatigue finally caught up with me, so I slumped toward the bedroom I shared with Efrain. I stripped off my clothes and left them on the floor. Don’t know why, but while I was okay leaving stuff everywhere, I felt odd putting a dirty body in a clean bed.

So, after a perfunctory shower and tooth-brushing, I rolled into bed, letting two sleepless night and a twenty-hour drive lull me into a long dreamless sleep.

I was pretty much dead to the world for the rest of the day. When I next woke up, it was dark once more. I yawned, dragging my hand over my face, and stretched out in the bed that felt too big with just me in it. The lights from the alarm clock glowed from the night stand.

Four in the morning.

“Merry-fuckin’-Christmas,” I grunted bitterly, then turned over and fell back asleep.

~*~*~*~