Reap the Whirlwind - 4. Chapter 4

I brushed my teeth and went through all my evening rituals, then, just before I got into bed, I decided I was thirsty. I didn't want to disturb anyone else if they were trying to fall asleep so I eased open my door and padded softly down the hall to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

As I neared the living room, I overheard Asher and Killian talking quietly. I heard my name, and, even though I knew I shouldn't, I stopped to listen.

"Will seems nice," Killian was saying.

I felt horrible for eavesdropping, but I didn't move.

"Yeah. And cute too. Too bad he's straight." They giggled, and Asher was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Are you attracted to him?"

I saw movement under the blankets as Killian turned to face Asher.

"What are you talking about, silly?"

"You were pretty cuddly with him."

"I was just joking around. Just like you were joking about dating Aidan. You were joking weren't you?"

"Ha. Yes."

"Look, you're my boyfriend. That means something to me. You're my number one. There is no number two. Even when we're not together, I think about you all the time. I would never even consider cheating on you."

"I wasn't saying you would, but just because we're dating doesn't mean you're blind. I'm sure you still find other people attractive."

"Well, sure, but Asher, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. After all we've been through together, how can you doubt that for even a single second?"

"It's not that I doubt it. I mean, I love you too, and I know you love me. It's just...you've only ever dated me, you know? Sometimes, I just wonder if... Never mind. You're right. I'm just being silly."

"Yes...you...are..." Each word was separated by a kiss and was punctuated emphatically at the end with a passionate embrace.

I backed slowly away and returned to my room, the glass of water forgotten. My thirst had been replaced by a sharp pang of...was it jealousy? Not quite. More like an aching longing. I wanted what they had so badly that I could hardly breathe. I'd never even come close to having that depth of relationship with Beth. Would I ever find that kind of love?

Unbidden, an image of Joey suddenly leapt into my mind. I mentally swatted it away in annoyance.

"Stop it!" I hissed out loud at myself. "I am not in love with Joey. It's just because Laura put the idea in my head. I'm not even gay."

But this time, the idea wouldn't go away so easily. I felt like there were two people arguing inside my head.

"Why can't you be gay?"

"Because..."

"Because why?"

"Because...I dated Beth."

"And you never felt anything for her beyond friendship."

"That doesn't mean I'm gay. I just haven't met the right girl yet."

"What about Joey?"

"He's just my friend. That's all."

"You saw the photo, how you were looking at him."

"That was just admiration for my friend. I looked up to him."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

With a growl of frustration I threw myself backwards onto my bed. Apparently, I couldn't even win an argument with myself. Maybe it was time to settle the question once and for all. At least then I could stop avoiding Laura. She was getting harder and harder to dodge. I knew it was just a matter of time before she showed up at my door again. She'd only tolerate so many missed calls and unanswered texts.

I decided to tackle the issue logically and make a mental list of all the things that I never felt for Beth that I saw in Killian and Asher.

One: Beth was never my top priority. As she'd complained, she was never my number one. Except on this list, and I doubt she'd appreciate the irony.

Two: I didn't think about her all the time. In fact, I hardly ever thought about her when we were apart.

Three: I definitely didn't want to spend the rest of my life with her.

Okay, so it was obvious that I did not love Beth, but that didn't mean that I was in love with Joey. I took the same list and measured my feelings for Joey against them.

One: Everyone said Joey was my top priority so maybe he was. I had to admit his decisions were usually set in stone where my life was concerned. Strike one.

Two: Joey and I were almost always together. Well, at least we had been before he'd started college. When we weren't, I missed him terribly. Strike two.

Three: Did I want to spend the rest of my life with Joey? I certainly couldn't imagine my life without him, but did I want more than just friendship? I tried to picture what it would be like to come home to him after work every night, sit down to dinner with him, crawl into bed next to him at the end of the day...

I sat up with a jolt, my heart pounding in my chest.

I didn't like where that was leading. What I was feeling went against everything I'd ever been taught. I couldn't be in love with my best friend. Could I? It was getting harder and harder to deny.

The idea shook me.

I felt a sudden need for the comfort of light, so I crawled across the bed and reached for the lamp on my bedside table. My hand was shaking so hard, however, that I couldn't twist the little knob that turned it on. In frustration, I threw my hands up, knocking off the clip-on shade in the process and toppling the lamp onto the floor where I heard the light bulb smash.

I cursed as I fumbled in the darkness. I found the shade and was feeling for the lamp when a soft knock came at my door.

I heaved a sigh, crawled back to the foot of the bed, and went to open it. Aidan eyed the shade in my hand and gave me a curious look.

"The party's over, dude," he said in a hushed voice.

To my utter embarrassment, I burst into tears. I threw the shade across the room and threw myself face down on the bed.

"Will! What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I heard the door close, and, a few seconds later, felt his hand on my back.

"Look, Will, I know we don't know each other that well yet, but I already consider you a friend, so I'm going to make the same offer to you that applies to all of my friends. If you want to talk about anything, I mean anything at all, I'll always be here to listen. I'm a good listener, and I won't judge or repeat anything you tell me. You have my word."

I cried all the harder. I felt the hand leave my back, quickly followed by the sound of the window opening. Cool air washed over me.

"Let's step out for some fresh air, shall we?" he said formally.

I looked up to find Aidan straddling the window sash with one leg flung out on the fire escape. He held out a hand and smiled. I was so surprised, I simply got up and took his hand, allowing him to help me through the window, sniffling like a little kid the whole time.

We sat down Indian style next to each other, our knees almost-but-not-quite touching. We sat in silence, broken only by an occasional sniff.

Finally, he said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I think I'm in love with Joey!" I blurted out and started crying again.

"Wow...um...that's not what I expected," he said in a stunned voice.

"Does that mean I'm gay? I don't wanna be gay. I can't be gay!" I wailed.

"Shh, shh, shh," Aidan hissed.

He sounded so much like a snake with a lisp that I started giggling through my tears, then I hiccupped.

"People are trying to sleep," he said seriously. He was eying me as if he were afraid I was losing it...and maybe I was. He continued, "As far as Joey goes, I don't know if you're gay or not. Maybe you're bi. Or maybe you just love Joey, you know like a fluke. But if you are gay or bi, then you need to face it and accept it. It's not that bad, you know."

"Yes, it is! You don't understand! I'm a Christian."

"So? I didn't realize the two were mutually exclusive."

"They are according to my dad."

"Well, no offense, I mean I've never even met your dad, but I'm pretty sure he's not God."

"But the Bible..."

"Christianity is based on the teachings of Jesus, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Show me where Jesus ever once even mentions homosexuality."

"It..." I thought for a minute. "He doesn't."

"Exactly. And the Bible doesn't say anything about homosexuality as we know it anywhere else either."

"But it does, I've read it!"

"No, you've read a modern interpretation of an ancient language written in the context of a vastly different culture; an interpretation that's changed multiple times over the centuries to say what the religious leaders of the time wanted it to say."

I stared at him wide-eyed. "I thought the Bible hadn't changed since it was written."

He snorted. "Of course it has."

"But it's the word of God..."

"At best, it's the words of whoever wrote it. It's a collection of different books and stories that were written over thousands of years by dozens and dozens of different authors, each with their own reasons and goals for writing it. There are entire passages that were added to the original text centuries later."

"Really?"
"Yes."

"I've never heard about any of this."

"Of course not. It's hard to convince people to believe your particular interpretation when you have to admit the entire basis of your belief system has a flawed foundation to begin with."

"You said the Bible doesn't condemn gay people?"

"The original languages of the Bible didn't even have a word for homosexual, not as we think of it today."

"How do you know so much about the Bible?"

"Well, when an entire religion goes to great lengths to condemn you based on the teachings of a book, I thought it would be best if I knew that book as well as they do — or, in the case of most of them, better. So I did some studying on my own. It just seemed that, from what I know about myself and everyone else I've ever met who was gay, no one chooses to be gay. Either you are or you aren't. There's nothing you can do about it but accept it and try to live your life the best way you know how.

"It didn't make sense to me that God would create something that he hated, so I read some books on the subject and watched a lot of Biblical scholars who know a hell of a lot more than I do. You'd be amazed at how different some of the oldest versions of the scriptures are from what we have today, especially in context of the time they were written.

"So yeah, these are the conclusions that I came to. I'm not saying that they are the absolute truth. To be fair, I wasn't raised religious. We went to church now and then, but we weren't devout. I guess you'd say I'm agnostic, at best, though atheist is probably more accurate. You take it all pretty seriously, huh?"

"I mean, my dad's a pastor, so yeah."

"But that's your dad. What do you think? Are you Christian just because it's how you were raised or because it's what you actually believe for yourself?"

I sat silently for a moment. "I...I don't know. I guess I've never thought about it that way before."

"Well, if you believe it for yourself, then yeah, I guess it matters what God thinks, but if you don't...then it's all just a mental exercise, right? Unraveling a lifetime of brainwashing."

"You definitely sound like a psych major."

Aidan laughed. "Guilty."

"So, uh, how will I know if I'm gay?"

"I think you'll just know, Will. Or maybe you already do and all you have to do is accept it."

"Now you sound like Laura. Why does everyone keep trying to be my shrink?"

"Maybe because they care about you and want to help you."

I looked over at him and saw nothing but sincerity. A sudden shiver went through me.

"Jeez, you're going to get sick! Here we are sitting out here on this cold metal half-naked."

I realized that we were both sitting on the metal grill of the fire escape in nothing but our underwear — thin cotton boxers for me, and form-fitting boxer briefs for him. We were experiencing unseasonably cool weather for September, but I'd been so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn't even noticed. Once the temperature was brought to my attention, though, I could see the goosebumps on my arms.

"Let's get back inside," Aidan said as he stood up and pulled me to my feet. We climbed back into my bedroom, and Aidan shut the window while I crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up to my chin.

"Think you can sleep now?" he asked me. I nodded. "You've got a lot to think about." I nodded again. "If you need me, I'm right across the hall."

He let himself out, closing the door softly behind him.

For a moment, I felt a sense of panic, afraid to be alone with my thoughts, afraid I wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

I shouldn't have worried. I was exhausted. My last thought before drifting off was that I was lucky to have moved in with a guy like Aidan.

 

I was rudely awakened the next morning by loud pounding on my bedroom door. I came up kicking and flailing, heart racing.

"Time to wake up, Sleepyhead!" Killian and Asher yelled through the door.

I flopped back down. "I'm awake," I grumbled sleepily. "And suffering from cardiac arrest thanks to you."

"What?"

"I said—"

"What?"

"Just open the door!"

The door cracked open. "Are you decent?" Killian asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh darn," he said with a grin as the door swung open and their heads popped into my room. "We didn't think you were ever going to wake up. Aidan is making breakfast."

"What time is it?"

"It's like ten already," Asher said.

I groaned. "Too early!"

"Aw, come on. We want to hang out before we have to head home."

"Fine. I'm getting up." I crawled out of bed and started pulling open drawers in my dresser trying to remember where I'd put what.

"So..." Killian said from behind me.

"So what?"

"So, are you and Aidan an item or what?"

"I told you last night that we weren't."

"Yeah, but there was that interesting little scene when we got here yesterday, and then last night I got up to pee and ran into Aidan in the hallway. He was sneaking out of your room. He just looked embarrassed and hurried into his room."

"We were wrestling when you got here, and he wasn't sneaking anywhere last night. He was probably just trying not to wake you guys up." Killian arched an eyebrow. "Seriously! We were only talking. Aidan's my roommate, and fast becoming a friend, but that's it."

"Okay, if you say so, but I know chemistry when I see it." Asher elbowed him in the side, and Killian rolled his eyes. "Anyway... What were you guys talking about that late at night?"

I rolled my eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?"

"All the time."

"Well some things are none of your business."

Asher laughed. "If I had a dollar for every time I've told him that..."

Killian sat on the edge of my bed as I pulled out a pair of underwear and a shirt. "Hey Will, have you ever heard of gaydar?"

I rummaged through a drawer for a pair of jeans. "Nope. Is that like radar?"

"Kinda. More like a sixth sense."

"So what does it do?"

"It helps gay people identify other gay people."

I straightened up with the jeans and eyed Killian warily. "That's not real."

"It kind of is. It's like you just know."

I looked at Asher, still standing in the doorway. He shrugged. "I mean, yeah. It's kind of a real thing."

"So what's your point?"

"I don't have a point. But you know, if you ever want to talk to anybody..."

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? My knees suddenly felt weak. I sat down on the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a box that was still in the room and much to my surprise found myself going right through the top. With my feet in the air, I struggled to pull myself out of the empty box while Killian and Asher laughed hysterically. I finally succeeded...in splitting it open, but at least I was out.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said with as much dignity as I could muster and, grabbing my clothes, made my exit. I squeezed past Asher in the doorway, leaving Killian rolling on my bed in tears, gasping for breath in between uncontrolled fits of laughter.

I took my time in the bathroom, but when I finally emerged, Aidan had a towering stack of pancakes waiting.

"Wow, you are going to spoil me!"

"Just don't expect this every day," Aidan said.

"He wouldn't let us eat until you were out of the shower," Killian informed me, sounding slightly put out.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "And yet, somehow, you survived."

"Barely!"

"Well everybody's here now, so dig in!"

We made short work of the pancakes, and everyone pitched in to clean up the kitchen, though it was a tight fit with four of us in the tiny room.

After eating, we set to unpacking the rest of the boxes. With two extra sets of hands, the work went quickly and, by lunchtime, the apartment looked like we'd always lived here.

We were making two large pizzas disappear when someone knocked on the door. Aidan and I exchanged glances, then both of us raced the short distance to the door, laughing all the way. He got there first and pulled the door open with one hand while holding a drooping slice of pizza in the other.

A strange woman stood in the doorway. I wouldn't have described her as pretty, but she was definitely striking, with a prominent nose and sharp eyes behind chunky, black-rimmed glasses. She looked to be in her mid- to late-twenties, with short, dark hair that was artfully messy. She wore a thin white crop top under faded bib overalls, and funky faux leopard-skin fuzzy sandals. Those last items caught and held my attention.

"Hiya! I'm Nikki. I'm your neighbor across the hall. I just thought I'd stick my head in and say welcome to the neighborhood. I was going to bring a fruit basket, but then I thought, who the hell brings fruit baskets these days?"

We stood blinking at her for a moment; neither of us knew quite what to say. Aidan recovered first. "Uh, thanks. I'm Aidan Scott, and this is my roommate, Will Keegan," Aidan said.

My attention wandered back to her feet, which she waggled in greeting. I quickly looked back up and held out my hand as my face heated up.

She took my proffered hand in a firm grasp with an amused smile on her face. "Like my shoes?" she said. "I like to dress with flair! Life is too short to wear boring clothes, you know? I think some of the other residents have betting pools on just how bizarre I can get. I'm always trying to top myself. Gotta do my part to keep their lives interesting."

I grinned back. I liked her already. She had a comfortable manner that put me at ease. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure! I love seeing other people's spaces. You learn so much about people from what they choose to surround themselves with, you know?"

"Well, we just moved in so I don't know how revealing it will be just yet," Aidan said as she stepped into our apartment.

Killian and Asher stood up, each with a slice of pizza in their hands, and I realized another round of introductions was in order. "This is Killian and Asher. Guys, this is our neighbor Nikki." I turned to Nikki. "Would you like a slice of pizza?"

"No thanks, I'm a health food freak. You know, organic foods only, almost a vegetarian, but I just can't give up seafood."

She walked around the apartment while she talked, giving the room a thorough inspection. I got the impression she didn't miss anything. Her eyes lit up when she spotted my drawing table. She quickly crossed over for a closer look.

"Oh, wow! Who's the artist?"

"That would be me," I said, raising a hand like I was back in school.

"Sweet! May I?" She made a motion toward the table.

"Uh, sure. Help yourself."

She looked over my supplies for a few minutes. "Quite the set up you've got here, Will. Nice quality, no junk. You must be a serious artist."

"No, it's just a hobby."

"Don't listen to him," Aidan said as he walked over. "He's really good. Look at this." He pulled out the frog painting with a dramatic flourish.

Nikki's eyebrows shot up above her glasses. "You did this?"

"Yeah," I mumbled as my face once more turned into a furnace.

She leaned in for a closer look. "Dramatic. Nice detail. Almost surrealistic. I like the symbolism." She straightened up and peered at me over her glasses. "Are you represented?".

"I guess you could say the frog."

She gave me a blank look. "Come again?"

I blushed. "Well, the frog kind of represents me because lately I've been feeling like I'm caught in a storm—" I stopped abruptly as she began to laugh.

"That's not quite what I meant. I meant, are you represented by an agent? A gallery? Do you show anywhere?"

"Oh God, no!"

"You should be."

"I'm not good enough—"

"Bullshit. Pardon my French. I'm an artist so I know what I'm talking about. More importantly, I own my own gallery, and I'm always looking for new talent. I'd like to see some of your other work. You do have more, right?"

"Yeah," I said with my head spinning. "But it's not as good as this..."

"Let me be the judge of that. Let's see 'em."

"I don't have them here. They're at home. I mean my parents' home."

"Is that nearby?"

"Um, yes."

"Great. Any chance I could see them some time? If I like your other work as much as what I see here, I might be interested in exhibiting a few of your pieces. We could see what kind of reaction we get, maybe do a show. You know, after we test the vibes."

I blinked at her like a demented owl.

"Am I going too fast for you?" Nikki asked.

I nodded mutely.

"You have your own gallery?" Killian asked, coming to my rescue.

"Yes! Well, my brother and I own it. My father started it, and he left it to us when he retired and moved to Italy. It's called Avant Garde, and it's on the old Downtown Plaza."

"Cool. You look pretty young to have your own gallery."

"I didn't know there was an age limit, and actually I'm thirty."

"The health food must work," Aidan quipped.

Nikki laughed and turned her attention back to me. "So what do you say, Will? Can I see your work? And would you be interested in maybe taking a shot at being a professional artiste?"

"I, uh...I don't know..."

"Come on, Will," Asher said. "How often do you get an offer like that?"

"Why don't you think about it for a while?" Nikki suggested.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but can I ask you a question?" I said hesitantly.

"Hey, you can ask me anything you want. I don't insult easily. You have to have pretty thick skin to dress like I do."

"Well, what do you get out of this?"

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. "A shrewd businessman! I love it! Okay, let's see, what do I get out of it? Well, I'm assuming you mean besides the altruistic pleasure of helping out a fellow artist?"

I heard Asher mutter to Killian, "Quick, get a dictionary." Nikki winked at me.

"Yeah, besides that," I agreed.

"Well, it's standard procedure for the gallery to get a commission on anything we sell, usually between thirty and fifty percent. I'd only ask thirty from you since you're just getting started. More importantly, though, I get the pleasure and credit, keyword 'credit,' of discovering an up-and-coming artist. If you make a splash, then Avant Garde gets exposure and publicity, and I can start building a reputation of my own instead of riding on Daddy's coattails."

I nodded. "I need to think about it."

"Sure. Why don't you and Aidan come over to my apartment for dinner tomorrow night? You can meet my new boyfriend and see some of my work."

I looked over to Aidan, who nodded encouragingly. "Okay," I said.

"Great! It's a date! Toodles." And with that she let herself out, leaving behind the slightest hint of patchouli.

"Wow! Will's a real live artist!" Asher exclaimed.

"Slow down. It seems too good to be true," I said.

"Don't be so negative," Aidan scolded. "She's like a force of nature, isn't she? I bet if anyone can make this work she can."

"She seemed cool to me," Killian added.

"She could be a kook for all we know," I argued.

"There's an easy way to find out," Aidan said, pulling out his phone. "What did she say the name of her gallery was?"

"Something guard?" Asher offered helpfully.

"Avant Garde," Killian supplied. "It's French."

"Here it is," Aidan said. "It's definitely a real gallery. Hang on. Yeah, according to the About page, the gallery was founded by Giovanni "Gio" Avanti and it's now run by his children Dante and Nikolia. I'm assuming Nikolia is Nikki."

"See?" Asher said triumphantly. "She's legit."

"Anybody can build a website and say whatever they want," I said stubbornly. "That doesn't mean the gallery is actually any good."

"Then how about this," Aidan said. "We have some time before Killian and Asher need to head home. Why don't the four of us drive downtown and check out the gallery for ourselves? That way we'll know exactly what we're dealing with."

"What if it's not open on Sunday?" Asher asked.

"Oh, shit!" I gasped.

"What?"

"Today is Sunday!"

"And..."

"I missed church!"

"Too late to worry about it now," Aidan said philosophically. "The gallery is open. Their hours are on the website. Let's go."