Bloodlines - 44. Chapter 44

February 14, 1999

“I’m Gabriel Gonzalez,” the reporter said as he shook Wade’s hand, and then mine. He was obviously of Hispanic descent and reminded me a little of Alejandro, with his tall, lanky body. But Alejandro’s features were more Spanish, while Gabriel’s were more Central American. His brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and enthusiasm.

“I’m Wade Danfield, and this is my boyfriend, Matt Carrswold.” It was interesting to see how carefully he checked us out. Purely journalistic interest?

“It’s nice to meet both of you. This is quite a story,” he said.

“How so?” I asked. I had my own idea of why, but I wanted to know what his angle was.

“Well, for starters you have the elder son of one of the biggest gay-bashers in the Senate coming out of the closet. That ensures it will be picked up by the wire. That makes it an amazing break for me, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

Wade flashed him that smile of his. “You have to sacrifice for it. Thank you for spending your Valentine’s Day with us.”

“No problem. Not like I had other plans,” he said kind of dejected. “The other part is the Stanford angle.” He paused for effect. “You’re not the typical gay guys that people think of. You look straight, you act straight, and you play hockey. I think it will be good to bust a stereotype or two.”

“You mean so people don’t think that all gay guys are flaming?” I asked.

“Well, there is that. But you also blaze a trail for guys who aren’t flaming. The typical guy that sits next to you in English Lit, who craves dick but is afraid to say anything because he doesn’t want to be like ‘them’. You set an example for him, show him that it’s not a question of whether he likes needlepoint or not. It’s a question of who he prefers to have sex with.” He looked at me carefully, as if he was trying to see in my soul, and I laughed internally. This guy was no Cody.

“Yep, you’d be amazed how many guys are willing to take a walk on the wild side. I’ll bet there’s even a reporter or two,” I said, blatantly flirting. Wade punched me playfully.

“Dude, I didn’t bring you here so you could hit on him,” Wade said. We all laughed, and Gabriel blushed a little bit. It wouldn’t take much work to nail him, I thought, even if he was pretty much straight. The vibe I was getting said that was a pretty big ‘if’.

I guess I’d freaked him out enough that he got down to business. He interviewed Wade, asking him about his family life and what made him decide to come out. He spent a lot of time asking Wade about his father’s reaction, and Wade basically outlined a moderate position on gay rights for the unwitting senator: the understanding that it wasn’t a choice or a disease that could be cured; the acknowledgment that gay men and women had rights and issues that needed attention; and his unconditional acceptance and love for his son. Wade also left the senator with the tenets that he absolutely couldn’t cave on. No gays in the military, and no gay marriage.

“So what about the other guys on the team?” Gabriel asked. “How did they react?”

“Well Matt came out first and they were great about it. There were two guys who had an issue with us and refused to play on the team with us. The other guys decided that they’d rather have Matt than them,” Wade said simply. “Of course, the fact that those other two guys were shitty hockey players may have helped that decision.” That got a chuckle from Gabriel.

“Are there other members of the team that are gay?” he asked. That freaked me out. That was what Turner had been worried about.

“Nope, only us. And God knows I tried,” I teased. Gabriel laughed, while Wade shook his head at my idiocy.

A young woman came in, probably a senior, and interrupted. “Gabriel, there are three guys here to see you.” I got really nervous then, and so did Wade. Did his father find out? Were these guys here to shut us down?

“I’m in an interview,” he said, irritated.

“I told them that, but they said they were here about your meeting with Mr. Danfield.” Now we really shit a brick. Gabriel looked at us, but we just shrugged.

“Can you bring them back?” he asked. Then he turned to us. “Who is it?”

“I have no idea,” Wade said. Our fears were instantly allayed when we saw Turner, LeBrand, and Gillespie there.

“Good afternoon gentlemen. What can I do for you?” Gabriel said.

“I’m the captain of the hockey team, and these are my two assistants. We just came by to offer Matt and Wade some support,” Turner said. I felt tears building in my eyes. I was such a fucking pussy. But shit, this was one hell of a nice thing to do.

Gabriel got them seats and asked them a bunch of questions about how they felt about playing with gay guys, and how they felt about showering with us. LeBrand was hilarious. “Danfield’s cool, but Carrswold is always checking me out. He’s kind of a perv that way.” I hoped Gabriel knew he was joking, and I really hoped he didn’t print that. They stayed for about half an hour then bailed. I thanked them with my eyes, because I didn’t want to hug them and embarrass them in public. That was probably one of the nicest things anyone had done for me, putting themselves on the line to show support like that.

A photographer came in and took pictures of us. He took some where we were side by side with our arms around each other, one where we were standing facing each other and gazing into each other’s eyes, and a couple where we were holding hands. The coolest one, I thought, was the one he took of just our hands. He had us hold hands, our fingers intertwined. Instead of a masculine hand and a feminine hand, like you'd normally see with a couple, there were two hands that obviously belonged to men. Both of us got our hands beaten up playing hockey. I mean, we wore gloves during the games, but not always during practice, plus skate blades can be sharp if you grab them the wrong way. It made our hands look rugged. Then there was the contrast between our hands in general. I had big hands, with fat fingers, while Wade's fingers were slimmer, more elegant.

When Gabriel was finally done, it had been three hours. A long time, not a horrible experience, but a grueling one to be sure. “I’ll have a draft of the article around 9pm tonight if you want to look at it,” he said. “You want me to bring it to you?” We arranged to meet him at Lag at 10pm. I walked out the door with Wade, feeling so free and liberated it was scary.

“How are you doing?” I asked him.

“I thought I'd be more nervous,” he said. “For the first time, I feel like I can almost just be myself.”

We went out to eat, a romantic dinner for two, then went back to Lag and hung out, just waiting until Gabriel showed up. Well, not just waiting, I already had a shit load of studying to do. Wade made Gabriel wait while he read through the proof and made a few changes, not to the article, but to spelling and facts. Gabriel promised that Wade could get a copy of the paper early in the morning when it printed, and then he left us alone.

“You need to call Beau,” I told him. I’d just thought of his little brother at the last minute.

“I was going to call him tomorrow morning,” Wade said. “I figured that way he could enjoy his Valentine’s Day dinner, and maybe get laid.” I laughed, but it kind of surprised me. The only real reason not to tell Beau was if he was worried that Beau might tell his father. Didn’t he trust Beau? I put that aside and we spent the rest of the night making love, enjoying each other fully.

February 15, 1999

The Stanford Daily was scattered throughout campus, free to anyone who wanted one. There on the front page was our picture, the one of us gazing at each other, with a big headline: “Senator’s Son Comes Out.” I’d snagged a bunch of copies for Brad, Robbie, Cody, Max, Marcel, and Lou, plus anyone else I’d forgotten. I also got one for my parents, put a note that said simply “FYI” on it, and mailed it to them in Ohio. Not that it would matter to them, but maybe, just maybe if they saw a hard-ass like Senator Danfield dealing with this, maybe they'd be able to as well. That and I figured that it couldn't hurt to show them that even though I was gay, I'd picked a boyfriend they should approve of. It occurred to me that I was still trying to have a relationship with them while they had done nothing but spit in my face, and that made it all seem so pointless. Still, maybe there would come a time when I could repair the damage.

I headed to class expecting a firestorm. I figured some guys would make smart-ass comments, and that I'd probably end up in a fight. Nothing happened. I mean, I got the occasional look, but nothing more than that. Friends or study partners in my classes invariably said the same thing: “Dude, you don’t look gay.” How was gay supposed to look? I blew it off and didn’t get pissed; they meant well. There were a lot of whispers in class, and it was obvious they were talking about me, but I detected no malice, just curiosity. It was good gossip. Still, it was a really long day. I had a study group in the afternoon, and Wade had some kind of lab, so I wouldn't get to see him until late in the afternoon.

I was supposed to meet Wade at the cafeteria around 5:00 for an early dinner, but he wasn't there when I got there. For anyone else, I would have just blown it off, but Wade was almost never late. He had a scheduler that he followed with rigid fidelity. It made me nervous, worried that something had happened to him, until he showed up ten minutes late, panting from sprinting across campus.

“You OK?” I asked.

“Yeah, just had to talk to a bunch of people about how gay I am,” he said with a smile. “Everyone was really cool.”

“Have you heard anything?” I asked him, referring to his father.

“No, nothing,” he said. “I got a hold of Beau between classes and we talked for a few minutes. He didn't seem all that surprised that I was gay, but he was really surprised that I was coming out. He seemed totally cool with it.”

“Why wasn't he surprised you're gay?” I asked.

“Dude, you gave him that copy of the tape, remember? And it started out with us making out,” he said. Shit, I'd forgotten all about that. “Have you gotten any shit?” Wade asked, changing the subject.

“Nope. Everyone’s been cool,” I said. I think we’d both been expecting more, but beyond people pointing at us and noticing us as we walked by, no one seemed to give a shit. That changed a little now that we were together. We walked back to the dorms and got a lot more looks and stares, and there was a lot of whispering. Still, none of it seemed mean-spirited. “I wonder if we were pussies if people would be giving us shit.”

Wade chuckled. “Better hope we don’t run into the football team.” I thought about that, and thought about Carullo. We hadn’t been together since before the Christmas break, but he’d run into me a few times and hit on me. As if by thinking about him I summoned him, and we almost ran into him as we were walking into Lag.

“Hey,” I said cheerfully.

“Hey,” he said, but he looked sad and maybe a little hurt. He turned to Wade. “Took some balls to do that. Let me know if anyone gives you shit and you need some backup.”

“Thanks, Carullo,” Wade said. He nodded to Wade, looked at me with that sad look, and then took off. I felt like shit. I must have hurt him, and I didn’t mean to. He'd probably wondered why I wasn't spending time with him, and now he'd found out. He'd discovered that I'd blown him off for another guy, and he'd done it by reading the fucking paper. I really liked the guy; I just wasn’t in love with him. And I’d forgotten Wade was looking at me. He turned and headed up the stairs, not pissed, just with a purpose. Fuck. We got to our room and I followed him in, closing and locking the door. He sat on his bed and I went over and put my arm around him, but he pushed me away.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded. A good offense seemed like the best solution.

“That’s where you were all those nights you weren’t home. You were with him,” Wade said, pissed off.

“Most of them, yeah. He’s a really good guy, and a good friend,” I said evenly. I had nothing to feel guilty about with him, and I wasn’t going to put up with any guilt trips.

“So how often do you fuck him? Once a week? Twice a week?” he demanded.

“Lately?” I asked, letting him get all pissed off. “Not at all.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t been with him since…”

“Since before Christmas break,” I said, finishing his sentence.

“You love him. You have his picture as your fucking wallpaper on your computer,” he said, almost yelling.

He was starting to piss me off. “I love you. I care about him.” I walked over and pulled up the wallpaper and pointed at it. “I think that’s a really cool picture, and it reminds me that it feels good to do something nice for someone.”

He looked at me, calmer but still flustered. “Why were you with him?”

And with that, he’d finally pissed me off. “Because you were hooking up with every fucking skank on campus. Unlike you, I found one guy, a nice guy, and fucked around with him while you were out whoring around,” I spat. I tried to calm down, but it wasn’t going to happen. “You have a lot of fucking nerve giving me any shit about this at all. He was there for me when you weren’t. He was the guy who had my back when Gilchrist jumped me. Not you. You had your dick inside some ho. So don’t try to make me feel bad, and don’t make me feel like the time I had with him was anything other than awesome.”

“If he was so awesome, why are you with me?” he asked. That made me smile, and that made my anger fade. Wade, so strong and confident, so happy and so assured, was just as insecure as the rest of us.

“Because I’m in love with you, you stupid fuck. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. When you’re not around, I look for you, I wait for you. And if you’re gone for a while, I miss you until it turns into an ache, and then becomes painful. And when you’re with me, you make me happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. That’s why,” I said.

He grinned, then blushed, and came over and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a stressful day. He seems like a really nice guy.”

I relented. “He is, but I think I hurt him, and that makes me feel like shit.”

Before he could say anything there was a loud commotion in the hall. We looked at each other, wondering what it was, and knowing that whatever it was, it probably was aimed at us. Wade’s eyes got really big and he rushed over to the window and looked out. I followed him and he pointed. There, in the front entryway, was a limo with another black sedan. There was a loud knock on the door. “Let’s go see which one of my parents is here,” Wade said. He headed over and unlocked the door, opening it up to let whichever parent it was in. His mother breezed in, dressed as elegantly as ever, looking incredibly out of place here in our dorm room. There were two bodyguards with her, and one of them followed her in and checked our room out then went outside to wait. Wade locked the door behind him.

She gave me a withering look. “Can you give me a minute alone with my son?” Her voice contained the closest thing to a sneer someone with her smooth, refined accent and manners could affect.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Wade said forcefully. She looked at him and was taken aback. This was not the bitchy and petulant boy that liked to stir up shit and make her home life miserable. This was a calm, assertive man taking a position. “Welcome to California, Mother. What brings you all the way out here?”

“You know very well what brought me all the way out here. That article in the paper, a college newspaper no less, which has gone screaming through the Capitol like a brushfire,” she said. She was clearly pissed off, or at least as close to pissed off as she would allow herself to be.

“Did you read it?” Wade asked.

“Of course I read it!” she said.

“Then I’m doubly surprised to find you here. I would have thought it was pretty self explanatory,” Wade said. It was interesting how, now that he was talking to his mother, his speech became much more refined and, well, fake.

“Oh you are, are you? First of all, you come out with this nonsense that you’re a homosexual just to embarrass your father and the rest of us. That really is taking your childish games too far Wade,” she said, glaring at him. “Then you re-write your father’s position on gay rights, one that’s sure to cost him dearly when he goes to the polls next year. What will you say when he refutes you?”

“It’s not a game, Mother, I am gay. It is who I am. If that bothers you, or embarrasses Father, well that’s really too bad. I’d like to say that I give a shit, but I really don’t.” Now he sounded like the same old petulant Wade. He must be pretty pissed. “By the way, can I get you a drink?” She ignored his reference to her alcoholism.

“You’ll look like an idiot when he refutes your statements,” she reasserted.

“No, if he does that he’ll look like an idiot. He’ll look like someone who says one thing to his family, and then turns around and lies to his constituents. No Mother, I think he’ll just have to hope that his voting base is broader than those religious Nazis he usually courts,” Wade said.

“You are not gay,” she stated firmly. “This, this person, this monster, he has co-opted you, convinced you to live this indecent life.” She pointed at me as if she was a Brahmin and I was an Untouchable.

“I love Matt, so I'll thank you not to talk about him like that. I'm gay. It’s part of who I am, Mother,” Wade said firmly. “Although if anyone had an impact on me being gay, it would probably be Father.”

“I suppose this is the part where you complain about him not being there, about how he was always gone and you had no male role models and that’s why you’re a homosexual,” she said contemptuously.

“No, this is the part where I complain about him repeatedly raping me from when I was twelve years old up until this last Christmas,” Wade said, staring her square in the eyes.

She stared at him, horrified. “Is this the next lie you plan to spread around? Accusing your father of molesting you?”

“I’m thinking about it. I would certainly feel obliged to do that if he goes out and tells everyone I’m a liar and that he still hates gay people,” Wade said. Now he was so calm it was scary.

“He, we will be forced to discredit you, to make you an object of ridicule. I don’t want to do that to you Wade. Don’t make us do that,” she said.

“Go ahead Mother. Call me a liar. Tell the world. Only I have proof. Father knows I have proof, and even Beau knows I have proof. So go ask him about that and see what he tells you. Why do you think he sent you out here? He doesn’t have the guts to face me,” Wade said.

She was about to rant and rave some more, but instead she just paced back and forth in our room like a caged lion. “What proof do you have? And how does Beau know about this?”

“I have a video tape that shows Father fucking me in the ass,” he said crudely for effect. “Beau has seen it.”

“You have a tape?” she asked, not believing him. “Even if you did, why would you show it to Beau?”

“Because Father always threatened that if I didn’t let him fuck me, he’d go fuck Beau, and he said it again on the tape. I wanted Beau to know so he didn’t fall for the same bullshit that I did,” he said. “Why do you think I’m always there when Beau is home, Mother? If it weren’t for that, I would never have come home. Ever.”

“Your father would never do that. He would never do such a thing. You are just creating more and more lies, and now you’ve pulled your brother into your corruption,” she said.

“Would you like to see it?” Wade asked. “Or maybe I should just haul my lying ass down to CNN with my tape and see how they feel about it?”

She stared at him, and it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. She didn’t want to see the tape. She didn’t want to know. Suddenly I felt rage roar through my body and I spoke up, “You knew about this didn’t you? You suspected, and you did nothing.”

“I’m having a conversation with my son. Do not interrupt,” she said coldly.

“You’re in my room too, so mind your damn manners,” I told her. I saw Wade almost chuckle at that, but then he refocused on the issue. “Did you know?”

She looked at me, her eyes full of contempt, as if I were some underling who could and should be summarily disposed of. “Did you, Mother?” Wade asked.

“There’s nothing to know,” she said, only her objection wasn’t as firm as her other comments.

“You sacrificed your own son to satisfy your husband when you couldn’t,” I said to her coldly, so coldly I thought Wade might even defend her.

“That’s the last time I will listen to comments like that from you,” she said, almost shouting. I’d made another VHS copy of the tape when I got back from Virginia and secured the original camcorder cassette in my safe deposit box. I got up and walked over to my locked desk drawer, no one saying anything as I did. I took the copy and popped it into the VCR, turned on the television and hit play. She wanted to stop me, she didn’t want to see it, but she had no choice. I stood there by the door, prepared to force her to see it if she tried to leave, and watched the all-too-familiar video. She was pretty impervious until he actually entered Wade.

“I’ve seen enough,” she said, pretending to be offended.

“No you haven’t,” I said.

“Turn it off,” she demanded.

“Shut the fuck up and watch it or you’ll see it on the God damn evening news,” I yelled. She glared at me and watched the whole thing, watched while her husband ejaculated and left, and then came the part I wanted her to see. The part where Wade collapsed on the bed and broke down. I watched her as she took in the scene, the pain he’d endured. Her eyes fluttered, and her mouth quivered, but other than that she remained impassive.

“Give me the tape,” she demanded when it was over.

“Sure,” I said, and popped it out, handing it to her. She looked at me nervously.

“How many copies are there?”

“Several, all safely stored in various places and ready to be released if anything happens to us,” I said confidently. The conversation had been between her and me, but Wade intervened again.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” Wade said. “You don’t care that he did that to me. You knew, you stood by and let this happen.”

She looked at Wade, wanting to argue and tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t do it convincingly. He’d see right through her. For just a moment, her eyes got a little watery and she almost looked human, but then she got a grip, and her same resolute demeanor re-asserted itself. She handed me the tape and started heading toward the door, then suddenly she stopped and turned back to face Wade. “It seems that your father has a new position on gay rights,” she said calmly. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”

“I'm doing this because he's wrong; his position on gay issues was hypocritical and stupid. I won't have my father out there crusading against me, when I know what he really is,” Wade said firmly. “And don't give me that religious bullshit about homosexuality. We all know it's crap.”

“I don't give a damn about that, I only give a damn about the political ramifications,” she said, changing yet again. She had completely lost her smooth façade, and was now a ruthless politician. “Your father has been touted as a national candidate, possibly even suitable for a cabinet position if there is another Republican administration. This revelation of yours could derail that.”

“You and I both know that is unlikely. In reality, I'm doing you a favor. If he's going to be on the national stage, he's going to have to be less extreme,” Wade said.

“Not if we win next year,” she said, looking positively sinister. “The conservative alliance, the factions coalescing, will take this country farther to the right than ever before.”

“Well I really don't give a shit about that,” Wade said. “He's got a new policy, and he’d better stick to it. That and you both leave me the fuck alone. You mess with me, I ruin you. It's that simple.”

“You have learned this game well, Wade,” she said, with actual pride in her voice. “It is a shame you have ruined yourself politically by telling the world you're gay.”

I saw, for a fleeting moment, a flash of regret fly across his face. But he didn't let it linger. “I learned from the master.”

“Yet you hate your father,” she said.

“He's not the master; both you and I know it. You are. He does what you tell him to do. So why did you let him do that to me, Mother? Why did you let him molest me?” Wade asked. Now he was letting his guard down.

“I did not know,” she said. And then something really incredible happened. This evil and scheming woman actually let her guard down too. “You may not believe me, but that is the truth. My fault here lies in not even asking the question so I didn't have to know. I knew you hated him. I didn't know why, but I knew you, and I knew you would have had a reason. I didn't ask. I should have, but I didn't.”

“So will you pretend like nothing ever happened now?” Wade asked, bitter and angry.

“No, I won't. I will use this to grind him under my thumb even more,” she said, with stunning ferocity.

“Oh terrific. A lot of good that will do me,” Wade said. “I want you to know, Mother, that if he comes near me again, if he touches me – or Beau, I will rip him into pieces with my bare hands.” His anger was enough to scare even her.

“I don't think that will be an issue. I suspect you have neutered him, that aspect of his life,” she told him.

“So he likes boys, young men,” Wade said. “Doesn't that bother you?”

“I've known about his philandering for a long time, Wade. I just didn't know it included you. Only you have it wrong. He has his favorites, but they are all women. I ignore them, and he repays me by doing what I tell him to do. It has made him a senator.” She sighed. “But this is tiresome. I came out here to find out what had possessed you to do such a thing. I have my answers.”

“He fucks with me again, Mother, and I will go public with this. I think he would be a horrible cabinet member. It's bad enough that he's a senator. And he’d better pray for our longevity,” he said, gesturing to me.

“Then we must make sure that you two remain on, uh, neutral terms,” she said. She walked up to Wade and gave him a hug and a kiss like Mummy would, only more frigid. She headed toward the door and stopped to look at me. “We have made his life hell. Maybe you can bring some happiness to him. If you do that, you have my blessing.” And then she was gone. I locked the door behind her and turned to look at Wade.

“Dude, your mom is a fucking bitch,” I said.

He laughed, almost hysterically. “That she is.”

“How does she keep your dad so whipped?” I didn't get it.

“My father comes from an old political family with the bluest of Virginia blood. My mother is fucking loaded; she's a tobacco money heiress. Without her war chest, he wouldn't have gotten where he is now. Without his pedigree, she wouldn't be the powerhouse that she is. It's a symbiotic relationship, not based on love, but based on power and money,” he said cynically.

“You're good at all this political stuff, at figuring things out. If you go into that world, promise me you won't come out as twisted as they are,” I said.

“You don't have much faith in me,” he said, pissed off.

“Yeah, I do. I have a lot of faith in you. I just wanted to hear you say it,” I told him.

“I'm in fucking college Matt,” he said. “It's a long way off, if I do anything. Will I be a better person than she is, or he is? Fuck yeah. Will I be perfect? No.”

“So you're in fucking college eh?” I teased. “I guess that makes me your professor.”

He smiled at me and let me pull him into my arms. “I guess it does.”

“I think it's time for class,” I said, as I stripped off his clothes and fucked him to clear his mind and take his thoughts off his fucked up family.