Ch 17 - Domestic Abuse

Early Saturday morning, Spencer, Triston, Bobby, Darrell, and Walter sat quietly in the diner booth looking at the food that had just been delivered.  Bobby had been graphically describing his new boyfriend’s genitals when he spotted the waitress headed their way and stopped.  There was no one else nearby and at first he had waited for her to leave but then they fell into silence as they looked over their food.  It was recovery food for everyone except Darrell who hadn’t been drinking. 

“What were we talking about?” Darrell asked.

“My boyfriend’s balls,” Bobby said.

“So he’s an athlete?” Spencer asked.

Each of them laughed a little.  There was a lull in the conversation, in movement, but finally Walter picked up his fork and stabbed it into the chili cheese fries he had ordered.

“Somehow it doesn’t look as good as it sounded,” Walter said.

“Do you want my pancakes?” Bobby offered.  “I shouldn’t have ordered so many carbs.”

“Still trying to keep that six-pack?” Triston asked.

“I’m going for an eight,” Bobby said.  “He loves to play with them.”

“I’m not this hungry,” Spencer said.

They looked around at each other.  Triston leaned on the table with his elbow and scratched at his scalp, clearly irritated.

“What’s wrong?  We can get it to go.  Maybe give it to a homeless person,” Spencer said.

“Nothing, it’s just I have this friend and he’s trying to get out of an abusive relationship,” Triston said.

“Damn,” Spencer said.

“And he’s gay?” Walter asked.

“Yeah,” Triston said.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, he’s gay. Gay people can be in abusive relationships,”


Walter looked around at the other men.  It was something that had never occurred to him.  Being gay was hard enough, getting into a relationship was supposed to be the reward.  But abusive?

“You did know that it can happen right?” Darrell asked.

Walter nodded.

“Really?” Bobby asked.

“No,” Walter said before letting out a nervous laugh.  “I mean, I didn’t think. That’s messed up.”

“Who?”

“You guys haven’t met him. I know him from the store. He’s a really nice guy.”

“How can we help?” Darrell asked.

“Well, he needs a place to stay,” Triston said.

“He can stay with us,” Darrell said, “on the couch.”

“It would be crowded,” Bobby said.

“We could manage,” Darrell said.

“He can stay with me, at my place,” Spencer said.

They all looked to him.  Spencer had been living alone longer than they had been friends.  He bragged about having his own dorm room in college.  The few nights, the few mornings he spent with them was an act of convenience, some act of desperation. 

“Really,” Spencer said.  “And I promise I won’t creep him out.”

They stared.

“Too much,” he said, “I promise I’ll wear my underwear in the morning.”

“That’s more than you do for us,” Triston said.

It was an agreement Spencer felt proud about as they went to bed, when they woke up, and even when Triston called the man in question.  They agreed that Triston would bring him to Spencer’s apartment that evening. 

Spencer went home hours earlier than normal to clean up.  He made sure the last load of dishes was in the dishwasher, his bed was made, the coffee table orderly, the bathroom was scrubbed, and there was nothing embarrassing under any of the furniture in his living room.  He was ready fifteen minutes before they were supposed to meet.  When he got the text message from Triston saying they were running late he rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans nervously before pouring himself a drink, then feeling self-conscious he downed it, washed out the glass, and returned everything to normal before he went into the living room and sat on his couch.

A little while later there was a knock on the door and he got to his feet, double checked everything mentally before he opened the door to find Triston in the hallway with a backpack standing next to a handsome young man carrying a duffel bag.

“Hey Spence,” Triston said.

“Hey,” Spencer said.

“I’m Josh,” the young man said offering his hand.

They shook hands and Spencer invited them inside, directed them to set the bags down against the wall before they went into the living room to sit.  Spencer had expected him to look wounded, to have a black eye, busted lip, or maybe a visible scar but he didn’t.  Josh was handsome, young, and masculine.  He moved with a prepared, self-conscious effort.  There was something naive, even innocent about him.  It was hard to believe someone could mistreat him, abuse him. 

They talked for an hour about life, the world, and their jobs in a circular introduction.  Josh was quick to ask either of them a question and listen to the response.  Spencer and Triston felt comfortable with each other, joked with each other, and it was easy to respond, to pontificate until either of them ran out of steam, found that he was dominating the conversation and so he would think of something to ask, something to say and wait. 

After they felt like they had introduced themselves they talked about house rules, obligations, and responsibilities.  Spencer was surprised that Josh would be up earlier than him because he worked the morning shift as a barista as well as a lunch shift at a restaurant across town.  He said he’d have to get used to the new bus routes but he’d survive.  They talked a little about their jobs until it felt complete.  They looked around at each other.

“Want to watch some television?” Spencer asked.

“Sure,” Josh said.