Monday, May 19, 2014
MIA - Blog Post
Sorry, I got distracted by editing my book and other life things and haven't had a chance to write for this week's blog post. Editing will be done soon, just on Chapter 40 today, the last chapter, and then back to regular things. Ugh, so many apologies.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Ch 30 - The Agony
The ticking of the clock was like a torture device that reminded Darrell of his idleness and each passing moment that he wasn’t doing something as he sat in the recliner watching television. It was enough to make him want a tall glass of beer, maybe a few shots of whiskey because that’s how he used to pass the time. That was his former coping mechanism for everything he didn’t want to feel.
It used to be work hard Monday through Friday, start drinking Friday night, recover on Sunday by nursing his poison and then be ready for work on Monday where he’d really dry out in the first meeting of the week. He would regain his faculties, his brain would be stimulated by all of the problems and all of the solutions. Then Wednesday became like Friday and he was constantly trying to recover, no manage, from the poison he drank.
He stabbed his thumbnail into the tip of his middle finger to try and bring himself back to the present as he sat there. Walter was a few feet away quietly eating a bowl of cereal. He felt like a burden to all of them. He felt like his father had been to his mother and to himself when he was young. He thought about how his father was a drunk. He thought about how he didn’t want the man to know he was gay. And he thought about his neighbor who had taken advantage of him when he was a boy and how that could be the blame for everything.
His father would come home late and drunk. His inebriation made him like a wounded animal in need of shelter and his mother, the faithful and dependable wife, would tend to him, care for him. That went on for years with varying degrees of intensity and need, even after he was off to college.
That was when he found himself, or at least could be himself. So many trysts in dark rooms, making himself vulnerable to men who used him for his body and what he represented to them, another conquered man. No one wanted to have a relationship, it was too dangerous. At least the sex could be forgotten, denied, but a relationship, that was something else, something people would find out, something his mother would find out.
For a moment he thought it would be easier when his father died. He came out to his mother, sat her down on a Saturday of his weekend visit home and he told her. She nodded and smiled, then said she didn’t blame him and it wasn’t his fault.
The neighbor, he thought, it was the neighbor who she thinks did this to me. A boy not much older than himself who used to be the terror of the neighborhood. Everyone seemed to have a story about catching him doing something wrong, everyone except Darrell. Well, that’s not true, because there was that one thing, well those things. His mother had almost caught them several times.
The worst was when his friend forgot a pair of underwear at his place, in his room. His mother knew at once the underwear wasn’t Darrell’s. She asked him about it and he told her that it was because they gotten muddy and that he was borrowing a set of clothes. She didn’t seem to believe him. She was suspicious.
But all of that was years ago and yet it felt real, like it had stuck to him. He had told himself many times that there was some way to explain, some perfect argument, a rationale that would make his mother believe and yet he could never bring himself to say anything. Somehow, each time, just before she would prove her willing ignorance to him. She would say something that took the wind out of his lungs.
He moved the thumbnail to his index finger and worked another familiar groove. It was enough to bring him back to the present and yet he felt it. He felt that anger and sorrow right there in his throat, He had been on edge since the accident. It was the little, sentimental things that seemed to do it, something in a movie or some comment, even commercials.
“Walter,” he said. “Would you give me a minute?”
“What?”
“Please, I’m not feeling well. I need a moment.”
Walter looked him in the eye.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to get something?”
“Would you go to the store and buy me a beer?” Darrell asked.
Walter let out a nervous laugh.
“You don’t drink,” he said.
“Please, something, anything, just go out.”
“I’ll get you some ice cream,” Walter replied.
“That’s fine,” he said.
Walter got to his feet, scratched at his chest, but continued to stare at Darrell. The sight of him dressed in a small, comic t-shirt that rode up easily, skinny jeans that looked like a second skin, and his simple, ordinary shoes with thin bottoms reminded Darrell of Walter’s unguarded personality, his youthful curiosity, and his endurance for ridicule. It was enough to make him cry.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Walter said as he approached him.
“No, please, leave me,” Darrell said.
Walter moved closer, touched his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“It’s too late. You just have to let it out. You’ll feel better.”
“No,” Darrell said with a shake of his head.
“Yes, you have to let it out. You have to scream about it. Even if no one listens and no one knows, you can’t hold it inside of you.”
That sent Darrell over the edge as his silent tears became vicious sobs and grunts of agony. Walter moved closer, sat beside him on the recliner’s large armrest and placed his arm down around Darrell’s shoulders. He rubbed Darrell’s shoulder and took a deep breath.
It used to be work hard Monday through Friday, start drinking Friday night, recover on Sunday by nursing his poison and then be ready for work on Monday where he’d really dry out in the first meeting of the week. He would regain his faculties, his brain would be stimulated by all of the problems and all of the solutions. Then Wednesday became like Friday and he was constantly trying to recover, no manage, from the poison he drank.
He stabbed his thumbnail into the tip of his middle finger to try and bring himself back to the present as he sat there. Walter was a few feet away quietly eating a bowl of cereal. He felt like a burden to all of them. He felt like his father had been to his mother and to himself when he was young. He thought about how his father was a drunk. He thought about how he didn’t want the man to know he was gay. And he thought about his neighbor who had taken advantage of him when he was a boy and how that could be the blame for everything.
His father would come home late and drunk. His inebriation made him like a wounded animal in need of shelter and his mother, the faithful and dependable wife, would tend to him, care for him. That went on for years with varying degrees of intensity and need, even after he was off to college.
That was when he found himself, or at least could be himself. So many trysts in dark rooms, making himself vulnerable to men who used him for his body and what he represented to them, another conquered man. No one wanted to have a relationship, it was too dangerous. At least the sex could be forgotten, denied, but a relationship, that was something else, something people would find out, something his mother would find out.
For a moment he thought it would be easier when his father died. He came out to his mother, sat her down on a Saturday of his weekend visit home and he told her. She nodded and smiled, then said she didn’t blame him and it wasn’t his fault.
The neighbor, he thought, it was the neighbor who she thinks did this to me. A boy not much older than himself who used to be the terror of the neighborhood. Everyone seemed to have a story about catching him doing something wrong, everyone except Darrell. Well, that’s not true, because there was that one thing, well those things. His mother had almost caught them several times.
The worst was when his friend forgot a pair of underwear at his place, in his room. His mother knew at once the underwear wasn’t Darrell’s. She asked him about it and he told her that it was because they gotten muddy and that he was borrowing a set of clothes. She didn’t seem to believe him. She was suspicious.
But all of that was years ago and yet it felt real, like it had stuck to him. He had told himself many times that there was some way to explain, some perfect argument, a rationale that would make his mother believe and yet he could never bring himself to say anything. Somehow, each time, just before she would prove her willing ignorance to him. She would say something that took the wind out of his lungs.
He moved the thumbnail to his index finger and worked another familiar groove. It was enough to bring him back to the present and yet he felt it. He felt that anger and sorrow right there in his throat, He had been on edge since the accident. It was the little, sentimental things that seemed to do it, something in a movie or some comment, even commercials.
“Walter,” he said. “Would you give me a minute?”
“What?”
“Please, I’m not feeling well. I need a moment.”
Walter looked him in the eye.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to get something?”
“Would you go to the store and buy me a beer?” Darrell asked.
Walter let out a nervous laugh.
“You don’t drink,” he said.
“Please, something, anything, just go out.”
“I’ll get you some ice cream,” Walter replied.
“That’s fine,” he said.
Walter got to his feet, scratched at his chest, but continued to stare at Darrell. The sight of him dressed in a small, comic t-shirt that rode up easily, skinny jeans that looked like a second skin, and his simple, ordinary shoes with thin bottoms reminded Darrell of Walter’s unguarded personality, his youthful curiosity, and his endurance for ridicule. It was enough to make him cry.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Walter said as he approached him.
“No, please, leave me,” Darrell said.
Walter moved closer, touched his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“It’s too late. You just have to let it out. You’ll feel better.”
“No,” Darrell said with a shake of his head.
“Yes, you have to let it out. You have to scream about it. Even if no one listens and no one knows, you can’t hold it inside of you.”
That sent Darrell over the edge as his silent tears became vicious sobs and grunts of agony. Walter moved closer, sat beside him on the recliner’s large armrest and placed his arm down around Darrell’s shoulders. He rubbed Darrell’s shoulder and took a deep breath.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Ch. 29 Prospects
Going to a gay bar with Chad was still uncomfortable for Spencer, especially because he was cute and because he got most of the attention which didn’t seem to bother him. It was the muscled build and the close cut hair, Spencer told himself.
“So how are things with your roommate?”
“That was a total disaster. I kind of freaked out on him and he didn’t deserve it and I apologized to him but it doesn’t feel the same.”
“Is he still living there?”
“Yeah, but we don’t talk much. It’s kind of this awkward silence. I keep thinking I have something to say to him, you know, but it won’t come out right. I think it’s over. It’s like a Cold War and we’re just going to have to part ways.”
“Do you still like him?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said.
“Then you should give it another chance,” Chad said.
“How do I do that?”
Chad took a sip from his drink.
“You should apologize again,” Chad said. “But mean it this time.”
“Hey, I meant it last time.”
Chad rolled his eyes and sat back. He crossed his arms and looked away.
“What? You don’t think so?”
“I think you said what needed to be said but I don’t think it was a really, sincere apology. Sometimes you have to apologize more than once. My wife and I both have been there with each other. When you can apologize the second time then it’s real.”
“But he doesn’t even want a relationship with me. He wants to go back to that, that asshole, that monster and it’s like, so frustrating, I can’t even stand it. Who does that?”
Chad shook his head.
“We are all in unequal power relationships all of our lives, sometimes we mistake abuse for love, at least he has another option and you are giving him that. Some people have no resources, hey, at least he stayed.”
“I think that had more to do with Triston than me,” Spencer said.
“But it gave you another chance. I’m not saying he’ll accept your apology or that you will end up happily ever after. I’m just saying you should be a man and do it.”
“And when was the last time you apologized twice?” Spencer asked.
“When I lost my job,” Chad answered. “I said it that day and I said it just a few days ago because I can’t find work.”
“Nothing?”
“That I want to do. My best option right now is security. I go from being a protector of people to being a protector of stuff.”
“There’s always gay porn,” Spencer said.
“The money isn’t regular enough and besides I want to run for public office some day,” Chad said.
“Really?”
“No,” Chad said.
“You wouldn’t have to take it up the ass,” Spencer joked.
“It’s not my style,” Chad said. “I didn’t really like it. You gay guys are tough.”
Spencer stopped himself from spitting out his drink. He swallowed.
“Uh?”
“It happened once. Okay, technically twice, but the first time was a surprise and the second time was, well, more voluntary but it didn’t feel good.”
“Uh,” Spencer said.
“The prostate is one thing but having something inside you is too much, well for me it is,” Chad said.
“No uh, I can understand that,” Spencer said.
“Really?”
“We’re not all like obsessed with it. Some of us like it and some of us don’t.”
Chad nodded. They looked at each other awkwardly before looking away and letting out nervous laughter.
“Is that true what you just told me?”
“Completely, but let’s never talk about it again. And if you tell anyone I’ll deny it.”
“So guys don’t do it for you? You aren’t, like, bisexual?”
“Sorry no,” Chad said.
“But you’re comfortable in your sexuality? What about a job here?”
“What?”
“Yeah, gay bars hire anyone as long as they’re cute. You’d make good tips, especially if the guys can’t have you.”
“Come on,” Chad said. “I worked as a bartender once but that was mostly dealing with beer.”
“You’re not doing anything else,” Spencer said.
“It would be easy. I could work part-time and go back to school and finish my bachelor’s degree.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Come with me, I kind of know the owner.”
“What? No, not really, I couldn’t.”
“Come on,” Spencer said before standing.
He moved to Chad’s side and began to pull at his arm playfully before Chad got up and began to walk with him. They made their way through the bar towards the back and the manager’s office.
“So how are things with your roommate?”
“That was a total disaster. I kind of freaked out on him and he didn’t deserve it and I apologized to him but it doesn’t feel the same.”
“Is he still living there?”
“Yeah, but we don’t talk much. It’s kind of this awkward silence. I keep thinking I have something to say to him, you know, but it won’t come out right. I think it’s over. It’s like a Cold War and we’re just going to have to part ways.”
“Do you still like him?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said.
“Then you should give it another chance,” Chad said.
“How do I do that?”
Chad took a sip from his drink.
“You should apologize again,” Chad said. “But mean it this time.”
“Hey, I meant it last time.”
Chad rolled his eyes and sat back. He crossed his arms and looked away.
“What? You don’t think so?”
“I think you said what needed to be said but I don’t think it was a really, sincere apology. Sometimes you have to apologize more than once. My wife and I both have been there with each other. When you can apologize the second time then it’s real.”
“But he doesn’t even want a relationship with me. He wants to go back to that, that asshole, that monster and it’s like, so frustrating, I can’t even stand it. Who does that?”
Chad shook his head.
“We are all in unequal power relationships all of our lives, sometimes we mistake abuse for love, at least he has another option and you are giving him that. Some people have no resources, hey, at least he stayed.”
“I think that had more to do with Triston than me,” Spencer said.
“But it gave you another chance. I’m not saying he’ll accept your apology or that you will end up happily ever after. I’m just saying you should be a man and do it.”
“And when was the last time you apologized twice?” Spencer asked.
“When I lost my job,” Chad answered. “I said it that day and I said it just a few days ago because I can’t find work.”
“Nothing?”
“That I want to do. My best option right now is security. I go from being a protector of people to being a protector of stuff.”
“There’s always gay porn,” Spencer said.
“The money isn’t regular enough and besides I want to run for public office some day,” Chad said.
“Really?”
“No,” Chad said.
“You wouldn’t have to take it up the ass,” Spencer joked.
“It’s not my style,” Chad said. “I didn’t really like it. You gay guys are tough.”
Spencer stopped himself from spitting out his drink. He swallowed.
“Uh?”
“It happened once. Okay, technically twice, but the first time was a surprise and the second time was, well, more voluntary but it didn’t feel good.”
“Uh,” Spencer said.
“The prostate is one thing but having something inside you is too much, well for me it is,” Chad said.
“No uh, I can understand that,” Spencer said.
“Really?”
“We’re not all like obsessed with it. Some of us like it and some of us don’t.”
Chad nodded. They looked at each other awkwardly before looking away and letting out nervous laughter.
“Is that true what you just told me?”
“Completely, but let’s never talk about it again. And if you tell anyone I’ll deny it.”
“So guys don’t do it for you? You aren’t, like, bisexual?”
“Sorry no,” Chad said.
“But you’re comfortable in your sexuality? What about a job here?”
“What?”
“Yeah, gay bars hire anyone as long as they’re cute. You’d make good tips, especially if the guys can’t have you.”
“Come on,” Chad said. “I worked as a bartender once but that was mostly dealing with beer.”
“You’re not doing anything else,” Spencer said.
“It would be easy. I could work part-time and go back to school and finish my bachelor’s degree.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Come with me, I kind of know the owner.”
“What? No, not really, I couldn’t.”
“Come on,” Spencer said before standing.
He moved to Chad’s side and began to pull at his arm playfully before Chad got up and began to walk with him. They made their way through the bar towards the back and the manager’s office.
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