“This is my first day.”
Obviously, I thought, but didn’t want to make him feel stupid, so I said nothing.
“Umm, are there assigned seats in here?”
“Nope. Sit wherever you want.” I swept out my arm.
He gave me a shy smile and slid into the desk next to me. The odd sensation in my gut intensified and I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips. They were so…perfect. They looked soft. I stared for a moment, forgetting myself before I caught what I was doing and tore away my gaze.
I returned his shy smile and that was it. We were instant friends. Within weeks, we were best friends. Whatever I had felt at our first meeting had subsided and we bonded over our non-muscular frames, our love of soccer, all things Star Trek, and our desire to make good grades and go to college. We shared ourhopes and dreams with each other, something I had never done with any of my previous friends. It was so easy to open up to him; I never felt the slightest bit of judgment or condescension no matter what I toldhim.
But I didn’t share my big secret with him. I wasn’t ready to confront it myself, let alone talk about it with my best friend. Deep down in my heart, I thought he would be able to handle me being gay, but I just never felt ready to bring it up.
Somehow the years had rolled by and I still hadn’t told him. I didn’t date anyone in high school and hewould sometimes ask me why I never asked out a girl, but I let him think it was because I was too shy. It wasn’t a total lie—I was timid around people sometimes. But I wasn’t sure he totally bought it because I never acted apprehensive around girls—it was only boys I would be shy around.
One day, I pointed out to him that he never dated either. He laughed and called us “The Two ‘Too Shy’ Musketeers.” Dorky, but it worked for us.
Over the years, we spent more weekends together than I could count at his house, but I never reciprocated. Not even once. That was another big secret to hide. I was too ashamed to have him see how my dad treated us, although it was impossible to hide completely. Occasionally, Jeff would hang out at my house after school or for an evening if I knew my dad would be out, but I never invited him to sleep over. Nights were too unpredictable at my house. Jeff never asked me why I didn’t invite him to stay, which led me to believe he probably knew, but was too kind to bring it up. It had become an unspoken understanding between us.
As I grew, my dad’s drinking intensified into a daily occurrence, and the abuse my mom suffered at his hands became harder for her to hide. I hated being home, but it also tore me up to leave my mom and sister alone with him. My dad had never been physical with me or my sister, but he had ratcheted up his verbal abuse each year until he was a master at it. He was famous for giving us a compliment that was really an insult. One of his personal favorites for me was “You look nice. Is that your sister’s shirt?” This was a dig at my small stature, and his way of telling me he thought I looked feminine. I think I handled it pretty well, but I was worried about my sister. He was destroying her self-confidence. I could see the pain in her eyes. I wondered why my mom stayed with him—surely she didn’t love him, did she? Truthfully, I wasn’t sure my mom had the ability to leave him. I believe, in her mind, she felt trapped.
I tried to stick up for her a few times over the years, but she literally begged me to stop. She was so infear he would kill me that she made me promise to let her handle it. There would come a day I would rescue my mom and sister and get them away from him. Deep in my heart, I was certain of this. It had become my mission. It was one of the reasons I worked so hard in school. I needed to get good grades and go to college so I could have a career that would allow me to take care of my family.
My goal was growing closer. High school graduation was only two months away, then off to community college next fall. I would have loved to go away to college, like Jeff planned, but I couldn’t leave my mom alone…
I sighed as my mind drifted back to the present just in time to see Russell Adams kiss Deidre again and squeeze her ass. Ugh, why did I have to see that? Why couldn’t he be attracted to men?
“Aaron!”
I watched as Deidre practically climbed onto Russell’s lap, grinding against him. Damn, where were theteachers? Did they have spring break fever, too? I watched a little longer, imagining it was me straddling those big, thick thighs…
“Aaron? Are you okay?”
I finally realized someone was speaking to me. Crap. It was Jeff. How long had he been here? Had he seen me staring at Russell?
“Hey,” I offered, trying to act nonchalant.