Corey sat in front of his computer. On the wall above him were several golden plaques emblazoned on wood finish. He stared at them, recalling the day he found out his first poem had been published. It was included in a book of poetry by the editors of some fancy magazine. His Mother was so proud of him. Together, they cried tears of joy. She knew he loved to write. It was his talent, his gift. He would let her read every piece before he sent it anywhere for consideration, and she was honored he did so. Now he had his own book of poems published, and was acclaimed nationwide as a literary genius. Corey didn’t think he was a genius. He just had so much inside, and it always made so much more sense in verse, than in voice. It was his therapy. His way of dealing with the screaming world around him. His poems took him to a quiet sleep. The last one he had written was the night his mother died. It was right after his father had told him, but before he could cry.
He had hated his Mother for leaving him. He cursed her, he screamed and cried. “How could you do this? How could you leave me behind? I didn’t even get to say good-bye.” He couldn’t even remember the last thing his Mother said to him. What was she wearing? He needed to remember, he had to. That was all he had left of her. Now, it was even hard for him to recapture the sweet sound of her gentle tone. Though he didn’t know it, it was a lot like his own voice. He wondered if she was with him, if her spirit remained, though her physical body was no longer. That’s what the psychic’s on afternoon television claim. He wondered if she could hear him. See him. Touch him.
Corey pushed a strand of his hair away from his face. “Mom?” he began quietly.
The bedroom was completely still. He waited for something... anything. A light to flicker, the wind to race through the open window. Nothing happened. “I’m not sure if you’re there or not. Maybe I’m talking to myself, but if you can hear me, I just... I need to know...,” He couldn’t finish his sentence, the pain overwhelmed him. His insides were on fire. He put his hands over his face and cried.
Gabe watched him through the telescope. Sympathetic, he glanced downward for a moment, a lump in his throat. He sat back in his chair and glanced over at the telephone. He couldn’t call Corey. Not now. It would be awkward. He had never spoken to a gay person before. What if Corey thought he was flirting with him? Or, even worse, what if Corey began flirting with him? He wouldn’t say who he was; he would just say he was a friend. What if Corey thought it was a prank call? He had to do something.
He scanned his messy bedroom and then picked up a sock from the floor. He lifted the telephone receiver from its base and slid the sock over the end. He blocked the call from appearing on a caller identification device, shut off all of his lights, rushed back to the open window, and crouched down in front of it. He dialed the number, and for a flash of a second was surprised he had committed it to memory and then listened with great anticipation as it began to ring.
“Please don’t let the Dad pick up, please don’t let the Dad pick up.” he chanted quietly.
Then... an answer.
“Hello?” The soft, sad voice said. Gabe didn’t reply right away. He was taken with this voice. It was so weak, so fragile.
Gabe stammered, “Hi... Corey?” He asked.
“Yes,” the soft voice answered.
“I thought I would just call, and... and say hi.”
Corey wiped the tears from his face. “Who is this?”
Gabe froze. His thoughts became scattered, “You don’t really know me, I just- We go to school together.” The line fell silent, and Gabe spoke quickly, afraid to let it linger too long. “You sound so.. so sad. Like you’re crying,”
Corey sniffled once loudly, brushing off the suggestion, “I... I’m just... tired.”
Gabe leaned against the wall, listening to his broken breath, “Do you always cry when you’re tired?”
Corey squinted his eyes, “No... I just... What’s was your name?”
“My name? My name. Christopher... but, call me Chris,” Gabe lied. What was he doing? That was his brother’s name! Damn. It was okay though, he didn’t know the last name, so it didn’t matter.
“Why did you have to think about it?” Corey surveyed suspiciously.
Gabe bit the inside of his cheek, “I- I didn’t. I was just debating whether to tell you Chris, or Christopher. My parents call me Christopher, but my friends call me Chris, so I didn’t know what you preferred,” he retorted with discreet guilt.
Corey inhaled heavily, “Well... thank you for calling Chris-topher..,” He switched ears, preparing to hang up.
Gabe jolted, “Wait, Don’t go! He yelled, then quieted, “I mean, don’t hang up... Please.”
An incredulous expression grew on Corey’s face. “Pardon me?”
“I mean... because I want to talk to you.” Gabe held his breath.
Another moment of silence.
“How do I know you’re not lying to me? How do I know you’re not sitting there in your bedroom with all of your friends around trying to make a joke,” Corey asked firmly.
“I’m not, I swear. Besides, I don’t even know you. Why would I want to make a joke?” Gabe spat instantly. He was so clever. “Some people are just sick like that. I don’t know you either, so I don’t know what you’re mentality is. You’re a stranger, I should probably do the smart thing and hang up the phone and wait for you to introduce yourself to me at school first. On the phone you could be anyone doing anything, and I’m not very trusting,” Corey announced.
“Okay, I understand. I’m sorry I bothered you,” Gabe apologized, his voice fading. Immediately, Corey regretted being so cold. Someone had called to be kind, and here he was accusing him of having cruel intentions. “Wait,” Corey said softly.
Gabe stopped. It seemed as if time had stopped along with him.
Corey sniffled quietly. Gabe watched over the windowsill as Corey stood up, holding the phone with his shoulder, twisting the cord around his pointer finger. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a really long day, and it’s catching up with me,” he confessed as he sat down on his bed.
“Things will get easier, give it awhile, you’ll get used to Sadie.” Gabe contented.
“Why does everyone keep saying that? It will get better. Give it some time. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, Chris but this place... I don’t belong here,” he admitted openly.
Gabe grinned, “No one belongs, Corey. They just adapt, try to make things work as best they can. It’s you who decides if things will work or not.”
Corey listened with great interest. He knew he was right. If he wanted to be miserable, he would be. Nothing outside of himself stopped him from being happy. “Sounds logical; I guess I never thought of it that way.
Gabe smiled, “That was pretty good, huh?” He surprised himself.
They laughed together, and it wasn’t long before they each fell into a casual comfort. Time slipped away, vanishing well into the night, and both still maintained the line. When the three and a half hour conversation finally concluded, Corey felt strangely better about his direction, and Gabe was now more taken with this delightful young man, who now knew him only as Chris.
After hanging up, Gabe laid in bed. He was going to hell. He had lied to that tender being. What would he do now? He couldn’t tell Corey the truth, he would hate him for lying to him. And, he did lie, from the very start he lied like a rug. How does he get himself into these things? How could he have been so worried about talking to Corey, whose raspy voice still rang through his thoughts like a gentle breeze. He couldn’t introduce himself at school tomorrow, he was ashamed. Corey would think he was making a joke out of him, and Gabe didn’t think he could stand having him hate him. There was still so much he had to know about him, so many things he wanted to ask. He wanted to dream his dreams, and see how this life, which seemed so old and ordinary to Gabe, looked through Corey’s eyes. He drifted to sleep, still in his clothes from the day before, his mouth pulled into a subtle grin.
> “Do you know anyone named Chris, who goes to this school I mean?” Corey asked. He and Angie sat at the table in the corner of the cafeteria.
Angie looked at him peculiarly. “There are probably about ten Chris’ that I can think of right off hand. Be a little more specific.”
Corey shifted in his seat, “I... I can’t,” he replied feeling a twinge of embarrassment. The curiosity had overwhelmed him. He had to know who Chris was. He was tired of waiting for him to come forth. He had waited for days now. He glanced at the faces of every guy that passed him. “Who’s Chris, anyway?” Angie pried, stuffing a bite of ice cream into her face.
Corey looked away coyly, a smitten grin on his face, “It’s this guy who calls me at night. He said he knew me from school, and he hasn’t introduced himself yet, in person, so I just wondered who he was,” he explained.
“Well, what’s his last name?” Angie interrogated.
“I don’t know, I never thought to ask.”
“Okaaaay... what class did he say he knew you from?” she pressed.
“He never said.” Corey quipped.
Angie shot him a narrow glare. Her concern was obvious, her reaction delayed.
“What?!” Corey barked, despising her silence.
“That’s a little odd, don’t you think? A guy calls you up in the middle of the night. He doesn’t tell you his full name, doesn’t approach you at all during the day, though he claims to go to this school. What am I missing?” Angie stated, scouting the dark possibilities in her head.
“It’s not like that,” Corey assured, “Our conversations are just about, life, our hopes and dreams. We just get all caught up in everything. We have real conversations Angie. We talk about so much that tiny details slip by. It’s nothing malicious, I’m sure.”
“Corey... You can’t be like this. Everyone isn’t good, there are very wicked minds out there, and in here. I know, trust me, I know. I’ve been shit on every day for the past twelve years by most of these guys... and girls. they might be nice to you when they’re alone. They might smile, or say hi, but when they’re here with all of their friends, nestled into their cliques, it could be devastating if they were seen talking to an outsider. I’m sure this Chris guy is just great over the phone, but he hasn’t made any effort to make himself known. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he can’t.” Corey’s muscles stiffened, “He’s not like that, I know. You don’t hear his voice, so genuine, and heartfelt. I sit by the telephone every night and wait to hear him. He makes all this... This mess that my life has become over the last year make sense. He cares about me. He’s my friend. If he wasn’t, why would he have called me every night for the last three nights?” Corey pointed out, making his case seem valid enough.
“Does he know you’re gay?” Angie replied still not convinced.
“No. No, he doesn’t. No one does, except for you, and that Rachel Porter girl.”
“Oh, well then, you might as well have printed it in the Bugle. Took out a full page ad! If she knows, she’s told everyone on her cheerleading squad, and her quarterback boyfriend, who’s probably already created about a million queer jokes to entertain his locker room buddies. Chris knows, trust me,” Angie concluded.
“He hasn’t said anything, maybe it doesn’t matter to him. I mean, granted, there are a lot of addle minded dolts in Sadie, but Chris is not one of them. He’s smart, and funny, and he listens to every word I say. I could say anything to him, and I wouldn’t sound neurotic, which I am. I am neurotic.” Corey admitted.
Angie pushed her tray aside, “Then... Maybe he likes you,” She suggested bluntly.
Corey slid his silver, crescent moon pendant along it’s chain, “No, He goes to this school, he’s seen me. He undoubtedly thinks I’m gross. If he did like me, I’d be forced to have serious reservations about his mental status.”
“Maybe he’s curious,” Angie forced.
“That would figure, wouldn’t it? I meet this wonderful guy who sweeps me off my feet, and he’s curious. Or deranged. Or a pervert. Or never tells me how he feels because he’s scared. Or he’s straight. Or he just wants to be friends... Story of my life. I should carve “Loser” into my forehead, so everyone knows that I’m a failure when it comes to love. Destined to be a spinster. Eighty years old, living with a hundred cats that all talk to me and always guess the answers on Jeopardy before I do. I’m pathetic,” Corey glumly let his head fall to the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to slip into a dark depression. One looney toon per school is enough. I’ve already claimed that title.”
With that, Lori, Sabrina, and Megan strutted up to the end on the table from across the room. Angie turned and looked at them like she was having a hallucination. These preps weren’t really standing at the helm of her table. She must be dreaming. There must’ve been something in her steak. Arsenic, maybe some Narcinol. The cooks had decided to kill her. That’s right, kick off the fat girl.
Lori leaned forward and politely cleared her throat, “Um, Corey?” She summoned quietly. Corey lifted his head from the surface of the table. There stood Moe, Larry and Curly. All of them dressed in faded denim jeans, wrinkled, short sleeved T-shirts boasting pockets over their left breasts. He tried to refrain from laughing. “I-Is this what is casual in California?” She asked inquisitively. Lori’s shirt was solid red, Sabrina’s was bright blue, and Megan’s was Purple.
His eyebrows almost disappeared under his hairline. Angie looked at him, stifling a giggle. “It’s an improvement. You definitely look more... comfortable,” Corey assessed, standing up from his seat, looking them over.
Megan stepped forward, “We tried to be as casual as possible. We shopped for almost three hours at the mall. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to be plain,” She imparted quite distressed.
“Well, maybe you tried TO hard. You want to be casual, not plain,” he explained, glancing back to Angie. “Stand up Angie,” he instructed.
Angie looked at him panicked. Then, she cautiously rose from her chair.
Corey continued, “Look at Angie, she wears simple black, which is the epitome of elegance, or casual. It’s in-between, I guess. Exudes class, demands notice, while still making a modest statement. Her black turtle neck brings out her hair and eyes. The buttoned vest says, ‘Look at me, but don’t stare.’ Her skirt is long, but not full, it accents her long legs. Overall, her outfit maintains the art of good fashion sense, while relaying a message. You don’t need to wear loud and demanding clothes to be beautiful. You should really take tips from her.” Corey appraised generously.
The Three Stooges just stared at him dumbfounded. Then, Lori jumped at him, hugging him tightly. “Thanks Corey!”
They all collected around Angie. Corey pushed a strand of hair from his eye and walked away, pleasantly satisfied.
He liked sitting there, near the water fountain. The cool spray from the water refreshed him. He perched himself on the stone edge of the wall, glancing into the water at his garbled reflection. Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder abruptly. Startled, he turned and saw Thomas.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He leaned against the wall beside Corey.
“That’s okay. I scare pretty easily anymore,” Corey excused in a friendly tone, “You’re Thomas, right? You knocked me over.”
Thomas stared downward. He laughed quietly. “Yeah. I was wondering... if I could ask you a question.” His mood quickly shifted, he became distance, staring hard at the flaws in the pavement. He trembled.
“Sure.” Corey replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Thomas folded his hands, toying with them nervously, “I was watching you today. I know you’ll probably won’t, but I wondered if maybe... I shouldn’t even be asking.” He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortable. “I changed my mind. Sorry. Never mind.” RETREAT! Thomas thought as he quickly moved away.
“What?” Corey asked. “You can as
k? You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Thomas turned back, “I’m not afraid,” he lied as he came back to his side.
“Well then, ask me.” Corey pressed. He hated when people did this to him. That’s why he never watched television. He hated cliffhangers.
Thomas stared into his eyes, invigorated by his tenderness. He spoke, without even realizing it. “Can I draw you?”
Corey met him with a bewildered glance, “Me?”
“You don’t have to. It was an idea. I wouldn’t normally bother you, but I... you have a unique look. Never seen it before.” Thomas said, feeling rather stupid. He knew better than to approach him like this.
Corey was stunned. What should he say? This was obviously a flirt. Well, maybe it wasn’t. It would be egotistical of Corey to think this handsome guy would find him attractive. After all, if Thomas was gay, he could have any guy in the school. Any man would be flattered to have his interest.
Gabe watched from the shade of the great oak tree. Why was Thomas, of all people, talking to Corey? The notion was preposterous. They had nothing in common. Corey was quiet and delightful, and Thomas was just, well, Thomas was a nothing. No one knew much about Thomas. Not about his personal life. Gabe knew his Father was a Dentist in town, but that was all. Thomas had lived on Harrington as long as Gabe had, and yet he remained distanced from the rest of the neighborhood kids while growing up.
Rachel waltzed up to him, and stopped at his side. She saw he hadn’t yet noticed her. He seemed distracted. She looked in the direction he gawked. “Oh, That’s Corey, come on Gabe, I’ll introduce you! She announced, awakening Gabe from his state. She took his hand and started pulling him across the lawn.
Gabe jerked out of her grasp. Rachel turned, taken aback by his act. “No!” Gabe refused harshly. Rachel was astounded by his cold tone. For a moment she was unable to move. He had never spoken to her like that. “He’s not a monster. He’s not going to bite you, Gabe. He’s not like you think gay people are, he won’t offend you,” she explained.
“I said no, Rachel. I meant it.” He snapped agitated. Then he started to walk away from her. He looked over toward the fountain and watched as Corey stood up. He and Thomas were leaving together.
Rachel followed Gabe, “What did I do? Why are you mad?” She nagged. Gabe didn’t stop, he kept walking. Where were Corey and Thomas going together? Thomas didn’t even deserve to know someone like Corey.
“Stop Gabe, talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me so I can fix it. How can I say I’m sorry if I don’t even know what I did? Is it Corey? I know you have strict religious beliefs, but I didn’t mean to throw this at you. I didn’t know how you felt, I’m sorry.” Rachel pleaded as she reached for him.
Gabe stopped hard, pulling away from her one final time as he spun furiously to face her, “Stop it, Rachel. Stop apologizing. Stop begging for forgiveness. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just sick of hearing you whine every time I walk away and don’t say ‘I love you,’ I’m sick and tired of you making me feel like I’ve done something wrong. You don’t have to break down when I don’t answer right away, or think you’ve committed some crime if I don’t call you every hour of the day. Jesus, I’m not your damn Babysitter, Rachel. You need to get off of this and give me some room. You’re suffocating me. I can’t breathe. We’re not kids anymore, we’re adults. Stop being so childish!” He flared, uncaring, unremorseful, and he ran away.
Rachel stood shattered in a million small pieces, her stomach tightened, quivered like she would be sick. She all at once felt confused and frightened. What was happening? Everyone around her watched her cry.
She was lost.
Thomas’ bedroom was enormous. Huge glass door lead out onto an open balcony overlooking the endless back yard. The posters of detailed drawings that hung on the walls depicted scenes from everyday life. A woman cradling a newborn baby. An old man on a park bench. Corey’s feet sunk into the lavish white carpet, which he imagined a cloud must feel like. He pressed his sock deeper into it.
Thomas stood at his stereo system, tuning it to an Oldies station.
“These are beautiful,” Corey complimented, looking at the drawings closely. For a second, Thomas didn’t answer. He hoisted himself up on the edge of the bed and watched his guest. “Why are you the way you are?” Thomas asked curiously.
Corey turned to him, startled by his odd remark, “What do you mean, ‘How I am?’”
“Thomas ran his hand through his thick blond hair. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s a question I’ve always wanted ask someone who looked... attractive. Sometimes it seems that they don’t even know it.” Thomas looked up to Corey and saw his dumbfounded expression. “I’m sorry if I offended you, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.” He quickly added, trying to redeem himself. Corey was still expressionless; no one had ever said anything like that to him. “No, you... you didn’t offend me. I’m embarrassed, but not offended. You really see me that way?” Corey questioned again, wanting to make sure he didn’t misunderstand the meaning of the compliment.
Thomas’ cheeks flushed. He was never good at this kind of thing. “I think you’re a nice person... I have this intuition; it helps me know who’s good and who’s not. You’re good,” he half smiled and looked into his lap, afraid of discriminating eyes.
Corey grinned, “How do you know your intuition isn’t wrong?”
Thomas didn’t laugh, he picked at his fingers, shaking. “You make me smile.”
A quiet moment found them. Corey leaned hovered in the archway of the balcony studying him. Thomas continued, “I saw you sitting with Angie Feldon in the cafeteria the other day. You were nice to her. No is ever nice to her.” He leapt from the bed, quick to switch subjects, “If you look at my sketches, you’ll see that I try to capture the beautiful things in life. Nothing extravagant... just to often not seen. Overlooked. I think that sitting on a park bench, alone with your thoughts, that’s beautiful. A person walking down a quiet lane on a foggy evening, just before the sun sets. Children playing in the school yard, they haven’t a care in the world. Things we never notice. It’s beautiful to me,” he bit the edge of his bottom lip softly, “But, I saw you, and I just thought that you were special. Unaware of your own..... magic. Things like that, they make me smile.”
“What a wonderful thing to say.”
Thomas simply nodded his head, “Not a lot of things make me do that anymore, but there was... Um-“ He paused, trying to gain his composure, “something about you..” he finished.
“Have you had your eyes checked recently?” Corey solicited seriously.
Thomas laughed quietly, “I have very good eyes.”
Corey folded his arms over his narrow chest. It was as if he had been struck by lightning. Sparks raced up his spine. “Thank you,” was all he could muster. He found Thomas very attractive and was flattered that he said these things. He never considered himself as anything much. Just an average teenager. Since being here confidence had plummeted. He was grateful that Thomas had made him feel worthwhile. It had seemed so long since he felt that way.
Corey slowly approached Thomas, whose eyes were fixed in any direction but Corey’s. “I like you too,” he whispered, offering a warm smile.
Thomas felt relieved. He looked up into Corey’s brown flecked eyes and could see his own reflection. His face was so full of fairness. His puffy lips, soft and ripe.
“So, are we going to draw or what?” Corey issued.
Thomas jerked out of his obvious preoccupation. He leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled out a huge sketching canvas, and a wooden box of utensils.
Corey walked to the balcony doors, staring across the vast yard, “Maybe I should tell you before we do this... just so you don’t get any surprises later on,” Corey announced, turning to Thomas who was setting up his work place, “I’m gay, Thomas.”
Thomas’ movements slowed. It didn’t
seemed as if here were shocked, just surprised by Corey’s candid revelation. He didn’t look up; he simply continued placing his charcoal instruments in order, “So am I.” He retorted blankly, as if he had only just given the time of day. Thomas was taken by his own frankness. He had never said it aloud before. He never said anything even suggesting it.
Corey seemed to light up. He raced to the edge of the bed grinning. Finally, someone he could relate to. There was hope after all, “Thank God. I was beginning to feel like a liberal at a Southern Baptist convention! Tell me, how many people at our school are really on the lavender team?” He drilled anxiously.
Thomas found himself unable to get situated. His nerves were screaming. “I-I wouldn’t know... I don’t really talk to a lot of people at school.”
Corey pushed on the mattress sending a disruptive wave toward Thomas, “Come on! You talked to me. You must know someone. Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend?” Corey persisted in angst.
Thomas was amused by his attitude, “No... No, I’ve never had a boyfriend. No one knows I’m gay, so I wouldn’t know of anyone else who is. It’s not that simple around here, if there are any gays at Lincoln, they’re probably sitting in the back of the closet, like me,” He retorted, feeling a bit more comfortable.
Corey’s face had dropped, “Oh,” he said disappointedly, “I didn’t know. It’s still so easy for me to forget where I am.”
Thomas watched as Corey withdrew from the bedside and walked over to a lounge chair in the corner, he seemed swayed by his new knowledge.
“If you could be a flower, what kind would you be?” He quizzed, purposely redirecting the conversation.
Corey looked at him baffled, “What kind of question is that?”
Thomas saw his friend’s puzzlement, “I’m serious, it’s a philosophical question, it says a lot about someone’s personality.”
Corey laughed out loud. “A weed! I’d be a weed! Just a weed, not even marijuana. A weed no one would pay for.” He deduced.
“I’m serious,” Thomas said as he opened his pad to a blank page.
“I am serious.” Corey asserted convincingly.
“I don’t see you as a weed. Pick something a little more... delicate.”
Corey contemplated his options for a brief second, “I don’t know. Not a rose, that’s so typical. Everyone I know would say that. Roses are so self-important and formal. I’m neither of those. I’d probably be something more invisible. Something nice, but usually unnoticed, like a daisy. A white Daisy.” He paused in speculation. “Is there such a thing?”
“I’m not sure. Good answer though. I can see you as a Daisy,” Thomas said, staring at him, as if picturing it. He really wasn’t, he was discreetly admiring him. His uniqueness. The way he stood out from everything around him.
“What would you be?” Corey tossed back.
Thomas gave a muffled laugh, leaning back. His shirt lifted above his hardened stomach. Corey could see modest muscles that flexed in his arms and legs as he pulled forward. “I’d be the weed... wild and free.”
Corey giggled, “You’re not a weed! You’re a... You’d be a sunflower. Yeah! A sunflower. Those are wild, but they’re also very attractive.” Corey gulped. Once again, a flood of free thought had had made an otherwise pleasant situation awkward. He was good at that. It sounded like he had just made a blatant pass. He quickly recovered, “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Not that you’re not attractive, but I didn’t mean to sound like I was saying you were attractive...” He blinked twice and cocked his head. The vacant look was the only alternative to running away crying. He was an idiot.
Thomas raised his eyes, smirking and shaking his head, “I got it. You don’t have to redeem yourself.” It was too bad. A guy like Corey would never want anything to do with him, not in a romantic manner anyway.
Thomas pointed his finger at Corey teasingly, “You’re very funny, you know that?”
Corey threw back his head mockingly, “I try,” he breathed. Then he sighed and leaned forward on his elbows, his head tilted on one hand, straightening his collar with the other, “Why don’t you talk to many people at school... I mean you said that you didn’t really have anything to do with them. Why not? Are they mean to you?”
Thomas squinted his eyes tightly, stunned by the remark, “No. No, they’re not mean to me. It’s not that I avoid them or anything. I just prefer to be a loner. I like the solitude. I used to take part in the whole popularity game. Dated the pretty girls, played basketball, ran track. Then one day I just decided it was all to fake, so I took myself out of it. I’m still cool with a lot of them, I just don’t go partying with them, or campaign for attention like I used to,” he clarified astutely. “I’m a rebel with a cause.”
Corey examined him carefully, “Oh... so you used to be... one of them.” He endeared gravely.
Thomas moaned, “Yeah... I did. Hope I didn’t scare you or anything. Remember, I’m not like that anymore. I got away, I escaped...”
“Escape. What a lovely word,” Corey said quietly, as though no one else could hear. He threw back his hair and fell against the high cushion of the armrest. He toyed with the chain around his neck, “No such thing.”
Thomas was engrossed by his overpowering presence. “Don’t move.” Thomas directed, scrambling for his Number 9 pencil.
Corey froze, growing tense, “Please don’t say there’s a bug on me,” he pleaded with instant anxiety.
Thomas grabbed his easel, “This is perfect,” he stated as he placed himself in front of Corey. “You’re going to draw me like this? Shouldn’t I pose or something?” Corey offered hesitantly. “This isn’t a photograph, Corey. I don’t draw portraits, I draw things from life. Thing so real they could jump off the paper and grab you. I only draw natural images that are so striking, that they deserve to be immortalized on paper,” He expressed affectionately.
“Are you saying I’m striking?” Corey asked playfully.
Thomas stopped mid motion. He looked down at Corey who remained in his position, “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Corey laughed heartily, not taking him seriously, “Then you DO need your eyes checked!”
Thomas politely grinned and realized that Corey had not grasped his sincerity. That was okay. Thomas figured it would undoubtedly save him multitudes of humiliation. He began to laugh with Corey, “Shut up,” he moaned in false torment. He dare not allow Corey to see his infatuation, so he let it go and simply enjoyed having him there.
Once finished, Thomas stood back from his creation and judged it. He was happy with the outcome. It caught every aspect of Corey. Everything he found so enchanting, “Okay, I’m done,” was all he said.
Corey sat up slowly, holding his neck that had developed a crick, “Let me see.”
Thomas gave him an odd glance, “What do you mean. You can’t see it.”
Corey stood disenchanted. “Stop! I want to see it. I’ve been waiting all this time, the least you could do is show it to me!” He argued in his own defense.
Thomas was entertained by his desire, “I can’t. I never show anyone my work. It’s like setting myself up for criticism. I’d be compromising my ethics.”
Corey lunged at him teasingly, but Thomas, who was smiling uncontrollably, darted away. “I’m going to see that drawing!” Corey warned, his own amusement obvious.
“Oh You are, huh?” Thomas asked in a sportive tone.
Corey nodded, unable to contain his enjoyment. Without warning, Thomas leapt past him, hurdling the bed. As he raced to the door, Corey chased him. They tore down the hall and scaled the staircase. Thomas grasped the handle of the front door with Corey right behind him. He swung it open and halted as he found himself standing in the tall shadow of his Father. Glenn Bradford.
Corey stood behind Thomas, and the fun was quickly derailed by the threatening man. His face was carved from brimstone. His eye’s barreled through them like a he
rd of arrows.
“Hi Dad,” Thomas said unshaken.
His Father stepped in pushing Thomas back. He walked past them, making his way behind the two teenagers. Corey watched him nervously. He was like an executioner, only without the black hood. He always wondered what they looked like underneath. This was it. He was husky, and very tall. He had an intimidating demeanor.
“Who the hell is this?” The Man bellowed.
Thomas stepped in front of Corey, as if he expected his Father to hit him, “This is a friend from school, Dad. We were studying, he was just leaving.”
Corey swore he heard Mr. Bradford growl. He felt incriminated, like he had committed a horrible trespass simply by being there.
“Since when do you study? You don’t study! You’re a liar, Thomas, you’re a God Damn liar. If I smell cigarettes in this house, even if I think I smell cigarettes, I’m going to hurt you, understand?” The man yelled accusingly.
Thomas didn’t back down, “All right, Dad. I gotcha.” He remained calm and collected, while Corey was ready to wet himself.
He finally exhaled when Mr. Bradford stormed off into the living room. Corey moved to the door hurriedly as he apologized, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”
“It’s okay. This is how he is all the time, Don’t worry about it. You want to get together again... I really-“ Thomas gathered his strength “I had fun.”
Corey patted his shoulder, “Me too. Thank you... for everything. I bet we’ll be great friends.” he said before smiling and turning away. He started down the walk turning once to wave.
Thomas watched him. Friend? Apparently, he had not made the correct impression on Corey. He was so bad at that. He didn’t know how to get his point across when it came to insinuating a romantic interest. What were the proper guidelines? Was there some written code that would help him make his attraction known? What was the average time frame allowed before kissing someone? He wanted to kiss Corey. He wanted to hold his hand and breathe him in. Whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He wanted Corey to feel the same way, but Thomas knew he never would. They were opposites. Corey was sweet and honest. He knew who he was and he was proud of it. Thomas was not like that. He was shy and had yet to overcome his dread about coming out. He wanted to. That was the only burden he had yet to shed before living in complete freedom. Well, that and his Father. He still hadn’t shed him either.
Corey felt like he could dance all the way home. He always did this to himself. Developed an interest in someone who could care less. It would be Jason all over again. Thomas and Corey would be great friends, and Corey would fall hopelessly in love with him. Thomas would undoubtedly reject him and feed him that familiar old line, “Can’t we just be friends?” Yep! That would be his luck. Corey had survived the Jason incident, and even Jason lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost, haunting him. Corey didn’t want to go through that again. He knew those rebellious types all to well. He couldn’t fall in love with someone who didn’t want him. It was becoming a vicious pattern with him. Meet a great guy, become emotionally obsessed, and then realize they would rather kiss a cat’s ass, than kiss him. He always misread hints. If he thought they liked him, most likely, they didn’t.
He continued on the short walk home, his cheeks ached from smiling, and he felt delightfully stupid, giddy even, and if you looked closely enough, you could see the wings on his feet.
four
Life Lessons