Chapter 16 – Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

I woke up to different voices. My mother's, of course, was constant. The other I could not decoct through the door. It was deep and resonant. I assumed it was Henry.

It wasn't. My mother knocked on the door, stuck her head in, and told me there was someone who wanted to see me. Before I said "okay," Mr. Kamler appeared at the door.

He sat one the edge of the bed and looked at me. His voice faltered as he apologized and assured me that Sally, John, Luke, and the others involved would be dealt with. He was motivated, and he intended to take on the powerful interests who were already trying to make sure any punishment was muted.

Mr. Kamler held my hand as he talked to me. He told me things I already knew, like this wasn't my fault, that I shouldn't let them break my spirit, and that I would be letting them win if I took this as a call to conform.

I was embarrassed that I cried as he talked. I cried at how hard things were. I cried at how vulnerable I was. I cried at how needy I was.

Mr. Kamler cried, too. He assured me PHS and Paris needed to do better by me. I knew they wouldn't.

Like Steve the night before, Mr. Kamler didn't leave. He and my mother talked over coffee as I waited for the Percocet to kick in. I drifted away, listening to their muffled voices.

My mother was ebullient the next day. Mr. Kamler had stayed for hours after I fell asleep, including for what I was sure was an insipid, uninspired meal. He was undeterred; they had a dinner date the following Friday.

I was happy for her. Almost happy enough to forget the pain that pierced my side every time I breathed.

I asked my mother about her conversation with Steve. Apparently, she had let him have it. She insisted it was his fault I was convalescing, that I deserved more than he was able to give, that Sally deserved more than lies and faithlessness, and that he owed us both more than we were getting.

"What's going on with Henry?" I ventured.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you were going to break it off. Did you?"

"Not yet."

"But you're going on a date with Mr. Kamler, Mrs. Robinson?" Before she could answer, I started humming "Jesus loves you more than you will know, oh, oh, oh." My ribs rocked me as I laughed.

"Hey. I'm only 8 years older than he is."

"So, you'd have no problem if I brought home a 26 year old guy?" I asked, incredulous.

"I don't think that's the same."

"It's all a matter of whose ox is being gored, isn't it?"

"I'm so happy."

"Why?"

"Your sass is back. That means you're feeling better."

"It's the Percocet."

"Steve wants to visit you."

"No."

"Okay. But, I think he knows he screwed up."

"He did. And, I'm broken because of it. I'll forgive him. But not yet."

"Forgiveness is not a dish best served cold, Eric."

"I know."

*****

PHS's solution to my attack was to suggest I should accept my diploma now and spend the rest of the school year mending. In other words, my attackers would remain in school, and I would be bought off and secreted away.

Lori insisted I should tell them to go fuck themselves. My mother echoed her insistence, as did Mr. Kamler, who was now at our apartment every day. From where I rested, it was hard to tell who was crazier about the other, my mother or him.

I wasn't so sure. I kind of liked the idea of being finished with school. I also was thinking about my return to school and how awful it would be for me if I was the reason Sally, John, Luke, and the other mutts were expelled.

"They all hate you anyway," Lori reassured me, although there was nothing reassuring in that fact. "So, what does it matter if they hate you a little more if you stand up for yourself and insist 'never again.'"

"My God, woman, it's not the Holocaust."

"It's just as bad. Gay-bashing is the new Holocaust. You have to stand up for yourself and all the gay boys who are going to follow you. You have to insist 'this is not okay' and make a safe path for them, even here in little old Paris, Illinois."

"You're so dramatic."

"That's what they said to Rose Parks. She didn't think so. She just wanted the seat she deserved. You should insist on the seat at the table you deserve."

Mr. Kamler was just as indignant. He had his social justice glasses on. "Every once in awhile, you get the chance to stand up and be counted. Take the chance, Eric."

I took their advice. I decided I would not give in and give PHS the easy way out. They were going to have to deal with me.

My mother had used her polaroid to take pictures of my injuries. I put them all in a book and took them to school. I showed them page by page to the Principal.

He seemed nonplussed. He suggested I deserved the wounds because I was stalking Steve Lustig, the son of a prominent Paris family. I insisted that didn't matter, and he disagreed.

"Steve didn't do this," I insisted. "His friends didn't do this at his behest. In fact, he begged them not to do this. They did it anyway. They weren't protecting him from me. This was a vicious, unprovoked attack."

"It was not unprovoked, young man. You left a blackmail letter in Mr. Lustig's locker."

I had had enough. "You're as ignorant as ignorant can get. That's harsh, but it's true. There was no blackmail in my note. And, writing your boyfriend a note is not provocation for a vicious attack. It's just not."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes. Steve and I are . . . were . . . together. If he says otherwise, he's lying. But, it doesn't matter. They beat me. No matter what I did, they beat me. Nothing I did merits that."

I stormed out of the office. I scribbled a quick note and shoved it in Steve's locker. "I told Principal Barnes. I'm sorry. He provoked me, and I blurted it out. I wanted you to hear it – read it – from me first."

Mr. Kamler put me and my mother in touch with a lawyer from Chicago who had been a college friend of his. She was a militant lesbian from an elite law firm who was chomping at the bit to expose what PHS and its principal were trying to do by blaming me for the beating I had endured.

She made quick work of them. Within a few days of her arrival in Paris, everyone in the car that had followed me that fateful day was expelled. The Catholic school happily took them in. I didn't care. I cared only that they would not be at PHS with me.