Chapter 9 – Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I slept in on Sunday. I was troubled, and I liked to sleep when I was troubled. Even if slumber didn't bring clarity, it at least could quell the thoughts I had trouble controlling. I was always at peace when I slept. I didn't have night demons. I had day demons.

I awoke full of regret. Evans had tossed me a meat ball, and I hadn't even fouled it off. I was not a ballplayer, and it showed.

I was still full of regret at school on Monday. I was plain faced, but I had my hair back in a headband.

Evans was not at school. I was crushed.

Evans was also not at school on Tuesday. Arrogantly, I thought his absence had something to do with me. I called his house when I got home. His mother answered, dismissively told me he was sick, and hung up.

Evans was not at school the rest of the week. I called every day. His mother wouldn't let me talk to him any time I called, dismissing me with a "he's sick."

I fretted. He'd seemed perfectly healthy in the wee hours of Sunday morning, but he was too sick to attend a second of school that week. Something was up.

On Saturday morning, I decided to find out what. I walked to his house and asked to see him. His mother blocked the door and refused to say anything other than "Evans is sick."

As I walked away, I turned back toward the house. Evans was in an upstairs window. He raised one hand in a meek wave, and I waved back.

Evans was in school Monday, but he pretended I was not. The shoulder he gave me was as cold as ice.

The week went on like that. Friday morning, I couldn't take anymore, and I cornered him in the bathroom.

"What the fuck, Evans?" I asked. "This on again off again bullshit is fucking me up."

"I'm sorry, Eric," he said. "I fucked up. And, my fuck up is costing me. I'm not allowed to talk to you, much less be friends with you."

"What happened?"

"I was pretty upset when I left your apartment Homecoming night. My mom was still up when I got home. I thought I could trust her. I told her I had feelings for you, and she betrayed me to my dad. He . . . freaked . . . the . . . fuck . . . out. He threatened to 'beat the gay' out of me. He blamed 'the fag in the makeup.' I'm on house arrest. I can only come here and then go straight home. I'm not allowed any calls. I'm not allowed any friends."

"Jesus, Evans, that's not a life. That's a prison."

"It's fine. I'll be leaving in less than a year. I can make it until then."

"Maybe, but you shouldn't have to. This is fucked up. You have to know that."

"They're my parents. There's already been enough of a breach. I can't cause more."

"They're not parenting you. They're oppressing you. Parents offer their children unconditional love. Not 'I love you if' . . . . "

"That's easy for you, Eric. Your mother is awesome, and you're all she's got. She's not going to let you go, no matter what you do or who you are. I hold no such exalted place. I'm expendable, and I can't make it on my own. I have to walk the line."

I was as sad as I'd ever been. I'd lived through people who gave up on themselves, but never someone who'd given up on someone else. Or threatened to. It was a sickening feeling. I wanted to retch.

I hated but understood Evans' choice. I was tearful as I turned to leave the bathroom. Evans grabbed my arm and turned me back to him.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I really am. I just don't know what else to do."

"It's okay, Evans. It really is. It'll all be fine."

When I tried to pull away, Evans wouldn't let me go. He pulled me into him, and I buried my head in his chest. He raised my face to his, and he kissed me again. I had the same reaction I had to our prior kiss. I felt strong and weak, like I was flying and like I couldn't move. I could tell from the look on Evans' face when the kiss ended he had the same sensations.

We ducked into a stall. We kissed and kissed and kissed.

I felt powerful. I unbuckled Evans' belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his khakis, and released him.

"Is this okay?" I asked, my voice a sandpaper whisper.

"Yes."

I stroked him as we kissed. He used his right hand to clamp my mouth to his as hard as he could. He sucked my tongue and grunted in my mouth as he came, coating the front of my pants. I kept stroking him and kissing him. I don't know how long we were in there and didn't care. He was completely soft when we finally broke the kiss. I was lightheaded, and my mouth felt raw. He put himself away.

"Look at me," I said. My pants were covered in cum. I was going to have to go home. There was no way I could go back to class.

"Sorry," he said. "I drop a pretty heavy load."

"No shit."

"Can we kiss again?"

"Sure."

We did. It was another long kiss. I tried through that kiss to convey "No matter what, I love you." I'm not sure I did.

When the kiss was over, Evans quietly offered, "We can try to be friends at school."

I told him I didn't think we could just be friends. I told him I thought that, if we hung around each other, we'd wind up back in this bathroom, or in an equipment closet, or in the boiler room, and we'd eventually get caught. And then it would all be over for him, especially with his father.

I squeezed him, and he squeezed me back. I broke free and left the bathroom. I was emotionally bankrupt as I walked home. Looking back, I should have explicitly told Evans I loved him. That way, he could have taken that knowledge with him.

That night, Evans' father asked if he had spoken to me at school. Evans tried to lie, but was bad at it. So, he told his father about the encounter in the bathroom, at least some of it. Evans never returned to school after that. I heard that his parents had shipped him to a boarding school. But, I also heard that they had shipped him to one of those facilities that pretends to convert someone from gay to straight. I had no idea which was true, until I got a letter from Evans telling me what had happened with his father and that his "conversion therapy" was not working, he still thought about me all the time, and he missed me every time he thought about me. He told me not write him back, because they read every letter he received or sent. He had snuck his letter to me out.

I cried and cried that night as I tried to allow sleep release me from the grip of sadness. I cried because I felt I had been cheated out of Evans. Mostly, I cried because Evans was being cheated out of his life.