Freed, page 10
“I don’t think it’s right that they’re going to make you miss a game over this,” he goes on. “This is nothing. As I said, boys will be boys.”
I sigh. “I think the team will be okay without me for a game.”
“That’s not the point, Dylan.”
“Then what is the point, Dad?” I ask. “Wes got his ass beat for no reason at all. We deserve the punishment we got.”
A small smile touches his lips. “You’re a good man, Dylan. You’re what they call a stand up guy,” he nods approvingly. “Willing to take the heat when you do something wrong. That’s how it should be and I’m proud of you for that. Accountability. That’s important.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“You just need to be careful. I’m not busting your balls here for what you did – I don’t think it was wrong. I’m busting your balls because you got caught doing it,” he says. “You got so many people telling you what you can say and how you think these days – you have to be smarter than them, son.”
So, according to my dad’s handbook on life, it’s okay to beat somebody for being gay just so long as you don’t get caught doing it. When I was younger, I didn’t bat an eye when he said things like that. Back then, it made sense to me. Now though, everything has changed. The way I think about everything has changed. And as a person, I’ve changed.
“Anyway, your mom thinks I should drop the hammer on you,” he goes on. “She wants you to know that she doesn’t approve of what you did.”
That’s fine. I don’t approve of what I did. Given how all of this is shaking out, I can understand why Wes was so upset after our punishments were handed down. I don’t think it even qualifies as a slap on the wrist.
“So if she asks, just tell her I said you can’t talk about it,” he says. “Tell her it’s between us. Between men.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s going to go over well,” I crack.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Just let me worry about that.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes and I can’t get Wes off my mind. I can still taste him on my lips and feel him on my skin. I can feel him moving inside of me and my body tingles as I relive the moment he unloaded all of his sex into me. It sends a shudder of pleasure rolling through my body.
As I sit there, reminiscing about having sex with Wes, it sends my mind spinning. It wasn’t all that long ago the very idea of being sexually attracted to – let alone involved with – a man would have sent me into a rage. I would have fought anybody who accused me of being gay. Look what I did to poor Mandy who suggested out of hand – she hasn’t been seen around campus since. At least not in any of the social circles that matter.
But now? It’s still tough for me to say those two words – I’m gay – but I don’t have that visceral reaction to it anymore. I don’t automatically feel the need to lash out violently. And it no longer feels – wrong. Having been with Wes, having grown closer to him and confided in him to the degree I have, it makes me see that the things I believed about myself for the entirety of my life haven’t necessarily been true.
For so long, I walked around feeling like a fraud. Like my life and identity were suits that didn’t fit on me. But being with Wes – even in the limited capacity I have been – has made me feel more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have before. It’s made me feel real. Whole. And sex with him has felt more natural and enjoyable than with any of the dozens of girls I’ve slept with in my life. With them, it felt forced. False. Jerking myself off was more enjoyable. With Wes though, it feels – right. More right than anything I’ve experienced in my entire life.
I’m still struggling with that, I can’t lie. I’m still fighting against twenty-one years of living my life one way. Twenty-one years of being force fed a steady diet of homophobic rhetoric.
“You seem pretty defensive about this Wesley character,” he notes. “Who is he to you, son?”
Oh you know, just the guy I’ve been fucking, Dad. The temptation to say that floats through my head but it’s fleeting. I bite it back and keep my face neutral.
“He’s a TA in one of my classes,” I explain. “He tutors me sometimes and I think of him as a friend. He’s a good guy.”
My dad looks at me for a long moment then nods, seeming to accept my answer. He gets to his feet and slaps the desk with the palm of his hand, a smile stretching across his face.
“Hungry?” he asks. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Oh, Rosemary said she was going to make dinner tonight.”
He waves me off. “She can make it another night,” he announces. “Come on, you haven’t been down to the club in forever.”
Even before I started to – change – my dad’s country club was among my least favorite places on Earth. It’s such an insular, exclusive place that caters to a very select clientele, the place just breeds ignorance, bigotry, and narrow mindedness. Even when I bought into my dad’s point of view, that place still made me uncomfortable.
My dad is already at the door of his study before I even turn around. He looks back at me and frowns.
“You coming?”
I let out a silent breath and then do what I always do – which is exactly what my father tells me to do.
* * * * *
“Can you believe it?” my dad exclaims. “They suspend my son because some fag got his ass beat – and Dylan didn’t even have anything to do with it.”
The other two men at the table shake their heads and frown, obviously as displeased as my father with the school’s ruling. The first of the two men – Walt McAvoy, is practically a carbon copy of my father. He’s the CEO of an architectural firm and they’ve been friends so long, they’ve started to look alike. The other, a black man named Marcus Sellers, is tall and built like a linebacker. He’s a youthful looking man with only the gray in his hair and beard betraying his age. He’s been my dad’s right-hand man at the firm for about twenty-two years or so now.
I’ve known them both since I was a kid and they’ve always insisted I call them Uncle Walt and Uncle Marcus – something I never didn’t feel weird about. But my father loves them like they were his blood brothers and always required me to respect them and make them feel like part of the family.
“Keep your chin up, Dylan. It’s the way the world is going these days, I’m afraid,” Walt says. “Thanks to the liberals in government, the fucking fags are starting to take over. They say they want equality but what they really want is to run everything. They want to make all of us as queer as them.”
Marcus chuckles. “Agreed. The liberals and the homos want to force their agenda on us,” he says. “They’re indoctrinating kids today under the guise of tolerance and inclusion.”
I stuff a couple of fries into my mouth just to keep from saying something I might come to regret. I have to remember these men are from a different generation. They see things differently. Back in their day, gays were forced to live in the closet and homosexuality was a taboo subject. People back in their day pretended gays didn’t exist and if one of them had the temerity to be open about their sexuality, they were treated every bit as badly as blacks were during the Jim Crow era – which makes it ironic to me that Marcus is as anti-gay as he is.
“How did you keep from tuning that guy up yourself, Dylan?” Walt asks.
“No joke,” Marcus chimes in. “Some guy comes on to me, I’m gonna make sure he never even thinks about it again.”
“Ease up,” my father says. “The guy is Dylan’s friend. It was all a misunderstanding, right?”
“Friend, huh?” Walt laughs suggestively.
My father gives him a look and Walt fall silent. I simply nod and look around for more fries or something to stuff in my face. I’m out though and with nothing else to occupy my mouth, I feel myself inching toward the brink. I’ve always had a habit of speaking before I stop to think and when I’m pissed off, my mouth tends to get the better of me. It’s gotten me into trouble plenty of times but it’s a habit I just can’t seem to break.
“Hey, Uncle Marcus, did you know this club didn’t start admitting blacks until 1984?” I ask. “Yeah, they held onto those old beliefs that somehow, blacks weren’t human beings and because of that, they had every right to discriminate against them.”
Marcus flashes me a confused expression and a moment later, breaks into a deep, rumbling laughter. He slaps the top of the table and laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. My father and Walt exchange a look and then chuckle along with Marcus.
Marcus pats me on the shoulder. “You have no filter do you, boy?” he wipes away the tears of laughter on his face. “I love that about you, kid.”
“My son has always had a softer heart than me,” my father says. “He used to bring in stray puppies and kittens too. It doesn’t surprise me all that much that he’s taking up for the fags.”
Walt chuckles. “Dylan Whitford, champion of the downtrodden.”
“I’d like to think I’m more of a believer in judging a person on their merits rather than something they have no control over like their sexuality or their skin color,” I say and look at them very pointedly.
“I admire your passion, kid,” Marcus says. “And we may not have a choice in how this world is changing, but believe me, who you stick your dick in is a choice. It’s always a choice.”
Walt grimaces. “The way the fucking world is changing, it’s only a matter of time before it’s not safe for decent straight men to be who we are.”
“It’s the fagification of this country,” my father adds. “Let those people get into power and before you know it, they’ll outlaw opposite sex couples.”
“I think that’s the whole goal of their agenda,” Walt chimes in. “They want us all to be married to other men.”
I bite back the bitter laugh that nearly erupted from my throat. The ignorance being spewed at this table is breathtaking to behold.
“Just keep your eyes open, kid,” Marcus says. “Don’t let them catch you up in their shit. The last thing we want is for you to be running around in a sequined thong and nipple tassels, talking about being proud of being a faggot.”
I bite my tongue so hard I’m sure I’m going to draw blood. This lunch is every bit as terrible as I knew it was going to be. In fact, it might be even worse than I’d expected. I don’t know if they’re getting more bigoted as they get older or if I’m just becoming truly aware of their bigotry. Either way, I’m realizing I don’t like these men as people very much. And I guess that would have to include my father.
Yeah, it’s great to be home.
Chapter Twelve
Wesley
I slap my thigh as I laugh and shake my head. Dylan looks aghast at my reaction after he just told his story. He came back from his one week banishment a few days ago but this is the first time we’ve been able to get together.
“How is that even close to being funny?” he asks.
I shrug. “I find old bigots funny. They say the most outrageous things like they’re the most normal thing ever.”
Dylan chuckles. “Yeah, they did that for sure,” he says. “I mean, I’ve always known they were like that. But for some reason, it just really stood out to me this time in a way it never has before.”
A wry grin touches my lips. “It’s because things are changing. You’re changing.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m part of the homo agenda now.”
I laugh and take a long drink of my wine. We’re sitting in my apartment – I’ve got my wine glass in hand and Dylan is drinking one of the beers he brought over. I’ve never been much of a beer guy so it’s a good thing I always have wine on hand. I usually enjoy winding my day down with a glass or two.
I lean back on the couch next to Dylan and look over at him. He seems to be getting more comfortable with each passing day and I can’t possibly be happier about that.
“The homo agenda, huh?” I laugh.
“It includes sequined thongs and nipple tassels,” I say. “Oh, and indoctrinating all of the kids and turning every single person in America gay.”
I nod. “That’s quite the agenda,” I remark. “I had no idea we were so powerful.”
“Well, now you know,” he tells me. “We are the most powerful force in the universe. We have the ability to turn even straight people gay.”
I look over at Dylan, as my stomach lurches and my heart turns a somersault, the significance of the moment not lost on me. It’s the first time Dylan has ever referred to himself as gay – or at least acknowledged that he is gay, even obliquely.
“We, huh?” I grin.
Dylan flashes me a smile. “I’m trying it on,” he says softly. “Just seeing how it feels.”
“And?” I press. “How does it feel?”
He laughs. “Weird. I’m not going to lie.”
I smile and nod, understanding where exactly he’s at. “It took me a while to get used to being able to say it without it feeling weird,” I acknowledge. “We’re all raised like straight men. We’re taught that we’re supposed to be rough and tumble manly men.”
“Yeah, exactly,” he replies. “That’s all I’ve ever known. I need to be an athlete. I need to bang hot women. I was always taught that’s what makes me a man.”
“That’s what we’re all taught,” I say. “That’s what society demands of us. That’s what’s considered normal – we’re told that we’re the aberrations.”
“Yeah. And it’s hard to shrug that off.”
I drain the last of my wine and reach for the bottle but Dylan beats me to it and refills my glass for me. Feeling a bit bold, I lean forward and press my lips to Dylan’s. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me back, sliding his tongue between my lips and dashing it against mine. My moan is lost in his mouth as our tongues swirl and dance with one another, our kiss growing hotter and more passionate.
The knocking on the door startles both of us and I nearly fall off the couch. Dylan and I look at each other and laugh but when the door opens and Auddie’s voice rings out, I smile wide but feel Dylan stiffen immediately. His eyes are wide and that familiar fear is etched into his face.
“Relax,” I whisper. “It’s my best friend.”
He nods and swallows hard, doing his best to look relaxed – and failing miserably. He couldn’t look stiffer if he’d been carved from wood. Auddie steps into the room, a thousand watt smile on her face and a bottle of wine in hand – the smile though, dies when she sees Dylan sitting there.
“Dylan, this is my best friend, Audrina,” I say. “Auddie, this is –”
“I know who he is,” she growls. “He’s the reason you got your ass kicked.”
If Dylan gets any stiffer, I’m afraid he’s going to crack in half. Auddie stands where she is, glaring at Dylan. If I’d known she was coming, I would have warned her that Dylan was here. She still hasn’t forgiven him for what happened to me – and Auddie knows how to hold a grudge.
“Auddie –”
“No, it’s okay,” Dylan says, surprising me. “She’s right. It was my fault.”
“You apologized,” I argue.
“It still doesn’t make it right,” he says. “And I can’t blame Audrina for being upset.”
I look to my best friend and I see her face soften. She can hold a grudge, but she’s also one of the most forgiving people I know. And knowing her like I do, the fact that Dylan is sitting here, taking accountability for his mistakes weighs heavily in his favor.
Auddie sets the bottle of wine down on the table and drops into the chair in front of my desk. She spins in it so that she’s facing us but her eyes remain on Dylan. She looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out as if he’s some riddle that needs to be solved.
“I know what I did was stupid. It was wrong,” Dylan says to her. “And Wes paid the price for it. I can’t take it back but I’ve been trying to do what I can to make up for it.”
“He really has, Auddie,” I say, backing him up. “And if I can let it go, I think you can too.”
Dylan looks down, seeming to wither beneath Auddie’s gaze. But the frostiness in her eyes is beginning to thaw.
“I’m assuming the fact that you’re here – and you two were clearly making out before I got here – that you’re learning to accept who you are, Dylan?”
He raises his eyes to her, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. “I’m working on it,” he says softly. “This – isn’t easy.”
She nods. “I know it’s not,” her voice is gentle. “I just don’t want my best friend getting hurt again because you can’t accept the fact that you’re gay, Dylan.”
“That won’t happen again,” he promises. “I swear that to you. To you both.”
Auddie falls silent for a moment as if she’s considering Dylan’s words. Finally, she sits back and looks over at me.
“Are you going to pour me a glass of wine or not?” she grins.
I let out a silent breath, thankful the crisis seems to have been averted. As I stand up and head for the kitchen to get a glass, I stop and plant a kiss on Auddie’s forehead. She smiles up at me and returns her smile then saunter off to the kitchen.
While I’m in there, I can hear her and Dylan talking, which makes me feel better. What Dylan and I have going is difficult enough as it is. I don’t even want to imagine how much more difficult it would be if he and my best friend didn’t get along. Each of them is important to me and I want to share my world with both of them. If that wasn’t possible, I don’t know that I could bear it.
I come back out with an empty glass, fill it, then hand it over to her. She accepts the glass with a smile.
“Thank you, honey,” she says.
I top off my glass before retaking my seat next to Dylan. He’s still a little stiff and tense but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was when Auddie first got here. She’s the only person besides me that knows Dylan is gay and I can feel just how nervous he is about it. And once again, I’m well aware of the significance of the moment.
