Driven, page 18
“It’s cool,” Oliver said, forcing what he hoped looked like a natural smile. He opened the door and proceeded to get out and show he was okay. Simon did the same, rounding the car to meet him. They walked side by side toward the house. Oliver was surprised by the number of people who stopped Simon to exchange a greeting, handshake, or bro hug.
“Things changed a little after high school,” he said, as if reading Oliver’s mind. “I guess people grew up? Who knows. Still don’t trust most of them….”
As they entered the house, Oliver wished they were already out to everyone. He’d give anything to be holding on to Simon, to be pulled through the crowd by him. But since it couldn’t be, he just tried shouldering through, mumbling apologies he was sure no one heard over the cacophony. They made their way to the kitchen and somehow both ended up with drinks in their hands. He watched, surprised, as Simon chugged his and found another. Liquid courage, he guessed. Oliver didn’t even bother to try his. Beer was unappealing and he’d never take it from someone he didn’t know. Who knows what was in it.
They slowly but surely made their way through each room: through the writhing, sweaty, dancing bodies, into rooms of couples getting it on and not caring if others were watching or cheering them on, into rooms where drugs were openly displayed and being passed around. Most of the people looked underage, and Oliver worried about a raid. Thanks to his prior, the cops would haul him in even if he didn’t drink a drop or take a puff. It all made him very uncomfortable.
During their long journey through the maze of people, Simon picked up and put down random drinks, finishing them before Oliver could even ask where he got them. He lost count of the red plastic cups and was sure Simon had too. When he saw Simon start to dance his way through the crowd, Oliver knew he was drunk. The somewhat stoic boy was laughing it up with everyone they passed, stopping to shake his ass with them, forgetting that Oliver was standing there, waiting for them to move on.
After a good sixty-minute search, they finally made their way out the back door and onto the lawn. Simon danced by himself, making futile attempts to grab Oliver’s hands to get him to join in. Oliver was busy scanning the lawn for Simon’s friends when suddenly his date’s face was the only thing in his view. Simon had gotten very close and the cheerful smile had slid off, replaced with an expression of desire and longing.
“I wish I could lay you down right here and have my way with you, not caring what anyone else thought.” He raised a hand, presumably to touch Oliver’s cheek, but Oliver intercepted it, not wanting Simon’s secret to get out in that manner.
“You are so beautifully broken and haunted,” Simon slurred, his eyes going glassy. “I just want to fix you.”
Oliver forced a smile, unhappy with the declaration, even if it was alcohol fueled. “There’s no fixing me,” he said. “Let’s find your friends and then get you sobered up.”
With another scan he spotted a familiar face in the far corner of the yard. The three were smoking cigarettes, their girls nowhere to be found. Oliver steered Simon toward his friends, dread growing in his stomach. He should talk Simon out of this plan. They could do it another time, when he was sober, when there was more privacy, in a place where he wouldn’t have to yell over the music.
Oliver stopped him while they were still several feet away and out of earshot. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” He had to make sure.
Simon nodded, looking a little more focused. “Now or never, Ollie. It’s now or never.”
Oliver sighed but stepped out of the way so Simon could continue the walk to where his friends had congregated. There were happy greetings all around, the guys laughing at Simon’s obvious drunkenness. They nodded and exchanged hellos with Oliver as well. He responded in kind but hoped his nervousness for his friend didn’t show through. They found out the girls were there but inside shaking their asses. None of the guys were interested in dancing and had moved outside to smoke.
Simon stood close to Oliver, almost shoulder to shoulder. He opened his mouth several times but nothing came out. His friend Adam laughed and said he looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air. The other guys laughed and agreed.
“I have something to say!” Simon declared, flinging his arms out and hitting Oliver. Oliver gently lowered Simon’s arm to his side and rubbed the side of his own head where he had gotten hit.
“Well, then say it, man. Don’t keep us in suspense,” his friend Josh replied. Adam nodded in agreement, but their other friend Chris stayed silent and motionless, his keen eye taking in the whole situation.
“You… you guys are like brothers. We’ve been through it all, right?” Simon said, calming down a little.
“Yeah, man, like brothers,” Josh agreed.
“Through thick and thin,” Adam added.
“No matter what,” Chris spoke up, his gaze never leaving Simon.
Simon took a deep breath and looked over at Oliver. Oliver nodded his chin to push Simon along. If Simon was going to go through with it, Oliver would have his back, literally and figuratively.
“So, uh, know how you guys always tease me about not having a girlfriend?” Simon started, looking everywhere but at his friends, his nervousness sending up a red flag to set his friends off.
“Yeeeaaah,” Josh dragged out, his eyes narrowing. Adam nodded, and again Chris stayed silent.
“That’s, uh… that’s because I prefer guys,” Simon said barely audible.
“What was that?” Adam asked, leaning forward. “I thought you said that’s because you like guys.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard too,” Josh said, his lip curling.
Simon took another deep breath. “That’s right. I prefer guys. I like their hard chests and their hard cocks an—”
Oliver put a hand on Simon’s arm. “I think they get it without the details, Simon.”
Josh turned an angry glare in Oliver’s direction. “Was this your doing? You’re one of them too, right? A faggot?” His voice rose with every accusation.
Oliver felt his anger start to bubble. “That’s an ugly word, and I didn’t do anything. You can’t make someone gay. They’re born that way. Trust me, I know.”
“So you are one,” Adam stated.
“Yeah, and?” Oliver could feel Simon starting to crumble at the reaction from his friends. He would stand tall for Simon’s bravery to come out, even if Simon couldn’t do it himself.
“That’s so gross,” Adam mumbled to Josh, who nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, well, I think vaginas are gross, but you don’t see me judging you heterosexuals, do you?” Oliver said.
“Please,” Josh said. “You just don’t know what you’re missing.”
Oliver flashed back to a one-time occurrence where he was involved in a threesome with the same friends who had gotten him arrested. It was not a pleasant experience at all. All in the name of trying to fit in and please others.
“You don’t know anything about me, so how do you know I missed out on anything?” Oliver spat, stepping closer to Josh as his anger boiled over.
Chris finally stepped up and got between them. “I think you should probably just take Simon and go.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Oliver asked, hurting for Simon.
“For now,” Chris replied, looking tired.
Oliver reached behind him to grab Simon’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, Simon.” He started pulling him toward the parking lot to leave the angry friends behind.
“I love him, and I don’t care what you guys think!” Simon drunkenly called out over his shoulder as he was being dragged away. The words pierced Oliver’s fragile heart. He knew Simon was drunk and probably wouldn’t remember what he said in the morning, but those weren’t words one just threw around lightly.
People pointed and whispered as Oliver shouldered his way through the small crowd that had gathered during the argument. He ignored them all, intent on getting Simon out of there. He could hear the sniffles coming from behind him, and all he wanted to do was hug and soothe him in private where no one would bother them.
A path opened up, and Oliver was quick to get Simon to the cars. He found Simon’s mom’s car at the back of the pack. He leaned Simon up against the side and used a thumb to wipe away a stray tear. Simon sniffled but was keeping it together better than Oliver had expected.
“We need to go,” Simon mumbled, his head hanging.
“I know, but you’re not exactly in any shape to be driving,” Oliver said, wondering what they would do.
“I can’t stay. I… I can’t be around these people. Did you see the hate in their eyes? The disgust? They think I’m foul.”
Oliver sighed, longing to hug Simon but unsure of how those milling in the distance would act. “We could walk I guess….”
Simon looked up at him with an expression that said he thought Oliver was crazy. “It’s miles away. We’d never make it.” He leaned forward and grabbed on to Oliver’s shirt. “Please, Ollie, you have to get me out of here. I’m begging you. Please, just drive me home.”
Chapter Forty
OLIVER’S JAW dropped. “You want me to… drive? A car?” He shook his head back and forth so hard he felt like he knocked something loose inside. “No. You don’t know what you’re asking of me. Please, Simon, there’s got to be another way.” He was on the edge of tears himself, just thinking about it.
Simon leaned forward, his head resting on Oliver’s shoulder. “Please, Ollie, I’m begging. Do you want me to get on my hands and knees? I can’t stay here where everyone’s pointing and whispering. It’s middle school all over again.” He lifted his head and started to sink, as if he was really going to get on his knees.
“No, no, no,” Oliver said, putting his hands under Simon’s arms to get him back into a standing position. “Please don’t do that.” He looked at the man who had just declared his love, no more than mere moments ago, the boy whose glassy eyes threatened to let loose more fat, salty tears.
Oliver felt his resolve crumbling, looking at Simon’s pleading gaze and quivering bottom lip. He released his hold on Simon and held out a shaky hand, a silent gesture for the car keys. Simon read the action right and dug in his pocket, the keys jangling ominously as he held them out in an equally shaky hand that Oliver figured had more to do with the alcohol rather than any fear.
He wrapped his hand around the mass of clanging metal, surprised at the warmth of them. Bringing them up to his nose, he closed his eyes and sniffed, the metallic tang making his stomach turn. It was the same gesture he had made that fateful day, but back then his stomach was a jumble of excited butterflies, ready to be set free. Warm hands on either side of his face brought him out of the momentary flashback.
“Thank you,” Simon said before planting a moist, salty kiss on Oliver’s lips. He let go and turned to climb into the passenger seat, leaving Oliver standing outside with his fear.
Slower than a sloth, Oliver rounded the car, daring to trail his hand along the trunk. He was surprised by the coolness of the metal that had been sitting in the night air. His fingers trailed over the windows, the darkness obscuring what was on the inside.
When his hand landed on the door handle, his breath caught as his heart beat wildly in his throat. He let the familiar panic claw its way up, threatening to take him over, mind and body. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to focus on his breathing. In. Out. Through the nose. Out the mouth. Slow and steady. Bring down the heart rate. Overcome the fear. The mantras of his therapist whispered out from his subconscious.
He could do this: for Simon’s sake, to do something good for someone else, someone he cared about. He could do it. The door was open, and he was sliding in the driver’s seat before he even realized it. A shaky hand fumbled getting the key into the ignition. It took two hands to turn it, reminding him of the time he helped Simon with the other car.
Surprisingly, it was all coming back to him. Buckle the belt, adjust the seat and wheel, check the mirrors, turn the lights on. The panic was still there in the background, waiting for a chance to make its move to the forefront, but he could handle it for the moment. When his hand landed on the middle console shifter, Simon covered it with his own, giving Oliver the support he needed to put the car in gear and slowly back up.
He was thankful the skies were clear and there was no threat of rain. The car lurched a couple of times as he got used to the temperamental brakes. Barely down the road and Oliver’s hands already hurt, knuckles white with the strain of gripping the wheel. His chest was tight, but his vision was clear, eyes alert. He barely held the panic at bay, but he was doing it.
“Ollie…,” Simon said, his voice loud in the silence.
Oliver refused to look over. No way was he taking his eyes off the road. “Yeah?”
“You might want to step on the gas a little. A cop will pull you over for going too slow, you know.”
Oliver risked a quick look down to see he was doing twenty in a fifty zone. Definitely too slow. He sighed and applied slight pressure until the landscape began to go fuzzy around the edges as the car sped by.
Simon reached a hand out, presumably to put the radio on. Oliver caught the movement out of corner of his eye. “Don’t!”
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t thinking…. Can I talk or will that be too distracting?” He sounded so sad that Oliver couldn’t tell him no.
“Go ahead….”
Simon sighed. “Ya know, I never expected them to react like that. I mean, Chris didn’t even say anything, he was so disgusted. So much for friends, I guess.”
Oliver dared a quick glance over at him, the sadness on his face obvious in the light of the dash. “Give it time,” he said. “They may come around. Remember it’s something you’ve known for a while, and they’re only just finding out now.”
“I guess….”
The roads were blissfully empty, short of the occasional car going the opposite direction. Oliver tried not to be blinded by the oncoming headlights. He knew when they got closer to the city it would be much more difficult, so he was thankful for the easy drive to get him accustomed to driving again.
The interior of the car was quiet as they traversed the straight expanse of blacktop, bright yellow lines leading them on their way. The occasional streetlight left illuminated puddles below them, giving Oliver a bit farther range than his headlights allowed. He wished there were more, though. Beyond the lights was the black, black forest, housing who knows what. The lights did nothing to show what was beyond the sentinel line of trees.
Simon had grown quiet, his breathing the heavy and even sign of slumber. Oliver dared a glance and saw Simon’s head tilted at an awkward angle, resting on a raised shoulder. His neck wouldn’t forgive him for that. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself as if he was giving a hug without having someone else to hold. Those full lips were turned down, indicating he was probably not having pleasant dreams, probably reliving the scene they had just left.
Oliver sighed, glad Simon was resting. He was going to have a rough couple of weeks, trying to come to terms with the fact his friends weren’t really friends and that was okay. Oliver hoped he didn’t feel too poorly about himself. He knew one couldn’t help what they were. Being gay wasn’t a bad thing. Love was love. People just chose to look at it as different, and different equaled bad to the undereducated and closed-minded. He sighed again, at the situation, at Simon’s friends’ reactions, at life in general.
A flash of yellow caught his eye, and Oliver saw a sign warning of a sharp curve ahead. He slowed a bit, wanting to take it at a reasonable speed so he could be in control of the heavy machine that carried them. Surprising himself, he took the curve like a pro, barely breaking a sweat. A big grin bloomed on his face, pride in handling the situation calmly. As he was figuratively patting himself on the back, a blurred being darted out of the dark woods and directly into the car’s path. Eyes wide Oliver slammed on the brakes, holding on to the wheel so hard he thought he thought he’d break it.
Just like the time before, the back of the car fishtailed, spinning toward the shoulder that housed a tall aluminum street light. Oliver was paralyzed with fear, images of Amelia, his dad, and Simon danced in front of his eyes.
“Please, oh please, let it take me. Let Simon live. He’s the good one. He deserves to live. Please. If anyone up there is listening, please, I beg you, help,” Oliver pleaded moments before the sound of crumpling metal drowned out his words.
Chapter Forty-one
HISTORY WAS repeating itself. Sirens woke him, and he found himself stuck in his seat, unable to command his shaky hands to unbuckle the belt. Whipping his head wildly, he looked for Simon, only to find him still buckled, his head lolled to one side, a thin line of blood running from his hairline.
“Simon? Simon!” Oliver called his name over and over until he saw the other boy’s eyelashes flutter and open to reveal large pupils in dazed-looking golden eyes. “Oh thank God, you’re alive.” Oliver felt all his adrenaline leak out his pores, his bones like jelly as he slouched down in his seat.
“What… what happened?” Simon asked, struggling to sit up, wincing and grabbing his neck. “Oww. My neck hurts.”
“Something… a deer? Something ran in front of the car. I had to… had to slam on the brakes. It was like… it was the accident all over again.”
Simon sat up a little straighter after successfully unbuckling his seat belt. “What accident? What are you talking about?”
“Hey! Are you guys okay?” A man appeared at Oliver’s window, hands on either side of his eyes, peering in.
“He’s bleeding. He needs help,” Oliver said immediately, not caring about his own aches or pains or the fact that breathing was becoming increasingly difficult the longer he sat in the damaged car.
The man rounded the car, cutting through the dual beams of light. He struggled but eventually got Simon’s door opened. “I’m an EMT. An ambulance is on the way.” A small Maglite appeared in his hand, and he shone the bright light into Simon’s eyes, one at a time. “Concussion. Keep talking to him, okay?” he told Oliver.
