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"I Hate Anthony"
By Maddy A.
CHAPTER NINE: TIME TO MAKE THE COOKIES
There was a loud banging at Brian's front door. It was early Saturday morning and like always, his mother was at work. He knew he would have to get up and answer it, but he still tried to hold on to that last drop of sleep. The banging grew louder and louder until Brian forced himself to answer it. As he dragged his tired feet towards the door he glanced at the clock and noticed it was a little after nine. `Who the hell is it?' he wondered to himself. The knocking seemed to grow louder and louder the closer he got to the door. He had to yell out twice that he was coming before the banging stopped.
Jackson stood on the other side of the door anxiously awaiting for Brian to open it. He twiddled his fingers inside of his big, black puffy coat. As soon as he woke up that morning he jumped on the number twenty-five bus and headed to Brian's house. He spent most of his Friday night calling, but there was no answer. He needed to talk to someone, anyone...no just Brian.
Brian was expecting it to be the Mormon missionaries again, coming by to talk about Jesus saving his soul, but he was surprised to see Jacky when he opened the door. He noticed that Jackson's wavy dark hair was tussled over his head; inadvertently giving him that "messy" look and he pushed aside the thought of how cute it made him look.
"Bro, what da fuck? You know it's like nine right?" Brian stated as he moved aside so Jackson could come in. No one likes to be woken up early on a Saturday and Brian was one of those people. Jackson noticed that although Brian 's apartment may have been small, it was neat with the minimal essentials. One white couch and matching love seat with red and pink roses embroidered onto them and a basic coffee table with one leg shorter than the others balanced with a book underneath it, so it tilted at an odd angle. He took of his coat to reveal a heavy gray sweatshirt that matched his sweat pants.
"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were still coming to the game today."
Jackson replied as he sat down on the love seat next to Brian. The couch was made for two, but barely sat one so they were squeezed in closely. Jackson noticed that Brian was only wearing black boxer shorts and a white wife beater than clung to his thin frame snuggly.
"You could have just called." Brian stated. He was a little annoyed that he had been woken up so early on a Saturday morning; those were made so people could sleep in.
"I tried, but ain't nobody pick up and shit. I wanted to make sure you was still coming." He replied.
"Ummm Okay?" Brian responded. He was truly puzzled as to why Jackson thought that it was so important that he needed to come over so early and tell him that.
"So, you ARE still coming...right?" He asked as he turned to look at Brian and their knees touched. Jackson felt a heat rise in his pants with their close contact, but Brian was left unfazed.
"Didn't I say I was?" Brian replied with a smirk on his face. He was annoyed by Jackson's intrusion, but he wouldn't let that on. He never liked for his friends to feel like they bothered him even if sometimes it was true.
"Yeah, just checking. Besides, I was on my way to my aunt's house so I figured since you guys live so close, I would stop by and make sure. You gonna be walking over with Regina and Tracy right?
"Yeah, I think Riley's coming too."
"Oh.....cool...." Jackson replied and there was an awkward silence that followed. It was too early for Brian's humor to kick in and release some of the tension that was between the two of them so he opted for silence.
"So...." Brian stated as he got up and walked into the kitchen with Jackson following behind him closely. "You hungry?"
"Sure, what you got?" Jackson asked as he rifled through the cabinets until he came upon a box of cereal that was made more for taste than nutritional value. Brian opted instead for a bagel and turned on the television to watch the morning cartoons; a routine that had continued since childhood. "Anthony still coming over?" He continued.
"Yeah, in about three hours." Brian responded and grew nervous at the thought of being alone with him. He couldn't explain what it was that made him feel that way, but his stomach knotted up and his mouth become dry.
"If you want, I could stay here with you guys. You know, to make sure things don't get out of hand."
"What do you mean `out of hand'?" Brian was truly confused my Jackson's statement.
"You know, it's no secret and shit dat you two don't get along. If, you know, your nervous or something, I don't mind chilling over here for a little while and shit...." Jackson trailed off as he began to swirl around his colorful cereal with a plastic spoon.
"I thought you had to go to your Aunts?"
"I do, but she just wants me to move some furniture around and it won`t take dat long. I could come back when I'm finished." Brian thought about that for a moment. It was tempting to take Jackson up on his offer, but a voice inside of his head was telling him not to. As strange as it may sound, he was excited at the prospect of being alone with Anthony; it had been years since they had done that.
"Naw, I'll be aight." Brian replied. Jackson stayed over for another few minutes before leaving. Brian got the feeling that he didn't want to leave, but eventually he did. It was what he said before leaving that had Brian's mind filling with questions. He had walked Jacky to the door and as he was about to shut it, Jackson wedged his foot in the doorway to prevent it from closing.
"Brian, you know that---well, hummm...." Jackson began, but trailed off. Brian looked up at him curiously. He noticed that Jackson looked nervous and a deep red of flush began to creep up his neck.
"What?" Brian asked curiously.
"Well....just now if you, ya'know, need anything....I'm here....okay?" He stated before bolting down the three flights of stairs that would take him away from Brian's house. Brian stood there for a moment, unsure of what to think. He had his suspicions of what Jackson might have meant, but he knew that would cause too many problems so instead of trying to rationalize his thoughts, he choose to let them rest for now.
"Wake up Mijo..." A soft feminine voice whispered in Anthony's ear and he knew it belonged to none other than his mother. Linda Ramirez was a soft spoken woman whom Anthony did not take after. Where Anthony was tall, broad and his features were dark, his mother was his antithesis. Linda was barely five feet tall and her small height matched her petite frame. Her hair was as fare as wheat and cut short in a bob. If it wasn't for their dark green eyes, there would have been no resemblance. His mother wore lines and wrinkles on her face not as a sign of age, for she was only in her mid thirties, but her sags and creases came from stress. She worked long hard hours as both waitress and mother, and neither were easy. Anthony's father had taken off when he found out she was pregnant. She was just out of her teenage years and with no education she had to work what ever jobs came her way just to keep food on the table.
"Hey Ma. I thought you had to work today?" Anthony asked as he wiped the crust out of the corners of his eyes. His voice was still thick with sleep and he had to cough to clear the phlegm out of his throat.
"I do baby, I just came in to say good bye." She replied as she smoothed the soft black hair off of his forehead and kissed him there. Anthony closed his eyes as he let himself fall back asleep with the smell of his mother's perfume of laundry detergent lulling him back to sleep.
It was two o'clock and Anthony still wasn't there. Brian worried that he wouldn't show up; yet another disappoint from Anthony. He had long been dressed and decided that he wanted to run and grab something to eat at the chicken shack up the block. He was tired of waiting around for Anthony who obviously wasn't going to show up. He was kicking himself for the feelings of disappointment he was having. He knew he should have known better, but as strange as it was he felt that something inside of Anthony was changing for the better. He thought that whenever he was around him, things felt less complicated.
Sure, Anthony still had his asshole moments, but slowly ever so slowly Brian saw something changing. Anthony's glares may have seemed cold, but occasionally there would be brief moments of warmth and Brian unconsciously relied on those moments. He knew that he was starting to have those familiar feelings stir and as much as he hated himself for that, he loved the feeling. He knew that Anthony would never feel that way about him, but it didn't matter. He had every reason to hate him, every reason in the world yet no matter how many times he would tell himself that, in the end he always knew it wasn't true. No, the truth was the exact opposite; even if he didn't want it to be.
It was a cold afternoon. Normally the streets would be flowing with people; mostly kids playing, but the weather was so cold that everyone stayed inside the warmth of their homes. Brian's block was lined with almost identical tenements apartment buildings. They were cheap to live in because they were cheaply made and in desperate need of repairs. Often the hot water wouldn't work and on some instances the heaters would break, leaving the people who lived in them to bare out the cold until the problems would be fixed; but waiting was the worst part. Nobody cared about the people of the ghetto. The neighborhood was owned by the upper class and they didn't' care about them. All they were concerned were with making money so what was it to them if their tenants were freezing because the pipes rusted and no heat came out. What did it matter that it was twenty degrees out?
There was nothing special about the chicken shack. In every hood across America they are almost identical. Styled to look like low budget versions of fast food chains with a wide variety of foods. Only at a chicken shack would you find collard greens served with chicken nuggets.
The restaurant was crowded as usual. Their cheap prices for large quantities of low quality food often brought in the customers in swarms. The man working the counter knew little English and spoke with a heavy accent from some middle eastern country that Brian guessed to be Arabia. He ordered his usual kill breast and was about to sit down and eat when someone tapped his shoulder. He was prepared to ignore it; he thought it was probably just some jerk trying to hassle him, but then he smelled that familiar scent of too expensive cologne.
"Anthony?" Brian stated. He took note on how stressed Anthony looked. Normally Anthony made sure that he was dressed tight. His jeans had to be crisp and his sneakers extra white, but that day his short dark hair was untouched by products and he had thrown on an old sweat outfit that he only wore to workout in. It was obvious that he had just woken up; dark circles lined underneath his green eyes, but despite that he still had this charm about him. A charismatic charm that laid within his smile.
"He man, I just came from ya house. My bad Yo! I woke up late as hell and a nigga hungry and shit!" Anthony said as he reached out his hand and began to gingerly rub his stomach. Brian glanced down just in time to see a peak of olive toned skin flash as Anthony stretched and yawned.
"That's cool. Do you want to go and start on it now?" Brian asked. All of the anger and annoyance that he was feeling left. He stood there trying to play it cool, but he couldn't. He was fidgeting with his bag and his eyes darted around the restaurant; looking anywhere other than at Anthony.
"Yeah, just let me grab a beef patty and we can bounce." Anthony replied and two minutes later they made their way back to Brian's house. The walk was tainted with awkward silence. Neither knew what to say to the other so they said nothing. Brian let them inside of apartment and grabbed some paper plates and napkins for them to use as they ate. Brian sat on one couch and Anthony sat on the other with the only sounds feeling the room coming from a re-run of a television show from the 1950's.
"So...how exactly are we suppose to write this stupid thing?" Anthony asked breaking the silence. Brian rolled his eyes dramatically playfully.
"I have no clue......" Brian replied as he began to clean up their mess.
"This is the dumbest assignment!" They both said at the same time causing them to laugh.
"Mr. Rice said that I am suppose to die and your suppose to be my best friend and I guess we gotta right that." Brian replied as he put back on his coat. He knew his heater had probably broken again and he silently cursed that it had to happen that day of all days.
"Huh?" Anthony replied and Brian laughed at the confusion on his face. If Brian would have laughed at him in school, his first reaction would have been to call him a name; to make Brian know that he had no affect on him. But, Anthony was feeling relaxed and comfortable and he laughed along with him. The smell of the house was the same, like pine needles and mint leaves, but some of the furniture had changed. Anthony remembered that Ms. Washington used to have an ivory colored couch that was covered in plastic and on hot days when they would sit on it, their legs would stick to the plastic making it painful to get up.
"Let me explain that better. We're best friends." Brian started and began to feel weird saying those words again after so many years. "I died, but you are still alive. So you write about how you feel about that and I write about how I feel being dead and watching everyone live on without me."
"I get it now, but I still say this is the dumbest shit yo!" Anthony replied as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoody sweatshirt. He noticed that the temperature had dropped and the apartment was getting colder.
"Yeah, tell me bout it, but hey...its Creative Writing." Brian stated putting emphasis on the words: Creative and Writing. Anthony caught himself laughing again. He didn't even realize how much he missed Brian's dry wit, but it was refreshing to be reminded of the past; even if it was only for that day.
Brian turned on the radio, making sure that it was hip-hop because he knew that was all that Anthony listened to. Well, that and he didn't want to risk ridicule for his musical tastes. Any signs of tension had left and they now worked in comfortable silence. Anthony was having a hard time connecting with his emotions to make the paper feel real. Try as he might, he just couldn' t do it. He glanced over at Brian and saw that he had all ready scribbled down two pages in the fifteen minutes they had been working. He saw the pensive look of Brian's face as he was concentrating gave him a boyish appeal. He found himself smiling slightly before he scolded himself. He tried to put his focus on his paper, but it was hard to with Brian sitting so close with that look on his face. Then, as if lighten struck, an idea hit him.
"Hey Brian." Anthony said and Brian looked up expectantly. "Let me see what you wrote so far."
"Why?" Brian asked. He didn't want Anthony to see the non-sense he had created. It was really just a series of drabbles and not really a well formed version of what he would hand in.
"Because, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and if I read yours, then--"
"---Then you can copy my work?" Brian interrupted him. He was on the verge of getting annoyed, but tried to push that down. The arrogant smirk on Anthony's face was not helping matters.
"Not like that---" He started and was cut off by Brian throwing his notebook in his lap.
"Do what you want. I'm hungry." Brian said irritated. Hey may have been small, but he knew how to appreciate a good meal. He felt stupid for thinking Anthony had changed. He was still that same cocky asshole that made the last five years hell for him. He made his way into the kitchen in search of a snack. Anthony yelled out for him to grab him something to eat too. Brian rolled his eyes and was prepared to ignore him when he spotted a roll of cookie dough in the back of the refrigerator. Anthony hated anything made with oatmeal in it. He just found the little grains of oat's to be off putting and he hated raisins, so when Brian saw oatmeal raisin cookie dough, he knew that was just the snack to make.
"Sure, want cookies?" Brian asked innocently.
"Yeah man, whateva ya got." Anthony replied as he continued reading what Brian had written. He was amazed by the beauty in each word and also saddened. Brian wrote about how lonely and the isolation that he felt as he watched all of his friends and family go on with out him. The little scribbles of chicken scratch that was his hand writing were words of a sad heart and a heavy mind. It was just what Anthony needed to get the gears rolling. He took some of what Brian was feeling and transformed it to his point of view. Before he knew it he already had a page full of work. He looked around and saw that Brian was gone. The smell of cookies baking in the oven surrounded him. He assumed they must have been chocolate chip and his mouth watered at the thought. He called out to Brian and when he received no answer he began to walk around the apartment. He found himself in Brian's bedroom and saw that it looked completely different. Gone were the dinosaur and superhero action figures. Gone was the race striped comforter and replaced by a simple black blanket. Gone were the posters of cartoon characters that once lined the walls. Brian went through a Simpsons and Japanimation obsession in the fifth grade. His room now reflected the person that he had become. Posters of various rock bands covered every square inch of wall space. Piles and piles of books lay strewn around; ranging from a few classics that Anthony had never heard of to V.C. Andrew novels. Anthony realized that he no longer knew the kind of person that Brian was now, but he wanted to. He heard his name being called and went back into the living room to see an irate Brian.
"What the hell are you doing in my room!" Brian shrieked and Anthony suppressed the urge to yell back. Instead he calmly rested his hip against the counter top of the kitchen.
"Nothing, I was just looking for you. Hey, I think the cookies are ready now." Anthony replied as he reached down to open the oven door. As soon as his hand touched the metal handle to pull it open, he quickly withdrew it muttering curse words in Spanish. Brian temporarily forgot about his annoyance at immediacy went into protective mood. He rushed over to Anthony and grabbed his hand in his leading him to the sink. Anthony continued to mutter out curse words in Spanish.
"Hold still! If you don't hold your hand under the water your burn is gonna blister!" Brian commanded and he tried to keep Anthony's hand under the running water.
"Fuck! Why is it so hot!" Anthony shrieked. He always thought that if you had a burn, you had to cool it with cold water and he didn't know why Brian was using warm water.
"Because, the heat cools it down quicker, now stop being such a baby!"
"¡Mierda! ¡Maldiga que los daños!" Anthony yelled out in Spanish. The burn, if you could call it that, was small; maybe two inches long, running from his wrist to the center of his palm and not much thicker than half an inch. Brian was amused at how this big, strong tall jock was whining like a little baby over a mere blister. "Aye! Why you laughing....it hurts!" Anthony continued and Brian couldn't help laughing. Anthony attempted to pull his hand out of Brian's, but he couldn't; for such a small guy, his grip was tight. Brian continued to smirk at Anthony`s childish behavior and after a moment Anthony had to laugh at himself too.
"Stop whining!" Brian playfully replied. His eyes were focused on the task at hand. He watched as the gentle warm water ran over Anthonys large olive toned skin. Each bead of water seemed to make his skin glisten. Brian found himself getting excited by touching him. He had to muster all of his strength not to react, but it was getting harder and harder not to; especially with the hissing sounds of pain Anthony kept making. They may have been out of pain, but it could easily be confused with the moans of pleasure. The cold gray sunlight shined down through the window illuminating them both with the silvery light of the cold afternoon. One smaller figure taking charge of the larger. Anthony liked the feeling of Brian holding his hand; taking care of him. He unconsciously found himself curling up his fingers ever so slowly and locking them with Brians hand. He could feel Brian tense up, but he had to go forward when he realized there was no turning back. It was then or never and Anthony was tired of fighting it, so sick of pretending. He closed his hand around Brian's, water being the only thing coming between them. Brian
tried to pretend not to notice, tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but he
knew it was. He fought to keep his eyes away from Anthony's, but he was fighting a losing battle. His heart was racing; beating so fast that he could hear the pounding in his head. He held his breath in anticipation. He could feel Anthony moving closer to him. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that he was shaking as much as he was. Brian's eyes closed.
Anthony didn't know what got into him. For so long he covered up his feelings. He masked the unbending combination of love and lust that he felt for Brian with hateful words and intolerable actions. For so many years he tried to hold those feelings back, but he couldn't, not anymore. He was worn out from the battle and ragged with want. He not only wanted it, but it was like he needed it. In that moment nothing else mattered except for his needs. No more games, no more hiding and no more feelings of being alone. Anthony was about to take a step that was ten years in the making. He knew early on that his feelings for Brian were unordinary; not right. He knew that the protectiveness that he felt over him went far beyond simple friendship. No, he was as in love with him even back then as he knew Brian was with him. He knew Brian's feelings for him were the same. Sometimes when they would just be hanging out, he would catch the way Brian would look at him and it was like he just knew. The realization that Brian felt the same for him scarred him so he began to pull away. He was eleven and didn't know much. But, now Anthony was older. He knew a lot more about life and he knew what he felt and he wanted to know if Brian still felt it. If only he could get Brian to look at him. If only he could.
"Brian?" Anthony called out to him. His voice was deep and husky with hunger. He stood less than a foot from Brian, but wanted to be closer. He ignored the stinging of his burn and closed his hand completely around Brian's so now there was no false pretense of accidentally contact. No, it was blatantly obvious of what Anthony was doing. Brian stood stone still. He dare not make a move, too afraid of what he knew was happening. The part of him that was still that quiet little boy in love with his best friend was eager with anticipation, but that sixteen year old young man wasn't sure what he wanted. Anthony had betrayed him; let him down. When he needed him the most, Anthony just turned his back to him. Years of bullying that not only were encouraged by Anthony, but occasionally instigated. His mind was telling him not to, but his past was urging him forward. Slowly he turned his eyes to look into Anthony's. Dark green eyes watered over with nervousness shined down with love. Brian held his breath and turned his body towards Anthony's. For the briefest of moments their eyes locked and they just stood there in silence lost in each other's eyes. Brian felt so many things; fear, love, hate, lust, want. All of these emotions were mirrored in Anthony's eyes. Anthony took his free hand and placed it softly against Brian's cheek. He leaned his face downwards and they both held their breathes as they realized their lips were about to touch. Anthony could hear the beat of his own heart thumping to the erythematic tune of Brian's. A thump followed by a thump. Beats going so fast that it almost hurt. Mouths dry and hands sweaty. The water running creating a splashing sound as it rushed into the metal sink. Closer and closer they moved to each other. Anthony leaned his head down and Brian leaned his upwards, slightly parting his mauve lips to meet Anthony's deep pink mouth. Slowly, almost timidly their lips touched. A heat and fire were sparked by the electric contact and all thoughts of taking-it-slow were forgotten as they began to consume each other. Their kiss was hard and aggressive at first. Years of built up passion now set free. Brian brought his hand around Anthony 's neck and pulled him closer as he felt his tongue licking at Anthony's lower lip, begging to get in. Their tongues hard and fast, but gentle in the same. It was a contradiction that was theirs. With one hand caressing Brian' s cheek, Anthony let his uninjured hand travel down and feel the arch and grooves of Brian's backside. For years he watched it develop and now he was free to let his hands roam. If not for the need for oxygen, they could have lasted longer. Panting they pulled away.
"WOW!" Brian stated as he continued to look into Anthony's eyes. Their foreheads were touching as they struggled to regain their energy. Unlike Brian, Anthony was no stranger when it came to sexual matters. He had a lot of it with just about every girl he could, but never had he been so effected by a simple kiss. It was almost orgasmic and he knew he needed it again.
"Yeah.....God!" Anthony responded before Brian cut him off and leaned up and kissed him again. Words were left unsaid; they weren't needed. With each touch of their tongues and roaming of their hands they were consumed with each other. Two hearts beating at the same rapid pace. Fear and lust both driving forces. No more lies, hiding only what was necessary, they knew there was no turning back. They closed their eyes and let themselves get lost with the one person they wanted and they let the cookies burn..............
To Be Continued
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