Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
That said, on with the show, and back to the story in progress.
Carla was waiting patiently for me when the plane landed, despite the fact that it was much later here than it had been in Los Angeles. I noticed the large, probably "grande" cup of coffee next to her, and realized that it had to be the only thing keeping her awake. She saw me coming down the concourse and smiled, jumping up to hug me. I hadn't realized how much I'd been missing her until I actually saw her. In at least one way, it was good to be home.
"Welcome back," she said, squeezing me tightly. "Sorry it's not under better circumstances."
"Thanks," I said. "Want to go get my suitcase?"
"Sure," she said, falling into step beside me.
"So," I began, glancing over at her. "Tell me a story."
"I'd love to," she said, shaking her head. "It's been a long frigging night, let me tell you. OK, so right after dinner I got this call from your landlord. He had my number because they wanted to come in last week and work on the heaters or something, and they wanted to do it now while no one has theirs on. Anyway, your landlord calls me to tell me that there's some graffiti on the side of the building, and that the girl who lives across the hall from you called because someone tossed something through your window."
"OK, I'm with you so far," I said, as we waited by the carousel for my suitcase to come sliding by.
"So I drive over, and there's like three cop cars, because your landlord gave the police your name, and some dipshit at the police station was like, 'Oh my God, do you know who that is?' so every cop in town shows up," Carla continued, shaking her head. "I got out of the car, and they were actually setting up police tape around your building."
"Jesus," I said, shaking my head. "Why?"
"Because the TV station sent their news van, and they wanted to look very official, I guess," Carla said, shrugging.
"They sent a news van? For me?" I asked, surprised. "Carla, I'm nobody."
"Yes, but you're dating somebody," she clarified. "Local news has been all over that with community reaction and all that crap. Very circuslike. The newspaper sent someone, too, so don't be surprised if this ends up on the AP wire. Anyway, I'm convincing the guy at the barricade that I actually am allowed inside, and your landlord comes and drags me in so we can go survey the damage."
"Don't keep me in suspense," I grumbled, grabbing my suitcase. We began to walk toward the main doors.
"You really want to know?" she asked. "Because, I mean, I'm taking you over there in the morning."
"Just tell me now and get it over with," I said with tired resignation. I needed to know what we were dealing with, so that I wouldn't be totally surprised when I saw it tomorrow.
"Well, we have a 'No Fags', a 'No Queers', and a 'Kill All Queers' on the front of your apartment building, and your door says that 'Mr. Springer Likes Boys'," Carla began, lighting a cigarette as soon as we got outside. She glanced at me. "Are you really sure you want to hear this right now?"
"I'm fine, Carla," I lied. "I'm going to see it tomorrow anyway."
"OK, so, you, know, based on the door the cops are guessing some kids from school did it," Carla continued. "Of course nobody saw anything, even though they took statements from everyone in your building and all of the neighbors. The brick through your window had a note wrapped around it, with a rubber band. The police wouldn't let me take it, of course, but it was mostly just this thing about how 'we' don't want 'your kind' here in our town, or some such bullshit. They said they'd be happy to show it to you if you want to come down to the station."
"We'll see," I said. "What about the news people?"
"Well, I didn't talk to anyone, but it was all over the local news at 11," Carla answered, driving toward her house. "I figured you can stay with me, since none of them know where I live, and at least that way you'll get some peace and quiet. Your landlord and I, and Tom, that guy who lives above you, got a piece of plywood up in your window frame, and nothing inside your apartment was broken. Then Tom helped me clean up the glass. How come you never introduced me to him before, by the way?"
"Because he lives with his fiancee," I answered, smiling. Only Carla would look for a man while dealing with landlords, police, and reporters.
"Not anymore," Carla corrected, grinning. "They broke up two weeks ago because she was cheating on him. We're having dinner on Monday."
I shook my head as we both laughed.
"As long as something positive comes from this," I said, giggling.
"Shut up," Carla said, grinning. "This'll work out, for you and me both. Getting back to the rest of the story, though, I talked to your landlord, and he says that he's not going to terminate your lease, since you're a good tenant and he has no grounds to, so at least you're not getting evicted."
"Who's paying for the damage?" I asked.
"I forgot to ask," Carla admitted, shrugging.
I thought about all of this for a few minutes as we sped down the dark highways, headlights washing over us from passing cars. Carla finished her cigarette and lit up another one, and I bummed one off of her. Her eyebrows went up, and you could tell that something really sarcastic was dangling on the tip of her tongue, but she held it in. I was all prepared to offer the excuse that I was under stress and that made it ok, too. My house had been attacked. Someone had come to my home and written things on the walls. Someone had broken my window, broken into my space. And why? Not because of anything I had done to them, but because of who I was. It wasn't fair, but life was usually like that. Not only that, but the police had now pestered all of my neighbors. Maybe I should send them all little notes to apologize.
"Carla, answer this honestly, ok?" I began, looking over at her. "What have people been saying?"
"Honestly?" she asked, shrugging, stalling for time. "It hasn't been too bad, actually. I mean, you're out to everyone who knows you anyway, so it's not like people are really surprised. Well, not about that, anyway. Lots of people are really surprised about who you're dating, especially when they found out that JC was actually here. You guys made the front page of the Lifestyles section of the paper the other day. I saved it for you."
"Gee, thanks," I said. "I'll add it to my scrapbook."
"Oh, I've been keeping one for you, don't worry," Carla said, shrugging. "If you're asking about whether there's been lots of uproar, then no, not really. Like I said, most people are just like, 'Oh, how'd Jack meet him?'"
"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" I asked, curious.
"Of course not," she answered. "With you out of town, everybody's been calling me to get the scoop. I'm the most popular girl in school, let me tell you. I've been asked out to so many things in the past couple days I won't have to cook for weeks. That new girl who teaches in the music department even wanted to know if I could get you to ask JC to have the band come for the Christmas concert."
"That's six months from now," I pointed out.
"I know," Carla said, shrugging. "I've never had so much fun teaching summer school. And the kids? Oh my God, I've never seen people take such an interest in Health. I think every girl in summer school right now tried to switch into my classes. I have girls coming up to my desk after every class going, 'Miss Donato, have you talked to Mr. Springer? Is he coming back soon? Is JC coming with him?' And, you know, Racquelle's told that story about him helping her in the library about a thousand times now."
"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. I don't know why the things some of our kids did continued to surprise me, but they did. "So, if nobody seems really upset, where does the rest of this come in?"
"Oh, you mean the petition," Carla said, as I nodded. "That's just a bunch of bullshit, Jack. Don't let it bother you."
"Maggie said they were at the grocery store?" I asked. Maggie White was one of the social studies teachers.
"Yeah, she called my cell phone while I was on my way to your apartment," Carla said. "Apparently some of the parents were out in front of the store, talking about how you were going to bring undue media attention to the school, and that it would be disruptive to the kids' education. It's Constance Martin's mother, so you know what this is really about."
Constance Martin was the president of the church youth group, and her mother was legendary at the school for trying to bring back prayer before football games and for trying to block the science department from teaching evolution. At Open House every fall it was a ritual that new teachers had Mrs. Martin pointed out to them, because they'd have to deal with her at some point. There were six other Martins besides Constance. One of them was bound to come through one of your classes at some point.
"So it's the gay thing," I said unhappily.
"Yeah, it is, but she's not going to say that," Carla said. "Instead she's hiding behind this idea that somehow you're going to transform the school into this big media circus, and that there are going to be newsvans parked out front of the school every day harassing the kids and keeping them from getting an education."
"But Carla, I've been gay all along," I said, shrugging. "It's not like it was a secret. Why is it suddenly a problem now?"
"Maggie asked her the same question at the grocery store," Carla said, smiling. "She wouldn't come right out and answer her, but we think we have it. Jack, you being gay isn't just something for the kids to make jokes about anymore, the way they talk about all of us, and who's dating whom, and everything else we do and don't do and are rumored to have done. Now, Mrs. Martin turns on her TV, and there you are flaunting it for the whole world to see. Suddenly, God forbid, the kids might actually think it's cool."
"OK, Carla, the kids are never going to think it's cool to be gay," I said, laughing. "Football players aren't going to watch MTV and then start making out with each other."
"No probably not," Carla agreed, laughing. "But Jack, maybe they'll think that it's cool for someone else to be gay. Where the hell is that going to leave people like Alice Martin?"
"In the dark ages where they belong?" I asked. "Carla, kids already think it's ok. They have movies, and their TV shows, and soap operas. I mean, Jesus, Carla, you can buy rainbow rings at Claire's in the mall. It's not exactly counterculture."
"I can't believe I'm arguing this with you," Carla said. "Jack, are you living under a rock? Yes, people might be a little more open to it, but they're not half as accepting as you're trying to argue that they are, and you know I'm right."
I admitted nothing, sighing grudgingly.
"Carla, why are you so worried about this?' I asked, confused. "Alice Martin is a nutjob. Everyone knows that."
"Yeah, but she's got some of the other parents supporting her," Cara said, shaking her head. "And Maggie said they already had over a hundred names on their petition."
Suddenly I didn't want to hear anymore. Over a hundred names? Over a hundred people had signed a petition saying that I should lose my job because I was a danger to the kids, because I was a threat to the school? Over a hundred people thought I should be put out of work, put out into the streets, because of who I loved? Some of them must be people I knew. Some of them must be people that I saw at school, or people who dropped by during open house. They must be the people I saw at the post office, or the grocery store, people who had smiled at me and said hello, but who had apparently been thinking something else all along. The kids who painted my walls must be kids I knew, too. Kids who came into my library, kids I passed in the halls, kids I had never been anything but nice to.
We didn't speak for the rest of the ride. Carla turned the radio on, and we listened to it, staring out the windows. I don't know what she was thinking, and I didn't want to ask. I was just thinking about how wrong I'd been, how I didn't really know anyone, and nothing was the way I thought it was or should be. I thought that I was so comfortable with my life, that everyone who was nice to me really didn't care if I was gay or not. I'd become complacent, because I was content. I took everyone at face value, assumed that everyone wanted to be my friend, because that's the way I treated them. Josh had told me once that one of the things he loved about me was the way I thought I knew it all, and I realized that I didn't really know anything.
When we got to Carla's, she helped me pull out the sleeper sofa, since she lived in a one bedroom, and then, yawning, she told me she was going to bed. I realized that I hadn't even thanked her yet, after she'd put up with a hell of a lot for me this evening.
"Carla, thank you for everything," I said, hugging her.
"That's what friends are for, kiddo," she said, stepping back. She looked at me for a second, peering into my eyes like a scientist. "You miss him, don't you?"
"Yeah," I answered, nodding. "How can you tell?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "You just look kind of, I don't know, kind of lost, or incomplete. You've got the same look on your face that you have when you can't find your wallet or your car keys, like you're missing something important and have no idea where it is."
"Yeah, that just about sums it up," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. "I think I'm going to call him. It's late, but he's probably trying to wait up."
I could see Josh in my mind's eye, sitting up in bed, trying to read a magazine, nodding off and forcing himself awake again. Josh needed a certain amount of sleep every day, and once he started yawning at night, that was it. One yawn, and you had about five minutes before he was out like a light. No matter how tired he was, though, I knew he wouldn't let himself fall asleep until he talked to me, and knew that I was ok.
"Well, tell the boy I said hi," Carla said, walking toward her bedroom. "I'll be in here if you need to talk, ok? Good night, Jack."
"Night, Carla, and thanks again," I said. She closed her door, and I sat on the bed, dialing Josh with one hand as I pulled off my shoes with the other.
"Thizzish JC," Josh slurred into the phone.
"Gosh, you sure sound sexy when you're half-awake, Joshua," I said, smiling. I began to strip out of my clothes.
"Jack!" he said, sounding a lot more awake. "Hi! Is everything ok? How are you? Where are you?"
"Slow down, Josh, please," I said, laughing. "I'm at Carla's, and it's very quiet here. She told me all about everything that's going on, and I'm going to go check on my apartment and see the police tomorrow."
"Is it really bad?" Josh asked. I heard him click on the lamp next to the bed, and imagined him sitting up, the sheet falling away from his bare, tanned torso. "I'm worried about you, and I miss you."
"I'm ok, I guess," I answered, trying to decide how I felt. "I mean, I'm not happy. I guess right now I just kind of feel really surprised, and hurt, more than anything else. Carla said over a hundred people have signed this petition thing."
"Jack, do you need a lawyer?" Josh asked seriously. "I can send someone, you know."
"No, Josh, I don't think it's anywhere near that bad yet," I answered quickly. "I'm going to go in and see my principal tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure the school is going to stand behind me on this one."
"OK, but if you need anything, just call me, please," Josh said.
"I will, Josh, I promise," I said, leaning back into the bed. It wasn't exactly comfortable. "I miss you, too."
"It feels so strange being here without you," Josh sighed. "I mean, the bed seems like it's just huge, and empty. I keep expecting you to come out of the bathroom, or up from the pool, or something. I just feel kind of lost right now."
"I know how you feel," I agreed, because I felt it, too. I don't know when Josh and I had suddenly become inseparable, but I just felt empty inside without having him right there. "All I keep doing in the back of my head is trying to figure out how fast I can handle all of this, so I can get back to you."
"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be," he sighed again.
"Being a couple?" I asked, confused.
"No, being apart," he answered. We were both quiet for a minute, just listening to each other breathe, trying to figure out some way to reach across the miles between us. "Hey, Jack, what's Carla's address?"
I gave it to him, and then asked, "Why? Should I expect something?"
"Maybe," he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "And don't start any of that stuff you usually do about how you don't want presents, ok?"
"I didn't say a word," I said defensively. "Will I like it?"
"I know you will," he answered. "Look for it tomorrow, at about five, your time."
"I love you so much, Josh," I said, sighing.
"I know, because I love you that much, too," Josh answered.
"On that note, and since you sound so tired, I'm going to order you to go to sleep," I said. "I'm not having you in trouble at the studio tomorrow."
"OK, but you be careful tomorrow, too, ok?" Josh asked. "You sound down, and I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine, Josh, I swear," I said. "Don't get distracted over me, ok?"
"Can't help it," he sighed. "Good night, Jack."
"Good night, Josh," I answered.
After I hung up the phone it took me a very long time to fall asleep. At first I thought it was because I couldn't get comfortable in the bed, but eventually I realized that it was because I couldn't get comfortable without Josh. I missed him, and he missed me, and all that seemed to add up to was a situation with no winners.
In the morning Carla was up before me, but tried to be quiet. After she showered and got dressed, I crawled into the shower, cursing the fact that my body stubbornly insisted that it was the middle of the night. I met Carla at the table, where she pushed a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper toward me. Since it was the local paper, it was small enough that the vandalism, combined with the story of the petition, made the front page, but at least it was below the fold.
"Shit," I murmured, sipping my coffee. "How the hell did they put the two together so fast?"
"Alice Martin probably called the paper herself," Carla said, shaking her head.
I skimmed the article, reading over the paragraphs about outraged parents concerned that their children not be exposed to a "media circus", or the "low morals" so prevalent in the entertainment industry. I wondered if that might border on slander, but figured that the paper probably had a legal department to checked such things. And it was part of a quote from Mrs. Martin, not from the newspaper itself. If I decided to sue her, though, it would just generate more publicity. The rest of the article offered a recap of the awards ceremony the other night, including the "surprising revelation" that JC Chasez was "seriously involved" with local high school librarian Jack Springer, who could not be reached for comment.
"I can't believe this is our newspaper," I said, shaking my head. "It's worse than People magazine."
"Hey, you're the closest thing we have to a local celebrity," Carla said, grinning. "So, what's our plan for the day?"
"Well, since you said I can take the car, I'm dropping you off at school," I began. "Then I'm going to check on my apartment, and survey the damage. After that, the police station, and then I'm heading back to school to meet with Principal Richardson. After that we head back here, and wait for a five o'clock delivery of some sort of gift from Josh."
"Is it a chef again?" Carla asked excitedly. "I liked that present!"
"God knows," I said, shaking my head. "All I know is he said to be here, and that I'd like it."
"You're so spoiled," she said, as we gathered her things and headed for the car. "I hate you."
"You're just jealous," I said, laughing.
I dropped Carla off at the school, driving all the way around the back to avoid being seen by any of the summer school students. I didn't want to deal with my almost-celebrity status at the moment. While hiding in the school parking lot, I also called the secretary in the main office, and got my appointment for the afternoon. Not a normally friendly woman, today she seemed to have been dipped in ice, at least to me, and I wondered if she was one of the one hundred names. Dismissing the thought, I drove to my apartment.
Fortunately for the vandals, but not so much so for us, the exterior of the building was off-white siding, and the words stood out starkly, even from a distance. Carla had told me what they said last night, but that still didn't compare to actually seeing them, to standing outside the place where I lived and knowing that someone had come there and done this specifically to hurt me. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but would have been surprised if I did. Going in, I didn't see any of my neighbors, so I keyed into my apartment for a look around. As Carla had promised, nothing appeared to be broken, except for the window, and she and Tom had done a good job of cleaning up the broken glass. I saw it sparkling in the garbage can.
The plywood rectangle glared from its space on the wall, and it made the whole front room of the apartment rather dark. Even after I switched on a light, it still looked rather dark, and somewhat depressing. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, and my whole apartment had the air of an unused, long empty space. It had only been a few weeks, but there was just an atmosphere of emptiness hanging so thickly about the entire place. I wondered if it had always been there, and if maybe I hadn't noticed because I had been rather empty the entire time I lived here, too. I realized right then what I had been feeling last night, and this morning. Home didn't really feel like home anymore. It no longer felt at all like a place where I belonged, or where I could be happy.
I tried to shake the feeling, tried to tell myself that I was just upset over the graffiti, but it stuck with me all day, clinging to me like the smell of smoke will long after you leave a bar. At the police station, I spoke with the investigator handling the case, a man who looked at me sideways as if he didn't really think this merited much police attention. He explained that they had no leads, but would do everything they could. I thanked him and left, noticing people looking at me and whispering as I walked out. By the time I got to the school, I was about ready to slap the next person who pointed at me and muttered something behind their hand. The secretary favored me with a frosty glare of contempt, and wouldn't make eye contact as she announced to Mr. Richardson that I was there, and then showed me in.
"So, Jack," Mr. Richardson began, shaking my hand. He was a large man, some sort of ex-jock of some kind, but was always friendly. "That's quite a tan you're getting. How's the summer treating you?"
"It's been odd, Don," I answered, smiling. "Or haven't you seen the news?"
"Oh, you know, it would be hard to miss, especially with the girls begging me to invite you and your friend over for dinner," Don answered, smiling. He had twin teenage daughters, and was raising them both by himself. I imagined that the house must be a constantly simmering storm of teenage angst. "You don't want to come over, by the way, do you? The girls are enormous fans of the band, although, to be honest, they had to explain to me which one was which."
"I don't know if I can make it out for dinner, but I bet I can get something sent out to the house," I answered. Don had always been nice to me. "Something autographed. You know."
"That would be great, Jack, but you don't have to go to any trouble," Don said, leaning back in his chair. That was usually the signal that small talk was over. "So, what brings you to my office on your vacation?"
"Carla called me last night," I answered, leaning back as well. "Did you see the paper this morning?"
"Oh, yes," Don said. "Sorry to hear about your apartment, and I hope all of your things are ok, but that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"
"Not really, but thanks," I answered. "Everything's fine."
"If it's about the petition, it's garbage," Don said, crossing his hands. "I already talked to the superintendent, and we have no intention of removing you or asking you to step down, regardless of how many parents protest. You've gotten the highest level performance evaluations for your entire time with us. There has never been a single concern about your commitment or your performance, and this vague morality issue they're trying to raise is just ignorant, uneducated bullshit."
My eyebrows went up. Don never swore unless he was truly pissed off about something.
"As for the media circus, well, do you see a circus?" he asked, gesturing toward the window behind him. I shook my head. "Yeah, me neither. The media can't enter school grounds without permission anyway, and it's hard to fire someone on the grounds that you think something might happen just because they work here, especially if they're not doing anything to cause it. Does that about sum up the official position of the administration for you, Jack?"
"Actually, it does," I answered, matching his grin.
"So what else can I do for you?" Don asked.
"Well, in light of what you just said, this is going to sound a little odd," I began. "I do want to say thank you, both to you as a friend and to the rest of the administration, for supporting me on this. I've never felt like you didn't, and it really has meant a lot to me. What I need you to do, though, Don, is to agree to write me a really good recommendation, and to please accept my resignation without any hard feelings."
Don gaped at me, open mouthed.
"Jack, are you leaving the field?" he asked finally.
"No, I'm just thinking of relocating," I answered. "And yes, before you ask, it's for Josh. He hasn't asked me to, not seriously, but I love him, Don. I love him enough to uproot myself for him, and I think I'm going to be with him for a long time."
"This is kind of sudden. Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "Then I guess we have a couple other things to talk about."
When Don and I finally finished, everything was set and signed. I asked him to please keep it to himself for a couple days, until I could tell all of my friends on the staff, and he agreed, wishing me luck. I promised to keep in touch, and then went to go collect Carla.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"Fine," I answered. "I'll tell you everything over dinner."
We stopped on the way home to get some groceries, and to grab a few newspapers. Sure enough, the story had gone out over the AP wire, but the major papers didn't seem to consider it much more than a tiny blurb. It probably wouldn't even have been counted as that if it hadn't happened so close to the main story. Josh and I really needed to hurry up and decide who we were going to give an interview to, I realized.
Carla and I both tried to act nonchalant and unconcerned, but we were both watching the clock like hawks with prey, following the hands as they spun on their inexorable path toward five. At ten of, we heard a knock at the door. Both of us jumped up, running for it.
"It's my present!" I said, elbowing her out of the way.
"It's my house!" she replied. "And it could just be the neighbors wanting a cup of sugar or something."
I yanked the door open, and it wasn't a present or a neighbor.
It was Josh.
More to come soon.