To say the past few days have been torture would be an understatement. I haven't seen Lionel since the incident and I'm fairly certain that he left campus. I called his cell all night after he caught me, but Michael told me to give Lionel some space, so I haven't tried to call him since. I wish I could talk to Lionel, just so he can tell me what he's thinking. I've been a wreck waiting for him to walk through the door. I have had very little food. I only showered once, right after the incident. I try to rush when I use the bathroom because I'm afraid he'll come back and grab some of his things, and I'll miss him. I won't let Michael, or anyone else come over, because I don't want Lionel to return and find me in the room with anyone. I want Lionel to walk in and have no excuse not to talk with me.
Knowing that Lionel is out there somewhere, harboring my secret, is also nerve wrecking because I don't know if he's told anyone or if he will tell anyone. And as if worrying about Lionel isn't enough shit to deal with, the basketball team will start practicing soon. What if Lionel tells some of the other guys on the team that I'm a fucking fag. I could just die. I love basketball almost as much as I love Lionel. I can't believe I've made such a mess of my life in such little time. I never expected that I would one day star in my own soap opera.
I asked some people on my floor if they have seen or heard from Lionel, but all of them said no. I called his mother and asked if she had talked to him. That was a stupid move on my part. His mother got all worried and told me to tell Lionel to call her as soon as I heard from him. She didn't even ask what happened, she just assumed that Lionel had run off again. Apparently he had done that before. She told me he should be back in a couple of hours. It's been a couple of days and I'm still waiting.
Okay, so it's Monday night, and Lionel has been gone since Friday evening. I am really worried about him. I skipped all my classes today so I could stay in my room and wait for him. I have no idea if he went to any of his classes. If he did, he went without his books and his notebooks. My mother calls because she's worried. She hasn't heard from me all weekend and she knows something is wrong because she can hear it in my voice. I tell her Lionel found out I was gay. She asks how he found out. I tell her he walked in on me kissing another guy. She asks when this happened. I say Friday night and she really gets upset. She starts yelling at me for not calling her sooner. She complains that I wouldn't come to her in my time of crisis and she reminds me that she is my mother and she can handle any situation. I am tempted to tell her the truth is I was getting fucked up the ass when Lionel walked in. I figure that will test her tolerance, but I want to maintain some of my dignity and telling my mom about my sex life will only serve to make me feel even worse.
I am about to tell her I have to go when I hear a key in the door lock. My mother is talking about something, but I completely ignore her as I stare at the door. I swear the door opens in slow motion. Lionel walks in and closes the door behind him. He is wearing the same clothes he had on four days ago and I can't help but wonder if he's showered. What used to be a shadow on his face is now a light trace of a beard. He looks at me and I see the saddest look I have ever seen in my life.
I quickly say goodbye to my mother, "Mom, I gotta go." I hang up the phone and sit still while I wait for some sign from Lionel. Lionel stands and looks at me a few minutes longer. I begin to feel uncomfortable with the silence and I prepare to say something. It is the speech I have been practicing for the last three days. Lionel walks to his bed and sits down, never taking his eyes off of me.
"So how long have you known?" Gone is the sweet, jovial ring that I use to hear in his voice. All that's left behind is the sound of sadness.
"For a long time, but I didn't accept it until our sophomore year." I want to be as honest and as direct as I can to all of his questions.
"So you knew all of high school?"
"Yes."
"What made you that way?" I am flabbergasted by the question, but the look of sincerity in his eyes tells me he isn't trying to be offensive. I still love him, so I answer the question.
"I was born this way."
"Oh." He looks lost in thought.
"Your mother wants you to call her." I have so many
things planned to say to him, and when I finally get my
chance, I can't find the words. All I can do is relay a
stupid message.
He seems to snap back to reality. "I already talked to
her." "Oh." Say something!' I think to myself. Do
it!'
"So your friend's name is Lionel, too?"
"No, it's Michael." I recognize the mistake right away. I shouldn't have said that. I know what the next question is going to be.
"So why were you calling him Lionel?"
"I don't know." I start to fidget on my bed.
"Oh." He looks down at the floor and returns to his thoughts.
I watch him try to burn a hole in to the floor with his eyes. He is staring at the same spot for so long that I take a glance myself to make sure there isn't anything there. I wonder what thoughts are bouncing around in that sexy head of his. Then I verbally bash myself for thinking his head is sexy at a time like this. I finally can't take it anymore, so I speak.
"Did you tell anyone about me?"
He looks up and I realize I have hurt his feelings. The question was necessary, but the look of hurt in his eyes made me feel like less of a person for even thinking to ask such a question.
"Of course I didn't! What type of a guy do you think I am?"
"I don't know."
I hear him mumble under his breath, "Yeah, that's right, you don't know."
"Huh? What did you say?" I heard what he said, but I want him to repeat it.
"Nothing."
"No, you said something." I have no idea why I'm pressing him to repeat himself.
"I said you don't know. I was going to say you don't know, but you should know, but I thought I should keep that to myself."
"So how do you feel about this whole situation?" I decided it was best for me to simply move on with the conversation.
"Well, I'm surprised. I never would have guessed that you like boys. I want to say I'm okay with it, but I'm not sure where I am on that issue, right now. All I know is that you're my boy and I know we can work this out." He stand ups and walks over to me.
I am shocked because his reaction seems unrealistic. "Why are you being so accepting?"
"Three nights sleeping on the ground really puts things in to perspective. I'm lucky to have a roof over my head. I'm lucky that you've always been a good friend to me. I'm lucky that we won't have the drama of fighting over some chick." He smiled, and I saw a hint of hope in his eyes. I happily smiled with him. "Now give me a hug." He opens his arms.
I stand up from my bed and enter his warm embrace. The shear joy from his acceptance, or at least tolerance, of me overwhelms my senses. I start crying and shaking in his arms. He pulls me closer and softy says, "Ssh. It will be okay." He rubs my back with his hands, creating heat and setting my skin on fire. I bury my face in to his t-shirt. It is then that I realize the weird smell that came in with him, is not from his shoes. He stinks!
I let him know in no uncertain times that he needs to clean up, by taking a big whiff of air, and saying, "Phew! You need a shower! You stink!" I lean back wiping my tears away with the back of my hands.
"Well you don't smell like a bed of roses either." His comment makes me laugh, and my eyes start leaking tears of laughter and joy. I know it wasn't that funny, but I can't stop laughing. Lionel joins me in my laughter. We stand like that for a while: me lost in his warm embrace, and both of us laughing hysterically. Sometimes laughter can make you feel better. Whoever said laughter is good for the soul, was right on the money. We laughed until we couldn't laugh and then we joked about it and laughed some more. I watched as the traces of sadness began to vacate his eyes, and the happy spirit I knew and loved returned. We weren't whole again, but we were on the right track.
c Lustyville 2005 Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out my yahoo group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lustyville.