Disclaimer: So I heard the wildest thing today. I heard, are you ready for this, that it's fathomable that people are responsible for their own actions. Who in their right mind would have thought of that?? Now, here's where you gotta pick a side of the line to stand on. You can either A) hang on the cool side of the line and take responsibility for your own actions, being here for instance, OR, you can B) blame everyone else for your poor, dirtied mind/soul/whatever because you chose to spend your time here (because this is gay story! How insane is that?). But the latter's not as cool a thing to pick as the former is. But, as I've said before, I can't make your choices for you. So whatever you wanna do. For those of you who love me enough to hang around :), enjoy!!
Running Scared Chapter Ten By Brennan Jobse
Some days later, I was walking through this great big field of canola looking for Austin's cats. It was hot and muggy and I cursed the events that had brought me here in the first place. I thought about it, and realized I didn't actually remember the events that had brought me here in the first place. That was okay. I could curse them whether I knew them or not.
A breeze blew through the field, making the yellow flowers by my feet ripple in a wave that got bigger as it spread out. The air felt nice. It was still really hot. My curiosity got the better of me and I tried to piece together how the hell I had gotten there.
I had been pretty sure I was in BC at least, but then I remembered that there's not usually big friggin' oceans of canola in BC. Wonderful. So now I wasn't even in my own province anymore. Where the fuck was I? Saskatchewan, maybe? I didn't know a lot about it, but I knew they were real farmy people. Why would Austin's cats be in another province, anyway? And why was I out here looking for them and he wasn't?
Questions, questions... Too many questions.
With these seemingly harmless questions arose the questions that had been running so frequently through my mind. Why do you really want Austin here, Ben? the voices taunted.
"Fuck off. I want him here so he can help me find his damn cats," I said irritably. I was glad there was no one around or they'd have thought I was crazy. Maybe I was, I reasoned. I was in the middle of a canola field in God knows where, looking for my boyfriend's cats. It seemed pretty crazy to me.
"Me too," a voice from behind me agreed.
I whirled around and saw Reverend Radisson "What are you doing here?" I demanded in a surprised voice.
"I work here, Ben. What are you doing here?" he asked, confusion in his voice.
He was right. I was in the church basement, in the Reverend Radisson's office. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands clasped calmly on the top of it, and motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of him.
I stared at him. There was no fucking way I was sitting down. The reverend had always made me uneasy, even before I knew I was gay. Shortly after my mom had died, he had made a big point of my dad bringing me to church with him on a regular basis. I don't even think my dad used to go before my mom died. I remember asking Reverend Radisson how he found my dad and he just smiled a smile that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and told me that the Lord worked in mysterious ways.
Psycho.
"Uh, no thanks. I'll just get out of your hair," I said, still trying to process the fact that I wasn't in a field somewhere anymore, and turned toward the door. But just before my hand closed on the doorknob, he appeared beside me, dark crow-like eyes glinting evilly in the harsh fluorescent lights. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked me, and before I could do anything, he grabbed my shoulder and pinned me roughly against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing!?!"
"Wake up, Ben," he seethed and shook me.
"What?"
"I said wake UP!"
I jerked upright out of my sleep frantically and focused my eyes on the shadowy figure in front of me, who slowly emerged as my science teacher. I wasn't in a field. I wasn't in the church basement. I was at school. Where I was supposed to be. As normality began to seep back into my brain, I felt a reassuring calm, which was quickly replaced by dread when I remembered Mr. Dimitri was standing there still.
"Decided to join the land of the living again, huh, Ben?"
"Sorry, Mr. Dimitri," I apologized, my face burning. This was the third time I had fallen asleep in class in six days. Damn those soccer practices. But Coach Haverland said they were paying off. They'd better be. And even if they weren't, we only a few days until the Westington game, so it couldn't go on much longer no matter how you looked at it.
"I know that the Conservation of Mass isn't terribly exciting, but try and stay awake for the next ten minutes?" he smiled. Like I said, the administration was pretty good about not giving us a hard time. They knew how hard we were practicing, and they wanted us to win.
I did manage to keep my eyes open the rest of the class, but I was relieved that it was my last class that day. Too bad I still had practice. Mr. Dimitri wrapped up his lecture on matter and proportion and all that other good stuff and set us free. I was walking, (well, shuffling would be a more accurate description) across the parking lot with my backpack slung over one shoulder, and my soccer bag in my good hand, when I heard a girl's voice calling me.
"Ben! Hey, Ben! Wait up!"
I turned and saw Amy running toward me. It was a bright, sunny day for a change, and I had to shield my eyes with my hand to see her. I felt an surge of annoyance as she neared and remembered that she was Aaron's girlfriend. Stop it, Ben, I scolded myself. I couldn't dislike her just because she was Aaron's girlfriend. Not only was it mean and judgmental, it was wrong. Besides, she might not even want to talk to me about Aaron. She could just be saying hi.
"Hey, Amy," I said with more cheer than I felt. I was NOT going to project the malice I felt for Aaron onto her. She was like Tommy. Not as close to me as other people, but she was my friend, and that was a shoddy thing to do to someone who was my friend.
"Hi. Um, could I talk to you for a second?" she asked nervously.
Shit. She wasn't just saying hi. "I've got soccer in a few minutes..." I started, trying to weasel my way out of what I already knew I didn't want to talk about.
"It'll only take a second."
I sighed. "Yeah, okay. Come on." We walked over next to the Power Mech building, which was relatively deserted, seeing as how Power Mech kids got out an hour earlier than the rest of us. "So what's up?"
"I want to talk to you about Aaron."
"Talk." I wasn't going to make this any easier for her. I didn't want to discuss it and if she did, she'd have to work for it.
"I think you should talk to him."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because. I have no need to talk to him."
"He really wants to talk to you."
"That's too damn bad, Amy." It was getting more difficult to keep the bite out of my voice.
"Come on, Ben. Don't be mad at me. I just want to help."
"Everyone just wants to help."
She sighed in apparent frustration. "Listen, Ben," she said, brushing a tress of chestnut colored hair back behind her ear, "I don't know what could have happened to so badly fuck you two up. Okay? I don't. He wouldn't tell me." She fixed her bright green eyes on mine and they clouded suddenly. "He's miserable, Ben. Would you talk to him? Please?"
I looked at her for a while, then picked up my bag and walked over to the soccer field without saying a word. I felt like a shit for leaving her there, but I was not going to talk to Aaron. I sat down on the grass to stretch and put on my kleats and saw Amy go talk to Aaron, who was on the other end of the field. She said something to him, and he glanced at me and kissed her forehead.
I played an hour and a half of soccer on angry energy. It surprised me a little how much stamina I had, considering how weary I had been fifteen minutes before practice. But I was pissed right the fuck off. Aaron had gotten his girlfriend to play the messenger for him. If he wanted to talk to me so much, why'd he keep sending other people to do it for him?
My newfound energy source tapped out as soon as practice was over, and I wondered if I could make it home like this or if I'd fall asleep on the way. At least my dad wasn't home to smack me if I was sleeping while the house was in shambles. I was sitting on the grass, absently studying my splints and remembering the noise my fingers made when they cracked, when I heard a voice above me.
"Can we talk?"
I looked up and squinted against the sun to see Aaron standing there with his bag in his hand and a pen in his mouth. "Why?" I demanded invidiously. "Couldn't get your girlfriend to come talk to me instead? Or maybe you'd like my boyfriend to do it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Please," I snorted. "Tell me you didn't count on Austin to ask me to swallow my pride and talk to you when you asked him how I was." He was quiet and stared at the ground. "I thought so."
He took the pen out of his mouth and held it in his hand. "Okay, fine. Maybe I did do that. But it was only because I didn't think you'd talk to me," he said. "And I guess it turns out I was right." And with that, he put his pen back between his lips, and turned to start walking away.
My initial emotional comeback was anger. How the hell could he come and turn this around so it was on me? Fucking bastard. Who needed him? I had Austin and so long as I had him, I'd be just peachy.
Austin's face materialized in my head, and this time, along with that now too all familiar quickening in my chest, I felt a little guilty, too. I knew he really wanted me to smooth things over with Aaron. Aaron was his friend, too, and it was getting a little strained when I called him and he was talking to Aaron on the other line. And I had promised Austin I would think about talking to him, which I hadn't. Shit.
All this went through my head in the span of about five seconds and Aaron had barely gotten more than three steps when I killed my ego.
"Wait," I called reluctantly.
He stopped, turned, and walked back to me. "So can we talk?" I nodded. "Great," he said, and offered me a small smile and a hand up. I ignored them both and pushed myself up from the ground. I picked up my bag and we started walking.
For a long time, nothing was said and in that time, I felt my previous anger falter a little. Despite the way I was acting, I had really missed Aaron these past few days. I missed having someone to be my armchair psychologist. I missed how worked up he got when it came to Napster. I missed being able to play good soccer with him. I'm not even really sure why I was acting like I despised him. I think I told everyone I didn't want to talk to him to convince myself I didn't.
"So you wanted to talk?" I asked, trying to initiate the conversation a little. The whole walk home so far, he had stared at the sidewalk and chewed on his pen, not saying a word. I felt kind of bad for him. I was still mad, but it was duller now.
"Yeah." He caught the pen between his front teeth and talked around it. "I'm sorry for what I said to you about your dad," he said awkwardly, his eyes never leaving the cracked concrete beneath his feet.
"So am I," I replied tactlessly. I swore inwardly. Nice one, Ben. Way to give the guy a chance.
He nodded, was quiet for a bit, and then, "I deserved that." He twirled the pen faster between his fingers and stuck it in his mouth again. It was odd to watch. Made me nervous.
"What are you doing with that pen?" I asked finally.
"Playing with it." Simple answer.
"Why don't you have a smoke or something?" It occurred to me that I hadn't seen Aaron with a cigarette in his mouth for days. Especially considering that we were fighting, I'd have thought he'd have grooves in his lips from all his chain-smoking.
"I quit," he said, still fiddling with his pen.
"What? When?" I asked, surprised.
"Day before you came over."
"Wow," was all I could say. "Just like that?"
He nodded.
"Why?" I didn't get it. You know how some people smoke solely because they're addicted? Well, Aaron wasn't like that. He enjoyed smoking. I knew he did. You don't go through all the trouble of learning how to French inhale if you're just in it for the nicotine buzz. I had been at him for years to give it up and he always just brushed off my attempts with a smile and changed the subject.
"Amy wants me to quit."
"She told you that?" Amy didn't strike me as the kind of person who would command someone to change their lifestyle just because she didn't like it.
"No, but I can tell she does," he replied.
"Wow," I said again. "I heard tobacco's harder to quit than heroin."
He sighed and took the pen out of his mouth, wistfully holding it like a cigarette, and then put it back in. "You have no idea."
"Don't you have gum or something for it?"
"Ran out in second class. It doesn't work anyway." He jerked the pen out of his mouth and I saw that he had chewed the top off it and it had just started to leak. "Fuck," he muttered and threw the ruined pen on the ground, spitting out a gob of blue ink. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the sidewalk again.
I dug a pen out of my bag and tapped his elbow with it. He just looked at me for a second, trying to figure out whether or not I was just fucking with his head by being nice to him.
"Thanks," he said slowly, and took the pen from me and put it in his mouth. "I really am sorry for yelling at you that day."
"I know, man. I shouldn't have taken it so personally," I apologized. That was unexpected. I had still seen him as the one who was at fault. But right then, it didn't particularly matter. I was sorry for the lost time. I'm even sorrier for it now.
"I just worry about you, you know? I mean, Christ, Ben, you're like my brother." He glanced sideways at me and I knew exactly what he was talking about. If someone had been hassling Aaron, I would've leapt to his defense, which, in hindsight, is precisely what Aaron had done for me.
"Yeah, I know."
"Plus, I hadn't had a smoke in about 34 hours, so I wasn't really in a listening mood."
I smiled. I hadn't smiled around Aaron in some time.
"Hey, what're you doing tonight?" he asked.
"Nothing," I shrugged.
"I got three Jay and Silent Bob flicks at my place. Will your dad let you come over?"
"He's in Calgary," I told him.
"Since when?" he asked with a sharp turn of his head my way.
"Six days ago. He'll be back on Wednesday."
"In time for the game," Aaron noted. "Think he'll show?"
"Beats me. Probably not. But your parents'll be there," I reminded him. I knew Aaron always felt bad because my dad was such a deadbeat, while his parents were involved in everything he, or I for that matter, did. To tell you the truth, I liked it better when his parents were there and my dad wasn't. I could count on Scott and Jenn not to make a big deal if I screwed up and to be happy for me if I did good. I didn't have that with my dad.
He nodded and when we reached my house, we parted ways.
"Come by in half an hour," he told me.
I had my shower, got changed, and when I realized that it had only taken 10 minutes, despite my hand, I called Austin and told him my good news. He was thrilled.
"Oh, my God, that's so great, Ben! That's-- wait a second. You're not just messing around, are you? You really did it, right? Tell me you really did it."
"I really did it, Austin," I laughed. "Well, actually, Aaron did it."
"But it's over now, right? All the dirty looks and the way your voice get different on the phone whenever I bring up Aaron? It's gone?"
"Yeah, it's gone," I said, feeling kinda bad. I never thought about how hard it must have been for him to be the intermediary during all this and not alienate one of us. He was an amazing guy, Austin, but he couldn't do everything.
"Good. So are you guys doing something tonight?" he asked, interrupting my self-berating.
"Jay and Silent Bob fest."
"Oh. Have fun," he told me, and I could hear the gentle teasing in his voice. Much as I adored the guy, Austin just didn't quite get the magic of Jay and Silent Bob. He was more a Tom Green kind of guy. Oh, well. I guess nobody's perfect, although he came pretty damn close.
"Nooch. I'll call you when I get back, okay?"
"Alright."
"Bye."
"Bye, Ben."
"Bye, love," I said as the phone went click, and winced to myself. Fuck. I didn't just say that. I couldn't have said that. It would change everything if I loved him. Everything. I felt a headache start behind my right eye. This was so not good. I had been lucky this time. He'd hung up before he heard anything. But what about next time? What about when he heard me say it? He'd demand to know what the hell I thought I was doing, and I didn't care to think about what would come after that.
Aaron and I started spending a lot more time together than we had been in the last little while. The four of us, Aaron, Amy, Austin, and I (somewhere during this time, the fact that my three closest friends' names all started with an A jumped up and hit me in the face; it creeped me out way more than should have been physically possible), became a group almost overnight.
For a day or two Aaron was really quiet, and we couldn't figure out why until we found him by the Power Mech building. The Power Mech building is just enough out of the way, that the teachers get lazy and don't enforce the whole "no smoking on school grounds" rule, and as such, every day at break, there's a mob of teenagers puffing away.
At first we thought he was bumming smokes off someone. Amy looked like she was gonna go smack him upside the head. But then we noticed he was just kind of standing there, back against the wall, gnawing on a black pen, and watching the smoke tendrils waft up into the air with a religious fervor.
After that we didn't let him go much anywhere by himself, and for his part, Aaron got real clingy. Hey, whatever works. He still got this wounded look on his face anytime anyone ever offered him a cigarette and he had to turn it down, or when we watched a movie and someone lit up a smoke, he'd bury his face in his hands and scam himself another pen.
Anyhow, all this led to a beautiful diversion from my life, not that there was much to divert from at the moment. I hadn't heard the voices in three days; our soccer team was doing better than anyone, even Coach Haverland, had thought; I was happy with Austin; and I was happy with my friends. In moments of fanciful grandeur, I'd think things might get to be this way for good. I should've known better.
Austin was coming over to my place one day after soccer practice. I had asked him how he intended to keep the fag questions away when people started noticing that he always came and walked me home.
"Are they asking questions yet?" he countered.
"Well, no--"
"Then don't worry about it. You worry too much, anyway." He pushed me playfully against a tree and grinned at me. I shook my head and smiled, despite myself. He said that now, but I knew once the accusations started, he wouldn't be so light about the matter. I probably should have thought about it then, but I didn't want to. In the long run, I don't think it would have made any difference, anyhow.
Anyway, we got back to my house and by that time, I wanted nothing more than to make out with Austin until we had to go to school the next morning. Hey, a guy could dream, right? Besides, he brought it on himself. Every time I glanced at him, he'd smile and quickly look away, pretending he was studying the weeds poking through the cement sidewalk. He was playing the shy guy now. I honestly think he switched personas as often as he did just to see what I would do.
I hadn't been inside for ten seconds, when I felt Austin's hands on my waist from behind me. He didn't say anything, just laid his chin on my shoulder and held me. I sighed contentedly and leaned the side of my head against his. We stayed like that for awhile, not really moving more than a few centimeters in any direction, hanging on to each other and simply existing. It was nice.
I turned around in his arms, having every intention to kiss him, and glanced over his shoulder. My dad's briefcase was on the table behind Austin. I wrenched away from him like I'd been burned and looked around to see if my dad had seen anything.
"What?" he asked.
"You have to go home," I said, still glancing nervously around my house.
"Why?" he asked, with more than a trace of hurt in his eyes.
"My dad's home," I motioned to the briefcase behind him and he turned.
"So?" he smiled, looking at me again. "I've never met your dad."
"You CAN'T," I stressed, without thinking how that sounded. "You have to go home right now." He shot me a frown and started to say something, but my dad came in the room just then.
He had a cup of coffee in his hand and when he looked up from it, I thought he looked like he was going to hit me. Old time's sake, I guess. He had a lot of missed opportunities to catch up on. I wasn't looking forward to the next couple days. But then he saw Austin, and a smile overrode the scorn that was so graciously saved for me.
My dad was, to say the least, a complex person. In his younger years, he was a soldier. He was always proud that his job was to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. But that was then. Now, he thought it was perfectly fine for him to go on protecting other people, and still come home and beat me till I bled.
Whenever we had company over, he would always play the world's best dad, asking me how my day was and all that. As much contempt as I had for him, he was by no means stupid. I had no doubt that his acting like a perfect parent in front of other people did exactly what it was meant to. It made people envious of me for having such a great father, while simultaneously making it impossible for me to go and rat him out to anyone. If I did, they'd come over and casually check out my home life, which would always seem perfect, and I'd be dismissed as some whiny kid looking for attention. End of story.
My dad was already well into this by the time he crossed the living room, and he reached out a hand to ruffle my hair. "Hi, Ben. How was the time alone? Sorry I was gone for so long. Duty calls." Christ, he sounded so damn laid-back. I wondered if he practiced in front of a mirror or something.
"It was fine, Dad," I said, as calmly as I could. I hated times like this, when I had to pretend like nothing was wrong so my fragile little world wouldn't be thrown out of whack. I cringed inside when I felt his hand on my head.
"Get all your homework done?"
"Yes." I couldn't believe how normal we sounded. I never could.
"Who's your friend?"
"Dad, this is Austin. Austin, my dad," I introduced them reluctantly. This couldn't be happening. I said before I never wanted Austin to meet my dad, and it was no less true now than it was before. My dad shook Austin's hand and I felt an appalling dread come over me. I didn't want him to touch Austin. It was bad enough that I had to stand here and watch them talk like old friends, I wanted a safe distance in between the two of them at all times. Not bloody likely.
"Hi, Mr. Ghallager. How was Calgary?" Austin asked with a sunny smile. For all the teasing and smart remarks he made around Amy and Aaron and me, he was disarmingly polite around adults. Especially ones he didn't know very well. This was so bad.
"It was lovely. Mind you, I was inside an office building most of the time, but I did manage to get out a little. Still, it's good to be home." 'It's good to be home'? That's my dad, just couldn't wait to spend some quality with his beloved son. Yeah, I'll bet.
"So, has my son given you a tour of the house yet?" my dad asked. I never understood it before, and I don't understand it now, but my dad LOVED to show people around our house. Austin shook his head no. "Come on, then. I'll show you around."
"Actually, sir, I've been here before."
"Really?" My dad glanced at me. Boom, score a point for Dad. I'd pay for that later tonight. I wasn't supposed to have people in if my dad hadn't met them before. Sounds innocent enough, right? Bullshit. I always thought it was so he could successfully monitor their opinion of him and keep it up to par. "So what do you think?" he asked Austin.
"It's great. A lot bigger than my place."
"Oh? Where--" my dad started to ask, but I, not wanting my dad to know where Austin lived, interrupted them. So what if I was being paranoid, I had damn good reason.
"Speaking of, Dad, Austin has to be home in a little while, and we still have some things to do. Is it okay if I go down to the Seawall for awhile?" That was probably the only good thing about this tedious Brady Bunch act my dad and I put on. It gave me the freedom of a regular kid my age. So I could ask to go to the Seawall if I wanted and not get in trouble for it until later.
"The Seawall? Why do you want to go there?" he asked me, and I thought I saw a glimmer of fire in his eyes. If I did, it was quickly snuffed out.
"Austin has to take some photos for a Photography class and he asked me to help him." Okay, so it was a bald-faced lie. We didn't even have a Photography class at our school. I wanted out of there. I needed to talk to Austin, who shot me a look as I said this, which I ignored and hoped my dad didn't catch.
"Do you have to go now? Maybe your friend would like to stay for dinner," he said.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't," Austin declined, and paused before speaking again. "My pictures need to be in this light, and they're due tomorrow," he added, with a slight glance at me.
"Oh, well. Another time, maybe," my dad shrugged. "Have fun, guys. Be home in an hour, Ben." And with that, he went back to his coffee and Austin and I left.
"Where are we going?" Austin demanded as we walked briskly away from my house and toward a bus stop.
"The Seawall."
"Why are we going to the Seawall? I'm not in any Photography class," he reminded me as the bus came lumbering down the street.
"I'll tell you when we get there," I said, stalling for time.
Austin gave a frustrated sigh and when we got on the bus, he flopped back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window. I could only remember one other time Austin had been mad at me before this and it had been before we were together. Damn. We were having some stupid lover's spat. And it was about my dad, no less.
A few minutes later, we got as near to the Seawall as the bus would take us and we got off. I still didn't know what I was going to say to Austin. Fortunately, it was he who started the conversation.
"I like it here," he revealed absently.
"Yeah." I was lost in my own thoughts, trying to work out how to explain why I dragged him here, instead of letting him talk to my dad, which he was obviously enjoying.
He looked at me sideways for a bit, and I felt his eyes on me and broke my stare with the ocean to look back at him. "Don't worry about it, Ben," he said.
"Don't worry about what?"
"Telling me why you don't want me to talk to your dad."
"What?" I was lost. Austin could have these mood swings at the weirdest times. Little things would set him off and he'd do a complete 180, then before I could figure it out, it'd be over. Other times, the guy was a rock, and nothing would faze him. While it usually worked out to my advantage (I hadn't had to disclose any info on my dad yet, so I guess it was an advantage), it made for things to be looked at with trepidation occasionally. "Why?"
He shrugged and looked seaward. "I know you don't want to talk about it now, so we don't have to," he said simply. "I could even forget about it if you want. This time."
"You'd do that?" I asked incredulously, still trying to get a mindset in his new attitude. He was so pissed before, and now he was just going to forget it happened?
"I'd do anything for you," he told me matter of factly.
I blushed and smiled a little to myself, and we kept walking. A tugboat sounded in the distance and interrupted our brief quiet spell.
"Hey, Austin?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think your parents would be mad if they knew you were gay?" It had been on my mind for awhile. I didn't think they would be, but then again, I didn't live with them.
He was quiet for a moment or two, thinking. "I'm not sure," he said finally, looking at me. "I'm not really anxious to find out, you know?"
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Do you think yours would?" he asked.
"My dad would go through the roof," I said a little sadly. "That's sort of why I wanted to get out of there. He gets kind of opinionated at times, and I didn't want him to say the wrong thing to you." It wasn't a total lie. My dad somehow stumbling on the topic of the evils of homosexuality was a frequent thing, whether the act was on or not, and I didn't want Austin to be subjected to that any more than he probably already was.
"I'm a big boy, you know," he teased gently and smiled at me.
"I know, it's just--"
"I know, Ben." We were silent for a bit, then, "What about your mom? Do you think she would have been upset?"
"I wish I knew," I said. It came out more hoarse than I had thought it would, and I curled my fingers into a tight fist, then released them. Those four words, "what about your mom", voiced my most prominent fear, that my mom would be disappointed in me, or worse, despise me, for being gay. Granted, the way I worded it in my head was a lot less technical, with a lot more slurs, but the jist was basically the same. I dropped my head a little, and my hair fell into my eyes, just enough so I could brush it away, and at the same time, wipe away any tears that were threatening to fall. I had a system.
"Shit. Ben, I'm sorry. I..." Austin trailed off and I glanced at him. He started to raise his arms to hold me, and a group of kids ran by us, laughing and screaming, and generally just being kids. He let them fall to his sides immediately, looking for all the world like he'd just slapped me. "Ben... I... I would..." he stammered.
"I know, Spaceman." He still looked like he thought he had let me down, so I cuffed him on the back of his head lightly. "Smile," I ordered him. "You worry too much, anyway."I smiled to let him know it was okay. And it was. I knew he wanted to make it all go away. Make it so I wasn't sad anymore. But I also knew that Austin wasn't dumb. The Seawall isn't exactly the most secluded place in Vancouver. It's a tourist trap. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that no one would notice us hugging, and as nice a thought as it was, we just weren't ready for that.
We walked around for the rest of my leave-time from home, talking mindlessly about things of little or no consequence. Like why flammable and inflammable meant the exact same thing. Or why you can't eat just one Lays potato chip. There was a full fledged discussion on that one. Austin swore the Lays people laced them with salted cocaine or something.
We hopped the bus again, and went to our respective houses. By the time I was ready for bed, I considered myself pretty well off. I had only gotten a few backhands before he got tired of it, and holed up in his office for the night. I didn't even think they'd leave a mark, which was always good. I went to find some ice to put on them anyway. That's me. Always the cautious one.
As I puttered around, switching the ice packs on my face every now and then, I wondered what Austin was doing. If he was asleep. If he was thinking about me.
"Stop it," I muttered. "You sound like some dopey schoolgirl in... with a crush." I had started to say 'in love', but I didn't want the voices to come back. They had been gone for a few days now, and I was in no hurry to have them return. I thought for sure because I had thought it, that I'd have to deal with my subconscious mind-fucking me, but there was nothing. Huh. That was different.
Brennan's Ramblings: A chante, mon cheries. Don't ask. I don't know what it means, it just sounded good. I was gonna do the whole 'listen to Brennan act like a floozy' deal, but as it happens, I actually have something to say this time. How about that? Anyway, my thing is, I know a lot of you guys are wondering if I'm ever going to fix the less than favorable situation between Ben and his dad. I swear on all the time I've spent in front of a computer screen that it'll be dealt with. I couldn't leave Ben with a dad like that for the rest of his fictional life. But it's going to be later. I've already written the chapter where it ends, so I'm not just jerking your chain. That aside, Ben's birthday is coming up. Hmmm... I wonder what Austin'll get him... Email me at bjobse414@hotmail.com
The Recs: There's this really, REALLY good story in the Gay College section of Nifty called Educating Alex. I found it two days ago and read it yesterday. I've never seen a British author who could pull off being from the West as well as this one. Anyhow, it's all finished (push for a sequel!) and was last posted on May 27, 2001.