Violence Begets... (15 page)

“Give the fucker to me,” I growled as
I ripped it from his hand. I watched his face for a sign of a battle won. He didn’t
look smug or proud, just reached in his front pocket and pulled out a light, tossing
it to me—just like I had that day. I snatched it out of the air and turned my back
to him while I lit the joint, slipped his lighter into my pocket, and walked out
back. I needed to cool the fuck down.

After several minutes, he stood beside
me. I passed the joint to him and he took a few deep hits before passing it back.

“Your turn,” he finally said. “What
do you want to know?”

I forced myself to relax. For my plan
to work, he couldn’t be intimidated by me, and I knew I sent shock waves of tension
out to those around me. He noticed.

“I don’t want to know anything.”

“But you said after I was done it was
your turn to ask questions.”

I brought my voice down a few notches,
lacing it with some breath. “I said it was my turn, and you assumed that I wanted
to ask questions. I never said that.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked, and
I could hear the panic in his voice. I waited several beats before turning on all
my charm.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“What? No,” he said without even thinking
about it. He took several steps back, turned and walked into Zarahemla. I let him
go, giving him a few minutes to mull it over. Hell, I had to give myself several
minutes to consider it. I was still fighting the aftereffects of the hammock where
his lips had pressed into mine. I thought briefly about taking care of myself before
going back in, just to get control of my body. While the thought was nice, I didn’t
have the time to execute it. I worried that if I gave him too much time on his own,
he’d run away from me. The blunt was pretty much done, so I smashed it out with
the tip of my boot and went to find him.

“We had a deal,” I said, walking in.
I was glad he hadn’t decided to leave. That meant I had a chance.

“No, we didn’t. I didn’t agree to that.”

“Fine. You’re right,” I consented. “I
might have let you think something else, but this is what I want in return.”

“You tricked me, and I don’t have to
do it.”

I was ready to play my cards. “Again,
you’re right. You don’t have to.” He looked at me with mistrust. “I agree that I
was not upfront with my intentions.” To level the playing field, I sat down next
to him and he stiffened only slightly. “Here’s the deal. I won’t force it, but in
return, we’re not playing this game again.” I was giving him the choice. If he really
wanted to get to know me, we weren’t going to argue semantics.

“Why do you want this?”

I pulled myself off the seat and kneeled
in front of him so I could look into his eyes. I was not loving being lower than
him. This was not a position I ever put myself in. He immediately crossed his arms,
guarding himself from me. “Rick, I’ve kissed you four, well kinda five times if
you count the time in my bathroom. And every single time you have fought me, pushed
me away, even hit me.” I laughed a little. God it took nerve to hit me. “I want
you to kiss me, just this once. No forcing, no fighting and no running.” I noticed
he stopped breathing, and I also recognized the lust boiling up in his eyes. “I
want you to want this. It doesn’t make you gay. It just is what it is.”

“And if I don’t, you won’t ever answer
my questions again?” he asked raggedly. I knew I had to give him something to blame
his desire on. I wasn’t blind; he was disgusted by the idea of being attracted to
me. I’d go so far as to say that at times it made him physically sick. I’d been
around enough newly 'out' guys to recognize the signs. It would take him time, and
I had to try not to take it personally.

“That’s right.”

“Why do you always have to get something?”

“Trust me. You will get a lot out of
it too.” I let myself smile. It was the truth and we both knew it. I stood and waited.
His eyes scanned my body, traveling from my dark hair and clouded eyes to the black
shirt that fit well but left some to the imagination. His eyes paused at my belt
line, shifted away, then back and down to my black boots. He then made the journey
back up to my eyes. I could see he was fighting himself. I wanted nothing more than
to reach down and thread my fingers through his short hair, take his face into my
hands and kiss him myself. But, like him, I fought my own body and stayed perfectly
still, letting him take the time he needed. He stood slowly, shuffling his feet
but not looking at me. I could swear I felt the heat from his body attack mine though
we were still inches apart.

“I’ve never…” he began quietly.

“I know,” I finished. I reached out
for him, placing my hands on his hips, gently guiding him towards me. I knew I had
to let him kiss me, but I couldn’t resist touching him any longer. Our bodies didn’t
connect, but I was ready to come anyway. Just having him look at me the way he was
had me searching for willpower. I ran my fingers up his sides, onto his shoulders
and then down his arms until I was holding onto his hands. Slowly bringing them
up to my face, I closed my eyes and cradled my cheek into his palm, inhaling his
scent.

I felt myself relax even more into his
touch. I felt his body move closer to mine, starting to connect and touch—first
his thigh as it brushed against my own, then his elbow as it bent softly against
my chest. I tilted my head into one of his hands, losing myself in his touch. His
other hand pulled from mine and I felt his thumb trace the outline of my cheekbone.
I slid my hand down his arm again, disconnecting only for a second at his elbow
before weaving around his back and pulling him into me. The palm cradling my cheek
tilted my head a little and I felt his lips, chilled with the fall night air, touch
mine—so gentle at first that I nearly thought I’d imagined the contact, and then
he kissed me again, tentatively and experimentally. I tried to match his pace, feeling
like I was pulling against some invisible rope that wanted to bind me to him. He
was holding back too. I could feel it in his body, but he had to allow himself to
give in. I couldn’t push.

I let go of what I needed and tried
to focus on what he wanted. It was the only way I’d be able to make it through without
taking control of him. I tightened my arm around him again, running my hands under
his shirt and across his skin, careful not to hurt him. I listened to his body.
If he tensed, I knew I was near a painful place and I avoided it. He became more
demanding with his mouth, wanting entrance into mine. He didn’t have to push hard.
I was ready to give him whatever he needed.

We relaxed into a rhythm of kissing.
The world slipped from my consciousness minute by minute as everything I knew faded
into the oblivion that was left behind. I could live in his embrace for eternity
and be content. As he pulled away slightly, it felt like someone had lifted a warm
blanket from me and exposed my skin to the cold. Goose bumps immediately broke the
surface of my skin. He noticed them and ran his hands up and down my arms, looking
only at my chills and never my eyes.

I knew I should say something, anything
to let him know how I was feeling, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the mood
that seemed to hang precariously around us.

“Speechless,” he smiled. “That’s rare.”
He finally looked at me.

“How do you know I’m speechless? Maybe
I’m just not impressed,” I teased.

“From the sound in your voice and this,”
he said, indicating the chills on my arms, “I’m going to call your bluff. I think
you’re impressed.”

I let out a small laugh. “So, you’re
all sorts of confident all of a sudden?”

“Well, it’s easy to be confident when
I render Kevin Vincent speechless with a kiss.”

Rick

I had made the choice to kiss him. I
could list all the excuses in the world for why I'd done it, but it didn’t change
the fact that I had kissed him, and I couldn’t think of anything but that stupid
kiss. I wondered if the guys would notice a difference in me or us. I was terrified
that just by looking at me they would be able to see what I’d done. I knew what
I was feeling was wrong; it was wrong for me. I wasn’t gay, even if he claimed to
be. I was normal.

Going home that night, I was sure my
dad would take one look at my trembling hands and try to beat the experience out
of me. But he hadn’t, and the guys acted the same. Even when I showed up at Jessica’s,
desperate to lose myself with her, she didn’t treat me differently.

In the moment, I had found myself in
him, experiencing a rush of feelings that were so foreign and overpowering that
I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Now, I knew better. I knew that even if he was
gay, he was playing games, and I knew that I wanted a girlfriend, not Kevin. Which
meant I went back to Jessica and started avoiding him, and it surprised and unsettled
me when he allowed it.

When Jason’s birthday arrived, I stayed
as far away as possible from my dad and pretty much did everything I could just
to hold it together throughout the day. By the time I slipped into the house late
that night, my dad was clearly passed out on the couch. The stench of alcohol was
so heavy that I knew he wouldn’t be waking up and coming after me anytime soon.

After a few beers and a joint to take
the edge off, I slid into the blankets of my bed but soon found myself kicking out
of them because of the suffocating heat, although it didn’t take long for me to
get cold and pull the covers tight around me again. Even with my earphones in and
my face buried in my pillow, the sound of sirens whirled around in my mind as I
remembered the police telling me we’d rolled eight times—five side-to-side and three
head-over-end. I fluctuated between trying to block everything out, and trying desperately
to remember the car flying a hundred and thirty-four feet in the air.

The car had landed upside down, and
the memory of crawling out the driver’s side window onto the pavement littered with
shattered glass tore at my nerves. I rolled over in my bed again, squeezing my eyes
shut at the recollection of that night's events. I desperately wanted to escape
the pictures flashing through my brain, and the pain that began to cripple my breathing.
In my mind’s eye, I could see a mass dozens of feet away. In slow motion I walked
towards the debris as the blood and wreckage became vivid in my tortured thoughts.
As always in my half-awake nightmare, the silhouette of a woman stepped in front
of me and steered me in the opposite direction, shielding me from the picture of
what was left of my brother, but leaving me to my own imaginations.

As that horrific night’s events continued
to stream through my semiconscious delirium, I recalled collapsing and screaming
for Jason. They’d told me that despite people trying to keep me at a distance, I’d
run back to him and tried to pick him up, that he had been dead before he ever hit
the pavement, and that he had broken his neck when he was thrown from the car. They’d
told me a lot of things, but even in my nightmares, I seemed to block out most of
the bloody details.

Staring at the clock, I watched as it
turned 2:22 AM. I made up my mind that I couldn’t lay in my bed thinking about him
anymore. I rolled out of the tangled sheets and got dressed. There was no point
tossing and turning.
Maybe if I walk it out,
I thought,
I'll get tired
enough to sleep.
I slipped out of my window and used the tree to swing down
like I normally did. As I landed, I spun around, catching a form sitting against
my house. I jumped back, expecting my dad’s fists, but the small red flame on the
cigarette lit up Kevin’s face as he took a drag.

I stared at him, not really sure if
I was glad he was there or unnerved by it.

“Three questions?” he asked, standing,
handing me his flask and walking towards the street. The shot of whiskey burned
going down. I followed him, still trying to determine what he was doing at my house.
He began walking in the direction of Zarahemla, and I trailed after him absentmindedly.
I wasn’t in the mood for his games, but realized that in the last few moments the
tortured thoughts of Jason had subsided, so I debated playing my part. I wasn’t
about to give him something in return though.

“It’s a freebie tonight, no favors in
return,” he said annoyingly as if reading my mind.

After some time I submitted. “Do you
remember your mom?”

“A little. She left a long time ago.”

“Why’d she leave?” I asked, rolling
my shoulders back a few times, trying to release the tension I felt.

“Probably because my father was an ass.”

I really didn’t have the energy to pull
information out of him, so I fell silent. I thought about how nice it would’ve been
to know my mom. Jason had been so good about relaying the stories my dad had told
him so I could feel like I knew her. My dad had always blamed me for her death,
while Jason did everything he could to assure me that my mom would’ve loved me like
he did. I tried to believe him, but with him gone I just couldn’t quite trust it
anymore. And the fact that Sylvia had never shown either of us any real motherly
affection made it that much harder for me to believe in a mother’s love. After a
few minutes, Kevin cracked his neck side-to-side and continued.

“He didn’t start in on me until after
she left. I mean, he laid into her while she was around, so it was reasonable to
assume he’d eventually turn on me, but when she left, he’d never ever hit me so
I think she told herself it’d be okay to leave me behind.” He paused for the distance
of several houses, lost in his own haunted memories. When he picked back up, the
sound of his voice calmed me. “She left when I was six, so I don’t remember a lot,
but I remember her singing me to sleep at night. And this one time, I remember going
to Taco Time with her, and as we drove home,” I noticed a small, unguarded smile
on his face as he continued, “I tried one of the tater-tots and it was really hot.
So she rolled down my window and told me to hold it out the window to cool it down.
I thought it was the funniest thing in the world. I remember laughing and laughing.
I still hold the fuckers out the window to cool ‘em down.” He laughed a little.

I tried to picture Kevin as a little
boy, giggling and carefree with his mother as they held tater-tots out the window.
It was like watching a dream or a movie in my head. I couldn’t find any reality
in the imagery.

“Got anything else for me?” he asked.

“No, not really.” It just felt too exhausting
to think. “I don’t really wanna talk.”

“Sure. Here, take this. It’s a downer.
It won’t do a lot, but it should shut off your head for a while.” He handed me a
round white pill about the size of a miniature M&M. I swallowed it with several
more shots, not caring what it was. I had to give him credit. He didn’t say anything,
just laid down in the dirt outside of Zarahemla and clasped his hands behind his
head. This struck me as an intimidatingly relaxed position for Kevin. I couldn’t
relax, so I took to pacing around the place, checking out the vandalism on the walls,
picking up garbage, throwing it into the fire-pit, and eventually leaning against
the back of the building to smoke a joint. I’m not sure what it was—maybe the pill,
maybe knowing he was close by—but my head eventually calmed down. Instead of a raging
mess of intensity, it was just a dull ache of painful memories. I don’t know how
long it was before he came looking for me.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, better be getting home.”

“It’s been awhile since your dad came
after you too hard. Just a little here and there, right?” Kevin asked. I didn’t
ask how he knew.

“Sure.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, he’s probably
getting pretty close to boiling over.”

“Sure.”

“And Sylvia and Emma are at Sylvia’s
parent’s house again?”

“Yep.”

The tone of his voice turned cold and
I could hear his anger. It was a welcome distraction from the pain swirling around
in my head. “What I’m trying to say is that you should watch yourself. He tends
not to hold back when they’re gone.”

“Sure,” I said, knowing it would piss
him off.

“Knock that shit off.”

“What?” I replied evenly.

“The ‘sure’ shit. This is serious.”

“What, you’re mad at me now?”

“Yes, you’re being careless, and that’s
fucking stupid and dangerous.”

“And you care so much,” I threw at him,
knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but the anger rising in me felt better than
the ache that was currently there. He flinched and his jaw tightened.

“I know where this is coming from. I’m
kinda the master of this bullshit. It won’t work with me.”

“Just ‘cause you know a little bit about
my life doesn’t make you the expert here. I can take care of myself, and I don’t
need you warning me about my dad or waiting for me under my window. It’s creepy!”
A knot of dread replaced the ache of pain as I considered the fact that he might
actually stop acting like he cared.

I watched as his face went carefully
blank, but I could see the anger in his eyes rising to a level I was all too aware
I should be avoiding.

“I’m not doing this with you tonight.
You’re fucked up,” he said.

“So, it’s okay for you to go all psycho
angry violent on people, but I can’t?”

“No, you cannot. Because this is not
you, and you will regret it.”

“It seems I’m doing a lot of things
lately that aren’t me and that I regret,” I spat at him.

“Rick,” he said coldly. “I am not going
to fight you. I know that is what you want, but I do not want to hurt you. Do you
understand me?”

I recognized the coldness in his tone,
but I also recognized something new. I’d never heard such a strain in his voice.
It brought me out of my rage.

“Do you know you do that?”

“What?” he asked tightly, still wary.

“When you get really mad or cold, you
don’t swear as much and you don’t use contractions.”

“I don’t?” he asked slowly.

“Nope, no contractions.”

“Never?”

“Just when you get all scary.”

He smiled a little. “All scary? You
sound like you're ten, talking about the boogie man.”

“Nope, you’re way scarier than he ever
was.” I returned his smile. He was right. He was not the person I was mad at. My
hatred was all on me.

I watched the tension slip out of him
as my anger dissipated as well. When it came down to it, he was also right about
my dad, whose hands clamped around me as I climbed into my window, pulling me through
and tossing me like a doll against the wall.

Kevin

I turned as I heard the crash above
and was about to pull myself up the tree when I heard his dad yelling. I let myself
back down to the ground silently. I knew intervening would only make it worse. I
clenched my teeth and tightened my fists, straining against my desire to go and
tear his dad apart. I knew the violence I was capable of would put him to shame,
but still, I also knew this was not the time or the place.

I pushed against the vinyl siding, trying
to glue myself to the house. I could hear Rick’s cries, and I found myself fighting
back tears. This fact alone scared the shit out of me. I didn’t fucking cry. Shit,
even the worst of beatings rarely brought me to tears. My instinct was to get the
fuck away from whatever I was feeling, but I couldn’t seem to get my feet to move.
I knew he’d watched my beating, but it would’ve never crossed his mind to help me.
He was trained to respect authority. I didn’t give a fuck about authority, and hearing
his pain made me crazy. I knew I should leave, but just as strong was my instinct
to stop what was happening.

I slammed my fist into the tree and
my hand started burning immediately, diverting my attention for a few seconds. I
tried to focus myself, to block out his wails, but each time he screamed in pain,
it broke through my concentration. Just the sound of his agony seemed more powerful
than the blows my father dealt. As the minutes dragged on, my tears of complete
frustration and helplessness broke through. I sank against the side of his house,
barely able to keep my sobbing silent. Even though I’d been weak and let a few tears
escape the night Rick witnessed my thrashing, it was nothing like this wracking,
uncontrollable pain that escaped from my soul. It felt like there were years of
tears tearing me apart. With each new cry of agony above, I felt the torment rip
from my gut.

Eventually he quieted to a whimper,
and I knew his father had left him shattered, but my tears didn’t stop. I couldn’t
bring myself to go see the pain I’d just heard. My mind couldn’t add the blood to
the sounds without breaking me. I pictured him torn and bleeding on his floor. It
wasn’t hard to imagine. I’d found him so many times before. But now, things were
different. Then I had cared but not really for him. Now, he obviously meant something
to me, and I knew I couldn't take seeing him broken. Hating myself for my loss of
control, I sat beneath his window, pulling my jacket against the cold. I heard his
sobs above, and marveled at the tears that still flowed for him below.