Rainbow Boys (9 page)

There was a knock on the door, and his mom peeked in to say good night. Kyle wanted to tell her everything that had happened: “He’s on the basketball team. I love him!” That would be one way to come out. Maybe he could invite Jason over. “Mom? Dad? This is Jason, my future boyfriend.” Right. It would never happen.

Kyle brushed his teeth, undressed, and turned off the aquarium lamp. He dug his hand into the nightstand drawer and pulled out last year’s Zephyr. He thumbed through the dogeared pictures of Jason and felt himself swell up. He would never get to sleep like this. He put the yearbook away and found the Honcho magazine Nelson had given him. He turned the pages to a photo of a guy in Kalamazoo, Michigan, draped naked over an electric car he’d built from old automobile parts, solar panels, and a glider wing. Before Kyle knew it, he was asleep.

When he awoke, the bright sunlight of morning shone in his eyes. His mom sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair. “What happened?” she said. “Fell asleep reading and forgot to set your alarm?”

He watched groggily as she glanced around. For the past week she’d nagged him to straighten up his room. She reached down, picking something up off the floor.

With a jolt he snapped awake. She’d picked up the Honcho.

She stared at the magazine with the sort of bewildered look she got when she worked crossword puzzles. “Kyle, what is this?” Her voice was stiff and formal.

His mind spun. Think fast. What could he say? Gee, Mom, how did that get there? It’s certainly not mine. I don’t know where it came from.

She raised her hand as though to stop him from whatever nonsense he might say. Placing the magazine down on his nightstand, she abruptly smoothed her skirt, and rose. “How about you get ready for school and we’ll talk downstairs?” She left the room.

Kyle sprang out of bed and shoved the magazine beneath his sheets. A s if that would do any good now. He should never have taken the stupid magazine. He could kill Nelson. He took a deep breath and looked out the window at the driveway. His dad had already left for work. Thank God.

He showered and brushed his teeth, accidentally dropping the toothpaste cap into the toilet. Crap. He pulled the magazine back out from under his sheets and stuffed it into his backpack. Maybe his mom would forget about it. Keep dreaming. She might be too embarrassed to mention it, but she wouldn’t forget about it.

He pushed the kitchen door open a crack. His mom was wiping the countertop with one hand. In the other, she held a steaming mug to her lips, blowing into it.

She turned and saw him. “Kyle, we need to talk.”

He grabbed a yogurt from the refrigerator. “I’m late, Mom.”

She set her mug down. “We need to discuss this.” Her tone was deliberate. “Can we agree to talk when I get home?” He nodded and bolted out the door as fast as he could.

When he arrived at school, he spotted Nelson amid the crowd in front, wearing his black leather jacket. Kyle pulled out the Honcho and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Take your stupid magazine.”

Nelson glanced at the rolled-up magazine thrust into his hands. “Don’t you want it?”

“Would you put it away, please? My mom saw it.”

“You’re shitting.” Nelson stashed the magazine in his backpack. “Well,” he sighed. “You wanted to come out to them.”

“Correction,”—Kyle jabbed his finger at Nelson—“You wanted me to come out to them.”

“Yes, ‘cause I hate to see you in agony about being in the closet all the time.”

“I wasn’t in agony. Until now.”

“Yeah? Between obsessing about your parents and Jason, I’m surprised your grades haven’t suffered.”

“What are you talking about? My grades are better than yours.”

The homeroom bell rang. “Meet me at lunch,” Nelson told him. “In the meantime, try to relax.” But in class Kyle could hardly sit still. Would his mom phone his dad? He kept expecting to hear Mueller call his name over the loudspeaker, ordering him to report to the front office, where his dad would be waiting.

A t lunch Nelson waved him over. “How’s it going?”

“Crappy,” Kyle said, sitting down beside him. “I feel like skipping the rest of the day.” Nelson’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Let’s do it!”

“I was kidding, Nelson. I’m not skipping, so drop it.”

“A t least eat something.”

“I can’t.” Kyle pushed aside his tray.

The second half of the day was even worse than the morning. Ms. Cho asked him if he wanted to go to the infirmary. Kyle almost said yes, but he was afraid the nurse might phone one of his parents.

A fter school, Kyle and Nelson slowly walked home, leaning against the wind, past the brick box houses. Nelson popped a candy into his mouth. “Your dad will probably think I brainwashed you.”

“No, he won’t,” Kyle said, kicking the leaves beneath his feet. But he knew it was true.

“Well,” Nelson said. “If they kick you out”—he jumped up, suddenly excited—“you can come live with me! It would be cool as shit, Kyle.

We’d have a blast.”

“Whoa, Nelson. Read my lips: One, they are not kicking me out. Two, I am not going to live with you.”

“Well, excuse me! You don’t have to sound so horrified. I was just trying to help.” Kyle felt guilty and apologized, knocking aside a pile of leaves. “It’s my dad I’m worried about. I know he’ll lecture me. I can hear it already.”

“Yeah, life sucks. You want a Jolly Rancher?”

They reached the corner where their paths separated. “Why don’t you come over?” Nelson asked.

Kyle considered the invitation. A t least he wouldn’t be stuck waiting for his mom. But he decided against it. “I better clean my room up, so at least she can’t chew me out about that.”

A s soon as he got home, Kyle started on his room. He collected his shoes and lined them up neatly in the closet, then vacuumed the carpet and straightened the books and papers on his desk. He tossed the shirt hanging on the back of his chair into the hamper. He changed the bedsheets, tucking in the corners like his mom had taught him and spreading the cover flat, folding it back and over his pillow. A ll the while he tried to think what to say to her about the magazine.

Downstairs, he decided to make dinner. Unlike Nelson, he wasn’t that good a cook, but coming home to a meal would make it harder for his mom and dad to yell. While he cooked, he debated what to say.

He watched the kitchen clock as he shuttled around the kitchen. By the time he heard his mom’s car in the driveway, the smell of tuna casserole permeated the air. Canned corn cooked on the stove.

He gripped the counter and tried to smile as the door opened and his mom came in, carrying a grocery bag. “Hi, Mom,” he said casually. “I made dinner. I cleaned my room, too.” The timer went off, and he pulled an oven mitt onto his hand.

She glanced at him, then at the oven. “Great.” She pulled out a carton of chocolate-chip ice cream. His favorite? Uh-oh. Was this her way of softening the blow—a last meal before the execution? Maybe Nelson was right. He suddenly lost his nerve and started out the door. “I’ll set the table.”

“Kyle?” his mom said, putting the ice cream in the freezer. “Wait a minute. I’d like to talk about this morning.” Crap. He knew what she really meant: She wanted him to talk. He turned to face her. “Well,” he said. The sweat beaded up on his brow. His glasses slid down his nose. “Uh …”

He knew telling her would change everything. He could never again pretend disinterest in girls on the pretense he was a kid. She would no longer pat his head and joke, “Just remember, when you get married …” He could imagine her disappointment. The way she saw him from that moment on would be different, forever.

She stared across the kitchen, waiting for him to continue. His stomach churned angrily. The truth of the matter was he wasn’t a kid.

He had to grow up sometime, whether he liked it or not, and she had to accept it.

“There is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.” His heart pounded fearfully against his chest. “Uh …” There was another reason he hadn’t told her he was gay: It was like bringing up sex. His mom and he never talked about that. The mere thought embarrassed him. Coming out to her meant admitting he longed to make love with a guy someday. He looked down at his shoes, blushing.

“Kyle, what do you want to say?”

He had to tell her. To keep it hidden now that she suspected would be too much like lying. He took a deep breath.

“I think … maybe”—he looked up from beneath the bill of his cap—“I’m gay.” His pulse throbbed feverishly. He’d actually spoken the G word, out loud, to his mom.

Her face took on a bewildered look.

“I mean,” he corrected himself, “I am.” He looked down at his sneakers again, trying to calm his spinning thoughts, then leaned back on the counter to steady himself. “I’m gay.”

“Kyle, look at me.”

Her gaze made him nervous. He shouldn’t have told her anything. This whole thing was a mistake.

The corn on the stove started to crackle, and she rushed to shut off the burner. “Kyle,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her temples,

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She sounded angry.

How could he explain all the reasons? Where would he start? “I don’t know.” He crossed his arms and stared at her. “I figured you’d tell Dad.” That was one big reason. Maybe he could convince her not to tell him.

But she returned to his being gay. “Kyle, are you sure? I mean, how do you know?” Was she serious? “Mom, I know.”

She ran a hand through her hair, pinning a loose strand behind her ear, then she adjusted her glasses. “How long have you known?” Her tone was softer.

Kyle brought his arms down. “I don’t know. A lways. I didn’t know what it was called, but I knew I was different. I didn’t want to be. I used to sit in my room and tell myself, ‘I’m not going to let myself feel this way.’ I wanted to tell you.”

“But what about Cheryl Brooks? You went with her to the Sadie Hawkins—” She stopped herself as if recalling that it was actually Cheryl who invited Kyle to that dance.

Her voice became despondent. “You’ll never have kids.”

“I might,” Kyle said. “I don’t know if I will—or even …” He couldn’t believe he was really saying this to his mom. “Or even if I’ll ever have a boyfriend. I just hope one day I won’t spend every second of my life thinking how I’m different.” She studied him, then opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass. She poured some water, drank it, then set the glass down on the counter, hard. “Well, I wish you had said something.”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

She must have sensed how hard it was for him, because she walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

He hugged her in return. “You’re not going to kick me out?” he asked softly.

She pulled away a little, holding him by the shoulders, and looked over her glasses at him. “Kick you out? Honey, you didn’t think …?” Before he could answer, the kitchen door opened and his dad stepped in. Kyle drew away from his mom, embarrassed to be seen clinging to her.

“Hi,” his dad said, hanging his keys on the rack by the door.

His mom arranged her hair and smiled. “Kyle made dinner. Wasn’t that thoughtful of him?” His dad kissed his mom and laughed. “Yeah? What’s he trying to make up for this time?” He reached over and spun Kyle’s cap around backward. “Let me wash up. Then you can tell me what happened.”

A s his dad left the room, Kyle turned his cap back around.

“You know you need to tell him,” his mom said gently.

“I will.”

His mom insisted. “He needs to know. He is your dad.”

“I said I’ll tell him.”

She stirred the corn. “Do you want me to start, and make it easier?”

Kyle shrugged. “If you want.”

“Honey, what do you want?”

What he wanted was for her to be either angry or worried, but not both. “Mom, I don’t know anymore. I don’t care.” He adjusted his glasses. “What do you think he’ll say?”

His mom drew a deep, slow breath. “I don’t know.”

The tuna turned out a little dry. Kyle could barely swallow, his stomach was so tangled in knots. When his dad finished eating, Kyle looked across the table at his mom. She nodded, her eyes spurring him on, the way they did at swim meets. Except this wasn’t some piece-of-cake hundred yard freestyle; this was more like a death-defying reverse three and a half from the ten meter platform. Even with his mom’s encouragement, he wasn’t sure he could do it. He took a deep breath. “Dad?” His dad looked up at him. Kyle hesitated, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Was he really going to do this?

His dad leaned forward, waiting. Kyle looked down, drew a breath, and took the plunge. “Dad, I’m gay.” In the silence that followed he could hear the blood pumping through his head. He felt more alone than he ever had in his life. A fter a moment he recovered his nerve and looked up.

His dad stared back, eyes narrowing in anger. “Nelson got you mixed up in this, didn’t he?” Kyle felt his head burn. Suddenly he was no longer afraid. “No one got me mixed up in anything! I knew before I ever met Nelson.” His mom slid a hand across the tablecloth between them. “Kyle says he’s always known.” His dad spun around to her. “When did you find out about this?”

“Well, today.”

His dad turned back to Kyle. “I think it’s better if you stop spending so much time with that … boy.” Kyle tipped his chair forward. “I’m not going to stop spending time with him. You can’t tell me who to hang out with. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Honey,” his mom intervened. “We know that. This has just taken us by surprise, that’s all.” His dad wrapped his hand around his wine glass. “Before you decide anything, you better think this through a little better.”

“Think through what? Being gay? There’s nothing to think about.” Kyle tossed his napkin onto the table. “It’s not a choice. You’re either born gay, or you’re not.”

“I’ve heard that,” his mom interjected.