The Darker Side of Trey Grey (18 page)

“How’d you do it, Trey?” Kelly whispered.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You did something wonderful,” she said, hugging my arm.

I had no idea what Kelly meant. I hadn’t done anything other than stand there.

Father and son stood together in the foyer talking tensely for several minutes. Justin looked wrecked standing there in green frog slippers. It had been a hard day emotionally for him, and I was concerned this might be more than he could handle. He skirted his imposing father and came towards me with a forced grin on his wet face. He clasped my hand and hauled me from the couch, dragging me into the kitchen.

“Jesus Kelly, quit blubbering,” Mr. Kent told her. She let out a wet sob in response, and I heard him grunt.

Justin caged me against the pantry door then kissed me feverishly. He drew back sniffling.

“You know, maybe next time blow your nose before you do that. Snot bubbles are not attractive, no matter what anyone tells you,” I teased as I wiped his cheeks dry with my palms.

He sniffed again. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I told him.

“You came back.”

“I did that for purely selfish reasons. Now go blow your nose.”

He went and retrieved a paper towel. “I don’t believe that,” he said behind the white sheet, before blowing his nose.

Once satisfied, he tossed the crumpled towel in the trash under the sink. He settled against the corner of the counter crossing his arms, and inspecting his gaudy slippers kicked out in front of him.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

He started with a deep breath. “Think you’re up to meeting my parents for dinner tonight?”

I mirrored him, crossing my arms and running a finger over my lips, pretending to contemplate. “Well,” I began, “I’ve met your dad. Are you saying your mom’s scarier than your dad?”

He laughed. “No, not normally. I guess she’s known for as long as Dad has.” His brow vee’d. “She’s been waiting for me to meet someone. Dad told me he’d try to be accepting but it will take him time. He asked me to be patient.” Justin sighed as he scratched his head. “I know it has been a long day...” He cinched an arm around himself and began chewing on a thumbnail.

“Justin, do you want to go?” I asked. He scratched his ear, nodding. “Then we’ll go. I’m good. I can meet the parents,” I said.

Justin went to see his father out and I dropped my head into my hands. Why did I feel this was a bad idea? The fact we had, in all actuality, only known each other three days pounced on me. I swore I could hear my OCD laughing at me from its cage.

A drunken night of mind-blowing sex did not make a solid relationship.
What the fuck did I think I was doing?
The world outside the kitchen windows tilted as my skin turned damp and cold.

No, I wasn’t going to allow my mind to take me down. Not this time. I was here, now, and it was more than I had ever hoped for. Pushing off the door, I walked into the front room.

* * * * *

An hour and a half later found us walking into Olive Garden with Justin clinging to my hand, as Kelly held onto Justin’s arm. He looked like an overwrought playboy, strung out and on his last gust of energy while his matching entourage pushed him on. Justin and I matched anyway.

He had tossed me a cerulean blue v-neck sweater and demanded I wear it, saying it
complimented my eyes
. I argued that it didn’t. That it was purple, not blue. He had marched me into the bathroom where I grudgingly admitted he was right, and in the end I was wearing it to make him happy. He was wearing the same sweater in midnight blue, which I had to admit looked fantastic on him. Kelly, well, I’m trying not to hold her fashion sense against her. Where she found fuchsia paisley stretch pants was beyond me.

Justin’s hand crushed down on mine, and I followed his eye line. A truly odd couple sat at a round table in the middle of the restaurant. His mother was beautiful. Tall, lithe, with flowing hair the same color as her son’s. She had that timeless quality to her, the type of woman that even at eighty you would know she had always been beautiful. I wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose or just coincidence that her maroon pantsuit matched her husbands tie. Maybe matching your significant other ran in the family. If so, God help me.

His father spotted us first, and for a split-second his eyes sparkled mischievously like his son’s did at times. I couldn’t help but wonder what the man was up to. His mother chatted to her husband, and didn’t see us until we reached the table. 

She raised her eyes and spotted our hands entwined. Her mouth fell open, as her head snapped up so fast I thought she might suffer whiplash. It took exactly half-a-second for the first tear to spill down her cheek. She was no dummy. She stood, and her head spun to her husband who happened to be holding up a white handkerchief.

“Robert J. Kent, did you do this?” she asked, snatching the hanky from his big fingers.

“I had nothing to do with
this
.” He waved a hand at us. “I only invited them to dinner.” The tops of his cheekbones colored pink then red. “After I stopped at the house at an inopportune time,” he grumbled.

My cheeks flamed, while Justin’s hand caught fire. I was sure he had a whole body blush going. I was surprised to find myself embarrassed actually. The man was obviously more deviant than I had given him credit for. Mr.
Kent hadn’t given one indication he knew he had disrupted us when he was at the house.

“I can’t control your son’s love life,” Mr.
Kent said gruffly.

Justin cleared his throat, concentrating on the woman before us twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

“Mom, I’d like to introduce my boyfriend, Trey.” Even though his face was uncertain his voice was terribly formal. “Trey, my mother, Sonya Woodworth-Kent.”

The formality broke her trance, and she finally took my proffered hand as a bright smile played over her face.
 

“Mrs.
Kent.” I bent, tapping the back of her hand with my lips. 

“Oh, a charmer. Very pleased to meet you, Trey, and please call me Sonya.”
 She looked from me, to her son, and back. “Fuck the formalities,” she said, hugging us both tightly.

Justin groaned while I chuckled. I liked his mom already. When she let us both go, she gathered up Kelly and they shared a familiar embrace.

Dinner was pleasant despite Mr. Kent’s occasional scowls. At least he tried to hide them. Most of the conversation geared towards stories of Justin, as told by his mother, and meant to completely embarrass him, which they did. Kelly had known him since junior high, and added in her bits and pieces effortlessly. There was talk about his grandparent’s current trek through Italy and Greece. Some mention about the house, deed, and such. I also learned of his older sister, Sarah, who was down at OSU working towards her masters in education.

Justin leaned over, whispering in my ear, “She’ll hate you, like she hates me. She’s just like my father.” Sonya overheard and tutted at Justin.

By the time we finished our meal, I felt like I was being de-pressurized. Everything felt surreal and my skin was itching. I wasn’t used to this. Family... togetherness... I needed some air. I needed a smoke.

I leaned over towards Justin and he tipped his head, “I’m going outside for a few minutes.”
 

He gave me a sideways glance. “Want me to come with you?”

I shook my head. “Stay here and talk with your folks. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sonya said, retrieving her clutch as she stood up. She shot her husband a demeaning look if I have ever seen one. “If my son is upset when I return, you will have hell to pay, Mister.”

He glared at her, but there wasn’t anything threatening about it. “You forget, he’s my son too. We’ll be fine. Go smoke. Maybe it will improve your temperament.” He waved her away.

I squeezed Justin’s shoulder, and he clutched my hand for a moment before letting me go. I offered Sonya my arm and she laced her fingers through the crook of my elbow.

In her low heels she was almost as tall as I was. Not a difficult task to accomplish since I had stopped growing when I was around fourteen. Up anyway, leaving me at a modest five-foot-eight, the same height my mother had been.

Outside, leaning against a black wrought iron railing we smoked in silence for a minute. I watched the cool wind whip the smoke away, mingling it with the exhaust coming off
Sixth Avenue.

“I’m not going to ask how you met my son, or why you’re with him. I will tell you I can spot someone from my side of the track a mile away,” she said then took a drag from her skinny
Capri. “Does he know what you do?”

I drew on my filter as I gazed down the street at the long line of red tail lights.
Talk about shit luck.
I wondered if Justin knew what his mother used to be. I wasn’t about to be the one to break
that
news to him if he didn’t.

“No. He knows I used to, not that I still do.”

“And you think its okay not to tell him?” Her lips pursed then she sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Maybe you have your own reasons.” She straightened up. “Trey, he’s my son and I will protect him.” She paused, glancing down at me. I caught her eye for a moment and saw a harsh glint of her old life before her blue eyes softened.

“You know... he loves you already,” she said quietly, and I nodded. “Please don’t destroy him.” She flicked the long snake of ash to the ground with a French-manicured thumbnail.

“I’m trying not too,” I told her. 

She turned to me and smiled. “You know, I believe you.” She looked down at her white
Capri then leaned a hip against the rail and stared down the street. “I was a call girl when I met Bob. Stabled call girl,” she added. “I fell hard for him and I trapped him by getting pregnant.” She smiled dryly. “He was too honorable to walk away, so he got me out and married me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.” She reached over, drawing a finger down my cheek. “Maybe Justin can get you out,” she said dulcetly.

I had been wondering the very same thing. If I fell for him would it be enough for me to walk away?

“Maybe...” I answered her, as well as myself.

By the time we reached the house Justin knew something was wrong. I had been contemplative since the conversation with Sonya. Too quiet, even for me. Could I walk away that easily? I wanted to. I had always wanted to leave the Ave. I had even tried to on several occasions. But like a siren calling me, I kept going back to her.

Sonya was right though. If I couldn’t leave the Ave, I needed to leave her son before we were both too far into this. I couldn’t think about it right now, with Justin an arms length away. I would need to go home, away from temptation, and see where I
needed
to be.

It was late, I was tired, and I could see just by looking at him, Justin was done for. Kelly had planned to go home tonight but she had been snoring in kitten’s back seat from the moment I turned the key. We wrestled her out of the back and Justin carried her in, depositing her on the couch where she continued to snore with gusto. The girl slept like the dead... only much louder.

Justin and I shared a smoke on the back deck. Neither of us spoke. He waited until we were in bed, where he could pin me down.

“What did my mom say to you?” he asked. I shook my head. He shoved his palm into my chest hard enough to bounce me into the mattress. “Don’t do that. Damn it, Trey. She said something.”

I wiped the corners of my mouth with a hand as I looked at him. “She warned me not to hurt you.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” He clutched my chin, turning it towards him and stared at me.
  “That’s not it. What else?” he asked, frowning.

“It is it. She told me not to destroy her son,” I lied, surprised how terrible it made me feel. Even so, I couldn’t get the words to form, my mouth wouldn’t release them. I just couldn’t tell him.

“I don’t believe you,” he said gruffly, turning his back to me and pulling the covers to his chin. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but my tongue created nothing. I thought about leaving but I knew if I did, I might never come back. It was only a small argument, not even that, it was a white lie.

I sighed. That wasn’t true. My lie was black; dark, dangerous, and hurtful. I rolled over, my back to his, and before I could even pull the covers over me, my mind sifted away, too tired to think anymore.
Definitely dark... like so much of me.

I snapped awake in the dark, whimpering when I realized what had awakened me. Willie had my hands wrenched behind my head and held in his big paw, his grip bruising. 

“Willie,
no
. Leave me alone.
Pleeaasse
, leave me alone...please, please, please.”  I started to cry. I hated when he came to me while I was slept. I hated that he could still make me cry. I hated him. I hated my life.

He was trying to get inside me but he couldn’t. I relaxed a little bit when I smelled the booze on him. He never could get it all the way up when he was drunk. He would hump me until he shot off or got angry.

I curled up the best I could, so he couldn’t touch me too much. He was grumbling, getting exasperated. Without warning he wrenched my leg back and started fondling. 

“Don’t touch me,” I pleaded. It always hurt when he touched me. He was rough and would get mad because it stayed limp. Drunk would mean a beating if he didn’t feel satisfied, but I couldn’t help it. It just stayed limp. I didn’t know how to make it work, and I didn’t want it to. Once it worked, I would be like him. He was pulling and tugging hard, hurting it.
 

“Ow...OW,” I cried.
 

“Shut up!” He jerked my hands roughly, and I whimpered from the ache building down my back.

He chuckled then moaned, as he quit pulling so roughly. He was pushing against my backside, and I could feel him getting hard. 

“No, Willie, please, no...” I cried, struggling. “No, no, no.”
 

He tugged on my hands, and my shoulders screamed in agony. He was all the way hard now, but he wouldn’t let go of me to get inside, he just kept jabbing furiously while his hand kept fondling me.
 

“Ow. It hurts, stop, it hurts.” I whimpered over and over.
 

He jerked my hands again, quieting me. I bit my cheek to keep from crying out.

Something was different. My stomach clenched and I was sure I was going to throw up. No, it was lower. It was my belly that went tight. I closed my eyes and wished my mom would wake up.
Wake up mom, please help me.
She wouldn’t though. She only cared about the needle now. The world she went to, not the world she actually lived in.

I gasped and my eyes shot open.
 

“Stop, stop, quit, I don’t want this, I don’t want to be like you,” I squealed, and kicked, and fought, as my front and back wetted with cum. Willie’s grip loosened and I tore my hands free, sending my elbow back as hard as I could. He hit the floor with a grunt as I clambered off the end of my bed.

He started laughing. “Oh-ho, my little boy is a man now. How precious, that I got you off.” 

I screamed, “Fuck you.”

He laughed harder. I didn’t want to be like him.
Owhh
, I was going to be sick. Turning away, I stumbled across the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. He had done it— he had finally made me like him. I lurched for the toilet, and threw up.

I was on my knees rocking, and shaking, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted my mom.
Why did you have to die Dad?  Please come get me, please.
I reached for the lever to flush the toilet but only found air. Feeling around in the dark I couldn’t find the tank, the cabinet was missing, and the garbage can behind the toilet was gone too. Something was wrong. I looked up and saw moonlight through the rain splattered windows.
Windows?

The room spun into a blur.

I groaned, blinking several times, trying to focus. I looked around, recognizing Justin’s bathroom. I was kneeling on the pewter carpet in front of the garden tub.
How’d I get here?
I stood up and began to shake. My mouth was foul. My pajamas were hugged down around my hips, and they were wet. Like a car crashing into something unforgiving, my mind lurched to a halt as the memory of my nightmare flashed across my eyes. I began to wail. 

You are dirty. A dirty boy.
Boomed over the sound of my own hysteria.
Just like Willie. Evil. Dirty. Just like Willie, like Willie.

 
“NO.” The voice, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real! I listened to it chanting over and over. Not my voice, not Willie’s voice. It sounded like... my Dad’s voice. I moaned, shaking my head. No. It couldn’t be... he was dead. Dead. He kept chanting and chanting over and over.

He knew
.
He knew, and he hated me, he hated me.
 

“Ah fuck, Trey, give me that!”
What?
I looked up at Justin’s face. “Damn it,
let
go.”

I shook my head.
Huh?
I glanced down and saw him rend a brush from my hand, the short yellow plastic bristles dyed bright red. 

“God, how’d you find that?
  It’s been missing for weeks. Jesus,” he said flinging the brush into the tub. He was squatting down next to me in the shower, the frosted glass door open behind him.

“What the hell is going on?” Kelly said.

“Get out!” Justin yelled trying to block me from her view.

“Jesus, Justin, is that your blood?”

“No. Kelly, get out, go.” 

“What happened?”

“Get the fuck out!” Justin yelled at her loud enough I flinched, and came fully out of my stupor. My chest tightened as I choked on a sob, or possibly a gag, when I saw what I had done. My legs, belly and chest were seeping blood in patches, the top layers of skin roughed up like a gruesome red carpet.

“Just tell me your both okay,” Kelly cried.

“We’ll be fine, now go, please.”

Justin slammed the lever on the shower, hard, shutting the water off. He looked at me, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

“I... I’m sorry. I should go,” I told him, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes pinched. “No... No way!” He blared then softened. “You’re not leaving like this.” His tainted fingers reached out and I flinched. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t used to anyone around me after an episode. He curled his fingers and retreated.
 

“You think I’m mad at you.” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, leaving wet red streaks across his tousled golden locks. “How could I be mad at you?” He sat down, soaking his pajamas, and pulled me against his side. “I’d like to rip out your stepfather’s throat though.” He let out a frustrated growl, and the sound made me tense.
 

“Are you okay? I mean... shit. I’m a little freaked out here. Sorry.” He went to rub his face, saw his hands and stopped. He stared at the blood. “You’re bleeding. I think... I mean, you should... I need to take you to the hospital,” he said, still staring at his hands.

“No, no hospital.” I laughed a little hysterically. “There’s nothing to stitch, and they’ll just try to put me away.” Okay, laughed a lot hysterically, and couldn’t seem to stop. Poor Justin. This was far from my first time living out one of my nightmares unknowingly, but this was a doozy for him to have had to witness. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t! I was actually quite horrified. Still, I couldn’t stop giggling.

“Trey, you’re scaring me, stop!” He grabbed me, and held on as if he could personally smash my flighty emotions.

I worked to rein in my hysteria. He looked over my bloody body and went to inspecting my leg. I didn’t even glance at it. I knew my legs would be the most damaged. 

“Kelly is better at this than I am. She can patch up anything.” He took his hand off my leg, sighing grievously.

“I thought you were the nurse.” I said.

“She’s better at figuring out bandaging.”

“She’s going to ask questions. I don’t know if I can answer them right now.” I looked down at myself. “I don’t have anything to wear,” I said, my voice stupefied.

“I have a pair of red flannels. They should fit. They’re an ugly color on me so I never wear them. They can be your backup, and they’ll hide the blood,” Justin rambled, then stood up, offering down his hands. “Come on, let’s get you somewhat cleaned up then I’ll go beg Kelly for help,” he said, and I looked up at him apprehensively. “I’ll figure out something to tell her. Night terrors or some shit. It’s pretty close to the truth.”
 

He waggled his fingers at me and I took his hands, letting him haul me up off the cold grey tile. He let go once I was on my feet, then wrestled the door up against the linen closet.

“You broke the door down?” I asked appalled, as I stared at the splintered jamb.

“Fuckin’ right I did.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes narrowing down to slits. “You don’t know what you sound like... what you say and do—”

“I have a fair idea,” I said, halting what sounded like an angry tirade.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do. Trey, you were screaming... I was terrified you were hurting yourself and...” He messed with the door some more then kicked the bottom, and I noticed he was shaking.

I laid my hands carefully on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Justin. I don’t... I guess I don’t know what I do, only what’s in my head.”

He stilled. “You remember everything don’t you?” he asked quietly, leaning his hands against the busted door.

I dropped my forehead to his back and nodded. How could I ask him to go through this over and over? I couldn’t.

Justin found a few big gaudy beach towels, and threw them across the floor, and toilet seat. He went off to hunt down supplies, and wrangle Kelly, while I cleaned last night’s Italian sausage and penne out of the tub. It smelled much better the first time around.
 

As I sat on the draped toilet waiting, I realized Justin had pulled me back with very few side effects. Minor hysteria and major fear aside. Or maybe that should be; major hysteria and minor fear? I couldn’t be sure. What I did know, was that somehow, someway, Justin calmed me and could push the darkness back. But at what cost to him? It would be selfish of me to put Justin through this over and over. I wasn’t a selfish person, and I knew I just couldn’t do that to him.

Kelly and Justin returned to find me with my head in my hands. Miraculously I wasn’t crying. Justin came over and squatted next to me, adjusting the towel on my lap before running his fingers through my hair. His face was haunted, and it almost broke me to see him like that because of me.

“Kelly’s going to patch you up. I’m going to change the sheets, and make us a drink. I think we need something... I know I need something. Then I want to talk,” he finished in a subdued tone.
 

I glanced sideways at him and nodded slightly. He stood up, running his hand across my shoulder before turning to leave me with Kelly.

“Take off the mattress pad... please,” I said quietly. He hesitated, turning his head sideways, then dropped his chin and left to strip the bed.

Kelly came over, her face stiff and panicky, but she relayed a remarkable calm as she set a bowl of gauze rolls, Telfa pads and other items down. She didn’t say a word to me. Not one. The only noise she expressed was the occasional hiss through her teeth as she sprayed stingy stuff on my ragged skin. She taped pads where she could and secured them with rolls of co-adhesive bandage, and when she was done, I looked like I had been in a wreck.
 

“Thank you,” I said.

She offered me a grave smile, squeezing my knee as she stood. She said something to Justin as she walked out, but I couldn’t hear it. He brought me the dark red pajamas and I slid the bottoms on. I deposited the beach towels in the laundry basket then sat down on the edge of the bed, now clothed in soft ochre sheets.

Justin returned a few minutes later and kicked the bedroom door closed. He handed me a clear glass mug of Irish coffee as he sat down next to me. When I took a sip I found it was very heavy on the Irish.

“Justin, I—”

“Don’t... I know what you’re going to say. Just don’t. I’m... I need you. And I think you need me too. I just... I need to talk about what happened even if you don’t want to.”

I grimaced, but said, “Okay, I think I... I’ll try.”

He shifted so he was facing me. His fingers played with the seam of my pajama bottoms for a few moments before he looked up, his expression stark.