The Way You Say My Name

There were certain things in this universe that could always be counted on. The smell of old socks coming from the boy’s locker room. The pack of giggling females that crowded around the first-string quarterback as he slid down the hall. And the way Dillon Carver’s heart slammed against his chest every time he saw Jamie Walker. James, he mentally corrected himself. He’d long ago lost the right to call him Jamie. But if God was as merciful as the preacher of the First Christian Church of Reed claimed, he’d get it back.
Dillon watched from his own locker two rows down the hall as James loaded books into his backpack. His white blond hair was in need of a good combing, as usual, but the haphazard style suited him. The sight of James’s lean body, even encased in those baggy jeans, was enough to cause an involuntary tightening just below Dillon’s belt. Jamie might be short--not an inch over five-foot-six--but he had long, muscular legs. Legs that had once wrapped around Dillon and held him as his body shuddered with release. With a bitter pang of regret, Dillon wondered how many times those legs had preformed that same service for Ben Lewis.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in that boy with your eyes if you keep staring at him like that.”
Dillon turned to see Megan Nash leaning against one of the lockers, her blue eyes watching him.
“I didn’t mean to stare. I was just wondering where his pet dick head is.” Hopefully, he slithered back under a rock.
“You mean Ben?”
Dillon snorted. “Who else? He and Jamie are more or less joined these days.” He just hoped that wasn’t the case, literally.
Megan tilted her head, her fiery curls trailing across her right shoulder. “I know you’re less than thrilled about James and Ben, but if you keep staring at him like that, everyone is going to know.”
Dillon shrugged. “Screw ‘em. They’ll know soon enough, anyway.”
“Maybe, but I think it would be better to stick to the plan. It will be easier on you if you do this at your own pace.”
Dillon took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know, I hate the fact that you’re always right.”
“Hardly. But having three gay brothers does make me a bit of an expert on this particular subject. Not to mention assorted cousins and poor relations.”
Dillon raised his brows. “Three gay brothers?”
“When Brandon married Nate, he became my brother, too.”
Dillon held up his index and middle fingers. “That’s two. Who’s the other one?”
“Randy. He came out to all of us just before the wedding.”
“Only in your family could that ever happen.” He laughed, but he envied Megan her family. Her brother, Brandon, was the sheriff of Reed. He was also openly gay, and had just married his partner, Nathan. Nate had even taken Brandon’s name after the ceremony. He could only hope he’d be that lucky some day. Of course, it was Megan’s parents Dillon envied the most. They loved their children unconditionally, unlike Douglas and Angela Carver. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Megan was still speaking to him.
“So, are we still on for the dance tonight?”
Dillon groaned. “I don’t know, Meggie. I was gonna ask Jim at the pharmacy if I could work tonight. When my folks throw me out, I’m gonna need all the money I can get.”
“You work plenty. What you need is one night to just be normal, something to take your mind off your troubles. What better way to do that than to spend the evening with yours truly, dancing that cute little butt off?”
Dillon closed his locker. “You’re deranged, you know that?”
The last bell rang and Megan started for the door. As she went, she said, “Maybe, but it’s all part of my charm. You know you love me.”
Dillon laughed as he followed her out. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, though God only knows why I do.” He and Megan went outside, and Dillon never saw the look of pain in Jamie’s eyes as he went past.
* * *
Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Dillon and Megan walked by, laughing and talking as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. As if he didn’t exist. When he heard Dillon tell Megan he loved her, he actually wished he didn’t. Knowing the two of them were together was bad enough, but to have it thrown in his face was almost more than he could bear. Before he had time to work up a decent depression, though, he felt a familiar arm glide around his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Are you pervin’ on me in the middle of the hall?”
Ben laughed and moved back to lean against the wall. “Nah. I figure after two years of trying to get into your pants only to have you resist my considerable assets at every turn, sex with you just ain’t gonna happen. Besides, we’d have to exorcise the spirit of Dillon Carver from your soul, and I’m fresh out of holy water.”
Jamie looked around the hall to see if anyone heard. “Keep it down, man. Someone might be listening.”
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know why you work so hard to front for that prick after what he did to you.” Jamie started to speak, but Ben cut him off. “Never mind. I’ve heard it all before, and we’re never gonna agree.” His face softened. “You know I’ll never tell anybody, J. Your secrets are safe with me.” His face took on that cocky grin. “Anyway, since you aren’t gonna let me get you into bed, I guess I’ll just have to settle for the thrill of being close to you.”
“You are so full of shit.”
“You didn’t think my eyes were this brown naturally, did you?” He jerked his spiky, black-haired head in the direction Dillon and Megan had taken. “I see Mr. and Mrs. Plunkett High are still going strong.”
Jamie shrugged, determined not to think about it any more than he had to. “I guess they make each other happy. They’ve been together for almost four months now.”
“Hey, if Dillon wants to play it straight, more power to him. If I was into chicks, I might go after Megan Nash myself. As much trouble as I’ve been in, it sure wouldn’t hurt to be banging the sheriff’s sister.” He heaved his six-foot-two-inch body away from the wall. “But since I haven’t found a girl yet who can rev up my engine, I guess I’ll just stick with what I’ve got.”
Jamie closed his locker and clicked the lock into place. “Ah, yes, the mystery man. Am I ever gonna get to meet this guy?”
Ben put his arm back around Jamie’s shoulders and led him towards the door. “Patience, young Walker. In time, all will be revealed.”
“No more Star Wars flicks for you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ben led him into the parking lot. “I can’t tell you anything about him just yet, J. He’s not ‘out.’ Besides, we’re keeping it casual. He and I are both free to date other people.” He grinned. “That reminds me. Are you gonna go to that Valentine’s mixer thing tonight?”
Jamie grimaced. “I’ve got to. The Gay-Straight Alliance is hosting the thing. Since I’m the president of the G.S.A., I have to at least put in an appearance.”
“How did the G.S.A. get stuck putting on a dance?”
“Principal Morgan insisted. He thought it would help boost Plunkett High’s ‘gay friendly’ image. He wants the world to know that gay and lesbian students are free to express themselves, whatever the hell that means. He says the city of Reed has a reputation as being ultra hospitable to homosexuals, so it’s up to us as the next generation to further that rep.” He shrugged. “At least ten same-sex couples have signed up to go, so it must be working.”
Ben nodded and motioned Jamie over towards his car. The 1985 Firebird was Ben’s baby. Every dime he earned doing odd jobs for his foster mother went into the sleek, black beauty. Not for the first time, Jamie wished he weren’t so scared of learning how to drive.
Ben broke into his thoughts. “You gonna stand around all day, or are you gonna get in the car?”
“I hear ya.” Jamie opened the car door and sank down into the bucket seat. He closed the door behind him and waited until Ben was seated behind the wheel before saying, “Weren’t you about to ask me something?”
Ben turned to better see him. “Oh, yeah. I was thinking, since you have to go to that dance tonight, anyway, maybe you and I could go together.”
“You mean, like a date?”
“Well, yeah, but just as friends. If a guy can’t go to a dance with his best friend, what’s the world coming to?”
“What about the guy you’re seeing? Won’t he care?”
“Nah. Like I told you, him and me, we’re casual. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to rub our presence in Dillon Carver’s face.”
“Ben--”
“Look, J, the guy fucked you over six ways from Sunday. The least you can do is show him that you aren’t pining away for him while he’s off playing the happy hetero.”
In spite of the present topic, Jamie found himself laughing. “You do have a way with words.” He looked down at his hands for a full minute before looking back up at Ben. “All right, then. If you really want to do this, you’ve got yourself a date.”
Ben pumped his hand twice in victory and started the car.
* * *
Jamie’s Great-aunt Sadie was waiting in the archaic kitchen when he got home. He dropped his backpack into a near-by chair and bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek.
Sadie smiled up at him, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, how was school?”
Jamie went to the fridge and scrounged around until he found what he was looking for. He slapped together three ham sandwiches, grabbed a bottle of Coke from the door, and closed the refrigerator with his foot. He settled into the chair next to his aunt and crammed his mouth full of sandwich. It wasn’t until he was half-way through the first sandwich that he realized he’d been asked a question.
“School was okay. Same as always.” This he said around a mouthful of ham and cheese on rye.
Aunt Sadie clicked her tongue. “For heaven’s sake, Jamie, you don’t have to gobble your food down in such a way. No one is going to take it away from you.” She stared at him for a moment, then said, “So, do you have plans for this evening?”
Jamie swallowed hard, almost choking on a large chunk of bread. Here came the tricky part. “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to the Valentine’s Dance with Ben.”
Aunt Sadie made a grumbling trek across the black and white tile floor on her way to the white porcelain double-sink. Jamie winced at the sound of banging pots and pans, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The Queen Ann home Sadie inherited from her father had seen more than one of her hissy fits. After a full two minutes of dish rattling and pan tossing, Sadie turned back to Jamie and said, “I wish you could tell me what you see in that hooligan.”
Jamie almost laughed at Sadie’s old fashioned term for Ben. Her short, iron-gray curls had frizzed up during her tirade, framing her face like a halo. At four-foot-ten, even Jamie towered over her. He couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky he was to have ended up with her instead of in a foster home like Ben. Instead of laughing, he said, “If you don’t want me to go with him, I won’t.” It was a bluff, and they both knew it.
“You know better than that. You’re eighteen years old, and I figure that makes you old enough to pick your own friends. I just wish you had someone in your life besides Ben.”
Jamie took a hefty swig of his drink. “Ben’s a good guy. He just hasn’t had the same advantages as the rest of us.”
Sadie shook her head. “Not having had parents doesn’t give him the right to do half the things he’s done since Nora Slater took him into her home. You’d think he’d be grateful to even have a home after more or less living on the streets, but if he is, he certainly doesn’t show it. Why she didn’t send him packing the day he turned eighteen is beyond me.”
Jamie stared down at the scarred surface of the ancient table. “Well, in that case, why didn’t you send me packing when I turned eighteen?”
“James Winston Walker!” Aunt Sadie put down the bowl she’d been holding and came back to the table. Using one short finger, she tilted Jamie’s chin so he was looking directly at her. “How can you even ask me that?”
Jamie shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question. If Ben deserves to be thrown out of the only home he’s had for the past three years, then why don’t I deserve the same treatment. I’ve been sponging off you for a heck of a lot longer than three years. At least Nora got paid by the state to look after Ben. What did you get when my mom dropped me in your lap and took off fourteen years ago?”
Sadie released his chin and sat down in the chair next to his. “I got you, and I’ve never regretted it, not for an instant. I was fifty years old and had given up hope of ever having children of my own, spinster that I was. I’d just lost my only sister--your grandmother--to cancer, and my parents were long since gone. I just assumed I’d spend the rest of my days alone. You changed all that. I’ve cursed my niece a thousand times for choosing drugs and that worthless boyfriend of hers over her own child, but not a day goes by that I don’t thank her for bringing you to me.”
“Then why doesn’t Ben deserve the same chance I’ve been given?”
Sadie stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her slacks. “I’ll do my best to get along with him, Jamie, for your sake. But if he hurts you, he’ll answer to me.” She paused. “I wish you and Dillon could have patched up your friendship. He was a good influence on you. You were always so happy when the two of you were together.”
Jamie held back a sigh. “It was Dillon’s choice to end the,” he forced himself to say it, “friendship, Aunt Sadie. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“I just can’t believe Dillon would break off a twelve year friendship just because you ‘came out.’ So what if you are gay? You’re still you.”
She didn’t know the half of it, and he wasn’t about to enlighten her. He couldn’t resist ribbing her a little bit, though. “You didn’t exactly jump for joy when I first told you, either.”
“Nonsense. I admit, I was shocked at first. And I’m still not sure I understand it, exactly.” She gave him a warm smile. “But I love you for who you are, not for who you’re attracted to.”
Jamie nodded. “I know that. But Ben is a part of who I am. When Dillon dropped me, Ben was there. He’s never once let me down, and I refuse to turn my back on him just because he’s gotten into a patch of trouble here and there.” Aunt Sadie started to object, but Jamie said, “Just give him the benefit of the doubt. Please? For me?”
Aunt Sadie sighed and gave in.
* * *
Dillon stuffed the college acceptance papers into his desk drawer and locked it. He’d done it. He’d been accepted to Garman College in upstate New York. It was prestigious, private, and known for its policies protecting gay and lesbian students. It was also James Walker’s school of choice. Even if--more like, when--his parents cut him off, he’d still be able to swing tuition, room, and board with student loans and the college fund his parents had made the mistake of putting solely in his name. Now that he was eighteen, the money was his. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. It had to be. He could get a part time job to pay for books and living expenses, but he had to be close to Jamie. Living a lie was just no longer an option.