Tricks (2 page)

14

It was cold that morning, maybe thirty

degrees. But Andrew's lips were feverish

*

against mine. It was the kiss in the dream

you never want to wake up from--sultry,

*

fueled by desire, and yet somehow innocent, because brand-new, budding love was the heart

*

of our passion. Andrew lifted me gently in his sinewy arms, spun me in small circles,

*

lips still welded to mine. I'd never known

such joy, and it all flowed from Andrew.

*

And when we finally stopped, I knew

my life had irrevocably changed.

15

Day by Day

I've grown to love him more and more.

Now, though I haven't dared confess

*

it yet, I'm forever and ever in love with him. After I tell him (if I ever find the nerve),

*

I'll have to hide it from everyone. Boise,

Idaho, isn't very big. Word gets around.

*

Can't even tell Eve. She's awful about keeping secrets. Good thing she goes to

*

middle school, where she isn't privy to what happens here at Boise High.

*

I'm sixteen, a junior. A year and a half, and I'll be free to do whatever I please.

*

For now, I'm sneaking off to spend a few precious minutes with Andrew.

*

I duck out the exit, run down the steps, hoping I don't trip. Last thing I need

*

is an emergency room visit when I'm

supposed to be in study hall. Around one

*

corner. Two. And there's his Tundra across the street, idling at the curb. He spots me

16

and even from here, I can see his face

light up. Glance left. No one I know.

*

Right. Ditto. No familiar faces or cars.

I don't even wait for the corner,

*

but jaywalk midblock at a furious

pace, practically dive through the door

*

and across the seat, barely saying hello before kissing Andrew like I might

*

never see him again. Maybe that's because always, in the back of my mind, I realize

*

that's a distinct possibility, if we're ever

discovered kissing like this. One other

*

thought branded into my brain is that maybe

kissing like this will bring God's almighty wrath

*

crashing down all around us. I swear, God, it's not just about the delicious electricity

*

coursing through my veins. It's all about love.

And you are the source of that, right? Amen.

17

A Poem by Seth Parnell
Possibilities

As a child, I was wary, often felt cornered.

To escape, I regularly

stashed myself in the closet, comforted by curtains of cotton. Silk. Velour.

Avoided wool, which

encouraged my

itching the ever-present rashes on my arms, legs. My skin

reacted to secrets, lies, and taunts by wanting to break out.

Now I hide behind a wall of silence, bricked in by the crushing

desire to confess, but afraid of my family's reaction.

Fearful I don't have the strength to survive the fallout.

18

Seth As Far Back

As I can remember,

I have known that

I was different. I think

I was maybe five

when I decided that.

*

I was the little boy who liked art projects and ant farm tending

better than riding bikes

playing army rangers.

*

Not easy, coming from a long line of farmers and factory workers. Dad's big

dream for his only son has

always been tool and die.

*

My dream is liberal arts, a New Agey university.

Berkeley, maybe. Or, even better, San Francisco.

But that won't happen.

19

Not with Mom Gone

She was the one who supported my escape

plan.
You reach for your

dreams,
she said.
Factory

work is killing us all.

*

Factory work may

have jump-started it, but it was cancer that

took my mom, one year and three months ago.

*

At least she didn't

have to find out about me. She loved me, sure, with all her heart. Wanted

me to be happy, with all her

*

heart. But when it came to sex, she was all Catholic in her thinking. Sex was for making babies, and only after marriage. I'll never forget

20

what she said when my cousin

Liz got pregnant. She was just

sixteen and her boyfriend hauled his butt out of town, all the way of an army base in Georgia.

*

Mom got off the phone with

Aunt Josie, clucking like a hen.

Who would have believed

our pretty little Liz would

grow up to be such a whore?

*

I thought that was harsh, and told her so. She said, flat out,
Getting pregnant without getting married first

makes her a whore in God's eyes.

21

I knew better than to argue with Mom, but if she felt

that strongly about unmarried

sex, no way could I ever let her know about me, suffer

*

the disgrace that would have

followed. Beyond Mom,

Indiana's holier-than-thou

conservatives hate "fags" almost as much as those freaks in Kansas

*

do--the ones who picket dead

soldiers' funerals, claiming their fate was God's way of getting back at gays. How in the hell are the two things related?

22

And Anyway

If God were inclined to punish someone

just for being the way he created them, it would

be punishment enough

*

to insert that innocent

soul inside the womb of a native Indianan.

These cornfields and gravel roads are no place

*

for someone like me.

Considering almost every

guy I ever knew growing is a total jock, with no plans the future but farming

*

or assembly-line work, it sure isn't easy to fit in at school, even without overtly jumping out of that frigging closet.

*

I can't even tell Dad, though I've come very

close a couple of times, in response to his totally

cliché homophobic views:

23

Bible says God made

Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, and no damn

bleeding-heart liberal

gonna tell me different.

*

Most definitely not
this

bleeding-heart liberal.

Of course, Dad has no clue

that's what I am. Or have

become. Because of
who

*

I am, all the way inside, the biggest part of me, the part I need to hide.

Wonder what he'd say

If I told him the first person

*

recognize what I am was a priest. Father Howard

knew. Took advantage, too.

Maybe I'll confess it all to Dad someday. But not

*

while he's still grieving over Mom. I am too.

And if I lost my dad because of any of this, I really

don't know what I'd do.

24

So I Keep the Real Seth

Mostly hidden away.

It is spring, a time of hope, locked in the rich loam

we till and plant. Corn.

Maize. The main ingredient

*

in American ethanol, the fuel of the future, and so it fuels our dreams. It's a cold March day, but the sun

threatens to thaw me,

*

like it has started to thaw the ground. The big John

Deere has little trouble

tugging the tiller, turning the soil, readying it for seed.

*

I don't mind this work.

There's something satisfying about the submission, dirt to churning blades. Submission, yes, and almost as ancient

*

as the submission of one

beast, throat up to another.

One human, facedown to another. And always, always another, hungering.

25

Hunger

Drives the beast, human or otherwise, and it is the essence of humanity.

Hunger for food. Power.

Sex. All tangled together.

*

It was hunger that made

me post a personal ad on the Internet. Hunger for something I knew

I could never taste here.

*

Hunger that put me on the freeway to Louisville, far away enough to promise

secrecy unattainable at home.

Hunger that gave me

*

the courage to knock on a stranger's door. Looking

back, I realize the danger.

But then I felt invincible.

Or maybe just starved.

26

I'd Dated Girls, of Course

Trying to convince

myself the attraction toward guys I'd always felt was just a passing thing.

Satan, luring me with

*

the promise of a penis.

I'd even fallen for a female.

Janet Winkler was dream-girl

pretty and sweeter than just-turned apple cider.

*

but love and sexual desire

don't always go hand in hand.

Luckily, Janet wasn't looking to get laid, which worked out

just fine. After a while,

*

though, I figured
I
should

be looking to get laid, like every other guy my age. So

why did the thought of sex with Janet--who I believed

*

I loved, even--not turn

me on one bit? Worse, why

did the idea of sex with her

Neanderthal jock big brother

turn me on so completely?

27

Not that Leon Winkler is particularly special.

Not good-looking. Definitely

not the brightest bulb in the socket. What he does have

*

going on is a fullback's

physique. Pure muscle.

(That includes inside his two-inch-thick skull.) I'd catch

myself watching his butt,

*

thinking it was perfect.

Something not exactly

hetero about that. Weird

thing was, that didn't

bother me. Well, except for

*

the idea someone might

notice how my eyes often

fell toward the rhythm of his exit. I never once

lusted for Janet like that.

*

I tried to let her down easy. Gave her the ol'

"It's not you, it's me"

routine. But breaking up is never an easy thing.

28

Not Easy for Janet

Who never saw it coming.

When I told her, she looked as if she'd been run over by a bulldozer.
But you

told me you love me.

*

"I do love you," I said.

"But things are, well...

confusing right now. You

know my mom is sick...

Can't believe I used

*

her cancer as an excuse to try and smooth things

over. And it worked, to a point, anyway. At least it gave Janet something

*

to hold on to.
I
know, Seth.

But don't you think you

need someone to...?

The denial in my eyes

spoke clearly. She tried

*

another tactic, sliding her arms around my neck, seeking to comfort me. Then she kissed me, and it was a different kind of kiss

29

than any we'd shared

before. Swollen with desire.

Demanding. Lips still locked to mine, she murmured,
What

if I give you this...?

*

Her hand found my own, urged it along her body's

contours, all the way to the place between her legs, the one I had never asked for.

*

To be honest, I thought about doing it. What if it cured my confusion after all?

In the heat of the moment,

I even got hard, especially

*

when Janet touched me, dropped onto her knees, lowered my zipper, started to do what I never suspected she knew how to do. Yes...

*

No! Shouldn't... How...?

The haze in my brain

cleared instantly, and I pushed her away. "No. I can't," was all I could say.

30

All Janet Could Say

Before she stalked off was,
Up yours! What are you, anyway? Gay? Not

really expecting a response, she pivoted sharply, went

*

in search of moral support.

So she never heard me say, way under my breath, "Maybe

I
am
gay." It was time, maybe

past, to find out for sure.

*

But not in Perry County,

Indiana, where if you're

not related to someone, you know someone who is. All fact here is rooted

*

in gossip, and gossip can

prove deadly. Like last year, little Billy Caldwell told Nate

Fisher that he saw Nate's mom

kissing some guy out back

*

of a tavern. Total lie, but that didn't help Nate's mom

when Nate's dad went looking for her, with a loaded shotgun.

Caught up to her after Mass

31

Sunday morning, and when he was done, that church

parking lot looked like a street in Baghdad. After, Billy felt

kind of bad. But he blamed

*

Nate's dad one hundred percent.

Not Nate, who took out his grief on Billy's hunting dog.

That hound isn't much

good for hunting now, not

*