“Okay, then, I’m not sorry.” I laughed. He reached over and flicked the lid of my baseball cap.

  “You’re silly sometimes, sport.” We drove to his house and proceeded to study verb tenses. Then I knelt and serviced him with my mouth, as I did after every study session now. Then he kissed me and drove me home. Things were back to normal.

  Chapter 13

  SADLY, THE Boyne City Ramblers didn’t win the Regional Class C Championships that year. I had gone and watched literally every game they played except for the one postseason game that they lost in Mount Pleasant. Although disappointed that they hadn’t gone on to make it to the state championships, I was relieved to know that the football season was over, and also to no longer have Brett’s practice schedule to contend with.

  The loss was a major blow to the egos of the football jocks, yet they still had bragging rights for the division trophy they’d taken the week prior. In the aftermath of the loss, Brett started to spend some more time with me again. He didn’t mention Mandy Myers to me, and I wasn’t about to ask about her. The easiest way for me to deal with the situation was to simply pretend Mandy didn’t exist.

  Then about two weeks after the final football game, a week before Christmas, I saw Brett and Mandy together. I was outside walking Reggie and had decided to extend our walk beyond the normal two-block radius we usually stuck to. We walked down to the park, where the big cannon was, and Reggie started sniffing around like dogs do. There was just a dusting of snow on the ground, but the temperature was near freezing. I looked up and saw a BMW parked over by the pavilion, the same one where my mom and I had dined homecoming night.

  I pulled against Reggie’s leash and headed briskly toward the car, which was when I first noticed that Brett wasn’t alone. Someone was with him, and that someone was female. I knew it was Mandy. He had his arm around the back of her seat and was leaning in to kiss her.

  This was unbelievable to me. How could this actually be happening? I had rationalized with myself so many times that the public displays of affection Brett demonstrated with Mandy were exactly that—public displays. But this was definitely not public; this was a private display of affection. It was crushing, more than I could stand to see.

  I hurried my pace and headed back toward home. I was running by the time I rounded the corner that led down our block, and Reggie trotted alongside me, tongue and tail both wagging. I got inside the door and removed my coat and hat, and then dashed upstairs. I lay down on the bed, buried my head in my pillow, and started to cry. After about ten minutes of venting my outrage and despair into the pillow, I pulled myself off the bed and went back downstairs. I knew my mom was where she usually was, working, and Erik hadn’t been seen for days.

  I went to the refrigerator, and when I opened it, the first thing that caught my eye was a tall bottle that had been sitting there for almost a month: a bottle of my dad’s wine, which he had left behind. Had Erik been around more often, it would have surely disappeared a long time ago. But since the opportunity was there and since I felt so very miserable, I reached for the bottle and pulled it out, then clutched it to my chest. I then grabbed a glass from the counter and headed back upstairs. It was by no one’s standards a fine wine, as no corkscrew was needed to remove the twist-off top. You couldn’t have proven this by me, however, since I had never before even tasted alcohol.

  When we were younger, my dad would allow my brother to take sips out of his bottle of beer. I think my dad and his friends got sort of a charge out of watching it, and Erik loved it. When the same offer had been presented to me, I always passed. Even at an early age I had decided to do everything the opposite of my father, especially his alcohol consumption.

  At this point, however, I wasn’t thinking of my father, or of anything except the horrible empty ache in my gut. I felt betrayed by Brett… again. I truly didn’t understand the cycle that kept reoccurring in this relationship. He would hurt me and I’d rationalize his actions, then I would forgive him. All the while he acted as if nothing had happened. Then I’d feel guilty for doubting him, and would go back into his arms, where I felt secure and protected, only to start the cycle again. The most frustrating part to me was the fact that he didn’t even seem to notice my pain.

  I poured a glass of the dark-red wine into my glass and took a huge gulp. “Yuck!” I spat, but I immediately followed the first gulp with a second. It took less than a full glass of the wine for me to start feeling the effects of the alcohol, being that I was so small and also so inexperienced at drinking. I had virtually no tolerance for liquor of any kind, but that didn’t stop me from continuing until I had finished the entire bottle.

  As I sat there alone in my room, drinking my wine, I turned on my record player and listened to Elton John. I kept getting up after the song “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” had finished playing in order to restart it and listen again. I was feeling dizzy and even sadder than when I first started this drinking endeavor. Finally I heard a pounding on the front door. I had just started the song for about the sixth time when the pounding began, and I stumbled down the stairwell to get to the door. I peered through the glass, and there stood Brett. I opened the door.

  “Sport, I saw you at the park,” he said.

  “Yeah, I saw you too,” I said. My voice cracked, and he looked at me in disbelief.

  “You’re drinking!” he accused. “And why are you crying?”

  “I saw who was with you, Brett, and I saw you kissing her.”

  He just stared at me as I looked up at him, tears now streaming down my cheeks.

  “I thought she meant nothing to you, Brett. I thought she was only for show.”

  Now his voice began to crack, as he grabbed my shoulders. He looked at me earnestly and said, “I swear, she does mean nothing to me, sport. Why do you think I ditched her and came over here?”

  “Why were you with her in the first place? And why were you kissing her?” Never before had I spoken to him like this. Never before had I used any tone other than respect toward him. “Do you love her, Brett?”

  “No!” he screamed, “I don’t love her! I love—” He stopped himself and then calmed his voice. “I love you.”

  I was bawling now and feeling woozy from the wine. “Then why were you parked with her in your car, kissing her? Why her and not me?”

  “I have to do that, Jeff. You know what it’s like. I have to have a ‘girlfriend’ or else you know what the people in this town will think. Imagine what my parents and Coach McDonald, and just everyone are going to think if they ever find out about… about us!”

  “Well, imagine what I think!” I shot back. “I can’t go on like this anymore. It hurts me too bad! We have to end this.”

  “No, I won’t end this because of this. I’ll change, I promise. I swear to you… please. I do love you. I won’t see her anymore. I don’t care what people think. I care about you.”

  “Do you mean it?” I sobbed.

  He then grabbed hold of me and pulled me against him. “Yes, I mean it, sport. I promise. I can’t lose you. Not now.”

  “I won’t go through school every day pretending like I barely know you anymore. I can’t do it. I can’t pretend like that. I don’t care who knows.”

  “Shh,” he said, calming me as he held my head against his chest. “Come with me. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go be alone together.” He grabbed my coat for me, pulled the sleeves up my arms, and zipped it up, as if dressing a small child. “I’m not going to let you be hurt anymore, sport. I promise.” He then kissed me on the forehead and wiped under my eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”

  WE WENT to Dead Man’s Hill again and looked down at all the beautiful trees. The snow on the trees was almost as pretty as the leaves had been, and we sat again on our rock, the same place where Brett had first touched me.

  “Do you know why Shane Meadows killed himself?” I asked Brett. He shook his head. “He killed himself because he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand being called all of those names at school.”

  “Is that what your friend Joey told you?” Brett asked.

  “Yeah, and Shane wrote Joey a letter before he did it. I read the letter.”

  “Oh really? What did he say in the letter?”

  “He said it was true what everyone said—he was nothing but a sick, perverted faggot.”

  “Oh my God!” Brett said. “That’s so sad. Did Joey already know Shane was gay before he got that letter?”

  I nodded. “He found out the day before and freaked. Now Joey blames himself for Shane’s death. I keep telling him it wasn’t his fault, but it hasn’t done any good. He thinks if he’d been more accepting, Shane wouldn’t have done it.”

  “That’s too bad. This kind of shit makes me so mad. Why do people act like it’s such a big deal to be gay? Why does it matter to everyone else who someone loves?”

  I had somewhat sobered and was clinging to Brett’s arm. We were sitting on a blanket Brett had gotten out of his trunk. He had draped it over the rock so we didn’t soak ourselves from the snow. “I can’t believe you said you love me,” I said.

  He pulled me to him, just like he’d done that first night. “I have to tell you something, though, sport,” he said seriously. I looked up at him, suddenly concerned. “There are consequences for getting lippy with me. When you do that, you’re not being a very good pup.” He reached behind me and scooped a mound of snow in his hand, and I quickly jumped off the rock. He grabbed the back of my pants with one hand and shoved the snow down my underwear with the other.

  “You fucker!” I said. He was laughing hard. I bent, picked up snow, and quickly tried to form a snowball. Before I could accomplish my goal, he nailed me right in the neck with a snowball of his own. Then another. He started pelting me so fast that I gave up on my attempt to retaliate and booked it for the car. He came up on me fast, tackling me before I made it even halfway. We were laughing as he pinned me to the snowy ground, both of us now covered with white stuff.

  “Okay, I’m sorry! I learned my lesson. I’m sorry!”

  He looked down at me. “Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered.

  I had no problem complying with his demands.

  BRETT STAYED at my house that night, for the first time ever. We cuddled together in my room on my single bed. My mom wouldn’t be home until at least three o’clock, and I would just lock my door so she couldn’t peek in on me. She would see his car parked out front, but I’d just tell her I slept on the floor and Brett used my bed.

  It was just that I really couldn’t leave him that night, nor he me. I was still tipsy from the wine and he was concerned about me, plus I never wanted to be away from him again. Brett ordered pizza for us and we sat Indian-style on my bed, watching my black-and-white television. It was Saturday night, and we watched The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. I laughed hysterically at Tattoo yelling “Da Plane! Da Plane!” probably because I was still sort of drunk from the wine.

  “I wonder what you would be like high,” Brett said, laughing.

  Finally at ten o’clock, when the shows had ended, we decided to take a bath. Our bathroom was small but featured a big, old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. I started to draw the bathwater, added lots of bubbles, and Brett stood behind me, stripping off his clothes. When I turned around, he was naked, and I slid up next to his body. Brett pulled my shirt over my head and then proceeded to kiss me. He put his hands on my waistband, trying to unbutton my pants. Not taking his mouth away from mine, he picked me up in his arms and held me, then moved over in front of the toilet. He set me down, so that I was sitting on top of the toilet tank. He then finished unbuttoning and then unzipping my pants. I thrust my hips forward a bit, using the toilet seat to rest my feet against. He pulled down my pants and then jerked them off. I sat there in my underwear while he continued to touch me all over.

  He then had me stand up on top of the toilet lid. He pulled down my underpants and removed them, then scooped me back into his arms and placed me in the steamy bathwater. He climbed in behind me, and I settled back to rest in his arms. I reached over and turned off the faucet, then sank back into my lover’s embrace. I felt his face against mine, his hair brushing the side of my cheek.

  Oh, God, please don’t let this end. Please don’t ever let this end.

  Chapter 14

  “BRETT, I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the whole world.” I was whispering these words into his ear as he slept. It was Sunday morning, and I snuggled next to him, not wanting our time together to end. Quietly, I pulled away from him and crawled out of bed, then pulled on some sweats and a robe. I needed to check that my mom got home all right. I knew she’d be getting up and ready for church, even after having worked until almost three in the morning.

  I carefully closed the bedroom door behind me and crept downstairs to my mom’s bedroom. I looked in—she was still in bed. I thought it was odd because she normally would be up by now, but I went out to the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee for her. Sometimes I did that, just to make things easier for her when she got up.

  I walked back to her bedroom and quietly approached her bed. In a gentle voice, so as not to startle her, I said, “Mom, are you going to church this morning?”

  Her eyes flickered, as if she was trying to open them. She finally did, and I smiled down at her. I repeated my question.

  “Jeff, honey,” she said, her voice sounding slurred, “something is wrong.”

  “What’s wrong mom?” I asked, leaning in.

  “I can’t move. I can’t move at all.” Her eyes closed again, but she didn’t move. I panicked, reaching over her to touch her face. I felt her neck, finding that she had a pulse.

  “Can you hear me, Mom?” I was starting to get very scared.

  She nodded slightly. “Get help.”

  Oh my God! Something is so wrong!

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll get help. I’ll help you, don’t worry.” I turned and ran out of the room, screaming for Brett. “Brett, Help me!” He came bolting down the stairs within a couple of seconds, wearing only his boxers. “It’s my mom; she can’t move.”

  “Call an ambulance, Jeff. Call 911. I’m grabbing my clothes.”

  I did as he said, picked up the phone, and called 911. I went back to her room right away after hanging the phone up.

  “Can you feel me when I touch you, Mom? Please talk to me! Stay awake, oh, God.” I was terrified that she was dying, that she would go to sleep and not wake up.

  “I can feel your hand, honey. I just can’t move.” The left side of her face was drooping, the corner of her mouth sagging. When my father had his stroke, the same thing had happened to him. He hadn’t been able to move his right side. I was very afraid she was having a stroke too.

  Brett came up beside me. “Don’t worry, sport. They’re on their way. Help is on the way. Can you hear us all right, Mrs. Irwin?”

  “Yes, I can hear you. I can’t move, though. I can’t move at all.”

  I looked over at Brett and he reached down to put his hand on my shoulder. Then he squatted, kneeling on the floor next to me. We waited there for the ambulance to arrive. Boyne didn’t have full-time rescue services, only a volunteer fire and EMS team. It took about twenty minutes before we heard the sirens and knew they were pulling into the drive. Brett ran out to let them in the front door.

  Of course, my mother knew all three of the rescue workers by name. They were good at keeping her calm, and immediately asked us to step out of the way. I started crying, but I didn’t want my mom to see. I went into the kitchen to call my grandma. I told her to meet us at the hospital. Brett drove me there behind the ambulance. He waited with me in the waiting room until my grandma arrived, then the three of us sat together. Finally a nurse came for my grandma and let her into the examining room to be with my mom. Brett assured me he wasn’t leaving me.

  “Do you think I should pray?” I asked Brett.

  He nodded. “If you want to pray, sport, I think you should.” He put his hand over mine, completely unconcerned about the other people in the waiting room.

  I sat there, leaning against him, trying to find the right words to say to God. Trying to think of a way to bargain with Him to spare my mom’s life.

  “You know, Brett, this is so unfair. I just know she’s had a stroke. It was just like this with my dad. She’s such a good person. She works so hard, and loves everybody. She’s had such a hard life.”

  “I know,” he said, “but let’s not jump to any conclusions until we hear from the doctor, okay? Probably she’s gonna be just fine.”

  “I don’t know where to find my brother. I don’t even know where he is. I wonder if I should call my dad too.”

  “Why don’t we wait and see what the doctor says, okay?”

  I nodded. We just sat there together, sometimes staring up at the big TV set. There was some sports show on, and I was glad for that, since it gave Brett a distraction. It was almost two hours before my grandma came back out into the waiting room.

  “Jeff, honey, the doctor is here to talk to us. I told him you should hear what he has to say.” I immediately stood up, then looked over at Brett.

  “Go ahead,” he assured me, “I’ll wait here for you. I promise I won’t leave.”

  My grandma and I walked down a hallway and into a small sterile room. It was some sort of doctor/patient conference room. There was only a small table in the center of the room with four chairs, two on each side. My grandma and I sat down, and almost immediately Dr. Baker stepped in behind us. I knew him well; he had been our family doctor my entire life.

  “Mrs. Carlson, Jeff,” he greeted us, “I’m sorry we have to be together under such sad circumstances. Please have a seat.” He looked directly at me. “I have some very unpleasant information to give you, Jeff, and I’m so sorry. Your grandmother insisted that you be here, though.” She nodded, placing her hand on mine. “We just completed some tests on your mother.” He then looked over at my grandma; I sensed the sorrow in his voice and saw it in his eyes. I felt my body being overwhelmed with incredible fear.

 

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