Jeff ernos greatest hits, p.98
Jeff Erno's Greatest Hits, page 98
“You bastard!” I said. “I’m not talking to you!”
He then busted up laughing. “Don’t be mad. Come on, sport! If you could’ve seen yourself, you’d have laughed too.”
“I’m not going out on that fucking ice! No way.” I insisted.
He then got a really serious look on his face, suddenly seeming even less sympathetic than he had before. “We’ll see about that.” He then opened his door and jumped out. In about four steps he rounded the front of the truck toward my door, and I quickly fumbled to depress the door lock. It was too difficult, though, because the thick gloves didn’t allow my fingers to cooperate with my brain, and I didn’t have time to remove them. Then he was at my side with the door open, and I immediately began to slide away from him, over toward the driver’s side of the seat.
Brett then reached down and grabbed me by the waist, wrapped both arms around me, and pulled me up toward him. He had me out of that truck in a matter of seconds, and I found myself slung over his shoulder like he was carrying a big bag of flour or something. I tried kicking my feet, but he was holding them too tightly. I punched his back fiercely with my gloved fists, but again I doubted he even felt my pitiful blows.
“Just chill out, little guy!” he said calmly. “You know you can’t fight me.”
“Watch me!” I screamed defiantly, but I knew he was right. All my efforts to resist him were futile, and eventually I resigned myself to calming down and accepting my fate.
When that finally occurred and he felt me relax, he slid me down into both his arms and began to carry me like a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. It was at that moment, when my gaze met his sparkling and confident piercing eyes, that I felt all the anger and fear wash away. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and held on, trusting him completely as he continued to carry me to his fish shanty.
When we made it to the shanty, he truly did carry me over the threshold. There was a small heater inside, which he lit for us, and we snuggled in. I didn’t do much fishing that night, though… at least not for fish.
OUR ICE-FISHING excursion didn’t prove to be the only incident where Brett used his physical dominance to overpower and control me. Clearly he had no motivation to bully me or make me feel weak. On the contrary, he seemed to be intent upon teaching me that I was, in reality, much stronger than I realized. “Most guys your age wouldn’t have the strength to even handle everything you’ve been through,” he reminded me. But in terms of physical strength, there was no denying he was unequivocally superior.
I think my appreciation of his superiority in the physical-strength category was actually a vital component of our relationship. Most guys have a competitive streak, where they feel the need to dominate. They might notice another guy is muscular and very physically fit, but it’s with a thinly veiled feeling of jealousy. They wish they were built like that, or wish they had that much power themselves.
Of course, I had absolutely no such desire. I didn’t want to be big and strong like Brett; instead, I wanted to feel protected by him and for him to be fully aware of my weakness as it contrasted his strength. I absolutely loved knowing he would go to any length to protect me and that no one had better dare try to hurt me in any way while he was around.
Even in the earliest stages of our relationship, when I used to watch him work out, he seemed to be energized by the idea of impressing me with his masculinity. He loved knowing I was right there staring at him as he pumped set after set of curls, deliberately flexing each muscle so that I witnessed his sheer power firsthand.
As our relationship got more intense and we became physically intimate with one another, his workout sessions were more to me than simply impressive displays of masculine hegemony. They were actually quite erotic, and often it was hard for me to keep my hands off him. He usually didn’t mind too much, and seemed to truly enjoy allowing me to wrap my hands around his biceps as he flexed with braggadocio.
He sometimes allowed me to lie facedown, stretched out across his back, with my arms wrapped around his chest, and then he’d do push-ups. I’d press my cheek flat against his back, right between his shoulder blades, and listen to him inhale and exhale as he pumped his body up and down using the muscles of his powerful arms and chest. If I was especially turned on, I would then slide off him and carefully wriggle my way beneath his body, allowing him to plant quick little kisses on my lips with each of his downward thrusts.
The fact that football season was over and baseball hadn’t yet started afforded us much more time to be together. His ego was such that he seemed to unconsciously crave the adoration of his fan base, and since he was currently without one, he simply used me as a substitute.
The obvious contrast between his physical strength and my apparent weakness made me realize that his handling of me required deliberate restraint on his part, which was a huge turn-on. As I lay beneath him when he did his push-ups, I was placing my complete trust in him because he could easily have cracked my ribs with a forceful blow of his torso. How else could I describe the sense of security I felt other than to state that metaphorically I was indeed his pup? His job included handling me with care in a protective, possessive manner. My job was to idolize him and strive always to please him.
If this dynamic of our relationship had remained constant, perhaps all would have been well with us indefinitely. However, the odd thing about my vulnerabilities and weaknesses was that as I began to feel more valued by him, the less inferior I felt. Initially he’d been merely another dumb jock to me. Then he became a larger-than-life muscle god who was both my savior and best friend.
Would our relationship ever reach a point where we both regarded one another as partners with equal strength? Would he ever allow me to be more than just his biggest fan? Granted, I had no qualms at the time about living quietly in his shadow. It was so safe and cozy there, but when one spends his entire life in the shadow of another, he becomes less than he might have been destined to be.
The rapid series of traumatic changes I underwent that year gave testimony to the fact that I was still a work in progress. Not even yet fifteen years of age, I was madly in love with the man of my dreams, yet emotionally I was still just a child. I could see no potential future for myself that didn’t include Brett, yet I also couldn’t imagine a world in which we would be welcomed and tolerated as a committed couple.
He had everything I lacked. He filled in the blanks of my life, and in a thousand small ways he made me a better person. What I had yet to learn, however, was that I needed to start growing some muscles of my own, and those muscles couldn’t be developed merely by lifting weights.
Chapter 18
WE FINALLY got our report cards for the first semester in late February. It took the school about a week or so to “process” them, or something like that. I found mine in the mailbox when I returned home one afternoon from school. It was addressed: “To the parents of Jeffrey Irwin.” I raced inside, calling for my grandma, who was in the kitchen. “Gram, we got our report cards today.”
“Bring it in here, honey,” she replied. “I’m fixing supper.” She was brilliant in the kitchen, so much so that I was surprised I hadn’t gained fifty pounds by now. I set my backpack down by the door, then reached down to greet my four-legged friend. Reggie was wagging his tail, glad to see me, as usual.
After hanging up my coat and depositing the rest of the mail on the dining room table, I joined my grandma in the kitchen. She looked over at me, concerned, as she saw a look of shock on my face. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“Oh, there’s been a mistake,” I said. “I didn’t get the right grade in gym class.”
She took the report card from my hand and looked it over. “Jeff, this is a very impressive report card,” she stated. “All A’s and one C.”
“Thanks, Gram, but I was supposed to be getting an A in gym too. I’d already discussed it with Coach McDonald. I need to keep a high GPA in order to get a scholarship for college.”
“Well, don’t you worry about that. Your mom had some insurance money, which has been set aside for your college. You have nothing to be concerned about there anymore.”
“That’s not the point, Grandma. Coach McDonald lied to me. He told me I was getting an A but then only gave me a C.”
“Like you said, it’s probably just a mistake. I’ll call him tomorrow, and we can get it all straightened out.”
“No, Gram, please don’t call him. I’ll just talk to him tomorrow in school. I think I want to handle this one on my own.”
“Okay, but don’t fret about it until then. It’ll all work out.”
“So what’s for supper?”
She smiled at me. “I’m making Swiss steak.”
“Yum! Hey, I’m gonna go upstairs and read for a little while, okay? Just ’til dinner is ready, unless you need help with anything.”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll call you down when it’s ready.”
I dashed up the stairs, grabbing my book bag on the way and pulled out a copy of Salem’s Lot. It was the first Stephen King book I had ever read, and I was rather enjoying it. I looked over at my dresser as I curled up on the bed and saw Brett’s picture. I nestled next to Reggie and started to dive into the vampire story, thinking of McDonald and how he deserved to have his throat ripped open.
“JUST BECAUSE someone believes in capitalism that doesn’t make them a neofascist!” Joey was having a heated discussion with Carly at our lunch table.
“Yes, it does, you bonehead. They’re the same thing,” Carly shot back.
“Dears, let’s change the subject, ’kay?” interjected Elaine. She was in her full British accent mode again.
“Did you guys get your report cards yesterday?” I asked. Carly looked over at me and started laughing. “What’s so funny?” I said.
“You are, Jeffy. You just want to compare your grades with ours to rub it in how much smarter you are.”
“Not at all,” I said seriously. “Besides, I bet Joey’s report card is better than mine this time. I actually got a C in one of my classes—gym.”
“You what?” asked Elaine. “I thought you had that whole situation ‘handled’.”
“I did too, but when I talked to McDonald this morning, he told me that I hadn’t kept my end of the bargain. The team didn’t win regionals, so I wasn’t getting the A.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Carly.
“Yeah,” said Joey, “What does the team not winning have to do with your grade in phys ed?”
“Well, you remember when I first started to tutor Brett Willson? See, I had this deal with McDonald. He asked me if I’d help Brett in his English class so he could stay on the team. He was flunking out and was going to lose athletic privileges. McDonald said if I did that, he’d take care of my grade in gym.”
“That’s bribery!” snapped Joey.
“No, that’s blackmail,” corrected Elaine. “He also threatened Jeff. He said he would flunk him if he didn’t do it, and that he’d make his life a living hell.”
“Elaine!” I said sternly, staring directly at her to let her know she was divulging too much information. “Well, it really doesn’t matter at this point. If McDonald hadn’t forced me into this situation, then I never would’ve become friends with Brett. Thanks to the coach, I now have this wonderful person in my life. It all worked out fine. I don’t really even need the A anymore, anyways. I now have money for college from my mom’s insurance.”
“That’s such a load of bullshit!” said Carly. “You’re telling us that you were blackmailed into helping this dude with his homework and shit, lied to about it, and then finally only given a C in the class, which you probably would have gotten at least a B in, anyways, and you’re perfectly fine with that—all just ’cause you get to be friends with some dumb jock?”
I was instantly pissed. “I told you before, Carly, don’t call him that!”
“You know, a few months ago you were calling him that yourself, Jeff. Just why in the hell are you always so defensive of this guy anyways? He’s nothing but a spoiled little rich kid who’s always gotten whatever the fuck he wants. He was just using you to get a grade, that’s all.”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Carly,” I countered. “You don’t know Brett at all. He’s not like that. He’s the only person who stood by me throughout my mom’s death. He sat with me in the hospital for hours, drove me everywhere I needed to go. He was even with me when we called the ambulance that morning.”
“Why was he in your house at eight o’clock in the morning on a Sunday, Jeff?” she asked snidely.
“Maybe he was spending the night. Is it so unusual for two guys who are friends to spend the night at each other’s house? Not that it’s any of your business in the first place!”
Finally Elaine jumped in. “Carly, why don’t you just cut him a little slack? His mother just died, you know. Plus, he can have whatever friends he wants.”
“Well, maybe your true friends would have been there for you when it happened if that stupid fuckin’ jock hadn’t been hanging around. He even sat with you at—” She cut herself off, suddenly realizing that she might have gone too far.
“At my mom’s funeral,” I finished for her. “Yeah, he did sit with me then, so why can’t you see that he’s not like you say? He’s my friend, Carly.”
“I want to know just what the fuck is going on with you two. Is he dicking you or what?” She just stared at me as I looked back at her, saying nothing. “You know this isn’t about who you’re fucking. I could give a shit if you’re a homo. It’s about the fact that you’re nothing but a sellout. We’re the ones who have been your friends for all of these years, and then you just forget about us and ditch us for some fuckin’ jock prick!”
Well, I guess it was all on the table now. They all apparently knew. I suspected that Joey had known about Brett and me for some time, probably since he lost Shane. I had already confided everything to Elaine, so it was no big deal that she was hearing any of this.
Joey finally spoke up. “Carly, you are the most selfish bitch I’ve ever met. For God’s sake, he just lost his mother, and all you can think about is your poor wounded-friend routine. Get over it. All Jeff did was find someone to love and to love him in return. Isn’t that what we’ve all wanted? Why can’t you just support him and be his friend? If you can’t think of anything nice to say, then maybe you should just keep your fuckin’ mouth shut!” After he finished his diatribe, he looked back down at his lunch and continued eating as if he hadn’t said anything.
Elaine looked over at me and grinned, staring wide-eyed, but saying nothing.
Carly stood up abruptly and looked down at Joey. She sneered, “Fuck you, Joey!” Then she stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving her tray on the table.
Suddenly I became aware that we weren’t alone in the cafeteria. I wondered how many people had overheard our volley of insults. I looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed. I looked back to Joey, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Joey.”
He turned to me and smiled. “Don’t mention it.”
BRETT WAS pissed when I told him over the phone about my gym grade. “I’m gonna have a talk with McDonald on Monday. He can’t do this bullshit to you.”
“No, Brett, please. It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad I did my time in that class and now it’s over. If you go talk to him, it’s just going to be a big mess.”
“It’s not gonna be a mess, sport. I’m just gonna tell him he has to keep his end of the bargain. He made a deal with you, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to get into an argument with him. What if it just ends up making everything worse?”
“It’s not gonna make anything worse. He’s not going to risk losing me, I’m his star quarterback, remember?” He was smug.
“Well, I don’t know if he really cares about that anymore, Brett. I heard he might be leaving Boyne next year anyways. I think that was why he wanted to win regionals so badly this year. If you get him pissed off, then there’s really no telling what he’s gonna do.”
“Don’t worry about it, sport. God! You always worry so much about everything. Listen, I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick and then come over and pick you up, okay?”
I was surprised. “Really? Okay. Where are we going?”
“Oh, we can just come back here. My parents are gone for the whole weekend. Place to ourselves!”
“Okay, see you in a few minutes…. I love you.”
“Love you too, pup.” Click.
When we pulled into Brett’s driveway, he didn’t park the car in the garage. I thought that it was strange for him to leave it outside in the dead of winter, especially since his parents were gone and he had the garage to himself. He told me his dad had some stuff in the garage, and to come with him through the front entrance. I brushed it off, buying his explanation.
When I entered the house I immediately removed my shoes, and he laughed. “Let’s go downstairs,” he said. “I’ll grab us some pop for my fridge. Go ahead and I’ll be right down.” I did as he said and headed for the stairwell. Reaching to find the light switch, I realized that it wasn’t working.
“Hey, Brett, your light bulb is burned out, I think.”
“Oh yeah, I know. Just hold onto the rail. There’s another light at the bottom of the steps.”
I descended the steps in the dark, holding onto the railing, and when I reached the last step, I felt along the wall for the light switch. Finally I found it and flipped the switch. I was jolted suddenly with shock as I heard screaming.
“Surprise!”
I looked around the room to see several of my friends, all beaming at me. They were throwing me a surprise birthday party. I was turning fifteen on Sunday. I started laughing, and suddenly felt Brett put his arms around me. As I scanned the room, I saw that Joey and Elaine were there, and so were Kay and Tracie. Two other people I didn’t know were also there, both male. It seemed like I recognized one of them—the blond one—but I couldn’t remember from where.
