Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2008 14:11:29 -0500
From: ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Brittle as a Bird  Chapter 6

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave
and find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights
to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write Ron at
ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments

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Brittle as a Bird         Chapter 6



"Hold up." Star grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. I had run out
of Allen's room, and I was heading back to mine.

"What is going on?" The puzzled look on her face showed that she was
worried about her friend.

"Just forget it," I insisted. I couldn't explain my feelings. When I
entered the room and saw the angry look on Allen's face, I was filled
with my own frustration. It seemed like two cars colliding on a dark,
deserted highway.

Since that day on the bridge, Allen's sad countenance had been etched
into my mind. I lay at night thinking about him, wondering if I'd ever
see him again. I had even visited the coffee shop a few times hoping to
run into him.

But the look on his face, the anger and disgust, took me by surprise. So
I ran.

"Joey," begged Star. "Please stop and talk to me." I had been trying
to pull away from her so I could get back to my room.

I stopped and faced her. "Do you two know each other?" I stared into
her blue eyes, trying to figure out the emotions I was feeling.

"We've met," I confessed.

"You know Allen?"

"I said we've met." I turned and started walking away.

"Would you stop and talk to me," she shouted. I looked around the hall
to see if anyone had heard her outburst. A nurse's aid looked out a
nearby door, but then disappeared.

"Let's go to my room," I said as I turned and walked quietly down the
hall.

Once inside my room, I dropped into a chair and buried my head in my
hands. Star entered the room apprehensively and took a seat next to me.
After a minute, she took my hand in hers and gently rubbed the back of
it.

"Would you like to explain to me what is going on?"

I sat a minute, and then let out a deep sigh. I looked at the anxious
look on her face. I then proceeded to tell her about my brief encounter
with Allen. She seemed upset when I told her that he wanted to commit
suicide. When I was done, she got up and entered the bathroom. I could
hear here crying softly inside. After several minutes she returned. Her
face was tear-stained and she looked extremely upset.

"I knew he was depressed," she said, "but I had no idea he wanted to
die."

"What's wrong with him?" I had been wondering about his health since
we met. For someone so young, he looked like he was at death's door.

"I can't say," she said tearfully. She began to cry uncontrollably. I
reached over and pulled her into my shoulder as she continued to sob.

"Is he your boyfriend?" I asked when she finally regained her
composure.

"No," she laughed nervously. "It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"Allen was my next door neighbor," she responded. "I've known him
almost my entire life. The past few years have been very hard for him."

"I gathered that much," I said. "What's his problem?"

"He's very sick," she said. "But I don't want to go into that. He
also has a problem with his family."

"Who doesn't," I laughed.

"You know Gene Albright, right?" She asked.

"Yes," I spat. My face began to flush with anger.

"He's Allen's brother," she said.

"But they don't have the same last name." I said.

"They have different fathers," she informed me. "Allen is from the
first marriage."

"If Gene is his brother, then no wonder Allen is so fucked up," I
replied.

"I'm still afraid he's going to try and get back at me for getting him
suspended," I said nervously.

"That sounds like Gene," she replied angrily. "Allen left his house
because he was so hateful and homophobic." A surprised look appeared on
her face after she realized what she had said.

"So Allen is gay?" I asked.

"That's not for me to say," she said embarrassedly.

"Just what can you say?" I laughed, trying to ease some of the tension
in the room.

"You never did give me a reason why you ran from the room." She stared
intently into my face.

"I can't really explain it," I confessed. "It just took me by
surprise, I guess. Seeing him in that bed, and then the look he gave
me."

"It was rather strange," she replied. "Allen has his problems, but
he's really not so bad a guy once you get past his thick exterior. From
what you told me, it sounds like you guys kind of bonded."

"Daring me to jump off a bridge isn't exactly bonding," I laughed.
"Besides, it's not all it's cracked up to be." Star gave me a worried
look.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I guess you don't think that's very funny."

Just then, the door opened and Ticker came bounding in with a grin on his
face. "You ready to go, Bitch?" He stopped suddenly when he saw Star.

"Oops." His face began to redden. "I didn't know you had company."

"Star," I said. "This fat head is my friend, Ticker. Ticker, Star."

"I've seen you someplace," Ticker stood staring down at Star. "I
never forget a pretty face."

"Better be careful," I laughed looking over at Star. "He's turning on
the charm." She started to blush.

"I'm a friend of Billy Joe's." She informed Ticker.

"That's where I know you from," he replied. "Aren't you also
Barry's sister?

"Yes," she answered.

"He's an asshole," spat Ticker.

"Yes he is," laughed Star.

Ticker turned and looked at me. "Are you ready to get out of here?
Dad's signing the papers now."

"I've never been more ready," I admitted. "This place sucks big
time."

"Then let's go," Ticker said as he threw his big arm over my shoulder.
"I have a ton of homework."

"Fucker," I laughed, as I removed his arm from my shoulder. "Give me a
minute alone with Star, will you?" Ticker raised an eyebrow, and he
looked back and forth between us. I was going to tell him it wasn't like
that, but I thought I'd keep him wondering for a while.

After he left, I asked Star if she was going to go back to Allen's room.
She said she was going to spend a few hours with him.

"Tell him I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly."

"I will." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me gently on my cheek.
"Maybe you can come with me and visit him sometime."

"I don't think so," I laughed nervously. "Somehow I'm not sure he'd
like that."

"You'd be surprised," she said knowingly. She turned and left the
room.

**********************

On the way to Ticker's house, he kept questioning me about Star. He was
very careful not to mention that I was gay in front of his father. I
couldn't help but laugh as I watched him choosing his words carefully. I
know he was dying to say something like, "What is a gay guy like you
doing with a cute girl like Star?"

Ticker's family is- interesting. I guess you could say they are a
dysfunctional family, but in a good sort of way.

Ticker's dad is a quiet man. He doesn't say a lot, and seems happy if
everyone just leaves him alone. As soon as we entered the house, he went
to a lazy boy chair, sat back and began reading the newspaper. I don't
think he came from behind the paper for over an hour.

His mother, on the other hand, is just the opposite. She wants to know
everything. She immediately sat me down at the kitchen table and began
interrogating me. I jokingly asked her at one point if she was a police
detective. She replied, "I'm just a mother with four children. I have
to know what they are doing."

I looked over at Ticker and gave him a knowing grin. If she was so
interested in their activities, then how was he able to sell weed without
her becoming suspicious? He later told me that she's very naïve. If she
ever found his stash, she'd be the kind of person who would believe it
was oregano, if he told her that was what it was.

Ticker is one of four children. He has a two brothers, one younger and
one older. Jeremy is nineteen and still lives at home. He works at Radio
Shack, so he's hardly at home. Ticker said he comes in late and leaves
early.

Arthur is his younger brother. He's thirteen and still in middle school.
He's somewhat of a computer geek. Ticker said he's always in his room
dreaming up new programs. He says Arthur wants to be the next Bill Gates.

Greta is his older sister. She is a junior at the state university,
majoring in criminal justice. She wants to become a probation officer.
"Maybe she'll handle your case someday," Ticker said with a grin.

"Naw," I laughed. "Arthur can hire me a good lawyer, since he's going
to be a billionaire."

Another striking thing about the Wendelmeir family is the fact that they
are all so skinny- except Ticker. You could almost take his two brothers
and fit them into one pair of Ticker's pants.

Eating dinner with them was an interesting experience. Ticker piled his
plate with food, fit for an army. His mother and father hardly ate
anything, and Arthur played with his food most of the time. Ticker ate
like it was his last meal, while the rest of his family seemed like they
had just finished a big meal and couldn't eat anything more.

"Let's go for a walk," Ticker suggested after we had finished eating.
Without his mother noticing, he blew out a couple of puffs of air. I knew
what he had in mind.

We walked to a playground about two blocks from his house. Since no one
was around, we sat on the swings and Ticker lit a joint. We passed it
back and forth without saying anything for several minutes.

"When we get back," Ticker looked at me and grinned, "I have some
geometry that needs to be done."

"Damn it, Ticker," I responded angrily. "I'm not going to be doing
your homework everyday."

When he noticed how upset I was becoming, he apologized. "Please, Joey.
I'm really struggling in that class. You're smart. You can help me."

"I'll be glad to help you," I said, "but I won't do it for you.
You'll never learn anything that way."

"You sound like my dad," he laughed. "I can't talk him into doing it
either."

Suddenly I became depressed. It had been a week since I had been in
school. I had missed a lot of work, and it was quite possible that my
grades would suffer as a result. I really wasn't worried about that as
much as the reaction to my appearance back in school the next day.

I guess the media had covered my suicide attempt for a couple of days.
The cop who rescued me had become a hometown hero. He had conducted
several interviews on television. At the same time, the local paper had
somehow acquired an old photo of me when I was in about the seventh
grade. Everyone now knew my story.

"It won't be so bad," Ticker said softly, as if he had read my mind.

"Yeah, sure," I responded sadly. "Easy for you to say."

He passed me another joint. "Smoke it all," he insisted. He lit another
for himself.

"I don't know what to do, Ticker." I looked over at him sadly. I could
feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I didn't give a fuck. "It seem
like I'm always taking one step forward and three steps back." The weed
was hitting me, and I was becoming extremely emotional.

"Damn it, Joey," shouted Ticker. "Don't you ever have a happy
thought? I've known you for over ten years and you're always a sad
sack."

"Fuck it," I spat. I rose and started walking away. Ticker ran up to me
and grabbed me. He turned me toward him, and then pulled me into his
large chest. I started crying uncontrollably.

"I'm so tired of living like this," I sobbed.

"It will be alright, Joey," he said reassuringly. I couldn't believe
it when he kissed me on my forehead, like my mother used to do when I was
a little boy and was scared.

"You fag," I laughed as I pushed him away. His gesture had been so
tender and filled with brotherly love, that I didn't know how to
respond. Even though we had been almost like brothers, we had never
outwardly expressed our feeling for each other before.

"Shut up, Fucker." I laughed even louder when I saw how embarrassed he
was. I guess he hadn't really considered what he had done.

"Thanks." I stepped toward him and gave him a hug. He tentatively put
his arms around me and squeezed back. We then separated and headed back
home without saying anything more about what had happened at the
playground.

*******************

My worries about school were not unfounded. When I entered the school
Monday morning, everyone stopped and watched me walk down the hallway. It
was like Moses parting the Red Sea. People stepped out of my way as I
approached.

Then the verbal assault began. "Fag, pathetic, loser, fucker." Every
derogatory word they could think of was hurled at me. They stood in their
little groups and berated me like I was something inhuman. A couple of
students looked at me sympathetically, but then they would cast their
eyes downward and scurry away.

I stared forward, acting as if I couldn't hear anything they said. It
really wasn't all that difficult anyways. I'd been the target of their
abuse for many years. The only thing this morning was that it was a
little more explicit.

"Should have died," one girl said angrily as I passed by.

"I don't know why they let him come back to school," another student
replied. "We don't need his kind around here." I continued walking,
ignoring their hateful comments.

"Would Joey Carpenter please report to Mr. Walters's office." The PA
system blared with the announcement. I turned around and headed for the
office, passing the same students who had just hurled their insults at
me.

I walked into the office and plopped down in a chair in the waiting area.
I figured it would be a few minutes until Mr. Walters could see me. I
really wasn't in any hurry to go into this office, anyways. I knew he
was going to question me about what had happened.

About ten minutes later, he stepped from his office and motioned for me
to enter. The secretary gave me a look like I was some freak in the
sideshow.

I sat down in a chair across from Mr. Walters's desk, and I waited
patiently while he thumbed through some papers on his desk. Finally, he
finished and looked at me. He studied me a few seconds before speaking.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"OK," I responded flatly. This was bullshit. He was going to dance
around the issue. I knew he had a lot to say, but he wasn't sure how to
approach "it." After the reaction of my classmates earlier, I wasn't
in the mood.

Without thinking, I stood and said, "Sorry, Mr. Walters, but I quit."

And I walked out of his office, hurried down the hallway and then exited
the building. It didn't matter any longer. Who was I fooling thinking
that if I went to school every day and studied hard, I could climb my way
out of the shit hole I was in.

Isn't that what teachers tell you? "If you just study hard, you can be
anything you want to be." Bunch of fucking liars. Just because they did
it didn't mean everyone could.

"Hey, Kid. Looking for some action?"

"Sure, why not."

I climbed into the car with four guys, all about twenty. They took me
back to their apartment and we spent the day drinking, smoking and having
sex. They wanted to fuck me, but I told them I had had a bad case of
diarrhea the day before and it might not be a wise idea. I did manage to
suck all of them off, one guy three times. They fucked each other, and I
fucked two of them. It was the first time I had ever performed anal sex
on someone. I guess you could say I lost my virginity that afternoon.

We must have gone through about three bottles of whiskey, and smoked a
huge bag of weed during the five hour orgy. I was so fucked up by the
time I left the apartment. Somehow, I managed to stagger back to
Ticker's house.

His mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She started to say
something to me, but then a look of horror appeared on her face when she
noticed the drunken state I was in. She stood aghast as I stumbled past
her and headed to Ticker's room and collapsed on the cot he had put in
his room for me.

I woke up sick about one in the morning. I could feel my stomach bubbling
as I rushed to the bathroom and vomited violently. I was still spitting
into the bowl when Ticker opened the door and came in.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "Everything is fantastic."

"Joey," he said worriedly, "You got to pull yourself together. You're
killing yourself."

I arose and stood before him. "What the fuck do you care, Ticker! You
ain't my mother!"

"Joey, please."

"Please what?" I spat. "You gonna hug me again?" Tears started
streaming down my face as I looked into his hurt face.

"Goddamn it!" I shouted, and then I rushed from the bathroom. I ran
down the hall, opened the front door, and once again ran away. I had run
away from school earlier in the day, and now I was running from the only
person who even cared about me.

Life fucking sucks.

So where do I end up at? Where I always do- Sullivan Lake. As soon as I
got here I stripped naked and jumped into the cold water. I swam across
the lake twice before I pulled myself on the beach exhausted and gasping
for air.

"Why?" I roll onto my back and look up at the stars. "Why, me?"

Fucking tears.

****************

I spent the next few days just wandering aimlessly around the city. I
made enough money turning tricks to buy myself something to eat. However,
my clothes were beginning to get soiled. I was able to keep myself clean
by swimming in the lake, but my clothes wrinkled terribly when I tried to
wash them out.

Thrift stores are a great place to buy things inexpensively. I was able
to buy a few clean shirts, pants and underwear for less than $10. For
another dollar, I bought a school backpack to keep them in. As long as
the weather didn't turn too cold, I was fairly sure I could survive.

On the street you loose track of time and days. I didn't know how long
it had been since I left Ticker's. I thought several times of calling
him, but then I figured he'd just try to talk me into coming back.

Ticker was a good guy. I didn't want to ruin his life like I had mine.
It seemed like everything I touched turned to a pile of shit. At least by
staying away, I could prevent him from catching the Joey the Hoey curse.
I care that much about him to at least do that.

After several more endless days and nameless sexual encounters, I was
heading back to Sullivan Lake to find solace. As I started to cross the
bridge, I noticed a familiar thin figure sitting against the wall with
his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He had his head resting on top
of his knees.

I approached cautiously. He looked up, and then he put his head back
down. I walked over and slumped against the wall beside him. Without
saying a word, I pulled my knees into my body and rested my head on my
knees. We sat for about ten minutes without saying a word.

"What was it like?" He finally asked.

I took a minute before answering him. "I wasn't scared." I finally
replied. "I just did it."

He looked over at me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?" He asked. "You didn't die."

"I don't know." I looked at him and our eyes met. "Suddenly, I
didn't want to die. I don't know. All of a sudden it seemed so..
permanent. You know?"

"Permanent?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I hate my life, but when it came time to end it,
it was like I wasn't ready. I can't really explain it."

"I know," he sighed, as he rested his head back on his knees.
"Permanent is a bitch."

"Yeah."

We sat for several minutes without speaking again. I looked over a couple
of times and he was completely motionless. Then his shoulders began to
shake, and soon he was sobbing loudly.

I scooted over closer to him, and then I put my arm around his neck and
pulled him into me. His head fell into my lap and I stroked his hair as
we both wept.

We were two lonely figures huddled together on a deserted bridge.

****************

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