Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 20:00:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Lucas and Lionel-Part13. No Words

     I'm not sure how long it took for the tears to stop falling,
but at some point, I looked in the mirror and saw my puffy eyes
and my red face. I looked about as horrible as I felt. My mind
was a flurry of activity and thoughts, constantly racing back to
that awful image. I wondered if I should go in the house and grab
the little boy, to save him from that place. No child should have
to grow up in a house like that. I wondered if I should go in and
grab Lionel and save him from that woman. I knew I could take
her. What she was doing was wrong, not to mention sick. Then I
had another thought, `This probably wasn't the first time.' I
slapped myself hard in the face as I covered my mouth and nose
with my hand.

     "Oh my God!" I screamed against my hand. "Oh my God! Oh, my
God! Oh my God! Oh goodness! Oh goodness! Oh my God!" I moved my
hand and rubbed my fingers across my head before balling my hand
in to a fist and tapping my forehead repeatedly. I felt as if I
was going crazy. "What's going on?" I asked myself out loud. "Oh!
What's going on here? Why is this happening? Oh my goodness!" I
realized I was having trouble breathing, so I tried to take deep
breaths. I started hyperventilating, which scared me. I closed my
eyes and put my head back against my seat. I focused on my
breathing, which seemed to make it worse at first, because it was
like my brain was fighting my body, but after a few minutes, the
pace of my breathing did slow down. I needed to get away from
that place. I put my key in the ignition, started the car, and
tore off down the street. I was in no condition to drive, but I
had to get away. I pulled in to my driveway and sat there while I
gathered myself. Unfortunately, my time was cut short because my
father came out to take some trash to the backyard. He was on his
way back before he saw me. He walked over to my window and I
rolled it down.

     "Are you okay? You look like Hell! Did that boy dump you?"
He said it all in one breath.

     "Just leave me alone please. I'll be inside in a minute."

     "Well, don't stay out here all damn day, pouting."

     I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. "Dad, will
you just leave me alone? I promise I'll only be out here for a
few minutes."

     "Don't take that tone with me! I'm still your father! But I
can tell you're hurting right now, so I'll let that go." He
leaned in through the window and pointed his finger at me. "You
better check your attitude at the door!" He stood up and walked
away.

     `Just what I needed,' I thought. I pushed the button and
rolled the window back up. `Might as well get this over with,' I
told myself as I took out the key and opened my door. I had just
shut the car door, when I noticed something in the passenger
seat. There was the card I had bought for Lionel. I unlocked my
door and reached across the seat to grab the card. I knew I had
taken it in the house with me, but I didn't remember bringing it
back to the car. I felt a tear slide down my face and I
impulsively started ripping up the card. When I was done, there
were little pieces of the card strewn on the cold ground, resting
on top of the light trace of snow. I slammed my door shut, and it
created a breeze that forced some of the pieces to move.

     Watching those pieces move away from me triggered something
in my mind. I knelt down and feverishly started picking up the
pieces of the card. I even picked up the pieces that had fallen
under my car and the few that were scattered in the row of
flowers next to the driveway. I had a hand full of pieces, when
my eyes caught sight of two missing pieces towards the end of the
driveway. I walked towards the pieces, and a gust of wind came by
and snatched them away from me. I watched as the wind lifted the
pieces off the ground and danced with them in the air, spinning
them around. The wind died and the pieces fell in the middle of
the street. I seemed to be moving in slow motion as I approached
the sidewalk. It felt like an out of body experience, almost,
like a dream. I took one step off the sidewalk and I was jarred
back to reality by the sound of a car horn as a car went zipping
by me. I jumped and my hand twitched, throwing all the pieces in
the air. `Damn,' I thought.

     I turned and walked towards the backyard. I opened the
garage and grabbed the broom and dustpan that my father kept in
there. I walked back to the street and waited for a few cars to
pass then I swept the pieces in to the dustpan, gathering a mix
of snow, dirt and little rocks along with the pieces. I only
swept the big pile, leaving the other pieces to travel on their
own. I didn't want all the pieces anymore. I just wanted to clean
up the mess. I took the dustpan to the backyard and dumped its
contents in to the trash can. I put the lid on the can, but I
could still see the pieces swimming in the garbage. I wiped my
face on my shirt and turned to go inside.

     My mother was sitting in the kitchen waiting for me. "Oh,
Baby, your father told me you and Lionel broke up. Come here and
tell me what happened." She stood and opened her arms and I was
powerless to resist. I wanted to be her little boy again. I
wanted her to kiss the wound and make the hurting stop. I fell in
to her arms and cried on her shoulder. I knew I was squeezing her
too hard, but she didn't complain. She just put her arms around
me and held me. "What happened?"

     "I can't talk about it. God! I don't even want to think
about it. Oh, Momma, it was bad. It was so bad." She didn't press
me to tell her anything else. She just held me and let me cry.

     "Oh, not again!" My father exclaimed as he walked in the
kitchen. "You need to stop babying him!"

     "Leave us alone!" My mother told him.

     "I'm just getting a snack, and then I'll be gone. I can't
watch you do this to him!" he told her.

     I loosened my grip on my mother and tried to pull away, but
she held me tighter. "Ssh Baby, don't let him bother you. Pretend
like he's not there. He'll be gone soon."

     I hugged her again but I stopped crying because I didn't
want him to see me like that. I heard him pouring a drink and
then I heard his footsteps as he walked away. My parents rarely
argued, but they were severely separated on the issue of my
sexuality. My mother had jumped on board right away, but my
father was still swimming next to the boat, sometimes he kept up,
but most of the time the boat was pulling away from him.

     He was gone and she was holding me. "Are you going to be
okay?" she asked.

     "No."

     "What can I do to help?"

     "Nothing."

     "You know I'm always here for you no matter what. Right?"

     "I know."

     "And you know you can talk to me about anything?"

     "I know, but I can't talk to you about this right now. I
don't know if I'll ever be able to talk to you about it."

     "You need to talk about it."

     "I can't."

     "You'll feel better if you talk about it," she told me as
she rubbed her hand over my head.

     "I can't."

     "Okay, Baby. Okay." She rubbed her hand over my head a few
more times. "I miss your hair," she said. "Why'd you cut it so
short? It's like stubble on your head." She laughed a little, but
I knew what she was doing.

     I laughed a little, too. "Just wanted to try something
different. Lionel liked" I stopped mid sentence. I didn't want to
talk about him, I didn't want to hear his name and I didn't want
to think about him. "I'm going to go take a nap." I told her as I
let go of her and walked down the hall.

     "Okay," I heard her say.

     When I reached my room, I kicked off my shoes and got in my
bed and tried to relax. I thought back to our trip to the bus
station from school. I was the idiot who convinced Lionel that we
should surprise our parents by staying two extra days. It only
cost ten dollars to make the adjustment, and we would still be
back before the game. At the last minute, Coach had cancelled
practice for the days before the game and scheduled a team
meeting on game day. He said we would go over a few plays and
that would be it because we all deserved to go home and fully
enjoy our holiday, without rushing back for practice. I think he
was the one who wanted to fully enjoy his holiday, but who was I
to complain.

     Dumb ideas can be well thought out. That's what I had: a
dumb idea. I knew things would be different when we went home,
but I never expected so much to change. How could I look at him
the same, knowing what I knew? If we had just come for one day
and gone right back, this never would have happened. I started to
wonder if maybe I was partly to blame. I was the one who changed
the schedule. I cleared the way for this to happen. Then I
realized that Lionel was a grown man. He might not have been in
his right state of mind when I saw him, but he should have known
better than to allow himself to get that far gone. I didn't know
what to think. The quiet of my room only amplified the voices in
my head. How do you deal with what I had witnessed?

     I must have worried myself to sleep because I awoke to the
sound of my mother calling my name. "Lucas!"

     "Huh?" I responded.

     "Dinner's ready."

     "Okay, I'm coming." I forced myself to get out of bed and I
went downstairs. My mother and father were already seated at the
table. This would be our last meal together before I left them
again. I was dreading the idea of getting on the bus back to
school. I was afraid of seeing Lionel.

     I sat down at the table and for forty minutes, everything
returned to normal. We talked about my classes and some of my old
high school friends. My mother told me how much she was going to
miss me, and complained that I didn't come home for Thanksgiving.
She told me that if I didn't come home the next year, she was
bringing Thanksgiving to me, wherever I was. It was a normal
dinner, with no talk of Lionel, or me being gay, or anything that
might bring drama.

     After dinner, my father asked what time I needed to be at
the station in the morning and I told him 6 am. He frowned
because he hated getting up before 7:30, but he shook his head
and told me to be ready to leave by 4 am.

     "For what?" I asked.

     "You should always be early."

     "Lionel and I got to the bus station thirty minutes before
our bus left."

     "Well, I don't care what you and Lionel did."

     He said it in a way that insinuated he was referring to more
than just the time we arrived at the station. I hated the venom
in his voice when he said it, but most of all, I hated the
subject. I wished I could clear my mind off all the thoughts I
had about Lionel. "I'll be ready at 4," I told him. I guess my
submission caught him off guard, because he opened his mouth to
say something, but he didn't say anything. He closed his mouth
and shook his head and I took that as my dismissal. I left the
room.

     I got back in bed and attempted to go to sleep again, but my
mind was unable to rest. I would have no peace that night. I
finally got out of bed at 2 am and started packing my bag. `I
should have never tried to go to his house,' I thought. Things
would be so different if I had just stayed home, but I wanted to
surprise him before we left. I shouldn't have done that. I
couldn't help thinking that what I saw was somehow my fault. The
little boy told me not to go upstairs, but I didn't listen. I
should have waited, or come back later, or anything. I shouldn't
have opened that damn door. What was I really expecting to see?
No matter who he was with, it still would have been something I
didn't want to see. Hearing it was bad enough. Why did I open the
door?

     I kept having the same thoughts. One second I hated him,
then I hated her, then I hated me. Everything was so mixed up in
my mind. A few times, I almost went to wake my mother and talk to
her, but I knew I wouldn't be able to tell her in words what I
had seen or how I was feeling. I had to somehow deal with it
myself.

     By 3:30, I was sitting on the sofa in the living room,
waiting for my parents. My father came in around 3:45. He sat
down in one of the chairs. "Your mother will be down in a
minute," he told me. We sat there in silence for a few minutes.
"You know you'll always be my son," he said out of the blue. I
knew what he was really saying, `Your mother and I were talking
about the way that I treat you. I just want you to know that no
matter how much we argue, or disagree, I'll always love you.'

     "I know, Dad. I love you, too." He glanced over at me, and
our eyes met. He quickly looked away. He reached for the remote
that was on the table and turned on the television. He wanted to
end the conversation, so I obliged. He loved me, that's why I
always forgave him when he had one of his outbursts. I knew it
was killing him that I wasn't normal.

     My mother came down five minutes later with her coat on and
her purse in hand. "You guys ready?" she asked. Neither of us
answered, we just stood up. My father turned off the television
and left the room so he could get his coat, and I put on my coat
and grabbed my bag which I had placed on the sofa.

     At 4:45 am, we were walking in the terminal. The terminal
was desolate and reminded me of how I felt on the inside. I
placed my bag in line at the door and went and talked with my
parents. By 5:10, a few more people had drifted in. I saw some
people I went to high school with so I went over and talked to
them for a while. We caught up on the latest news, and I told
them about some of the guys from the basketball team that I
tracked down when I first got back. I let them know that everyone
was fine. That's when this one girl, who I was told had a crush
on me in high school, asked, "So how's your boy, Jay? I remember
you two used to be pretty close. Where is he now anyway?"

     "He's fine. He goes to my school."

     "Really?" she asked. "I should have known you two would go
to school together. That basketball team must me scary with both
of you on it. You see him a lot?"

     "He's my roommate."

     "Oh, that's cool! I wish one of my girls would have gone to
school with me and been my roommate, because the girl I'm living
with now is a whack job." The other members in our little crowd
laughed.

     I changed the topic and asked where they were headed. They
told me they were headed to surprise one of my old teammates on
the other side of the country who couldn't make the trip home for
the holidays because he had practice and a game. I thought that
was sweet of them, but I knew they were really just going to
party. They told me that they had a two hour bus ride and then
they were catching a plane and flying out to see him. They said
they were staying at some nice hotel that they all chipped in to
pay for and they were going to go to his game and spend a few
days with him, before they came back home and chilled for the
rest of their break. I wished I could have a month break like
them, but basketball players don't get winter break. I also
wished I could have flown away with them, anywhere was better
than where I was headed.

     At 5:30 am, the first boarding call for my bus was made and
I excused myself from my former classmates. I went over to my
parents and said my goodbyes. To my surprise, my father hugged me
and told me to come back soon. My mother hugged me and gave me a
kiss on the cheek. I was happy that there weren't that many
people on the bus by 6. I knew we were going to stop and pick up
more passengers along the way, but I liked having my own seat and
my own space to do battle with my thoughts. I wondered where
Lionel was, but I was relieved that I didn't have to face him.
The bus driver got on the bus and I thought I was in the clear,
but then he opened the bus door for someone. A few words were
exchanged, and then Lionel walked on the bus.

     Lionel looked disheveled. He had stubble on his face like he
hadn't shaved the whole time he was away. His clothes were
wrinkled and a mess. He was wearing sunglasses, his bag was half
open, with clothes hanging out. I prayed he wouldn't see me, but
I guess I should have known better. He walked directly to me, put
his bag in the bin, and sat down next to me. I noticed he had a
smell too, like he desperately needed a shower.

     "What's up?" he asked as he assaulted my nose with his
breath. I assumed he hadn't brushed his teeth either.

     I wasn't sure what to say, or how to react. "Did you get my
present?" I asked him. For some reason, the gift was the first
thing that popped in my head. I think part of me wanted to know
if he liked what I got him.

     "What present?" he asked.

     "Nothing, sorry, I'm a little confused."

     "Oh, okay," he said.

     I put my hand on his shoulder and he almost jumped out of
his skin. I pretended like I didn't notice. "So how was your
visit?" I asked. I wondered if he even remembered.


Copyright Lustyville 2006
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