Date: Thu, 9 Jun 2005 15:10:56 EDT
From: Madasonaysha@aol.com
Subject: I Hate Anthony chapter 9 gay- high school and gay-Interacial
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"I Hate Anthony"
By Maddy A.
CHAPTER NINE: TIME TO MAKE THE COOKIES
There was a loud banging at Brian's front door. It was early Saturday
morning and like always, his mother was at work. He knew he would have to
get up and answer it, but he still tried to hold on to that last drop of
sleep. The banging grew louder and louder until Brian forced himself to
answer it. As he dragged his tired feet towards the door he glanced at the
clock and noticed it was a little after nine. `Who the hell is it?' he
wondered to himself. The knocking seemed to grow louder and louder the
closer he got to the door. He had to yell out twice that he was coming
before the banging stopped.
Jackson stood on the other side of the door anxiously awaiting for Brian to
open it. He twiddled his fingers inside of his big, black puffy coat. As
soon as he woke up that morning he jumped on the number twenty-five bus and
headed to Brian's house. He spent most of his Friday night calling, but there
was no answer. He needed to talk to someone, anyone...no just Brian.
Brian was expecting it to be the Mormon missionaries again, coming by to
talk about Jesus saving his soul, but he was surprised to see Jacky when he
opened the door. He noticed that Jackson's wavy dark hair was tussled over his
head; inadvertently giving him that "messy" look and he pushed aside the
thought of how cute it made him look.
"Bro, what da fuck? You know it's like nine right?" Brian stated as he
moved aside so Jackson could come in. No one likes to be woken up early on
a Saturday and Brian was one of those people. Jackson noticed that
although Brian 's apartment may have been small, it was neat with the
minimal essentials. One white couch and matching love seat with red and
pink roses embroidered onto them and a basic coffee table with one leg
shorter than the others balanced with a book underneath it, so it tilted at
an odd angle. He took of his coat to reveal a heavy gray sweatshirt that
matched his sweat pants.
"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were still coming to the game today."
Jackson replied as he sat down on the love seat next to Brian. The couch
was made for two, but barely sat one so they were squeezed in closely.
Jackson noticed that Brian was only wearing black boxer shorts and a white wife
beater than clung to his thin frame snuggly.
"You could have just called." Brian stated. He was a little annoyed that
he had been woken up so early on a Saturday morning; those were made so
people could sleep in.
"I tried, but ain't nobody pick up and shit. I wanted to make sure you was
still coming." He replied.
"Ummm Okay?" Brian responded. He was truly puzzled as to why Jackson
thought that it was so important that he needed to come over so early and tell
him that.
"So, you ARE still coming...right?" He asked as he turned to look at Brian
and their knees touched. Jackson felt a heat rise in his pants with their
close contact, but Brian was left unfazed.
"Didn't I say I was?" Brian replied with a smirk on his face. He was
annoyed by Jackson's intrusion, but he wouldn't let that on. He never liked for
his friends to feel like they bothered him even if sometimes it was true.
"Yeah, just checking. Besides, I was on my way to my aunt's house so I
figured since you guys live so close, I would stop by and make sure. You gonna
be walking over with Regina and Tracy right?
"Yeah, I think Riley's coming too."
"Oh.....cool...." Jackson replied and there was an awkward silence that
followed. It was too early for Brian's humor to kick in and release some of the
tension that was between the two of them so he opted for silence.
"So...." Brian stated as he got up and walked into the kitchen with Jackson
following behind him closely. "You
hungry?"
"Sure, what you got?" Jackson asked as he rifled through the cabinets
until he came upon a box of cereal that was made more for taste than nutritional
value. Brian opted instead for a bagel and turned on the television to watch
the morning cartoons; a routine that had continued since childhood. "Anthony
still coming over?" He continued.
"Yeah, in about three hours." Brian responded and grew nervous at the
thought of being alone with him. He couldn't explain what it was that made him
feel that way, but his stomach knotted up and his mouth become dry.
"If you want, I could stay here with you guys. You know, to make sure things
don't get out of hand."
"What do you mean `out of hand'?" Brian was truly confused my Jackson's
statement.
"You know, it's no secret and shit dat you two don't get along. If, you
know, your nervous or something, I don't mind chilling over here for a little
while and shit...." Jackson trailed off as he began to swirl around his
colorful cereal with a plastic spoon.
"I thought you had to go to your Aunts?"
"I do, but she just wants me to move some furniture around and it won`t
take dat long. I could come
back when I'm finished." Brian thought about that for a moment. It was
tempting to take Jackson up on his offer, but a voice inside of his head was
telling him not to. As strange as it may sound, he was excited at the prospect
of being alone with Anthony; it had been years since they had done that.
"Naw, I'll be aight." Brian replied. Jackson stayed over for another few
minutes before leaving. Brian got the feeling that he didn't want to leave,
but eventually he did. It was what he said before leaving that had Brian's
mind filling with questions. He had walked Jacky to the door and as he was
about to shut it, Jackson wedged his foot in the doorway to prevent it from
closing.
"Brian, you know that---well, hummm...." Jackson began, but trailed off.
Brian looked up at him curiously. He noticed that Jackson looked nervous and a
deep red of flush began to creep up his neck.
"What?" Brian asked curiously.
"Well....just now if you, ya'know, need anything....I'm here....okay?" He
stated before bolting down
the three flights of stairs that would take him away from Brian's house.
Brian stood there for a moment, unsure of what to think. He had his
suspicions of what Jackson might have meant, but he knew that would cause too many
problems so instead of trying to rationalize his thoughts, he choose to let them
rest for now.
********************
"Wake up Mijo..." A soft feminine voice whispered in Anthony's ear and he
knew it belonged to none other than his mother. Linda Ramirez was a soft
spoken woman whom Anthony did not take after. Where Anthony was tall, broad and
his features were dark, his mother was his antithesis. Linda was barely five
feet tall and her small height matched her petite frame. Her hair was as
fare as wheat and cut short in a bob. If it wasn't for their dark green eyes,
there would have been no resemblance. His mother wore lines and wrinkles on
her face not as a sign of age, for she was only in her mid thirties, but her
sags and creases came from stress. She worked long hard hours as both
waitress and mother, and neither were easy. Anthony's father had taken off when
he found out she was pregnant. She was just out of her teenage years and with
no education she had to work what ever jobs came her way just to keep food
on the table.
"Hey Ma. I thought you had to work today?" Anthony asked as he wiped the
crust out of the corners of his eyes. His voice was still thick with sleep
and he had to cough to clear the phlegm out of his throat.
"I do baby, I just came in to say good bye." She replied as she smoothed
the soft black hair off of his forehead and kissed him there. Anthony closed
his eyes as he let himself fall back asleep with the smell of his mother's
perfume of laundry detergent lulling him back to sleep.
*********************
It was two o'clock and Anthony still wasn't there. Brian worried that he
wouldn't show up; yet another disappoint from Anthony. He had long been
dressed and decided that he wanted to run and grab something to eat at the chicken
shack up the block. He was tired of waiting around for Anthony who
obviously wasn't going to show up. He was kicking himself for the feelings of
disappointment he was having. He knew he should have known better, but as strange
as it was he felt that something inside of Anthony was changing for the
better. He thought that whenever he was around him, things felt less complicated.
Sure, Anthony still had his asshole moments, but slowly ever so slowly
Brian saw something changing. Anthony's glares may have seemed cold, but
occasionally there would be brief moments of warmth and Brian unconsciously relied
on those moments. He knew that he was starting to have those familiar
feelings stir and as much as he hated himself for that, he loved the feeling. He
knew that Anthony would never feel that way about him, but it didn't matter.
He had every reason to hate him, every reason in the world yet no matter how
many times he would tell himself that, in the end he always knew it wasn't
true. No, the truth was the exact opposite; even if he didn't want it to be.
It was a cold afternoon. Normally the streets would be flowing with people;
mostly kids playing, but the weather was so cold that everyone stayed inside
the warmth of their homes. Brian's block was lined with almost identical
tenements apartment buildings. They were cheap to live in because they were
cheaply made and in desperate need of repairs. Often the hot water wouldn't
work and on some instances the heaters would break, leaving the people who
lived in them to bare out the cold until the problems would be fixed; but waiting
was the worst part. Nobody cared about the people of the ghetto. The
neighborhood was owned by the upper class and they didn't' care about them. All
they were concerned were with making money so what was it to them if their
tenants were freezing because the pipes rusted and no heat came out. What did
it matter that it was twenty degrees out?
There was nothing special about the chicken shack. In every hood across
America they are almost identical. Styled to look like low budget versions of
fast food chains with a wide variety of foods. Only at a chicken shack would
you find collard greens served with chicken nuggets.
The restaurant was crowded as usual. Their cheap prices for large
quantities of low quality food often brought in the customers in swarms. The man
working the counter knew little English and spoke with a heavy accent from some
middle eastern country that Brian guessed to be Arabia. He ordered his usual
kill breast and was about to sit down and eat when someone tapped his
shoulder. He was prepared to ignore it; he thought it was probably just some jerk
trying to hassle him, but then he smelled that familiar scent of too expensive
cologne.
"Anthony?" Brian stated. He took note on how stressed Anthony looked.
Normally Anthony made sure that he was dressed tight. His jeans had to be crisp
and his sneakers extra white, but that day his short dark hair was untouched
by products and he had thrown on an old sweat outfit that he only wore to
workout in. It was obvious that he had just woken up; dark circles lined
underneath his green eyes, but despite that he still had this charm about him. A
charismatic charm that laid within his smile.
"He man, I just came from ya house. My bad Yo! I woke up late as hell and
a nigga hungry and shit!" Anthony said as he reached out his hand and began
to gingerly rub his stomach. Brian glanced down just in time to see a peak
of olive toned skin flash as Anthony stretched and yawned.
"That's cool. Do you want to go and start on it now?" Brian asked. All
of the anger and annoyance that he was feeling left. He stood there trying to
play it cool, but he couldn't. He was fidgeting with his bag and his eyes
darted around the restaurant; looking anywhere other than at Anthony.
"Yeah, just let me grab a beef patty and we can bounce." Anthony replied
and two minutes later they made their way back to Brian's house. The walk was
tainted with awkward silence. Neither knew what to say to the other so they
said nothing. Brian let them inside of apartment and grabbed some paper
plates and napkins for them to use as they ate. Brian sat on one couch and
Anthony sat on the other with the only sounds feeling the room coming from a
re-run of a television show from the 1950's.
"So...how exactly are we suppose to write this stupid thing?" Anthony asked
breaking the silence. Brian rolled his eyes dramatically playfully.
"I have no clue......" Brian replied as he began to clean up their mess.
"This is the dumbest assignment!" They both said at the same time causing
them to laugh.
"Mr. Rice said that I am suppose to die and your suppose to be my best
friend and I guess we gotta right that." Brian replied as he put back on his
coat. He knew his heater had probably broken again and he silently cursed that
it had to happen that day of all days.
"Huh?" Anthony replied and Brian laughed at the confusion on his face. If
Brian would have laughed at him in
school, his first reaction would have been to call him a name; to make Brian
know that he had no affect on him. But, Anthony was feeling relaxed and
comfortable and he laughed along with him. The smell of the house was the
same, like pine needles and mint leaves, but some of the furniture had changed.
Anthony remembered that Ms. Washington used to have an ivory colored couch
that was covered in plastic and on hot days when they would sit on it, their
legs would stick to the plastic making it painful to get up.
"Let me explain that better. We're best friends." Brian started and began
to feel weird saying those words again after so many years. "I died, but you
are still alive. So you write about how you feel about that and I write
about how I feel being dead and watching everyone live on without me."
"I get it now, but I still say this is the dumbest shit yo!" Anthony
replied as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoody sweatshirt. He noticed
that the temperature had dropped and the apartment was getting colder.
"Yeah, tell me bout it, but hey...its Creative Writing." Brian stated
putting emphasis on the words: Creative and Writing. Anthony caught himself
laughing again. He didn't even realize how much he missed Brian's dry wit, but
it was refreshing to be reminded of the past; even if it was only for that
day.
Brian turned on the radio, making sure that it was hip-hop because he knew
that was all that Anthony listened to. Well, that and he didn't want to risk
ridicule for his musical tastes. Any signs of tension had left and they now
worked in comfortable silence. Anthony was having a hard time connecting
with his emotions to make the paper feel real. Try as he might, he just couldn'
t do it. He glanced over at Brian and saw that he had all ready scribbled
down two pages in the fifteen minutes they had been working. He saw the
pensive look of Brian's face as he was concentrating gave him a boyish appeal. He
found himself smiling slightly before he scolded himself. He tried to put his
focus on his paper, but it was hard to with Brian sitting so close with that
look on his face. Then, as if lighten struck, an idea hit him.
"Hey Brian." Anthony said and Brian looked up expectantly. "Let me see
what you wrote so far."
"Why?" Brian asked. He didn't want Anthony to see the non-sense he had
created. It was really just a series of drabbles and not really a well formed
version of what he would hand in.
"Because, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and if I read yours, then--"
"---Then you can copy my work?" Brian interrupted him. He was on the
verge of getting annoyed, but tried to push that down. The arrogant smirk on
Anthony's face was not helping matters.
"Not like that---" He started and was cut off by Brian throwing his
notebook in his lap.
"Do what you want. I'm hungry." Brian said irritated. Hey may have been
small, but he knew how to appreciate a good meal. He felt stupid for thinking
Anthony had changed. He was still that same cocky asshole that made the
last five years hell for him. He made his way into the kitchen in search of a
snack. Anthony yelled out for him to grab him something to eat too. Brian
rolled his eyes and was prepared to ignore him when he spotted a roll of cookie
dough in the back of the refrigerator. Anthony hated anything made with
oatmeal in it. He just found the little grains of oat's to be off putting and
he hated raisins, so when Brian saw oatmeal raisin cookie dough, he knew that
was just the snack to make.
"Sure, want cookies?" Brian asked innocently.
"Yeah man, whateva ya got." Anthony replied as he continued reading what
Brian had written. He was amazed by the beauty in each word and also
saddened. Brian wrote about how lonely and the isolation that he felt as he watched
all of his friends and family go on with out him. The little scribbles of
chicken scratch that was his hand writing were words of a sad heart and a heavy
mind. It was just what Anthony needed to get the gears rolling. He took
some of what Brian was feeling and transformed it to his point of view. Before
he knew it he already had a page full of work. He looked around and saw
that Brian was gone. The smell of cookies baking in the oven surrounded him. He
assumed they must have been chocolate chip and his mouth watered at the
thought. He called out to Brian and when he received no answer he began to walk
around the apartment. He found himself in Brian's bedroom and saw that it
looked completely different. Gone were the dinosaur and superhero action
figures. Gone was the race striped comforter and replaced by a simple black
blanket. Gone were the posters of cartoon characters that once lined the walls.
Brian went through a Simpsons and Japanimation obsession in the fifth grade.
His room now reflected the person that he had become. Posters of various
rock bands covered every square inch of wall space. Piles and piles of books
lay strewn around; ranging from a few classics that Anthony had never heard
of to V.C. Andrew novels. Anthony realized that he no longer knew the kind
of person that Brian was now, but he wanted to. He heard his name being
called and went back into the living room to see an irate Brian.
"What the hell are you doing in my room!" Brian shrieked and Anthony
suppressed the urge to yell back. Instead he calmly rested his hip against the
counter top of the kitchen.
"Nothing, I was just looking for you. Hey, I think the cookies are ready
now." Anthony replied as he reached down to open the oven door. As soon as
his hand touched the metal handle to pull it open, he quickly withdrew it
muttering curse words in Spanish. Brian temporarily forgot about his annoyance at
immediacy went into protective mood. He rushed over to Anthony and grabbed
his hand in his leading him to the sink. Anthony continued to mutter out
curse words in Spanish.
"Hold still! If you don't hold your hand under the water your burn is gonna
blister!" Brian commanded and he tried to keep Anthony's hand under the
running water.
"Fuck! Why is it so hot!" Anthony shrieked. He always thought that if
you had a burn, you had to cool it with cold water and he didn't know why Brian
was using warm water.
"Because, the heat cools it down quicker, now stop being such a baby!"
"¡Mierda! ¡Maldiga que los daños!" Anthony yelled out in Spanish. The
burn, if you could call it that, was small; maybe two inches long, running from
his wrist to the center of his palm and not much thicker than half an inch.
Brian was amused at how this big, strong tall jock was whining like a little
baby over a mere blister. "Aye! Why you laughing....it hurts!" Anthony
continued and Brian couldn't help laughing. Anthony attempted to pull his hand out
of Brian's, but he couldn't; for such a small guy, his grip was tight.
Brian continued to smirk at Anthony`s childish behavior and after a moment
Anthony had to laugh at himself too.
"Stop whining!" Brian playfully replied. His eyes were focused on the
task at hand. He watched as the gentle warm water ran over Anthony`s large
olive toned skin. Each bead of water seemed to make his skin glisten. Brian
found himself getting excited by touching him. He had to muster all of his
strength not to react, but it was getting harder and harder not to; especially
with the hissing sounds of pain Anthony kept making. They may have been out
of pain, but it could easily be confused with the moans of pleasure. The cold
gray sunlight shined down through the window illuminating them both with the
silvery light of the cold afternoon. One smaller figure taking charge of the
larger. Anthony liked the feeling of Brian holding his hand; taking care of
him. He unconsciously found himself curling up his fingers ever so slowly
and locking them with Brian`s hand. He could feel Brian tense up, but he had
to go forward when he realized there was no turning back. It was then or
never and Anthony was tired of fighting it, so sick of pretending. He closed
his hand around Brian's, water being the only thing coming between them. Brian
tried to pretend not to notice, tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but he
knew it was. He fought to keep his eyes away from Anthony's, but he was
fighting a losing battle. His heart was racing; beating so fast that he could
hear the pounding in his head. He held his breath in anticipation. He
could feel Anthony moving closer to him. If he didn't know any better he would
have thought that he was shaking as much as he was. Brian's eyes closed.
Anthony didn't know what got into him. For so long he covered up his
feelings. He masked the unbending combination of love and lust that he felt for
Brian with hateful words and intolerable actions. For so many years he tried
to hold those feelings back, but he couldn't, not anymore. He was worn out
from the battle and ragged with want. He not only wanted it, but it was like
he needed it. In that moment nothing else mattered except for his needs. No
more games, no more hiding and no more feelings of being alone. Anthony was
about to take a step that was ten years in the making. He knew early on
that his feelings for Brian were unordinary; not right. He knew that the
protectiveness that he felt over him went far beyond simple friendship. No, he
was as in love with him even back then as he knew Brian was with him. He knew
Brian's feelings for him were the same. Sometimes when they would just be
hanging out, he would catch the way Brian would look at him and it was like he
just knew. The realization that Brian felt the same for him scarred him so
he began to pull away. He was eleven and didn't know much. But, now Anthony
was older. He knew a lot more about life and he knew what he felt and he
wanted to know if Brian still felt it. If only he could get Brian to look at
him. If only he could.
"Brian?" Anthony called out to him. His voice was deep and husky with
hunger. He stood less than a foot from Brian, but wanted to be closer. He
ignored the stinging of his burn and closed his hand completely around Brian's so
now there was no false pretense of accidentally contact. No, it was
blatantly obvious of what Anthony was doing. Brian stood stone still. He dare not
make a move, too afraid of what he knew was happening. The part of him that
was still that quiet little boy in love with his best friend was eager with
anticipation, but that sixteen year old young man wasn't sure what he wanted.
Anthony had betrayed him; let him down. When he needed him the most, Anthony
just turned his back to him. Years of bullying that not only were
encouraged by Anthony, but occasionally instigated. His mind was telling him not to,
but his past was urging him forward. Slowly he turned his eyes to look into
Anthony's. Dark green eyes watered over with nervousness shined down with
love. Brian held his breath and turned his body towards Anthony's. For the
briefest of moments their eyes locked and they just stood there in silence
lost in each other's eyes. Brian felt so many things; fear, love, hate, lust,
want. All of these emotions were mirrored in Anthony's eyes. Anthony took
his free hand and placed it softly against Brian's cheek. He leaned his face
downwards and they both held their breathes as they realized their lips were
about to touch. Anthony could hear the beat of his own heart thumping to the
erythematic tune of Brian's. A thump followed by a thump. Beats going so
fast that it almost hurt. Mouths dry and hands sweaty. The water running
creating a splashing sound as it rushed into the metal sink. Closer and closer
they moved to each other. Anthony leaned his head down and Brian leaned his
upwards, slightly parting his mauve lips to meet Anthony's deep pink mouth.
Slowly, almost timidly their lips touched. A heat and fire were sparked by
the electric contact and all thoughts of taking-it-slow were forgotten as they
began to consume each other. Their kiss was hard and aggressive at first.
Years of built up passion now set free. Brian brought his hand around Anthony
's neck and pulled him closer as he felt his tongue licking at Anthony's
lower lip, begging to get in. Their tongues hard and fast, but gentle in the
same. It was a contradiction that was theirs. With one hand caressing Brian'
s cheek, Anthony let his uninjured hand travel down and feel the arch and
grooves of Brian's backside. For years he watched it develop and now he was
free to let his hands roam. If not for the need for oxygen, they could have
lasted longer. Panting they pulled away.
"WOW!" Brian stated as he continued to look into Anthony's eyes. Their
foreheads were touching as they struggled to regain their energy. Unlike
Brian, Anthony was no stranger when it came to sexual matters. He had a lot of
it with just about every girl he could, but never had he been so effected by a
simple kiss. It was almost orgasmic and he knew he needed it again.
"Yeah.....God!" Anthony responded before Brian cut him off and leaned up and
kissed him again. Words were left unsaid; they weren't needed. With each
touch of their tongues and roaming of their hands they were consumed with each
other. Two hearts beating at the same rapid pace. Fear and lust both
driving forces. No more lies, hiding only what was necessary, they knew there was
no turning back. They closed their eyes and let themselves get lost with
the one person they wanted and they let the cookies burn..............
To Be Continued
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