Remember My Name (24 page)

I can forget the pain in the
back of my skull. I can forget all the blood from my hand. But I can never
forget that the rage in Dad’s eyes didn’t diminish at seeing me hurt. Not right
away at least. He took me to the hospital after wrapping my hand up in a
dishcloth. There wasn’t any discussion of what I should say about it. He didn’t
threaten me with anything, because he knew he didn’t have to. He knew I
wouldn’t tell the doctor what had really happened, just like he knew I wouldn’t
disobey him again.

I remember tears welling up
in my eyes as I fabricated the story about the bucksaw. The doctor thought it
was from the pain.

“Jackson?” Matt’s voice
pulls me back to the present. We’re parked in the street in front of his house.

“Sorry,” I say, hopping out
and slamming the aging door shut with a clunk. I follow him up the front steps
and inside the house, kicking off my shoes next to his.

“Oh look,” he says, smiling
innocently. “My parents aren’t home.”

“What a surprise.” I give
him a deadpan stare, but it’s really hard not to smile back.

He grabs my hand and tugs me
up the stairs. Practically dragging me into his room, he locks the door as I
sit down on the bed. In an instant he’s next to me, pulling me into a kiss. His
tongue nudging mine, I’m met by the familiar taste of mint and vanilla, which I
discovered last weekend is the flavor of his toothpaste. My body is already
responding to his, even before he takes off my shirt.

“What’s the rush?” I ask,
already feeling unfairly exposed.

His response is his hot
breath and tongue on my nipple, focusing there for a moment before working his
way down my stomach. My hands roam over his chest, the front, the sides, onto
his back. Stifling a moan as his lips cross my navel and continue down toward
the top of my shorts, the sound in my throat comes out like a growl. He glances
up, his grin a combination of charm and seduction.

His hands struggle with the
knot on the front of my canvas shorts. We didn’t move this fast last time. It’s
a little scary, but also intoxicating. I don’t want him to stop. The knot gives
way under his fingers, but he pauses long enough to let me pull off his shirt.
He kisses me again, our chests now touching skin to skin. It’s only a temporary
distraction before he sits back on his heels and slides my shorts off, leaving
me wearing nothing but a pair of neon blue camouflage boxer briefs. They’re
tight and leave nothing to the imagination.

Matt traces a finger from my
belly button down along the sparse hairs just below. At the waistband of my
briefs, he detours to the side, sending a wave of anticipation through my
entire body. I wriggle under his touch. He smiles, and then he pulls down my
briefs too. I feel my face growing red. Now I really feel exposed.

“These have to go too,” he
says, pulling off my socks. The only thing I’m still wearing is the necklace
with Ben’s ring on it. Matt seems to realize that at the same moment I do. “And
this,” he whispers, hooking a finger underneath the chain.

I catch his wrist. “No, that
stays.” As a compromise, I slide the ring off to the side, so only the chain
hanging loosely around my neck is visible.

He inspects me, his familiar
grin taking over. “You’re so fucking sexy, Jackson.”

“This isn’t fair,” I
complain. “You still have most of your clothes on.”

He shrugs. “So take them
off.” I do as he says, and soon we’re both naked, his desire just as apparent
as mine. Instead of taking me in his mouth like last time, he nestles his hips
down toward mine, until we’re touching in what feels like all the right places.
He wraps his fingers around both of us, and his hand glides up and down as he
leans in to kiss me again.

He moves his hand away, and
I’m not sure why, because it was feeling so good. Leaning on one arm, he lowers
himself to grab something from under the bed. It’s a small, clear bottle.
Squeezing several drops of lube onto his fingers, he takes me in his hand. My
eyes roll backward as I groan with satisfaction. Next he lubes up himself.

If his brief touch was any
indication, I’m really looking forward to him going back to what he was doing.
Except he doesn’t. Nudging the inside of my thigh with his knee, he gets me to
move my leg to the side. Shifting his position, he does the same with his other
knee. I frown. This is a different kind of exposure that I wasn’t anticipating.
We just went swimming, so I’m not really concerned about not being clean, but
it’s just…

His fingers bring the cool,
slippery liquid to where I was afraid of, slowly massaging. I try not to
squirm. I’m not afraid of sex. It’s going to happen sooner or later, and I
wouldn’t mind it with Matt. Maybe not right
now
, but in general, I’ve
considered that he might be my first. I don’t even expect it to be all
romantically done up. A humid afternoon like this is perfect.

But I’m not a bottom. I’ve
known that for a long time. Sometimes when I jerk off, I’ll touch myself down
there, but I have no interest in anything actually going inside. My fantasies
about guys have always been quite clear about where I am during sex.

His fingers are still moving
around. It’s supposed to feel good, but the gnawing feeling in the pit of my
stomach overrides any enjoyment. I have to say something. “Um,” I venture,
cautiously pushing his hand away, “I’m not really, you know…”

Matt’s eyes flicker with impatience.
“What? You want me to use a condom? I’ve only ever been with one other guy, and
I used one then, so I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

I wasn’t even
thinking
about that. Who was the other guy? Someone from this last year? I swallow nervously.
He’s not making this easy. “No, not that.”

“Then what?” His eyebrows
pull together, his forehead furrowing toward the center.

“I’m not a… a bottom. I
don’t want to do this.”

“Oh.” He chuckles like it’s
no big deal. “It’s your first time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then how can you really
know? You’ll be fine.” He slides his hand up and down his own dick, trying to
get the rest of the lube off his fingers. He wipes what’s left on the sheets.

“No, you don’t get it. I
don’t want to,” I say. Matt looks at me like I’m joking, or being childish, I
don’t know. “What?”

He shrugs, continuing to
touch himself. I’m starting to go a little soft. “It’s just a little silly is
all. Come on, just try it. I’ll go slow. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

I grit my teeth. “All
right.” I wish we could go back to what we were doing before, but I don’t want
to disappoint him. Who knows, maybe he’s right and this will feel good.

He’s grinning again, and his
cock seems to stand a little straighter. He’s about my size, a bit bigger than
what I’d consider average, and a lot bigger than what Wikipedia considers
average. “You’re going to have to relax if this is going to work,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

His finger traces a line
along the side of my stomach. “You’re tensing. All those muscles are
connected.”

It takes a conscious effort
to relax as I exhale, willing
all
the muscles in my abdomen to relax.
Suspended over me with outstretched arms, he scoots a little closer. I close my
eyes as he presses into me. He’s going slow, just like he said, but holy mother
of hell it hurts. He pushes in deeper. I want him to stop. But I agreed to
this, right? I said he could do it.

“Relax,” he whispers,
completely still. His lack of movement is the only thing preventing me from
screaming with agony. I force my breaths in and out. Slow as a glacier creeping
across a continent, his hips begin to move. Out, and the pressure and pain
lessen. In, and they increase. My eyes brim with wetness.

A blissful expression
settles across his face as he continues, his eyes half closed. But I have to
tell him to stop. The pain is getting worse, gradually turning from intense
discomfort to an acidic burning. I think I’m supposed to be touching myself,
but I’ve long since gone limp. His speed increases, and my mouth opens
slightly. I. Can’t. Do. This.

I want to shout, but my
voice is a whisper. “You’re really hurting me.”

Matt’s eyes open but only
partly focus on me. “It’s okay, just relax.” He slows his pace but keeps
moving.

I shake my head, drops of
liquid forcing their way out of my eyes. “No, please stop.”

“Shh, Jackson, it’s okay.”
He slows more.

Why won’t he listen to me?
It hurts too much to force myself away from him. I don’t want it to get any
worse. The back of my throat feels raw and the tears falling down my cheeks
aren’t because of the physical pain anymore. “Stop, just stop,” I beg him.

What he finally sees in my
face makes his eyes widen. “Dude, stop freaking out. You really want me to pull
out?”

When I nod, he sighs with
frustration and finally withdraws. Glancing down at himself, he makes a face.
“Figures,” he says under his breath. “I’m going to shower quick.”

I curl into a ball, dragging
the sheets around me to cover myself. My heart feels like it’s on the verge of
being crushed by a black hole, struggling to break free but failing.

Flinching when I hear the
bathroom door shut, I pull the sheets tighter around me. My hand gropes for the
chain around my neck, following it along until my fingers close around the
ring.

It’s almost impossible to
find the strength to move, but I need to get out of here,
now
. I can’t
bear to look at Matt right now, much less talk to him. The moment I hear the
water turn on, I throw off the blankets and yank on my shorts and t-shirt.
Forget
the fucking socks
. Risking one last glance toward the bathroom, I tiptoe
down the stairs and jam my bare feet into my shoes. Once I’m out the door, I
run.

*     *     *    
*

“It wasn’t Matt’s truck that
dropped you off. Who brought you home?” Ben asks me absently as I pass his room
on the way to mine. “And why aren’t you wearing any socks?”

I forget that his window
looks out across the road past our house. “Another friend drove me home.” I
don’t want to explain anything to him. Not because he doesn’t deserve to know,
but because I’m… I don’t want to think the word, but my mind won’t even grant
me that reprieve. I’m
ashamed
, and I’m not even sure why.

Shutting my door behind me,
I curl up on my bed. My fingers again find their way to the ring hanging around
my neck. I cling to it like a talisman that can ward away the darkness. Things
were going so well with Matt. Why didn’t he listen to me? Was I not assertive
enough? And does that make it my fault? I don’t think it should be my fault,
but if that’s true, then why do I feel so much embarrassment and shame?

I’d prefer to stay lying
here forever, until time itself withers up and fades away, but eventually I
have to pee so bad that I can’t hold it any longer. Staring at the toilet, it
takes a few seconds to start going. The sickly sweet scent of the lube Matt
used hits me a second later and I wince. I want to get it all off me, every
disgusting molecule. Locking the door, I turn the water to hot and step inside
the shower. Normally I wouldn’t dream of using Ben’s Axe body wash, but for
once, an overpowering, cloying scent is exactly what I want.

Cupping my hand, I squirt
out a glob the size of a golf ball and go to work scrubbing it over every inch
of myself. Except when I get to my backside. It feels like a knife has hollowed
out the area to be twice what it should be. I’m afraid to go anywhere near it
with the Axe, so instead I turn down the temperature and let the water do the
work. Even so, it stings.

Back in my room, I resume my
position on the bed. It’s too hot up here to cover myself with any blankets,
and I’ve already banished my sweaty t-shirt to the corner of the room. My arms
are squeezing the life out of my pillow when there’s a knock on the door. I
know it’s Ben. Something about the knock. I wait but don’t answer.

He opens the door slowly.
“Hey Jackson, you’re not sleeping, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, good. Can I borrow
your phone quick?”

I still haven’t turned to
actually look at him. “It’s on the desk.” I don’t have the strength to ask why
he wants it.

“Great, thanks.” He crosses
the room and into my field of vision as he picks it up. He sniffs and stares at
me. “You got into my Axe, huh? I thought you hated that stuff.”

“Changed my mind,” I mumble.

He raises an eyebrow.
“Seriously? As I recall you said it smells like ‘horse piss and maple syrup,’”
he quotes me perfectly. His smile falls when that doesn’t get any reaction out
of me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t look
like he believes me. I try again. “I’m just tired.”

“Huh, okay… I’ll be back
with your phone in a minute.”

He walks into the hallway,
and I can hear the sound of the floor creaking under his weight. His voice
carries around the corner, even though I’m not really listening. “Hey Matt, I
left my towel in your truck.”