Saints of Augustine (16 page)

“In my mind, maybe.”

“I had no idea,” Charlie said.

“I think I'd rather have the gangster life.”

“No, you wouldn't. Wait, I take that back. I don't want to tell you what you think. But believe me, it stinks. So what are you going to do about your mom?”

Sam kicked along the water for a few steps. He shrugged. “Nothing, because I'm never going home.”

“Okay, and if we leave the Planet Sam for a moment and come back to Earth, what are you going to tell her?”

“What would
you
tell her?”

“That I was gay.” It felt weird, saying the words, but it made him feel closer to Sam's predicament. “I'd just tell her I was gay, and that she was going have to get over it.”

“I already lied to her.”

“Well, there's nothing you can do about that now,
unless they have time machines on the Planet Sam. So you tell her you lied because you were worried she would flip out.”

“She
is
going to flip out.”

“I don't think it's really going to shock her, Sammy. Not after what she saw tonight. It could even work in your favor. It's like she saw the preview for the movie, so she sort of knows what to expect.”

“You know one thing I want to do,” Sam said. “I want to tell Teddy to shut his mouth.”

“I would.”

“He can
think
whatever he wants. But he doesn't have to say it around me. I mean, it's my house, right? I've got more claim to it than he has. And he's going to have to just…
behave
differently around me.”

“If I was your mom,” Charlie said, “I'd be proud of you for saying that.”

“
Proud?
Are you crazy?”

“I'd be proud. I'd say, ‘That's my gay son, Sam!'”

“Shut up!” Sam reached over and shoved Charlie sideways, splashing water over Charlie's ankles.

They were both laughing now. Charlie shoved him back, and Sam teetered as he tried to right him
self, then fell over into the water.

“Oops,” Charlie said.

“Oops, my ass,” Sam said. He reached up and grabbed the tarp slung over Charlie's shoulder, as if using it to pull himself up. Then he yanked on it. Charlie went down.

They were sitting in the water, less than a foot apart. Sam dragged a hand over his face, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “Great,” he said. “Really great. This is just what I needed.”

“Actually, it feels kind of good,” Charlie said, still laughing. He wiped at his eyes and spit off to the side. “Refreshing.”

“You really are nuts, you know that? All that pot has made your head mushy.”

“Maybe,” Charlie said. “Let me ask you something, since we're clearing all this air. Have you told your dad you're gay?”

“No!” Sam wiped the salt water from his eyes. “How can I do that with so much else going on?”

“Well, think about it. How many gay guys have a gay dad they can talk to—you know, just to…sound things out? It's like finding out you're an alien, and
then finding out your dad's an alien, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, that didn't come out right. All I'm saying is, it could be cool. He's certainly not going to throw your stuff on the lawn. Not that your mom is. I really think this could be okay, Sam. Weird for a little while, maybe. But people deal, you know?”

“Maybe.” Sam looked down at his dripping hands. “Are we going to sit here in the water for the rest of the night, or can we go back to that house you kicked me out of?”

Charlie grinned. “Good idea.”

 

Their wet clothes turned cool against their bodies during the walk back. When they got inside the house, Charlie turned on the gas heater and the thin bricks behind the wire mesh began to glow orange and warm the room. He took off his shirt and wrung it out in the kitchen sink, then draped it over a paint can in front of the heater. He told Sam to do the same.

“Think I'll keep mine on,” Sam said.

“Well, come over here near the heat.”

“It's ninety degrees outside.”

“You still need to warm up. That water wasn't exactly boiling.”

Charlie was already on his knees in front of the heater. Sam crossed the room and squatted down next to him.

They held their hands up, felt the warmth against their palms.

“You said there was something more,” Charlie said after a while. He thought he was going to have to clarify this, but Sam seemed to know what he was talking about.

“Yeah.”

“More than just that comment I made about Chris Kovan.”

“There was.”

“Well, here we are,” Charlie said. “The air's getting pretty clear. You want to tell me now?”

“Not really.”

Charlie shrugged. “Okay. Suit yourself.”

“All right, I'll tell you,” Sam said, “but if you freak out, don't blame me. I mean, I took care of it, it's not like I didn't do anything about it—”

“Would you shut up and tell me?”

“I think for a while, there, I…kind of had a crush on you.”

Charlie had expected anything but this. He'd thought that whatever it was, it was about Sam and Sam's own stuff. He was surprised—and, in an odd way, glad—to find out he was a part of it. “On
me
?”

“Yeah. Go figure that one.”

“What does that even mean? You know I'm straight, right?”

“Of course! That's what made it so difficult.”

“Difficult like how? You never tried to do anything. Did you?”

“No!”

Slowly, carefully, Sam began to recount that night over a year ago when he'd gone to Charlie's tent in the backyard with the intention of running away, and how they'd talked and gone to sleep side by side. “Only I didn't sleep. I
couldn't
sleep. I almost kissed you.”

“Shut up!” Charlie said. “Are you serious?”

“I
almost
did. I was about to do it, then I stopped myself, and you woke up. You remember that?”

“No. I remember you coming to the tent, that's all.”

“It scared the hell out of me. I didn't want it to happen again and didn't know what else to do. It just would have been weird and…difficult…being around you and thinking about you that way. And if you'd found out, you would have freaked.”

Charlie was silent, staring into the heater.

“I'm right, aren't I?” Sam asked. “It would have totally weirded you out.”

“Sure. Totally,” Charlie said. And Sam was right: He would have freaked if something like that had happened. “But only for a while. I don't think I would have ended our friendship over it. It's kind of flattering, in a way.” He blinked and looked at Sam.

“You would have punched my lights out.”

“Shut up! I would not…. Okay, maybe I would have popped you one. But you would have had it coming to you, taking advantage of a guy in his sleep. So what about now? Are you still worried about it?”

“Oh, I'm over you.”

“Thanks a lot!”

Sam laughed. “Well, it's not like you're some kind of love god. I just got past it, that's all.”

“You and Kate both, apparently.”

“I'd hardly compare those two situations.”

“Wait, there's still something I don't get. If you knew I was straight, why'd you want to kiss me? I mean, you knew it wasn't going to go anywhere.”

“Of course I knew that. It doesn't mean I didn't want to do it. You'd just been telling me all that stuff about how, if you really like someone, you owe it to yourself to at least try. ‘Sometimes you've just got to lean over and plant one on their lips,' you said. ‘If you're not bold, you'll never know.'”

“I said all that?”

“
Yes
. You practically pushed me to it without even realizing it. I knew it wasn't going to lead anywhere. I'm not stupid. I just wanted to do it once, and the idea made me a little crazy, all right?”

Charlie was nodding his head. He was thinking—not about that night in the tent, but about how awful it had been not having Sam for a friend over the past year. “So you ended our friendship because you wanted to kiss me? Knowing there was no chance—”

“Well, yeah. I guess it sounds kind of stupid, but yeah. It was all I could think to do.”

Charlie stopped nodding. Another thought came into his head. Funny, weird, impulsive. It had already been such a crazy night so…what the hell? He leaned over and kissed Sam square on the mouth—not a make-out kiss, but not a peck, either. Something in between.

When he pulled his head back, he could feel himself starting to grin. “There,” he said. “Now you know.”

Sam looked astounded. After a moment, he said, “Why did you do that?”

“Because you wanted to find out what it was like. Don't go über-gay on me, or anything. We're not going to get hot and heavy; that was a one-shot deal. But why not? You were my best friend, Sam. I've really missed you.”

Sam seemed to be staring right through him. He still looked shocked. Then he said, “That was really cool.”

“You're not going to faint or anything, are you?”

“No, I mean it's really cool that you just did that.”

“And I'm still alive to talk about it. So…what did you think?”

“Of the kiss?”

Charlie shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sam looked at the heater for a moment, then said, “Sorry. Justin McConnell's a better kisser.”

Charlie shoved him sideways, and Sam rolled onto the floor, laughing. He came to rest on his back, and his laughter slowly died out. In a heavier voice, he said, “This is probably the best and the worst day I've ever had.”

“It's up there,” Charlie said. “And down there. I wouldn't say it's the worst, but I sure didn't see my summer ending up this way.”

“Me either. When did we turn into such screwups?”

“We're not screwups,” Charlie said, really wanting to believe it about himself. “We're not saints, and we're not screwups. We're just…people.”

“So what do we do now?”

His mind moved in several different directions at once. There was just too much to think about. Charlie yawned, dragged a hand through his hair, and said, “Damage control.”

Early the next morning
, the banged-up Volkswagen rolled to a stop in front of the Findley residence. Sam got out of the car, crossed his fingers in a good-luck gesture to Charlie, and walked reluctantly toward the house. It was Sunday. His mom's car was in the driveway. Teddy's wasn't. Sam unlocked the front door as quietly as possible and stepped inside.

She was sitting at the dining-room table. She wasn't reading the newspaper. She wasn't even drinking a cup of coffee. She was in her robe with her arms folded, waiting for him.

“I know you want to kill me,” Sam said, “but can you kill me later? I really need to get some sleep.”

“No,” his mom said. “Sit down.”

He and Charlie had stayed up all night talking. He felt exhausted and grimy, and sitting down at the table with his mom was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do. But there was no use arguing. He took the chair across from her. “Where's Hannah?”

“She's still in bed.”

His mom looked angry. She looked exhausted, too. She probably hadn't slept, probably had sat up all night thinking about her gay ex-husband and her gay son, wondering if she'd done anything to cause it all. She was about to blow her top, he thought.

But when she spoke, her voice was oddly calm. “The first thing I want to know is if you're all right.”

“I'm fine.”

“Where have you been?”

“With Charlie.”

“Charlie Perrin?”

“Yeah. I sort of…ran into him after I left here. We hung out and talked for a while. I think we patched up our friendship.”

“You know it's not okay to spend the entire night away from the house like that, without telling anyone where you are.”

“I know.”

“I was half out of my mind, worried that you'd gone off the deep end and were going to try to hurt yourself—”

“I'd never do that,” Sam said.

“Well, how would I know, when you just disappeared?” she shot back. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and leveled her voice again. “The second thing I want to know is whose car that was I saw you in. Who was that person you were with?”

“Can I please just go to bed?”

“
No
.”

Sam's hands started to fidget. He put them under the table. “His name is Justin.”

“Justin who?”

As if it mattered now. “Justin McConnell.”

“He lives around here?”

Sam nodded. “He just transferred to Cernak.”

With her initial round of questions out of the way, his mother seemed more tired now than angry.
She ran her eyes over the bare table. After what felt like an eternity, she looked up and asked, “Why did you lie to me?”

“About what?” Sam knew about what, but he didn't want to answer. Her gaze was fixed on him now, piercing him like a pin through an insect.

“You know about what.”

“Because I didn't want to tell you,” he said.

“Why?”

“
Because
. You
know
why. I was worried about how you'd react. I was scared.”

“I want you to tell me honestly—is this something you're testing out? You know, experimenting with? Or is it something you think is…set in stone?”

“Mom, I don't know.” If there was ever a time to be truthful and just pour it out on the table, it was now. “It wasn't a
whim
, if that's what you mean. It's something I've always felt, or felt for a long time, anyway.” He looked up at her. “Dad has nothing to do with this.”

“I wonder.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I wonder if it was an idea that wasn't in your head at all, before your father moved out. Maybe that's what put it there.”

“
No
. That's what I'm saying. It didn't just…pop into my head. It was always there.”

“And you're sure of that?”

How long could they talk around the word without using it? “Yes. I'm gay, Mom. I could lie to you again, or tell you I think I might be, but I
am
.”

“So you jumped out of that car and ran away because of how you thought I'd react?”

“Yes.”

“You know, that boy sat in our driveway for a long time.”

Sam felt his heart jump. An awful image suddenly flashed in his mind: his mom and Justin sitting down together to hash this thing out. “Did you talk to him?”

“No. He sat out there in his car for about fifteen minutes, though. Then he left.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“You said his name is Justin?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do his parents know about him?”

“I don't know. Can we not talk about him right now? I'm embarrassed enough to drop dead as it is.”

“Well, I wish you hadn't run off like that, Sam. And frankly, I'm very mad at you for lying to me. We wouldn't have had all this drama if you'd told me the truth the other day.”

“How could I do that? Teddy walks around here making cracks about gays and you don't seem to care at all. Why should that make me feel like I can tell you the truth?” Sam glanced into the adjoining living room. “He's not here now, is he?”

His mom folded her arms over her stomach. “No.” She took several deep breaths, then said, “He won't be for a while.”

“Why?”

“We had a…conversation last night that bothered me.”

“A fight?” Sam asked.

“You could call it that. After you ran off, and after that boy drove away, I went in and told Teddy what had happened.”

“You
told
him? Why'd you do that?”

“Because I'm tired of
secrets
. Your father and I did nothing but keep secrets from each other for the last two years of our marriage, and look where it got us. We would have separated anyway, but if we'd been up front with each other about things, maybe there would have been a lot less fighting.”

“What secrets did
you
have?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Just about the way I was feeling. Things weren't that great between us anymore, and I was pretending like they were and hiding from him the way I really felt. It wasn't good. And then last night it was clear that you had this big secret you were keeping from me, so big that I had to find out by spying through the front window and you had to go running off into the night. I just didn't like the idea of getting back into bed, in my own house, with one more secret nobody was supposed to talk about.”

“So you told
Teddy
? You know how he feels about stuff like that. He makes it really obvious.”

“Well, that's his mistake, shooting his mouth off like that. And it was my mistake to let him do it. If I'd known—about you, I mean—I would have made
him stop a long time ago. I owe you an apology for that.”

Sam was caught off guard. He certainly didn't expect his mother to be apologizing to
him
for anything. “O-okay.”

“So there's Teddy's mistake, my mistake, and yours. But we all make mistakes, and I know that. What matters is what you do when you
find out
you've made a mistake. Teddy should have found out quick, when I told him. It's called rising to the occasion. But, well, Teddy didn't do that.”

“What did he say?”

“I'm not going to tell you. He said some stupid things and he wouldn't take them back. So he left pretty early this morning.”

“You kicked him out?” Sam asked, trying to suppress the hint of happiness in his voice.

“I asked him to leave. He'll probably call here in a few days, and if he does and you pick up, don't get into anything with him. And don't
start
anything, either. Just call me to the phone, all right?”

“All right. Are you still going to see him?”

“I don't think so. But that's not your fault. Listen, you're sure about this thing? Being gay, I mean.
Because life is hard enough without choosing to make it harder, Sam. There are things you're going to have to be ready for if—”

“I know what you're talking about.”

“Maybe you don't. You're barely seventeen years old; you don't know everything yet. But what I'm trying to say is, you don't have to decide…what you are…right now.”

“I didn't decide it, Mom. I didn't choose it. I think it's just who I am.”

“All right, then.” She brought the heels of both hands up and rubbed them into her eyes. “If I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to snap,” she said. When she brought her hands down, Sam saw that she was crying.

He was scared. He felt like he'd caused all of this, like he was doing nothing but more harm just by sitting here at the table. “Don't cry, Mom. It's okay.”

“I know that. This is just going to take some getting used to. There's nothing I can do about it. I can't speed things up, so you're going to have to be patient with me. In fact, you're going to have to
work
with me on this.”

“I will,” Sam said.

“I don't want you hiding some huge part of yourself from me. If you start doing it now, it'll just get easier and you'll never stop. We'll be strangers by the time you're twenty. I don't want that to happen. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Good. Now go get some sleep.”

“I'm sorry I worried you.” He started to get up from the table. Then he hesitated. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

“I might be going over to Charlie's later this afternoon.”

“No, you won't.”

Sam stopped in the doorway. “Why not? I told you, he and I have kind of patched things up.”

“And I'm glad. But you're grounded,” she said. “For staying out all night. Did you think that was a freebie?”

“No, but—grounded for how long?”

She shrugged. “A week.”

“Come on, Mom, I said I was sorry.”

“You're sorry and I'm sorry. I'm still the parent
here. A week. I'll grant you phone privileges, how's that? You can call Charlie, and Melissa—and whoever else you might want to call.”

Did she mean Justin?

“All right.” Sam groaned. But he didn't feel so bad. A little bewildered, maybe. Exhausted, definitely. But not so bad. He turned and walked back to his room.

 

He slept until after four in the afternoon. Not long after he got up, he heard a low thumping on his bedroom door, as if someone were gently kicking it from the other side.

“Come in.”

“I don't have any hands.”

He got up and opened the door, and Hannah stepped into the room carrying a tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk. “I made you this. You have to eat lunch before it's dinnertime,” she said.

“Hey, thanks.”

She set the plate and the glass down on his nightstand. “Did you notice I knocked?”

“You kicked.”

“Better than just opening the door.”

“You're right. Thanks for that, too.” He took a bite from the sandwich.

“Mom says you're grounded.”

“Good news travels fast. Why'd she tell you that?”

“Because I asked her if she'd take us to the movies, and she said you couldn't go. What are you grounded for?”

“I stayed out too late last night. Really late. And Mom stayed up wondering where I was. So she's awake now?”

“Yeah, but she took a humongous nap this afternoon. How's the sandwich?”

“Great,” he said around a mouthful of bologna.

“I didn't want you to starve in here.”

“I'm not grounded to my
room
. I can walk around the house if I want to.”

“Oh. Can I wear your jean jacket?” She was staring into the open mess of his closet.

“Sure,” he said.

It was like he'd given her a ten-dollar bill in a candy shop. “Thanks!” She yanked the jacket off its hook and darted out of the room.

Sam finished eating, then carried the dishes into the kitchen.

His mom was in the living room on the sofa, reading. He picked up the cordless phone from the coffee table. “Do you need this?” he asked.

“No. Go ahead.” She still looked sleepy, but she didn't look angry anymore. “Melissa called while you were asleep.”

“Thanks. That's who I was going to call.”

Back in his room, he dialed Melissa's number. As he did, he thought about how tempting it was just to be honest with her, come clean.
I'm not ready to do it
, he thought. He heard the phone ringing at the other end of the line.

Why am I not ready?

It rang again.

Because I'm not. That's all there is to it. Maybe next summer, when school is over and done with.

Another ring.

Is that the best excuse you can come up with?

Melissa picked up the phone, obviously having looked at the caller ID. “Hi! So tell me how it went! I've been totally distracted today, wondering. I
thought you were going to call last night, but no. You left me, your good friend, completely in the dark about this grand tourist adventure with—”

“I'm gay,” Sam said. It was like a pressure valve suddenly blew somewhere inside his head.

There was a brief pause.
“What?”

“I was lying the other day. I knew you wouldn't care, one way or another, but I lied. And I apologize. I'm gay.”

“Wow,” Melissa said. A few moments later, she said, “Wow” again.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wow.”

“I feel like I'm getting a major exclusive here.”

“Not so exclusive, as it turns out,” Sam said. By his count, Melissa was the fifth person to find out his big secret in the past twenty-four hours.

He told her everything. Well,
almost
everything. The only detail he left out was the kiss Charlie had given him. Not all secrets were bad, and he knew Charlie would want that one to stay between the two of them. As for the rest, he spelled it out step-by-step, right through the conversation he'd had with his mom early that morning.