Shadows and Lies (11 page)

He reached out and stroked my cheek, my hair. He put his hand behind my neck. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

I shook my head, the only part of my body that would move at that point. “I’m not.”

“I want to kiss you.”

I panicked. “I don’t know,” I said, stiffening up. Nancy’s voice reverberated inside my head: whore, whore, whore.

Sean looked disappointed, but he didn’t push me. His hand left my neck and he unbuckled his seatbelt. “We should get out.”

But I didn’t want him to leave. “I used to wish I’d just get hit too,” I blurted out.

Sean stopped and turned back to me, waiting for me to go on.

“My stepmother, Nancy, wasn’t one to devise cruel punishment, but she could yell and belittle me and my sisters till we felt no better dirt,” I said in a rush. “Less than dirt. She made us feel unworthy of anything good. I would wish that she would hit me and leave a bruise so that I could call the cops on her. I would fantasize about her getting taken away, and my dad divorcing her so that she could never hurt us again.” I held Sean’s gaze, who just sat and listened to me. “She called me just this afternoon and told me that I’m a whore and sinner and that I’m going to go to hell for being friendly with Charles and Glen.”

“Do you believe that?” Sean asked in a tight voice. He was angry for me, I realized.

I shook my head. “No.” I was not a whore. And I wanted to kiss Sean. Kissing him would not make me a whore, I told myself. I scooted across the seat and touched his cheek. It was smooth. His hands came up to cradle my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, but he didn’t move towards me. He waited while I made a study of his face, caressing his jaw and his ears, tracing his eyebrows, which were dark and thick.

“I-.” I wanted to tell him that I wanted to kiss him too. I wanted to be brave, but my voice failed me. “I want-.”

I was not brave, but Sean was. He pulled my head to his and kissed me, gently, softly.

“You are good,” he said, pulling away for a brief moment. “And kind.” He kissed me again. “And sweet.” He kissed me a third time. “And I hate that your stepmother makes you cry.”

His words made tears well up in my eyes. Genny was totally right, I decided. Sean was good for me. His words made me brave, and leaned forward and kissed him. He was not so gentle this time; more hungry, more…just more. I tingled from my lips to my toes. I had never felt so good, and his hands in my hair drove me crazy.

But I pulled away. “We should stop. We should go home. To our own homes,” I clarified. I was breathless from kissing him.

Sean nodded. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“Dinner?” he asked me. “We can go anywhere you want.

I nodded. He grinned. “I’ll walk you upstairs,” he said as he got out of the car.

I laughed and got out too. “How chivalrous of you.”

He smirked. “No, just convenient.”

I slugged him playfully on the arm and he walked up the stairs hand in hand. When we came to a stop in front of my door, he drew me close, his arms around my waist and kissed me. I slid my hands over his shoulders and looped them around his neck. He apparently liked that. His mouth left mine to nibble my neck and I shivered. Genny would be certain to crow when I told her about it.

I could tell Sean did not want to let me go, but he did, and he watched me as I went inside. I waved to him as I closed the door, and I looked out the peep hole as I locked it. Sean stood outside my door rocking on his heels, a huge smile on his face. He turned on a heel and whistled a tune back to his apartment. He was happy.

I put a hand to my lips. I was happy too.

The next day, I went about my regular morning routine. I ate breakfast, I listened to the morning news on KNPR, and then I got ready for work. It would have been a perfectly normal morning for me if not for the fact that I didn’t taste what I was eating, and I didn’t pay the least bit attention to what was on the news. I was lost in thought, going over every detail of my evening with Sean last night, remembering how he had held my hand, how he had touched my face, how I’d been kissed. Just as I was mindlessly dropping my cereal bowl in the sink, a knock came on my door. I smiled in expectation of it being Sean, because no one ever knocked on my door in the morning. Looking through the peephole, I beamed. Sean was standing there in his coveralls, his hands thrust into his pockets, but there was a grim expression on his face. Worried, I opened the door immediately.

“Hey,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile at him. “What’s up?”

Sean didn’t return my smile. In fact, he looked downright unhappy. “I have something to show you.” He gestured for me to come outside with him. “It’s pretty bad.”

I frowned but slipped on my shoes and followed him down the stairs. He pointed, “There. I was coming down to go to work and I saw that.”

I stared dumbly. He was pointing at my car, which was no longer a solid blue, but a rainbow of colors. “Someone spray-painted your car,” Sean said unnecessarily, and I nodded.

Someone had done more than spray paint it; they had turned it into a billboard of hatred. Horrible curse words were sprayed along the sides and the windows, and across the windshield it said, “Faggot lover,” in bright, drippy red letters.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just stood there staring at my poor car in shock. Sean watched me carefully as I took the sight in, and he asked, “You want me to call the police for you?”

I could only nod. He made the call from his cell phone, and as he was giving the information to the police, I walked all around my car to inspect it. My tires had been slashed and my antennae mangled, but what really got to me was the giant red “Slut” sprayed on the rear window, because it reminded me horribly of my phone conversation with Nancy the other day. I made a choked sound from deep in my throat and I must have looked like I was about to faint or have an apoplectic episode because Sean hurried over to my side, put his arm around my waist and hauled me over to his truck, which he promptly unlocked. He all but lifted me up onto the seat and literally held my hand as he simultaneously finished up on the phone and tried to calm me down by rubbing my fingers and hand and lower arm.

Embarrassed by my weak behavior, I tried to push him away, but Sean wouldn’t let me. He refused to leave me on my own, and his dark eyes were full of stubborn concern. He hung up and looked into my eyes very carefully and asked, “Do you need me to call an ambulance? You’re all white in the face.”

“No!” I snapped, irrationally annoyed at his concern. “I’m perfectly fine. I was just shocked, that’s all. I’m not going to fall to pieces on you.”

Sean looked at me skeptically. “It’s okay to cry if you want.”

I retorted angrily, “I am not going to cry!”

But to prove myself wrong, big, hot tears welled up in my eyes and my face crumpled. Now, I have watched myself cry in front of a mirror, and it’s not pretty, especially when my face crumples. I was at once mortified by how I thought I must look to Sean and I tried to slide off the seat and push past him again so that I could run up to my apartment and be alone, but Sean stopped me, pulled me back to him and put his arms around me. He was warm and solid and smelled like soap. Having his arms around me made me feel so safe and so good that I cried harder. I clung to him and buried my face in his clean coveralls, and he just stood there and let me, rubbing his hands up and down my back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he repeated over and over. “It’ll be alright.”

Despite my tears, I still was aware that were outside and anyone could walk by at any time and see me weeping, so I tried desperately to get myself under control. It took me a few moments, but when I did I wiped my eyes and my nose and then pushed away from Sean.

He loosened his grip, but did not let me go. I sniffed, not bothering to fight him. I didn’t really want him to let me go anyways. “Why would anyone do something like this to my car?” I finally asked, my voice raw from crying.

Sean pulled a clean rag from his back pocket and handed it to me. “I think the words ‘Fagot Lover’ pretty much tell you who did it and why,” he answered as I wiped my eyes and nose. “It was probably the same people who threw that brick in Charles’ and Glen’s window that did this to you. They probably didn’t like that you told a news camera that you were friends with a couple of gay men.”

I sniffed again and wadded up the rag in my fist. “That’s horrible.” I moved close to Sean once more and rested my head against his chest. “What am I going to do about my car?”

Sean didn’t answer, just rubbed his hands up and down my back and waited with me for the cops to come. Eventually we moved to sit down on the sidewalk nearby.

“You should probably call into work and tell them that you’ll be late,” he suggested. “I already did myself.”

It was sensible and I nodded. “I may as well just take the day off, considering that I need to get my car towed and new tires put on. All that is going to be so expensive,” I said gravely. “The tow truck will cost at least $75, then four new tires, then a paint job.” It was going to put a dent in my savings account.

“Your insurance should cover it,” Sean said helpfully, but I shook my head.

“My car is so old and worth so little that I just have basic coverage. It doesn’t cover vandalism, only accidents.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. He let me call my supervisor form his cell phone, and once I hung up I hung my head in my hands. Sean put an arm around my shoulders. “Are you gonna’ be alright?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said bluntly. “Why did this happen? Is it really because some freak wants to teach me a lesson? I don’t get it.”

Sean had nothing to say, but at least I knew how Charles and Glen felt: violated. The police didn’t help matters. Both of us were interviewed by a pair of male officers who snapped a few pictures and asked us if we’d seen or heard anything last night.

Of course we hadn’t. If we had, I thought, we’d have called 911 last night.

“Is there anyone besides the vandals you already mentioned who attacked your neighbors that might be responsible for this?” one officer asked. “Anyone at work? Anyone in your family?”

“Well,” I began in a small voice. “There is this guy at work that I went out on a date with the night of the original vandalism, and he’s kind of angry at me right now because I didn’t want to see him again.” I paused. “I don’t think he thinks I’m a gay loving whore, though.”

“What’s his name?” the officer asked, pen and paper in hand.

“Dan. Dan Doherty. But I’m sure he’s pretty harmless.”

The officer wrote down Dan’s name anyways. “Anyone else you can think of?” he asked me. “Anyone in your complex?”

“No,” I shook my head. “There’s no one here that I can think of. I mean, I haven’t felt like I’ve been watched or followed or anything like that, and I don’t have much to do with anyone besides Sean here or Charles and Glen. The only other person who doesn’t like me right now is my stepmother, but I don’t think she’d vandalize my car, either.”

“And what’s her name?”

“She’ll really give me what for if you call her up and ask her about this,” I pleaded with him.

“We’ll be discreet, ma’am,” the officer said. “But we have to do our jobs and be thorough.”

I nodded. “Okay. Her name is Nancy Vitagliano, and she is currently of the opinion that I’m a fagot loving whore. She was really pissed when she saw the news with my interview on TV.”

“The two of you had an altercation about that?”

I nodded. “She called me at work right after she saw it. The news, I mean.” I hesitated. “It was a verbal altercation. She told me that I was going to go to hell for saying nice things about homosexuals and that I was slut.” I smiled grimly at him. “My mother is very religious, as you can no doubt see.”

The officer caught my sarcastic tone and returned my grim smile. “We’ll file this along and try to investigate, but there’s not much we can do since no one has seen the perpetrators. But we’ll do our best.”

“Thank you,” I said, depressed that I would get no immediate justice.

The officer handed me my copy of the police report and then he and his partner drove away. I turned to Sean, who was standing only a few feet away from me and I smiled at him tentatively. “I guess that’s that for now. Thanks for everything.”

“You want me to hang around while you make some phone calls?” Sean asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. You go on. I can take care of things.”

Sean brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Because I can stay…”

I smiled. “No. I’ll be alright by myself. Really.”

He was silent for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe me or not. At last he said, “Come upstairs with me. I want to give you something.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. Sean took my hand and led me up to his apartment. On his refrigerator door were a scattering of business cards held up by a bunch of beat up looking magnets, and he plucked several cards off. “This is the number of a good towing company,” he said as he handed me one card at time. “This is the number of a good paint shop I’ve used before. At this tire shop, tell Julio I sent you. He’ll take good care of you, and this,” he handed me one last card, “is the number for where I work. If you need anything, or if anyone gives you a hard time, you can call me. My cell phone is listed as well.”

I read each card carefully. “Wow,” I said with deep appreciation. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure who I was going to call or where to go for all this.” I looked up at him. He had given me just what I needed. That deserved a hug, and for extra measure I stepped up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” I said again.

“I’ll call you on my lunch break?” he asked me, and I nodded. “You’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” he asked me once more. I laughed and then pushed him towards his door.

“Yes! I’ll be fine! Go to work.” Feeling brave, I reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips. “I’ll talk to you at noon.”

Sean left, reluctantly, and I went inside my apartment and ate some chocolate cookies, dreading the things I had to do that day. What I hadn’t told Sean was that I wasn’t really fine. I was scared. There was someone out there who hated me. I was sure that this wasn’t going to be the last of my problems with this person. I didn’t relish the idea of having to look over my shoulder all the time, but there was nothing else I could do.