The Boy Who Came in From the Cold (11 page)

He turned the DVD off long enough to check the weather—it didn’t take long, it was already set on The Weather Channel—and found out that, yes, indeed, there was another six inches in the forecast for late afternoon, early evening. Crap. Would Gabe let him stay another night? The note seemed to say so. Todd looked outside, saw all the snow, even there on the balcony, and wondered about that blowjob.

No. Don’t go there.

Todd turned the player back on, ejected
The Avengers
, and put in the first
Star Wars
movie. Born into a whole new generation, he didn’t have the prejudice against the prequels and knew the whole series nearly by heart. It would make good background noise anyway.

Then he was back in the kitchen and was soon dicing up a couple of apples, as well as a few oranges. He would have gone with some pineapple, but he didn’t find any in any of the cabinets. The search did reveal some walnuts, which made him quite happy—especially since they were English walnuts and not the black, which he always found too bitter. He shredded some ginger, then mixed everything together, along with cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, and some very fresh raisins (again in a baggie and not a box). He placed the mixture in a glass bowl, covered it with cellophane. He put it in the refrigerator and then sat to watch
The Phantom Menace
while the chicken thawed.

Bacon grease
, he thought.
I could do something with the bacon grease.
He hadn’t had a clue what Gabe wanted done with it after Todd made breakfast. His mother saved it in a grease pot—although it wasn’t really a pot, just a little aluminum container kept at the back of the stove—but Gabe hadn’t appeared to have anything like that, not even an empty jar. Todd’s neighbor in Buckman had poured grease down the sink while running hot water, but Todd hadn’t thought that would be a good idea in a building as old as this one. It killed him that this meant he couldn’t wash the frying pan, but now his thoughts were percolating.
Bacon grease instead of butter. Mmmm….

Despite his love of the movie, Todd dozed off. The last few day’s events—everything over the last few months—had been far more exhausting than even
he
had realized.

He dreamed of a dark cellar and his friend Austin and a porn video his buddy had snitched from the collection his older cousin had brought back from college. Quite a collection, in fact, and a very varied selection. They’d kept the volume way down despite the fact that no one had been home. Austin didn’t want to take a chance someone would catch them.

To Todd’s surprise, he’d been hard as a rock during the video, despite the profusion of breasts, and pubic hair shaved into a dozen different styles. The dream was so real, so like that night months ago, except this time the erection straining Austin’s underwear—his pants were unzipped and opened wide—was frighteningly huge. Bigger than any of the men on the television screen. Much bigger than he remembered Austin being. Austin’s TV was hardly better than Todd’s, except that everything was orange and red instead of green, the actors leaving ghostly images behind them as they moved. Todd barely noticed, though. He couldn’t stop staring at Austin’s lap and the growing wet spot in his underwear.

Then Austin turned, looked at him, and smiled a Cheshire grin. “It’s big, isn’t it?”
Todd blanched, drew back.

Austin began to grope himself. “Come on, Todd. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to suck it. It tastes really good.”

 

Todd woke up with a start, as well as a rigid erection, aching in need.

 

Chapter 6

 

A
WORKOUT
.
And where better than in Gabe’s workout room?

Todd had no idea how to even attempt to use the Bowflex, and he didn’t want to try. Not really. What if Gabe had it on some kind of favorite setting? And how did he even use it? The thing was a mystery.

But the Nordic? That was something else again, and he wanted to give it a try. Todd hadn’t exercised, not really, since he’d left home months ago. He missed it. He didn’t think Gabe would mind.

Any kind of long time running in jeans would be a little uncomfortable, though. He supposed he could strip to his underwear. He shrugged. They were a little ragged, but they weren’t his worst pair.

Of course, these days they might very well be his only pair. Jeez.

It didn’t take long to figure the piece of equipment out, but before he started his run, he went ahead and shucked down to his boxer briefs. That’s when he found the iPod. Gabe must use it when he worked out.

“I wonder what he likes?” Todd wondered aloud.
It turned out to be Lady Gaga.

“Well, I’ll be dammed,” Todd said with a grin. Maybe he wasn’t the only Little Monster around.

With a small amount of guilt he pulled one of Gabe’s T-shirts from a clothes hamper, put it on, and, music blasting in his skull, began to run. Common sense dictated he should start out slow, but he found himself running full tilt, letting his feet pound and his heart race and the music pour through him like the demons of hell were after him. After all, it had felt like that lately.

In no time, he was drenched in sweat, his eyes stinging, his lungs burning, and a stitch beginning in his side. He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to hurt on the outside like it did on the inside, and that was a lot.

Lady Gaga sang about how she was going to marry the night, and he ran. He ran from all the things he’d cried about the night before. Cried! He’d cried like a kid. Worse, he’d cried in the arms of a man. A gay man. Todd couldn’t remember crying like that in his life, at least not in the presence of another living soul. Sometimes he would go into the woods behind his house, to a secret little place he’d found when he was a kid, and there he could cry or read or do whatever he wanted. It was there and only there he’d felt free. One day he’d even dared to take off all his clothes and sit in the sun. Where the idea had come from he had no idea, but it was one of the most liberating experiences of his life. Soon he found himself naked in that clearing more and more often. He would stand and spread his arms and let his head fall back, eyes closed, bathing in the sunlight. Not long before he moved to Kansas City, he thought about inviting Austin to join him in the woods. The idea had really taken him over those last few days. About how maybe they could repeat what happened in his friend’s basement, but this time with no porn tape to ruin things. What would that be like? Maybe more would happen.

And did it make him a faggot?

No. He wasn’t in love with Austin. It was just friendship. Hadn’t he read in that book from the school library it was normal for young men to play around together? Something natural because they had all those hormones raging and no way to release that sexual energy with someone of the opposite sex?

(Although of course, Todd had been doing that for months.)

The feelings would go away. He would get interested in Joan. He was just a late bloomer. Soon—any day he was sure—his desire for vaginas would begin and the thoughts of what he might do with Austin would just fade away.

Todd had found the little clearing in the woods the day his mother told him she was getting married. He’d been stunned. She was remarrying? And worse, it was to that creepy guy Urston, the one that always looked at him funny? The guy with the black eyes and the pockmarks all over his face who worked on cars down at the gas station on the edge of town. The guy who came into the diner where his mother worked nights and drank endless cups of coffee and always ate a couple slices of apple pie, the first with a big wedge of cheddar cheese and the second with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream. And hadn’t that just been weird?

When Todd’s mother had broken the news to Todd, he’d run out of the house and deep into the woods, and that’s when he’d found what would become his secret spot by the creek. That first time, he’d come to a complete stop, the air whooshing in and out of his lungs (like now!), and stood there in awe. It looked like a magic place, where elves or fairies would be at home. There was even a ring of mushrooms. Somehow he’d run right into the circle and not damaged even one of the little lovely orange umbrellas.

It had been his secret place from that day forward and was the only thing he missed about Buckman. There were no good woods anywhere near him except the trees near Liberty Memorial, and he’d heard fags went there for sex. There was no way he was going to a place where some queer tried to get at his dick.

(
“The word is ‘gay’, and yes I am.”
)

God. How could Gabe be gay? It seemed impossible. The only gay man Todd had known before he moved to Kansas City was Mr.

Tanson, who ran the town library, such as it was. He was short and balding and spoke in an effeminate voice, and people were nice enough to his face but said mean things behind his back. Really mean things.

“Cocksucker is what he is,” Todd’s stepfather would snarl. “He has no place running a place where kids go. Frigging fudge packer. Homos are all degenerates. Perverts. They like little boys. They kidnap them and they cut them.”

“Cut them?” Todd had asked in shock, his eyes wide. His stepfather nodded. “They fuck little kids in the ass.” Todd had actually staggered back. “What?”

“And if their assholes are too tight, then those fags cut them to make them big enough.”

The words had made Todd want to vomit. He thought of Mr. Tanson and just couldn’t imagine the man doing such a thing. Couldn’t imagine anyone doing anything like that. The very idea horrified him. Todd didn’t know whether to believe his stepfather or not, but it was months before he could look at the quiet little man without thinking about blood. The damage had been done.

Running became a thing for Todd. Running let him get away from stuff. From a mom who remarried half a year after her husband died. From a stepfather who said horrible things.

Today Todd ran from memories as well. He ran from homelessness and snow and boys who told him he should sell himself for money. He ran again from his stepfather and those hurtful hands. He ran from a mother that stood aside and only offered platitudes, and over time, a host of ugly words as well. What had happened? How had a sweet childhood turned so dark and horrible?

Todd ran, and when Lady Gaga began to sing about being as free as her hair, he knew just what she was singing about. How he wanted to be left alone. To be able to be who he was, without small-town—or a stepfather’s—expectations. And in that moment, screaming pain in his side or not, he was free.

He hurt. The pain felt good. He wasn’t nude under the sun in his clearing in the woods in Buckman, but he was nearly naked. And strangely turned on by the shirt, Gabe’s shirt, which was stuck to him by sweat, and by the scent that rose from it and mixed together as one with his own. Something told him that had he allowed himself to be with Gabe the night before, it would have been nothing like that night in Austin’s basement. Oh, no. It would be something altogether different.

He opened his eyes to belt out the final lyrics.

 

And that was when he saw Gabe, standing in the doorway staring at him.