The Telling (24 page)

Apparently Ryan didn’t notice his reluctance to talk about the future and school, for he pressed on. “Well, brace yourself.
I’ve narrowed my choices down to two.”

“That’s good. You gonna go local?” Personally, Michael felt that his friend would greatly benefit from a change of scenery.

A snicker drifted over the phone line, a sound he hadn’t heard Ryan make in a very long time. “Funny you should ask that, Michael. One
of the schools is in your hometown.”

“Really? You’re coming to Avery?”

The smile was apparent in his voice when Ryan replied, “Well, I’m still deciding, but they have one of the best nursing programs in the
country, so I’m told.”

“They do,” Michael agreed. “In fact, my sister is about to graduate from there. So, you’re gonna study nursing
after all?” Jimmy had insisted many times over the years that caring for others was Ryan’s true calling.

“Yeah. I took a test locally and have all the necessary scores for admittance.” That was no surprise. Ryan Jackson was extremely
intelligent for all his backcountry upbringing.

“I’m so proud of you.” The poor kid deserved all the happiness life could possibly hand him.

It was too soon after the incident for the topic not to come up at least once in their conversation, but this time determination replaced the sorrow in
Ryan’s voice. “I still miss Jimmy and that’ll never stop, but I have to go on.”

“Yes, you do,” Michael agreed. A long paused ensued.

Ryan changed the subject, “So what about you? Anything interesting happening in Podunk, Alabama?”

Heat raced to Michael’s face all the way up to his ears. It felt strange discussing a new boyfriend with someone who’d lost their own
lover not so long ago. Cautiously he ventured, “I… I met somebody.”

Far from sounding hurt or jealous, Ryan’s shouted, “Whooo-hoo! Way to go, Michael.”

“It… it doesn’t bother you?”

“Bother me? Why should it bother me? Don’t you think I want you to be happy? Now, spill. I want to know all about…
Errr… is it a girl or a guy?”

Michael exaggerated a sigh. “Okay, you were right. Are you happy now?”

“Extremely,” came the smug reply.

Ryan truly sounded happy for him, and Michael finally did what he’d wanted to do for days—tell him about Jay. “Well, he goes
to Avery, but he’s from Texas.”

“What part?”

“Brownsville.”

“Cool. I’ve been there. Where’d you find him?”

Michael’s mind went back to the day such a short time ago when he’d walked into his sister’s communal living room and seen
Jay Ortiz for the first time. “My sister shares a house with a bunch of other college students and he’s one of them.”

“Is he good to you?”

“Yes, he is,” Michael agreed, summoning a certain instance of ‘good’ from the previous night, one that made him
want a rematch. “In fact, he’s on his way here now to take me out to lunch.”

Sounding more like the playful kid that Michael remembered before Iraq, Ryan asked with a leer in his voice, “Is he hot?” just as a
knock sounded on the door.

Phone cradled against his good ear, Michael opened the door to find a grinning Jay, dressed in a black band T-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of flips-flops.
Michael grinned and said into the phone, “Oh, yeah!”

***

They entered the restaurant and found a booth near the back, away from the windows, ordering a large pepperoni to share. Jay ordered a soda and Michael a
glass of water. While waiting for the pizza, Jay opened the conversation, “So, Michael, have you decided what you’re gonna take this
fall? You’re still going back to school, right?”

Between bites of bread stick Michael replied, “I’m not sure. I know I need to do something soon, but can’t seem to feel right
about anything.”

“I know what you mean. I felt that way too, for a while. But I have uncles who are engineers, so I kind of fell into that.” Jay lacked
the patience to a teacher like his mom and dad. “The more I got into the coursework the better I felt about my decision.”

“And now you’re gonna graduate.” Michael’s enthusiastic grin disappeared. “You’re gonna leave
once you graduate, aren’t you?”

The door had opened, all Jay needed to do was step through it. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that.”

“Then you are going,” Michael replied, half-eaten breadstick slipping from his fingers to the table.

“I’m not sure yet, but if I do, I’d like you to come with me.”

Jay waited for the reaction, the surprise on his lover’s face turning to an ear-splitting grin. “Really?”

“Really. Although I’d understand if you wanted to stay here.”

That beautiful smile fell. “So you’d still leave.”

“If you don’t want to leave, then neither do I. That is, if you want me to stay. I’m sure I can find something around here,
even if I have to work in Atlanta and live in Cookesville on the weekends.”

The joy radiating on his lover’s face was more than worth the effort to rearrange his work plans. Michael asked, “You’d do
that?”

Jay winked and drawled, “You betcha.”

Whatever reply Michael might have made was cut off by the arrival of their pizza. Again they lapsed into silence, alternating between munching pepperoni
and grinning at each other. Michael spoke first. “Just like that, you’d give up your plans and stay here with me.”

A no brainer. “You are my plans.”

“What about your family? Aren’t they expecting you to come home?”

Jay answered with mock indignation, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted me to leave.”

“No! I want you here. That is, if you want to be.”

“Oh, I want to.”

Michael drummed his fingers on the table, indecision etched on his face. “Would you consider moving in with me?”

Even though that’s what Jay was hoping for, he had to be sure. “What about your mom? Won’t she take offense to
that?”

Michael grinned and reached into his pocket, bringing out a key and handing it to Jay. “Mom gave me that for you ages ago. You’ve also
been programmed into the security system, it’s the last four digits of your phone number.” Michael shrugged, his face reddening.
“She’s been calling you her son-in-law ever since Angie found you in my apartment that morning. Not only will she be thrilled,
she’d be disappointed if it didn’t happen.”

Still believing the situation was too good to be true, Jay ventured, “What about your grandparents?”

“What have they got to do with us?”

Very good point.

“So, what do you say?”

Michael looked so hopeful, still, Jay wanted to be sure that there would be no regrets later—he didn’t think he’d be able to
handle that. “Are you sure? You know if I move in people will talk.”

“Let ‘em.” Michael leaned in, his expression sincere. “There’s a lot of things I don’t know and
a lot has me confused right now, but this is one thing I’m one hundred percent sure of.” He caught his lover’s hand in his
and squeezed. “I want to be with you every chance I get.”

***

The perfect moment shattered on a disgusted, “I knew you were nothing but a fucking faggot!”

Michael glanced up from his and Jay’s clasped hands, pulling away when his worst nightmare rudely shoved people out of the way to get to their
table.

Horror swept over him as he watched the furious man’s approach, wincing at every expletive from the bully’s mouth. Time slowed and his
fellow diners disappeared, his vision tunneling into a nightmare world inhabited by only himself and Crawford Shiller.

He backed into the booth as far as he could go, desperately trying to make himself invisible. He was twelve years old again, small and defenseless. Back
then he’d expected such treatment every time Mom’s back was turned. She knew some of what happened—Crawford verbal
abuse—but she didn’t know the extremity, or how lasting the impact. And Michael didn’t tell her, for fear of the man turning
his wrath on her or Angie.

All those years of fear and cruelty came crashing down. Michael searched for an escape, too late—his former stepfather pushed his way into the
booth, a litany of obscenities never once faltering. The reek of alcohol assailed Michael’s senses as the obviously drunk man pinned him in
place.

“I went and raised me a damn fag is what I did. I should have beat your sissy ass harder, that would have made a man out of you.” Jay
shot around the table and grabbed Crawford by the arm. Crawford turned and snarled, “Get your fucking fairy hands off me, you damned Mexican
queer!”

Michael broke his trance in time to see Crawford draw back his arm, preparing to punch Jay. Reflexes kicking in before his brain, Michael reached out and
wrapped a hand around the vile man’s wrist below the closed fist. He squeezed—hard. A bellow of pain rewarded his effort. The enraged
bull of a man turned his attention back to Michael. “You’ll pay for that, you little… You ain’t no son of
mine!”

Years of biting his tongue welled up within, crashing down like a storm-driven wave. Kneeling in the limited space, Michael glared down at his hated
stepfather. “No, as a matter of fact, I ain’t no son of yours, and I’m damned glad of it!” His grip on
Crawford’s wrist tightened, causing another surprised yelp. Michael wasn’t cruel by nature, but he’d had enough. Now that the
wave was cresting again it couldn’t be stopped, and he really didn’t want it to. It crashed down with devastating force.

“I’d like to see you make me pay, you useless piece of shit,” he growled. At Crawford’s suddenly fear-filled
expression, he only smiled sweetly and purred, “Guess what, you old loser? I’m not twelve anymore and I’m not a skinny,
terrified child. You can’t hold hurting Mom over my head anymore, either.” The smile turned evil as he said the words he’d
only fantasized about saying in the past. “It’s time for a little payback, Craw-daddy.”

Eleven years of terror loaded the fist that caught the man in his jaw, sending him flying from the booth to slide across the tile floor and crash into an
empty booth across the aisle. Crawford and Michael stared at each other, Michael shocked and disbelieving what had just happened.

“What the hell is going on out here?” came an irate bellow from the vicinity of the kitchen door. Michael looked up to see a
muscle-bound, bald-headed man crossing the restaurant, long legs making short work of the distance. He stopped and towered over Crawford where he lay
sprawled on the floor. Hands on his hips, the man glared down.

“I can explain,” Michael began, only to be cut off by Crawford, who seemed to have recovered what few wits he’d had.

“I was just telling those faggots there that their kind ain’t welcome around here,” Crawford shouted, apparently assured that
he’d find backing from the burly man who somehow managed to look intimidating while wearing an apron.

“Is that so?” the man replied, his eyes narrowing as he cast a suspicious glance at Jay and Michael. Once again Michael wished he could
make himself disappear.

Emboldened by what he must have considered support for his cause, the bully continued, “Yeah, we don’t want their kind. No one wants a
bunch of queers around here.”

“Is that so?” the man repeated, still glaring at the two men who had moments before been enjoying a pizza and a new milestone in their
relationship. “So,” he barked, “is it true? Are you a pair of faggots?”

When asked later, Michael wouldn’t be able to say what had come over him at that moment, but as it had with Crawford, his long denied anger
bubbled to the surface. Raising his eyes to Jay’s, he silently asked a question.

Jay brought his hand up and linked their fingers as they slowly stood together, presenting a united front.

The annoyed man looked from them down to Crawford. “Looks like you’re right. Looks like I got some low-lifes in my restaurant. What do
you think I ought to do about it?”

“Kick their asses outta here—that’s what you ought to do!” Crawford wailed, bruised ego re-inflating now with
victory on the horizon.

“Well, I believe you’re right. I can’t be having low-life scum in my restaurant. Pal, I’ll have to ask you to
leave,” the apron-clad man said in a tone that brooked no nonsense. “Now,” he added with a stern look that made even Michael
want to back away slowly, even though that look wasn’t trained on him.

Crawford staggered to his feet, dusting himself off and glaring at the man who he’d mistaken for an ally. “You ain’t heard
the last of me!” he exclaimed, turning and glaring at Michael and Jay. That glare was then turned on the small audience the altercation had
collected. “What the fuck do you think you’re looking at?” Crawford snarled.

The proprietor took a step forward, backing the angry man toward the door, then took another and another until Crawford found himself literally herded from
the establishment. The man then stood watching, as did Jay and Michael, making sure the drunken bully was really gone.

Without turning around, the bald man called toward the back of the room, “Steve?”

A rather non-descript man at a back table answered, “Yeah?”

“I know you’re off-duty, but would you mind reporting a drunk and disorderly?”

“I done did,” the man replied with a grin.

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing. The asshole had it coming.”

Throughout the exchange Michael stood still, hand growing sweaty in Jay’s grasp. The restaurant owner turned back, and in a quiet voice said,
“Sorry ‘bout that. You boys okay?”

Michael merely nodded, unsure of what to do next.

The man tuned to Jay. “I’m sorry that you and your friend had to go through that; your pizza’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Michael blurted.

A lazy smile curved the man’s lips, making him appear far less menacing than he had a few moments ago. “I know I don’t, but I
want to. I want you boys to know you’re always welcome here.”

Before Michael could stop himself, out tumbled, “Are you gay?”

At that the man erupted into huge guffaws of laughter that rocked his whole body. When he calmed he wiped at a tear from his eye with a massive fingertip
and replied, “Heavens, no. I ain’t gay, but I am a businessman. Jay and the Animal House…”