The Telling (6 page)

His grandparents? Another matter entirely. They were good folks—good, church-going folks—and the church condemned homosexuality. Though
he didn’t like lying to them it wouldn’t be the first time he’d kept things from them. However, they knew Jay and, from what
Angie had said in her letters, they thought highly of him.

What would it be like to be in a relationship with another man? Not the sexual part, but how would it be to kiss, hold hands, sit together at the end of
the day, prepare dinner together, be a couple?

Jay smiled and laughed in Michael’s fantasy, playing the role of the perfect mate. Not good, not good at all imagining the man as someone he
might not be. And he hadn’t called, so obviously he wasn’t interested. Even if he were, could Michael cast aside years of conditioning
to attempt a relationship with another man? Or, like Jim long ago at church, would he present one face to the world while sneaking around, deluding himself
that no one knew the truth?

He hadn’t seen Jay since being dropped off that first day, and Angie hadn’t said much about her roomie, other than that Jay, like
herself, was hard at work studying and finishing final projects.

Between the gloomy thoughts running rampant in his head all day and the nightmares that plagued him when he finally was able to let go of the waking world,
was it any wonder Michael was exhausted?

***

“Sure, Mom, I’ll call Grandma,” Michael said, patting his pockets for his cell phone and coming up empty handed. She was
using the store’s phone to place an order, so he mouthed, “I’ll be right back” and took the stairs two at a time up
to his apartment.

He searched his nightstand, the couch cushions, and even his dirty laundry hamper before the phone’s distinctive buzz called him to the kitchen
counter. Three messages waited. The first was a text from Angie, asking if he wanted to drive up to Atlanta for some shopping the next day. His first
reaction was “Oh, Hell yeah!” but shopping meant leaving his sanctuary. A chill ran up his spine. He hated lying, but sent a bullshit
response about how he’d promised Mom he’d work and asked if they could reschedule. He’d love to go just for a chance to spend
some time with his sister, but didn’t think he could do it, not yet at least.

“Missed call” appeared on his screen, along with the icon for voice mail. The name “Ryan Jackson” caused his heart
to flip.

He quickly dialed the number to retrieve the message, nudging his apartment door closed. This was one conversation better held without a curious mother or
customers around. After keying in the proper codes and selecting from the long list of options, the soft voice that he knew so well spoke. “Hey,
Big Guy. Ummm… Sorry it took me so long to call, I’ve been, you know, busy.” The normally straightforward Ryan sounded
nervous and uncertain, something that never happened before their convoy was attacked. After a moment of awkward silence the message continued,
“Look, I hope you’re not mad at me or anything. I’d hate to lose you, too.” The last words were murmured so quietly
they could barely be heard. There was a soft sigh and then, “Anyway, I’m doing okay and hope everything’s going good for you.
Give me a call sometime, that is, if you’re not mad.” Another long pause followed. “Look, I know what I did was wrong,
but…well, you know what I was thinking. I just wanted to feel… I just wanted to feel anything again. I’m sorry for using
you like that. Look, I gotta go, just call me sometimes, will ya? Can we still be friends?” Silence.

Fuck. Why had he allowed so much time to pass without checking on Ryan? His friend was suffering and, regardless of what had happened, friends
didn’t desert friends in need. Yet, Ryan was a reminder of all he tried to forget. Tears burned his eyes when he replayed the message. How could
he be so selfish, shutting Ryan out like that? With all else the guy was shouldering alone, he honestly believed his one true friend left in the world had
deserted him in anger—the one person who knew the truth about Jimmy. No, Michael wasn’t mad, just a thoughtless asshole that should
have been there.

He hit the redial button. The voice happily greeting him turned out to be a recorded message. How long ago had that been programmed? Certainly Ryan
hadn’t sounded so happy in a long, long time.

After listening to a mechanical voice explaining options, Michael waited for the beep and left a message of his own. “Ryan, I am so, so sorry I
haven’t called and I don’t even have an excuse. I could never be mad at you, and you’ve never in your life used anyone, least
of all me. I’ve never met a more honest, caring person. When you get this message please call me right back. I need to know that you’re
all right.”

Why in the hell hadn’t he called Ryan? Regardless of personal issues, Michael had never seriously considered taking his own life. And though Ryan
said he was over it, he might still tumble into the abyss. What if Michael’s callousness pushed the guy over the edge?

“Michael, did you call Grandma?” his mom bellowed from below.

Still shaken by Ryan’s call, Michael dialed his grandmother without checking the third message.

***

Jay waited until nine before giving up and getting undressed. He should have called sooner, suggested pizza or something, but Michael needed time to settle
in and catch up with his family. What would he say? What would they do? Would the townsfolk see them together and assume they were dating?

Two unexpected tickets to the Hawks game in Atlanta gave him a legitimate reason to invite Michael out without giving off
I wanna date you vibes
.
The guy was straight and would probably have married his childhood sweetheart if not for enlisting in the army. Michael’s grandparents had
provided all the twist-the-knife-in-my-heart details.

Jay changed into loose sweats. How had this happened? How had he allowed himself to become enamored of a total stranger? What was it about Michael that
caught his attention? Oh yeah. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, and built to perfection. Michael hadn’t been at his best when they met, but Jay had
plenty of reason to believe him highly intelligent, having been privy to letters he’d sent to Angie and his grandparents, with whom Jay had
shared many a Sunday dinner.

But the deal-clincher, the defining moment that sent Jay past the point of no return, was in the car when he’d witnessed, not a grown man or a
war veteran, but a lost little boy, dealing alone with unimaginable pain. He’d barely managed not to hug Michael and whisper,
“It’ll all be okay.”

Jay shook his head at his own imagination. Regardless of what he’d said, Michael must have had a change of heart about accepting Jay’s
being gay. Then again, maybe the returned soldier was busy reuniting with that old girlfriend. That thought left Jay lonely and depressed before he
remembered that the girlfriend, by all accounts, had married and was pregnant.

His attraction to Michael stemmed from the stories told by an idolizing sister and doting family and not from actual knowledge of the man himself. It
started when Jay found a picture that Angie had dropped shortly after moving to Cookesville to start college. Her brother had been dressed in his military
uniform, having his first picture taken as an American soldier. Knowing it wasn’t the only picture Angie of him in uniform, Jay had kept it, not
really knowing why at the time.

There he was in a strange town, trying to adjust to college life and attempting to make friends in a place where ‘his type’
weren’t accepted. He wouldn’t have chosen to come here at all but a scholarship was a scholarship, and his parents couldn’t
afford to send him to college on their own. He also didn’t stand a chance of snagging an athletic free ride in Texas, either. Football was
practically a religion there, with too many better candidates to choose from. So he’d wound up in some Podunk town in Alabama, far from family
and friends, when a disciplinary suspension left an unexpected opening for a running back.

He’d later learned that his Hispanic heritage and bilingual abilities won him the honor, more so than any skill at the game. Only his
parents’ pleas that he not be a fool kept him from throwing the scholarship back in the administrators’ racist faces.

So, with a full academic ride, a little help from the folks back home, and money made from odd jobs, he managed to be fairly independent. And surprise,
surprise! Podunk U, as his friends back home called it, offered an outstanding engineering program. Despite his earlier outrage at the reasoning behind his
scholarship, he also found that the majority of the faculty and students were great people, most readily accepting—or at least
tolerating—not only his heritage but his orientation.

His first week in town he’d found a reasonable place to stay by happy accident, a tip from a friend of a friend, and his new roommates turned out
to be an interesting lot. Still, it was the loneliest time in his life. When solitude became too much to bear he retreated to the privacy of his room to
confide in the steely-eyed, somber young soldier in the picture. Sometimes Jay stared at the photo, wondering where the young recruit was, what he was
doing, what he was thinking. At other times the image of the blue-eyed blond listened, unflinchingly, to deep, dark secrets, and to tales of success as
well as failures. The more Jay handled the picture the harder he fell, until he was forced to secure it in the safety of a glass frame before it
disintegrated.

He tried to convince himself that the man in the picture had his own personality, and Angie’s stories of the best brother in the world were
biased.

Obsessing over a total stranger wasn’t the healthiest thing he’d ever done, even if an imaginary confidante had gotten Jay through a
difficult adjustment period. Eventually he adapted to his new environment, settling into a fierce but brief relationship with Terry. He’d tucked
the picture away for safekeeping, but Michael never wandered too far from Jay’s mind, especially not with Angie’s frequent
“Michael this” and “Michael that”.

He’d always hoped to one day meet face to face with the subject of that worn photo, but what if the man he’d fallen in love with only
existed in his imagination? What if the guy turned out to be a complete asshole?

Then, the moment of truth arrived. It was all Jay could do to maintain a straight face and, hopefully, a neutral expression when he really wanted to pounce
on the returning vet and show him all he’d been missing, begging him to live up to the fantasy—begging him to be gay.

But Michael had changed. In the photograph he’d appeared young and innocent, a far cry from the haunted soul Angie introduced to her roommates.
Boyish features had firmed and matured, taking on a hard, masculine edge. Whereas Michael was cute before, now he was just plain, heart-stoppingly
beautiful. He’d added bulk during the past few years,

though something in the eyes had changed, too, making Michael seem older than twenty-two.

Jay sighed. Being around Michael might just break his heart. He owed it to the man to leave the fantasies behind and get to know the real Michael Ritter.
At least they could be friends. He’d deal privately with his feelings and try not to impose them on someone who wouldn’t welcome that
kind of attention. Yes, he’d be a martyr.

How horrified Michael would be if he knew that a gay man had been infatuated with him for the past four years. If he knew, would he run or would he feel
like beating the shit out of the faggot? Could they even be friends, or was it just wishful thinking? For that matter, could Jay be so honorable as to
squash his own desires so as not to intimidate Michael? He just didn’t know the answer to that.

Dammit, why were all the good ones straight?

***

“Ryan?”

“Michael? Oh, man, I’d ‘bout given up on hearing from you. Look, I’m so sorry…”

“Shhhh….It’s ok. I’m the one who’s sorry for not calling you. It’s been so hectic.”

A ghost of a laugh reached Michael’s ears, a mere echo of the heartfelt guffaws he knew Ryan capable of. “Tell me about it. My
family’s about to drive me nuts. My uncle and sister follow me around like I’m on suicide watch or something.”

“Ryan!” Michael scolded. Ryan shouldn’t say such things, even in jest.

A sigh wafted from the phone. “No, man, I told you. The moment came and went and it’s gone. I hurt like hell and probably will for a
long, long, time… but I can’t. As much as I wanted to, I just can’t. He would never make that choice; he had so many
plans.” No question who “he” was. After a moment of awkward silence that sorrow-laced voice continued, “His mom
gave me the flag that draped his casket. I think she knows.”

“Is that gonna be trouble for you?” Michael asked. Ryan had enough problems, hiding his true feelings from the folks back home to
protect the memory of a dead man.

“No, she’s cool. I’m told she cries a lot, but one day she came by to see me and said the strangest thing. She told me that
as long as I’m alive that a part of her son would be, too. Then she hugged me and gave me the flag.”

“That’s good that she knows, then. Is she someone you can talk to?” As awkward as it might be to talk to Jimmy’s
mom, perhaps she and Ryan might comfort each other. Damn, but it sucked that someone as young as Jimmy, with so much to live for, would never have the
chance.

A breathy sigh and then, “Maybe not now, but hopefully in time. I need someone to talk to, someone who knows the truth. This is just so damned
hard! Everyone keeps telling me that they know how difficult it is for me to lose my best friend but they have no freaking clue. He was so much more to me
than that, and I can’t tell anyone. Then some of them act like I have no right to be so broken up because he was
just a friend
. Damn it,
Michael he was
everything
to me!”

Soft sniffles reached Michael’s ears. Michael listened, silently offering support while waiting for Ryan to compose himself or for the gentle
tears to become full blown howls.

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Ryan asked.