The Telling (8 page)

“I know, Mom,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. This is just hard for me. I had no idea what you might think or say, and I
couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me.”

“Son, that ain’t a-happening. Ever. I love you and I want you to be happy. This isn’t what I would have chosen for you
because I know how hard it’ll be. Teddy and Nick caught hell before they finally picked up and moved to Atlanta.”

Teddy had been a childhood friend of his mother’s and proof, in Michael’s eyes, that gay wasn’t a choice. There was no way
you’d mistake Ted Funderburk for a straight man—ever. Nick, however, was a football hero and all ‘round good ol’
boy. The town gossips reached the conclusion that Teddy somehow corrupted their favorite son and infected him with the gay disease. The two men had faced a
tough battle long before Michael truly understood the issue. After all these years they were still together, so that counted for something, right?

“Well, I don’t plan on marching down Main Street in a rainbow shirt, Ma. And I could always go to college somewhere
else…” He hated to bring up leaving because he’d just gotten home and didn’t want his mom to worry all over again.
But he already felt like a traitor for allowing her to create a nice apartment when he had no intention of staying any longer than necessary. Still, the
worn look around her eyes reminded him of her worries—worries he’d add to by leaving.

“You do what’s right for you, son, and to hell with what people say. They’re too busy screwing up their own lives to worry
about yours.” Her soft soprano filled the car then as she sang a line from a 70’s song that mirrored the sentiment, then glanced over
at him and smiled. “I always loved that song. I do have one question for you, though.”

Fear momentarily gripped his heart when his mother grinned and asked, “Who is he?”

“What?!” Michael sputtered.

“If you’re telling me now it must be because you’ve met someone, right?” Her heart-shaped face glowed with
excitement. “Are you gonna bring home a keeper to meet your mama?”

Damn, did she have to be so darned intuitive? Not quite ready to talk about prospects yet, he bluffed with, “No one in particular. But
I’m hoping one day.”

“Today just might be your lucky day.” She gave him a coy, sidelong glance.

Before he could ask what she meant they were pulling into the driveway of his grandparents’ house. She must have been driving slowly so that they
could talk longer, for an aging Buick was already parked under the shed. His grandparents had beaten them.

As his mother turned the key and killed the ignition, Michael asked, “What do you mean?” They had just moments to conclude this
conversation and he was
not
going into the house with unfinished business.

“Well, it seems Dad has taken a liking to one of your sister’s roommates and invited him to Sunday dinner with us.”

“And…” Michael prompted. He swallowed hard, already suspecting what she might say.

“Well, he’s gay,” she blurted as if it was the greatest thing in the world. “I’ll bet he can teach you
all you need to know.” She winked and added, “And he’s cute, too!”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael replied, but only after his mother had gotten out of the car and was well out of earshot. She had to be talking
about Jay. Michael groaned, forming a clear image of what he’d like Jay to teach him.

***

Sunday dinner at his grandparents’ house was exactly as remembered, with plenty of good food like fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried
okra, buttermilk biscuits, and home-canned sweet corn. Pie or cake waited at the meal’s end, too. Michael didn’t comment on the small
pitcher of tea placed beside his plate, knowing without asking it was decaffeinated as his doctor had recommended. Grandma had used sugar instead of a
substitute, thank God. Some things he was simply unwilling to give up.

He’d barely talked with his grandparents at church since they were in the seniors’ Sunday school class and then sat with the choir
during service. Apparently, his mom had clued them in about his anxiety attacks so they let him leave church and retreat into the relative safety of the
car without detaining him, even managing to divert well-wishers. Michael had been reluctant to tell them himself, knowing they’d just worry even
more than they already did.

Grandpa asked the blessing and, “Please pass the chicken,” followed “Amen”, along with “Can I get some of
that okra down here,” and “Anyone want the last biscuit?” The table was so laden that passing the dishes was precarious.
Finally, all plates were filled and they got down to the business of eating and socializing, the glue that held Southern families together. Only Jay
remained silent, merely picking at his meal with downcast eyes.

Michael found their close proximity distracting, his leg occasionally brushing against Jay’s, causing an instant reaction from his easily
provoked body. If Jay noticed, he didn’t let it show. In fact, he was polite, soft spoken and the perfect dinner companion, if a little reserved.

Angie abruptly spoke up. “Dern, Jay; what’s wrong with you today? You haven’t spoken two words and you’ve barely
touched your chicken.”

Grandma Ramsey leaned up from the end of the table to observe Jay’s plate. “Is something wrong with the chicken, Jay? I could fix you
something else, if you’d like.”

“No, Grandma, everything’s fine. I was just listening to everybody and got distracted.” To prove his point Jay picked up the
drumstick he’d been toying with and took a bite. “Great as always, ma’am.”

That seemed to satisfy the old woman and she relaxed back into her chair. Angie, however, scrutinized Jay, possibly waiting for another
faux pas
she could comment on.

She really does treat him like she treats me
.

After dinner the ladies cleaned up while the men retired to the living room to explore that male bonding ritual of sports watching. NASCAR was on. That was
one of the things Michael had dearly missed in his time away—watching the race with his grandpa.

Since Angie’s comment about Jay’s behavior, Michael noticed the subtle difference in how he held himself and acted. His captivating
smile didn’t make an appearance all afternoon. When Gramps excused himself during a commercial, Michael finally had to ask, “Jay, have
I done something to offend you? I mean, you’re not acting yourself. I may not know you that well, but Angie does. And… you never
called me.” He hated sounding so whiny, but once the words were out there was no taking them back.

“What? Of course I called you! You never returned the call so I thought maybe you just didn’t want anything to do with
Angie’s pet fag.” The hurt in Jay’s voice was like a slap in the face. Then the words registered.

“You called me?”

“Yeah, Coach Anders gave me two tickets to the Hawks game, and I thought maybe you might wanna go. But you never called me back.”

Mouth falling open, Michael grabbed his cell phone. Sure enough, the little icon on the screen displayed a message. “Oh my God, Jay.
I’m so sorry. I had other messages and thought that was it. I never even played yours!”

The rigid set of Jay’s shoulders relaxed. “So you weren’t blowing me off?” Michael couldn’t help but
notice how hopeful Jay looked. Most encouraging.

“Are you kidding? It was a Hawks game! Do you have any idea how long it’s been…” He shut up with he realized how
he sounded. “I mean, well…”

Suddenly that smile he’d been missing made an appearance. “That’s okay,” Jay reassured him. “I know what
you mean. Just a little missed communication, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, relieved to see the old Jay back.

“So, we still on for pizza?”

“Sure. But you should know that I have a hard time going out sometimes, it makes me really anxious. Does that bother you?”

Jay leaned up from where he’d been sitting and stared Michael squarely in the eyes. “You obviously have never met my family if you
think a little thing like anxiety is gonna bother me. Jeez, I think we have all the major phobias covered in my immediate family alone. And don’t
even get me started on the cousins!” Jay grinned and Michael took it to mean he was joking. Of course, even if he wasn’t
Jay’s family couldn’t be any worse than Michael’s own cousins.

“Don’t worry about it, dude, I understand. Believe me, I do. I’d have taken good care of you.”

That might be a double-entendre. In fact, Michael hoped so, but he had to take this slow. Just because things went well with coming out to his mother
didn’t mean he was ready to announce his orientation to the world.

Gramps broke the mood with his return. Jay leaned back into the loveseat as though he’d been there the whole time.

Grandpa’s gaze darted between Jay and Michael. “Did I miss something?”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat until realizing what his grandfather meant.
Oh, yeah. He’s talking about the race.

Chapter Six

Tuesday night found Jay sitting in front of the television in Michael’s apartment, munching burgers and watching a reality show. As Michael
didn’t watch much prime-time television, his guest’s slow Texas drawl provided a running commentary, filling him in on the details of
the program that, apparently, Jay adored.

“So, they all have to live and work on this farm when most of them have never even seen a cow before,” Jay concluded, the camera
panning to show two inappropriately dressed young women attempting to clean a horse stall while wearing high heels and very tight blue jeans. Michael would
have bet good money that their breasts were store bought. One kept falling off her own shoes while the other bemoaned a broken fingernail. They’d
never last a minute at his grandfather’s place.

The men on the show weren’t faring much better, and he and Jay both laughed, watching Maurice, an aspiring model, run from the barn, chased by a
small pink piglet.

Animated expressions and hand gestures accompanied Jay’s dialog, a drastic change from what Michael was used to. Even Angie seemed reserved in
comparison. The enthusiasm proved contagious, and Michael soon found Jay far more interesting to watch than the program.

“Oh! Look!” Jay exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “That’s Lisa, a Wall Street broker. She’s gonna win
this thing, I just know it.” He cocked his head as the meticulously attired blonde scolded the two hopeless cases in the stall. Michael found
himself jealous of Lisa, wishing those dark eyes looked at him with such single-minded focus.

Occasionally a flirtatious grin would flash his way, or he’d be on the receiving end of a little light teasing, but that was just Jay, the
attention wasn’t intended the way Michael wanted it to be. Several times he’d started to say something and let his interest be known,
but whenever he opened his mouth he lost his nerve and the moment passed. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch sometimes, only fear of
rejection kept him from acting on his impulses.

He contented himself with what time he had, enjoying the easy friendship they were building. Besides, watching Jay watch TV was quality entertainment. At
the end of the show when Jay uttered an “Awwwww” at Maurice snoozing in the hay barn, piglet cuddled in his arms, Michael wanted to do
the same to Jay.

All too soon his guest stood up, his shirt riding up his belly when he stretched. “Well, I’d best get going,” Jay said
between yawns, “I’ve got a test in the morning.”

Walking Jay through the dimly lit store to the front door, the words were poised on the tip of Michael’s tongue to ask him out the next night,
but he froze, unable to get them out. In the end he said nothing.

Jay stood at the door, waiting. After a few silent moments he said, “I had fun. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” Then he
was gone.

The moment was right, and he’d blown it. Michael stood watching the tail lights of Jay’s car disappearing into the night, kicking
himself for the missed opportunity.

***

On Friday Angie convinced Michael to visit, though he couldn’t understand how partying with a bunch of college kids could possibly to be good for
him. The deciding factor had been his mom’s threat to burn down his apartment, bookstore be damned, if he didn’t get out occasionally.

Out of his comfort zone, not in the mood to socialize, he sat in the crowded living room, apart from his sister’s carefree roommates and their
guests. Angie only made matters worse by her constant nagging, urging him to dance, have a beer, meet someone and get laid. Not a chance in hell of that
happening.

All around him people were laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves, and there he sat brooding on the couch, wondering how soon he could leave without
appearing rude. Though unwilling to admit it, part of the problem was that Jay wasn’t there. The real reason he’d given in and agreed
to attend at all was in hopes of seeing the handsome Texan, even if he lacked the courage to do more than look and enjoy the company and witty
conversation.

Tilting his head back, beer bottle poised at his lips, he allowed the cool brew to slide down his throat; the liquid quenching his thirst and the alcohol
quenching his pain. Temporarily, that is. With the consumption of alcohol came the loosening of inhibitions until, without his control or knowledge, he
descended into that place where he dared not go sober. The conversation, music, and dancing dulled and faded into the background until only the bass beat
of the music remained, morphing into a more regular whoop-whoop-whoop of helicopter blades, or the tat-tat-tat of firing rounds. His breathing deepened and
his heart raced as the downward spiral carried him away—carried him back to
that day.

A morning like any other: inspection, breakfast, mounting up and heading out, the usual tension-laced small talk while breaking and moving camp. The
men packed their things as efficiently as they could, used to the routine. Gun in hand, Michael joined his comrades in the waiting vehicles, heading
off to yet another destination that he couldn’t pronounce.

Normally, he would have been closer to the head of the convoy, but that day, for reasons he couldn’t recall, he rode farther back. He
didn’t remember much about the hours leading up to the event, maybe he’d been chatting with those seated near him, or perhaps they
were all quiet, nervous and tense, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. Whatever had been happening, though, ceased to be important
when that moment of that day
occurred.