Read True Letters from a Fictional Life Online
Authors: Kenneth Logan
True Letters from a Fictional Life (24 page)
Rex had taken his hands away from his face by this point, but he was still sniffling and wiping his nose with his sleeve. “You're gay, James? For real?”
We nodded at him.
He was twisting the toe of his sock. “Did you know you were gay because you kiss other boys?”
Luke bit his lower lip and hid his face behind his hand.
“Yeah, I guess,” I stammered. “But I knew it even before I kissed another boy.”
“And if you kiss another boy, that means you're gay?”
“Dude, has anyone explained any of this to you?” I asked, and Rex looked doubtful. “Nobody's explained any of this to you.”
“First,” Luke jumped in, leaning forward, “if you've kissed another boy, Rex, you're not necessarily gay. If you really, really liked it, you might be a little gay.”
“I didn't really like it,” Rex said.
“Then I wouldn't worry about it, man,” Luke whispered, and we exchanged wide-eyed looks.
“Look, Rex. Here's what this gay thing means. One more time. I like boys, men, the way Luke here, and most other boys, like women. The way you probably will, too. Just because you kiss another boy doesn't mean you're gay.”
“Probably depends on the kiss,” Luke interrupted, “but the main point is that James has a boyfriend, who you already know and likeâ”
“Tim Hawken,” Rex said.
Luke doubled over.
“No, not Tim Hawken,” I groaned. “Topher. You remember Topher.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Yes,” my mom said, entering the room as though on a gust of wind. “Yes, we do.” She was smiling but had clearly been crying silently. She wiped tears from her eyes.
“Are you kidding?” I yelled, standing up. “You were listening this entire time? We asked you to stay downstairs!”
“But then I heard the crash,” she said lamely.
Luke pointed to the broken glass in the framed photo.
Part of me was angry that she had been eavesdropping, but I was sort of glad that she'd heard me talking gently to Rex for once instead of telling him to shut up.
“Well, it's good that you heard the whole thing, I guess,” said Luke. “That saves young Rex here the trouble of announcing all over again that he's gay, too.”
“I'm not gay!” Rex shouted, and he hit Luke with his fist as though he were swinging a hammer.
“Even if you are, dude, it doesn't matter, right?” Luke said, grabbing Rex's wrist before he could take another swing. “Even if you are, it doesn't matter. That's the whole point of this conversation. James likes other boys, and it doesn't matter.”
Rex was looking at his feet.
“For real, Rex. You got it? Don't worry about what other kids say. If they call James a fag or a homo, or if they call
you
a fag or a homo, you tell them to go to hellâ”
“No, you don't,” said Mom.
“You tell them to go to hell, Rex, because they're being jerks. You got it?”
Rex nodded without looking up.
“Is Derek ever coming over again?”
“Yeah, of course. We're still friends.”
“And Pother?”
“Yeah, Topher will come around again, Rex, but even if he's out of the picture, I'm still going to be the same way. I'm still going to be me.”
“But with better hair,” added Luke.
My mom clapped and sang, “I think it's time for ice cream!”
Rex sat still, as though he were afraid to go until Luke and I had declared the meeting officially adjourned.
“You guys go downstairs,” I said. “Rex and I will follow you in a minute.”
They left and closed the door, and I stared at the ground until I heard their feet on the stairs. Rex was still sitting stiffly on his pillow.
“Rex, I'm sorry that kids are going to make fun of you because of me, dude.”
He didn't say anything.
“And I'm sorry that this is all going to be sort of confusing for you.”
Still not a word, not a sound.
“I hope we're still friends.” I had to admit that sounded pretty crummy, considering how often we'd fought over the past few years. But Rex put his hand on my shoulder and just kept it there without speaking.
“You okay?” he asked after a while, dropping his hand.
“Yeah, I'm okay. You?” I grabbed him around the waist and pulled him next to me, my arm around him. For a second I thought he was going to crawl into my lap.
“I thought gay guys acted like girls.”
“Some of them do.”
“How come you don't?”
“I don't know.”
“Well then, how come you like other boys?”
“Dude, I do not know. I do not freaking know. I wish I liked girls. It'd be a hell of a lot easier.”
“But you like that boy Topher?”
“Yeah, I do. He's really nice.”
“You're in love with him?”
“That might be taking it a little far, but, yeah, I like him.”
“Is he cute? Do you think he's cute?”
“Yeah,” I said eventually. “I do think he's cute. Yeah.”
“I'm allowed to tell other kids to go to hell?”
“Sure, dude. Go for it.”
“Can I use the F-bomb?”
“If Mom and Dad don't hear you, you can even use the F-bomb.”
Rex stood up. “Can I practice in the house?”
“No. Let's get some ice cream.”
“I'll come down soon. I'm going to stay and think for a while.”
Just as I was closing his door, Rex called, “James!”
I stuck my head back in.
“It's why you got punched?”
I nodded. “It's why I got punched.”
He stared at me. “Someone might punch you again?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, man. Something might happen again.” I shut his door with a click.
I went down by myself and joined Luke and our parents for a hushed conversation over strawberry and vanilla. The four of us never sit around eating ice cream. Luke and I had gone out earlier to buy it as a consolation for Rex.
From my seat at the kitchen table, I noticed a photo stuck on the fridge where the picture of Theresa and me had been. I got up, pretending that I wanted to put one of the cartons back in the freezer.
It was the photo Hawken took during that party at Derek's. I glanced back at my mom, but she didn't look up. She must have found the photo on my desk.
I leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at Topher and me, black-and-white against the fridge. He has his arm draped around my shoulders. I look like I don't care who's watching.
To everyone who read early
drafts or offered sound advice, thanks for all your patience and generosity. Special thanks to Sarah Allen-Lloyd, Christie Anderson, Eric Bennett, Louise Brooks, Cerelle Centeno, Christopher Eliot, Sean Feehan, Beth Graubert, Liz Greenberg, Sean Lally, Catriona Legrady, Paul Legrady, Franci McMahon, Kt Partridge, Langley Partridge, Andrew Saunders, Emily Silver and her Creative Writing Classes, Barb Sorenson and her Women's Lit Classes, Meghan Sterling, Evelyn Weiser, and Keith Witty.
Thank you to my outstanding agent, Rebecca Podos, and the excellent team at HarperCollins: Jon Howard, Jen
Klonsky, Elizabeth Lynch, Maya Packard, Kristen Pettit, Jenna Stempel, Lillian Sun, Kari Sutherland, and Elizabeth Ward.
Finally, thanks to my family and friends. Most of you didn't read a word of this book until its publication, but it wouldn't have come together without you.
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KENNETH LOGAN
grew up in New Jersey and taught high school English in Vermont and San Francisco. He lives in Brooklyn. You can visit him online at
www.kennethloganbooks.com
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TRUE LETTERS FROM A FICTIONAL LIFE
. Copyright © 2016 by Kenneth Logan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015955157
ISBN 978-0-06-238025-8
EPub Edition © May 2016 ISBN 9780062380272
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