Breakneck
Chapter 4: Slip
"So that was it—a blow job in the bathroom of some bar? You didn't get laid last night?" Daphne sounded crushed, as though it was her sex drive that had not been sated.
"Of course I did," I said impatiently. "If you'd shut the fuck up for ten seconds, you'd know that."
I could practically hear her roll her eyes. "You are such a brat."
"Well, if you don't wanna hear..."
"Shut up. You know I do."
I grinned. "So. When he went off into the backroom with that trick, I was like, 'Fuck you!' and I got my own. He was hot. Tall, dark curly hair, and that really nice golden skin tone that mixed race people have, you know?"
"Thanks," Daphne said dryly.
"Well, it was nice!" I said, a bit huffy with yet another interruption. "You have beautiful cocoa skin, and if you were a guy, I would totally jerk off just thinking about the tones of your skin. Happy?"
"Delirious."
I ignored her. "So I fucked him in the backroom, and then I was dancing for, like, ever. This dude with a fez kept buying me drinks from across the bar, which was kind of creepy, but it was free alcohol so whatever. But then he came over and kept trying to feel me up, so I shoved him and I was about to leave when Brian put his hand on the back of my neck and was like, 'Running off so soon, Sunshine?'. And then he took me back to the loft, and we fucked."
"How was it?"
"Amazing, of course," I said obviously. "I think he was still a little freaked about last time, because he rimmed me for, like, an hour before he actually put his dick in. And he was kind of gentle, too. Then I got him to give me a ride—"
I stopped as the door swung open and Mom poked her head in.
"—and I can get you my notes on the lecture on Monday," I went on smoothly, although Mom did not look impressed so she probably wasn't fooled. "But I really don't know what else to tell you. Maybe you can talk to him after class?"
"Your mom there?" Daphne sounded amused.
"Yeah," I said. "You should be fine."
"Right. I'll call back tonight."
"See you."
Daphne hung up, and I put the phone down to face Mom.
"Luke still asleep?" she asked, her eyes going up to the ceiling where Luke was taking his afternoon nap up in my room.
I nodded.
She sat down in the seat across from me. I'd taken up residence behind my father's desk for my conversation with Daphne because it was the only room in the house that was downstairs and had a door, besides the bathroom. I was lucky that Dad was in afternoon meetings with some big shot from Japan, otherwise I would've been having my conversation on the toilet.
Sitting behind Dad's desk, I had a vague sense of empowerment. I felt a little better about the impending discussion.
"So," Mom said, looking at me as though she were waiting for me to begin.
Why not?
"I'm a faggot," I said bluntly. "A cocksucker. A fudge-packer. I like to take it up the ass and I give a hell of a blowjob. Is that what you want to hear?"
Her expression was inscrutable for a long moment, and then she slowly exhaled. "Of course it isn't what I want to hear. I'm your mother."
I stared, keeping my face impassive. I wasn't sure if it was a rejection, and didn't know what to say. No mother wanted to hear that her child was gay, or that her child gave really fucking good head?
"It's just such a surprise," she said, almost pleadingly.
Pleading for it to not be true?
"You never suspected?" I demanded. "You never even thought?"
She frowned. "Well, I did, until Sara, and then I was just so..."
"Relieved?" I challenged.
"Busy worrying about other things." She had a pointed look on her face, which usually meant that she thought I was out of line. "I just let the whole idea drop from my mind."
But what about now? Would she let it drop now, ignore me, shove me back into the closet because she couldn't deal?
"Well, it's time to pull it back out," I said, rather snottily, when she didn't say anything more. "I'm queer. And I'm not going to fucking change, even if you hate me for it."
Mom exhaled again, her eyes bright. "Oh, Justin. I could never hate you. You're my son, and I love you no matter what."
Tangible relief.
She still loved me.
"Really?" My voice cracked a little.
Mom reached across the desk and put her hand over mine. "Yes. Really."
My throat tightened, and I had to work to keep myself under control. But—but Mom was okay with it. She was okay with me.
"I'm not saying that I don't need to adjust to the idea," she said slowly. "But if that's what you are, Justin, then... Okay."
"Okay?"
She squeezed my hand, smiling. "Okay."
Relief was still pounding in my veins, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to absorb everything that I was feeling so that it would die down a little bit.
"So, tell me about this Brian of yours," Mom said, making me open my eyes in surprise. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Thank god for motherly distraction tactics.
"Um. Sort of," I said, hoping that she wouldn't press for details.
"Were you with him last night?" she asked.
I nodded. "Are you gonna tell Dad?"
A moment's pause.
"He should know," Mom said at last.
I felt a spike of fear, and the last vestiges of relief were sucked out of me in seconds. "He doesn't need to know. He can't know. He can't."
"He's your father."
"He'll use it as an excuse to take Luke away! You know he will!"
Mom remained passive in the face of my yelling. "Justin, I can't keep something like this from him. It's not right."
"And it's not right, the way he's been treating me, but you let him get away with that," I hissed.
Mom winced. "I hardly think—"
"You can't tell him."
She stared at me, visibly torn.
"You can't."
"All right," she finally conceded, not sounding happy. "I won't say anything."
I fell back into the chair, closing my eyes and letting out a huge breath of air. "Thank you. Thank you. You're the best mom ever."
She sighed. "So says my coffee mug."
Molly and I had bought it for her three years ago. I really couldn't believe that she still used it, but every morning without fail, she had it on the table.
Mom rose from her chair, brushing herself off. "Now, I have laundry to fold, and you have homework to do. Upstairs with you."
I held in a groan, thinking about the agony of William Falkner, and the extensive chapter summaries that I now owed Daphne. But the hug and the kiss on the cheek Mom gave me on my way out of the office made me feel a little bit better about it all.
ooo
A while later, I was laying on my bed and reading Addie's whining about how having children had violated her 'aloneness' and thinking she was the most irritating character ever. Luke was awake but entertaining himself in his crib—he kept pulling himself up to a standing position, clutching the bars on the crib, and then sitting back down. Up and down, up and down, up and down, for almost twenty minutes.
But when my father opened the door, any feelings of peace or contentment I might have been languishing in vanished.
"What?" I asked.
Had Mom told him? Did he know?
"We're having company tomorrow afternoon," Dad said.
I was relieved, until his words sunk in, and then I was suspicious.
Dad's eyes went to Luke, who was now sitting and staring at him with interest. "You're welcome to join us, if you can find a babysitter."
My eyes narrowed. "And if I can't? Why isn't Luke allowed to come? It's not like it's some huge secret that I knocked up some girl at school last year."
"They don't know that you've been taking care of him," Dad said evenly.
I shut my book and sat up on the bed. "You can't hide him forever. Mr. Anderson's been gone for more than three weeks, now. He's not coming back. Luke is here to stay, Dad."
"They don't know that," Dad replied readily.
"Of course," I sneered. "Mr. Anderson never bothered with the country club, did he? Why should they care about him? Just let them assume that he's dealt with the death of his only child, and is happily raising his grandson in her place."
"This gathering is no place for a baby," Dad said calmly, as non-reactive to my anger as Mom. "If you can't find a babysitter, then you'll have to watch him yourself. In your room."
And then he turned to leave.
"You can't keep us locked up forever!" I yelled after him, furious. "Eventually, everyone's gonna find out that your son is raising his bastard child in your house!"
He shut my door with a click.
I stared at the closed door, flexing my fists and positively steaming with anger. He thought he could keep us hidden? What were we, his dirty little secret? I was his son! I was supposed to be a hell of a lot more important than his goddamn social standing at the motherfucking country club.
Luke let out a string of nervous babble, and my train of thought was derailed.
"Shit," I muttered, closing my eyes.
More baby babble.
I opened my eyes, standing up and walking over to his crib. "It's all right," I told him, running a hand over his soft blonde hair. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry I keep getting angry when you're around—hopefully, I'll learn to stop doing that before you're old enough to be psychologically traumatized by it, right?"
Luke gave me a drool-filled smile, and then babbled a bit more.
ooo
I appealed to my mother about my banishment, but she was merely sympathetic.
"I'm sorry, Justin, but your father's right. It's no place for a baby. Anyway, it's only the Silvermans and the Kubuskos—you don't even like them very much."
"That isn't the point!" I said furiously. "I'm not a prisoner. He can't just hide me and Luke whenever someone comes over. Mr. Anderson isn't coming back, and Luke is here. Permanently"
"Honey, the people that are coming over tomorrow? They agree with your father. They think that you should put Luke up for adoption, and they've been pushing for that idea ever since they heard about the situation." She patted my arm. "Your father's just trying to protect you."
"Bullshit!"
"Justin."
"Well, it is. And you know it. The only thing he's protecting is his reputation. What's he going to do if he finds out that I'm gay? Are you gonna let him try to beat the gayness out of me, because he's 'protecting me'?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. Look at it this way: Do you want to expose Luke to the Silvermans and Kubuskos? People who would rather see him shipped off to an infertile couple in Lower Manhattan?"
"That's not the point," I said through clenched teeth.
"Well, it may not be your point, but it's a good one nevertheless."
I wasn't getting anywhere.
"Thanks for nothing, Mom," I snapped as I stormed out of the room.
ooo
Late Sunday afternoon found me holed up in my room with Luke while the party went on downstairs. I had been hoping that Luke would be unusually fussy today so that his cries would be heard throughout the house, forcing my father to tell everyone about us, but Luke was in a good mood. Generally, as long as I wasn't losing my temper, he was a pretty happy kid.
Currently, I was reading to him from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. The parallel of the situations could not be ignored.
"No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."
I paused, looking up to see Luke clinging to the leg of his crib, standing on shaky feet.
"You know this makes you Dobby, right?" I asked him. "The loud, obnoxious elf who couldn't give a rat's ass that there's company downstairs?"
Luke let go of the pole and fell on his diaper-cushioned butt, and then giggled.
"You're supposed to try to stay upright, dude," I informed him, reaching over and tickling his belly a little. "You're not supposed to like falling down. That's the bad part."
Luke giggled some more, grabbing onto one of my hands with both of his and raising it up. Then over. Then down a little.
"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as he played with my hand a bit more before finally pushing it all the way away from his body. Then, apparently, satisfied, he turned his attention back to the leg on his crib.
He was fuckin' adorable, as Debbie would say. How could Dad want to hide him?
"Fuck that," I said, my mind suddenly made up.
I shut Harry Potter and shoved it off to the side, pushing myself up off the ground. Luke had pulled himself up again on the leg of the crib, and I caught him just as he let go.
"C'mon, dude," I said, grabbing his stuffed hippo before heading for the door. "We're done hiding up here, making no noise and pretending we don't exist. Harry didn't do it, and neither will we."
Luke grabbed the hippo and shoved one of the legs into his mouth, making happy noises around it and drooling a little. He had been drooling more than usual in the last two days.
"Do you have another tooth coming in?" I asked him as we headed down the stairs. From the sounds I was hearing, everyone was in the front sitting room. "You haven't been cranky, and you drove your Mom crazy when you got your first two. I'll stick your ring in the freezer just in case, okay?"
Luke continued to chew on the leg.
I wandered into the kitchen, keeping up my one-sided conversation. The kitchen led directly into the living room, which was connected to the sitting room. They wouldn't be able to see me, but they would hear me.
No doubt they were staying away from the kitchen so they wouldn't see the high chair in the corner. I scowled.
"It's almost dinner time for you, isn't it?" I asked sweetly. "Yes it is. How about some red lentils? And some peas and carrots?"
I dragged the high chair over to the kitchen table, letting the rubber legs drag on the floor loudly. After all, I only had one hand free. I couldn't help it.
In the sitting room, conversation was at a pause.
I set Luke in the high chair, and he immediately threw his hippo to the ground and then delighted as I picked it up.
"I'll give you a banana first," I told him. "You can eat that while I warm up the rest of your dinner, okay?"
I heard my mother say something quietly, and my father muttered something.
I set to work on the banana.
Seconds later, Dad stomped into the kitchen.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his face a funny shade of red. "I told you to—"
"Stay up in my room, make no noise and pretend not to exist," I interrupted calmly, slicing the banana. "I know. But Luke was hungry. Was I supposed to let him starve?"
Dad stared at me, clearly struggling not to shout because there were people in the next room. He was pissed. Royally pissed.
"What did you tell them?" I asked, setting the banana slices in front of Luke. "I was babysitting someone else's kid?"
"Go to your room," he said in a low voice. "Now."
"Luke needs his dinner."
Dad intercepted me on my way to the cupboard, grabbing my arm and shaking me. "You get your ass upstairs, now, or I will—"
"Craig?" Mom called quietly, wandering in. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing? Let him go!"
Dad released me roughly, and I stumbled back a step.
I raised my head and spoke before Dad could cut me off. "I was feeding Luke his dinner. He was hungry."
Mom looked between us, giving me a vaguely exasperated look. She knew that I'd done this on purpose, and she wasn't amused.
"Jennifer? What's wro—"
And then Mrs. Silverman froze, staring at Luke.
The secret was out.
ooo
Dad waited until the door had shut behind the Silvermans and Kubuskos before turning on me.
"I told you to stay in your goddamn room!"
Luke burst into tears.
I swallowed, pulling my resolve together. "You can't hide me, Dad. I won't let you."
"As long as you live under this roof, you will respect me. You will listen to me. You are living in my house, eating the food that I put on the table, going to the school that I pay for, and I will not have you embarrassing me!"
I rocketed to my feet. "He's not an embarrassment! He's a child! He's my child!"
Luke wailed, and I abruptly realized how tightly I was holding him.
Mom tried to approach me. "Justin, why don't you—"
"Fuck off," I snapped, jerking away.
"Apologize to your mother," Dad growled.
I clutched Luke tighter to me, ignoring his squalling. "No. No, you know what? Both of you can fuck off! Fucking fuck off already! You put your motherfucking party over your grandson, so FUCK OFF!"
I screamed the last words so loudly my throat hurt, and my eyes swam with tears. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stand to be in the same room as them anymore.
I took the stairs two at a time, Luke still screaming in my arms.
ooo
"They fought for, like, an hour last night," I told Daphne as she shuffled through her locker for her history notebook. "And Molly was being a total brat. She stuck her head in my room and was all like, 'I hope you're happy with yourself. I never make them fight.'"
"Well, did you think they'd be happy with you after ruining their party?" Daphne asked.
I frowned. "Well, no. But I didn't do it to make them fight—I just want my father to acknowledge that Luke exists for a change!"
"It was pretty shitty of him," Daphne agreed. There was a thump from her locker as something fell from the top shelf, and she swore.
"I think he's secretly Uncle Vernon, from the second Harry Potter book."
Daphne brought her head out, staring at me. "Oh my God. You are such a dork."
I swatted her arm. "Shut up, you know it's true. I was reading it to Luke last night—he's totally Dobby the House Elf."
"Oh my God," Daphne groaned. She finally pulled out her history notebook and slammed her locker shut. "I don't know you. Walk behind me."
Grinning, I slung an arm over her shoulders. "You know you love me."
Daphne grumbled.
"Anyway. So does that offer about measuring your plants for you this week still stand?"
She glanced at me. "You're allowed to go out? Aren't you, like, grounded?"
"Not really," I said, shrugging. "I mean, how can they ground me? I spend all my time at home with Luke anyway. Besides, fuck that. I want to see Brian again."
"I totally cannot believe that your mom is okay with you dating him," Daphne said, making a face.
"We're not dating," I said automatically.
Daphne waved a hand. "Fucking. Whatever. He's so old!"
"He's only twenty-nine. And my mother doesn't know that—I think she thinks he's my age or something."
"You really think that she's gonna keep it a secret from your dad?" Daphne asked, lowering her voice as we headed into the classroom.
I opened my mouth to respond when suddenly my balance was thrown and I went sprawling forward, my backpack lurching up and slamming into the back of my head.
"Justin!" Daphne squealed, down by my side in an instant.
I glanced up and saw Chris Hobbs standing above me, smirking. "Walk much, twinkle-toes?"
"Fuck off," I muttered, picking myself up.
"What an asshole," Daphne said as she followed me to the back of the room. "He didn't used to be so mean to you."
I decided not to mention that his sudden aggression towards me was probably related to the fact that I'd jerked him off in the storage room a few weeks ago. That had been a mistake, and now I was paying for it. Chris Hobbs would lay off me after a while.
ooo
Life consisted of school and Luke for the next few days. Dad was still steaming over Sunday and refused to speak to me, and while Mom wasn't too upset with me, she did tend to sigh and then leave the room whenever I dared to leave my bedroom. Dinners were silent, with the exception of Molly's incessant chattering and Luke's babbling. School was a bit better, with the exception of Chris Hobbs & Co. But the only truly bright spots in my life were Luke, Daphne, and the thought of seeing Brian again on Friday.
By Thursday morning, I was miserable. And I looked bad enough that Daphne took one look at me and said, "You look like shit. We're sneaking out after third period and going downtown."
We'd never skipped school before, and I was surprised at how easy it was.
"We have got to do this more often!" I said, swallowing the last of the hotdog I'd bought from a street vendor. "Why didn't I think of this?"
"Um, because if we get caught, we'll be in sooooo much trouble?" Daphne suggested.
I rolled my eyes. "Please. We snuck into a club with a fake ID, while underage, and appropriated alcohol. What's a few school rules next to that?"
"This place looks so different during the day," Daphne said as we strolled past Woody's, changing the subject.
In the daylight, Liberty Avenue did look a lot different. Not in a bad way. It almost felt like a little gay utopia, with queers strolling down the streets carrying grocery bags, arguing over whose turn it was to clean the bathroom, comparing notes on new condom brands... I noticed for the first time that there were hanging baskets of ivy hung from a few lampposts.
"Yeah," I said belatedly. "I don't feel obligated to get horny just by standing here."
Daphne smacked my arm, giggling. "Ew!"
I was about to smack her back when a blonde head caught my eyes. "Hey! It's one of Brian's lesbians!"
"What, does he keep them in a tank?" Daphne asked, but I was already running to catch up with her.
"Hey—hey!" I called.
Lindsay stopped, turning around to look at me in confusion. She was pushing a stroller, which presumably contained Gus.
"Hi!" I said brightly as Daphne came to a stop beside me.
Lindsay frowned. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm Justin. I was with Brian the night Gus was born? And, um, I named him?"
"Yeah..." she said, giving me a funny look. Probably wondering why the hell that entitled me to stop her on the street.
"I, um..." I cast about for an excuse, before noticing what she was carrying. "You looked like you could use a hand. It's got to be hard to push the stroller and carry all those... are those portfolios?"
"Yes, they are," Lindsay said, sounding surprised that I knew that. She smiled at me. "I was just on my way to the Gay and Lesbian Center. I'd be happy to have help, although it's just up this block."
I grabbed three of the enormous portfolios.
"This is my friend Daphne, by the way," I said as I passed one of the heavy bags off to her.
Daphne waved. "Hi. Um. I'm not a lesbian. But I'm a big fan!"
Lindsay paused, apparently not sure what to say to that.
"So what are these for?" I asked, hefting them over my shoulder, where they banged against my backpack. We started walking again.
"The GLC is having an art show next week," Lindsay answered. "I'm going to have to sort through all of this and decide whose art will be going up, and Mel was a bit tired of not being able to sit down on the couch."
"Justin's an artist, too, you know," Daphne said.
Lindsay looked at me, her eyebrows going up. "Are you really?"
I shrugged. "I'm pretty good."
"And modest," Lindsay laughed.
"Justin, you should enter the art show!" Daphne said excitedly. "Is it too late to enter?"
"I could take a look at your work, if you'd like," Lindsay offered to me. "If it's good enough, I'll take a few late submissions."
She stopped and turned, and I found myself at the GLC. It was a larger building, a little run-down, but this was partially hidden by the posters that were plastered on the outside of the building, advertising things like free anonymous HIV testing, an LGTBQ picnic, and an all-male production of Sweet Charity that would be going up next month.
"I've got my sketchbook with me," I said. "I'll show it to you when we set this stuff down."
I wasn't even sure that I could make the art show, but the idea of my work being displayed—maybe even bought, if it was that kind of show—it made me excited. Since quitting art club, I'd been isolated from the world of art.
The portfolios went in a backroom of the GLC, up against a desk. From the stroller, Gus began to fuss a little, and Lindsay unbuckled him. I shrugged off my backpack and went for my sketchbook.
"I'll trade you," I said, offering her the sketchbook.
Lindsay looked a little doubtful, but held out Gus anyway. "Just make sure you get the back of his—yeah, like that. Good." She smiled at me. "You're a natural!"
"Something like that," I said, holding Gus in the same way that I'd held Luke in the first few months of his life. I grinned down at the baby, who was staring at me with wide eyes and an apprehensive expression. "Hey there," I said softly. "I'm Justin."
Gus blinked a few times, and then decided not to start crying, to my great relief. I focused on Lindsay, who was flipping through my sketchbook.
There was a running competition between Brian and Luke for the Most Sketched Subject award, and I watched as Lindsay flipped through pages filled with images of both of them. Luke, Luke, Brian, Luke, Brian naked, Brian's face mid-orgasm, Luke, Brian... And then there was Sara. Dead Sara. Cal's face, awash in grief and shock. Cal's retreating back down the hallway of the hospital.
Lindsay stopped at that one.
"These are incredible, Justin," she said, glancing up at me. "This one in particular. The slump of his shoulders, the shading from the lights... You captured something raw here."
I nodded. "Yeah."
She turned the page, revealing an experiment I'd done two weeks ago in abstractions of hands. Lindsay paused at that, too.
"I was, uh... That was new," I said haltingly.
"It's not bad for a first attempt," Lindsay said, turning it horizontally. "You might try the same idea, but maybe with color?"
I frowned. "Maybe."
Lindsay looked at it a moment longer, and then shut the sketchbook. "Get me your submissions by Saturday morning, and you're in. You're very talented, Justin."
"Thanks," I said, grinning.
"Are you an artist, too?" Daphne asked.
"A failed one, I'm afraid," Lindsay said, looking a bit sheepish. "I'm just an art teacher, now. And speaking of school, shouldn't you two be in class? Aren't you still in high school?"
"Senior skip day," I lied promptly.
Daphne quickly nodded in agreement.
Lindsay laughed. "Oh, now that brings back memories. God. High school."
Gus started to fuss in my arms, and I instinctively adjusted my grip, rocking him a little and making shushing noises.
"I can take him," Lindsay offered, arms held out.
He was quiet again, but I handed him back over anyway.
"Will Brian be at the show?" I asked, before I could stop myself.
"He holds a certain... contempt for the GLC," Lindsay said carefully.
I frowned. "Why?"
She shrugged. "He calls it, 'the place where fags go when they can't get laid'. He... doesn't do community. But I'll see what I can do. Mel and I will definitely be there—we're on the board for the center."
"Cool," I said. "So, um, do you need anything else?"
"Well, Gus and I are on our way to the pediatrician, so I think we'll have to brave that alone. But thanks for the offer." Lindsay gave me a smile. Despite the obvious country club manners that had been ingrained in her as they had in Daphne and I, she seemed to really mean it. I decided that I liked Lindsay.
"Anytime," I said.
"It was nice meeting you," Daphne added.
And so Lindsay said goodbye, and Daphne and I were left to decide what to do with the two hours of freedom we had left before I had to get back home. Suddenly feeling inspired, I wanted to go to the art supply store and get new pencils. Daphne said that I had enough pencils to build a birdcage already, and that she wanted to go to a tattoo parlor where a decent fake ID operation was apparently in business in the backroom. She began forcibly dragging me in the direction of the parlor as soon as we were out of the GLC.
Oh, well. I needed a fake ID more than pencils, anyway.
