Title: Tastes of Home
Writer: Azure K Mello
Part: 6
Feedback: Please! I wait for it like a trained dog, plus I like to know what people are thinking, it's reassuring.
Apologies. All we hear in the east about the Midwest is about the close- mindedness of the people who live there, I'm sure that this is an unfair stereotype that has been promoted through bigotry and the actions of a minority such as in the awful case of Mathew Sheppard. Statements made within this story are not meant to offend any Midwesterners who read it. For two teenagers who grew up in NYC these are real fears that have been instilled in them from media and gossip. That is not to say that that gay people don't get beaten up in NYC, they do. But then it's the devil you know. For instance I take the subway home at 12:30 at night without fear when I could be in danger but then I go down to the Smoky Mountains and I lock my car doors because I've seen Deliverance too many times. Is that fair? No. Is it logical? Not really. But it's true none the less. Again I hope that this doesn't offend anyone.
Other notes in prior parts.
"You're cold," said Jackson after a moment's pause.
"I'm sorry, I thought I was giving you reason to hope." Ephram sighed heavily trying to figure out things in his head. "It's so easy here. I'm the hated outcast, my father killed the town's favorite son, and I don't have to deal with anyone. And I guess all of my popular people skills died, because this is really far too hard. I'm not trying to be cold."
"I meant physically cold." He pulled off his jacket, "I wish you would embrace outerwear." Ephram didn't move to take the jacket. "The guys will kill me if you freeze to death while I'm here. Humor me, I'm wearing a sweater. You're wearing a tee-shirt. Hey that's one of mine! I was looking for that."
"You got my heart while I got the clothes you weren't cool enough to pull off."
"Anyone can pull off an Op Ivy shirt," said Jackson as they arrived at the mechanics. There was a small parking lot outside and there in all her glory was the duct tape chariot. "Isn't she beautiful?"
"Would you like me to lie?" asked Ephram with a smirk.
"She gets me away from my parents and four siblings. She got me to you."
"Well when you put it like that. . ."
"Ephram?" asked a voice and Ephram turned to see Bright standing with a bunch of his jock friends. "I thought you said you were staying home." He looked hurt as though someone had kicked his puppy.
"I was planning on being sad at my piano until four am like any normal person would be on a Friday night. But Jackson's car broke down so he's staying here and we had to come get his stuff." He nodded to Jack who was leaning into the backseat of the car searching through his stuff. "What are you doing?"
"Movies, want to come? Things will be blowing up." Bright smirked.
"No but thanks, have fun." Bright smiled at him with fake brevity and walked away without another word.
Jackson slammed the car door that creaked badly. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say I don't like him." He said with gentle anger. His eyes glinted and something inside of Ephram melted. The resolve to not fall into old patterns and to be cautious went right out his mind.
"Who, Bright? *Nothing* will happen between Bright and me. He wasn't hitting on me," Jackson rolled his eyes, "to hit on me he would have to make some sort of an overture and in this town he's never going to come out let alone try to get a boyfriend. This is small town Colorado, no matter how hard people try to be accepting this is still middle America and there is always a very high chance of things going very badly. I mean there was that whole Mathew Sheppard thing, so I guess it is a worry. I don't think I would like it to be public knowledge that I'm "that way,": not here. . . Are you jealous?" he asked raising an eyebrow.
"Would it be points for or against me if I said yes?" he asked in a dejected tone. "I trust you implicitly. I just don't like. . ."
"It's kind of nice. Kinda missed it. You're allowed to not like someone hitting on your boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" asked Jack quickly, "I thought you needed time."
"I did too." His tone was bemused. "But here's the thing. It hurts when we're not together. So what's the point of *not* being together to save us from hurting. That's one of my most illogical reasonings yet."
"Is that a word? Reasonings?"
"It's a noun. I made it plural."
"But can you *make it* a plural noun? Is that allowed?" he asked raising an eyebrow as he pulled on a jean jacket.
"I would assume so." And then he smiled, "See how easy it is when we're not actually thinking about talking?" He slid an arm around Jack's waist. "I'm cold."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm sorry but you're wrong! Everything about you is wrong." said Jackson as they walked into the house. Delia and Madison were watching TV and stopped to stare at the fighting pair.
Rolling his eyes Ephram turned to Delia, "Who would win in a fistfight Gandhi or Mr. Rogers?"
"Gandhi," she said simply.
"Yes! Victory!" said Jack throwing his arms up.
"Delia, do you even know who Gandhi is?" asked an exasperated Ephram.
"No but: Mr. Rogers is a masochist. He wouldn't fight back."
"You mean pacifist and where did you learn that world?" asked Ephram with a smirk.
"CNN."
"Actually that would lend credence to the fact that Gandhi would win. Mr. Rogers would enjoy it too much to fight back." Jack spoke introspectively.
"Gandhi was a pacifist too."
"So why would they fight?" she asked looking back towards her movie for a moment. She saw Madison watching the whole scene with confusion in her eyes.
"Just say you put them in a jar and shook it." Jackson said it with integrated hand motions.
"They would get angry at you and decide to both consciously object to your treatment of them." She smiled a smug smirk.
"What have you been watching on CNN?" Jackson asked disgustedly. "Look all I'm saying is that a man with that many shoes is compensating for something. Gandhi was oppressed by the white man he must have had pent up rage somewhere deep down."
Delia turned back to the TV knowing that the rest of the conversation would bore her as her brother and Jack continued to try and out do each other. They were both such show offs. "You guys are dorks. It always ends up like this."
"They do this a lot?" asked Madison with a small smile.
"Anytime they walk in the cold." Delia rolled her eyes.
"Why?" asked Madison still confused
"You don't focus on the cold. . ." said Ephram while thinking of his rebuttal then he turned back to Jack with a devious smile, "Mr. Rogers spent all his time with puppets. Thus he felt isolated and marginalized from other people. This feeling of segregation would lead to anger. Why was he kept alone for so long? That question is all that's on his mind and this anger and sense of abandonment would lead to a real urge for recompense."
"Oh that's good," said an awed Jackson. "I think you won. I can't compete with puppets and partial lunacy."
"Thank you."
"So what's the prize?" asked Madison who was now smiling unrepentantly.
"Generally the loser buys ice-cream for the winner." Said Ephram.
"But if you only play it while walking in the cold-"
"Yes, we know it's flawed," interrupted Jackson. "Where's your room? I want to put this stuff down."
"Second on the left at the top of the landing." Ephram walked towards the kitchen. "You hungry?"
"I can always eat." Jackson called back.
Ephram walked into the kitchen and was leaning in the fridge when he heard a throat clear behind him. "Yeah?" he asked as he saw Madison leaning against the counter with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.
Writer: Azure K Mello
Part: 6
Feedback: Please! I wait for it like a trained dog, plus I like to know what people are thinking, it's reassuring.
Apologies. All we hear in the east about the Midwest is about the close- mindedness of the people who live there, I'm sure that this is an unfair stereotype that has been promoted through bigotry and the actions of a minority such as in the awful case of Mathew Sheppard. Statements made within this story are not meant to offend any Midwesterners who read it. For two teenagers who grew up in NYC these are real fears that have been instilled in them from media and gossip. That is not to say that that gay people don't get beaten up in NYC, they do. But then it's the devil you know. For instance I take the subway home at 12:30 at night without fear when I could be in danger but then I go down to the Smoky Mountains and I lock my car doors because I've seen Deliverance too many times. Is that fair? No. Is it logical? Not really. But it's true none the less. Again I hope that this doesn't offend anyone.
Other notes in prior parts.
"You're cold," said Jackson after a moment's pause.
"I'm sorry, I thought I was giving you reason to hope." Ephram sighed heavily trying to figure out things in his head. "It's so easy here. I'm the hated outcast, my father killed the town's favorite son, and I don't have to deal with anyone. And I guess all of my popular people skills died, because this is really far too hard. I'm not trying to be cold."
"I meant physically cold." He pulled off his jacket, "I wish you would embrace outerwear." Ephram didn't move to take the jacket. "The guys will kill me if you freeze to death while I'm here. Humor me, I'm wearing a sweater. You're wearing a tee-shirt. Hey that's one of mine! I was looking for that."
"You got my heart while I got the clothes you weren't cool enough to pull off."
"Anyone can pull off an Op Ivy shirt," said Jackson as they arrived at the mechanics. There was a small parking lot outside and there in all her glory was the duct tape chariot. "Isn't she beautiful?"
"Would you like me to lie?" asked Ephram with a smirk.
"She gets me away from my parents and four siblings. She got me to you."
"Well when you put it like that. . ."
"Ephram?" asked a voice and Ephram turned to see Bright standing with a bunch of his jock friends. "I thought you said you were staying home." He looked hurt as though someone had kicked his puppy.
"I was planning on being sad at my piano until four am like any normal person would be on a Friday night. But Jackson's car broke down so he's staying here and we had to come get his stuff." He nodded to Jack who was leaning into the backseat of the car searching through his stuff. "What are you doing?"
"Movies, want to come? Things will be blowing up." Bright smirked.
"No but thanks, have fun." Bright smiled at him with fake brevity and walked away without another word.
Jackson slammed the car door that creaked badly. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say I don't like him." He said with gentle anger. His eyes glinted and something inside of Ephram melted. The resolve to not fall into old patterns and to be cautious went right out his mind.
"Who, Bright? *Nothing* will happen between Bright and me. He wasn't hitting on me," Jackson rolled his eyes, "to hit on me he would have to make some sort of an overture and in this town he's never going to come out let alone try to get a boyfriend. This is small town Colorado, no matter how hard people try to be accepting this is still middle America and there is always a very high chance of things going very badly. I mean there was that whole Mathew Sheppard thing, so I guess it is a worry. I don't think I would like it to be public knowledge that I'm "that way,": not here. . . Are you jealous?" he asked raising an eyebrow.
"Would it be points for or against me if I said yes?" he asked in a dejected tone. "I trust you implicitly. I just don't like. . ."
"It's kind of nice. Kinda missed it. You're allowed to not like someone hitting on your boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" asked Jack quickly, "I thought you needed time."
"I did too." His tone was bemused. "But here's the thing. It hurts when we're not together. So what's the point of *not* being together to save us from hurting. That's one of my most illogical reasonings yet."
"Is that a word? Reasonings?"
"It's a noun. I made it plural."
"But can you *make it* a plural noun? Is that allowed?" he asked raising an eyebrow as he pulled on a jean jacket.
"I would assume so." And then he smiled, "See how easy it is when we're not actually thinking about talking?" He slid an arm around Jack's waist. "I'm cold."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm sorry but you're wrong! Everything about you is wrong." said Jackson as they walked into the house. Delia and Madison were watching TV and stopped to stare at the fighting pair.
Rolling his eyes Ephram turned to Delia, "Who would win in a fistfight Gandhi or Mr. Rogers?"
"Gandhi," she said simply.
"Yes! Victory!" said Jack throwing his arms up.
"Delia, do you even know who Gandhi is?" asked an exasperated Ephram.
"No but: Mr. Rogers is a masochist. He wouldn't fight back."
"You mean pacifist and where did you learn that world?" asked Ephram with a smirk.
"CNN."
"Actually that would lend credence to the fact that Gandhi would win. Mr. Rogers would enjoy it too much to fight back." Jack spoke introspectively.
"Gandhi was a pacifist too."
"So why would they fight?" she asked looking back towards her movie for a moment. She saw Madison watching the whole scene with confusion in her eyes.
"Just say you put them in a jar and shook it." Jackson said it with integrated hand motions.
"They would get angry at you and decide to both consciously object to your treatment of them." She smiled a smug smirk.
"What have you been watching on CNN?" Jackson asked disgustedly. "Look all I'm saying is that a man with that many shoes is compensating for something. Gandhi was oppressed by the white man he must have had pent up rage somewhere deep down."
Delia turned back to the TV knowing that the rest of the conversation would bore her as her brother and Jack continued to try and out do each other. They were both such show offs. "You guys are dorks. It always ends up like this."
"They do this a lot?" asked Madison with a small smile.
"Anytime they walk in the cold." Delia rolled her eyes.
"Why?" asked Madison still confused
"You don't focus on the cold. . ." said Ephram while thinking of his rebuttal then he turned back to Jack with a devious smile, "Mr. Rogers spent all his time with puppets. Thus he felt isolated and marginalized from other people. This feeling of segregation would lead to anger. Why was he kept alone for so long? That question is all that's on his mind and this anger and sense of abandonment would lead to a real urge for recompense."
"Oh that's good," said an awed Jackson. "I think you won. I can't compete with puppets and partial lunacy."
"Thank you."
"So what's the prize?" asked Madison who was now smiling unrepentantly.
"Generally the loser buys ice-cream for the winner." Said Ephram.
"But if you only play it while walking in the cold-"
"Yes, we know it's flawed," interrupted Jackson. "Where's your room? I want to put this stuff down."
"Second on the left at the top of the landing." Ephram walked towards the kitchen. "You hungry?"
"I can always eat." Jackson called back.
Ephram walked into the kitchen and was leaning in the fridge when he heard a throat clear behind him. "Yeah?" he asked as he saw Madison leaning against the counter with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.
