Coda Books 01 - Promises (MM) (2 page)

Soon my friends were swapping skin magazines with shaking hands and boastful laughs. I wasn’t exactly sure what they felt when they looked at them, but it was pretty clear it wasn’t the same as the mild embarrassment I was feeling.

It wasn’t until I met Tom that I realized exactly how different I was. Tom played football with my brother Brian. They were best friends. I was sixteen; they were eighteen. From the moment he walked in our front door behind my brother, I was infatuated with him. I could barely speak to him but couldn’t keep my eyes off him. His laugh was enough to elicit physical responses that caused me to always have a school book in my hand when he was in the house—not because I was such a good student, but because I needed to be able to cover myself quickly. I walked a fine line between wanting to see him as much as possible and wanting to stay out of his sight. I knew Brian was watching me again with the same looks he had given me the day I blurted out Steve Atwater’s name: concern, bemusement, embarrassment. It was something of a relief when the two of them finally graduated and went off to college.

After that, I was pretty sure, although I never said anything to anybody. I faked my way through high school. I never tried out for football because I was afraid of the complications that could arise in the locker room, if only in my imagination. I had a few dates with girls, but they were mostly group dates; we held hands a few times and a couple of them even kissed me. The kisses were, for me at least, completely uninspiring, bordering on disturbing, and it never went further than that.

Once I made it to college, away from home, I finally allowed myself to experiment. I met guys at the club or at the gym and had a few brief but meaningless affairs. Never found anything I would have called love, but I knew after that, without a doubt, that I was gay.

Needless to say, I never planned to be in my thirties and still alone. And being gay in a town this small isn’t easy. Colorado isn’t exactly a gay Mecca; it’s not the Bible belt, but it’s not San Francisco either. Most of the town knows about me, and most of them even accept me, but a few still look the other way when I pass them in the grocery store or refuse to deal with me when they come into the shop. Chances of finding a partner in Coda were almost nonexistent, and chances of me ending up alone seemed depressingly high.

SO THAT night, Matt met my family. Lizzy went home from work early, ostensibly to get a head start on dinner, but I think the real reason was so she could fill in Brian and Mom before we arrived. Brian, of course, was courteous. Mom was sizing him up but seemed to approve.

“Are you into mountain biking too?” she asked him at one point.

“I sold my bike before I moved here. I liked riding, but in Oklahoma, there aren’t really any mountains to bike in. Why?”

“Jared’s up there every time he has a day off. He goes alone. I keep telling him he shouldn’t. What if he got hurt?”

“Mom, cool it. Have I ever been hurt?”

“You get hurt every time!”

Oh boy, here we go. I was resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her. “Mom, bumps and bruises don’t count.”

“But you don’t even wear a helmet!”

She was starting to whine now. I hate the guilt trip, but I hate helmets more. “I do if it’s a hard trail. I wish you wouldn’t worry about it so much.”

“But there’s nobody with you, in case you need help.”

“Talk to your other son, Mom,” I said teasingly. “He’s the one who won’t ride with me anymore.”

“I can’t keep up!” Brian said, throwing his hands up like he was surrendering.

“Anyway,” Lizzy cut in, “it’s not the trails I worry about. It’s here in town that scares me.

Crazy drivers talking on their cell phones and never watching where they’re going.” She was shaking her finger in my direction. It was not the first time I had heard that speech. “You ride to and from work every day, and you never wear your helmet. It’s not safe. I bet Matt can tell you about all kinds of terrible accidents involving bicyclists who weren’t wearing helmets, right Matt?”

He looked amused. “I know better than to get in the middle of a family argument.”

“Brian,” I entreated, “save me from your wife!”

Brian laughed but took pity on me and changed the subject. “So Matt, are you a football fan?”

“Of course.”

“You’re from Oklahoma? Are you a Cowboys fan?”

He actually grinned a little, and I could tell he was getting ready to let some big cat out of the bag. “I’m a Chiefs fan.”

“Oh no!” The whole table erupted. Lizzy started throwing rolls at him. We are a hardcore Broncos family, and declaring allegiance for our division rival, the Chiefs, was tantamount to heresy in our household.

Brian yelled gleefully, “Jared, you know better than to bring a Chiefs fan into my house! I should throw both of you out on your asses!”

“And you seemed like such a nice boy too,” Mom said mournfully but with a twinkle in her eye.

I was laughing. “Hey, I didn’t know! I assumed anybody smart enough to live in Colorado would know who the better team was!”

“All right,” Matt said. “Everybody calm down. You Broncos fans are so high strung!” That got him another round of razzing, and Lizzy threw another roll at him. He saw it coming, caught it, and turned to throw it at me. “You know, it could be worse. At least I’m not a Raiders fan!” And of course we all had to agree on that.

Right after dinner, Mom went home. I sent Matt out onto the patio while I went to fetch beer from the kitchen. When I walked in, Lizzy was beaming at me.

I tried to ignore that look and asked, “You coming outside with us?”

“Sure,” Brian started to say, “as soon as—”

“No!” Lizzy cut him off, slapping his arm playfully. “No. We’re going to give you boys some time alone.”

“Ah.” Brian looked a little troubled by that. I had a sudden Steve Atwater flashback.

Obviously, knowing I was gay was one thing, but this was the first time he had ever really had to think about me with a potential suitor. I hadn’t ever had a boyfriend serious enough to introduce to my family.

“Lizzy, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m pretty sure that’s not what he has in mind.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You two couldn’t take your eyes off each other all through dinner.

I’ll just go upstairs, and Brian will clean up.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?”

“Are you kidding? Tell him the pregnant lady got tired and had to lie down. It’s not even a lie. I’m exhausted. But”—and she pointed a finger right at me—“I expect a full report in the morning.”

Two beers later, I was feeling completely relaxed. We were sprawled in patio chairs, enjoying the unseasonably warm evening.

“So, are you married?” I asked him.

“Nope.”

“Divorced?”

“Nope.”

“Ever come close?”

“No.”

Well, that seemed odd. At our age, I would at least have expected a near miss. Unless….

“Why not?”

He was starting to look uncomfortable now, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle.

“Guess I just haven’t found a girl I felt that way about.”

“What about a guy?” it was out of my mouth before my good sense could stop it. And, of course, I really did want to know.

“What? No!” He looked alarmed and a little big angry. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

That tiny flicker of hope that Lizzy had lit within me died. “It was just a question. It’s no big deal. Sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m not gay!”

“Okay.”

“Why?” It sounded like a challenge. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He would have found out soon enough anyway.

He was taken aback. He frowned at me, looked me up and down. “You are? I mean, I was kidding. I didn’t really think that you would say yes.”

I laughed uncomfortably. “Well, I am.” I looked him square in the eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Well….” To his credit, he actually stopped and thought about it. He was fidgeting with the label on his bottle again. “I don’t know. I never….” The label came off, and he seemed confused about what to do with it now that it was free.

“You know, it’s not contagious.” I was teasing now and hoping he would realize it. But I was also pretty sure he wouldn’t be asking me out for dinner or beers anymore.

“I know. Of course I know.” He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed a little. He shook his head. “I’m being an ass. It’s none of my business who you sleep with.” A pause, and then,

“Just, I want you to know”—his eyes were on mine again—“I’m not.”

I smiled. “Hey, I’m not gonna kiss you or anything.” Although the thought of doing exactly that was enough to make my pulse speed up a little. But it was apparently what he needed to hear, because he relaxed the rest of the way with a sigh. “Anyway, no self-respecting Coloradoan would date a Chiefs fan.” That made him laugh, and after that, we were back on safe ground. The conversation seemed to be forgotten.

LIZZY called me first thing in the morning. “Well? What happened?”

“He’s straight.”

“Oh.” She sounded as disappointed as I was. “Are you sure?”

“He was pretty adamant about it.”

“Oh, Jared,” she said sincerely. “I’m so sorry!”

“Lizzy, it’s okay. Really. I barely know the guy. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.”

“I know, but you were so happy last night. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, Lizzy. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t hoping. But he’s straight, and I guess that’s the end of it. I think I’ll live.”

“GET a haircut already, you friggin’ bum!” Lizzy was harassing me about my hair again. It was one of her favorite topics. “Really, Jarhead, whatever that look is, it’s out.”

I’m not a Marine. Lizzy finds it amusing to call me “Jarhead” instead of Jared any time she thinks I’m being particularly obtuse. Which is often.

The length of my hair is one of her favorite things to razz me about. The truth is that haircuts present something of a problem for me. There are only two places in Coda to get a haircut. There’s Gerri’s Barber Shop, where most of the men in town go. But Gerri is old school, one of the few people in town who treat me like I’m a pariah, so I can’t go there. Then there’s Sally’s, the beauty salon that most of the women go to. I had been there a couple of times, but it was miserable. The girls seemed to think that me being gay meant that I wanted to gossip with them about who was sleeping with whom or debate the merits of Brad Pitt over Johnny Depp (neither is exactly my type). Once, I let Lizzy cut it, but that was a disaster that neither of us wanted to repeat.

My dark blonde hair is thick and coarse and naturally curly. If it’s too short, I end up with curls sticking out every which way. But, if I let it grow, the curls at least hang down. I could have shaved it, but that seemed like too much maintenance. So what I end up with is a wild mass of curls. Even I have to admit that it bears more than a passing resemblance to an old- fashioned mop. I try to tie it back when we’re at the shop; if I pull the curls straight, it’s just barely long enough to reach the rubber band. But by the end of the day, half of it will have escaped.

“Lizzy, I like being shaggy. This way you and I match, see?”

Her hair is about the same color as mine but longer, and her curls are more like soft waves. She flipped it over her shoulder and gave me the finger and then turned to Ringo.

“Ringo, tell Jared he needs a haircut!”

Ringo looked up in alarm from his schoolwork on the counter. Lizzy let him work on homework as long as we didn’t have customers. “What? Are you talking to me?”

She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Honestly!
Nobody
listens to me. What’s got you so perplexed over there?”

“Advanced algebra.” He threw his pencil down on his book and pushed his hair back off of his face with both hands. “How can anybody do this stuff?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Lizzy assured him.

“How? I don’t understand any of it. My teacher just follows the book. My parents can’t help me. Nobody can explain it to me in a way that makes sense.” He picked his pencil back up and put his head in his hand as he bent back to his task. “I hate it!”

“Jared can help you.”

“What?” Ringo and I exclaimed in unison. I was horrified that she would suggest it, and he obviously was, too, judging by the look on his face.

“Jared’s really good at math. He’s supposed to be a physics teacher, aren’t you?” She gave me a piercing gaze, which I turned away from. “Maybe he can tutor you.”

“Maybe.” Ringo looked pretty skeptical. I didn’t say anything.

Lizzy left shortly afterward since she had opened the shop that day. We didn’t have many customers that afternoon, and Ringo spent most of his time trying to puzzle out his math problems. There was a lot of erasing going on, and I could tell he was getting frustrated. Every once in a while, he would glance up at me, and I knew he was debating whether or not to ask for help. I ignored him.

Finally, as I was closing out the register, he said hesitantly, “Jared, you really know how to do this stuff?”

“I really do.”

“What did she mean, you’re ‘supposed to be’ a teacher?”

“That’s what I planned to do when I went to college.”

“So why didn’t you?”

I could have given him the same answer I had given Matt, but for some reason, I told him the truth. “The same reason you don’t want me to tutor you. Some people think that just because I’m gay, I’m going to molest every young boy that crosses my path.”

He was quiet for a minute, and I could tell I had embarrassed him. I felt a little bad about it, but I couldn’t exactly take it back.

“That’s what my dad says.” His cheeks were bright red, and he wouldn’t look at me. “He says I shouldn’t be alone in the shop with you. I tell him Lizzy’s always here. He doesn’t know that she leaves sometimes.”

My hands were shaking a little, and I was trying to control the urge to slam things around.

“I’ll be sure to keep my distance then.”

“The thing is, you’ve never tried anything with me. I’ve never seen you hit on anybody.”

“Kid, I’m gay. I’m not a pervert, and I’m not a pedophile.”