The detective ran his black beady eyes down Danny’s arm, to where our hands were linked. He didn’t say anything but his body language screamed disapproval out loud. “Ifshecan identify them as the assailants, that would help, but we have them on camera fleeing the scene, and they’ve basically admitted to assaulting you.”
“They did?” Danny whispered, his attention on the photos laid out for him.
“The story they told was you were hitting on them, and they thought you might make a move. Claimed self-defense.”
Danny wilted, crumpled in on himself.
“But that’s not what happened,” I growled, ready to drive my fist through the photos and their stupid faces and the fucking glass of the coffee table, because howfucking darethey?
The man seemed nonplussed, and I saw the question in his eyes—Where you there?“Of course, it isn’t. Their stories conflict and the gay-panic defense doesn’t fly anymore.” He glanced at the cheap watch on his wrist then collected the photos. “I’ve got to be somewhere soon, but I’m going to kick the case to the prosecutor where he will make the final decision on what happens next. Seems like a slam-dunk case so I wouldn’t worry about it on that end.”
I saw him out the door. He mentioned something more about the prosecutor taking up the case, but my focus was on Danny. I rushed back to Danny’s side, keenly aware everything was wrong. He winced, grabbed his head, and whimpered. “I think, I…” He jerked forward and puked the juice he’d drank earlier on the table where the photos had been. He cradled his stomach. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, pushing the table away. “Bathroom?”
Misery hummed in his throat, and he shook his head. “I think I just need to lay down.”
I did my best to get him settled as he curled into the fetal position on the couch. I cleaned up the mess then retrieved some medication for his headache. He accepted the pills from me and swallowed them dry. I stood over him for a long while, unsure of what to do, or what to say to make it better, wishing I’d ripped what was left of the cop’s hair out because he’d upset Danny.
Danny thankfully fell asleep, but I couldn’t imagine it was very restful. I stood over him, wondering what I was supposed to do now. I was jittery, spasms quaking through my body, my knuckles cutting through my skin as I clenched my fists. My heart was hammering against my ribs, the blood pounding in my ears. As quietly as I could, I cut through the kitchen and burst out the back door, hoping some fresh air would help me come down.
The detective’s unspoken question haunted my every thought—Were you there?I should have been there to protect Danny. It was my single reason for being and I’d failed. The old gnarly oak that lived in the backyard loomed over me like a monster and I marched up to the thing. I drove my fist into the knotted bark of the tree, once, twice, hard enough to scratch my knuckles. They weren’t bleeding yet. In my mind the whorls and grooves of the tree were the faces of Danny’s attackers. Frustration and anger all swirled around inside of me like a tornado, sending shrapnel everywhere, cutting me open from the inside. I wanted to hurt those assholes as much as they’d hurt Danny. I slammed my fist into the tree again, the explosion of fiery pain hardly registering.
“Jere!”
I jumped, surprised to find Mrs. B. standing behind me, her eyes wide, her lips parted as if she’d been trying to get my attention for a while. Her gaze dropped to my scraped knuckles, and she took them in her tiny hands, touching me gently, like amother. I’d forgotten she was coming home early today.
“What happened?”
The following summer after meeting Danny, he’d shown me how to successfully capture lightning bugs. We put them in a jar with some twigs and grass and poked holes in the lid with a knife so they could breathe. Of course, he had to drone on about how insects actually breathed through their feet, but they should have air flow. He let me take that jar home, but it came with stipulations.We can only keep them for tonight and then in the morning we have to release them, or else they’ll die. We don’t want to kill them, do we?I carried that little pickle jar under my arm, careful not to break it, where I placed it next to my bed and fell asleep to the green flash of lights. I’d been so proud to be entrusted with looking after Danny’s lightning bugs.
Like most nights back then, I awoke to my father throwing things around and swearing. I’d slept over at Danny’s house a few times before when my father got in his moods, so I had gathered some clothes and the jar, but he caught me before I could sneak out. I hadn’t heard much of what he’d said, because I’d learned to block it out, but he snatched the jar from my hands and smashed it against the wall, the lightning bugs crushed into a green smear. That was the day I realized Ihatedmy father.
Mrs. B. found me in the morning, sitting in her backyard, the sun barely rising over the horizon as I pounded my fist into a rock. The physical pain made the emotional pain better. Her words echoed—What happened?I’d told her between restrained tears I accidentally killed the lightning bugs and begged her not to tell Danny because he’d be mad at me.
She’d pushed my unruly hair behind my ear—It was an accident; you don’t have to hurt yourself.Then she’d taken me inside, dried my tears and cleaned my scrapes. We came up with a plan. I’d tell Danny I released the bugs, but I dropped the jar on the way here and broke it. I didn’t like lying to him, but I didn't want him to be upset with me and decide we couldn’t be friends. I think that was the day Mrs. B. learned I had some darkness in me, just like my father.
I forced down the iron ball in my throat. “Cop came over to update us on the investigation. Danny…didn’t take it well.”
Her brows wrinkled as she turned my words over in her head. She squeezed my hand gently. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t understand why she was asking me, but I nodded because I didn’t want to explain why I was assaulting a tree. I took my hand from her and wiped my drippy nose. “Detective Rosemont was injured in the line of duty, so they sent someone else. I don’t like him, Mrs. B., he looks at Danny wrong.”
“Okay, let’s calm down and go inside. You can tell me everything while I take care of your hand,” she rolled over me as I started to protest, “and that’s not a request.”
I didn’t have the strength to fight her. Besides, as much as her caring for me made me uncomfortable, it also filled that place inside me Danny had discovered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Danny
As far as charity events went, my benefit turned out to be moderately enjoyable. But the shadow monsters creeping around me were making it difficult to relax and socialize with all the people that had shown up to support me. After speaking with the detective, I hadn’t wanted to come, but Mom and Jere had talked me into it. Besides, I didn’t want to come off as an ungrateful prick.
Sean had set up a booth next to the bar reserved for me and my friends, colorful patio lights hanging off the ceiling and walls. As soon as I’d arrived, I’d been given a cardboard crown to which Jere had promptly plopped on my head and had proceeded to refer to me as his royal highness, which was sweet and slightly annoying.
A nineties dance tune was playing, the usual colorful lights flashing and swirling as people filed into the club. The atmosphere thickened, and I grabbed onto the handle of my cane underneath the table, never imagining in a million years I’d feel comfortable relying on it. I did my best to smile, bump fists, and generally be happy about being here, but inside I wanted to find a quiet corner and sob. The virgin pina colada I was sipping was a double-edged sword, but I figured, desserts was stressed spelled backward.
Ronnie flounced over to me in her dress and heels, dragging a man with her. He introduced himself as the brother of someone, and I did my best to fake the pleasantries until he went off to enjoy the festivities with Ronnie. So it went on for the next hour, every minute of smiling when I didn’t really mean it, grinding me down. I met all kinds of people from the community, and allies and the supportive parents of their queer sons and daughters. It was an eighteen and over affair, so a lot of the younger gays had shown up, no doubt to take advantage of the party. Drinks were only served to those with pink wristbands.
