Where it would go.
After two weeks of being officially roommates, he and Mac had found a groove. Mac had stopped leaving plates in the sink and clothes on the bathroom floor. Gideon had come home after class the other day to find Mac sweeping the kitchen floor. He had missed many of the hard-to-reach corners where most of the dirt and dust liked to hide, but Gideon applauded the effort. Gideon had been apprehensive about letting Mac be his permanent roommate, but he used some of his powerful white lies on himself, convincing himself that there was no awkwardness between them. Mac was a decent guy, and admitting there was awkwardness meant admitting that Gideon had something to feel awkward about, and he didn’t. So there.
And then there were those special occasions like today where the awkwardness literally smacked Gideon in the face.
It flashed into his mind. It. He couldn’t even use its actual name.
Gideon let the warm water of his shower try and cleanse his mind. Droplets streamed down his face and criss-crossed through his stubble.
He had tried to ignore the Jenga Tower of Junk on the sun porch. But his eye was drawn to it. Immediately. Every day.
Mac was at class for the afternoon. Gideon stared down the tower. He could hear the Wild West duel music playing in his mind.One of us is leaving this room today, and it ain’t gonna be me.
Cardboard boxes sunk into each other and leaned against crates with assorted flotsam and jetsam sticking out of their openings. Garbage bags stretched to their full capacity and wobbled at the top. The tower was playing chicken with gravity.
Like in actual Jenga, he went for the easy moves first. He took away the boxes and a garbage bag that weren’t supporting the tower. He dropped them in Mac’s room, by his bed. The tower thinned. Gideon could see the wall behind it. Well, glimpses of it.
He gripped a crate at the base that had the edge of a picture frame jutting out from its side. Gideon could make out Mac in a graduation robe with a woman with his same brown eyes and shiny hair. Aunt Rita. He could instantly tell from her smile that she was good people. He found a picture peeking out from under. It was pre-teen Mac sitting next to a cash register in what looked like his parents’ hardware store. His cheeks had more fat, but Gideon recognized Mac’s warm smile under there. He let it pull him in. Behind Mac were two older people, probably his parents. Gideon wondered if the picture held any answers to what happened there. He pulled out the crate to get a better view, forgetting that it was supporting the Jenga tower of junk.
“Shit!”
Bags and boxes rumbled above him, swaying back and forth. Gideon tried to reason with it telepathically why it shouldn’t budge. He attempted to hold the tower steady, but it had no base. Mac’s possessions tumbled forward. They splayed across the floor in a loud cacophony of clangs and smacks. The box at the top dumped right onto Gideon’s head, and that’s when he came into contact with it.
A banana careened out of the bag and nailed Gideon square in the forehead. It knocked his glasses off his face. He didn’t realize what had hit him at first.Why was Mac keeping a banana in his stuff?
Gideon squatted down and picked it up. But bananas shouldn’t be rubbery. And bananas weren’t this large. Gideon put on his glasses and realized he was gripping a thick, yellow dildo in his nice Jewish boy hand.
He marveled at its weight and size and lifelike texture. But then he remembered he was holding another man’s sex toy.
“Ahhhhhh!!” He threw it against the wall. It bounced off and landed on his feet. He screamed again. He kicked it into the heap of fallen junk like his life depended on it.
And now here Gideon was, taking his longest shower to date, scrubbing his hands, his arms, his face until the skin began to wrinkle. He wanted to stop thinking about what he saw, and what he touched. But the more he attempted to steer his mind elsewhere, the more his mind refused. He thought about Mac using it on Davis, on other guys, shoving it all the way in like a missile locked and loaded. He imagined Mac using it on himself, jerking himself off while he slid it inside his tight ass late at night, gasping in pleasure. Gideon might’ve thought about that last one a little bit too long.
His fingers pruned under the water. He didn’t feel sufficiently clean, but as close as he was going to get.
He stepped out of the bathroom in a towel and found Mac in the hallway. He felt extra weird and extra naked.
“Hey,” Gideon said.
“Midday shower?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.” Gideon wondered if Mac was looking at him. Ever since he, um, accidentally checked out Mac when he stripped in the kitchen, Gideon had been careful about keeping his eyes to himself.
He raced into his bedroom and shut the door. He got dressed and took a few breaths. Gideon told himself he would forget what he saw eventually.Lots of people have sex toys. My mom probably has one.
He smacked his forehead. He replaced one visual with an even worse one.
Gideon kept his hand on the doorknob. He wondered if Mac would feel this uncomfortable if he found his stash of condoms. Probably not. Because people had sex. The earth was round. No big deal.
Why was it different here? Would Mac think of me using condoms?
Gideon opened the door. “Did class get out early?”
He found Mac in the sun porch, examining the new organization of his possessions. Gideon had quickly reassembled the Jenga Tower of Junk so he could run into a shower.
“Your shit was like a house of cards. It tumbled and fell. I figured I’d help by cleaning it up.”
Mac rifled through a box in the middle of the tower. The box that had held it. Sweat beaded on Gideon’s forehead.
