Except, of course, he knew this was no dream.
CouldI do it?Could I go through their therapy, live my life as a straight guy?
After all, the only place where he lived as an out gay guy was between his ears. Sure, he had fantasies, dreams, but none of it was real. Would it be so hard to give up something that didn’t really exist?
Then it hit him, with all the force of a sledgehammer to his ribs.
I told them in the first place because I wanted to be true to myself, because I didn’t want to hide.How could I live with myself if I deny what I am?
And if they didn’t want a gay son, then that was their loss, painful though that thought was. He knew the pain would ease with time. Never mind that right then, it felt like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest with their bare hands.
Tommy went back upstairs and entered the room that had been his for all of his life. He gazed around it in a daze, unsure of where to begin. It was only just beginning to sink in that he wouldn’t be coming back there.
What the hell do I take with me?
There was other issues, far more pressing ones. The dorms were closed for the winter break. Where was he going to stay until the semester started? And what about his studies?
A wave of sorrow and nausea rolled over him, and he was seized with the urge to get out of there. He grabbed a suitcase from his closet and another couple of bags and proceeded to stuff as many clothes into them as he could. He scanned the bedroom for anything else to take, those items that really meant something to him. When he’d finished, he dragged the case and bags down the stairs, bumping each step as he struggled with his burden. The door to the living room was still closed.
Guess this reallyisit.
Tommy went out the front door to where his truck sat on the driveway. He slung his suitcase into the back of the truck, followed by the rest of his bags, and then he returned to the house to close the door. As he walked over to the truck, he glanced at the front window to see if anyone was observing his exit, but there was no one there.
His heart like a stone in his chest, Tommy got into the truck and pulled his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through hiscontacts until he found Ben. It took a few rings until the call connected.
“Whassa time? Hell, Tommy, why you callin’ me before noon two days after Christmas?” Ben’s voice was heavy with sleep.
“Ben, would it be okay if I stayed with you awhile?”
He heard the rustle of sheets. “Oh fuck. Something’s happened.” Ben sounded more alert. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me now. An’ of course you can stay. I’ll tell the ’rents you’re coming.” There was a pause. “You all right, Tommy?”
The kindness in Ben’s voice, his genuine concern, was the arrow that found its way through Tommy’s defenses. His breathing hitched, and then the tears came, hot and plentiful, coursing down his cheeks until he was blinded by them, unable to hold back his sobs. He sat there, phone in hand, and wept for the life he’d just lost until he was all cried out.
He heard Ben clear his throat. “Come on home, Tommy, okay? We can talk when you get here.”
Tommy wiped his face on his sleeve and sniffed. “I’ll see you in about four, five hours, all right? Maybe a bit longer if I make some stops.”
“That’s fine. Just get your ass here, right?” Ben’s chuckle tickled his ear. “Maybe tonight’s the night I finally get you drunk.”
The way Tommy was feeling right then? That was sounding more and more like a damn good idea. He disconnected the call and started up the engine. One final glance over his shoulder to the house where he was no longer welcome, and then Tommy pulled out into the street, leaving the dust of Americus behind him.
Chapter Seven
The aromaof fresh coffee tickled his nostrils, and Tommy opened his eyes to find Ben kneeling beside the sofa bed, mug in hand. “Morning, sleepyhead.” Ben’s eyes were kind.
“G’mornin’.” Tommy propped himself up on his elbow and took the proffered mug. “What time is it?” He took a sip and sighed with pleasure as the flavor burst upon his tongue, rich and strong. “Damn, this is good. Thank you.”
“Mom made it for you.” Ben rose to his feet and crossed the room to open the blinds that covered the high windows. There wasn’t much natural light that found its way into the basement apartment, but the halogen downlights more than made up for it. Ben came back to the sofa and sat on the edge of the mattress, dressed in only his boxers. “As for what time it is, it’s nine thirty. I let you sleep in, you were so exhausted last night. How’d you sleep, anyway?”
“Off an’ on,” Tommy replied, drinking some more of the delicious, restorative brew. He vaguely remembered unfolding the sofa bed the night before and collapsing onto it. Ben’s words filtered through. “What d’you tell your parents ’bout why I was stayin’?” He hadn’t seen any of the family. Ben had let him in through the outer door to the basement.
“I told them it was for a couple days. They don’t need to know more than that right now.” Ben grimaced. “Not that they’d have taken in a word I was saying anyhow.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “It’s chaos up there.”
Tommy sat up, the sheet pooled around his waist. “What’s goin’ on?”
Ben chuckled. “The ’rents are throwing a post-Christmas, pre-New Year party tonight. We’re talking caterers, setting up a bar, bartenders, music…. I recommend staying out of it all. In fact, once you’ve had some breakfast, we might wanna think about escaping down here for a while and letting Mom get on with it. Her hairdresser-cum-makeup guy will be arriving after lunch.” He pulled a face.
“What’s wrong with that?” Tommy asked.
