And that’s how we end up crowded on my couch and floor, all of us circling around my coffee table with greasy fingers as we watch Sunday Night football. The Cowboys are playing the Vikings at Minnesota.
There’s a call for snow there, and I eagerly watch the screen to see if I’ll get a glimpse of snow. I’ve never seen snow before, and it's on my bucket list of things to do before I die. Also on that list is ziplining, an african safari, and seeing Alaska. Technically I could knock two things off my list if I go there, but I have yet for an opportunity to arise to let me leave the contiguous United States since I’ve returned from the military.
“Let’s fucking go!” Noah yells, standing up and clapping while the running back on the TV for the Vikings runs towards the end zone. Ace has his hands steepled under his chin, murmuring under his breath. Probably trying to put a hex on Noah and his beloved team. Ace is a Cowboys fan through and through, and on deployments he was always trying to place bets with our team on the scores of the Cowboys games. He was always wrong, but his enthusiasm was admirable.
Ezra stands up from his spot on the floor, out of the way of the screen so he doesn’t get bitched at. I think he learned his lesson after the last time we watched Sunday Night football at Connor’s house. He didn’t realize he was about to block the screen during at important play until Noah started yelling athim toget the fuck out of the way. Poor Ezra was scared by the way he was talked to. Afterwards Noah apologized, but Ezra is playing it safe.
The Viking player is tackled, and the game cuts to a commercial break. Noah groans dramatically, but reaches for another slice of pizza to stuff his face with. Ezra carefully steps around the tangle of limbs, narrowly avoiding Hollis’ outstretched legs.
“Ezzy, get me a drink while you’re up, please?” Noah asks, lifting his head up and looking at Ezra with a pouting face. Ezra huffs, but asks if any of us need anything. We all decline and Noah smiles widely while Ezra gets his drink.
The guys start having their own conversation, and I’m content to listen while I watch the commercials. Super Bowl commercials are obviously the best, but sometimes Sunday Night can have good ones as well.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, wondering what Liam wants. He’s not a big texter, he prefers to call and chat over the phone. He’ll talk about anything under the sun that he finds interesting and I love listening to him.
It’s not Liam. Or anyone else I would have expected to hear from. I stare at my phone, trying to digest the black words against the white screen, but no matter how they’re written they still don’t make sense.
I lock my phone, tucking it back into my pocket. The rest of the game passes by and I don’t pay attention to it. Half the guys start cheering while the other half groan, and it’s background noise to the roaring thoughts in my head.
It’s too late, and I’m too drunk to drive them home, so they all find random places to crash in my apartment. Connor and Hollis take up half the couch, their heads together and Connor is glued to Hollis’ back to keep them both secured on the couch without falling. I throw a blanket over them, making sure the fleece blanket covers them entirely.
Noah, Ezra, Ace, and Lucas are lying on the floor, using cushions from the couch as pillows. Ace also has a bottle of tequila tucked under his arm, so I grab it before throwing blankets on the floor surrounding them. Elijah is sitting in the recliner, with the foot rest propped up and his sweatshirt tucked under his head.
I stare at all the guys in my living room, and feel an overwhelming sense of awe. I found a family in these men, all from different backgrounds but we’ve been thrown together in this mess we call life.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and this time I don’t take it out as I walk down the short hallway to my bedroom. Inside my bedroom I pull my phone out of my pocket and toss it on the bed before I peel off my clothes, tossing them in the empty hamper and sliding into the pajamas I left sitting on my nightstand from last night.
Before I slide into bed, I go to grab my one secret possession from inside my safe tucked into the back corner of my closet, covered by my pants hanging on the clothes rack. The secret not even Liam knows about. Hearing the dial turn, the light clicking sound as I put the password in, my heart is in my throat. I try to swallow past the knot, but it won’t move. The uncomfortable weight sits inside of me.
I pinch the plastic protected picture between my thumb and forefinger, gently tugging it away from its hiding spot. I scoot the jeans over so I can sit beside the safe, staring down at the old picture. My nose burns and I blink past the unwanted tears. Even after all this time I shouldn’t be harboring these feelings. Ones of resentment, hatred, loathing, love. My mind swings from one extreme to another, and that’s why it’s hard to trust my own brain sometimes. How do I know what’s real, and what it’s trying to say is real?
The picture of me and Raiden is from our Senior Prom. My suit looks good in the picture, like a custom tailored suitshould. I’ll never forget the look on Raiden’s face when he brought it over and told me to try it on. I shied away from his gaze, trying to keep myself decent as he stared at me as I undressed. It wasn’t the first time his eyes on me had made a flutter go through my belly. But it felt different now,more.
And that feeling grew, sprouting wings and taking off to cover every inch of everything I knew when I saw him come out of his front door on that rainy Friday. The forecast warned us that there would be a storm, and we prepared for it by planning to take pictures earlier, so by the time it came to leave for Prom, we could run from inside my house to the waiting car with no issues.
What I didn’t expect was to see Raiden looking likethat.He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, not like me. He was wearing a loose fitting black see through shirt, the muscles of his abdomen prominent under the sheer material. He had body glitter on too, I could see the shimmering against his skin with every step he took. The black pants were tight, sticking to him like a second skin. He was picturesque and with his makeup done bold, he looked ready to take on the world or walk down the runway.
I was struck dumb as he strutted his way from his porch to mine. His smile was devious as he twirled in a circle. “Am I up to your standards?”
My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, but I croaked out a semblance of an answer. Really it was just one syllable, but his look of glee didn’t make me feel stupid. It made me feel unstoppable that I was the one that got to show him off that night. To show that he was more than a dancer, more than a pretty figure. He was smart, funny, and sociable. He was so much more than what was seen on the outside.
The picture I have is the two of us, swaying together while the DJ played Tiny Dancer by Elton John. I had asked him to dance, and he didn’t believe that I could. But I proved it to himas I spun him around the dance floor, keeping in time with the beat. I would never tell him, but I practiced those dance moves for months before Prom so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by me not knowing what to do.
I wipe the tears away, refusing to acknowledge them for what they actually are. I tuck the photo back into its spot and lock the safe, locking away the memory into its tight box that I refuse to pay any mind to.
When I finally plug my phone in, and look at the notification, it wasn’t from Raiden this time. Instead it was from Liam, and I missed the call. Too tired to call him back, I sent a short message.
Me:sorry missed your call will talk to you tomorrow
Liam:That’s okay, sweet dreams, Jericho. <3
I feel like shit when I finally close my eyes, for more reasons than one. The message waiting for a response burning a hole in my mind until it’s the only thing taking space in it until I fall asleep.
15
JERICHO
Raiden:Can we talk?
