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The bus ride was made in silence, Tammy only looking up briefly from her copy of Mrs. Dalloway to make sure that Aaron hadn’t fallen asleep.
He hadn’t.
Aaron remembered classroom glances and a boy with blond hair who would stare at him for several minutes, never breaking concentration and never looking away. He thought of middle school locker rooms and tan naked flesh under a shower of warm water, letting the white foam of the lather rinse down a smooth stomach, resting in a nest of black hair and the beginnings of a hardon.
He pulled himself out of that nine year tunnel and looked out of the bus window, watching as it made its way down a sloping hill, crossing Railroad and Holly, and nearing the bus depot. He expected this to happen eventually, a face from the past emerging to greet him, but he had never entertained the idea that it would be Chase Sheppard.
He thought Chase would have been at some Ivy League university like Yale or Harvard. He had the grades for it; at least he did in the eighth grade. The bus pulled into the transit center and bodies of all sizes, genders, colors, and ages waited to board the bus and piled against the doors.
Tammy stepped out first; her hemp purse strung over her left shoulder, hanging at her side and knocking against the top of her hip bone. She had thrown on a gray toggle coat with a matching scarf wrapped around her neck before they had gotten off the bus.
Aaron followed her out, and they began to make their way through the depot and out into the rain drenched streets, neither one speaking. They had just passed Cellophane Square when Tammy suddenly opened her mouth, forcing Aaron to take notice of her.
“You okay with the fact that I gave that guy our house number?”
Her eyes were wide with concern, and though he wasn’t okay with it, he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Yeah, it’s really not a big deal. It’s just... well, Chase wasn’t exactly my friend in middle school.”
Tammy looked at him with one brow raised in question.
“You mean, like, he was an enemy or something?”
Aaron shook his head.
“No, we were just from two different worlds. His was inhabited by the beautiful people, and mine... well, mine was inhabited by me.”
Tammy nodded, droplets of rain leaving her locks.
“Well, did he look like that years ago?”
Aaron shook his head.
“Do you think that if he did he still would have been popular?”
“No.”
This was true. If Chase Sheppard had looked like that back at Proctor Middle School, he would have been shunned. Popular people don’t like that. They hate what’s different, and if they actually like it, they hide inside of themselves, along with the eating disorders and secret apathy, afraid of going against the crowd.
She smiled and told him not to worry about it; they were going to get filled up on some good chai and get cozy in the comfy old sofas.
They made their way past the Rite-Aid and near-empty downtown lots, avoiding puddles that filled cracked and broken pavement.
The rain was now letting up, though it had yet to come to a complete stop, but Aaron was glad that it was no longer a downpour. They crossed the street, and there were a few protesters standing outside of the Federal Building. What it was exactly they were protesting they weren’t certain, but what did it matter? In this day and age everyone’s political, and the prospect of Hilary Clinton being president ignited in everyone a sense that the ceiling may finally be broken.
His house was divided between Hilary and Barack Obama supporters, he and Sandra being in Obama’s camp and the other women staunchly behind Clinton. He and Tammy had made it a rule between them in order to keep the peace that they would not discuss politics no matter what. So far, it was working.
What they were united against was the fact that there was no enemy greater than the Republican party and their right-wing values and policies that had nothing to do with conservatism as Eisenhower knew it, and everything to do with Oral Roberts fundamentalism that had made queers Enemy Number One—right along with women’s bodies—and had made it a driving force in Bush junior’s reelection.
No matter what, they were determined to never see their country teeter that close to the edge of theocratic, bigoted, discriminatory fascism ever again. They couldn’t imagine their generation or the one after, ever letting Republicans come into power again.
Their generation couldn’t be that stupid.
Though, Americans were reading less, and the education system sucked, and there was a sleeping giant of systematic racism, misogyny, heterosexism, and nationalism (spurned by the church pews, the administration, and the world-shaking catastrophe of September Eleventh,) that was starting to creep out of the gutters, and ignorant communities where the Book of Genesis was taught alongside, or in place of, actual science courses.
There was the next generation of conservatives coming up in the churches, and those not religious but simply poisoned by the systematic heterosexism that has infected every society and demographic for the past two millennia.
They cut through a small parking lot, moving between cars and stepping back onto the sidewalk. They passed the old Breakwater Church on Bay Street with its blue tile and white stucco exterior. It looked more like a theatre than a church, and NA and AA members were frequently seen gathered outside before and after meetings.
They walked by the windows of the radio museum, both of them stealing glances of themselves in the glass as they neared their destination.
The large two-storied brick building which was Prospect & Bay was no more than twenty feet away. Scattered smokers sat and conversed in dark green plastic lawn chairs, dishing out their theories on theology and philosophy while inhaling Camels or Lucky Strikes and swigging back cups of hot coffee or other assorted beverages.
Tammy opened the door and allowed Aaron to enter first, both of them making their way up to the front counter.
“What can I get you?” a man asked them. He was an inch or two shorter than Aaron, his hair shaved to near-baldness, and his large brown eyes accentuated his cute face. He wore a black sweater with a white oxford underneath, with loose khaki pants, and his voice was rough and deep.
“Two large chai’s and a piece of focaccia,” Aaron said with a smile.
The barista nodded and turned to take care of the order. Aaron’s eyes darted around the coffee house, staring off into the void. There were two tables up against the wall, little lamps sat on the tops and a collage of vintage magazine clippings covered the table-tops and were protected with epoxy.
There was a bar up against the window with a collection of newspapers scattered about, obviously read and neglected by various patrons. He caught Tammy’s stare and they locked eyes, silently challenging the other to break away. In this game no one won, they always erupted into a chorus of laughter and ended up moving on, usually into a conversation about their roommates.
“All right, two chai’s and focaccia; that’ll be eight dollars and thirty cents, please.”
Aaron handed him a ten and put the change in the tip jar, the barista offering a polite smile and a nod, which he returned.
They walked into the open dining area.
A large red Victorian couch sat up against the wall to their left with a giant mirror hanging above it in an antique frame. There was an arm chair up against the wall in the opposite direction, facing a speaker and the staircase, which led up to the second floor where a half-wrap railing swept above them.
To their right were more tables, as well as a light blue Victorian love seat, which sat up on what had once been a display floor when it was a furniture store. Now it was one of the hot spots on Poetry Night every Monday.
“Over here!” Tammy declared, pointing to the love seat in the window, which for once was empty and available.
He nodded and they made their way to it, stepping up on the display floor and landing their bodies in the couch, drinking their tea.
“He’s sexy.”
Aaron looked at Tammy, his face awash of confusion. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to what she was talking about.
“Who are you seeing? There’s no one here. Are you talking about the barista?”
Tammy laughed and shook her head, more droplets of rain falling from her hair. “No, I’m talking about Chase!”
That name hit him like a semi-truck.
Blood on hands on a tragically sunny day.
“I’m pretty sure he’s straight.” There was so much uncertainty in his voice, and he knew that Tammy could hear it.
“Well, by the way he was looking at you, I’d say that is up for some serious debate!”
He rolled his eyes, traveling back, nine years coming to life and a fire of turquoise eyes fixed on him. There was the recollection of sly smiles and seductive laughter in his ears.
It was like it was yesterday.
“I don’t know; I think you’re confusing shock with interest. I mean, we haven’t seen one another in almost a decade; I think it was just one of those ‘in all the gin joints in all the world’ kind of moments, ya know?”
She nodded.
“Still... that would be romantic. Meeting after all these years, sparking a romance, starting something new... just like a fairy tale.”
He loved Tammy but she was, after all, a hopeless romantic, and she favored Hugh Grant films over any other.
“You’re so fucked,” Aaron laughed, telling Tammy that he needed to use the restroom, and ordered that she did not devour his bread.
“You got it!”
They exchanged smiles and he hopped off the rise and made his way through a narrow hall, opening up onto more tables and more windows, the bathroom to his right and its open door inviting him into the dark.
He flipped on the light, locked the door and did his business, slipping back into memories.
––––––––
“Hey, fag!”
Aaron looked behind him, terrified by that voice—Bailey’s voice—creeping just behind his back. He felt that steel grip on his shoulder, turning him around. There was no time to zip up his jeans.
Bailey Nguyen stared into him, the fourteen-year-old Vietnamese boy with his sharp eyes—black and endless—and his pale skin and shaved black hair, with a devious smile on his young face.
Aaron continued to fumble with his zipper.
“No! Leave it alone, leave it alone...” Bailey ordered.
Those hands searched his pants, slipping in and stroking him. He didn’t want this, but the friction was causing an erection.
“Bailey, please, stop....” The tears began to stream down his face, his young voice quivering against his touch and his breath on his neck and ear.
“You don’t mean that....”
Bailey slipped down his jeans, exposing white briefs.
“You know what you’re good for....”
Bailey turned Aaron over and threw him up against the wall, undoing his own pants and rubbing the head of his dick against Aaron’s buttocks. “You’re good for pleasing me....”
Bailey grabbed the elastic band of Aaron’s underwear and pulled down hard.
Bailey growled in his ear and placed his right hand over Aaron’s mouth, telling him if he screamed, he’d kill him right then and there. He parted his tight cheeks and slid his cock inside, tearing the flesh, Aaron used all of his strength to fight back the pain and prayed that someone would walk in and put a stop to it.
He bucked and grunted against Aaron, pounding him hard, his legs buckling and his knees bending, pressing Aaron’s head against the wall. The right side of his face was crushed against the tile, and the tears poured down his face. The force of it was excruciating, a kind of pain that Aaron wouldn’t soon forget.
He felt the warm fluid shoot inside of him as Bailey let out a long sigh. The sweat streamed down his face and he rested his head against Aaron’s back, waiting for just a moment before pulling out and letting Aaron fall to the floor.
“Thanks. See you soon.”
Aaron closed his eyes, feeling something wet pour out from his back side. He broke down just as Bailey disappeared, leaving him there on the cold floor.
Aaron reached back and dipped his fingers into the liquid secreting from behind, not sure as to its substance. He brought his hand to his eyes and opened them, seeing the red stain on his fingers and realizing that it was blood.
––––––––
Aaron shook the memory away and washed his hands, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He did not need to slip into some downward spiral; that was then and this was now. A nine year bridge separated him from his former self, and he could not fall back into it now.
He opened the door and walked back out, amazed to see that the coffee shop had filled up so quickly. It was mainly high school kids finally out of class. He made his way back to the couch, Tammy smiling at him as he sat down. He could tell by the look on her face that she had something to say.
“What?” he asked her, tearing off a piece of the focaccia with his fingers and throwing the flavored bread into his mouth.
“You had a crush on him, didn’t you?” Her smile was wide and her eyes looked at him eagerly.
“Oh, God, not this again!” He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea.
“Tell me, please!”
Aaron looked out of the window behind them, the rain beating down hard once again and pounding against the glass. The wind was picking up speed, and their view was now blurred by streams of rain.
“Yes, I did. But that was a long time ago, and we’re not the same people.”
Blood. Crying. A body draped with a sheet.
“My point exactly!” She winked at him and tore off a piece of his bread, sticking her tongue out as he tried to take it from her.
“Chase is not like that; he’s not gay!”
Voices around him while he changed, feeling eyes on him and turning to see piercing orbs of turquoise staring at him with a playful smile on his beautiful face.
“Well, don’t rule it out!” Tammy responded, patting his knee and running her long fingers through her hair, playing with the ends.
“We really should be getting back home; the high schoolers are piling in here like locusts.”
Tammy rolled her eyes and reluctantly agreed, rising up off the couch to follow her roommate and best friend outside where they were attacked by the downpour.
––––––––
They made their way up North Garden, Aaron speaking very rarely and Tammy talking about everything, just filling up the silence between them, doing what she could to try to get him to think about other things.
He was thinking of his school walks home, passing old houses and large maples, kicking leaves and wishing silently that Chase Sheppard would suddenly have to walk in his direction, both boys slipping into conversation.
It hadn’t happened.
It had never been that innocent.
He thought of Chase now. Nothing about him seemed to be the same; he was taller and he looked like a boy in a band, though that haunting smile still persisted, and that seemingly preternatural stare still having the ability to look right through him.
The two roommates walked up the steps of their off-white Victorian and made their way to the wrap-around porch. Tammy commented on the emerging tulips and blue bells lining the walk. Aaron only nodded. They stood at the large oak doors, the etched glass refusing a view inside the house.
Tammy turned to him, stopping him from opening the door.
“Is everything all right, Aaron?”
He hated all of these questions, but he knew that she only asked because she cared, so he had to cut her some slack.
“Yeah, I’m just a little shaken up from seeing him, that’s all.” He offered a smile and she did the same, twisting the brass knob and opening the door, not bothering to look back.
He ran up the steps immediately, not caring to deal with his housemates at the moment. His mind was full of questions and he needed some time to himself to figure them out.
He went to his bed and collapsed on the unmade sheets. He laid his head down and stared up at the ceiling and those white Christmas lights wrapped from one beam to the other, making it look like a giant spider web.
There had been so much going on, so many things that he needed to consider, so many things he needed to forget. If only the fates would let him do so with minimal grief. His mind wandered, invoking memories that once again took him back to his eighth grade year, back down that tunnel of phantoms.
––––––––
“So, you’re like, into vampires and all that stuff?” Chase asked, looking at him quickly and then looking away.
They were sitting on the bleachers in the gym, grounded for the class because they had both forgotten their P.E. outfits.
“Mm, sort of.” Aaron tried to steady the pounding of his heart. All of the students were out running laps around the school and he and Chase were left alone.
It was their first real conversation.
“Cool; yeah, I saw Interview with the Vampire. That was an awesome movie!”
Aaron nodded, afraid that he was blushing. Their knees touched and he quickly pulled away, alarming Chase.
“Are you, like, afraid to touch me or something?”
Aaron shrugged, avoiding that perfect smile.
“I don’t have rabies or anything... I’ll show you.”
Aaron was trying to think of some excuse when Chase picked up his hand and held it for a moment, the skin feeling soft and stirring the blood in his veins. This flesh against flesh working its trick on him like it were some sort of spell.
“See? I told you, no rabies.” Chase’s voice was quiet now, and it seemed that he was shaking, attempting to keep his hand steady while he held tightly to Aaron’s fingers, and bent them slowly.
“No rabies....” Aaron responded, nodding slightly.
“Yo, man! What’s up?” Bailey Nguyen’s voice echoed through the gym. He and a friend—Amanda Willis—came in, causing Chase to drop his hand instantly and scoot two inches away.
“Nothing, just chilling, how about you?” He hopped off the bleachers and high-fived his friend as they made their way to the locker room.
Aaron was about to grab his book bag and leave when he suddenly caught eyes with Chase, who winked at him before disappearing into the men’s changing room, leaving Aaron with the feeling of weightlessness, like if he just spread his arms and jumped from the top of the bleachers he would fly.
Aaron wiped tears from his eyes and laughed to himself. There had been something there, and there were other things, things he refused to get into. There was so much danger in getting involved with someone from the past, someone who had to recover from that fateful year, and perhaps that journey had yet to be completed.
The phone rang suddenly, but Aaron ignored it, letting one of his roommates answer it.
It was finally answered on the third ring.
“Aaron, it’s for you!” Sandra’s voice carried up the stairs.
He picked up the line, screaming to her that he got it.
“Hello?” he said into the receiver. He was met with heavy breathing. “Hello, who’s there?” Silence. He was prepared to hang up when a voice came through on the other end, a voice reaching out through nine years and traveling into his ear.
“Murderer....”
The line disconnected and Aaron slammed it down on the base, his body trembling. He had known that voice. But how? That voice was long ago detached, silenced by blood and a fractured skull.
The voice was Bailey Nguyen.
“No! Fuck this; no way!” He was crying, and once again his scars burned, lit on fire by some invisible force. That person racing through his veins, screaming to be let out.
In a frantic and seemingly catatonic fit, Aaron grabbed his etching blade and brought it down on his skin, splicing the flesh and letting the dark substance bubble out, flowing like a fount—all of those bad thoughts and terrible dreams leaving him in a crimson geyser and dripping onto the hard wood.
He fell onto his back, trying to steady himself in the here and now, ignoring demons that never seemed to let him be. Demons that always waited for him just around the corner, and that were hidden within the darkness.
He closed his eyes, unaware of how much he was bleeding and not really caring. He could feel the wave of sleep come over him, like the crashing of the ocean against a rock side, foaming over it and encasing it, loving it with liquid arms.
He smiled to himself as something deep—almost spiritual—took hold of him. It was purely euphoric, and it lulled him to sleep.
He dreamed fragmented things, things which could not be figured out. It seemed that the story was out of order, the illustrations in the wrong place, and all of the colors were red and black.
A body in the earth with the flesh eaten away. A worm moving out of one socket and into the other. A horrible skeleton grin. There was dirt seeping through and parts of the casket was eaten away, exposing earth and older bone.
A young head coming into contact with the corner of a urinal, bone cracking on the inside, eyes closing as blood escaped from the cranium and erupted from the mouth. The body hitting the ground, twitching for a moment before going lax, as the lungs collapsed.
A thirteen-year-old boy falling to it, unable to speak, checking for a pulse, pumping the chest and trying to start the heart.
A dark room, unable to speak and unable to move. Hands and feet bound, mouth covered and praying to be set free. Hating his teacher for assigning him to work on a project with Bailey, hating that Bailey had overpowered him, had bound and gagged him and locked him in the basement.
He wanted to tell; he wanted help, but he was scared. He was afraid of what Bailey would do to him. He thought that something had broken the quiet then. He listened again, his ears trying to focus on the distant sound of voices.
Two boys were speaking; he was sure of it. One was Bailey, but who was the other? He listened harder, desperate to make it out.
It sounded like Chase Sheppard. Had he known? Was he aware of the fact that he was bound and gagged in his friend’s basement? No. Not Chase; he could be mean, but not vicious. But as they continued to laugh, Aaron was forced to come to the realization that if it was Chase, then he must have known, must be laughing at his expense. After all, he was Bailey’s best friend, and best friends tell each other everything, especially stories about humiliating poor, defenseless sissies.