CHAPTER nine

 

Mac

Seth didn’t want to get drunk for his twenty-first birthday. He also wasn’t a fan of surprises, which wasn’t a surprise to Mac. Delia walked and talked as they left class, giving him the scoop on the birthday plans.

“I’m just going to have a few people over my apartment tomorrow night. There’ll be some gluten-free beer, and then regular alcohol for everyone else. You and Gideon can come over anytime after 8:30.”

“You know, we have our own schedules.” People tended to do this lately. Just because they were roommates didn’t mean their schedules were synched up. They came and went as they pleased, although Mac did have a decent idea of where Gideon was most days. It didn’t mean we were a couple.

The next night, the roommates walked over to Delia’s place. Mac found himself taking extra glimpses at Gideon, in his usual rolled-up sleeves and jeans. Same old Gideon, but Mac hadn’t seen same old Gideon in a few days thanks to Rushmore Shaman. Or Russian Onyx. Or whatever that holiday was called. When he walked through the door a few days ago, luggage in hand, Mac’s heart did a somersault. He instantly gave it an internal warning.

You missed him as a roommate. And a little bit as a friend. That’s it.

They strolled into the chillest twenty-first birthday party Mac had ever attended. People drank their beer and cocktails while a jazz radio station streamed from Delia’s phone. It was so Seth. He and Delia held hands while talking to Henry and Nolan on the couch.

“I still can’t believe they’re together,” Mac said.

Gideon nodded, but he seemed to be somewhere else. He hadn’t said much since he got back.

Everyone wound up congregating in the kitchen. Mac pulled Gideon back from joining the fray.

“Is everything okay?” Mac asked.

“Yeah. Everything’s cool.” Gideon headed into the kitchen and turned on his loud charm. He greeted the crowd around the drinks as if this were his party. Mac admired that ability of his to own a room.

One more glimpse.

That’s enough. Mac hated that he had this attraction to Gideon and hated that Gideon’s feelings for him seemed more ambiguous everyday. He forced himself to think of something else. Delia pulled him into their conversation, saving him from himself.

Mac and Gideon spent the party apart, talking to different people. Gideon held court in the kitchen, always a drink in his hand. Mac liked the relaxed, intimate setting. It gave him a chance to actually hear what the other person was saying. The lowest of the lowkey twenty-first birthday parties turned out to be a great time.

Delia buzzed off to get the birthday cupcakes ready. Henry sidled up to Mac and ushered him to the window.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Mac swiped the last of the baby carrots and dipped them in hummus.

“Is Gideon gay?”

Mac nearly dropped his plate. He laughed off the question. “No. He went to that gay bar to pick up girls.”

“Or so he said. He beeped on my ’dar a little.”

Mac chuckled and played dumb. He spent way too much time wondering what would’ve happened at Cherry Stem if gay John Wayne hadn’t dry-humped his roommate. “What about all those girls he’s dated?”

“He wouldn’t be the first closeted guy to date women,” Henry said.

That was the main talking point in this type of discussion. There were guys who dated 100 girls or were married for thirty years and still turned out to be gay. Mac knew that dating women was a flimsy excuse to prove one’s heterosexuality.

“If he were gay, he’d be out.” That was what Mac always told himself. Gideon wasn’t the type to be holed up in the closet. He’d be just as well-liked gay as he is straight.

But Henry studied Gideon. He didn’t seem convinced.

“I saw you guys come in. If any stranger had seen you, they’d assumed you were boyfriends.”

“What?”

“The body language.” Henry shrugged. “I wondered if you guys were secretly dating.”

“You have got it so wrong.”

“Have I? My ’dar is pretty damn good.” Henry dumped his empty beer bottle in the trash. “It’s a shame. You two would make a really cute couple.”

Henry rejoined the party. Mac stared out the window. He ran through the memories of him and Gideon in the apartment. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like longer, like they’d entered an alternate universe where they didn’t fight freshman year and they’d stayed friends this whole time.

Delia brought out twenty-one gluten-free chocolate cupcakes, each with a lit candle sticking out of them. Henry shut the lights as she walked it to the dining table. Gideon led them in singing “Happy Birthday,” waving his arms like a conductor. He grinned at Mac, his face silhouetted in the candlelight. Shivers of want descended down Mac’s spine.

Minutes later, Mac was still by the window, surveying the party. Gideon stumbled over, his tall, lanky body knocking into an end table. He held two cupcakes and handed one to Mac.

“I’m glad somebody got wasted at a twenty-first birthday,” Mac said.

Gideon rolled his eyes, still grinning. Usually, he was just an extra-social drunk, but it seemed that Gideon had crossed over into sloppy.

“Funny funny funny. You are so funny.” Gideon tapped Mac’s nose with his finger.

Mac’s jeans tightened. Please don’t do that again.

“I am just enjoying life,” Gideon said. He shrugged his shoulders over and over, like saying “what’s the big deal” on infinite repeat. It was freaking adorable.

“I’m glad. Don’t let your family shit drag you down. Your mom and brother need to work that out themselves.”

“They’re family. I can’t just abundant them.”

“Abandon?”

Gideon did his classic double-point. Mac caught Henry looking at them. He turned red.

“My dad, my dad he passed away eight years ago this week. He did.” Gideon raised his glass to him. Mac’s heart went out to him. He wanted to give Gideon a hug, but a bro pat on the back seemed more appropriate. “He was a real gentleman. Real class act. Like fothermucking Cary Grant or something.”

“I’m sure he was.” Mac tried to take Gideon’s cup away gently. “Do you want a glass of water?”

Gideon yanked his hand back. “What happened with your parents, Big Mac?”

Mac’s insides went cold. “We can talk about that later.”

“Did the mom-and-pop shop kick you out for being gay?” Gideon asked it so innocently, like a child not realizing what he just said aloud. Heads turned to them. Mac wanted to strangle him, if his own memories didn’t strangle himself first.

“Shut the hell up, Gideon. You’re way too drunk for this party.”

“If your parents are still alive, you shouldn’t ignore them. They’re the only parents you got. And they may be gone soon.”

Mac grabbed Gideon by the shoulders and shoved him against a bookcase. Picture frames smacked down. His head burned with anger and hurt. Once the memories started, they wouldn’t stop.

“Mind your own fucking business.”

Delia approached them, concern ringing her eyes. Mac released Gideon and left the party.

Φ

Mac lay in bed, unable to shut his eyes. He heard Gideon creak open the front door. Mac turned toward the wall, hoping to block out the noise.

And then he heard a knock on his room divider.

“Mac?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”

“Yep. You sure were.” Mac rolled around to face him. He made out his eyes and pouting lips in the soft light from the kitchen.

“You want some mac n’ cheese?”

The most frustrating thing about Gideon was how hard it was to stay mad at him. Mac wondered if he was the only person to have this problem. He ripped his blankets off. “Sure.”

A few minutes later, there they were, sitting on the couch, eating mac n’ cheese. Mac wasn’t even hungry, but he was going to finish his bowl.

“I’m sorry. I’m just still stressed about my family. It was like somebody threw a grenade on the dinner table, and I couldn’t save anyone.”

“Maybe that’s not your job right now,” Mac said. “You want to be the good son and the good brother, but sometimes it’s best not to take a side. This isn’t your battle.”

“But it’s my family. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brother when he left.”

There was something about the late night and the mac n’ cheese that made the flood gates open in Mac.

“I wasn’t out in West Virginia…” Mac started. Those gates were rusty. They weren’t just going to fly open, not after being shut all these years. “In high school, I went on the computer in the school library to research this gay-straight alliance I’d heard about for kids in my region. This asshole Justin Weeks was looking over my shoulder and saw. He’s the pastor’s son, and he thinks that entitles him to be a dick to everyone because his dad’s tight with Jesus. Word spread like wildfire. A few days later, I’m walking home from school, and I got jumped by Justin and his pals. They said they were doing the Lord’s work.” He could still hear their laughter. Mac raised his shirt to show Gideon the scar on his back. “I tried telling the school, but since it didn’t happen on school property, there was nothing they could, or would, do. And my parents…”

He shoved the flood gates open with all the strength he had. “After two weeks of walking through school with bruises and getting looked at, I finally told my parents. It was the most awkward coming out. They went to have a talk with the pastor, who said Justin and I were just roughhousing. And my parents believed him! They went to church on Sunday like nothing had happened. They said I was being too sensitive.” Mac’s hands started shaking.

“Those fucking assholes,” Gideon muttered. Mac had never seen him angry.

“I hated living with them. They didn’t try to do anything to stand up for me. Justin didn’t get into any trouble. My parents cared more about what others at church would think. We got in a huge argument. I ran away to my Aunt Rita’s in Pittsburgh.” Mac clenched his jaw. Here came the hardest part. “My parents told me to stay. They didn’t want me back.”

He picked up his keys from the coffee table. “On my first night there, Aunt Rita bought a pair of four-leaf clover keychains. One for me, one for her. She promised things were going to work out. We had luck on our side. ‘May we always be each other’s good luck charms,’ she said to me.”

Mac’s keys jiggled against each other. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They were in shock. He was in shock. He put down the keys and shook out his hands, but they continued trembling. Giving Gideon all this personal info was like dry heaving.

“How long has it been since you’ve spoken to them?”

“Four years.”

“Fuck.”

“Life in Pittsburgh was fine. I had some friends, but kept to myself mostly. I stayed in the closet and told myself I wasn’t coming out until college, where it wouldn’t be such a big deal.” Even if he had to take out a crapload of loans to make it happen, he was determined to attend an accepting school like Browerton. Fortunately, he won some local scholarship money to make tuition slightly less burdensome.

Mac rubbed his hands together. Stop shaking. He felt raw, exposed. If he didn’t talk about it, then he never had to think about it. That’s how he got through life. Now, he didn’t know what to do with all these damn emotions he had stirred up.

Gideon looked at him with kind eyes, with a sincerity that made Mac’s hands shake even more.

And then stopped shaking.

Gideon held them steady with his own. His large hands maintained a firm grip. Mac was soothed by their warmth. Gideon bent down and kissed the tip of his fingers.

They locked eyes in the silence of the room, and Mac was shaking all over again. The same nerves he felt the first time they met, up in his dorm room, came rattling back.

This time, though, it was Gideon who kissed him.