GRAHAM CLOSED his eyes, the question echoing in his head.
After a long silence, Connor swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Look, you don’t have to—”
“No, it’s fine. I was figuring out where to start.” Not only was he hesitant to relive the worst experience of his life, but Connor had only just acknowledged that he was gay. Telling Connor what he’d experienced could add fuel to the fear fire.
“When did it happen?” Connor pulled his legs back up and wrapped his hands around his knees.
“About a year ago. You know how I told you my parents knew I was gay, but they found out in probably the absolute worst way possible?” He released a shaky breath and turned to face Connor. “It was a gay bashing.”
Connor blanched, eyes widening. “Oh my God! How… I mean….”
“I’d been seeing this guy—Brandon—for a while. We were keeping things on the down-low, mostly because neither of us was out to our families, and he was scared of what his older brothers would think.”
“Were they—” He stopped to swallow. “I guess I really mean, why was he scared?”
“Let’s say they held a certain resemblance to the Tweedles except they were bigger, meaner, and overprotective of their little brother. He was different. He didn’t quite fit in with them. He was smaller, sweeter. They always sort of looked out for him. We went to the same school but didn’t hang out much. Different interests, mostly. We actually met at a club a lot like the one we went to last night. It was my first trip to a gay club, and there he was. At first it was like oh shit, because we obviously didn’t want to be out at school. Him more so than me, as it turns out. We spent most of the night pretending the other wasn’t there, all the while watching each other. Finally, he came over to me and asked me to not tell anyone that he’d been there. Since I wasn’t ready to advertise, it was no big deal. We started talking.”
“And you guys went out?” He held on to his knees tighter, as though trying not to reach out.
“Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of time together. Between school and the soccer schedule, I was busy. But yeah, we started getting closer.”
Graham stopped to try and wrestle his chaotic thoughts into some kind of logical order. His feelings about the attack and Brandon were a jumbled mix of excitement, infatuation, and pain. “It isn’t really fair to blame Brandon, but I do. Did. Still do, I guess. It’s all messed up in my head.”
“What happened?”
“We’d been seeing each other for a while, and I was getting tired of sneaking around. After a while it gets hard to pretend. Hard to pretend that you don’t know him in school. Hard to pretend that your dates are study sessions with friends. And you don’t expect the shame that comes with the hiding, the sneaking around. I didn’t like feeling like a dirty little secret.”
“He wasn’t willing to stop hiding?”
“Nope. He was so afraid that he would lose his brothers’ respect or that people at school would give him a hard time that he wouldn’t even consider it. Our school had a few openly gay students, and no one seemed to give them any trouble, but Brandon couldn’t see that. One day he invited me over to his house. His parents were out of town, and he had the place to himself for a while. We were in his room, hanging out and listening to music. At first. Then we started to fool around a bit. We’d gotten a little distracted, so we didn’t hear his brothers come home. They came into his room and caught us…. We’d both lost our shirts by this point, and it was pretty obvious what was going on. His brothers completely lost their shit. I got out of there as fast as I could. Hell, I even left without my shirt.”
Phantom pain ghosted along his shoulder. He rubbed at it absently. “I tried to talk to Brandon, to make sure everything was okay, but he didn’t come to school for the rest of that week. He didn’t answer any of my texts. Before all this, he’d made me promise to never call him, but when he ignored my texts, I tried calling. He wouldn’t answer. I was about ready to show up on his doorstep, screw any promises, when I got a text. It asked me to meet him at the picnic area nearby. We’d met there a few times, so I didn’t question it.”
It felt like someone was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He panted, desperately trying to get oxygen to his lungs. Connor reached over and grasped his hand and the warmth of it, the acceptance of that connection, eased the pressure. “I snuck out after my parents settled in front of the television for the evening. They thought I was doing homework, so they didn’t know I was gone. I went to the park to meet Brandon. The picnic area was on the far side of the park, near a wooded area. There wasn’t much light and there weren’t any people around. Brandon was late. After a while I decided to leave. When I started to leave the park, I thought I heard him.”
“It wasn’t Brandon, was it?” Connor’s hand tightened around his. He maneuvered until they sat face-to-face, knee-to-knee. His other hand moved to Graham’s shoulder, kneading the tension there. Graham relaxed into the touch, taking strength from it.
“No. It was Brandon’s brothers. They were there to kick my ass, to punish me for what I did to their brother.”
“What do they think you did? They didn’t think you raped him or something, did they?”
“No, but I think they’d have preferred it. I think they loved Brandon, but they showed it in a really twisted way. It was easier for them to think that I had somehow turned Brandon gay, tempted him to the dark side. Even rape would have been easier for them to accept. Then it wouldn’t have been Brandon’s choice, wouldn’t have been his fault. They’d convinced themselves that I somehow brainwashed Brandon or took advantage of him. That if it weren’t for me, their brother wouldn’t have been such an embarrassment to the family. His family ended up sending him to some military academy in Georgia to ‘straighten him out.’” Graham made air quotes with his fingers. Clammy sweat broke out along his body.
“Sending him away wasn’t enough, though. They had to make sure I wouldn’t lure some other vulnerable, God-fearing boy to the dark side. These guys were only a couple of years older than me, but they were rabid.”
Graham didn’t realize he’d started rocking in place until Connor’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
His gut clenched in memory of fists and feet striking flesh. He forced the rest of the story past his constricted throat. Sheer force of will kept tears away. “You stop fighting after a while. There’s only so much your body can take before everything sort of shuts down and you don’t care what happens anymore, as long as it stops.”
“Oh God. Oh no,” Connor chanted while he rocked Graham. Sympathy or horror, or a combination of both, in his voice. Graham buried his face into Connor’s shoulder so he didn’t have to see which reaction it was.
“Three broken ribs, a broken wrist, internal bleeding, several gashes and bruises. That wasn’t the worst of it. I passed out from the pain, so I don’t remember it, but they locked me in a maintenance shed, doused it with gasoline, and set it on fire. The whole thing collapsed, trapping me under it. A lady saw the fire and called for help, and the firemen got me out in time. I was lucky.” Graham’s voice cracked. “If that lady hadn’t come along when she did, I’d have died.”
“How could someone do that to another human being? I can’t even imagine.”
“I was in the hospital for two months and had three skin graft surgeries. Physical therapy for another six months to regain the movement in my right arm. Another few months of conditioning to get back into shape.” Graham pulled off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the scars.
Graham didn’t want to see the revulsion in Connor’s eyes; he knew exactly how disgusting his scars were. Angry licks of shining red, jumbled with narrow ridges of pale tissue. Large patches of textured skin from the skin grafts. All of this pulled and stretched the healthy skin alongside. This lovely mess covered 40 percent of his back, his right side, and 20 percent of his chest, as well as his right arm from elbow to shoulder.
“And that—” Graham fisted his hands in his shirt, “—is how my parents found out I was gay.”
Connor was so quiet that Graham risked checking Connor’s expression. There was no horror, no revulsion. Instead, tears filled those wide hazel eyes, tracing down the golden skin of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, so sorry. Sorry you had to go through all of that, sorry I made you go through it all over again.”
Graham balled the red shirt in his hands, feeling more naked than he ever had. It was the first time he’d shown his scars to anyone outside his family and doctors. And the details… he’d never told anyone except his therapist everything that happened that night.
“Can I… does it hurt?”
“No. Most of the burns damaged the nerves, so I don’t really have much sensation. I can sometimes feel pressure, or if something pushes on a bone or something, but the skin is numb for the most part.”
Connor traced the outer edge of the scar along Graham’s shoulder. Goose bumps spread across the skin. The edges where scar tissue stretched healthy tissue were sensitive. How come Graham hadn’t known that?
“You don’t want to do that,” Graham muttered, shaking out the shirt to put it on. “I know it’s nasty.”
With his fingers, Connor covered Graham’s lips. “Don’t. Don’t ever be ashamed of your scars. They prove you survived something terrible, that you were strong enough to get through it.”
Graham’s breath caught as he searched Connor’s face. He didn’t really believe that, did he?
“And how cheesy is that?” Connor shook his head. “Yeah, I know, I sound like some kind of after-school special, but seriously, Graham, you survived. Hell, you didn’t just survive, you overcame it. Please tell me those assholes that did this to you got caught.”
“Oh yeah. Not only could I identify them, the idiots still had the gas jug when the cops got there. They tried to deny it at first but admitted to everything, including why they did it, pretty quickly. Because I was hospitalized in the burn unit, knocked out by major narcotics, it was a while before I was able to make a statement to the cops. By the time I could, though, they already had most of the details from their confessions. The cops knew it was a gay bashing, and hate crimes bring harsher sentencing.” There was cold satisfaction in that. “All but the youngest of the three brothers were tried as adults, so they’re currently doing time at the Missouri State Penitentiary.”
“How long?”
“They were each sentenced to five years—”
“That’s it?”
“—with the option of parole for good behavior. I think most of that was due to the vandalism. There have been similar cases where the person committing similar crimes was only sentenced to two months. Five years is huge.”
“I don’t understand how you can be as… laid-back as you are. Why aren’t you angry or bitter?”
“I’m still a little angry and bitter at times, but I’ve learned how to put the extra energy to work for me, rather than let it control my actions.” At Connor’s disbelieving look, Graham smiled. “Hey, I had a very expensive therapist. He was well worth the money.”
Graham’s cell phone started chirping, and he leaned over to the bedside stand and grabbed it. “Hey, Mom. Yeah, we’re awake. We’ll need time to shower and get changed. Then we can meet you guys for brunch.” He paused for a moment before covering the speaker on the phone and asking Connor, “Mom wants to know if there’s anything else in the city you want to see before we head out.”
It seemed to take Connor a minute to focus his mind in another direction. “Not that I can think of. I’m game for anything.”
Graham repeated the information to his mother before ending the call. “We’d better get up and moving. They’re going to meet us in the lobby in half an hour.” He slid off the bed to head to the bathroom.
Connor grabbed his arm as he walked past. He stood and cupped Graham’s face between his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for last night. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the story.”
Graham didn’t know what to say. The awe in Connor’s voice made it hard for Graham to swallow.
Connor leaned in and kissed him softly, so sweetly that Graham’s eyes prickled behind suddenly heavy lids. “We’d better get going. It’s time to return to the real world.”