Turnabout 1

Nine

By Chris G

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I made it back to school in plenty of time for my third morning period, Math. Yippee. But I approached it, oddly enough, in a considerably improved frame of mind. The confrontation with Will, ugly as it had been, had at least sorted some things out and had given me a much clearer path to take. Now I found I could concentrate again (and believe me, with math I had to) and look forward to lunch when I would be seeing Josh.

It seemed as though I had no more than sat down in my seat than Ms. Seymour, the math teacher, was throwing questions at me. Some of them I could actually answer. And then, taking the bull by the horns, I started asking her some. Math is my least favorite subject, one I struggle with quite a bit. Usually I just leave it alone, hoping it will leave me alone. It usually doesn’t. But now I decided to go into attack mode. I actually asked for help. I could see a couple of people who had been in the first-period English class looking at me kind of funny. But Ms. Seymour, bless her, seemed to be in a mood to help. It was like she took my questions and started building the lesson around them. In almost no time, it seemed, the bell was ringing and it was lunch time.

I went to my locker somewhat warily, but Will was nowhere to be seen. Josh, however, was. He was already waiting for me with his jacket on. “Hey, David! Come on, man, get your coat and let’s motor!” he called out. “Hey, where’s Will?”

“Uh, he… he won’t be coming, Josh.”

“Oh, too bad.” Josh shrugged it off without further comment. “Come on, man!” he urged. “Hey, did you think of somewhere you’d like to go?”

Now, this conversation was being conducted in the middle of a throng of highly mobile, highly vocal, and very hungry students, all of whom were paying no attention to us whatever. Call me oversensitive if you will, but right then I had the feeling that every single person I could see had his or her ears flapping in our direction, and could understand all the background and implications of every word we were saying. Paranoia? I wrote the definition for it.

I somehow got my locker open, threw my backpack in and grabbed my jacket. Slamming the door shut again and smashing the lock together, I wheeled away from the locker and made for the doors. Josh was left standing at the starting gate and leaped to catch up.

“Hey, David! Come on, man, wait up!”

“Oh, sorry Josh.” I tried to give him a smile, but I think it just ended up being a sick grin.

“David, you’re looking kind of… I don’t know, kind of bummed about something. What gives?”

“Let’s leave it until we’re out of here, OK?”

“Sure.”

He just moved along with me. We got down to the main lobby, when I saw something that really changed my mood and did make me smile for real. In almost the same position I’d last seen them that morning before classes stood the same group of Josh’s toadies. Oh, all right. Maybe not the exact same group. I mean, I hadn’t taken roll call back then. But it just looked so right that I figured it had to be the same bunch.

“Josh!” one of them cried out, one of the girls. It sounded like the shrilled cry of a rock star groupie spotting her beloved idol.

Josh didn’t even break step. In fact, he grabbed my elbow and urged me forward even faster and propelled me out through the doors. I couldn’t resist taking a quick look back at the group to see how they had taken this latest betrayal. Damn! One of these times soon I was going to have to construct a blind or something so that I could study these varying expressions of shock and dismay. I was missing out on some really good anthropological study here.

I said as much to Josh on the way to his car. The laugh with which he greeted my remark sent me into orbit. I’d never met anyone whose laugh affected me the way his did. It seemed to come from the absolute core of his being, and it was like it almost made him light up. He obviously appreciated the humor of the situation, because he kept right on laughing and actually had to lean up against the side of his car, bent over and clutching his stomach.

“David, guy, you are just too weird! But way funny!” he gasped, trying to get control of himself. “But you’re right,” he went on when he finally stood up again. “They are a funny bunch, when you look at them like that. But why I ever thought…” He let it go, shrugged, and unlocked the car. I moved to the passenger side and got in.

“So, where we goin?” he asked.

“Tell you the truth, I haven’t even thought about it. You choose.”

“David, did something happen this morning?” He turned toward me, his face wiped of the laughter now and expressing concern instead.

I took a deep breath. I really didn’t know whether I wanted to get into this all over again or not. I mean, I’d had one intense conversation already, and I didn’t know (all right, I was scared to find out) where this would end up if I started talking to Josh about it.

Before I could even start to speak, Josh said, “Look, maybe we should just go have a nice lunch and relax and try to enjoy ourselves. I think I know a good place for that.” With that, he started the car, backed out of the space, and laid out a nice little squawk as we moved away—nothing too pushy, just announcing that here was a car worth looking at, and a refined one at that.

As we drove, Josh did the talking. About some things that were going on in school, a movie or two that he’d seen recently that he really liked, stuff like that. Nothing at all about me or him or us or what had happened the day before. I listened, and as I did the whole world seemed to collapse inward to focus on him. He was so relaxed, so easy, smiling, glancing over at me occasionally, a big grin on his face. I paid no attention at all to where we were going, totally absorbed in him.

Now you’d have bet money, I’m sure, that two teenage guys heading out for lunch would inevitably have ended up in the parking lot of, oh, McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Arby’s, or something like that, right? When we pulled into a parking lot and I finally came out of my daze to look around, I had no clue where we were, how long we’d driven, or how we’d got there. Beside us was a modest-looking yellow brick building with a smallish sign on two posts by the sidewalk leading to the front door. It said nothing more than “Vito”.

We got out, and Josh preceded me up the walk. He turned with a slightly anxious look and said, “I hope you like Italian.” I just nodded and smiled, and he turned to open the door. And he ushered me in ahead of him. Wow! Like, how romantic! my internal snide voice remarked. As he came up beside me, a middle-aged man wearing a smart white shirt, red vest, and red velvet bowtie appeared.

“Ah, Mr. Barrett, how nice to see you again!” He sounded as though he really meant it. “I believe your usual table is free. Just yourself and your guest?”

Josh nodded, keeping his face turned from me. “Th-thanks, Alberto,” he responded, stumbling slightly over the words.

Alberto showed us to a window seat about half-way down the room. The place was about three-quarters full, and more people were coming in through the doors. Seemed like a popular place.

We were seated, menus were placed in our hands, and Alberto left quickly but smoothly to take care of more customers. I couldn’t resist. “Your usual table?” I said quietly, but with emphasis.

Finally! Someone who could blush just as hard and red as I always seemed to! Josh’s face was absolutely gleaming when he raised it from his menu. “Aw, knock it off, will ya? It’s just cause my parents like to come here a lot! Jeez! Try to show a friend a nice time and whaddaya get?”

“Hey, man, I didn’t… Josh, this is really great! Thanks for bringing me here.”

“No probs. My pleasure. Look, don’t worry about what you want. It’s my treat, OK?”

I finally focused on the menu. It didn’t take long to make me realize I was glad not to have to worry about what I wanted. Cripes, when he’d asked if I liked Italian, I figured we were going into what might have been a slightly up-market pizza joint. This wasn’t a pizza joint. It definitely was up-market. Vito was doing quite nicely, thank you, judging from the quick calculation I made from the price of the average entrée multiplied by the number of people I figured were sitting here at the moment.

The two of us finally settled on some sort of fettuccini Alfredo variation designed as a lunch for two people, with a side salad. Alberto came by again, discreetly placed two small glasses of what was obviously white wine in front of us, and winked, again discreetly.

“Must be nice to have friends in high places,” I observed.

“Well, he’s right from the old country, and he thinks this obsession we have here about keeping any and all alcohol completely away from kids is just plain nuts. He thinks the more kids know about the stuff, and the more chances they have to try it out when they’re here with their parents, the more responsible they’ll turn out to be when they’re on their own. This is the kind of glass I always get when I’m here with my parents.”

“Nice idea,” I mused, picking up my glass.

Josh picked his up, and moved it to mine, clinking them together slightly. Nice chime, I thought. Then Josh said, “To us.”

My hand stopped on its automatic trajectory to my mouth. I stared at Josh. He looked back at me. A slight flush was building up in his cheeks again, but he kept his gaze level. He took a deep breath, then said very quietly, still without taking his eyes from mine, “Should I change the toast?”

My turn to take a deep breath. I couldn’t think of a thing to say, as hard as my mind was working. So I just let the breath back out, and without taking my eyes from his, moved the glass to my lips and sipped.

His eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a delighted smile as he sipped in his turn. I said, “Good toast. Good wine.” Scintillating, David, utterly scintillating.

Josh set his glass down again and spoke. “David. I’m pushing you too hard. But I really want us to be friends. Like I said last night, I think I really need someone like you. I’ve been hanging around with clowns for too long.”

“Uh, Josh? Not clowns… toadies.”

“Say what?”

“The word for those people is ‘toadies’.”

“Oh, toadies is the word for those people. Hey, good one, David.” He laughed his marvelous laugh again, this time suitably muted for our surroundings. We were relaxed again, and he didn’t make any further mention of the toast.

The conversation went back to everything but us. We talked about music, food (naturally), school (even more naturally), and toadies. I expanded on my desire to build a blind in the lobby to observe the facial expressions of his clique. I thought he was going to fall completely off his chair onto the floor. He was trying so hard not to make an exhibition of himself in the now-crowded room I half thought he was going to hurt himself.

He was saved by the arrival of the food. Our waiter was a fairly young guy, and more than fairly good-looking. My eyes probably lingered on him a bit too long as he moved away. As I brought them back to our table, Josh’s level and serious gaze was there to meet them. I felt that hot red flush climbing from my neck. I opened my mouth, not knowing in the least what I was going to say.

“No, David. Don’t. There’s nothing you have to tell me. And I don’t want you to have to lie to me. Let’s just eat.”

I nodded, once, and picked up my fork. My hand was trembling so badly I had to put it back down. I sat there with my head lowered.

“David. Please,” came Josh’s anguished voice. “Please tell me how to stop hurting you.”

My head snapped up. “Josh! You’re not hurting me at all. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of that all by myself.” I stopped, took a big breath, and let it out slowly. “I think I’ve got it under control now. Thanks.” And I picked up my fork again and started eating.

It was good. Really good. That, and the fact that we ate in total silence, pausing every so often to sip the wine, relaxed me more and more. Well, I have to include Josh in the things that were adding to my feeling of well-being. Aside from that admission that he knew I’d been admiring the waiter, he’d done nothing but make me feel comfortable, accepted, even wanted.

The plates were clean in what seemed like no time. The cute waiter came by and whisked them away. I kept my eyes firmly on the table while he was in the vicinity. And then came a voice from inside me which said, Fuck it!

“Josh, there’s a whole bunch of stuff that I need to tell you. It just feels like if I don’t, I’m gonna explode or something.”

He nodded, face serious. “I think I got it. What say we just skip dessert, not to mention afternoon classes, and head on back to my place? We’ll be able to talk all we need to without getting interrupted.”

This just felt so right. It was as though we really were two independent people, not someone’s kids, not students in school, not people who were controlled practically every waking moment of their lives. Just two people who could make up their minds to have lunch together, take an afternoon to be with each other… It just seemed to be the way it absolutely should be.

I saw Josh slip something into Alberto’s hand as he said goodbye to us on the way out. Alberto grinned and gave Josh a little half-bow, then smiled at me and asked if I had been satisfied. I think the wine must have gone to my head, because I smiled back and said, “Alberto, it was magnificent. I look forward to my next visit.” Yeah, right, David. Good acting.

We got into the car, and Josh pulled smoothly away. No calling for attention this time. We were in a different element. He moved out into the traffic, and we accelerated firmly toward his house.


I settled back in the big, soft beanbag chair in Josh’s room—or suite, I supposed I should call it—and ran my hands over my face. Josh sat cross-legged on the thick rug in front of me. This wasn’t easy, even though he had done everything he could to keep things light and casual. In the car on the way over, he had laughed and joked—really, he’d carried the whole thing by himself. I certainly hadn’t contributed much to the conversation.

But now everything was focused on me. Josh acknowledged as much by saying, very gently, “Take your time, David. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

“For some reason, Josh, I want to say more to you than I’ve said to anyone else. It’s just not going to come easily, because it is kind of… scary, I guess. But you’ve been so great ever since yesterday. Jeez, it’s only been since yesterday—yesterday evening, to be precise.” I shook my head. “Wow, I can’t believe we’ve come so far so fast. Or,” I gulped, looking across to him, “maybe I’m assuming too much here.”

“I don’t think you are, David. I think you know by now that I’m wanting this as much as you do.”

Yes, but wanting what was the question. That toast he’d made… what had that meant, exactly? Well, I might be about to find out.

“OK.” And with that, I came to a full stop. I hadn’t the first clue where or how to begin. I sat there, and started rubbing my hands over my face again. I had no idea where that was coming from. It was like I was trying to scrub something away. A mask, maybe? Davy-boy, I thought to myself, you read way too much. Maybe it’s time to start watching more shit TV.

Josh didn’t say a word. He continued to sit on the floor, not so much staring at me, which would have been very intimidating, but still his attention was focused on me. I really couldn’t figure out how he was doing that. He wasn’t threatening; the upset I was feeling was coming entirely from me.

“OK,” I said again. “I’m gay.” It just popped out. I hadn’t planned to say it, I hadn’t figured on that way of starting what I wanted to say to him. I didn’t even think I’d wanted to say it to him. I had my hands over my face, and my eyes were closed behind them. If I keep my eyes shut, you can’t see me, I said to myself in a little kid voice, and an insane interior giggle immediately followed it. I said nothing more. I heard nothing from Josh. I slowly lowered my hands, but my eyes were still shut. I persuaded myself to open them.

He hadn’t moved, his expression hadn’t changed. He sat there, looking at me with a completely unreadable expression. I couldn’t let what I’d just said go.

“I have no idea why I just said that to you.”

“I’m glad you felt you could.”

This, of all the possible responses, wasn’t the one I’d expected to hear. “Let me put it this way. It wasn’t what I was planning to say. I opened my mouth and just nailed myself. I’ve known you, I mean really known you, less than 24 hours and I just hand over something I can barely acknowledge to myself, let alone anyone else.”

“I’m really very honored.”

I didn’t hear anything mocking, sarcastic, whatever. It was just a flat statement of fact.

“And you know something really interesting?” he followed up. I looked at him quizzically. “You’re not blushing, David.”

The red immediately flared up into my face.

“Damn!” said Josh, looking at me flaming in front of him, and busted up laughing.

He keeled over on the floor, holding his stomach, and just howling. I felt this stupid grin pulling at my mouth, then I started to sputter, and then I too was bellowing with laughter. I lay back in the beanbag and just let it all go. The two of us were lucky we had this private place to let loose in, because if anyone had been around, we would have ended up in adjoining padded cells.

We finally came back down, each of us wiping tears from our eyes, and finally reestablishing some semblance of order.

“Feel better?” asked Josh.

“Yeah, I guess I do. But I must say you’re taking this rather calmly.”

“Well, at the risk of reopening some wounds, I’ll tell you why.” This sounded ominous. My stomach muscles clenched, but it’s pretty tough to get a ‘fight-or-flight’ response fully together when you’re laid back in a beanbag chair. Maybe that was all part of the plan. Except I was the one who had chosen that place to sit.

Now Josh was the one looking troubled. “When I… confronted you, in the locker room on Friday…” Josh was having some trouble getting this out. “Damn!” he exploded, and turned away from me.

“Josh, that’s over and done with. It’s history. We’ve moved beyond it.”

“Yeah,” he said, still with his face averted, “and here I am bringing it back again. I hurt you, and I’m not happy about it.”

“And I hurt you every bit as much, if not more, and I’m not happy about it either. But it’s now a part of who we are. And maybe it’s a good thing not to put it too far behind us, at least not yet. Now go on. I want to hear what you’re thinking.”

He slowly turned back toward me. “You know, that’s one of the things I appreciate about you, David. You really like putting things out front. You say what you think.”

“Well, I’ve figured out from what experiences I’ve had that it’s usually the best way to handle things. Only thing is, sometimes I end up saying more than I should. Like just now, for instance.”

“I don’t think that was more than needed to be said. Because when I came at you that way… on Friday…” He was still having trouble. “The reason I said what I did was because I’d been focusing so much on you, trying to find all the ways I could to get at you and make you suffer…” His face twisted into a sneer of self-loathing when he said that. “… that I started to notice something about you and Will.”

Uh oh. Well, too late now. I’d already admitted to it.

“So I accused you of it, more or less. Well, no more or less about it. I accused you of it. I figured I’d found a great weapon to use on you, and instead you grabbed it away from me and started using it on me.”

“Josh, I’ve told you I’m not proud of that…”

“David, let me finish!” He almost snapped it at me, he was so intent on what he wanted to say. He took a big breath. “You were able to use it on me because… it’s true.”

I sat in stunned silence. The hand squeeze. The toast. It was because…

“It’s because I watched you and Will together, and I was sure I knew the explanation for how you behaved together. And… I was jealous.”

He faltered to a stop. I was glad he was looking at the floor and not at me. I could feel my mouth gaping open, and it wouldn’t have been an inspiring sight for anyone. But something had to be said. I had to get us out of this.

“You were… jealous?”

“Yeah.” He bit it off.

“I’m not sure I get it. You were out for my blood, and at the same time you were jealous of me and Will?”

“I was jealous of what I thought you guys were having, because… I wanted it too.”

“But… Josh…” I said, bewildered. How could this guy, with his money, with all that gang of people constantly surrounding him, be jealous of me?

“Cause I’m gay, David, cause I’m gay!” He was really flogging himself with it, and along with it going into serious overload. This was getting dangerous.

I rolled myself out of the beanbag and onto the floor beside him. I knelt in front of him and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. “Josh, stop beating up on yourself. You are what you are, and you start from there.” He actually calmed down a little. Sometimes I amaze myself. I followed up. “Now I can actually feel good about what happened there in the locker room.” He looked at me almost shocked. “Yeah, I can. Because it got me to where I am now.”

And then I leaned slowly forward, still gripping him by the shoulders. Our eyes held each other’s as our lips found each other’s. Then they slowly closed as the kiss went on and on.

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