The Quantum

By Dabeagle

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Chapter Eighteen

Bryan and I slid back into our friendship with a minimum of discomfort. We walked the mall for a bit and I helped him pick out some small gifts for Jess. I questioned him about JR and his support, seemingly from out of nowhere. After all, I barely knew him, but he certainly stood up for Jake and me.

"JR’s funny…He doesn’t really have a group, besides Jake and I." Bryan paused, as if gathering his thoughts as we walked. "JR has always just done whatever Jake and I did. When Jake and I thought that skateboarding was the best it could get, JR got a board and fell on his ass. Well, we all did at first." He laughed at the memory. "Point is that JR is always most comfortable where we are. He’s actually the most normal guy I know. His folks are cool; he gets along with them pretty well. His mom makes more money than his dad, but that’s about the only thing I can think of that isn’t something out of a sitcom."

"So he’s a follower?" I questioned.

"No, I wouldn’t say that. I think he’s just a guy who knows where he’s happy. He’s always been happy with Jake and me. He’s had his share of drama, messy girl breakups, and all that, but he’s just down to earth, good old JR."

"Well, I sure appreciated him the other day. He was funny, but he was being smart at the same time."

"JR is an honor roll guy, you know."

"He is?"

"Yeah, highest GPA of all the motor heads. I know: that’s like saying you’re the shiniest turd, but he’s actually pretty smart." Bryan chuckled and I joined him. "So what did you get Jake for Christmas?"

"Well, some clothes, but I’m still looking for that really special gift. I keep wandering through stores hoping I find it before my mind gets too nervous and settles for just anything."

"I’m sure you’ll find something. I have to head home, you need a lift?"

"No, thanks. I’m going to keep shopping. Grandpa should be back later."

"Ok, well, I’ll see you in school tomorrow then?"

"Yep, only a few days left now."

"Yeah, see ya."

I wandered the mall, looking for something and not knowing what it was. I wanted something that spoke of the safe, warm feeling I had from Jake. Nothing made me feel safer than being near him, or better still, enveloped in his arms. It seemed that he gave me the strength I needed to do what I did in life these days. I guess the strength had always been there, but he was able to make me see it, to actually use it. He forced me to, actually. Otherwise, he’d have buried his head in the sand and willfully ignored the fact that I loved him. So stubborn!

As my thoughts drifted to Jake, I wandered by another shop that springs up at Christmas, only to wilt and die in the new year. I walked past wooden boxes with lacquered images on them and then spotted the perfect gift for grandpa: a small jug with the label ‘Ashes of the people I had to kill’. It was perfect, for a laugh anyway. I bought it, but kept looking for something that would let him know how much I appreciated him and his guiding influence.

Thinking about my grandpa made me think of the meeting we’d endured this afternoon and my mood slowly descended back into melancholy. Something I have learned is that sadness can be its own familiar blanket, and that there is some solace in the familiar. It was a disturbing thought, but one that I saw much truth in. I glanced up at the clock as I passed the food court for the millionth time and noted that only two hours had passed. Being depressed had a way of stretching time, making things seem as though they lasted an eternity.

I passed an art store, large banners said they were going out of business after thirty-four years and everything was on sale. I wandered through, never having paid much attention to such stores, when I happened upon a painting titled ‘The Master’s Bed’. A dog, maybe a yellow lab, was curled on a white comforter. A window in the background shed pale golden light on the creature, clearly at peace. I knew then that I was buying this painting for Jake. It was the one gift that showed the comfort he gave me, the security to sleep and dream of things that might be.

It was also two hundred dollars. Life is so complicated.

* * *

I rode home mostly in silence, my grandfather tapping the wheel as he hummed to a song on the radio. He seemed fairly chipper, though I don’t know why.

"Find anything good at the mall?" he asked.

"I ran into Bryan. We got things sorted out, for now anyway."

"Oh, well, that’s a good thing I guess. Better than a stick in the eye."

"I found what I want to get Jake for Christmas, but I’m not sure how I’m going to get the money up for it."

"How much we talking?" Grandpa gave me the patented one-eyed glare.

"Two hundred bucks."

"Two hundred! You’re not married! You’re not having his babies! Wait, are you pregnant?" He glared again.

"You know, this idea everyone has that I am the woman in this relationship is really getting old."

"Damn right."

"Why do people assume that ’cause I am the smaller guy, I automatically qualify as the woman?"

"Good question."

"So why is it that people think that?"

"Maybe they think you’d look better in a skirt?"

I glared at him while he giggled to himself. If I were more devious, smarter, better looking…..then they would still think I was the woman. It’s height discrimination. Who says there has to be a woman in the relationship? After all, it’s two men that are attracted to other men.

"So is your husband ready to escort you to the opera?" Grandpa snorted.

"Don’t forget, grandpa, when we get married you’ll be a fairy grandfather." There, that’ll shut him up.

"Only if I get wings. I always wanted to fly."

I’ll make you fly, I thought while gritting my teeth.

"Listen, Kris. I spoke to my lawyer this afternoon. She gave me a document to have shit-head and the bride of Frankenstein sign. We’ll go tomorrow, so don’t stay up all night.

I sat and digested this. My nerves were completely on edge knowing I was going back to my father’s house for any reason. I know my grandfather is about as defenseless as a Sherman tank, but my father still scared me stupid. I suddenly found myself wanting Jake, and wanting him very badly.

"You know nothing will happen, right? I may be old but I carry a baseball bat in the trunk."

I looked at him and he smiled sunnily.

"Kris, it’s really time you saw your old man for what he really is – a jerk. A weak-kneed, mealy-mouthed, spotty-lipped, impotent, drunk, moronic sack of monkey shit."

"Who used to beat me."

"Past tense. Look, Kris, if you live in fear of him the rest of your life, then he’s won. Take a hard look at him in daylight and you’ll see, he’s not nearly as strong as your mind makes him out to be."

"It’s…hard."

"I know. Nothing worth having comes easy."

When we got home I took the phone into my room and called Jake, but the line was busy. I paced my room in frustration, my mind a sea of conflicting emotion. I finally couldn’t take it, after three more failed attempts, I told my grandpa I was walking to Jake’s.

"Don’t be late. I don’t want you snoring on the way up there. It’s distracting."

I trekked through the snow, breath billowing out before me. The wind picked up and the ice cold wind was like a hammer on the bare skin of my face. There was a small part of me that was very unhappy to be running to Jake just because I was scared, but there was another part that was simply happy to have someone to go to. My mind was blessedly blank of real thought, one of the few times it heeded my silent request not to show me a highlight reel of my father’s greatest hits upon my body.

I knocked on the front door and heard Jake’s dad yell to come in. I opened the door to see his dad sitting in a chair, his face turning to one of disgust as he spotted me.

"What do you want? Get the fuck out," He said with no real fire. He turned his attention from me and back to the TV.

"Alan, don’t talk to him like that!" Jake’s mom admonished.

"What’s he gonna do? Stop coming over? Give me a break," he muttered and went back to his show.

"Hi Kris, how are you? Come on in; it’s freezing out there. Take off your shoes by the door."

"Thank you. Is Mr. Charbonneau angry at me?" I asked while toeing my boots off on the mat provided.

"Not any more that he was yesterday, why?" She smiled. I shot her a quizzical look.

"Next time, honey, just walk right in. He thinks he’s funny." I nodded and headed back to Jake’s room. He was sitting on his bed watching a movie, but muted it and smiled as I came in.

"Hey you, what’s up?"

"I just wanted to see you, that ok?" I grinned at him.

"Sure is. You cold? Can I warm you up?"

"It’s true, all guys think about is sex, isn’t it?" I smirked as I pulled my jacket off, and made myself comfortable.

"No," Jake looked at me seriously, "I always think about sex with you."

"Pig." I giggled.

"This movie stinks. The only good part is a nice butt shot," Jake rolled into me. I picked up the movie cover, Euro Trip, and sighed at his bad taste in movies.

"So, I saw Bryan at the mall."

"Yeah? I didn’t see anything on the news, so you talked I guess?"

"Yeah, we talked. We’re ok, for now I guess." I paused in thought. "Does he do dumb things like this often? I don’t think my nerves can take it if he does."

"He only does dumb stuff when Jess or his friends are involved. You’re screwed." Jake laughed at my stricken look.

"Well, straighten him out." I pouted.

"You’re asking a gay boy to straighten someone out? You feeling ok?"

"Be quiet," I grumbled.

I sat in a mindless stupor as the movie played on, oblivious to its insipid nature. Jake felt warm and comforting next to me, something that made sitting there tolerable, for a while. Even that lasted only so long, the movie was really horrible. Unable to take it any longer, I decided I needed to talk to Jake about the situation with my father.

"Jake?"

"Mph?"

"You’re not sleeping, are you?" I eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes." He yawned.

"You wanted to watch this movie, not me."

"Well, the butt shot was over by the time you got here, the rest is just tits."

I debated exactly what to say to Jake. What was I trying to accomplish? Did I want to just unload on him, just to talk about it? Did I expect him to give me the courage to face this? He looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer to his flippant response.

"I need to talk to you about something."

"What’s up?"

"We…well, we had a meeting today at the Child Welfare office. Pennsylvania says that New York won’t pay for me anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"I’m going with my grandfather tomorrow to see my Dad. Grandpa talked…" Jake interrupted.

"I’m going."

"I don’t think…" Jake interrupted again.

"I’m going. You are not getting near him without me."

"Jake, that’s very sweet, but I think I have to do this alone." What was I, crazy?

"Kris, no. I won’t let you go without me."

"You gonna’ hold me hostage?" I smirked. In truth, I was a little irritated he thought he could make me do something, but more I was touched at his heartfelt emotion.

"I’m not letting you near that psycho for the world. If I have to tie you up and hide you in my closet to keep you from him, I will."

"Jake, I don’t know."

"I’ll go talk to my mom; you don’t need to go alone."

"My grandfather will be there," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but do you want your grandfather to hold you if something gets said or done? Or do you want your boyfriend, who loves you to be there?"

"Well, my grandfather loves me...." I smiled again. Honestly, I think what I really wanted from the beginning was for Jake to go with me.

"Ok, how about the boyfriend that would be losing his mind, worrying and wondering if you’re okay the whole time?" Jake fixed me with a serious look and my nerves trembled. How can I say no to that?

"Well, I don’t think you should go." My mouth said that, but I have no idea why.

"Excuse me?"

"Jake…" I sighed, as my mind caught up with my mouth. "If something happened, I’d never forgive myself for allowing you to be in harm’s way. As much as I’d feel better with you there, I couldn’t take it if you got hurt on my account. I’m not worth that kind of risk."

There, the truth had just fallen from my mouth before I could think to stop it. I sometimes wonder, in moments like this, if my mouth and brain conspire against me.

"Mom!" Jake left the room. This wasn’t good.

* * *

The following morning saw the most unlikely group of people gathered at my grandfather’s shop. I was there, naturally, with my grandfather. It wasn’t entirely surprising to have Jake there, but the fact that his dad was making the trip added a new dimension of weird to the picture.

"So, you’re Jake’s dad? Pleased to meet you; you have a fine lad there." My grandfather stuck his hand out. Mr. Charbonneau engulfed my grandfather’s hand in his paw and gave him a tight smile.

"Thanks. No offense, but I wish your grandson never met Jake, but if wishes were wings, pigs’d fly."

"Well, I don’t think there is any need to hide your feelings. Why don’t you really let the boys know how you feel? You can do that like an adult, can’t you?"

"Screw you; let’s get this over with."

Jake looked mildly amused, and I was figuring this would be an entertaining ride.

"I’m driving," Jake’s dad announced.

"Oh, good: you spend the gas money!" My grandfather enthused.

"I don’t think so. You gonna’ be a prick the whole time?"

"If you’re gonna’ be a dick, you gotta’ stay hard," My grandfather smiled at him. Slowly, the edges of Mr. Charbonneau’s lips curled up as he smiled at my grandfather.

"I like that, I gotta’ remember that."

We climbed into the Charboneau’s minivan and, try as I might, I couldn’t help giggling a bit at Jake’s dad behind the wheel. He was a large man, easily six foot five, and he liked to eat. He carried it well, so it’s not like he looked as though he were a slob or anything. But what was funny, was this bear of a man behind the wheel of a suburban housewife’s minivan.

"What’s so funny?" he asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

"Nothing?" I attempted to school my features to neutrality.

"Kid, you can’t lie for shit."

"No, his father didn’t pass that gene on," my Grandfather interjected.

"Wish he’d held a few more genes back," Mr. Charbonneau muttered.

"Well, at times like this I’m sure it’s a comfort to you that Jake gets that gene from his father’s side of the family." My grandfather sighed in a satisfied manner.

"I’ll turn this fucking van around."

"Go ahead, you big baby."

"Fuck you," Mr. Charbonneau applied the brake and began to turn. My grandfather remained silent.

"Dad, why can’t you just lay off?" Jake raised his voice at his father.

"I don’t have to put up with this shit, and you keep your mouth shut."

"No, quit acting like an asshole. I know I’m not a good enough reason for you to go along, but maybe you should just stop for a little while and think about someone else for a change!"

"Don’t talk to me like that!"

"You think I asked for this? You think I can help how I feel? You think it doesn’t kill me that it’s more important to you to be stubborn and unaccepting of who and what I am while still claiming to love me? Working to support us isn’t enough, why do you have to fight with me over something you know I can’t help?"

An uncomfortable silence descended on us. The van sat on the side of the road while Jake slowly leaned back in the seat next to me. His body was tense and I put my hand over his and he squeezed it tightly. I hadn’t realized the amount of stress he felt about his father’s attitude. My grandfather finally broke the silence.

"You know, Al, I didn’t want this for Kris either. But the fact is, I don’t get to choose -- no control at all. Sometimes having no control is hard, almost impossible to deal with. Jake is a really good kid, and if Kris is with someone I’d want it to be someone like Jake. Sometimes we have to just try and let things be."

I was a little hurt, truth be told, I was under the impression that my grandfather had no issues with me, but it seems I was slightly mistaken. The van slowly began to move again towards the New York border. I don’t know why it’s so hard for some people to accept others. I looked at the back of my grandfather’s head and wondered what else I didn’t know.

* * *

"Don’t put that there," Jake’s dad told my grandfather.

"It won’t fall," he grumped as his magazine slid towards the window while the van took a turn.

"I can’t have stuff up there. Take it down, please."

"What are you, neurotic?"

"Yeah, now get it off of there."

"Fine, you big baby."

"Wanna’ really piss him off?" Jake smirked. It seemed these two had reached some sort of truce, though an unspoken one.

"Not really, I’ll settle for annoying the hell out of him," my grandfather laughed.

"Cut it out!" Jake’s dad chuckled.

Jake pulled a gum wrapper from his pocket, the silvery part, and wadded it into a tiny ball.

"Jake…" his dad warned. Jake grinned at him and threw the ball so that it landed on the dash, trapped between the windshield and the dash.

"You little bastard, you’re getting that out of there!" he chuckled some more and Jake began to giggle. I smiled at their antics as they argued back and forth about the wrapper, glinting dully from the dash. Finally Jake’s dad pulled over and made Jake dig it out of there.

"What is the big deal?" my grandfather laughed.

"It bothers me!" Jake’s dad laughed as we started to roll again. It wasn’t long before we were headed north at a good clip, Jake’s dad and my grandfather talking in front while Jake held my hand.

"Not that I’m complaining, but if you’re holding my hand just to get under your dad’s skin I’m going to beat you." I smiled at him sweetly.

"I was trying to be supportive, but if you want to hear something funny about my dad watch when we stop for gas. He’ll only go to a Mobil, and then it’s got to be the pump that lines up with the door."

I decided that Jake’s dad couldn’t be that damned weird, no matter what the little smile on his face told me. We pulled over just across the New York border for lunch, at Mr. Charbonneau’s insistence. "Look at me, I’m wasting away to nothing!"

I was no longer paying attention to Mr. Charbonneau or his beautiful son. I was back in New York, and a chill ran up my spine.

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