Crush (22 page)

Jamie is released after several hours. Stacy has to stay and work, so the rest of us return home in Ray’s car, in almost total silence. Jamie sleeps in the backseat while I sweat on the passenger side. I think I’ve just lost my first “friend” due to my choice to be true to myself and to Jamie.

After we’re dropped at my house, I carry Jamie inside. Ray offers no help, and I don’t ask.
I lay Jamie on the couch and wrap him in my checkered comforter.
Then I do something I never do. I cook. I peel a bunch of potatoes and onions, I chop up a clove of garlic, and I cut up a chunk of the ham Mom bought for Christmas dinner the daybefore she fell and hurt herself. Might as well not let it go to waste. She doesn’t even like ham. She only got it for Uncle Price, who still eats here at holidays like nothing ever happened. Since Mom is most decidedlyout of commission this year, he won’t be partaking of this particular ham.
“Here,” I nudge Jamie awake with a big steaming bowl.
“What’s this?” he smiles through sleepyeyes.
“Potato soup. Made it just for you. Eat!”
And for once, he eats, or rather, drinks every drop, every wedge of potato, every bit of savory pink ham. It isn’t long before his eyes are even droopier. “What’d you put in this stuff?” he asks. “I’m soooo sleepy…”
“Potatoes, onions, garlic, warm milk, butter, salt, pepper, and ham.”
“It was so good…”
“I’m glad. Is your headache gone yet?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Now, what do you want to watch?”
“Something old. Funny.”
I put in a video of
The Jack Benny Program
. “How’s this?” I ask, sitting him up and snuggling under the comforter with him.
“Perfect,” he murmurs and turns himself around to face me. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me once, twice, three, four times.
“No…no fooling around tonight,” I say sternly. “Tonight you need to rest. Go to sleep!”
He pouts, then resigns himself to watching the TV. “Man, Jack’s so cheap he makes the Stolpers look generous!”
I laugh, remembering Jamie’s stories of how he slaved for the infamouslyrich couple who dressed like hobos.
He goes to sleep with his head tucked under mychin.
His chest swells against mine with each quiet breath. His warmth enfolds me even when I’m not inside of him. I am his. I’ve always been. I’ve been with a lot of people sexually. I’ve been with a lot of women and a few men too, but it means nothing. None of it. I love Jamie. We belong to each other. I never want this to end.
I doze off listening to Jack arguing with Rochester Van Jones.

Tammy’s oath of celibacy for one evening doesn’t last more than two hours. Before dawn, we’ve done it at least five or six times. He’s insatiable, but I love it. I love him so much. When we’re not fucking, we talk and talk and talk, about everything.

I tell him all the stories I’ve told Lloyd. The sad, scary ones leave Tammy aghast. The funnier ones have him choking with laughter, especiallythe “Turd-pedo Episode.”

We cackle until we’re in tears. “I love making you laugh,” I say. It feels so good to laugh with him, to be this comfortable with him, to make small discoveries. He snorts between laughs like a

The conversation takes a left turn then.
He asks, “Why, Jamie? Whyme?”
“At first it was just because you were so gorgeous.” His

eyebrows raise. “You’re
still
gorgeous! But in high school, it was a crush. I couldn’t stop looking at you…I loved everything about you. I loved watching you playfootball. I just
loved
you.

“Then, the daythose guys beat me up, and you helped me…I knew I
really
loved you. Because I knew you cared about me… enough to follow me home.”

He tries to denyit. “I was just in the neighborhood.” “Stacytold me, Tammy. You were
following
me.”
He sighs. “She can’t keep a secret to save her.”
“Whyme, Tammy?”
It takes him a long time to gather his thoughts. “There’s

something about you, Baby. You’re beautiful, but it isn’t just that. There’s something in your eyes. It’s like…they
called
to me…that day…in church…there was something so familiar about you. I
knew
you. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It just…it felt like we knew each other…and when you held my hand…it was like…a miracle…”

I gasp, “Yes…”
“Then one day, I remembered,” continues Tammy. “I remembered meeting this beautiful little boy in a grocery store when I was onlyfour years old. He was so pretty, like a little angel. It was you…I
know
it was.”

How I wish I could remember too!
He stares at me endlessly. “Your eyes…they’re so happy sometimes, so sad other times. Whenever you were sad I wanted to talk to you.
“That last night that I was here…I loved it. It was one of the best nights of my life,” Tammy murmurs. “I think I knew, really knew, that I loved you, that night….I never forgot you…”
“I never forgot you either.”
“I looked at pictures of you in the yearbook, night after night… the ones of you in choir.”
“Those
dorky
pictures?!”
“You were never a dork!”
“Myrazzleberryhair!” I blush.
“I
loved
it.”
“On Valentine’s DayI got you a card. I left it on your car.”
“That was
you
?!”
I nod.
“I
wanted
it to be you,” he says in a tremulous voice. “I wanted to ask you. I wanted to so badly…but I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“I was shy.”
“Shy?!” I laugh. “You’re not shy, TammyMattheis!”
“Yes, I am!”
“Now I’ve heard it all,” I sputter helplessly.
“I put an envelope with those candyhearts in your locker.”
My eyes are stinging, leaking. “I didn’t think it could have been you. I wanted it to be, but I just knew it couldn’t be.”
“Why?”
“Because I figured you hated me. I wanted you so much but I knew you were straight. I couldn’t believe you could possibly like me, not like that.”
“I never, ever hated you.”
“You acted like you hated me. You yelled at me about that ball,” I sniffle. “You made me cry.” Why does that incident with the soccer ball still bother me so much? I guess it’s because that was the cruelest he’d ever been to me.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I yelled at you because I liked you. I know I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”
“Well…just so you know, you broke myheart…”
“I
never
hated you. I loved you. I know I treated you like shit. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Honestly…”
He kisses me.
“I kept those conversation hearts,” I whisper. “I still have

He offers another confession on my altar. “That night, in the pool…I wanted to kiss you…right in front of them…”
“I wanted you to,” I breathe against his cheek. “But I understood whyyou couldn’t.”
“I should have just planted one on you,” scowls Tammy. “Why did I give a shit
what
theythought?!”
“You made it up to me very shortly after,” I sigh. “Our first kiss…”
“No, our first kiss was in the grocerystore,” he insists.
“You’re reallysure that babywas me.”
“I know it was you, dammit! I cried in the car all the way home, telling Mom how I wished I could be friends with you forever. I already loved you. I’ve loved you almost all our lives!” He shudders and hides himself against myneck.
I pray that one day I’ll remember it. God, how I’d
love
to remember that.
“You were eating Red Vine licorice,” he says.
The scent of it fills mynose…
“After you were beaten up, you changed,” says Tammy. “I was so worried about you. I should have stayed. I could have been here, with you, all these years. I know we would have made it. I
know
it. But I ran away. I’m a coward. I loved you and I didn’t know how to deal with it!”
“Don’t worry about it anymore, Tammy. We’re here
now
. That’s all I care about.”
“I’m a coward. I couldn’t deal with it. I didn’t want to deal with it. So manyyears, wasted.”
“You’re
not
a coward!” I say vehemently. “People like us are persecuted, beaten up, killed. Maybe you knew that, and that’s why…”
“It just proves I’m a coward,” Tammy mutters. “I want to kiss you, hold your hand in public. It’s ridiculous how we have to hide… how Raytreated us when he found out.”
“Sometimes…” I offer timidly, “…not always, but sometimes…I wish I was a girl.”
“Why?” he asks, and I see something like panic in his face.
“Because, I’ve always been picked on…I’m small…there’s nothing I can do about it…I’ve been beaten up so many times…I just think life would be easier for both of us if I was a girl.”
“Would you want
me
to be a girl?” he asks. His mouth twitches as he tries not to smile.
“No!” I almost shout. “No!”
He lets his smile spill. “I don’t want you to be a girl…You’re a boy…a man…I love you, I’ve always loved you, just the way you are. You’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” I mutter.
“You are to me,” he whispers. “You’re a
man
, Jamie. I love what you are.”
I shiver inside. “But…what if one day I decide I want to become a woman?”
“Uh…”
Myheart begins to falter…
“If you really wanted to…” he whispers, “…I’ll have to get used to the idea…but…if it would make you happy…”
“But I want
you
to be happytoo.”
Tammy is quiet for a long, long time. I allow him to think. “I would still love you.”
“Are you sure?”
“You would still be Jamie. Maybe your body would be different, but your brain…”
“I’m not saying I’ll do it, but it might make things easier for us. People…might tolerate us…”
“Why should we worry about whether people can tolerate us?” he asks with a small grin.
I shrug.
He sighs, “I hate the way we’re treated…just because we’re both men.”
“We live in a small, hick town,” I soothe. “It’s just the wayit is. That’s whyI want to move to the coast. I’m sick of this place!”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know whybeing near the ocean would make our lives peaceful…but somehow I know it would.”
“God, Jamie,” Tammy whispers, running his knuckles over mycheek. “This is almost too perfect…”
I feel a frown pinching myforehead. “What if something goes wrong?!”
“No, don’t say that,” he shakes his head. “We’ve been punished enough, both of us.”
I hold his head between myhands, look into his eyes. I delve as deeplyas I can go, and it shakes him up bad.
“What?” He tries to wiggle free of me.
“I can see your soul.”
His breathing quickens. “Mysoul.”
“Your soul.”
“Is it good or bad?” Suddenlyhis eyes flood.
“It’s good, Tammy,” I whisper, kissing his mouth again and again. “It’s very, verygood. Strong.”
He shakes his head. “
You’re
the one who’s strong. I’m not strong at all…”
“Yes, you are,” I argue. “You’re very strong. I see it in you. You’re smart, you’re strong, and you have a good soul. I feel it, Tammy.”
“I’ve done things,” he sobs. “I’ve done horrible things! I’m an evil, horrible person!”
He tells me, about the anger, the rejection, the jealousy, the hate he felt, for his Dad and his Uncle and himself, after his Uncle molested him.
“Your Uncle fucked with you?”
“Yeah,” he says softly, incapable of meeting myeyes. “When I was about eleven or so.”
“What did he do?” I ask before thinking.
There’s no reply, and I say, “Forget it. It’s none of my business.”
“No, I want to tell you…It’s just…I’m ashamed.”
If onlyhe knew how I understand.
“He made me love him. He told me I was beautiful. He told me he loved me! He told me that what we were doing was beautiful and right, because we loved each other. He told me I was special! Then he just…threw me away…like I was nothing!”
I never would have guessed.
“I was so angry…I did things…” Tammy tells me about stealing his cousin’s Barbies and mutilating them. He tells me about how he and his friends shot birds. He tells me how he used to be cruel to his puppy. He tells me that for a while, he was obsessed with death, serial murderers, and writing violent stories in diaries.
Gooseflesh rises along myarms.
“When I put my…fingers inside of you…” Tammy divulges haltingly, “I…remembered Cotton. I sort of molested him…when I was young…I put my fingers in him.” He swallows audibly. “I saw Uncle Price do it to Natalie…put his fingers in her vagina, when he was changing her diapers…I don’t know whyI did that to Cotton… it was sick…I get sick every time I remember it…I’m so ashamed…I almost…couldn’t do what I did to you…I almost had to stop…but I reminded myself…I wasn’t hurting you…” But his voice is laced, tangled, with humiliation.
He stops, nestles against me, waiting.
I’m afraid.
Afraid of Tammy, afraid of these revelations from deep within him, afraid of what could yet lurk there.
Myfaith in him wavers.
I’m fourteen again
.
He’s only playing with me. He doesn’t love me
.
I should excuse myself and go, now. Out of his life. To preserve myown.
Is he evil? Does he want to hurt me? Has he been planning to hurt me all this time?
“I liked it when Uncle Price touched me down there!” he cries. “I was in love with him. It was
wrong
! He
knew
it was wrong!”
I blink. No. Hell, no. I’m looking into his eyes, his soul. I’m seeing the veryopposite of evil.
I mustn’t be afraid.
He’s opened himself.
To me.
I have to stop believing that Tammy hates me simply
because I love him
.
He needs me to help him. I have to rise above my perpetual distrust of the human species and help him.
He doesn’t want to hurt me. He loves me.
He went away for sixteen years. He left me without saying goodbye. He
did
hurt me.
He just explained why, Jamie,
I scold myself.
He’s tried to explain his struggles. He’s opened his heart and revealed things that anyone with an ugly soul would never dare unveil.
He trusts me.
And I, for one, understand lifelong guilt, the revolting flashbacks, the disparaging voice of the Accuser, the spoilage of irreplaceable moments and the tainting of treasured memories. The sins committed against the powerless by the lecherous, the leftover ruination that turned me into an amoebic recluse who believed I was content with mylife and myself.
The same kind of shame turned Tammy into a confused, restless seeker of comfort and self-acceptance, who found only more self-hate.
I understand.
And it’s high time to show him I trust him. He’s the only human being I’ll ever love like this, and if I can’t trust him, I might as well live in a sea cave. He wouldn’t have revealed these staggering secrets if he didn’t trust me.
“You haven’t hurt anyone, have you.” I sayit, I don’t ask it.
“No, Jamie, I swear…except Cotton, the birds, the cats. I don’t know whyI did it.”
“You were a boy,” I tell him. “You were hurting. You were crying for help.”
He sobs, “Yes!”
I hold him close to me, and he cries and cries. “You have a conscience, Tammy. Evil people don’t have a conscience. Evil people do evil things and they don’t feel sorry afterward. They never feel sorry.”
The difference between the saved and the damned
, I think to myself.
Was Hitler sorry? Did a glimmer of remorse ever cross his eyes? Was Saddam sorry? Is Bin Laden sorry? What about Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer? Were any of them sorry for the things they did? Will they be in heaven?
“I can’t believe I wrote those stories! I can’t
understand
myself!”
“Feeling guilt isn’t pleasant, I assure you” I say, holding his face in my hands. “But I’d rather feel bad about something I did wrong than go through life not feeling anyguilt or remorse. You felt it. You
still
feel it. You let it change you, make you a better person. That’s whyI know your soul is good. That’s whyI know you’d never hurt anyone now.”
“I don’t understand! Why? Why did I do those things?! Sometimes, I just want to
kill
myself! Because I
hate
what I did! I hate it!”
“Kids do weird things. They don’t understand how cruel they’re being. You were a
child
, angry and hurt, and that was how you expressed it. You’re an adult now. You feel bad about those things. Your Uncle never apologized to you. I wonder if he’s ever repented. I hope so, for his sake.”
“He’s senile,” Tammysniffles. “He doesn’t even know where he is half the time.”
“I’d rather be you than him, not feeling any guilt. All the kids he’s hurt!”
“I didn’t report him! I should have!”
“You were a child. You didn’t know
how
to report him. You didn’t even know what he was doing was wrong.” I sigh. “No wonder you’re so torn up.”
He weeps, in soundless misery…It’s not fake...
“It’s going to be okay, Tammy.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me now, Baby. I told you all this, and now I’m so afraid you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Tammy,” I decide. “You’re a good person.And you have to forgive yourself. We all do bad things. We all make mistakes. Have you ever asked God to forgive you for those things you feel so bad about?”
Barely above a hoarse whisper, he speaks. “I don’t know if I believe in God, Jamie.”
“You should, Tammy. How can you have hope without God?”
He shrugs.
“I have to believe in God. I can’t, I won’t, listen to people who say that people who believe in God are too weak or lazy or stupid to rely on themselves.” I pull his face to mine. “We
are
weak, and delicate, and mortal. If I didn’t believe in God, I wouldn’t be alive today. I went through some things, Tammy. I’ll tell you about it. I’ll tell you everything, someday, verysoon.”
“How can you believe in God…when you went through so much…?”
“If I hadn’t prayed, Lloyd wouldn’t have found me.” Of course, I leave out that I had prayed to die, not to be found.
“Maybe it was God’s will that Uncle Price messed with me,” Tammyexplores. “Maybe He’s trying to teach me something…”
“No, Tammy…it wasn’t God’s will. It’s never God’s will for innocent children to be violated, or beaten up, or…worse…” Ahot shiver rattles my entire frame. “AGod that cruel I refuse to believe in.”
“Then why does He allow terrible things to happen?” asks Tammy. “Why? I thought nothing could happen unless He allows it.”
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “But it’s something I intend to ask him one day…I think it’s the least He can do…answer a few questions that are nagging me…”
“Me too.” Then, “What happened, Jamie?”
“Not tonight.”
“Tell me,” he pleads. “I want to know you. I care about you.”
“I know…and I will…soon…I promise…It’s going to be very hard for me, but I owe it to you. I’ll tell you…just not tonight, please…”
He nods. “Okay.”
I love him so much. He’s not prodding me, pressuring me. He’s tied with Stacyas mybest friend.
“I will say this. I don’t believe in hell.” I shake my head resolutely. “Or maybe I do…but I’ve alreadybeen there.”
His arms tighten around me.
“Anyway, can you believe in your own soul if you can’t believe in God?” I whisper. “Our bodies die. Our souls live forever. We don’t just vanish into nothing when we die.”
He doesn’t look at me when he asks, “Do you believe Lloyd’s soul is okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“In heaven?”
“Not yet. He’s asleep,” I say. “He’s asleep and knows nothing. That’s in the Bible. His ashes are at the coast, and his soul is with God, but he’s asleep. He’s waiting.
“Waiting…for what?”
“For God to wake him up.”
“You took him to the coast.”
“Yes, and when I die, I want to be scattered there too, right where he is.”
“You want to be cremated?”
“Sure,” I reply.
“Ugh…I could never be burned…How can you stand the thought of it…? I thought you hated fires and burning…”
“In movies,” I clarify, “when someone’s being burned alive…” I shudder. “I can’t stand that. Like in
The Temple of Doom
…they tore that guy’s heart out and put him in that lava pit…the way that actor
screamed
…it was so horrible…it gave me nightmares for years…Lloyd was so upset with himself for letting me watch that…” I take a deep breath. “When you’re dead, you feel no pain… that’s not you anymore. It’s just the body, Tammy. It’s just organic material.”
“But doesn’t the Bible also saythat our bodies are supposed to be glorified or something when Jesus comes? I heard Pastor saythat once. How can a bodybe glorified if it’s been burned up?”
“Well, God can do anything. He can piece anyone back together. What if we died in a car accident? Got burned beyond recognition? Don’t you think He’ll still know it’s us?”
“Yeah, I suppose He would.” Tammy shudders. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Baby. It’s too…”
“I know,” I whisper. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
I try to assuage him. “If you ask God to forgive you for the things you’ve done wrong, He will.And you have to forgive yourself too, Tammy.”
I should talk. I still haven’t forgiven myself for the things I’ve