CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 40 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
The auditorium was quiet save for the two of them talking. Matt
sat perched on the edge of the stage, his feet dangling over the edge watching
while Blake paced to and fro. The thin artist was agitated and trying to find
the right way to say what he was trying to say.
"... I just don't feel a connection, you know?" Blake
was saying, swallowing and taking another circuit of the floor.
"Uh-huh," Matt grinned.
"Like, you don't listen to me," Blake continued, glancing
up at Matt, hoping he wasn't hurting the short winger by the breakup attempt.
"Nope, I don't," Matt smirked. "Wanna have breakup
sex?"
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Blake sighed
frustratedly. "There's nothing more to this...relationship but sex. We
never go anywhere, talk about stuff, we get together, have sex and that's
it--you're off again..."
"That is kinda the definition of casual sex," Matt
said, hopping down and unbuckling his belt.
"No," Blake said, his slender hands catching Matt's
before he could unbutton his jeans, "that's the point, I don't want casual
sex. I... I want to feel like I mean something rather than just be someone
you sleep with for the sake of getting laid." He shook his head, "Not
that the sex isn't good..." Blake felt his resolve weakening, as Matt
grinned at him and waggled his eyebrows and bapped his hips against Blake's.
"Well, what do you want?" Matt asked curiously, looking
at the guy he had come to consider a close friend. The kind of trust needed
to do the things they had done, be as intimate as they were with each other,
made them closer than friends in so many ways.
"I..." Blake swallowed as he slipped his arms around
Matt's neck and let his head fall to rest on Matt's shoulder, "I don't
know, just, I know this isn't it."
Matt put his hands on Blake's slender hips and turned his head
to touch his lips to Blake's. "But I'm not gay," he said softly.
"I wish to god I was, 'cause this could be great, but..." Matt shrugged,
"I really tried."
Blake nodded, just breathing in that scent that was distinctly
Matt, as he sniffed back the tears that were burning behind his eyes. "I'm
sorry," he said, moving to pull away.
"Why?" Matt asked, still smiling, though concern was
in his eyes. "We're friends, right? If I can trust you to..." Matt
laughed, "to... you know..." he nodded down, "do that to me...
I think letting you cry on my shoulder is okay."
Blake laughed a bit, dabbing his eyes with his shirtsleeve.
"Yeah," he murmured with a grin, "for a straight guy, you sure
took it like a man..."
Matt screwed up his nose. "It hurt," he shook his
head.
"Wimp." Blake pushed Matt slightly.
"Hey, I'm no wimp; if you want me to prove it, get your
trousers off we'll go again right now!" Matt started fumbling with Blake's
belt buckle.
"You just want to get laid," Blake accused, laughing.
"Hell yeah!" Matt nodded. "You have any idea
how good it is to actually do it instead of rubbing myself raw all the time?"
"You sure you're not gay?" Blake asked suspiciously.
"Nope, just horny." Matt grinned, succeeding in opening
Blake's trousers and was now trying to find the opening to Blake's underwear.
"Stop that," Blake laughed, stepping a few steps back
and doing his pants back up. "No sex for you!" he said in a very
authoritative voice.
Matt cocked his head at Blake, looking thoughtful, "We're
still going to be friends right? Even when we stop... you know..."
"Having sex?" Blake asked, sitting down in one of
the chairs and steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "I don't know... I've
been in this situation before... The last closeted..." he stopped and
looked at Matt, "the last 'straight' guy I was sleeping with."
"The other hockey player you mentioned." Matt leaned
against the stage again, "You gonna tell me his name this time?"
Blake shook his head, "Doesn't work like that, how would
you like me telling future guys I'm... seeing, that we..."
"I don't care," Matt shrugged. "I'm going to
university in Alberta in a few weeks."
"That's not the point," Blake sighed. "Look,
you gotta promise not to say anything, his parents are ultraconservative..."
"Jensen," Matt said, smiling.
"How did you...?" Blake gasped.
"'Cause he's a total closet case; I caught him once checking
West out in the showers after practice. I pretended not to notice." Matt
grinned sardonically, "That explains a lot."
"You can't tell anyone," Blake pleaded desperately.
"He's just very confused..."
"Yeah and a hypocrite, too," Matt grimaced. "He
was one of the guys that jumped West."
Blake let his hands fall to his lap, "It's not his fault,
his parents..."
"Weren't the ones kicking the shit out of my best friend,"
Matt replied angrily. "I can't believe this shit. I should just go and
kick his ass on principle..." He looked down at Blake; seeing the worry
there he stopped, crossed and kneeled down in front of the thin artist, resting
his arms on Blake's knees. "Sorry, just... fuck man, why are people so
scared of who they are? I mean I know who I am, and I'm not afraid to admit
I'm probably bi-sexual, leaning towards straight..." he rubbed his bum,
"oww..." he grinned.
"I used lube," Blake protested.
"I'm teasing," Matt grinned a moment before he shook
his head. "But Jensen..."
"He never complained about that," Blake sulked.
"'K, I never wanted to know about Jensen's sex life..."
Matt shrugged, "Ahh well, now that I know, am I better?"
Blake blinked, "I... it's hard to compare; he was very
nervous, you're very aggressive... it's two different ways of doing it."
"Closet Baptist boys," Matt shrugged, "should
have seen that coming."
"He's really not that bad," Blake insisted. "He's
just so scared of his folks--you know they take him to church like three or
four times a week? Guy's got no TV in his house... his parents just listen
to the radio and read... They think it promotes family values."
"More like it promotes family boredom," Matt shrugged.
"No wonder he's gay. Still, I'm gonna kick his ass."
"Please don't," Blake said, putting a hand on Matt's
shoulder. "Please?"
"Do you like him?" Matt asked curiously.
"I did..." Blake said swallowing and looking away.
"I liked him a lot..."
"But?" Matt pressed, concerned about his friend.
Blake shook his head, "I..."
"Hey," Matt said, leaning in to catch the tear that
trickled down from Blake's eye. "Hey don't cry, I'm sorry..."
"It's not you," Blake said, swallowing back his tears.
"Just... what's wrong with me?" he sniffed miserably.
"Nothing," Matt insisted, shaking his head, "you're
great..."
"But..." Blake swallowed, "why is it I fall for
guys that don't want me?"
"You're falling for the wrong guys," Matt said warmly.
"I'm not the right guy for you, I'd only let you down. You don't want
that..."
"It's not just you though," Blake's shoulders fell
a little as he bowed his head. "West...Jason..." he looked up, "Jensen,"
he clarified to Matt.
Matt smiled and reached out to trace a rough finger down Blake's
cheek. "You have me right now..." he offered. "Maybe with a
bit of time I could..."
"You can't make yourself gay for someone..." Blake
shook his head.
"If it meant making you smile..." Matt said, pressing
the flat of the hand against Blake's cheek.
Blake looked at the guy he had been sleeping with... that casual
thing that had come to mean more to him, and he saw the concern in Matt's
eyes. That same concern, that same tenderness that was so confusing to him.
He didn't understand how Matt could love him as much as he did and not be
in love with him. All for a name... all for a single word.
"I can't ask you to do that..." Blake said swallowing.
"Sure you can," Matt said. "I can try harder..."
"But what about what you want?" Blake said seriously.
"You're not gay."
"No," Matt admitted, "but I'm willing to learn."
He grinned again and reached up for Blake's belt.
"Oh, it's just the horny talking," Blake rolled his
eyes.
"No," Matt said, shaking his head as he undid Blake's
trousers again, "it's your boyfriend talking." He worked Blake out
of his underwear, "Just give me time to get used to this, okay?"
Blake smiled a bit, "You don't have to do this..."
"Mmmph?" Matt asked, his mouth full.
Blake rolled his eyes and sighed, relaxing, "Never mind..."
* * *
West was distracted; he sat in his customary seat in the gymnasium,
staring at the hardwood floor. He should have felt like the triumphant champion--he'd
led his team to victory. Instead he felt beaten, and the soreness in his ribs
burned angrily, reminding him of the cost of his failure.
Brad, Jensen and the others had tried to hurt him, and they
had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Yet still he sat there, staring
at the sneakers and bouncing balls as students played basketball, the last
week of school drawing to a close.
In a week he would no longer be the team captain, in a week
he would no longer be sitting in that seat. In a week he would be...destined
for nothing.
He'd lived his entire life in the pursuit of a single dream;
everything he was had gone into earning a commission, to become the kind of
soldier his father had been. No one knew, he hadn't said anything to any one.
But one look across the floor at where Coach Highmore was leaning told him
that his coach knew something was wrong.
After everything he had been through the past few weeks--coming
out, the attack, the championship and now his rejection by the military--West
was emotionally drained. The constant highs and lows had him wishing for a
simpler time, back before all of it had happened, where he could just breathe.
Mel stuck a sucker under his nose. "Sugar?" she offered.
West looked over at her, "You know, you're the only person
I have ever met who willingly wears a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform when she
doesn't go to a Catholic school."
Mal smiled at him, "Someone has to remind all those jocks
out on the basketball court what they're playing for." She waggled the
lollypop, "Come on, you know you want to suck on something... and since
lil'Petey's not around..."
"Were you born with devil horns? Or did they come in when
you hit puberty?" West asked, taking the sucker and leaning back to look
at her.
"They grew in just after my breasts," Mel replied
honestly. "You're just jealous because all the boys look at me and not
you."
"Yeah, that's it," West remarked dryly as he unwrapped
the sucker and popped it in his mouth, not in the least surprised that it
was cherry flavoured.
"Well, you won the Championship," Mel mused, "and
lil'Petey hasn't dumped you... so what else could be making Captain Condor
so down?"
"I really hate that nickname," West murmured.
"It goes with the C," Mel winked. "But seriously,
what's up?"
"Truthfully?" West asked, looking up at her. "The
US recruiters found out about the fight."
"So?" Mel said looking confused.
"They got the police report," West continued.
"The one that said you took on five guys barehanded?"
Mel asked, shaking her head. "I thought that's what they wanted to further
American world domination..."
"Not if he's gay they don't," West finished.
"That's insane," Mel shook her head. "That's
like saying Hulk Hogan's a wimp 'cause he wrestles... Don't they know that
you have to be tough being gay to put up with guys like Brad?"
West shrugged, "Either way, there's nothing I can do. They
could find a hundred different excuses to keep me from joining up, and all
I can do is just let them."
"That really sucks," Mel agreed. "What about
the Canadian Army--are you going to get in there?"
"The application time's too long," West replied. "I'd
have to wait at least another year."
"So you just wait an extra year, not much wrong with that,"
Mel said. "You get to take a year off and figure stuff out."
"But that's just it," West said, taking the lollypop
out of his mouth and shaking his head. "I don't want a year off, I don't
want to wait. I've been waiting for my entire life for this. And I blew it..."
"You didn't blow it," Mel touched her friend's arm
in concern, "you got screwed; shit like that happens to me all the time.
I'm a girl, you should see the crap we have to put up with. If I sulked every
time something bad happened to me, I'd never get anything done."
West shook his head as he stood up, "That's just it, Mel;
I got screwed, there's nothing I can do but be upset over it. I'm shit-out-of-luck
and I need to come to terms with that." He took a calming breath, grabbed
his jacket and marched out of the gym past Coach Highmore, who turned, looking
concerned.
Highmore stuck his hands into his pockets and walked around
the basketball courts, to sit down in the chair West had just vacated, pushing
his hair back out of his eyes and looking at Mel.
"Mind if we have a chat?" Highmore asked, looking
at her.
Mel rolled her lollypop in her mouth. "No sir, you can
talk to me any time, sir..." she said, adding a suggestive tone to her
voice.
Frustratingly Highmore just ignored it. "Do you know what's
wrong with Harding?" he asked, nodding towards the door West had just
gone out of.
"He got rejected from the Army or something," Mel
said, curling her tongue around the Lollypop again. "Sir, do you think
you could give me a hand with my homework?" she asked, smiling wolfishly.
"What subject?" Highmore asked, standing up again.
"Sex ed," she grinned suggestively.
"From what I have heard," Highmore replied, sticking
his hands into his pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you
could teach the subject."
"Want an A?" she asked with a wink.
"Strange, with you I'd probably get three letters---S.T.D."
Highmore said, countering her neatly.
She gasped, "Sir!"
Highmore smiled as he shook his head, "Besides, I think
there are boys your own age that could do with a tutor."
"Boys are not men," Mel called out.
"I know. Same thing goes for girls." Highmore crossed
the gym floor leaving a puzzled Mel to work out what he meant by that. Was
he saying girls weren't women? Or...? She shrugged and promptly forgot about
the exchange as Clovis bounded over to her, smiling like he was going to ask
her to the prom.
