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December Short story challenge -M/M - stories & comments
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*still avoids to read stories until she writes her own...* :DBut I'm happy to see so many stories! Can't wait to read them!
Page 6...Best Friends
a story by Ibis3 (c)2011
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[home. meet aftr dinner?]
It was just before six o’clock. I still couldn’t eat, but I was sitting at the dinner table. “It’s Cory. He’s home. Can I?” I motioned in the direction of the hallway.
My mom sighed, in a worried way not an annoyed one, and nodded.
I was texting as soon as I’d left my seat.
[Meet @ plaza]
“Jeremy? Are you going to want a ride somewhere? You can’t take the car because I’m picking Rosalind up from Luisa’s at nine.”
“No. I’m going to walk.”
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
She came around the table and hugged me. “I know you’re getting a bit old for this treatment, but you’re just going to have to live with it for a while, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was already a bit of a crowd when I got there. Someone I didn’t know was passing out candles. There was a shrine under one of the trees with candles and pictures of Buddy, and cards with rainbows on them. I couldn’t look at it. I wondered why I’d come. I could’ve just met Cory somewhere else.
“Hey. Arty,” said a voice to my right. It was Rick Robertson, our top goalie. He’d been one of the guys playing pool. “Hey, Robber.” I didn’t know what else to say. Apparently neither did he. Anything would have seemed like an effort to make conversation, like we were just making small talk. Or worse—gossipping. “See ya,” he said after we’d looked at each other for a minute or two. “Sure. Yeah.” We did that half-embrace clap-on-the-back thing that guys do, then he walked away.
I figured I should do the same. I needed to get out of there before anyone else from the team or school came by. I turned away from the centre of the square and all the people. Suddenly I was face to face with Cory.
“Jeremy. I’m so sorry.”
“You heard.”
He nodded grimly. “When I got home. It’s all over the news.”
“Right.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Tell me,” he said.
I shook my head. For once I was grateful that he was taller than me.
“You said you needed to talk. I promise I’ll listen.”
I took a deep breath. His hand was still on my shoulder. The murmur of the crowd was like a backdrop placed there to offset our conversation. “Buddy. Tyler. We were like brothers when we were little.”
“I know.”
“Last night. I told you there was a thing between two of the guys?”
“Yeah…”
“It was Perry and Buddy. Perry was making fun of him. Called him ‘Bunny’ instead of ‘Buddy’. Last year, you remember that fight I had with that Bruin guy? That’s ’cause he called Buddy a faggot behind his back. I never said, but that’s what it was. But none of us took Buddy’s side last night. Not really. I didn’t say anything at all, even when he said we all sucked. I could’ve gone after him. Maybe I could’ve convinced him to stay. Maybe I could’ve gone with him and he wouldn’t be…wouldn’t have crashed.”
Now the tears were coming, hot tracks down my cheeks.
“I don’t even know what happened. Why did he leave like that?” I found myself grasping at Cory’s shirt with both hands. I looked up into his face. “It shouldn’t…he…this isn’t right.”
“I know.”
“I should’ve been there for him. He was counting on me, and I let him down. He said so. And now he’s dead, and I can’t change things.”
I felt Cory’s arms wrap around the back of my neck. I gave in to him. Gave into the pain and the anger and the guilt. I started to sob and couldn’t stop.
“It’s not your fault, J. I know that’s what it feels like. It’s not your fault. People—friends, family—have conflicts all the time. Say things they don’t mean. Mean to say things they don’t. It was an accident.”
I heard him, but I knew he didn’t know the whole story.
Eventually, I couldn’t cry anymore. I pulled away—just far enough for me to catch my breath. It was like I’d played a five minute shift while suffering the worst cold ever invented. I was still shaking and my brain felt somehow both heavily compacted like a cube of scrap metal and floating dizzily above my head at the same time. I needed to tell someone or I was going to explode. And here was Cory, strong as a frigging steel post, the one I’d been most afraid to tell. The one I’d most wanted to tell.
“You don’t understand.” Breathe. “It was even more my place to stand up for Buddy.” Breathe. Just breathe. My voice sounded like someone else’s or maybe like an echo of my own. “I like girls. I do, but I’m into…some guys too.” I shuddered, trying not to lose control again. I waited, not looking at Cory’s face again, instead staring at his shoulder, covered in tears and snot. Under any other circumstances I would’ve apologised to him for that, right at that moment.
His hands were on either side of my face then and his forehead rested against mine. I could feel one of his thumbs gently stroking my temple in an expression of palpable affection and concern. “I love you too.”
“You’re not just saying that are you? To make me feel better?”
“No.” He actually kissed my forehead. “I’m not just saying that.”
“Come on. I’m going to take you home, okay?”
I just nodded. He put his arm across the back of my shoulders and that’s how we walked back to my place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
Cory stayed over the next few nights, and it’s a good thing too. I was a mess. Buddy’s funeral, spending some time with his parents, talking to my team mates—it was all too much, and I wouldn’t have survived it without him.
The report on the accident? Weather and speed were factors, alcohol wasn’t. Basically, they think Buddy took the corner too fast for the slick condition of the road and he “lost control of the vehicle”.
When I asked Cory why he didn’t tell me before that he was into me, he replied, “I’d have said something sooner if I’d even suspected you were open to the idea, but as it was, I didn’t want to risk losing you as a friend. I probably would have brought it up eventually anyway.”
The team wasn’t the same anymore. A few of the guys, including Darryl Perry, didn’t come out for tryouts. A couple of others had aged out. Sammy couldn’t be convinced to take the captaincy again. After the first practice, I stood up on one of the benches in the dressing room and told the guys I was bi. At the first game, they raised Buddy’s sweater to the rafters.
Wow, great story. I really like the epilogue, the way things work out. And the intense moment between the narrator and Cory.
Thank you for all your comments, really pleased you liked it :o)I really love all the stories that have been posted on this challenge (and Novembers) and am looking forward to reading more (not so subtle hint for those still writing/planning to write!)
@Scylar - I know you are all a friendly bunch, but I am a complete wuss when it comes to letting other people read my writing!
That was a great story, K. Thanks:).
Damn it K... That was a freakin' great short story.. The Speech made me realise where you were going and I still teared up as I headed to the end... I expect to see MORE from you..
Ok Ibis3... you need a tissue warning.. and don't listen to sad songs while your reading it... Yet another BRILLIANT piece of writing.. One wet hanky now in the wash...
*** I'm astounded at the quality of the short stories produced in this group. I've NEVER been a lover of short stories until we started this in the group ***
Ibis--so very, very worth the wait--what an amazing story--I loved it--I really did. Thank you for giving us such a gift!
Okay, I just read Ibis3 story... Wow... :O Amazing stuff!!! (still haven't read the others...) Wow... *reels*
So I wrote mine down finally. Here it is:Making Connections
Tommy was lost. He was lost in his feet and lost in his heart and lost in his own stupid head. Stupid was a bad word. Mom said it was a bad word and if anyone said it around Tommy she would get her angry face with the little crinkle between her eyebrows. But Tommy knew sometimes he was stupid and today was one time.
It wasn't fair. Because he'd thought this was going to be a pretty-good-almost-perfect day. It was music day. On music day he stayed behind at school after class. He went to the library and stayed until four thirty. He watched the clock carefully and he knew four thirty. He'd been able to tell time since he was ten. It was super easy.
Then at four thirty he went to Mr. Conner's music room. And he could take out his flute then. No playing in the library, because that was a quiet time place, but in the music room, oh yes, he could play. Tommy loved Mr. Connor and he loved his flute. It was the one thing he did that was never, never stupid. Even Suzie with the blond hair once said he was good on the flute, and she didn't say he was good at much. So it must be true.
An hour with Mr. Connor and the music, music just coming out of Tommy like it wasn't part of him, but it was. He did that. He was practicing this new piece that sang so nicely. Mr. Connor said Tommy could play it at the spring assembly concert and people would be amazed. It would be nice to make people amazed.
Then it was have-to-go-now put-the-flute-away-carefully time. And Tommy started to walk home. That was easy too, he never got lost anymore, even when it got kind of dark because it was late. But now he was lost.
It was the fault of the candles. He'd been walking home just like usual. And two girls went by carrying candles. They weren't lit but they were tall and white and Tommy liked candles. And then he could see there were lights in the distance like lots more candles. And maybe it was a birthday. A big birthday. So he followed the girls.
They got to where the lights were and it was a park and there were lots of people with their candles all lit. And the girls lit theirs. And it was so pretty, all the flames bright and yellow. But the people weren't happy like a birthday. They were all sad. One of the girls started crying. It made Tommy feel bad in his stomach. He walked away from them to find happy people.But none of the people were happy. They weren't all crying but Tommy was good at faces and they all had sad faces and low not-happy voices. He kept walking, and his heart got lost. And then he looked around and his stupid, stupid self was lost too. And he wanted to cry too, but big boys don't cry. Except he looked around and there were some boys crying and some of them were even bigger than Tommy.
And then he saw one of the crying boys and it was his brother Darryl! Tommy ran. He ran and he got to Darryl and he dropped his precious flute and just wailed, “Darryl!”
Darryl hugged him. Darryl's arms were big and strong and he hugged Tommy hard and Tommy put his face on Darryl's chest. Darryl was saying something like, “Tommy, what are you doing here?” But Tommy couldn't tell him. His throat had the sad closing thing and he just had to cry. And Darryl held him tight and rocked him back and forth and let him cry.
After a bit it was better and Tommy looked up at his brother. “I'm lost.”
“It's okay, bro. You can come home with me.”
So that was okay. Darryl never got lost. But the people weren't okay. Tommy looked around. “It's so sad, Darryl. Everyone is so sad. Candles are for happy but they all feel so bad.”
“Yes, they do.” Darryl's voice sounded funny and lumpy.
Tommy looked closely at his brother. “You're sad too. You're my brother and I want you to be okay and have nice times.”
Darryl gave him a squeeze. “Don't worry about it, bro. I'll be better soon.”That should have been good, because Darryl always, always told Tommy the truth. But then someone with a microphone said something and Darryl's shoulders shook and the girls near them were crying and it wasn't okay.
“It's not fair!” Tommy knew his voice was loud because Darryl winced a bit, like sometimes. But when Tommy felt bad he couldn't help the loud. “It's not fair. It shouldn't be bad. People shouldn't cry and feel bad. It's not fair.”
“Come on.” Darryl tried to make Tommy walk away.
But he felt like his feet were stuck in the ground. Somebody needed to LISTEN. “It's not FAIR!”
“No, it's not.” That was a different voice. It was a nice voice, deep and furry and big. Like a teddy bear voice. But when Tommy turned to look at who was talking it was a man, not a Teddy bear. A nice looking man, with curly short hair and big shoulders and he was bigger even than Darryl. He had a smile on his face. He didn't look sad, even though he had a sadness candle in his hand. He looked okay. Tommy managed to stop crying.
The big man said to Darryl, “Hi. We met last week, at the bookstore. I don't know if you remember.”
“Yeah, I do.” Darryl's voice was softer. “Your phone rang and you ran away like there was a fire.”
“No fire, but my sister's car broke down in a bad part of town. I had to go get her. I've kicked myself all week for not getting your last name or phone number or something.”
“His name is Darryl,” Tommy said helpfully. “He's sad, though. Everybody is sad. These are bad candles.”
The man looked at the candle in his hand. Darryl said, “My brother has Down's Syndrome. He doesn't understand.”
“Sounds like he has the basic gist,” the man said. “What's his name?”
“Tommy.”
The man came a step closer and looked at Tommy in his eyes. The man had nice dark eyes. Young man eyes, not old and smart like Mr. Conner, but nice. He said, “Tommy, a bad thing happened and people are sad. But the candles will help. You watch. Come on, let's walk over there to the hill where we can see.”
He turned and walked away from the sad people toward the hill where it was dark and quieter. Darryl put an arm around Tommy, and turned that way too.
“My flute!” Tommy bent and picked it up and made sure it was okay. Then he let Darryl steer him toward hill. From up on the hill the candles looked more better again, so pretty and flickery.
“Now watch,” the new man said. “People will put their sadness in the candle and let it burn, and then when they blow out the candle the sadness will be gone.”
“Really?” Tommy looked down the hill. The man with the speaker was all done. And the teddy bear man was right. Because all around the park people started blowing out their candles. Just out, out, and then they were walking. And some were hugging each other, which was good. And the ones who were walking had stopped crying. The new man was right. The sad was going away. Tommy turned to the smart man. “Can you make Darryl's sad go away too? He doesn't have a candle.”
The man held his own out. “He can blow out mine. I'm not so sad since I met Darryl here.”
Darryl stepped over close to the new man. They looked at each other. The candle was flickery in both their eyes, dark ones new, and Darryl's blue eyes. Then Darryl bent a little and puffed and the fire went out. Just a little red tip was left and it was pretty and glowy.
“Do you feel better now, Darryl?” Tommy asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” Darryl said, and he was still looking at the new man.
“Good. That's good.” Tommy looked at the new man. “You're a good man. I like you.”
“My name is Chris.”
“Hi Chris. I'm Tommy.” He held out his hand like he was supposed to.
Chris shook his hand and it was nice and not too hard like some people did. “Very nice to meet you, Tommy.”
“So now you should come with us, and bring the good candle. Darryl is better so you should come and walk with us.”
“You don't have to,” Darryl said quickly. “We're good now, thank you.”
“I want to.” The man laughed. “How can I turn down the chance to find out where you live?”
“I'll show you,” Tommy volunteered. Then he realized, “Darryl, my feet are still lost.”
“This way.” Darryl walked down the other side of the hill. Tommy followed happily. Chris was walking on the other side of Darryl and they were talking. Tommy didn't really listen, but he heard bits of it.
“...wasn't even sure you were gay, but I'm glad...”
“...first year pre-med. You're a senior?”
“...turn nineteen in August... at Sparky's is eighteen-plus on Saturday...”
Tommy wasn't sure what they were talking about but it was okay. They had nice happy voices, the clear music voice that was Darryl and the soft fuzzy voice that was Chris, the teddy bear man. Tommy felt his heart get un-lost again. And then his feet were un-lost too. “Hey, I know where we are! This is our street. Chris, this is our street. And that's our house, right there. Will you come to our house?”
“Maybe not tonight.”
“You should come. Darryl likes you too. He's happy. And I like your shirt.”
Chris had a nice smile. “You do?”
“Yes.” Tommy reached out and touched it. The shirt was all rainbow color. It had words on it. “No” and an “H” and an “8”. Tommy could read pretty well. Teacher had once said he read almost at great level and was amazing. This shirt was pretty simple. And the letters were white and shiny. Tommy reached out and touched the 8 with a finger. It was slick and shiny. But oops. “Sorry. No touching. Mom says no touching people unless they say okay.”
“It's okay.” Chris ran his own finger over the letters. “I like this one too, and I don't mind if you touch.” The shirt was all tight and pretty on Chris.
“I like it too,” Darryl said.
Tommy looked at his big brother. Darryl wasn't sad, not any more at all. He was looking at Chris and smiling and he looked nice. And Chris was smiling too.
And Tommy decided he had been right this morning after all. It was a pretty-good-almost-perfect day.
****
Kaje that's lovely, I really like the idea of putting the sadness into the candle amd letting it burnK
Thorny wrote: "I have got to stop reading these in public! {watery smile} Ibis3 and Kaje, those were great stories."Thanks, K & Thorny! Glad you liked it.
I got through the US border crossing in 10 minutes this morning instead of the usual hour and a half so I had time to write it up and post it. It's always nice to get a story out of my head. (Crowded in there LOL)
Oh Kaje--I have taught music to Tommy--but mine was named Baden--such a beautiful story Kaje--thank your for sharing it with us.
Thorny wrote: "Hold on... You wrote that in 10 minutes while crossing the border? O.o"No, no. (I wish I typed that fast!) No, because of the speed of the crossing, I had the extra hour on the other side of the border once I was through, so I found a Starbucks and got it down on paper.
I'm in the airport now waiting for my plane.
Kaje wrote: "Thorny wrote: "Hold on... You wrote that in 10 minutes while crossing the border? O.o"No, no. (I wish I typed that fast!) No, because of the speed of the crossing, I had the extra hour on the oth..."
Welcome home--almost Kaje=:)
Thanks Kat! Thanks Sammy - good to be going home.
Thanks for all the positive reviews everyone. Maybe Jeremy and Cory will return in a sequel sometime.
These stories are all really gorgeous, guys. This thread should come with a tissue warning.
Ditto on the warm wishes for your mom, Kaje. I hope each day brings more strength and healing.
K,Ok, I have had this written for a couple of days, but as I've never posted something I've written I am a little "eep!" about it... but *takes deep breath* here it is...
In Memoriam
Oh my, K, you've created a wonderful scene and story. Well written too. I hope you continue.
Ibis3 wrote: "Page 6...Best Friends
a story by Ibis3 (c)2011
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[home. meet aftr dinner?]
Great story , Ibis:). I loved it.
It was just before six o’clock. I still couldn’t eat, but I was sitting at the dinner table. “It’..."
Kaje wrote: "The man looked at the candle in his hand. Darryl said, “My brother has Down's Syndrome. He doesn't understand.”
“Sounds like he has the basic gist,” the man said. “What's his name?”
Kaje, loved your story, just like always. Hope your mom is doing better.
“Tommy.”..."
Thanks Jordie. Good to see you here. I hope the end of term is going okay.
Best Friends
a story by Ibis3 (c)2011
He left the door open, but I didn’t move right away. I was playing back the night before in my head, trying to figure out what had happened, as though there was some link between the words that had been uttered and the wreckage in a field a klick or two away from where I was sitting.
I got up. I ran up stairs, grabbed my phone and my wallet and my keys, shoving them into my pockets. Back down the stairs. “Hold on. Hold on,” said my father, his hand raised up like he was directing traffic. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“The accident. I’ve gotta see the car.”
“The road’s closed off, Jeremy. If not, they’ll have the car moved already.”
“Moved?” That quickly? Like nothing happened? Like Buddy had never driven off from a friend’s party and flipped his car?
“Once the police have finished investigating, at the scene, they’ll take the car in to see if it was something mechanical that caused the accident.”
I knew that, but that’s not what I meant, not the explanation I needed.
Besides, it was beginning to dawn on me what had caused the accident.
I took a step or two backwards up the steps and then turned around, went back up into my room, and shut my door. Keys, wallet, phone went back on my dresser.
Phone.
I picked up the phone and sat on my bed, staring at it. Did everyone know by now, or was I the only one? Was everyone but me texting, phoning each other? Had Sammy found out? My phone had been off since the night before. Buddy’s parents knew. The police would’ve told them. The night before? Another wave of nausea washed over me. What if—what if he’d called me? Before? I hadn’t checked my messages. No, that wasn’t right. I’d been texting with Cory after I’d gotten home. No messages then. So then the last thing he said to me was that blanket condemnation of all of us. My eyes stung. It just wasn’t possible.
I didn’t want to talk to Sammy or any of the other guys on the team. Not then. I didn’t want to talk to my parents. I wanted to be alone, but not alone at the same time. What I wanted was Cory to be there with me.
Cory and I had met in grade nine. One day, he leaned across the aisle between our desks and made some funny comment about Julius Caesar that I don’t remember. When I laughed out loud, the teacher made me get up in front of the class and read Mark Antony’s speech. I hate that kind of crap. I didn’t sit next to him in English again. It was really the following year that we got to be good friends. We had math and physics together. We ended up as lab partners and decided to start doing our math homework together. On paper it might look strange: a stereotypical jock type and a cello-playing math geek being friends (He’s all “Isn’t the Pythagorean Theorem beautiful?” and I’m like “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go build a friggin’ bridge.”), but for some reason it worked.
Anyway, I don’t know what I expected him to do. I just felt like I needed someone to have my back, say the right things at the right time, and keep his mouth shut when nothing could be said. Cory was always good at that.
I slid the phone open. [Six New Messages] Checked who they were from (two from Cory, two from Sammy, one from Connolly, one from Gill). [Two Missed Calls] Both from Sammy. I looked at Cory’s messages. The first was a good morning, the second an announcement that he was on his way home from his sister’s.
[Need 2 talk. When u home?]
[4hrs. whats up?]
I closed my eyes. Should I say? Should I wait to tell him face to face? It’s not like he knew Buddy much except for what I’d said about him and what he’d seen of him at school. I couldn’t bring myself to type it in. It would make it real but it would make it seem fake at the same time.
[Tell u in person.]
[ok. u alrite?]
[Not rlly.]
[call u?]
[No. S’ok. Will wait.]
[k. b thr soon.]
I put the phone down on the nightstand. I wasn’t ready for the guys yet. I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, listening to my iPod. My mother came to check on me once and she told me that Malcolm had called the house phone since he hadn’t heard back from me. She told him that I knew about Tyler and wasn’t up to talking just now. “Thanks,” I said.
“There’s going to be a candlelight vigil tonight at the Plaza. Do you think you might want to go?”
The Plaza was a pedestrian square in the middle of town. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Are you hungry? I could bring something up if you like.”
“No. Not really. Thanks.”
“All right. I love you, Jeremy.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If Cory calls or comes over, let me know?”
“Okay. I will.”
She shut my door and I went back to listening to music while the whole time, memories of Tyler Budd kept intruding into my awareness.