His Woods (MxM)

17 Tyson's True Crime

We chatted about Jack's trip over roast beef and mashed potatoes. He told me about how he met Kirk in prison and how some people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time but that doesn't make him a bad person. Both being loners, they immediately gravitated toward each other when Jack landed custodial duty. They would sometimes talk for hours as they mopped the floors, cleaned toilets, and washed down the showers. Being two of the biggest guys on their block, no one really messed with them, but when they did, Jack had Kirk's back and vice versa. After a while, the two became cellmates after the warden did some rearranging. 

Without looking up from his plate, he explained the mix of excitement and heartbreak he felt on the day that Kirk was let out. He was happy his buddy was getting another shot at life, but he knew he was going to miss him dearly. I could tell he was happy to spend time with his old friend. Even though he said a lot had changed in their lives since they bunked up in a cell together, part of me couldn't help but think they were more than just friends.

Learning about Jack's dark days solidified the feeling that I was just now meeting him for the first time. Letting me peek into the past decade of his life warmed me. The idea that he was comfortable enough to tell me about his time in the slammer, the people that were important to him, and his close relationship with another man, embolden me.

"I have to say something. Something I need to get off my chest," I put out there.

"Uh oh," he replies with a grin.

I laugh and reassure him it has nothing to do with him, though I don't blame him for his apprehension.

"I have never told anyone about what really happened the night of the accident. The night that got me into this whole mess."

Jack's face turns serious. He knows he is about to learn something deeply personal about me: what really happened the night I almost killed Sean.

"Some apology is needed in advance because I am going to be perfectly frank with you. Not hold anything back. No sugar coating or dancing around the details, but I feel you are open-minded enough to listen without bias."

"No apologies needed. I can handle whatever you are about to throw at me," Jack replies, trying to quell my fears.

"Okay," I respond, pushing my skepticism to the back of my mind. "But to understand the night of the car wreck, you have to know the background story."

He nods to tell me to go on.

I explain to Jack that spring semester of last year is really where my story starts. 

I was at a frat party my roommate somehow talked me into going to. Nothing out of the ordinary, just about three dozen college students celebrating the end of midterms with excessive drinking, dance music, and bad decisions. Though Brian, my roommate, was the reason I went, he had left with some sorority chick about an hour after we got there.

Being my social self, I chatted it up with some folks and was invited to join in some drinking games. Finding a spot on one side of an old dining room table, my team of strangers faced off against the team across the table from us in four or five rounds of flip-cup. When a blonde girl about the size of a fifth grader suddenly ran off from the table holding her hand over her mouth, a guy wearing Greek letters called to his buddy to take her place. The massive brother took the spot directly across from me and we shared a friendly nod.

The guy was Sean Taylor, which I would later find out. He was clearly on his way to Drunktown, but the train hadn't reached the station yet. A few times we talked shit to one another about how badly the other sucked at the game, but it seemed more like flirting in disguise.