Terry
Carl is quiet. It makes me nervous, why is he taking me home if he's not willing to talk with me? Me getting beat up somehow mangled what we had? My eyes burn at the memory.
The moment I was sharing with Carl, teasing him about midnight snack, watching his eyes wide, wanting to kiss. So much fuss and I didn't even kiss him.
I sigh, and look through the window. It's too dark to figure out where we are. It must be close to eleven. How did our date take the worst turn imaginable and still I'm with Carl?
"We're home. Don't get down yet." Carl's voice is normal, like always sweet and confident.
"Okay."
He gets down, and in a few seconds my side of the door opens.
"Come on," he says, extending his hand.
I smile. Gentleman.
I swat his hand. "I can walk."
"I can't. Take it."
I shake my head and grip his fingers and jump out from the truck, like I'd do any other day.
"Careful. You've a head injury. It's no small matter." He glares at me, it's the first time and it's fabulous.
Carl is Carl. Whatever made him quiet during the ride has left him.
I lean on him and immediately an iron-like arm wraps around my waist. "Dizzy?" He asks, worried.
"A little." It's not a lie. I haven't had any food apart from the fries we had in the mall.
"It's expected, don't worry about it. Come on, one foot in front of the other."
I scoff. "I thought you'd offer to carry me."
He shakes his finger, glaring. "Don't joke about this. If you can't walk, I can carry."
"I can." It's only a dozen steps to the door. And I have the strongest arm holding me upright.
He nods and we walk.
Why was he quiet until a few minutes back, if he is all normal now? Was he worried that my split lip would make it hard for me to speak? Is it even about me? Maybe it is a totally different reason. A Carl reason. I ask instead of worrying over it.
"Why didn't you talk to me till now? Like, the whole drive, you didn't say a single word to me." I watch his face in the dim lawn light.
He shrugs and looks the other way.
My stomach clenches.
"Sorry. It's just that I can't drive and talk at the same time."
What? "Oh. What about eating and driving?" I ask, wondering why the heck I was worried. All I had to do was ask. And Carl would give me a perfectly valid, perfectly unbelievable and perfectly Carlclusive reason.
"That's fine. If someone is feeding me. Fio gives me popcorn or cookies or things like that." He unlocks the door, grinning at me.
My answering smile drops, as I look at the drawing room in front of me. Until then I forced myself to not think about this. I can't hide from the fact anymore. I'm at someone's place, like a refugee. My own home isn't safe for me. My own dad is my enemy.
"My parents are out on a date night. Fio has a sleepover at a friend's place. Here, wait. I'll get you something to eat." He gently pushes me down on the couch. If he has seen my face go grim, he doesn't comment on it. I'm grateful for that.
I nod.
I take my phone, should I call mom? Millie said he talked to her. I despise myself when she cries. For me. For the broken family. It makes me feel guilty even though I know I shouldn't feel guilt for being gay.
"I'll go get your medicine. Drink this."
"What's this?" I take the steamy bowl from him.
It smells yummy, the steam warms my beaten up face.
"Broccoli soup."
Lifting a spoonful, I gingerly put in my lips, I can't open it wide. The lower lip burns like hell.
All the wounds are superficial, except the forehead. I hope it doesn't leave a scar. Elbow is definitely going to scar, I took a quick peek at it in the hospital.
Battle scars. How many more before I can be free? It's funny how you think you can handle these things. But every battle erodes you slowly from the inside. I thought two more years wouldn't be too bad. Now I'm not sure I can survive this year.
****
"Are you going to sleep on the floor?" I ask from his comfortable bed. Carl is an exceptional care giver. He knew what should be done and did it without making any fuss.
"No way. This is a queen. You're not that big." He climbs on the bed in a yellow tank and loose brown, thin night pants. I didn't change, to start with I was wearing only a part of what I wore to the date. In the hospital I couldn't be bothered with putting on the shirt or pants. There are band aids everywhere.
I left the hospital in boxers and sleeveless tee. I'm just glad I chose them specifically for this night. In anticipation of probably getting naked.
"Are you sleepy?" Carl settles next to me, I only get a profile view, with the head bandage, I'm afraid to move my head. The weight is new and it feels like it would fall if I moved fast.
"No, I slept a lot I guess. You?"
"Me too, I slept there, right next to you."
"Thanks. Thanks for going to Millie. Thanks for-"
Carl lightly puts a finger on my lip, just the upper one. "Shush. I wish I had followed your car. I could have stopped all this."
I push his hand away, he places it on my chest and props his head on his other hand and looks down at me.
"No, if you had come, he would have charged you with something and locked you up. Mr. Quentin was the right choice. Millie knows it." I touch my bandage, making sure it hasn't moved.
"They both acted like they had done it before." Carl sits up, and scours in his desk drawer for something.
"They have."
"Oh... When?" He tears a tape kind of thing from a roll and puts it along my bandage. "It's tight now, you can move your head."
I smile in thanks, he must have noticed how I kept touching it.
"They have been helping me for a few years now. It's not like I have to go to the emergency room all the time. But yeah. They know. The first time was the worst. Mr. Quentin was there." The decision to tell Carl is subconscious. I don't think about it. I put my hand on top of his is resting on my chest and guide it to the scar under the shirt.
He sucks in a breath. "The fuck?"
"I have an uncle. My dad's younger brother. Uncle Joe. He lived with us until I was fourteen. He never got married and our house is willed to both of them. So dad was fine with him being there and mom... she likes having people in the house. So it was all fine all around. That night I came out to Uncle Joe. We were always close. I used to tell him everything. He was consoling me and telling me how it is all normal when dad barged into his room with a receipt in hand."
The memory is too much. It's hard to pull it to the front. I don't think I can continue.
Carl lays his head on my chest. Right where my heart is doing somersaults. His hands pull me closer to him and in a second I was in this greatest cuddle.
I hug his head, and give an ending to the story. "It was a receipt that said loud and clear that Uncle Joe is gay. And he was hugging me when dad came in. So like a movie scene, it all played out. They fought and I somehow ended up with an injury that dad aimed for Joe. Cops came, and dad charged Joe with sexual harassment and violence against a minor. Mr. Quentin says Joe was released the next day based on the testimony from my mom. But I never saw him again. I don't even know if he's still in prison and they're all hiding it from me."
"We'll find him."
I tried. It's like he vanished from the face of the Earth. I don't tell that loud. Let Carl have his bubble.
"You don't have to hide anymore. That's one good thing about this." Carl continues.
I chuckle. "No." My fingers run along his head finding comfort in his curls. "He still doesn't know I'm gay. He beat me up for behaving like Joe. He thinks that I have a residue of Joe. So whenever he finds me doing anything remotely gay, I get beat up. He'll throw me out when he finally finds out." Coming out to dad isn't not gonna happen. Never. I'll go very far away and be myself.
"That's.... Don't worry. We'll fix it." Carl says, with his innocent confidence. His hand on my stomach is inside my shirt and I realize he is stroking the scar. And suddenly the mood shifts. I'm no longer thinking about dad or coming out. Carl's fingers are warm and strong and he is touching me without any hesitation. This was supposed to be his night. Our night.
"I'm sorry, I can't do any ungentlemanly activities tonight. Rain check?" I ask. I can try, but with a split lip I can't give him BJ. I want to give him the full package including all Js. I would rather wait instead of doing some sloppy attempt and frightening Carl.
"That's ok. This is good. This is more than.... actually I guess..." his hand creeps down to my boxers and touches me.
I jerk at the unexpected contact. "Carl... What do you think you're doing?" But it's too late, I'm already semi hard.
His hand is stroking me with a slow, sure pressure. "Does it feel like I don't know?" Carl looks up at me with an un-Carl-like smirk.
"You said... you... don't know." I get my words out while wiggling to get my growing hard on out of his reach. It's not a successful endeavor.
"Terry, I have one too. I know this better than lady parts. I've been taking care of mine for years."
My boxers is inching down with his subtle tugs and I can't take it. "Stop."
Carl stops tugging and waits for me to continue, his gaze earnest and questioning.
"This night was supposed to be me introducing you to the pleasures of gay world. Not you jerking me. That's not... correct." I don't know why, but it feels like I'm using him.
Carl sits back up. "Isn't this part of gay pleasure?" Of course he's not looking at me. He's still not comfortable talking about it.
"It's. But AP level. You'd be overwhelmed."
Carl laughs looking down at the bed. "I'm already overwhelmed. This.... is a crazy night. I'm feeling too many things, but... this isn't overwhelming. I want to try. I promise you won't regret it. I'm a professional in this matter. Let me show you."
"Wow, look at you... Marketing your skills.." I say wide eyed. If our roles are reversed, I don't think I'd do it. I wouldn't be this brave to try something new. Because this is definitely new. Carl must know that touching himself is completely different from touching others.
"Why do you have to call out everything? Be quiet and enjoy. Shall I?" His finger teases my waistband.
I nod, unable to resist the temptation. The bedroom light is low but bright enough to see. And I can see Carl palm my length. I can feel his thumping heart against my ribs.
When I planned this night, I hoped to get naked, but not like this. Not when he's fully clothed.
"I... Carl... don't do this for me please. Don't-" Again, his finger brushes against my lips.
"How about we do this my way? I don't talk in bed. I do. So shut up."
So I shut up.
**** End of Chapter Eleven ****