The Truth

 

I heard the door open and then it was quickly shut. I didn’t look up until I felt the cold rush of air reach my feet. The noise came from Brent, which puzzled me. I had assumed he was already in his room, and just didn’t come down yet. I didn’t check anyways so that was partly my fault for not realizing it.

“How are you?” He said nervously as he caught my line of sight. He came into the room with stealth like movement, looking around the room. “Did I wake you?”

“Nope, not yet anyways. Where’d you go to?”

“Nowhere special,” he lied. I knew he did because he couldn’t look me in the eye and his eyes were still shifting around everything but the couch. “What’d you do?”

“Just took my test and got home.”

“How was it? You feel okay?” 

“It was okay, I guess. I’m a lot better than I was before I took it.” Now that I was home I didn’t feel so much like crap. I was glad I had left the school and that I didn’t do anything more drastic before I left. I was curious to see how Brent was, though, since he was what mattered to me right now.

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear that you’re calmer,” he stressed, more so than he should have. Unless, he was that overjoyed that I’m okay.

“How are you doing?” I asked him, not picking up any vibes of gloom from his phrases.

“I don’t know actually.” He was a bit more chipper than this morning, but there was still an undertone of distress in his voice. “I guess I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Do you want to talk about anything?” I hinted once more that I was available. I hoped he would accept the invitation.

“Maybe later.” Not the best reply, but it was better than his denial this morning.

“Okay, I’ll hold you up to that.” He nodded and continued up the stairs. I heard the door shut and I closed my eyes again. As I was alone, again, I let my mind do its wonders. I didn’t know what to think of this afternoon. I was sure it was a lie, and that just pissed me off even more that Erin was spreading that around. She told me she wasn’t, but if she wasn’t then how did I know that Brent was “gay”. I scoffed out loud to her comment. As the rest of what happened played in my head, I thought about what I told her out of irritation. I know it was harsh to hold her down and give her threats, but she’s tough. She plays lacrosse for heaven’s sake. She’s faced much worse than a grab and insensitive words before, I’m sure.

I don’t know why it agitated me that much, though. I could easily assume it’s because of where I come from in my family. We are greatly religious, and if my brother was gay… There’s no way to even think that! First of all, that’s impossible, and second of all, if it was, that would not be cool. It would not be at all. He tells me everything, and I know him like I know myself. We’re like one person with a multiple personality disorder. We are pretty much exactly alike.

I ignored those thoughts Erin planted into me since I knew they were untrue. Working me over nothing just causes more stress, and that’s something I don’t really need to do. As I lay on the couch, I settled deeper into the cushion, letting my mind become silent. Eventually the silence of the room and the peacefulness of not causing my mind to wander made me drift into sleep. It was peaceful as well, and instead of any dreams, it was merely blackness. There was no scene going on around me at all. It was nice for once to sleep like this.

* * * * *

I awoke to my name being a called and a succulent aroma that was coming from the kitchen. My silent nap had been cut off by the dinner that was ready to be served, with me not at the dinner table. I trudged to the kitchen, beginning to wake myself up.

“Have a nice nap, honey?” My mom asked as soon as she saw me walk in. She beckoned me to the table as she got up to get the dish in which the chicken was placed. Everything else had been set on the table, and Brent was already sitting down.

“Yeah, it was pretty good.” I yawned, still not fully awake from my cat nap. “Still a little tired I guess.”

“I’m glad it was good. I hope you worked up an appetite today. I made a little more than I should have.”

“Mom, we’re teenagers, I’m sure we can eat enough, whether we’ve worked up our hunger or not. Right, Brent?” I joked with him. He looked at me quickly and nodded. The quick glance seemed to short for him to actually agree, and it made it look as if he was just agreeing so that he could act as if he was listening.

“Sure we can.” His smile convinced mom, as she had laughed at our joke, but to me it was anything but real. Today during lunch he had been a little out of it and now it seemed as if he was just tense.

As mom continued talking to us about work, it took a little urging to get Brent to talk. He focused his attention on his plate and messed with his food, only eating a small portion of it. His senses were heightened by the amount of apprehensiveness he had and how nervous he was. I could definitely tell this because when we would call his name, he would quickly jolt and look up.

He never said what was wrong with him earlier, and I knew that in front of mom, he would never say it. I would have to wait until we were in the confines of our own room to hear it. As I had been intently watching him playing with his own food, I didn’t even notice my mom had been talking to me.

“Jack. How was your day?” She said, looking at me curiously.

“It was pretty good. Acing my essay was pretty much the highlight of my day. It’s November, so nothing good is going on. Fall sports are done with and Winter sports haven’t even started.”

“It’ll get faster when sports comes around again. It always does.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I turned to Brent and then questioned him. “How was your day, Brent?”

“What?” He looked up with a bemused look on his face. I knew he wouldn’t have answered it the first time anyways, so I didn’t mind repeating the question.

“Oh, I told you. It was okay.” This time he put in more of a convincing attitude. I assumed it was because mom was right in front of us. We both knew if we told her about our bad days she would make sure she knew what was wrong. She was very nosy when she got extremely worried.

After a dinner of mainly my mom and me talking, I helped her put the dishes away to rinse them. Brent left as we were sticking them into the dishwasher, and I was glad that mom didn’t ask me about him. There wouldn’t be much to say about him, but I would probably have to lie and say that he was fine either way. I later followed Brent’s example and went up to our room. I entered it, while shutting the door behind me.

I saw him already doing his homework at the computer desk. I could hear the pencil scratching against the paper as I silently watched him. I felt a sense of sympathy already coming and wanted to know what was wrong with him.

“Seriously bro, what’s the matter?” I lightly said.

“It’s just, life’s confusing right now.” He continued his work, not clearing up anything. He didn’t look up to me at all when I asked him.

“What do you mean?” I had never known this side of him. He normally told me about hard things he’d face, and all of a sudden he was keeping something in. I understand him wanting to be alone, but here we were and he was silent. Worst of all, I couldn’t even begin to think of what it was that would bother him.

“I don’t know, really.” I still didn’t believe him. He was trying too hard to convince me, and I had already learned that when he’s is trying to get something off he talks on, going slowly to bring it to a climax.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

He sighed, leaned his head back, and stared at the ceiling. As he continued to think, I began to leave it alone. I made myself believe that he would tell me when he wanted to. I began to relax, and was ready to lean back and fall asleep. I had already blocked out the sounds he made, and made the room return to being quiet as I closed my eyes. Abruptly, he talked again.

“Have you ever felt what you once believed, or had, no longer mattered?”

“I’m still not sure what your point is,” I told him. I didn’t know when he would stop going around the topic and dive right into it.

“Like, anything you held onto. Faith, how people view you… the rights people have. I just don’t see how it is important to me anymore.”

“I don’t think I really have. Maybe I’ve doubted our religion a few times, but everyone has. Other than that, I think everything that goes on in my life matters.” I pondered and suddenly realized what he meant. It was a heavy topic to discuss and I was aware of why he couldn’t bring himself to explain it in detail.

“Brent…” I said hesitantly. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to ask him what I wanted to.

“Yeah?” He replied with both hope and regret.

“You’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?”

“Huh?” He asked, confused. As if I didn’t nail the topic of our discussion. What was a better way of putting it? Was I really going to have to be so blunt?

            “I mean… giving up your life?” I whispered in a hurried, hushed sound. He gave out another sigh, this one with more than a hint of frustration. He looked up to the ceiling, as if the best strategy to take was written up there.

            “No, Jack. I swear to that. I just… don’t know how to put what I want to say into words.”

            “You, out of anyone, should know that you can tell me anything.” I tried assuring him.

            “Well…” He began, giving up. His head fell and he looked at me. This time he let our eyes meet, and I could feel in the air the seriousness that came from him. “You swear?”

            “Yes.” I almost pleaded. I didn’t realize I wanted to know what was wrong with him so badly.

            ”I think… there might be a possibility, I like this guy?” He began as a statement, and finished with a questioning sound, unsure of what to do.

            “What?” I blurted out. It was an obnoxious push that sent it out of my mouth, and it was a little louder than I meant for it to be. I just couldn’t believe –it– was true. I know I heard it, but I thought that Erin was really screwing with me. That she was trying to get a rouse out of me. It all came together, though. How Brent was acting so different all of a sudden, and became tense when he would first see me. I just found it hard to grasp that I had no clue.

            “Jack? Did you hear me?” Apparently, I was too distracted before to notice he had been talking this whole time.

            “Hear what?”  I said, trying to come off as being more gentle, but unable to do so.

            “I said that it shouldn’t matter,” he explained. “You swore it wouldn’t.” He threw that back into court. I knew I promised, but… this is totally different.

            “It’s too hard to hold onto that now.”

            “How come? Why does it all of a sudden change?”

            “Because you’re gay!” I heard him suck in air as he winced. Maybe I was too direct but the truth hurts. I mean, look at where it got me.

            “So is Peter!” He defended, using the first name to come to mind. Probably the only name he could reference to.

“What is up with you and Erin using that defense?” I asked frantically.

“It’s probably because it’s a decent one. So, how come Peter is okay with you?”

“Well, because he’s a friend. You, on the other hand, are my brother!”

            “I’m not a friend to you now? How come you’ve changed to being homophobic now, just because I came out to you?”

            “I’m not homophobic.” I said stiffly. If I was I would freaking hate Peter, and I of course wouldn’t hang out with him like I do.

            “I’m pretty sure the hating of homosexuals is called being homophobic. If you’re not homophobic then what the hell are you?”

            “Just… angry!”

            “At me?”

            “No, Peter.” I said with sarcasm.

            “What right do you have to be angry with me?”

            “How long?” I changed the direction. I was tired of talking about Peter because I was sure he would keep bringing it up. That or I would, for the sarcasm.

            “What?” He said, taken aback on his defense. I had caught him off guard, and he didn’t know what I meant.

            “How long have you known?” I said with a stern voice, a voice that surprisingly almost sounded like my father. I hadn’t even heard a reincarnation of that voice for many years.

            “About a year, I guess.” He said nervously, as if he wasn’t going to mention it at all. If he had a choice to change his mind, he wouldn’t have even brought up his secret.

            “That’s what proves my right.” I got up and headed for the door.

            “Where are you going?”

            “Downstairs to get myself some water.”

            “Come on, stay. Let me explain… Please.”

            “No,” I said, agitated. “I’m going to cool off.”

            I left and ignored the calls he made for me to come back. I headed down the stairs, trying to force my feet not to slam into the floor as I walked. I soon entered the familiar kitchen and filled a glass to the brim with ice, and then water. I took a small sip and then let it rest on the counter I leaned on. I focused my attention on a point on the wall to help me think straight.

            What Brent revealed to me was one thing about him I couldn’t believe. How could it ever have been true? We were like the same person. It just shouldn’t have happened. I knew everything about him, or thought I did. Every childhood secret we shared, and every secret want or desire we had, were all shot out compared to what I just heard.

            How did he pull off not telling anyone about this? Was he so good of an actor that he could lie about every girl he had crushed on? That would be hard to do, no matter how much skill you had to conceal it. Unless I’m not the first person he’s told. That he decided to tell his ‘girlfriends’ first, before his own flesh and blood. Apparently he had no trust in me if this was true. He had already told one other person, Erin. So, it didn’t even matter if she told other people because he was going ahead and doing that himself.

            I threw the cup in the sink and heard the water and ice hit the bottom. I needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t around here. I found my keys in my pocket, glad to not to have to go back upstairs. I headed to my car, still trying to think of where I could go. I pulled out of my driveway, ending up in the road in less than ten seconds.

            I drove through the neighborhood, trying to stay under forty. It wasn’t really for the safety of it, not at all. If I held myself out, and kept it to a low pace, then the thrill of the speed on the highway would mean so much more. The release would be so much greater, something I could use at this moment.

            Finally I turned onto the entrance ramp to the long strip of black concrete ahead of me. The only things that held me in were the white lines to my sides. There was no one else on the same path to interrupt my pace. I ended up staring at the speedometer, watching it climb to an escalating speed. It didn’t take long for the needle to keep reaching 10 miles per hour higher than the last. I easily made the car reach a pure ninety.

            I couldn’t sit back and rest to it, but I could partake in the thrill of it. Anything near me past me in a blur, and I could hardly tell what I was passing. The only things I could read were the signs straight ahead of me, only because they stayed at the same spot as they grew bigger in perspective. Many were unimportant signs, but one caught my attention. The one that did told that if I stayed on this highway, I would reach the Eastland beach. 

            My foot pushed a bit more, and I hit the hundreds. The car began to literally levitate now, letting the black ice slip underneath me. I was gliding over it and past the slim buildings to my sides. I turned on the stereo system so I could focus on something calmer. I didn’t want to keep giving more of myself into the temptation of control, or the lack thereof. It was mixed, since I was in control of the momentum of the vehicle, and it was going smoothly, but I couldn’t be in control. I was too fast to ever be able to easily stop if something occurred.

That was the beauty of it. By not being in control, you give up responsibility. Morals are something that isn’t going to nag you, especially if you’re naturally devious in the thinking process. 

I'm not exactly devious, but risk taking is something I tend to do. It's not exactly unsafe risk taking, I mean I would never drive like this i the streets were crowded. That idea would be just plain wrong. No, I was going about it the smart way, still keeping the high of it going for me.

The normal drive to the beach was cut in half, not counting the stop I was forced to make for gas. I had to slow down in the are to do that, just in case any cops were around. The supposed thirty minute drive had taken me ten, which was something I could be proud of doing.

Coming to this spot was worth it. I drove into the parking lot, which was at a higher elevation than the beach was. I was able to look out across it, still being able to see it clearly from the bright street lights around me, and the building marked restrooms.

The sand extended in a circular formation, ending at rocky edges. The dark water was covering the shorter rocks, and made small pools where the sand was indented. I got out, considering that I was the only one who would come here this late in the year.

I removed my socks and shoes before going, but as soon as I did I ran towards the water. My feet collected a small sheet of pebbles at the base of them. I felt the coarseness massage my nerves, and once I reached the wet, padded down sand the contrast was greatly different.

The heat from the rocks before was exchanged with the water cooling my toes. The sand between them was sucked out as the water was pulled back away from me. It pushed towards me again, this time washing up to my ankles, where it had been dirty before.

I sat down on the dry side of it, but extended my legs to the water. I rested on my hands that I put behind my back. This beach had always been a great place to bring the happier times back. We did so much here as children, and we used to come here every summer, to the amount of time where it was at least four times a week we went.

We sat in the car anxious to jump out and get in the water. Mom would always make us put on sunscreen, and sometimes got our eyes when she applied it. It was okay because we washed it out of our eyes with the water fountains at the bathrooms.

"Hey, you want to build sand castles?" Brent asked me.

"Sure! Lets go!" I pulled his arm, and he followed after me with the same enthusiasm that I had.

We worked most of the day, accidentally messing up. We called it practicing when mom asked how come we started over. We made a cool castle, digging a long moat around it so it would look real. We hit the sand constantly, making it hard and unbreakable. That way, when we got some water from the ocean, we could pour it in there without it soaking through. It didn't soak through, but it evaporated kind of fast, so we pretended it was still there. 

"You know what we should do?" Brent asked me excitingly.

"What?"

"We should have our tenth birthday here! Wouldn't it be fun to build a huge sandcastle with all our friends, and to eat cake on the beach? We could bury people's bodys too so we could scare others into thinking their head was sticking out of the sand!"

"We should tell mom about that!" We were about to go ask her, but then Cindy, a girl we knew who came here too walked up to us.

"What are you guys doing?" She smiled to us, and held her hands behind her back.

"Building a sand castle," Brent said in a funny way. I looked up to him, no longer working on my bridge.

"That sounds like fun. Can I help?"

"Sure." Brent showed her what she could do and he kept smiling to her a lot. When her mom called her away and she had to go, he was kind of sad. She said she would be back tomorrow and that made him happier, but I wanted to know what he was up to.

"You like her don't you?"

"Me? No! Why would I like a girl!" He said that, but I didn't think he was telling me the truth. He was looking too much at the castle instead od me when he told me that.

"You do!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!" I told him again, ready to do this all day if I had to.

"Okay...I do." I guess he didn't want to, or wasn't prepared like I was. Either way, I was right about him and Cindy.

"I knew it! She's cute."

"Yeah..." He looked far off to the parking lot, smiling at her. I pushed him over and he fell on his side, with his face landing in the sand. "Hey!"

I laughed at him, and my sides were hurting from doing it for so long. He couldn't help but laugh too, even if it was directed to himself.

Those were the good days when life was easier. When we were younger we didn't have to go through any dreadful milestones. There wasn't the puberty stages, or the hormonal stages, or the growing up. You could make mistakes, and be innocent. In fact, innocence was all you knew how to act on. Whatever you did was either something to learn from or an accomplishment. It got itself onto the refrigerator so your self-pride would be boosted, and you would go out and do even more exciting things.

Now no one our age seems to know what being innocent even means. They're too busy being caught up with what people think of them. They're influenced by lies and people they think that they can trust, so that way they can have a good time and think that it's justified by what they were told about it. The truth is, there's no one really here to believe in without losing something in return. Apparently not even me.

I believed that Brent was who I thought I was. I believed he would tell me anything, or that I could sense what his problem would be.  I no longer had that sixth sense. I probably never did, and it was all just made up by guesses. He didn't return the truth to me, and fed me things that I wanted to hear.

Hearing what you want, and it being a waste of breath is worse than never hearing it at all. That's what had ticked me off the most. I heard the ugly side of what Brent was by Erin, and if I knew half the truth, I could have thought it to be true. Instead I denied the reality of it, threatening Erin not to do that again. It was no wonder that she was so scared of me. It wasn't my fault, it was just a mistake to learn by. I should research my information before I shot of accusations. The one I gave to Erin I take back, but my interrogating finger that was pointed to Brent still remains.

Wait, I had to stop thinking this! Forget about him, and just relax. I wanted to escape Brent, not reminisce about him. I closed my eyes, and focused on the movement of the water. I counted the time it took to come back as soon as it left me. It was an average of seven seconds, and my head bobbed forward and backwards as I became more relaxed.

When I let my shield down again, the smell of the salty brine must have ignited my remembrance in this place again. The images of me and Brent being here came barging into my dam, and I got up, pressing my hands to the sides of my head. I covered my ears to stop the noises and pushed harder at the ends of my fingers to stop the headaches.

I needed to keep my head stable, so that way I could think. I could wipe the memory again by bringing back my blockade. I jumped in the car, sticking my feet into my shoes. I could worry about cleaning them later, it'd be easier than cleaning the car. The faster I could leave the better to my concise.

I returned home in the same amount of time as before, but when I was heading back I couldn't stop thinking about him. I hit a hundred and twenty, but still there was no more thrill. I lost the inspiring rush I felt even when I rolled down all the windows and I began blasting my music into the midnight sky. I parked the car in the garage, and sat there slowly locking up everything.

All the way here I was wondering why he had turned from liking girls to liking guys. Where along the line could it have happened? He wasn't violated in any way, that was something he would have told me no matter what. We were both born at the same proximity of time, and he was born first too, so genetics couldn't be it. It had to be something, unless it was something by random. It could have been, and this would have meant he had a choice in the matter. Epically if he liked both genders, so there was no reason for him to be gay. He knew what kind of cost that would bring him later.

I left to go to the living room, uncaring of what mom would think in the morning. I tried to loosen up on the couch, but the loud ticking of the clock on the mantle began to annoy me for some reason, and I turned on the TV to block it out. My attempt to drown out the sound worked. Although it was hard to find something good because the channels I flipped through held meaningless shows, for my mind was still running through what I should do. 

I didn’t care what his reasoning for his gayness was now. Maybe it was other people’s influence, maybe it was how he was born. It just was not significant. He was a homosexual. Plain and simple. It’s been laid down on the line for me to make a call on it. Right now, my call is that I simply cannot accept it.

 

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[SwagMaster]

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