Angels And Bad Men

By: David H
(© 2011-2012 by the author)
Editor: Ken King

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 8

“The Happiest Place on Earth”

Every summer, without fail, my family embarked on a two-week trip.  There was no excuse not to go.  It was understood that whatever was going on in our individual lives would simply stop and that we’d set out as a family from the house in a large van and head south.  For a week, we would stay in Orlando.  Every year since Justin was a kid, we’d gone to Orlando the week before the Fourth of July to a gymnastics competition at the ‘happiest place on earth.’  Since he was graduating the coming May, 2008, this would be the last year he’d be participating in this competition.  He was obviously a little upset about that, but he also understood that moving on was all a part of life itself.  If only, I thought on a couple of occasions, I could force myself to feel the same way.

We left early one morning, traveling up to the school to meet the rest of his team.  I opted to stay curled up with a pillow and a blanket in the back seat of the passenger van Mom and Dad had rented.  After hours and hours of driving, the caravan of kids with whom we were traveling eventually landed in Orlando.  I’d protested a little bit before our departure, but my Mom stood up and said that I was going, by damn, and that I was going to enjoy myself.

The first day we were there, I sat in the room watching TV as the rest of the family enjoyed Epcot and The Magic Kingdom.  As they played, I sat in the room watching movies like “The Princess Diaries” and “Aladdin.”  At the end of the night, the whole family assembled in the villa that Mom and Dad had rented.  Heidi was all about telling me the details of her meeting Mickey Mouse and Cinderella.  Even Goofy made the list of characters that had given the four-year-old a sense of star-stricken fascination.

The next morning, Mom woke me at around nine to go with them to breakfast.  It was the first time I’d set foot out of the room since our arrival, and, frankly, it was a little unnerving.  Other than going to work, I really didn’t leave the house.  The weed had run out, so I no longer had any reason to even go to the tree house. 

We ate at the hotel and then, before I could go back to the room to spend the day languishing in my own self-pity, Heidi convinced me that I needed to go do some things in the park, just her and me.  “You have to meet my friend, Cinderella,” she said as if she knew the character intimately, as if they’d hung out and played games or something.

Mom smiled and convinced me that I needed to go with Heidi, that it would be good for both of us.  Unable to deny my oldest niece anything, I went along with the idea.  Mom and Laura volunteered to go with us, however, just in case.  From the hotel, we took the monorail to The Magic Kingdom.  It was truly one of the most magnificent sights I’d seen.  Everything was so colorful and lively.  Both children and adults seemed to be enjoying the amenities, sights, sounds, and smells of the place.

For me, it was the first time I’d been around a large, non-familial crowd since well before the attack, so I was trying my best to keep everything in check.  I paid close attention to my heartbeat and breathing.  I made sure I knew who was around me at all times, all as I strived to keep Heidi next to me, our hands connected to one another. 

“RY!  There she is!!!” Heidi exclaimed at the sight of the princess speaking to some of her temporary subjects.  “CINDERELLA!!!” she screamed as we walked over.  Heidi pulled at my arm as she wanted to run to her.  (Somewhat) reluctantly, I followed my niece’s lead.

“Well, hello!” Cinderella said after Heidi had patiently waited in line to see her.

“I’m Heidi.  We met yesterday,” Heidi explained.

“That’s right,” the woman lied to appease my niece.  “How are you today, Heidi?  Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you,” Heidi answered, busting out every measure of the politeness that seemed to elude her at home.  “And you?”

“I slept wonderfully,” the woman said with a smile.

“That’s good.  Cinderella.  This is my uncle, Ryan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Uncle Ryan,” the lady said as she extended her hand.  “Are you enjoying my Kingdom?” she asked.

“I am,” I answered, a hesitant smile on my face.

“Hey Cinderella.  You and my Uncle Ryan have something in common,” Heidi explained.

“What’s that?” Cinderella asked as she looked between us.

“You both need to find a príncipe azul,” the four year old confidently admitted.

I turned a little red as Cinderella looked between us.  “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘Prince Charming,’” Heidi translated.  “My Spanish is getting really good!”

“I can tell,” she said as she looked up at me and smiled.  Mom, Laura, and Chloe in her stroller, were standing right behind us.  “Well, Uncle Ryan…”

“We call him RyRy,” Heidi explained.

“Well, RyRy,” Cinderella said as she turned to me and smiled.  “I’ve always found that to find the best princes charming, it’s good to dance,” she said as she held up her arms.

“I’ve got to see this!” Mom said as she turned on her camera.

Unable to say no to Heidi about anything, I took the princess in hand.  “I’m sorry.  My white genes kick in when I start dancing,” I explained, a little embarrassed by the moment in which my niece had placed me.

“It’s really easy.  Just count one… two… three,” she said as we started dancing, right there in the middle of The Magic Kingdom.  Mom snapped away as Cinderella counted for me.  We danced for a good three minutes before Cinderella stopped.  “That was amazing, Ryan!” she said as she clapped.  On the side of the street, Mickey and Minnie were applauding us, as was Heidi, whose smile was so bright that it could have melted the coldest of hearts.

“I hope you find your Prince Charming,” Cinderella said as she reached up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks,” I said as she waved at Heidi and then walked over to another group of children.

As I walked back over to them, Heidi jumped up, wanting me to pick her up, which I did.  Mom and Laura were smiling, both sweetly and deviously at the same time.

“While the men are back at Epcot, we watched Ryan dance with a woman!” Mom joked.

“MOM!” I said as she laughed.

For a few hours, we walked around.  I was still aware of everything that was going on.  I still knew everything that surrounded me.

By three, Heidi was ready for a nap; Chloe was already asleep in her stroller.  As we returned to the villa, Dad and Parker were a little bit wasted, having spent the afternoon in Epcot’s Biergarten.  As Laura and I set the girls into my room for a nap, Mom, Dad, and Parker were arguing about something in the living room.  Being the busybodies that we were, Laura and I rushed into the next room to see what they were arguing about.

“What’s going on?” I asked as my parents smiled.

“Ryan.  Your father and I have this little bet going.  We want to see who can take a picture of the oddest thing at Disney World.”

“Yeah, and I’ve won for the last three years, and I’m so gonna win this year!” Dad argued.

“What do you have?”

“I have a picture of the largest pair of natural boobs on the planet,” Dad said as he pulled out his camera and showed Mom a picture.

“That is certainly an interesting picture,” Mom said as she showed the snapshot to Laura, who nodded in agreement.  “However, Mr. Collins,” she started.  When Mom called Dad that, it meant that she was about to take him to the cleaners for something.  “Laura and I saw something truly amazing this afternoon,” she explained.  She pulled out the camera and found a particular picture that she showed to my dad.

“This is just a picture of Ryan,” Dad said as he looked at me.

“But… Look at what he’s doing.”

“He’s dancing.”

“With a woman!” Mom said, pointing a finger into the air, as if she were making a point.

“Damn!” Dad said as he pulled out his wallet and handed Mom a $100 bill.

“Glad to see my embarrassment got you the prize!” I said to my Mom as she made me bend down so she could kiss my forehead.

“I will buy you something special when we get to Puerto Rico,” she promised as she placed the $100 bill into her brassiere.

“Turrón?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“Why does he always get the turrón?” Parker whined, to the laughter of everyone there, including me.  It felt so good to laugh, even if everyone else was laughing at my expense.

That evening, we ate at one of the resort’s more posh restaurants before retiring early.  By the time we got back to the villa, Justin was already there in bed asleep, having worked out and practiced all day in preparation for the meet in which he’d compete the following morning.

I sat up for a while after everyone had gone to bed, looking out over the breathtaking views that were right outside our window.  I was in the midst of the “Happiest Place on Earth” and I was, for the first time in recent memory, actually happy.  Well, it was more akin to contentment than actual happiness, but it was the closest thing to happy that I’d felt in a very long time.

At some point, I fell asleep, peacefully.  It was the first truly restful slumber I could remember, even though I was sleeping in a chair with my feet propped on a little ottoman upholstered in a matching reddish fabric.

When I woke the next morning, it was only because the world was moving around me.  Justin was up and running around the villa getting ready.  Mom and Dad were sipping coffee as I serenely snoozed in my comfortable chair.

I showered quickly in Mom and Dad’s shower and then put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that simply read “It’s a Small, Small World.”  It was kind of ironic that the (quite possibly) tallest person there would be wearing such a shirt, but I was wearing that shit anyway.

We took the monorail from the resort to the place where the competition would take place.  We were given passes and shown to the section reserved for families of those competing on Oneonta’s team.  We were one of the first families to arrive, having been beaten there only by Carter’s relatives, complete with all of his parents, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews.

As I sat, I imagined what would have happened had this competition taken place just a few weeks sooner.  Would I have even been able to leave the hotel room long enough to come out with them?  Would I be able to sit there as Carter’s younger brothers and sisters ran around playing with Heidi and Chloe? 

As the time passed and as various players in the day’s event warmed up, the arena began to fill.  Before I knew it, the place was almost full of people that I didn’t know, people that might or might not be friendly to me.  I sat there patiently, however, seated right between Mom and Parker, so I knew that nothing would happen lest the Latin in both of them come out and they would start some shit up in that place.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” the announcer called as the competitors broke off into their teams at various places in the arena.  We were sitting where we could see all of the Oneonta team, including my brother, Carter, their friends Nate and Mike, and other people whom I honestly didn’t know from Adam.  I only remembered the three others because they’d been doing gymnastics with my brother from the very first day.

The announcer introduced all the teams, with a deafening roar coming from our section when Oneonta’s team was announced.  It was the only high school team that was competing; the others were all clubs or gyms that didn’t have any scholastic affiliation.

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer explained how the scores would be tabulated and how the winning team would be determined.  Mom understood it all; Dad acted like he did.  To be honest, though, it was nothing like swimming, my sport of choice in high school, where the winner was determined by who could swim the fastest and complete the race first.  I didn’t understand the way it was scored, but I could tell by my brother’s expressions while competing whether or not a good score had been made.

The teams were then divided into six sections, with two members of each team going to one of six stations.  Justin and Carter were paired with one another and went first to the vault.  It was one of Justin’s best events, and I could see the confidence etched across his face.  Things slowly started and a few boys went ahead of my brother on the vault.  When it was Justin’s time, he stood beside the mat and raised one arm to signal his readiness to begin.  He stepped up to the white line and centered himself.

With that, he began running down the blue mat toward the springboard, and with a gentle-looking hand jump off the vaulting table, he began spinning around in the air, grasping his knees and pulling his legs apart slightly as he went up and then back toward the ground.  He landed on his feet, but there was a slight wobble.  Justin lifted himself up and raised his arms to show that he was finished with the first of two vaults.  There was light clapping, since out and out cheering is prohibited by USAG, the group that governs gymnastics in the US.

From my standpoint, it was perfect, but Justin wasn’t satisfied with it.  ‘Satisfied’ wasn’t really the word, though, as we all saw Justin mouth the word ‘fuck’ as he walked back to the starting point for vault number two.

If there’s anything about my brother, to him perfection isn’t a goal; it’s a requirement, so the slightest little wobble or mistake upsets him.  As he stood next to the mat, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before raising his hand once more and beginning the process all over again.  With a look of determination on his face, Justin ran down the mat and again flew through the air.  He landed on both feet again, but this time, there was no wobble.  Justin wouldn’t let himself make the same mistake twice.  Instead, he lifted himself up and raised both his arms.  It was flawless as there were mere milliseconds between his landing and him raising himself up.

Carter immediately followed.  Justin watched intently as Carter went through the same opening motions and then ran down the aisle.  He executed a perfect Yushchenko vault, but his landing was likewise a tad wobbly.  Justin applauded him anyway as Carter walked back for his own second vault.  Just as Justin had done, Carter took a deep breath before he ran his heart out.  And again like Justin, the second vault was his best.

I could see from watching my brother and Carter that there was a great deal of pride in each of their faces.  There was pride for one another; they were so much in love, and it was cute!  Frankly, as I watched them on the floor, parallel bars, rings, and pommel horse, it was obvious that they were feeding off one another.  The energy between them was such that he with strengths in one event would prop up the other and vice versa.

The final event on which they competed was the high bar.  Now, for me, I could reach the high bar without exerting any effort, but for Justin and Carter, the assistance of some guy on the floor was necessary to reach the bar.

Carter was the first up this go round.  His hands were inverted so that one was in the position of a pull up and the other was in the position for a chin up.  He swung himself twice to begin building speed and power before going up into a momentary handstand on the bar before going into the first time around the bar, his legs spread apart.  He turned himself around the bar, releasing his right hand and turning to his left.  In that position, he began turning again, but with his back to the wind that his momentum was creating.  He turned himself around once more in the same way so that he was now facing into the motion.  He spun around the bar four times as he built speed.  He released himself completely from the bar.  High in the air, he flipped backwards two times before catching the bar as if it were nothing.  He spun around a few more times, only to lead into the second release, a more complex one that involved a couple of twists and a couple of flips.  Again, it all looked as if it were effortless.

In less than a minute, Carter did nothing if he didn’t prove to the skeptics in my family that this sport was more athletic than any of the sports that Parker or I had competed in.  With Carter’s dismount, I must say that I was in awe.  Justin was clapping and cheering for him as he proudly raised both his arms and then walked from the mat.

Justin immediately followed him.  As much as my brother had strived to be perfect in every event in which he competed, this was the one that gave him the most trouble.  There was a time following a competition earlier in the year when Justin sat in front of the TV for hours, picking apart every tiny thing he’d done wrong on the high bar, feeling as though he cost his team a very valuable victory.  Justin took a moment beside the mat, taking a couple of deep breaths with his eyes clinched closed.  This was the last time he’d be competing with Oneonta’s team in Orlando, and he needed for this exercise to be perfect.  He lifted his arm and climbed onto the mat.  With assistance, he put himself onto the bar and swung twice to start gaining power.

Justin immediately went into a turn, but to the surprise of everyone in the place, he completed that turn with one hand.  I glanced over to see Carter almost overcome with pride.  In that momentary glance, I missed a couple of skills that Justin had worked to perfection.  He successfully completed a release.  It wasn’t as graceful as Carter’s, but it was perfect.

I looked around as my brother contorted his body in ways that most gay men only wished they could move.  Everyone else had finished competing.  My brother was the very last one out there, and every single set of eyes in the place was on him.  I wondered if he knew that.  I wondered if it made him nervous.

Justin went into the final spins before dismount.  He was trying to get up as much speed as possible.  When he finally released, my heart stopped a little as he flew through the air, twisting and slipping until he landed flatly on his feet.  There was a split second in which he seemed to be checking his balance, but then he lifted himself up, proudly raising both arms.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother jump up as fast as she did.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father beam with such pride.  Parker was beside me cheering; Heidi was seated beside him yelling Justin’s name as loudly as she could.  What I noticed was that my brother was also glowing with pride in his accomplishment.  He certainly wouldn’t be blaming any loss on himself after that performance.

Carter and my brother, the two seniors that wouldn’t be back next year, hugged one another with such masculine fervor that it became obvious that there was something more between them than met the eye.

It took a bit of time before the winner was announced.  Apparently, there was a discrepancy that took the judges a few minutes to resolve.  The time finally came, however, and when it was announced that Oneonta’s team had won, the crowd went wild.  I stood and cheered for my brother’s team as if I were one of those diehard fans that went to every single competition.

A while later, when all was said and done, the winning team emerged from their prep area and walked up to where we were waiting.  There was a lot of hugging and a lot of conversation.  Heidi insisted that Justin, her hero of the day, hold her, despite the fact that he reeked of sweat and body odor.

Justin’s coach came up to all of us after a moment and invited the families to dinner on the team, which was a usual custom after this, the last competition of the scholastic year.  At dinner, it was announced that Coach Kenny would be leaving the team at the beginning of July.  He was being replaced by a woman who was a good foot and a half shorter than me, a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, a woman that, despite her stature, would whip them all into shape despite the fact that the boys she’d be coaching were bigger than her.

After a couple more days at Disney, we flew from Orlando to the land of my mother’s birth, Puerto Rico.  On the flight, as I listened to my iPod, I realized that the trip could have never happened.  I could have ended up dead in the parking lot, and I wouldn’t have been here to witness my niece’s audacity or my brother’s self-discipline, or my parents’ odd sense of humor.  I wouldn’t have gone back to the Biergarten with Parker to get drunk and talk about absolute shit.  I wouldn’t have danced with Cinderella.  Thankfully, I was sitting by myself on the plane, because as my reflection deepened, I realized that letting that one event dictate my life would be a grave travesty against all that was in this world, good, wholesome, loving, and caring.  It was only with the epiphany on PRAir Flight 918 that I was able to come from the depths of my self-inflicted despair to begin the process of healing my emotional wounds, wounds that were still fresh, wounds that still bled with every day of my inaction.  It was time to begin putting my life back together, something that only I could do for myself and that time, I felt, had finally come. 

To be continued...

Posted: 01/06/12