Officers' Boy
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2022 by the author)

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

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Chapter 15

I didn’t leave my room at all the next day except to go to the bathroom, which is actually another room inside my bedroom.  Having not slept and having nowhere to go or anything to do, I was still in bed when Mom brought my breakfast.  When the knock came, I sat up and looked at her.  “Mom,” I pleaded, “I didn’t mean to dishonor you and Dad.”

She didn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence.  She kept a completely stiff face and pointedly stared down at the tray.  She pushed some papers out of the way and sat it on my desk.  Once she had it stable, she turned and walked back out the door, closing it softly behind her.

The whole set-up was suspiciously like being under house arrest. 

Breakfast consisted of a fried egg, two slices of crisp bacon, two pieces of buttered toast with a small dish of strawberry jam, a glass of orange juice, and a multivitamin.  It was like the breakfast I had a couple of times a week, but somehow tasted awfully flat and uninteresting, eaten under such circumstances.

Normally Dad was off on Mondays and, normally, he played golf with a couple of other local Baptist pastors.  I heard him leave around 7:30 so I presumed he was having his normal schedule.  I figured he wouldn’t be home until mid-afternoon and hoped he didn’t jump all over me when he did get home.

They hadn’t confiscated my CD player, so I plugged in my Bose earphones and put on some music.  I picked at my eggs and bacon and toast but wasn’t very hungry.  After a few bites, I got up and started cleaning up my room.  That took me about an hour as I got my high school notebooks and old papers stowed in my little filing cabinet and put all my dirty clothes in the hamper sitting in my closet.  Then I did some yoga stretches and sit-ups.  As I began lifting my barbells, I wondered if Dad would let me out to go to the gym so I could stay in shape.  I decided to give him a couple of days to cool off before I asked for any leniency.

After Mom brought lunch and took the breakfast tray, ignoring me like before, I ate a bit more since I had gotten hungry.  After lunch (a delicious ham and cheese sandwich with half enough Fritos, an iced tea, and a chocolate pudding cup), I tried to read a John Grisham novel I had read before, but I couldn’t get interested and put it down after a few pages.  Around 2:00 some girl with a wavering high soprano voice and an unusual sense of pitch began warbling over Mom’s piano accompaniment.  It wasn’t loud in my room, but even with my music, it was most distracting.  Thank God for my earphones, which helped a lot because I could turn up the volume on the music until I could hear nothing else.

With nothing much to do, I spent some time staring out the window at freedom in the neighborhood.

I looked out at our big lawn with its fringe of palm trees along the street.  I wondered if Dad would allow me to mow the grass.  I couldn’t imagine he would forgo the fruits of my labor just out of his anger with me.  After all, who else would mow it?

A few minutes later I heard Dad come home.  The awful singing was interrupted briefly before he came upstairs.  I held my breath as I heard his footsteps on the stairs.  He passed on by my door and, in a moment, I heard the master bedroom door close.  In a way I was relieved that I hadn’t had to face him but, in another way, I was disappointed because I really wanted to try to reason with him.

I flopped across the bed.  What am I going to do? I thought.  I can’t go two months without having any communications with Rafael or Roger.  Or anyone.  Maybe I could get Sylvia to buy me a throw-away cell phone I could leave at work.  Maybe I could get more hours.  Maybe I could pretend to have more hours than I do so I could sneak away with Rafe.  No, I decided, I couldn’t imagine what Dad would do if he found out about that.

The day seemed interminable.  At 3:00, the girl quit singing and peace descended on the house.  At 4:00, a different and decidedly worse soprano voice started caterwauling.   I guess I’m lucky I didn’t have a gun because I might have ended it all before that hour was up.  Fuck!  The Supreme Court would call this “cruel and unusual punishment” if I could prove it.

Finally, just before 5:00, I got into the shower just to have something to do.  I was dressed in shorts and an NSync tee, sitting at my desk half an hour later when Mom brought me a garden salad with a piece of grilled chicken on top along with a glass of iced tea and two large peanut butter cookies.  She couldn’t completely avoid me since I was sitting where she planned to put the tray. 

I picked up the lunch tray for her and she put the dinner tray down.  “Mom, …”

“I’m not ready to talk to you, Eric,” she said.

“But, please.  I’m going crazy up here with nothing to do.”

“Read your Bible.”  She walked out.

“Fuck,” I grumbled at the closed door.

Thank God I’m working on Tuesday, I thought as I picked over the salad.  I decided I would write a letter to Rafael to leave with Sylvia in case he came in when I wasn’t working.  Of course, Dad could not find it or I would be toast.  So, when I was finished eating, I moved the tray to my bed and pulled out my big New American Standard Bible, which I opened sort of randomly in the Psalms.  I got out a couple of sheets of stationary which I put on the desk in front of me while I had the Bible held open in my left hand, positioned so in an instant I could slide it over the paper.

For quite a while I sat, trying to figure out what to write.  Finally, I started.

Dear Rafe,

I am so sorry I got in trouble because of the weekend.  I’m grounded until August 1!!!!  Right now I can only leave my room to go to church or work.  And they have taken my cell phone and my computer.  It’s only the first day and I feel like I will go crazy.

I’m going to try to get a throw-away phone I can leave at work, so we’ll have a way to communicate.  I can’t stand being isolated from you!

Nobody writes letters anymore, but it seems like the only way I can communicate with you unless you happen to come into the store while I am working.  I don’t want to put too much in writing because I may have to leave this letter with Sylvia, but I want to say thank you for the most amazing weekend.  It was spectacular beyond my dream.  You were so good to me!  Thanks a million times.

I don’t remember your phone number, so if we miss each other, please give it to Sylvia and I will get it from her.  At least she would let me call or text you.

I’m just devastated.

Please come see me at the store as soon as you can.  I’m working Tuesday and Thursday from 3 to 9:30 and Saturday from 7 to 2.  Please!

Missing you big time!

Eric

It took me a couple of minutes to find an envelope, but at last I did.  I folded the letter, slipped it inside, and sealed it immediately.  I hid it inside my Starbuck’s shirt in my drawer, hoping it would be safe until I dressed for work the next afternoon.

Having written to Rafael, I felt a trifle better.  I laid back on my bed and prayed for a while.  I thanked God for the job that allowed me to be out of the house at least a few hours a week and also gave me an opportunity to see Sylvia and then Rafael or Roger or whoever might come in, even if my chance to talk or do anything with them might be severely limited.  I asked God to soften my mother’s and father’s hearts towards me so we could all start to heal.  I felt a little better after that prayer. 

I heard some noises downstairs from time to time during the evening.  Dad left again about 6:30.  I knew Dad had a men’s group meeting at church at 7:00, so I guessed Mom and I were alone.  The house was quiet except for some noises coming from the kitchen.  Slowly, I opened my door and looked both ways in the upstairs hall.  No one was about.  Silently I stepped into the hall and closed my door.  I thought I might sneak out and jog to Roger’s, about half a mile away.   I decided Mom was likely to hear the front door and the back door was off the kitchen, so those escapes were out.  But the garage door was in the hall next to the stairs and wasn’t noisy.  I could slip into the garage and then out the pedestrian door that would take me into the side yard.  Like a cat I tiptoed down the stairs and into the lower hall.  I walked the half dozen steps from the stairs to the garage door and reached for the knob.

“Just what are you doing, young man?” Mother’s stern voice barked.

Instinctively I pulled my hand back like I’d touched a hot stove.  “Uh,” I said automatically as I tried to think of something.   “I was, uh, going to look for a screwdriver so I can tighten up the loose screws on my bathroom doorknob,” I said.

“You picked an odd time for a do-it-yourself project.” 

Clearly, she thought I was lying.  Of course, I was.  She was totally right.

“You need to get your father’s permission before you leave your room.  Get back upstairs.”

“But, Mom, I’m going crazy with nothing to do,” I whined.

“You have two very good things to do.  Think about your sins.  And read your Bible.  Now, upstairs!”

“Mom!” I protested, but I walked back to the lowest step.

“Your father will come see you when he gets home.  I suggest you find something wholesome to do until then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I started back upstairs.

Back in my room, I put my earphones back on and pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia, which I had loved as a pre-teen.  As I began reading about the adventures and misadventures of the four kids from England, my mind journeyed back to a sinister snow-bound woods little Lucy had found at the back of a magic wardrobe.  By the time I heard the automatic garage door opening to let Dad’s Escalade back in, Lucy’s sister and two brothers had joined her in the frozen woods of Narnia and they had encountered several talking animals.

A few minutes later, I heard Dad on the stairs.  This time his footsteps stopped at my door and he knocked politely on it.

“Come in,” I said as I lay the book aside and pulled off my earphones. 

The door opened and my grim-faced Dad stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him.

“Hi, Dad,” I said as I sat up from my reclining position on the bed.

“Eric,” he nodded in greeting.  After a moment of mutual silence, he said, “I don’t think you have any idea how much you have disappointed me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, sincerely meaning it.  “I didn’t imagine you would be so disappointed by what seemed like a little white lie, but today I’ve thought about it all day and I think I can understand better now.”

“Eric,” he said, “if you lie, you cannot be trusted.  It’s that simple.”

“I see that now,” I said contritely.  “I’ll do better.  I promise.”

“We’ll discuss that later.  What’s your work schedule this week?”

“Sylvia is talking about giving me more hours, but right now I’m scheduled tomorrow and Thursday from 3 to 9:30 and Saturday from 7 to 2.”

“You may leave the house half an hour before your shift and you must be home half an hour afterwards.”

“That will work.”

He started to turn.

“Dad?”

He turned back to face me.  “Yes?”

“I really need to get some exercise.  Would it be okay if I went to the gym?”

“I agree you need some exercise, but not the gym.  Mow the yard tomorrow before you go to work.  I’ll think about it and we’ll talk about it Wednesday before I go in to the office.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He nodded again before stepping back into the hall and pulling the door closed.

 *******

I left the house promptly at 2:30 the next afternoon with my work clothes in my backpack.  Cycling the mile to Starbuck’s lifted my spirits immensely.  Though it was almost 90^o in the shade, the wind I generated by pumping my legs hard cooled me somewhat.  I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt so free.  I pedaled by Roger’s house, but no one was at home.  He’d started his summer job anyhow, I remembered.

I came bounding through the front door about a quarter to 3.  Sylvia was making a cappuccino and looked up with a very concerned face.  She asked the new girl, Rita, I think her name was, to take over.  She raced up to me and gave me a big hug.

“Outside!” she ordered as she pointed at the door.

We stepped out into the intense sunlight and she pulled me around to the back of the store, away from arriving customers and into a modicum of shade.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, then thought better of it.  “No, not really.”

“Your dad is really mad, huh?”

“I’ve never seen him so mad.  And such a pompous religious nut-case, too.”

“You’re really grounded for 2 months?”

I nodded.  “I can leave the house only to go to work or church.”

“Shit.”

“And no computer and no cell phone.”

“Damn, Eric!”

“It’s like solitary confinement.”

She hugged me again.

“Thank God for this job.  It’s the only bit of sanity left in my life.”

She chuckled.  “In that case, your life really sucks.”

I nodded.  “Can I get more hours?”

She nodded.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.  You’re a wonderful friend.”

“Naturally!” she grinned.  “So … Rafael came by yesterday afternoon.  He was very angry with himself because he feels responsible for what happened with your dad.  I told him I expect you here today and he said he’d be by.”

“Thank God!  I had his number in my phone, but never dialed it so don’t remember it.”

“When he comes in, take a few minutes and talk with him.”

“Thanks, Syl.”  I kissed her cheek and we walked back to the front and went in.

I took over a rest room to change and then got to work.  Every time the door opened, I looked immediately in hopes it was Rafael, but I was disappointed dozens of times until he finally got there about 4:45.  I was just finishing with a customer, so was able to break away very quickly. 

My eyes started filling with tears as I walked up to him.  He opened his arms and I walked right into his big, strong chest.  His arms circled behind my back and pulled me tightly against him.  He nuzzled my neck and whispered, “You’ll be okay, babe.”

Customers (and a couple of baristas) gave us about 30 seconds before they started staring at us, wondering why we were hugging so long, I suppose.  Finally, I whispered, “Let’s go outside.”

We separated and I took him around to the back where Sylvia and I had been less than 2 hours earlier.  As soon as we were in the relative privacy of the back, we embraced again and this time we kissed.

As quickly as I could, I replayed my dad’s reaction to my unexplained activities on the weekend.

Rafael listened intently.  “So, you didn’t have to tell him you are gay, right?”

“No, thank God.  He might have killed me.”

“Are you in danger there?”

I hadn’t really thought about that.  “I don’t think so.  Do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds like you could be.”

I thought for a moment.  “I can imagine him hitting me, but I don’t think he would purposely hurt me.”

“I’m concerned about you, Eric.  Even if he didn’t mean to really hurt you, sometimes people get hurt badly because they fall when hit or something.”  He held me by my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes.  His eyes were very sincere and … moist.  “Please think about getting out of there.  You can come and stay with me, if you like, or maybe with Sylvia?  Or Roger?  Think about it.”

He had definitely given me something to think about.

To be continued...

Posted: 07/08/2022