The People in Rossford

PART

THREE

CHAPTER

EIGHT

WE GET TO GO TOGETHER

There was a four week period where Brendan never saw Kenny McGrath. All he could do was make phone calls. And then, finally, Kenny was coming home. The whole time Brendan waited for the phone call that would say he had arrived, there was something a little sweet about his misery.

Their love had started out so precarious, and Brendan wondered if they would be able to sustain it. He had been afraid, and he knew this now, that maybe distance would not make the heart grow fonder. Maybe distance would just make the love fainter. He looked back on that first day, when he had driven Kenny to campus, and then they’d had desperate, hard sex in Kenny’s dorm room, and he had driven back crying the whole time. What he had been afraid of was that he would stop loving Kenny. After all he screwed things up so well. What if there was something deeply treacherous about him, something cold and perverted about his heart that killed his loves? But there wasn’t, and as time passed he was miserable without his lover.

Kenneth McGrath surprised him by not calling, but instead knocking on the door. He had driven that same car he used to drive Brendan from work in earlier that spring, and he came with a package in hand.

Brendan, parting from him—no one was at home—closed the door to keep in the heat, and standing back ran his hands over Kenny’s shoulder, caught his waist, marveled at how blue his eyes were, grey-blue, sometimes ice blue, pale blue, took in the red brownness of his curly hair, the slight chapping of his freckled skin, the set of his full mouth.

“It’s you,” he said, taking him by the hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. “It’s really you.”

Kenny smelled like the cold, like November, and Brendan took off his coat and took it to the closet, shaking his head and babbling about everything that had happened in town.

“You’re so cold,” Brendan scolded. “Mom got hot cider. Well, it’s actually cold, of course. But I mean she got cider, and when you heat it up, then it’s hot. I’ll make us some. I mean, if you want it. Maybe you want cocoa?”

“I’m not really hungry, Bren. Mom just gushed all over me when I came in and babied me, but I told her I had to see you.”

“Well cider isn’t food,” Brendan pointed out, hefting the gallon of cider out of the Frigidaire and setting it in on the shiny island his stepfather had bought earlier that year.

“And it’s too cold not to have anything.”

“I’m fine…” Kenny began to say, and then shut up and let Brendan prepare the cider.

In his room, Brendan sat with Kenny and their hot mugs of cider, telling him about Bob Affren, and about Layla going to synagogue now that Will had turned out to be a Jew. Claire had pretended to sleep with a gay guy at her school, and then Brendan said:

“I’m talking too much.”

Kenny smiled at him.

“You’re so cute when you talk too much. But hold still now.”

Kenny took the mug from Brendan’s hand and set I on the nightstand beside his own. He took Brendan’s narrow face in his hands and kissed him. Brendan closed his eyes for it and Kenny murmured, “Now that’s nice, isn’t it? That’s what I wanted to do since I got in the door.”

Brendan put his head against Kenny’s.

“Why didn’t I have the sense to do that?” he murmured. “The first thing I could think was ‘he needs cider’. How romantic is that? And you don’t even know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you, or be kissed, or touch you, or feel you, Ken…”

“You’re the most romantic person I know,” Kenny said, kissing him on the top of his head. “Except maybe me. Take this,” he handed it to Brendan.

“Oh, a present, Yay!” Brendan took it and tore of the wrapping quickly.

“Wow!” Brendan said, lifting it up.

“It’s not for everyone,” Kenny said as Brendan put the hat on his head. “But I think it’s for you, Bren.”

Brendan colored. It was a sky or powder blue stocking cap with a white pom pom on the end and earflaps.

“You can carry it off,” Kenny said. “I don’t know who else can.”

Brendan grinned and pulled off the cap, and then said: “Kenny, I’ve been thinking. I mean, I’ve been missing you bad.”

“And I’ve missed you too,” Kenny gripped Brendan’s hand twisting it.

Brendan said: “I want us to make love.”

“When?”

“Right now.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Your folks?”

“Won’t be back for awhile.”

“All right,” Kenny twisted himself, turning to face Brendan. “Why am I shaking like this? We’ve done this before.”

“Your teeth chattering?”

Kenny nodded.

“Mine too. And Ken?”

“Yeah?”

“This time I want you inside of me. If you want to do that?”

Kenny looked at him strangely. They’d never done that.

“I… practiced,” Bren said. “So it won’t hurt me or anything. Besides, I never hurt you. So… I mean, I really want it.”

“All right,” Kenny said. “We’ll work our way slowly, and then we’ll do it. You got anything?”

“Not real lube. But I swiped some olive oil. That’s close enough. And it’s Greek, so…”

“Greek?”

Brendan shrugged. “I dunno.”

Kenny kissed him quickly, and then he kissed him deeply, not letting go, his tongue deep in Brendan’s mouth, his hands almost melting into Brendan’s cheeks.

“Bren, I’ve been wanting to do this a long time. I’ve been wanting us to switch sides a long time. I love it when you do it. I love it,” Kenny said, painting hard and pulling off his sweater.

Brendan nodded and pulled off his tee shirt.

“But I really want to fuck you,” Kenny said, working with his shirt, stopping, unbuckling his belt and unsnapping his jeans, then going back to his shirt.

The blood was pumping in Brendan as he slid out of his jeans, leaned forward, hugged Kenny’s naked waist and then lay back down.

“I want you to fuck me,” Brendan muttered, and he didn’t think he’d been more excited, or felt freer in his life.

The first time Brendan had tried it on himself, in fact the first twenty times, he’d been afraid. And when he’d seen it in the pornos, the whole time he’d wanted to do it, and have it done to him, he’d winced with imagined pain, especially in the movies where they announced: THIS IS HIS FIRST TIME!!!—the boy screamed like a pig while being fucked, his face turning red, and gritting, tears coming to his eyes even while he moaned with the need for it. And of course, the first time with Kenny he’d been afraid he was hurting him, and he was, actually.

But Brendan was surprised by how much he wanted it, and how it bruised at first, burned a little, but not enough to make him not want it, and then Kenny found entry, and it felt good to have him there. He was amazed by the hollow place now filled with Kenny, all of that firmness entering him, beginning to shuttle in him, touching him in the deep place, was Kenny.

“You… all right?” Kenny began, trying to say something solicitous, thinking he should speak. But that was all he said. Brendan’s legs went around him, his thighs drew him in. He ran his hands over Kenny’s back, trying to pull him in more and more, kissing his face over and over again, running his hands to the small of Kenny’s back, to smoothness of his ass. They came closer and farther, Brendan pulling him in more and more, murmuring:

“Oh, God, oh yes. Yes. Kenny.”

“I’m here Bren, I’m here,” he murmured over and over again, his jaw slackening now, his body slamming into him harder now, now that Brendan could take it, now that Brendan wanted it, his voice coming up in sharp little cries.

“Yes Ken, oh, oh, God oh, God Oh…oh no. Oh, no. Stop! Stop. Oh, God, oh, my God!”

Somewhere in that, Kenny slowed down. They were ecstatic sometimes, but Brendan’s sudden wailing, his, “Oh, my God. Oh stop… Oh, no…” of course, made Kenny do just that.

He pulled out of Brendan, whose arms loosed on his waist, and whose legs fell now. And Brendan was crying, and he was saying over and over again, “Oh, my God!”

There was nothing wrong with him, which was the first thing Kenny checked, and then he turned around dumbly, following Brendan Miller’s expression.

And while Brendan continued crying and reaching for his clothes, covering his genitals, Kenny beheld Liane Miller, Brendan’s mother.

“Brendan, stop it,” his mother ordered, tiredly.

Brendan and Kenny were both standing in the kitchen, Kenny’s face white, his body cold and his hands jammed into his pockets. Brendan stood beside him with his face in his hands crying.

“Brendan,” his mother repeated.

“I’m gay, Mom,” Brendan sniffed. “Kenny’s my boyfriend.”

His mother looked to Kenny, and then looked back to her crying son and said, “I had figured that out, Bren. Mostly.”

She shook her head.

“Go wash your face,” she told him.

Brendan nodded, and then, still sobbing lightly, left the kitchen, and Mrs. Miller, looking at Kenny standing there awkwardly, said, “And you go with him.”

“This is awful,” Brendan was saying as he ran cold water over his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be gone all day…”

“Well, it’s done now,” Kenny said shutting off the water for Brendan who turned around to towel his face. “And it could have been worse. It could have been your dad.”

“Oh, my God!” Bren said. “Still, to have your mother walk into your bedroom while… Kenny, it was so perfect. I was so in the moment, and then door opened and over your head, there she was. It was a nightmare. I’ll never forget it. I…” Brendan stopped, touching his stomach.

“Wha?” Kenny said.

“I wanna throw up.”

“Save it for later.”

“How do I look?”

Brendan Miller’s face was green white except for around his eyes and nose where he was completely red.

“Terrible, baby,” Kenny told him, and led him back to the kitchen.

“When I woke up this morning, and left this house, I thought you were still a virgin,” his mother said, at last. “I thought you still had to learn about sex. And now it turns out you’re not even a heterosexual. I… This is what the whole Dena thing was about, wasn’t it?”

Brendan nodded. He didn’t feel like telling his mother he’d been sleeping with Dena. This was enough. If he could have he would have told her that right now was his first time. He could. Technically it was. He almost thought of blurting that out.

Instead he said, “What are you going to do, Mom?”

“I…” she looked at a loss. “What am I supposed to do? If you come home too late, you’re grounded. If you use drugs, you’re grounded, but this is the big one, honey.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I mean this is the big one that’s supposed to be the… no-no. And it is a no-no Bren, on so many levels. And… I don’t know what to do. You’re my son, you’re my baby.”

Kenny felt awkward. This was the woman who had seen him fucking her son, and he felt like this was not the place for him. She didn’t even know he was there. But if he moved to leave, then she would know, and then he would be in a position he did not want to be in.

“I can’t do anything. There is nothing for me to do,” she said.

“You can’t tell Dad,” Brendan said.

“No,” his mother agreed. “I can’t.

She added, “And I’m not sure you can either, right now.”

“I didn’t want to tell either one of you,” Brendan said. “This is…”

“Yes,” his mother said. “It is.”

“This is bad,” Will observed.

“It sure in the shit is,” Layla said. “Why didn’t you dummies have the sense to lock the door?”

“We…” Brendan began. “Mom wasn’t supposed to... We…”

“We really should have locked the door,” Kenny said.

“It’s really one of those things that it’s too late to change now,” Will told them.

Layla nodded.

“Have the two of you…?” Kenny said.

“Two of us what?” Layla said. Then, “Oh, no! Hell, no!”

“Hell no?” Will said, looking at her.

Layla looked at him.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, Will, it’s not that I don’t love you. Or that I don’t want to... But… I just don’t see the point in everybody throwing down. I’m not ready for that. Mind you—” she put up her hands, “I’m not judging. I’m just saying… I’d like to keep the mystery a mystery a little longer.”

Brendan nodded.

“I thought I’d be a virgin till my wedding night,” he said.

“Well, I never said that,” Layla said.

“Oh, good,” Will said.

“Whaddo you mean good?” she looked at him.

Will shrugged and Kenny said, “You mom’s not going to like… call my mom or anything? Is she?”

Brendan shook his head. “She’s not like that. I just hope she doesn’t want me to talk about it. This is the most embarrassing day of my life. I’ll never be able to… do it again without thinking of my mom.”

“I hope,” Kenny said, touching Brendan’s hair, “that’s not true.”

“It is sort of funny,” Layla said.

At the look from Brendan and Kenny she amended: “From a distance.”

“Distance plus tragedy,” Will observed, “equals comedy.”

“Well, I need a little more distance,” Brendan said, sharply.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

“That’s not even an option,” Brendan shook his head. “Mom’s going to be wondering what we’re doing. I mean, if she said yes.”

“Well, then I could spend the night at your place.”

“That’s definitely out now.”

“I wasn’t exactly serious. Howabout,” Kenny said, “you stay with Will and Layla. I mean, you tell your mom that. And then you just come home with me.”

In the darkness of the car, outside the Klaskos’ house, Kenny leaned into Brendan and murmured: “I’ll have the sense to close the door.”

Brendan snorted and shook his head after kissing Kenny’s mouth.

“No, we can’t do that, Ken.”

“Why not?”

“Mom’ll…”

“Fuck your mom,” Kenny said. “Which is, incidentally, not nearly as exciting as you fucking me. Or me fucking you.”

“You liked it,” Brendan said.

“I loved it.”

“I liked it too,” Brendan said in a small voice.

Kenny kissed his throat, sucked on it till Brendan moaned. He leaned forward and around so that he kissed Brendan on his mouth, and his hand went to his jeans.

“You thinking of your mother, now?”

Brendan, still caught in his kiss, shook his head.

Kenny touched him, and stroked him.

“What about now? Even when I bring her up.”

Brendan moaned and Kenny said, “I see I brought something else up. Whaddo you say?”

In a thick voice, Brendan said, “Hurry up and try not to run any red lights. Let’s go to your house.”