The Nonconformist
by Ken Cohen
Chapter 7
Life and Love
Friday morning, the doctor came to check him. "Against his better judgment" he said that Danny could go home. He'd have to return for a checkup in a week.
Alex left work and picked up his son around noon. He wheeled Danny carefully to the front entrance of the hospital. The boy hadn't been out of bed much and still felt a bit weak.
There wasn't much traffic, so they got home in ten minutes. On the way, Danny wondered whether his parents would let him learn to drive. He was afraid to ask. Asking for anything had become daunting, an unforeseen drawback of his silences. How could he behave coldly toward them, then request help getting licensed to drive? He needed practice time with their car, and payment for driving school, licensing and insurance. Driving will wait, he decided.
They arrived home. His mother ordered him to "go lie down." Welcome home to you too, mom. He ignored her.
They ate lunch. As he finished, he said, "Mom, thanks for making lunch! It's delicious. I'll never take your meals for granted again." She grunted and began cleaning up.
Alex ate quickly, then drove back to work.
The stress of routine life with his mother replaced the boredom of the hospital. Danny went to his room, closed the door, switched on his radio, waited for it to warm up.
After about 20 seconds, it came to life. The DJ was talking about a new Paul McCartney song just released a few days ago called Yesterday.
Danny listened. He missed music since he quit piano. Music often brought out feelings. This song had that effect, though he wasn't yet sure what the feelings were. He'd rarely heard pop songs with the depth of feeling of this one. Popular music, he realized, could be a lot more than clichéd chord progressions, lyrics and rhythms.
He lay on his bed listening, but the pressure of lying the wrong way made the wound throb. Dammit, he needed another pill. He hated how they left him feeling so sleepy. And he thought they constipated him. Deciding he'd tolerate the pain rather than ask for another pill, he sat up and the pain subsided.
He read a book for English class.
There was also the other kind of pain, the darkness and apprehension in his mind. The school week loomed. In a few days he would have to deal with whatever awaited him there. Worse, he'd missed the whole third week of football practice, couldn't work out now, so he couldn't possibly have made the team.
And Darrell was in his head, with his threats. I'll need to fight back this time, he thought. For sure.
I'll find a reason not to go to school on Monday, he thought. I'll be in a lot of pain. Whine about it this afternoon, complain every so often, wait 'til Sunday night to say I won't go.
He returned to the kitchen. Barbara sat staring at a wall. "Mom, it really still hurts. Do you have any more of those pills?"
"The doctor said one every six hours. You had one just before you left the hospital. Wait until dinner. Lie down and rest, you'll feel better."
"Mom, it really hurts. I want to do some homework, but I can't concentrate, it hurts. Are there any other pills I can take that might help? What about aspirin?"
It was like a battle. Each request brought a counterattack. You should have thought about this before getting into a fight. The doctor said it's getting better. The pills are bad for you, you'll become a drug addict. And her ultimate insult: be a man for once in your life!
He tried to nap. After ten minutes, he realized it hurt too much. He dressed and left his room.
He walked outside. It was September, smelled fresh like fall, the trees would soon lose their leaves. Mid afternoon felt cold, though, the sky thick with clouds. It soon felt too windy to stay outside. Damn, it hurts, he thought. He walked behind the house, tried the back door at the rear of the garage. Unlocked.
He entered the empty garage, closed the door, looked around. Deathly quiet. A darkened hollow concrete cube. Gray, dusty oil-stained floor. A small window, wood-framed, paint peeling, spider webs. A ray of feeble light illuminated specks of floating dust. Alone in the silence. A few ancient tools hung on hooks. He sat on the floor in the silence. The pain lingered. He sagged, head in hands, feeling the loneliness. He heard himself quietly sob. Tears. His hands were wet. Time drifting.
What is time? Why does it pass so slowly? Divide time into eons, days, seconds, trillionths. He'd read somewhere that a theoretical quintillionth of a second is called an attosecond. Awfully tiny. Far more of those in one second than years since the beginning of everything. Six thousand years? Six million? Six billion? Maybe six trillion. Maybe it's infinite, no start, no end. Like God. No one knows. Everything is relative. Do animals sense time passing? If I do, why wouldn't they? Brings a sense of order to the universe. Contains memories. A way to understand everything before infinity.
What is infinity? Death feels that way. After death is what? No one knows. Like dreaming, hope for it, can't prove it. Faith. Is death the entrance to infinity? Like in that doctor show, 'man, woman, birth, death, infinity.'
Infinity is God, he thought. Immense, endless, unknowable. And indifferent. Or is God loving, angry, jealous. Even smells the burnt flesh of sacrificed animals and finds it pleasing. Only the human mind could conceive of God in concrete terms like that. God must be inconceivable to us. Like the world is to a fish that momentarily leaps from the ocean.
Who was that French chemist 200 years ago? Lavoisier? Oxygen, hydrogen, metric system, chemistry as a science like physics and math. The philistines guillotined him. Ignorance over intelligence. They say he told his followers not to weep before he went to his death, because he was about to discover the answer to the greatest secret of all.
Pain spilled through him in this gray, empty place. At the edge of reality, gazing into blackness, utter chaos. Insanity. An old knife here. Wrist, should I? … how will it feel? she can find me here dead, serve her right… deserve to be sliced up … like swimming in a world of … end of pain, infinity ahead, spinning, closer… no!
"No!" He stood. Shivered a little. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You fucking idiot! Sorry for yourself every single day, and it will get you exactly nothing. Coward! No one will care. They'll win, the bad guys. They'll have a good laugh. You'll throw away the life you're so lucky to have, and they'll have something to celebrate. Another fag flushed down the toilet.
This life is the only chance you'll ever get. You'll never be alive again. Never another you!
This isn't some game where everybody lives happily ever after. What they did to you may hurt like hell right now but it will get better. You know that. Even from the shit your mother gives you.
These are the cards you were dealt. Make something of them. Don't let them …
A line from English class appeared in his head, the pangs of despised love. My secret Hamlet interpretation, could never tell Miss E. But why not? Why should anyone care who I love?
Will someone please come here and hold me? Who will love me?
Some ancient man wrote it in the bible. That makes it a sin for all time—'despised love.' An infinite sin. In the same class as 'thou shalt not kill.' Uneraseable, unchangeable. Just another justification for hating other people. Some irrational fear deep in your mind.
Jesus said to love other people, not hate them. Let God decide who's good. Not the priests.
Easier to lash out and hate in God's name. Thanks to the wisdom of the churches. They only pay lip service to Jesus. Pangs of despised love.
Why should my love be more or less right or wrong than anyone else's love? What gives them the right to judge how I feel love?
He stood in the silence. It felt like infinity. Concrete is a solid, brutal building material, he thought. Standing in silence in its bare state, concrete feels as close to lifelessness, to ice cold death, as any material he could conceive of. Where do all these wild thoughts come from? he wondered.
His mind was quieter now. He felt a little better, not so angry. Felt his mind clearing despite the pain. At least I'm feeling something that's not despair, he thought. I need to leave this garage. I'll call the coach, maybe he'll let me sit on the bench.
Roused, he returned to the house, tramping on fallen leaves. Mother gone shopping? Yeah, I'll call the coach. The school phone number is somewhere, that form they gave us the first day.
He went to look for it, might still be someone there.
"Hello, it's Danny Stavros calling, is Mr. Taylor available?"
"Actually, you're in luck, Danny, he's here in the office, hold a moment, I'll get him for you. By the way, how are you feeling? Everyone is very upset about what happened to you. Just a minute."
"Hello, hi Danny. You just got me, a few more minutes I'd be gone. How are you feeling?"
"Hi, Mr. Taylor. The doctor said I'm getting better, he'll take the stitches out in maybe a week. I'm back home today. Thanks for asking. I just, I, um, I'm really sorry about this, sir, I was hoping so much to play this fall, I know I missed practice all week. I was wondering if you'd, um, let me maybe help with the team, anything I can do. I know I can't play, I don't expect that, I'm just hoping maybe I can be with the team during the games even if I can't play."
"Danny, don't apologize. I'm glad you called, it's good to hear from you. This is not your fault. As long as you want to be part of this team, you will be. I can't promise you'll play this year, it depends on what the doctor says and on your physical conditioning, but it's possible so let's take that a day at a time. One way or another, though, if you want to be part of the team, I'll do my very best to make that happen. When do you expect to be back at school?"
"Monday, sir."
"Monday? That fast? Are you sure about that?"
"Yes. I mean, they sent me home today. I'm feeling okay, just a little tired. The doctor says I can't run for a while. And no contact sports for six weeks."
"Alright, why don't you come to the practice after school on Monday? Ask the doctor to phone me. You come see me in the locker room Monday afternoon before practice and we'll talk. How's that?"
"Yes, that would be great. Thank you sir, I'll see you then. Goodbye."
Wow. That went well. He felt better.
Piano. Where did that thought come from? Old habit. She's not home, he thought, I feel like playing. He walked down to the basement. Cold, always cold down here. He turned on the big lamp next to the piano. The music still open on the instrument's music panel, what he played for the exam, when, 16 months ago? That long? Bach French Suite no. 3. Chopin Preludes. He hadn't played in so long. He played a scale, D minor two octaves up and down. A couple more, fingers still worked.
He played the first few bars of the allemande, stumbling over notes, thinking it needs tuning, piano sounds off. Chopin's prelude no. 4 E minor…
He stopped and remembered. At the camp, he was alone playing the allemande on that out of tune piano in the heat of that old dance hall, they sneaked up on him, suddenly he hears 'get the fuck out of here, fag,' someone yanks him backward off the stool onto the floor where he hit his head and back, lay there winded, stunned, couldn't breathe, gasping, laughter, someone said "we should hang this fag." His back had hurt, went into a spasm. He'd rolled onto his side, tried to stand, looked around, faces stared at him. He ran out, on the verge of… fucking philistines.
He asked himself, why did I stop? I gave up playing. Why? I started this… I fucked up so bad. I was… he heard a key in the front door. She's back. Shit.
He wiped a couple tears dry with his sleeve, stood, turned off the lights, ran up the steps to the landing just as she opened the door.
"What were you doing down there?"
"I thought I heard a noise. I went down to look, in case there was a rat."
"God forbid, we don't have rats in this house, I keep a clean home."
Change the subject. "I'm hungry, mom. What's for dinner?"
"Chicken, I have a chicken to roast, it will be a while, find yourself something to do in the meantime. Your father will be home in an hour."
"I'm hungry, mom! Make lots of food. I love you!" She looked stunned.
He went quickly to his room, feeling better, and returned to the math homework. He sort of liked math. Except this year that useless teacher Miss Niven. He resolved to figure out geometry himself, or get help from Kenny. That woman couldn't teach worth a damn. Lecturing is not teaching. He'd have to start by finding a book that explained Euclid. He was sure it must make sense somehow, but she couldn't make it do that.
He was supposed to go to bed after dinner because, after all, he just came home from the hospital. But Barbara and Alex went out for the evening. So he called Mike. The boys were playing poker at Mike's place a couple blocks away as usual.
He told Mary he'd be at Mike's for a while. "Is that okay, Mary? Do you mind? If you're scared of being alone, I'll stay." His sister was 12, he thought she was old enough. He hadn't promised his parents anything.
"Go ahead, Danny, I'm fine, I'll watch TV."
"Here's Mike's phone number if you need me, okay." He grabbed some change. "I love you, Mary." He kissed her on the cheek, then off he went.
At Mike's that Friday night, everyone seemed happy to have Danny back. Kenny was there. They talked nonstop about football, even as one seven card stud hand after another was dealt and played. But after an hour Danny felt tired, realized he probably should have stayed home.
"Guys, sorry but I'm really tired, I think I better go."
Then Barry said, "Oh, wait, I heard this limerick, Danny, you have to hear this, it goes something like the following:
There was a young sailor from Brighton
Who remarked to his girl 'you've a tight one.'
She replied 'oh my soul,
You're in the wrong hole,
There's plenty of room in the right one!
"Oh man," said Mike, "that one's as old as the hills. I think I remember hearing that one in kindergarten or something."
And Barry said, "You heard it in kindergarten. Right. That's just the type of thing we learned in kindergarten. I remember you in kindergarten, Michael Inness, you were a troublemaker!"
"Yeah, and I learned at that early age that there's plenty of room in the right one! I'm a stud from way back."
Danny's laughing too hard and the stitches hurt. He said, "No you're not, Mike, but you're the best fucking quarterback our school's ever had, pardon my punny bad language. Don't tell jokes! I'm gonna bust these damn stitches open from laughing! The doctor will kill me!"
Then there's silence… no one knew what to say. Danny kind of mentioned the unmentionable. Saying the doctor would kill him didn't help. For some reason, they were afraid of the question. And he was afraid to tell them. Why did this happen? Well, Danny could tell them 90% of the reason, just not the last 10%.
"How's it feeling?" Barry asked.
"It's getting better. Thanks for what you did, Kenny told me I'd be dead if you hadn't helped." Barry patted his good shoulder, it felt good, who ever patted him like a friend before?
Then Barry looked him in the eye, said, "I'll mail you my bill," smiled and winked.
Danny smiled back and said, "Okay, and when I get it, I'll tell you the second oldest story in the world."
Shawn asked, "What's the second oldest story in the world?"
Danny jumped in. "Wait, Barry, don't tell him. I'll tell you, Shawn.
"My uncle told me this story. Uncle Lewis is an old-time lawyer down on Spadina Avenue.
"When someone buys a house, the buyer has their own lawyer, and the seller has another lawyer.
"On the closing day, the two lawyers meet at a government office. It's pretty simple. They exchange the money and keys, and register the deed to make the buyer the new owner.
"Now, imagine an ancient lawyer born in the 1800's, Mr. Dickenson. He's the buyer's lawyer. He's been a lawyer nearly 50 years. An old gentleman, respectable, admired. Wears expensive 3-piece suits, knows all the judges and big-shot lawyers, eats lunch at fancy restaurants.
"Uncle Lewis is the opposite. He's the seller's lawyer. He's a rookie lawyer. Innocent, no experience, just starting out.
"So someone buys a house in Toronto. This is back about 35 years ago, around 1930.
"Respectable old Mr. Dickenson is the buyer's lawyer. My Uncle Lewis the rookie is the seller's lawyer.
"Old Mr. Dickenson, the buyer's lawyer, finds out the seller didn't pay his last electric bill. If the seller doesn't pay it, the buyer will get stuck with it. Of course the buyer didn't want to be stuck with the seller's bill. If you buy a house, you don't want to get stuck with the seller's bills, the seller has to pay all the house bills up to the closing date.
"So on the closing date my uncle and Mr. Dickenson meet at the government office to close the deal, pay for the house, register the deed.
"Mr. Dickenson tells my uncle the seller didn't pay his electric bill, and asks what Uncle Lewis will do about that.
"So Uncle Lewis says, 'oh yes, the seller told me about that. He says he mailed a cheque to the electric company to pay it.'
"Mr. Dickenson looks at my uncle and says, 'Mr. Booker, 'the cheque is in the mail' is the second oldest story in the world.'
"Second oldest story in the world? Uncle Lewis has no idea what he's talking about. So he says, 'Oh. What's the oldest story?'
"The old guy says 'I promise I won't come in your mouth.'"
After about a scintilla of a second, maybe an attosecond, pandemonium breaks loose, seven teenage boys are laughing so hard a couple nearly pee their pants.
"You know what my uncle told me? After he stopped laughing and thought about it, he learned something. First, in business, trust people if you want to, but you still always verify what they're telling you. Promises about getting paid, like the cheque is in the mail, are basically worthless.
"Second, people, even fancy lawyers, are not what they appear to be. Under all the fancy stuff, everyone from the queen of England to the bus driver who gets you to school in the morning is a real human being that eats and drinks, pees and poos, farts, screws and swears, and even cries sometimes.
"I'm really tired, I better go. By the way, you're probably wondering why that guy stabbed me. I knew Darrell Gruenrath two summers ago at a camp far from here. He and some other guys kind of picked on me all summer. Without getting into the details, I had a run-in with him near the end of that summer, so he hates me. I thought I'd never see him again but he showed up here this year. And he's crazy enough that it looks like he got some guy to go after me last Monday at school. That's the story. Please keep this to yourselves, okay? The police said not to talk about it so maybe you're not even supposed to know. Anyway, I better go home before I fall asleep. See you Monday."
It was Sunday night. He had to return to school the next morning. He'd caught up on his sleep over the weekend after four nights in the hospital where uninterrupted sleep seemed next to impossible.
After dinner, his mother said, "Remember to take your antibiotic before you go to bed and again in the morning."
"Yes."
"Oh, and promise me, if you ever decide to grow up, you'll marry a smart girl who can take care of you, because you can't take care of yourself."
Fuck off, mother, he thought. Homework to finish. Get out of here before she says any more.
The next morning, Monday, gray daylight filtering into his bedroom, he awoke. His anxious heart pounding, he dressed, peed, washed, brushed teeth. Took a pill. Walked toward the kitchen, thinking. Take it slow, nice and slow, one step at a time, no matter what happens today. I'll take them on one at a time for better or worse, this will be the day.
Approaching the kitchen, he heard voices. Kenny was talking to her.
Kenny. Good as his word.
"Hi," Danny said to him between a yawn and a smile as he entered, "you're up early. Sorry I slept a bit late."
"Hi. Drink some coffee."
"Don't like coffee."
"You're making a serious mistake. Sleep is not an adequate substitute for caffeine. It's the drug of choice for millions of sleepy people every morning."
Danny smiled. He made himself some cereal. Shreddies, his favourite. "Want some?" he asked Ken.
"No thanks, already ate."
He heard, "Did you take your pill?"
"No, mommy, I've decided not to take any more pills unless you stop bugging me about them."
No response.
As he ate, he and Ken made small talk about the news. Then he was getting ready to leave. "Danny, I didn't bring any work home for the weekend, so I'll take your bag, with all that stuff it's too heavy for you to carry with your stitches."
"You're right, didn't think of that. Sorry you have to do that but I really appreciate it."
He double-checked, yes, his diary was in his bag. They walked out the door, down to the road and turned in the direction of school. Early sunlight peeked through clouds. The air was cool. As they walked together, he sensed it. A fresh new feeling. He felt at ease with Kenny. He could relax. He wanted to hug Kenny. He wanted…
"It's a beautiful day, Danny."
"Yeah, it is."
He's no longer just a guy I did a favour for, he thought. We've been good friends for a year. I know his secret, he knows mine. We trust each other. We have a relationship. Real friendship. We trust each other.
He visits me in the hospital. I tell him about Greece. Scared but actually trusted him.
He still seems to like me. Not staying away, not laughing at me. I guess he accepts me. Trusts me. I can trust him, too.
The closeness. Danny had not felt this way with anyone other than, once upon a time, his mother when he was little. He vaguely recalled the warmth and trust he felt for her as a little boy.
He took a deep breath, moved his mind into a different gear. He had to get to school and deal with whatever was waiting for him. He felt aggressive, ready for whatever it would be. There would be no tears today, no acceptance of their bullshit, no pretence, even if he had to fight it out. No passivity, no more fairy boy, he promised himself. I'll rip the fucking stitches open if I have to.
Ken interrupted his thoughts. "You're quiet this morning. Whatcha thinking about?"
"Oh. Um, last night she tells me to marry a smart woman who can take care of me because I can't take care of myself."
"What are you talking about? You mean your mother?"
"Yeah."
"Your mother said that? She's a real sweetheart, isn't she?"
"She seems to like you. She has no idea what an evil influence you are. Anyway, I don't want to get married. Who would I marry? One of the princesses at school? I have no interest in them. If I ever marry a girl, it will be one who's the exact opposite of my mother."
"Maybe your mom will arrange a marriage for you."
"What, my mother? She'd never do that. That happened to her."
"What? Your parents' marriage was arranged?"
"No, no, it was more like the unexpected result of an attempt to arrange a marriage. My mom grew up in a Montreal slum during the Depression. There was a strict rule, she couldn't have a boyfriend or even be alone with a boy. Papou and Yaya, that's my grandparents, didn't want grandchildren until after she was married.
"But she told me once, one time on a Saturday night she was in her bed, supposed to be asleep. She dressed, opened her bedroom window, crawled out to the fire escape that old houses and apartments in Montreal have, and used those steps to get to the ground outside. She ran through the dark city streets to her girlfriend's home a couple blocks away where her friends were listening to music on the radio. No TV in those days, they were dancing and having fun, boys were there too, so she joined them for a couple hours while her mother thought she was safe and sound in her bedroom, fast asleep like a good little girl.
"So my mom was actually a rebel. After that she kept doing it and Yaya, my grandma, never did wise up.
"Anyway, mom did something unusual for a girl in those days. She finished high school. She took commercial courses so she could get a job like secretary or bookkeeper and support herself. She graduated high school in 1939 and got full-time work. Right before the war broke out.
"She was still living at home then and giving her parents money to help them. She worked for an accountant for a couple of years after the war began.
"Then she turned 20. Yaya decided mom was becoming an old maid because she was 20 but wasn't married yet. So she arranged a marriage to a Greek Orthodox priest and told my mom she'd be getting married to this man and the wedding date was in a month.
"My mom knew the priest, she'd met him, he was ten years older than mom, fat and ugly and she didn't even like him. Mom said no, no priest, but Yaya ignored her, started inviting people and arranging the details. Yaya's sister began to sew my mom a wedding gown.
"It was how they did it in the old country, a young woman's parents could force her to marry a man she didn't know or want. I think the way she put it was, she would learn to love him.
"One day, mom walks into an air force recruiting office in Montreal and enlists in the RCAF. It was 1941, the war is going full tilt and very badly. She was 20 years old so didn't need her parents' permission.
"Yaya went nuts when mom told her. Papou, my grandfather, was proud of her. It was probably as radical an act of disobedience as any Montreal girl at the time could have dreamed up.
"A couple weeks later, she reported to the women's corps of the Canadian air force for basic training. She became the property of the air force for the next three years instead of the property of a husband she didn't want.
"They eventually moved her from Montreal to Guelph, where she taught Morse Code and other stuff to hundreds of airmen. That's where she met my dad, he was also in the air force teaching Morse Code. She hardly saw her mother again until after she was honourably discharged in 1944. By then, she and my dad were engaged. They married in August, 1944 and then my dad's squadron was sent to India."
"Hah! That's funny. Amazing actually. Your mom was really something, she didn't let her mother stand in her way. I wonder what happened to change her."
They arrived at school. He nervously followed Kenny through the door. His stomach churned, he needed a toilet. No sign of Darrell or his buddies, nothing about a homo in the school so far. After saying hi to some people and going to his locker, he ran to the nearest boy's washroom a few minutes before the bell rang to begin the day.
Afterward he saw Mike, who gave him a gentle hug right outside their home room and welcomed him back. They walked together to their first period class, English, which this year they had together, talking about football. Danny had made sure he was caught up because as he'd learned in grade ten, this teacher was unpredictable. Today would be Spender's poem The Truly Great. Inspirational, about people who went before us and left a mark in the world. Almost like a motivational prayer.
The first thing Miss Evanston said when she saw him was, "Mr. Stavros, good to have you back. I couldn't help but overhear you talking when you came in here a few minutes ago. Isn't it unusual for someone of your kind to play football?"
"Pardon? What did you say?"
"Aside from the fact you're injured, of course. You know what I mean. Anyway, welcome back."
Someone of my kind, he thought, what is she saying? "Good morning to you too, Miss Evanston." Bitch. The teachers must know about…
"You know, the last time I spoke to your mother, she was unhappy with your choice of reading. Parents' decision, though, as you said. I hope you won't repeat the same mistake this year when I ask for your book report."
Huh? What the hell. "As you may know, I was away most of last week. I wasn't aware you wanted a book report. Can you fill me in?"
"Speak to me after class."
The class proceeded. She talked for a while about Stephen Spender. Eventually the class ended. He walked to the front to speak to her. "Let me guess, you called my mother last year."
She looked him in the eye, then turned away for a moment, picked up a book off her desk and turned back, handing it to him. "You have two weeks to read this and hand in a report. I selected it for you because I don't want a repeat of last year's grandstand performance. Good novel. A minimum of 1,500 words. I'll see you tomorrow."
Abruptly, she turned away and left the classroom. He looked down. Giovanni's Room, by James Baldwin. "Hmm, I wonder what this is about."
He headed to his Latin class, thinking, so that's what happened. She phoned mom last fall, my room was searched by the domestic gestapo searching for a book to burn. What was it, right after I gave the book report, she calls my mother and complains about it? Mom, whatever happened to the defiant young woman…
After school Danny talked with Coach Taylor before the practice. He welcomed Danny back. He had a place of some kind on the team as long as he wanted it. Danny said he'd do anything he could to help.
So his role at that point was to act as a kind of assistant coach, stay at the coach's side and see the team handled from the coach's point of view. He stuck with the coach through the practice. It began to drizzle, a kind of light spray of warm rain, as the practice went on.
He was tired by the end. He wasn't sure why he was often still so tired, it was just some stitches. After dinner, he had enough time to do his homework, then went to bed around 9 pm, slept until 7:30 the next morning.
The stitches were removed two weeks after the attack. He felt pretty good but still tired easily.
The school's football team lost its first game of the season at the beginning of October. The coach had selected Matty Arken, a senior who had been the starting quarterback the previous year, to start the game, and left him in until the start of the fourth quarter. By that time the team was trailing 13-0. Mike took over and the offence scored 10 points in the last quarter, but it wasn't enough, they lost the game 16 to 10. Afterward, Coach Taylor told Matty he would start the next game as a halfback, and Mike would start the game at quarterback. Mike was to remain the team's starting quarterback for the rest of the season.
For the second game the following Friday, Danny suited up replacing another injured player. The coach said he shouldn't expect to play yet, it was too early for him, but the team was one player short of the allowed number so coach said he could definitely suit up, just wouldn't play, doctor's orders.
The team won that game 19 to 17, ending a winless streak that stretched back two seasons. Danny watched the game from the sideline. It was past 7 by the time they all showered and changed. Before Danny left, Mike reminded him they had a poker game that evening. Danny said he'd be there by about 8:30.
"I can probably get Kenny to play, I'll call him when I get home."
Alex came to pick up Danny and Mike, and watched the last few minutes of the game. He dropped off Mike on the way home. Danny told Alex about the game as they drove. Before dinner he called Ken, who was happy to hear from him. Danny quickly told him about the game, and said he'd meet him at Mike's place.
After dinner, Danny walked the few blocks to Mike's. The game was in the small rec room in the basement. Danny was last to arrive. Danny took the last empty chair and watched as everyone folded the hand Shawn had just dealt. Matthew picked up the cards and shuffled for the next hand. Danny threw in his nickel ante and waited for the deal. They played for an hour. Then his mind began to wander, he imagined what it would be like with Kenny if he…
"Danny, wake up!" It was Owen seated next to him.
"Huh? What?" He looked up at him and suddenly realized they were waiting for him.
"You must have had a tough game today," said Mike, "you're playing poker like you're already asleep."
"Sorry guys. Mike's right, rough night. What's the bet?"
"Ken just raised, the bet's 70 cents to you."
"Oh, I'm out. I know better than to stay in when Kenny's raising." And he folded his hand. So did Owen and Barry.
But Mike looked at Danny kind of sideways and said with a grin on his face, "I think you and Ken are in cahoots, trying to bluff me." Mike decided he wanted to see Kenny's hand so he threw in 70 cents and called.
They were all on the edge of their seats waiting to see whether some kind of conspiracy was afoot. Ken had a pair of tens, a jack and a nine showing. Slowly, one by one, Kenny turned up his three hole cards. A seven, a nine, and… a ten! Full house, tens over nines.
Kenny was smiling, Danny giggled and yelled, "I warned you, Mike."
Poor Mike, disgusted, threw his cards down and said "I was sure you were bluffing."
Quiet Kenny replied with delight, "Kenny doesn't bluff!"
And Mike says "Yeah Kenny doesn't bluff until the next hand."
Danny noticed Kenny still smiling, really cute when he smiled. Kenny reached out, pulled in the pot of almost three dollars, a fistful of change, and announced "Kenny's rich!"
Eventually it was almost 11. Alex had said he'd pick them up. They walked up to the main floor and found their jackets. Danny peeked through the window, it looked like the rain might have stopped.
"Good night, Mike, that was a great game tonight, and thanks for having us. Guys, see you soon at school if not before."
Mike put his arms around Danny and hugged. "What a game, we were great, weren't we?"
"Dam right. We have the best quarterback in the league! Maybe next time I can actually play. We've won one game, that's one more than last year. But don't let that go to your head!"
They walked to the car and got in. Kenny asked, "Do you think you might like to come over to my house tomorrow to study? We have that physics test on Tuesday and a math test as well on Monday, so I'd like to get ready for those."
"Um, I might have to stay home with my sister. Could you come to my place?"
"Sure. I'll bring my notes. What time?"
"How about coming for lunch? Then we can study afterward. The house should be quiet. I just have to check with my mom about lunch and I'll let you know."
"Okay. Call me in the morning."
"Will do."
They dropped off Kenny and watched him walk into his house. Alex waited to make sure he got in. "Nice kid," said Alex.
"Yeah, he is."
"Is he your friend?"
"Yeah, I was thinking about it tonight while we were playing cards. We met a year ago and we've been going to the Y together pretty regularly since then. You know, he visited me in the hospital and we talked for a long time."
"Did anyone else visit?"
"Yeah, Owen and Barry came one evening, and Mike dropped by for a few minutes. And you and the police."
Then they were home. Danny was asleep within minutes.
When he opened his eyes, it was after 9 a.m.
Daylight poured in through the bedroom window that morning. He tried to wish it away, wanted to sleep. What time … ten past nine. Yawn. Dreaming. He was kissing Kenny. He wondered about it. Kissing another guy? Yet when he thought about it... in the movies, men never kiss. Or hug. They shake hands. Their lives are filled by women, guys like me don't exist.
He heard his mother talking quietly… better get up before she complains…
Oh yeah, Ken'll be here today. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him, can study by myself, he's doing me a favour, hate asking favours, why did I do that? He must think I'm a real loser after everything I told him… Stop! Thought I stopped thinking that way that first day back, that morning, walking to school with him. He's sincere. Really likes me. I trust him. Why am I thinking like this again?
He rolled out of bed, quick shower, dressed. Went to the kitchen, cereal and milk in a bowl, wondering about Kenny.
"Mom, can my friend Kenny come for lunch? We're going to study together this afternoon."
"Well, that's a first! Is this some kind of joke? You really want to invite someone to our house? Are you sure we're good enough for him?"
Shit! He knew how to play this game. Sarcasm. If I ever have children, I'd never speak to them that way. Why would you hurt your own children? No matter how bad things are, can't you love your own son? Maybe he could…
"Never mind. Forget it." Wait for it …
"Yes. You can invite him. We're going out after lunch, shopping to do. What do you want for lunch?"
I knew it, what a stupid game. Isn't that something adults outgrow? Isn't it called maturity when you don't play head games like that any more?
"Whatever you think, mom. Hotdogs? I think he likes hotdogs." She does me a favour. This will be added to the ledger in her head, sooner or later she'll …
"I'll pick up buns at the bakery. We can eat around 12:30, 1 o'clock."
He phoned Ken and left a message with Mrs. Dressen for him to come around 12:30.
He had light chores outside. No heavy lifting, what the doctor said. Later he started on a big assignment for Latin class. Latin's fun, he thought, a logical and beautiful language. And so many neat "ten dollar" English words from Latin roots.
He began writing. A sentence with 'impecunious,' from the Latin word pecunia, meaning 'money.' So,
'Danny is impecunious because he has no income of his own and depends completely on his parents who are cheapskates and give him a tiny allowance.'
That'll give Mr. Gregg a good laugh.
Then of course there's modern Italian, directly descended from Latin and similar to it in many ways, depending on which Italian dialect…
As mid-day approached, he was upstairs changing and heard a knock. Barbara went to the door. Ken greeted her, she invited him in politely, they spoke for a couple minutes as Ken removed his shoes.
He's polite, she's polite, thought Danny. Kenny's figured her out, knows all about her from me. The games people play.
The five of them ate together. Then his parents left for the supermarket and other assorted shopping. Danny, Kenny and Mary, sat around, studying, talking, doing homework. Mary really likes Ken, Danny thought, I'm not sure how but I can tell.
After about half an hour, Mary's girlfriend arrived and the two of them left to visit another friend.
Danny and Ken sat on the three seat living room couch, at opposite ends, facing each other. The room was quiet.
"Well, Danny, your mom's not so bad. All you gotta do is be polite. Say nice things. Women like to be told how attractive they are, they like compliments. Remember that, such knowledge can take you a long way in life."
"And how would you know that? If my mom knew the truth about you, she probably wouldn't have let you in the front door. She'd know you're here to corrupt me. She'd call the cops."
"True, but she lacks the necessary insight into my complete character, so I have no trouble manipulating her. You gotta know how to distract her. Ask her about herself. Listen like you're interested. That's how you get someone to like you, even open up to you. Not just women, almost anyone. And it helps if you learn to do it with subtlety.
"Hey, that must have been some game yesterday. I'm coming to the next one if it doesn't rain."
"Yeah, you and everyone else, fair weather fans. You won't get away with compliments with me." He looked at Ken and stuck out his tongue.
Ken looked him in the eye and said "You're flirting. You're cute when you flirt, you know. You're adorable. Way better than the grumpy Danny, the reserved Danny, the depressed Danny. The frightened Danny. The Danny who smiles is much better looking than you give yourself credit for."
Danny stared at him with a straight face, so Ken continued quietly: "Remember a long time ago I told you I'm a nonconformist? I think you brushed me off or something. Have you thought since then about what I said?"
"Yeah. I've thought about it many times. I wouldn't have understood what you were trying to tell me if you hadn't explained it. My mind just don't work that way." A voice in his head was saying no, don't take this further. He looked away. Why was he afraid? Flirt, he thought, Ken likes it.
"I understand now, it was a kind of invitation. Kenny, um, listen, I don't think I'm cut out for that sort of stuff. You know, being a boyfriend. I don't want to hurt your feelings, I just don't think I'm ready for it. I know it's not … I don't know, I'm sorry. Maybe we should get some studying done."
He felt his heart thump quietly in the quiet of the room.
"Stop saying you're sorry. You're not sorry. You've done nothing to apologize for." The tone of his voice fell to a gentle murmur. "You're playing hard to get, aren't you? Not on purpose, though, you don't even know you're doing it. But beneath that, the real reason is, you're scared.
"So am I. I'm scared, too. I understand. What you told me in the hospital, I remember. How do you trust anyone after that? On top of all the guilt your mother has spent years setting you up for."
Still talking in a near whisper, eye to eye, he continued. "But you don't have to be afraid. I trust you, you trust me. You know that. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. I'm not like those animals who hurt you. I know you feel the way I do.
"There comes a time, Danny, I hope for you and me that time has come."
In the hush of the afternoon, they stared at each other across the length of the couch.
Kenny said, "I have feelings for you." A siren wailed far away, then the room was quiet again. Seconds slipped past.
Ken moved closer and continued softly, "This is new for me, too. You're not alone. You're the first boy I've ever asked to, um…" He moved closer. His face was inches away, looking Danny in the eye.
"Danny, you're beautiful. Can I kiss you?"
Danny wondered, am I dreaming? I want him to kiss me … I feel it. This moment will never... he moved a little forward and their lips touched, gentle moist saltytender lips warm with feeling, stunning wavy tingly longings fresh and new, Danny reached out, heart banging, touched Kenny's shoulder, pulled him close, they embraced eyes closed swaying kissing through the silence, a moment to breathe, Ken drew back eyes brightly blooming with feeling.
Danny pulled him close again, felt his embrace, Danny's hands roamed down and gripped his sides, they kissed again, holding on. He nudged Ken back and down on the couch, crawled atop him between his legs. They shifted to their sides, facing, kissing, Ken's tongue just touched Danny's lips, he parted them and their tongues found each other, kissing deeply, intense, urgent, arms embracing.
Danny drew back for a moment, blinking, trying to smile, drawing a deep breath which came like a gasp: "I… I…"
"Shhh."
He pulled Ken toward him, felt muscles flexing, arms, shoulders, slender back, somewhere inside his heart is pounding, his hands clasped Ken's rump as it flexed up and down, they're kissing, tongues playing and Danny moved back to his side and reached down and slowly unbuttoned Ken's pants, then slid the zipper down. He couldn't stop himself. He ran his right foot slowly up the inside of Ken's right leg, then back down and along the side of his foot. With a hand around Ken's waist he pulled him closer, ran his hand up the inside of his t-shirt to the left nipple, which he caressed lightly, then slipped it around his back.
He moved his hand down below Ken's waist and inside the open pants. He touched and felt the hardness through his underwear. Ken took a deep breath and gasped a little. Danny lightly slid his fingers along, feeling the bulge as Kenny fought for air. Danny's breath too was coming in gasps.
"Let's go to my room," he whispered.
They stood and walked to the back of the house, Ken holding up his pants as they went. "Wow, your room is so neat. There's nothing out of place. You did this for me, right?"
"No, it's always like this."
"Don't lie, I know better."
"I'm serious. I make my bed and tidy up every morning, it takes five minutes."
"Yah, right."
They both felt a little more relaxed. Danny quickly removed all of his clothes and Ken followed. It wasn't new for them, they had showered together at the Y and school many times.
They lay together on the bed, facing on their sides.
"Any time you want to talk, come and talk to me, no matter what it is, I'll listen. I love you, Danny."
"I love you too."
"Is it okay to touch you?"
"Yes."
Ken reached out and ran his fingers down the side of Danny's face, over his jaw and down to the side of his neck where he paused to caress, and lightly down the side of his neck, across his shoulder and down to his nipple. He caressed the nipple, covered the breast with his hand, very slowly slipping it down his side to his hip where he circled and played, around the hip to the buttock which he caressed, then back and down to a very hard penis pointing upward angled on his belly and covering his navel. He took it in his hand and held it. It felt warm and throbbed in his hand. It was uncut, so he played with the skin, sliding it back to uncover the head, then back up to cover it, very slowly back-and-forth. The head was bared now with the skin pulled back, and the tip was oozing fluid copiously.
Danny whispered, "Kenny, I can't stand this, I have to let loose, okay?"
"Nooo, no no, just lie there nicely, breathe and relax."
"I'll try but no guarantees. You know who the last people were to see me in this state? Wow, I never told you about this. I can't believe I almost forgot about it." He had begun to visibly relax.
"The first night in the hospital. The nurses, who cleaned me up after I peed in my sleep. And that girl across from me, Tara. They both saw me hard as a spike. The nurse gave me a sponge bath at three in the morning. The sponge on my thigh, and then my dick, man, I almost shot right there and then, she was two or three swipes away from that!"
Ken's laughing. "I can't believe you didn't tell me this! This is the story of the century! And if I'm to believe you, it's actually true, too. This is a story we have to tell at school."
"Yeah, I thought about that, I'll talk about it next time we have show and tell, okay? And yes it's true, would I lie about something like that? I don't think I could've made it up in my wettest dreams."
They were giggling. Danny, no longer on the verge, still locked and loaded. If that makes any sense. By this time his own hand was on Kenny, who was also locked and loaded.
Kenny said, "How about we rub our dicks together hard and fast and see who can shoot first?"
"I'll bet you a dollar that I'll fire before you," said Danny.
"Betting is illegal in this country."
"So is what we're doing."
"That's your legal advice, is it?"
Danny moved his hips up against Kenny's, they kissed deeply, gyrated and crossed swords as Danny whispered in his ear, "What we're doing here is… aaah! a grossly indecent… aaah! act punishable by… aaah! two years in prison!", and in very short order they creamed on each other. Collapsed in each other's arms, they lay back and relaxed, breathing heavily, holding on, kissing and stroking. They were cross-eyed exhausted for the moment. They found some tissues and began to clean up.
"I have to pee," said Danny. He eased his legs off the side of the bed and walked naked from the room.
When he returned, Kenny said, "Did you ever notice, after you come, if you try to pee, it takes a few seconds to get it out and kind of comes slowly at first?"
"Yeah, after I jerk off, I can't pee for a while unless I have to go badly and then it comes out all screwy."
"I think something must happen to keep pee from coming out of the bladder during sexual activity, otherwise the acidity might harm the little guys in the semen. I'll have to ask my doctor."
"Kenny, will you be a doctor when you grow up?"
"Who knows?"
They made love again with their hands. A little later they held each other close, looking, talking and kissing.
Danny wondered aloud, "How did we go so far so fast? We never even touched each other until today."
"I guess we've been friends so long, we trust each other so much, so it's easy. Once I got through to you, it all just felt natural. Was it like that for you?"
"That's the romantic answer, and your request for support at the end is full of expectation. The actual explanation is simpler. We're horny 16 year-old boys, and better yet, virgins, or at least we were until today."
"Maybe we're still virgins. It depends on how you define it."
"Yeah, I see what you mean. But, yeah, it felt natural once I forgot about the rules. As long as you were willing to go there, I was too. I'd do just about anything for you, Kenny, I'd follow you just about anywhere."
"What rules?"
"In this house, in my life, there are rules. The only place I can break them is right under my mother's nose. Anywhere else, she'll find out and there'll be hell to pay."
Barbara and Alex returned home later to find Danny at his desk and Kenny on the bed, both of them now fully dressed, studying.
Eventually, a phone call for Kenny, it was getting late, his mom was coming for him. Danny closed his bedroom door. They held each other and kissed deeply. They were ready to go at it again but Ken had to leave. Danny walked him out the front door. His mom was parked in the driveway. Danny watched them drive down the street, out of sight.
After that, they talked by phone most evenings, even after they'd seen each other at school or been at the Y together. They wanted to see each other privately, and did so whenever they had the chance.
They would sometimes pass each other in the halls between classes and exchange smiles. Most days they had lunch together with their other friends. A few kids remarked that Danny's mood seemed much improved of late. Danny was feeling happy and he knew it.
Detective Middleton came to see Danny and his parents at home after school on a rainy day ten days later. Alex even came home from work early that day. After some small talk, he began.
"We're charging Darrell Gruenrath and John Payne with attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder. After they've been arrested and brought before a judge, I expect they'll be released on bail and ordered to stay away from Danny. I understand the school board has suspended both of them and the suspensions will remain in place until a trial can be held.
"We've recovered a lot of evidence and there are eye witnesses as well. The information we have is that Darrell paid John $500 a few days before the assault. John attacked Danny at the school, we have at least three eye witnesses. Darrell withdrew the $500 cash from a bank account his parents had set up for him. It wasn't very smart of him. He won't become a successful criminal at this rate."
"I interviewed Darrell in the presence of his parents and lawyer. Darrell says he and others teased Danny at a camp they were at in Greece during the summer of 1964, that's over a year ago. We know Darrell transferred to King High this year for grade 13 after he was expelled from his previous school. It's just a coincidence, apparently, that he transferred to Danny's school. He could have transferred to any high school outside the city of Toronto school district. As you know, you're located in the York North school system up here.
"Darrell said it was just teasing, name-calling of the usual kind that homosexuals are often subjected to—"
Barbara interrupted. "Excuse me, what did you say? Homosexuals?"
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