Disowned

by Victor Thomas

Chapter 31

Javier

I stood by the window in my bedroom, my feet tapping the floor. I glanced at the clock and couldn't believe my eyes. Kenny was always on time. Actually, that was a serious understatement. Wherever we went, he was always way too early.

Dude, I'll remember this the next time you complain about me being late.

A small smile rose on my face when I imagined my boyfriend soon parking his blue Honda in the driveway and rushing to the front door. Nobody hated being late more than him. And it was so cute, and fucking irritating. The guy had to learn how to relax, and I was eager to teach him in my bed as soon as we got back from the mall.

Ten minutes later, I began to worry that we might be late to the movie. I walked to the kitchen as if he could have arrived there without me noticing it. Obviously, my boyfriend wasn't there, but my asshole brother was.

"Jesus, what's that smell? Did you rob a perfume shop or something?" Jorge asked.

I scowled at him.

"Your ass must be jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth."

"Knowing what's been in your ass, I would keep my mouth shut."

"You're just jealous, wanker."

I waited for him to throw the next insult, but it didn't come. Instead, my brother took a beer from the refrigerator and dragged his lazy ass to the couch. The shabby leather creaked under him like he had farted. Maybe he had. He stretched toward the remote and managed to get it without spilling too much beer on his clothes. He turned on the TV and browsed the sports channels.

"You and your faggot friend would like this."

He had found a channel that showed men's figure skating.

"Nah, we prefer wrestling," I said.

"You're fucking disgusting."

With a broad grin on my face, I returned to my room and looked out the window. Kenny's car was nowhere to be seen, which began to concern me. I didn't want to believe that he had changed his mind again.

Where the hell are you?

I blew out a breath and picked up my phone to call him. It went straight to voicemail. I stared at the screen and wondered why his phone was off. We should be going already. The movie would start in less than two hours.

Finally, I saw headlights at the end of the street and reached over to get my jacket. It was shiny black leather with bit bright metal zippers on the sleeves and chest. I left it open, not only because I was in a hurry, but also because it looked cool with my white t-shirt and black jeans.

"Say hi to your little bitch," Jorge shouted from the couch.

I slammed the door, not bothering to answer, and jogged toward the street. We were so late we didn't have time to switch cars. Kenny wasn't the fastest driver but we had to make due. I got only halfway there when dad's car turned into the driveway and parked in front of the house. I slowed down and checked both directions. The street was empty.

"Shouldn't you be on a date?" dad asked, taking two big shopping bags from the back seat.

"That's what I thought," I said, mostly to myself.

I helped him carry the other bag to the kitchen. It was so full of groceries it was obvious Jorge would visit our kitchen at lunch and dinner time, and whenever his beer can became empty. It was unbelievable that mom and dad still had to feed a grown ass man.

"Hey, queer boy," Jorge belched. "Get me a new beer."

"I'm not your fucking servant," I shouted. "Why don't you go home?"

"None of your business, faggot."

I noticed dad opening his mouth, but I wasn't in the mood to continue the conversation. Instead, I walked to my room and locked the door. Through the door I heard dad and Jorge arguing about something, probably calling me names or something. Dad was kind of cool when he defended me, but honestly speaking, I couldn't care less what the douche bag let out of his mouth. Especially right now when my thoughts were on Kenny.

One more time, I tried to call him, and one more time his voice mail answered. Why was it so damn difficult for my boyfriend to keep his phone on and answer it?

Aware that he wouldn't like it, I had no other choice but to drive to his house. I needed to know what was going on. Hopefully, he wouldn't be hiding in his room again. I rushed through the living room, showing my middle finger to Jorge, just in case, then ran to my car. I was opening the door when my phone rang.

Finally, I thought, and checked the number. It was from Chris.

"Have you seen Kenny?" he blurted out as soon as I answered.

"No, but we were supposed to…"

He interrupted me.

"She knows."

I got the door open and sat on the front seat. The internal lights didn't work, and in the darkness of the car, I saw a reflection of my face in the windshield. It took a while before I understood that he meant Kenny's mother.

"Holy shit!" I cursed. "What happened?"

"Joshua told her. He was in…"

"That fucking son of a bitch! I'm gonna beat his sorry ass."

I squeezed the steering wheel with my other hand. I should have understood that Joshua wasn't going to give up.

"I've tried to call him several times, but he won't answer."

"I'm on my way over there."

I hung up the call and started the engine. I approached Kenny's neighborhood speeding and slowed down only when I saw the white wooden house on the left. His car was in the driveway, parked the same way I had seen it earlier, but something seemed off about the house. It was tangible and gave me shivers as I marched up the driveway to the door.

I knocked hard, not giving up until I heard the unmistakable sound of Ms. Sherman coming. My heart beat faster and faster, and finally, she opened the door. Her face darkened when she recognized me.

"Is Kenny here?"

I went straight to business.

She stared at me with an annoying smile on her face like she hadn't understood the question, or just didn't bother answering it. I tried to peek behind her, but the house looked silent. Why didn't Kenny answer the door?

"Is he here?" I asked again.

"I'll tell him you came by," she said.

"I want to talk to my boyfriend."

I crossed my arms, indicating that I wasn't leaving before I could talk to him, no matter how intimidating she tried to look. I wasn't scared of her. There was nothing she could do to me. I wanted to see Kenny right here, right now.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," she said. "Kenny doesn't live here anymore."

Before I could do or say anything, she shut the door in my face.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead