Changing Tyler-Chapter Fifteen

I climbed into the Mustang yet again, settling back and buckling up. “Thanks for coming back, Dylan. I’m not on my mom’s insurance, and that babe refuses to let me drive without her in the car. It sucks.”

“Not a problem. Is that her?” Dylan asked, craning his neck to watch past me toward the abode.

“Yeah. She’s spying on us.”

“Don’t look now, but she’s coming over here,” Dylan said, sounding as though that guy wasn’t sure if he should expect for her or gun it and scream away from the curb in advance of this babe could reach the car.

I twisted in my seat just in time to see my mother bending down to rap her knuckles on the window. Dylan hit the button, sliding the window down as I slumped back into my seat and groaned, “Mom, what do you want?”

mommy stuck her head into the car, ignoring me. “I wanted to meet your friend.”

I moaned again, louder and longer this time. Was there a handbook out there somewhere for mothers that listed the top ten ways to mortally embarrass their kids? If not, my mother actually should write one – she’s an expert on the subject. “Fine. Mom, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is my mother,” I said, keeping my eyes glued to the dashboard, not wanting to look at either one of them.

“Hey, Mrs. Waters,” Dylan told. I saw him give a little, half-hearted wave out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re Dylan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t keep him out too late, Dylan. you both have school in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dylan said, at the same time I moaned, “Mom!”

“Stay away from that Robbie person. I don’t crave Tyler anywhere near him. Understand? I’m trusting you with him, Dylan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dylan replied dutifully, as I muttered underneath my breath.

“My life is over.”

“All right, then, play safe, boys,” that babe said, ducking in closer to peck me on the cheek. “Remember, it only takes thirty seconds to avoid a lifetime of trouble.”

Oh, God! At that moment, I wished that the Mustang had an ejector seat so that I could press a button and escape into orbit. she should’ve just thrown a handful of condoms at us – it would have had the same effect. I was mortified. everyone knew that there was a line that a mamma shouldn’t ever step over. She’d not only crossed the line, she’d led a freaking parade over it, complete with marching bands and floats.

Then again, I knew that this babe was thinking about Billy, and probably not a hundred percent convinced that I didn’t share his point of view regarding the HIV virus. I was astounded that she’d let me out of the abode at all and hadn’t handcuffed me to my bed. After all, in one breath I’d told her that I was a homosexual, and in the next that my gay superlatively good friend was trying to get himself infected.

Heck, I would have handcuffed me to the ottoman if I’d been her.

she trusted me. It was precious to know, even if she did embarrass the Hell out of me from time to time, like tonight.

“Sorry,” I told as Dylan pulled away from the curb. I noticed that this chab was careful to check his mirrors for traffic previous to pulling out, used his turn signal and kept well under the speed limit. I understood that it was a show of responsibility on his part. this guy wasn’t about to give my mama any reason to go gunning for him, I guess. “She gets a little bit carried away.”

“Dude – that was the weirdest five minutes of my life.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“Where should we start looking for Billy?” Dylan asked. I guessed that guy wanted to change the subject, and I didn’t blame him one bit.

“I don’t know. We can try the arcade, the diner, maybe Home Depot. I don’t think we’ll discover him at any of these places. Billy’s smart. If this chab doesn’t want to be found, this chab won’t be.”

“What about Robbie-the-A-Hole’s house? Don’t you think Billy would have gone there?”

“I have no idea where this chab lives. Billy not ever mentioned the address.”

Dylan nodded, heading in the direction of the downtown area. We cruised Market Street, looking for a parking space, and discovered one in front of Baker’s Dozen, the donut shop.

Downtown was a ridiculous name for the single block of stores and offices that lay in the dead center of city between the park and the school, but that’s what everybody called it. We didn’t have a episode theater, or a Wal-Mart, or a museum. What we did have was a collection of tiny establishments with names like Food Village (supermarket), vids and Snips (barbershop), Frankie’s joy Stop (arcade), Trash or Treasure (second-hand shop), and the ever-popular Curbside (the diner where my mommy worked).  In between ’em were a string of offices like Max’s Taxes (accountant) and Pop’s Pub (the bar Doug usually got crap-faced in). I seriously think that if your business didn’t have a sickeningly cutesy name, the zoning board wouldn’t allow you to open up shop.

At one end of Market street was the police station, and I could at no time pass by without wondering what it would have been like if my daddy had lived and was still a cop. Passing it always left me a little sad, even though my dad had died when I’d been almost too juvenile to remember him.

The other end of the street was anchored by the West End Bank and a miniature post office. Dylan and I walked up and down one as well as the other sides of the street, ducking into the shops that were still open, looking for Billy. We checked every aisle in the supermarket, each booth in the diner, and each machine in the arcade.

We even did a drive-by of Home Depot, although the store had been closed for an hour and the parking lot was practically empty. Billy wasn’t there, either.

Dylan drove lazily up and down the residential streets, wasting gas and time, but when he finally dropped me off in front of my house, we’d come up empty handed. There was no sign of Billy anywhere. It was as if he’d disappeared off the face of the planet, again.

Billy wasn’t at school the next day, either, although I hadn’t expected him to be. I was indeed worried about him, and angry, also. Disappearing out of a phone call, out of even a text message was getting to be a habit with him. It upset me a lot. I’d have at no time gone AWOL without letting him know where I was or when I’d be back.  What kind of a ally did that?

Not the kind we were, or so I’d thought. Evidently, I’d been wrong.

I decided that when Billy did come back, this chab and I were through. I was officially resigning from the William Prichard-Everest III Fan Club. Billy could receive bent, as far as I was anxious.

The day was made worse by the fact that Dylan wasn’t in school either. When I called him, this chab hadn’t sounded like himself. this guy said me that this chab was sick, but I didn’t believe him. something else was going on, and I wondered if it had everything to do with me.

I hoped not. Losing Billy was bad sufficiently – losing my first boyfriend at the same time would have made me feel a entire lot worse.

Somehow I managed to drag myself throughout the day, and track practice afterwards. I walked home (I’d put the remains of my bike out with the trash, and was still without wheels of any kind), feeling lost without either Billy or Dylan.

I was distracted, thinking about Billy and Dylan when I walked in throughout the kitchen door or I would have run right back out. I was preoccupied; I didn’t notice Doug sitting at the kitchen table, staring at me with a particularly venomous look in his eyes or the fact that he’d forgone his ordinary beer and had a shot glass and an open, half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels at his elbow until it was nearly likewise late.

“Faggot.”

The word was uttered with such loathe and malice that it shocked me no less than if Doug had thrown an icy cold glass of water in my face. A chill rippled throughout me, raising gooseflesh along my arms. His voice dripped with a nastiness that went far beyond his ordinary drunken mean streak. I spun around to face him, my body acting on instinct. never turn your back on an enemy – I’d learned that much playing video games.

this guy execrated me, pure and effortless. The fact hung in the air between us, real and solid, tangible. I felt as if I could reach out and touch it, and if I did that it would feel as cold and reptilian as a snake.  There was no denying it, no excuse for it. It wasn’t cuz this chab was drunk. that guy abhored me coz of who I was – some other man’s gay son. mamma need to have told him. For a minute I felt angry and betrayed, until I took some other worthwhile look at Doug and realized I had much larger problems.

Then, for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid.

I’d often thought about what I would do if Doug took a swing at me or my mom. I’d fight back, of course! I’d hit him with all I had, pound on him, and beat the living crap out of him. In my daydreams I’d always come out on top. The trouble was that in all my years living with Doug I’d never thought that he’d truly try to hit me. this guy yelled, this guy insulted, used me as a verbal punching bag, but I’d not ever indeed been afraid of him. Had this guy annoyed me? yeah. piddled me off? Of course this chab had – all the time. Disgusted me? Sure, but I hadn’t been afraid until that very moment when I looked into his bloodshot, muddy brown eyes and saw violence flickering in ’em.

I’m not a coward, but I’m not a fool either.

Doug outweighed me by at least forty pounds. If he decided to go after me, the solely thing I had in my favour was speed. If I could outrun him, I’d be okay. If not, I was toast.

My entire body tensed for flight.