Changing Tyler-Chapter Sixteen

I’d walked right past Doug when I came inside, and now he sat between me and the kitchen door. The solely other way out was throughout the front door. That morning I’d left in advance of my mother had, and I knew she would have locked the door behind her. That meant I’d have to sprint throughout the hall, the dining room and the living room to the front foyer and unlock the door and the deadbolt to get outside previous to Doug could catch up to me.

that guy wasn’t in shape, and I was fueled by desperation. I can make it, I thought. Piece of cake.

“You’re mother told me all about u. Goddamn little pervert! I always knew there was something wrong with you, boy. told it, told Darlene that that babe was too soft on u. told her to let me beat some sense into your head! I should have belted you wonderful. My daddy blistered my arse and I turned out just fine, but Darlene wouldn’t listen.” this chab tossed back another shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was red, getting redder by the minute as this guy scraped back his chair, lurched to his feet, and fumbled with his belt buckle.

Oh, Hell no.

I made it as far as the front door, and would have made it throughout if I’d thought of ditching my backpack first.

Doug managed to grab it, pulling me backward, throwing me off balance.  I went airborne, hitting the ground butt first. I felt a sharp pang in my tailbone but didn’t have time to worry about whether or not I’d snapped something – I was too busy scrambling to acquire away as his strap buckle came swinging down in an arc. It hit the floor next to my hand, missing me by a hair.

“Get away from me!” I yelled, struggling to my feet. I slipped my backpack off my shoulders and whipped it at him. this guy caught with a grunt, giving me sufficiently time to slide past him and back toward the kitchen.

he chased me out the door and halfway to the front yard, screaming incoherently at me with every step. I’m not sure what this chab was saying, but I caught the words “fag” and “bastard” more than one time.

I’m sure the rest of the neighborhood did likewise. Doug didn’t exactly have a quiet voice, and when this guy was drunk and angry, it got a lot louder.

I didn’t care. All I cared about was putting as much distance betwixt me and him as I could. My spine hurt, but I ran until I was out of breath and didn’t look back one time.

All kinds of creative ways to exact revenge went throughout my head. I’d get a knife and fillet him like a fish. I’d receive the chainsaw out of the shed and cut him into manageable pieces previous to dumping his drunken a-hole into the lake or down into a manhole. I’d knock him out with his bowling ball, drag him into the yard and have myself a fine big Doug-bonfire.

I knew that it was impossible for me to do any of the things I thought of, but thinking about doing Doug some serious damage took the edge off one as well as the other my fear and my anger. In the end, after I’d calmed down and caught my breath, I went to the diner looking for my mom.

that babe was expecting on a table when I got there, so I slid into an empty booth and waited until she’d put the order in and noticed me.

“Tyler?” she said with a smile, hurrying over to the booth where I sat. Noticing the look on my face and lack of enthusiastic greeting, her smile slipped a notch and that babe slid into the seat contradictory me. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is it Billy?”

“No,” I said tersely, looking out of the window. “It’s Doug.”

“Doug? What did that guy do? Is this guy okay?”

I snapped back to face her, even greater amount irritated that the first questions she’d asked had been about Doug’s welfare and not mine. “Oh, yeah, he’s just peachy,” I told sarcastically. “He’s probably on the phone right now with his bowling buddies, telling ’em all about how he nearly beat the crap out of me with his thong for being gay.”

“What?” Mom’s face blanched, turning a sickly green-white shade. “Are u okay?” that babe grabbed my arm, turning it this way and that. that babe was looking for bruises. I couldn’t resolve whether that babe was trying to determine if I’d been hurt or to prove that I was lying.

I pulled my arm away. “He missed.”  I stared out of the window for a minute, trying to get a clutch on myself. I didn’t want to begin yelling in the diner and cause a scene. “You told him! How could you tell him, mommy? That was betwixt u and me!”

“What was betwixt you and me?”

I turned on her, hissing like a snake. “You know what! That I’m gay! u know how this chab is, mamma. You’ve heard what that guy calls me. Do you wish to know what happened? I came home from school and Doug was expecting for me, drunk as usual. this guy took off his thong and chased me throughout the abode with it!”

“Did you throat off to him, Tyler? What did you say to make him angry? this guy wouldn’t hurt u. u must have-”

I lost it. she was my mother! How dare that babe pick that lowlife bum over me? It hurt worse than any damage Doug’s thong buckle might have done. “I didn’t say anything!” I screamed, scooting out from behind the table and standing up, too upset now to care about making a scene. “He’s a lousy drunk who lives off you, Mom! He’s at no time liked me.  Now this guy has an excuse to loathe me, and that guy tried to hit me!”

“Tyler-”

“I’m out of here,” I growled, turning my back on her. “I should have known better than to think you’d side with me.”

I heard her calling after me, but I didn’t stop. I ran outside to the street, where full dark had settled like a thick shroud, and just ran.

Up one street and down the next, my feet were pounding the pavement, arms pumping. I raced past the stores and the school, past the lake, and into the residential area. I didn’t know where I was going until I found myself on the sidewalk in front of Dylan’s house, bent over double, gasping for breath.

Dylan’s Mustang was in the driveway, parked next his father’s Escalade. The sight of the familiar car somehow made me feel more excellent. Until then, the entire evening had felt surreal, nearly like it was happening to somebody else. The car made me feel grounded, reminded me that there was greater amount going on in my life moreover a drunken, bigoted stepfather and a mother who refused to take sides.

No, I corrected myself. that babe had taken a side – it just hadn’t been mine.

I looked over at Dylan’s abode. It was much bigger than mine, but not nearly as big as Billy’s abode. I wondered which room was Dylan’s, and if that guy was in it. My cell phone was in my backpack, probably getting stomped into a jumble of circuitry under Doug’s feet. I had no doubt that he’d have taken out his aggression on my stuff.

I’d be lucky if I had anything left by the time I got back home – if I went back home.

There was a giant picture window on the left hand side of the abode. The living room majority likely. I could watch lights that might have come from a television set flickering behind the sheer curtains that spanned the window. The other rooms looked dark, except for one on the far right. I could see a pencil-thin beam of light outlining the drawn shade.

Summoning my courage, I followed the brick walkway to the front stoop and climbed the 3 stairs to the door. Pressing the doorbell, I waited.

I didn’t know what I was going to say to Dylan. “Hi, my stepdad is a psycho. Can I spend the night?” No, that was way also pathetic, even if it was true.

The door opened and I discovered myself standing face-to-chest with an aged version of Dylan. Taller, broader throughout the shoulders, the beginnings of gray at his temples, Deacon Anderson looked every bit like the semi-pro football player he’d been in his youth.

“Hi, um, I’m Tyler Archers, a friend of Dylan’s. Is this guy home?” I squeaked, looking up at an unsmiling face that might have been carved from granite. It took a moment, but this guy need to have remembered my name from the team roster, ‘coz this guy nodded, giving me a half-grin that was identical to his son’s.

“Oh, yep. Waters. I remember you. u ran a fine race at the Asbury meet. Come on in. Dylan’s in his room.”

“Thanks,” I said, gratefully stepping past Dylan’s dad into the diminutive foyer. Beyond the doorway I could watch the living room, and a gorgeous woman nestled in an overstuffed chair, a brightly colored spill of yarn covering her lap. that babe smiled and waved at me in advance of returning to her knitting. Mrs. Anderson, I guessed, Dylan’s mamma. It looked like he’d inherited her eyes – they were that same bright blue-green.

“Last door on the left,” Deacon Anderson said, pointing with his chin as this chab walked back into the living room. “Friend of Dylan’s from the team,” I heard him explain to Mrs. Anderson.

I followed the hallway, noticing the framed images that hung on the walls. There was a wedding picture of Deacon and his wife; one more of them and an mature couple, either Deacon’s or his wife’s parents. Some were of Dylan and two younger boys, his brothers, at various ages, and all playing sports of some kind. There was Dylan in Little League, and afresh in Pee Wee Football. The last photo, the one hung at the end of the hall, was of Dylan toeing the line, willing to run at a track meet.

The pics painted a picture for me, of a normal family doing normal things. For some reason, they made me feel even worse about my own life, reminding me of what Dylan had that I didn’t, and I wanted to cry.

I had to mentally slap myself a couple of times. It could be worse, I told myself. you could be Billy. Doug might be a waste of oxygen, and mama might elect him over me, but at least my head’s screwed on right, I thought. Billy didn’t know which end was ass-up.

My knuckles rapped sharply on the door. I could hear the riffs from Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle blaring loud sufficiently to make the door vibrate under my hand. I knocked harder, unsure of whether or not Dylan had heard me the first time.  A second later, the volume inside the room lowered.

“Yeah? It’s open!” Dylan called.

I opened the door and popped my head inside the room. “Hey. want some company?”

“Tyler? What are you doing here?” Dylan gasped, suddenly looking pale. this guy pulled me inside the room and quickly shut the door. “You should have called me. I could have met you.” this chab was whispering, and this chab wasn’t looking at me – his eyes were focused on the door behind me, as if that guy were worried that somebody might be listening on the other side.

“You weren’t in school today. I was worried…I-I’ll go,” I stammered. What else could I say? I’d at no time thought this guy wouldn’t wish me to come over. We were friends…more than friends, or so I’d thought.

Maybe that was the problem, I realized.  “Dylan, if you don’t wish me here, I’ll go.”

Dylan took a unfathomable breath and let it out slowly. “No, no, Tyler. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I just type of freaked. I didn’t await you to come and…”

“And u thought…what? That’d I show up at the door wearing a Pride shirt and asking your father what that guy thought of gay marriage? Come on, Dylan. Give me some credit!” This was the final thing I needed this day. My life was shredding at the seams. Dylan had been the merely person on my very short list of people I trusted who hadn’t spat in my face within the past week. If this chab defected to the other side, it would be the end of my sanity. I just knew it.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being stupid.”

“No, you’re not naive. It’s me. I’ve had a actually bad day.” I sank onto his bed, letting my head hang low. It had been a crappy day – crappy, long, and not over yet. before I knew it, I’d spilled my guts, telling him everything up to and including my narrow escape from Doug and my mom’s betrayal.

“That bastard! Did you go to the police, Tyler? this chab attacked you! That’s abuse, dude!”

I shook my head at him. “No, no cops. No child services. It’s his word against mine. I don’t even have any bruises,” I lied. My spine still hurt and I was willing to wager that an x-ray would show that I’d broken my tailbone – even sitting on Dylan’s soft mattress hurt. I don’t know why I didn’t want to turn Doug in, except that I feared what might happen between my mommy and me if I did. I didn’t crave to know who she’d select if push indeed came to shove.

“I still think you should go. Write out a report, just in case this guy does something again.”

“Let’s just drop it, okay?” I asked wearily. I didn’t want to fight about it, and I didn’t wish to be lectured about it, either.

“Have you heard from Billy?” Dylan asked next. I guess he was trying to discover smth else to talk to me about, to distract me.

“No.” I didn’t crave to talk about Billy. I didn’t wish to talk about everything. What I wanted was for him to hold me, but I knew I had about as much chance of that as I did of winning the lottery. that guy was uncomfortable with me just being in his house, in his room, never mind truly risking physical contact with me. “I think I should go. Coming here was a mistake, Dylan.”

“No, it wasn’t.” this guy didn’t sound very convincing.

“It’s okay,” I said, standing up. “I have to go home sooner or later, I guess.” The thought of going home and seeing Doug anew curdled my belly. Not to mention that I indeed didn’t crave to talk to my mother again, either. I could just imagine the lies Doug would tell her. Or maybe that guy wouldn’t lie. Maybe he’d boast about what that guy did, and try it once more.

Would that babe stop him? Had all her talk about just wanting me to be pleased been a lie? Did that babe believe Doug could “beat it out of me?”  Would she let him try?

Dylan’s phone rang. “Hold on a second, Tyler. Don’t go yet. Please?” that guy picked up the phone, glancing at the number. “Wait – it’s your number. Someone’s calling from your phone, Tyler.”

he looked as puzzled as I felt, until I remembered that I’d left my cell phone in my backpack. It could only be one of two people, and I doubted Doug would know who on my call list to phone if that guy wanted to find me.

mom would, though. I didn’t really desire to talk to her – this babe probably wanted to proceed the conversation I’d walked out on at the diner. I reluctantly took the phone from Dylan and answered it. “Hello?”

“Tyler? Oh, thank God. Why did u run off like that? u had me half crazy worrying!”

I wanted to screech at her, but remembered that Dylan’s folks were just down the hall. It was a struggle, but I managed to keep it at an almost normal level. “You took his side again, mommy. you always do! this chab tried to-”

“He’s gone, Tyler.”

“What you do mean, ‘gone?’ He’s probably at the bar.” If this babe thought I was going to go out and look for him, she was eager.

“No. He’s gone, for worthy. I threw him out, Tyler. I should have done it a lengthy time agone. Come home, hon. Please? I need to see you.” she was crying now, sniffles that threatened to turn into sobs. “I’m so sorry, Tyler! I just didn’t crave to believe it. Please, just come home, okay?”