Clammy Hands & Awkward Movements

Update for you!

Clammy Hands and Awkward Movements
Part Two: Profane Sins

How could he? How dare he make it seem like profanity, like something evil and dirty? It was hard enough trying to convince myself for years that it wasn't dirty, that people just couldn't possibly fathom why I was handed this test. Nobody means to fall in love with their brother. Nobody means to fall in love with anyone.

I was drunk enough to know exactly what that second kiss would do, what he thinks was our first kiss. I knew what it would do, but I was drunk enough not to care. It wasn't like the first time when Mikey came crawling into my bedroom at the age of thirteen because Mom and Dad were fighting. He shook me awake and I held up the blanket, letting him slip under with me. I let him curl up against me, let his fingers clutch at my oversize shirt.

"Why do they have to do that?" he whispered, his oversized eyes staring at me. He had left his glasses in his own room, which was just as well, considering his eyes were now filling with tears. "I thought they loved each other. Why do they have to fight all the time?"

I brought my hand up and wiped underneath his eyes with the pad of my thumb. "Sometimes people fall in love, but it's not the forever kind."

"Why don't they get a divorce then, like Frankie's parents did?"

"Because Mom and Dad are Catholic and they think it's a sin."

We heard a crash and Mom screaming and then a fist hitting the wall. Mikey buried his face in my chest and cried silently. Dad rarely hit us. They were good parents when they weren't screaming or drunk, but occasionally Dad was too drunk to realize he was decking his sons.

"Gerard, how do you know if you're in love with someone?"

"I-I don't know." I said. "I think you just kind of know." I wanted him to smile. Mikey's so pretty when he smiles. "You thinkin' that you are, Short Stuff?"

"You're an idiot, Gee." He got quiet and so did I. "Yeah, I think so. But it's bad."

"Mikey, just because Mom and Dad are idiots doesn't mean that love's a bad thing." I assured him.

"But . . . it's a boy."

I was quiet for a minute. Mikey was gay. I didn't think there was anything wrong with it. Hell, I was really glad he figured it out early. I just was thinking of the right thing to say.

"Please don't hate me, Gee." he pleaded, looking up at me. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

"Mikey, Mikey. Sshhh, calm down." I kissed his forehead. "I don't hate you. There's nothing wrong with liking another boy. I just didn't know that you were gay."

“I don’t know if I am.” Mikey said. “I don’t like other boys. Just him. I don’t like anyone but him.”

“Does he know how lucky he is, then?”

Mikey blushed at that and ducked his head. “He doesn’t know I like him. But it’s okay. Sometimes people shouldn’t know things.”

He fell asleep in my arms after the screams had dissipated and Dad’s car had torn out of the driveway. I knew it was wrong, but I lifted by brother’s face and his lips softly. He was so beautiful. Sometimes I wish he weren’t my brother.

I didn’t know then that he was talking about me, that the boy he liked was me. And staring at him now, his hand on his reddened cheek, I don’t see how it became this. I don’t see how a thirteen year old boy crying into my shirt and terrified of me hating him for being gay can simply say ‘fuck me’ during one of the most emotional moments of my life.

If it meant so much to him, if it was that hard for him to talk to me, how could he say that?

“I love you.” I said the words slowly. This isn’t how I pictured this happening, those three words laced with anger instead of compassion. “I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known. I would do anything for you. A fuck is what you do when you leave the house and go get drunk. I would rather die than be one of those random faces to you.”

I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry.” he whispered. “You’re not a random face, Gerard. I love you. But I’m so scared.”

I turned back toward him, tears in my eyes. “I know. I am, too.”

---TBC---