My Gift To You

Chapter Nine: If You Could Only See How His Eyes Can Be When He Says...

The phone rang, a loud and frightening sound that caused Billy’s eyes to snap open. For a few seconds he didn’t know which of his bedroom ceilings he was staring at, but another jarring ring from his left proved he was in his dad’s house. He struggled to gather the telephone and bring the receiver to his ear. Eventually Billy spoke groggily to whomever called him. “Goway.”

“What reasons?” It sounded like Joel. Or was it Benji? Billy was too tired to study the voice patterns.

“Mmf. Leemeelone,” He grumbled hoarsely.

“What reasons?” Joel-or-Benji repeated. There was a deep inhale on the line, followed by an exhale. It resembled smoking. Joel didn’t smoke.

Billy rolled over onto his side to get the time from his alarm clock. “Christ, Benji, it’s one in the morning on a Sunday.”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came out onto the roof for a cigarette and took the cordless phone with me. Now answer my damn question,” Benji replied.

“What do you mean ‘what reasons?’” Billy tried to hold back a yawn.

Another drag. “The reasons as to why you haven’t come out. Why haven’t you?”

“I just want to fit in I guess. I didn’t know you smoked.”

Benji moved the phone to his other ear. “It takes the edge off.”

“The edge off of what? It’s a fucking disgusting habit.”

“It’s not like I smoke five packs a day, just one here and there,” Benji explained smoothly. “I didn’t wake anyone else up, did I?”

“Just me. It’s a private line, none of the other phones in the house ring. Couldn’t your call have waited until a humane hour?”

“Nope. Joel said that you sleep in on the weekends, till nine or something. We go to church at six and it couldn’t wait. Were you having a pleasant dream?”

“I don’t dream.”

“Everyone dreams,” Benji stated worldly. “You’d be insane if you didn’t.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I close my eyes and fall asleep when it’s dark, I wake up and it’s morning. I don’t dream, I think throughout the day.”

“You probably just don’t remember your dreams.”

“Is this why you called me, to keep me awake by asking stupid questions?”

Benji finished off his cigarette and laid down on the roof, looked up at the stars. “Nah, I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Couldn’t you’ve talked to Joel? Or maybe Aaron or Paul? You don’t like me, so why’d you call me?”

“You’re a good listener I’m told. Besides, the other guys don’t like late night talks.”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep anytime soon, Billy sat up. “I’m so flattered that you’ve chosen me. Really, you have no idea.”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic I’ll just hang up.”

“I’m just tired,” Billy apologized. “Why can’t you sleep? Insomnia?”

“Something like that,” Benji lied. In truth he was thinking about his father again. The more he tried to deal with the situation, to keep it bottled up and never speak of it, the more it ate away at him. He was convinced that it was his fault that Mr. Combs had left that Christmas Eve, that because of what Benji told him he packed up and ran for the hills. Benji was looking for acceptance or at least someone to say that it was all right, that they still loved him in spite of his sexual orientation and that they wouldn’t throw him to the dogs. But that didn’t happen.

Benji had gone to his father because he trusted him more than his mother, though he loved her deeply. She would have shook her head and dragged him off the church, maybe something worse and maybe not. Benji and his father were close, going off to the garage to tinker with the car or to the back yard to play catch, they watched football games and Mr. Combs had often tried to teach his son how to play poker. Once his father had even taught him how to fight back, where to strike and what blow would cause the most pain but less damage. They were like best friends who rarely bickered, using that absence of time for fishing.

So Benji had taken a deep breath and stopped his dad in the garage. He was distraught, confused and helpless to whatever greater power was toying with him, and his father had quickly noticed. His son hadn’t beaten around the bush, he had come right out and spoken of his fear, saying that he believed that he was gay. Benji had told his father how nervous he felt about everything, how when Joel was dreaming about women he was dreaming about men. He only wanted to fit in, to be like everyone else, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Benji had only wanted his parents to love him, but he was scared to death that because he was homosexual he would never have his parents’ love again.

His father had walked out of the room without a word, only to disappear later that night and never be seen again. After that day, Benji swore to never voice who he was to anyone, not even Joel, and to be like every other man in the world—straight as an arrow. He was unable to sleep because of his constant nightmare about being found out, kicked to the curb and shut out of life. Benji dreamt that his own twin was one of the gay bashers; sneering, spitting and hitting in dreams so life-like he felt ever punch and every drop of saliva in real time, true to form. He often woke up with sore limbs, a few unexplainable bruises on his legs, and his eyes wide with terror and shame.

“Benji, are you there? God damnit, if you walked away from the phone I’m going to kill you. I know you haven’t hung up, I can hear the occasional car passing by your house,” Billy stated hotly. He had been waiting for Benji to speak for the past three minutes, getting more upset as every second ticked by without Benji replying to his question.

Benji rubbed his face with his free hand. “Sorry. I was thinking. What were you saying?”

“I asked what you do when you can’t sleep. I have nights like that, too, but I usually end up staring at the ceiling and seeing how far I can cross into insanity and still make it back to the sane world.”

“Sometimes I read. Mostly, though, I go down into the living room and listen to Christian music, it’s great for dulling the senses enough to fall into a trance. It’s like sleeping, only not because you’re fully aware of what’s going on…You’re in your dad’s house now, right?”

“Yeah. Why? Do you plan on stopping by?”

“No,” Benji said softly. “What would you do if I said I didn’t hate you? That I might…you know…”

Billy paused. He didn’t know what was going on, whether or not Benji was playing a cruel joke on him. “I don’t know, but I know I wouldn’t be disgusted or something. Are you finally coming out?”

“No! I’m just saying that I like you. Not sexually or whatever, just I like you. As a friend. I don’t know, I guess I was just jealous of the fact that Joel has taken you under his wing. That I might get replaced or whatever.”

“Oh…I probably misheard what you said.” Billy thought about adding tape to the shopping list, but that might not fix his broken heart.

“Probably. Did you come out at your old school? You seemed to be really happy to be here [at La Plata],” Benji asked. “I don’t mean to be snoopy. I ask a lot of questions when I can’t sleep, that’s why none of the other guys’ll put up with me. I’m kinda incoherent and stuff.”

Billy started picking at his bed sheets. “I noticed.”

Benji didn’t reply, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to drift off again.

“I liked this guy at my old school, right? I thought I was being secretive, but I guess you never are when it comes to being in like with anyone. Eventually he found out and one day after gym, I was kind of…hazed, attacked, whatever you want to call it. I wasn’t beaten up or anything, they just pantsed me—only I was in my boxers—and Brendan kind of shot me down. He told me that if he was gay he’d never go for a skinny, pasty not-very-well-endowed kid such as myself. I was 13. Since then I wanted to get out, it was like a Godsend when my parents got divorced as much as I hate to say it. But, no, I never came out then and I won’t now unless I move to Philadelphia or somewhere else.”

“I’m sorry,” Benji said after a long pause. “I had no idea. And I mean that when I say it.”

“I know.”

Benji didn’t know what to say anymore. He suddenly felt this deep connection with Billy because of what the two had been through, though Benji didn’t want to ever speak of his experience again. It frightened him that he had found this cord between Billy and himself, yet he also liked it. If he ever did come out, Billy would be the first person he’d come to, he felt like he could trust him.

“I suppose I should try to get some rest. Mom is never giddy when I’m half dead in church. Good-night, Billy.”

“‘Night, Benji.”