Between These Walls (15 page)

Even the smaller scale scared him: Assuming he made it through today, he would still face tomorrow ... and a week from now ... next month ... next year. How would he survive? The odds didn’t look good. Hunter groaned within himself at the notion of the constant battle he would face, day after day, for years to come. What was he supposed to do, quit? Sports were his passion, but that meant a price for him to pay—a price which, as far as he knew, nobody else in this room would ever know for themselves, a price they would never need to pay. At age fourteen, he already worried about how his own physical dimensions compared to his peers, those private details others might mention about him during idle chatter. And on top of that, he had to worry every day about whether his groin stirred at the wrong time? It struck him as unfair. Why did he get stuck with this?

This sucks,
he muttered to himself.

Hunter saw a light shadow creep across the tiled wall at an angle in front of him. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he focused on a patch of discoloration in the grout along the wall. He sensed the presence of someone else, and sure enough, he heard the water start. Gritting his teeth again, Hunter tensed.

He shouldn’t look. He knew he shouldn’t. He’d had enough for today.

Whoever it was, the guy didn’t say anything, so Hunter assumed they had never met. He squinted, focused further on the wall tiles, increased his speed so he could put an end to his suffering for today.

One more minute. That’s all he needed to do—make it through one more minute, then he could escape into safety and get the hell out of there. Randy had left already.

The temptation felt electromagnetic, tugging his eyes toward his right. Hunter fought to face forward. But he wondered who stood next to him. Casual, forcing himself to keep his eyes shoulder-level or above, Hunter glanced over and recognized the guy. A sophomore. Hunter was correct, they had never met, but he had seen the guy earlier. Had someone called him
Anderson?
His last name, probably. Of all people, though—Hunter hadn’t just noticed him when practice started. A good-looking guy, Hunter had
wondered
about him. People appeared to like him, but he didn’t carry an air of cliquish popularity. Once, when Anderson looked in his direction during practice, Hunter darted his eyes in another direction, well aware of the weakness he sensed within himself and afraid it might reveal itself in his eyes. Now the guy stood beside him. Droplets of water dotted his tan shoulders. The running water brought a sheen to his back.

Hunter’s temptation returned. Over and over, a constant cycle, all within seconds.

Fight, Hunter!
Fight it off!

Determined not to give in, Hunter grunted and turned the water knobs in front of him. The water shut off. He was almost in the clear. He wiped his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair twice to shed the excess water.

Damn it, don’t do it!

The tug felt so strong. An invisible force of some kind. Hunter knew it wasn’t physical, but it sure felt like it was. Resistance was so difficult.

Hunter felt himself weaken.

No!
Stop!

It would be so easy to look. One quick glance. Nobody would know, right? It wouldn’t cause harm to anyone else.

But no, Hunter was sick of this fight. He didn’t want it in his life, so resist it. Fight it off.

The water kept running from Anderson’s spout as he lifted his arms. Hunter clenched his jaw. The fight wore him down.

Oh, fuck it.
It’s just one look.
Get it over with, then you won’t want to do it again.

Anderson washed his face, his hands blocking his vision. Hunter turned to walk away but allowed his eyes to linger downward, toward his right, as he turned.

Another mental picture. Front, back. Hunter filed it away in his mind. Although he hated to admit it, he did like what he saw and, in that instant, felt lucky. He would never need to look again. He had a memory.

A few moments later, heading toward his locker, Hunter grimaced in shame.

Here on the church basketball court, Hunter had covered his lap with the basketball, but now felt safe to stand up. All felt normal below his waist.

Hunter grabbed his keys and said good-bye to his buddies.

Upon turning his back, his countenance fell.

His pace more sluggish than usual, he walked toward the parking lot and unlocked his car with his keychain remote. The car’s alarm mechanism emitted a quick bleep.

“What’s wrong with me, God?” he asked.

CHAPTER 11

On Monday, Hunter’s mind returned to his conversation with Ellen the previous week. She, too, had wondered if Gabe was gay? Now Hunter was curious.

He should fix his attention upon his relationship with Kara, Hunter told himself, but a piece of himself felt drawn to Gabe. Hunter couldn’t put his finger on why, but in the short time they had known each other, he found comfort in Gabe’s presence, in knowing Gabe was near. Though Hunter wasn’t accustomed to confiding in anyone, or sharing his concerns or passions, when he was with Gabe, he wanted to.

The best way Hunter could describe it was that Gabe possessed a quality Hunter needed in his own life, a puzzle piece that could fill a void.

What that void was, Hunter didn’t have a clue. Or did he?

Ellen’s remark about Gabe continued to pique his curiosity. He pondered details about Gabe and his background; whether he was, in fact, straight; and whether he’d had girlfriends before. Hunter wanted to know. There had to be a way to find out from Gabe, but he didn’t know how to ask without causing Gabe to wonder why he’d asked in the first place.

Hunter grew annoyed at the fact that he wanted to know. Deep down, he knew why he wanted to know about Gabe. He had traveled this road numerous times: one big cycle in his life, upon which he had treaded over and over again; the enemy in his life that never disappeared, the one he couldn’t vanquish. Each time the cycle began, he tried to remain strong but, with time, weakness always settled in. Even now, Hunter felt his resistance crumbling and he resented it.

Yet he moved forward with it anyway.

After work on Monday, he drove to Gabe’s clinic for his next appointment, which, Hunter admitted to himself, he could now classify as a weekly occurrence. In a recent phone chat with Kara, he’d finally mentioned his appointments with Ellen’s therapist, and Kara hadn’t given it a second thought. Hunter no longer felt awkward showing up at a massage clinic, not that he would admit it to anyone but Ellen and Kara. When entering Gabe’s clinic, though, it was more like he
forgot
to worry about what people would think—at least
inside
the place.

“So yeah, when I first started, I was flat-out scared,” Gabe said, as he worked the heels of his hands into the crevice between Hunter’s shoulder blades. “A brand new business, not many clients.” He paused and asked, “How’s this feel for you, working between the shoulder blades like I’m doing?”

“Feels fine,” Hunter replied. “So you started out from ground zero? No clients at all?”

“I had a few. Even though I’d worked at a hotel and served out-of-town guests for the most part, I still had several local people who showed up for weekly appointments. When I started my own business, they followed me here, and word of mouth spread. But with two business partners, we were able to spread the risk and bear the costs better.”

“It still must have been challenging, though,” Hunter said. “Even with partners, you would’ve had overhead costs before you opened your doors, right?”

“To say the least,” Gabe chuckled. “The three of us emptied our bank accounts to invest in this place, but we believed in what we were about to do. We researched the facts and felt confident we could grow.”

“As long as you grew before you went broke.”

“Exactly.” Gabe thought for a moment, then moved farther down Hunter’s back with his fingers and thumbs. “God showed up for me in that situation. To this day, I look back and can’t imagine how He did it. My client base grew on a slow, steady basis, but I had a full schedule before I knew it. I’d look at my appointment schedule week after week and shake my head. The clients seemed to multiply, yet I couldn’t pinpoint where or how it happened. Kind of like that Bible passage, where Jesus multiplied the bread and fish to feed the multitude. So when I think about my clients and thank God for them, that’s what I call it: my bread-and-fish situation.”

Before the appointment started, Hunter had wondered what they would talk about. Given his sales career, Hunter found small talk easy. Once he located an effective ice breaker, he was home free. But when Gabe walked through the door, his eyes lit up, and Hunter could tell Gabe was glad to see he had returned. That dissolved Hunter’s defenses and rendered conversation much easier. With Gabe, Hunter didn’t need an ice breaker; the ice melted and evaporated on its own. It felt as if they had picked up where they had left off a week ago. Although they had known each other but a few weeks, Gabe felt like a friend, and Hunter sensed Gabe felt the same way toward him.

Hunter had never had a friendship like that, where he could speak without barriers, without worrying what the other person thought of what he said.

Hunter’s male friendships now struck him as surface deep, a matter of hanging out and having fun. Those interactions involved a continual flow of talk, but not about things that mattered. They didn’t
confide
in each other. And in light of this friendship with Gabe, Hunter realized he didn’t know some of his own friends well at all. He could list their interests and behavioral tendencies, but he didn’t know who they were, down in their souls.

Hunter also found Gabe’s faith appealing. While some people spoke of their faith as a sidenote, a hula-girl ornament on the dashboards of their lives, Hunter recognized Gabe’s faith as sincere and relevant. When Gabe spoke of God and God’s role in his life, how God had come through for him in various scenarios, Gabe meant it. He verbalized the sort of relationship with a Savior that Hunter himself possessed in his own life. When Hunter spent time with Gabe, he sensed a bond with him as a fellow Christian.

“How about your job?” Gabe asked. “Any improvements over the last week? New clients?”

Hunter shifted on the massage table and found a new spot for his belly. “The good news is, I signed a new client last week—a small one, but I’ll take anything.”

Gabe stopped his work for a moment and spread his arms sideways, palms out, clearly excited for him. “Great news! It’s a step in the right direction.”

“Thanks. It doesn’t do enough to save my butt on the job, though. You’re right, it’s a positive development and I’m grateful for it, but it doesn’t erase all those months of deficit. Because it’s such a small client, I’m concerned when my boss sees it, it will disappoint him. To be honest, I can’t escape the feeling I’m in danger. I’m really worried I could lose my job—that’s how bad it looks to me.”

“Maybe you should talk to your boss, get his point of view, decipher what you’re truly dealing with, rather than what you
think
you’re dealing with.”

“Maybe so. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Do you interact with your boss often? Do you ask him for feedback?”

Such a simple notion to overlook, Hunter thought. His other friends didn’t offer ideas like that, and neither did Hunter for them—their conversations never even ran
that
deep. “I’ve never leaned on my bosses like that. I suppose I’ve always gone my independent route and figured I’d find a way to tread water.” Hunter shrugged. “But you’re right, it’s worth a try.”

From his peripheral view, Hunter could see Gabe had furrowed his brow in concentration, not on Hunter’s back but on something else, as though debating whether to put words to it.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, because I enjoy having these conversations,” Gabe said at last, “but I find it interesting that you confide all this in me and not your girlfriend. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m honored.” Gabe gave his words another thought and waved them off, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his fingers. He continued down Hunter’s back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Forget I said anything.”

Gabe didn’t appear suspicious of Hunter’s motivation for coming here at all. Before he appeared embarrassed, he’d had a matter-of-fact expression on his face. Hunter didn’t want to let Gabe’s curiosity hang, so he considered how to respond.

“The truth is,” Hunter said, “it’s more than her travel, the physical distance, that keeps me from confiding in Kara. I don’t know, maybe it’s because when you’re a guy, you think you need to put on a performance for people—the whole hunter-gatherer thing, the strong man. And then, when you run into challenges, you don’t have many people to turn to because you’ve spent all those years building that stalwart image. You can’t turn around and destroy the persona everyone has of you, the one you constructed.”

Gabe nodded, said nothing.

“I’m talking in circles,” Hunter said.

“No, it makes sense.” Gabe considered Hunter’s words. “Actually, I understand more than you know, but I could never figure how to describe it.” He grinned, then added, “You have a way with words.”

“I don’t think anyone’s accused me of
that
before,” Hunter said with a glint in his eye. “Seriously, though, have you noticed we can’t be real with many people? But
you’re
genuine. It’s like I can be real with
you,
and you won’t judge me for whatever stupid things I say. I can lay things out on the table and I won’t need to live it all down later.”

Gabe moved his thumbs in a broader, circular motion. “I appreciate hearing that.”

“Guys don’t say thanks enough.”

“They don’t seem to. But if I’m not like others, it probably has more to do with the fact that I’m not much of a social butterfly.”

Something in Gabe’s words caused Hunter to pause. He maintained a laid-back tone in his voice and a nonchalant expression on his face, for Gabe’s sake rather than his own. To let Gabe know he cared.