One Voice 02 - Here Without You (8 page)

I know they wouldn’t never get it, but here in NH, I got a place to live and a job, and I can look after Cindy some. Don’t know what’d happen if things got changed up.

Z
ANDER
Z
ANE
’
S
One Voice Blog Spot—by invite only

Your host, Zander Z

Being in a relationship is complicated. Strange thing is, I don’t mean being in a gay relationship, and I don’t mean being in a throuple either. I guess every relationship has its difficulties, but the problem we’re going through is mostly on account of our relationship’s long-distance nature. Long-distance relationships can work—I’m fairly sure of that—but they require communication. And shit loads of it. When one of the participants is holding back, that’s when the trouble starts.

And Nate is holding something back.

Last weekend was stellar. We stayed at Casey’s house and ate great meals, watched movies, cuddled up on various soft, flat surfaces, and talked. And when Casey and I said good-bye to Nate, everything was damn close to being perfect between the three of us.

Monday was great. We texted each other love notes in all combinations—me to Nate and Nate to me, me to Casey and Casey to me, and Casey and Nate to each other. Tuesday—not a problem. We Skyped at night, and it was a freaking love fest.

The problem came on Wednesday. All of a sudden there was no Nate. Anywhere. It was as if he’d fucking dropped off the face of the earth. He didn’t answer our phone calls, texts, or e-mails. He has no Facebook account, or we would have tried to message him there. So Casey went fucking nuts. And I had a damned bad feeling myself.

Thursday came—neither of us slept much Wednesday night—and he finally answered his phone.

“You’re on speaker, dude,” I said.

“Oh, megasorry about not answerin’ your calls or nothin’,” he said super casually, “but I wasn’t feelin’ great last night, and I dropped off to sleep right after work.”

Like, yeah, right.

“How you guys been? Did you ace that bio exam, Casey? Aah, I’m sure ya did.”

Our boyfriend was overly cheerful. Casey and I swapped eye rolls.

“And Zander, how’re your One Voice plans for this Sunday comin’ along, dude? Stellar, I’m sure.”

Hello, we know you, Nate
.
We’re not buying into this bullshit.

“By the way, guys. Gotta work this weekend, so I can’t come down to Boston. Bummed as hell, but work is work, right?”

Tell me another one, dude.

“So, anyhow, can’t talk too long. Gotta take Cindy to the mall. She says she needs a haircut, and who am I to argue with a teenage girl, huh?” His voice was like sweetness on steroids.

What the fuck is up with this?

Anybody who’s reading this in the future—gay, straight, in a threesome or a foursome, or single even—listen carefully. You can’t allow your partner or friend to bullshit you and get away with it. But—yes, there’s a big but coming—but you have to choose your battles, select the right time to confront. Be tactful, yet get down to the heart of the matter. Casey and I knew it was
not
the right time. Nate was still dealing with whatever had him acting so fucked up.

Casey took the wheel. “Well, by all means, go take the girl for her haircut. Zander and I would never stand in the way of beauty.”

Nate laughed, but the sound was forced and unconvincing.

“Sweetheart,” Casey added. “We want to Skype you tonight. How’s that sound?”

“Uh…,” Nate uttered, and then silence.

“How’s nine o’clock for you?” I asked, unwilling to give up.

“Shit, dude. Said I’d work at the Humane Society ’til late tonight. I’ll… I’ll text ya before bed.”

“I want to
see
you.” Casey was pushing and I was glad.

“Lookit. I’ll Skype you guys tomorrow night after work, ’kay? Hey, gotta run. Cindy’s chompin’ at the bit to get to the salon.”

And he hung up. Without saying “love ya” or “miss ya.” He was just gone.

And for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past five minutes, Casey and I looked at each other and saw worry on each other’s faces.

Danny. My man and my only brother—something’s wrong. I know it. But I don’t know what, and I don’t know what to do either. Maybe your best advice should be sent to me in a text message or an e-mail. Maybe it’s just too private for what will one day be a public forum.

C
ASEY
’
S
REAL
LIFE

I
WAS
so angry at him. I mean, probably it was one of the angriest, most frustrated, and helpless moments I’d experienced since I’d been humiliated by the girls on the soccer field that night my freshman year. And that’s saying a lot. Because that night was hell.

Nate was lying to us. It was that simple. He skipped out on our phone call on Wednesday night, put us off on Thursday night, told us his Skype wasn’t working right on Friday night, and was missing in action all day Saturday.

I felt like my blood was boiling. Something was wrong.
Really wrong
. And I didn’t know what. Because of that, I didn’t know how to go about fixing it. I didn’t want Zander to see how upset I was, because I could tell he was having his own concerns about Nate. I didn’t want to put more of a burden on his shoulders. So I hid myself away from him. I hid at the library, at the student cafeteria, at the student center. I actually even went to the recreational complex and attempted to run laps on the indoor track. Wonders never cease. I just needed to hide away from my feelings. And to hide from Zander, who knew me better than I knew myself.

On Saturday evening, I came home in time for our usual dinnertime text message from Nate. Unsurprisingly there was nothing from him. No text. No e-mail. No phone call. He’d blown us off again.

“This guy invited me to a party at his off-campus apartment. I want to go.” It was true. A guy from my statistics class, Chad Hutchins, had invited me to his house party, probably to thank me for all the help I’d been giving him with organizing his notes each day after class. Anyone could see that Chad was a cool “player,” and I was still Casey the nerd, so thankfulness or pity could be the only two options for this invitation.

“You wanna
party
tonight?” Zander appeared incredulous. Neither of us had indulged in alcoholic beverages in college.

“Yeah, but I want you to come too.”

He nodded, a blank expression in his light brown eyes. I nodded back.

W
E
WENT
to Chad Hutchins’s party. I drank alcohol for the very first time in my life. I got “wasted,” as Zander called it. We both did, I guess. After I threw up a couple of times off the back deck at the party, Zander said it was time that we called it a night.

My series of errors continued when we got back to our dorm room. After brushing the nasty taste out of my mouth and peeing for the zillionth time, I climbed into Zander’s twin bed and started groping him. I was intentionally breaking the rules we’d set up with Nate. I was initiating sexual intimacy with Zander when Nate wasn’t with us. And I was being pretty pushy about it.

I had my hand inside Zander’s shorts when he gently pushed me away. “I know you’re pissed off and hurt, Casey, but doing this isn’t gonna make things any better with Nate.”

That was all he had to say, and I started bawling like a two-year-old.

Zander held me tightly, and I knew he hadn’t rejected me. He had just stopped me from doing something in a drunken fit of anger that would have devastated all three of us later.

“Why? Why didn’t he call us? Is it over with us? Does he want to be free of you and me?” I cried and cried and questioned Nate’s motives time and again.

Finally Zander leaned over to his bedside table and snapped on the light. Then he picked up his phone and started to dial.

“You can’t call Nate now, Zander. It’s two in the morning.”

He ignored me and kept dialing. After a minute, he said softly, “Dude, it’s me.”

It appeared that Nate-the-absentee-boyfriend had been found.

“Yeah, something sure is fucking wrong with Casey.” Zander listened to Nate for a few seconds before responding. “No, he’s not physically injured. But he’s drunk and losing it. He needs you.” After a short silence, Zander added, “And I need you to level with us. So we’re gonna Skype right now. Go get on your computer.”

Just like that Zander got up off his bed and took his laptop from his desk. Within a couple minutes, Nate was on the computer screen. It was dark in Nate’s bedroom. We could barely see him.

“Turn on the light, Nate.”

Nate’s shadow didn’t move. “Don’t wanna.”

“Just do it.” Zander’s voice was calm but firm.

The shadow leaned over and turned on the light. And then Nate looked at us.

“Shit.” Zander spoke first. I was too busy processing the array of bruises and cuts, swollen nose and puffy eyes to utter a sound. “Is this what happened to you Wednesday night?”

Nate nodded.

“You didn’t tell us. You hid it from us like you don’t trust us.”

“I trust you guys.” His voice sounded so tiny.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you tell us what he did to you?”

Up until that point, only Zander had spoken to Nate, but I finally found my voice. “We would have come up to New Hampshire, taken you and Cindy out of there, called the police and children’s services, and—”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t say nothin’.”

I was stunned. “But—”

“Casey—I ain’t figured all this shit out yet. Dunno why Cindy always riles up Uncle Rich so much that he
has
to beat on somebody’s ass to get his head back on straight, and I know me and her gotta talk about it….” His eyes dropped to his bed or his floor. I wasn’t sure. “And we gotta figure out if us two should make some kinda move from Uncle Rich’s house. But just know I’m just so fuckin’ sorry for givin’ you guys the runaround.” That was a lot for Nate to say all at once.

And there we sat. The two of us staring at our beaten boyfriend, knowing in our hearts how much worse it must have been on Wednesday night when it first happened. Because almost four days later, he looked horrible. His nose was swollen, as were both of his eyes, which were also blackened. There were what looked like scabbed-over scratch marks on his cheeks and his forehead. And this was just his face. God knew if his body was covered in more of the same.

“I’m sorry.” He said it again and breathed very loud. My arms started aching to hold him. “I really do trust you guys.”

Zander was still calm. “What the fuck happened?”

“He was gonna beat on my sister. I had to stop him.” That pretty much told the whole story. A story we’d heard many times before.

“Did he beat up Cindy too?” Zander was getting the facts.

“Nah. He took it out on me instead.”

Despite the fact that I knew how protective Nate was of Cindy, I asked, “Why does she persist on doing this to you? She knows how it’s going to end. It’s like she is trying to set you up for a beating.”

Nate shrugged. “Uncle Rich did this to me, not Cindy.”

To Nate’s response, I said, “Well, you have got to get yourself
and
Cindy out of that situation. If you don’t do it for yourself, Nate, understand that Rich
is
eventually going to get your sister alone, and God only knows what he’ll do to her then.”

“I just need a bit of time to figure this thing out, that’s all,” Nate mumbled.

“The next time he loses his cool could be too late.” Zander was calm, but he was pushing the issue. “You and Cindy gotta talk about this whole living-situation thing sooner rather than later.”

“But you guys know I don’t never leave Cindy alone with him.”

“You gotta take care of yourself too, man.” Zander was insistent.

After another brief silence, Nate said, “I’ll talk to her about it as soon as the time’s right, ’kay?”

“Needs to be soon, dude.” My partners were going back and forth on the subject.

So that’s when I took over. “When we couldn’t get in touch with you, I thought you wanted to leave us, Nate.”

He chuckled, and it sounded much more like the Nate we knew. “That ain’t never gonna happen, babe.”

“I wish we were with you right now, so much.” Intense relief washed over me.

“Far as I’m concerned, you guys
are
with me right now. Felt real alone before you called, but not no more.”

“Nate, I just feel so dizzy, and my thoughts are a little jumbled up right now.”

Again, the chuckle. “That’s called
drunk
, Casey.”

“I’ll have Advil ready for him in the morning,” Zander assured him.

“I’d say the kid’s gonna need it.”

And then I had to confess. “I tried to fool around with Zander tonight after we got back from the party. Nate, I was so mad, and I don’t know just what came over me.” I started to cry again, knowing that he was going to be hurt and angry, and it would probably be over for real between us because I’d acted so rashly.

But Nate just smiled. “We all do shit we aren’t totally cool with when we’re drinkin’
and
when we’re freakin’ out. No worries, Casey.”

And what happened next was almost like a miracle. We just started talking. Zander always called this kind of chatting “shootin’ the shit.” I called it sharing our lives. We just talked about what had happened over the past few days when we’d been apart. The three of us talked until the sun came up.

Once again, we’d managed to work our way through a rough patch.

9

N
ATE
’
S
D
IARY

September 12

T
HEM
TWO
are good. But at being fuckin’ sneaky—well, I’m better.

Put ’em off from Skypin’ me ’til middle of the night, Saturday. By then my face was a whole fuck of a lot better than it had been earlier in the week, so them two didn’t have to go through the fuckin’ horror of seein’ me bloody and
totally
mangled.