Taking In Strays (14 page)

Those carefully chosen words didn’t improve Donny’s sense of depression and loss. “Maybe, someday soon, I can be involved in his life.”

“Soon?”

Donny stared down at his plate. “Okay, not soon. Eventually?”

“I wouldn’t make that your goal,” Dan said critically. “This is about you, not Peter. You are not working to earn Peter’s approval or to make yourself worthy of dating him. You are rebuilding your foundation for you, to make yourself strong, independent, and a contributing member of society. If, after that, you decide to date Peter, it will be as equals. I can’t stress how important that is to your overall mental health.”

Donny snorted humorlessly.

“What?” Dan wondered.

Donny made a helpless motion with his fork and explained, “I didn’t feel alone when I was surrounded by people who didn’t give a shit about me. Now I feel like the loneliest man on Earth because one man isn’t here with me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not even close.”

“That could stem from the fact that Peter helped you when no one else would,” Dan pointed out.

Donny eyed him over the table irritably. “That isn’t what I’m feeling.”

“I’ll feel more confident in that statement when you do become independent,” Dan replied sourly.

He was only echoing Donny’s own doubts and being a concerned older brother, but Donny still couldn’t help getting angry. He throttled down on it and finished his meal. Dan asked him about work and Donny could only say that it
hadn’t killed him yet
. Dan laughed, but Donny could see that he was worried.

“Don’t worry,” he assured the man. “I won’t quit.” He added, not able to stop it from sounding sarcastic, “I even made a friend today.”

“A friend?” Dan repeated cautiously.

“We talked for a bit,” Donny replied. “Since that’s more than I’ve done with anyone else there, I think that means were friends, now.”

Donny helped Dan with the dishes, after they were both done eating, but couldn’t help repeated yawns of weariness.

Dan took a dirty plate from Donny’s hands and motioned to the couch with his chin. “It’s comfortable. See you in the morning.”

Donny almost protested and then didn’t. He was that exhausted. Yawning hugely, he could only nod and head for the couch. Stretching out on it and pulling a yellow throw over himself, was the last thing he remembered until Dan was shaking his shoulder to wake him the next morning.

Donny opened gummy eyes and blinked at the man hovering over him.

“Moving day,” Dan said firmly.

“What time…?” Donny mumbled as he forced his body to sit up. His hands ached from cuts and blisters, acquired on the job, and his body was achy from long hours leaning over work tables. He groaned loudly, almost not hearing Dan’s reply.

“It’s 8:30, so get those clothes on and let’s go interview for your new home.”

“What clothes?” Donny’s hands closed on the shirt and pants that Dan tossed into his lap.

“My youngest brother left them when he visited last,” Dan explained. “You might as well have them.”

“Because, being from a family of giants, he’s already out grown them?” Donny guessed.

“Yes,” Dan chuckled.

“I’m getting a complex,” Donny complained as he managed to stand and head for the bathroom. “I hope he was bigger than when he stayed at Peter’s. I don’t like my nuts strangled.”

“I’ll get your other clothes from Peter, later today,” Dan was saying as Donny dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt that said,
Raiders,
in red. “I’ll also get the fish smelling clothes washed and returned to you. I don’t want fish smell in my car again.”

Dan grabbed his car keys as Donny came out of the bedroom. He looked Donny over, nodded approvingly, and then said cautiously, “I can’t guarantee that this new living situation is going to be either short or pleasant for you.”

“I’m getting used to the new lifestyle,” Donny replied with some bitterness. “I can handle it.”

Donny had to rethink his words when Dan pulled up to an old Victorian three story house squashed between two newer houses. A few windows were boarded over, the cement front steps were littered with garbage, and music blasted from one upper floor room. Graffiti was scrawled everywhere.

“You get your own room,” Dan explained as they entered the building. “They landlord is allowed to inspect it at any time, though. If he decides that you are not keeping the room clean, or that you are doing illegal activities there, he can evict you without notice.”

The hallways were narrow, the stairs were made of old wood, and the doors to the rooms silently told stories of forced entries, gang activity, and years of abuse. They passed a communal kitchen with rules posted in different languages. It, at least, was clean.

“Ralph?” Dan called into an open area with a television that was screwed to the wall. A man appeared that was slim, dark, and angry looking. Brown eyes gave Donny a rude once over.

“I don’t take prostitutes,” Ralph said flatly.

“I didn’t ask you to take any,” Dan replied with a chuckle. He didn’t seem disturbed by the man’s attitude. “Donny, here, was thrust out into the cold, without a dime to his name, for coming out to his father. He needs a hand.”

Ralph’s attitude chained abruptly. He didn’t smile but he did look sympathetic. “Happens too damned often,” he commented. “He can have room 14. The rules are posted on the back of the door. Make sure he reads them and knows the drill. I expect payment every Friday before 9:00 pm. You don’t pay, you don’t stay.”

Donny became concerned, looking at Dan in confusion. “You know I don’t get paid until next Friday.”

“I took care of this week,” Dan informed him as he led the way up the stairs. “Pay me back when you’re able.”

“Thank you, but I don’t know how I’m ever going to pay you or Peter for all of your generosity,” Donny lamented.

“Turn out all right,” Dan replied. “I told you before. That’s all either of us want.”

Dan tried to open a door that was painted badly with the number fourteen. It was stuck and he had to give it a shove with his shoulder.

In old movies, the houses always seemed to have dingy wallpaper, painted surfaces inches thick, and beds made out of simple metal frames with squeaky springs. In old prison movies, Donny amended as he saw bars blocking the window and an inside latch. The room was small and well used. The walls did look as if they had been painted white a thousand times and there wasn’t any visible heat or air conditioner.  There was a simple dresser to hold his clothes and a metal framed bed.  Donny noticed the lack of a major necessity instantly.

“No bathroom?”

Dan was apologetic. “You have to share. It’s down the hall.”

The rules covered the back of the door on a large, white placard.

“There’s a rule for not sticking snot on the walls,” Donny noticed in disgust, “And one for not throwing up in garbage cans.”

“Ralph’s learned to cover all the bases,” Dan explained. “Boy scouts don’t live here.”

Donny saw one rule in particular. “There’s a rule about not fighting or harassing your neighbors. Why do I feel like this isn’t going to protect me as much as I hope?”

Dan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Like I said, the people here aren’t Boy Scouts. Ralph does what he can, but nothing will protect you outside of these walls if someone decides that they don’t like you. It’s a rough neighborhood.”

“More incentive to work hard enough to get myself out of this situation,” Donny decided as he sat down on the bed and grimaced at the lumpy mattress and the squeaky springs. “Where can I wash my clothes?” The bed sheets, he meant as well, but that went without saying.

“The laundry is two blocks down, on Ferris,” Dan replied. “Want some quarters and a bit of cash for groceries?”

“I would appreciate it,” Donny replied. Feeling the weight of how much he owed Dan already, he added firmly, “I will pay you back.”

As Dan dug into his pockets and began placing quarters and a few bills onto the top of the dresser, he asked, “So, does this mean you’re staying?”

Donny snorted. “Did you think I was going to try and convince you to let me stay with you?”

“Yes,” Dan replied bluntly.

“I will admit to fighting the urge, right now, but you’ve done enough. Donny Kirkpatrick has to tough it out on his own, now.”

“Good attitude,” Dan commended. “Begging wouldn’t have worked, anyway. Unlike Peter, I know that coddling a chick keeps him from flying. Fly, Donny. I have to get to work.”

“I’m flying,” Donny sighed. “I’ll get these sheets washed, buy some cheap ramen noodles, and then get to work, myself.”

As Dan started out the door, Donny thought to ask, “When do I get a key?”

Dan tensed a little as he replied, “You don’t. Rule number twenty-two; tenants will not lock or block doorways. You’re lucky to have a door to close.”

That made Donny nervous, but he could see the reason. They were in a halfway house situation. Monitoring the tenants was a definite necessity.

“Give me a call tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing,” Dan told him, “I’ll keep looking for a better job for you and try to get you into some educational opportunities. Anything you prefer?”

“I’m open for anything, Dan,” Donny replied as he stood up and began taking the blankets and sheets off the bed. He was disgusted by the shape the mattress and pillow were in.

“Keep that attitude,” Dan urged.

After the door closed behind Dan, Donny found himself sitting on the bed again with the bedclothes in his arms. He could pretend a positive attitude all he liked, but, in reality, he was only doing what was necessary. The little kid inside of him wanted to cry, but the man that he was, told him to suck it up. He listened to the heavy beat of the loud music, in clear violation of rule sixteen, for a few minutes and then gathered his willpower and headed for the Laundromat.

“So, where are you living?” Crantson suddenly asked after a long stint of silence over their work.

Donny hated oysters. His knife jammed into their shells and pried hard, making his bones, muscles, and nerves ache all the way to his elbow. “2410 Lantern,” he said distractedly. “I’d invite you over, but it’s a dive and it’s only as large as a dog crate. No drinking, sex, spitting, or shitting in the hall allowed. It’s definitely not a place to party.”

It took a moment for Cranston to chuckle, but it sounded forced. He said as if afraid that he had offended Donny, “I still want that drink together after work. I was just wondering how far away you lived. I could pick you up.”

“I’m gay,” Donny said abruptly. “Going out with me might look like a date to some people.”

“Gay?!” Cranston was shocked and then disgusted. “I wasn’t asking for a damned date! I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who thinks so.”

“Then we can forget about the drink?” Donny guessed sourly. He didn’t look up from his work, but Cranston’s silence was answer enough.

Donny felt relieved. He wasn’t desperate for company. Something about Cranston told him that his company was going to end up being a bad thing. At least he had established that Cranston wasn’t trying to make a move on him.

It was good to finally find that he actually had a standard. Donny had wondered. Sex had seemed to make everyone acceptable. When there wasn’t anyone important in his life, Donny amended to himself. Before Peter, there hadn’t been anyone setting the standard that he felt the need to follow.

By the end of the evening, Donny hated the sight of fish and was certain that he never wanted to eat seafood again. He felt like an old man. His hands were aching, cut, and bleeding in places. His neck and back felt permanently stuck in a bent over position. His coworkers were even more uncommunicative than usual. He should have expected that when he had so easily admitted his sexuality. Well, he thought, if he could face his father and come out, he wasn’t about to let anyone else keep him in the closet.

The sous chef slapped a printout on a wall and jammed in a tack. The wall was peppered by similar holes. “Schedule!”

Donny finished scrubbing down his area before looking at the schedule on his way out. It was a complete relief to see that he had the next day off. The rest of the week was the same brutal hours in a long line until his next day off. Crap hours. Crap job. Over time would have made it more bearable, but Donny had already been given a heads up that the management bled off the extra pay in what they called,
Waste.
Their pay was docked for every screwed up product that they submitted to the chef. The chef, of course, was very critical.

Donny took the bus to his new home, fighting the urge to go back to the real place he thought of as home. He could imagine Peter there, sitting and watching the television, skipping dinner, because it was late and too much trouble, and then going off to bed feeling lonely and discarded.

What was that saying? Home was where the heart was? Donny’s heart was definitely with Peter. As he stepped off the bus and went into his own apartment building, he could feel his own loneliness taking hold.

He was shocked to find one of his father’s advisors standing outside of his door.

The man was dressed in an expensive business suit, his gold watch and cufflinks gleaming in the light of the hall way. Donny had once found his short, dark hair, and good looks attractive. Now, he was the last person that Donny wanted to see.

“No fighting!” Ralph said from behind him. “No drug deals. No prostitution! That guy had better be here to collect taxes, or something.”

Donny flinched but didn’t look back at the man as he said, “It’s just a friend of my father’s. It’s okay.”

“You don’t sound sure,” Ralph said nervously. “Do you want me to call the cops?”

Donny did stop and look at him then, at the man’s clear concern. “Thanks, but it should be okay.”

“Shout if you need me,” Ralph told him firmly. “Your boyfriend, Parker, told me to look after you. He made me promise. I keep my promises.”

Boyfriend? Donny felt himself blushing warmly and hoped that Ralph was talking about Peter Parker, as he replied, “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”