Jordan

Just before I opened my bedroom door, Tim quietly opened his door. We stared each other down for a few seconds, not saying a word. To prevent him from talking to Jamie, I pushed him into my room. Tim closed his door as quietly as he opened it. No words were spoken. I had nothing more to say to him, anyway.

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on your brother?" Jamie said. I didn't respond, removing my shorts instead. Before he said anything else, I pushed him on his stomach on my bed, quickly tugging down his shorts. As I pounced on his back, he laughed into my pillow. I clutched both of his hands in mine, holding them against the mattress. Rubbing my growing erection against him, I kissed the side of his neck hard, my lips clamping down on his skin.

"What's your favorite Pogues' song?" I asked in his ear.

"What?" he said with another laugh.

"My mom went through this Irish music phase," I said, still gripping his hands tightly. "For months all she listened to was U2, the Pogues, Thin Lizzy, the Undertones. She even shaved her head like Sinead O'Conner."

I must have been six or seven at the time, one of those times I'd never forget. Tim came home from school to find Mom's hair all shaved off and in a messy heap on the bathroom floor. It was too bad because she had beautiful hair before she took it all off.

"What the hell did you do?" Tim scolded her.

"I think it looks nice, don't you?" she said.

"No," he said. "You look like a cancer patient."

"What do you know?" she snapped back at him. "You never had good taste."

"You can't go to parent-teacher conferences like that," he said. Third grade parent-teacher conferences were scheduled that week. "Life's hard enough for him and you make it even harder." Having her own temper tantrum, Mom retreated to her bedroom for the rest of the day. In the end, Tim attended parent-teacher conferences in her absence.

"So what's your favorite Pogues' song?" I asked Jamie again.

"Fairytale of New York," he said.

"Typical," I said.

"It's the most romantic love song of all time," Jamie said and laughed at his own joke since most people wouldn't consider Fairytale of New York a love song. Rather, it was a song about two lovers who loved once, but whose love turned into bitterness, fueled with resentment and hate. It was still a great song.

"It's my favorite Christmas song," I said.

"But not your favorite Pogues' song."

"No," I said. "It's If I Should Fall from Grace with God."

"Interesting," Jamie said as I kissed the back of his shoulder. My lips trailed down Jamie's spine while humming the song of my favorite Pogues' song. He sighed into the pillow as I licked him there, just where he liked it. I thought I'd do to him what he did to me the other night. But then I had an idea and abruptly stopped, getting off him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Don't move," I said, going to my phone. Once my favorite Pogues' song played, I returned to Jamie, resuming where I left off. Judging by his sounds, I knew he liked it. I knew I must have been doing something right.

"Jordan," he moaned into his pillow as I made my way inside him.

"Jamie," I said, clutching his fingers again, holding them even tighter as I thrust slowly back and forth. He liked it slow and deep; that much I had learned over the summer.

***

While Jamie slept, I decided to surprise him again with breakfast in bed. I threw on my Red Sox t-shirt and went downstairs. Both Tim and Art were up, sitting at the kitchen table with their cups of coffee. Tim was dressed for work, about to leave any minute. Judging by the angry and annoyed expressions on their faces, not to mention the tension in the air, I suspected they were in the middle of a heated conversation before my arrival. Art immediately got up and stormed out. I pretended not to notice the look of disapproval and disappointment on his face as he left the kitchen.

"Making breakfast for Jamie again?" Tim said, also pretending everything was okay. I didn't answer because I was sure it was obvious what I was doing. "Lucky him. Maybe you'll make me omelets someday." As I gathered up the ingredients, I gave him a look that told him to shut up. "Or maybe not. Look, Jordan, I don't care if you go to a game at Fenway. I hope you have fun. I just know what it's like and...and...well, I just want you to have a good time." He really needed to stop worrying about me; I wasn't a little kid anymore. "I'll see you later. Have a good day with your boyfriend." As Tim left, I hoped that Art would leave, too, so Jamie and I could have the whole house to ourselves again like we did the first half of summer.

Yeah, if I could be so lucky...

By the time I returned with breakfast, Jamie was up with a sketchbook on his lap. "You didn't have to make me breakfast again," he said, putting the sketchbook to the side. "But thank you. Nice shirt, by the way."

Sitting down beside him, I brought my knees to my chest, stretching my shirt over them and down to my calves.

"You're not hungry?" he said. Resting my chin on my knees, I shook my head slightly. "Wanna go to the beach today?" I shrugged my shoulders, not sure.

"It looks like rain," I said.

"So?" he said, taking a bite of toast. "We can take a drive up the coast." Sure, why not? I thought to myself, nodding. "Don't be sad."

"I'm not," I said although I wasn't so sure about that. I thought about Art and the look of disgust and even contempt he gave me just moments ago. I'd seen that look several times over the years. "I wish I had normal parents. I really never had parents."

"Is that what's bothering you?" he said.

"Art hates me," I said. "I've always been a problem. Even though Mom was always crazy, I knew she loved me. I never wanted her to go away. She's still my mother and she was there and he wasn't." Yet again, tears caught me by surprise. I did my best to brush them away without Jamie noticing, but he noticed everything. As more and more fell, I hid my face in my knees. Jamie brought an arm around me, pulling me to him. He kissed the top of my head. "Sorry," I said, apologizing for my boyish tears. I was getting pretty tired of all these emotions running wild. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were before? Before Jamie came and wrecked havoc in my life, I thought I was happy, but he changed everything I always knew. The fact was that I barely knew anything. I thought I liked it that way. Confused and overwhelmed, I wasn't even sure I wanted things to go back to the way they were before this summer. Did I really like it that way? I was alone and possibly lonely and
never even realized it. Now I feared being alone. A part of me wanted to go out and experience the world, another part of me was petrified to, afraid I couldn't hack it. I even rethought my decision to stay in Massachusetts. Should I go to England? I was completely overwhelmed and full of doubt, among other things. I couldn't stand it.

Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him tightly. Swinging a leg over his thighs, I sat on his lap, facing him.

"I'm such a loser, huh?" I said.

"No, you're not a loser," he said, wiping my cheeks with the palms of his hands. He kissed my mouth, moving his hands to my lower back under my shirt. As he was about to kiss me again, I lifted my shirt over my head.

"I love you," I said in a whisper.

"I love you, too," he said, stroking my cheek. As I hooked my legs behind his back, he held me in his arms, kissing me harder and harder as if we hadn't just been together the night before.

Jamie was due to leave in a week and my life would revert back to normal. I wasn't sure I wanted "normal" again or what I knew to be normal. Guiding me onto my back, Jamie proceeded to kiss me all over. I wanted this to be my normal now.

***

While Jamie took a shower, I waited impatiently in the kitchen, dressed in my Red Sox gear. I couldn't find my cap anywhere, though, and I looked everywhere.

"Here," Tim said, plopping a cap on the top of my head.

"This isn't mine," I said.

"You can borrow mine," he said. "You really need a hair cut," he said, pointing out the dark curls that stuck out wildly all along the rim of the cap. "Here," he said, handing me my headphones. "You should probably take them in case...well, just in case..."

"I'm going to a baseball game," I said. "I won't be listening to music."

"I know," he said. "But music calms you down and..."

"I'm not a little kid," I said, interrupting him. "I don't need them."

"Okay, okay," he said. "Fine. You don't need them."

Jamie wore a number 34 white Red Sox jersey, the number of retired "Big Papi," or David Ortiz. Tim walked us to the front door, even watching Jamie pull out of the driveway.

"He needs to get a life," I said.

"Give him a break," Jamie said. "He just cares about you. That won't ever change. Anyway, he has a life. He's getting married, isn't he?"

Bottom line was that I didn't want to be treated like a little kid anymore.

Despite all my trips to see various doctors in Boston, I had never been on the T, Massachusetts' version of the subway. Jamie was due to leave in two days, on his thirty-first birthday. I tried to push that out of my mind as I stared out the window on the T on our way to Fenway Park.

It's going to be okay, I kept telling myself, remembering Jamie's words, hearing his voice in my head over and over again.

The excitement of visiting Fenway Park for the first time faded as Jamie and I fought the crowds to find our seats in the right grand stand. Tim wasn't exaggerating when he said the park was small and crowded. Not only that, the seats were right in the middle of the row, making it difficult and challenging to get in and out. Once I sat down, I decided I wouldn't get up until the game was over. Jamie got up a few times; once to get a beer, another time to get a couple of Fenway franks, and another to surprise me with one of those souvenir baseball caps with a mound-full of soft serve vanilla and chocolate ice-cream in it. Although I didn't want to be treated like a little kid, Jamie knew ice-cream would make me happy.

That made everything okay for a little while and I enjoyed watching the game. Everything's going to be okay, I told myself. As long as I stayed in my seat, everything would be okay.

When a Red Sox player hit a homerun, I covered my ears in response to the roar of the crowd. I couldn't even stand or cheer. Instead, I sat there with my hands over my ears. I didn't feel safe and then I felt guilty because this was supposed to be an exciting game and it was all I could do to keep myself together.

"Are you okay?" Jamie asked.

"Yeah, fine," I lied, not wanting to ruin his good time.

Fortunately the Red Sox won, so it was worth it in the end. Or that's how I felt for a few seconds.

Jamie was leaving in two days....

Too many people bumped into me, crushing me...everything was so loud, too loud. We all herded out of the stands like cattle, all trying to find the exit through the swarm of people. I couldn't see where I was going and holding Jamie's hand didn't help. I didn't want anyone touching me, not even Jamie, so I let go.

Get away from me. Everyone...get away...

Everyone get away from me.

Get away...

Jamie's leaving...

Stop touching me. Stop. It's too loud...way too loud and crowded.

Help. I'm drowning...

Trapped with no way out, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't breathe. No one could help me, especially Jamie. This is all his fault. Fuck you. Where is he? I lost him.

Too loud. Too many people.

Where's my headphones? At home. I told myself I didn't need them. I wasn't a little kid.

I can't hear anything but everything is loud.

Unable to move, I fell to the ground. I couldn't go on. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I prayed for everyone to go away. No...no...I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. As I sat in the middle of the concourse, people almost stepped on me, trampling over me.

Jamie's gone. I lost him or maybe not. I don't know...

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn't want to be touched.

"Get off me!" I screamed so loud everyone could hear me even through the crowded chatter.

"Hey," Jamie said, crouching down beside me. "It's okay. We're almost out." I couldn't look at him; I couldn't look at anyone, so I hid my face in my knees. "Come on, Jordan. This is dangerous. You can't stay here." As he went to lift me to my feet, I couldn't help it, screaming louder than ever.

"Stop!" I shouted. I shouted it over and over, eventually crying and screaming more and more. Paralyzed by fear, I was stuck and no one could help me. No words of comfort or reassurance from Jamie. Nothing. And things only got worse when security, followed by the police showed up. I fought them off because they went to touch me. I didn't want to be touched. Their words of reassurance also didn't help. They were a bunch of liars, too. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay.

"Get off me!" I shouted to the men in uniform, but they lifted me off the ground, anyway. I kicked and even tried to bite one of the officers, especially as they cuffed my wrists behind my back. I screamed and cried so loud, I lost my voice.

I didn't just want to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to die.

A/N

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