Kevin Corrigan and Me Read online

  I nodded and, after thanking Valenti for her time, ambled down a school corridor while I pondered my future. Lane’s parents and Mrs. Valenti seemed to think I’d be foolish to forgo a university education, but that would mean moving away from my mom and sister, and from Kevin. I’d have no beach to surf at. I’d lose my lawn-care business and I’d have to borrow a slew of money, something like eight thousand dollars. And something else: Lane had said the dormitories up in Gainesville looked like prisons, and I couldn’t imagine myself living in one, much less taking my meals in a cafeteria. It seemed there were so many negative aspects to attending a university. Why should I go?

  When I got home, Kevin sat in his Mustang on our driveway. He was smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke rings out his driver’s door window. When I pulled the Dart alongside Kevin’s car, he tossed the cigarette. He exited his car just as I left mine. He wore his Bishop Keating uniform, and despite his cane, he looked, as always, very sexy.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  He raised a shoulder, then let it drop. “I didn’t see you all weekend,” he said, “and I missed you, so can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I said, then I let us inside with a key.

  As soon as we reached my room and I set down my books, Kevin wrapped his arms around my waist; he pulled me to him until our hips met, then brought his mouth to mine. While our tongues rubbed and our chin stubbles rasped, I tasted the cigarette he’d just smoked.

  Kevin pulled his lips from mine. “Where’s Lisa?” he asked, glancing here and there.

  “She’s rehearsing a school play.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “So we’re alone?”

  I nodded. “At least for an hour or so.”

  Kevin worked open a button on my shirtfront. “Why don’t you lock the front door?”

  Moments later, we kicked off shoes and unbuckled belts. Kevin seemed in a decent mood while we undressed, but right after I peeled off my undershirt, his gaze traveled to my collarbone, and then a vertical crease appeared between his eyebrows.

  “What is that?” he said, pointing.

  Uh-oh.

  I couldn’t hold Kevin’s gaze, so I glanced out a window while I tried to think of what I should say.

  Make up a story.

  I looked back at Kevin. “We were out on Lane’s boat Saturday. We hit a wave and I banged into the corner of the windshield. It’s just a bruise.”

  Kevin grimaced and shook his head. “That’s bullshit, Jesse. I know what a hickey looks like, so why are you lying?”

  “I’m not lying, I—”

  Kevin tackled me and drove me onto the bed. He fell on top of me, pinning me to the mattress. “Do you like it when your buddy chews on you?” he hollered. “Well, he’s not here, but I am.”

  Kevin bit the side of my neck.

  I winced while he sucked on my skin, but I didn’t try to resist him. At that point, we wore only our briefs and I felt Kevin’s erection rub against mine. I listened to his breath whistle in his nose while he kept on sucking. Minutes later, when he’d stopped, he dragged me to my feet and pushed me to my bureau mirror so I could view his handiwork. The hickey he’d fashioned was far larger than Lane’s. It was brownish-red, perhaps the size of two silver dollars.

  “Are you happy now?” Kevin said while holding both my arms at my sides. “Or would you like another?”

  Before I could answer, Kevin ripped my briefs down to my ankles. He slapped my ass—hard. “Kick ’em off,” he hollered. “Then get back on the bed.”

  I did as I was told, and Kevin followed me. After he seized a tube of jelly from my nightstand drawer, he yanked off his own briefs. Then he crawled atop me again. His hot breath steamed in my ear.

  “I guess sex with me isn’t enough?” he whispered. “You need it from your buddy too, and he likes it rough, is that it?”

  When I didn’t answer, Kevin kept on. “I can get rough too. Then maybe you’ll feel more satisfied.”

  I didn’t put up a fight. Kevin was stronger than me—he was angry as well—and I didn’t want to provoke him any more than I already had. I just let him do as he pleased. He flipped me onto my stomach. Then he swatted my ass cheeks, over and over, until they stung like they’d been attacked by a swarm of bees. The pain actually brought tears to my eyes.

  When he’d finished hitting me, Kevin had me kneel on the bed with the side of my face pressed to the mattress and my feet hanging over the edge. He lubed me with jelly, then took me from behind. It wasn’t a rape; I never asked Kevin to stop. In fact, I didn’t want him to because, in a weird way, it felt good to be punished for my infidelity.

  After Kevin reached orgasm and withdrew from me, I rolled onto my back. Kevin lay beside me; he stared at the ceiling while his chest rose and fell. “I don’t like hurting you,” he said, “but I will if I have to. I won’t share you with this Lane guy, and I can’t stand the fact you let him touch you like that, especially after I let you screw me. I thought we were boyfriends.”

  “We are, but…”

  “What?”

  Go on: say it.

  “You treat me like a light switch you can turn on and off whenever it suits you, and that’s not fair. I have the right to expect something better.”

  Kevin turned his head to look at me. “And I guess that something better is Lane; is that what you’re saying?”

  I drew a breath, then let it out. “He treats me with respect,” I said. “I’m not just a secret to Lane.”

  Kevin rose from the bed and strolled to a window. He stood there naked with his hands on his hips, staring into our backyard. I let my gaze travel over his sleek frame. I studied his buttocks and the muscles in his chest, shoulders, and arms. He was, without question, the most attractive male I’d ever met, and I knew I was probably an idiot for putting our relationship in jeopardy, but this time I wasn’t backing down.

  Kevin kept staring out the window while he spoke. “You have to make a choice,” he said, “and I mean right now. It’s either me or Lane; you can’t have us both because I’m not sharing you with him. You’re either mine completely or you’re not at all.”

  I rubbed the fresh bruise on my neck. “I have an idea,” I said. “Let’s try being the kind of friends we used to be, back when we didn’t touch each other. Maybe then we’ll get along better.”

  When Kevin swallowed, I watched his Adam’s apple bob. He still looked out the window while he responded to my suggestion. “That won’t work for me. I don’t want to be just friends; I need something more from you than that. So I guess this it. We’re done.”

  Kevin reached for his briefs while my heart chugged. Would he really end things so abruptly? After all we’d been through, how could he? But he acted as though he were cancelling something as petty as a fast food order. For a moment—and I still can’t believe this happened—I actually considered caving in to Kevin, but I didn’t, not this time. I didn’t because now I finally knew for certain that Kevin didn’t give a shit about me. He only cared about himself and his own selfish needs.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him, “but I think you’re right.”

  Right after Kevin left, I phoned Lane and spoke of everything that had happened during the preceding hour.

  Lane whistled when I’d finished. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I’m pretty shook up. It’ll be weird not having Kevin in my life; I feel bad about it, and I can’t believe it’s all over. Then there’s the hickey he gave me today; it’s huge. What’ll I tell my mom and sister when they see it?”

  Lane didn’t answer right away, but when he did he said, “How about the truth?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “What choice do you have? They know you don’t date girls, so how will you explain the marks on your neck? Will you tell them a dog bit you?”

  I knew Lane was right; I’d have to spill the beans and I shook my head at the thought of doing so.

  Shit
.

  My sister got home first. I managed to keep the hickey out of sight by staying in my room with the door closed, but then my mom came home, and when she hollered hello from the hallway, I knew it was time to talk. After all, I couldn’t hide in my room for three days. For the tenth time, I checked my reflection in my bureau mirror. The T-shirt I wore did nothing to conceal the damage Kevin had done. The bruise had turned dark purple; it looked like an ugly tattoo.

  I drew a deep breath. Then I strode into our living room where my mom read the newspaper and my sister studied a textbook. They both sat on our sofa. Already my heart pounded and my vision blurred. The room seemed to shrink when I cleared my throat. Both Mom and Lisa looked up at me with blank expressions on their faces.

  “I have something to show you,” I said, then I turned my head so both of them had a clear view of the hickey.

  “Gross,” my sister cried. “Who did that to you?”

  I sat in our easy chair and rested my forearms on my knees. My gaze flitted between my sister and Mom. “Kevin did it,” I said, “when he was here this afternoon. He’s been my boyfriend ever since that summer he lived with us.”

  My sister’s jaw dropped while my mother shifted her weight on the sofa. Neither of them said anything, so I kept on.

  “I know you’re both surprised, but I have to be who I am and I don’t want to hide it from you any longer.”

  My mom asked, “Does Kevin’s mother know about this?”

  I shook my head.

  My sister’s gaze drilled into mine. “Do you and Kevin actually do stuff when he spends the night?”

  I looked at her and nodded. “All the time.”

  Lisa rose and slapped the sides of both her thighs. “I can’t believe this. You guys had sex while Mom and I slept right down the hall? That’s disgusting and weird, and I can’t believe my only brother’s a homo. What could be worse?”

  Lisa turned on her heel and stormed into the hallway leading to our bedrooms. Seconds later, her door slammed so loudly the house shook.

  My mom crossed her legs at the knee. She clasped her arms in her hands. “Are you sure this is how you want to live your life? You don’t want to marry and have children?”

  I shook my head. “I know it sounds strange, but when I’m with another boy it feels very natural. I think it’s what I was meant for.”

  Mom nodded. After she glanced toward my sister’s room, she lowered her voice and spoke. “That summer Kevin stayed here, I heard noises coming from your room, several times, so I knew what you boys were up to.”

  “How come you didn’t tell us to stop?”

  Mom rocked her head from side to side. “You can’t figure out what you want from life unless you explore your boundaries; it’s how things work.”

  I nodded. “Are you disappointed in me?”

  Mom reached for my forearm and gave it a squeeze. “Not at all, honey. I only want you to be happy, and if Kevin is what you need to be happy, then you should have him. Plus, you two have a friendship that goes back a long way.”

  I frowned. “There’s a problem, Mom. I think my friendship with Kevin may have just ended.”

  My mother’s eyebrows gathered. “What happened?”

  I described my weekend with Lane, and how jealously Kevin had behaved about it. Then I talked about how Kevin had treated me over the past eighteen months. I even spoke of the night I went to the Bishop Keating dance.

  Mom pursed her lips, then shared a little wisdom with me.

  “A lot of men don’t consider other persons’ feelings when they act; they just bulldoze their way through life. Your father was that way and it destroyed our marriage. If you love a man like that and you want to keep him, then you have to accept his abuse because he will never change.”

  I nodded. “Every time Kevin hurt me, he always said he was sorry afterward. But then he’d hurt me again in exactly the same way. I think he’s finally beaten my love for him to death. Can you understand what I’m saying?”

  Mom closed her eyes and bobbed her chin. “Completely.”

  I cleared my throat, then pointed toward the hallway. “What about Lisa? I don’t think she’s handling this very well.”

  Mom shrugged. “You took her by surprise. Plus she’s young and inexperienced. I’ll have a talk with her; she’ll get over it in time.”

  There in the living room, I suddenly felt as light as an oak leaf. Of course I was still saddened by Kevin’s decision to dump me, but Mom’s accepting me for who I was had lifted a huge emotional burden from my shoulders. I moved to the sofa and wrapped my arms around her.

  After I gave her a hug, I said, “Thanks for understanding. You’re the best mom a guy could ask for.”

  She looked at me and made a little smile. “You’re not too shabby yourself, son.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Friday following my breakup with Kevin, Lane came to my house to have dinner and help us decorate our Christmas tree. The day before, I had described my relationship with Lane to my mom and sister.

  “He’s important to me,” I told them, “so please make him feel welcome.”

  When Lane arrived, the four of us drank Cokes on our front porch while we chatted. Because darkness came early in December, I switched on a floor lamp and the glow from the lamp reflected in Lane’s yellow hair. He looked handsome in an Oxford-cloth shirt, chinos, and penny loafers.

  My mom asked Lane questions about his parents and what they did for a living. Lisa asked questions about the classes Lane took at school and if he planned on attending college. Lane answered patiently while Mom and Lisa sipped from their Cokes. My sister kept twirling strands of hair around her fingers while her gaze flitted back and forth between me and Lane, and I wondered if she thought Lane and I might paw each other at any moment. But of course we kept a respectable distance between ourselves.

  Dinner was lasagna with a tossed salad and garlic bread. At the table, Lane asked my mom about her job and my sister about her school activities. As conversation flowed back and forth across the table, I sensed Mom and Lisa were warming up to Lane, especially when Lane talked about the bizarre street people who frequented the soup kitchen where he worked on Wednesday nights.

  “A lot of them are mentally ill. One guy thinks he’s Abraham Lincoln; another thinks he’s an astronaut. One woman carries all her possessions in a shopping cart. We call her the Wig Lady because she wears a different wig every time she visits. She’s asked me out three different times.”

  Lisa’s eyes bugged. “What did you say?”

  Lane shrugged. “I told her I was too young to date.”

  Everybody laughed.

  My mom and sister cleaned up the kitchen while Lane and I carried tree decorations and light strands down from the attic. We brought those to the living room where our blue spruce perched in a metal stand. The night was chilly, so we got a blaze going in the fireplace. Then Lane and I tested each light strand; we replaced any burned-out bulbs with new ones. By the time Mom and Lisa had finished their kitchen work, Lane and I had already put the lights on the tree.

  Mom served mugs of hot cider, and then all four of us went to work, hanging bulbs and tinsel. Several times, while we trimmed the tree, I noticed Lisa or Mom looking at Lane, and I tried to imagine what they were thinking when they did so. Were they sizing him up? Were they expecting some sort of abnormal behavior from Lane?

  When the time approached eleven p.m., Lane told Mom and Lisa goodnight, and then I walked him to his VW. In the shadows on our driveway, we leaned against the VW’s front fender and held hands while we talked.

  “Your mom and sister are nice,” Lane said.

  “I just hope they didn’t make you feel uncomfortable with all their questions.”

  He shrugged. “How else would they get to know me?”

  We kissed for five minutes or so, and then Lane drove away with his muffler putt-putting while I stood at the curb with my hands in my pockets, watching his taillights fade. I savored the
memory of Lane’s lips pressed to mine and the feel of his tongue exploring my mouth.

  Back inside, I found my mom and sister seated on the sofa. They stared dreamily at the fireplace and our brightly lit tree, but when I sat down in the easy chair, they both turned their gazes to me.

  “Well,” I said, “what do you two think?”

  Mom crinkled her forehead, feigning confusion. “About the tree?”

  I turned down one corner of my mouth. “I mean Lane.”

  “He sure is cute,” Lisa said.

  Mom looked at Lisa and rolled her eyes. Then she returned her gaze to me. “He seems very nice,” she said, “and I can tell he likes you.”

  “How?” I asked.

  Mom raised an eyebrow. “From the way he looks at you when you’re talking. He hangs on every word you say.”

  School let out for Christmas break on December twenty-second, a Friday. Lane and I celebrated by going ice-skating at the Bayfront Arena in downtown St. Petersburg. The indoor rink was nearly the size of a football field where a mix of families with kids and teens on dates thronged. Everyone wore blue jeans and sweaters because the air inside the building was frigid.

  I had never ice-skated, but Lane knew how because he’d once lived in Virginia for a year. “It’s not hard,” he told me while we laced up our rented skates. “The hardest part is turning.”

  I, of course, was completely helpless when I stepped onto the ice. But in a way, my clumsiness was an asset because it meant Lane had to hold onto my waist as I stumbled along ahead of him. I kept getting passed by little kids who looked like they’d been born on ice as they zoomed along. I must’ve fallen a half-dozen times. Each time, Lane caught me in his arms. Then he pulled me back upright while both of us laughed at my incompetence.

  At one point, I told Lane I wanted to rest, and while I leaned against the rink’s barrier wall, Lane cruised around the ice like a guy you might see in the Olympics. He made skating look effortless as he glided past me with his blond hair fluttering about his shoulders.

  After an hour or so, we both took a break. We stepped off the ice and clunked across a rubber-matted floor to buy Cokes from a vendor. Then we found a bench where we could talk without anyone hearing us.