Becoming Andy Hunsinger Read online

  I shook my head. “You’re not funny, Biff. But I still love you.”

  “Listen,” he said, “I need your help, and right now.”

  I groaned. “I have to study tonight. Then I caddy in the morning, I --”

  “This is serious, Andy. I’m worried about Travis.”

  My scalp prickled while I rose to a sitting position.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  Biff cleared his throat. “He spent Labor Day weekend in Jacksonville, with his folks. Things blew up while he was there -- a major quarrel. I’m not sure what the problem was -- he wouldn’t say -- but now he’s talking crazy shit: quitting school and going home to live with his parents. I’ve never seen him so down.”

  I thought of the day Travis and I had floated on the Ichetucknee River. What was it he’d said about his parents?

  “They can be... demanding. They set high standards for themselves and their kids.”

  “Travis has disappeared, Andy.”

  “What?”

  “I’m serious. The fucker promised he’d run with me at the track this afternoon -- we agreed on five o’clock -- but then he no-showed. When I came home, after my run, he wasn’t here. His station wagon’s gone. He’s already packed up half his shit in cardboard boxes: shoes, clothes, books, you name it.”

  Pacing the floor, I chewed my lips while I twisted the phone receiver’s cord around my index finger.

  Travis, what’s going on? What happened?

  “Tell me what I can do,” I said.

  “Help me find him. I’m sure he’s somewhere in Tallahassee, but I don’t know where.”

  I rubbed my chin with a knuckle.

  “I think I do,” I said.

  ***

  The sky had darkened by the time I reached the Lake Talquin water tower, via the clay road Travis had shown me so many months before. Glow from my headlights fell upon Travis’ station wagon. After parking my Vega, I walked to the tower’s rusty ladder, but I couldn’t see much, because of the pine forest’s darkness. I cupped my mouth with my hands. Then I hollered as loudly as I could, trying to overcome rumble raised by traffic passing on Highway 90.

  “Travis, are you up there? It’s me, Andy.”

  No answer.

  Shit.

  “Travis?”

  No answer.

  Go on, Hunsinger: get your ass up there.

  The ladder creaked beneath my weight as I ascended. Whenever I gripped a rung above me, rust flakes stuck to my hands and others sprinkled my face. I grimaced and shook my head. I hated heights; they frightened me. How old was the tower? Was the ladder even safe to climb? My breath huffed and I prayed a rung would not give way beneath my feet. A jetliner, preparing to land at Tallahassee’s airport, flew directly overhead. It passed so low I wondered if it might scrape the tower’s apex. The roar of the jet’s engines made the tower tremble.

  I found Travis seated on the promenade’s wooden deck, on the west side of the tower. His legs dangled from the deck’s edge while his arms rested on the railing. He wore a T-shirt, blue jeans, and his Nike running shoes. His dark hair draped his shoulders.

  My chest heaved from my climb, but a light breezed cooled my sweaty brow. I waited until a transfer truck had passed and its roar had faded, before I spoke.

  “Travis, what’s going on?”

  He didn’t look at me -- he didn’t seem startled by my sudden appearance -- but when he spoke his voice sounded lifeless.

  “Go away, Andy.”

  “Why? What are you doing here? And why are you packing up your things at the house?”

  When Travis looked at me in the darkness, I barely saw the whites of his eyes.

  “Does it matter?” he said.

  “It matters to me.”

  “Why?”

  Just go ahead and say it.

  “Because I love you; I have for a long time.”

  “You once let a man beat you in the name of love. Is that what you want from me: abuse?”

  I drew a breath, and then let it out. “Of course not,” I said. “I took that whipping because I hated myself. I told you that when it happened, I --”

  “Do you still hate yourself, Andy?”

  I lowered my butt to the promenade’s deck. Then I swung my legs over the side, as Travis had done. We weren’t five feet from each other. I stared into the night sky. Orion’s stars glowed in the west; I studied the constellation’s sword and belt while wondering how to answer Travis’ question.

  Do I hate myself?

  “Not anymore,” I said. “What about you?”

  “My family hates me, I can tell you that.”

  Uh-oh.

  “You gave them that book to read, didn’t you?”

  Travis didn’t say anything.

  “I guess Reverend Perry’s message wasn’t a hit?”

  Travis shook his head. He said, “Why do they have to be so rigid? Why can’t they love me for who I am, whatever that turns out to be?”

  I didn’t have an answer. My parents had accepted me for who I was -- albeit with some difficulty -- but I had never doubted, for one single moment, that I was their beloved son, and always would be. I thought of my last conversation with my dad, back in Pensacola, when we’d talked about Anita Bryant and the board meeting at Capital City. He told me he was proud of me for being true to myself. I could not imagine belonging to a family like Travis’. If you loved someone, you wanted them to be happy, right?

  When another transfer truck blew past, the truck’s headlights illuminated Travis’ face. He looked pallid, and dark smudges appeared beneath his eyes.

  “Travis?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t leave Tallahassee. Come to my place instead.”

  He turned his face toward mine. “I have to go home,” he said, “to Jacksonville. My folks won’t give me money for school, not right now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He bobbed his chin.

  “Forget them,” I said. “Stay with me, at least for a while. I’ll buy the food and pay the light bill. You can pay me back later on, if you want.”

  Travis made a face while he shifted his buttocks on the boards beneath him. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe; I mean --”

  “I’m not even positive I’m gay,” Travis said; “I don’t know who I am ‘cause I’ve never allowed myself to find out.”

  “We can change that.”

  Travis looked away. “I’m a weird guy, Andy. I don’t think you’d want to deal with my problems. You deserve someone who’s not as messed up as me.”

  I wasn’t giving up that easily. After all, I was Andy Hunsinger.

  “Will you give it a chance? Will you try, at least?”

  Travis raised his knees; he rested his forearms upon them. Then he moistened his lips. “Ten minutes ago, I seriously considered jumping over this railing in front of us. Death would certainly have solved all my problems. And who knows, maybe the afterlife’s a more pleasant place to live.”

  I swallowed while trying to imagine Travis leaping from the tower. I thought of how grief-stricken Biff and Austin would have felt. And I thought about Jeff Dellinger and his recent suicide. How could people feel so discouraged by their circumstances that they chose to end their lives? I’d gone through unhappy times myself lately, but never once considered killing myself.

  “Why didn’t you jump?” I asked.

  Travis looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “You showed up, that’s why.”

  I drew a breath, and then I let it out. A shudder ran through me when I thought of how close Travis had come to ending his life.

  Keep pushing.

  “Look, stay with me a few weeks; see how things go between us. If you decide it doesn’t suit you, then I’ll understand. You can go to Jacksonville and face whatever waits for you there.”

  Travis rubbed his lips together. “If I do that – if I live with you a whil
e -- you can’t expect too much.”

  My heart pounded. “I don’t expect anything. Just be yourself, that’s all I ask.”

  Travis gazed into the darkness for a moment or two. Then he looked at me and nodded.

  “All right, Andy, okay.”

  I closed my eyes and let out my breath. Then I looked down at our cars; they seemed so far away. For a moment, I felt a bit dizzy, as if I might pass out. I swung my gaze to Travis, and then I cleared my throat.

  “I know you like this place,” I said, “but I’ve told you before: heights scare me. Can we go now?”

  ***

  When we reached my apartment, Travis phoned Biff.

  “I’ll stay with Andy a while; I’m not sure how long, we’ll see. Thanks for worrying about me, but I’ll be fine.”

  After Travis hung up, I asked him, “Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”

  He stared at his feet and shook his head. His hands hung at his hips. He kept clenching, and then relaxing his fingers. “I couldn’t eat a bite right now,” he said.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  Travis’ gaze met mine. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, now that I’m here.”

  I raised a shoulder, and then let it drop. “We don’t have to do anything.”

  A little smile crossed Travis’ lips. “I don’t think you asked me here to watch TV.”

  “Let’s not force things,” I said. Then I pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat; I’ll get us two beers.”

  Moments later, we sat side-by-side, sipping from cans of Budweiser. Lamplight reflected in Travis’ dark hair and eyes. His silky drawl enchanted me while we talked, and I could not believe he was here, that I had convinced him to stay with me. The thought we would likely share my bed that evening had my pulse racing, my hands shaky.

  “You should have heard my dad,” Travis said. “We sat in our kitchen: I, my dad and mom, discussing Troy Perry’s views. Then, all of a sudden, Dad stood up and threw the book across the room. He shouted like a lunatic; he called Perry a ‘Philistine and a pervert.’

  “Dad said, ‘No son of mine will lie with another man. Homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of God, and I won’t let you shame our family.’”

  Travis shook his head. “I kind of lost control, then; I shouted, too. I’ll bet the whole neighborhood heard me.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told them, ‘I might be gay, or maybe I’m not. We’ll see. But God made me the way I am for a reason. It’s not your place to judge me. I’m your son and you should love me, no matter what.’”

  Travis sipped from his beer. Then he swallowed. “My mom started sobbing; I’ll bet the neighbors heard her, too. She kept hollering, ‘Stop it, both of you. We’re supposed to be a family.’

  “My dad kept on. He said he wanted me home, right away. He plans to enroll me in a ‘treatment program’, someplace in Ft. Lauderdale where they turn gay men straight. He even showed me the brochure.”

  “That’s crazy,” I said. “Your dad’s a surgeon, an educated man. How can he --”

  “You don’t understand Primitive Baptists,” Travis said. “They take the Bible literally, every jot and every tittle, no exceptions.”

  I shook my head. “You’re twenty-two years old, entitled to make your own decisions. Don’t let them treat you like a kid.”

  Travis drained his beer. Then he yawned. “I haven’t slept in two days,” he said.

  I glanced at my wall clock. The time was a little past nine. The day’s events had sapped my energy, and I felt tired as well.

  Go on: ask him.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  Travis looked at me and crinkled his brow. “What?”

  “Let’s take a shower... together. Then we’ll go to bed.”

  Travis didn’t respond right away. Instead, he lowered his gaze and chewed his lips. The room was so quiet I heard my pulse throb inside my head. When Travis finally spoke, he kept his gaze fixed on his lap.

  “That’s fine, Andy. Let’s do it.”

  ***

  After I’d lit the candle on my bedroom bureau, I killed the overhead fixture. We undressed in the semi-darkness, tossing our discarded clothing into my laundry hamper. Travis seemed to hesitate before he slipped his thumbs inside the waistband of his briefs. But then he peeled them to his ankles and kicked them aside. Already he had stiffened. His pubic bush was dark like the hair on his head.

  I grew stiff as well.

  I extended a hand toward Travis. He came to me and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He gathered his arms about my neck, laid his chin on my shoulder. Our hips met. His skin felt warm and I savored his sour scent. I kissed his cheek, nuzzled his ear.

  “You’re trembling,” I said. “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m a chickenshit, that’s why.”

  I kissed his neck, beneath his ear. “I won’t hurt you. And I won’t ask you for anything you don’t want to give, understand?”

  We stood there in candlelight, holding each other and swaying a bit. Then Travis spoke.

  “I’ve wanted this for a long time, ever since that first day you came to the track to run with us. Remember?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Since then, I kept on asking myself, ‘Why can’t you have the courage Andy has? If he can do it, why can’t you?’”

  “I’m not so brave,” I said. “Life’s actually easier, once you’re out of the closet. All the fear just sort of... evaporates.”

  Travis cleared his throat. “Like I said at the water tower, don’t expect too much from me. I’ve never done much besides jerk off.”

  I nibbled Travis’ earlobe. Then I said, “That kid in Myrtle Beach, was he your boyfriend?”

  Travis blew air out his nose. “Not even close. We just fooled around, a one-time thing. After that he never spoke to me again.”

  “Jesus...”

  “Do you know how many nights I’ve knelt beside my mattress and prayed to God, asking him to make me straight? I actually believed distance running might help me ignore my attraction to men. You know: the energy release, and all. But then you started running with us, and my urges only grew, each time I saw you.”

  I shook my head, thinking of all those nights I’d lain in bed, thinking of Travis. All that time, he’d thought of me the same way.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said.

  “Because I had so much to lose, and I still do. Once I make that leap -- once I declare myself gay -- I’ll lose my family. I’ll be an orphan, on my own completely.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “You’ll still have me.”

  Moments later, we stood in my shower. Warm water pounded Travis’ shoulders while I worked up lather with soap and a washcloth. I knelt before him, and then I commenced scrubbing his feet.

  “That feels nice,” he said. “For once, someone’s washing my toes.”

  “Didn’t Jesus clean his disciples’ feet once?”

  “He did, just before the Last Supper, to express His love for them.”

  I scrubbed the fronts of Travis’ furry calves and his smooth thighs. Water gurgled in the drain as I worked. Our voices echoed off the shower’s tiled walls.

  “Turn around,” I told him.

  After he did, I scrubbed the backsides of his legs. His buttocks were compact and rounded, and a dark stripe of hair grew in the cleft between them. I re-soaped the washcloth, and then I worked it between his cheeks, nudging his pucker in the process. He flinched when I did this, but did not pull my hand away. Instead he asked a question.

  “What’s it like, getting penetrated by a man?”

  I had to think for a moment, before I answered.

  “There’s pain involved at first -- you have to learn to relax -- but having a guy inside me is... transforming. I feel his presence, not just down below, but in every part of my body.”

  I rose to scrub Travis’ back, his shoulders, and then the nape of his neck.

&n
bsp; “That feels great,” he said. “No one’s bathed me like this since I was little.”

  I chuckled, and then I patted his firm rump. “I’ll do this anytime you like. Now, turn around.”

  I scrubbed his chest and belly. Then I had him raise his arms, so I could wash his dark armpits. His hair lay plastered to his skull and water beaded on his nose and cheeks. He looked so beautiful I couldn’t help myself. I seized the back of his neck and brought his mouth to mine.

  He didn’t resist.

  Our lips met, and then we tongue kissed while our chin stubbles rasped. When I reached between his thighs to caress him, he groaned, deep in his throat. I pulled my mouth from his, and then I looked him in the eye

  “Is oral sex enough for now?”

  A little smile crept onto his lips. “It’s fine, Andy. You lead the way.”

  I knelt before him, on the tub’s porcelain floor -- not the softest surface but it would serve. Then I took him into my mouth.

  Travis groaned again. “That feels so good.”

  By now, air in the bathroom had grown steamy, as though a fog bank had rolled into Tallahassee. The whole scene -- Travis and I together and naked, me on my knees tonguing his rigid flesh -- had an unworldly feel to it. Travis rested his hands on my shoulders; he rocked his hips, picking up my rhythm. He plunged until a shudder ran through his body. His chest heaved, and then a wail escaped from his throat. I swallowed every drop of his seed, as though it were something sacred. To me, in fact, it was. I had taken his life force inside my own body, and now Travis was a part of me.

  I ran my hands up and down the backs of his legs. The dark hair on his calves gave way to the milky smoothness of his thighs. Distance running had hardened every muscle beneath his waist. His legs felt as though they’d been carved from marble.

  “Andy?”

  I looked up and raised my eyebrows.

  “That was amazing,” he said, “but what about you?”

  Moments later, Travis knelt before me like a supplicant. I stroked myself, using soap as lube, while the shower drummed my back. I savored Travis’ androgynous beauty: his upturned nose, full lips, and thick eyebrows, his blue-green eyes and sooty lashes. When I came, my body jerked like someone had nudged me with a cattle prod.