Driving like a possessed maniac, I find myself asking the same two questions over in my head:
What in the hell am I doing? What good could possibly come from me confronting his parents?
Despite everything, Slade's family means a great deal to him, and he'd never forgive me for driving a bigger wedge between them. I'm not willing to take the risk at confronting his parents and lose him in the process. The closer I get to his house, the calmer I become. I start thinking of my father. He's always taught me to be the bigger man, and to take the high road, no matter what. In this instance, he's right.
The passing headlights blind me to the point where my vision blurs. I pull off to the side, grasp the steering wheel, and lay my head down to collect my thoughts. Unfortunately, the look of fear on Slade's face is all I see, and it replays continuously in slow motion. Jesus, what have I done? I choke out a sob.
A gentle rapping on my window startles me. Slade stands outside. He looks relieved yet sad at the same time. I gesture for him to get in the truck. He waves to my parents who have pulled up behind me. Hastily, I wipe my face as he climbs in slamming the door. I hear every shaky, controlled breath he takes.
Feeling unworthy, I avoid looking him in the eyes, and ramble out my apology, "Jones, I'm so sorry. There's no excuse. It was impulsive, stupid, and reckless. I was so mad at them for hurting you again. All I saw was red, but I didn't do it, I stopped." Nothing I say makes sense so I stop talking. I reach for his hand, but he pulls away, crossing his arms over his stomach.
In an even, crisp tone, he says, "My heart dropped when you drove off the way you did." He roughly wipes his face, leaning forward, his hands formed in prayer against his chin, and each word gets louder and angrier, as he continues, "Pa could've hurt you last night, and you still ran off to confront him. What the fuck were you thinking? That sonofabitch would've claimed self-defense 'cause you went over there trying to play the goddamn hero. The whole ride over, I thought I'd be too late... now that I know you're okay, all I want to do is kick the shit out of you for scaring me."
Ma approaches on passenger side. She flicks her hair from her face, points at me, and yells, "Boy, if you ever scare me like that again, you'd better start running 'cause it's gonna take Jesus Christ himself to keep me from kicking your ass. Do you hear me?"
I can feel their disappointment and it makes me feel worse. The only thing I can do is nod and say, "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. It pissed me off that they had you do their dirty work. It wasn't right, Ma."
Ma turns to Slade. "You can handle this one," she sighs, turning to me, "but you and I are gonna have our own little talk later, capisce?
I acknowledge with a nod, and she walks back to the car. Slade's melancholy and quiet as I turn around to follow my dad back to the house.
Five minutes goes by when he says, "Aar, I understand why you did what you did, but it doesn't make it okay, not by a long shot. I'm not some helpless child who needs you to fight the monsters under the bed. I don't need you to protect me."
Taken aback, I defend myself. "I know you don't need me to protect you, but that doesn't mean I won't. There's no reason why you shouldn't be with your family. Being gay isn't some contagious disease. I had to tell them they're wrong about you, Jones."
Slade hisses angrily, "
You
don't get to decide that. They're my family not yours. I told you they'd kick me out and they did. You scared the hell out of us for nothing. If you'd pulled back on your impulse, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
Sighing heavily because I have no good defense, I reply, "You're right. I overstepped. I'm sorry."
"Damn, right, you fucking overstepped. And stop apologizing you're just pissing me off more," he says annoyed. I place a hand on his thigh but he pulls away.
Surrendering, I say, "I am going to tell you I'm sorry 'cause it's the truth. Sorry for the way your parents are treating you. I'm sorry for everything I can't fix. I'm sorry, Jones."
He looks out the window without saying another word. We pull up in front of the house. Ma looks back before heading inside, but Dad remains behind. Unable to stand the silent treatment, I climb out the truck, and walk over to him.
Dad smiles faintly and says, "I keep forgetting how fast you are. Listen, you probably already heard it from your mama and Slade, but what you did was beyond stupid, and you could've been hurt." He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze before pulling me into a massive hug. He whispers, "I don't care how old or how big you get, if you do something like that again, I'll tan your hide. Understood?"
I know he means it, and I answer accordingly, "Yes, sir, understood. You don't have to worry about me."
"Kiddo, believe me, I understand wanting to protect those you love, but don't go in half-cocked," he says hugging me again.
"I'll remember," I answer distracted when I hear Slade approach.
"See that you do," Dad says, winking before he walks inside.
Awkwardly, I look behind me and ask, "Wanna talk out back?"
Slade walks past me, and I follow him out to the secluded part of the back porch. He sits on the railing, staring at me with such sadness that I can hardly breathe. I'm the reason for putting it there, not his parents, but me, and it's all because I acted out of anger. In shame, I walk over with my head hung, shoulders slumped, and hands in my pockets.
He stares up at me, exhales gradually, and says, "The adrenaline's wearing off."
Sniffling, I say, "Jones, I didn't mean to scare you."
"I know you didn't, Aaron," he exhales slowly, "but you did."
With my five-inch height advantage over Slade, I feel only about a foot tall as I stand before him. Taking a step closer, I ask, "Are we gonna be okay?"
"We're gonna be fine. I won't hold this against you, just like you didn't hold our fight on your birthday against me," Slade announces.
Fidgeting, I rock side to side. "Slade, they're not the same thing. What I did was... you have more of a reason to be pissed at me. Can you ever forgive me?"
Earnestly, he replies, "You know, all it would've taken is just a split second to have my entire world destroyed. And that was all I could think about when we went after you. That feeling isn't something I want to hold onto, but it's still to fresh in my memory to stop thinking about. I know I can forgive you, but it's not gonna happen right now."
Feeling dejected, I ask, "Do you want me to leave you alone? I can sleep in my room tonight."
"No, you don't have to," Slade replies quietly. "I just want this night to be over."
Going for broke, I reach for his hand, and he doesn't pull away. Placing my other hand on his neck, I graze my thumb across his cheek, and he puts his forehead on my chest. When I wrap my arms around him, he cries softly, and I hold him tighter. A few minutes later, he steps back wiping his face, and I wipe my own.
He leads me over to the couch, we plop down, and I clasp my hands between my legs while he has his on his lap. I start to retell him, "I had my blinders on tonight. I didn't think I was putting my life in danger. All I could think about was telling them how wrong they are to treat you so badly. Then, I started to think about how I didn't have the right to go there. I didn't want you to hate me for making things worse for you, but instead you hate me for making you think the worst could've happened to me."
Shifting his position, Slade moves the hair from my eyes, and says, "I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He grabs my hands; our fingers link, and he places a tentative kiss on my lips.
The kiss begins growing in intensity when he jerks slightly. Concerned, I ask, "What's wrong?"
"Someone's calling me," he responds, taking his phone from his back pocket. He answers hesitantly, putting the call on speaker. "Hello?"
"Bro, I'm sorry, Pa has us on lockdown. He took the landline and all of our cellphones," Kevin says desperately.
Shocked, Slade asks, "Whose phone are you using now?"
"Shelly's. I asked her to meet me in your room before he could take my phone."
