The Vacation House

Watching the phone just doesn't make it ring. What it's doing is making my stomach ache, my mind run rampant with worry. Imagination is a real pain in the ass sometimes, all the crap that creeps in, doubt, anxiety, speculation, it's all just way too much.

I'd expected my spring break to be fun, maybe relaxing sorta. What's happened over the past few days has made that outcome pretty much a pipe dream. Dad and Lee are hopefully enjoying themselves on their vacation. It kinda drives me a little nuts when I walk by their open bedroom door on my way to the bathroom, I smell Dad's musky scent lingering in the air, it mingles with the Cologne smell of Lee. Hugo Boss, it's his go to cologne, just a hint of it whenever he walks past me, his aroma is intoxicating, dark glistening images burst into my mind, soon to be replaced by the burly, forceful hairy vision of Dad.

It's kind of crazy in my head. Whenever I see Dad's impression, it seems kinda larger than life. His dark skin glistening with sweat as it beads, runs in rivulets from under his darkened arm pits. Bending over, his well worn tan work pants barely able to contain his monstrous bubble but, no shirt, legs spread wide, the huge bulge between his straddled thighs as he swings his hammer, nails being driven into thick framing wood. A wisp of dark hair peaks out from the waist band of his tattered work pants, leading to the crack of his muscular butt cheeks.

"Bzzz, Bzzz, Bzzz."

My hand presses the screen of the cell phone. The once blackened screen comes to life, letters appear, words form, lots of words. Focusing on the screen, hand brings the device closer to allow me to devour every word.

Anxiety, fear, sweaty palms, I read the text message. It's not from Tag, I had so hoped that he would finally answer the dozens of messages I had left for him over the past few days and night.

"Damn it! C'mon man, text me back!"

Gets a grip of my emotions, begins to read the message.

"Robbie, I don't know how to tell you this but Andy fessed up to doing something really stupid the other night. It was more than stupid, coulda been downright disastrous. Last night we had a huge blow up about this, I have not spoken to him since, don't know what I'm gonna say to him when I do but I needed to tell you first, get it out in the open, give me some time to think about what I'm going to do and say to him, if I ever do. He said he pulled a joke on you and Tag, put a little something into your last cans of beer to help you sleep. He thought it would be good for the both of you to sleep in late so we could have some private time to do what ever god knows he thought he and I would do. Effin shit head thought I would do the nasty in our Dad's bed, mother effer! Like he's ever gonna get a chance now? He better be on first name basis with his hand cause that's the only way his dick are gonna get any for some time. I'm so sorry, no embarrassed. From what he told me, Tag was sick as a dog, I think he might have had some sorta reaction to what he was slipped. Now I know why you were so dead to the world before we left. I had tried to get you to wake but you were literally out like a light. Tag was a mess, all goofed up and then he went on some crying jag after I asked if he would check on you and Andy. Please, please, I'm so sorry, tell Tag I'm sorry and that I'm gonna make sure to take care of that Jerk but good. I love you, hope you can forgive me for what happened. When you are up to it, text me and let me know what your feeling, I love you.

Ash."

My jaw nearly hits my chest, mouth agape, tongue hanging out, eyes bug out, stares at the last word; "Ash."

That MOTHER FUCKER! What the hell was he thinking, slipping us a roofie. Jesus Christ, that explains a lot of my missing morning. TAG! Holy SHIT, Tag, what the heck must have happened with him? I can't believe he'd ever go on a crying jag, even if he was all goofed up but then again, Melanie had busted up with him in a not so cool way the night before. No wonder he's not getting back to me, probably blames me for what went down. He's got no idea that it was all that fucking idiots doing!

Leaning forward on the edge of my bed, I reach into the partially opened second drawer of my dresser. Grabs the first pair of shorts my fingers come to, pulls out a crisp white pair of Starter athletic board shorts. Leans forward, lifts my right leg, places the elastic waistband over my bare foot, then the other leg, stands upright, pulls the shorts up my thick thighs, up over my huge butt, snaps the waste band just for good measure. Reaches back into the open drawer, pulls out my favorite black Under Armour form fit Tee, pulls it over my head. Slips my arms into the sleeves, leans over, grabs my work boots, sits on the edge of the bed, pulls them on and begins to tie them.

"Bzzz, Bzzz, Bzzz."

Looks over at the phone laying next to my hip, I see Tag's number. Grabs the phone as quickly as I can, fingers fumble to press the screen.

"Message."

Shit, just a couple of words but they are the most wonderful words I think I've ever read;

"C'mon over."

Shoes not even tied, stuffs the cell into the deep pocket, I sprint out of my bedroom, head to the garage door, out into the bright sunlight of morning, turns, pulls the garage door down behind me, realizes that I don't have the keys for the truck. Opens the door, retraces my hasty steps.

Spots my keys on the counter, grabs them, turns on my heals and heads back out to the truck.

I pull the door open then slam it closed a little too forcefully. Stopping myself, realizing that I am in too much of a hurried frenzy. Breaths slower, places the key into the ignition, turns it, Silver comes to life with a rumbling roar. She seems bigger for some odd reason today, sunlight bouncing off the metallic painted hood nearly blinding me. Reaches into the console between the drivers and passenger seat, presses the latch button, flips the top open, retrieves my Ray Bans. Places them on, looks into the rear view mirror. "Shit, I look like CRAP!"

The shift in hand, foot on the clutch, slowly pulls out of the driveway, remembering the talk Dad and I had a few weeks ago about peeling out, how it's causing ruts to develop in the driveway. Lee had to bring in a half load more of the crushed grey stone to cover the driveway due to my spraying it all over the place with my less than gently exits.

Rubber meets the road, windows down, wind blows wildly through the cab of the pick-up. All I can think about is what I was going to tell Tag about what Andy had done. I realize that I'm already at his house. Made it in less than 15 minutes, that's a record! I hope I didn't get snagged by one of those hidden speeding camera's the state has installed recently. God knows how or what I may have done to get here. I barely remember the drive at all, it's literally a blur.

The engine comes to a rest, drivers door opens, keys left in the ignition, emergency brake pressed, my legs swing out followed by my feet hitting the ground nearly running. Raises my left arm, index finger presses the button. Westminster chimes tickle my ears, followed by a thumping that becomes louder and louder. The red painted door swings open. Tag stands with his head bowed, he looks like a beaten dog. Oh, shit, he's worse than I had imagined. He backs up into the darkness of the living room, allows me to enter. Not a word, the door closes behind me, Tag turns, walks into the kitchen.

I follow him into the darkened room, normally flooded with light from the bay window at the far end and the glassed in sun room off the dining area. All of the shades are drawn tightly.

"Coffee?"

Tag's first word to me in days, it's welcome, breaks the tension and awkward silence.

"Sure, I'll get it, you sit down, I know where everything is."

Reaching up, wraps my fingers around the hand wrought iron handle on the knotty pine cabinet door, pulls it open, reaches in to retrieve two white porcelain mugs. Places them on the counter, side by side, pulls the coffee pot from it's device, pours the steaming brew.

I walk toward the island in the middle of the kitchen, use my right foot to pull the bar stool out from under the granite overhang. Sitting myself down, I slide one of the coffee mugs over to Tag. He's still looking down, has not met my eyes yet. Damn it, what the hell is going on in his head?

Takes a sip of coffee. I take the bull by the reigns and go for it.

"Tag, I got a text from Ashley just before I got yours. Seems Andy thought he was being funny the night of the party. Turns out he slipped each of us something in our beer. It explains so much about why I was such a waste the next morning. Ash told me that you had a rough morning, that you had left real upset and all. Are you O.K.?"

"Yeah, yeah.. I'm O.K."

I'm not a complete idiot, I can tell damn well Tag's not "OK", far from it. He's the happy puppy who never seems to be down for more than a minute or two. Looking at him now, he looks like a beaten dog, head hanging, cloths disheveled, lack of expression a darkness behind his eyes, as if his very soul had been sucked out.

"You don't look OK to me, come on, spill, it's me the Lone Ranger, bff to Tonto."

As Tad's raises his head, there is no way around the fact that he's been hurt and hurt bad. My arm instinctively raises and drapes around his shoulder. He shudders, pulls away, a quick jerk, his head snaps away from mine.

"All right, your not OK, I'm getting the feeling this is not just about Melanie, what happened between the two of you, is it?"

His head moves slowly from left to right, bites his lip, chin trembling. FUCK! I know he wants to blurt it out, why won't he just say what wrong, what the hell happened between us?

"It's me isn't it? I'm just some stupid lap dog idiot who just hasn't got a clue, right?"

WHAT? I have no idea what Tag's talking about. He's no lap dog, far from it. I look to him for the calm and strength to get through this whole University, hockey stress bucket. Without him being my go to, I don't know where I'd be.

"Like hell Tag, you're no one's lap dog. I wish to hell I were you sometimes. Like water off a duck, nothing sticks to you, nothing ruffles your feathers, gets you down. Not like me, always one foot in the basket waiting to see where I'm going to wind up."

"Why then? what the hell was all that crap about us being besties and here I find you jerkin some fuck wad off, getting him off like you two were fuckin rabbits."

Blood rushes to my ears, mouth dry as a desert, rattling nerves bursting and popping everywhere. Ringing in my ears, had I just heard him say what I think I heard him say? What the hell is going on here. Shit, SHIT, that motherfucker, I wasn't dreaming, that Son of a Bitch was making me jerk him off the other night. I'm, I'M GONNA KILL HIM!

"Dude! NO, it's not what you think."

"Look; Robbie, I know you're gay, known it ever since we met. It's not that but MAN, you meet this fucker, can't wait for him to get into your bed can you. Here I was all worked up, worried about you, thought you were being abused by your old man or something. I know I'm as dumb as a post, even I know what I hear, what I see. I just was so worried about you man, I was ready to beg my parents to ask you to move in with us, just to keep you safe, yeah know what I mean?"

No, I was not sure what he meant. Well, maybe I kinda did but I had no idea he might have any idea what was going on between Dad and myself.

"Tag, I was messed up, I didn't do anything with Andy on purpose. He roofed me just like he did to your beer. I'm the one who cleaned you up and put you to sleep in the bathroom with the pillow and sheet to cover you. I had no idea what he had done to either of us, Ashley had no idea either until he came clean with her about it once they got up to the lodge."

"That's all fine, dandy, but what about all that shit that went down between you and your father? The night I sprained my ankle and all? I was zonked out of my mind but there was no mistaking that I heard you getting beat, then what the fuck went down between the two of you the next morning. I was right there, standing outside his bedroom man, there's no mistaking what I heard. There's no way you can explain that away by saying you were roofed. I heard him, I heard you crying, I know what I heard, he was hurting you. Why the hell do you think I was giving you an out by telling you that you could stay here anytime you need to? Huh?"

Son of a Bitch, I had no idea he had heard any of this. What the hell am I going to do now? If I lie, he's going to know for sure, if I tell him the truth, he's probably going to beat the shit outta me, throw me out on my ass, tell me never to talk to him, ever! Truth, lie, truth, lie,, lie..

"It's not what you think Tag, OK, some of it is what you think, what you know. Yeah, my dad beat me pretty much that night, only thing is you don't understand why."

"Cause you lied to him, I'm not deaf, you guys built a nice house but those walls aren't exactly sound proof man."

"No, you don't know the real why. It's really my fault, my own god damned fault. I've got this problem, well a fetish. I into being spanked, even worse I've got this thing for my old man. It was me who went to him, pushed him, begged him to beat me. He didn't want to do any of this. He's normal man, I'm the one who is fucked up in the head, not him. Please don't say anything to anyone about this, it's not his fault, I asked for it. You haven't said anything to anyone have you?"

Panic, puke coming up into the back of my throat. All of my strength floods out of me. I'm limp like a noodle, hand drops from Tags shoulder flops to my side. Staring at the floor, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

"Shit man, here I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to get you outta there, how to get you safe without screwing everything up. You should know that I wouldn't say anything to ANYONE about this. I'm just pissed that you couldn't come to me, give me the low down. I would a understood. What-ta you think I am? Some back water red neck? I get it, we all have our own thing, I've got mine too, nothing as weird as you but hell, it's not like I'm gonna be putting it on the bulletin board at the rink."

For the first time since this whole thing went down, levity, humor. Looking up, catching the half smirk on Tag's face, man he's for real. Friends like this just don't fall out of tree's. The feeling of coming clean overwhelms me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I honestly have someone that I can fully trust, spill my guts out to without the fear of being bashed, trashed or misunderstood.

Hours have passed since we sat down outside behind Tag's parents house. Two joints later, a brew each, I mean I can eat a horse, a live one if I have to. Spilling my guts about everything, even things I had no idea where in my head was easier than I thought it would be. Liberated, I feel free to tell him anything. Damn, Tag is a great listener, lets me ramble on and on. I don't even know how much I'm telling him, he's in no hurry to stop me, just giving me assuring nods, pats on my back, another hit of his doobie.

"You hungry? Mom's got some Pizza Pockets in the freezer. There's a case of them in the basement chest, she buys them by the case over at Costco. C'mon, let's get them in the microwave before I start eating the lawn."

Tag stands up, brushing grass off of his jeans, heads toward the screen door. I get up, a little off kilter, effects of the joints, beer sure hit me like a sledge hammer.

"Sounds good to me Tonto, lead the way."