(no subject)
Alright. So i wrote a considerable amount to add to my story that i've left for a while. I'm sorry that no really interesting interaction has happened between Joel & Benji yet, but i swear it's about to. All of this chapter is to tie up the loose ends so Benji & Joel can finally get together!!! & You get a nice cliffhanger :)
Title: Scene Change - Joel Is Gay & Benji Gets A Job.
Rating: PG (i swear it'll be the last)
Summary: Read the chapter title.
Dislaimer: This didn't happen.
Notes: dedicated to anyone who commented on my stories. You keep my confidence alive :)
Prologue: Benji, Prologue: Joel, No Lies, Just Love , Failed Attempts,
“Um, buckle up.”
As we zoom through the traffic, I hear sounds of zips and shuffles in the quiet confines of my car. We’re all seated; we’re all sitting silently. I’m driving, Erik’s riding shotgun, while Andre & Chet sit in the back. Everything becomes more awkward as the time wears on.
Nobody knows what to say.
Chatting is usually my forte, but I’m still upset from the day’s events. After being a complete fool in front of the boy of my dreams, coming out to my friends and their reactions being my worst fear, I spent the remainder of the day totally alone. I didn’t even have my guitar to consolidate with.
I didn’t even have the balls to tell my buddies all off or ask them what their deal is. I even still agreed to come to band practice, and waste my fuel when they haven’t spoken a word to me since I said I liked boys.
Fuck, I’m pathetic.
We’ve been driving for nearly 10 minutes. I want them to say something- anything - at this point. I can’t tell if they feel horrible for how they all reacted to me this morning, or if they’re extremely uncomfortable riding in a vehicle with a homo driver. Either way, it’s not a very fun expedition.
I pull up at Chet’s drive way and stop the ignition. We scramble out, walk up near his front entrance and stand nervously on the pavement, waiting to go inside. I can’t catch any of their eyes, and they aren’t bothering to catch mine.
Andre finally looks at me, his expression unreadable. Apologetic? Sad? Angry? I don’t fucking know…and I don’t think I'll be able to tolerate this all night.
“Umm,” They flinch as they all avert their attention to me.
“I think I’m just going to leave and go back home. Maybe we can jam some other time…” Erik is looking away, and Andre is looking down at the ground.
I wave half-heartedly, and start walking away.
But as I grasp the door handle Chet runs his hands through his bleached hair and yells:
“For FUCK’S SAKE, this is stupid!” I stare at him wide-eyed. Actually, we all are.
“Christ Joel. I’m sorry man! I think we all are,” He looks at Erik then to Andre for approval, and they nod slowly.
“We just, like, we didn’t know what to say or do. Andre was upset cause you didn’t tell him sooner and - HEY-’ Andre nudges him; hard.
“Don’t even be like that Dre, it’s true. We just, I don’t know, we never expected you to fully come out. We were kinda freaked, ya know? Just, please don’t be too mad. Fuck, don’t be mad at all! We need you! You complete our band man. I think the reason we were tools and didn’t say anything is cause this is sort of a big deal. You realize that right? It’s huge! But I mean, we been boys since the start of high school, and I’m not going to let that something as dumb as sexual orientation ruin a good friendship. But it’s like, you’re going to have to come out to everyone eventually, and that kind of thing just blows my mind. Seriously, I respect you man. What you did took guts! What you’re going to go through is gonna take guts. Hell knows if I’d ever admit to it if I was, um, a homosexual.’ He stops for air.
I gape at him a few more seconds, letting everything he’s just said sink in. When the realization hits me that everything’s going to be just fine between us, I smile.
Then I burst into laughter. Laughter full of relief, hysterics and even just plain hilarity.
A homosexual? He said - he said - homosexual. Not ‘if I was gay’, ‘if I was a fag’ or even the lame ‘If I liked boys’. No. Just - HOMOSEXUAL. Ha ha ha ha……. I actually have to lean on my car so I don’t fall down. Seriously. I’m fuckin’ crying.
‘Dude, you okay?” Erik is looking at me like I’m an asylum patient - which if you think about it, I really should be.
“Yeah, yeah. Just, just - ‘A Homosexual’” I start giggling again, and by now my stomach is aching into those wonderful cramps you get when you really, and truly find something hilarious. This happens a lot to me. I probably have a rock hard 6 - pack from all this laughing.
Erik starts to chuckle. Then Andre joins in. Laughter man, it’s contagious Andre’s laugh is so funny - like a high pitched girl squeal: it does not match his exterior at all. This in turn makes me die and fall onto the pavement, clutching my abdominals in pain. Death by laughter - That’s how that old man in Marry Poppins went eh? Sounds like a pretty good way to pass.
Chet just looks away from embarrassment, but I can see him snickering to himself, secretly.
I get up, and say “Ohhh man. Jesus, you can say the word ‘Gay’, guys. It’s not at all offensive, and much better than ‘faggot’. And, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all sooner, I was just scared that what happened at school would happen forever, and that’s why I didn’t. No more apologies. Now let’s go and rock the fuck out.”
“Yeah dude!” Erik slaps me on the back, and Chet smiles his big goofy grin at me. I give him a huge one back. Remind me to buy him some new drumsticks, he fuckin’ deserves it.
Chet unlocks the door, and he and Erik trudge inside. I go to follow but Andre stops me.
“Joel, hombre, I have to say something to you.” I look at Erik who simply shrugs.
“Okay…”
“Sit.” I get down on the stone steps. He joins me.
“Joel, my brother, you know that you can tell me anything right - anything & I won’t judge you. Never. We’ve been friends for too long. I trust you to the day I die Joel, and I hope you know that. The reason I didn’t talk bro, was that I was upset. Upset that you didn’t tell me sooner. You even denied it. You lied to me. ”
I stare at my hands which are folded on my knees, feeling ashamed. It’s true. My memory flashbacks to Dan’s party. Andre had a couple of beers, and his manners started to slip.
“Joellllll, are you a homo?” He asked me this with a doofy smile on his face. I denied it. Even when I admitted to him I was ‘bi’ about a week later, I continually said I preferred girls more. All lies.
“Man, I - I know. I know I did. I’m sorry. And I know you feel like I don’t trust you, but I do. It’s just - it’s like what Chet said. I have to face the fact that I have to come out to not just my friends, but my family, and even everyone at school. It wasn’t that I was dreading telling you, it was dreading telling everyone else. Because what if everyone hated me after? What the hell would I do? I have enough trouble fitting in as it is. I just feared that even if you did accept me, that maybe Chet or Erik wouldn’t. I don’t want to come in between people. But, I love you man, and you gotta know that.”
Andre just shakes his head. “Hombre, lots of people like you. You just gotta let loose sometimes. Don’t care so much about opinions. You think that if one person makes some idiotic comment, or if they don’t talk to you for one minute that they hate you. Dios mio, Stop being such a drama queen.” I look at him, but he’s smiling.
“So we cool?”
“Yeah, we’re cool,” I reply.
And we are.
********************************************
Who the hell is going to hire a gay teenage contractor?
Fuck, why did I apply here. Everyone is staring at me like I’ve got 3 heads. I wanna yell at them to stop staring at my face - Jesus, have they never seen multiple piercings before? - but then if I do, they’ll definitely not even consider my application.
I look around at my surroundings. “Dimension Homes Renovators”, the sign above the reception says. The room is quite small, but then again, how many offices do you need to go and retile a floor? A motley array of men are slumped in chairs waiting to be called upon.
I take a seat next to a huge black guy, as a skinny Indian man get’s called in.
“What’cha even doin here kid?” the black man asks me.
“Umm, I really need a job?” I offer.
“Well do you even got any experience building inside and outside of houses? It takes a lot outta you ya know.”
“N-not houses,” I stutter, “but I like to de and re-construct stuff….” The dude rolls his eyes at me, and chuckles.
Wow, I’m weak. But hell, the dude is like 8 feet tall with muscles the width of my thighs.
“Omar Williams?” The blonde receptionist calls out. The black man puts his hand up and nods.
“Well good luck I guess,” I try. Blatantly ignoring me, he stands up, stretches and grunts, then enters the room.
Well great. Now my confidence is completely shattered, but what of it? I’m just going to an interview for the only company that called me back…
I sit quietly for what seems like an hour. Omar comes back out, then:
“Benjamin Combs.”
I try to psyche myself up as I confidently enter the room. I feel slightly relieved to find only one burly, totally scruffy man as my interviewer.
“Benjamin?” He asks.
“Yep. That’s me”
“Sit down.” I do as I’m told.
“My name is Gordon Westwood. I own and operate a major part of this company.”
“Umm, Hi sir”
“So,” he says whilst flicking through my application,, “You’re still a student?”
I suck in my breath. Please, fuck no.
“Yes. But I’m 19!” I try to say it firmly, but it probably came out whiny and eager. Fuck my life.
“And you have no previous experience in house building?”
“No.”
“You have no previous training either?”
“Umm, No.’ He raises his eyebrows at me.
“Well I did take House Building when I lived in Los Angeles. They offered it as a class,” I add.
“Hmmmmm,” he says thoughtfully. He taps his finger on his chin, looking between me and my resume.
“Son, why do you want this job?” He doesn’t look angry, he genuinely wants an answer.
I sigh. “Honestly? I need this job. I need a job. I just moved here, and my Dad is having financial trouble as it is. I’m graduating this year. If I can make up enough money to move out, he won’t have to pay for me for anything. Besides, I doubt I can get into University or College with my grades and lack of funds, but I never wanted to go anyways.” I realize I’m rambling about my personal life and change gears into interviewee mode
“Anyways, I want a job like this. One where I’m changing up what I’m doing, and not sitting in an office. And I’ve always been fascinated with building. I remember getting electrocuted when I was 5 because I wanted to re-wire our house. Hell, I made my own guitar last year. I just - I want a job where I can get some future use, and maybe keep for the summer…”
There. I just bared my soul to this complete stranger who probably thinks I’m a total emotional freak with too many holes in his face.
“Well then Benjamin. Seeing as you’re still in school…” Shit. I blew it.
“I can start you in on full weekends and maybe Friday nights.”
I gape. What? What did he say?
“You okay with that?” he asks
“Y-y-Yes! Thank you so much! I mean…man!” I grin in victory.
He laughs. “Don’t be so surprised. You remind me of me. You have a clear passion for the trades industry, and you want to work. The others I saw just wanted a second job to buy bigger houses: You’re young. You actually need the money so I know you’ll try your best.”
“Damn right!” I say. I can’t help it. I haven’t smiled like this in months.
“However, since you’re so poorly trained, you need to do some in-field training. Just getting taught how to help and do basic maneuvers. No pay. It should take about 2 weekends. Come back here tomorrow and we’ll start it up ”
“Alright sir. See you then!”
I walk outside and see the Indian man, Omar and others standing against the wall. Omar points and snickers at me, while whispering to 2 of his friends.
“How’d it go youngin’? “ Omar snidely laughs.
I put on a sad face, and he starts to smile when I smugly blurt out-
“I got the job,” His face deflates. I walk proudly in the direction of my home.
Sucks to be you, Omar.
***************************************
It’s the Moment of Truth: Time to tell Mom.
After a rocking night, this is pure hell. I’m glad I drank those shots of rum for courage. I think it’s starting to hit me. Oh shit. I just drank and drove.
I slowly go up my walkway and hesitate at my door knob.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell her tonight. If she smells booze on me I’ll be in deep. I’ll be grounded. But then again, if she thinks I developed a drinking problem, then I tell her I’m gay, it’ll seem lighter. I could pretend to be smashed!
Oh but then she’ll punish me for sure. And she’ll think I went to alcohol to solve my problems. She’ll think I couldn’t come to her just like Andre. Fuck. Scratch that one. She mustn’t see me in any drunken state.
In that case I think I should just postpone -
JUST DO IT JOEL. You’ve procrastinated long enough.
Shut the FUCK UP brain. Why can’t you be intoxicated? Why can’t you just console me in my time-
Cause I’m your conscience. Besides, you’re controlling these thoughts. Now stop being a lunatic and Move.
Dammit. Stupid Jiminy Cricket stuck up there in my skull.
I amble around on my deck; my head circling through the possible outcomes.
She’ll understand right? Yeah of course she will. She loves me.
But what if she doesn’t? What if she throws me out and I need to start selling crack to make payments because I can’t afford to go to school and-
“Joel honey? Why are you pacing on the porch?” I freeze in terror.
I’m about to reply that its nothing, and that I’m fine. But I stop. Because I’m not fine. I’ve always wanted to come out to my mom ever since I realized my sexuality. If I put off telling the most important person in my life one more time, the niggling gnawing feeling that’s been bugging in the back of my mind will probably burst. My mom cares about me; and she deserves not to be lied to.
It’s time.
“Umm, umm, ummm” Spit it out, spaz.
“I - you - we- I need to tell you something. Something important.” my voice has ever sounded so anxious in my entire life.
She looks at me in concern, “Oh Joel. What is it? Come, sit down with me”
As we rest on the bench outside on the deck, I ponder why man kind must always be seated to explain important matters.
“So honey, what is it?”
I wait a moment, trying to think how I’ll phrase it. “Mom I - Well, I’ve known for a while what I’m about to tell you, I’ve just never had the courage to come out and say it. It’s not that I mistrust you, partly I think I just didn’t want to believe it myself. It’s a big deal, and the mere notion that I’d have to come clean to everyone scared the living hell out of me.
"Mom,” I hesitate,
“Mom - I’m gay.”
Sielnce ensues.
And then:
‘Oh is that all? Joel, darling, I know.” WHAT?
“WHAT!?”
“Honey, I’ve known for a while now. Female intuition you know,” she taps her head and gives a little laugh.
“B-b-but how!?” Did I just create a heartfelt speech for nothing?
“Joel, I’ve seen the way you look at other boys,’ I blush.
“And only gay men could’ve standed watching The Notebook and Bridget Jones’ Diary with me: 5 times.”
That is true.
“But, why didn’t you ever mention it to me?”
“Because honey, I know that you hate confrontation: everyone does. I knew that if I gave you the space, you’d sort it out and come to terms with it on your own.”
That makes a hell of a lot of sense.
“God, I was worried for so long. For nothing. Geez, I love you Mom.”
She hugs me, and ruffles my hair.
“I love you too.” We’re in embrace for a few moments.
“Now come inside! I have some exciting news.” Confused, I follow her inside.
She rushes to the dining room table and clutches a piece of paper. Bringing it over to me, she shows me a picture of a kitchen. It’s detailed like a blueprint, with outlines of appliances and measurements.
“Isn’t it nice?” She beams.
“Yeah, sure it’s great. But what’s it for?” I ask puzzled.
“Joel, we’re renovating the kitchen! Redoing the whole thing!” She makes me jump as I've never heard her be so loud and cherful.
She is so happy about this. I had no idea she’s always wanted a newer kitchen.
“Oh! You have good taste in matching and stylizing things together. You can help me pick the tiles, the stove, the counter tops and we can…”
She’s rambling on about details that I could care less about. I don’t cook. I fall back onto my thoughts.
Huh. So a new kitchen is bigger news than me coming out of the closet?
Well she did say I had excellent taste. (Which I do, by the way)
"So Joel! Do you think you'd be interested? of course you don't have to. I understand if you're busy with all your little friends. It would just be nice to have a second opinion and-"
“Mom, mom. For sure I’ll help you out. Of course, you don’t even need to ask.” I smile at her.
She says with utmost glee, “Oh Joel!! You will?” I nod.
She runs over and strangles- I mean hugs - me.
“Mom, Mom, Mom!” I untangle her. ”When is this happening anyways? Who’s going to help retile and install the fixtures and cupboards?”
“Oh. Well production is scheduled to start in about a month. I was going around downtown yesterday at lunch, and I found this neat little place that is smaller business, but has great prices. It’s called Dimension Home Renovators.”
**************************************
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. Enjoyed it?