My Favorite Story: Someday Out of The Blue

CHAPTER 9: AMAZES ME

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Someday Out Of The Blue Home

Someday Out Of the Blue

By LittleBuddhaTW

Special thanks to Kitty (PiscesRising) from GayAuthors.org for editing!

CHAPTER 9: AMAZES ME

"So what time do you have to be home?" Cody asked. "It doesn't really matter. I'll call Ryan to come pick me up later," I said, trying not to sound too unenthused. We were sitting on the bus together, riding to Cody's house. Ryan had convinced me to go over on Tuesday after school, and said to give him a call when I was ready to leave, and he'd come pick me up. Even though I'd agreed to go, I still wasn't happy about it. I could have spent the afternoon with my boyfriend instead of going over to some kid's house who I hardly even knew. I didn't see why it was such a big deal to make other friends, and part of me had started to think that maybe Ryan didn't want me hanging around him so much. Sometimes it really sucked to have little or no self-esteem. Fortunately, Cody didn't try to engage me in much conversation until we had gotten off the bus, walked the five minutes from the bus stop, and were finally standing on the front steps of his house. It was quite a nice house, too, I had to admit. It was a two-story red-brick house with dark green shutters and two car garage. Based on the newly-planted saplings scattered all around the yard, I'd guessed it was a new house. The fact that it was in a new neighborhood was probably a dead giveaway, too. "Well, this is it," he said cheerfully. I managed a weak smile as he opened the door and led me inside. Expecting to find a "normal" house when I stepped through the door, I was surprised to see that there was hardly any furniture, at least not much in the bright, spacious living room. There was just a low, square coffee table surrounded by some mats, what looked like a futon, some Oriental-looking landscape paintings, and all hardwood floors. Not even a rug or anything. I certainly wasn't "Mr. Interior Design," but even I could tell this place was ... lacking. As I was surveying the emptiness of the place, an extremely odd-looking woman came floating into the room. Not literally floating, of course, but it wasn't walking, or strolling, or striding, or anything like that ... she just kind of ... floated. She had long, frizzy brown hair, a tan, weather-beaten complexion, and a pointy face. She was wearing a long, flower pattern dress that covered her feet (maybe that's what made it look like she was floating), with layers of beads around her neck. She had a dreamy, spaced-out expression, and her eyes didn't really fix on anything until she floated over toward where Cody and I were standing at the entrance to the living room. "Oooh, I see you have a new friend, Cody," she said in a heavily accented voice. Her eyes were still dancing around, not looking at anything in particular, which was starting to creep me out. And then her eyes fixed suddenly on me. "Hello, Cody's friend," she said in her thick accent. "You will learn when to let go, and when to fight. You are strong inside. Don't be afraid to be strong for others when the time comes." She then plucked a flower out of her hair and stuck it in my curly locks. "So pretty!" she gushed, clasping her hands together. I just stared at her, open-mouthed, as she proceeded to float right on out of the room. I turned to Cody with a questioning look on my face. "That's my mom," he said, shrugging, his wide, toothy grin still shining brightly. Cody then led me on a short tour of the house, which was all as sparsely decorated as the living room. I asked him about it, and his enigmatic reply was that "there is beauty in emptiness." I wasn't too sure what he meant by that, but I was certain that I'd never met anyone quite like Cody. After the brief tour, he led me down to his bedroom in the basement. I was surprised when I noticed that, for one, it was huge. He had practically the entire basement of the house to himself. Secondly, it wasn't decorated anything like the upstairs. For the most part, it looked like a normal teenaged boy's room. He had a large futon in one corner that was folded out into a bed, a desk with a computer in another corner, a set of big bookcases that held a large number of books, a small television set, stereo system, and lots of framed photographs. He had posters of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and Jimi Hendrix all over the walls. On the far side of his bedroom, there was a small sitting area with a couch and coffee table, and a doorway that led to what I assumed was a bathroom, covered with a beaded curtain. Despite the fairly large number of furnishings, it still felt very open, since the whole room was so large. He also had an older Yamaha digital piano, and a couple of different acoustic guitars (along with a mandolin and banjo) propped up on guitar stands, as well as a small amplifier. The whole set up was pretty impressive, a veritable wet dream for an amateur musician like myself. Cody's ever-present smile was starting to become infectious, and I found myself finally starting to let my guard down. I was even sort of looking forward to jamming with him a little bit. The only thing I wasn't too keen on was the whole "friends" thing. To me, becoming friends with Cody would mean having to open up to him about me, about my life. It was hard enough to do that with Ryan, and he didn't even know the whole story. I didn't know if I wanted to go through that with Cody either. However, as we sat down in his little sitting area and started chatting, drinking iced Winter Melon tea that he had gotten out of the refrigerator that was in one of the storage rooms in the basement, I found that he was actually pretty easy to talk to and very laid-back. I was also finding myself becoming more interested in the kind of person he was, not to mention his rather eccentric mother. Cody told me that her given name was Tatyana, but she changed her name often based on her changing moods, dreams, or just on a whim. Apparently, this week, her name was "Petunia." She was born and raised in Russia (which explained the heavy accent), but later moved to England to study, and finally to the United States to get her doctorate. She was currently a professor of Asian religions at the university. He also informed me that she was into what he called "esoteric practices," although I wasn't quite sure what that meant, and that she had spent three years living in the wilds of Siberia learning to be a "healer," kind of like the Native American medicine men. It sounded to me like she was some kind of witch or something, although he assured me that she didn't go flying around on broomsticks -- although I had my doubts. Cody happened to be the product of a one-night stand while his mother was living in England, where he was born and lived for the first two years of his life, and had never met his father. What was it with me and always meeting guys who didn't have fathers? Cody himself was also into a lot of what his mother did, and besides English, he also spoke Russian fluently. He said that at home, he and his mother spoke Russian almost exclusively, although there was no hint of an accent in his voice. Cody showed me some of the many books he had, and most of them were about spirituality, psychology, and things like that. I was definitely captivated. I'd never met anyone like Cody or his mom, nor had I ever heard about some of the things he was telling me about. Some of it seemed a little far-fetched to me, especially when he was talking about things like moving one's "energy" by practicing T'ai Chi, or things like the "spiritual bliss of meditation" where your spirit could leave your body and travel throughout the cosmos. I wasn't a complete idiot on the subject, though, having learned a little bit about what he was talking about in my World Religions class at school. Despite the fact that some of those things seemed pretty hokey to me, I had to admit that I was becoming intrigued. The way he talked about finding inner happiness, regardless of one's external environment, was something that definitely appealed to me. I even found myself telling Cody little things about myself, like my problem with anxiety (which he said he could help me with, although I was skeptical), and I even mentioned that I didn't have a very good home life, although I kept that part as vague as possible. He didn't push me on it. I also told him about how Ryan and I had met. "So how long have you and Ryan been boyfriends?" he suddenly asked. "Huh? Why do you think we're boyfriends?" I retorted, my eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. I didn't think we were that obvious or anything. I mean, we didn't stand around in the halls at school making out or feeling each other up. And I wasn't exactly the manliest of guys, but I didn't walk around referring to my male friends as "girlfriend" or "sister." I didn't have rainbow patches sewn on my backpack, or a bumper sticker that said "I brake for dick" -- well, I didn't have a car, but I wouldn't have had that bumper sticker any way. So how in the hell did he come to the conclusion that Ryan and I were "together?" Had everyone else already figured it out, too? He just rolled his eyes at my shocked response. "When you interact with someone, you shouldn't focus on just their words, but on subtle things, like body language, changes in their tone of voice, and even the things they don't say. Things you don't say often say more than what is said. You can learn a lot about someone that way," he replied matter-of-factly. "What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly. If he could read me that well, I was worried about how much he could really tell about me. He laughed. "I guess I just spend a lot of time watching people. There's a different dynamic between you and Ryan. The way you look at each other, how closely you sit together, the expression on your face when you talk about him. For someone who pays attention to little things like that, it's not that difficult to see." "So do you think a lot of people have noticed?" I asked, starting to feel worried, not so much for myself, but for Ryan's sake. "Probably not. Most people don't know what to look for," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "So ... ummm ... are you gay?" I asked. "No, I'm Cody," he said with a wink. If I was confused before, that comment left me pretty well dumb-founded. "So you never really answered my question. How long have you two been a couple?" he asked again. "Well, technically, only for a couple weeks," I admitted. "So not very long, I guess." "Solid friendships can be created in just a few hours. Time is irrelevant, really," he said. Cody definitely did not sound like any fifteen-year-old boy I'd ever met. I thought Ryan was mature and wise beyond his years, but Cody was something entirely different, and it was somewhat unnerving. I'd always been a smart kid, done very well in school, and read as much as I could, but I wasn't even in the same league as Cody. Despite feeling slightly intimidated, however, I wanted to know more. Not to mention, just being in his presence had an eerily calming effect on me, and I didn't know why. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have bolted out the door already or had a panic attack. "Where did you learn about all of this stuff?" I asked. "My mom, mostly. I've grown up around it, she talks to me a lot, always gives me books to read. She's always treated me like an adult. She knows a lot more than me, though. You should sit down and talk with her sometime," he said. "I don't know about that. She doesn't seem like she could sit still long enough," I chuckled. "Oh, she'll come talk to you when you're ready," he said. "She'll know when the time is right." "You don't seem to have any problems. It's like you already have everything all figured out," I said, somewhat enviously. "Not at all," he laughed. "I'm still just a kid, the same age as you. One problem with my mom is I don't think she realizes that. I don't think she knows much about raising a teenage boy. And I've never really had many friends to talk about normal 'boy stuff' with." "Why wouldn't you have a lot of friends? You're really easy to talk to, and that's saying something, especially coming from someone like me," I said with a self-deprecating grin. "Honestly," I continued, "I wasn't too interested in being friends with you. Ryan made me come over here. But after talking to you for a while, I started to feel like I really did want to be friends with you. You're cool." "That's why I walked over to you that evening at jazz band rehearsal. You're different from most kids. I can see it in your eyes -- which are beautiful, by the way. Maybe you just don't realize it yet. But a lot of kids our age just think I'm weird, and when they meet my mom, they don't usually tend to come back," he said, with a tinge of sadness to his voice. I surmised that Cody wasn't as totally happy and care-free as I had thought at first. Maybe he needed friends just as much as Ryan said I did. In a way, I guess neither of us really had moms. Mine was just a drugged-out whore, and even though his obviously didn't abuse him or treat him like shit, she didn't exactly "mother" him either. Even so, he was definitely more grounded and balanced than I was. I decided then and there that I did want to be friends with Cody. I wanted to understand him better, and, in time, I would let him understand me better, too. Although I had a sneaking suspicion he probably understood quite a lot about me already. "This is a lot to absorb in one afternoon," I said, rubbing my face with my hands. "I've never talked about stuff like this with anyone." He giggled. "I figured." "So what do you want to do now?" I asked. I was starting to feel a bit mentally drained from all of this "deep" stuff. "One more question, and then we can jam, okay?" he said. "Yeah, I guess," I replied, somewhat hesitantly. "Why are you so insecure?" he asked, regarding me curiously. Huh? That one certainly came out of left field. I wasn't really sure how to answer. I mean, I knew I was insecure, and I guess I probably figured it had a lot to do with the way I'd been treated by my mother and all the shitheads at school. I'd never really spent much time thinking about it. It was just the way I was. I didn't see any need to analyze it, nor did I think that I could do much about it. It was just a part of my personality that I had learned to accept. "I don't know," I answered, not really knowing what else I could say. "Okay," he said. "Go and sit over at the keyboard and play something for me." So that was it? He was just going to drop it like that? No trying to psycho-analyze me or anything? "What do you want me to play?" I asked, still feeling a little perplexed by his seemingly random questions, but also relieved that he seemed to know when not to push me. "Anything you want. I haven't heard you play anything except for what we've done in jazz band," he said. So I got up and walked over to the keyboard. I thought for a few moments about what I should play, and settled on Elvis Presley's "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You," a song my grandmother used to sing with me at the piano. It had been a while since I'd really played and sung, so I put everything I had into it, figuring I needed to warm up my voice for my performance at the pub the following night, anyway. Feeling more and more in the mood to play, as soon as I finished, I went immediately into Ray Charles' "Georgia On My Mind." I got so totally lost in the music that I didn't notice Cody was watching me intently, until I finished playing the last few notes and opened my eyes to see his stunned expression. "See, that's why I don't get why you're so insecure," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked, honestly not sure what he was getting at. "You're an amazing piano player. A genius, actually. You can't even read music. You have an amazing voice, too. Deep and soulful. Your singing voice is so different from the way you talk. It's powerful, clear, and strong. And that's just one part of you. You're obviously intelligent, caring, and you're very cute," he said. Normally, I would have just laughed at him, but the way he said it, the way he looked at me, the tone of his voice (see, I was paying attention to what he said earlier!) all showed me that he was sincere. All I could do was blush. "Well, you're wrong about the 'cute' thing," I said. I could somewhat accept that I was good at playing the piano, even though I didn't quite think my singing voice was as good as he said, but being called "cute" I couldn't accept. "No, I'm not wrong. Your curly blond hair, your big blue eyes that make you look so innocent, your little nose ... your lips. All of your features fit perfectly on your face. You're not the big, hunky jock type, but you're definitely cute," he said, looking me right in the eyes. His piercing gaze was making me feeling even more self-conscious. It was like he was looking right into me. "I thought you said you weren't gay," I said, barely above a whisper. "Like I said, I'm just Cody. I can still tell if you're cute or not," he said simply. My typical reaction would have been to look away, change the topic, or start fidgeting. But his gaze held me right there. "And if I kissed you, I'd still just be Cody," he added, his voice now also barely above a whisper. "You want to kiss me?" I asked, nonplussed. "Unless you think Ryan would mind ..." he said. "If it's just a kiss ..." I replied, without really thinking about it. With that, he moved over next to me on the piano bench, reaching his left arm around my shoulders and pulling me in close to him, our foreheads pressed together, eyes locked together. I could tell he was looking deep into my soul at that moment. I knew he could see things I didn't want him to see. I knew he could see the pain in my life. But I didn't move. For some reason, I wanted him to see it. At that moment, I would have told him anything, or given him anything, if he'd asked. After what seemed like hours of us just looking into each other's eyes, he leaned in slowly and placed his lips gently on mine. I felt a jolt of electricity that I hadn't felt since the first kiss I'd ever had ... from Toby. I couldn't break away. I didn't want to break away. It was just a kiss with our lips. He made no attempt to put his tongue in my mouth (although I don't think I would have resisted if he did). But it was still an extremely passionate kiss nonetheless. And I felt more than I'd expected to. I also found my hand making its way slowly down his back and eventually resting on his cute little butt. When he finally pulled away, I was left breathless. Immediately, I began to feel guilty. Did I just cheat on Ryan? "It was just a kiss. Don't think too much," he said, as if reading my mind. "I'm not trying to steal you from Ryan." Could he if he wanted to, though? I mean ... Cody was HOT! I was feeling emotionally drained after all that had happened, so I suggested that we spend some time jamming so I could pull myself back together (and surreptitiously readjust the hard-on in my pants). Nothing could get my mind centered like pounding away on the piano and singing. Cody readily agreed, and I found out that we both liked a lot of the same kind of music. He wasn't as much of an Elton John fan as I was, but he did like him, and could even play some of his songs, mostly the well-known ones. His favorites, though, were the Beatles and Bob Dylan. That didn't surprise me. So as I sat down in front of the keyboard, and he picked up his guitar, that's what we started with. We ended up going through a bunch of classic Beatles songs, like "Can't Buy You Love," "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds," "Let It Be," "Come Together," and "Hard Day's Night." He then played "Mr. Bojangles" for me. His voice was very beautiful, higher in pitch and smoother than mine, but I didn't think it really suited the sort of music that he liked to play. Since he seemed to like the more psychedelic kind of music, I played Elton John's "Madman Across the Water" for him, and he instantly fell in love with it. For the next hour, I taught him how to play that, as well as "Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirty Cowboy," which he also really liked. We harmonized very well together, and playing with him seemed so natural. He was a very talented guitarist and picked things up easily. I showed him the basic chords on the piano, and he could follow along from there, with a little added instruction from me. It was really cool, like we spoke the same language or something, and I felt a bond with Cody that I had never felt with anyone else. I really had a good time with Cody. I was more than ready to be his friend. When Ryan showed up later to pick me up, though, the guilty feeling of having kissed Cody came back. Ryan took care of that by giving me a long, passionate kiss in the car before we pulled out of the driveway. I ended up telling him what Cody and I had talked about, and how much fun I'd had. He seemed pleased that I'd made a new friend. In fact, I got a smack on the back of my head and an "I told you so" from him. I also told him how Cody didn't really have many friends, and suggested that we invite him over to hang out with us sometimes on the weekends, and maybe do some stuff together over winter vacation. Ryan thought that was a good idea. I didn't really want to tell him about the kiss, but I felt like I had to. After I did, his reaction was entirely different from what I had expected, which was to push me out of the moving car. He just asked me how it was. I answered him as truthfully as possible. "It was really good, actually," I said, blushing deeply. "Cool. He's a really cute boy," he said matter-of-factly. "You mean you're not angry or jealous or anything?" I asked. "You're not going to stop talking to me for six weeks like after I kissed Toby?" He laughed. "You're a cute boy, Connor. I can understand why someone would want to kiss you, and why you would want to kiss someone as cute as Cody. As long as you don't leave me for him, I don't mind." There was that damn "cute" thing again ... it made me feel like I was six years old or something. And I was a wee bit unsettled by how well he was taking the whole kissing thing. If he'd kissed Mikey, I probably would have freaked. "So you still want me hanging out with him, and having him hang out with us? You won't feel weirded out or anything?" I asked. "Not at all. Maybe if he is gay, which he might not be, we could see how he gets along with Toby," he said. That was definitely an idea. I was still feeling very guilty about the way we messed things up with Toby and Mikey and was hoping to make it up to him some way. Their personalities seemed very different, and I wasn't too sure if they'd click at all, even just as friends. But it was at least worth a shot. Then I thought about Cody spending the night in Toby's room, and I suddenly felt a slight pang of jealousy. But was it about Cody or Toby? I wasn't sure. And I was with Ryan now. I shouldn't be feeling things like that. At the same time, the thought of Toby and Cody "doing it" was totally hot. When Ryan finally pulled up in front of the trailer and noticed that it was completely dark inside and my mother's car was gone, he asked if he could come in for a while. Part of me was definitely tempted, especially since I was already horny from thinking about the various things that Toby and Cody could possibly get into together (like each other), but I was still too embarrassed to let my boyfriend see the crappy trailer that I lived in. I hated it when people felt sorry for me. So I made up an excuse about having a lot of homework to do, which I'm sure he didn't buy, but I guess he understood, because he gave me a nice long kiss and said he'd see me in the morning. As I watched his car pull away, though, and realized that I was completely hard, I started regretting not letting him come in. I guess I'll just have to take care of it myself, I thought. And I did ... three times.