My Favorite Story: Someday Out of The Blue

CHAPTER 11: GOD NEVER CAME THERE

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Someday Out Of the Blue

By LittleBuddhaTW

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

CHAPTER 11: GOD NEVER CAME THERE

Going back to school the week after Christmas vacation was hell. Not because I really disliked school, but because I wasn't sure where things stood with Ryan. It was like nothing had changed, but everything had changed, at least to me. What the hell does "take a break" or "cool things down" mean, anyway? Ryan told me I needed to take some time to think about what I really wanted. To me, that was a no-brainer. I knew I wanted to be with Ryan. Cody was just ... well ... curiosity, I guess. Sure, he would make a great boyfriend. He was cute, sweet, intelligent, and wise beyond his years. But it had always been Ryan that I wanted. I didn't need time to think. I knew I wanted Ryan, and I told him so. But apparently that wasn't good enough for him. He told me that I needed more time to think. How was he supposed to know how much time I needed? At this point, I wasn't really sure how I should feel anymore. I was depressed, but I was also angry. The problem was, I wasn't sure who I should be angry with. I was, of course, angry at myself for being stupid enough to kiss Cody, not once, but multiple times. I was angry that Cody wanted to kiss me, even though he knew I had a boyfriend. The problem with that, though, was that I could have refused, and I didn't. But I still blamed him, and decided to make it a point to stay away from him. Plus, if Ryan saw me hanging out with Cody or talking with him, it might make things worse. I was also angry at Ryan, because he wouldn't believe me when I told him that I was sure of who I wanted to be with. The problem with that, however, was that at the same time, I knew that I didn't really have a right to be angry at Ryan, because he wasn't the one who messed up. So I was basically just a big mess of confused emotions, and I didn't know how to handle it. Nothing new there, right? It seemed like my whole life over the past several months had been turned into a rollercoaster of drama. Everything had been so simple before. Sure, I got beat up all the time, had no friends, and was miserable. But at least my life was predictable. I was only fifteen years old. Why did things have to be so complicated? What made things worse was that on the surface, things between Ryan and me seemed to be almost "normal." He still talked to me, still put his arm around my shoulder, still wanted me to sit with him at lunch, and didn't really treat me any differently than before. Since we were at school, though, I couldn't really tell how affectionate he would be with me on the weekends, and I had to wait a whole week to find out, if he even really meant that I could still hang out with him then. He said I could still stay over at his house, just like before, but if things were going to be awkward between us, like no more cuddling or kissing, just acting like "buddies," I didn't know if I could handle that. I felt like I was in a state of limbo, and it was awful. Breaking up would have been easier, because at least I'd know where things stood, and I could start trying to get over it. But instead, I was left waiting and wondering. And I didn't have a clue how long I had to wait. Days? Weeks? A month? It wasn't fair. But then again, nothing in my life ever seemed fair. It was like God or whoever was just sitting up there in heaven thinking about ways to make my life more miserable. Hadn't I suffered enough?! Part of me wished Ryan would at least yell at me or something. I had no clue what was going on inside his mind. Was he angry? Was he hurt? What was he feeling? Was his telling me that we needed to "cool down" or "take a break" his way of saying that he wanted to do that? Was he having second thoughts about us being together? Maybe he finally realized how pathetic I was, that I was poor white trash who he had no future with, and he was just trying to figure out a way to get out of it. Considering everything he'd done for me and said between Thanksgiving and Christmas, that little theory didn't exactly seem very rational, but I wasn't thinking very rationally right now anyway. If I wanted to have a "pity party" for myself and come up with all kinds of irrational explanations as to what was going on in Ryan's mind, then I would damn well do as I pleased! AARRGH!!! These questions were killing me! I wanted to talk to someone. I needed for someone to tell me what to do. But who could I talk to? I couldn't talk to Toby, and I didn't want to talk to Cody. All of Ryan's other friends were out of the question, too. I suppose that I could have tried talking to Mikey, but I still felt guilty about the last time he'd come over to Ryan's to see Toby. I hadn't even tried to salvage things between them. I just immediately went and tried to push Toby and Cody together without giving a second thought to Mikey. I was a jerk, so I couldn't face him now either. So, as usual, I was left alone to deal with this myself. Getting through the school day was absolute torture, made worse because Ryan was still actually with me, for the most part acting like everything was normal. At lunch, everyone was talking about what they had done over Christmas vacation and what they got from their parents. I wasn't very interested in the conversation, though. I just wanted to run out of there and head for the auditorium and the sanctuary of the piano. I knew I couldn't do that, though. Not without raising a few too many eyebrows, and it was apparent that no one else knew that Ryan and I were currently "taking a break." After school, Ryan drove me home as usual. I didn't bring up our relationship again. I figured that he'd let me know when he'd decided that I'd had enough time to think. I just had to suffer while waiting, only able to imagine the worst. I knew Ryan well enough that I was pretty sure he wouldn't completely kick me out of his life, even if he decided we couldn't be "together" anymore. He was good to his word, and he'd said that we would always be friends, no matter what I decided (although it seemed like it was more his decision now than mine). But the thought of being "just friends" was just as bad as being out of his life altogether. Knowing that we'd once had something special, where I could hug him or kiss him whenever I wanted, where he would hold me and comfort me, feeling his warmth at night when I slept, and then suddenly having that taken away, yet still having him to be around him, pretending that everything was fine, but not being able to be the way we had been ... that was a devastating thought. It would be too awkward. No, not just awkward ... heart-wrenchingly unbearable. I imagined it was like being addicted to a drug, then suddenly not being able to have it anymore -- still having it shoved in your face every day, yet never able to touch it. It was enough to make any person go insane, and that's exactly how I was feeling. "Are you okay, Connor?" Ryan asked, turning to look at me as we neared the trailer park. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just bummed out that we're back in school is all," I lied. He gave me a measured look, but didn't say anything more. Why was he even still being nice to me? I wondered. When we pulled up in front of the trailer, Ryan gave me a hug before I got out of the car. An aching, empty feeling consumed my heart as I watched him pull away. I didn't know how long my fragile heart and mind could take this. After one day, I was about to lose it completely. As I walked inside, shutting the door behind me, I immediately saw my mother lying on the couch, her tattered green robe hanging open, revealing her naked body underneath. I was surprised to find that she was also smirking at me. She hardly ever paid attention to me at all, unless it was to beat me, but that hadn't happened much lately, ever since Krull had been around. I wished he'd been there then, to keep my mother's attention away from me. "I saw you outside hugging that boy in the car," she spat. "I should've realized you were a dirty little faggot." I just stood there frozen in place. I didn't know how to react. There was a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, so it was apparent she'd been drinking, but she obviously wasn't drunk enough to pass out and thus not be able to give me a beating, if that's what she had in mind. I'd never thought about my mother finding out. I guess I figured that she wouldn't really care, being preoccupied with getting her next fix, whether it was drugs or a man. Maybe I was wrong. "I was hoping you'd be able to take care of me now that Krull is gone," she continued, with a nasty leer on her face. "Your puny little cock isn't enough to satisfy me, but you could at least eat me out. But since you're just a diseased little faggot now, I guess that won't work. I'll have to find something else useful for you to do." My mind was suddenly racing with a million thoughts. Krull was gone?! Shit! That was the only thing that had seemingly kept my mother out of my hair for the past month. And my own mother wanted me to have sex with her? I couldn't believe it. That was the nastiest, raunchiest thought imaginable. I shuddered at the thought. Ewwwww! Just ... yeah ... ewwww! I think I'd rather have sex with a fifty-year-old fat French prostitute with hairy armpits and a pock-marked face. "Get out of my sight!" she barked at me, before I had time to process everything that was going on in my brain. Not needing to be told again, self-preservation being the only thing on my mind at that moment, I immediately made my way to my small bedroom and closed the door. I collapsed on my old, hard mattress, cursing a God I wasn't even sure existed for giving me this life. What did I do to deserve this? Bemoaning my miserable life, I put on my headphones and popped my cassette of Elton John's Blue Moves into my old Sony Walkman. If you were looking to wallow in self-pity, which I certainly was, then Blue Moves was the album to listen to. It was Elton John's most depressing and disturbing work, written and recorded in 1976, when Elton's long-time lyricist, Bernie Taupin, was going through his own personal crisis. How ironic that the song that came on was "If There's a God In Heaven (What's He Waiting For?)." The pleading vocals and depressing lyrics only added to the depths of my despair.