Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1999 22:11:13 PST
From: "Robert ." <bobnickeri@hotmail.com>
Subject: Confusion Part 12

	There comes a moment in everyone's life when time stands still;
where the physical world stops, holding its breath solely for them; when
every path spreads clearly before them, both in shadow and light, for good
or for ill. It is our duty to take advantage of those times and make the
worst decision possible, which is exactly what I intended to do.
	And why shouldn't I lay to rest any opportunity I had for
happiness? I had screwed myself royally no matter what. I knew I had to
make a clean break somehow, to get away from everything that wrapped itself
around me, trapping me in the turmoil that always played a hand in screwing
up my life.
	I was going in circles. I knew this. I felt as though there were
walls of glass all around me. I could see what lay beyond them, only to
find that I couldn't reach it when I tried.
	A clean break.
	So, there I was. I was only vaguely aware of the alarm screeching
through the morning air, penetrating my brain, and putting my sanity in
serious jeopardy. Mike was staring down at me, his expression a strange
mixture of surprise, confusion, and strangely enough, knowing.
	His eyes frightened me. They were glacial, a pale, icy blue that
revealed nothing, though I vaguely knew exactly what he was thinking. "Now
what the hell is he doing?" The question went unspoken, but I knew it
lingered there somewhere.
	I felt rather than saw his father behind me. The elder Adams had
followed me out the door, as intent on keeping me in as I was on getting
out. A few sharp cracks sounded behind me, causing me to jump slightly.
	The alarm fell silent.
	"Erik, what are you doing?" Mike asked calmly, extending his hand
towards me. I refused his help and stood on my own, barely possible due to
the intense shaking that had taken hold of me.
	"Erik, are you ok?" a soothing voice behind me inquired.
	"What's going on?" Mike's mother was walking up behind him. She
seemed somewhat puzzled, the three of us standing on the walkway, the door
wide open, the alarm smashed in.
	I remained silent. I was wracking my brain in a feeble attempt to
explain exactly why I was bolting out of the house at a million miles an
hour. I felt so alone right then, even though I realized there was no real
reason for it. I drew my arms around myself, almost protectively, warding
off everything around me until I felt prepared to tackle the situation and
fix it. I was always good at fixing things. Too bad I couldn't fix myself.
It would have made things much easier.
	"It's my fault," Paul began. "I said some things I probably
shouldn't have."
	Mike shot his father an angry "how could you?" look.
	"You don't have to make excuses for me, Mr. Adams. I'm not a kid,"
I snapped.  No person would make excuses for me. That much I had decided.
That's what life was for me at that point. As soon as words had left Paul's
mouth, I knew that everything was one great excuse. And wasn't that what
life was for me, an excuse? I could always push a problem aside with a
mumbled explanation, a rationalization that shifted responsibility from
myself, lifting part of the weight no matter how small.
	I couldn't do that anymore. The rationalizations were getting mixed
up. I couldn't keep up with them all. I had made so many of them, that I
wasn't even sure what the image of myself so fixed in my mind was. Was I
only having growing pains? Did I have issues that needed resolution? Was I
truly mentally disturbed to a level that made me completely dysfunctional?
	All these questions shot through my brain, assailing my senses
mercilessly.
	"Let's go inside, Paul." Mike's mother glided past us and took her
husband's arm, leading him into the house. I wished she hadn't done that.
At least with three people surrounding me, I didn't think I'd have to
answer to anything or give reasoning for what had overcome me. With Mike, I
knew there would be no place to hide.
	I shifted my gaze from the concrete to Mike's face. His eyes
stabbed me, though only partially for I had raised my instinctual defenses
against this. He was still in the stages of wondering, suspecting, coming
close to the conclusion, but not quite making the full connection.
	"Are you going to tell me?" he asked, his hands resting limply at
his sides in display of vulnerability.
	Something odd caught my eye when he asked the question. We were
both standing on the walk, barely a foot apart. He was fully illuminated in
the morning sun, the purest form of youthful vigor. The warm, inviting sun
was spread over his tanned face, his flaxen hair.
	I was standing entirely in shadow, a chill, wan form, slinking back
from him. All color had drained from my face. I looked towards the sky
briefly, wondering what sort of joke God was playing on me, letting the sun
fall completely on Mike, leaving me in darkness. Or perhaps the joke was in
my realization of it.
	I placed the occurrence in the back of my mind. I had to
concentrate on answering Mike's question. I felt I had to choose my words
carefully. I was mixed up and confused. That was enough. No good could come
of confusing anyone else with obscure response.
	"Your dad didn't want me to leave," I stated, buying more time for
myself to think.
	"I know," he nodded. "Me and my parents discussed some things this
morning."
	I sat down on the step in front of the door, beckoning him to join
me which he did.
	"What did you tell them?"
	"Everything."
	I swallowed, a difficult action at best with a lump in my throat
the size of a fist. "Everything?"
	He tilted his head on laid it on my shoulder. "I had to, Erik. They
were asking questions and already guessing at the answers. They're just now
accepting everything, and I couldn't risk their suspicion. If they thought
something was wrong, they'd start worrying about me and stuff. When my mom
perceives a threat, she gets paranoid. She'd give us a hard time about our
relationship if she didn't think it was good for me."
	I leaned my head against his, letting out my breath in a long,
drawn out sigh. "It's not good for you, ya know."
	He brought his face up. "What, us?"
	I folded my arms on my knees. "Yeah, us. So far, I've been the
relationship. Everything revolves around me. Some of it's your doing, but
the overwhelming majority is mine. It can't be a healthy thing if we're
always concentrating on my problems. Yet another case of me being selfish.
Hell, even telling you I'm selfish seems selfish. Me me me." I laid my head
on my arms. I suddenly hurt very badly inside and wanted to cry. I hated
myself.
	"Erik, let me tell you something. When we first met, it was you
that took care of me. You saw that I was hurting about being gay and not
being accepted. I could tell that you cared, and that you were honestly
worried about me. You wanted to make sure I was ok. You were there for me."
	"I fix things," I muttered.
	Mike took my hands in his. "Yeah, you do. Remember that night when
you were drunk, and I had to come downtown to get you?"
	"Not one of my prouder moments," I admitted.
	"Maybe not. But, at the end of the night, it ended up being you
taking care of me. I knew something was wrong that night. I know now what
was wrong. But, even with all that shit going on inside of you, you shoved
it out of the way in order to help me, and worry about me, and to be there
for me. It's give and take, Erik. Now, I have to take care of you for a
little bit. We just seem to be centered on you right now, but that will
pass. Then, I'll have a problem, and it'll seem like it's all about
me. Give and take," he repeated quietly.
	"I guess you're right, as always." I looked down and noticed the
bags and boxes laying in the grass. "What are those?"
	He rose and grabbed all the bags, dragging them over to me. He dug
into a bag and pulled out a box. Upon opening it, he showed me a gray and
white flannel shirt. "They're clothes."
	I laughed. "Never enough, eh?"
	"They're not for me," he said more seriously than I would have
liked.
	"Presents?"
	"Kinda. Me and my parents had a long talk this morning about
everything, like I said." He paused, summoning up courage for some
pronouncement that I knew was coming. "The clothes are for you. My parents
want you to move in with us."
	My mouth opened and closed, not a whisper coming from it. I was on
my feet immediately. "Move in with you?! I...I...I can't do that Mike! My
parents would flip!" Moving in? He'd be saddled with me all the time
then. I could barely live with myself. To put that burden on someone else?
Out of the question.
	"Erik, why won't you let me take care of you?" he asked pleadingly.
	"Because! I'm not a little kid, Mike. I don't need taking care of.
As much as I'd kill to be with you always, now is just not a good time for
me. Not with me like this. Not now of all times, Mike. Not now."
	He stood and took my hands in his again. "Yes, now of all times.
Erik, every time you go back to that house you take ten steps backwards.
It's not good for you." The fact that he said "that house" with utter
contempt was not lost to me. "I want to help you. Please, let me."
	I could see no good reason why I should shoot down his idea. I
couldn't let myself be a burden. Guilt was something that always hung
around me. The proverbial albatross. This would make the weight unbearable.
I knew Mike wouldn't accept that argument. I knew an ensuing argument would
consist of him asking why, and me simply stating because. I'd think of a
million excuses.
	But, sometimes in life, you gotta take a chance. Scary as hell,
sure, but I knew I had to take it. I didn't want to reduce myself to a
stammering idiot, blurting out countless reasons on exactly why I couldn't
stay. Mike wanted this, I could see it in his eyes.
	But, I was the fixer. It was my job in life to fix everyone else's
problems. Damned be those that tried to fix mine. I was my own
responsibility, in addition to everyone else. I liked having that weight on
my shoulders, the responsibility. If it wasn't there, I'd feel empty, and
alone. I'd be unneeded. I can fix things.
	"Mike, I can't do this."
	He squeezed my hands. "Why?!"
	"Cuz, I'm afraid," I stated simply.
	"Afraid of what?"
	"Of me. Of myself. If I let someone take care of me, I'll have to
stop worrying about myself so much. That would give me time to be who I
truly am." I let out a shaking breath. "I don't like that person very
much."
	"What does that say about me? I'm in love with you for Christ's
sake."
	"Mike, you don't know me. No one really knows anyone else. No
matter how much we try, we can never be who we are with people. We're only
who we are in our head. I'm different when I'm with myself than I am with
other people.
	"When it's late at night, and everything's quiet, I'm with myself.
I know myself intimately, in ways no one else does. There are things going
on my head that I wouldn't ever say to another human being.
	"If someone were to walk into the room, I'd lose that connection
with myself, and I'd become a completely different person. This personality
takes over. I say and do things I don't mean, but think I do. I act in ways
I find contemptible, but no one notices.
	"The real me is inside still though, screaming at me. 'Why did you
do this? Why did you do that?' But, that's the personality that people see.
Personality has nothing to do with who you are. Personality is merely what
other people see. I'm wildly different from my personality. Everything I
fear, everything I don't like, everything I want in life, what I truly
think is locked up inside. Sometimes, I think it'll remain there for the
rest of my life. My personality will get me through life, and underneath,
everything remains the same."
	"Why do you love me?"
	The question caught me off guard. And, when he asked it, I couldn't
give a reason. I just knew I did. "Because you're you."
	Mike smiled triumphantly. "Exactly. I think when people fall in
love, the can see inside the other person. I sense things about you
sometimes. But it's a feeling more than anything. When we first met, I felt
it. I didn't know a whole lot of specifics about your life, but I felt like
I knew you. And, no matter what either of us does, we still have that. I
think we always will."
	"I'm going to bed," I announced.
	"Going to bed?" Mike was completely dumbfounded.
	I laughed and smiled. "Yes, I'm going to bed. It'd be better if I
wasn't there alone. Hint hint."
	He smiled. "Yeah, I am kinda getting sleepy."
	I arched an eyebrow. "Going to bed and sleeping are two wildly
different things, babe."

				    ***

	I wrapped my arms around Mike, my heart still pounding heavily,
slowly returning to a normal rhythm. He pulled the quilt higher around us
before setting his head upon my shoulder.
	"You getting better," he said, then giggled.
	I kissed the top of his head. "It isn't exactly rocket science," I
chuckled. I started running my fingers back and forth over his shoulder.
"Sheesh, now I am sleepy."
	He tightened his hold around me and let out an enormous yawn.
"Nothing inspires coma more than sex."
	"I dunno, philosophy class runs a close second."
	He bit my chest playfully. "Hmmm. Let's have sex in philosophy
class next term. We could sleep through the year."
	I yawned. "Yeah, but my prof would probably make me write a report
about it."
	We lay there silent, eyes half-open, drifting in and out of a light
sleep.
	He rested his chin on my chest and looked up at me, tapping a
finger gently on my chin. "Have you given anymore thought to moving in?"
	"Yeah, I have. I thought about it right when I put on the condom.
Because we all know the last thing I'm thinking about during sex is sex.
Last week, I was working out math equations during orgasm. I do my best
work then."
	That sort of response earned me a pinch. "Seriously."
	"What the hell. I honestly have nothing to lose at this point.
Might as well give it a go."
	"Cool!" He kissed me and leapt up out of bed.
	"Where are you going?
	"Gonna tell my parents," he said excitedly.
	"Mike."
	"Yeah?"
	"Clothes."
	"Oh yeah," he grinned. He threw on his clothes carelessly and
bolted out the door.
	I leaned back into the bed, drawing the covers close to my chin. I
was leaving my home. Surprisingly, I didn't feel about it one way or the
other. There was an emptiness where home should have been. It didn't
matter. Home was always there, but it wasn't important. I always returned
because I always had. When I was a kid, my parents would tell me to come
home, and I did. There was no questioning in my mind, no attempt to see any
other course of action except to go home.
	I burrowed deeper under the covers, letting the warmth envelop me
almost to the point of suffocation.
	Mike's house wasn't home either. It was still foreign in a way that
made me uncomfortable. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. All of them
seemed out of place with me, like they didn't fit with me, or I didn't fit
with them. Instead of warm and inviting, they jarred me to consciousness,
keeping me acutely aware of everything around me.
	I rose from the bed and dressed myself. With a careful gesture, I
shut the door behind me. I stood atop the staircase, looking down upon the
white tile, listening for voices. Hurried, whispered chatter arose from the
kitchen, much to my dismay.
	Slinking down the staircase was difficult at best. Once I became
cognizant of the sounds around me, I realized every second or third step
had different ideas about my leaving. The stairs moaned as I descended,
keeping close to the wall. I felt my back pocket, just to be sure I still
had my wallet and money.
	"Erik!"
	Shit.
	Mike materialized from the kitchen, a grin rippling across his
face. I walked down the steps briskly, trying to maintain the illusion that
I had intended to go into the kitchen.
	"It's all set. My parents will take care of everything."
	"Why?" I asked, feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of people
"taking care" of things for me.
	Mike furrowed his brow with a questioning glance. "What do you mean
why?" He looked from me to the front door, slowly putting the pieces
together. "You weren't coming downstairs to talk to me and my parents,
where you? You were going to leave."
	I nodded, seeing no point in denying it. "I just feel like it's
what I have to do. I don't like feeling this way, I don't. But, I can't
help it. I get all panicked, like I can't breathe. It's like being trapped.
It doesn't matter if I live in a nice place with nice things. It's still
like a prison cell to me. Just different looking bars."
	I regretted what I was saying, truth that it was. Mike's eyes began
to water, making me hate myself all the more.
	"And it doesn't matter that you'd be with me?" He looked so heart
broken. It made me want to lie.
	But I didn't.
	"Mike," I said, squeezing his hands. "It does matter. It matters a
lot. But, no one can force me into anything. I have to choose to be
somewhere. I can't go there by circumstance. Because, then I'll be trapped.
Do you see what I'm saying?"
	He stared at me hard, almost trying to penetrate my eyes and look
inside my mind, an impossible task at best. "And where does that leave us?
Erik, how long am I supposed to wait for you to figure this all out? I know
there's things you're not telling me. I know it. But, I can't help me until
you tell me what's on your mind."
	I smiled slightly, a plan forming in my mind.
	"Two days. Give me two days."
	"Two days? What do you need two days for." I could tell he was
worried. I don't think he wanted to leave me alone for two minutes let
alone two days. He thought I would do something destructive.
	"I need time to think, time to figure everything out once and for
all.  I have to come to an understanding with myself about things. When I
do that, I think I'll see things more clearly. I'll be able to actually
make rational decisions."
	He kissed me lightly on the lips. "Where are you going to go."
	"I'm going to two places. One where things happened and another
where I never got an explanation for it."
	"Where's that?"
	"I'm going to church for that explanation. I deserve one. After
that.." I drew a deep breath. "I'm going home."

tbc