Date: Mon, 16 Jun 2003 14:51:23 EDT
From: Aterovis@aol.com
Subject: Bright Things Come to Confusion - Part 1

Hello all. It's been a while. This is a four-part novella that was
originally published on my website. The main character is one that will be
familiar to you if you've read my first book, Bleeding Hearts. You can kind
of think of this as a prequel to BH. If you haven't read Bleeding Hearts,
don't worry, this can be read on its own, but you may want to look it up
afterwards. There is a companion short story called "Eden Revisited" on my
site and elsewhere on Nifty. More at the end, but now, on with the story:


Bright Things Come to Confusion
Part 1 of 4

	A scream ripped through my dreams, snapping me awake in an instant.

	I sat bolt upright in my bed, heart hammering in my chest. Had it
been real or just a nightmare? I heard angry voices coming from elsewhere
in the house and my heart rate slowed as I realized it was just my parents
fighting again. Nothing new there. My room was at the far end of the hall
so I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. I heard a crash and
decided that this fight seemed worse than usual. I wondered what it was
about this time.

	I slipped from my bed and crept towards the door. It wasn't
uncommon for my parents to fight, but there was something different about
this one. I felt my stomach clench up.

	"Get out!" I heard my mother scream. As far as I knew, she'd never
kicked Dad out before. I grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly,
pulling at the same time. I almost leapt from my skin when I saw my little
brother Kane standing in the hallway, just a few feet away. He'd turned
when I opened the door and stood staring at me like a deer caught in
headlights, his eyes huge and round. It was obvious that he'd been there
for a while and had probably heard a lot more than I had. Kane turned back
towards the voices, which were lower now so that I still couldn't tell what
was being said. Kane had eased up to the corner of the hallway now. I
stepped out in order to hear better. At the same time, Kane suddenly
stepped into the living room.

	"Mommy?" he gasped. The look on his face told me that whatever he
was seeing out there wasn't a pretty sight. Dad shifted into view and I
quickly stepped back into my room.

	In the sudden silence that followed, Dad's voice carried easily to
where I stood. "Go back to bed, sweetie. Mommy and I are having a
disagreement. It'll be okay." He didn't sound at all convincing to me, but
Kane turned reluctantly and trudged back down the hall towards his
room. "You too, Seth." Dad added, making me jump.

	With a sigh, I shut the door and returned to my bed. I didn't go to
sleep, though. I lay there awake, straining to hear what was going on in
the living room, but they kept their voices down after that. Somehow, that
scared me even more. I watched as the minutes ticked by, and slowly the
minutes turned into hours. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to
know what had happened.

	Once more, I slipped from my bed and eased open my door. The house
was dark and eerily quiet. I thought I heard a soft snuffling, almost like
someone crying, coming from the direction of the living room. A creepy blue
light emanated from the doorway and a horror movie I'd watched (without
permission) the week before crept into my mind. I almost lost my nerve
about leaving the relative safety of my room, but I gathered up all the
courage I had and dashed quickly across the hall, letting myself into
Kane's room as silently as possible.

	At first, I couldn't find him in the pile of stuffed animals on the
bed. I hadn't even known he owned this many toys. He must have unloaded his
entire toy box onto the bed. Was he trying to hide under there? I started
tossing them aside, looking for my little brother.

	"Lions and tigers and teddy bears," I grumbled. He had enough toy
animals to populate a small zoo. Finally, I found him curled into a ball in
the center of the bed.

	I shook him gently awake and he came up with a ragged gasp.

	"Shh," I hissed quickly. "It's just me. Seth."

	Kane blinked at me with his huge green eyes, looking more like a
startled owl than a nine-year-old boy. His reddish-blonde hair even stuck
up like the ear tufts of a great-horned owl.

	"What time is it?" he asked.

	"Late. I need to talk to you."

	"About what? Are Mommy and Daddy still fighting?"

	"No, but that's what I want to talk to you about."

	"Now?"

	"Yes now. What were they fighting about?"

	"I don't know," he said, his little face screwed up in
confusion. "Mom sounded really angry, like she hated Dad. Do you think she
hates him?"

	"I don't know, Kane. Just tell me what they were saying."

	"I couldn't even understand most of it. Mom's voice was all
funny. She was yelling at Daddy to get out and then he said something about
us, and then..." He stopped suddenly as if he'd just remembered
something. "Hey Seth, what's a faggot?"

	I froze.

	"Seth?" he asked.

	"What did you say?"

	"What's a faggot?"

	"Why?"

	"Because, I heard Mom say it when she was fighting with Daddy."

	"She said faggot? You're sure of that?"

	"Yeah, what does it mean?"

	I turned without answering and was at the door in a flash. I let
myself out of Kane's room and tiptoed down the hall as stealthily as I
could manage. I peeked around the corner into the living room. Mom was
sitting in front of the computer, crying. The images on the screen
confirmed my worst fear. I half stumbled back to my room, my heart gripped
in the tight confines of grief and terror. I knew now why Mom and Dad had
been fighting. They'd been fighting over me. They'd discovered my dirty
little secret and it was all over. What would happen now? Would they come
screaming into my room? Throw me out? Hit me? The waiting was almost worse
than what I felt was the inevitable confrontation.

	It had all started a few months before. I was playing at a friend's
house when his Mom had run to the store, leaving us alone. She wasn't even
out of the driveway yet when he'd asked if I wanted to see something
cool. He'd turned on the computer, signed onto the internet, and in just a
few minutes, we were staring at pictures of naked women. At twelve, I'd
barely started thinking about sex, but my friend was obviously a little
more advanced than I. It didn't take him long to start rubbing at his
crotch, which was home to a bulge he didn't bother to hide. I found myself
more interested in what was happening between his legs than the action on
the screen. In fact, the large breasted women actually made me a little
uncomfortable. I found all these new things more than a little overwhelming
and I was quite glad when we heard the sound of his mother's car pulling
back in and he turned off the computer.

	For days after that, I found myself wondering what my friend looked
like without his clothes. It didn't really strike me as all that odd that I
was thinking about my male friend naked. After all, it was just curiosity,
or so I told myself. There was no way I was gay. It was a term thrown
around quite a bit a school. I knew it meant guys who liked guys, but more
than that, I knew it was something very negative and dirty. That wasn't me,
was it?

	My sudden obsession with seeing my friend naked soon grew to
curiosity about almost every boy in my class. The brief glimpses in gym
class weren't enough. It was weeks before it occurred to me that if the
internet held pictures of naked women, that maybe it would hold pictures of
naked guys as well. I waited impatiently for several days before I was left
alone at home to try out my theory.

	A few key words in my favorite search engine, and seconds later, I
had all the naked guys I could wish for. Most were a lot older than me, but
it didn't stop a tent from quickly forming in my shorts. Then I hit what I
considered pay dirt, a site that hosted nothing but young boys who didn't
look that much older than me. I was in heaven. Over the next few months, I
was online every chance I got, searching for pictures of naked young
boys. Over time, I got careless. I saved my favorites onto the hard drive
in files that I gave innocuous names like 'project' and 'work'. I'd known
it was a bad idea but I just couldn't resist having them where I could
bring them up to look at whenever I wanted. Now Mom and Dad had found the
files. It was all over. They knew all about me.

	Over the last few months, I'd come to the uneasy conclusion that I
might be gay, but it was still something I felt terribly unprepared to deal
with. I wondered what they had thought when they found the files. They must
have been so disappointed. I'd never heard Mom sound so upset. I wondered
what they would do. I waited and waited, shivering alone in the middle of
my bed, but no one ever came. At some point, I began to cry and I must have
eventually cried myself to sleep. The next thing I knew, my alarm was going
off. It was a school day. My world hadn't come to an end last night, but
maybe they were waiting for this morning. I dragged myself out of bed and
went through my morning routine out of habit, all the while wondering when
the other shoe would drop.

	I entered the kitchen hesitantly. Kane sat at the kitchen table
eating a bowl of cereal while warily watching our mother. He hadn't
finished dressing yet; he had his pants on, but no shirt, socks or
shoes. Usually, he wouldn't be allowed to eat until he was ready for
school, which just confirmed to me that something was very wrong. Mom stood
by the sink, staring blankly out the window. Dark circles surrounded her
eyes and her shoulders slumped in a defeated manner.

	"Get a bowl of cereal and get ready for the bus," she said
listlessly without turning. She can't even stand to look at me, I thought
darkly.

	"I'm not hungry," I mumbled. The very thought of food made my
stomach heave. I didn't get a response.

	For several minutes, the only sound in the room was Kane's spoon
clinking against the bowl and the slight slurp as he ate. Finally, I
couldn't stand it any more.

	"Where's Dad?" I asked, hating the tremble that betrayed my
emotion. Kane's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

	"Gone," Mom said harshly.

	I gulped. "When will he be back?" I asked in a small voice.

	"He's not coming back," she snapped in a voice that clearly said
that was the end of the subject.

	Kane dropped his spoon with a clatter, splashing milk and cereal
all over the table. Mom spun around and glared at the mess.

	"Clean it up," she barked, then pushed roughly past me. "Don't miss
the bus," she yelled back at us before slamming her bedroom door.

	Kane looked at me with round eyes. "Daddy's gone?" he asked, his
lower lip beginning to tremble.

	I grabbed some paper towels and started mopping up the milk and
Lucky Charms. I didn't know what to say to Kane. What could I say? That Dad
had left because he found out his oldest son was a faggot and he couldn't
stand it? That Mom was so devastated she couldn't even look at me? That it
was all my fault that our family had been ripped apart?

	Tears rolled down my cheeks as I cleaned. Kane stared in horrified
silence. I didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to face all my
friends and pretend nothing was wrong. I wanted to curl up in my bed and
cry. Or better yet, I wanted it to all go away. I just wanted all of this
to be a terrible nightmare. But Mom had said not to miss the school
bus. She probably didn't want me here.

	A sudden thought occurred to me as I stared down at the sodden mess
of paper towels and colored marshmallow shapes. If I had messed things up,
maybe I could fix them as well.

	"Kane," I said and he looked up at me with tear-filled
eyes. "Finish cleaning this up, then get ready for school, okay?"

	He stared at me uncomprehendingly. "Kane?" I said, a little more
sharply than I'd intended. He flinched a little, but focused on me this
time. I repeated my instructions and he nodded.

	I walked to my parent's bedroom door and took a deep breath before
knocking hesitantly. There was a muffled response from within, which I took
as an invitation to come in. Once inside, I suddenly didn't know what to
say. Mom was lying on the bed, not bothering to hide the fact that she was
crying. She still wouldn't look at me.

	"M-Mom?" I began shakily. "I...I'm sorry." I stopped and choked
down a sob. After a second, I tried to continue. "I...I know you're really
upset right now, but I promise to be really good from now on, okay? I'll do
whatever you want me to do. Okay?" There was no response except for silent
shuddering. "Okay, Mom? And maybe if I'm good, Dad will come back."

	That, at least, seemed to get a reaction. She sat up and looked at
me for the first time that morning, her bloodshot eyes narrowed. I took an
involuntary step back. "Your father isn't coming back. Ever. He's gone for
good." She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. "But I will
need you to be good. Both you and Kane. It's just us from now on, and that
means we're all going to have to pick up the slack. And what I want you to
do right now is get ready for school. So please go help Kane and make sure
you don't miss the bus."

	I nodded mutely and turned to go.

	"And Seth?" she called. I stopped, afraid to turn back around and
look into her eyes again. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

	Somehow, I managed to get Kane ready. I don't even remember any of
it. All I could think was that I really had destroyed our family and now
Mom hated me because of it. I could see it in her eyes. She'd tried to hide
it, but I'd seen it.

	I was standing on the sidewalk in front of our house, waiting for
the bus when I felt that tingling feeling you get on the back of your neck
when someone is watching you. Kane hadn't come out of the house yet so I
turned slowly and scanned the yard behind me. Suddenly, I spotted Dad
standing in the window of the house next door. Mr. and Mrs. Marsh lived
there. That must have been where he'd gone when he left last night. Dad was
just staring at me with a sad expression. I almost started crying when I
saw him. I had made him sad. I had made him leave.

	He raised his hand and gave me a small wave. My throat constricted
as I realized this was his way of telling me goodbye. I waved back just as
I heard the bus pulling up. I wanted so badly to run to him and tell him
how sorry I was and that I would be good from now on. That I'd never look
at boys again if he would just come home. But I didn't. Instead, I turned
and climbed onto the bus and walked to the very back. He was still standing
at the window as we drove by. It would be the last time I would see my dad
for years.

* * *
	When I got home from school later that day, Mom was barricaded in
her room and didn't even come out to ask me how my day had been. That had
always been something Dad asked as soon as he got home from work every day,
no matter how busy he was. A sharp jab of grief blindsided me as I realized
I might never hear him ask me that again. All at once, it hit me that there
was something different about the house. Not just the absence of Dad's
presence, but something more. It only took me a few seconds to realize what
it was. I quickly went from room to room, but it was the same
everywhere. Everything that had been Dad's was gone, as if he'd never
existed. For a panicked second, I thought that maybe I had somehow imagined
him. Kane arrived home at that moment and just the sight of him quickly
brought me back to earth.

	Since Mom still hadn't made an appearance, I fixed Kane a snack of
some fruit and milk. A couple hours later, I was wondering what to do about
dinner when she finally emerged from her room. One look at her and I almost
wished she hadn't. Her face was splotchy and eyes were swollen and
bloodshot; it was obvious that she's been crying again. Suddenly, I wasn't
hungry anymore. I made her feel that bad, I thought miserably to
myself. This is all my fault.

	Without even asking, she picked up the phone and ordered a pizza to
be delivered, then left me some money to pay for it before turning around
and going back into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Kane
watched all this with wide, frightened eyes.

	"Is Mommy going to be okay?" he asked in a small voice. He looked
like he could burst into tears at any second.

	You have to be strong, I told myself firmly, even though I felt
like I could cry at any second too.

	"I'm sure she'll be fine," I lied. I wasn't sure at all. It seemed
like our entire world was crashing down around us. "She's just sad about
Dad leaving..." My voice caught in my throat and I had to stop. I swallowed
a few times, then continued. "Don't worry though, kiddo. I'll take care of
you."

	He gave me a tremulous smile and I quickly turned away to hide the
tears that were threatening to spill over, rummaging in the refrigerator
for sodas as an excuse. We watched TV until the pizza arrived. I had no
idea how much to tip the delivery guy so I gave him a twenty for one large
pizza.

	"Keep the change," I said, feeling ridiculous but not knowing what
else to say. It must have been okay, because the pizza guy just nodded and
said thanks.

	After we ate, I helped Kane with his homework and then did mine
while he watched Nickelodeon. When his bedtime arrived, he went to bed and
let me tuck him in without arguing, something I don't think he'd ever done
before in his life. I think we both knew that the rules were different now.

	Once that was done, I realized I needed clean clothes for the next
day. This was the day Mom usually did laundry so most of my school clothes
were dirty. I figured that was up to me as well. I turned on the light in
the laundry room and stared at the messy pile of clothes on the floor. It
looked like someone had dumped out the laundry basket and then kicked stuff
everywhere. With a sigh, I started the washer and threw in clothes at
random, not even knowing enough to sort the colors. I just about had a full
load when I recognized one of Dad's favorite shirts. It was the first thing
I'd seen that was his. I stopped and just stared at it for a minute before
slowly reaching out and picking it up. I brought it to my face and
inhaled. It still smelled like his cologne.

	Before I knew what was happening, I was on the floor curled into
the fetal position, weeping into the shirt. Everything I'd been holding
back for Kane's sake, all the guilt and fear and grief, just came pouring
out without inhibition. I don't know how long I cried, but I suddenly
noticed Kane in the doorway. I cut off my sobs with a hiccup and sat up.

	"You miss Daddy too?" he asked with a tear-filled voice.

	I simply nodded and in a flash, he was in my arms crying on my
shoulder. I held him and cried with him, the two of us sitting on the
laundry room floor, grieving together. We formed a bond that night that
would get us through the next few years.

	The following weeks were a living hell. Mom barely spoke to us
except to yell and always seemed to be on the verge of losing her
temper. Kane and I tiptoed around trying to guess what we would do to set
her off next and avoid doing it at all costs. We weren't allowed to talk
about Dad and all she would tell us was that they were getting a
divorce. Kane and I hadn't talked any more about their big fight since that
first night. It seemed we'd both silently agreed to avoid the topic. I
don't know about Kane, but most nights I cried myself to sleep in a fit of
self-recrimination and missing Dad.

	For my part, I'd vowed to myself to do exactly what I'd promised
Mom. I didn't touch the computer except to do homework and every time I
caught myself thinking about a boy, I'd mentally slap myself. I was
determined to be the perfect son. I might have lost Dad, but I wasn't about
to lose Mom too.

	Despite my best efforts, it became obvious that I'd already lost
her, at least emotionally. It was like she was a completely different
person now. She'd never been the warmest person - Dad had always been the
really affectionate parent - but now she was positively frigid. She seemed
to grow more distant with every day. The further she withdrew emotionally,
the harder I tried to please her.

	One good thing that came out of all this is that Kane and I
continued to grow closer than ever. Mom had said that we would all have to
pick up the slack, but it seemed I was doing most of the picking up. I went
from a carefree kid to the man of the house in just a few weeks. I kept
doing the laundry and even started doing some of the lighter
housework. Most mornings, I was the one who cooked Kane's breakfast and
helped him get ready for school. I found myself becoming very protective of
my younger brother.

	The only other thing to benefit from this situation was my
schoolwork. My grades up till now would best be described as average, but I
transformed myself into the perfect student. In the process, I discovered a
certain satisfaction in my work, in getting an "A" on my papers and
receiving the recognition from my teachers brought on by my sudden interest
in academics. In some ways, the attention from my teachers helped offset
the loss of my father and my mother's continuing withdrawal. It wasn't what
I really wanted, but it was enough to keep me going. I think some of my
teachers recognized the deeper pain that I struggled so hard to hide at
school, and made a special effort to be supportive and encouraging. When
things failed to improve at home, I simply threw myself even deeper into
school activities, becoming involved with extracurricular clubs like
after-school drama.

	The next few years blurred into a routine. Mom mellowed somewhat;
we didn't have to walk on eggshells around the house anymore, but she was
as distant as ever. She took almost no interest in our lives beyond making
sure we didn't interfere too much in hers. Kane followed my lead by doing
well in school, but his true escape became skateboarding. I kept an eye on
him, knew all his friends, and generally made sure he stayed out of
trouble. For my part, I felt I lived up to my end of the bargain. I was now
a straight-A student, at or near the top of my class. I was friendly with
everyone, but I had few close friends and no one that I really allowed
inside. It had seemed easier that way, no chances of me finding myself
attracted to one of my male friends. Plus, it had the added bonus of
keeping everyone at arms length. If no one got too close, no one could hurt
me or find out my secrets. If I was lonely much of the time, well, that was
the price that had to be paid. My plan worked as well as I could have hoped
until I was fifteen.

	If Kane's escape was skateboarding, then mine was definitely
acting. I loved drama. I loved getting lost in a part, being able to become
someone else for however brief a period, forgetting who and what I was. It
was my sophomore year and we were putting on a production of "A Midsummer
Night's Dream". I was Lysander, which was quite an honor for an under
classman. The other cast members were probably the closest thing I had to
friends, but I rarely spent time with them outside of school. There were
four of us who received the starring roles in almost every production and
we'd formed a tight knit bond. There was Leah playing Helena, Brooke as
Hermia, and Cole as Demetrius.

	Leah and Brooke were as different as night and day. Leah was a
junior and looked as if she'd be more at home on the field, cheering for
the team, pom-poms in hand. She had long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes,
and an unerringly cheery personality. She was also one of the best
actresses in our school. She wasn't vain at all, despite her almost perfect
good looks, and she was quite willing to take any role and totally become
that character. The only thing Leah had in common with the older Brooke was
her love of drama. Where Leah was small and light, Brooke was big and
dark. Not to say that she was fat, far from it in fact, but she was
large-boned and athletic. She wasn't unattractive, but she would have been
better described as handsome rather than pretty or cute. She had olive skin
that looked as if she had a tan 365 days a year. Her dark eyes flashed when
she was angry or excited and she wore her dark brown hair short and
spiky. The short hair might have presented a problem in playing Hermia, but
she had tried out for the part in a long dark wig and nailed her lines. If
Leah and Brooke hadn't shared a passion for acting, they probably would
have never spoken, but then, that was true of all of us. I would certainly
have never allowed myself to get as close to Cole as I had if wasn't for
the camaraderie of rehearsals and cast parties. It was one of those things
that crept up on me until it was too late to do anything about it.

	Like Brooke, Cole was also a senior. This would be his last play
before he graduated. When I'd first started drama as a freshman, Cole had
been a little threatened by me. Before I'd come along, he'd been
unchallenged as the best actor in the group. It hadn't taken anyone very
long to realize that I was just as good as Cole. We had settled into a kind
of adversarial rivalry for roles that gradually eased into a competition of
a friendlier sort, and eventually into something akin to friendship. Or as
close as I came to friendship. We had a mutual respect for each other's
acting ability. What Cole didn't know, what no one knew, what I barely
dared admit to myself, is that I admired Cole for more than just his acting
ability.

	Cole was slightly shorter than me and thin. He was on the swim team
in addition to drama and he had the classic swimmer's build, streamlined
and powerful, but not showy. I'd always thought his name would have been
more appropriately spelled "coal". He was what is often referred to as
"Black Irish". His hair was so black it sometimes seemed to reflect blue,
and his eyes were just as dark. His creamy complexion seemed even paler
against the stark contrast. I thought he was one of the most beautiful boys
I had ever seen and he had a natural grace to his movement that
complimented his looks. Just being in his presence never failed to make me
feel awkward and gangly. Over the last year, I had grown to almost six feet
tall and I had yet to adjust to my sudden height. My poker-straight
reddish-blonde hair had a mind of its own and so I had adopted a carefully
mussed look that was harder to achieve than one might think. Next to Cole,
I felt like a court jester before a prince. I tried very hard to hide my
awkwardness around him, and most of the time I was pretty successful. Every
now and then, though, I would catch him looking at me with a strange
expression, and for a second, I would think that he knew how I felt. But
then he'd look away and I'd convince myself that it had just been my
imagination.

	Our first performance was only a few weeks away and Mr. Roedel, the
drama director, was starting to get hyper. Of course, he always got hyper
as opening night approached. The closer it got, the more manic he'd become
until he'd practically be in heart failure by the time the curtains
actually opened. This time, though, even I was a little nervous. Rehearsals
had been rough. A lot of the lines were really long and with the unfamiliar
Shakespearian English, some people were having a lot of trouble memorizing
them. The guy who was playing Theseus could barely get two words out
without getting stuck and Hippolyta wasn't much better. I wasn't worried
about my lines. I'd been blessed with a very good memory and I'd memorized
all my lines already. I was worried about everyone else though, for Cole's
sake as much as anything. Leah and Brooke pretty much had their lines down
as well, although there were still a few places they stumbled over. Of the
four of us, Cole was having the most difficulty, which was odd since he
usually had his lines memorized before I did. I passed it off as nerves
about his final performance. I knew he wanted it to go well.

	Most of our in-school rehearsal time was spent on scenes one, four,
and five since those were the ones Theseus and Hippolyta were in. Since
Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena were in these scenes as well, that
left the fairy cast pretty much on their own most of the time. When
Mr. Roedel finally realized this, it was obvious he didn't know quite what
to do. Theseus and Hippolyta still needed a lot of work, but we needed to
rehearse the Woods scenes as well. His solution was to stay even later
after school. I didn't have a problem with this, as anything that kept me
out of the house even longer was fine by me. After a week of this
arrangement, however, we still weren't spending much time on scenes two and
three. Cole grew more and more nervous, since most of his biggest scenes
were in the neglected parts.

	Finally, Leah came up with a solution.

	"Why don't we get together at my house and work on these scenes?"
she suggested after a particularly discouraging rehearsal.

	Cole brightened up immediately. "That's a great idea!" he said
happily. "When?"

	"Whenever is good for everyone else I guess." Brooke and Cole
quickly said that they were available anytime. Leah turned an expectant
gaze at me. I had never been to Leah's house before and I'd never been
anywhere outside of school with Cole. I realized everyone was waiting for
my response.

	"Whenever is fine for me too," I mumbled, trying not to blush.

	After checking with Allison, Tim, and Eddie - who played Titania,
Oberon, and Puck respectively - we settled on Friday evening. Leah said
she'd order pizza.

	"It'll be like a little party!" she enthused with a giggle. She
threw her arm around my shoulder and jumped up and down a little. "I can
hardly wait! It'll be so much fun!"

	I smiled tightly. I wasn't used to socializing outside of school,
let alone going to parties.

	"We have to work too, Leah," Cole said, coming to my rescue.

	"Oh, I know, but it doesn't mean we can't have fun, too!"

	So the date was set and we went our separate ways, my stomach
clenched at the very thought of spending time alone with Cole. Sure, we
wouldn't really be alone, but still... Somehow, it was okay at
school. Being in the intimacy of someone's home, though, scared me.

	Brooke usually gave me a ride home after practice since she lived
only a block away and Mom couldn't be bothered to pick me up. I was
unusually quiet - even for me - on the ride home and she couldn't help but
notice.

	"What's wrong?" she finally asked.

	"What? Huh? Nothing!" I sputtered. I'd been in my own little world
of worry.

	"Something is obviously bothering you. You were fine up until Leah
suggested rehearsing at her house."

	"It's not that," I said quickly. "I'm just worried about the play,
you know, and my lines and all..." I faded out lamely.

	"You know your lines better than anyone else in the damn play," she
scoffed. "What's really bugging you?" When I didn't respond, she tried a
different tack. "Look, Seth, you know you can trust me, right? We're
friends, aren't we?"

	I looked over at her nervously. What was she getting at? Sure, we
were friends, but we'd never been the type that confided in each
other. Just school friends. The kind you saw in the hallway and said "hi"
to, chatted with at lunch, maybe even did things like give you a ride after
school, but that was it...wasn't it?

	"I'm fine," I insisted.

	Brooke sighed. "Fine. Whatever." I could tell I'd disappointed her,
but what was I supposed to do? Tell her I was pretty sure I was gay but
that I'd destroyed our family by being careless about it before and I
wasn't about to let it happen again? That I was afraid to be alone with
Cole because I had a crush on him?

	I gasped out loud. I'd never admitted that I had a crush on Cole,
not even to myself.

	"Oh for God's sake," Brooke burst out, causing me to jump. "I know
you like Cole," she said quickly, as if she just couldn't hold the words in
anymore.

	"What?' I yelped. How could she know? I hadn't even admitted it to
myself before a few seconds ago.

	"The way you look at him, the way you avoid being too close to him,
the way you blush when he speaks directly to you. It's obvious."

	"Obvious?" I whispered.

	She looked over at me and realized how terrified I was. She quickly
pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall and parked. "Obvious if you
know what to look for," she said.

	"Do you think anyone else knows?" I asked with a growing panic.

	She shrugged. "I doubt it. I've never heard anyone say anything
specifically about you. You know how some people just assume that any guy
in drama is gay."

	Gay. She'd said it out loud. The word hung in the air. Suddenly I
felt like I couldn't breathe. I began to hyperventilate.

	"Put your head between your legs," Brooke ordered, pushing my head
down. "Take deep breaths." I tried to do as she said and, slowly, my
breathing returned to normal.

	"It's not the end of the world," she said softly.

	"You don't understand," I said with a slightly hysterical note
creeping into my voice.

	"Yeah, actually I do."

	"You can't understand," I wailed.

	"Seth, I'm a lesbian."

	That stopped my impending panic attack in its tracks. "What?" I
asked dumbly.

	"I said I'm a lesbian. A dyke. A rug muncher..."

	"I get the picture," I said quickly.

	"So you see, I do understand."

	"Not really," I moaned. The shock of her revelation was wearing off
and my panic was returning in full force.

	"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried
about."

	"It's not just that," I said, trying hard not to hyperventilate
again. I started talking, barely realizing I was speaking. "When I was
twelve, my parents found out I was gay. I'd left some stuff on the
computer. They had a big fight about it and my dad left. My mom hasn't been
the same since. It's like she can barely stand to look at me."

	"Oh God, Seth, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

	"I swore to myself that I would make them proud of me, that I would
be straight. I guess at the time I thought it would somehow make things
right again, bring my dad back. It's pretty obvious that isn't going to
happen now, but still...you know? I just want to make them proud of me."

	We sat in silence for a few minutes; I'd run out of words and
Brooke didn't seem to know what to say. Finally, she made up her mind.

	"You know, being gay isn't something to be ashamed of, it's just a
part of who you are. People who think it's something evil or bad are the
ones that have it wrong. You can't help who you like and you can't make
yourself be something you're not. I know you probably don't want to hear
this, but if your dad really left your family just because you're gay, then
he was a jerk and you're better off without him."

	My head snapped up. "He wasn't a jerk," I hissed. "You don't even
know him."

	Brooke's eyes widened. "I don't have to know him to know it's a
shitty thing to leave your kid when he needs you the most."

	"And I suppose your parents know about you and are fine with it,
huh?' I challenged.

	"Actually, yes. I told them last year. They had a little trouble
with it at first, but they went to this support group called PFLAG and
everything is fine now."

	A pang of jealously shot through me. "Well we can't all be that
lucky," I said bitterly.

	"I'm really sorry, Seth. Maybe I shouldn't have even brought this
up, but I could see it was really bothering you and I thought if someone
else knew it would be easier on you."

	"Maybe you were wrong," I said, turning and looking out the window.

	"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She started the car and pulled back
out into the traffic. We didn't speak again until she pulled into my
driveway. "I won't mention any of this again unless you choose to bring it
up," she said quickly, before I could get out. "If you want to talk, you
know my number. And you don't have to worry about me saying anything to
anyone. I promise."

	I got out without saying a word, but I shut the door gently instead
of slamming it, as I probably would have done a few seconds before.

	I avoided Mom and Kane for the rest of the night, shutting myself
in my room and not even coming out for dinner. I just told them I wasn't
feeling good. Mom was easy to avoid; Kane was a little harder. I actually
snapped at him when he stuck his head in my room to ask if I needed
anything. I felt bad about it as soon as I saw the hurt in his eyes, but I
was too caught up in my own misery to follow after him when he withdrew his
head and shut the door again.

	I was dreading Friday evening more than ever now. What if Brooke
broke her promise and told everyone? I couldn't see her actually doing
that, but it was still a fear I had. And her words kept echoing through my
head. Was Dad a jerk for leaving us? All this time I'd been so busy blaming
myself that I'd never allowed myself to be angry at him for going. For the
first time ever, I allowed myself to feel a bit of the resentment that I'd
buried so deeply.

	And what about the other stuff she'd said? She'd made being gay
sound like being born left-handed. Just a part of who you are, not
something you can help or change. It was something I'd never let myself
think about before. I didn't sleep much that night. I had too much on my
mind. And it was only Tuesday. Would I even survive till Friday?

To be continued...

------------------------------------

More about the author:

Josh Aterovis, a twenty-something artist-author, was born and bred on the
Eastern Shore of Maryland and lives there with his partner, Jon. Aterovis
is a Latin pseudonym meaning "black sheep."

Whenever anyone asked Josh what he wanted to be when he grew up, he always
said an author. It got him plenty of strange looks, but he never really
expected it to come true; it was just one of those things a kid says. In
1999, Josh's wishful dream became reality when he began to write a story
and post it on the Internet. Bleeding Hearts resonated deeply with readers,
who encouraged him to seek publication, and in 2001, the story was
published by Renaissance Alliance Publishing, Inc. Named the Best Whodunit
of 2002 by the Stonewall Society, Bleeding Hearts became the first book in
the Killian Kendall mystery series.

Reap the Whirlwind, his second book featuring amateur sleuth Killian
Kendall, is available as of May 5th, 2003. Josh has completed four books in
the series and is currently working on the fifth. He has won numerous
awards for his writing and for his web site, which also features his
well-received art gallery: www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts.

Email feedback to Aterovis@aol.com