Uncaged
By Wes
Leigh featuring the contributions of Rob the Scribe
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of our readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
to contact us at weston.leigh@protonmail.com and
robthescribe@protonmail.com.
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The next day, Rachel and RJ didn't feel ready to face the
other people at church. Instead, they stayed home. Rachel spent time in the
house, cleaning. RJ went out into the yard, kicking at the grass.
Mickey came out of his back door when he saw RJ. They looked
at each other, neither knowing what to say.
Finally, Mickey asked, "Are you okay?"
RJ snapped, "Of course not! How could I be
okay?"
"You don't have to bite my head off. I'm on your side,
remember?"
RJ felt immediate remorse and muttered, "I'm sorry, Mickey. Yesterday
was a horrible day for me."
"It's okay," Mickey replied. "I understand."
Shaking his head, RJ said, "You don't understand. No one
understands."
"Then explain it to me," Mickey begged. "How did he convince
you to do that?"
"What are you talking about?" RJ asked, confused.
"You know. Don't make me say it out loud, RJ."
"I really have no idea what you're talking about."
Mickey stepped closer and stared hard at RJ. "The sex stuff. With Roderyk. How did he talk you into doing it with
him? He's nowhere close to our age. I know you're gay, and I'm okay with that,
but why would you want to have sex with a guy as old as he is?"
RJ felt like Mickey had punched him in the stomach. He
stared in shock at Mickey for a minute, then slowly replied, "Who told you
that?"
Mickey shrugged. "I figured it out. From stuff you wrote. And
things you said. Ms. Masters and I figured it out. That was when she said I
should talk to my mom and get you help."
"WHAT?" RJ shouted, "You and Ms. Masters are the ones who
told the cops we were having sex? How could you betray me like that, Mickey?
You're supposed to be my friend!"
"I am, RJ. I'm your best friend. We did it to
help you. To get you away from him."
RJ turned his back on Mickey and shouted over one shoulder,
"Correction, Mickey. You were my best friend."
They didn't speak again. Not even while waiting at the bus
stop. On the bus, they sat in different seats. At school, they went their
separate ways without saying a word. They didn't look at each other in PE. Of
course, the other kids saw all this and knew it meant that Mickey had finally
come to his senses and left the fag unprotected.
Everywhere RJ went, their eyes followed him. Staring eyes. Laughing
eyes.
And as he passed them by, their mocking eyes tracked him as
their whispering lips found eager ears to share the gossip
they had somehow picked up from a boy's uncle who worked in the sheriff's
department. RJ's not just a fag, but he screws around with old dudes. He has a
man for a boyfriend, and they've done real sex stuff. His asshole is probably
stretched out from being fucked up the butt. RJ. The Fag. The Queer. The Boy
Toy.
Some were bold enough to walk right behind him, whispering,
"Where's your daddy, little boy?"
Soon they began chanting softly, "Daddy's Boy. Daddy's Boy,"
whenever he walked by. If a teacher was near, they'd whisper, "DB," knowing the
teachers wouldn't have a clue what they were talking about, even when they
laughed as they said it.
RJ ignored it all. What could he do? No one cared. No one protected
him.
Ms. Masters had tried one time, but he had given her his
meanest glare and walked away. It was her fault this had happened. Why did she
have to stick her nose in his business? Stupid bitch! She wasn't his favorite
teacher anymore. He barely paid attention in her class, refusing to answer
questions, refusing to do any more assignments.
Mickey stayed away. That was no surprise really. Not after
the argument they'd had.
RJ felt hopelessly abandoned. If ever he needed his Angelus
to come carry him away, now was the time.
͠ ͠ ͠
Roderyk found himself in an entirely different kind of cage,
one without physical bars, but one which held him just as securely in a
relentless grip. He completed his tasks around the farm with robotic precision,
volunteering for the most unpleasant of duties without saying a word. He kept
to himself, not talking to the other employees, not meeting their eyes. At
meals, he sat across from Auntie, quickly finishing his food, then nodding his
thanks and heading out to work again. At the end of the day, he took a bath and
dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt and went to bed, sometimes hours before the
sun had set. And he would wake up in the early hours of the morning, unable to
sleep, unable to stop thinking about the boy he'd been accused of hurting, the
boy he wanted in his arms.
The week of misery passed and another Sunday morning dawned.
Auntie fixed a big breakfast and watched anxiously as Roderyk devoured it in
his now-typical mechanical silence.
"I'll be headin' for church in an hour," she said.
He swallowed and glanced up at her, briefly. He nodded but
said nothing.
"I'm hopin' you'll join me," she added.
He slowly looked up and whispered, "How could I? With all
that has happened? I can't face them, Auntie."
"It will help," she whispered back, her heart aching for her
nephew's misery.
He shook his head quickly from side to side. "Nothing will
help." He pushed his chair back and left the table, his food half eaten.
Auntie watched him go, her eyes brimming with tears.
͠ ͠ ͠
Auntie walked into the church building, her step slow and
burdened. She smiled at the greetings of her friends, but talked to no one. She
walked slowly to the front of the church and knelt in front of the dais, bowing
her head, clasping her hands in prayer.
She sensed someone next to her. Opening her eyes, she saw
Jasmine kneeling beside her. Next to Jasmine, April. Both girls nodded, tears
in their eyes, and bowed their heads to pray.
Jared and Timothy knelt next to Auntie on her other side. Their
impish grins were replaced with frowns of concern. Jared, who was next to
Auntie, took her hand in his own before bowing his head and closing his eyes.
Auntie felt a hand on her shoulder. An adult's hand. Belonging
to someone who was kneeling behind her and gripping her shoulder gently.
Another hand fell on her other shoulder.
A hand touched the back of her head.
More people knelt all around her. She glanced around and saw
everyone, children and adults, gathered at the front of the church, kneeling
down, eyes closed, some crying as they prayed.
Pastor James and his wife stood before them, holding hands
with bowed heads. Pastor James said, "Oh, dear Lord, with broken hearts, we bow
before you, placing ourselves in your hands, crying out to you for help in this
moment of need. We lift up to you Roderyk and RJ and their families, asking
that your angels would come to them now, surrounding them, protecting them,
lifting them up and giving them hope again in their moment of despair. Let your
healing fall upon them. Let your Spirit grant them peace, a peace beyond our
understanding, such as only can give..."
͠ ͠ ͠
Roderyk sat on the edge of the lake, staring at the waters,
wondering what it would be like to wade in and keep walking. To go deeper and deeper
into the depths. To let the cool waters cover him and grant him peace from a
world that stole his father and brother, his lovers and his friends, and now
his freedom. It would be so wonderful to stop fighting. The world would
probably celebrate. It had been trying to kill him all his life. With pain. With
depression. With alcohol and drugs.
Why keep fighting? What was the
point of it all?
He stood up and stared at the water. Didn't he deserve
comfort and peace? Is that what Dominik had now? Was Dominik in heaven, waiting
for him? Or in hell? Wherever Dominik was, would they finally be together
again? At peace.
He walked to the edge of the lake and squatted down. It
would be simple. The easiest thing he'd ever done. And it would be wonderful to
be free of the cage his life had become, to fly away and never return.
He stood up and began walking into the water. It was cool
and welcoming. It passed his knees, his hips, his chest. He kept walking,
struggling now to force himself deeper still, into the waters.
͠ ͠ ͠
RJ refused to leave his room.
"I made your favorite. Homemade pizza with lots of
pepperoni." Rachel stood at the closed bedroom door, calling out to RJ. "It's
cooling on the table, sweetie."
"I'm not hungry, Mom."
"You didn't eat breakfast, RJ. You must be hungry."
"I don't want anything."
Rachel bit her lip, at a loss. "I'll leave it in the
refrigerator then. You can heat it up later, when you get hungry. I have to go
to work now. Will you be okay on your own?"
"Yeah," RJ mumbled.
Rachel sighed. She didn't want to leave him alone, but she
had no choice. She hurried into the kitchen, covered the pizza with foil, and
placed it in the refrigerator.
As she headed out the door, she shouted, "Be good, sweetie. Momma
loves you."
RJ heard the front door shut and rolled out of his bed. His
eyes were red and puffy. He sniffed and blew his nose into the tissue he held
crumpled in his hand. Tossing the tissue in the wastebasket next to his desk,
he opened his door and padded, barefooted, down the hall to the bathroom. Standing
before the toilet, he shoved his underwear down and peed. He watched as the
yellow fluid left his body and splashed in the water. It didn't take long. He
hadn't had anything to drink all morning, and he was dehydrated. He shook off
the last few drops and pulled his underwear back up, then flushed the toilet
and washed his hands in the sink.
Down the hall to the kitchen, he stood in the middle of the
room in just his underwear. His mom would freak if she saw him that way. He was
always required to wear shorts over his underwear and a tee-shirt at least. What
the fuck did it matter now? His mom didn't care about him anymore. She didn't
care that he hated school and didn't want to go back. She didn't want to know
what he was going through. All she cared about was making him talk to that
horrible doctor lady.
No one cared. Everyone hated him. They didn't want him
around. Would love to see him disappear so they'd never have to look at his
ugly, fat body again.
RJ took a glass from the drainer next to the sink and filled
it with water. He took a sip. Swallowed. Took a big drink and gulped it down. Kept
drinking until he'd drained the glass. He refilled the glass and drank quickly.
Then he groaned and grabbed his stomach. The glass slipped
from his hands and fell to the floor shattering. RJ didn't care. His stomach
was heaving, sending wave after wave of nausea through his guts. He leaned over
and threw up violently, spewing the water back up all over the kitchen floor
and the broken glass. When there was nothing left to throw up, his stomach
continued to spasm, bringing tears to his eyes. He spit the last of the bile
from his mouth and wiped his lips on his arm.
Slowly, he sank down and sat on the cool floor, his back
against a cabinet, and began crying again. He pulled his knees up and folded
his arms there, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. And he wept.
͠ ͠ ͠
Auntie parked her pickup under the spreading branches of the
ancient oak tree. She climbed out slowly and walked up the path to her front
door.
Roderyk wasn't in the living room. Nor in the kitchen. Nor
in his room.
She walked out to the barn. He wasn't working in any of the
coops or the egg sorting room. Not in the storerooms either.
Where was he?
͠ ͠ ͠
Rachel McMahon couldn't concentrate. It was the third order
she'd gotten wrong, and her boss was frustrated with her. "Take the rest of the
day off, Rachel. You look like you need it."
"I can't afford that," she replied.
He shook his head. "I can't afford the food I'm throwin'
away `cause you keep messin' up orders. Take the rest of the day off."
She threw down her order pad and took off her apron.
Maybe it was for the best. She should probably be home with
RJ right now.
She rushed home and hurried into the apartment, screaming
when she saw RJ curled up in a fetal position in the kitchen floor, with broken
glass and vomit all over the linoleum.
͠ ͠ ͠
Auntie, now anxious, hurried back to the house to begin a room-by-room
search.
She found Roderyk, sitting at the kitchen table, drying off
his hair with a towel.
He looked up when she came in and said, "Hello, Auntie."
She walked up and gave him a gentle hug. "How do you feel,
my boy?"
"Better now," he said. "I went for a swim in the lake. Then
cleaned up. How ... how was church?"
She smiled and replied, "It was upliftin', my boy. Just what
my old bones needed. And what heavy hearts required."
He wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Can I help you make
lunch?"
She squeezed his shoulder. "You can indeed, my boy. You can
indeed."
͠ ͠ ͠
Rachel held RJ in her arms, cuddling him in her lap as if he
was a baby again. Dressed only in his underwear, it felt that way. He was far
bigger now, but his desperate need for his momma made him feel small and
vulnerable to her. She rocked him gently from side to side, kissing his cheek
from time to time, humming a song in his ear.
He let her rock him, loving the feeling of arms holding him
tight, of lips touching his face in love, of her voice calming his fears and
frustrations. He finally opened up to her, sharing the torture he'd been going
through at school at the hands of the other kids. His tears started up again,
and his mother cried with him, their souls joined together in shared pain.
Eventually the tears stopped, and she promised to take him
out of school.
"They won't let you," he whispered. "I have to go to school.
If I don't, you'll get in trouble."
"Not if I homeschool you," she whispered back.
"How will you do that? You have to work?"
"I don't know, but we'll figure something out." She hugged
him fiercely to her chest.
He leaned into her and fell asleep.
͠ ͠ ͠
Erin Masters walked into the school office on Monday and saw
the light blue paper in her mail cubby. It was a withdrawal slip. RJ McMahon. Withdrawn
from her sixth period English Composition class.
She saw Robert Anderson holding another one just like it. He
was RJ's biology teacher. She pointed at the withdrawal slip he held and raised
her eyebrows, silently questioning him.
He handed her the slip. RJ McMahon. Withdrawn from third
period Biology.
He sipped his coffee and said, "I understand his mother
pulled him out of school. It's probably for the best. Maybe things will settle
down now."
Erin shook her head sadly. It probably was for
the best, but she still hated to see it happen this way.
͠ ͠ ͠
"Did you hear?" a girl sitting behind Mickey whispered to
the girl next to her.
"Hear what?"
"Daddy's Boy quit school."
"What?"
"Yeah. RJ quit school. His mom pulled him out. He's not
coming back."
"Good. I hated seeing his fat face."
"Yeah. Now he can have all day to do his gross fag stuff at
his own house."
Mickey turned around and glared at the giggling girls.
One of them blinked and mumbled, "What?"
Mickey asked, "Why don't the two of you just shut the fuck
up?"
Their eyes opened wide in surprise, but they stopped
chattering and stared at their desktops until Mickey turned back to face the
front. Then they looked at each other, smirked, and started giggling again.
͠ ͠ ͠
Life went on.
Roderyk and Auntie returned to the daily routine of caring
for the farm and their chickens. There were eggs to collect, cartons to be
filled, and poop to be scooped. The chickens didn't care what the humans were
going through. The week passed quickly.
Rachel and RJ started a new routine of working on school
whenever she wasn't working at the diner. They didn't have textbooks, so Rachel
had RJ read a book and write a summary of what he learned from the story. The
school year was almost over, so they thought it would be enough until summer
vacation began. Then they'd have a few months to plan for the next school year.
Mickey Daniels and his parents were frustrated. They'd
offered the mother-in-law apartment to Rachel and RJ to help them out. It had
seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now everything was awkward. Susan,
Mickey's mom, wanted to bring charges against Roderyk Meyer, but the McMahons
weren't cooperating. RJ still insisted nothing had happened, and Rachel was
backing up her son. Now Mickey and RJ weren't talking and both families were
avoiding each other, when before they'd been good friends. To make matters
worse, Rachel had pulled RJ out of school. They seemed to be running away from
the problem instead of fixing it, and the Daniels were perturbed. At least the
situation at school had calmed down. None of them had been comfortable with
Mickey trying to protect RJ from bullies.
The bullies were annoyed. RJ, the Daddy's Boy, had
disappeared, leaving them looking for new targets to abuse. It was irritating,
because RJ had been such a great target. Now they'd have to settle for picking
on seventh graders for being short or having hairless dicks.
Life went on.
͠ ͠ ͠
Walking up the steps into church the next Sunday, Roderyk
felt his palms turn clammy. He wasn't ready to do this, but he was determined
to follow through on his promise to Auntie.
She sensed his apprehension and hooked her arm in his. Her
Southern drawl seemed to disappear for a moment as she leaned over and
whispered, "You are needed and cherished, my boy. Hold your head high and know
that God loves you and so do I."
They walked into the church auditorium. Conversations
ceased. Heads turned. Roderyk gulped.
"RODERYK!" screamed little ten-year-old Anthony. He ran and
jumped into Roderyk's arms and hugged his neck. "We missed you!"
The rest of the kids from the youth group rushed up,
slapping Roderyk on the back, hugging him, telling him they were happy to see
him again. Parents joined them, shaking his hand, encouraging him, thanking him
for working with their children and expressing their hopes that he would
continue.
Roderyk was overwhelmed. He felt guilty. Ashamed. He knew
he'd done nothing wrong, but he still felt like a monster, a demon standing on
holy ground.
Pastor James waited until everyone else finished greeting
Roderyk, then walked up to take Roderyk's hand in both of his own. The old
preacher smiled and then closed his eyes and prayed, "Thank you, gracious Lord.
You have brought restoration, and now we pray for healing."
Roderyk felt the warmth of the pastor's hands holding him in
a soft but firm grip. The warmth seemed to spread from Roderyk's hands up his
arms and across his chest. It seemed that his heart suddenly leapt free in his
chest, no longer in chains. Roderyk began weeping uncontrollably, and he felt
many small arms coming around him, hugging him, holding him. He heard sobs all
around, as tears were shed for him, and he no longer felt like a hidden
monster.
He heard a gasp and saw every eye looking toward the door to
the auditorium. Turning, Roderyk saw Rachel and RJ McMahon standing in the
entrance, faces frightened, unsure of themselves. RJ had tear tracks running
down his face. He was miserable, and his tears started anew when he saw
Roderyk.
The members of the congregation separated, leaving an open
path between Roderyk and the McMahons. They waited silently.
Roderyk slowly walked forward. He looked at Rachel and
nodded his head once. Then he picked RJ up in his strong arms and hugged RJ to
his chest. They both began weeping as they clung to each other.
Rachel looked around at the people of the church. "We will
find another church, but RJ wanted to come one more time and say goodbye to his
friends. I wanted to ... to ... to apologize to all of you, and especially to Auntie
and Roderyk. I'm so sorry for all this ..." Her voice trailed off and she began
crying too.
Pastor James walked forward and took Rachel's hand. "Rachel
... RJ ... this is your church. You belong here and nowhere else."
Auntie nodded agreement and slid between Pastor James and
Rachel, pulling Rachel into her arms and hugging her.
Roderyk and RJ were in their own world, the boy and his
Angel, holding each other, comforting each other.
The end of UNCAGED, Chapter Twelve