Date: Sun, 13 Feb 2022 03:18:07 -0600 From: tre jordan Subject: Built From Clay Chapter 1 Note: This story is a work of fiction. It is focused on the themes of familial bonding (mainly among brothers), the process of coming-of-age after having one's life uprooted by the demise of a parent, and coming to terms with one's sexuality as a gay man. This story contains consensual gay romance among teenagers with implied sexual activity. These descriptions will never be pornographic in nature, depict any kind of rape, or depict inappropriate/taboo sexual relationships. Even so, such content may still be prohibited in areas of the world with harsh anti-LGBTQ laws. Please check the content warnings and read responsibly if you are sensitive to such material. A few of them are described in detail within the text. Content warnings: Death of parent, Mental disorders, Suicidal ideation, Self-injury, Domestic Abuse (verbal, emotional, and physical), Child Abuse (verbal, emotional, and physical), Bullying, Racism, Queerphobia I was alone in the back corner of that McDonald's off South Jefferson, 14 past 4, textbooks and homework strewn all over, afro messy as hell, acne, shorts in winter, glasses missing, Nintendo 3DS critically low on battery and open off to the side, straw chewed to bits, and staring at my texts when I got the call that my pa had died. The phone rang. I was already staring at it. I didn't want to seem too eager. Or did that not apply to matters of death? I still waited for two, three rings watching it. The caller was unknown. Definitely Veya, his third wife. I recognized her number. There were only two reasons she'd call me—he'd miraculously gotten better or the alternative. I didn't even need to answer. Garrett, a chubby white guy in my grade, was staring until I looked up at him. Mickey D made him bus tables but desperately wanted to avoid me. He knew somehow. That or he just saw how messed up I looked and didn't want to be seen talking to me. I answered on the fourth ring. I tried to sound mature, professional. Hello? I wish I'd called her ma'am to screw with her one last time. Can you talk now, Tre? One minute. I said. I'd been rehearsing it, anticipating it, wondering if I'd still scream in public and throw myself in traffic, or worse, if I'd take the news in stride and cackle it off like some madman who just wanted the money he didn't have. I picked up my phone and walked out the door in nylon gym shorts with no coat. It was cold as hell and windy. Had to be below zero. I'll be on the next bus to the hospital, I said before she could say anything. It's too late for that, she said in her usual snotty, correcting tone. Your father was declared brain dead. Why didn't you tell me sooner?! You said not to go after school! Don't start this! She snapped at me. Excuse me for not being psychic! Sorry, thats... I said involuntarily. I couldn't even think of a comeback. I was doing one of the things that I rehearsed myself not to. Two of the things. I was saying stupid things. I was crying in public. I sat down on the curb, sharp ice and salt scraping against my ass. My hands and calves were going numb from the bitter cold. A white family with a little girl walked by me, and I saw her make a concerned face at me before her father practically dragged her into the front door. I realized Veya was rambling at me and hung up on her. She sent me a text telling me she'd take care of all the funeral arrangements and to go live with my perfect mother, and you're welcome for everything I've done for you. I deleted it and placed her back on my blocked contacts. I walked back inside, noticing my numb hands, cheeks, and calves. I went into the bathroom to dry my eyes, but they had no paper towels, so I used toilet paper instead, getting pieces of it stuck to my frozen, dry, acorn-colored face. An thin elderly man came in to urinate, washed his hands next to me at the sink, then patted me on the back and said It gets better little man before leaving. My table in the corner was cleared off, and another group was seated there. I looked around for my stuff. Hey, squeaked Garrett. I jumped, not noticing he was beside me. Everything, uh, okay? No, it's not. It's really not. Garrett looked down at the floor. What's your name again? Tre Jordan, I said so distantly I wasn't sure if it was the truth. Tre, I knew it was a T. Your shit's in the manager's office. She made me clear it up. That's okay. What games do you have on your 3DS? Uh, Zelda and stuff. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or just trying his own way of cheering me up. Maybe a bit of both. Sit down, he said. I did. He put down an empty large Mc D cup in front of me. I'll go get your stuff. Just keep it, I said. I don't know why I said that. What? Keep it. I don't need it anymore. I stood up Bro? Tell everyone I'm not coming back to school, I said. He tried to gently push me back into my seat. I shoved by him. People were staring. Please don't kill yourself bro, he said a little too loudly. I can't make any promises. I walked out the door and back into the bitter cold. A bus was loading at the stop down the street. Wherever it was going was good enough for me. ——— Testing, can you read me? The metallic voice radiated through the igloo the older boy had carved out of the snow heap. Six year old Liam was covered head-to-toe in a beige snowsuit and had his ass sticking out of the igloo tunnel. It was near pitch blackness inside. "Can I come out now?" he called. It was freezing and wet in there and windy outside. Earth to Liam, we're about to have a dinosaur problem and a murder car problem. Over. Another boy, 11 year old Chance, and on only a tee-shirt, jeans, large gloves, and no shoes. He ran out the door of their two story house. "Did you hear that, Liam?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. The cold stung him. Liam yelled something he couldn't make out. Chance ran back in the door and then out again. "Press the button!" he called to Liam. L-Liam! Hiss! Press the green button! Liam screamed at the top of his lungs. Chance could hear it indoors through the wall. We, uh, have a whining problem. Over. He put down the radio and ran out to Liam in the igloo. "Let me out! It's dark and cold in here!" "Just press the button and say something to test it. You promised." "I can't find it!" "Follow the sound, dumbass." Chance picked up Liam's legs and tried to push him further into the igloo. He screamed. He saw a dust cloud at the end of their long, gravel driveway. "Looks like it's time to go in," said Chance. He pulled Liam out of the igloo. Snow and dirt covered his wool ski mask all over, and he cried and pulled it off his blonde mop before spitting on the ground.. Chance picked him up like a baby and ran back inside. The rumbling continued down the driveway. Chance undressed Liam out of his snowsuit as fast as he'd ever thought possible. Coat. One boot. Other boot. One glove. "Damn it, Liam, where is your other glove?" "I dropped it." He showed his hand which was scratched up and bleeding. "Damn it, Liam. "Mom's not going to let you play outside ever again." "No! I didn't mean to!" He cried some more. Chance pulled him out of his snowsuit and stashed everything inside a large tote in the closet next to the door, placing his own large gloves on top. He picked up Liam for a piggy back ride and down the hall and into the bathroom before the door opened. "She probably saw us," Chance whispered to Liam in the dark bathroom. "But don't tell her anything about playing outside. She won't let you play out there ever again." "You're the one who wanted to!" "I'm the boss. You're not!" He turned on the light and inspected the two of them. Right, the cut on Liam's hand. And his soaking wet jeans. He took off his jeans and stuffed them into the bottom of the clothes hamper, standing there in gray boxer-briefs. Liam laughed at his nudity. Chance wet a washcloth and quickly washed the grime from his bare feet and then Liam's hands before stuffing it into the hamper as well. Liam's cut was still bleeding. "Does that hurt?" whispered Chance. Liam shook his head. There was a loud pounding on the door. "What the fuck are you two doing in there?" called their mom's chipper voice. Liam giggled at the swearing. "Having some quality time in the potty?" "My baby bro needed help!" "No I didn't!" Chance opened the door. Olivia, their mom, was wearing a pantsuit and had her auburn hair tied back behind her head. She greeted them with an open grin. He held up Liam's cut hand. "Someone got a boo-boo." "Aww," said Olivia. "Need a kiss to make it better?" "No!" yelled Liam, pulling his hand away. "Can I have a kiss?" asked Chance. "I did all the chores you asked me to." He picked up Liam's tiny cut right hand and started washing it again in the sink, gently using soap and warm water this time. "Maybe after you explain to me why you couldn't listen and stay indoors in negative ten windchill." "What are you talking about?" Chance asked innocently as he dried Liam's hand. He put a bandage on his cut. "Hmmmmm..." Olivia smirked. She'd found the footprints or the glove, or the water on the floor, or just saw them while driving. Chance realized he didn't cover all their tracks. He knew she didn't trust him one bit regardless and left them home alone thinking it'd be too cold to break her rules. "Dr. Wyatt said that if I tell you, you'll learn how not to get caught next time." Chance frowned. Her new habit of psychoanalyzing him was a weakness he had no defense or retort for. It caught him off guard even though he knew to expect it by that point. How could he even push back against it? Attack her for getting drunk and swearing at him. Deny everything she was saying and gaslight her. Admit wrongdoing but say her interpretation was wrong so she wouldn't be as smugly confident next time. "I want the truth," said Olivia. "We didn't go outside!" said Liam. He hugged Chance around the waist. "Stay out of this, Liam. Unless you want to be grounded for lying." She crossed her arms. "I don't like lying one bit." "Okay...," Liam pouted. "I'm sorry." He looked up at Chance. "Don't send him back to his dad's." "Don't say that!" she snapped. She got down to her knees and inspected Liam. "Wash your face," She stood up and gestured at Chance, "Come with me." She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, which she unlocked with a key. Chance stood still for a moment. "Now!" she yelled. Chance patted Liam on the back as he washed his face. He followed his mother into her bedroom. "Now," said Olivia. "The truth. What did you do outside, and what lies did you feed your impressionable brother to make him help you with your little scheme?" "I didn't lie to him!" Her angry brown eyes bored into his. He paused, sighed, and continued. "I made a two-way radio and wanted to test if it could go from the house to the igloo." "You made a radio?" "Yes. I learned how in a book. Our walkie talkies don't go that far." "And that couldn't wait until it was warmer?" "I don't know." He looked at the ground. "When I leave you to watch your brother, whether it's for one hour, one minute, or one second, his safety always comes first. You can't understand that because you have no empathy." She was using language from her therapist again. "It makes me so mad that you would let him freeze to test out a toy. Did he even have clothes on out there?" "He had his snowsuit on and a ski mask. And it wasn't very long." "It doesn't matter," she snapped. "Stop trying to avoid responsibility!" She grabbed him by the shoulders. "If he died out there, what would you have done? Giggle and pretend you didn't see him go outside?" "He's not going to die from a little snow." "But what if he did?" "I'd dial 911." Liam came in the bedroom. "What are we having for supper?" he said. "Go to the kitchen and wait!" yelled Olivia. She closed the door in his face and locked it. She turned back to Chance, grabbed him hard on the shoulder, and lowered her voice. He knew by this look that he'd just have to sit quiet and accept whatever she said. "You're turning into a fucking little psycho sociopath just like your dad. You're incapable of listening. You're incapable of being good. Antisocial Personality Disorder. Look it up in your books, smartypants. You're just a manipulator who doesn't care about anyone but yourself, and I'm not going to put up with it. A genius little manipulator. Little fucking monster. If you hurt your brother again, you're sleeping out in that fucking igloo where you belong. I don't care how many degrees below zero it is or how cold you are. If you come back in crying, I'm throwing you back out there for a second night." She shoved him away and left the room. Chance stood there with a tear in his eye. For how much she called him a liar, she also avoided the truth for as long as she could. It was only in these moments that she broke down and spoke her mind that she was willing to be honest about what he really was. His dad? He could see his dad's angular features forming in his own face, bones forming that couldn't be redirected no matter how much he pressed them down. And she was right about him not caring about Liam as much as it hurt to admit. In the moment, when he was excited about his two-way radio, all he cared about was having someone on the other end to test it. If Liam had actually died, he probably would have just moved his body to collect the radio in the igloo and then pretended Liam just ran outside to play on his own accord. Chance knew he was a real monster in human form. Antisocial like she said. He would hurt someone eventually. He was already kicked out of school, but that just narrowed down the people he could hurt. It was a matter of when and how, not if. "Chance!" Liam returned to the door. "Time for dinner." "Ok," he sniffled and wiped away a tear. They walked together along the hall. "I heard Mom swearing at you," Liam said quietly. "I got in trouble." "I like you, Chance," he whispered. Chance leaned down and hugged him. They went into the kitchen. The scent of chili powder, peppers, and cheese wafted through the air. Olivia was on the phone. "Mom slaves away all day to keep a roof over her sons' heads, and they go out and freeze their asses off anyway!" She laughed as she fried some hamburger. "Imagine if they did some chores." "I did the whole list," said Chance. "Did you hear that?" she asked. "He did the whole list of chores before he froze his brother's little dick and balls off. What a smart boy." Chance scowled at her. The two brothers sat down at the table. A cold draft blew through the window. He remembered he was only wearing boxer briefs on his legs. Liam ran away and came back with a large quilt, and he tucked it around Chance. Olivia came over and grabbed the quilt off of him, curled it into a ball, and threw it into the living room. "Go put some pants on if you're cold," she said. Chance looked at the table and started thinking about his radio again. The book said it could work over 100ft under the right circumstances, but not through solid objects. Olivia finished her phone call and texted someone in the corner of the room. "Ok, I lied," said Olivia sweetly. "What about?" asked Chance. "Michael won't be home for another hour. We're eating then." "Ok," he said. Liam got up, but Chance remained seated. "Just, `ok'?" "What am I supposed to say to that?" "You didn't smart off about Michael. Is this a dream or something?" "I don't care if he's late." She chuckled. "Maybe you have some hope after all." "Can I have a banana?" said Liam. "Sure." She opened one for him. "Open wide!" She pushed it toward his mouth, and he dodged and grabbed it while laughing. Olivia's phone started to ring again. She sat down at the table across from Chance and opened her laptop. "Don't call me while you're driving, honey," she winced, before seeing the caller was not who she expected. She suddenly got serious. Hello? She answered. How are you? I miss you honey. I haven't seen you in so long. "Is that your ex?" asked Chance. She put up a finger to shush him. Oh my God, she said. Honey, are you okay? Baby, that's so sad. I wish I could hug you. Oh my God. She held the phone tightly and looked like she was about to cry. I can't imagine what you must be going through, baby. Are you still going to live in his house? What a crazy bitch! You don't deserve to be talked to like that! Honey, I'm your mom! "What?!" asked Chance. She ignored him. That was Chance. He's living with me now. "Mom!" yelled Chance. He jumped to his feet. Liam returned to the kitchen carrying his Nintendo 3DS to see what the commotion was. Chance and Liam are both here. Yeah. You haven't met Liam yet. He's so sweet. Six. I'm your mom. You're always welcome here. Isn't there online school or something? I think Minnesota has online school for smart boys like you. You could get on the bus with Liam at 6 AM. Haha. "Answer me! Is that Tre?" "Yes!" she yelled as if he'd asked thirty times. "He's coming to live with us." "Who is coming?" asked Liam. "Why?!" asked Chance. Honey, Chance wants to know why you're coming. "I'll tell you later," Olivia said to Chance. "I promise." Don't worry about it. They'll understand. I love you so much, honey. "Can I talk to Tre?" asked Chance. Liam will love you. I'll tell him all about you tonight. And Chance is Chance. He's a little devil. No, he lives here now full time. Call me when that bitch has a funeral date. Love you, honey. Bye. She hung up. "You can't be serious, Mom," said Chance. Tre had been her little secret that she'd made Chance keep quiet about to her exes and Michael. "I lived with my dad for four years and you wouldn't let me come live with you. And now Tre?" "Who's Tre?" asked Liam. "Your brother," said Olivia. "He's black," said Chance. "Black?" "He has black skin." "Why are we racist all of the sudden?" asked Olivia. "That's not very smart of you." "You are racist! We have a black brother we aren't allowed to talk about." "Not because he's black. And you know it!" Chance knew the story all too well, and it was much like his own. She'd married Tre's father, unlike his own, and then they had a nasty divorce where she'd thrown too many punches that ended up hitting her right back in her own face. Tre's father fought tooth and nail to get full custody of him with several years of cases. Olivia was poor with mental health issues at the time, and it worked. She lost not only Tre, but also Chance shortly after when CPS investigated her, revealing he was being left home and neglected while she worked. Chance didn't remember Tre's father's name but knew his mom referred to him as "the lard ass N word," and he was an even worse villain than Chance's own father. She refused contact with Tre for her own mental health, or so she told Chance when he asked after she'd had too many beers. But something had changed. Chance ran off to her bedroom that she'd not gotten the chance to lock again. He dug through her dresser to find a small picture of himself next to Tre. Chance was on his first day of kindergarten while Tre was going into the third grade. He remembered his mom taking the photo and then walking to school with him and Tre in their old house. Tre liked to read. Tre played video games. Tre rode bikes with him. Tre...he didn't remember Tre all that well come to think of it. Only the endless fights they'd witnessed together between his dad and her mom where Tre would talk about how they might not be able to be brothers anymore. Even after he'd forgotten everything about Tre, that phrase still made him want to cry. He brought back the photo and showed it to Liam. "Oh, he's black like Destiny in my class." He said. "That was a long time ago," said Olivia quietly, eying the photo. "Does he like movies?" said Liam. "Everyone likes movies," said Chance. "I'm going to bed," said Olivia. "Mommy doesn't feel well." She took the photo back. "Can we eat first?" asked Liam. "Make your own plates. And be polite to Michael. I mean it." "Good night, mom. I love you," said Liam. "Love you too." She nodded at Chance and walked away.