Rez Runaway Page 3

The thing was, after reading about the whole two-spirit thing, I wasn’t sure anymore that it was that simple. I knew I liked guys. But then I thought of the way I had wanted Benjy to pick me up and touch me all over. I thought of how I wished, not that I could want to be with Sadie, but that I could be like her. That I could be sweet and caring, that I could nurture people like she did with her friends and her little brother. I thought of how happy I had felt when I was little, thinking I could just get dressed up and dance with the girls. Not just with them, but as one of them. Was that my feminine side? My two-spiritedness? I put my phone down. Somehow I doubted that my mother would be any more accepting of a two-spirited son than of a gay son.

  “He’s your son!” I heard my aunt say again.

  “What will everyone think? What will Father think?” she moaned. I knew from her tone of voice that she wasn’t talking about her own father. She was referring to her priest.

  “Ava, Joe is too much like his dad. That’s the problem. I tried to raise him as best I could, teach him right from wrong. Show him that our community needs strong men as role models and leaders. Not men like his father. Or ours. I wanted him to be better than them. But he’s ended up weak, a sinner. Is it my fault? Did I do something wrong? I need to call Father so we can pray about it,” my mom said.

  I put my head in my hands and tried not to listen.

  I was still sitting outside when my aunt came out of the house and sat down on the swing beside me. I felt her eyes on me but I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I swung silently beside her and waited for her to speak.

  “You heard all of that?” she asked.

  I nodded without looking at her.

  She sighed. “She’ll come around, Joe.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think so,” I muttered.

  “I’ll talk to her some more,” She reached over and tousled my hair. “You know I love you, no matter what. It’s just that I hate being in the middle,” she sighed.

  I looked over at her, studying her face. I didn’t see any sign of disgust or hatred. I didn’t see the failure and despair I heard in my mother’s voice when she talked about me.

  “Why aren’t you upset with me?” I asked softly.

  Suddenly my aunt was smiling at me. She reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. “Joe, I’ve known you were special since you were six. It was when you told me you were going to be a mom when you grew up.”

  My eyes flooded with tears.

  “Mom said I was going to hell.” I couldn’t help it, but my voice broke. I took a shaky breath and continued. “She said I was an abomination. She called me a berdache.”

  My aunt stood up and pulled me up with her, enfolding me in her arms. As she hugged me, I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of her. Fresh baked bread. Coffee. Soil from her garden.

  “Your mom and I were raised by nuns, Joe. For her, God was something she could cling to and put every bit of her energy into. I believe in God a little differently. God doesn’t make mistakes, Joe. If you’re gay, then that’s the way God meant you to be.”

  I felt a million times better for about a minute. Then the air was shattered by an ear-piercing scream from inside the house.

  Chapter 7

  All Alone

  Aunt Ava ran faster than I had ever seen her move. I was right on her heels. We burst into the house, one right after the other. We ran through the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room without finding my mom. Then I saw the front door standing wide open.

  I grabbed my aunt’s arm and pointed. She flew through the open door with me a step behind. Maybe it was half a step because when she stopped dead, I slammed into my aunt’s substantial back and fell into the door jamb. I couldn’t see past her but I heard her gasp.

  “What?” I asked, trying to see past her shoulder. I caught a glimpse of my mother standing in front of the house. What was going on out there?

  Aunt Ava fairly flew down the stairs and into the yard. Almost without stopping, she used both hands to grab a large wooden sign. It was clear that someone had hammered the sign into the lush green grass of our lawn. Aunt Ava yanked out the sign with one hearty pull. She turned and smashed it against the ground, over and over, until it was shattered into pieces. But not before I had managed to read what was painted on it in bright red letters that dripped like blood.

  God Hates Faggots.

  My aunt looked over at me, still holding the handle of the sign. For once, I could tell she was completely speechless. My mother looked at me, her mouth hanging open and her eyes staring and accusing me.

  “This is your fault,” she said, her voice flat.

  I turned without a word and went back into the house and to my bedroom. I closed the door of my room firmly behind me and locked it. I left the lights off and lay down on my bed. Reaching over, I plugged my iPod into the stereo dock and pulled my headphones over my ears. As the music drowned out the voices of my mom and Aunt Ava, I closed my eyes. Cloaked in darkness, I realized suddenly that there wasn’t one person that I could talk to. Not my mom or my aunt. Not Benjy or Sadie. For the first time in my life, I felt completely and utterly alone.

  * * *

  It was going to be another sleepless night. I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, watching the lights from passing cars play across the stucco. My mother had been asleep for hours. But I couldn’t even begin to sleep. My life as I knew it was over.

  I picked up my phone. I didn’t have even one text from any of my friends. I stared at a photo on screen of me and Benjy mugging for the camera before typing out a tentative text to Benjy. I had to reach out to my best friend, even if he wasn’t that any more.

  Why did you tell everyone?

  I waited. A minute that felt like an hour passed before my phone vibrated with a response.

  It wasn’t me.

  I pecked out a reply.

  Who else would have known?

  But even as I hit send, it occurred to me that anyone could have seen. People could have been standing behind any number of trees, watching. One of the kids in front of us could have turned around at the very moment that I kissed him. I winced just thinking about it. How could I have been so stupid? I glanced down as my phone vibrated.

  I don’t know who saw. But everyone knows.

  I wasn’t surprised. It’s not like you could keep secrets for long on the rez. But I didn’t even want to imagine what they were all saying about me now. They were my friends and I wanted to talk to them. I wanted to explain myself. I needed to look Benjy in the eye and tell him I was sorry.

  And I had to find out who had told everyone.

  I pulled my clothes back on and tiptoed through the house. I grabbed my car keys on my way out the front door.

  It was a quick drive across the rez. I knew I’d find everyone in the clearing. I stood at the edge of the firelight and watched them; waiting until they noticed me. It didn’t take long.

  “Littlechief?” A guy named Jake called out. He was a little older than Benjy and me, and was as close to a bully as our group had. “What are you doing lurking around out there in the dark like a little freak?” I felt everyone’s eyes on me and swallowed hard, taking a step toward the fire.

  “What is he doing here?” I heard someone ask.

  “He tried to attack Benjy. Maybe he wants to try again,” a familiar voice called out. It was Sadie.

  “I didn’t attack anyone,” I said. I mean, technically I didn’t. Acted stupid and inappropriately, yes. But I didn’t attack him.

  “I was there, Joe. I saw the whole thing,” Sadie said. And she laughed. It was an ugly laugh, almost hard enough to hide the hurt behind it.

  So it was Sadie who had seen me make a drunken pass at Benjy and who had run to tell everyone. I definitely deserved something for leading her on. But not that.

  “He tried to hit on
me too!” my friend Trey called out drunkenly. I was shocked. I had never once even considered coming on to Trey. Frankly he wasn’t my type.

  “That’s not true!” I argued. I glanced over at Benjy but he was pointedly avoiding looking anywhere but into the fire.

  “Yeah it is,” said Trey. “I always knew you were a fag.”

  Trey took a step toward me. He wasn’t the only one. Before I could step back, I was surrounded by drunk kids who were looking for a fight. And apparently the gay kid was an easy target.

  I put my hands up in front of me. “I don’t want to fight. I just wanted to talk to Benjy,” I said.

  I saw Benjy glance at me finally, his face blank.

  “Anything you want to say to him, you can say to all of us,” Brit called out. Her challenge seemed to fire up everyone even more. The grumbling got louder and the group seemed to double in size.

  “Benjy?” I called out to him. Maybe if I just apologized, I could walk away before anything got out of hand. Regardless of what they thought of me, everyone knew I was still a kid from the rez and I could throw a punch with the best of them.

  Benjy stood up and walked over until he was standing in front of me. The rest of the kids crowded around us, pushing and shoving for a better vantage point. They had to witness everything that went down.

  Benjy looked me right in the eye. He waited for me to say something.

  “Look man . . . I’m really sorry,” I started. “I was drunk. It was a stupid thing to do. I apologize.” I stuck out my hand and waited for him to shake it. I needed to make things okay again.

  Benjy looked down at my hand and then back up at my face. Before I could react, he hauled off and punched me.

  His fist connected with my chin and I went down hard. Luckily I could take a hit as well as I threw one. But this attack—it was the last thing I was expecting from my best friend.

  Everyone started screaming then.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the buzz. I looked up at Benjy, the one person outside of my family I really cared about. He was standing over me, looking down. The rest of the group was clamouring to get their own shots in but Benjy held a hand up.

  “He’s not worth it,” he told them. He looked at me again and before I could move, my best friend since I was a kid spit directly in my face.

  I wiped his spit away and watched him turn his back on me. Benjy walked away, followed by every single one of my friends.

  Chapter 8

  Shame

  My jaw throbbed all the way home. I knew I was lucky to have avoided a much worse beating. If the entire group had been involved I wasn’t sure I would have been able to walk away at all. Benjy had done me that one kindness at least.

  My heart sank when I pulled into our driveway. My mother’s car was parked out front. I couldn’t face her too. So I let myself in through the garage door and snuck down the hall toward the bathroom. I flipped the light switch and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My lip was split and swollen. Blood coated my chin with a layer of gore that I was grateful my mother hadn’t seen.

  I ran the tap until it was ice cold and soaked a washcloth underneath the tap. I pressed it to my face with a sigh of relief. I opened the medicine cabinet with my spare hand and pulled out the bottle of painkillers left over from when my mom threw out her back.

  As soon as I turned off the faucet, I heard my mother shouting at my aunt. Again. Or still. I tried not to listen. I really did. But her words cut through me deeply.

  “I have never been so ashamed in my entire life! Everyone knows what my son is. And I hear he’s been throwing himself at boys all over the rez and trying to force himself on them. It’s disgusting.”

  I lowered the seat of the toilet and sat down, closing my eyes. I could taste the coppery bitterness of blood in my mouth. My mother hated me. She thought I was disgusting. And she was ashamed of me.

  And I was so utterly tired of my life.

  I took the pills out of the bottle and lined them up on the edge of the sink, one by one. There they were, end to end, a long row of painkillers.

  “The only thing that Joe is, is your son and my nephew,” I heard my aunt say. “He’s family. I don’t love him any less because he happens to be gay!”

  “Well . . . he’s not welcome under my roof.”

  I picked up a pill and swallowed it, looking at the rest of them lined up perfectly.

  “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a son,” my mother continued.

  I picked up the next pill, then the next, swallowing each pill until there were none left on the sink. I sank to the floor and waited for the pills to work their magic and take this pain away forever. My aunt’s voice broke through my reverie.

  “Joe is my nephew. I couldn’t care less if he’s gay. Frankly, if he wants to have sex with the entire starting line-up for the Toronto Blue Jays, I’ll support him. I know why you feel the way you do, Mary . . . I know what you’ve been through in your life. I know why you didn’t come home to live with Dad and me when Joe’s dad left. I know that you thought that religion was the only way to protect your son. But don’t lose him over this. You’ll regret it someday.”

  My eyes filled with tears at my aunt’s words. How she could accept me without question when my own mother wouldn’t? It was more than I could understand. I felt pulled in two directions . . . an aunt who accepted me and a mother who wouldn’t let me in the door. It was too much.

  But it wasn’t so much that I couldn’t face another day. How could I give up when Aunt Ava wasn’t giving up on me? I raised a shaking hand and pushed two fingers as far down my throat as I could.

  I turned just in time to throw up what looked like a million undigested pills into the toilet. I reached up and flushed, watching them get washed away. No matter what she thought of me, I just couldn’t let my mom find me dead. I knew I had a future even if I didn’t know what or where it would be.

  * * *

  I spent the night pacing around my room, trying to decide what to do. I knew my aunt was completely sincere. She loved me. If it was up to Aunt Ava, I could stay with her. But my mother would turn her back on her sister for opening her door to me. And my grandfather would never stand for it. It was his house, his rules.

  I went to my dresser and started pulling out clothes. Jeans. T-shirts. Socks and underwear. I opened up the cigar box I kept on the top shelf of the closet and took out all of my cash. It was money I had saved over the summer, mowing lawns and doing odd jobs for people on the rez. I packed all of it into a backpack, and then padded down the hall and into the bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush and opened the medicine cabinet, picking out deodorant, an extra tube of toothpaste, and soap. I started down the hall, to the door but paused in front of my mom’s room. She might hate me right now but I couldn’t leave her without saying goodbye.

  I took the notepad out of the drawer in the kitchen and jotted her a note.

  Dear Mom. I know that you probably won’t understand why I’m leaving. I know I can’t stay here and I know you don’t want me to. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’ll call you and let you know I’m okay. I love you. Joe.

  I had finally got the beater running a couple of weeks before. I figured it should get me to the city. I knew that a city as big and diverse as Toronto had to be more accepting. If there was anyplace I was going to fit in and find other people like me, it was there. I took my keys off the hook by the door and left the house, locking the door silently behind me.

  I took one last long look in the rear-view mirror as I drove down the street.

  Chapter 9

  Running Away

  I drove through the night. I drove until the darkness closed in on me and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I tried rolling down the windows and blaring the radio but I was falling asleep at the wheel.

  As soon as I saw a motel, I pulled off the road. A bug light
above the door to the front desk buzzed and sparked electric blue as I got out of the car and walked in. A lone man was in the lobby, reading a paperback and digging his hand into a huge bowl of popcorn. He stuffed the kernels into his mouth as I walked in and wiped his greasy hand on the front of his shirt before standing up.

  “Help you?” he asked, chewing and swallowing.

  “Yeah. Hi,” I replied. “I need a room for the night. I was falling asleep at the wheel!” I overshared out of pure nervousness. I pictured him seeing me as a kid and calling my mom.

  The clerk nodded. “Right. You wouldn’t be expecting any company, would you?” he asked.

  “Company? No. Why?” I looked back at him, perplexed.

  “I run a clean business, kid. I don’t rent rooms by the hour, if you know what I mean.”

  Understanding dawned on me and I felt my face burn. “No! No, sir. I just need to get some sleep. By myself.”

  He studied me for a minute.

  “Sure. Just need a major credit card,” he finally said me.

  “Umm. I don’t have a credit card,” I admitted.

  “I’m sorry, kid. I can’t let you have a room without a card.” He did look truly sorry, I’d give him that.

  “Listen. I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed, wake up and take a shower, and be on my way. I have money. I can pay cash for the room. I’m not going to trash it or anything. I just want to sleep.” I looked him directly in the eye. “Please, sir. I’ve been driving all day.”

  I watched him take in my swollen lip and smiled as he nodded.

  “Okay. Fine. Cash up front. Don’t make me regret this, kid.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, taking the key card. “Thank you so much.”

  The room was basic. Just a bed, a desk and chair, and a TV. But all I really wanted was the bed. I probably needed a shower. But I was exhausted. I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t fall asleep standing in the shower, fall, and hit my head on the tub. I could see the news report now: Teen dies in motel bathroom. I fell onto the bed fully clothed and slept without dreaming.