Follow Carmen, a young and deeply closeted gay teenager as he navigates the 1980's and 1990's yearning for love and trying to find where he fits in.
This story is rated M because it contains elements of death (including children), homophobia, religi...
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***CONTENT WARNING*** This episode contains homophobic language. Contains mild sexual content.
It started during the summer of 1984. I was twelve years old – my 13th birthday would be in December. Puberty actually struck my friend Aiden first. He was a half a year older, and lived with his mother and his younger brother. His father was not in his life – I don't think I can remember him ever being mentioned. Aiden was the first of any of us to hit puberty, and he wasted no opportunity to show it off. Literally. He would drop his pants to show off his hair down there with no prompting and no notice. He would also point out how big his "bulge" was. We thought it was ridiculously funny, of course, a bunch of preteen boys going through changes and laughing at each other. Still, for some reason, when he showed off his bulge or hair, something inside me compelled me to look. I didn't know what it was, but it was there, deep inside me. I didn't really think much about it at first, believing that these were normal things and that all young boys were like this.
Gradually, some of the other guys started going through changes. They weren't quite as eager to show off as Aiden was, but they let us know that they, too were growing up. I was always paying attention now, always looking at my friends with both awe and jealousy. Their voices were growing deeper, and their bodies were filling out. I was always noticing things about them, and was becoming both jealous and alarmed – why was I so interested in looking at their bulges, and more importantly, why was I not "growing" myself? What was wrong with me?
I would get my first clue one day while Aiden and I were walking behind the elementary school and we came across a fellow named Peter. We both knew him, and we both did not care for him. He was a year older than us, already in grade 8, and he was a showoff and bully to the smaller kids. He was there with a young girl we both knew, and it was quite obvious that we had just caught them doing something they didn't want to be caught doing. I say "obvious", because you could see quite clearly that he was sporting wood. The tight pants that were in style in the early 1980's left little to the imagination, and my imagination was running wild. I could not take my eyes off it.
Unfortunately, he noticed me noticing.
"What are you looking at?" he demanded.
I pried my eyes away from his crotch to look at his face and stammered "Nothing", but the act of doing this, having to move my focus from down there to his face, was all the verification that he needed that I was indeed looking at exactly what he thought I was looking at.
"You were looking at my crotch, weren't you, you fucking faggot!"
"No I wasn't! I wasn't looking at anything"
"Bullshit! You were looking at my cock! You're a fucking faggot!"
He started walking toward me, and I took on a stance that I had hoped looked aggressive. I was not a fighter by nature, but I was a fairly big guy and could handle myself when needed. I was bigger than him, anyway, and was not afraid of him at all. I was more worried about myself, in my mind thinking "What the hell WAS I looking at?', but I was certainly not afraid of Peter. I balled my fists, gritted my teeth, and stared at Peter with what I hoped was a "Don't fuck with me" glare. It didn't work. He continued coming toward me. It looked for all the world like we were going to fight, and I was not going to let him get the first punch in. Just as I was about to tear into him I heard Aiden's voice.
"Fuck off, Peter."
Peter stopped his advance, and both he and I looked at Aiden. Both of us at the same time said, "What?"
Aiden looks over to me, then back to Peter, and said "I said 'Fuck off'. He wasn't looking at anything except the beer bottle on the ground behind you."
Beer bottle? I hadn't even seen a beer bottle, but sure enough there was a beer bottle lying in the gravel just behind Peter. There were a few, actually. Peter and his girl had been drinking and fooling around when we caught them. Inside I felt a wave of relief. The beer bottle! Of course!
"Yeah, I was looking at the bottles. We've been collecting them down at the lake. Every time I see one my eyes lock onto it."
