Adam - A Novella

2

"No fair." I felt a gentle smack to the outside of my arm as I opened the bag of chips, I had stolen from him, arguing I covered a part of the cost, and he wouldn't have been able to get them at all if it wasn't for me. I shoved a pinch of the dust-coated crackers into my mouth as he rambled, talking about how he's been since the last time we talked on the phone, almost a year ago. "I just got so busy," he stole the bag back from me. "I couldn't keep up with you the way I could when we lived close, and eventually I..." he paused as I ripped the family-sized bag back out of his sweaty hand. I could do this all day. "Out of sight, out of mind, you know?" I nodded intently, understanding completely, as I had done the exact same thing. Nothing had happened necessarily; we just grew apart through distance. As I scanned his figure, I noticed all the changes over the eight years since I've seen him last, except for the spare crap picture or two. His body type hadn't changed much, except for the addition of the muscular frame and slightly toned limbs...

"Earth to Adam." Caleb's hand waving in front of my face snapped me out of my dead space stare. He pulled on opposite ends of the chip bag to straighten it and slid it into his mouth, gnawing on the remainder of the crumbs, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "You got a girlfriend?" I exclaimed, before he could say whatever he was preparing himself to say. Something I've learned from years of being at the top of the social pyramid. He jumped out of his mind, the corners of his mouth remaining downturned and upset. "No. Actually, that's what I was just going to..." I autonomously reached to wipe the salt that had gotten stuck to his lips off, like I did when we were kids. His surprised and thoughtful stare made me realize what I had done and jumped back. We had only spent the afternoon together, and I was already reforming to my childish, playful roots. I let myself relax, but kept my hand slumped near his shoulder to hide my regret. I was going to redirect the conversation in case he was uncomfortable talking about his relationship, mansplain away the concept of focusing on himself first, but his almost annoyed, mostly thoughtful expression made me pause. "I'm gay."

I don't remember exactly how I reacted, or in the very least, I couldn't control it like I usually could. I saw through my eyes Caleb's expression change as mine did, quickly jumping in with, "I hope that's alright with you, knowing how your dad was when we were—" I interrupted him angrily at a volume that hurt my own ears. Caleb looked depleted as the words soaked in, as his happiness from finally getting his old friend back dissolving in the evening sun. The bag of chips crinkled and scrunched under my foot as I screamed my anger. Just as he lost his old friend again, I did too.

I can't stand gay people. It's not how it's meant to be. I'm not religious, but my parents are, and they've always made it very clear how they feel about it. It's a sin.

"It's breaking God's will for a man and another man, or a woman and another woman, to be together like a man and a woman are." My mother said when I was very young. I remember staring at her long dark hair, gently swaying from side to side as she read from the thin pages stretched out across her lap. I soaked up her words like wisdom, but a tinge in the back of my mind made me shift around a bit with my eyebrows tensing up. "Now, Adam." She said, ruffling my strawberry blonde locks which I happily inherited from my father. "Don't feel for those who refuse to come to God. We can only pray for their salvation." I bent my head in respect to the suggestion of The Holy One, and she took the moment to smile and walk off, her pink heels clicking on the chipped wood floor.

Even though I know a lot of her words are coated with religious propaganda, I still couldn't help but hear her repeat "Breaking God's will" over and over, each loop making my blood boil more. I couldn't even tell who I was mad at, I guess it would be Caleb. But as I looked at his expression saddening and his posture shrinking him into a half-crouch form, for a moment, I couldn't understand how exactly he deserves the screaming and spit sputtering out of my mouth. But each loop, that feeling went away, and I walked away before I lashed out completely and hurt the only one who was there for me when I had nothing else.

Red clouded my vision the whole way home. His fearful expression stirred something in me that I hated feeling, but loved seeing, something that made the screaming and blows I've taken hurt less. Something that made my self-hatred go down. I kicked rocks, at first as a quick motion to cure my boredom, but by the time I turned the corner at my block, to see my trailer park's bird-shit-covered sign lit up weakly in the dusk light, my toes were stinging through my boots as multitudes of gravel and loose, chalky soil covered my neighbor's truck and left a crater in the ground. I screamed and punched a hole in his fence, the emotions of the day causing turmoil I couldn't control. Catching my breath, I stared for a long time at the massive break in the white wood's vertical paneling. I saw him in my peripheral glancing at me from his window, intimidated by the almost 6'0 boy with a bright red face and a bleeding right knuckle. I liked the fear on his face, too.

"Adam? Is that you, Boy?" I heard my father's voice as I ripped open the screen door. His voice was harsh and hard to hear. I would rather focus on my mother's voice, who was nearby, croaking at something someone said on the phone that was magnetized to her ear. "Yes, it's me." I threw my bag down on the kitchen table, almost knocking over the vase of lilies in the middle. "Can you grab me a beer from the fridge?" I already had one in hand for myself, of which I shoved in my jean pocket and grabbed another. I tossed him the beer and sat on the couch across from the recliner where his fat-ass was perched. Sports played off the old-fashioned TV he insisted on keeping, and I felt like I was in a scene from 8 Mile. "How was school today?" he croaked, in a tone that sounded like he couldn't care less. I didn't care about my response, then, either. "Fine." I sipped my beer. I glanced at him to see if he'd notice, but he was so hyper focused on the screaming football players wrestling each other that I don't think he even remembered asking me a question. "Oh! Let's go." He pummeled his fists into the air, and I flinched a little.

"How's that girl of yours?" My mother asked politely, sending me a smile from the armchair feet from me in greeting. She hung up the phone and fixed her skirt, initiating a conversation. "Oh, she's fine." I smiled and nodded, as if I even knew how she was. I hadn't talked to her since yesterday morning, when I refused to go along with her when she said her outfit was cute—It was mediocre at best. "What girl?" My father spit out, probably finally paying attention due to the ad break.

"Avalin."

"The blondie?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you." He threw his beer can in my lap. I finished mine with my hand covering the label. "Get me another, boy." I nodded silently, standing up but letting the cans fall off my lap. He looked at me with anger and daringness. "Pick those up if you know what's good for you." I did. By the time I had brought them back, the game had started again, my mother was about to slip past me to finish preparing supper, and my sister was in the living room, doodling on her coloring book. I tussled her hair in greeting as I went back to sit down, but she slipped in between my legs, and stretched out on the couch.

"Move." I picked her up by her unicorn shirt collar and she giggled and moved her legs in response. Poom. I tossed her like a bag onto the beanbag she'd brought out, and she smacked the air out of it, laughing and standing up to do it again. I flopped down on the couch in response. "Shut up." My father said, half asleep from his fifth can of beer. My little sister glanced to her left, where he was sitting, before grabbing up her things and quietly blowing a raspberry. I grabbed my phone which had fallen out of my gray hoodie pocket as I plopped down and let her have the couch, giving her a stink eye to make sure she knew it was my choice, and not because she had any power over me.

"Adam, go get Mavia. Dinner is almost ready."

"I'm not that hungry." My mother gave me a murderous look and chopped the final vegetables for the salad faster. I sighed and turned around, yelling for her around the loveseat and father, who was snoring louder than the game was playing. She knew better than to relish in victory of claiming the sofa and stood up quickly to prepare the dining table. I removed my backpack and fixed the lilies' position, wishing I could eat in peace on my own.