Adam - A Novella

5

My tears clouded my vision, so at first, I didn't know who came in the bathroom. That is, until I heard the soft, gentle voice of the boy who should avoid me by a ten-mile radius. "Adam? Are you okay?" Squinting barely helped clear the endless stream of tears, so I just broke down. I couldn't help it. Those social calculations, the people who see me as the king of the castle, my girlfriend, they're all contributing to someone I'm not. I'm gay. I know I'm gay. I've known for years. No matter how much I push it off, or push Caleb off, my thoughts keep swirling with everything I hate Caleb for. All the light yet stinging punches, all the tasseling, and he's still standing to my right, willing to support me if I need. "Screw off." I choked. He came to my side slowly. I didn't look at him, but I could still read his eyes. He is such a good kid. All he's ever wanted was love and connection, and I put a fist in his skin for it.

I looked up into his eyes. His still healing black eye, neck bruises, all of it, and he still had a tinge of care left in him. Care that came from years and years of missing me and wanting me near, of indescribably fun moments and a bond that we believed would be unbreakable. The care felt nice. Felt like my mother's warm family-recipe apple pie. Yet something still stirred in me. Something that screamed and thrashed in my soul and made me whip around before I could stop myself—and put the full force of my anger through my arm as it flew into the side of his nose, where his nose stud was. He staggered back, but the rage was in full force. I couldn't control myself, only watched through my eyes as I grabbed his shoulders and shook him onto the linoleum, screaming blungers. His head slammed against the floor repeatedly, and for a moment, I was sure I was going to kill him. I saw nothing but his blood from his nose dripping down my wrists and toward my palms. Security pulled me away by the shoulders while screaming into their walkie-talkies for police action, and it wasn't until my head was being pushed in the cop car out front did I come to my senses, did I realize the last thing I said to him was, "Don't ever look at me like that again faggot. You are not going to drag me down to hell with you."

Nothing felt real. Not the concrete under my thin shoes that panged my aching feet on the jail cell floor, not the way Caleb's head loosely flopped around his shoulders as I delivered power I didn't know I had. Not the way he really looked terrified. Not afraid, not scared, terrified. He thought I might kill him too. And I'm not sure that I'd ever be able to tell him I wasn't. I've been in this jail cell a million times, but only now did I feel like my life was ending. My mother solemnly talking with the sheriff had a new pang of guilt, even when he came over to unlock it.

"The boy's mother isn't pressing charges. You're free to go." I looked past him but couldn't see either of them anywhere. My head spun. Why wasn't she pressing charges? He has a concussion, minimum. I can't imagine she'd forgive a traumatic brain injury so loosely. My mom led me out to our little Honda, and the entire time I glanced around for any of the Abott family. Only the scowls of the prisoners who weren't so lucky responded.

"You need to stop getting yourself in so much trouble, Adam." My mother rolled down the window this time, but the stench of tobacco has permanently stained her upholstery. I can't tell if I'm tired, depressed, or guilty, but something doesn't feel right. My heart hurts. I want it to stop. I press my knees further and further into the tricot knit fabric, but I don't feel comforted. The world feels cold and damp. If my mom is talking, I can't hear her. I can't hear anything but the memory of his surprised and pained yelling as his skull hit the hard concrete-based tiling.

The heart pain didn't stop all night. Even when I kissed Mavia good night, when I remembered to tell Avalin I love her (I always forget), when I took a Tums and swallowed a bunch of melatonin for the weekend. My popcorn ceiling still stared back at me, eyes drowsy yet open and heart palpating out of control. Caleb wasn't off my mind for a second. Today, and him as a person. But I can't fantasize about his toned calves and broad shoulders easily, knowing he's lying in the hospital, or at least, an urgent care. My heart is beating faster now.