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*** Depicts religious fanatacism. Contains foul language and alludes to violence.
The first place I went to was Dale's house. I pulled up out front and started honking the horn from his driveway. He had no idea that I had gone and bought a car. Dale came out of his front door, a pissy look on his face until he recognized me. I got out of the car. "What's this?" he asked.
"This is Bertha. I just bought her. '78 Trans Am. El-Tee-One engine. I call her Bertha because she's fast and ugly."
"Wow. It's cool."
He was acting strangely.
"She's not just cool, she's fast as hell. Jump in, I'll show you!"
Dale said "Just a second, I'll ask my dad". He disappeared into the house. He was in there for a few minutes, then came back out and got into the passenger seat. "Let's roll."
As I was driving away I noticed his father standing in the living room window, staring at me with that same creepy look he always had. I shuddered and drove on. The first place I went was to the gas station. This beast needed to be fed.
Except I couldn't find her mouth.
"Uh, where does the gas go?" I asked Dale.
"How am I supposed to know? Isn't there a fuel door on the side?"
"Nope."
He got out of the car and the two of us started searching for the fuel door. One of the gas station attendants at the full-serve pump was watching us with amusement. Finally he figured out that I was blocking the pumps and there were customers waiting.
"Problem, boys?"
I felt stupid. "Um, yeah. I just bought this car and I don't know where the gas goes."
He chuckled as he walked over. "Allow me", he said, as he put his finger on the rear license plate and flipped it back. There, hidden behind the plate, was the fuel filler cap.
"Oh! That's cool! Thanks!"
I pumped $10 into the car, paid for it, and we were off. We drove up and down Sackville Drive a bunch of times, challenging anything and everything to a race and breaking just about every traffic law known to man. I was giddy with joy. Dale was silent and sulky. Was he jealous? Maybe I'd let him drive it once he got his license. Not now though. I was running low on gas.
"Better get home. I'll drop you off", I said, and turned in the direction of his street. I got to his house and pulled over to the side, then looked expectantly at Dale, waiting for him to get out of the car. He didn't move.
"Turn the car off," he said.
"What? Why?", I asked, as I switched the ignition off. The engine went silent.
"I Need to talk to you."
"Um, Ok, go ahead."
Dale looked at me. He had the strangest expression on his face. I could tell he was struggling with something. I was certain that nothing good was about to happen. I just kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something. Finally, he did.
