Austin Growing Up
Consequences
Sunday morning came early. I was startled awake by my father's knocking at my bedroom door. "Wake up son, we're leaving for church in an hour. You're mom's got breakfast ready, so get up, get up, get up." I winced as I began lifting myself into a seated position. My muscles ached from the work I'd done yesterday. I rubbed my eyes, stood, and stumbled into my bathroom. Once the water was hot, I stepped into the shower to allow the hot water and steam to work their magic on my aching body.
Once I was fully awake, I looked down to see that Logan Jr. was 'fully awake' as well, and immediately my thoughts turned to the image I'd burned into my head: Trevor lying on his bed, shirtless, his right arm resting above his head, smooth chest, pasty yet flawless creamy like skin, well defines legs with their light coating of hair, and his pouty red lips and peaceful angelic expression pasted onto his face. Without thinking, my hand moved to Austin Jr. and began stroking, while images of Trevor flashed in my head. Without warning, my body tensed, my breathing became erratic, and I began shooting my seed onto the wall of the shower and down the drain. Jolts of electricity surged throughout my body. I could feel the tension of the previous days escaping my body with each powerful shot, until I was left standing in a semi-conscious state under the hot water, with my now deflated dick in my hand. 'God, what the hell was I just thinking about?' I thought to myself. 'Did I just jerk off to thoughts of that kid's body? Am I gay? I have a girlfriend!' I was lost in my own confusion when I was suddenly brought back into a state of consciousness when I heard my dad's voice again...
"Hurry it up in there, son, breakfast is on the table."
"Oh, okay, Dad. Be right out!" I quickly cleaned myself up and got out. I dried myself off and slipped into a clean pair of boxer-briefs, slipped on a pair of black no-show socks, pulled on my t-shirt and then a new Holster polo, and pulled up a clean pair of jeans. I didn't need to mess with my hair because it was shaved. That saved a lot of time during my morning routine. After brushing my teeth and spritzing myself with cologne, I bounded downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Well, there you are. Good morning, sweetie," my mom said, flashing a warm smile. "Hope you're hungry."
"'Morning, Mom. I'm always hungry," I said, stealing a slice of crispy bacon from the platter she was holding. I took my seat at the table and began filling my plate.
"Well, I see you are" she said with a chuckle, and she lightly caressed my cheek. I just smiled while I continued to chew. My mom's cooking always made me feel better. At some point during the meal I stopped eating, and was just pushing my food around with my fork, again lost in heavy contemplation and confusion. Again, images of Trevor flashed in my head and again I felt Austin Jr. gaining interest in those images. I look of sadness crept onto my face and my shoulders sank a bit, not going unnoticed by my ever attentive mother.
"Care to talk about it," she asked, with one eyebrow raised. "You look like you've got the world on your shoulders, sweetie."
I smiled weakly, "I'm just thinking about everything, you know. I mean, like what's gonna happen to me and all."
"I know you're worried about it. So are your father and I, but don't worry about what you can't control. Just try to make things right with that boy you've bullied. Maybe you should try to get to know him better and become friends."
"Yeah. . ." I sighed. "I don't think he wants anything to do with me, mom. I just can't stop feeling guilty about it. . ." I sighed again, drifting back into my confused contemplation. I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about him and how much I wanted to be near him, to protect him to . . . oh God . . . I wanted to touch him!
I was just staring at my half eaten breakfast, a meal I would have otherwise inhaled in minutes.My mom cleaned up the kitchen and my Dad pulled the car out of the garage, waiting for us to join him. The ride to church was quiet, and I just stared out the window. I didn't ever realize we'd arrived at church until my dad tapped on the window, startling me back into reality.
I don't remember anything about the service because all I could think about was Trevor and how he must have felt - the pain, the embarrassment, the shame, the anger . . . the shame, guilt, sorrow just washed over me. "I need to use the restroom," I whispered to my Mom, as I quietly stood and exited the sanctuary. I locked myself in a handicapped stall of the men's room, where I cried. The feeling of guilt and shame was so intense that I couldn't hold back the waterworks. All I could think about was how much that must have hurt him, how embarrassed he must have been. "Oh my God! What if he'd actually died," I thought. I'm not sure how long I was in that stall, but when I pulled myself together and left the men's room, the service was over and everyone was waiting their turn to shake the minister's hand. I just went outside and waited for my parents, who weren't too far behind me.
The ride back home was equally uneventful and silent. Once we got home, I just went upstairs to my room, kicked my shoes off and laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Again, I was startled by a light knock and my Dad's voice. "Are you feeling alright, son?"
"Yeah, Dad, I'm okay. I was just thinking about stuff, that's all. I'm fine." I sort of rambled.
"Okay. I don't want to add to your thoughts, but I just got off the phone with Patric's and Shawn's parents. They're all coming over this evening so we can sit down and talk about what happened, and what we're going to do about it. They'll be here around 4 for dinner, then we'll all talk this over."
"Dad . . ." my voice cracked. "I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about what we did to him and I just feel like shi . . . like crap, you know. Isn't there anything I can do to show him and his grandfather that I'm really, really, really sorry?"
"Well, if you feel that strongly about it, why don't you give them a call and invite them over for dinner. You talk to Trevor and if he's up to it, then I'll talk to his grandfather, okay?"
I smiled at the thought of hearing his voice. "I don't know his number," I frowned.
"I have it on my desk. Just go into my office and use that phone. I'll be right in behind you."
"Okay Dad." I bolted off my bed and bounded downstairs into my Dad's office. There it was, right on top of his desk calendar, a note scribed in my Dad's handwriting, The Lindsay's, with their phone number written below. With shaking hands, sweating palms, and butterflies in my stomach, I dialed the number. Once it started to ring, I almost hung up, but then I heard his voice.
"Hello?"
"Um . . . Hello. Is this Trevor?"
"Yeah, who is this?"
"Um . . . yeah . . . uh . . . this is . . . uh . . . this is Austin. Austin Kennedy, from school."
"I know who you are. What do you want?"
"Oh. . . yeah, um I guess you do know me, um . . . he he he . . . Yeah, well I was, uh, just wondering if, uh, you and your grandfather would like to come over for barbecue. My dad's cooking on the grill." I know I sounded like a total retard, and kept tripping over my own words because I was so nervous about having to talk to him.
"What, is this some kind of a joke? Are you and your friends going to be waiting for me to show up so you can beat the shit out of me again? Are you really that fucking stupid, that you think I'll fall for that?" His voice sounded like pure fire. The hatred was more than obvious.
"Wait! No! Please ... "
"No, you wait. Just leave me alone!" the line went dead. I just lowered my head and sighed heavily. I felt completely dejected.
I just spent the evening brooding in my room by myself. I wasn't in the mood to be around a bunch of people. It wasn't until my Dad came into my room, just before midnight. "Son, we've got an appointment with the attorney tomorrow after work, so you better get some sleep. Good night, son."
"Good night, Dad."
It took forever for me to fall asleep. My mind was racing with thoughts of jail, being expelled, not being allowed to play football, and not going to college. Most of all, I was thinking about how much Trevor hated me and how I'd never be able to get to know him.
With everything swirling around in my head, I kept going back to those images of Trevor lying on his bed, and immediately I got hard. I climbed out of bed, and snuck down to my dad's office and dialed Trevor's number again.
"Hello?" A very groggy sounding Trevor answered.
"Hi. Please don't hang up. It's me again, Austin."
"What do you want?"
"I . . . I . . . I just wanted to talk."
"Okay, so talk then." He commanded.
"Well, first I wanted to say how very sorry I am for everything I've done to you. I really am. I just hope that someday you'll forgive me."
There was a very long pause. I could hear him breathing and it was driving me crazy. I didn't want to ruin this because I finally had his attention.
"What do you think, that I can just forget about this and pretend it never happened?"
"No. I know I can never forget it. It's really tearing me apart inside. I've cried more the past two days that I have since I was a baby. Seriously."
"Oh yeah, right. You, the big dumb jock, showed emotions?"
"Man, you have no idea. I had to go into the men's room at church today because I started crying."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I really want to become friends. I can't talk to my other friends about these things. You're just really easy to talk to and listen to. I like your voice."
"You like my voice?" he asked with an emphasis on voice.
"Well, not just that, you just make me feel better, like, you calm me down."
"You're sounding weird, Austin. Are you drunk?"
"No! No, my parents would never let me drink alcohol."
"Okay. So let me get this straight. You've been crying for two days, you like my voice, and I make you feel better. Is that it?"
"Um . . . yeah."
"Wow." he whispered.
"Yeah" I whispered back.
Another very long pause in our conversation. The sound of his rhythmic breathing was again driving me crazy. I was hard as a rock. But at least he was finally speaking to me.
"Well, is that all you had to say? 'Cause it's getting really late . . ."
"Oh. Okay. Yeah, that's all for now, anyway."
"Good night, Austin."
"Hey! Thanks for talking to me. Good night."
"Bye," he said just before he hung up. I held the phone to my ear for another five minutes before finally handing up. I just didn't want that moment to end.
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