Confusion

There comes a moment in everyone's life when time stands still; where the physical world stops, holding its breath solely for them; when every path spreads clearly before them, both in shadow and light, for good or for ill. It is our duty to take advantage of those times and make the worst decision possible, which is exactly what I intended to do.

And why shouldn't I lay to rest any opportunity I had for happiness? I had screwed myself royally no matter what. I knew I had to make a clean break somehow, to get away from everything that wrapped itself around me, trapping me in the turmoil that always played a hand in screwing up my life.

I was going in circles. I knew this. I felt as though there were walls of glass all around me. I could see what lay beyond them, only to find that I couldn't reach it when I tried.

A clean break.

So, there I was. I was only vaguely aware of the alarm screeching through the morning air, penetrating my brain, and putting my sanity in serious jeopardy. Mike was staring down at me, his expression a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and strangely enough, knowing.

His eyes frightened me. They were glacial, a pale, icy blue that revealed nothing, though I vaguely knew exactly what he was thinking. "Now what the hell is he doing?" The question went unspoken, but I knew it lingered there somewhere.

I felt rather than saw his father behind me. The elder Adams had followed me out the door, as intent on keeping me in as I was on getting out. A few sharp cracks sounded behind me, causing me to jump slightly.

The alarm fell silent.

"Erik, what are you doing?" Mike asked calmly, extending his hand towards me. I refused his help and stood on my own, barely possible due to the intense shaking that had taken hold of me.

"Erik, are you ok?" a soothing voice behind me inquired.

"What's going on?" Mike's mother was walking up behind him. She seemed somewhat puzzled, the three of us standing on the walkway, the door wide open, the alarm smashed in.

I remained silent. I was wracking my brain in a feeble attempt to explain exactly why I was bolting out of the house at a million miles an hour. I felt so alone right then, even though I realized there was no real reason for it. I drew my arms around myself, almost protectively, warding off everything around me until I felt prepared to tackle the situation and fix it. I was always good at fixing things. Too bad I couldn't fix myself. It would have made things much easier.

"It's my fault," Paul began. "I said some things I probably shouldn't have."

Mike shot his father an angry "how could you?" look.

"You don't have to make excuses for me, Mr. Adams. I'm not a kid," I snapped. No person would make excuses for me. That much I had decided. That's what life was for me at that point. As soon as words had left Paul's mouth, I knew that everything was one great excuse. And wasn't that what life was for me, an excuse? I could always push a problem aside with a mumbled explanation, a rationalization that shifted responsibility from myself, lifting part of the weight no matter how small.

I couldn't do that anymore. The rationalizations were getting mixed up. I couldn't keep up with them all. I had made so many of them, that I wasn't even sure what the image of myself so fixed in my mind was. Was I only having growing pains? Did I have issues that needed resolution? Was I truly mentally disturbed to a level that made me completely dysfunctional?

All these questions shot through my brain, assailing my senses mercilessly.

"Let's go inside, Paul." Mike's mother glided past us and took her husband's arm, leading him into the house. I wished she hadn't done that. At least with three people surrounding me, I didn't think I'd have to answer to anything or give reasoning for what had overcome me. With Mike, I knew there would be no place to hide.

I shifted my gaze from the concrete to Mike's face. His eyes stabbed me, though only partially for I had raised my instinctual defenses against this. He was still in the stages of wondering, suspecting, coming close to the conclusion, but not quite making the full connection.

"Are you going to tell me?" he asked, his hands resting limply at his sides in display of vulnerability.

Something odd caught my eye when he asked the question. We were both standing on the walk, barely a foot apart. He was fully illuminated in the morning sun, the purest form of youthful vigor. The warm, inviting sun was spread over his tanned face, his flaxen hair.

I was standing entirely in shadow, a chill, wan form, slinking back from him. All color had drained from my face. I looked towards the sky briefly, wondering what sort of joke God was playing on me, letting the sun fall completely on Mike, leaving me in darkness. Or perhaps the joke was in my realization of it.

I placed the occurrence in the back of my mind. I had to concentrate on answering Mike's question. I felt I had to choose my words carefully. I was mixed up and confused. That was enough. No good could come of confusing anyone else with obscure response.

"Your dad didn't want me to leave," I stated, buying more time for myself to think.

"I know," he nodded. "Me and my parents discussed some things this morning."

I sat down on the step in front of the door, beckoning him to join me which he did.

"What did you tell them?"

"Everything."

I swallowed, a difficult action at best with a lump in my throat the size of a fist. "Everything?"

He tilted his head on laid it on my shoulder. "I had to, Erik. They were asking questions and already guessing at the answers. They're just now accepting everything, and I couldn't risk their suspicion. If they thought something was wrong, they'd start worrying about me and stuff. When my mom perceives a threat, she gets paranoid. She'd give us a hard time about our relationship if she didn't think it was good for me."

I leaned my head against his, letting out my breath in a long, drawn out sigh. "It's not good for you, ya know."

He brought his face up. "What, us?"

I folded my arms on my knees. "Yeah, us. So far, I've been the relationship. Everything revolves around me. Some of it's your doing, but the overwhelming majority is mine. It can't be a healthy thing if we're always concentrating on my problems. Yet another case of me being selfish. Hell, even telling you I'm selfish seems selfish. Me me me." I laid my head on my arms. I suddenly hurt very badly inside and wanted to cry. I hated myself.

"Erik, let me tell you something. When we first met, it was you that took care of me. You saw that I was hurting about being gay and not being accepted. I could tell that you cared, and that you were honestly worried about me. You wanted to make sure I was ok. You were there for me."

"I fix things," I muttered.

Mike took my hands in his. "Yeah, you do. Remember that night when you were drunk, and I had to come downtown to get you?"

"Not one of my prouder moments," I admitted.

"Maybe not. But, at the end of the night, it ended up being you taking care of me. I knew something was wrong that night. I know now what was wrong. But, even with all that shit going on inside of you, you shoved it out of the way in order to help me, and worry about me, and to be there for me. It's give and take, Erik. Now, I have to take care of you for a little bit. We just seem to be centered on you right now, but that will pass. Then, I'll have a problem, and it'll seem like it's all about me. Give and take," he repeated quietly.

"I guess you're right, as always." I looked down and noticed the bags and boxes laying in the grass. "What are those?"

He rose and grabbed all the bags, dragging them over to me. He dug into a bag and pulled out a box. Upon opening it, he showed me a gray and white flannel shirt. "They're clothes."

I laughed. "Never enough, eh?"

"They're not for me," he said more seriously than I would have liked.

"Presents?"

"Kinda. Me and my parents had a long talk this morning about everything, like I said." He paused, summoning up courage for some pronouncement that I knew was coming. "The clothes are for you. My parents want you to move in with us."

My mouth opened and closed, not a whisper coming from it. I was on my feet immediately. "Move in with you?! I...I...I can't do that Mike! My parents would flip!" Moving in? He'd be saddled with me all the time then. I could barely live with myself. To put that burden on someone else? Out of the question.

"Erik, why won't you let me take care of you?" he asked pleadingly.

"Because! I'm not a little kid, Mike. I don't need taking care of. As much as I'd kill to be with you always, now is just not a good time for me. Not with me like this. Not now of all times, Mike. Not now."

He stood and took my hands in his again. "Yes, now of all times. Erik, every time you go back to that house you take ten steps backwards. It's not good for you." The fact that he said "that house" with utter contempt was not lost to me. "I want to help you. Please, let me."

I could see no good reason why I should shoot down his idea. I couldn't let myself be a burden. Guilt was something that always hung around me. The proverbial albatross. This would make the weight unbearable. I knew Mike wouldn't accept that argument. I knew an ensuing argument would consist of him asking why, and me simply stating because. I'd think of a million excuses.

But, sometimes in life, you gotta take a chance. Scary as hell, sure, but I knew I had to take it. I didn't want to reduce myself to a stammering idiot, blurting out countless reasons on exactly why I couldn't stay. Mike wanted this, I could see it in his eyes.

But, I was the fixer. It was my job in life to fix everyone else's problems. Damned be those that tried to fix mine. I was my own responsibility, in addition to everyone else. I liked having that weight on my shoulders, the responsibility. If it wasn't there, I'd feel empty, and alone. I'd be unneeded. I can fix things.

"Mike, I can't do this."

He squeezed my hands. "Why?!"

"Cuz, I'm afraid," I stated simply.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of me. Of myself. If I let someone take care of me, I'll have to stop worrying about myself so much. That would give me time to be who I truly am." I let out a shaking breath. "I don't like that person very much."

"What does that say about me? I'm in love with you for Christ's sake."

"Mike, you don't know me. No one really knows anyone else. No matter how much we try, we can never be who we are with people. We're only who we are in our head. I'm different when I'm with myself than I am with other people.

"When it's late at night, and everything's quiet, I'm with myself. I know myself intimately, in ways no one else does. There are things going on my head that I wouldn't ever say to another human being.

"If someone were to walk into the room, I'd lose that connection with myself, and I'd become a completely different person. This personality takes over. I say and do things I don't mean, but think I do. I act in ways I find contemptible, but no one notices.

"The real me is inside still though, screaming at me. 'Why did you do this? Why did you do that?' But, that's the personality that people see. Personality has nothing to do with who you are. Personality is merely what other people see. I'm wildly different from my personality. Everything I fear, everything I don't like, everything I want in life, what I truly think is locked up inside. Sometimes, I think it'll remain there for the rest of my life. My personality will get me through life, and underneath, everything remains the same."

"Why do you love me?"

The question caught me off guard. And, when he asked it, I couldn't give a reason. I just knew I did. "Because you're you."

Mike smiled triumphantly. "Exactly. I think when people fall in love, the can see inside the other person. I sense things about you sometimes. But it's a feeling more than anything. When we first met, I felt it. I didn't know a whole lot of specifics about your life, but I felt like I knew you. And, no matter what either of us does, we still have that. I think we always will."

"I'm going to bed," I announced.

"Going to bed?" Mike was completely dumbfounded.

I laughed and smiled. "Yes, I'm going to bed. It'd be better if I wasn't there alone. Hint hint."

He smiled. "Yeah, I am kinda getting sleepy."

I arched an eyebrow. "Going to bed and sleeping are two wildly different things, babe."

I wrapped my arms around Mike, my heart still pounding heavily, slowly returning to a normal rhythm. He pulled the quilt higher around us before setting his head upon my shoulder.

"You getting better," he said, then giggled.

I kissed the top of his head. "It isn't exactly rocket science," I chuckled. I started running my fingers back and forth over his shoulder. "Sheesh, now I am sleepy."

He tightened his hold around me and let out an enormous yawn. "Nothing inspires coma more than sex."

"I dunno, philosophy class runs a close second."

He bit my chest playfully. "Hmmm. Let's have sex in philosophy class next term. We could sleep through the year."

I yawned. "Yeah, but my prof would probably make me write a report about it."

We lay there silent, eyes half-open, drifting in and out of a light sleep.

He rested his chin on my chest and looked up at me, tapping a finger gently on my chin. "Have you given anymore thought to moving in?"

"Yeah, I have. I thought about it right when I put on the condom. Because we all know the last thing I'm thinking about during sex is sex. Last week, I was working out math equations during orgasm. I do my best work then."

That sort of response earned me a pinch. "Seriously."

"What the hell. I honestly have nothing to lose at this point. Might as well give it a go."

"Cool!" He kissed me and leapt up out of bed.

"Where are you going?

"Gonna tell my parents," he said excitedly.

"Mike."

"Yeah?"

"Clothes."

"Oh yeah," he grinned. He threw on his clothes carelessly and bolted out the door.

I leaned back into the bed, drawing the covers close to my chin. I was leaving my home. Surprisingly, I didn't feel about it one way or the other. There was an emptiness where home should have been. It didn't matter. Home was always there, but it wasn't important. I always returned because I always had. When I was a kid, my parents would tell me to come home, and I did. There was no questioning in my mind, no attempt to see any other course of action except to go home.

I burrowed deeper under the covers, letting the warmth envelop me almost to the point of suffocation.

Mike's house wasn't home either. It was still foreign in a way that made me uncomfortable. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. All of them seemed out of place with me, like they didn't fit with me, or I didn't fit with them. Instead of warm and inviting, they jarred me to consciousness, keeping me acutely aware of everything around me.

I rose from the bed and dressed myself. With a careful gesture, I shut the door behind me. I stood atop the staircase, looking down upon the white tile, listening for voices. Hurried, whispered chatter arose from the kitchen, much to my dismay.

Slinking down the staircase was difficult at best. Once I became cognizant of the sounds around me, I realized every second or third step had different ideas about my leaving. The stairs moaned as I descended, keeping close to the wall. I felt my back pocket, just to be sure I still had my wallet and money.

"Erik!"

Shit.

Mike materialized from the kitchen, a grin rippling across his face. I walked down the steps briskly, trying to maintain the illusion that I had intended to go into the kitchen.

"It's all set. My parents will take care of everything."

"Why?" I asked, feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of people "taking care" of things for me.

Mike furrowed his brow with a questioning glance. "What do you mean why?" He looked from me to the front door, slowly putting the pieces together. "You weren't coming downstairs to talk to me and my parents, where you? You were going to leave."

I nodded, seeing no point in denying it. "I just feel like it's what I have to do. I don't like feeling this way, I don't. But, I can't help it. I get all panicked, like I can't breathe. It's like being trapped. It doesn't matter if I live in a nice place with nice things. It's still like a prison cell to me. Just different looking bars."

I regretted what I was saying, truth that it was. Mike's eyes began to water, making me hate myself all the more.

"And it doesn't matter that you'd be with me?" He looked so heart broken. It made me want to lie.

But I didn't.

"Mike," I said, squeezing his hands. "It does matter. It matters a lot. But, no one can force me into anything. I have to choose to be somewhere. I can't go there by circumstance. Because, then I'll be trapped. Do you see what I'm saying?"

He stared at me hard, almost trying to penetrate my eyes and look inside my mind, an impossible task at best. "And where does that leave us? Erik, how long am I supposed to wait for you to figure this all out? I know there's things you're not telling me. I know it. But, I can't help me until you tell me what's on your mind."

I smiled slightly, a plan forming in my mind.

"Two days. Give me two days."

"Two days? What do you need two days for." I could tell he was worried. I don't think he wanted to leave me alone for two minutes let alone two days. He thought I would do something destructive.

"I need time to think, time to figure everything out once and for all. I have to come to an understanding with myself about things. When I do that, I think I'll see things more clearly. I'll be able to actually make rational decisions."

He kissed me lightly on the lips. "Where are you going to go."

"I'm going to two places. One where things happened and another where I never got an explanation for it."

"Where's that?"

"I'm going to church for that explanation. I deserve one. After that.." I drew a deep breath. "I'm going home."

tbc