Standard legal stuff applies. Once again, horny people should look elsewhere. Don't complain if you don't find it.
I should point out that some people have misinterpreted the title of this story simply because I used the word `brutality'. "Oh goodness," they must say to themselves, "any story with a title like that must be filled with violence and nonconsensual sex!" Half of them then proceed to pull down their pants and whip out their willies in turgid anticipation. The other half must think, "The title sounds horrid, but the story is rather pacific. Ergo, this story is inappropriately named. How brilliant I must be: I will celebrate with fresh fruit and Chianti and bask in my genius."
I'm afraid I'll have to spoil you all a little and say that these people are terribly mistaken. Instead of focusing on the word brutality, one should really emphasize the word mask: it is, after all, the subject in the title. What mask could brutality possibly use to disguise its pain? More importantly, are there forms of brutality beyond the physical and can they be just as impairing? Sorry to sound like an English teacher, but I really would like people to stop and think about the meaning of words before jumping to conclusions.
Working with AJ became the highlight of my week, not just because he had grown on me, but also because we'd spend the hours goofing off. We'd get magazines and cut out pictures of supermodels and start mixing and matching different faces, torsos, and legs. Halle Berry with Jessica Simpson's legs and Kirstie Alley's body: that's some nasty shit right there. The customers always thought we were a pair of immature hooligans, but we couldn't really deny it. Sometimes I'd throw ice at him, only to have him retaliate by shoving it down my shirt. Like I said, stupid shit.
"That's why I like you, James," he told me. "I can do all sorts of dumb shit like toss things at you." He chucked a piece of a bagel at me then continued.
"If I did it with anyone else, they'd look at me like I was moron and tell me to cut it out. They don't fight back, but you do. It's awesome."
I threw the bagel piece back at him and it hit him on the shoulder. "You skanky little bitch," I laughed- which was generally the way we spoke to each other. I had bits of bagel crumbs strewn over my shirt. So did he.
"I don't think I'm the bitch around here, James," he replied, giving me the evil eye. And the cheeky grin.
So he liked me because I'm the only one he can act like a 6- year old with. I can live with that. It also explained how we'd come up with a different game to play every week- after he beat me at Othello with a set we found in one of the bookshelves. I hate to lose. There was this one week, though, when I thought he was on crack, because the game he suggested sounded absolutely wretched.
"Ok," he said. "So the way it works is that we both drink whatever the customers order. We'll make a list of everything ordered and we'll see how many we can go through."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun."
"I dunno," I said, hesitating. This was such a bad idea, but he was giving me that pout and I could never say no to him anyway. It's a good thing I never let him know that. "Is this some sort of contest or something, like who can last the longest?"
"Nah, let's think of it as an investigation. How much can you chug? It's like a biological mystery, and we're going to find out." He couldn't stop grinning.
"We're gonna get so sick."
"You wussing out?"
"We'll be going to the bathroom every 2 minutes."
"You're not wussing out are you?"
"Can you imagine drinking 4 smoothies in a row?"
"Wuss."
"Start drinking, bitch."
We kept a running tab of all the beverages we had to drink. The iced coffee and black tea were ok, despite AJ yelling at me to chug half of the coffee in five seconds. The cappuccino was a bit tougher and soon I felt the milk churn in my stomach, mixing with the other fluids. AJ took his first bathroom break after I gave him a ribbing about the size of his bladder. Then we started on fruit smoothies. It was getting painful. We were sitting on chairs, groaning slightly with our drinks half finished, when Monica walked in to check on us.
"What are you guys doing?"
"We're playing a game," AJ answered, holding his stomach, and still looking slightly queasy.
"What sort of game?"
"One where we have to drink one of everything the customer orders."
"That's disgusting!" Monica screamed. "You guys are going to make yourselves sick!"
"Too late," I moaned.
Monica fumed. "You do realize," she said, "that you have to pay for all those drinks you've had."
AJ and I looked at each other. He had the expression of a 5- year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I'm certain that my face looked somewhat similar. I wished that I had cash in my wallet. I also wished that Monica would disappear so I could run to the bathroom and pee. Alas, she gave me no respite for either.
"Umm, we're sorry Monica; we won't do it again." Apparently AJ thought acting like a little kid would get him further in life. All he needed to do now was pucker his lips and bat his eyes. Silly him; that trick only works on me.
"You two are hopeless!" She stormed out of the store. Well, I guess AJ's little sycophantic tirade work, after a fashion. I raced to the bathroom.
So ended the first and last time that game would ever be played. We hung the list of drinks we had consumed in the office so that everyone else could stare and envy our tremendous accomplishment and stomachs of steel. Either that, or laugh at our immense stupidity. We spent the rest of the shift on our asses, talking about how amazing/unhealthy our little episode was. It's a good thing I'm naturally skinny, or all those calories would have made me more nauseous than I already was. The last thing I needed was a beer-belly, or a coffee-belly in this case.
"So who won?" I asked.
"Does it really matter?" he replied. "We're the first and only players! We forged a new a path in the annals of coffee history! This is monumental occasion!"
"I guess it's a good thing there'll be no one after us. I wouldn't want to anyone else to suffer the agony I went through."
"Wuss."
"Whatever, I won."
The games which followed thereafter were all more subdued. We learned our lesson.
I was heading home from my internship when I decided to stop by the coffeehouse. AJ was working at the time, and I wanted to ask if he was going to the party later tonight. Well, that and I wanted an excuse to see him again (I had memorized his work schedule, sue me). On my way, I ran into two of my housemates, Phoebe and Sara, who joined me in search of caffeine. I guess I should also say that my house was inhabited by four girls and a trophy gay guy: me. Sometimes I think I was some sort of status symbol to these girls, like living with a gay man was the new hip thing in town. Still, they were great, and living with them was a lot of fun.
We entered the store and saw AJ at the register. I did the introductions, and while my housemates were pondering over the menu, I popped the question.
That is, I asked him if he was going tonight, not for his hand in holy matrimony.
"Hey, you gonna show up tonight?"
"Dude, free beer," he said. "I'm there."
Sometimes he can be so simple.
Back home, Phoebe and Sara told our other housemates, Mairi and Angie, about the cute guy who was my coworker. They were all genuinely interested, but I was a bit annoyed at their attention. He was mine damn it! I have a tendency to be a bit possessive. Their teasing was nevertheless relentless.
"So James, you should ask him out," Mairi said. She had that tone of voice were she sounded half-genuine, half- sadistic.
"Hey," Phoebe piped in, "couldn't you make him walk around in just an apron or something? I mean, you are his manager."
"You're such a perv Phoebe," I said. "And no, I'm not going to ask him out."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't think he likes boys."
"In that case," replied Mairi, "Ange can have him." She looked quite content with herself.
"That's right, Angie can have him," I said, turning to go to my room. "He's all yours, Ange. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
The girls continued to giggle amongst themselves as I went upstairs. I wasn't too concerned- they always did this whenever they met anyone who they thought was cute. Angie probably wouldn't do anything, she wasn't much of an outside person in the first place. Those were my housemates: all talk and no action. Meanwhile, I was no talk and no action. I wonder who was better off.
I took a shower, downed a quick dinner, then watched TV for a bit, waiting for the party to start. I walked the short distance from my place. By now, AJ and I were regulars at keg nights and virtually any party we got wind of over the summer. We never showed up together, but whenever we'd spot each other in the crowd, we would proceed to holler out the other's name. It was usually followed by a string of expletives. We were so affectionate to each other.
"James, you fucker! Get over here!"
"Hey AJ, how's it going?"
"Good, now here's your beer. Drink up."
AJ was with Zach, a mutual friend, beside the keg. Easy access, I guessed, and moved to join them. Zach was apparently asking AJ how work was treating him so far.
"Pretty good, man. It's a lot of fun."
"Really, that's awesome," Zach said. "Hey, I didn't know you knew James here."
"Yeah," AJ smiled. "James and I have a shift together." He draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in a bit closer.
"Yup, we're both a bunch of dumbasses," I laughed, downing my beer quickly. His touch was making me nervous.
Maybe it was just the glow of the alcohol, but with him beside me, I felt warm and content. He was leaning on me slightly, and my elbow would occasionally bump his side. It wasn't pudgy; that's a good sign. I resisted the urge to snuggle closer, but this effort came at the cost of not paying attention to conversation.
". so what's it like, AJ, working with this doofus here?"
"James? Man, it's the best. We got the coolest shift ever." I felt him squeeze my arm slightly. He turned to me with a lop-sided grin and winked.
Straight guys don't wink at other guys, do they?
I mean, who the hell winks at anyone in the first place? Sure, there's the sneaky wink you sometimes give to someone when you're both in the know, but it always looks dumb. Winking looks more like you got dust in your eye or a nervous twitch, and I always thought that people were being really corny or stupid whenever they winked- except when he did it. This time it was different.
It seemed at first like a little conspiratorial jig that we got to enjoy just between ourselves. After all, only a couple of immature buffoons like us could truly appreciate the opportunity to wreck havoc on a fine coffee establishment together. But yet, that twinkle in his eye suggested something more. It excited me, but terrified me as well- as if there was more he was conveying more than just our working together. As if we had something going on between the two of us that no one else knew. It was our little secret.
But what was going on, exactly?
Maybe I was just reading into things too much and creating meaning where meaning shouldn't exist. We were, after all, at a party, and beer is a good alibi for just about anything. Perhaps it was just an innocent wink- if such winks exist- and it meant nothing more than to emphasize the point he made. My crush on him could be the culprit, making me fabricate stories that would feed my infatuation. I was probably a fool to be thinking so much about this and misinterpreting it so.
I excused myself from the throng in search of fresh air and space to think. The beer made my head ache slightly, so I sat down on the steps of the front porch. I could still hear noises coming from the din within, but my only company outside were the fireflies. Sighing, I stretched my legs out and chucked the rest of my drink into the bushes- I didn't feel like drinking anymore. Part of me still wanted to go back in there and be with AJ, but I realized that would have been a bad idea. I had resolved not to read into this too much, because it was stupid. Seeing AJ again might undo that. I didn't want my imagination to get the best of me.
I must have looked like an utter social reject, sitting alone and upset because a guy winked at me. That thought made me laugh at myself; I was being really pathetic. Then again, it's not like I had ever kissed a guy before, let alone have been in a relationship. Hell, I haven't even held hands with someone. What do I know about couples and things guys do together outside of romantic comedies and friends running to me to complain about how their boyfriends aren't paying enough attention to them? Clueless about courtship, I really didn't want to fuck up my friendship with a guy I really liked by thinking that he liked me back. I should be realistic and accept what I already have and not hope for something that wasn't going to happen.
"So this is where you ran off to."
The sound of AJ's voice behind me made me shiver. I wanted to run, but I also wanted to turn just to look at him. God, I'm so sappy. He sat down next to me; we were so close our knees were almost touching. The steps were rather narrow in the first place, or at least I thought they were. It was dark, but I could still make out his face with a curious expression on it. His hair was messy, with long strands partially obscuring the left side of his face. The moon made his eyes shine.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "I just needed to get away from the crowd for a sec. It gets a bit suffocating in there, you know?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. And some of those guys there are total asses who just wanna get drunk and annoy the shit out of people."
I chuckled. "Like me?"
"Nah, you're cool," He said, giving me a small pat on the back. He let out a small belch. His breath still reeked of beer and I frowned at the smell. He laughed at my discomfort.
"Really, AJ, I'm flattered that I met those high standards of yours." When nervous, I resort to sarcasm. Actually, I resort to sarcasm all the time, so I guess nerves have nothing to do with it.
"Bastard. But seriously, I just want you to know that this had been a great summer so far and part of it is because of you. You're a good guy, James."
I never know what to say when someone praises me like that, it makes me feel awkward, so I just kept silent. Hopefully, he'd change the subject to some pointless banter so I'd feel more comfortable. Shallow talk is my specialty; this deep shit is not my forte. What made it especially odd was that this was coming from AJ, who was possibly just as emotionally retarded as I was. Neither of us ever talked about anything of import. For me, it was a way of deflecting difficult questions like why I don't have a boyfriend. I tended to hide behind a wall of immaturity and a happy-go-lucky attitude which would conceal my total lack of self-esteem. Maybe he had the same problem too- minus the lack of boyfriend and self-esteem. Maybe we were more alike than appearances would make us seem. Maybe we were two guys alone at a party because those walls we built around us were too tall to peer over.
Maybe I'm delusional.
I obviously was too lost in my own thoughts to notice AJ still next to me. If he was talking the whole time, I didn't even hear a word he said. He didn't seem to notice though. In fact, he was just looking forward with a blank expression, as if deep in thought. He looked so different when he was serious; it was almost sad. We were two closet thinkers it seems. He turned though, and that look vanished, replaced by his usual cocky smile. Yet even then he seemed more subdued, as if the smile was not wholly genuine.
"Well, I think it's time for me to be heading back. You coming?" He knew that I lived in the same direction, so I guess it made sense for us to walk back together. I doubted that either of us wanted to go back to the party indoors.
"Yeah, sounds good," I said, rising from the porch with a yawn. "I'm kinda sleepy anyways."
"You could crash at my place if you want; it's closer."
I was tempted to jump at the opportunity to spend the night with him, however non-coital it may be. My prudence, though, got the best of me. Going home with him wouldn't have been the best remedy for my ego, besides.
"Nah, I think I'll be fine. My place isn't much farther."
"Sure."
We walked the short distance without saying anything, the silence filled with the sound of crickets and the leaves crunching under our feet. It had been a strange night, and I just wanted to go to bed and stop thinking entirely. He turned the corner to his place without saying a word, just a nod of the head. I smiled in return and then walked home.
That night I dreamt that I held his hand.
Thanks to everyone who's written to me, it's really great to hear what you guys think. If you've got something to say (other than complaints about the lack of sweaty man-sex, I already warned you) give me a holler: projectilepolly@hotmail.com