Breakneck

Chapter 2: Stumble

"So, do you think Cal's gonna come back?" Daphne asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. But the house was all closed up and everything, and you didn't see him at the hospital, when he handed me Luke... He looked like he'd been gutted of the will to live."

Daphne gave me a sidelong glance.

"Light's green," I told her. "What are you thinking?"

"I just—well." Daphne made a left turn into the parking lot of Walgreens, not looking at me. "I'm worried that Cal might have done something stupid. You know. Did you think about that?"

"You think he committed suicide?" I asked. My stomach turned—the thought had not occurred to me.

She shrugged. "Why not? It makes sense, with him not showing up for work and the house being all dark and locked up and stuff."

"He wouldn't." I couldn't help the uncertainty that crept into my voice.

"That would be kind of stupidly dramatic," Daphne agreed, but I knew that part of her was suppressing the urge to say how cool it would be to discover a dead body. "What do we need here, anyway? You said you'd tell me when we were out of the house."

We were out on an errand to get Luke's car seat out of Sara's car; Mom had given Molly's away years ago and I had told her that I had a spare key to Sara's car. She had agreed to watch Luke, since I couldn't exactly take him with me without the car seat. I had privately requested a side trip to Walgreens, when Daphne had arrived.

"I saw Brian last night at the hospital," I told her as she put the car in park and killed the engine. "We fucked in a bathroom stall. It was rough. Hot, but rough."

"You had sex in the hospital last night!" Daphne all but squawked.

I frowned, starting to get out of the car. "Yeah. Look, anyway, I need some cream for my ass, so—"

"Justin," Daphne said flatly, grabbing my arm.

Whatever shit she'd been holding back on my account before, I knew that she wasn't going to spare me here.

"Did you ask him to make it rough?" she asked, deadly serious.

My eyes widened. "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you asking if Brian raped me? That's bullshit, Daph!"

Her grip tightened. "That's not what I was asking. Justin, you know that using sex as a coping method isn't healthy, right?"

"It helped," I snapped, trying to pull away, but Daphne had a firm grip. "Anyway, it's not like I'm going to have time to go out and get fucked whenever I want to. I've got to stay home with Luke, now. So fuck off."

"Don't yell at me," Daphne said coolly. "I'm the one giving you a ride to the pharmacy so you can pick up cream to heal yourself because you went on a self-destructive spree last night."

Abruptly, I wanted to burst into tears, which was stupid, but knowing that I was being stupid only made it worse. My throat tightened and I fought down a sob.

I forced myself to take in a deep breath, close my eyes and count to ten. I was okay. Sara was dead, but Luke and I were alive, and even though Cal might be lying in a pool of his own vomit on the—Jesus, no, don't think about that. Not right now. You're okay, Luke is okay, and that's what matters. Sara is dead. You're dealing with that. Don't start crying in front of Daphne. You're stronger than that.

Taking in another deep breath, the tears all but gone, I reconciled myself with Daphne's words.

She was wrong. Last night, I hadn't been self-destructive, I'd been healing myself. Dealing with my grief. Dealing with the fact that my mother knew I was gay and my son's mother and primary caretaker had died. It had been so spontaneous and painful and good—so in the moment. It had been what I'd needed, and Brian had given it to me.

"It won't happen again," I finally said, my voice even. I was feeling calm again. "I was just... dealing in the moment, okay? That was what I needed then. I got it. I don't need it anymore."

Daphne didn't look happy, but she let my arm go. "Does Brian know that?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He was kind of freaked afterward. He made me promise to pick up this cream, and to see a doctor if I'm still in pain by tonight."

Well, he hadn't made me promise, but it sounded a little more romantic than: "He gruffly reminded me".

"All right," she said warily. "Let's go get this cream of yours."

Relieved, I climbed out of the car, wincing as my ass twinged.

I was subdued as we went inside, and didn't even make a face when Daphne took a detour to the tampon aisle before we paid. I let her put an arm around my waist as we left, and when I leaned in to kiss the side of her head, I was surprised to find myself not wishing that she was Brian as I had with Mom last night. Daphne was Daphne, and I'd never want to replace her.

*

"Do you think you're going to be okay, going to the house?" Daphne asked.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. The grief seemed so much less raw than it had last night, but it was still present, and the thought of going into Sara's house and seeing her room, seeing Luke's corner, which was practically covered in sketches of everything I'd ever associated with him... "I mean, Sara and I weren't really close. It was just Luke, and before him, we barely knew each other. The only reason we slept together was because she thought she might be a lesbian, and I thought I might be gay."

Daphne smirked. "And we know how that went."

The failed dyke and the reaffirmed faggot. That had made for a few awkward weeks.

The thought of those weeks, more than a year and a half ago, made a sudden sob rise up in my throat, and I struggled to get myself under control.

"Justin?" Daphne asked gently.

I fought to get myself under control, but I was babbling before I could stop myself. "It's just—I wish that she was stillhere. I wish that she'd been able to raise Luke and see him take his first steps and talk and color, and I wish that she'd been able to meet a really amazing guy who'd love her and love Luke, and she's never gonna get that now."

Daphne slowed the car to a stop on the side of the road.

"Shit," I said, wiping desperately at my eyes. "I'm crying like a stupid little faggot. Shit. Keep driving, Daph, I'm fine."

Daphne made no move to start the car.

It was quiet.

"It's just not fair!" I burst out, slamming my hand down on the armrest. "It's not fucking fair. Why did she have to die?"

"I don't know," Daphne said, taking my hand and rubbing it. "I don't know why."

"It's not even that I miss her," I said miserably, the battle against my tears almost too much. "She was this passing presence, in the background—and it sounds horrible, but I don't miss her. I didn't love her. She was a homebody who didn't do anything but read and surf the internet." I was horrified by the things coming out of my mouth, but couldn't seem to stop. "She was so caught up in her fantasy novels and her role-playing whatever the fuck that she never wanted to face the real world. She thought she could just write a story about dragons, and poof, all better now. She lived in denial. She self-indulged in immaturity. I didn't even like her, Daph."

Daphne exhaled slowly.

I sought her eyes desperately. "Why does it hurt this much?"

"Because you feel, Justin," Daphne said, squeezing my hand.

"That's fucked," I whispered.

"You're hurting because, even if you didn't like her and you didn't love her, she still played an important part in your life. And you'll never have that again. Luke's never gonna have that again, and he's too little to grieve, so you've gotta do it for him. And—" Daphne hesitated. "Well, I think you have a little misplaced guilt about getting Sara pregnant in the first place. I think that you were hoping that if she graduated and got married and lived happily ever after, you'd be absolved of that, and now you'll never have that chance."

I nodded, swallowing again. My throat was still tight, and I didn't dare attempt speech.

"It's okay to cry," Daphne added softly.

I shook my head. I inhaled as best I could, forcing my emotions down. "I know. But I don't need to. Right now, we need to get Luke's car seat and shit, and get back home before my father pitches a fit."

Daphne studied me for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay, Justin."

*

I had conveniently forgotten to mention that I had a spare key to the house as well as a spare key to Sara's car, so I was able to determine for myself that Cal was actually not home, and that he hadn't killed himself in a fit of misery (at least, not in his house). His bedroom was in disarray, and when I opened the door to his mostly-emptied closet, I knew with heart-sinking certainty that Cal was not coming back for a while. So I grabbed boxes of formula, Luke's toys, the half-empty pack of diapers, and assorted other things that I wanted him to have, and loaded it up around the car seat.

"If Cal doesn't come back, do you think I could just take Sara's car?" I asked, as we were pulling out of the driveway.

Daphne swatted me. "Justin!"

We drove to my house in silence, and when we arrived Daphne helped me haul everything into the house. Luke was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked, poking my head into the family room.

Dad looked up mid-pace, a squalling Luke in his arms, and he looked nothing short of pissed. "Where the hell have you been?"

"What did you do to him?" I demanded.

"Take him." Dad stalked over, Luke thrust out in my direction. His wails got louder as he twisted in midair, arms and legs flailing frantically.

"Don't!" I snatched him up, quickly getting a hand under his bottom. "He doesn't like being dangled."

"I asked you a question, Justin," Dad reminded me, tone three cents sharp of in-control. He handed me an abandoned pacifier. "I expect you to answer."

"I was out with Daphne, picking up his car seat, Mom said it was okay," I said, while rubbing a hand up and down Luke's back and gently bouncing him. He seemed to be calming down, marginally. "Where did Mom go?"

"She had a PTA meeting for your sister. Why does it take you an hour and a half to fetch a car seat?"

Oh, shit. Had it really taken that long?

"Justin?"

I turned around and found Daphne standing in the entrance to the family room, looking nervous. I attempted a smile. "Thanks for the help, Daph. I'll see you later."

"All right. Bye, Mr. Taylor."

Dad inclined his head.

I turned my attention to Luke, who hadn't stopped crying. I tried to get him to take his pacifier, but he wasn't having it. "Did you check his diaper?"

"Clean," my father said impatiently. "And your mother was feeding him an hour ago, when I got home."

"What was she feeding him?" I asked.

Dad shrugged. "Yogurt, some pears, mashed vegetables."

I frowned, continuing to rub circles onto Luke's back even though it had no apparent effect on him. He was still half-hysterical. "He's had all that before, so it can't be an allergic reaction, but—"

It dawned on me.

"He had too much yogurt," I said.

Dad raised an eyebrow.

"He's still adjusting to dairy—he can only take so much every day. Too much, and he gets a tummy ache."

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd been home."

I scowled. Luke continued to bawl loudly.

"Take him upstairs," Dad said, making a shooing motion. "I dealt with my screaming babies, and I'm not dealing with yours."

Inhaling, trying not to let the sudden wash of despair take over me, I slowly turned around and walked out of the family room.

I was two days behind on homework, had a sick baby to deal with, no way to pay for my mom to babysit him when I went back to school, and no way to see Brian again any time soon. Last night felt like a lifetime ago. As I carried Luke up the stairs and heard the sound of Molly's door slamming shut to ward off the sound of Luke's cries, I suddenly felt very, very alone.

*

I was in the middle of changing the second diarrhea diaper of the night when there was a knock at my door. Mom poked her head in.

"Hi, honey," she said, stepping in a shutting the door behind her.

Luke had stopped crying, although he was always happiest when there was no diaper on his bottom. He would fuss a bit when I put on a new one. But even though he'd stopped crying, I'd kept the door shut. It was more of a validation of my feelings of isolation, than anything.

"Your father told me what happened," Mom said softly. She sat down on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Justin. I didn't realize that he was still sensitive to dairy."

I shook my head. "It's okay. He's almost got it all out."

Probably one more diaper of diarrhea, and then I'd have to get him to drink water (Luke hated water, more than anything else in the world) because diarrhea meant dehydration, and that meant that he'd need to have his diaper changed around three in the morning, which meant that I wasn't going to get a full night's sleep unless I was really, really lucky and Luke decided to sleep in his soiled diaper.

But I didn't say any of that. It was, after all, my own fault.

I slid the new diaper under Luke, and predictably, his face scrunched up in protest. He started to roll over, off of the diaper, but I caught his shoulder and forced him back. "I don't think so, dude."

"You always hated diapers, too," Mom said, with fondness. "You were my little exhibitionist."

I thought about dancing at Babylon with my shirt off, about my two ventures into the backroom, and suppressed the urge to reply, Yeah, not much has changed.

"I'm sorry that Daphne and I took so long," I said instead, while I stuck on the straps of Luke's diaper. "We ended up talking."

Luke was deposited on the floor, where he immediately began dragging himself forward on his belly. Toward what, I don't know. He just liked to move around for the hell of it.

"Justin." Mom sounded pained.

I screwed on the cap to the diaper rash lotion and then turned to face her. I was determined that, no matter what came out of her mouth, I would not cry. I was feeling calm now, and I wanted to cling to that for as long as possible.

"Whatever your father may say, I understand that you're going through a lot right now, and I don't blame you for needing the support of your best friend. He's just too upset to see that right now. I'm sure he'll calm down in a few days."

"I went into their house," I blurted out suddenly.

Mom looked at me in surprise. "You have a key?"

I shook my head, definitely not wanting her to have that piece of information. "The neighbor let me in. I just wanted to make sure... you know... Mr. Anderson wasn't still there. And he wasn't."

Mom nodded.

"His clothes were all gone," I said. Part of me felt like I should be hysterical about this, but I felt calm. Rational. Steady. "Mom, I don't think he's going to be coming back soon."

Mom closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. "If it comes to that, Justin, we'll deal with it. Let's just take this one day at a time."

"I'm going to set up the crib," I told her. "It's not safe for him to be sleeping in a bassinet. And I grabbed a bunch of stuff from Mr. Anderson's house—Luke's stuff."

"Okay," Mom said, after an extended silence. She gave me a shaky smile. "You stay here with Luke, and I'll go get the crib. It's my third time around with this thing, so I think we might have it up by the end of the night."

I returned her shaky smile and watched her leave the room.

She didn't close the door behind her.

I plopped down on the floor and grabbed Luke's foot, dragging him back to me. Luke let out a loud giggle and immediately took off again, belly-crawling as fast as he could away from me. I let him get about two feet before I reached out and dragged him back, with a crowed, "Gotcha!"

Luke screeched with laughter and set off to escape.

I foiled his efforts again. "I got you again!" I declared, flipping him over onto his belly and then leaning over to rub my nose against his. "You'll never escape me, little monster!"

"You're such a freak," Molly declared as she walked past my door.

I grinned down at Luke, who was still laughing. Fuck 'em all.

*

I didn't go to school the following day, either. I had only stayed home from school to help with Luke once, when Sara had been sick and her father hadn't been able to take off work, but that had been almost five months ago. All I had known about Luke's schedule was what I had gathered from Sara talking, so things had been a little rough yesterday, but today went smoother. So smoothly, in fact, that Mom felt compelled to use the time during Luke's afternoon nap to bring up a few unpleasant topics I'd been avoiding.

"Justin," she said haltingly.

I looked up from my copy of As I Lay Dying. I was attempting to get caught up on my homework, with little success. The book was absolutely wretched. "Hm?"

She sat down opposite me. "I was just thinking—you know, with Mr. Anderson gone, what about Sara's funeral? Do you know what's going on with that?"

I inhaled sharply, but the pain that lanced me though the chest was bearable now. I'd spent last night hearing Daphne's words over and over in my head, but it hadn't been senseless crying like the first night. Last night, I'd felt better afterward. I felt better today. And as my thoughts turned to Sara's funeral, I found myself able to push down my emotions and go through it rationally.

"I don't know," I said slowly, thinking aloud. "They don't have any extended family. Sara used to have a small circle of friends in drama club, and Mr. Anderson had a really good group of hunting buddies, but... There's no one, now, I guess. Just me and Luke. But she should have a burial, at least."

It cut me in new ways to realize that Sara would go into the ground with no memorial service, no family weeping at her grave, no pile of flowers on her burial site—she had nothing. No one.

But what else was there to do?

"I'll talk to your father about it," Mom finally said.

I nodded. Suddenly eager to read my book, I focused on the words before me, but I hadn't gotten through more than a sentence when Mom spoke again.

"Justin," she said again.

I exhaled and lowered my book. She looked even more reluctant.

"I hope you know that, despite what your father says, I'm not going to ask you to pay me to watch Luke while you go to school."

My mouth dropped open a little bit. "Oh."

"Anything other than school will be a different story," she warned, pointing a finger at me. "I won't become your personal babysitter—your father is right about that, Justin. If you want Luke, you're going to have to make sacrifices like any other parent. You can't go gallivanting off every night."

I nodded slowly, too surprised to protest her comments about my apparent gallivanting. I almost never saw my mother undermine my father—she'd talk to him, plead with him, and sometimes she'd be able to twist things in my favor a little, but very rarely did she get fed up with his stubbornness and simply go behind his back.

"And speaking of your gallivanting," she suddenly said, frowning. "I don't know what exactly you were up to these past few weeks, but I have a general idea and I don't like it."

My stomach dropped. "Mom—"

"Honey, I just think you're too young to be making these kinds of choices," Mom said reasonably. "Maybe you should talk to—"

"It's not a choice," I said through clenched teeth. I slammed my book shut and stood up.

"Justin, please," she said, rising to her feet and reaching for me. "I only want to help."

I jerked away, heading for the hallway. "I don't need help, Mom. Just leave me alone."

"Justin. Justin, get back here!"

"Sorry, Mom, I have to go make poor life choices—oh, wait, too late! I already chose to be a fag!"

I heard my mother's gasp, and moments later, the sound of Luke crying from his crib.

Dammit.

*

I relayed the conversation to Daphne later that night, after giving Luke his bath (which had just been all kinds of fun—I mentioned that the kid hates water, right?).

"So you told her?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yep," I said proudly. "I said it."

"And then you ran away," Daphne pointed out dryly.

"I went upstairs," I corrected, frowning.

"Whatever." I could hear her roll her eyes. "You can't just expect her to forget about it. Your Mom is ten kinds of over-involved in your life."

"She is not!" I insisted. "You remember Debbie Novotny? She hangs out in the same gay bars as her son just to bond with him—that's over-involved."

"What do you think she's gonna do?" Daphne asked. "Your mom, I mean. Not Debbie Novotny."

I glanced down to where Luke was sort of commando-creeping his way around the floor. "You should see Luke right now," I said, unable to help the grin on my face. "He's the weirdest little dude—he can't crawl yet, but he's been dragging himself on his elbows, right? Today he's got this thing where he pushes himself forward with his leg, and then pulls himself forward with his arm. He's, like, slithering all over the floor."

"Justin, on track," Daphne said sternly.

I let out a breath of air. "Right. I mean, I don't know what she's gonna do. She says she wants to help me, but I don't think she'll tell my father, so... Maybe she'll just start slipping me Jesus pamphlets and buying me Pray Out the Gay books?"

"Your Mom's not really religious, though."

"Yeah. Well, apparently non-religious people can be homophobes, too," I sighed, sitting down on the floor next to Luke. I picked up the Fisher-Price ring stacker thing that every child in the world had to own, and dumped the rings on the floor.

Luke caught sight of the blue ring and made a few swipes at it before he finally got a hand on it and dragged it towards himself. Unsurprisingly, he tried to put it in his mouth. The circumference of the ring was on par with that of his head, though, so he didn't get very much in there.

"Did I miss anything huge in school?" I asked, changing the subject. I stacked the remaining rings inversely, starting with the smallest and going up from there.

"Not really. It's homecoming next week, or some bullshit like that."

"Aw, you couldn't get a date?" I asked, with faux-sympathy.

"Well, there is one boy that I think I could put up with for the night..."

"Sorry," I said, knocking over my tower. "Luke's not allowed out past eight on school nights."

Daphne giggled. "I meant you, stupid."

"Sorry, Daph," I told her, my voice sobering a little as my heart sank. "I—there's just no way. I've got to stay home with Luke. Anyway, we went to homecoming last year and it blew."

Daphne was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, it did."

I swallowed, feeling guilty. To distract myself, I grabbed the yellow ring and placed it on top of Luke's head. It looked a bit like a halo.

Until Luke tilted his head and it fell off, of course. The new ring made him let out a string of babble as he abandoned the blue one and started slobbering all over the yellow one, instead. I grinned.

"But listen to you, Mr. Responsible!" Daphne said finally, surging right back to her normal, bouncy self. "Maybe we could make a night of it at your house or something, instead. We can watch that really gross musical Alice in Wonderland porn from the seventies!"

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. I don't wanna look at pussy."

"But it's a musical, all gay men like musicals," Daphne said dismissively. "Besides, it would be weird if we watched porn that you did like."

"We'll talk about it," I finally allowed.

There was a pause.

"So, are you coming back to school tomorrow?"

"I think so."

"Well, tomorrow's Friday, so even if your day's really shitty, at least you'll have the weekend to recuperate."

I sighed. "If only recuperating consisted a lot more of getting laid, and a lot less of convincing Luke to try new foods."

"Poor baby," Daphne said sympathetically.

"I know," I moaned. "I was so horny this morning!"

"Ew—no, I meant Luke, doofus. The poor baby, having mushy squash and yams shoved down his throat all day. No wonder he doesn't want to try new stuff!"

Luke had abandoned the rings and slithered over to where I was sitting on the floor, and was attempting to climb up into my lap. I gave him a boost and let him sit belly-up on my lap.

"Screw you," I told her, but I was smiling.

"Does that mean that your ass cream worked?" Daphne asked. "You're all healed up and ready to go?"

"Yep!" I said brightly.

Luke had two of my fingers shoved in his mouth by this point, and was swiping at one of the cords from my hoodie with the hand that wasn't on my fingers.

"And your less-than-physical wounds?" Daphne ventured.

Luke let my fingers go, having gotten the cord to my hoodie in the fist, and he was now shoving that into his mouth.

"I think Luke has an oral fixation problem," I told her, wiping my slobbery fingers on his sleeper. "And yeah, I guess that's better, too. Mom and I talked about a burial today."

"Oh, right. She doesn't really have anyone, does she?"

I shook my head. "Not really. With Cal gone, it's just Luke."

"That's heartbreaking," Daphne said with a sigh. "God, Justin. Can you imagine being all alone in the world like that?"

I thought of earlier, but didn't say anything. "Will you come to the burial?" I asked instead.

"Of course!" Daphne sounded offended that I'd even asked.

"And we'll bring flowers," I said resolutely. "I don't want her to... be alone."

Luke had apparently found something that he didn't like about the taste of the cord because his fist came flailing out of his mouth and he let out a cry.

"Is that Luke?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah," I said, trapping the phone between my ear and shoulder and picking him up. "It's getting close to his bedtime, so he's probably just cranky. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. See ya."

"Bye."

I let the phone drop and focused on Luke, who hadn't calmed down.

"Hey," I said softly, running a hand over his hair. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you being a drama queen?" I reached for the yellow ring he'd been occupied with earlier. "How about this, huh? You want this?"

I balanced it on his head for a moment, but Luke wasn't having it. His stuffed hippo produced a similar reaction. I checked his diaper, but it was clean.

"I think you're just being cranky," I told him, going for the pacifier. Luke immediately latched onto it, sucking at a furious pace.

I let out a sigh of relief. My son's oral fixation had been taken care of.

Too bad my own would have to wait a while.