Twenty Thousand Roads Chapter Eight: Turn Off The Light

Bridgeport
Container Stacks
Present Day
Ricky 

Okay, I’ll be the first to admit it.  As happy as I was for Branna, being around the lovebirds for an extended period was starting to wear on me.

Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t disgustingly demonstrative in front of me or anything like that, it was more the feeling of being invisible when you were sitting in a room with them. I felt like I could have stood up, stripped down naked and started reciting Hamlet’s soliloquy and they probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

And yes, I was a little jealous too, which sucked. I didn’t want to resent my best friend. And Ciaran was a really great guy, and he was remarkably good for her. As nauseating as it sounds, it was like he was made with her in mind, and vice versa.

So I tried to maintain some distance when they were around, which is what brought me to the cafe at Container Stacks, the comic book shop/arcade/cafe that Branna and I had haunted pretty much since it opened a year before.  I had interviewed Jasper Lochlan, the owner for the paper several months before and he had become friendly with us.

Branna was thoroughly convinced that Jasper had a crush on me, but I wasn’t sure.  He was considered a bit of a wunderkind, having started the business at the age of 22 and already having the business acumen to make it very successful.  We talked a lot about art and music, and he’d even come to see a couple of our gigs. He had mentioned to Branna at one point that he was gay, but hadn’t had the time to do much dating while he was getting the business off the ground.  She tried to get me to ask him out, but I just didn’t think I was on his radar screen that way.  We were kind of in different worlds.

I didn’t see him initially when I got into the place, but I figured he was probably busy, considering school was out and the place was full of kids causing general havoc.  I got an iced coffee from the cafe and sat down with my iPad, intending to catch up on Huffington Post.

“Fine Rick, don’t say hello.”

Jasper was standing over my table with a playful grin. Did I mention he was really attractive? Like, really attractive?

About 6’2, athletic build, sandy blond hair and light blue eyes. His hair was cut in such a way that left it a little shaggy, and a bit of it seemed to fall over his eyes, which he would occasionally move with an impatient shake of his head.  He could almost have been considered too pretty, but his general demeanor and friendliness made him seem not so untouchable.

“Sorry, man. I figured you would be busy playing headmaster of the world’s most high-tech daycare.” I quipped, gesturing around the place, which was crawling with teens and tweens of all shapes and sizes.

He shrugged. “That’s what I have a staff for. Besides as long as they spend some cash and don’t break shit, I’m alright with them being around.” He gestured towards the chair across from me. “Can I sit, or are you having special alone time?”

“No, by all means, sit.” He sat down across from me and smiled. “So, shall we talk Red Wedding?”

Jasper was a huge Game of Thrones fan, just like me and Sean. Like us, he’d read all the books multiple times and had even gone to the San Diego Comic-Con where the cast and creators were panelists. Of course, he got to write it off as a “business expense.”

“Profoundly disturbing, but really really hard to look away from. When Robb said ‘Mother..’ before Bolton drove the knife in, that was powerful.”

“Did Branna flip her shit?”

Branna, unlike us, had never read the books and had demanded that we not feed her spoilers. This made her finding out about the Red Wedding a revelation, to say the very least.

“If screeching like a banshee and calling us all fucking assholes for not warning her in spite of saying she didn’t want spoilers is flipping her shit, then yes.”

He laughed. “I love it. Sean was there too, I presume?”

“Yeah, and Ciaran, her new guy. He’s read all the books too.”

Jasper’s brow perked up, intrigued. “New guy? Do tell, Rick.”

“He’s from Ireland and he’s a teacher at the Academy. He’s actually pretty cool and they seem to be crazy about each other.”

“Is that why you’re alone here today? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

It's getting so lonely inside this bed
Don't know if I should lick my wounds or say woe is me instead
And there's an aching inside my head
It's telling me I'm better off alone
But after midnight morning will come
And the day will see if you will get some

I felt a flush of heat shoot through me. He was happy I was alone? Had Branna been right?

Couldn’t be. He probably just wanted to have some nerd talk. “Yeah. I mean, she’s not blowing me off or anything like that, it’s just that I get tired of feeling like a third wheel when they’re at the apartment together.”

Jasper sat back in his chair, cupping his chin in his hand thoughtfully. “I have a hard time believing you don’t have guys coming on to you all the time.”

That was most decidedly not nerd talk...

“I do have some,” I admitted, “but the guys that do are usually just wanting casual sex, which is fine, but not what I’m in the market for anymore. In college it was great, now it’s just tiresome. And the ones that are wanting more end up not being my type,” I finished, picking up my iced coffee and taking a sip.

He smiled then, as if something amusing has popped into his mind. “So what IS your type, Rick?”

I almost choked on my coffee. Was he flirting with me? For the first time in ages I was struck dumb. I usually had a bit more swagger when guys flirted with me, but Jasper made me as nervous as a twelve year old meeting One Direction.

“Um...well, I don’t really think I’m all that demanding,” I finally managed to stutter out, “good sense of humor, compassion, intellect, nice ass. You know, your basics.”

Letting out a chuckle, he leaned back in his chair crossing his hands behind his head.  “That’s not too much to ask, Rick. And who knows, it might be more available to you than you think.”

Holy hell...that was a flirt. Yep.

For a second I didn’t know how to reply.  Jasper had been so off my radar as someone to potentially date I was trying to reconcile myself with the fact that this gorgeous, intelligent, warm and funny creature really WAS interested in me.

Unfortunately, any attempt to reciprocate on my part was interrupted by one of his employees popping their heads into the cafe. “Jasper, the Death Ray Megazord Hellfire game is malfunctioning again, like, big time. There may be a revolt if we don’t fix it.”

He sighed and got up from the table. “I’m sorry. I have to take care of this, Rick. But I’d like to talk more if you want.”  I stood up as well, realizing that I needed to do something before he walked away from me and I lost my nerve. “Hey, I have to go to this gallery showing tonight...would you...um, would you be interested in joining me? I mean, it’s just art stuff, but there’s an open bar, so...”

“What time does it start?” he asked me.  Butterflies started to kick up in my stomach. Gallery showings are usually a drag to anyone not in the art world so the fact that he was entertaining the notion made me think there really might be something to this.  “Um, 7:30 at the Waterman Gallery. You know where it is?”

“I do. Can I meet you there at 7:30?”

I had to will myself to keep my hands from shaking. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. I’ll be in the foyer.”

He took a step closer to me and tilted his head, his full lips rising in a sweet smile that made my stomach flip. “I’ll see you at 7:30 then.”  His hand brushed mine as he walked away towards the arcade.

Weakly, I flopped back down in my chair and picked up my iced coffee, drinking it as fast as I could. It had suddenly gotten very hot in there...

They say that girl ya know she act too tough tough tough
Well it's till' I turn off the light, turn off the light
They say that girl you know she act so rough rough rough
Well it's till' I turn off the light, turn off the light
And I say follow me follow me follow me down down down down
till' you see all my dreams
Not everything in this magical world is quite what it seems

When I got home I pretty much collapsed in a mixture of excitement and sheer terror. After Branna had the privilege of doing her patented “I told you so” dance, she fixed me a gin and tonic and picked out something for me to wear. It was quite the role reversal.

Jasper walked into the gallery five minutes late. By that point I had pretty much worked myself into a nervous frenzy of pacing back and forth and contemplating raiding the open bar.  He looked around for a second and then spotted me. That gorgeous smile lit up his face and he walked over to me with the ease of a runway model.  “Hey, Rick. Sorry I’m late. Had some last minute work issues and then had to go home to change.”

The buildup of nerves spilled out in a stream of babble that I couldn’t seem to control. “That’s okay, man. Shit happens. I wasn’t thinking you’d bail or anything. If you don’t mind my saying, you look really good. Was that coming on too strong? I just thought I should be honest in saying that you look good you know, I wouldn’t want you to think that...”

He looked amused. “Rick, chill. I would never have bailed on you. And I have no problems being told I look good to you. In fact, I’ll go ahead and say the same about you.”

The nervous energy seemed to dissipate in that moment as we stood and smiled at one another for a minute. “So, show me around the place?” Jasper asked, breaking the spell a little.

I took him around the gallery, showing him some of the newer works of the artists that were being featured. People came up to me a lot, doing the usual artist schmooze that I’ve always found so incredibly insincere, the air kissing and sucking up.  Still, I had to play into it at least somewhat to continue to get work. Jasper was patient with it all though.

“I’m really sorry about all that...” I said as we walked across the polished stone floors.

He shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for, Rick. No matter what the line of work, there’s always asses waiting to be kissed. You do what you have to. Besides, you do other stuff that seems to keep you grounded.”

“I’m glad you think so. Branna would kill me if I ever got pretentious.” We reached a painting and stood in front of it. “This is actually one of mine. I did it about three years ago. I wasn’t even going to show it to them, but I put it in my portfolio at the last minute and they asked to show it.”

Jasper studied it. “I really like it, actually. I mean, I don’t know much about actual composition and all that, but the colors work well together. At least, to my unsophisticated eye. Is it for sale?”

“It was, but apparently someone bought it this afternoon. They didn’t tell me who.”

At that moment something caught Jasper’s eye and he shook his head like he was trying to clear it out. “Is that what I think it is?”

What it was was a urinal, mounted proudly on the gallery wall. It was the gallery owner’s homage to being “edgy.”  What it did was make most of us roll our eyes in derision, as Jasper was doing right at that moment. “Rick, how the hell is this considered art? A urinal? Really? I mean, I consider myself as open-minded as they come but I really don’t think a place where you piss is meant to be revered as art. Hell, it’s not like it’s even decorated or anything! Put a damn wreath on it if you’re gonna call it art.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t agree more,” I told him. “I’ve seen art done in a lot of different mediums, but stuff like this always makes me shake my head. I mean, there’s the avant-garde and then there’s just the fucking ridiculous.” 

We went over to the window area and looked down at the people milling about, drinking and doing the schmooze.  “So, how do you deal with that kind of thing?” Jasper asked. “Like, you’re a truly talented artist. How do you feel when shit like that is put up alongside stuff that you put a lot of work into and considered art by some?”

I shook my head and looked down at the gallery owner air-kissing some D-List reality star. “My advisor in college told me something about the art gallery world that I always kept with me. He said, ‘They’re merchants and speculators at best, parasites and whoremongers at worst. Never let them be the final judge.’ I try to keep that in mind when this scene gets overly pretentious, lest I start glue-gunning fringe to old Roman vomitoriums.”  He laughed at that, a real laugh, not a phony giggle.  He was so gorgeous.

“Anyway,” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “You want to get out of here? We can go back to my place and have a drink if you want.” I must have looked surprised, because he quickly added, “No expectations, honest. I just have a really nice balcony area and it’s a nice night out, so...”

I beat back the butterflies yet again. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

I looked above the other day
Cuz I think I'm good and ready for a change
I live my life by the moon
If it's high play it low, if it's harvest go slow and if it's full, then go
But after midnight morning will come
And the day will see if you're gonna get some

His apartment was in a high rise similar to the one I lived in, the only difference being the gigantic balcony he had, complete with bar, fire pit, and lounge chairs. It was pretty swank. I guessed the business was being good to him.

“Sorry that gin and tonic is all I can offer. I don’t keep much liquor around.” He handed me a glass and took one of his own.

“Not a big drinker?”

“Not particularly. One of my dads has a pretty bad drug and alcohol problem so anything outside of the occasional social drink doesn’t appeal to me.”

You know that sound that they play on sitcoms, the sound of the needle scraping across the record? I heard that sound in my head.

“Wait, you have two fathers?” He nodded matter-of-factly. “Uh huh. Well, technically Dusty is my biological father, but yeah.”

I was more than a little intrigued. “So, how did you...you know...”

“Come into being?”

“Well I was thinking of a polite way to say it...”
 

He took a sip of his drink. “The wonders of science. Donor eggs, a mixture of both dads...material, my Aunt Regan was the surrogate, and the three of us resulted.”

I nearly choked on the drink I was taking. “THREE of you?” Another nod. “Yep. Multiples aren’t uncommon in these scenarios, so I’m a triplet. I have a sister named Lyla and a brother named Simon.  I have three other siblings in addition to them.”  “You must have kept your dads busy then.” A rueful chuckle. “We were pretty much raised exclusively by Dusty and my Aunt Regan. She lives in Bridgeport now. It's part of why I moved here. And like I said, Desmond has a lot of issues, so my dad kept him away from us when we were younger. By the time he was back living with Dusty full time, we didn’t really identify with him as a father anyway. Wanna sit down?” He gestured towards a set of loungers, so we took our drinks and sat, looking out at the sky. It was a beautiful midnight blue, interspersed with streaks of purple.

We watched the sky for a while, and then Jasper spoke again. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Desi, I really do. Even though he wasn’t a father in the traditional sense, we became closer to him the older we got.  I think once we stopped being demanding little kids, he could relate to us better.  And he loves my dad.”

“It sounds like he’s put Dusty through a lot,” I said a bit hesitantly. “Oh no doubt. He still does sometimes. But...I don’t know. In spite of all of that, they’re made for each other.  Both of them say a lot that they don’t know how they could live without the other. So...I really can’t judge. For the most part, he does make my dad happy."

“So it was probably easy to come out in your household, huh?” I inquired. “It was, but they warned me I’d probably catch a lot of shit from closed-minded people. But yeah, they were very supportive.”  I bit my lip and looked away. I didn’t resent him for having had it easier, but I won’t deny that it brought back a shot of bad memories, that night in my parents’ house, my dad’s booming voice punting me out, my mother standing by while he did it, trying to explain to Tasha...

Jasper reached over and put his hand on mine. “Rick, are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I shook my head a little and took another drink. “Yeah, I’m okay. Suffice it to say my experience wasn’t as supportive as yours. When I came out at sixteen, my father kicked me out and my mother stood by and cried, but didn’t help me.  If Branna’s family hadn’t taken me in, I don’t really know what I would have done.”  He squeezed my hand tightly. “Jesus Rick, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, man. But yeah, its why Branna and I are so close. I mean we’ve basically lived as a non-sexual husband and wife for the past decade. And really, she and her family are why I could accept myself. And I know I’m not the only gay man who’s had to deal with their family rejecting them.”

“Let’s move over there, we can see the stars better that way. I need to brush up on my constellation spotting,” he said, obviously looking to change the subject. I couldn’t blame him.

We settled on the ground and leaned back. The sky was studded with a blanket of stars, but I was damned if I could make out any kind of specific pattern. “Jas, are you spotting any of your constellations?”  He bit back a laugh. “I can’t see a goddamned one. But still, it’s pretty awesome to look at, huh?”

“That it is.” His hand slid effortlessly over mine again. “Do you ever talk to them?” he asked.

So much for changing the subject.

“My mother and sister, yes. But I haven’t spoken to my father since the night he threw me out. If he can’t accept me for what I am, I don’t have any use for him.” He stroked the top of my hand with his thumb, making the hair on my arms stand up. “That sounds really final.” I shrugged.
 
“Not like he’s given me much choice in the matter.  When his mother died she left almost all her money to my sister and I. Apparently he was so livid he started making noise about contesting her will until my mother threatened to divorce him. He doesn’t want to make amends, he just wants to be the one pulling the strings.” I spoke with what I hoped was a tone of finality. I wanted to enjoy my time with him, not have to explain my lack of relationship with my father.

I'm searching for things that I just cannot see
Why don't you don't you don't you come and be with me
I pretend to be cool with me, want to believe
That I can do it on my own without my heart on my sleeve
I'm running, I'm running, catch up with me life
Where is the love that I'm looking to find
It's all in me, can't you see, why can't you, why can't you see it's all in me

 

Thankfully, he took the hint.

“So,” he said, playfully nudging my side, “How come it took you so long to ask me out, Rick?”

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. “I didn’t even know you were interested!"

“Oh come on, I did everything but sit on your lap every time you guys came into the place! Branna knew I was into you. Didn’t she tell you?”

“Well, yeah...”

“And you didn’t believe her?”

“It just...didn’t occur to me. I’ve never met any of the guys I dated at a place like yours.”

“I’m sorry my arcade isn’t more of a gay cruising spot, Rick. Should I add on a glory hole room?” he asked, a look of mock seriousness on his face.

I slapped his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

His light blue eyes locked onto mine then, and there was a certain intensity to his gaze that made my stomach turn a particularly spirited flip. He bit his lip, which only lent to how sexy he looked at that moment.  “I think there’s something else I’d rather do,” he said softly.

He leaned back so I was holding him, cradling his head in my hand.  “This is the point in time where you kiss me, Rick.”

A bit shakily, I leaned down and gently touched my lips to his.  The kiss started soft, but gradually we opened our mouths to take in each others tongues and my grip on his head tightened a little. The heat flushed through my body again, heightening all my senses even more than they normally were.

Our tongues danced and dueled for ages until we both had to stop for air. “Damn, Rick,” he whispered, “Do you...”

I quieted him with a finger over his lips. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

It felt natural, real. It felt like...home.

Where is your logic
Who do you need
Where can you turn in your delicate time of need
Follow me down, follow me down down down,
I do not need I do not need nobody
Where is your logic
Who do you need
Where can you turn in your delicate time of need

Song: "Turn Off The Light" by Nelly Furtado

Kudos to the glorious Miranda for the use of the gorgeous Jasper Lochlan! 

And thank you to everyone for being so patient with me. The start of summer brought a bunch of problems with constant sinus headaches that were making life pretty miserable. I've hit on some good meds and it seems under control now, so expect timely updates from now on!

Chapter Two: Magic Power

Bridgeport
Present Day
Branna

Something's at the edge of your mind
and you're not sure what it is
Something you were hoping to find
You're not sure what it is...

Branna smiled as she walked into the living room and looked around. The apartment she shared with Ricky and Sean was open-concept, which meant they had ample room to set up a music area.  It quickly became her respite; a soothing balm for her occasional sadness and jangled moods.

She approached Candygirl, her guitar. "Hello, gorgeous."

Pulling the strap overhead,she picked a Nick Drake tune to play, and as the notes began to pour out of the instrument, her eyes closed and a cloak of calm began to envelop her, as it had since she was young.

Then you hear the music
And it all comes crystal clear
The music does the talkin'
Says the things you want to hear

It started with her eldest brother Brendan.  He would play his guitar for hours on end, sometimes until his fingers bled.  Even as a grown adult, her brother's hands bore the callused texture of someone who let them take a lot of abuse.

When he was in high school, one of them broke open while he played and he told his little sister to pour Krazy Glue into the wound, and tape it for him. Wide-eyed with shock, Branna obeyed.  Imagine her awe when he shook his hand out a bit, shrugged, and began practicing the chord progression on "Freebird" again.

I'm young, I'm wild
And I'm free
I got the magic power
Of the music in me...

Branna and Sean were a more than willing captive audience when they were younger. Their sister Sinead not so much, preferring to spend most of her free hours with her easel. Just to watch the bliss on her brother's face and the concentration as his fingers plucked out melody after melody.

In Branna's little world, nothing made a greater impression.

She climbs into bed, she pulls the covers overhead
And she turns her little radio on
She's had a rotten day, so she hopes the deejay's
Gonna play her favorite song   

 

 On her eleventh birthday, Branna's parents gifted her with a karaoke machine. It was half meant in jest, as they never thought it would be used for anything more than family parties and other occasions that called for a raucous group sing-off.

Imagine their surprise when they found out their young daughter not only could sing, but possessed a vocal talent that actually stopped people in their tracks when they heard her. It was not a typical "little girl" kind of voice. Reminiscent of  Sinead O'Connor to some, Dusty Springfield to others, it was a touch bluesy at times and clear as a bell. 


Makes her feel much better
Brings her closer to her dreams
A little magic power
Makes it better than it seems   

Sometimes when she was alone in the room she shared with her older sister she would put on her iPod and let the sounds of all the bands Brendan had taught her about wash over her, from Annie Lennox to Led Zeppelin to Nirvana, and look out at the tall buildings of Bridgeport, dreaming of the day she'd make that city her own.

She's young now, she's wild now
She wants to be free
She gets the magic power
Of the music from me... 

As she grew into her teen years, the dreams began to take real shape. Not content to just join the church choir, Branna also performed in various vocal groups in Bridgeport as well as school musical production.  It was at Bridgeport East High school that she met another young prodigy named Richard Hades.

His family had moved to Bridgeport from Sunset Valley and Branna knew immediately he was a kindred spirit. Also blessed with tremendous vocal gifts and a talented pianist, Ricky became her most frequent collaborator and duet partner.  Their ultimate high school triumph was starring as Marius and Eponine in "Les Miserables."  The fact that it was not a sophisticated production in terms of costumes or sets was irrelevant because of the strength of the performers, of which Ricky and Branna were the backbone.

They were pretty much bonded for life after that.

Brendan got her a guitar the Christmas of her sixteenth year, a pink leopard acoustic she dubbed Candygirl.  Her brother immediately set to teaching her everything she had watched him do for so many years.

She absorbed everything she taught him like a sponge and if anything, was better than he was at her age. She was one of the rare individuals that could play a song back after hearing it once. He encouraged her to listen to great guitarists like Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Zakk Wylde, Slash, Stevie Ray Vaughn and John Frusciante for inspiration.

Brendan had long since abandoned his rock star dreams in order to follow their father's footsteps into law enforcement, but he encouraged his little sister to stick with it. "You and Ricky, you're gifted, more than I ever was," he'd told her.  "Start a band, go do musical theater, whatever. You guys have something amazing to share, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"So why are you becoming a cop like Daddy? Isn't this what you wanted to do?" she asked him.  "Well yeah, of course. I think most teenage boys want to be rock stars. And I'm a decent guitarist, but not a gifted one. You are. Combine that with your pipes, well, it would be fucking criminal of you not to make it your life."

His words resonated. They always did.   

If you're thinkin' it over
And you just can't sort it out
Do you want someone to tell you
What they think it's all about?

They jammed their way through high school...

And through university.  It was after college that they moved into the heart of Bridgeport.

Ricky's art career kicked into high gear after that, and he was busy with all the preening and posturing he had to do in order to sell his work. He hated that aspect of the art world, so his music became a much needed respite.

He and Branna formed a cover band called Under The Radar with Sean on bass and a local boy named Ethan Stark on drums.  They played bars and clubs, and developed a sizable following, especially after doing a cover of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" that pretty much blew the roof off of Eugi's one night.

Ricky was a highly flamboyant performer, harkening a bit to Freddie Mercury, while Branna was more soulful and intense.  They complimented each other on stage in a way their audiences loved.

Are you the one and only, who's sad and lonely
You're reaching for the top
Well the music keeps you goin'
And it's never gonna stop...
The world is full of compromise
The infinite red tape
But the music's got the magic
It's your one chance for escape
Turn me on, and turn me up
It's your turn to dream
A little magic power makes it better than it seems...     

For better or for worse, Branna had taken her brother's advice and made the music her life.

I'm young now, I'm wild now
I want to be free
I got the magic power
Of the music in me...

Song: "Magic Power" by Triumph

     

         

Twenty Thousand Roads Chapter Six: Second Chance

Hades/Kavanagh Household

Present Day

Ricky

One night during college when Branna and I were baring souls over a bottle of cheap Trader Joe’s wine, she asked me how I knew I was gay.  I told her it was when I first saw “Batman and Robin” and was more into the idea of George Clooney and Chris O’Donnell in tight bodysuits than Alicia Silverstone.

I was being a bit sarcastic, but I think it’s something I’ve always known, even before I could put a label on it. Which, by the way, I hate doing, yet here I am.  I like boys, so does Branna. Her brother Sean likes girls. It is what it is.

Branna had just left on her first date with Ciaran.  I was working on my latest commission for Bridgeport City Hall, congratulating myself on the fact that I had convinced Branna to put on a damn dress for a change. That boy looked like he’d been absolutely sucker punched when she appeared in the doorway.

I had a good feeling about Ciaran.  I’d been dealing with Branna’s temper for the past decade, and it usually took a combination of both Sean and I being extremely authoritative to calm her down. This guy just came in, grabbed her up, and had her calm within minutes.  Part of the reason why I’d invited them both over after the bar was for her benefit.

No thanks necessary. It’s what I do.

Finn seemed like a cool guy too, and I liked that he was pretty well versed in art and music and had read my column.  I knew he was straight right away so the thought of flirting with him had never even crossed my mind.  But I’m always open to having new friends.  In the art world, you don’t really have “friends.” You have patrons if you’re lucky, and sycophants if you become a big name.  But not real friends.  They love you if you’re on top but if you hit a dry spell no one is returning your calls.

But art satisfied something in me regardless; that need to create, to take something in its most basic form and shape and mold it into something amazing and new.  Art and music had been my respites, my solace since I was young...

Nine Years Ago

We had just moved to Bridgeport from Sunset Valley. My dad was offered a job as Vice President of Bridgeport Savings and Trust, so there was never any question we’d move, my father always making certain we all knew his career took precedence before anything else.

He wasn’t home a lot, and when he was he was usually on his phone, talking about this or that deal, whether this or that person was going to default on a loan, or that the new batch of tellers were complete and utter incompetents.   Frankly, I was happy that he stayed on the phone because it meant he wasn’t lambasting me for not fitting his perfect son ideal.

Mom was a writer, mostly fluff pieces for women’s magazines. You know the ones:
“Seduce your man tonight! Have fifteen orgasms in a row!” articles that probably only served to make women feel sexually inadequate.  I think she aspired to more, but that would have meant pounding the pavement a lot to get her name out and Dad didn’t want her doing that.  He was never mean to her, but there was that unspoken knowledge that she had her place and rocking the boat would be ill-advised.

I insisted on going to the public high school, something that displeased my dad, but after researching their test scores and graduation rate, he grudgingly let me go there. I mostly wanted to go for their strong arts program, but I didn’t tell him that.

I met Branna Kavanagh when they were casting the school production of “Les Miserables.” I had already been cast as Marius, which made me laugh inwardly because his character’s whole essence was being lovesick over a woman, but whatever.  As long as there was no tongue kissing I’d survive.

She bounced on the stage dressed like a cross between a goth girl and a biker chick and belted out Dusty Springfield’s “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” and pretty much knocked any other competition on its ass.  When she was officially cast as Eponine, she looked at me and said “Guess we’ll be working together a lot” and socked me on the arm. She hit like a guy. Still does, actually.

We were pretty much inseparable from that day on.  

If I wasn’t at Branna’s house, I was in my room, either playing my piano or painting if my father told me to cut out the damn racket.  I usually didn’t come out much, except maybe to eat or shower.  Why would I? All I’d get is another lecture about buckling down so I could get into a school with a good MBA program to provide for my future wife and kids and two golden retrievers.

I didn’t bother telling him the wife part was never going to happen.

My eyes are open wide
And by the way, I made it
Through the day
I watched the world outside 
By the way, I'm leaving out
Today 

My sister Tasha could usually get me out of my room. A tiny sprite with my coloring, she seemed pretty much unfazed by anyone’s expectations of her and did pretty much what she wanted, when she wanted. For whatever reason my parents found this adorable and indulged most of her whims.

I would have resented the hell out of it too, if she hadn’t been such a sweet kid, trying to get me to play games or show her how to paint. It was nice to be appreciated by someone in my own family. I usually had to go to Branna’s family to be validated for anything.

I don’t know why this didn’t make me suicidal or otherwise self-destructive, like it did for so many gay teens.  Well, actually that’s a lie. I know what got me through.

Branna and her grandmother, Mary O’Hagan.

Branna knew from day one I was gay and didn’t really care.  She kept clueless females at bay, threatened any bullies with swift and blinding violence, and listened to me bitch about my father and pine over crushes I had that would remain one-sided.  We also sang karaoke duets until the wee hours, driving much of her family nuts.

 

Mary talked to me about art and music and writing for hours. She talked about her childhood in Galway, her marriage to Branna’s grandfather, people and places that inspired her writing. She wasn’t sick then, but had occasional memory lapses and spells of absentmindedness that she laughingly attributed to aging.

So, bolstered by their support I thought I would just grin and bear it for the remainder of my high school years until the day my father barged into my bedroom and unceremoniously dumped a stack of Ivy League college applications and an SAT study guide on my bed.  “Get off that goddamned piano and get to work on your future.” he declared as he left the room, immensely proud of himself. 

I just saw Halley's Comet
She waved
Said, "Why you always runnin' in place?"
Even the man in the
Moon disappeared
Somewhere in the stratosphere 

 

I really don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I had gathered the entire pile and stormed out into the living room, where I dumped them at his feet. “I’m sick of you trying to run my life!” I’d yelled at him. “I don’t want to be an accountant, or a businessman, or a fucking lawyer! I want to study art and music and I don’t give a shit about how it will look to your image.”

He sneered back as my mother sat on a chair and buried her face in her hands, saying nothing.

“So, you think you’re going to support a wife and kids with a career as a starving artist? Get your head out of the clouds!”

“Are you really that clueless, Dad? There isn’t going to be a wife and kids because I’M GAY! I don’t like girls, I never have and I never will! Get over this idea that I’m going to become a carbon copy of you! I’d rather live on the streets than ever be like you!”

Another smirk. “So why don’t you do that, then? You seem to think a bohemian artists life is so noble, why don’t you go live on the street and see how much you like it then?” My mother jumped out of her chair then and ran to my father’s side, grabbing his arm. “Martin, NO! He’s only sixteen!”

My father shook her off. “No, Ellen, you’re not going to baby him! He thinks he has it all figured out, let him fend for himself and see what it’s like! He’ll be back in a day. If this is what it takes for him to fall in line, then so be it!”  My mother started to cry then; I think she knew that I would never be coming home, even if my father was so smugly sure I’d be back in 24 hours.

 

“Now, pack your things and get out. And don’t expect a penny from me. You think you’re an adult, act like it.” He folded his arms arrogantly and looked down his nose. “And as for the...other...thing, it’s a phase, but even so, I won’t have it in my house, around your sister.” I hear a roaring in my ears that almost but not quite drowned out the sound of my mother’s sobs as I went to my room and threw some clothes and books into a bag. I looked around the room. The rest could be replaced eventually.

Tell my mother
Tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize
This is my life
I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just sayin'
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance... 

I was almost to the door when a little hand grabbed the back of my shirt. “Ricky, where are you going?” Tasha asked me imploringly, her eyes wide. Shit. I didn’t want to leave her but I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. I could only hope my mother wouldn’t let my father bash me to her.  From the living room, I could hear my mother still sobbing and my father telling her it was all for the best. Punting his own son on the street was for the best.

“I have to leave for a while, Tash,” I told her, trying as hard as I could to not get choked up. “But I promise I’ll come see you when I can.”  A confused look came over her face as she looked towards the living room. “Why is Mommy crying?”



I closed my eyes. “She’s just...a little sad. But she’ll get better.” I bent down and hugged her close. “I have to go. You be a good girl, okay?”  She nodded sadly and went back into her bedroom.

Mentally gritting my teeth, I picked up the single duffel I’d packed and walked out the door without looking back. I ran and didn’t stop until I got to Branna’s doorstep.

Only then would I cry.

The Kavanaghs were kind enough to let me move in with them. We were only a year away to college, so it wouldn’t be a huge commitment to them. My mother started secretly sending me money out of her own allowance, because I knew as well as she did that Dad watched the finances like a hawk.  I had started applying for student loans and work/study programs when something utterly unreal happened.

My paternal grandmother died.

That in and of itself wasn’t a surprise. She had been ill for some time. The surprise came when the will was read and the majority of the Hades family’s wealth was left to Tasha and I. Tasha’s would be left in trust until she came of age, but mine would be available to me when I turned 18. I no longer had to worry about how to pay for college, or how to build a comfortable life after it.



Branna, Sean and I went to the same school, a couple hours away from Bridgeport. It had a great arts program for Branna and I, but also had a really strong engineering department, which is what Sean was interested in.   The three of us shared a run-down but cozy little house off campus where I could splash the walls with paint and Branna and I could play music until 3am if we wanted to. We got Sean to take up the bass and Under the Radar was born not long after.

College was where I finally got validation for my artwork outside of Branna, her family, and my high school art teacher.  People admired my work. They asked me about my technique, and I became a teacher’s assistant my second year, which was a rare occurrence. 

The school also had an active LGBT community, and I met people who had shared a lot of my own struggles. I dated a lot too, but never really had anything serious. I was just happy to finally have the freedom to be able to play the field without any judgement.

I spoke to Tasha frequently and had an email relationship with my mother. I hadn't spoken to my father since the night I left their home for good, and didn't plan on ever trying.  He was livid when he found out Tasha and I got the bulk of his parents' estate. My mother finally grew a set and told him she'd divorce him if he dared contest their will.

I still had my moments of self-doubt, of feeling rejected by the people who should have loved and supported me unconditionally.  But the life I started to lead and the people I surrounded myself with helped push some of the hurt away.  

After graduation, I taught art classes at Bridgeport Community College until my own career started to take off.  A couple of years later, some pieces I had written for a couple of independent papers caught the eye of the Bridgeport Times and they offered me a bi-weekly column in their Arts section. It was all coming together. I had proven my father wrong.

The only thing missing was a real relationship.

Present Day

Dwelling on the past has frozen my muse out. I was having a weird mix of feelings. I was thrilled beyond belief that Branna had met someone who she could actually get enthusiastic about. It was early on, but it looked promising.  But at the same time, there was this part of me that was a little jealous, that wanted the same for myself.  It seemed now that I was done playing the field, no one else seemed to be.  The last thing I wanted was to be consigned to being the gay third wheel on Branna and Ciaran’s dates. 

 

I flopped down on the sofa and rested my elbows on my knees. I hated these moments of self-pity, but they came from time to time and I learned I just had to ride them out.  But seriously, was it too much to ask to want an intelligent, compassionate, funny guy who was also sexy as hell, sexy being a relative term?

 

I didn't think so.

 

With a rueful chuckle to myself, I went into my bedroom to change clothes.

About an hour later I was sitting on the sofa watching tv when a key scraped in the lock.  The door opened and Branna entered. She smiled and winked at someone in the hall, I’m presuming Ciaran, before closing the door and leaning against it with a happy sigh.

“I take it things went well?” I asked her.

In response she came running over to the sofa where she assumed our usual tv watching position. She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling.

“Ricky, it was AMAZING! He was AMAZING!”

I squeezed her hand. “Tell me all about it!”

At least my Flaky was making some progress... 

I'm not angry, I'm just sayin'

Sometimes goodbye

Is a second chance...

Song: "Second Chance" by Shinedown