After spending much of the night on the phone, in more than one conversation, Mom announced that she was going to be sending me away, though she refused to mention where, or anything regarding why except to say that Ed had agreed with her idea of what was wrong with me, and that this would hopefully fix it. Oddly enough, she also announced that Karen was going to be going as well, though not because of me. It was more like it was just a coincidence that we would both be going to the same place.
But the big surprise was that Mom wasn't going with us. I guess I didn't expect her to actually stay wherever it was she was sending us, but I did expect her to take us. After all, I would have trusted myself with a car at that point for all the money in the world, especially considering that Karen would be in the car as well. Luckily, I didn't have to worry about that. Instead, Ed would be coming to pick us up, as early as the next day. He would drive us there, and apparently he would be staying there as well.
Karen didn't like the news, and I couldn't really blame her. Unlike me, she hadn't been jerked around by Mom and Dad for the last almost a year. She was the "good kid," not that I was bad. She was smart, too smart sometimes, and she just didn't care enough to do anything to piss our parents off. The things she enjoyed to do were the kind of things that made parents happy in general. She couldn't see why they would want to send her away, and the idea just didn't sound like it was anything she was going to like.
Of course, she pouted, and Mom told her quite firmly that she had no say in the matter. I just happened to be in the room at the time, and I couldn't help but compare Mom's reaction to her to how she and Dad had been when they told me exactly where I would be going to school. At that point, it really looked like they were starting to do the same kind of "planning" for Karen's life that they had been doing for mine... only quite a bit earlier. At least they waited until I was out of high school before they started on me.
Dad got home late that night, and I was already in my room, trying to get at least a little sleep instead of just lying there and staring at the ceiling. Because of that, I didn't hear Dad's reaction to the decision, since I had the distinct feeling that Dad had had nothing to do with it. This seemed to be something connected to Mom, even though I was under the impression that it was Dad who had brought everything down on my head.
Even so, I saw Dad in the morning when Mom called me to come down to breakfast. (Mom had taken to having the entire family eat together for breakfast that summer, mostly because she could actually get me to wake up in the morning.) He didn't seem angry, but he did seem just a little worried when he said goodbye to the both of us. He didn't tell us any more about where we would be going, or why, though I'm sure Mom had told him. All he did was say goodbye, give us both hugs, and then leave for work, a little earlier than usual. I couldn't help but feel that he felt just as lost with the entire situation as I did, though I knew that just didn't make any sense.
Then, at about 9:30, a half hour before Mom said Ed was supposed to get there to pick us up, Mark came over. He had gone home at Mom's insistence the day before, while she was still on the phone. When he arrived, I had no idea whether she had told him about me leaving, though my instincts told him that she most likely had. And when the first thing he did after "escorting" me to my room was hug me... I knew she had told him.
"Your mom told me she's sending you away... hopefully to fix whatever it is that's wrong with you," he said as he pulled away. I noticed that, aside from the hug, he didn't do anything that he wouldn't have done back when we were just friends. No kisses, no touches. He just motioned for me to sit down on my bed, which was enough to make my body let me do that, and then he sat down in the chair, facing me, but not actually close enough to touch me.
"She said there's a chance we might never see each other again. Apparently this..." he gestured vaguely in my direction, and I realized almost immediately that he was referring to my situation. "...could possibly be my fault, though she doesn't think it was anything I did on purpose. But aside from that, she didn't tell me what was going on. Do you know?"
I shook my head, even though I could have answered him out loud. He knew more than I did, and that annoyed me. I knew it wasn't his fault that he knew more, though, so I decided to keep that to myself unless he somehow figured it out and forced it out of me.
"I didn't think so," he said, smiling. Then he bent over, grabbing his head with both his hands as he stared at the floor. "You know, I really am gonna miss you. I know I've been kinda taking advantage of your situation this summer and all, but it still made me happy. And you'll always be my best bud, no matter what else comes between us."
He looked up at me, and I could see just a bit of moisture in his eyes. "You do know that, right?"
It almost came as a surprise to me when I found myself nodding again. After everything that had happened that summer, I found it hard to believe that either of us could ever just be friends again, even if in name only. But for some reason, I still wanted to keep that closeness that we had always had, even if there had been other things added on top of that. I didn't want to lose my friend, but at the same time, I didn't think that that summer had taken him from me either.
He smiled, and then he continued, his voice choked with the tears that I could already see forming at the edges of his eyes. "I wish things had been different. I know you weren't drunk that one time. Of course, I wasn't as drunk as you thought I was either. But I wanted to do it so bad I had to pretended I was drunk just so I could get away with it."
I stared at him, feeling like the floor had dropped out from under me. He had to be lying. He had one of the lowest alcohol tolerances I had ever seen, and I had seen how much he had to drink that night. There was no way he could have been "not as drunk as I thought." But even as I stared at him in utter disbelief, the feeling strong enough to register on my face despite my condition, he noticed my confusion and smiled a guilty little smile.
"I take it you didn't know?" I shook my head, and his smile softened even more. "It's true, though. I deliberately watered down my drinks when you weren't looking. And all just so I could get away with kissing you and blame it on the alcohol. I would have done more if I thought I could get away with it, but I knew I couldn't. That's how much I wanted you..."
Yet he hadn't done anything until just recently. I wondered why, but I couldn't ask him. He hadn't asked me a question, and even though he could set up "standing orders" for me to talk to answer his questions and respond during sex, I couldn't say anything outside of those situations. All I could do was stare at him, questions running through my head.
"There's something I want to ask you before you go. I'm scared to ask it, but I need to know. And I want you to answer as my friend, not whatever you've been this past summer. Karen say's you're still you, just a little messed, up, so could you please be you just for this little bit?"
I stared at him, wondering if he actually expected that do anything. I don't think I would have expected anything different had I been in his position, but even so, I could hear the desperation in his voice. He wanted me to act like normal... or as close to that as I could. And, even stranger, I could feel the pressure lifting, and I got the feeling that whatever it was that was keeping me from acting like myself, it would let me go for just this time. So, I nodded.
He smiled. "I guess it's more than something that I wanna ask you. It's a couple of things. First... you don't hate me... after all this, do you? I know I don't deserve to not be hated, but... you know..."
He looked over at me, and I could see the pain in his eyes that indicated that he expected me to say I did hate him. He was right. I should have hated him after everything that had happened that summer. I should have hated him for being part of everything, even if he had no more of an idea what was going on than Karen did.
But when I reached down into my heart, I couldn't dredge up any hatred... for him. I hated the idea of what he had been doing, because it still felt against everything I thought I knew about myself. I hated the fact that he had been dragged into things between me and what seemed like the rest of the known world. I hated the fact that his own father had decided to "hand me over" to him without so much as explaining anything. But I didn't hate him, and I probably never would.
"I don't hate you," I said.
He breathed a sigh of relief, but that lasted only briefly before he pushed on. "I know it's weird for me to ask this, but do you think there could have been anything between us if... If things had been different? If it hadn't involved something strange with your family and a bunch of stuff I don't know about? I know it didn't happen that way, but do you think it could have?"
"I'm not gay," I said, and even I was surprised that I could. I had had the feeling that I might be able to say something other than a direct answer, but I had doubted it at the same time. It wasn't until the words were coming out of my mouth that I knew for sure that that was the case.
"I know that! I'm not either. You're the only guy I've ever had. Ever wanted, for that matter. But that doesn't change the fact that I do, and I have. And, well, do you think...?"
I shook my head, and told him the only thing that I could think to say. Not no, since I really didn't know if that was the case or not. But I couldn't say yes either, since the only part of me that could imagine me accepting something like that was that same slut-in-training part of me. To be honest, I wasn't certain what I thought anymore. "I don't know."
His face fell, but I could tell that he accepted the answer. I could see the relief in his eyes... that I hadn't said no. He gave me a sad smile. "Okay, one last question. Remember that night in my basement, when I kissed you and you ran away?"
I nodded.
"You kissed another guy that night before you came over. I don't know how I know that, but I do. No matter what you say to deny it, I know you did it. But you say you're not gay, so that's always bugged me. Who was he?"
My blood went cold. I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I knew that he wouldn't like the answer. Hell, I didn't like the answer, even though I couldn't change what had happened. Telling him would end up bringing him even further into the mess that I was caught up in, and I didn't want that.
I turned my head, looking down and away so that I wouldn't have to look him in the eye. The fact that I could do that made me feel eternally grateful for Mark's desire to talk to me "like friends" this one last time. That made it possible for me to try and dodge his question, even though I knew he wouldn't like it.
"You don't want to know," I said. "You may think you do, but you don't!"
I heard him get up, and I saw his shoes and legs as he approached my bed. I saw more and more of his body as he knelt down on the ground in front of me. And I tried desperately not to look at him as he grabbed my chin and forcefully turned my head to look at him.
"Don't make me tell," I begged, even though I knew I was only a single order away from having to tell him. The fact that he hadn't rescinded his stated wish to have me act "like normal" was the only thing standing between him and his answer.
"I need to know. Arin, tell me. Who was he?"
That single order was enough to rob me of all the control he had given me earlier. I felt the pressure crash back in on top of me, leaving me incapable of doing anything but answer his question... I felt my mouth open, despite my mind screaming at it, telling it not to do anything.
"It was your dad."
I saw the shock fill his eyes. I saw the anger follow right behind. I couldn't even let my own expression fill with the sadness and apology that I honestly felt at the moment. He had taken away the little control he had given me, and there was nothing I could do about it. All I could do was sit there, my face blank, and wait for him to order me to do something else.
I couldn't even wince when he slapped me across the face, hard. It hurt, for sure, but I couldn't do anything about it. At the same time, it felt strange, since he had never struck me as the slapping type. I would have expected to be punched instead. But he had slapped me.
He had just opened his mouth to shout something at me, the anger still in charge of his entire body, when the door opened and Mom stuck her head inside. "Mark, your time's up. You need to be gone by the time Edward gets here."
Mark whirled to stare at Mom, though the anger that still filled his every move turned it into more of a glare than a stare. She coolly returned the gaze, not seeming even slightly shocked or bothered by his obvious rage. Then she looked over at me, probably noticing the red mark that was most likely forming on my cheek. She had no way of knowing what had caused it, but that was enough to anger her. The temperature dropped around her, and she silently pointed away from my room, down the hall. The message was clear; get out.
Mark huffed, but he did as Mom "said." As soon as he was out of the room, Mom rushed over to me. She asked me what had happened, but, of course, I couldn't tell her. All I could do was sit there and stare ahead, wondering where everything had gone wrong. Mom's cool hand on the still stinging part of my cheek where he had slapped me helped a little, but not much, and at that point I found myself desperately wishing that everyone would just go away. Mom, Dad, Mark, Mark's dad... everyone.