A Cold Dark Place
by
HD Hatcher
Smashwords EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Passionate Writer Publishing
www.passionatewriterpublishing.com
A Cold Dark Place
Copyright © 2010 by HD Hatcher
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
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ISBN 978-0-9828209-2-6
Dedication
A Cold Dark Place is dedicated to my friends, my family, my partner in life Jerry, and to anyone that has found out the hard way that not every story has a happy ending.
CHAPTER 1
The day I met him started off just like any other. Nothing contained within the day gave a single clue of the events that would change my life forever. I met him just a few short months ago, but somehow I feel that he has been the benchmark of my life for an entire lifetime. He has ruled my day and my kingdom, and he never had the smallest inkling that he was a ruler. This power that he has over me, is a power that I freely gave to him without apprehension, a chokehold on my very existence, and he has no idea that the very thought of him has strangled me to nearly my last breath. He has been reckless with the power that I have given him but he cannot be blamed, this power is one that he doesn’t even know that he has over me, and I did nothing to protect myself.
It all started with a drive to a friend’s house. It had been a while since I had seen my friend and I knew that it was time to do some catching up and to see how things were going. There was a hurricane on the way, and I wanted to make sure that they were all stocked up and had plenty of provisions in preparation of the storm’s arrival. I had taken this same drive under normal circumstances hundreds of times, each time without incident, but this time felt different. I was being drawn here by some force that was greater than anything I had ever witnessed in anything other than dreams that had me soaked in sweat when I awoke.
As I pulled up to the drive, I knew that something was different about the place. Never mind that it was the same modest gray-brick house with an unkempt yard that I had known from my childhood. There was an extra car in the drive, a newer car, no more than a month or two old. It looked so out of place parked next to the Volvo station wagon that Shell’s mom had driven ever since I could remember.
My friends didn’t have a ton of money and so the $30K car in the drive couldn’t have been theirs. They are humble people from simple beginnings and they don’t believe in throwing money around on luxury items.
I hesitated for a moment because I knew that this must mean that they had guests, and I did not call before I left on my surprise visit. The last thing I would want to do is to intrude on the time they were spending with their visitor.
Just as I was about to back out of the drive, I heard a voice cry out. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but as I looked towards the direction of the sound, I could see that it was my friend Shelley. I have always called her Shells for short. She was doing everything she could to grab my attention as she ran out the door screaming my name and flailing her arms.
“Luke! Luke! Wait!! Wait!! Where are you going?” Don’t leave!” I only backed out of the yard a few feet, so I put the car in drive and pulled up to the point I parked in the first place. I put the car in park and unlocked the door. As soon as I opened the door and exited the car, I was greeted with an almost rib crushing hug. “It’s so good to see you! Where have you been hiding?” she asked.
“Just busy with the new job”, I said “Sorry to have been a stranger. I must say Shells, that you are truly a sight for sore eyes, and I am so happy to see you.” I wanted to stop by and see you, but I see that you already have company.
“Oh, no, no, no; don’t you worry about a thing, that is just my childhood friend from Northern Georgia.” He and his wife are moving here after being relocated for a job, and they are going to stay with us for a few weeks until they can find a place close by. His company is paying for everything, but they somehow forgot to make sure that the old tenants were completely moved out of the place they were leasing for him and his family. “Sounds like a great company to work for” I said facetiously. “I know, right?” she replied back to me with a chuckle.
“Well, enough of this. Let’s get you inside. Mom and Dad will be happy to see you too, and you will finally get to meet Andy and his wife Veronica. Andy is the greatest and quite the looker too.”
“Veronica, on the other hand.....”
“Is she that bad?” I asked.
“Well, she is not very personable and my mom has already dubbed her “Princess”.
“Oh, so she is one of those.” I said.
We both turned to each other and laughed because Shells knew exactly what I was implying.
“Just wait until you meet her and you can see for yourself. She’ll be nice at first, but once she gets to know you, she will let her guard down and you will be able to make that call all by yourself. “By the snarls and drop dead looks that she sends my way sometimes, I think she hates me, but I really don’t care about that. I just can’t stand the way she mistreats Andy.”
“Well, Shells, anyone who doesn’t like you is a pure Satanist,” I said.
We threw our arms around each other to let it be known that were the best of friends and began to walk inside. As we walked into the house that I remembered being exactly the same as in my youth, I was greeted with warm “hellos” from Andy and Veronica and even an unexpected, “Where have you been keeping yourself hidden son?” from Shelley’s father that was sitting on his favorite chair that should have been thrown out years earlier.
Andy and his wife were sitting on the couch trying to watch a television show that had yet to catch their undivided attention, but was one of the shows that were one of Shell’s Dad’s favorite ones. They both seemed a little relieved that my presence there would give them the out they needed to get up from the couch and it would officially remove the sense of rudeness that would have accompanied either one of them leaving the couch in pursuit of more fulfilling endeavors.
Seeing Shells and her family is always bittersweet for me. I love them dearly, but every time I see them, I am always bombarded with the memories of how I met them. We met under the direst of circumstances and when I see them, I feel like I am being forced to relive every single agonizing moment of my youth. Shells and her family have always been good to me, but sometimes the memories are too much to bear.
I have a special bond with Shells and her family. They are like my surrogate family because my family was and is an all American dysfunctional family complete with an abusive fall-down drunk stepfather and an apathetic self-absorbed mother to boot. Shells is like the little sister I never had, and every time we see each other, we are able to pick up from where we left off, no matter how much time has passed from our last reunion.
When my biological father died, I was consumed with purposelessness. To this very day, I hold my mother responsible for his death.
He loved us both very much and when he walked in on her and my, what would later become my stepfather having sinning ever so vigorously together, he gave up on lie and relinquished his will to live. By taking her love away from my father and betrothing it to someone else, she murdered him. My father was a kind and gentle man, he loved me unconditionally and he showed me how much he loved me with every hug, kiss, and piggyback ride he ever gave me.
My father always knew that there was something different about me. I didn’t know it at the time, but he knew that I would grow up to be the son that would never bless him with biological grandchildren. He was okay with that. He never once tried to change me in hopes that I would bring home a blushing bride. My father would always tell me that I wasn’t different, I was more than that; I was special. When my father taught me how to do those things that are a right of passage for every father or son like camping, fishing, or even self-defense, his intentions were not to “make a man out of me”, he taught me things so that we could spend time together and so I would be better prepared for what life had in store for me.
Before my father’s corpse even had time to grow cold, my mother moved Junior in with us so that he could officially take the place of my father. I hated him from the very first time I set eyes on him. In my mind, he was nothing more than a coconspirator in the murder of my father. I never understood what my mother saw in him. He was the exact opposite of my father. Junior was cruel and unrelenting and the only time he would take a bath or a shower was when he was trying to remove the puke that had caked itself on his skin and clothes.
I guess when we are teenagers; we tend to think that we have all of the answers to any dilemma that may come our way. So, back in my wild and untamed youth, I felt that the answer to the dilemma I was being faced with at the time was to run away from home. I didn’t know where in the hell I was going to go, but living homeless and hungry on the streets seemed like a more viable option than living in that shit-hole. My stepfather was the kind of man that only knew how to think with his fists and only had a brilliant idea before he passed out from drinking too much. He had this fetish that involved calling me faggot, queer, or any other name that had the words “butt” and “fucker” in them.
My mother saw me thrown into a wall on more than one occasion and she never did a single thing to try and stop Junior from beating on me. He was a grown man in his thirties and I was still just a boy, and he beat me like I was just some guy that he met at some bar and just flat out didn’t like. I found my mother always resigning to the belief that I deserved it and that it had been a long time coming. My mother was under the assumption that although my stepfather’s parental skills were a bit harsh, they were skillful nonetheless and would eventually harden me into a MAN. No matter how old I was, I would always be a mean and spoiled child that lacked discipline.
I will be the first to admit that I may have been no angel, and I may have not even come close to meeting the standards for what he deemed appropriate masculinity, but I don’t think that being punched and slapped from one end of the house to the other was something that anyone deserves. My father had just passed away, and that was a lot for anybody sixteen to deal with.
But, not only was I being forced to deal with my fathers passing, I was also having some man that my mom liked to fuck, thrust into my life and my love for him was suppose to be immediate and unconditional. He wasn’t expected to try and earn it, but since I refused to give it to him, I was nothing more than the bastard child of someone else.
The only good thing that ever came out of knowing that piece of shit was Shells and her family. Shell’s parents use to be really good friends of my stepfather until they saw how he treated me and saw firsthand that he was just a natural born douche bag. They took me in when I had nowhere to go. They saw firsthand the physical abuse that my stepfather enjoyed dishing out on a daily basis. I think my stepfather scared the hell out of them; much more so than he even scared me. If it were not for them, I have no idea what my life would be like. I lived with them for a few weeks until my mother and stepfather flexed their muscles and called the cops and had them come pick me up from Shell’s house.
My parental units threatened to have Shell’s parents thrown in jail for kidnapping and to have me shipped off to juvenile hall if I didn’t come back as soon as I could get my “faggot ass” back home.
Their anger was fueled by my happiness, and their happiness was fueled by my strife. I know that they didn’t do it out of genuine love and concern. They had me brought back out of pure unadulterated spite. They really could give a damn if I were alive or dead, so when I went back, my life was a bonanza of day in and day out of name-calling and angry fists. The day before I turned eighteen, I packed my bags and left for good, knowing that there wasn’t a damn thing they could do. I snuck out the window just for old time’s sake, and I never looked back.
Junior treated me like shit because of the differences that my father described as special, were the same differences that Junior said made me a freak. There aren’t many things that I know, or even care to know about Junior, but the one thing I can say with absolute certainty, is that the day that mother fucker died should have become a national holiday. I never went to the funeral, but I was considerate enough to send a wreath that said “Congratulations” on it. After he died, my mother became a shell of what she once was. She has tried to make things right ever sense, but I think she knows that things will never be the same and that I can never forgive her for allowing what happened to me to happen.
It’s hard to believe that this happened so long ago. We were just a couple of dumb naïve kids back then. She had this plot that after the cops dropped me back off at the place that barely resembled a home, that I would immediately sneak back out of the window and she would hide me in her closet and bring me leftovers from her family’s meals. Now, we are all grown up, and Shelly was accepted to an Ivy League college up north and she will be leaving soon to pursue her educational career.
She took a couple of years off after graduating from high school so that she wouldn’t have to make any rash decisions as to which college she wanted to go to. Her parents were okay with Shells decision, the only thing that they asked of her, was to get a job and to put money towards the family bills.
After Shells had finally made up her mind as to which college she wanted to go to, Shell’s parents revealed to her that they had saved every penny that Shells had given them and they were going to give it back to her so that she would have some seed money to start her new life.
Mama Shell’s voice rang out with all of the excitement of a mother that was welcoming her son back from war; “There’s my baby!”
She is a very large robust woman with a flair for life altering hugs and cheek pinching kisses, so when she ran up to hug me, I had to gather my balance and lean all of my weight against her because I knew that I would soon be squished between her bosom and the weight of my very own body if I wasn’t careful.
“Did you hear the news?” she asked.
“What news would that be?” I replied.
“We are going to move to Never-land!”
Shell’s parents had decided to move to the sweltering heat of Orlando Florida to retire. I have no idea why in the hell they would want to move to the one state that is closer to the equator than the current Hell’s Kitchen we currently live in, but far be it from me to try and change someone’s mind about something that they have set their hearts on for so long. I remember when I came to stay with them while Junior and my mother had absolute control over me, Mamma and Pa Shells would always tell me that when I could come to live with them on a more permanent basis, then we would all pack up as a family and go live in the Magic Kingdom.
Now that Shells was all grown up, she had no desire to live there and I also think that since Shells was all grown up and was about to embark on her life’s journey, moving to Orlando Florida was their way of shoving their little birdie out of the comforts of the nest to see if it was able to fly. If it turned out that their little feather-ling was unable to fly, then when she came back to the comforts of the nest, then it would be just as magical as it would be welcomed.
I wear a smile for them and as much as I wished that I could go with them, this cheesy resort town that most know as Myrtle Beach is my home and so there is nothing left for me to do but to wish them the best. My heart would ache every time I would think about their impending departure because I knew that anything could happen to me without the safety of their close proximity. I had this unshakable sinking feeling that I would be completely and utterly alone. I knew that without their wisdom and love, I would be left to meander aimlessly through this life without hope of ever finding my life’s true purpose.
Even thought I didn’t get around to see them as much as either of us liked, just knowing that they were close by was always a reassurance to me. Although I prided myself on my independence, I knew that if I ever needed them, that they were just a phone call or a 10-minute drive away.
I have always known that as long as they were here, that I would always have a roof over my head, a hot meal waiting, and a shoulder to cry on, if I ever needed one. However, I also knew that once they moved away, then the distance would drive a wedge between us and the chances of me ever seeing them again would be slim to none.
People enter and exit our lives all of the time. Some are easier to let go than others because they are nothing but a small blip on the radar screens of our lives. Sometimes there are those that when we are forced to let go of, they will forever take a piece of them with us. There are even those people that make such a deep impression on us that we will never forget them, and when they are gone, a part of you dies inside when they go. This is how I felt about Shells and her family. I have always been told that when one door closes on someone, a new one opens and shines the way for someone else to find his or her way to us when we are ready to pen that door and let them in. For my sake, I truly hope that what I have been told is true. As the door was closing on Shells and her family, another one was about to open and allow Andy to waltz into my life and fill the void that was about to become a part of me. I didn’t know it at the time, but this door had been open for a very long time and had been waiting ever so patiently for Andy to walk through the threshold of a doorway that I never even knew existed.
Meeting Andy for the first time was just like meeting anyone else you had never met before. There was the awkwardness that accompanied meeting anyone for the first time. You don’t know them well enough to start an in-depth conversation with them, and you also know that they are sizing you up and judging you by the way you look, for the simple fact there isn’t enough of anything else for them to go by in order for them to establish a first impression. We start trying to figure others out from the very instant we greet each other with a, “Hi” or “Hello”. But remember, just as we are doing this to them, they are also doing it to us as well.
It’s almost like we are constantly sizing people up in order to approve or decline their applications to be a part of our lives. Sometimes these decisions are made within thirty seconds or less, and other times, we need to gather just a little more information before we make our final decision. I couldn’t really tell you what Andy’s very first impression of me was, and I honestly don’t really want to know. Whatever those first impressions were of me at that time never made a difference in whether we became friends or not. Whether good or bad, we saw something within each other that encouraged us to make the effort to make one another all-inclusive in each other’s lives. I often wonder what would have happened if Mamma Shells had never introduced us. What would have happened if she never told us each other’s names? As soon as she introduced him to me, he got up from off of the couch where he and his wife were sitting and extended his hand in friendship. He had this look on his face like he was so happy to see me again. I couldn’t understand it. We had never met before, but I was more than happy to make his acquaintance.
Andy is a little older than I am. I am thirty-four and Andy is thirty-seven. Although we are about the same height, when he got up from the couch to introduce himself, he seemed to tower above me. The very instance that the palms of our hands met, I felt as if I was falling under a spell that would bond us together for eternity. To this day, I don’t know what it was about him, but I thought that he was the most beautiful man that I had ever seen. Not the kind of beautiful that is artificial and not the shit that they try to pass of as beautiful like the guys you see on T.V. or in magazines. He’s not built like a brick shithouse, and his hair isn’t the androgynous cut that you would find in any gay magazine on the racks. You would truly have to see him in order to understand. He is a man in every sense of the word, yet he is one of the nicest guys you will ever meet. He may have been what people in the south refer to as a “good ole boy”, but he was also classy and unknowingly suave. He has kind eyes and would give you the shirt off his back if you ever needed it. He wears a High and Tight that he keeps hidden underneath a baseball cap; his goat-tee is thin and perfectly proportioned to his face, he has the biggest kindest brown eyes that were kissed with just a touch of sadness.
His body is muscular, yet he doesn’t have abs; he doesn’t need them. And God knows how that smile of his can get you through even the worst of days.
His smile lights up the room and he is a rare breed where his personality has kept up with his good looks. He doesn’t know just how good-looking he is and this is the sexiest thing about him. He is the truest southern gentleman and is never lacking with his, “yes mams, no sirs, or even his, “pleases and thank you’s.” His wife is very lucky to have found someone of such rare stock.
He hasn’t accomplished much in his life. He hasn’t won any big awards for this or that, he hasn’t traveled the world, and it seems that his sole purpose in life is to have a family and to work for someone else. His biggest accomplishment so far is his job as a lawyer’s assistant, the marriage to his wife and the birth of their baby boy Timothy. This pleases him and I don’t think that there is anything wrong with making his dreams achievable ones. He is every bit of 5’10, but his presence in a room commands attention. Although to some, he might not be a head-turner, to me he is fascinating and everything I have ever dreamed of in a man, but had convinced myself that my idea of the perfect man was too much of a tall order to ever be filled.
Just as I was becoming transfixed on him, he asked me if I was excited about the hurricane that was expected to make land fall the following night. Andy had never been through a hurricane before, because by the time what was left of the storm worked its way to Northern Georgia, it was just a shadow of what it once was and was nothing more than a wet sloppy weather event. I could not help but notice that as Andy talked to me about his career, his family, and where he was from, Veronica kept staring at him like he was embarrassing her and she was hoping that he would hurry up and shut up to prevent her from sending any more of her subliminal messages to do so. I never understood what was so embarrassing about what he had to say. I was captivated by his story and wanted nothing more than for Andy to tell me more. I don’t know if he noticed what Veronica was doing, but he just ignored her and never missed a beat.
Andy asked me if I was going to be at Shell’s hurricane party the night the storm was expected to hit, which was less than 24 hours away. I could tell that he was so excited about Shell’s hurricane party. He lit up like a Christmas tree at the very thought of experiencing a hurricane first hand and to let his hair down and have some fun for the first time in a very long time.
If I know Shells like I think I know Shells, I can already tell you that she had this hurricane party planned since January and had purchased items for it all throughout the year in hopes that a wayward storm would somehow stumble upon the coast of the Eastern Carolinas. She loved these storms. She knew of the potential devastation that they could bring, but she also admired the beauty of the clouded spiral that churned its way across the Atlantic Ocean. She believed as many do, that we named these storms because we like to give identity to something that could possibly kill us. As beautiful as these storms are, sometimes it’s hard for us to wrap ourselves around the idea, that they are nothing more than weather’s version of a cold-blooded killer.
Veronica said that she could sense the danger, and refused to jeopardize the lives of her and the baby. So she opted to evacuate her and the baby back to Northern Georgia to the safety of Atlanta, and they would come back when the governor had lifted the mandatory evacuation. I figured that she just didn’t want to have to be stuck in a two bedroom house full of people and didn’t have the nerve to say so. It seemed a might bit odd that they would not be leaving as a family, but as along as Andy was going to be there, then I didn’t care where she evacuated to. She could have evacuated to Siberia for all I cared.
CHAPTER 2
In the midst of a potential devastating natural event such as a hurricane, there is a nervous excitement in the air. Adults and children alike are excited about having a day off of work or school, but the fear still lingers in the back of each and every single person’s mind, that the destruction that the hurricane could bring, could hit a just a little too close to home for comfort. It is events such as this where prayers are said, promises are made and bonds are forged and broken. It is also events like this, where panic and fear can bring out the worst in even the most levelheaded people. No one begins to worry until the storm has reached at least a category four. But, for the lower categories, it only opens up the opportunity to have a party, drink until all of the beer and liquor that has allowed us to leave our inhibitions at the door has been completely consumed. It’s times like these when we may say and do things that we would not normally do and people actually seen to understand. They won’t judge the things you say or do, and some of the things that would be inexcusable under normal circumstances, are perfectly okay in the midst of the Hell on Earth that is being unleashed outside. Every hurricane that I have ever experienced has always had some type of profound effect on me; in one way or another. I learned how to pray for the first time during Hugo and prepared to die as I stared death in the face when Floyd was expected to make landfall as a category five. This storm was no different. It was expected to make landfall as a category four or five, with the eye passing directly over us sometime in the early morning. Category fours are scary enough and tend to leave one heck of a mess that takes months to clean up, but a category five has never been experienced here and the damage that it could do would more than likely be of biblical proportions. I am a veteran when it comes to these things, but that doesn’t mean that I’m immune to the possible effects that these storms have the potential of leaving behind in their wake. Although I know what to expect, I also know that there is always that margin of error that isn’t always calculated in advance. The only thing we can do is to prepare the best that we can, make sure to gather the supplies, shutter up the windows, fill the bath tub and gallon jugs up with water, buy enough alcohol to take the edge off, and make sure to stock up on plenty of food that doesn’t need to be cooked, because power can be out for days, weeks and sometimes even months. No matter how prepared anyone thinks that they are when it comes to surviving a hurricane, events can often times sneak up on us unexpectedly and take advantage of the boredom and lack of damage from hurricanes past that have caused us to become complacent enough to let our guards down. That’s the beauty of these storms, you have to expect the unexpected and appreciate the danger hidden well within its spiral beauty. During a Hurricane, there really isn’t much to do except watch the weather channel and drink until the lights go out and celebrate life as if tomorrow would never come. That’s exactly what we did. The storm wasn’t expected to make landfall until about 2’o clock in the morning, so we started drinking bright and early around 6pm. If anything horrible was going to happen, we were going to make damn sure that we were liquored-up enough to where we would either not feel the pain associated with it, or it would be easier to forget that it ever happened.
While waiting on the storm to arrive, we did the usual hurricane activities to pass the time. We kept the TV tuned to the local news and constantly flipped through the channels to find something to take our minds off of the eminent danger that would arrive in just a few short hours. Cable and Satellite television are a Godsend during a storm. While it is physically impossible to find anything worth watching on the local channels because the weather person keeps interrupting the shows that you are trying to watch, the weather coverage does have its moments.
It never fails, while the wind is picking up outside and the waves down by the ocean are beginning to swell from the pure force of the storm swirling its way toward the coast, there is always some new and gung-ho local reporter trying to make a name for themselves by standing out in the ocean as the angry waves start to show signs of life as they creep closer and closer and become taller until the waves are big enough to pounce upon the unsuspecting reporter and drag them under. Little do these rah-rah weather folks know, that the only time they would ever make a name for them-selves would be if one of those giant waves actually did crash upon them and whisked them hurriedly out to sea. While doing stupid shit like this does indeed make a name for these reporters, that name isn’t really the one they were aiming for.
As the anticipation of seeing a lowly reporter getting sucked out to sea slowly begins to wane, this is when the full onslaught of boredom kicks in. It is common knowledge among people that live in hurricane prone areas, which will help time fly by faster, is to drink alcohol. Before you know it, you will be inebriated beyond belief and by the time you have to throw up, it’s a few hours later and you are either trying to sober up enough to escape a flooding house or you have passed out and when you wake up, the storm has passed and you are a little disappointed that you missed all of the excitement. While Andy, Shells, and myself had decided to play drinking games to pass the time, Mamma and Pa Shells had decided to stick close to the television set until they could feel safe enough to go to bed without the fear of “waking up dead” the next morning, as they themselves put it.
Andy, Shells, and myself had decided to crack open the beer at the exact same time to commemorate the party’s official start. With a three way toast followed by a “cheers”, a wink and a smile, we commenced to drink and play card games until we were bored with that and began to drink even more and play even more card games. When we were all liquored up and needed to slow down the drinking a notch, we began to tell each other stories about our childhoods.
Shells was on top of the world. Not only did she get her wish to be in the middle of a land-falling hurricane, but also she had two of the most important men in her life with her simultaneously in the same room. Shells is quite the sappy one when she drinks. When she is sober, she isn’t much on hugs and kisses on the cheek, but the more she drinks, the more she wants to show her affections to the ones she loves. She made sure to tell Andy and I that she loved us both and she hoped that when she went off to college, that the two of us would become really great friends. She also had the balls to let Andy know that she didn’t like Veronica very much.
As soon as she said, “Andy, I love you to death but Veronica is a total bitch.” I just bit my lip, held my breath and waited to exhale until I knew for sure what Andy’s reaction would be. He just laughed it off and said to Shells, “We all have our moments, but she more so than most.” That’s when I knew that it was safe to laugh without fear of offending him. I refused to ask what that episode was all about even though I was dieing inside to find out why Shells had taken such a deep dislike towards Veronica. Andy changed the subject and the focus once more was on drinking and all the sappy crap that comes along with it.
Bored from playing every card game known to man, we were all curious about each other, so we began to share stories of our childhoods. Andy was a little uneasy with becoming the center of attention for the evening, but he was such a nice guy that I was completely certain that he must have some type of skeleton in his closet somewhere. I just assumed that the night would be filled with stories about the delinquent things he did in his youth, but it turns out that Andy really didn’t have much to tell. He grew up on a tobacco farm and worked with his father after school, and he was completely clueless as to why the girls at school would fight over him for the chance to have a date with him.
“That’s because you are a fuckin hottie Andy!” Shells blurted out. He was so embarrassed that he turned beet-red and turned to me and said, “She’s not drunk; she’s flipping high.”
“I completely agree!” I said with a chuckle. But little did he know, that I was agreeing with what Shells had said and opposing the statement that he had made about Shells being high. *Shells was so excited that Andy and I were there with her, that she would cut into one conversation with another so that she could give us both equal mention. I was intrigued by the stories they both shared about when the two of them were growing up and how lost they were without each other when life took them their separate ways.
I was staying clear of any conversation that had to do with my childhood. There really wasn’t anything to tell. I had no good memories and I really didn’t want to spoil the mood of the situation with stories of the man that deserved the “World’s Most Un-fucking-believably Worst Stepfather” award. So, I just listened to their stories with interest or just ran up and got everyone a round of drinks when I feared that it would be my turn to participate in the undeclared game of Truth or Dare. I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t want to hear anyone’s rationale as to why Veronica was such a horrible person, and I didn’t want to dwell on the negativity of my past. I was just enjoying spending time with Shells and Andy, and that’s what I wanted to concentrate on for the moment.
I really can’t remember a night in my life where I had drunk so much. I am not an aggressive drunk, and thank God I am not one of those annoying criers that everyone hates at a party. I would say that I am myself; just a little more amplified. One of my only bad qualities when I drink is that I am an open book and I wear my heart on my sleeve. You can ask me anything, and you are guaranteed to receive an honest answer. It was getting late, and the three of us were absolutely trashed. Mama shells dropped off some blankets at the end of the fold out couch and said, “Since Princess Veronica isn’t here, Shells can have her room back for the night and you boys can sleep on the fold out bed.” I looked to check Andy’s reaction to see if he was okay with that. He didn’t even flinch. So, I knew that the two of us would be sleeping in the same bed. I don’t know if he knew about me at that time, but Mamma Shells and Shells herself were very open about my sexuality and made no qualms that pain and suffering would come to those that dared called me a derogatory name or anything that resembled an antigay epithet. I’m no flamer mind you, and sometimes people act a little surprised when they find out that I am an avid player for the pink team.