Turning Eighteen, Part Eight

My cousin picked up on the other end. Fuck. This was the same cousin I kept getting into fist fights with.He had made my life hell in high school. In fact, he was one of the reasons I left before graduating. He guessed that I was gay and spent all his time torturing me because of it. I have no idea how he guessed—why would a clueless jock like him have a gaydar?Worse, he had plenty of jock friends to back him up. I could hold my own against him alone—but not against him and three of his wrestling buddies.“Hey Kyle,” I managed. “Can I talk to your Mom?”“Jason?” he said.“Yeah.”“My Mom’s not home. What do you want?”“I want to give her my new address.”“You moved out?” he demanded.“Yeah.”“Fuck,” he said. “You must make good money at that diner. You got your own place?”“Not exactly,” I said.“You got a roommate?”“Yeah.”He laughed. “What’d you do—go find some Chelsea boy?”I rolled my eyes. “I moved in with Mr. Mendes,” I said. “There, are you happy?”The phone was silent for almost a minute. “Mr. Mendes from high school?” he said at last. “The Mr. Mendes who taught you retarded kids?”I gritted my teeth. “Yeah.”“Fuck,” he said. “You really are gay!”“Yeah,” I answered.There was another long silence. “Sorry Jason,” he said. “I had no idea.”I was gripping the phone now. I wanted to strangle Kyle through the phone wires. My face was burning up—I was ready to explode.I took a deep breath. I knew what I was like when I lost my temper. And I couldn’t afford to do that here. Not with Mr. Mendes in the next room.“You knew,” I told him. “You and your friends used me for a punching bag, remember?”“You beat the crap out of me once,” he reminded me. "That’s why I always had other guys around. When you lose your temper, Jesus—you don’t care if you break bones. And I didn’t know. I just said you were gay so that Angela Baristo would give up on you.”I closed my eyes for a minute. “Kyle, just let me give you the address. You can give it to your Mom.”“Are you sleeping with Mr. Mendes?” he asked.I didn’t know how to answer that. I wasn’t yet—but I was hoping I would be by tonight. But that was none of his business. “We’re dating,” I said. “Ok?”He let out a low whistle. “Your Dad would have a fit if he were alive,” he said.“Yeah, well, he’s not,” I said. “You want to take this address?”“Hang on,” he answered. “Let me get some paper. And if you really are gay, I need a favor.”I was so surprised that I loosened my grip on the phone. “What kind of favor?”“I need you to come out with me next week. A bunch of us are going to Medieval Times.”“So you and your wrestling buddies can jump me in the parking lot? No thanks.”He talked back as if he were rolling his eyes. “This isn’t high school, Jason. Look, there’s this girl I want to impress. If she knows that I hang out with my gay cousin, she’ll think I’m sensitive and shit.”I didn’t know what to say to that. “I’ll think about it.”He decided not to push me. “Ok,” he said, “What’s the address?”