For the Love of Pete by Dewey Chapter Seven 5,490 words Back to Chapter Six On to Chapter Eight Full Chapter Listing Drama Angst  Rated for Teen and Up Audiences Proudly presented by You can translate this page. Choose your language.

We stood there in shock, stunned by the sheer amount of damage. Clothes were strewn about the room, some ripped to shreds. Picture frames lay on the floor, broken into pieces, the pictures themselves torn into tiny bits. Here and there, I could make out parts that belonged to the model airplanes Pete had taken great pride in. The trophies he had won were broken and smashed. The walls had holes in them where objects had struck with great force. I think several large holes must have been from Joe's fist. Pete began to shake. He was enraged. His eyes held a look I'd not seen before. Bursting into action, he started kicking the rubble on the floor, screaming his fury at the top of his lungs. He raved on and on for five minutes or so, while I watched on in mute fascination. As he calmed, I could see tears in his eyes once more, but now he was crying not for fear, but for loss. I think he gave up on ever having a father again at that moment. Having stopped his tirade, he turned to me, still livid, nostrils flaring. "I hate my fucking father. I don't want to see or talk to the bastard ever again." "Really? I wouldn't have guessed," I said sarcastically, giving him a wry grin. He just stared at me, and then started to grin back. "Come here, I need a hug." He came to me happily, and gave me a rib creaking bear hug, lifting me of the floor briefly. "Put me down! I can't breathe!" Of course he didn't listen, but eventually let me down anyway. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Bri. I think I'd kill myself." "Don't say that, man. You wouldn't do it anyway. I think I know you that well at least." I hoped I did, anyway. "Nah, you're right. I could never do it. C'mon. Let's see what's left." We started sifting through the remains of Pete's belongings, piling what we found intact in the hallway. Most of his clothes were intact, but not much else. Joe had even ripped up Pete's books and magazines. Nothing had survived. Brenda arrived just as we finished up salvaging what we could from Pete's room. She stood outside the door and stared at the destruction, her face inscrutable. She turned with out a word and went to her room to pack her things. Pete got out a suitcase to pack his clothes in. We folded them, carefully shaking out bits of glass and debris. We then packed them into the bag, filling it up for the most part. "Let's go down stairs and see what we can find, Bri. I hope he didn't do this down there." I knew that he had done something, but not the extent of the damage. We made our way to the stairs and opened the door at the top. Below we could see things scattered on the floor, and what I knew to be that picture of Joe and Pete at the lake. As we descended, I saw that while the room was thoroughly trashed, it hadn't been destroyed the way Pete's bedroom was. "Man. He must have done this first, right after you got away. It's a good thing you did get away, otherwise this could have been your face." I nodded, sobered by the thought. As we went through the room, we found that not much was really broken. The few things that were broken were scattered about giving the room a chaotic appearance. Pete went through the closet and recovered his baseball glove, tennis racket, and other sports equipment (we were thirteen- that stuff was important). There were other things we put into a duffle bag, too, but I don't remember what they were. I was too busy concentrating on Pete, and trying to be strong for him. We finished up gathering Pete's belongings, and then sat on the stairs, just surveying the room. It was quite possible that Pete would never come back here. "How ya doing, Pete?" "I'm okay. It's just so weird, ya know? I've only lived here for a couple years, but it feels like forever, like this is the only home I've known. It's over now, and I don't know what I'm going to do. Mom is supposed to find us a place to live and get a job to support us. I hope it's not too far away." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm starting over, again." I put my arm around him and lay my head on his shoulder. Squeezing him tight, I sighed deeply. "Not really. You're still here. I still love you, and I'm here with you. I'll never leave you." Raising my head, I gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled and patted my knee. "Boys?" Brenda was at the top of the stairs looking down at us with a strange expression. I guess she wasn't really comfortable seeing Pete and I together like we were, hugging and maybe kissing. I have no idea how much she had seen. She cleared her throat. "You guys finish up down there?" "Yup. I got what I need. You done?" "Yes. After looking around, I guess we don't need the truck after all. I have just these boxes with our papers and some picture albums. Help me take these out, and then look around again to make sure you have everything. We won't be coming back here for a while." We trudged up the stairs and each grabbed a box. They weren't too heavy, and loading them into the truck was easy. Pete walked back into the house and did another once over, while I waited outside, leaning against the truck. I heard a car coming up the driveway and felt my heart lurch, afraid they had let Joe out. A patrol car pulled up slowly and parked in front of the house. I saw it was Danny through the windshield. He radioed something and then stepped out of the car. "How are ya doing, Brian?" "Okay." "Anything interesting in there?" "Yeah. The place is trashed. Pete's bedroom door was ripped off the hinges and thrown through the window. Everything in the room was destroyed, including some of his clothes. If it could be broken, Joe broke it." Danny was silent for a moment, then began muttering under his breath, his face hard. He walked into the house, and I could hear Brenda greet him. Pete came out a moment later with a confused expression. "She told me to come out here with you while she talked to Danny. She's hiding something." His expression went from confused to contemplative. "What do you think she is hiding? I know she's not happy about the way things turned out, but she doesn't show it that much." "Maybe she doesn't want to worry you." "Maybe." Pete didn't sound convinced. We heard Brenda's voice coming from inside the house with an angry tone. "I have made up my mind! I forbid you. . ." The rest was too quiet for us to hear. We looked at each other, as I felt a chill come over me. What decision had she come to, and why would she tell Danny off like that? He came back out of the house, stopped at the doorway. As he looked at Pete and I, his expression went from angry, to sad, to determined. Then he turned around and went back in. He came back out no more than a minute later, his face a grim mask. "Remember boys, I'm here if you need anything at all." Not waiting for a response, he climbed into the cruiser, started it, and drove off faster than strictly necessary. He was definitely angry. What could she have said to torque him off? He was really easy going, so it had to be something serious. Brenda came out of the house soon after Danny left, slamming the door behind her so hard the windows rattled. She locked the door, turning her key viciously. "Get in the truck, boys." We did, and sensing that she was in no mood for small talk, were silent all the way to my house. As we pulled into the driveway, Brenda told us to put the boxes in the trunk of her car, and take Pete's suitcase inside so his clothes could be washed. She put the truck back in gear, said she had some errands to run, and would be back in time for dinner. As she backed out of our driveway, it was apparent to me that Brenda was so agitated that she shouldn't be driving, but I couldn't stop her. It was too late. Pete looked after his mom for a few moments as she drove away, with a concerned expression. "Let's go in, Pete. We'll start your wash." Still watching the truck disappear over the hill, he answered, "Okay. I hope she's gonna be all right. I can't lose her, too." Wisely, I chose not to comment. Mom met us at the door. She also had a sad expression. I was starting to get paranoid again. What the hell was going on? "Hi Mom," I said as I lugged the suitcase in the door. She stepped out of the way and told me to take it to the garage. "I'll sort it out and get it started. Why don't you two go play for a while. It's been a rough day for you." Mom had a strange expression on her face, slight as it was, kind of a mixture of sadness and dread. I would have missed it any other day, but I didn't pursue it. I quickly nodded and said, "We'll be back in a few hours, Mom." "Dinner is at six. Make sure you are here by then. Have fun boys!" We waved to her as we took out across the street and toward our circle point for the fort. We talked of small things as we made our way, things that had seemed important just a couple of days ago. I came to the realization that we had been thrust into the adult world, that we could no longer be just kids. The concerns of the world were starting to filter through the protection that our parent's tried to give us. And inevitably, our conversation turned back to last night. After a long silence, we were finally approaching the fort. "Bri, why can't people understand? Why do they have to hate?" "Wow. Loaded question. I think that we've been trying to answer that question for thousands of years." I paused, deep in contemplation. Pete knew me well enough that I would speak when I had my thoughts together. By the time I was ready, we were in the fort and sitting down, though it was cramped with the motorcycle in there, too. "I read somewhere that people fear what they don't understand. When they fear something, people try to belittle it, make it less threatening somehow, so they can control it. Once they have the illusion of control, they begin to hate, and because they hate, they can take action and claim they are protecting themselves. But what it all boils down to is fear." Pretty deep for a twelve year old, huh? "So my dad is afraid of me?" "I don't think so. I think he is afraid of the fact you are gay because he doesn't understand it and can't relate to it. Plus he grew up in the fifties, Leave it to Beaver type stuff. Everything was so straight laced. And he probably sees it as a reflection on himself. He was taught being gay is bad, and if you are gay, that means he must have done something wrong to turn you gay." I shook my head sadly. "He doesn't realize that we didn't have a choice but to be who we are. He thinks he failed somehow and that makes him angry. I don't know." "But how does me being gay change who I am? It's not like I wake up one morning and I'm someone else." "I agree, and that is what I tell myself, too. Are you sure you shouldn't have this conversation with your mom? I mean, I don't know all that much, and I'm just telling you what makes sense to me." "I can't talk to her about this. She isn't comfortable doing it." He snorted. "Hell. She even pawned the sex talk off on dad, even though I asked her the question for a reason." "My parents haven't even had the sex talk yet. I learned everything at school from you guys. So you are to blame for corrupting my young, impressionable mind." I gave him a friendly punch in the arm and giggled." "So when?" "Huh? When what?" I was lost in the apparent change of topic. "When are we gonna have sex?" "I dunno." We sat in silence for a few seconds, lost in thought. I knew what I felt, but I had to figure out how to say it. "Pete, you know I love you, right?" Great start, asshole. "Yeah, I know it. I love you, too." "Then I'm gonna try to explain this, and it may come out wrong." I turned to face him and looked him in the eyes. "I love you so much, that I am afraid of losing you if we go too fast, ya know? I hear about guys and girls going out for a long time, then having sex and it's over in a week. I don't want that to happen to us. The thought of making love to you is enough to make me crazy, but inside I don't want to risk what we already have over sex. I don't think I'm ready to take that step yet." Pete's face was impassive. I dropped my gaze, looking at my lap, feeling somehow weak and ashamed. "I'm sorry Pete. You deserve someone stronger who will give you what you need. If you change your mind about being with me, I will understand." I continued staring at my shoes, hoping that I had been clear enough for him to see where I was coming from, and trying not to hope that he would still want to be with me. "Hey." His voice was quiet, calm. "Hey, Bri," he said as he reached out and lifted my face so I was looking him in the eye again. "I thought you wanted to have sex, but it seems you don't. Which is fine with me," he added hastily, seeing my face tighten. I searched his face for some sign of what he was feeling, and found compassion, caring, and love. "Brian, I was afraid that I was going to lose you if we had sex, and I was afraid that I was going to lose you if we didn't have sex. I wasn't sure which way to go, 'cause I didn't know what you wanted. Now I know that we feel exactly the same. I want to wait 'til we are ready to take that next step. We're only 13 for God's sake. I don't see how us waiting is any different than if we were a straight couple. Do you?" "No." "Then I want to wait until we are ready. It's only been a few days. Let's give it a few years, or at a minimum, a few months. Let's just see where this goes, huh? And besides, if we agree on this, which we do, it takes some of the pressure off, and makes it that much more special when we do make love for the first time. Okay?" "Sounds good to me, babe." He put his hands on my cheeks and pulled me toward him. "I love you, Brian Andrew. With all my heart and soul." He pulled me in until our lips touched. It was a tender, caring, lingering kiss, meant to reassure each of us that we were still together, and that everything was right. I snuggled up to him when we finally broke the kiss, laying my head on his shoulder, draping my arm over his tight stomach. We lay there peacefully for another two hours or so, when my alarm watch signaled it was time to head home. As I packed up the helmets and other items we had left here last night, Pete struggled to drag the bike out of the confines of the fort. Finally I had to drop what I was carrying and help him. We managed between the two of us to get the bike out without causing major damage. I took a few minutes to unbend branches and straighten some of the foliage to better conceal our passage. As I put on my helmet, Pete started the bike, which roared to life immediately. I quickly gathered up the few items remaining and mounted behind him, snaking my arms around him and resting them in his lap. Just because we weren't going to have sex didn't mean I couldn't tease him. And I was very good at teasing. Just ask Dawn. We made it to the house in no time on the bike, riding the circle route we usually walked. When we got back, dinner was just being put on the table. Mom admonished us to go wash up and then sit down. Pete got to the table before I did, and sat down next to Dad, who sat at the head of the table. Before I could sit next to him, Brenda rushed over and took the seat, forcing me to sit at a diagonal to him. It wasn't my imagination. She was trying to keep us separated. Dinner seemed to drag on and on, now that I saw for sure what was happening. Brenda would give me ugly looks when she thought no one was watching, and would give Pete a look of pity. I am sure she thought that if I hadn't met Pete, he wouldn't be gay. She was as bad in her own way as Joe was in his. Mom and Dad's faces were carefully neutral throughout the ordeal, so I knew that something was up. At last, we finished eating and cleared the table. Pete helped me, too. I knew I had to tell him what I saw, that his mom didn't want us to be together. As he put the last dishes into the dishwasher, I motioned him to follow me to my room before his mom could interfere. I shut my door behind him. "Pete, something is going on here." "What do you mean?" "I think that your mom is trying to keep us separated. I was going to sit next to you at dinner, but she just about broke her neck trying to get to that chair before I did. She gave me dirty looks the whole time we were at the table. She gave us a weird look when she saw us hugging at the bottom of the stairs. She split us up in the Bronco." "I think you are being paranoid. I don't think she's trying to split us up. Why would she do that? She knows how important you are to me, and she said she's okay with it." His tone was heated. "Pete, there is too much for it all to be coincidence. She . . ." "NO! She wouldn't do that to me! How can you think she would?" He was pissed now. There was no talking to him when he was like this. "I think I want to be alone for a while." He got up and started for the door. "No, Pete. You stay here, I'll leave. You can have some privacy. Let me know if you need anything or want to talk, okay?" Seeing he wasn't going to answer me, I opened the door and quietly shut it behind me. Brenda saw me come into the hallway from my bedroom and flashed me an angry expression before she smoothed her face to something just short of annoyance. I just looked her in the eyes until she dropped her gaze. I needed to talk to Mom. I was really worried. I found her in the kitchen finishing up the cookware. I whispered to her, "Mom, I have to talk to you, now. It's important." She saw I was serious and put the pan into the sink, then motioned me to the garage. "Mom, I think Brenda is trying to keep Pete and I separated. She has done stuff that puts her between me and Pete since this morning. She almost ran me over to sit next to him when I was obviously going to sit there. She gave me dirty looks all through dinner, and I just finished talking to Pete in my bedroom. When I came into the hall, she gave me a look filled with hate." She looked at me for a moment, weighing what answer to give me. Finally she said, "I think you may be imagining it, hon. Brenda doesn't hate you. She loves you. Maybe she's lonely right now and wants to be next to her son." "I am NOT imagining this! And I am not being paranoid. One or two instances might be coincidence, but she does it all the time!" "Enough, Brian. You will not yell at me. I told you she doesn't hate you. That is the last I want to hear of this, you understand?" "So much for you really listening to me. I knew it wouldn't last." I turned around and walked to the front closet, grabbed my coat, and was headed to the door. "Brian, just where do you think you are going?" I opened the door and said, "What do you care?" Then I stepped outside and shut the door hard. I started down the driveway and to the street, no direction in mind at all. All I knew was I had to get out. The front door opened and I heard Mom call out. "Brian Andrew, get you butt back here right now! I mean it mister!" For once, her call didn't exact obedience. I kept walking, and she didn't follow. I found myself heading in the general direction of Chris's place. I felt like I needed to talk to someone, and I couldn't think of anyone better within walking distance. In a few minutes I neared his house. It was a split level house with tan stucco and a small front yard. It was a typical house for his neighborhood. I remember when Chris moved into the house after his dad died. Jim Forn was a pastor at the Lutheran Church not far from my house. They had lived in a home that came with the pastoral job. One day Jim had gone under the house to do something, I don't know what, and had a heart attack. It was several hours later when they found him, and he was already gone. It had been rough for both Chris and David when their dad died. Kathlene, their mother, held it all together. I know that David was severely depressed for a while. Chris seemed to take it in stride, and after being down for a month or so, came back just like he was before. I could see him flinch a bit when my dad and I were joking around, so I tried to keep it to a minimum. He actually noticed that and told me, "I've lost my dad, but that doesn't mean you have to ignore yours when I'm around. It hurts, but I'm okay. I remember sometimes what it was like when Dad was around and wish he was back. But don't let me change the way you treat your dad, okay?" Chris was always cool like that. He really knew how to take stuff. He actually stood up for me a couple of times when he was there to see Brent hassling me. He didn't go out of his way to hang with me in school, and that was okay, too. I knew he liked to hang after school, but he couldn't at school because of what other guys might think of him hanging with the loser. I walked up to the front door and knocked. Chris answered the door. "Hey, Brian. What's up?" "Can I come in? I need some time away from the folks." He let me in, but studied my face as he did. "You okay? You look like someone pissed in your bed." I gave a slight grin and nodded. "Pretty close, actually. My mom and I had another argument." Chris nodded sympathetically. "Who is it, Chris?" "Brian. He wants to stay for a bit. Is that okay?" Kathlene came into the entryway. "Hello, Brian. Do your parents know you are here?" Now why did she always ask that? "No, but they can figure it out. I had another run in with my mom. She never listens to what I say, or take it seriously if she does. I am sick of getting blown off like I don't matter." I gave a bitter laugh. "Come to that, I don't matter to them. If I did, they would listen." Mrs. Forn listened to my words, and then ushered Chris and I into the kitchen. "Come on, Brian. Seems like you need to talk to someone, and I am all ears. Want some ice cream?" "No, thank you," I replied. I was one of those rare kids that didn't have a sweet tooth as big as their head. I like ice cream occasionally, but I wasn't in the mood right then. "What was the argument about?" Oh, shit. How was I going to maneuver around this one? I couldn't make up a story that quick and have her believe it. Maybe I'll leave out the incriminating factors and just talk about the argument itself. "I saw a person doing something that I thought was strange. I know I saw what I saw, and that I wasn't imagining it." "What did you see?" Kathlene was dishing up two bowls of chocolate ice cream for her and Chris. Two big bowls. "I can't tell you that. Sorry. Anyway, Mom kept insisting that I was hallucinating or something and that I was being paranoid. She rejected my statements out of hand, just like always. I am so tired of her doing that. I just grabbed my jacket and walked out. I didn't start out coming up here, but this is where I ended up." The phone rang. "That's her. Please don't tell her I'm here." "Of course I'll tell her, but I'll also tell her I am calming you down." She gave me a wink. God, she was a wonderful woman to have as a friend's mom. She seemed to understand where us kids are coming from. I'm sure being a teacher helped her on that score. She answered the phone. "Hello? Yes, Lisa, he's here. I don't think that's such a good idea at the moment. He's pretty worked up. I'll make sure he gets home. If he wants to, he can. It's fine by me. I'll let you know one way or the other. You, too. Bye." She hung up the phone. "Your mom is worried about you, Brian." I snorted with derision. "She is. She wanted you to come straight home, but I convinced her to let you stay. If you want to stay over, that is fine too. I just have to let her know what you are going to do." I thought about that for a second. I knew I didn't want to face my mom, and Pete didn't want me there. There really wasn't a reason for me to go home. "I'd like to stay, if I can." "Sure you can stay. You can sleep in David's room. I'll get the bed made up for you." Brian moved closer to me so he could whisper. "What happened? What did you see?" "Sorry Chris. I can't tell anyone. I made a promise." "Okay. Are you sure you are all right? You haven't done this before." "I usually retreat into my room and shut the door. This time I couldn't. I needed to get away from her for awhile. I'm sick of being a nobody." "You're not a nobody! You are who you are. You're smart, good looking, easy to get along with. You are willing to help anyone that asks. A lot of people like you." "That's not what Brent would have everyone believe." "Fuck Brent!" "CHRISTOPHER!" "Sorry Mom." He continued in a lower tone. "Brent is just an asshole. You know that." I sighed. "But he's a popular asshole. And a lot of guys follow his lead." "So? Do you care what they think of you?" "No, but it sucks having your weaknesses displayed in front of the school everyday." "Look. You may not believe this, but most people see Brent for what he is, and don't think any less of you for his hazing. In fact, some people admire your strength. You put up with him so much, and yet you just keep going." I snorted again. It's not like I really had a choice. It was either keep going or drop out, and my parents would have something to say about me dropping out in the seventh grade. Kathlene came back in at that point and made some small talk. She didn't ask me what was going on, in fact, she pointedly ignored anything referring to my showing up there. I suddenly found myself more tired than I had been in a long time. I politely made my withdrawal and thanked my hosts again. Once in David's room, I stripped off my clothes, climbed in the bed, and was out like a light. It was before eight yet. The next thing I knew, I woke up alert and rested. It was six o'clock. The urge to get home was strong for some reason, so I dressed, wrote a note of thanks and left it on the kitchen counter. I could see the sun streaming through the window in the front door. When I opened the door, I was confronted with one of the most beautiful sunrises I have seen, either before or since. Birds were singing and flitting from tree to tree. A robin was on the lawn looking for his breakfast. This was a morning that makes you glad you're alive. I felt great, ready to take on the world and bend it to my will. Heading for home, I breathed in the fresh morning air and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my face. As I turned the corner toward my house, I saw Brenda out in front of the house loading her suitcases into her car. That was strange. I didn't think she had found a place to go yet. She went back inside and came back out immediately with Pete's suitcase. I guess she had found a place after all. I had been hoping they could stay longer, but I was sure we would be able to spend the summer together anyway. Brenda returned inside. As I reached the driveway, I thought "Why were they leaving so early?" I didn't get a chance to delve that thought, because Brenda came out of the house again, leading Pete by the scruff of the neck. He saw me and his face changed from slightly pissed to happy to despair. "Brian. . ." "Pete, I'm so sorry!" ". . . I understand now! We're going to Portland. She's taking me away!" Brenda's harsh voice cut in, "In the car! Not another word out of your mouth Peter." She turned on me. "You stay away from my boy! You've done enough damage." Between her tirade and the fact that they were moving over a thousand miles away, I was speechless. I moved my mouth but nothing came out. Brenda got in the car and started it up. Pete was trying to roll down the window, but Brenda had disabled his switch. As the car began to back out, Pete mouthed the words, "I love you," over and over, with longing in his eyes and profound loss on his face. Brenda shifted into drive and started down the street. I could see Pete looking through the back window at me. The reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. Something deep inside me shattered. I started screaming his name, trying to hold onto him somehow. As the car went out of view, I fell to my knees and screamed that soul wrenching scream I heard from Pete just two days ago. I screamed until I couldn't breathe, but it did no good. He was gone.


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For the Love of Pete is © 21 Feb 2000 by Dewey
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