Page 222 of Phobia
Despite how nerve-racking that was just now, I feel as light as air, eyes lingering on Jules as he disappears inside his place.
“Well, Coop…” I say to one of my flamingos. “Looks like I found somethingnewto keep me up.”
Chapter 3
“Hi, Mom.”
Skirting around the coffee table, I kiss her on the head before plopping down onto the couch next to her with a sigh.
“Hi, sweetie.” She smiles at me. “Have a nice walk?”
I’m absentmindedly running my thumb over my lip ring, head in a daze as I mumble, “Yea. It was great.”
“I heard you chatting with someone out there,” she says, and I snap out of it, eyes flinging in her direction.
Right, I forgot.We live in atrailer parknow. You can probably hear everything anyone does in this place. We’re all practically on top of each other.
“Just meeting the neighbor,” I respond casually, my thoughts swirling around that squirmy blue-haired specimen.
“You mean the guy with the gator head hanging over his door?” Mom shoots me a look, and I laugh.
“No, on the other side. His name is Asa. I think he’s about my age.”
“Oh, that’s nice!” She squeals, visibly excited at the prospect of me making friends so soon.
I’ve never had trouble doing it. I’m a social butterfly, so to speak, and striking up conversation with new people isn’t something I struggle with.
I had a ton of friends back in Florida. I was captain of the football team in high school, dated the most popular girls, all that stuff. But it wasn’t until just before graduation that I realized two things about myself…
One, I want to be an actor.
And two, I’mhellagay.
Both of these epiphanies happened right around the same time. We’d won the football championships, and were celebrating the way jocks do, drinking beer and making out with girls. And by the end of that night, I was over it.Allof it.
In reality, it didn’t happen that fast. I’d been growing bored with football for a while. I liked the physical part of it, the working out and staying active. But I was also taking a drama class, and I had infinitely more fun doing that than I ever had throwing touchdown passes.
I’d also begun to notice the way my eyes would linger on my teammates in the showers. What started out as a quick glance, followed by guilt and shame, like some stupid internal reflex that’d been programmed into me, turned into much longer, much morelongingstares. I didn’t want to be creepy about it or anything, but I just couldn’t help the way even justlookingat the guys’ bodies felt a million times more arousing than hooking up with any of the girls I’d slept with.
Over weeks, I worked myself up to the possibility that I was bisexual. But the more gay porn I watched, the more I was losing interest in boobs altogether.
The day after the championship game, I wound up making out with one of my teammates in his car, which quickly led to us sucking each other off.
And I haven’t hooked up with a female since.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get much time to explore my newfound sexuality,ormy artistic passion for acting. My mom has Multiple Sclerosis, and over the last year, her condition has drastically worsened. I put going to college on hold to get a job and help take care of her, but it wasn’t enough.
We lost the house. The house I grew up in, myhome. It was seized by the bank, and we were about to be homeless. Fortunately, one of Mom’s friends got us a great deal on this trailer, and since we had nowhere else to go, here we are.
I won’t say I’m brooding over it, because I don’t like that. Life is too short to be stressed and upset about every little thing. The way I see it, we have a roof over our heads, in a quaint, if run-down, little trailer park, and just enough money from Mom’s disability that I don’t need to immediately start looking for work.
Things could be much worse.
Still, it’s a bit daunting how far away we are from the rest of civilization. I mean, it’s not as if they have a community theater or anywhere for me to hone my craft. The general store doesn’t even sellPeopleMagazine. It’s allPlayboy,Guns ’n Ammo, andFisherman’s Life.
Not to mention, I think we’re the only black people in this entire rural bumpkin town ofTheriot. Again, not something you’ll find me complaining about. I just hope I’m able to get out to New Orleans once we’re settled, for a little dose of culture.
“So does thisAsalive with his parents?” Mom asks, prying, as she does.
