Page 51 of Adrift Without You
“Ky, we were just kids, and Bruce beat the shit out of us. I’m glad you didn’t try any stupid shit because you might’ve ended up dead. That motherfucker probably would’ve forced me to bury you myself. None of it was your fault and none of it was mine. That’s what I realised tonight when I saw those two boys. Bruce fucked upbothour lives.”
“But Bren, he forced Tiffany on you as a punishment for being withme! It was sexual coercion. You were basically forced to have sex with her.”
“No no no it—it… Fuck!” Bren shakes his head. “I allowed it to happen. I went along with it. I did what I needed to do to survive. To protect us both.” He sucks in a deep breath, his face paling. “He pushed me to have sex with Tiffany because he couldn’t accept that I was gay. Then I shut you out because I felt bad. I was ashamed of being gay. I don’t think you understood how much lovin’ you scared the shit out of me in the beginning.”
I pull Bren into a hug, stroking his back and kissing his hair. It’s good to finally talk about it and pull it out from the shadows.
“I wish I hadn’t pushed you away after that,” Bren continues. “I wish I hadn’t treated you like that.” He pulls back, hands coming to my face. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Back then I didn’t understand you were sexually coerced. It just felt like you cheated on me. And now I can’t understand why I ever thought that. Bruce threatened our lives, and there I was, feeling jealous and betrayed. Somehow, I thought you enjoyed fucking her. It took me years in therapy to understand the trauma you went through that day. Thatwewent through. How you kept going after that… I mean fucking hell, Bren. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and I’ll forever be sorry that I didn’t know how to help you. I just wanted you to love me.” My eyes fill with tears again. “And then the pregnancy and you deciding to marry her.”
Bren brushes the hair back from my forehead, fighting tears of his own.
“Ky, it felt like my life was over and I could never be free to love you. I still think about that first night when we fucked in missionary and slept in the same bed. It felt so right. I felt so safe in your arms.”
Bren smiles, eyes soft and warm and I feel myself falling even more deeply in love. “It was overwhelming to finally be able to look at you, all flushed and breathless for me. And I had the best sleep that night, holding you close.” Bren’s eighteen-year-old face flashes before me—vivid and strikingly beautiful and I couldn’t be more thankful for this chance to heal.
Chapter 30
Kyle
Now
Bren’s stomach rumbles, causing us both to laugh, and we head off to the kitchen to throw together a light meal. Sitting side-by-side at the kitchen counter feels bittersweet, sampling what a life together might have been if fate had dealt us adifferent hand. Our eyes remain glued to one another, engaged in a silent conversation only people with a shared history can have.
It's easy and effortless—maturity having mellowed us both—and it’s plain to see we would’ve had a happy life together. Sure, we would’ve bickered from time to time, but just as quickly those arguments would have given way to playful jabs and gentle shoves. I mourn for the life we’ve lost, just as I accept all blame. I walked away too soon, giving up on myself when Bren never would have.
But I don’t want to dwell on the regret, because tonight is about loving Bren.
Once we finish eating, I grab two cold beers from the fridge, and we head back to the living room. Bren settles between my legs, leaning back against my chest, and we allow the alcohol to loosen our muscles and minds.
Bren is the first to break the silence. “Do you really think me marryin’ Tiff caused your bipolar? ThatIcaused it?”
There’s no anger or defensiveness in his voice, just a willingness to take responsibility, which is something I will never allow. I regret those words I said in anger.
“No, you weren’t the cause,” I say. “Iwasheartbroken after you married Tiff, but that’s not on you. You did what Bruce expected of you, and I know you wanted to do right by Tiff too.” I take another mouthful of beer, thinking about Bren’s question. “Honestly, I think all that childhood trauma was to blame, or maybe my dad had it. You remember how crazy he used to act. And they say it’s often genetic. I was taking a lot of drugs when I ran off, too.” I stroke through Bren’s hair, then massage his scalp.
“You know, I had a feelin’ you were gonna do a runner, and I didn’t do shit to stop you. Guilt was eatin’ me alive, but I had no clue how to set things right. After you left, I was pissed for twodays straight. I drank ‘til I passed out in my own vomit. I missed you so fuckin’ much when you were gone. It made me realise how much I loved you.”
I finish off my beer and place it on the side table. “I regretted leaving almost immediately. I thought that if I didn’t have to see you, I would forget about you. But it was the total opposite. I was a fucking mess. Then the mania started. Not that I knew it was mania at the time. I thought my life had suddenly gotten a whole lot better.” I huff at the memory.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Bren says, turning to look at me before settling back against my chest.
“You don’t need to be sorry. My family never came looking for me, but you did. Do you remember when you tracked me down at that club and I was totally fucked up and you dragged my ass home? I never even thanked you.” I slide my arms around Bren’s waist and kiss the back of his neck.
“You never needed to thank me. I would’ve done anything for you.”
“I know, but it was me who should’ve done so much more for you.” Bren’s hands slide down my forearms and come to rest over my own. “Why didn’t we ever talk about this stuff? We were so bloody stupid.”
“Cos we were dumb fuckin’ teenagers.” Bren sighs. “You know, the best part about gettin’ older is realising life is too short to worry about what other people think. I didn’t talk back then because I thought feelings were for girls and fags.”
“And God forbid you could be a fag,” I tease, tickling Bren under the ribs.
A swift jab to my ribs follows. “Fuck off, Davies.”
I laugh. It feels damn good to just sit and talk.
“Ky, I need a smoke, but I’m guessin’ I’ve gotta go outside.”
