Page 77 of Beneath the Stain
“Well what?” he asked, opening the notebook. Mackey had brought six or seven to rehab, and this one had scraps of lyrics in it as well as musical notations and even doodles.
A pair of eyes that looked suspiciously like Trav’s glared at him on a number of pages, and Trav could only be grateful Mackey had progressed enough beyond fifth grade that it wasn’t his penis instead.
“They’re all near the end,” Mackey said softly, looking at the notebook too. Trav’s cast was getting in the way, so Mackey reached out and flipped a few pages, stopping at one of several pages that had been dog-eared.
“Got it,” Trav said, his mouth dry. It hit him like an express train that this was a big, painful deal to Mackey. He wasn’t going to fuck with that. “Okay—Kell’s first?”
Mackey shrugged. “If he doesn’t get it, the band falls apart,” he said.
Trav figured that was pretty sound reasoning for an addict.
Dear Kell,
I’m gay. At first I thought I didn’t have to tell you, and then I figured you’d realize it all by yourself. But you didn’t, and you started saying “Only bi when high,” and I figured if you believed that, I wouldn’t break up your world.
But every time you use the word “faggot,” I die inside a little, and I’ve spent most of my life wondering if you’d still be my big brother if you knew I was gay. And I’m weak and sad and an addict, but I think some of what’s killing me is the not knowing. If I knew, even if you didn’t want to be my brother anymore, at least I’d know where I stood.
You’re still the guy who didn’t want me to get beat up and who didn’t want me to overdose, and I love you for that. I hope you can love all of me too.
McKay
Trav swallowed. Aces. This was McKay James Sanders, the real Mackey. The articulate young man who let his emotions out in lyrics and who swung a wide berth around anything personal, anything private, anything that let anybody in.
Trav felt something escape him, a sound, a sort of nonverbal violence, and his eyes burned.
“What?” Mackey asked, his voice shaking. “Bad? Was it bad? Is it gonna piss Kell off? Man, it’s gotta be—”
“Calm down,” Trav said, and he dropped a kiss on the top of Mackey’s hair. It smelled just washed, something masculine and sharp, and Trav liked it. “It’s great. I’m just… just being stupid because I’m so glad. Something this honest, Mackey, and I know you mean it. You’re working on it for real this time. Trying to make it stick.”
Mackey grunted. “Yeah. It really hurts, you know that?”
Trav breathed hard out his nose and tried to still the shaking in his hands. “I’m so fucking proud of you I can’t stand it. Let me read the other one.”
Dear Mom,
I’m gay. I think you might know already, but I’ve been trying not to tell you, not to give you anything else to worry about. But I’m in rehab, and things got really bad before I got here. I wanted to take care of you so bad, Mom, but I don’t think parts of me ever got taken care of first. It’s not your fault—don’t ever think it is. You did your best. You loved us all. You fed us when there wasn’t any money and kept us dressed and made us do chores. I really admire you for that—you should know that. I think parts of me were just needy. That’s nothing you did. But I love you and I hope you still love me too, even though I’m gay, and I’m an addict. I worried so hard that you wouldn’t.
McKay
Trav wiped a shaking hand over his mouth. God, this must have gutted Mackey. Must have ripped him inside out. It hurt Trav just to read.
The next letter sort of let him off the hook.
Dear Jefferson and Stevie—
I didn’t want you guys to feel left out by not getting a letter, but I don’t have too much to write, really. You guys just always accepted me. I love that about the two of you. I want you to know that I accept you and Shelia too. Don’t let anyone give you crap about being three people. You’re happy. I’m just so damned glad that kids I grew up with are happy, I wouldn’t care if Shelia was a whole other rock band fucking in your bedroom. I’m glad she’s not though—that would be loud. But I love her—she’s really nice. If she makes you happy, she’s even more awesome.
McKay
Trav laughed a little.
“Jefferson and Stevie?” Mackey asked, his voice taking on some animation.
“That was a nice one.”
“The next one….” Mackey sounded, if anything, more pained. “I’m not gonna send it. I can’t. I told Cambridge it would do more harm than good, and he agreed with me. But it felt good writing it, you know?”
“Good in a good way?” Trav asked, looking at the name on the top.
