Heart Unheard Page 11

  Brent watched him go and then went back to his office, messaging Scott that he’d be there to pick him up in an hour. Then he made sure everything was buttoned down for the night and began the process of locking up. He was done and ready to go on schedule, then made a quick stop at home to shower and change before heading to Scott’s to pick him up.

  Brent pulled in right on time, and Scott came out to meet him. He opened the door and climbed in. “My mother asked me if I was planning to stay out all night again. She had that pissed-off, disappointed look.” He pulled the door closed and sank in his seat. “It’s like it’s okay for me to be gay, they can handle that, but if I’m actually seeing someone, that’s too much for them.”

  Brent grabbed the pad as a thought hit him. Or maybe they expect us to behave the way we would if you were straight.

  “Huh?” Scott asked.

  If you were their son, going out with girls, they would expect you to behave a certain way and wait for marriage… right? He couldn’t believe he was writing this to Scott, but for some weird reason, it made sense to him, given what he knew about Scott’s parents. They want you to be happy, and they want to make sure I’ll make you happy. So maybe we invite them over to my house and cook them dinner together? Let them see us working together and that we get along. He thought that was a pretty good idea, and it would likely help Scott at the same time.

  “Okay. As long as you invite your mother too.” Scott had an amazing grin, and Brent nodded. His mother would love to meet Scott and his parents. In fact, she’d been asking when that was going to happen. Maybe Scott’s folks meeting his mom would let them all see that this was a normal relationship rather than something foreign to what they knew.

  Brent pulled away. He hadn’t told Scott where they were going. Brent drove toward downtown and got off the freeway heading east. There were a number of restaurants down this way, and Scott seemed a little worried about what Brent had in mind until he pulled up in front of Oakland Gyros, an institution in Milwaukee. Brent’s stomach rumbled at the thought of a gyro, fries, and all the sauce he could stand. Dang, this was a home run. And to top it off, he got a parking spot right out front, which had to be some sort of miracle.

  Brent got out and waited for Scott before heading inside to wait in line. The place was always busy, even after midnight. He inhaled the heavenly scent of herbs and roasting meat.

  “I used to love this place. Mom and Dad used to bring me here. Just get me a gyro platter with fries and a diet soda,” Scott said.

  Brent nodded and smiled. He placed the order while Scott got a table, then brought the tray over, sat down, and passed out the food and the squeeze bottle of tzatziki. That was the best part. By the end of the meal, he’d have eaten so much garlic that his throat would feel funny, but he didn’t care, because every bite was an exercise in Greek-food nirvana.

  Scott dug right in, eating like he was starved. “The doctor says I can come back to work next week as long as I promise to take it easy and no heavy lifting.”

  Brent pulled out his notepad. That’s no problem. All the guys will be so happy to have you back. Lee asks me every day when you’re going to come back, and he says he’ll bring his computer to make things easier. They all miss you. That would be another part of Scott’s life that could return to normal. Sure, they would need to make accommodations, but that was easy enough to do.

  “I miss them too. Even Darryl.” Scott smiled. “He’s such a fussbudget sometimes, but he’s taught me a lot.”

  Brent laughed. That’s Darryl, he wrote, then set the pad on the table between them before starting to eat. He squeezed sauce on his gyro meat, grabbed a fork, and took the first amazing bite. There were gyro stands all over town, but this was the best as far as he was concerned, and judging by how quickly Scott tucked in, he thought the same.

  After a few minutes, Scott tapped his shoulder and pointed discreetly toward the line at the counter. Marshall, Spencer, and Louie from church were standing there, talking and laughing among themselves. Brent watched closely and saw the moment they noticed Scott, who had paled.

  The restaurant was noisy with overlapping conversations, so it was impossible for Brent to hear what they were talking about until they got toward the end of the line. “It’s what happens when you ignore God’s commandments. He has ways of making sinners pay.” Marshall looked toward Scott, and Brent’s blood began to boil. He knew he needed to let that shit pass. It was their opinion and they were entitled to it, no matter how ridiculous and small-minded it was.

  “Too bad he didn’t die,” Spencer commented, and Brent had to keep himself from standing and putting these assholes in their place. “Hey, Scotty,” Spencer said without turning toward them, “too bad you weren’t put out of our misery.”

  Brent’s anger rose further, but there were three of them. He wanted to stand and take them on but did his best to try to ignore them.

  Scott took his hand and held it, shaking his head. “Please don’t let them bother you. They’re assholes, and they can say what they want. At least I don’t have to hear it.”

  Brent turned away to ignore them. Scott was right, and he wasn’t up to fighting all of them. Besides, it was a public restaurant.

  Do you want to take our food and go? Maybe getting out of there was best.

  “Why don’t we eat and then we can just leave?” Scott looked around, and Brent did the same, grateful there were no tables open near them. The guys got their food and passed by the table, looking at the two of them before continuing on to a spot near the front windows.

  What a great way to ruin the evening. Brent had hoped they could go out and have some fun, maybe have a nice dinner. He so wanted to give Scott a fun evening out. When he turned back to the table, Scott was eating as though nothing had happened. Hell, maybe he was right. Scott couldn’t hear it, and maybe he was so immune to their bullshit that he really didn’t care. Brent was angry on Scott’s behalf, but maybe he was the one ruining the evening.

  Brent’s phone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a message from Darryl.

  I got the parts, and I have something to ask you about in the morning.

  Thanks, Brent sent, then put the phone back in his pocket without another thought and returned his attention to where it belonged: on Scott.

  “I never liked the phone and now I hate it,” Scott said. “People talk on them all the time, and I’m completely cut out.”

  Brent took his phone back out, opened it, and pressed the Power button, then put it in his pocket with what he hoped was a sexy grin. Scott laughed, a beautiful sound that Brent would never, ever get tired of. Brent glanced over at the holier-than-thous as they glared across the restaurant at Scott, but then he turned away. They weren’t important. Their small thoughts and petty actions didn’t compare to Scott and his gentleness. Scott was the only person who mattered—not those idiots—and their words couldn’t touch him.

  Scott finished his dinner and sat back, seemingly happy and contented, and almost instantly the earlier assholeness was forgotten. Brent finished as well, sopping up the last of his sauce with a fry and then standing. He waited for Scott, then protectively placed his hand lightly at the small of his back as they walked toward the exit.

  Brent felt three sets of eyes on them as they made their way through the restaurant. Scott had to have felt it too. He stiffened as they reached the door and paused a second before continuing out.

  “They’re such jerks.”

  Brent nodded but didn’t reach for the pad in his pocket. Instead he curled his fingers into a fist. By the time they were in the car, his anger had dissipated, replaced with shame. God, those guys had been making fun of and picking on Scott, and he’d done nothing. He’d sat at the table and wished they’d go away. He hadn’t stood up for him or anything. Rather, that damn coward gene had taken over again. Heat rose in his cheeks, and Brent gripped the wheel so tightly, his knuckles hurt. He let go, fumbled with the keys to get them in the ignition,
and then started the car and cranked the air-conditioning to quickly cool the interior.

  “I really hate those guys. They completely miss the point,” Scott said.

  Brent turned and shrugged, then drove out of the lot. He wasn’t sure what Scott was getting at, but he didn’t want to grab a pad and ask. More than anything Brent wanted to get out of here.

  “The whole thing with religion is to be good to your neighbor. Treat your brother as yourself. They all think if they do the right things, feel the right way, say the right stuff, then they’re doing what the church wants. But that isn’t right. Their actions don’t match how they feel. They’re small, petty guys. Especially Spencer, who is living a lie and willing to make himself and the people around him miserable to defend it.” Scott sighed as Brent made the turn to take them back toward home.

  He couldn’t argue with Scott right now, and wished he didn’t feel the way he did. But, damn it all, he hated feeling like a coward all the fucking time. He was strong enough. Hell, he wasn’t a skinny kid any longer. Brent had gone to the gym for years, lifting weights to get bigger. But that didn’t seem to matter. He was still that scared little boy hiding and running away when danger or a threat made an appearance.

  “Stop it,” Scott snapped, and Brent pulled to a halt at the light. “I can see those thoughts churning in your head. Making a scene in the restaurant wouldn’t have helped anyone, and it only would have gotten us kicked out. They would have looked high and mighty, and you would have looked bad.”

  In his heart Brent knew Scott was right, but it didn’t counter the sinking, wormy feeling in his belly. He hadn’t stood up for Scott with those bullies, and he damn well should have. The voice in his head berated him the entire way home. Once he parked, they went up to his apartment and Brent turned on the television, making sure the closed captioning showed. He just wanted to sit, watch something stupid, and try to forget all about those assholes.

  Brent pulled out his phone and turned it back on to check for any messages. There was a text from Darryl asking what kind of car had hit Scott’s. Brent sent the information, put the phone on silent, and tossed it onto the coffee table.

  “You need to stop letting them bother you.”

  Brent snatched a pad off the table. But they were being cruel to you, and I didn’t do anything about it.

  Scott sat back, laughing. “I know what they were saying, and I don’t really care anymore. They’re jerks, and I don’t need to listen to them. Besides, I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. If I need to take them on, I can do that. They’re a bunch of blowhard asses who are all talk. Yeah, I don’t want to be around them, and the way I figure it, a church they belong to is a place I don’t want to be.” Scott took his hand. “I’m happy to have you as my boyfriend. You don’t need to take on the role of knight in shining armor as well.”

  But dammit, Brent wanted to be his knight—he wanted to fight for Scott. Hell, he kept thinking he’d go to battle for him and do whatever was necessary to support and help him, yet when the time came, he folded like a house of cards. Brent sighed and sat back, closing his eyes and wishing he could disappear.

  Scott took his hand, threading his fingers through them. “Just let it go.”

  Brent wished he could. But the underlying shame he’d carried for a long time wasn’t just going to go away, no matter how much he wanted it to. Brent nodded because it was easier than trying to explain everything to Scott. He wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone. Brent had shared some things with Scott about his dad, and that was more than he’d done with anyone other than his mother. Trevor and Dean didn’t even know about that part of his life, which indicated how deeply he’d kept it buried all these years.

  “You can’t, can you?” Scott said, turning toward him. “You may nod and tell me you will, but you won’t… you can’t.” His gaze pierced deeply, and Brent wanted to squirm, anything to make it stop. “I can see you, who you really are… sometimes.” Scott handed him a pad, pressing it into his hand. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, gaze hard, waiting.

  I wish I could, Brent wrote. I’ll be okay. He breathed deeply to try to clear his head. He had more important things in mind than letting a group of assholes ruin their evening together. Were those guys always like that?

  Scott shook his head. “They used to be pretty fun. When we were young kids, we were in the same Sunday school classes, and the five of us were holy terrors. Get us in the same room and trouble was going to erupt. At one point they figured I was smarter, so they moved me up to a higher class to separate some of us. It didn’t really work too well.” Scott sighed. He was speaking a little loudly, but Brent said nothing about it. Volume was going to be an issue for Scott unless he decided to speak really softly all the time, and there was no use in that. Scott needed to be heard the same as everyone else. He deserved that.

  “I guess we grew older. Spencer’s dad is a deacon, and Marshall’s father is on a number of committees and his mother was the music director. So they were involved and weren’t going to be embarrassed by their sons. They closed ranks when things got bad in youth group, and I was labeled a troublemaker. My parents stuck up for me, but even so, I had to meet with the priest on a weekly basis.” Scott rolled his eyes. “That was really helpful. Father Closet Case trying to council me on what it meant to be a good Christian man. He actually tried to push me toward the priesthood. Can you imagine?”

  Brent stared at him for a moment, then wrote and handed Scott the note. That must have been terrible. With everyone pushing you in one direction or another.

  “It was. But I was strong and told them all to go to hell. I remember telling the priest that I knew my own mind and I certainly didn’t need him to tell me what was right and wrong.” Scott snickered. “It was on the edge of my tongue to call him out, but I didn’t. I also never went back to youth group and only attended mass with my parents after that. Just like last Sunday… and only when they made me.” Scott wiped his eyes. “I was set to move out in a couple of months. But with the accident and then being deaf, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do that.”

  You can live on your own.

  Scott shook his head. “I may be able to eventually, but right now I need too much support. I don’t know what others are saying. What they want. Most people are blank to me. Once I learn to read lips and understand the other tools that I need to get along, I think I can.” He leaned closer, and Brent held him as he cried softly.

  Brent had known this was coming. Scott had to work through what he’d lost, the same way that Brent had grieved for his dad. A part of himself was gone—that was how Brent understood it—and Scott had to accept it and let go so he could move forward and develop the skills he needed to function as a deaf man. Brent wanted to help, but there was only so much he could do. Mostly it was up to Scott, with the rest of the people in his life there to try to support him. That was a heavy weight to bear for anyone.

  “Do you know what I thought?” Scott whispered, his voice rough. “I realized I couldn’t hear, and then I wondered how anyone was going to love me.”

  Brent caressed his arm gently, letting Scott know he was there. This wasn’t the time for notes and things like that.

  “Then I saw you. Right there, and you looked at me like I was precious and special.” Scott held him tight, resting his head on Brent’s shoulder. “I keep wondering when that look is going to fade, but I see it all the time. You do a lot for me, but I keep wondering what I can do for you. I keep coming up empty. There isn’t anything that you need from me.” Scott backed away, his eyes filled with moisture. “I worry it’s always going to be that way. I’m going to be a burden to everyone in my life, and I don’t want that.” He gulped and then coughed hard.

  Brent had to get a pad. You do realize that you’ll never be a burden because you don’t want to be. Brent gently cupped the back of Scott’s head as he read.

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  Brent chuckled an
d reluctantly pulled his hands away to write as quickly as he could to get his thoughts out. I was unemployed for three months, and I ended up watching a lot of awful daytime television, and that was one of the things I picked up, I guess. I believe we have a lot to do with how well our lives go.

  “That’s bullshit!” Scott spat.

  Is it? Brent wrote.

  “I didn’t ask to be deaf, and I certainly didn’t hit the back of my own car.” Scott was angry, voice raised.

  Brent waved a hand and wrote again, then turned the page so Scott could see it. No, you didn’t. But life throws shit at us, and how we handle it says a lot about who we are and the kind of life we’re going to lead. He wanted to crawl under the sofa. He was such a hypocrite sometimes. How could he possibly say stuff like this to Scott when he didn’t take that same advice?

  “Then why is life throwing everything it has at me? Maybe it could pay attention to someone else for a while.” Scott forced a smile, but it faded quickly. “I know what I’m going to do, and I’m not going to let the deafness or anything else win. But it sure would be nice if something good happened. I could certainly use it.”

  Brent stared at him. He liked to think that maybe he was that something good.

  “You know what I mean.” Scott hugged him again, and Brent felt better. “You have been the bright spot in all of this.”

  Brent settled back against the cushions, tossing the pad on the coffee table. He figured he’d given out enough clichéd advice for one night. He really hadn’t expected to be having this kind of conversation tonight. But if it was what Scott needed, that was fine.

  “Can we talk about something fun?”

  Brent nodded vigorously.

  “Do you like to do things in winter?” Scott asked. “I love to go skiing. My dad and I used to go a few times each winter. Dad and Mom would rent a cabin at one of the resorts up north. Mom would sit in the lodge near the fire and talk to people while Dad and I hit the slopes.” He made schussing motions with his hands. “I’m pretty good too—at least I was.”