Heart Unheard Page 8

  Scott regained his balance, following Brent’s gaze. “Martin and his wife, Cruella, I mean Gail. Part of the holier-than-thou clique,” Scott explained, hoping he wasn’t speaking too loudly.

  “Bastard.”

  That Scott clearly understood as it crossed Brent’s lips.

  “This is supposed to be a church.”

  Scott caught that as well.

  He rolled his eyes. “We used to be friends, the whole group of us. We were in youth group together for a little while. They were older by a few years. But as soon as I came out, they started making trouble because they think they’re better than me.”

  Brent grabbed one of the small pads he always seemed to have handy. Maybe he bought them in bulk? Did you catch what he said?

  Scott shook his head, but he could imagine.

  What a jerk. Brent put the pad back into his pocket, motioning them toward the door. Scott walked with him and led Brent into the large sanctuary to the pew where his parents usually sat. He slid in and Brent sat next to him.

  “Turn around when you get a chance. Three rows back is the rest of that group. Marshall, Spencer, and Louie.”

  Brent reached for a pad, but Scott stilled his hand. He knew what Brent was going to ask, but he wasn’t going to have this particular conversation here. There were too many busybody eyes and ears.

  Scott placed his hands on the pew ahead of them as the organ started playing. He could feel the vibrations of the sound through the building, but that was all. After the song ended and everyone stood for the start of the service, Scott stayed sitting where he was. His mother nudged him, but he was making a point. This held no meaning for him any longer, and he wasn’t some robot to go through the motions. He touched his ribs, and his mother turned away, leaving him alone.

  Never in his life had Scott been so surrounded by people and yet utterly alone. The congregation stood and sat, the organ played, processions and mysticism went on through the sanctuary, but none of it was for him. He watched the signer for a while, fascinated by her hand movements but not understanding any of them.

  Scott studied the stained glass windows. Those he had always loved. They were part of the older church that had stood on the site years ago. When the building had been no longer viable, the early twentieth-century windows were removed and incorporated into the new building. He knew those images so very well, with their stunningly bright colors. Familiar stories came to mind, and he let them play through his head, paying little attention to anything else around him other than when Brent gently touched his shoulder every now and then. There was one person here who had come especially for him.

  At one point everyone filed out of the pews for communion. He and Brent stayed behind, waiting for his parents to return. At least that signaled the near end of the service.

  Thankfully, after a few more minutes of silence and boredom, it was over. Scott stood and carefully made his way out of the pew. His ribs ached and he wished he’d stayed at home. His seat had been at the exact wrong angle, and holding himself still caused pressure on the muscles of his chest and belly. He turned to Brent, who mouthed, “I know” and took his arm, gently guiding him toward the back, where everyone filed out. His parents greeted the priest at the door. Scott passed through without a look in his direction. All he wanted was to get to a car and then home so he could lie down.

  “Dammit,” he cursed, hoping it was under his breath.

  Brent patted his shoulder and helped him out of the church. As soon as the bright sunshine hit his skin, Scott felt Brent tense, then walk a little faster. He turned to see what was going on, and his mother and father stared back from the door, where Spencer stood, glaring at him.

  “What did he say?” Scott asked.

  His mother paled, and his dad’s face was red. He’d only seen him that way a few times in his life, and those instances were always before a giant explosion.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Scott said as levelly as he could. “I need to rest awhile.” He had hoped he’d be up to doing lunch with Brent, but that seemed like a stretch now.

  The drive home was quiet. Scott went inside and sat on the sofa, not even bothering to take off his shoes. As soon as he lay down, the muscles relaxed and the soreness dissipated. He figured it was mostly fatigue and closed his eyes, letting that morning slip away as best he could.

  He cracked his eyes as weight settled on the sofa next to him. From the rich scent that surrounded him, he knew it was Brent. “You want to know what all that was about?”

  Brent nodded and waited. Thankfully, he didn’t reach for one of those damned pads.

  “I told you we were in youth group together. Spencer is the leader of that little group, and at one of the sleepovers—lock-ins we called them—he and I were up later than the others and, well…. He gave every indication that he wanted to… you know.” God, he hoped he was being quiet enough that his mom and dad didn’t hear. “I went to the bathroom, and he followed me in. Then he kissed me. One of the other boys was in the stall, but we didn’t know because we were too stupid to look. Anyway, we’d been caught, and Spencer told everyone that I came on to him and forced him. It was ugly. The big closet case.”

  Out came one of those pads. The others believed him?

  Scott nodded, wishing he could disappear. “They all guessed I was gay, I guess, so that went along with their views, and Spencer got to keep his reputation. Ever since, I’ve been this dirty guy and they act like they’re perfect. Three of the four are married, and Spencer is supposedly dating one of the girls at church, but who knows if that’s for real or not. They volunteer and participate in committees and boards—all things to make themselves look productive and useful.” He sighed. “I don’t want to dismiss what they do, because they do things other people don’t want to do and they give of their time and shit. But it’s the attitude like they’re better than me.”

  Your mom and dad heard it. Have they done that before? Brent asked.

  Scott nodded. “Yeah. That was how I came out. It was a shock to them, I think.” His parents understood and had been supportive, believing him when he told them what happened. But him being gay and their beliefs tended to have a weekly clash that revolved around church. “This is one area that causes conflict between us.”

  I can see that. Brent patted his hand after showing him his message. I should head home and let you rest.

  “You don’t want to go to lunch?” Scott asked. The last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of the day at home doing nothing. It would make his mother happy, but he was dying of boredom. “If I rest a few minutes, I’ll be all right.” He carefully stretched, blaming those awful church seats for his soreness.

  If you’re sure. Brent moved to a nearby chair.

  Scott’s mother bustled in nervously. She brought them both something to drink, her face redder than usual.

  “It’s okay, Mom. They’re jerks.” This wasn’t her fault, but that whole going to church thing was off the table. He was done, and now he had plenty of ammunition. His mom and dad could continue to go if they wanted; that was their choice, but he wasn’t. Scott slowly sat up to drink the juice she’d brought him, then rested a few minutes. “Brent and I are going to go to lunch.”

  She gave him that “is that a good idea?” look most mothers have.

  “I’m going to be fine. The pew bothered me. That’s all.”

  His father joined them. Scott got the idea that they wanted to talk and that twenty questions was about to begin. The only thing was, Scott wasn’t interested, and shut them out simply by closing his eyes. Yeah, it was a little childish, but stuff like this had been going on for a while now and they’d seemed to ignore it before. But now they were all up in arms, and he wanted it to go away.

  He knew Brent was speaking with his mom, and he tried to think of how he felt about that. His mom and dad spoke about him all the time now. They thought he didn’t notice the way they talked even when he was in the room. One thing he’d learned was what
his name looked like when it was being said, and he saw it quite a bit. Maybe it was natural for people to talk when deaf people were present, but it sometimes made him feel like he wasn’t there. What surprised him was how he didn’t feel that way with Brent. Sure, they were probably talking about him, but Brent had his back. At least Scott thought he did.

  When Scott opened his eyes again, Brent was still sitting in the chair across from him, but his mother had left the room. I reassured your mother that I would make sure you took it easy this afternoon and didn’t do anything strenuous. The wicked smile on his lips promised just the opposite.

  Scott wanted to close his eyes again just to block out the crush of ravenous thoughts that raced through his head. But, damn, he wasn’t able to. Brent leaned forward just a little, and Scott’s breath left his chest. He didn’t need words to read the heat in Brent’s eyes. He could see the way he licked his lips, slowly, purposefully, letting him see just the hint of pink tongue.

  He’d been with a few guys. Heck, Scott wasn’t exactly a virgin, but he wasn’t the most experienced guy either. A few dates, some fumbling, but mostly things hadn’t worked out, and sometimes things… well, they’d blown up in his face. Brent made him want to push that aside.

  Scott sat up slowly, testing his chest and back muscles. He felt better. He took Brent’s hand, and they walked through to the kitchen. “Mom, Brent and I are going to go. I won’t be out late, and I’ll text if anything happens. I promise.” He let go and hugged his mom goodbye, taking a deep breath. Being angry and upset with her wasn’t going to solve anything.

  Brent and his mom talked briefly, and then they left the house. Instantly Scott could breathe again as some of the tension drained away. “Mom and Dad watch me all the time like I’m going to break.”

  Brent nodded.

  “I know they mean well, but I’m not a baby.”

  Brent tossed the pad at him. You’re their baby, and nothing is ever going to change that.

  Scott carefully climbed into the car, made sure his seat belt was fastened, and as Brent pulled away, continually scanned the area for other cars. He’d been doing that a lot since the accident and hoped the need would die away soon. He wanted to be comfortable in his own life, but that was probably quite a ways off.

  The drive to Brent’s apartment didn’t take long, and once there, Brent unlocked the door to let him in. It was plain, but the furniture looked comfortable, lived in. This was Brent’s home and it felt like it. Everything was for use, not just for show, just like Mom and Dad’s. “This is nice.”

  “It’s home.”

  Scott liked how Brent always made a point of looking at him when he spoke and did it slower so he’d have a chance to understand. “I like it.”

  Brent motioned to the sofa and went into the kitchen. He began pulling things out, and Scott realized Brent intended to cook for him. He wasn’t sure, but judging by the fact that Brent usually ordered a sandwich each day at work from the local Cousins Subs, he figured cooking wasn’t something Brent did a lot of. He held up a bag of pasta, and Scott nodded. Brent got things going and then dug up the remote control.

  “Shit,” Brent said, turning on the television and reprogramming it so the closed captioning came up. Then he handed the remote to Scott with a smile. Tell me more about these jerks in church, Brent wrote, then went back to his cooking. The rooms were open, so it didn’t seem as though Brent was very far away.

  “I told you most of it. We used to be friends.”

  But who cares what happened, then? Brent wrote quickly.

  “I wish I knew. Spencer is obviously so deep in the closet, he can barely think for all the clothes between him and the door. I think his family would freak out from one end of the county to the other if they thought he was gay, so he hides it and then makes my life, and anyone else who’s out, miserable so no one would suspect him.” Scott snickered. “He was also a lousy kisser, and from what I heard from one of the girls in church, that particular trait hasn’t changed. Linda used the term ‘kissing a dead fish’ to describe him. And she probably has it about right.”

  Brent made a face, and Scott laughed again. Just leave and don’t go back.

  “That’s what I intend to do. I have to tell Mom and Dad that I’m not going back. They won’t be happy. The church is such a huge portion of their social life, and it used to be mine. But not anymore. It doesn’t feel safe any longer, and now that I can’t hear, it’s like sitting in a room full of people who have shut you out and won’t let you in on the secret. There’s nothing I want there, so I’m going to say goodbye to them. I need to find my own path, and they aren’t on it with me.” Scott sighed in relief. He felt so much better just saying what he intended to do to someone.

  Brent continued working and let Scott ramble on. He talked about all kinds of stuff, most of it unimportant, but Brent seemed to pay attention, asking some questions occasionally.

  Have the police found out anything else?

  “No. I think they’re giving up and moving on to other things. They haven’t said so, but I know they’re busy.”

  Brent frowned and picked up the notepad. Text me the kind of car involved. I can ask Trevor to check with his shops and some others to see if anyone has brought in that kind of car for front-end repair. He set down the notepad and picked up a knife.

  “Do you really think that will help?” Scott asked. That sounded like grasping at straws to him.

  Brent shrugged and set down his knife to walk through the apartment to the door. He opened it, and a guy about Brent’s age swaggered in but stopped on a dime as soon as he saw Scott. The guy was as tall as Brent, thin, and poured into a pair of jeans that were a decade too young for him. He set down the six-pack he was carrying, and he and Brent talked briefly. Then Brent went back to the pad.

  This is Dean, a friend of mine and Trevor’s, Brent wrote, and Scott shook his hand.

  Dean started talking what looked like a mile a minute, gesturing with his hands and smiling. He seemed excited to meet Scott, which was good, but of course Scott had no idea what he was saying. Brent tossed Dean the pad, and he wrote frantically.

  When he turned the note around, a couple of things struck Scott. First, that Dean had the handwriting of a doctor, and second, that he was truly as excited as he looked. Brent has been talking about you for months and months. It’s great to finally meet you. He took the pad back, scribbled, and gave it to Scott again. I’m sorry about your accident and all. I hope things get better soon. He tugged back the pad and flipped the page. Brent says he’s going to take sign language classes. I think that’s cool.

  “So do I.” Scott turned to Brent, who seemed to find all this as fascinating as he did. “Brent has been great since the accident, and we’re starting to figure some things out.”

  I hope so. He’s been pining for you forever. He and I used to go out to the clubs and things, but we haven’t done that a lot lately. Mainly because of you.

  “Is that bad?” Scott asked, and Brent grinned and shook his head. Brent pulled out a bottle of wine, motioning to him. Scott shook his head. “I’m still on pain medication, so I can’t drink.”

  Brent poured himself a glass and brought Scott a Coke. Then he sat down next to him, and he and Dean had a talk. Once again, Scott knew people were talking about him, but he sat back, close to Brent, feeling at ease.

  Dean grabbed the pad from the table. I think Brent is falling for you. Dean got this shit-eating grin on his face, and Brent reached across and smacked Dean hard, clearly yelling at him. Apparently I’m an ass.

  “You might be if you think something like that is a joking matter. Whatever Brent feels for me, it’s up to him to tell me, not you.” Scott understood Brent’s frustration, feeling it rolling off him.

  Brent whacked Dean with the notepad, but that seemed good-natured, and wrote. Dean has complete diarrhea of the mouth. He tends to run on without a damned off switch. One day his big mouth is going to get him into trouble. He put his arm aro
und Scott, tugging him a little closer. I need to finish making lunch. Brent took the pad with him as he went back to the kitchen.

  “Do you have any stories you can tell me about Brent?” Scott asked.

  Dean nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Scott suspected Brent was protesting from where he was working, but judging by his expression, he seemed okay. Dean grabbed a notebook that Brent must have put on the table in anticipation of him coming over and began to write.

  I could tell you something stupid, like the time we went camping and he left the cooler of food sitting back home near the door of his place. It was his idea to spend some time in nature, but instead we stayed at a Best Western before coming back home to civilization. Scott laughed as he read that. But I want to say that Brent is one of the best guys I have ever met and I hope you treat him well. He deserves to be happy, and he has been lately. You seem to make him happy. So don’t hurt him! The last sentence was underlined three times.

  “I’ll do my best not to.” Scott couldn’t see into the future, but he didn’t set out to hurt anyone.

  He sat back, getting comfortable, watching Brent work in the kitchen. He obviously wasn’t a practiced cook. His motions were careful rather than fluid and familiar. Still, the scent of tomatoes and garlic filled the room, making Scott’s mouth water.

  Dean wrote and then turned to the television.

  Brent said to tell you that he has a pecan pie from his mother for dessert.

  Scott alternated between watching them, wondering if Dean was planning to stay for the duration. Scott thought this was supposed to have been some time for them together, but Dean seemed settled in, and Brent wasn’t telling him to leave. Maybe this was just some time away from his family and not the date that Scott had thought it was.