Cruel Summer: Part 1: Chapter 5 "Thinking 'Bout Love"

“That could have gone worse,” Tommy says. Ever the optimist, he was the first to recover at the sight of the deadened Jer.

“Yeah,” Drew says. He’s watching Jer through the glass as he lights up and takes a deep pull on the cigarette.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah.” He continues watching for about ten seconds, and then says, “I should go to go talk to him. Take care of Jake, okay?” Tommy agrees, and Drew heads out on the balcony, also making sure the door is shut behind him.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Jake.”

“What’s with them?” Jake asks. “You said they couldn’t stand each other. What gives?”

“That? They were actually being pretty polite tonight, as they go,” Tommy says. “No one’s bleeding, and nothing got thrown into a wall. Two years ago, when they first met, they were fighting nearly every time they came into contact. They calmed down after a couple of months, but the tension is still there.”

“Then why’s Drew outside?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. They tell us that they only live with each other to indulge us two, because we’ve all been roommates since freshman year, and so why rock the boat? But I’ve come to believe that they think of each other as family.” Jake give Tommy a questioning look, so he continues, “Not in the literal sense of course. Well, that too, sort of. Family is a euphemism for being a member of the queer community, but they’ve taken it a step further. They might not like each other, but they do trust one another, and can often relate to each other in ways that Will and I just can’t understand.” Tommy sounds an uncharacteristically annoyed by this. Jake doesn’t feel comfortable enough to ask why.

“Well, anyways, it’s pretty late, and you’ve had a long day,” Tommy says, changing the subject. “Tell you what, you take a shower, and I put some sheets on Will’s bed and grab some of Drew clothes for you to sleep in. The shirts might be a little tight, but I doubt anyone will complain.”

“What?” Jake asks, clueless.

It takes a moment before Tommy realizes Jake genuinely has no clue. “You are far too innocent for your own good. This is going to be an interesting summer,” he says, pushing Jake towards the bathroom.


Outside, Drew and Jer have not been talking. Drew couldn’t bring himself to further interrupt Jer’s commune with the night air, so he waited in silence for acknowledgement. Despite the fact that Jer is hardly ever at the apartment, all the roommates treat the balcony as if it were Jer’s personal space. It is barely big enough for both of them to stand on, and not much to look at, but Jer spends a lot of what free moments he manages on it. It’s probably the smoking section sign, which had was by Tommy at Drew’s suggestion. Whatever the reason, Drew knows he’s the intruder, so he can afford to be patient.

As they stand, bells begin to toll the hour in the distance. It’s a low sound, but still audible, even over the surf a hundred feet below them. “Midnight.” Jer says, counting the bells. His cigarette is down to the filter, so he stubs it out, and reaches for another one.

“Sounds like it.”

“What are you doing with him Drew? This isn’t something I’d expect out of you.”

“Me either,” Drew admits. “I blame your influence actually. Once he told me what his mother did to him, the first thought I had was that you’d want us to take him in.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault then?” Jer asks, slightly amused.

“I like to think so.” They both chuckle.

“Tell me about his mother,” Jer says.

“She’s crazy.” Jer cocks an eyebrow at Drew’s tone. There isn’t any exaggeration in it. “She has to be; that’s the only explanation I’ll take for what she’s done. Her own brother is gay. I’d have expected my mom to wig out before Mrs. Dire.”

“You’d be amazed at how people react to stress. It can bring out the worst in anyone.” Through several years of Tommy’s coaching (because such reasonably phrased corrections couldn‘t be called nagging), Drew has an idea of what he should say now, but he’s never felt comfortable in situations like this. It’s a family trait; once, when he was fifteen and had just broken up with his first lover in the worst way, his mom was at such a loss as to how to deal with his depression that she bought him a cat and hoped for the best. Due to this legacy, Drew knows the right words, but they come out awkward and slow. “So have you heard from your family lately?” he asks.

“Emily called yesterday actually. She demanded to know why I couldn’t go see the sheep she’s showing at the 4-H faire next week. She also said Miguelito is starting to talk now. Last week, he apparently asked for cookies for breakfast.” Jer is puffing that cigarette pretty fast now, and is already almost done with it. To Drew’s eyes, Jer is smoking that cigarette like he wanted to have sex with it, which he finds inappropriately distracting. “I wish I could see him.”

“I’m sure they’ll let up on you eventually. You’re their only son; they can’t hate you forever.”

“Pretty to think so. Actually, my parents don’t even hate me. They just want to believe that their ‘accident’ never happened.” He stabs the butt out against the railing with considerable violence, his knuckles making a small “ping” noise. “I don’t even know why it bothers me anymore. I should be used to it by now.”

About tapped out of kindness for the day, Drew chooses to let the silence fall rather than saying anything. Eventually, Jer says, “He can’t stay here forever.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do in two months when Will comes back?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Despite his heavy mood, Jer has to fight back an inappropriate urge to snicker. Drew almost never admits to not knowing something. He’d rather be proven wrong later than say be caught ignorant in the moment. “I think I’m going to call my mom, ask her for some advice.” Jer quickly turns from amused to flat out shocked. Drew rarely says “I don’t know,” but he never asks for help. As if reading Jer’s surprise, Drew says “I know; they’re serving ice cream in hell tonight.”

“Are you sure she’ll help, and not just immediately drag Jake back to Stent’s?”

“She’ll help. She can’t stand Mrs. Dire,” Drew says with pride. Drew’s mother is a lot like Drew himself, only female, and with twenty-five extra years of practice to her credit. “And once she knows what happened, she’ll want to help Jake too. She’s fond of him.”

“He seems to have that effect on people,” Jer mutters. “That sounds like a good idea then.” He puts his lighter and pack back into his jeans pocket and says, “Well, this is has been a really trying day. I’m going to bed.” He starts to the door, but stops after a step and turns back to Drew. “Hey, maybe when we wake up tomorrow, this will all have turned out to be a long and tedious dream.”

“As you said, pretty to think so.”

“Yeah, I know. Good night Drew,” Jer says, entering the apartment.


After he’s showered and changed into the clothes Tommy left for him, Jake crosses the hallway and opens the door to Jer’s room. Despite his words earlier, Jer isn’t in bed yet. He’s up, finally changed out of his uniform, and typing on his computer at a furious pace. He is focused on a standard sized yellow pad to the side of the computer, and so does not acknowledge Jake’s entrance to the room. Which works, because Jake takes his first look at what will be his home for the conceivable future. It’s a pretty small room, but with two windows, one looking out to a park, the other the ocean. The room is split neatly in half, one side looks wallpapered with what looks like poetry and a couple of posters; the other is almost bare except for a couple covers off Surfing magazine. At the heads of both beds are watercolor drawings, twice the size of a sheet of notebook paper. Over the bare-half-bed, it’s a miniature underwater castle, with seashells forming towers and seahorses charging in a small cavalry formation. The poem-be-decked side features a deeply inked sketch of a mansion, with columns flying and a lush garden in the front, dominated by a large tree taller than the building. The whole thing is washed in pink, with an orange light coming form a window in the attic. Jake idly wonders who made these pieces.

It’s at this point that Jer finally snaps out, “You coming in or what?” Startled, Jake walks in and closes the door behind him. Jer turns around. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. That’s your bed there,” he says, pointing to the bare half.

“Okay.” Jake says. He walks over, and lets himself fall heavily onto the mattress. As promised, Tommy put some sheets on it.

“Hey,” Jer says. Jake raises his head to look at him. “If you, uh, need to talk to someone,” he stammers. Instead of heading for his pocket, Jer’s fingers seek out the scar on his jaw. “I’ve been there too,” finally finishes.

Jake sits up completely, taking a good look at Jer. “How long have you had that scar?” he asks, realization dawning.

“Since I came out at 18. It wasn’t intentional, but it was still pretty bad. A glass bottle. I bled like crazy, all over the place. My parent’s took me to the hospital, and that’s was pretty much the last thing they ever paid for me.” Jake’s mind reels. “So yeah, I just wanted to tell you, that I’m here. Drew, Tommy and I, we are all here for you. You can count on us.” Jake doesn’t know what to say, but Jer understands. He turns back around.

“What are you typing?” Jake asks.

“Just a poem I wrote this morning. I never made time to type it out, and now’s good enough.”

“Can I read it?”

Jer smiles, pleased at the interest. “Sure. But tomorrow. You need to sleep.”

“Okay,” Jake says. But he finds he can’t settle down. So he watches Jer as he finishes typing. After another minute, he does stop, and he prints out a copy of his work. Jer then goes to bed, stripping first, down to his boxers, and then stretching out his long lean body across the mattress over the mound of blankets and pillows. Its then he notices that Jake is watching. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Jake replies, embarrassed for staring.

“It’s alright Jake,” Jer says. “I don’t mind.”

“I mind. It’s staring like an idiot at a boy that started this whole mess in the first place.”

“Be that as it may,” Jer says, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable doing anything here. This is your home right now, you should start acting like it.”

“Including watching you in motion?”

“You can if you want,” Jer says, laughing to dispel the awkwardness. “But seriously, I know you’ve been through a lot today. But like I said, I’ve been there, and it is important for you to have somewhere to call home. It was for me anyways. So I just want to tell you, welcome home Jake. You’re one of us now.”

Jake smiles, fighting the urge to go over and hug Jer. “Thanks,” he says meekly.

“Your welcome. Now good night.”

This time, Jake takes the hint. Within minutes, he’s asleep.