Fake Out: Chapter 13

Philadelphia is out of my way, but I figure I’m already making the long-ass trip to see my parents, and a small detour won’t hurt.

I catch the train, but when I arrive in Philly, I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. Against my better judgment, I messaged Matt the night his news leaked. The way he was outed was harsh, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. Or something. I don’t know. My gut told me to message him. Now I’m wondering if this is a dumb idea. He gave me his address when I told him I’m coming home this weekend and said we should catch up.

My GPS app on my phone says Matt’s place is around this corner, and for some reason, I feel sick. And when I see the media circus outside his building, my gut churns more.

The news broke six days ago, and they’re still camped outside. I’d hate to be Matt right now.

Matt’s doorman stops me and asks my name and who I’m there to see. When I mumble it so the vultures behind me can’t hear, he repeats it into a two-way loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Thanks, dude.

That’s when I realize he’s not a doorman but hired security. For Matt.

The back of my neck burns as cameras go off behind me. My ass might be in some tabloids tomorrow, but I refuse to turn around and give them a money shot of my face. I’m not ashamed to be here, or for them to speculate who I am or what I’m doing, but I don’t want to bring more shit to Matt’s life. And considering I’m holding my duffel bag for the weekend, they might print Matt and I are getting married. Because duffel bag equals serious relationship in the tabloid world.

The security guy waves me through, and I head up to Matt’s apartment on the top floor. When he opens the door, the late afternoon sun pours into his huge-ass loft. His brown hair sticks up at all angles as if he just crawled out of bed. He hasn’t shaved in God knows how long, and his tight wife-beater and sweats are dirty.

We stare each other down, and then wordlessly, he steps aside to let me in. His apartment is the size of my entire floor which has nine studio apartments on it.

“Damn. The NFL must pay the big bucks, huh?”

“Something like that. What are you doing here, Maddox? Are you here to yell at me too? I actually deserve it coming from you, so go ahead and get it out of your system and then leave.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m here to make sure you’re okay. Who yelled at you?”

“Let’s just say not all of my teammates were happy when the news broke last week.”

“Are you serious? Like … serious, serious? Who was it? That’s not okay.”

“Doesn’t matter now. It’s done. My career is done. They win.”

“Why is your career done?”

Matt stares in disbelief and he asks again, “Why are you here?”

“Because we were roommates? Because of … what happened between us? Getting outed the way you did, it’s got to suck.”

“But I—but we—and … you don’t hate me for misleading you years ago?”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“I-I … Shit, I don’t know. I think I was in denial when you and I hooked up, even though I did mess around with a high school buddy too—I didn’t lie about that. I wanted to be straight but I just … wasn’t.”

“So how was I to know if you didn’t know?”

“I’ve always felt guilty. Like I took advantage or—”

“Uh, pretty sure I never told you stop. Or returned the favor. If anyone was taking advantage, it was me. I enjoyed myself. A lot.”

Matt grins.

“And the joke’s on both of us, because even after what happened between us, I thought I was still straight. Turns out, not so much.”

“You’re—”

“Bi. Apparently. It’s a new revelation. Still seems fake when I say it aloud, but I’m slowly getting there.” It’s rolling off my tongue easier now. My head knows it to be true, but I don’t know why it’s hard to admit it aloud. There’s a small part of me that worries how people will react, but I don’t know why. When I was outed back home, I didn’t give a shit what people thought. Maybe that’s because I thought it was fake. This is real. And the threat of someone reacting violently is real, even if the world is getting better. Slowly. Really fucking slowly.

The smile on Matt’s face falls. “Wait, is that why you’re here? So we could …” He waves a finger between us. “Because I don’t think that’s a good—”

“No. I’m not here for that. It’s a long story, but my hometown thinks I’m gay, so I guess, technically, I’m already out. I haven’t had a massive struggle with this. But the thought of going through what you are right now …”

“Oh, so this visit is out of pity? Thanks, but I don’t need it. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No. It’s not pity. I’m screwing this up. I’m here as a friend, letting you know you don’t have to do this on your own if you don’t want to.”

Matt’s eyes glisten but he shakes it off to hide it. “Want coffee?”

“Sure.” I dump my bag on his couch and follow him into the kitchen.

“Plan on staying?” He tips his head toward my bag.

“Nah, heading home after here to see my parents and aunt who’s visiting.”

“And everyone at home thinks you’re gay?”

“It’s not an interesting story. Trust me. It also makes me out to be an asshole, so I’m not going to share it right now.”

“What’s the fun in being losers if we can’t make fun of ourselves while doing it?”

“Matt, you’re not a loser.”

He lets out a sad laugh. “My contract, which was in the middle of negotiations, isn’t up for renewal anymore. Funny how it disappeared when the photos were leaked. I can’t leave my apartment without being stalked by paparazzi, and my management team has told me there’s nothing they can do in terms of getting me a new contract. No one wants to invite this circus to their club. And to top it off, my endorsements are gone. If that doesn’t tell you I’m a loser, then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“You haven’t left your apartment in a week?” I realize he spat a whole lot of other important shit at me, but that’s the thing I get stuck on.

Matt shakes his head.

“Want to come home with me for the weekend? No one’s going to be looking for you in the sticks.”

“Really?”

I shrug. “Sure. Last month I brought home a baseball player. This month a football player—a famous football player. That’s one way to keep the gay rumors afloat.”

“Okay, please tell me that story.”

“I will on the long-ass drive. We can take your car, right? Otherwise, you might be spotted on the train.”

“No problem. I’ll go pack a bag.”

Getting out of Philly proves more difficult than we expect. Those fuckers with cameras follow us in their vans. Doesn’t help Matt drives a Lamborghini. Way to be inconspicuous.

We think we lose the vultures around the exit for Red Hill but can’t be sure. It takes half as long to spill my story to Matt than it does to lose the people chasing him.

“Wait, wait, wait. Your ex told your entire town you were gay, you never bothered correcting them, and it turns out you do like guys?”

“Yup.”

At least my story puts a smile on his face. I get the feeling he hasn’t smiled that wide in a long time.

When he pulls up to my parents’ driveway, he makes no move to turn the car off. “I’ll leave you to your family thing if you point me in the direction of the nearest hotel.”

“The best you’ll do in these parts is a motel, back on the main strip. You have a choice of one. Told you we’re small town.”

“Better than the four walls of my apartment.”

“I was in your apartment, and I guarantee you, there’s way more walls than four.”

He waves me off. “You know what I mean.”

“Okay, well, I’ll have dinner with the folks and message you later. Maybe we can hit a bar tonight or something.”

“Uh, dunno if that’s a good idea.”

“Right. Public. We can hang out in your room. Might be an idea to book the room under my name. We may be small town, but we are connected to the internet, and news of a celebrity will spread.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

Mom’s already waiting for me curbside when I get out of the car. “Who’s your friend?” She ducks her head to peek through the windshield.

Matt gives an awkward wave before he drives off.

“Friend from Philly. He needed to get away for a few days so he’s staying at the motel in town.”

“Where’s Damon?”

“He had to study. He’s got less than eight weeks of graduate school left, Mom. He can’t drop everything to come home with me every time I need to.”

“Your … friend …” She points toward the direction Matt went. “He’s just a friend, right? Because we love Damon.”

I roll my eyes. Hard. “Just a friend.”

“Okay, well, Aunt Cheri hasn’t arrived yet, but she should be here soon.”

“Why does she want to see me anyway?” I ask as I follow her into the house.

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

Dad hands me a beer as soon as I walk in and tells me to take a seat in the living room. Seeing as I was here a month ago, we don’t have much to talk about. We rarely have anything to talk about normally, but the silence is familiar—comforting, even.

When the telltale sound of a car idling in the driveway comes, Mom and Dad rise to meet Aunt Cheri at the door.

“Do you have any cash?” she asks. “I’ve only got my credit card and I have to pay for the cab. Sorry, I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ve got it,” Dad says and heads outside.

This whole visit is odd to me. As Jacie and I grew up, we’d see Aunt Cheri sporadically, but she never once asked to see me that I know of, so I don’t know why she wants to now. The last time I saw her, I was a teenager, and I can’t remember the exact specifics. I could’ve been fifteen or seventeen for all I know.

She’s a vision of perfect hippiness. When she takes off her coat, her long white dress flows over her thin frame, and her long blonde hair falls down her back. The only thing missing is a halo of flowers on her head.

“Maddox,” she says, her voice melodic.

I hold my arms out, because Aunt Cheri has always been a hugger like most of that side of the family. She’s nearly as tall as me and double the height of Mom.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mom says. Aunt Cheri stares at Mom in silent question. “I have a vegan option for you,” she adds.

Still a nutcase. Vegetarians, I can forgive. Vegans? Are they even real humans?

Aunt Cheri drags me over to the couch and sits next to me while Mom and Dad putter around in the kitchen. “So, tell me about your life.”

“Uh … well … I work for Parsons’ Media.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s an advertising firm.”

“Does that pay well? Living in the big city, it’s exciting but expensive, right?” And this just got weirder. She’s never been interested in my life as far back as I can remember.

Her hand lands on top of mine, and my eyes focus on the millions of silvery rings she has. She has about three on each finger.

Yup. Nutcase.

“It pays enough.”

“Your mom tells me you’re seeing a nice boy.”

Right. “Yeah. His name is Damon.” I wonder when I should tell them all we “broke up.” I would’ve done it already had I not been keeping hope. He didn’t want me to hook up with Noah last week. No matter how many times I tell myself not to read into that, I can’t help wondering. Although at the baseball game, I thought we were about to kiss, and he pulled back. Again.

Women are right; guys are so much harder to understand.

“As long as he’s taking care of you.”

“He’s great.” I’m not lying. Damon is great, but the words feel thick on my tongue.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come to see you.”

“Little bit.” Or a lot. Whatever.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mom calls out from the kitchen.

Aunt Cheri smiles. “Better get to it then.”

Mom and Dad are already sitting at the dining table when we walk in, each of them staring at Cheri with an intensity I can’t decipher.

“Okay, can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask, taking my seat.

“Maybe Cheri can explain,” Dad says.

“Well,” Aunt Cheri says. She takes a napkin and lays it on her lap. “I have some news. Some not great news. And I wanted … I mean, I think it’s time to …”

Dad’s fork clatters to his plate. “I was worried you’d try to pull something like this. Calling us out of the blue to let us know you need to speak to Maddox.”

“I’m still lost over here,” I say. Something like knowing ticks in the back of my brain, but I think—no, I hope—I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion.

“Maybe it’s time,” Mom whispers. “We always planned to tell him eventually. But then we kept putting it off and putting it off.”

“Putting what off?” I ask, more convinced I know what’s coming. I stare at my mother, her grey hair that was once dark. My dad’s dark eyes, and then Cheri’s blue eyes staring at me … Oh, fuck.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Aunt Cheri says, “but, I’m your mother.”

“Biological mother,” Mom corrects.

You’d think with that type of bombshell my mind would be racing. I wait for the irrationality to hit me, but it doesn’t come. All I can think about is all those times I felt like I didn’t belong. Or how I look nothing like my family. I thought of ridiculous theories like being switched at birth, but being adopted? Never even crossed my mind.

I begin to wonder if I’m completely oblivious or just a dumbass. Maybe both. An oblivious dumbass.

Yup, that’s me.

“Who’s my father?” my mouth asks. I didn’t realize my brain was heading in that direction.

Aunt … Mom Cheri? Nope, too weird. I don’t care if I carry her DNA, she’s not my mom. My mom’s my mom … No. My aunt’s my mom? Fuck, I need another beer. Or a drawing of my family tree, because I’m confused.

Cheri avoids eye contact as she answers, “I don’t know. It was a one-night stand at a rave.”

Classy, my birth mother.

Jesus Christ. Birth mother.

“Maddy, are you okay?” Mom asks.

I nod but stare at the plate of food in front of me. My appetite’s gone, and my throat is dry.

“Life is a bit shit right now,” Aunt Cheri says, “and I realized I don’t want to leave this Earth without knowing the boy I gave birth to. I don’t want to—”

“Leave this Earth?” I ask.

She sighs. “A few years ago, I was diagnosed with MS.”

Mom gasps. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was barely symptomatic,” Cheri says. “I thought if I ignored it I wouldn’t have to face it. But now …” She stares down at her hand which shakes with a small tremor. “It’s advanced far in a few short years—faster than average—and I don’t know how long I have before it takes away my ability to do the things I want. I want …” She breathes deep. “My highest priority is to get to know Maddox.”

“I-I … uh, umm …” I stutter.

“You don’t have to agree to anything right now,” Mom says. “You’ve been hit with some big news.”

“Is this something I could inherit?” Again, my mouth asks questions I don’t realize I’m contemplating. At least some part of my brain is functioning.

“It’s not a hereditary disease,” Cheri says. “Although, you are at a higher risk of developing it because of me.”

“Is there a test or something I could get?”

“No. They can test your probability of developing it, but it’s invasive and the results aren’t conclusive. MS isn’t caused by a single gene. It’s got a lot of factors to it.”

“Maddy,” Mom says, “You might want to look at the bigger picture. Do you have any questions for us? About why—”

I shake my head. “Crazy Aunt Cheri didn’t want to keep me, and you guys took me in. Not much to say, is there?”

Cheri frowns. “It wasn’t like that. I knew you would be better off with your mom and dad. They already had Jacie, and they’re great parents, and—”

“I know they’re great parents,” I say through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t known something was missing. I don’t belong here. I never did. Now, what, you suddenly care and have a conscience because you’re sick? I’m twenty-three years old. Where were you when I was growing up when I could’ve used the truth about who I am and where I come from?”

“Maddy,” Mom says, her voice full of sadness.

“Sorry.” Only, I’m not sorry. “This is a lot to handle right now. I need to …” I stand. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

Footsteps trail after me as I storm through the house to the front door. I expect it to be Mom or Cheri, but a firm hand lands on my shoulder.

“Let me drive you,” Dad says.

I look into his brown eyes and don’t like what I see. Fear. “I’m not going back to New York, Da. I just need some space. A friend of mine is staying at the motel. I’ll go there and cool off—come back in the morning.”

“Still let me drive you.”

All I can do is nod and pick up my bag as I follow him out to the garage.

The drive is literally ten minutes long, so Dad doesn’t waste time getting to the point. “We did plan to tell you, but we didn’t know how.”

The laugh that escapes me is almost hysterical. “I understand. More than you know. I’m … uh … I’m not gay.”

I don’t know what possesses me to come clean now. Some act of childish revenge maybe? They lied to me for twenty-three years, so they deserve the same? I probably shouldn’t have said it, but it’s out there now.

Dad slams on the brakes. “You’re not what?”

“I said it to break up with Chastity, and then suddenly the whole town knew. I didn’t mean for it to get that far, but I didn’t correct anyone. I had to decide between letting the town think I was gay or an asshole. And to be honest, I never cared people thought I was gay.”

It’s Dad’s turn to laugh manically. “Oh my God, that’s gold. You’re straight? But Damon …”

“Ah, no, not entirely straight, but I’m not gay. Definitely not gay. College was—”

“Don’t need to tell your old man the details.”

I laugh. “Well, up until I met Damon, I was ninety-nine percent sure I was straight. He came home with me as a favor, because both Chastity and Mom were on my case about my boyfriend who didn’t exist.”

“Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell your mother. She loves Damon. Wouldn’t shut up about him for a week after you left.”

“I thought you’d be pissed I lied to you guys.”

“I don’t like that you thought you couldn’t come to us, but, well, we don’t have the option of being hypocrites here. And you know us—we love you no matter what. We didn’t care when we found out you were into lads, and I don’t care now. No matter who you end up with. Man, woman, woman who used to be a man …”

I chuckle. “Could happen.”

“We just want you to be happy. It’s all any parent wants.” Dad pulls up to the motel. “And that’s what we are. We’re still your parents. Take all the time you need but try not to let your mother worry too much. We barely see you as it is; I don’t want this to come between us and you more.”

“Wait, you think I needed to get out of there because of you? Fuck no. Da, I’m confused and feel rejected but not by you or Mom. I wish you told me sooner, but you couldn’t know how I’d react. Can you tell Mom I’m not mad at her? I just …”

“Need to process everything. That’s the reason we kept putting off telling you. We didn’t want to put you out or confuse you. We almost told you when you were eighteen, but then you came out, and we figured it wasn’t the time. Don’t exactly want your kid to say “I’m gay” and then turn around and tell him he’s adopted. From there, it was never the right time. Maybe we should’ve ripped the Band-Aid off when you were a teenager.”

“Maybe Cheri should have realized being sick isn’t an excuse to finally face a responsibility she should’ve dealt with ages ago.”

Dad opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off.

“I’m not saying I hated the way you raised me or you’re bad parents, but this revelation gives me answers to questions I’ve been asking myself for years. And now it’s convenient for her, she wants to get to know me? It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Dad purses his lips. “Take your time in dealing with this, but we don’t know how advanced her condition is, so keep in mind you don’t want to become Cheri. Don’t leave it until it’s too late.”

“I’ll literally be back in the morning, Da.”

He nods, but I don’t think he believes me. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

Matt’s Lambo is the only car in the parking lot of the motel, so I head straight to the room it’s outside of.

Matt peers through the thin curtain to check who’s knocking before he opens the door. “That was fast.”

“You have no idea. I’m crashing with you tonight.” I push my way into his room. “Sweet, two beds.”

“What am I missing?”

“My family dropped a pretty big bombshell on me, and I don’t want to deal with it.”

“There’s a minibar if you need it.”

“I think I need to be sober to deal with this one. You know how growing up the ultimate sibling insult was ‘You’re adopted’?”

“I may’ve said that a lot to my younger brothers and sisters.”

“My sister never made that joke. She’s eight years older than me. Turns out, she couldn’t throw that in my face, because it’s actually true.”

Matt’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. You just found out?”

“My aunt is my mother and my mother is my aunt.”

“Fuck that.”

Yeah. He said it.