Forgotten

Jonathan’s eyes drifted across the boy on the cot in front of him. He could make out thin red lines on his arms and it took all of his resolve not to question him about them. Jon cleared his throat and went back to discussing Caden’s drawings. Jonathan knew it was an uncomfortable topic for him but he was too curious to hold back.

“You’re really talented. I found one of your drawings… of me, actually on the locker room floor earlier today. I, uh, put it in my locker so no one would find it,” he could feel himself begin to blush but tried to ignore it and hoped Caden wouldn’t notice. “I’ll get it back to you if you want it.” Caden nodded.

“Uh, y-yeah. Thanks,” he murmured quietly.

“No problem,” Jon replied as he grabbed a tissue from the box on the table by the bed. “Um, here, your makeup got all messed up.” Caden accepted the tissue silently, this time it was his turn to blush.

God, stop staring at him, he’s gonna think I think he’s a freak or something, Jonathan scolded himself. And that’s not the case at all… he thought sheepishly. He watched as Caden dabbed at his smudged eyeliner with the tissue. After a moment or two he had managed to get nearly ever bit off.

“Oh, hang on, you’ve still got some --” Jonathan made to reach for the tissue then stopped, his hand frozen in mid-air -- inches from Caden’s face. Oh God, what am I doing? He didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or just go through with it. He decided it would be better to just follow through, try not to make a big deal of it. He took the tissue from Caden and gently wiped at the few grayish spots left on his cheeks.

Their eyes locked. Jonathan broke the gaze, once again feeling the heat creep up into his cheeks as he began to blush. He crumpled up the tissue and chucked it in the little trash bin under the table just as Mrs. Higgins reentered the room.

“Alright, dear you can go back to your class,” she said to Jonathan. “And Caden, I called your home, your father should be here to pick you up soon. You poor thing, I told him that he should probably take you to the hospital.”

As Jonathan stood he noticed an odd look on Caden’s face at the mention of his father. Was it… fear? He gave a small wave and slipped out of the room, lost in thought about the beautiful boy he had really noticed for the first time today.

* * *

Jonathan sat hunched over his homework in his bedroom, unable to focus. He flipped through his large history textbook, willing the words to come together and make some kind of sense but it was useless; everything looked like gibberish.

“Honey, come downstairs. Dinner’s ready,” his mother called up to him from the base of the stairs. He sighed and stood up, making his way downstairs slowly.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sarah, his annoyingly perceptive ten-year-old little sister asked as he entered the dining room.

“None of your goddamn business,” he muttered harshly.

“Hey! Language! Don’t talk to your sister like that!” his mother called from the kitchen. He silently cursed her bat-like ears. Sarah smirked as she finished setting the table.

“Get the cups and silverware,” Sarah ordered Jonathan as though she were the oldest. He glared at her but walked into the kitchen and grabbed the last few things needed to set the table. Within a few moments everyone was seated.

“Let’s say grace,” Jon’s father said, holding his hands out. Jonathan reluctantly took his father’s hand and grabbed Sarah’s as well. “Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” the rest of the Whyte family muttered and released hands. Jonathan hated how fanatically religious his father was, and what was worse, he forced his religion on his entire family. Daniel Whyte had drilled Christianity into his children’s brains since before they could even speak. Sarah was a good little model of virtue and faith but Jonathan had rebelled, in small ways at least. He still went to church every Sunday but made it clear to his father that he wasn’t interested in the God they spoke of at the Grace Baptist Church.

Jonathan had heard more than enough on the subject of an angry, jealous God that would smite any who disobeyed ‘his word’ -- the word of the Bible that in reality was written by mortal men, not God. Every time Jonathan stepped foot into that church he was reminded of the lyrics from a song he had stumbled across one day when he was surfing the web.

When you were just a child of eight
You were taught you were not to deviate
Only one way to heaven but half a million ways to fall
Well we can alienate the strange and the odd
As long as we're one nation under God …

We can hate the Jews and the blacks and the fags
As long as we pray and salute the flag
And fall on our knees to a Jesus who looks just like you.

Jonathan cleared his throat and stabbed at the noodles on his plate moodily. He wondered what his father would think of Caden….