Sweet Home... Minnesota?

“Mikes how’d you, uh,” I stumble on my words not knowing how to phrase this, “how’d you know you were, uh, gay?”

Mikey looks surprised by the question, but I don’t blame him.

“Um well, I don’t know, I just kind of figured it out.”

“No, but explain,” I ask.

“Um, okay. I’m going to sound so generic and textbook, but basically I always knew it, I just didn’t realize until a little later on what that meant for me. From the age when you start liking people, sometime around fourth or fifth grade, I knew I was into guys. The question became not about whether I liked guys, but how straight was I? I decided for a while that I was bisexual, if you remember that, in seventh grade, and then I just kind of realized I really couldn’t care less about the female gender. It took a lot of soul searching, but it’s always been something I just knew.”

I nod, not completely soothed by the answer like I hoped I would be.

“What’s up Gerard? You weren’t crying last night because you thought...” he looks nervous.

“No, er, I don’t even know anymore,” I decide to just be blunt with him, he’s my brother and he might be able to help, “Mikey, I like Frank.”

“You like Frank,” he repeats looking confused, “You said that yesterday. What do you really mean?”

“What I mean is that I’m not gay. You know that I’m not gay, I know that I’m not gay, Frank knows that I’m not gay, and everyone else does too. I’ve always been comfortable with my sexuality because I was always sure that I was straight, because I knew I didn’t like guys.”

“You’re speaking in the past tense,” Mikey says looking curious.

“I know I am. I like Frank, and I don’t know why. I’m not gay, but then there’s Frank, and I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“Oh so you like Frank,” Mikey says, finally understanding.

“Yes, and now I just don’t... I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“So, do the events of last night tie into your liking Frank?” Mikey asks looking nervous that he’s overstepping his boundaries.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I answer.

“That’s fair, but I need to know if you’re okay Gerard. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not asking for details I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“I don’t know, Mikes. That’s all I can say. I feel like I’ve been shot in the chest and now I’m just waiting to bleed out.”

“That’s not okay,” Mikey says, “I have to run a few errands, but if you need me to, I’ll stay here.”

“No, it’s fine. Do what you have to do, I’m just. I’m fine, honestly.”

“You said it feels like you’re bleeding out,” Mikey points out.

“But I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself,” I answer stubbornly, and a little angrily. I don’t mean to, but I just say the words, and now it’s too late to take them back.

~*~*~*~

I walk into the little shop that, ten years ago, had been my downfall. This store had given me everything I’d ever wanted and it ruined my life. Why the hell am I back?

“Nuh uh. Nope Gerard, I’m not allowed to sell you anything,” the guy behind the counter says, a guy who’d been in the grade below me at school.

“What?” I ask him confused.

“Mikey told me explicitly that if you ever came here again, I would only let you buy anything over my cold dead body,” he says. I don’t remember his name, so I don’t know how to address him.

“I’m not a little kid, I can get whatever I want.”

“It’s not going to happen,” He says.

I groan, “Listen, my little brother doesn’t control me. You don’t control me, and I will do whatever the hell I want.”

“Why don’t you let me call Mikey and I’ll tell him what you said,” the guy says.

“You’re such an asshole,” I whisper, “Fine. Call Mikey, I don’t care. But I have to do something wrong before you do that.”

I look at him daringly, and grab a six pack.

“I’m not ringing you up,” he says.

“Then I’ll let you keep the change,” I say and I set a wad of cash, probably around forty bucks, onto the counter.

“Gerard, please just-”

“I want to get wasted and there’s nothing you are going to say that’s going to stop me from doing that,” I say. I stare at him daring him to stop me for a few seconds with my eyes, and when he doesn’t move I walk away, and out through the door.

I get into my car and drive away before he can stop me. He’s going to call Mikey I’m sure, but Mikey can’t get me if he doesn’t know where I am. I know precisely where I want to go.

It’s been so long since I last went there that I almost forget the way.

Fifty years ago or maybe more, there was a little pond just outside of town. The little pond was hidden by a clump of trees so most people didn’t know about it, but there were some people who decided to build a little park right next to it. They never finished it before they realized how stupid an idea it was. Mosquitoes are attracted to water, everybody knows that, but when commissioning this specific park they didn’t factor that in, so they were halfway through when they realized that the entire park was going to be swarmed with bugs come summer.

They only ever built a basketball court and started on a swing set, and then it was abandoned. The place might look eerie to most people, but it was my hideout from the ages of fourteen until I left for school. The pond dried up before I ever discovered the place, but I learned about its existence from old newspapers. It never got finished though, even after the mosquito problem became nonexistent.

It’s not a far walk and you can’t get to the park by car, so I park a little outside of town, making sure to hide my car where you won’t see it if you drive by. I then walk through the overgrown grass, yellowing with dryness, and forward a little ways to the basketball court with my alcohol in tow.

The second I see it through the cover of trees I warm up a little inside. I’ve actually missed this place, which makes no sense. I hate this town, but I love this small little patch of nothing. There’s barely anything here, and for some reason that’s what makes it great.

The tarmac is being reclaimed by nature so that there are weeds growing between several of the cracks. The sides of the blacktop are crumbling with age as well, and the foliage has deep roots that are dividing holes into the landscape all around me. The basketball hoop, which is slightly crooked and missing the net itself, but the rim is still there and solid as ever. The backboard looks dirtied but no different than from when I last saw it, and the entire closure is wild looking.

The half of the paddock facing town is hidden by the trees, while the other side is hilled by a wide expanse of nothing. All the farms in town are on the other side, so this really is deserted. You can see the outline for where a pond could have once been, because the grass is dirtier and less prominent then in other places.

There is one difference to this place that stands out to me, and it’s so insignificant that most people wouldn’t notice. As it is I only notice because it doesn’t make sense to me.

The chalk lines on the blacktop are more defined and noticeable than I’ve ever seen them. The white lines aren’t perfect, but it’s obvious that they’ve been redone since I was last here, because there are now obvious barriers and zones on the surface, which as far as I know, are completely new.

This means someone else has been here recently. I turn back to look at the overgrowth behind me and realize now that there’s also considerable signs of a path. Not noticeable unless you’re looking for it, but there is a matted down little line that is too distinct to have been made just now by myself. Someone’s trudged a few times through here. I don’t know how old this path is though, because it could still be a year old and I wouldn’t be able to tell.

I set my beer on the tarmac, and I back track to go and study it. The gruff is entangled and I can’t see any distinct footprints so I have no context to guess who made them. I do spot a bright object to the side though, so I crane my neck to see a basketball hidden precariously in the grass.

I walk over to it and prod my foot against the ball. It’s fully inflated, no give. Someone’s been here within this month, but probably more recently. Creepy.

I let that go for now and sit down against the basketball hoop which teeters slightly when I lean against it, but not enough for me to worry about it. Then I uncap a beer.