Porch Light

Chapter 2: Sorry, Not Sorry

The next morning, I was out of bed and out the door before Hector even woke up. I went to work at the hotel, manning the front desk with practiced ease.

I’d been asked to be the front desk manager several months ago, and turned them down because they were only going to offer me ten dollars an hour. After seeing the past three front desk managers worked to death, I wasn’t going to accept anything less than twelve dollars.

So, I was working the morning shift, printing out invoices, putting them in envelopes and addressing them—you know, doing the job of the front desk manager. But since it had been two months since our previous manager left, we’d all had to pick up the slack. Meaning the morning people—me and a girl named Heather—had to deal with all customer complaints, answer all the online reviews, and even sometimes run to the store after our shift to fill up the market.

My hotel manager said they were hiring someone, but it would take time.

Saturday mornings weren’t super busy with checkouts, but were instead busy with meeting guest requests. I went on autopilot and made it until three o’clock. I’d mostly ignored my phone, though I’d been checking for texts from Hector so I could intentionally ignore him.

As soon as I got off work, I shot off a text to Casey letting him know I was on my way to rehearsal.

We practiced at his parent’s house, a nice, normal suburban family home in a standard, quiet neighborhood. Their double car garage was packed with stuff, so we only had a crowded space to jam.

After an hour or so, we took a break. Casey sat on the ground with his bass, and I sat at my keyboard, playing around with some chords.

“You working on a new tune?” Casey listened for a moment, then began to play along with his bass.

“Yeah…I’m still trying to think of some lyrics.”

We continued playing until he started singing softly. “Tear me up inside, don’t let me go…You’re the one I love, I don’t want you to know…”

“Nice! Casey, you’ve got something.”

I took out my notebook and scribbled the words down on a new page. He set his bass down and walked over, scooting against me to make room for him on the bench.

“So, how are things with Hellboy?”

I shook my head. I called Hector Hec, so Casey took it to be heck and turned it into a whole new thing. He also said it matched his personality, because of the hell he caused me.

“It’s…fine. We had another stupid fight last night about me not going to the gay bar with him after our show.”

“But you’d already made plans with us, anyway.”

I nodded. “I know, and that’s what I told him. Then, when we got home, I saw he’d mismatched his socks again.”

Casey lightly hit the bottom half of the piano. “Bastard. Doesn’t he know what that does?”

“Oh, shut up.” I hit him lightly on the thigh. “He does it just to piss me off, which is the bigger problem.”

“Well, he does have a point.” Casey ran his hands through his dirty blond hair. “I mean, if I were dating some girl who refused to tell her parents about me…especially after two years…I’d be a little bitter.”

“Yeah, but her parents likely wouldn’t disown her for dating a guy. Mine would.”

“Dude, your parents aren’t going to disown you. They’re nice people.”

My mind flashed back to that night, sitting on the couch, listening to Dad exclaim, “Ew!” watching the two men kiss on screen, while Mom shook her head.

“You didn’t grow up with them, Case.”

He sighed and put his arm around me. I inhaled his scent of cologne. A hint of spice. “Nick, you know you have to be yourself. And maybe your parents will be upset. But you’ll be free. You won’t have to live a lie. I’ll go with you. Hell, I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”

I laughed and snuggled a little closer into his arm. “I appreciate it. Maybe you can just catch me after. I’m sure I’ll need a drink or ten.”

“Then I’ll drink with you. Who knows? Get me drunk enough and maybe I’ll be your boyfriend for real.”

I looked up at him, our faces close. “Casey…”

He gave me a squeeze. “You know I’m kidding. I don’t love you like that. But pretty darn close. I just want you to be happy, Nick. You deserve it.”

He gave me a kiss on the forehead and stood as we began to continue our practice. My heart was racing in my chest.

I hated and loved when Casey did stuff like that. He was straight. He’d banged women, according to his stories. But his affection and love for me always made me wonder.

Especially when he’d been drinking. He grew even more affectionate. One time, after partying a little hard post-show, I drove him home, even though I shouldn’t have been driving.

He began undressing as soon as he got inside, pulling me along to his bedroom. Once we got there, he got into bed on his side and pulled me to him, making me be the little spoon until he fell asleep. But I fell asleep too.

The next morning, I woke up draped over him with his arm around me. And he was cool about it, especially the part where I saw his raging hard-on had slipped through the gap in his underwear. I still thought about it sometimes, especially when I m*********d.

I shook myself mentally. Get your head in the game. I focused until we left for the show.

Our set that night was half an hour. We started out with a cover of “Born This Way” by the truly magnificent Lady Gaga. Then we went into our original, “Sorry.”

I say that I’m not perfect, I say that I’m not right.

I say that you’re too good for me, and that your wings should take flight.

I say that I love you, but dammit, sometimes you make me scream!

Then I feel bad and say “forget it,” because, with you, I don’t want a scene.

Sorry that you are with me, sorry for all the crap I talk.

Sorry you fell in love with me. But most of all, I’m sorry that I’m not.

I could use a little more tact, I could stand to talk a lot less.

And since I tend to overreact, I’m really working to suppress!

Sorry that you are with me, sorry for all the crap I talk.

Sorry you fell in love with me. But most of all, I’m sorry that I’m not.

Sometimes I really just want to take your feelings, and pretend they don’t exist.

And sometimes I want to take your body, and not consider if you resist.

But I know that it would hurt you, and I’m already sorry enough as it is!

Sorry that you are with me, sorry for all the crap I talk.

Sorry you fell in love with me. But most of all, I’m sorry that I’m not.

Sorry that I push and pull you, sorry that I tend to freak.

Sorry for all you’ve gone through, but this is the end of my losing streak.

So, sorry, but I’m with you.

I’m not sorry.

But I am.

But I’m not.

The crowd at the Lewis and Clark Amphitheater went crazy. I could even hear some of them singing along. We went right into another original, “Time.” Then, we finished with three more originals, “Face Off for Dead,” “I Don’t Care,” and “Trouble in Paradise.” Then, we rocked out to Kelly Clarkson’s “Whyyawannabringmedown.”

“Thank you everyone!” The reverb from the microphone got back to me as we ended our set. “We’re Taking Back Nick! Check us out on social media!”

We immediately began taking down our instruments so the next band could take the stage. We’d had to practice several times to get it as smooth as possible. And it worked. I felt like a professional as I carried off my keyboard, passing by the other band and telling them to break a leg.

“Nick Martens? Excuse me? Nick Martens?”

I turned at the sound of someone who clearly didn’t know me. “Present—unless I’m in trouble.”

I saw a sturdy-looking black man with smooth skin walking toward us, a big smile on his face. He held out his hand. “Omar Ackerman, Ackerman Records.”

All my organs dissolved, and my ears were suddenly filled with a ringing sound.

“Ah, huh. Um. Hi. Hello. Yes, I’m Nick. Um, Casey! Casey! Yeah, come here!”

Casey, Levi, and Kennedy came walking over.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Omar Ackerman with Ackerman Records. We’re a fairly new label, but we’ve got a few bands under our belt you may have heard of. Bathtub Juggling. The Punching Thighs. Why Snakes Why.”

Kennedy squealed. “I’ve heard of Why Snakes Why! They wrote that one song. I played it for you guys. “Master of the High Street?” Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. That was a good song.” Casey studied Omar carefully. “How can we help you, sir?”

“It’s actually more about how I can help you. I like your sound. I’ve seen you a couple times. Your originals are killer. “Sorry” is a great song. I’d like to sign Taking Back Nick to a record deal.”

Everybody was silent as we looked at each other in shock. Then, as one, we all freaked out, jumping around and hugging each other, including Omar, who was very nice about it.

“Nothing’s set in stone yet, but I’ll have some people draw up a contract. Here’s my card. Call my office and we’ll send you a contract. Then, once it’s all signed, we’ll fly you out to Nashville to record.”

“Nashville?” Kennedy looked incredulous. “But…we’re super not country.”

“Nashville isn’t all just about country music, kiddo. We’ll get you started out right. And, depending on how the album does, maybe we’ll release “Sorry” as a single, make a music video, do a tour—the works. I think you have what it takes.”

Omar said his goodbyes and left us to gawk after him.

“Holy shit.” Casey looked at me, his eyes alight like I’d rarely seen them before. We shared another tight, but brief hug. “Nick…holy shit.”

I took a deep breath. “Kennedy? Levi? Can we get all this packed up? But before we go out for a drink, there’s something I need to do. Casey? Will you come with me?”

Fifteen minutes later, Casey and I were sitting in my parent’s living room. It was only about nine o’clock, so I wasn’t disturbing them too much.

“So, what’s all this about? Did you need some money?”

I shook my head. “No, Mom, I don’t need any money. I have really good news. And…I also have news that might make you less happy. Which do you two want to hear first?”

“You know me.” Dad took a sip from his wine. “I like to deal with the problems first. Let’s hear it, boy.”

I looked at Casey, who was sitting with his mouth slightly open at what I was about to say. But he nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth. But no words came out. I tried again, clearing my throat.

Shit. I was stuck. No, I can do this.

I looked back at Casey, who gave me a smile and simply said, “Don’t be sorry.”

My heart lifted to the ceiling, along with the rest of my body as I said it. “I’m gay.”

Mom looked at me, then at Casey, her eyes narrowing. Dad sat for a moment, then set his wine glass down with a thunk.

“Are you f*****g serious?” Dad leaned forward in his chair. “No, you’re not.”

I began to shake a little. “No, I’m not lying. I am. I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now, but—”

“Did you do this?” Mom gestured angrily at Casey, who raised his eyebrows. Casey briefly met my gaze before responding.

“No, ma’am. He was gay when I met him. I’ve just provided love and support.”

“Fuckin’ fags.” Dad’s words spilled like venom into my bloodstream. “Get out.”

“No, let’s talk about this!” Mom stood to calm everyone down, but all that did was make Dad angrier.

“There’s nothing to talk about! I’m not sitting here with a couple of f*****g pedophiles in my goddamn house! Get out!”

Casey and I both quickly stood and made toward the door, my mom starting to cry as she followed us.

“Junior! Honey! Just give us some time and we’ll call you!”

I shouted through tears as I slammed the front door behind me. “Give me some time and maybe I’ll answer.”

Kennedy and Levi didn’t know what I was doing, but I was also out to them, so they could guess what had happened when I got into the backseat of Levi’s truck.

“Let’s get to The Amazon.” Casey wrapped his arms around me as I cried into his shoulder. “This one needs a f*****g drink.”