Текст книги "The Distance Between"

Автор книги: Zillah De Rigaud

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Table of contents

Copyright

Prologue – Confessions in Paris

PART 1 BACK HOME

1. How it all started

2. Go away please

3. Falling for David

4. A troubled senior year

PART 2 NEW YORK

5. Alone in New York

6. A taste for more

7. David in New York

8. Excitement, fear and too much alcohol

9. ‘Happy Birthday’

10. Closer to the edge

11. Spiraling out of control

PART 3 PARIS

12. Alone in Paris

PART 4 BACK HOME AGAIN

13. Summer at home

14. Payback time

15. Back in New York, back to old habits

16. Working for dad

17. Such a perfect day

18. Finding new ways to hurt each other

PART 5 PARIS

19. A second time in Paris

20. Late night confessions

21. “Bonne fête a toi” (Happy birthday to you)

22. Glenn in Paris

PART 6 FRESNO

23. Back at home once again

24. A new ‘brother’

25. Office disasters

26. I can’t be like it was

27. Keeping up appearances

28. Merry Christmas

29. Broken

30. Party time

31. “I quit.”

PART 7 RIGHT WHERE I BELONG

32. The family in chaos

33. I love you

34. Confronting dad

Epilogue – Finally together

The Distance Between

By Zillah de Rigaud

Copyright

The Distance Between

By Zillah de Rigaud

Published by Chrysant publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written

permission of the author, except for the purpose of reviews.

Cover illustration by Christine Griffin

This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to

actual people or events is coincidental.

First Edition August 2013

Copyright® by Zillah de Rigaud

ISBN 978-90-821067-0-1

Prologue – Confessions in Paris

“So who is this guy?” Remi asked me as he picked up the framed picture that was standing next to my

bed.

“It’s my brother,” I told him in a tone as casual as possible.

Remi smiled, “your brother…” I swallowed hard while he studied the photo meticulously. He grinned

and looked at me. My cheeks were flushed under his gaze, I wanted to turn away from him and leave the

room.

That picture had been taken last year, during the height of summer. It portrayed David, my stepbrother,

standing next to the pool in our parents’ backyard. He’s still dripping wet from swimming and has a goofy

smile of his face. His arms are crossed and he pinches his eyes because of the sun. He looks really happy.

We were both happy the day I took that photograph…

“Is this the one you’re really in love with?”

How I’d been avoiding that question for years. But there was no point in denying it now. I nodded my

head and said: “Yes.”

Remi and I had been friends for a couple of months and sometimes we slept together. This arrangement

suited us both, we liked each other, but we were definitely not in love. I had told Remi during one of our

nights in his Parisian apartment that there was only one guy for me, but that it was impossible to be with

him. Being drunk, Remi had giggled and demanded to know more, but I had refused to say anything until

now.

The day I told him about David, we had been for coffee in a café in the Le Marais’ neighborhood near

the apartment my dad rented for me. Coffee turned into wine and eventually we ended up in my apartment

for the first time.

I had never taken Remi to my place although we had known each other for months now. We always met

in the city somewhere or went to his place for sex. I’m a very private person and even back home I rarely

took one of my friends to my apartment. This evening though, after sharing two bottles of wine, I didn’t

care about bringing him home with me. I was feeling really horny and we were so close to my place it

seemed logical to go there.

We rushed back to my place, both cheerful and loud. In the hallway Remi started kissing me before I’d

even unlocked the door. His warm hands were clutching my face and his mouth tasted like the sweet

Muscat wine we’d had for dessert. I unlocked the door to my apartment. Remi started undressing as soon

as I opened the door and we stumbled into my living room, which was small, but way bigger than I could

have afforded in Paris on my own. The door to the bedroom was ajar and Remi guided me there while he

was fumbling with his shoelaces. When we entered the bedroom I pushed him on my bed and started

kissing him hungrily. His hands were working on the buttons of my shirt and his hips were already

bucking against mine. But then in the corner of my eye, I saw David’s picture staring at me and I froze. I

rolled off Remi and sat up on the bed. Remi looked at me for a few seconds, still breathing heavy and then

got up too.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in his cute French accent and then he saw the picture. “So this guy is the

reason you left home and came to France, non?” he asked after his initial question and once again I could

only say: “Yes.”

“Well then tell me all about him,” Remi said amused and reached down to the floor where his shirt lay.

He took out a fumbled package of cigarettes and lit one up. He looked relaxed and not shocked at all, as I

had expected. Maybe growing up in Paris with bohemian parents had loosened his morality somehow. I

was still a little drunk from the wine we’d had, although I was sobering up quickly. I’d kept my feelings

stored away for so long, maybe it would be a relieve to finally confide in a friend…

“His name is David,” I told Remi. There was a long excruciating silence before I could go on. “I’ve

been in love with him since I was eighteen. The funny thing is, when he came to live with us, I hated him

at first. Maybe he thinks I still do…”

“What do you mean?” Remi asked surprised. “Where was he living before?”

“He’s my stepbrother,” I answered. “However, that doesn’t make this any less messy.”

“If he’s not your real brother by blood, then what’s the problem?” Remi remarked while he took a hit

off the cigarette. The smoked curled up as he exhaled, clouding us both.

“We belong to the same family,” I said while I coughed. “We grew up together, my dad adopted him.

You cannot just erase things like that.”

“But he is the love of life?”

“He is,” I said and I started telling him about David, the way I’d never told anyone else before…

PART 1 BACK HOME

1. How it all started

I grew up in Fresno, California. My childhood memories are of hot, dry summers and playing in our

pool with my sister, of my mom reading to us outside on the patio and dad firing up the barbeque. I had a

happy childhood there, until my mom got sick…

By the time I met David, I was almost thirteen and my mom had died eleven months before of breast

cancer. My mom was only thirty-eight when she died and I was sick with grief. She had been diagnosed

with cancer only seven months before her death and during those few months I felt my world crumbling

apart. When they’d started with the chemotherapy it really was already too late and in my heart I knew she

wouldn’t get better.

When she died, I didn’t speak to anyone for two weeks. Not even my sister who was only eight at the

time. Two days after the funeral my dad went back to work. He had his own law firm and couldn’t afford

to stay home any longer. He made long hours and sometimes didn’t come home until eleven. Our

housekeeper looked after us.

Some months after the funeral dad told my sister and me casually over dinner that he’d met a woman at a

gallery where he went to pick up some new art to brighten up the office. Her name was Juliette, they had

been on a couple of dates, and now he wanted us to meet her. I remember jumping up from the table and

yelling at him. I didn’t understand how he could do this. I was still dying inside every time I thought of my

mother and he’d already replaced her with someone else?! My dad stayed unusually calm during my rant

and didn’t even punish me for screaming at him afterwards. He was resolute though.

“Juliette is coming over next Saturday and you’d better behave,” he told me. He then turned to my sister

who was still sitting at the table playing silently with her food.

“You’ll like Juliette,” he told her. “Juliette has a little boy too, maybe you can play together some

time.” My sister nodded, eager to please, and flashed my dad a shy smile. She was only eight, what did

she know?

Just like I’d been told, Juliette showed up next Saturday. She was almost thirty minutes too late, which

made my dad walk through the house anxiously. When she rang the bell, he almost ran to the hallway. I

saw him kiss her as he took off her coat. When dad introduced Juliette, I was shocked to see how young

she was. She looked ten years younger than my mom. She was thirty-one and sparkled with health. My

mom had looked frail and sallow the last couple of months before her death. The chemotherapy had

affected her liver so her skin had turned yellowish just before she died. In comparison, Juliette radiated.

She was tall and slim and had a friendly pretty face, framed by very long blond hair that hung loosely on

her back. She wore a figure hugging white dress with a pattern of little flowers on it. My mom would

never have worn a dress like that.

When my dad called me to come near and introduce myself, I obeyed like a zombie. The fear of

displeasing my dad was so great that I was compelled to walk forward, even though I didn’t want to.

When I was close enough to shake her hand, I could smell her perfume, which was Thierry Mugler’s

Angel. I knew that scent because that’s what my mom used to wear; the little bottle was still half full in

our bathroom. In an instant I was aware of my dad’s betrayal. My dad used to buy this perfume for my

mom on her birthday and now he must have picked it out for Juliette. I withdrew my hand brusquely and

just told Juliette my name before I ran way. My dad called after me, “Michael don’t be rude, come back

here!” I heard Juliette say it was all right.

“What a pretty little lady you are,” she told my sister and Christine who was hungry for a bit of female

attention, introduced herself happily.

“Traitor,” I thought.

Later that evening we had dinner and my dad forced me to be at the table. It was still warm outside so we

ate with the windows open. I was distracted by the sounds in our garden and tried not to listen to what

Juliette and my dad were talking about.

“I told you Juliette has a little boy too,” my dad said to my sister and me, but only Christine was

listening.

“His name is David,” Juliette said, “And he would love to meet you.”

We met David soon enough as it turned out that my dad already had wedding plans after dating Juliette for

only three months. He couldn’t cope with being a single dad for long, so he allowed himself to fall in love

with Juliette quickly.

The first time Juliette took David to our home, I was feeling excited the whole day. It was not the

pleasant kind of excitement you feel before your birthday, more like the nauseated feeling on the day of an

exam or a dentist appointment. I had just turned thirteen and was feeling very mature already. I had no

interest in meeting this new little boy.

David came in with his hand in his mothers’. He was twelve, but looked younger. He didn’t look

anything like his mom, the blond blue-eyed American girl. In stead his hair was dark and curly and badly

in need of a haircut. He had big dark grey eyes that looked anxious. It seemed he wasn’t so keen on

meeting my sister and me as his mother had told us. When Juliette introduced us, I shook his hand hard and

crunched his fingers in mine on purpose. He flinched but didn’t say anything…

Over dinner my dad talked with Juliette and then announced that they were getting engaged. They

toasted with champagne while we drank bubbly lemonade from grown-up glasses. Christine was

promised a bridesmaids dress and she looked satisfied immediately. She asked if she could wear a little

crown too and when Juliette told her she could, she laughed. David was silent but he looked happy too.

He had already seen my dad a couple of times at his mom’s place and seemed to like him. I knew I was

the only one who was feeling bad about this…

My dad and Juliette got married at city hall two months later with a small ceremony and afterwards they

hosted a modest party at our place. When David and his mom moved in, David got the room next to mine.

They didn’t bring a lot of stuff and most of what they brought didn’t really fit with the rest of the furniture

so it was stored in the garage and later thrown away. Their stuff looked pretty scrappy and I reckoned

they must have been a lot poorer then we were.

David’s dad had been dead for three years and he was never talked about because he killed himself.

When I asked my dad about him once, he told me never to mention David’s dad to either David or Juliette

because it would upset them. He confided in me that David’s dad had been an ‘artist’ who couldn’t

provide for his family and who had committed suicide. Apparently he had hung himself in their living

room.

I wondered might feel about having such a failure as a dad. Maybe that’s why David tried to be so

friendly to mine.

I guess that maybe Juliette had been afraid that my dad would treat David differently from Christine and

me. My dad really loved her and he wanted to do the right thing where David was concerned. So he told

Juliette that he would adopt David if she wanted him too. Juliette was really excited about the idea and so

my dad went forward with the adoption. After a couple of months all the paper work was finished and my

dad legally became David’s dad too. We now shared our last name. David started calling my dad ‘dad’

too. The first time I heard him say it I felt like I’d been stung by a bee, but when my dad didn’t correct

him, I remained silent.

David went to the same school as I did and I heard him tell his new friends that he had a brother and a

sister. Although he was only a couple of months younger than me, he was a year below me at school

because his stupid artist dad had home-tutored him until he was almost six.

When Juliette got pregnant a couple of months later, my dad told me that we were a real family now and

that I had to start calling David ‘my brother’ too. And when our two baby brothers, Jack and Justin, were

born I was the oldest of five kids and nobody at school ever questioned if we were a real family or not.

In all honesty, Juliette tried to be a great mom for Christine and me too. She seemed to care for us from

the moment she moved in and was always kind and loving. She never showed signs of favoring David or

the twins over Christine and me and even put framed pictures of my mom on the chimney-piece next to our

new family portrait. Christine started calling Juliette mom too, but I didn’t and still don’t. There was no

picture of David’s dad on the chimney-piece. I didn’t even know if there was a picture of David’s dad in

the house and if David minded that nobody ever talked about his dad.

On our new family portrait, David looked slightly out-of-place. There were four light-haired children

in the picture, who all looked like their dad, accompanied by a blonde perfect mom. All of them had

bright blue eyes and handsome smiles. There was also a dark-haired boy in the picture, whose face didn’t

fit with the rest of the kids and who looked nothing like his mom and dad. Later, when I saw some

pictures of David’s dad, I recognized that David looked exactly like him. They had the same grey eyes,

the same shy smile and the same dark unruly hair.

But even if David didn’t look like any of us and he wasn’t my dad’s real son, he adored my dad and he

adored Christine and me too…

2. Go away please

The feeling wasn’t mutual; I hated David and I wanted him to stay far away from me. As the years

progressed, my annoyance with him grew steadily. By the time I was seventeen, I felt like punching him

every time we ran in to each other. I was really annoyed by him because he was such a good boy all the

time. He did his chores, he studied hard and he played with Christine and the twins. It was sickening at

times how nice he was. At school he was every teachers’ pet and he would even get groceries sometimes

for Mrs. Lindeman, our eighty-year old neighbor. And he copied me in everything; Joining the football

team, wearing the same kind of clothes, he even applied to write for the school newspaper as well! I

hated the way he tried to suck up to my dad and me.

But worst of all, he reminded me of my old life that was gone now, the life where my mom had still

been around and where I didn’t have to share my dad with all these new people.

I resembled my dad in many ways. Like my dad, I was popular at school and I looked like him; being

tall and blond with regular features and a stern chin. We had the same light blue eyes, the same hands and

the same voice. By the time I was seventeen, I was almost the same height as my dad, 6’3”, and naturally

broad-shouldered. When I looked at my dad’s old yearbook pictures, it was like staring at a photograph of

myself. There was only one big difference between us; I was gay and my dad was not… I hadn’t told him

yet that I liked guys. Even though I knew that he wouldn’t be angry, I was still afraid that coming out to

him would ruin my position as his ‘favorite’.

To please my dad, I joined the football team at school. My dad had played football when he was young.

He loved that I’d joined the school’s team. He’d played as quarterback at the same school when he was

my age and a picture of him with his team was still hanging on the wall of his study at home. He

encouraged me to practice and I was good at it, even though I thought it was pretty boring. At least all my

friends played as well.

I knew dad was proud of me when we won a game. He’d sit there with the other dads, watching my

games and cheered when I scored. Afterwards, when we were driving home he would secretly take a

detour so that we could have a burger and fries together.

A year later David started playing football as well and even though he was a better player than me, my

dad rarely came to his games.

It was around that time that I started noticing that my dad really wasn’t so fond of David as I had

thought. I think David noticed too because he grew even more eager to gain my dad’s favor. It pleased me

that my dad didn’t like him. Too easily David had infiltrated into our lives and I was glad that his plans to

replace me as my dad’s favorite son hadn’t worked. My dad was happy with my achievements at school

and even boasted to his friends that I would take over his law firm someday. David was a straight A

student as well, although he had to study a lot harder than I did, but my dad didn’t seem to notice. I

secretly reveled in the fact that my dad didn’t give a shit about all his studying and his grades.

If Juliette ever noticed my dad’s slight aversion to David, then she didn’t say anything. She was too

busy with her young twins and with my sister who was now as close to her as a real mom and daughter

can be.

At school David and me sat at different tables in the cafeteria with our friends. We hardly ever spoke to

each other. “He’s a total geek,” I told my friends when they asked about him. “He collects these stupid

Star Trek figurines and he reads comics ! He has like thousands of them in his room!” All my friends

laughed. We snickered when we saw him sitting in the cafeteria with his best palls, one fat and one skinny

teenager, deeply engaged in a conversation about the X-men. When David saw my friends and me he

smiled and raised his hand to wave “hello”… I completely ignored him. “Just get the hell away from me,”

I would tell him if he followed me around.

David didn’t seem to mind that I ignored him at school or even that I talked about him behind his back.

He never told his mom or my dad that I didn’t return his greetings or even told him to “Fuck off” when he

wanted to ask me something in the hallway.

3. Falling for David

Before I knew it, I was in my senior year. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday in February with a big

party and my dad took me to Los Angeles for a weekend of father-son stuff.

With my dad it became painfully clear sometimes that he wasn’t into David so much. He was never

mean or rude to him, but his lack of interest said more than words. David’s eighteenth birthday was

celebrated in a more modest way than mine. When David showed some real talent for drawing my dad

dismissed this as something trivial. I think he was afraid that David would turn out like his own artist dad,

the suicidal loser. I think that David was really hurt that when some of his drawings were exhibited at

school and my dad didn’t even turn up to look at them.

The day after the exhibition at school, we were playing basketball outside and he still looked sad and

didn’t focus on the game. It was a hot day and we’d been playing for some time and I was annoyed by his

mood.

“It’s too bad dad couldn’t make it,” he told me again. Without thinking, I snapped back at him. “He

isn’t your dad, your dad is dead.” He looked startled.

“You’re such an asshole,” he said and threw down the basketball.

“It’s true,” I said, “My dad doesn’t want you here and I don’t either.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. That really got me going.

“Don’t think you living here makes you my dad’s son. Your dad was just a fucking loser who killed

himself,” I yelled at him letting all my frustration with him reach the surface. Before I knew it I say

something break in his expression and he started crying and ran towards the house. I waited for a couple

of minutes for him to come outside to finish our fight and when he didn’t come I went inside too.

My dad and Juliette had taken Christine and the twins to our grandparents and wouldn’t be home until

eleven. I was starting to feel kind of anxious that David would rat me out to my dad and Juliette, when dad

had explicitly forbidden me to ever speak of David’s dad.

I decided to go to my room and to wait for David to join me after a while, like he always did when we

had a stupid fight. I was still feeling annoyed with him. When I got upstairs to my room however, I could

hear him crying in the room next to mine. When the sounds hadn’t stopped fifteen minutes later I couldn’t

take it anymore and went into his room.

He was lying on his bed, his head buried in his pillow. I don’t know if he heard me come in, at least he

didn’t look up. The sound of him sobbing really got to me and all of a sudden I felt sorry for him.

“I’m sorry,” I started but before I could finish my sentence he sobbed, “I saw him.”

“Who?” I asked but I knew the answer as soon as the question came out of my mouth.

“I saw him hanging in our living room,” he cried. “My mom doesn’t know I saw him, but I did. I

looked in to the room when she was calling an ambulance.”

“Fuck,” I said and stroked his arm to comfort him. David kept on crying.

“I loved my dad. He was not a loser.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again and sagged down next to him on the bed. I really wanted him to stop crying so

I started stroking his hair and repeating stuff like “I’m sorry” and “I know you loved your dad.” And

while I was doing this I suddenly became aware of his body, which was pressed against mine in his

narrow bed. We were both wearing shorts and I could feel his bare legs against mine and his ass against

my crotch only separated by a couple of layers of cloth. All of a sudden I was so horny I couldn’t think of

anything than pressing my body closer to his and wrapping my arms around his chest. David was still

sobbing, although it started getting less. With each sob I could feel his body jerk against mine. My face

was now buried in his hair, which smelled faintly of our shampoo. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it

any more and I was sure that he could feel my hard-on pressing up his back, he shifted his weight so that

he was really spooned against me. The crying had stopped. At that moment I knew that I wanted him more

than I’d ever wanted anything, even though I hadn’t even kissed someone yet, and it terrified me.

The only thing I could think of, since that moment in bed together, was staying away from David as far

as possible. But I wanted to be with him at the same time too. My feelings were so conflicting and driving

me crazy.

4. A troubled senior year

At school everything pretty much stayed the same. I was busy with the school newspaper and football

practice and kept my distance from my brother. But at home, nothing felt like the same anymore. Whatever

David and I did together, it could be homework or swimming in our pool, there was only one thing on my

mind constantly. The thought of him in his swim shorts kept me awake at night until I jerked off.

Since my dad bought me my own computer that I could use for homework in my room, I’d been looking

at some interesting gay porn sites, carefully covering my tracks of course. I spend hours behind the

computer looking at some beefy hunks, but no guy in real-life turned me on like David did. My hormones

were raging and sometimes it was impossible to think of anything else when he was in the same room as I

was.

Playing basketball with David now became agonizing because it meant I had to control my feelings for

him when we were playing. When it warm outside David played without his shirt on. He tanned easily

and playing a lot of sports had made his body trim and muscular. Sweat would drip of his chest and back

when he tried to hard to beat me. The heaving of his chest made it almost impossible for me to focus on

the game. I started to think that he did it on purpose too, playing bare-chested, just to taunt me and win the

game.

Even though I felt bad about it, I couldn’t stop myself from taking every opportunity to touch David.

When were playing basketball I would jump against him, if we were in the pool with Christine I

pretended to goof around so that I could slide my hands over his body. He would never say anything about

this stuff although my true motives must have been so transparent at times.

At night we started watching movies together in his bed, because he had a bigger TV than I did. We’d

lie next to each other eating popcorn out of the same bowl and if it were cold we’d even share a blanket.

When it was an especially gory horror movie David would bury his head against my neck sometimes, his

breath tickling my ear. I searched the video store to find even scarier horror movies each time so that he

would be afraid enough to curl up next to me. In hindsight, I don’t think he was ever scared of any of them.

He was just looking for an excuse to touch me too.

I still hadn’t told my dad that I was gay yet although I’d known for three years now. In fact, nobody

knew; not dad, not my friends, nor Christine. I felt too awkward to tell anyone. I knew that my dad would

not be angry if he found out because his older brother was gay too. My uncle had gotten a lot of shit from

my grandpa when he came out in the seventies and my dad had always resented grandpa for it. My dad

and my uncle, who was also a layer, had always been very close and even though my uncle lived in

Florida now they called each other regularly. Still, I wondered how dad would feel about his ‘perfect,

straight A scoring’ son being gay. Would he still take me out for burgers after a football game, would

there still be father and son trips to LA? Even if I’d been reluctant to come out before, things were far

worse now. I wasn’t just gay but I also felt perverted. David wasn’t just my stepbrother; we shared the

twins as half brothers. We were family.

Then one evening, Juliette was busy in the kitchen, cooking some intricate dish and my dad was in his

study making a phone call. I had wanted to ask him if he was planning to come to my next football game

when I overheard him talking to one of his acquaintances.

“…Michael is doing wonderful in school, the boy just has a photographic memory. I’m sure with his

grades he will get in to Columbia easily… Yeah I’m really lucky with him, he’s a good athlete too and

popular at school. I wish that his brother could be more like him; That boy just lies around in his room all

day, reading comics… His biological dad was like that too you know, a dreamer. He always had great

plans according to Juliette but he couldn’t hold a job… Yeah, you’re right, I’m lucky that my eldest is

such a great kid. I hope the twins will grow up to his example…” He laughed, “…Yeah, we’ve discussed

it and after he’s finished law school he’ll come work at the firm.”

Standing outside his study, I was feeling rebellious all of a sudden and his constant praise, when I did

nothing special to deserve it, was annoying me. I wondered how he would still feel about me, now that I

turned out to be not as perfect as he might have imagined.

When he finally hung up the phone I walked in to his study and told him… “Dad I’m gay.”

He looked very surprised and for the first time I also saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes. It quickly

passes away. Before he had any chance to say anything though, David walked in.

“Mom wants you both downstairs for dinner,” he said. When he saw the look on my dad’s face and my

annoyance for him walking in he asked; “What’s wrong? Were you discussing something important?” My

dad sighed. “Michael has just told me he’s gay,” he said. David smiled, “Well, so am I.”

I could have strangled him at that moment. Why did he always have to be exactly like me? My dad

looked at both us in disbelief and walked downstairs to tell Juliette.

“You’re such an idiot,” I told David when I rushed downstairs too.

My feelings about David also being gay were conflicted to say the least. I hated him for being like me

again, even if he didn’t do it on purpose this time. On the other hand I was excited because it brought my

fantasy of us sleeping together nearer within my reach. But it also scared me because the possibility of us

having sex in my room was just so wrong… What if my dad caught us while we were making out? I was

sure he’d disown the both of us. He’d never speak to me again. It would have been so much easier if

David had been straight and he’d never encouraged my feelings… And he did encouraged me a great deal

actually. At first I thought that I might be imagining things, that I wanted to think he felt the same way, but