Taken: A Ghost Story

By Derek Clendening

New to the United States, seventeen-year old Paul struggles to find himself now that he is out. Each night, he finds his living room transported back to 1985. He quickly realizes that Eric, the young man he finds dancing and air-guitaring there, is the boy of his dreams. Paul's struggle to pursue true love with him transcends time and space, and he won’t let decades or death stop him

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek Clendening
• Release date: Feb 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311894601

Book preview

Taken: A Ghost Story

By Derek Clendening

Published by Mausoleum Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Derek Clendening

For Owen and Emma Clendening

Chapter 1

So, are you gay? You could always count on my friend Brianna to ask the tough questions. You could also count on her to pry into things that are none of her business.

You know, it’s totally okay if you are, she said. "I have no problem with it at all. It’s just that, if you are gay, then maybe you’d just want to let me know so you can be yourself. You won’t have to tip-toe around certain topics."

What makes you think I’m gay?

Come on, Paul. Don’t you know I have killer gaydar? I know you don’t exactly come across as a gay guy. You’re not effeminate and you’re into enough guy stuff, but sometimes it’s something you can just tell about a person.

And what is it about me that has your gut instinct working so hard.

Well, let’s start with the fact that you’re a really good looking guy.

Being good looking makes me gay? Oh man!

"No, but being the really good looking new guy in school means you’ve got your pick of any girl you want, right? You know, for someone as good looking as you. I know I can’t resist that mop of brown hair you’ve got. Green eyes are killer, too. Oh, and how you always look like you haven’t shaved in a few days, but it looks so clean and masculine and not messy the way it would look on other boys. But you haven’t made a play for any of these girls yet. You haven’t even told me that you like any of them."

"Okay, if you think I’m so hot then why aren’t you trying to pin me down?"

Well, you know, because I know what your deal is.

I thought I could squash the subject with that last comment, but I just made it worse. Maybe it wasn’t my fault. Brianna was determined to drag it out of me no matter how strong of a front I put up.

Confession time: Yes, I am gay. I came to grips with that just before moving to Buffalo, but that didn’t mean that I was required to spill my guts to Brianna or anyone else. And that’s especially true of anyone who pressures someone who isn’t ready to talk about something. See, the way I figure it, you have to come out to yourself and be totally comfortable with being gay before you can come out to others. While I’d come out to myself, and my comfort level was improving all the time, I wasn’t ready to tell just anyone about that part of my life.

Brianna was onto something, though. Girls did like me. At least they did back home. Maybe they liked me at Lafayette High School in Buffalo, too. I don’t want to sound conceited because I’ve never really thought of myself as being all that hot. I mean, I sure didn’t feel ugly, but I didn’t feel like I could blow anyone away either. Anyway, I got a fair amount of attention at my old school, but the girls mostly scared me away. I didn’t understand why. I knew I liked guys, at least partly for how they looked and also for their personality, but despite it all I was sure I was going to wind up marrying a girl and having kids.

Finally, I went to a movie with one of the girls who’d been chasing after me. I chose her because she was the only one who came close to interesting me. I had to at least give it a try, you know? Her name was Lisa. She was pretty in her own way and we shared a lot of common ground in the books and movies we liked. She also had a wicked sense of humor, so I figured it would be a good fit. Maybe we would even have a future together.

During the movie, she asked me to put my arm around her, which I did. God, did it ever give me the willies! And then she put her hand on my knee. Here’s where it gets really scary: Her hand moved up my leg and it came much too close to my crotch for comfort. Other guys my age would have overloaded with excitement, but I nearly freaked out inside. Thinking of how cute Darrell Thompson at school was comforted me, but it wouldn’t wipe out all of my misery. I wanted to scream, but I obviously couldn’t do it in the theatre, not even though we were watching a horror movie.

Right then and there I decided that I was done. I wasn’t going to live a lie anymore. As Lisa proceeded to grope me, all I could think about was Darrell Thompson, his blonde hair, blue eyes and muscular arms. I thought about how much I would like to be with him or someone just like him. But I realized that it wasn’t about Darrell Thompson. Not just about him, at least. I realized that I wanted to be with a boy and that I’d only ever wanted to be with a boy.

And, at that moment, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Until then, I hadn’t realized how crushing that that weight really was. I felt liberated and like nothing could stop me. Sure, I knew that I would have a tough road ahead of me because I would have to speak up about it eventually, but I felt like I had nothing to hide anymore. I could finally be myself. Most of all, I felt free.

But one problem remained: how did I let Lisa down easy? I didn’t want her to think that it was her fault that I wouldn’t be going on another date with her. That wasn’t because I’m full of myself. It was because I care about other people’s feelings.

When I dropped her off at her house, I left the engine running so she would take a hint that I wasn’t about to walk her to her door and I certainly wasn’t coming inside. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, I know. Just bear with me here. My logic was that the sooner the date was over, the sooner I would truly be free.

She asked me when we would get together again, and instead of shouting Never! I was as non-committal as I could be. I didn’t want to flat out lie to her, but I wouldn’t let her think that I had any interest in another date either. When I said goodnight, she lunged at me and began kissing me, mostly on the cheek, but a few of those bad boys landed on my lips.

Yikes!

I didn’t act all grossed out or anything, but I couldn’t pretend like I’d actually enjoyed having her lips pressed against mine. And I sure couldn’t return the affection. But she seemed not to notice my lack of enthusiasm. Maybe she’d enjoyed kissing me so much that it didn’t matter to her if I kissed her back. It sounds cocky, but you never know.

Believe me, I spent a lot of time crafting a Facebook message to her. I meant it when I said I care about people’s feelings and that I didn’t want to hurt her. After an hour of laboring over the message, I finally hit ‘Send’ and let that be that. Within minutes, she wrote me back, like she’d been sitting at her computer, awaiting a message from me all that time. She asked me if I was sure and I told her that I was. In my message, I told her that I had a problem that I couldn’t tell her about. At least not yet. Then she said that she hoped that I could solve my problem, whatever that problem was.

It still bothered me, though. Aside from actually coming out to others, telling her the truth about why I couldn’t see her again was something that I needed to do. I had to do right by the person that I’d hurt. But doing it sooner would have required me to tell her that I’m gay and I wasn’t ready to tell anyone that. I was only comfortable with knowing it for myself.

So, are you going to tell me? Brianna asked.

Tell you what?

If you’re gay or not.

I sighed. What a frustrating experience.

I know it seems like I’m being nosy, she said, But it’s nothing like that. I just thought you’d want me to set you up with my friend Josh sometime.

I gulped. Josh?

Yeah, you know Josh Smith, right? He’s totally cute and seriously into you.

Great.

Hey, I’d be really glad to get news like that if I were you. Isn’t he like a gay guy’s dream?

By the way, did I mention that Brianna is a bit of a fag hag?

In fact, I was fairly sure that that was the reason she’d befriended me in the first place. She was the first and only friend I’d made in Buffalo and she’d hinted at my sexuality a metric ton of times. She would ask me if I thought a guy was hot and sometimes how hot. And I’m not talking about Zac Efron or Tom Brady either. I’m talking about guys at school, like I had an opinion about them that was just dying to be expressed. And then she would ask me who I would want to date if I didn’t plan to date a girl. That wasn’t subtle either, but this was the first time she’d been blunt enough to ask directly.

The truth was that Josh was really cute and had a fresh face, a great smile and brown puppy dog eyes. I’d noticed him tons of times in the hall and I always looked over my shoulder at him as we passed. Maybe he’d noticed those little stolen glances and had taken it as meaning that I was more attracted to him than I really was. Also, he might have just thought that I was good looking, the way the girls in at my old school had. But I wasn’t ready to go any farther than that. Besides, I didn’t really know the guy. He was just a pretty face. I didn’t know what else he brought to the table. I was also worried that he was into me for all the wrong reasons. Hint: I’m a convenient, good looking gay guy.

Maybe he just weirded me out because he was openly gay with nothing holding him back. If he liked a guy, he could date him, or he could ask a friend to set something up. I could only dream of being able to do that. Even if I were to accept Brianna’s offer of setting us up on a date, it would mean having to open up about being gay and I just wasn’t . . . well, you already know about that.

So, what’s it going to be? Brianna asked.

You’ll have to tell Josh that I’m going to pass.

Her fingers curled. Come on, Paul, give him a chance. He really likes you and he thinks your accent’s adorable. What am I supposed to tell him?

Tell him that I’m . . . .

Not gay? Or just not ready? What exactly was she supposed to tell him? The ‘not ready’ option nearly slipped out of my mouth and I thanked God that it had stayed put. Saying that I wasn’t ready implied that the day would come in which I would be ready to date him specifically. I didn’t want to be ungrateful that a super cute guy wanted to go out on a date with me. You could do a heck of a lot worse. But, at the same time, I couldn’t let Brianna dictate my pace. I was going to come out sooner or later, but I would only ever do it on my own terms.

I hated to admit it, but most of the reason I’d hung out with her in the first place was because I’d had trouble making new friends in Buffalo. They must have thought that my accent was funny even if Josh apparently found it adorable. Normally I don’t approve of hanging out with people you barely like, for any reason, but she’d been so insistent on befriending me. Like I said, she had a thing for gay guys, and she probably thrust herself on me because I showed up on her gaydar.

You know, Paul, sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass.

I didn’t argue.

Chapter 2

At first, I thought that our house was creepy. Maybe I felt that way because the place was old or because it was built with red brick and towered over the street. At night, the lighted windows made the house look like it had eyes and was staring at you. It was still pretty enough to look at, at least by day light. The same could be said about so many of the other fine old homes on Elmwood Avenue.

The place just needs a family under its roof to give it plenty of love, my Dad had said.

We’d lived in Toronto until the end of summer that year and the adjustment from living in Canada all my life to living in the United States was excruciating. Never let anyone tell you that the two places are exactly alike or that Canada is the fifty-first state. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that the differences between the two countries struck me right away.

Like the way people tell temperature in the States. I don’t think I can ever get used to that. The first week we moved in, I must have heard the word ‘socialist’ a thousand times. I’d heard my Dad use that word enough times, but I wasn’t used to hearing it all the time.

My Dad’s American, from Buffalo, and has always had the accent that just about everyone in Western New York has. It’s kind of nasaly and they twang their vowels a lot. My grandmother, also a Buffalonian, has the very same accent. As a kid, I thought it was kind of charming. As a seventeen year-old, I found it kind of scary. Maybe that’s because I’d found myself