(First Edition Posted May, 2007)

Walk in Lies

You Disgust Me

Mica huddles on the couch trying to hold back the tears of frustration. His mother's face is a mask of shock and pearl-clutching disappointment. He can't read the expression on his father's face, but the only uncertainty in Mica’s mind is how violently he will respond. After assuring them Mica was at home the night Cain and Alea died the righteous man lapsed into complete silence. Perhaps we will go down to the basement together, Mica speculates.

Mica hates the cold police officer who has come to expose his shameful secret and shatter his life. He damns the girl who found one last way to tie him to the judgement bar.

“Look, it wasn't like that. I never got any money. They forced me to … do things.” The four adults ignore his excuses. He tries to break through to the adults.

True, he went to the Sykes’ house on his own steam four or five times a week. Yes, he started doing it on the first day of the summer. He got in men’s cars. Yes, he was given clothing. No, he never asked his parents for help. No he could not tell the police the names of the Tricks he dated. Alea kept track of that.

His mother responded for them both. Mica told his parents lies. Mica was choosing to hurt his family. Sinning was going away from God. Mica Aivar Laar was a sinner. She did not recognize her little boy at all, and Baby Jesus was crying. This would be a good moment for all of them to pray.

“What would Grandma Jo think?” His mother finishes heartbroken. A police officer coughs, not thinking this is helpful.

“Your son's pimp died in a drive by shooting. It might have been another pimp. He was trying to build his stable by luring prostitutes into working for him. It might have been drugs. It might simply have been someone Cain Sykes angered in a bar fight. He was not well liked.”

The officer looks at the fifteen-year old hustler and thinks of her own son. Prostitutes are sometimes hard-bitten and street-wise. Not this one. This one plays white slave trade victim. This home sees safe and loving. For some teenagers, it is always someone else’s fault when the sweetness of the streets turns sour. “Let's see your arms Mica.” No tracks yet, so it wasn't about the drugs the high school senior had been buying with his sister when the incident happened.

The police politely ask to search his room. Mica sits listening to his mother throw questions at him he can't answer. His father moves to the bedroom door to watch the police. The police discover nineteen Trojans and a half used bottle of lubricant in a day pack. The police woman shakes her head.

“Mica Aivar Laar, come right here.” His father is God’s wrath. The leather belt might as well be in his hands.

The contents of his small day pack are strewn about his bed. I’m fifteen. I’m gay. I sort of have a boyfriend, Mica wants to say.

Charges for solicitation are a possibility. Mica can help himself by being helpful. The police officers ignore the angry father. They are focussed on the hapless teenage hooker. Instinct suggests this befuddled boy can make the investigation straightforward. The Sykes are a hard bunch. The surviving children stopped talking. The absent parents came back grudgingly.

Mica cannot be helpful. He only knows he is a boy-hustler piece of filth. Mica is Burley’s-bitch and Finn’s-Bitch, and there was a basement to stay out of. Finn would understand completely. These seen-it-all police officers and his wrath-of-God father will believe what they believe. It just cycles over and over until Mica could drift off to sleep.

The officers finally leave. His father and mother walk them to the door. The four adults are talking about Mica. Mica walks to his bedroom window to watch the cruiser pull away. His parents share a brief argument on the lawn.

Mica watches his dad pace back and forth. He wants to explain himself. He needs Dr. Phil. I mean, it’s not like I’m getting it on with my grandmother. How bad can being gay be? It’s the 21st Century! “Cain told me I had to do what he said.”

“Shut up.”

“He beat me dad. You both saw the bruises I came home with. There were worse things you never saw!” Mica sits defeated on the worn out couch. “You don’t know what they did to me when I wouldn't do it.” Mica’s voice is just a whisper.

“Shut up!”

Mica stands up to get his dad's attention. He is crying now. What was he supposed to do? Cain was so big. “Dad, I was scared!” His father steps closer and slaps Mica hard across the face. Mica spins to the carpet and looks back up at his dad.

“You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; It is an abomination. Go to your room, you disgust me.”

Mica throws himself on the bed and buries his face. He will reason with his parents when their anger has cooled. They will all pray together. Mica can find a way to walk this disaster back. He will do his time.

His father gives him no time. Toomas Laar finds Mica's book bag and throws it at him. “If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them. You are dead in this house. I won't have a homosexual prostitute in my house.”

Henry Laar starts yanking drawers open. He growls at Mica, “What is this? What are these filthy things?” Mica looks at his father. “I won’t touch this. Come take your whore clothes. Nor shall a man put on a woman’s cloak, for whoever does these things is an abomination to the Lord your God.”

The abominations are the sexy underwear Edan likes so much. “I’ll throw it all away. I’m sorry dad.”

“Put them in your bag, put them on your shameless body. Get what you want and get out.”

Mica stares at him in disbelief. The boy is not ready for this new fury and pushes the panties and jockstrap along with odd clothing into the bag. He isn't thinking about what he is doing and he keeps one eye on his father's stormy face. When he is done he sits on the bed hoping the storm will pass.

His father sees the condoms on the bed where the police have left them. He grabs the pile of wrappers and throws them at Mica. “Take them, you'll need them.” Mica ignores them. He flinches as his father rushes up to him, picks up little packages and stuffs them into the bag. “Where are your keys?” Mica points wordlessly at the desk and his father scoops up the house keys. “Get out.” Mica can't move. He looks desperately for his mother, but she has vanished. In the end his father has to drag him across the floor to the door, down the hall. He clutches the bag and throws a frightened plea at his silent mother. Henry Laar gives up trying to drag the fifteen-year old in the living room. Mica’s father kicks him in the side. “Get up, And Jesus entered the temple Kick! And drove out all who sold and bought,” Henry Laar is not a fit man. He pauses to catch his breath. Mica scrambles to his feet.”

“Please, I’m so sorry” Mica tries again. “Mom!” He casts about looking for his mother.

Mica’s father seizes him by his shirt and begins rushing him toward the front door. “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you make it sewer for fornication! Did you fuck with that little harlet in my house?” The door is open and Mica is pressed against the door jam. His father is about to shove him down the basement stairs and all Mica can do is stutter out denials. “You’re disgusting, committing shameless acts with men. Well, nameless one, receive the due penalty for your error!” With that, Henry Laar pushes Bitch-boy out the door backwards. Mica tumbles down the steps in a heap.

His father follows him down the steps and begins to kick him again. “You are on my property. Get off! Get off!” Mica rolls away from the flailing feet. Henry Laar stoops for a rock along the hotbed. He flings it at Mica. The stone hits him on the hip and drives him to the neighbor’s lawn. Mica’s father stares sorrowfully at his son. “I will scatter them like the east wind. I will show them my back and not my face on the day of their calamity!”

Henry Laar reaches for another rock. “You’re bat-shit crazy old man! Fuck you dad! Go to hell, fuck you!” Mica dances on the neighbor’s lawn. His father flings another rock his way. Mica blocks it with the bag in his hand. “Suck my cock old man!” A third rock flies his way. Bitch-boy gives his dad’s retreating back the finger.

Mica drops to his haunches in a squat. He is desperate. He made the Sykes thousands, but he has little money in his bank account. Mica cannot begin to think about where he should go. He stands for a long time looking at the house. There are things he might have taken if his father had allowed him time to think.

“Mica?”

A small, uncertain voice, but Mica sees the boy’s relief. He looks to where Finn stands with his fists jammed in his shorts.

“Leave me alone, Finn.” The tween is too much to add to this miserable moment.

“I saw the police leave. What happened?”

“What are you doing here, Finn?” Mica’s voice is drained of energy. He cannot be angry with Finn. The boy is fragile. “I don’t want to see Vikki.”

Finn walks up to Mica where he squats on the neighbor’s lawn hoping he will be let back in. Finn slugs Mica in the arm. When Mica turns in surprise, Finn begins throwing punches at Finn’s-bitch. “You left me! Mica, you left me!”

Mica fends off the hard punches. “Finn,” he tries.

“You’re supposed to take care of me! You’re Finn’s-bitch, Mica. You promised you would be my bitch.” The tears are in Finn’s eyes. “You left, Mica!”

Mica tries to hug Finn, but Finn shoves him away. Finally, Mica gets Finn in a bear hug and holds the boy’s head against his chest. “Sorry, Finn.”

“I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s the deal. You’re Finn’s-bitch, you said so, you said so.” Little-bitch clutches at Bitch-boy.

“I know Little Man, I know.” Mica catches Finn’s chin and lifts his face. “Hey Little-Master, I’m Finn’s-bitch still. Only, I can’t go back there, Finn”

Finn forgives his bitch with a tight hug. He picks Mica’s book bag up and slings it over his shoulder. “Vikki is gone,” Finn states simply. “Everyone is gone. You have to come with me.” Finn starts off the ten blocks to the Sykes house. Mica watches him walk away. The boy pauses and looks back. “Come on Mica, you have to come with me.” Mica starts to follow.

Mica and Finn are in the abandoned camper at the back of the junkyard. Finn sits as close to Finn’s-Bitch as he can. If his bitch would put an arm around his shoulders, Finn would feel safer. He takes Mica’s arm and shows it what it is supposed to be.

“So yeah, mom and dad went back to Mexico. The police kept coming back to ask questions about Cain and Alea. They found stuff like your date clothes,” Finn thinks it would help if Mica held his hand. “Other stuff.”

“So mom and dad just left with Vikki. I asked mom what I should take. Mom said it would be better if child services took care of me. Maybe she phoned the cops. I don’t know. Someone came to the house and dragged me off.”

“That was good.” Mica suggests.

“No it wasn't! I ran away.” Mica has to know Finn needed to find his bitch. “They came around looking for me. I hid in the shitter here in the camper.” Finn lifts his hand and points. I can’t stay in the house. It is better here anyway.” Memories of his family don't crowd in on him in the camper.

Finn is snuggled close against Mica’s side. He has captured Mica’s hand. His little partner squeezes the hand tight. The boy’s other hand is limp between his bare legs. Mica wonders if Vikki went to Mexico willingly. It hardly seems possible. People say life in Foster Care can be a nightmare. The eleven-year old beside him might have had his reasons to run. Finn breaks into his thoughts.

“They took Burley away!” Finn begins to sob his desolation. “I don’t know where he is!” Finn buries his face in Mica’s chest. Mica starts to hug him. The more Finn cries, the harder Finn’s-Bitch hugs him. Mica is safe. Mica will shield him from the blows, like he always does. Mica will know what to do next.

The summer heats up the old camper. They spoon together on the bed beside the toilet. Mica’s arms wrap around Finn as the waif exhausts himself with the last of his tears. Finn was a loose thread in Mica’s dreams, like Edan. The breeze through the open window above their heads is heavy and hot.

Finn is tugging at his shorts. It wakes Mica up. After a moment’s consideration, Mica completes the task for him. He lets Finn penetrate him while he lies with his head resting on his arms, still drowsy in the heat. Finn is short of five feet and only 72 pounds. He hugs Mica’s bare chest and ungulates into his ultimate security. He is like a baby suckling on his soother.

When Finn ejaculates, the relief overwhelms Finn again. He lies on Mica’s back sobbing as his boner fades. This teenage boy has to be his bitch. Mica can’t leave him alone again.

It is Mica’s turn. He presses Finn’s fragility onto the soiled sleeping bag and gently penetrates Little-bitch. Finn’s unkempt mop nestles under Mica’s chin as they begin to move together. With Mica taking care of him, Finn’s crying comes to a stop with one long sigh.

There is some rib counting, but Mica pushes his fingers to the hollow gut below Finn’s navel. Finn’s muscles press into his hand each time Mica pushes in against the soft cleft parted for his boner. Another time, Cain’s hustlers will let their muscles flex. Little-Bitch’s prostate can orgasm on Mica’s strong cock, or Little-Master can own Finn’s-Bitch’s ass with his eager small prick. This air-heavy coupling is a gentle sweaty reassurance. They are something to each other.

“Not much food here.” Mica looks over the kitchen cupboards. Finn has spent two days eating Sugar Pop and stale bread. Finn probably cooks, his siblings hardly would for him. The boy needs something hot before it gets dark. The washer is running a load of clothes in the background. It will have to be the last of the soup, Mica decides.

Finn is sitting in his shorts playing the Man’s stolen games on his ancient Nintendo. He was supposed to be laying out clothes to pack in his school backpack. He was supposed to be searching all Alea and Brandon’s hiding places for anything valuable. The police have been thorough. What the police did not find, the Sykes took with them.

“My last Trick gave me $40. Someone in the group home stole it from me, sorry.” Finn negotiates something awkward. “Vikki stole my stash. I guess she knew I kept it in the back of Cain’s broken Sega.” Finn drops back into his game.

“That’s okay,” Mica assures him. “Finn, I told you to pack your bag. No stupid stuff, three sets of clothes, something warm.” Mica butters bread again. He remembers Alea torturing Finn in the bedroom. He remembers sex and suffering everywhere in this house. They could burn it down. Finn might like that.

Finn’s-bitch has given Finn the last two slices of bread. He takes a bite and watches Mica spooning Chicken Noodle to his lips. “The Man likes us.” Finn suggests, pushing one slice of bread back toward his bitch.

“His place rocks, but he would not want us all the time.” Mica replies. None of the Tricks would want them underfoot, particularly The Man. “It is a nice thought.” Mica smiles at Finn. The boy is whip-smart. His little partner has to know that it would be constant agony for The Man to have Finn flitting about the place. To see, to want, to never touch, The Man would beat Mica senseless every night to punish his demons. Mica shivers at the thought. The cane and the flogger, the memories make Mica shiver with a strange desire.

The only thing to do is let Mica’s parents calm down. His sister would be reasoning with them. Mica will go home and pay his penance. Finn will go back to Child Services. The system could hardly be worse than living under his sibling’s thumbs. Mica simply has to be patient. Meanwhile, the boys will take care of each other.

Two days later, Mica decides his parents have had their chance to cool down. Two phone calls have not improved things. His parents hang up on him and there is no answer from Edan. He can't phone his old friends. He wouldn't know what to say. Mica thinks about his grandmother for a moment. She is his father's mother and he really doesn't know her well. He tries his home one more time before Finn and Mica leave the silence of the Sykes’ empty house for the last time. Burning it was just a passing thought.