Page 69 of True North
JT winced. “Awkward.”
Misha shook his head. “No. He was mad. So angry, he yelled—really bad things, called us bad things. Yelling, yelling.” He and Kirill had been scrambling around on the bed, trying to put their clothes in order, trying to defend themselves. “He picked up, um—” He had forgotten the word. Kirill played baseball with a rec league, and his uncle had picked up the bat from where it was propped up against the dresser and held it raised before him. Misha moved his hands in a swinging gesture, pretending he was holding a bat.
“He had a—Jesus Christ,” JT said, eyes wide with some combination of shock and horror. “A baseball bat?”
“Yeah. He came to me. Mad, yelling.” Misha had gotten up on his knees by then, facing the uncle as he approached, the bat raised high. He would never forget the look in the man’s eyes, furious and grimly determined. “I think—I think he will swing. He will hit me. He will try to hurt me. And then he—” Misha mimed drawing the bat back to swing. “So I reached out. I caught the bat with my hands. I pushed him.”
“He fell,” JT said.
Misha nodded. “Yeah. He trip on—I don’t know, something on floor, I think Kirill’s pants. He fell and hit his head on the desk. On the corner. I knew right away he’s dead.”
“Shit.” JT rubbed his face with both hands. “That’s nightmare material.”
Misha rarely remembered his dreams and hadn’t dreamed about it a single time as far as he knew, but he understood what JT meant. “It’s very bad. I went so fast. Kirill screamed so much. I knew someone would come, and it’s lots of trouble, so I left. I go out the back door into the—the alley, and I shifted and ran.”
“Through Toronto? In bear form? And nobody tried to stop you?”
Misha shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s dark. Maybe nobody see. Maybe they thought I’m big dog.” He didn’t remember much about the rest of that night as he headed north through the increasingly far-flung suburbs and kept going. At dawn, he was somewhere outside of Newmarket. He found a patch of woods to sleep in and headed out again at dusk. By the end of the week, when no one had come after him, he decided he was safe. After that, he was only a bear.
“Okay.” JT sighed. He flopped his hands on the table, palms up. “But Kirill lied and told the cops you killed his uncle on purpose.”
“It’s his uncle,” Misha said. “And probably he’s scared, like, he gets in trouble. But he said it’s me, so there’s no trouble for him. I understand why he did.”
“You’re more forgiving than I would be,” JT said. “God. Misha, I’m sorry. Thanks for telling me.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell before. I feel, um—” He stopped and scrunched up his face in a pained grimace. He didn’t know how to explain what he had felt: ashamed and angry and vulnerable. He had been half-naked and aroused with someone he liked well enough, and then terrified and humiliated, and then terrified and alone. He had felt alone for so long after that, and he was still running. He was still struggling to feel like anywhere outside JT’s house was safe.
JT reached across the table and touched his fingertips to Misha’s knuckles, where his hands were wrapped around his coffee mug. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Misha swallowed. “I feel like it’s my fault.”
“Yeah. I bet. But it isn’t.” JT’s hands closed around Misha’s, rough and warm. “We’re going to get you out of this. Adeola’s coordinating with the best criminal defense firm in Toronto. I’m not letting you go to prison for this.”
“I think it’s not your choice,” Misha said, although he was touched by JT’s determination. “Kirill said I did, so.”
“Kirill could maybe be convinced to say something else.” JT’s eyes searched Misha’s face. “Can I ask—I know you were panicked. But if you had stayed, you could have told the cops your own side of the story, and maybe Kirill would have backed you up.”
“Yeah, it’s stupid to run, I know.” Misha shrugged one shoulder. “But if I stay, then everyone find out what I did with Kirill. You know? Cops know, Alyosha know, probably someone tell my family. I was so scared that everyone know my secret, after I hide it my whole life.”
“Oh, Misha,” JT murmured.
“It’s hard to hide. You know.” Misha moved his hands so he could clasp JT’s. “For a long time, I was so ashamed. I thought it was wrong, what I want. But you seem, I don’t know—like it’s okay to like guys. Like you think it’s okay you’re gay. So now, I start to feel okay, too.”
“Itisokay,” JT said fiercely. “Everything you want is normal and good. I like everything we do together. I’m so tired of caring about what other people think. Let’s go out into the woods together and live in a shack. You can hunt deer for us. We’ll bathe in the lake.”
Misha laughed, a little shakily, but glad to be laughing. “Okay. Where’s shack? Let’s go.”
JT smiled at him and squeezed his hands, then sat back and drained the last of his coffee. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. Let’s go for a swim, eh? I feel like we could both use a swim.”
Misha exhaled slowly, trying to let out all the awful past along with his breath. He was shaken up from reliving those memories. Telling Adeola had felt more fact-based, less emotional. Telling JT was a confession.
JT got up and came around the table. He touched Misha’s hair, then his shoulder. Misha leaned against him and pressed his face to JT’s hip, and closed his eyes for a minute as JT rubbed his back. He had confessed, and JT had absolved him. No matter what happened next, he would always have these untainted moments of JT’s understanding and forgiveness.
“Okay,” he said at last, and straightened up. “Let’s swim.”
* * *
They swam for a while, but Misha seemed reluctant to go out too far and kept coming back to where JT was lazily breast-stroking parallel to the shore, as if he was afraid he would lose track of JT’s whereabouts. After a while, JT turned onto his back and floated there. The sun burned orange through his closed eyelids. He heard Misha splashing closer and then felt Misha’s hand touching his, Misha’s fingers tangling with his own.