|Like Somebody's Weight Class||2009-04-21 10:02:02 ET|
“I was born in the rain. I guess that’s why it happens. Showers always did it for me. They still do.”
Look at him. This fucker isn’t even listening. I could talk about anything and he’d still be staring at his file, lifting pages instead of turning them. Fuck it. I should just keep going so I can get out of here.
“In high school we had to shower. After practice. I was on the wrestling team. I wrestled 165 as a sophomore. That was my weight class. 165 pounds. John wrestled too. But he was a freshman and not any good, so no one cared about his weight. But I would guess him at 119 or 124. He never did any matches. And he didn’t even come back out his sophomore year.”
Weird. They punch two holes at the top of their pages. Not three on the side like everybody else. I hate the lighting in this room. And the AC keeps the table top too cold. He’s clearing his throat again. Yeah, yeah. Go on. I get it.
“John must have had a problem showering. Maybe we all did, especially when we were freshmen. He would purposely walk to the locker room slower than everybody else. And when he got there, he would fumble around at his locker forever and undress really slow. Everyone else would be toweling off or already gone by the time John got his shirt off. He was lucky team sports were the last period of the day. There weren’t any classes for him to be late for. He could shower all night. Who would know?”
He hasn’t even looked at me for minutes, but he’s looked at his big shiny watch four times. Why am I doing all the talking? He told me he was going to tell me what to say. Nobody ever wants to do their job. Good, the phone is ringing. Now I can pretend I’m not being ignored.
“This one time I decided to shower longer just to see how long this guy could stall it out. I think it made him really antsy. Like he was sweating. He was probably wondering what I was doing for so long.”
Damn. It must be nice having a job where you can answer the phone and not be polite.
“I must’ve stood under that water an extra twenty minutes. My fingers got all water logged. But it was too late for him to leave. He already had his shirt and pants off. He could only stall for so long.”
“He only had a towel around his waist, wearing it like a skirt. What was he going to do? Put all his clothes back on?”
Ha ha ha. They’re calling back, asshole. Answer the damn phone.
“Maybe he thought a janitor would be there soon. I don’t know. Because he finally came over toward the showers. He walked funny. But then he turned back around because he forgot his shampoo or something. So I waited again. It was all one shower, but they had all those different nozzles. He finally went to the one on the end, farthest from me, which still wasn’t that far. He still walked funny. Kinda awkward, like he was in a three legged race all by himself. When he got to the shower, he started showering really quick, like all of a sudden he was in a rush. And he even started showering with that little towel still tied around his waist. The water got the towel wet, and I think that’s when he realized his mistake. Right away, it stuck to his skin, formed to it. There was nothing there. No bulge. Nothing. I didn’t think he was a girl. He wrestled. So I started to think about those freaks born with both organs, so maybe his dick was just extra small. You know, like not fully formed. But then the towel untied. Maybe it got too heavy for the knot because of the water weight. It fell onto one of his ankles. And that’s when I saw it. His dick was tucked between his legs.”
Wow. That got him to look up. Was he listening the whole time, or just when I said the word, “dick?”
“Sorry. I mean, his penis was tucked between his legs. He squatted down real quick to pick up the towel, and then that’s when it happened. His legs came apart, freeing his penis. It stood straight out. He had an erection. So now I’m thinking, this is it. This is the big secret. This kid is a homo. I looked at him, and he knew I saw it. His hard penis. He tied the wet towel back around his waist but it was still there. I had no idea what to do, so I just turned off the water and started toward my locker.”
Shit. He hung up. Think he would excuse himself. Nope. Just flip over another two hole punched page.
“So, yeah. Either it was because his shower was still running, or I just panicked, but I didn’t hear him coming. I was still naked. He grabbed me from behind and tried to throw me down. But it went just like at practice. I sidestepped and got a hold of him and threw him instead. It was like routine. We rolled around on the tile a little, but I got the best of him. He wasn’t hard to pin. But now that I had him down, I didn’t know what to do with him. I thought he might try to hit me. So I just held him there. We were chest to chest, with his shoulders pinned to the tile. He knew I had him good, and he started to relax. So I began to let go. But as I let off, he lunged at me. Right at my face. He kissed me.”
Ooops. Is that too much information? Well, at least he finally looked up at me.
“Sorry. But, that’s what happened.”
“Just go on. Is that when you hit him?”
Wow. He speaks at last.
“Yeah. It was just a reaction. I punched him in the face. I was still on top of him. I pinned him down again and punched him in the face. And again. I just kept hitting him. There was blood all over the place. I must have pinned him over the drain, because the floor was filling up around us all red. And then I stopped. I stopped because he was just staring at me. I thought maybe the back of his head hit the tile, and maybe he was knocked out. But his face had expression, if that makes any sense. He looked so sad. The blood was really coming from his nose. The water from the showerhead kept washing it off. It must have been getting into his eyes too, but he just lay there staring at me. Not blinking. Right in the face. If he was crying, I wouldn’t know. But it was like he didn’t want me to stop hitting him. Like he hated himself.”
The world was a lot cooler when they only made black and white movies. You could smoke everywhere in them. I so want a cigarette. But I know this prick isn’t going to suggest taking a break. Just hurry the fuck up.
“So, I lay there pinning him down. And I noticed the towel was still between us. He must have retied that knot around his waist really good. And that’s when it happened. Laying there on top of him, with that damn shower water beating down on my back, my skin felt so sensitive that I could feel all of the drops hitting me. Not like needles though. Just like rain drops. Like I said, I was born in the rain. I think that’s why it happens. It happened then too. I began to grow. It must have went up under that bloodstained towel, because I felt it touch him. He must have felt it too, because I felt his move and…”
“What is it?”
“What did we talk about?”
“We don’t need to know all this.”
“You said for me to start at the beginning. How am I supposed to know?”
“Use your head. This is court. Do you think it’s going to help his case, giving the jury all these details? All this homosexual stuff? Think about it.”
“You asked me to come here to keep John from being just another statistic. Like somebody’s weight class.”
“And you think this is going to help him? You think this is what he needs now?”
“His name is John.”
“You’re not helping John. Not like this.”
I just thought they would want to know.”
“Well they don’t. These kinds of things won’t help him. It’ll hurt him. It’ll hurt John’s case.”
“I’m sorry. Okay.”
“Just start over. And use your head.”
“Okay. I met John my sophomore year in high school. We were both on the wrestling team. He wrestled at 119 pounds. He liked math and history and had a 3.5 GPA. We were friends but I didn’t see him after I graduated. I went away to college. That’s where I was when I heard that he was killed. When I knew him, he didn’t seem that much into porn. I heard about the snuff film but never saw it. I received an envelope in his handwriting a couple weeks before I heard. He never mentioned anything about a film. There was no letter. Just his name and the return address on the envelope. It was sent from Los Angeles. The envelope was filled with cash. A lot of cash. The detectives told me it was his payment for being in the film. Who knows why he would decide to do it?”
“Alright stop. That’s good. Start again. But try beginning it like this.”
Now he’s sliding me one of his two hole punched pieces of paper.