Living in a Snow Globe

“Of course the gay kid was guilty.” The man said. “I mean it was his car right?”

“He did not belong here.” A woman spoke, near him. Johnny could not tell where he was, a pale-yellow fog surrounding him.   

“I know his type. My Sara goes to high school with him. Did you know he was on the cheerleading team? And he wore dresses to school! Marco was just trouble. He got what he deserved.” 

“We can’t have that kind of thing around here, corrupting our town.” The man’s voice lowered. “I heard he was drunk as a skunk.”

The words twisted the iron bar in his head, pain ricocheting down his spine into his neck. What happened? Why are they talking about Marco? He tried to open his eyes, but the glare seeped in, only adding to the pain, so he kept them closed. He twisted to relieve the pressure on his right side, until the lighting strike of pain made him freeze his movement. 

“Oh, look he is waking up.” The man spoke again. 

Someone touched his arm. He was on his back, a thin sheet covering him. 

“Where am I?” His words like gravel scratched his dry throat. He could not move his right arm, somehow immobilized. 

“You were in an accident. You were badly shaken up, and now you are in the hospital.” The man said.

“An accident?” He tried to sit up, but the sharp jolt in his head and the man’s hands conspired against him and he gave up his efforts with a groan.   

What accident? Johnny's thoughts swirled to worst case scenarios, of valuable property damaged or someone getting hurt or dead. His hands started sweating. What happened? He remembered it was the last day of school, and then, yes, they went to Billy’s house. There was a dumb party and he had several beers. Then Marco was there, outside. A small smile crossed Johnny's face with the thought of sneaking away to meet Marco. The smile made tape pull on his cheeks, and he put his free left hand up and felt a bandage across his cheek. He focused again to organize the mixed up memories.

Sitting with Marco in Brando. Oh, it felt so good to be with him, just talking and drinking. And then the car was shaking, but why? Fear shot through him.

“What happened to Marco?” He asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, but no one answered. 

He said louder, using all his strength, “What happened to Marco?”

“You are lucky to be alive, Marco almost killed you. "The woman said. “They probably arrested him.” 

“No-” Johnny fell back, cold and shaking. Images of Marco circling in his head. 

Tall and lean, with long curling hair Marco was fabulously gay, and vibrant. He dressed how he wanted no matter what anyone said, not caring about his place in the social life of the school. Johnny could only look on with awe at this alternative species of human, not boy nor girl, but both together, intertwined and flourishing. Because he knew he had to, Johnny joined in the tormenting, ridiculing Marco along with his friends when he first came to their high school. Marco’s differences did not fit with how Johnny understood the world. And worse, he was unapologetic, not adapting to fit in like every other kid at the high school. Johnny could not stop watching, even when the teachers joined in the verbal assaults, punishing him for his clothes, his make up. He didn’t understand this Marco, but wanted to. Alone at home Johnny put on his sister's clothes, seeing how he looked, trying out new sympathies. Johnny didn't know how to explain his feelings to his dad or Billy, or any of his friends on the baseball team. So, he stood from a far just watching in envy and desire. Desire both for his gorgeous face and soft curling hair, and for the way he lived his life on his own terms. Until that beautiful snowy morning when Marco walked up to him in the school hallway. Johnny still remembered the violet jacket he wore, and Marco’s long curls dripping water. The pale pink note Marco handed him, filled his heart. How did Marco know? Johnny felt seen for the first time in his life and it ignited his whole body. When Marco then stepped away to leave, Johnny instinctively reached out to stop him as he opened the letter. The swirly fat loops of a girl's handwriting and the words didn’t make sense until he saw the name at the bottom of the love note, Clara. 

Johnny‘s shoulders fell, and his hand fell to his side. The letter was released, catching the air to drift down and fall into the corner of the hallway. 

 “I hoped it would be from you.”

“Can I see him?” Johnny asked into the room.

Hmm?” answered from the foot of the bed. 

The pale-yellow light on the other side of his closed eyelids turned darker as someone got closer to him.

“Marco, can I see him?”

“Son, you have a bad concussion, a broken arm and other scrapes. You can not go anywhere. And that boy Marco.” The woman's voice changed, her tongue clicking. “We haven't seen him so I assume he is in custody. He is a deviant. With his drinking and drugs and peculiar behaviors. That boy’s lifestyle! I am surprised he made it to 18.”

That first time together they walked and walked around the outside of the mall because Johnny didn't want to be seen inside. Marco listened to him like no one else did, about his drawings and his dream of being in a play. If only they could be alone together forever! Looking back Johnny called that their first date, the day he fell in love, with Marco, and how he made him feel. 

“But you don't understand, Johnny said, “I need to see Marco, he is…”

“You just get some rest. You need to recover from that bump to the head. I ‘ll check in on you in a little bit.” And the shadow over him left.  

“I’m sorry, Marco.”

On their last day of school, joy and release filled the school hallway, bouncing 18 year old's knowing they were on top of the world, and not wanting to leave the school grounds. They had met all the challenges, won all the battles. The baseball team was reliving their last game again.  

“You were throwing rockets, man! Billy laughed. His round bulldog face tilted back with laughter. “My hand hurt from catching them.” He slapped Johnny's back. “Those faggots couldn't hit nothing!” 

At those words, Johnny’s head went down, his body imploded on itself, his shoulders curved in and bent down. Billy’s words drove right into his soul, shrinking his body in on itself, a pain in his stomach from what Billy would say if he knew who Johnny truly was. He felt lucky again he had one thing, baseball, to keep him out of the group of misfits at the school. He could not handle being alone.   

“Speaking of faggots”, Billy’s voice, mean and low spurred Johnny to look up. Was it obvious?

He saw Billy’s eyes look down the hall to a group headed their way. Several girls, singing and jumping around someone in the middle. Oh no, it was Marco. 

Marco was spinning, dancing, his long dress flowing up and up, he was laughing and the girls were clapping. Johnny grabbed Billy’s shoulder and pulled, desperate to get his attention away from Marco. “Billy, let’s go outside-.” But then Marco saw Johnny and headed directly toward him. “Pretty boy Johnny! Come dance with me!” He reached out his hand, the sparkling purple nail polish on each finger, until a girl got in his way, he lost his balance and clumsily spun into Billy. 

“Get off me you damn faggot!” Billy erupted, and pushed Marco hard, his anger vibrating off the walls. As in slow motion, Johnny saw his friend fly across the hall, and then drift down and crash into the corner of the hallway. His gold spray-painted sneakers flew off. The baseball players circled-up, taunting the victim. A well trained bully, Billy pushed Marco down as he tried to get up, laughing at him falling again. A few others of the team joined in this new game, not letting Marco get up. The pleading of the girls only incited them to further violence. One hard push and Marco's head hit the sharp handle of a locker, a cut on his forehead spurted blood. Bloodlust erupted through the hallway, the crowd full of power over the outcast. 

Johnny saw Marco's eyes pleading, and again his outstretched hand. Fear and anxiety cemented him to the ground. As he watched impotent and paralyzed, Marco gave in to his rage, his face turned red, his hands curled into claws.

“Come on you pussy!” Marco yelled at his crowd, high pitched and desperate. “Hey Billy hit me again, or do you want a kiss?"

Marco refused to stay on the ground, turning the show into a dismal spectacle of impotent violence. “Your daddy hits me harder than that!”  

Mr. Pine finally showed up and ended the show by dragging Marco away, blood streaks and his shouts following him down the hall. Marco screamed continuously as he was led away. “Hit me harder Come on! I couldn't even feel it!” 

“Johnny, we need to ask you what happened.” A new deep voice. Johnny opened his eyes enough to see the blue uniform, then closed them again. 

“Before we start I just want to say that quite a few of us were at the Championship game and I am so proud we finally kicked some Tech High butt.”  The policeman laughed once, then Johnny heard some papers rustling.

“Now, we assume Marco was driving his own car and he was drunk. I don't know if you know this, but we have had run-ins with Marco before, he is a known delinquent. Neither of you were wearing seatbelts so both of you were thrown from the car after the crash. What can you tell us? Why were in that jerk’s car to begin with?”

Johnny felt the bandage on his cheek getting damp, the tears flowed down his cheeks.

“There was an empty bottle of whisky in the car, can you confirm it was Marco’s?” The policeman asked.

“Where did you get that?” Johnny asked, pointing at the bottle of brown liquid.   Marco was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, the Ford Tempo he called Brando, waiting outside the party. The white cloth bandage on his head dappled with the blood leaking through. Johnny got in the driver seat. Marco poured the brown liquid into his half empty coke can and offered it to Johnny. His smile was too big, his eyes too closed. 

“You didn't want to get in on the action, beat up the gay kid?”

“I’m so sorry- but I couldn't stop all of them, not when they get like that! I got Mr. Pine to rescue-

“ -I didn’t need him to rescue me.” Marco took a drink and looked over at Johnny. “I was doing fine, if I do say so myself. I have been beat up worse. They didn't have any pipes at least.” Marco handed the coke can to Johnny. “But you could have said something- Like, stop beating up my boyfriend!”

At Johnny’s wince Marco did it again, “boyfriend, boyfriend!” He threw his head back laughing. 

“Oh Pretty boy, what are we doing? Marco said, his words slurred. “School is over, and you still won't acknowledge me, won't even talk to me if there's anyone around.” He smiled. “Alone, though, you can't keep your hands off me-”

“-You are the only person I can talk to, be myself with.” Johnny held Marco’s hand, looked around the small car. “I want to stay here with you forever where we can be together without this stupid town. We are safe here.

“We have to get out some time Pretty boy. You need to make a decision. Stay safe or choose to be free?” 

“Choose? I can’t talk to my parents, or Billy or the team. They are a bunch of idiots. I am sorry-” Johnny's tears dripped on their hands.

“Fuck sorry. It's just us now. Have a drink.” 

Billy’s loud voice interrupted. “Hey Marco, what are you doing at my house? You want some more? Lets go finish the job boys!”

“We should leave, your friends are coming.” Marco said. 

“No. I am going to tell them, I am going to tell them who I am.” Johnny said.

“They are drunk, and you are a fool. Live to kiss another day. Let’s go”

Billy and he team banged on the car, and lifted the locked car door handles to get in.

“They will listen to what I say-” Johnny said. 

The boys were rocking the car back and forth, debris flew up around them flying in the air in the small car.

“You live in a fantasy land, lying to yourself. Open your eyes, this is real. You should go home to your base-ball and your snow globe world, protected and safe.”

Suddenly a baseball bat hit the windshield cracking it. 

“OK, we should leave!” Johnny started the car and gunned it, aiming for Billy, then swerving to stay on the street. Driving fast felt good, a new start. He pressed harder on the gas pedal.

“He is not ready to answer I guess.” The policeman said.

"Where is he, where is my son!”

Johnny heard his dad’s voice in the room.  

“Are you OK Johnny?”

“Yah.” Johnny said, not opening his eyes. 

"Oh thank god! What were you doing in that, that boy’s car?”

"We were just asking that sir,” the policeman said. “We just have one more question. Who was driving the car?”

“Johnny?” His dad gripped Johnny's hand hard.

 Johnny just say the other boy was driving the car and then the policeman can leave.”

“I don’t remember-” Johnny lied, his face flushed hot, he still could not get choose. “Can I see Marco, talk to him at least?”

When he didn’t hear an answer, Johnny finally got angry. “He is, my friend, I know you don’t approve of him, but he is a good person and he understands me!” Johnny opened his eyes a little to see the policeman looking at his dad. 

“Uh, Johnny-” his dad started.

“-What?” 

“Marco’s dead. I am sorry. But just say he was driving the car and we can move past this.”

Johnny’s whole mind went blank. His escape from this life, this town was over. The only person who truly knew him, gone. 

“Johnny! Johnny, say something.” His Dad said. 

Johnny’s anxiety and fear, all his repressed desires boiled up and detonated inside him shattering his self imposed walls.

After a minute of silence, the policeman spoke. “He does not need to say anything, sir. The story is pretty clear to me. That boy, Marco drove drunk, crashed and killed-”  

“-No, no it was me! "Johnny sat up, his left arm pushed himself up, his eyes half open. 

He finally gave in to his emotions, his face turned red, his hands curled into claws.

“It is my fault I drove, I drove! ” Johnny yelled at his crowd, high pitched and desperate. He burst into tears, hunch shouldered and shaking, sobs bursting through. 

“I loved Marco. He is my boyfriend.” Johnny said. 

“He is only guilty of setting me free.”