Page 26 of Creature
“Do you want something hotto drink?” John asked. “Or soup?”
“Stop being so fuckingconsiderate!”
Still sitting on the floor, John shrank backagainst the couch and ducked his head.
When Harry spoke again, his tone was soft.“Sorry. But you need to stop being nice to me. I don’t deserveit.”
“I don’tunderstand.”
“Yeah. Look, there’sthings I have to tell you. About me, and about… what’s going tohappen. They’re not nice things.”
John raised his head to look at Harry. “I’ma monster. That’s not nice at all.”
“I don’t even know whatthat word means anymore. People have called me a monster, or closeto it. My own daddy used to say I was a worthless piece of garbage,and Mama said I was the Devil’s work.”
Although Harry’s tone was matter-of-fact,the words wounded John. He’d thought parents were supposed to lovetheir child. Yes, he’d learned that Harry’s father was troubled,but to go so far with his own flesh and blood? “Why would they saythat about you?”
“Lots of reasons. I ain’tsmart. I’m not good at much of anything. I never fit in withanyone, not even my own family.” Harry let out a deep breath. “AndI’m a queer. That’s one of the things I had to tellyou.”
“Queer?”
“I fuck men. Or let themfuck me.”
John had to process this. He understood theconcepts but not the disgusted way Harry had said them. “Do you….When you have sex, you don’t force anyone? And they don’t forceyou?”
“It’svoluntary.”
“Then why does it makeyou… those things your parents called you? Sex feels nice, doesn’tit? It doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Yeah, it feels good. Buttwo men together ain’t natural.”
John surprised himself with a bitter laugh.“Bringing the dead back to life—that’s unnatural. A perversion. Iftwo people make each other feel good, I think that’s a beautifulthing.” He looked down at his feet. “But I guess I’m no judge ofmorality.”
After a long pause, Harry rose from thechair. Still wrapped in his blanket, he sat next to John. “Itdoesn’t bother you.”
“No. Of coursenot.”
“It bothers mostfolks.”
John smiled at him. “I’m not most folks, amI?”
Harry’s answering smile nearly broke John’sheart. “I guess not. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Hescooted slightly closer until they were almost touching. John feltthe warmth of him. “Everyone always called me brainless and clumsy.Daddy said I was a waste of good food. But they let me stick aroundat least. Until I was sixteen and Mama found a letter I wrote toCary Grant.”
“Who’s that?”
“An actor.” Harry snortedsoftly. “Real handsome. I saw him in a movie and wrote this stupidletter. I wasn’t gonna mail it, of course, but I guess I had to getthose feelings out somehow, even if nobody was supposed to readthem. I hid the letter in this little box where I kept a fewthings. That box was the only thing that was really mine. But Mamafound it a couple of months later and she showed Daddy.”
“Whathappened?”
Harry hunched in on himself. “He… he wassick then, but still pretty strong.”
Although Harry didn’t elaborate, John couldimagine the rest: a man’s hands hard against a boy’s young body. Achild damaged by the man who was supposed to protect him.
“I’m sorry.” John knewthat sympathy from a monster was inadequate comfort, but it was allhe had to offer.
Harry nodded twice. “I had to quit school,find whatever jobs I could get, sleep wherever I could afford abed. The rest of them—Mama, my brothers and sisters—they wouldn’teven talk to me at Daddy’s funeral. Like I was a stranger to them.It took me a long time to save enough money to go to California,but I did, eventually.”
“You’re verystrong.”
