Unwelcome by Michael Griffo Page A

attend to, Vaughan felt his head nod in agreement and his legs start walking toward the staircase that led upstairs. Just before she closed the door behind her, Brania called out, “Have fun, boys, but do remember my warning.”
    Finally alone, Nakano felt tense instead of relieved. He looked at his watch and realized he had about three minutes to get to geometry, another free period wasted. When Jean-Paul tried to kiss him good-bye, he brushed past him and gathered up his books, now more preoccupied than passionate. “Are you afraid of Him?” Nakano asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
    â€œOf Brania’s father?” Jean-Paul replied. “No. When you respect and trust someone, there’s no need for fear.”
    That’s a roundabout answer if ever Nakano heard one. “What do you think he’d do if he found out about us?”
    Jean-Paul looked down at Nakano and smiled, his hair falling from behind his ear, creating a shadow across his face, “ Mon cher, don’t you think he already knows?”
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    Sitting in the chair a foot away from where Jeremiah had died, Brania recalled a memory. She was once again in this room, watching a man undress, the multiple layers of her long, pale blue silk skirt keeping her body warm despite the chill that clung to her heart, to the fragments of her soul that she still believed existed. He took off his waistcoat and tossed it onto the floor, undid the ruffled ascot that was wrapped skillfully around his neck. Thick curls of black hair peeked out from the top of his tunic, and Brania felt the chill inside her turn icy. She knew how those curls would feel against her naked skin, harsh, oppressive, necessary, and it made her want to flee this place, but she couldn’t. In the corner of the room, unseen by the man, her father was watching, making sure that she did what needed to be done.
    â€œBrania, my darling,” David had told her, “we need a place we can call home. This man is offering to rent us these accommodations and he wants so little in exchange. You.”
    She closed her eyes; a new memory took shape. Another man stood before her, darker, his chest hairier than the last, his stomach plump. He rolled his shoulders so the suspenders fell against his wide hips, undid the buttons of his full, pleated pants, and Brania watched as they collapsed onto the floor. Involuntarily, she crossed her legs, but the shimmery beaded cloth of her dress raced up her thigh and exposed too much flesh. She shivered, her hair bouncing slightly. She loathed this haircut. She felt like a boy wearing a short bob and remembered how beautiful her hair used to be, but this look was all the rage so she had no choice if she wanted to fit in. She brushed a piece of hair that had gotten caught within the crease of her mouth and pulled it sharply in an effort to stop her body from shaking. Behind the man, her father nodded approvingly. He thought she was playing the game perfectly.
    â€œBrania, sweetheart,” she remembered her father saying to her, “this man is giving us the deed to this land so we can own this piece of earth forever. In return, he asks so little to secure the deal.”
    â€œI’m not sure that I feel comfortable doing this.”
    Pulled from the past, it took Brania a few seconds to address the comment. “We’re both adults, Vaughan. There’s no reason why we can’t find comfort in one another.”
    Rebuttoning his shirt, Vaughan continued, “But he isn’t, that kid downstairs with my driver. It just doesn’t feel right.”
    Why are men so close-minded when it comes to everyone else’s desires except their own? “Seriously, Vaughan, you need to get over this problem you have with boys who like boys.”
    Searching for his shoes, which he kicked off moments before, Vaughan protested, “No, it isn’t that! Though personally I have to admit I don’t understand that