Sand-Man's Family

by CJane Elliott

  “Connor and I thought we’d go see Gran and Gramps.”

  “Oh?” Mom looked conflicted. “I suppose… will Beanpole and Reg be there?” Mom called Uncle Phinney “Beanpole” for some strange reason.

  “As far as I know, they will.”

  “I guess they’re all having Thanksgiving together.”

  Sandy got pissed off at Mom’s wistfulness. “Yeah, and we could have had it with them if you—” He clamped his mouth shut and opened the dishwasher.

  Mom didn’t say anything, but her stiff posture told him she was angry.

  Sandy grabbed a few glasses and started putting them in the dishwasher until Mom stopped him. “Don’t. I mean, I have a way I like for them to go.”

  He set down the remaining glass and wiped his hands on his jeans.

  “After we see Gran and Gramps, we’re going over to Jade’s. I’ll probably spend the night there.” He didn’t miss the wince on Mom’s face at the mention of Jade, but when she spoke it was to issue another indirect challenge.

  “I expected you to spend more time here. With your own family. Your brother and sisters have missed you. They’re wondering when you’re coming home to stay.” She stared into the sink as she scrubbed a pan with vigorous movements.

  Her guilt arrow hit its target. Sandy knew he’d been a shitty older brother by abandoning Connor and the girls. But the more time he spent in his parents’ house, the surer he was that he was never moving back. “I’m…I don’t know, Mom. I’ll go hang out with the girls now.”

  He turned to leave, but his mother stopped him with a wet hand on his sleeve. “Wait.” Her eyes held a hint of pleading. “I… I want to understand more about what’s going on with you. Can you be home tomorrow? To talk?”

  That was novel. Mom usually preferred stony silences to talking.

  Sandy faced her. “Sure.”

  She gave a jerky nod, her smile more like a grimace, but it seemed like she was trying. “Okay. Three o’clock, all right?”

  He wondered at her giving a specific time but figured it was her usual need to control. “Sure. I’ll be home from Jade’s before that. Brittany and I are getting together, but that’s in the evening.” He waited for another wince at Brittany’s name—his partner in sin—but Mom’s expression remained neutral.

  “Fine.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Good-bye, Sandy. Don’t be a stranger.” Sandy stooped to accept Gran’s frail embrace as Uncle Phinney and Cody watched. Uncle Reg and Aunt Becka stood nearby, talking to Connor and Gramps.

  “Okay, Gran. See you later.”

  It had been way more fun hanging out with the grandparents than Sandy had expected. Gran had gotten into playing Apples to Apples in their retirement community and had insisted on a family game. Sandy had thought Uncle Phinney was going to suffocate with laughter when he put down the adjective fresh and Cody supplied the word kilts.

  Gran and Gramps seemed to have mellowed with age. If they still didn’t approve of Phineas being gay, they didn’t show it. They had looked from Phinney to Cody several times, but neither had said anything until they were taking their leave.

  Gran released Sandy from her hug, then said to Phinney, “Beanpole, please come visit again soon. Bring Cody. You’re both always welcome.”

  Uncle Phinney turned pink. “Okay, Mom.” He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair.

  Cody grinned at him before saying, “Thank you, ma’am. I’d love to visit again.”

  “Maybe next time we can all get together,” Gramps said gruffly. “I miss seeing Darcy and the girls on Thanksgiving.” Sandy suspected the omission of Dad’s name was intentional. They’d never gotten along.

  “That would be wonderful. Boys, tell your mother we missed her.”

  Gran dabbed at her eyes, and Gramps patted her shoulder, a scowl settling on his face.

  Becka put an arm around Uncle Phinney and looked up at him. “Phineas, this was so much fun. Any chance we’ll see you in New York this trip?”

  “Probably not this time. We’re visiting Cody’s family in Ohio, then our friends Bette and Aurora in DC. But next time for sure.”

  “We’ll hold you to that,” Uncle Reg said. “I’m psyched we got a chance to spend time with you and Cody.” He and Phinney smiled at each other. “Don’t be surprised if Becka and I appear on your doorstep in Portland someday soon.”

  “Awesome!” Sandy burst out, and he didn’t even mind when the four of them laughed at his enthusiasm.

  “When Irish eyes are smiiiiiiiling!”

  Jade, Sandy, and Connor put their hands over their mouths and shook with silent giggles at the impromptu concert in Jade’s living room. Mr. Byrne—who insisted on being called Jack—Jade’s uncle, Pete, and Uncle Phinney warbled the tune in three-part harmony, while Cody, looking bemused, picked out the chords on an old acoustic guitar.

  “Come on, boys,” Mr. Byrne—Jack—wheezed. “Help us out here.”

  “No way,” Connor mumbled between laughs.

  But to Sandy’s surprise, Jade jumped up and joined the singers.

  And why he should be surprised, Sandy didn’t know. Jade was a musical performer down to his talented toes. He snatched a spoon from the colcannon bowl on his way and sang soulfully into it when the now barbershop quartet resumed.

  They made a funny picture: Jack and Pete—both short, barrel-chested, and blue-eyed, with white hair and red faces; Jade—lithe and sexy with his two-toned hair and eyeliner; and brown-eyed Uncle Phinney—tall and slender with his red-brown hair. But their voices blended surprisingly well as Cody wrung some beautiful music out of that old guitar.

  The fire crackled in the hearth, and Sandy felt an answering glow inside. It could have been from the whiskey, what little they’d been able to drink before that meanie Uncle Phinney cut him and Connor off. But Sandy suspected his happiness stemmed from being with people he loved. His cheeks ached from smiling so much. Then Jade caught his eye and sang to him, and he beamed some more. The contrast between this gathering and his chilly home scene couldn’t be more obvious.

  After the singing, Jade followed Sandy into the kitchen where he’d gone to get a glass of water.

  “I wanted to ask you something, Sand-Man, but I can’t figure out how to bring it up gracefully.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Uh, do you get tested? For HIV, I mean.”

  Sandy stared at him, his mind whirling. If this was a come-on, it was the bluntest one he’d ever experienced. “Why do you ask? And the answer is yes.”

  “Oh. Good. Me too.” Jade laughed lightly. “Don’t look at me that way, doll! I’m watching after you. It’s not like we got any sex education through St. Ignatius.”

  “Yeah, true. But Cody and Uncle Phinney were on my case about getting tested as soon as I got there. They even drove me to the clinic the first time.”

  “That’s great. I hope you don’t mind me asking. I just wanted to make sure you’re being safe.”

  Sandy suspected Jade’s interest might go beyond his general welfare, but he wasn’t going to push it in case he was mistaken. “Well, thank you for caring.”

  He’d meant it facetiously, but Jade grew serious. “Always, doll. Always have, always will.”

  Much later, as Connor snored on the sofa, Sandy helped Jade pick up glasses and plates. Uncle Phinney and Cody had taken a cab back to the hotel, and the “old men,” as Jade called them, had taken themselves to bed after Jack had talked Pete out of trying to drive home in his condition. A light snow fell outside, and the fire had almost died out.

  Jade grabbed an afghan and draped it over Connor. “I don’t think he’s waking up anytime soon,” he whispered. “Uncle Pete’s in the guest room, so I guess you’ll be with me.” His eyes sparkled.

  “Works for me.” Sandy felt the blush begin and shoved Jade lightly when he laughed.

  “Ooo, such a brute!” Jade clutched his arm, then laughed some more when Sandy bared his teeth at him. “This way, b
ruiser.”

  “From a pumpkin to a bruiser. At least I’m maturing,” Sandy muttered as he followed Jade’s bewitching ass up the stairs. “And why are you wearing such tight pants? It’s distracting.”

  “Good.” Jade turned at the top, and when Sandy almost collided with him, Jade put his hand on Sandy’s arm to steady him and spoke in a luring voice. “I have some whiskey in my room. And Oreos.”

  “Excellent.”

  Jade giggled. He seemed to be in quite the giggly mood. “You’re so easy to seduce.” He swung open a door, and they stepped into his bedroom.

  Sandy felt his face flame, and all his pent-up desire for Jade flared up. “Is that what this is? A seduction?” he managed, knowing his banter left something to be desired but having no hope of getting to silver-tongued Jade’s level.

  “If you want it to be.” Jade’s voice was singsong, teasing. Sandy had a sudden urge to grab him and kiss the smile off his pretty face.

  “Do you?” Sandy stifled a groan at his awkwardness. Something about Jade put him off balance. Or maybe Sandy wasn’t as confident as he usually tried to appear.

  Jade’s carefree expression changed—then he gave a laugh that seemed a bit brittle. “Sure. Of course! I’ll be your gay fling before you disappear again. Or get engaged to Brittany.” He opened his closet and peered inside.

  Sandy stared at his back. “What?”

  Jade turned, a bottle in his hand. “Voilà! Whiskey!” He busied himself finding some paper cups and pouring, while Sandy fumed.

  “I’m not getting engaged to Brittany. Jesus, Jade. She’s not even interested in me that way.”

  Jade arched an eyebrow. “That way? I thought you two were plenty interested in each other ‘that way.’”

  “No—I mean, Brittany isn’t in love with me. She made that real clear.”

  “Who said anything about love? Most of the married Catholics I know aren’t in love at all.”

  “Okay… wait. Why are we talking about this?”

  “All I’m saying is watch your back, kitten. The heteronormative pull of Rockford is strong. And let’s face it, it’s far easier to be het in this world than to be queer. Why even bother with the fag part, if you swing both ways?” He handed Sandy a cup of whiskey, then took a long drink of his own as he stared unblinkingly at him with his big dark eyes.

  “Because… that’s not what… I mean… dammit!” Sandy gulped down his whiskey, then threw the cup on the floor. He stalked over to Jade and grabbed his shirt. Unfortunately for his grand gesture, Jade’s shirt was so tight he couldn’t get a good grip on it, and his hand fell away.

  Jade backed up, putting his own hand out to stop Sandy. “You sure you want this, sweetie? As much as you want to be the big straight man on campus?” He was beginning to slur his words, and Sandy recoiled from the venom in his tone.

  The room spun unpleasantly as Sandy tried to catch his breath. Great.

  He was plastered, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. He gave a frustrated sigh. He didn’t want it to be this way between him and Jade. Yes, he was horny, but he wanted sex with Jade to mean something, not to be some challenge flung at his feet or some angry retaliation. He wasn’t even sure why Jade had gotten so angry. A wave of weariness hit him.

  “I… I’m gonna go use the bathroom.” He pushed by Jade, avoiding his eyes, and went across the hall to take a piss. As he washed his hands and tried to collect himself, he checked himself out in the mirror. He looked sad and felt worse. He felt alone.

  Why were relationships so effing hard? One moment everything was great, and the next— wham. Blindsided. Like Dare leaving without a word. Turning off the tap, Sandy waited for Dare-brain to kick in, but nothing happened. The familiar sting from thoughts of Dare had lessened considerably since running into Jade. Jade—the wonderful listener. Sandy had basked in his focused attention like a plant in sunlight. He’d emerged from the train feeling like a new person—energized and ready to take on the world, buoyed by his and Jade’s growing closeness.

  But now Jade was getting all weird on him. That hurt, because Sandy wanted…. What did he want? More. He wanted more with Jade. And what a dumb time to figure that out, right after Jade had pushed him away.

  The room was still when he returned, the only light coming from a nightlight in the closet. Jade lay in bed under the covers, facing the wall.

  Sandy couldn’t tell if he had clothes on or not. After some hesitation, he took off his jeans and shirt but left on his boxers, and climbed in beside him.

  At least Jade’s bed was roomier than the one on the train.

  He lay on his back for a moment and listened to Jade breathing.

  “Well… good night, then. Thanks for the whiskey and colcannon.” He turned to face the opposite direction. Although he expected sleep to elude him, he was already slipping into a dream when the bed jostled.

  Jade’s slim arm came around his waist, and he heard Jade’s voice— husky with sleepiness or emotion, Sandy wasn’t sure which. “I’m sorry, Sandy. I get bitchy when I’m drunk. It’s… it’s been so great to see you again. You don’t even know how great.”

  Sandy let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Okay. You too.” He put his hand over Jade’s and gave it a clumsy pat. The feel of Jade’s arm, his breath on Sandy’s shoulder, comforted him so much he drifted right off into a drunken sleep, a small smile on his face.

  Sandy woke up to an empty bed and the smell of bacon wafting from downstairs. He approached the kitchen with some trepidation, but Jade, looking wonderfully sleep-rumpled in pink-elephant pajama pants and a tight tee, had returned to his cheerful self, chattering away—in contrast to Jack and Pete, who groaned and drank coffee in silence.

  “Coffee, pumpkin?” Jade held out the pot and a mug.

  “Sure.” Sandy moved to take them.

  “Oh, no. Let me.” Jade turned to pour him a cup, and Sandy eyed his cute butt in those pink pajamas until he recalled Jack and Pete behind him.

  “Um, I’ll go get Connor off the couch. That bacon smells so good.”

  “And there’ll be pancakes too,” Jade called after him.

  If this was Jade’s way of apologizing, Sandy didn’t mind, and neither did his stomach.

  After breakfast Sandy and Connor took their leave. Connor loped down the walk to the car while Sandy tarried with Jade on the porch. Jade’s eyes had raccoon circles and his hair stuck out every which way, and Sandy felt the strongest urge to kiss him. He folded his arms across his chest to maintain control, which only made Jade grab one of his biceps and coo.

  “You’re impossible.” Sandy tried to frown at him but couldn’t quite make his mouth curve downward.

  “You look like you’re eating a lemon. Sorry again about my silliness last night. Good luck today with the ’rents. And have some fun—but not much—tonight with Brittany.”

  Sandy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not getting married, remember?”

  “Okay.” Jade hesitated, and his hand tightened on Sandy’s arm. “Stay in touch?”

  “Totally. When are you going to the airport tomorrow?”

  “I have an 11:00 a.m. flight, so I’m getting on the 7:30 shuttle. You?”

  “I’ll be right behind you. I was going to take the next shuttle for a noon flight. How about I come early and we can go together?”

  Jade’s eyes shone. “You got it, big boy.”

  He looked so scrumptious that Sandy leaned over and kissed him, heedless of the neighbors and Connor waiting in the car, and hoping Jade wouldn’t freak out. Relief mingled with lust when Jade kissed him back, snaking his hand through Sandy’s hair and holding him there for a lingering moment. Feeling a strange urge to cry, Sandy put his arms around Jade to pull him closer.

  Jade finally broke away with a breathless laugh. “Call me later? Let me know how it goes with your mom.”

  “Yeah.” Sandy felt pretty breathless himself. “Later.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Hand
me that tablecloth. Not that one, the lace one!”

  His mother’s voice, shriller than usual, pierced Sandy’s eardrums as he rooted around in the linen cabinet. She seemed to be working herself into a frenzy, but it was nothing compared to the shit storm that had been brewing inside of Sandy since Mom had announced that Father Gilhooly was coming over for tea.

  So that’s what the “talk” she’d wanted to have at the oddly specific time of 3:00 p.m. boiled down to: prayer intervention by the good parish priest to get Sandy to change his sinful ways. Mom had somehow prevailed on Dad to take the girls out, although she couldn’t get Connor to go with them. He’d shot Mom an angry glance and secluded himself in their bedroom, but not before murmuring to Sandy as he passed, “Got your back, bro.”

  Then Sandy had overheard Mom talking to Dad on the phone. “Be back by six. We’re going over to the Livingstons’ for dinner. Yes. I told you! Brittany’s parents wanted us all to get together.”

  He’d shot off a group text to Uncle Phinney, Cody, and Jade to warn them of trouble on the horizon, and they’d texted back not to worry. As if.

  He’d replied Help! The heteros are after me! Jade’s response We’re coming to the rescue, cowboy! had at least made him smile.

  Then he’d snuck outside and called Brittany.

  “Hey, babe. Can’t wait to finally see your face.”

  “Did you know that my parents are planning to come to your house for dinner tonight?”

  “What?”

  Her confused tone lessened Sandy’s rage. At least she hadn’t been in on it. “Uh-huh. It’s a full-frontal parental invasion. Guess who’s coming to tea at my house?”

  “Frickin’ Father Gilhooly?”

  He laughed at the “frickin’.” “How did you know?”

  “Because he just left our house. Seems he’s making the rounds. What do you suppose the parents have in mind for us? Forced marriage by shotgun?”

  Sandy kicked a stone off the porch. “Jesus, I don’t know. What should we do?”