by Chase Connor
For what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Cooper and Alex called each other every name imaginable. All I could think about was that, one, if the police pulled over to check on us, they would probably both go to jail with the way they were acting. And two, there would be no way they could apologize for the things they were saying to each other. I hated to admit it, but the whole thing was kind of frightening. I had never seen Cooper lose his cool—and while Alex could be a douchebag—I’d never seen him be a complete douchebag to Cooper. Reaching out, A.J. offered me his hand, so we sat there, cringing, in silence, holding hands, as our friends finished their argument.
When Alex and Cooper finally stopped screaming, which was just as sudden as it had begun, A.J. and I braced ourselves. We let go of each other’s hands and sat up straight in our seats as our friends climbed back into the SUV and buckled up without another word. Alex put the car into gear and continued driving as Cooper stared at the back of his head with no emotion registering on his face. I kept my hunger pangs to myself the rest of the way back to Vermont. Having to experience another meltdown from my friends was worse to me than feeling hungry for two hours.
Luckily, when we got back to town, Alex stopped by Cooper’s house first, pulling up to the curb, not pulling into the driveway, barely bothering to throw the SUV into park. Cooper jumped out, saying: “See you later, Logan. A.J.” before getting his bag from the back. Alex was pulling away from Cooper’s curb just as the gate at the back was slammed shut by Cooper. The three of us remaining in the car rode in silence to my house. Neither A.J. nor I bothered to ask Alex what the hell his problem was or ask why he couldn’t just stop being a douchebag. But when we arrived at my house, A.J. made it clear that he was getting out with me and that I would take him home when he was ready. Alex merely grunted, waited for us to disembark as Cooper had, then he was driving away once more. A.J. and I were left dumbfounded in my driveway, holding our suitcases.
Since the whole trip had been tense and the ride back to Vermont had been an utter nightmare, A.J. didn’t hang around my house for long. Being as kind as he could about it, he let me know that he needed to go home to decompress and have some quiet time. He gave me several kisses to kill the sting, so I let it go, even though I would have understood either way. Listening to Alex and Cooper’s fight on the side of the road, the tense car ride, and the tense two weeks before that had worn me out as well. So, I took A.J. home, gave him a few more kisses, and waved as he made his way into his house. When I got home, I gave Katie and my mom a hug—Dad wasn’t home—and then went straight to my room and fell into my bed. I didn’t wake up until the following morning. Tension and fighting are the most exhausting thing in the entire world. But at least I felt refreshed when I woke up.
When I woke up, Cooper had texted me:
Life continued on as it had been before with Cooper and me. Well, and with A.J. and me, too. Cooper and I hung out, saw movies, spent time at his house where he and his dad traded quips, and we ate food and watched T.V. and played with Jumper. We texted most of our waking hours, called each other to give running commentary to each other while watching Netflix, and went about life as though it was normal. We didn’t talk about the fact that Alex hadn’t talked to Cooper since the last day of the trip, nor had he texted A.J. or me. We just tended to our friendship. A.J. and I did most of the same things, but amplified, and there were a bunch of naughty bits thrown in for good measure. A.J. knew how much my friendship with Cooper meant to me, so he often tried to include my best friend in things we did, but Cooper always turned us down. Even though I knew Cooper had to be heartbroken and lonely, what with his breakup with Alex, he didn’t want to interfere in my relationship with A.J. It was just the way my best friend was.
An entire week went by of “life as we knew it,” with everyone pretending that everything was fine and that Alex hadn’t totally written all of us off. To be fair, I wasn’t sure that Alex had written us all off, but instead, maybe he was just avoiding A.J. and me, too, since we were friends with Cooper. Maybe he thought we wouldn’t talk to him or that we were mad at him. I mean, we were mad at him—he was being a complete douchebag—but we would have been willing to listen. To help him figure out a way to fix what he’d done to his relationship with Cooper by steadfastly being stubborn.
That was another problem, though. I wasn’t so sure that Cooper and Alex were even broken up, to be completely honest about the matter. They had fought on the side of the road on the way home, but I’d never heard either of them say the precise words: I’m breaking up with you. Desperately, I wanted to ask Cooper if he had spoken with Alex since we got home from Maine. Maybe they had texted or talked on the phone even? But I knew that bringing up Alex so quickly after the trip was just a bad idea. So…I let it slide. Summer was far from over, so I knew that we’d have time to get into the whole situation before he left for UCLA. My best friend leaving for school, and his relationship with Alex were two things I would be more than happy to not think about until it was absolutely necessary.
It was a week after coming home from Vermont, when I was walking into the house through the garage door after spending the evening seeing a movie with Cooper, that a new development arose. When I walked in the house, it was a little after ten o’clock—not that late, but late enough—Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table. Both of them had a mug of coffee or tea, though I wasn’t paying close enough attention to tell which, and they both looked up expectantly when I walked into the house. Concern and worry were etched over both of their faces, immediately turning my smile into a concerned frown. My first thought, since it was late and they were both still awake on a weeknight, was that something was wrong with Katie. My heart sunk into my stomach, and I was barely able to close the door behind myself.
“Hey, honey,” Mom spoke first. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
Dad just smiled tightly as mom gestured to the seat next to her.
“Where’s Katie?”
Mom turned to Dad, a confused look on her face.
“In bed, Loganberry.” Dad shrugged. “Why?”
“Is she okay?” I asked desperately.
Mom smiled warmly, her head cocking to the side.
“Of course, she’s fine, baby.” She shook her head. “Katie is perfectly fine. She’s been asleep for an hour.”
My hand automatically went to my chest. I wasn’t sure why my first thought had been that something was wrong with Katie. Actually, in the far reaches of my mind, I knew why I had thought that something was wrong with my sister. When you are part of a family, and one of the family members has Downs, you are perpetually aware of the problems that may occur in relation to their Downs. It is drilled into your head from the birth of that person what problems you should be looking for if something seems “off.”
Potential heart defects, abnormally impaired vision, hearing loss, infections compounded by weaker immune systems, hypothyroidism, leukemia and other blood disorders such as anemia, poor muscle tone, spinal issues, particularly in the upper spine, sleeping disorders of all kinds, dental problems, epilepsy, digestive tract issues, Celiac disease, and mental health and emotional issues. Other than a slight aversion to lactose, Katie had never had many problems associated with her Downs. But when doctors repeatedly and firmly drill those things into your head all of the time, they stay there. Whenever something seems odd at home, your first thought is that something is wrong with your family member with Downs.
Knowing Katie was okay, having my mom confirm that, made my heart rise back to its normal spot and start beating regularly once again.
“Drama queen.” Dad teased as I shuffled towards the kitchen table, now more confused than ever.
Had I done something wrong? Is that why they had waited up to talk to me about…whatever it was that they wanted to talk to me about?
Oh, fuck. Were they getting a divorce?
That thought made me freeze in my tracks again.
“Oh, shit.”
I sighed. “Are you guys splitting up or something? Because I can’t take that right now.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Mom laughed. “Put your ass in a seat. We’re not splitting up, you big turd.”
Dad laughed loudly and brought his coffee to his lips. It was then that I noticed he and mom were holding hands on top of the table. Okay. I should have paid attention. If I had seen that, my mind wouldn’t have gone to “divorce” so quickly. Innocently, in case I had done something wrong and hadn’t realized it, I finished walking over to the table and slid into the chair next to mom.
“What’s up?” I asked as innocently as possible, though concern shaded my tone.
Mom looked at Dad, and he returned her gaze for a moment before he squeezed her hand and let go. Both of his hands went to his coffee mug, and Mom mirrored the gesture.
“Loganberry,” Dad sighed, “your mom and I have been thinking about your future.”
I sighed.
“Look,” I stopped him, “I know I haven’t figured out college or anything. I’m sorry, all right?”
Mom swatted at me, a gentle swat.
“Shush.”
“Fine.” I sat back, folding my arms over my chest.
“Let me finish, damn.” Dad chuckled. “We know you’re not an academic. You don’t care for school, even though you do pretty good for someone who doesn’t enjoy traditional learning.”
“Right?” I shrugged.
“Stop interrupting.” Mom said before sipping her coffee calmly. “Let your father talk, honey.”
“Fine.”
“Son,” He continued, “do you have any idea what you want to do with your life? What interests you? We know it’s only a few weeks into summer and you just graduated, but we’re your parents. We’re supposed to be guiding you here, helping you out, so there’s no time like the present to start doing that. What do you have in mind? It’s not something you have to start now…but do you have any ideas?”
I started to shrug but stopped myself, knowing that would seem far too nonchalant for such a serious topic.
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t even have the first clue what I actually do well enough to make a career out of it, guys. I mean…do people get paid to read books and sleep in?”
Mom chuckled into her mug, and Dad shook his head with a smile.
“Well, I’m sure you can get paid to read books in the publishing world, but they’d probably require that you get to work on time every morning.” He teased. “Do you want to do something with writing?”
I did shrug then. I’d never written a thing in my life other than all of the letters mom had insisted on—one of which had gotten me into trouble with Cooper and Alex in the middle of the school year—so I wasn’t anywhere confident that I could actually write things for a living.
“I don’t know, honestly.”
Again, Dad and Mom were looking at each other, strange, unreadable expressions on their faces. Finally, Mom nodded at Dad, and he looked over at me again with a sigh.
“Well,” he said, “we’ve been discussing ideas. Ever hear of a gap year?”
I shrugged. “They do that in Europe, right?”
“And other places.” Dad agreed. “We thought that maybe it would be a good idea for you to take a year to travel, see the country—or other places in the world if you like—and figure out what it is you might want to do. We’ll bankroll your gap year—within reason. But you have to figure out what’s out there that you can do. College, a job, something.”
I looked over at Mom, astonished at this development. Mom smiled and reached over to take one of my hands. Looking back at Dad, I was sure that he was going to bust out laughing and say “psyche” then call me a “loser” or something. Instead, he was merely smiling awkwardly, awaiting a response.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He nodded, another sip of his coffee. “We thought you might benefit from some travel. Even if it’s just to a few places. It will give you more life experience and help you figure things out. Dextrus was rigid for your senior year. Maybe you need to decompress and figure things out. Agreed?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I guess, yeah.”
Mom squeezed my hand.
“Good.” Dad nodded and stood.
I watched as he took his coffee cup to the sink, rinsed it out, then set it next to the sink for use in the morning.
“Another problem solved, and Dad can finally go to bed.” He said. “Team Marshall is absolutely killing it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Just enjoy the rest of your summer, Loganberry.” He said as he walked by, his hand ruffling my hair as he passed. “And figure out where it is you want to go once when your year starts.”
Mom grabbed his hand before he could disappear.
“You’re not going to bed without me, mister.” She winked up at him.
“Gross.” My nose turned up.
“Get over it.” My mom cocked an eyebrow at me. “If you think that we haven’t figured out what you and A.J. are doing when your door is closed, you’re dead wrong, bud.”
“Staaaaahp.” I shook my head in disgust.
“Whatever.” Mom swatted me on the arm again as Dad laughed. “Just start thinking about what we’ve said. Okay? Wash my coffee cup for me, please.”
“Okay.” I sighed.
Mom and Dad wrapped their arms around each other and headed towards the living room, leaving me to think and clean coffee mugs.
“Wait.” I stopped them. They turned in the doorway, both of them looking inquisitive. “What if I can’t figure anything out? I mean, I couldn’t figure out college. I hadn’t even thought of getting a job. What if I—”
“Baby,” Mom stopped me, “I say this as a trained psychologist, okay? Get your head out of your ass. You’ll figure something out.”
I rolled my eyes but chuckled as Dad laughed loudly and led them back in the direction they had been going.
Okay. I thought to myself.
Clean the coffee mugs.
Get a good night’s sleep.
Figure out your gap year.
That’s easier than figuring out your entire life.
Baby steps, Logan.
Baby steps.
Chapter 9
Cooper
“So,” the voice came from the other end of the line, “I have come up with some answers to your problem.”
“My problem?” I was confused. “What problem?”
I had just answered the phone, and Carter Powell’s voice responded to my “hello” in the unusual way of proclaiming that I had a problem. The buzzing of my phone against the kitchen table had startled me as I sat there looking over materials I had from UCLA. I was trying to familiarize myself with the map of the campus, how the room and board situation worked, where counselors—both financial and academic—were located, how to find the library, all of the necessary things for attending school there. Leaving for UCLA was still nearly two months off, but there was no time like the present to figure things out and start to memorize what I could.
“I said that I’d call you in a week about your idea to start a foundation to provide financial support for kids who looked like you to get a better education.” Carter reminded me. “Hello, by the way.”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah. Right. What did you figure out? What’s the best way to invest my money so it will grow to—”
“No, no, no.” Carter cut me off jubilantly. “Look, Cooper Weissman, I talked to some of my friends—well, more like business contacts—and I think I have a better solution.”
“If this is some pyramid scheme where you’re going to try to sell me Amway…”
Carter laughed.
“A lot of them, and I, have been wanting to do more charitable work. Give back to the communities we operate in. We would like to fund your foundation. Start out small, maybe choose ten high school students in the first year and provide four years of tuition for them to whichever college accepts them. For
the first four years, me and my buddies—business associates—would run the foundation. When you graduate college, if you are still interested, we would like to invite you to sit on the board. In conjunction with your future teaching career, of course. It will be nice to have a teacher on the board.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely able to speak, let alone breathe.
“Yes.”
“Is this a scam?”
“No.”
“A dream?”
“I don’t think so.” He said. “I’m not giving a speech to my employees in my boxers.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’re extraordinary.”
“That’s it, huh?” I asked, suspicious. “You met a black, gay kid who beat the odds and you’re suddenly altruistic?”
“Well, I reject your ‘suddenly’ assertion.” He chuckled. “I’ve been active in charity and foundations for a long time. I’ve just never met someone who inspired me so quickly to act, Cooper Weissman.”
“I’m—I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “That was rude.”
“Think nothing of it.” He responded immediately. “I get it. If someone called out of the blue and told me that they wanted to help me make one of my life goals a reality that easily, I’d be suspicious, too. But I just want to help. My associates and I want to help. We want to start out small, of course, but maybe by the time you’re done with college, we can get more aggressive?”
I had to fight back the tears that were threatening to flood my eyes.
“I mean, ten kids…,” I cleared my throat, “that’s more than…I’m very happy and just…floored, Carter.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “I think.”
“Definitely good.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “So, how do I get the five-hundred dollars to you?”