by F N Manning
Cal leaned in like he was going to peck me on the lips but then he considered better of it. I raised my hand exaggeratedly for a high five. He rolled his eyes but high fived me anyway. I waved as they all drove off.
I managed not to yell curses at the world because at least Frank Keller waited to get out of his car until April left. I walked to the side with him where people wouldn’t be able to see us. I didn’t want an audience in case this got ugly. In case I made it ugly by being a big dramatic baby who punched my dad in the face or maybe sobbed about how he left and it made me sad.
I’d looked like a mini version of him when I was little. Now I looked more like mom and less like the guy standing across from me. I grew tall like her; dad was shorter and had a bulkier frame. Maybe he’d gotten bigger with age but part of it looked like muscle. He used to work sales and had some cushy office. It seemed like he did something more related to manual labor now. My hair curled slightly and often fell onto my forehead when it got too long. His hair was thinning. I found vindictive glee in that until I realized that didn’t bode well for me. No, hair loss was passed down from the maternal side. Score. I enjoyed the balding again.
“I didn’t know where else to run into you. You look different,” he said, “Don’t know if I would have recognized you if your mom hadn’t sent me a picture.”
“That happens when you don’t see someone for five years.” I didn’t sound angry, a small miracle, but he winced and rocked back a little like the words hurt anyway.
“I think I look the same. Hair cut might be different,” he tried. Mom and I bet whether he’d stumble through an apology first or try to pretend like everything was normal. She won.
“You were an adult. But yeah, you look like the same dic—"
“Your mom warned me you were going to be testy.” At my surprised expression, he added, “She doesn’t know I’m here.” He shrugged, look down at his hands. “She told me about you guys, mentioned you worked here.” He looked off to the side. Huh. I did that too when I felt guilty. I forgot I got that from him.
“She wasn’t expecting you to show up here though, was she? I thought I got to decide whether to see you.”
He grimaced but nodded. “I would have respected your answer.” I snorted. “I would have, but you didn’t give me one.”
“Maybe I hadn’t decided yet.” Now I looked off to the side. Dammit.
“Maybe you weren’t going to.” He smiled like he knew it was that.
My mouth tightened. I forced a jovial tone. “Well, great pep talk dad. See you in another five years.” I moved towards the shop until he stepped in front of me.
“Hey, come on. Wait. There’s a lot I need to talk to you about.” He looked down at his hands this time.
I didn’t know what that meant but tried to shrug him off. “Shoot me an email,” I tried.
“Max, please,” he pleaded. I crossed my arms in front of me. Dad shook his head. “You won’t see me again but you let Calvin Winthrop back into your life?”
I almost laughed. “You are not about to do this.”
“I saw you just now,” he carried on. “He looks the same. Just taller. The fuck are you doing with him?”
I couldn’t respond for a moment. I’d heard my dad swear before. He’d often curse without thinking about it and swear again reflexively in response to the accidental slip up. I’d just never heard him swear easily around me without trying to correct it.
“Relax.” I leveled with him after a moment, “We’re just fucking around.”
He snorted. “Oh yeah, you’re real pals? What do you guys still have in common?”
“What?”
“Fucking around,” he quoted. “Isn’t that like shooting the shit?” He made a face like kids these days had confusing lingo.
“I meant… you know, literally.” His face went confused. “We’re screwing.” Well, not really. I wanted to see how he’d react to that.
“Jesus!” His mouth dropped open as his face reddened.
I hadn’t been sure I’d tell him I was gay because I wasn’t sure he deserved telling. I didn’t want to give him details about my life. However, I might as well get something out of this ambush meeting. The shock on his face made me smile.
“You’re kidding, right?” He looked me over. “You’re all tough now.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone,” I mock whispered, “or they’ll revoke my queer membership.”
“You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “You’re pulling my leg, trying to get back at me?” I didn’t respond to that. “You’re really… gay?” The word was hushed, which made me smirk. That wasn’t a secret around these parts.
“You called it didn’t you?” I asked lightly and he blanched. I vaguely recalled conversations between my parents, ones I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. ‘Why isn’t he normal?’ ‘If he doesn’t toughen up, everyone will think he’s queer.’ ‘Is he some kind of fag?’ ‘The little fruit doesn’t like sports.’ Huh. I’d forgotten about that until now. Once dad took an interest in spelling, we’d gotten along. I’d been so eager to dismiss his past errors so that we could connect. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I made a lot of mistakes, I know that,” he said, not quite looking at me. The irony of it was none of the shit he worried about had anything to do with me being gay. I’d been a jumpy, nervous kid back then. I hadn’t noticed boys or girls. Then I spent my time engaged in a time honored manly art: fixing cars. I watched the mechanics work before I got a job at Tony’s shop, too grateful Tony took a liking to me and let me hang around to be annoyed at his pity and that’s when I’d first noticed guys.
“This has been fun,” I lied, “but I gotta get back to work.” I walked away without looking back and he let me pass.
I’d been too nervous to go for guys at first. I wanted to fit in. Okay, it was the bad crowd I wanted to fit in with, but I’d already been the shy weirdo and it didn’t do me any favors. Even my own father couldn’t take it. That saying about faking it ‘til you made it wasn’t total nonsense. I acted like I didn’t give a damn about anything or care what people thought it, I snuck out, did what I wanted. When I figured out, it was just guys I liked, well, I realized my persona had become real at some point. I didn’t care what anyone thought. I may not have much, but I was free to be myself and that’s what I was gonna do.
***
Max
I had no idea what to do about my dad, but I didn’t have to wait around worrying when I had more pleasant distractions. Who cared what he thought anyway? I did what I wanted and I wanted Cal.
This school-wide competition was April’s first big bee. And it wasn’t even that big, but there weren’t many actual competitions in competitive spelling. There was the school bee for the best spellers in each grade followed by Regionals and finally Nationals. You made a mistake in either of the competitions before Nationals and that was it. The regions were based less on geographical areas and more on sponsors. There were multiple newspapers alive and kicking in this area that could sponsor contestants, which is why April and Brendan were in different regions.
I’d been imagining things Cal and I could get up to today. I deserved a treat after April’s school bee and I hoped Cal would be interested in helping me celebrate her victory. If he showed up. I was glad mom was coming from work and might miss the beginning. If I had been with her before the bee started, she would have time to call me out on the black form fitting t-shirt I wore. It was usually what I wore for ‘dates’ or the approximation of what I did that I called dating.
Maybe I had some product in my hair and there was a hint of cologne on my skin. Whatever. I was horny and deserved a break. I’d been busy studying with April. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t being overconfident. She’d be competing with 8th graders after all and she thought they were like the coolest, smartest people in the world.
Fortunately, April’s little friends didn’t spot me; they might have combusted. The whole school was here f
or this bee along with many proud parents. There was commotion and noise as the students filed in and messed around. They might not be huge fans of this activity but seemed glad to miss whatever class they normally had while sitting around and watching other students do the hard work. That meant the atmosphere in the room was lively, fun. It only served to make me more on edge. Thoughts of April and the bee warred with the need to see Cal.
The best from each grade were in the front and I waved at April while trying not to watch the door. It was a good thing I did the latter anyway as I had a chance to compose myself before Cal made it over to me. He looked as pompous and preppy as ever with a light green colored version of the same shirt he always seemed to wear outside of his school uniform. It was a struggle tearing my eyes away from his lower half.
At least our separation while April and I prepared seemed to affect him too. Why else would he wear that? I literally couldn’t look away. From his red freaking pants. He should look ridiculous, like some kind of Christmas reject, but god, it worked. The lime green shirt contrasted without being garish and seemed to make the pants especially vibrant, which wasn’t really necessary considering they were already fucking bright red pants.
No one else seemed to notice. Okay, a few people looked at him like they wondered how the rich kid got lost in this town but they didn’t gawk at his outfit or salivate like me. My eyes kept going to them like I was a bull drawn to the color and looking at the pants meant I kept staring at a certain other spot. The fit wasn’t obscene, we were in a school, but weren’t completely loose. There was some definition. It was obscene to me.
Still, I managed a mild scowl. “You look like a demented Christmas elf,” I said in greeting.
Cal appeared unfazed by that. “Are we going to get seats or are you going to slouch there like a brooding, Byronic hero the whole time?”
“Lead the way,” I told him, possibly just because I wanted to see his ass in those pants. The rest of him appeared skinny and lean but his backside looked so shapely and well-defined in what he was wearing. I was not disappointed by the view and it was totally worth it even though Cal smirked at me like he knew what I’d been staring at after we sat. Whatever.
“Brendan couldn’t make it?” I asked once we sat down.
He winced. “My mom found out I took him out early for April’s class bee.”
“That didn’t go well?” I guessed.
“Not at all,” he confirmed cheerily.
“She wasn’t mad you skipped too?” Here he was, cutting class again. My stomach fluttered excitedly. I’d caused him to ditch class more than once. He couldn’t be as cool with it as he was pretending but I wouldn’t call him on it.
“No, she definitely was,” he nodded then grinned. “What can I say? I’m a rule breaker.”
I wouldn’t go that far. “Stop,” I said, shoving him with my shoulder.
“I’m a regular rebel.” His expression was serious. Until he tried to smolder at me and mostly just looked insane instead. “That must be why you like me: because I’m a bad boy.”
I couldn’t look at him anymore. I hung my head and –I would never admit I giggled but that’s basically what it was– giggled helplessly.
What a dork. I could barely look at his face while he tried to scowl the way he’d seen me do countless times and I couldn’t look lower because I’d keep going back to his insane red pants. It was a relief when the bee started.
It didn’t take long to turn watching the bee into a competition. They handed out programs with the names of the spellers from each grade and we turned those over and rushed to see who could write out the word first. It wasn’t overly challenging but it was fun, even if Cal’s handwriting was worse than a doctor’s.
We were solemn whenever it was April’s turn. She smiled blindingly at the announcer giving the words and looked smart and cute in the outfit she obsessed over, but she was a bit more subdued than normal. She knew how to play to an audience but maybe not one this big. In a few years, she’d likely own the stage even when there was a crowd. For now, she settled on spelling her word and skipping away.
It went fine until tchotchke.
“Fucking Spell It,” I muttered and some of the parents near us shot me disapproving looks.
I’d been insistent on her learning the basics while she insisted on finding and conquering ridiculously insane words. This was somewhere in between. Spell It! words were used in a few rounds at Nationals, but the catch was that there were still 1,150 words. When I was a kid, I thought Slavic words sounded funny and liked learning them. April was my practice buddy when my dad was too worn out from coaching me and his day job. Perhaps because of those days, she picked up Slavic, Old English and a few others more easily, which meant we hadn’t spent too much time on them.
“Tchotchke,” she said without wavering, but she raised her chin defiantly, like she always did when she bluffed. Shit. She could do this. She had a solid grasp of Salvic words, but we didn’t study them. She didn’t know for sure, I could see it.
There was just April and two eighth graders left. The stupid moderator thought she was so clever using Spell It words, and it wasn’t like anyone could complain because most adults at least knew what a tchotchke was even if they didn’t have a clue about how to spell it. God, why did April have to show everyone she was so invested? Never let people know how much you want something because now they were giving her a challenge, one she didn’t freaking know.
I went from my normal, aloof self to panicking in record time. I could barely stay in my seat. I wanted to jump up, do something, and my knee jangled up and down with nerves. I don’t know how it happened. One moment I was there freaking out and then Cal had my hand in both of his, keeping me steady even as my palm practically trembled in his grip.
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on tighter, and I needed the comfort anyway. I relaxed into the grip and felt him squeeze my hand. I slumped, pressing my side into his.
“She’s got it,” he said confidently. I tried to believe him. She kept her cool better than me, at least that was something. I could practically see the wheels turn in her head as she thought and figured it out, just like I taught her, little chin held up high the whole time. She wasn’t scared like me but determined. I felt such pride it blocked out all the fear for a second.
God, how had we gotten here? I didn’t care about this shit anymore, but I wanted so badly for her to crush this and not have it crush her. I wanted to sub in and spell it for her. All I could do was sit and watch. Her eyes found mine in the crowd.
“T-C-H-O-“ she started, voice steady and clear while she stared right at me. Oh god, who was I? I was about to cry, here in public, at a fucking spelling bee, watching my little sister completely own a word she didn’t know. I managed to hold the tears back, but I hollered loud enough that her cheeks turned pink when she got it right.
It wasn’t like I could clap politely along with everyone else as my hand was still joined with Cal’s. I wasn’t alone in making noise after a second and I turned to see my mother a few rows back and to the right. April threw her hands in the air as we both cheered and walked back to her seat, not even bothering to skip that time. I laughed and buried my face in Cal’s shoulder, just for a second.
I don’t know if the moderator could feel the weight of my stare the next time April was up, but there was nothing as challenging as what she already faced. April won. The real difficult stuff was next. The kids who cared about the bee, who were as gung ho as her and probably had more money and time, but god, I couldn’t worry about that now. I was too excited, thrilled.
I picked her up and swung her around when she won. It was too much for her to bear in front of witnesses. I couldn’t chill out, so she punched me in the stomach. Weirdly, that only made me prouder. I also taught her how to hit and she had a good arm for an 11-year-old.
Mom took April shopping after the bee; they were already planning what she should wear to the next competition. Cal and I went
for a walk. We ambled around the city with no real direction in mind. I was so keyed up I cheered, “Woohoo!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was easy to tell who the out of towners were because they stopped and gawked at the biker shouting in the street while the New Jersey residents didn’t even bat an eye.
Cal nudged me with his shoulder and said, “You’re so embarrassing.” Though it didn’t seem to bother him that much as he smiled fondly at me.
“Sorry,” I tried to sober up. “I know that’s normally your job.”
“Right,” he humored me. “You’re too cool for me.”
“Uh, totally.”
“Uh, totally,” Cal mimicked, sounding like a Valley Girl while he pretended to flip his hair. “You sound like a 12-year-old girl.”
“Hey, some of them are cool.” It wasn’t the best comeback but I had to defend April’s honor.
Cal smiled softly. “Congratulations.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
“No,” he insisted. “You helped her achieve this, you deserve credit too. You can pretend otherwise but you’re still smart.” He paused. “Are you going to get weird now?”
Guess I was transparent but I couldn’t help it. I hated talking too much bee stuff with him. It reminded me that we used to be friends and things went wrong, so I was an idiot for thinking things would be different this time. Yet that didn’t stop me. Plus, I detested ‘you’re not living up to your potential’ speeches. I couldn’t handle one from Cal. I shrugged it off. This was a good moment, too good to ruin.
I grinned slyly at Cal. “No, it’s time to celebrate.”
He perked up. “What did you have in mind?”
We were in public, in broad daylight, but Cal didn’t pull away when I moved closer to him. “We’ll figure something out,” I said, bringing my lips to his.
***