What Love Means

by F N Manning

  Things were going well when we focused on the physical. This was a reminder of that. The four of us stood in the parking lot. I tapped my foot impatiently and glared at Cal while he stood with his hands on his hips, not backing down.

  “We’re just gonna grab some pizza,” I said for the third time. “They can spell the ingredients on the menu.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like that would provide any challenge.” Yes, Brendan had a school bee coming up while April had Regionals. Yes, it was a big deal. Still, they could relax and eat for a freaking moment.

  “They have to eat anyway,” I argued.

  “I am kinda hungry, Cal,” Brendan piped up.

  “We have food at home,” he told Brendan without looking away from me. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Need I remind you of the next competition?”

  “You needn’t,” I gritted out.

  Cal scoffed. “Apparently I do if you think wasting time at this juncture is important.”

  “I should probably study more, Max,” April commented quietly from my side.

  Dammit. “Come on, Cal.” I stepped toward him and made my voice kinder. “We can quiz them,” I smiled at Cal. “And relax a bit.”

  It looked like he would give in for a moment before his eyes narrowed. “I see what you’re doing.”

  “What?” I asked innocently while Brendan peered at him in confusion.

  “Thank you for the offer,” he said perfectly politely while also sounding like he meant the opposite. How did he do that? “If Brendan advances further than April, instances like this are likely why.” They walked away.

  “I’m not that hungry anyway,” April said quietly.

  “No, nope.” I looked down at her. “You can’t let the bee take over everything.” I stared her in the eyes, willing her to listen.

  She looked away. “Brendan did beat me at the first club meeting.”

  I sighed. “April, only one kid wins the whole thing. It doesn’t matter how much you study because you’re still more likely to lose than win.” Shit, I didn’t mean to be that blunt.

  She frowned and put her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking down.

  God, there was a nicer way to say that. “I just meant.” I stopped to take a breath and try again. “I want you to do your best but that’s all you or anyone else should expect.” I walked closer to her and knelt down so I could metaphorically and literally level with her.

  “Wanna know what success looks like at the bee? It’s not just getting into finals or winning a trophy.” She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t let her argue. “You go as far as you can this year and then next year you to try to go even farther. Don’t try to beat anyone else, just do better than you did the last time.”

  She pondered that. “I wasn’t even in it last year.”

  “Guess that means you’ve already succeeded,” I replied matter of factly. She huffed like she thought I was being stupid. but I saw her fight off a smile. “Giving it your best shot is all that’s expected of you.” I never expected to give that advice. I’d heard it enough times from my parents. Even dad, though he wasn’t as good at honoring the spirit of that advice.

  “I don’t want you going crazy trying to win,” I told April. “You’re my annoying, pain in the ass sister who bugs me about college. I don’t want you to change.” We had different ways of showing how we cared as she pushed me to do more and I kept her from getting carried away.

  April considered my words for a moment and slowly smiled. “Since you brought college up—"

  “Let’s go get pizza,” I interjected firmly.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “But you will quiz me after.”

  “Deal.”

  ***

  I walked into my apartment and stopped in my tracks. Fuck. My father sat on the couch in the living room.

  “April’s not here,” dad rushed to reassure me when I found him in our apartment. My dumbfounded expression transformed into a disdainful one. I knew that as I convinced her to go bug Tinsley.

  Mom walked into the living room before I could say something mean in response. “I got your text. Did she—"

  I cut in. “She and Tinsley were going to do math together. She didn’t have other homework.”

  “Oh, Tinsley’s good at math.” Ah, doing math “together” meant Tinsley would try to show off and prove herself after April’s spelling victory. Mom and I shared a smile.

  “She has a friend name Tinsel? Like the stuff you hang up at Christmas?” dad asked.

  “What are you doing here?” I questioned.

  “He stopped by to speak with you.” I almost laughed at the forced cheerfulness in her voice. Yeah, this wasn’t easy for any of us. Why was he even trying?

  “Even though you weren’t invited,” I pointed out.

  “Should he go?” she asked, considering me seriously.

  All I had to do was say yes and she would kick him out. Her and I would probably enjoy that. I never wanted to see him again. I also didn’t entirely want to him leave. Because if he was gone, what if I got what I wanted? What if he never came back? I sighed.

  “Okay, then,” Mom said after a moment. “I’ll let you two talk.” I glared at her for leaving me alone with him. She shrugged and held her hands up. “Ask him to leave or deal with him, dumbass. Either way, you don’t need me here.” Mom retreated.

  I eyed him warily. “You just gonna start showing up now?” The apartment was a downsize from our former place, so mom sold a lot of the old stuff. Some of the décor was the same but he still didn’t look right among it. He seemed out of place. Maybe I was projecting.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of up to you.” He didn’t look comfortable. He seemed skittish, like a sudden noise would spook him and send him running. I didn’t like it obviously.

  I laughed. “I haven’t had any say in any of this.”

  “Well, have your say then. But you haven’t told me to get lost—"

  “Get lost,” I retorted immediately.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean that or are you just being smart?” He looked like he was ready to bolt any second but he hadn’t. He’d seen me twice instead. Was he committed, or did he just think he was? Did I care either way? No, I thought immediately. But.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” I questioned instead of answering. I threw myself down in the chair.

  His hesitant attitude didn’t bode well for an ongoing relationship. Was that temporary or was this new reluctant and unsure demeanor part of who he was now? I guess a new personality might be a good thing, but I just couldn’t see the guy I knew. Dad was confident. It could have been the sales job or something inherently him. Even when he shouldn’t be, he was confident. Decisions he made one day were completely wrong the next, but it was hard to doubt him, or it had been hard for me to doubt him, when he had such conviction. Back then, it took me minutes to spell words even when I knew them for sure. Sometimes whims ruled his decision-making process, but a little madness hadn’t been bad when I was all method.

  “I thought about our conversation,” dad told me. None of us had very heavy accents except for him; he was classic Jersey. “You deserve better than being a rich guy’s dirty little secret.”

  I didn’t want to hear this. Dad’s disdain for the upper class clearly already rubbed off on me. Also, I really hoped what he was saying didn’t make sense. “Oh, you came here to yell about the Winthrop-Scotts? Yeah, that was a favorite hobby of yours.”

  “Back then, I was out of line.” He grimaced. “You were trying so hard, and they were so… they just annoyed the hell out of me.” He laughed humorlessly. “I got it into my head that this was some David vs. Goliath thing and that you would win it for the little guys everywhere. No matter how much your mother pointed out it wasn’t that kind of competition.” He shook his head. “Shit, sorry. None of that matters anymore. It’s all stupid and in the past.” He looked me in the eye. “Forget about that. I still don’t think yo
u can trust Cal.

  . “I’m not exactly putting an announcement in the paper that I associate with him myself,” I commented.

  “Yeah, that’s probably exactly what he wants, but you think it’s your idea to keep it quiet.” There was that conviction that had been missing.

  “You know a lot about gay hook ups do you dad?” I questioned, amused.

  Mom, April, and I lived in a state of organized chaos. Maybe mom felt uncomfortable with him seeing us in our natural habitat because it looked like she tidied up. April’s spelling worksheets had been scattered across the coffee table but were now in a neat pile with a paperweight on top holding them in place.

  Dad made an annoyed noise. “You surprised me, okay? Your mom didn’t warn me.”

  “We thought it would be more fun this way,” I quipped. I couldn’t take my eyes off the paperweight. Had that been here the whole time, buried under the rest of our mess? It was a rocket, but it wasn’t just a weirdly phallic knick-knack: it had been a gift from my dad.

  “I’m okay with it,” Dad said intensely, leaning forward towards me to get my attention.

  I snorted dismissively, and he tried again. “Or I’m trying to be.” He nodded. “I will be. I’ve heard the Lady Gaga song. Do I get some credit?”

  There was a painted message on the other side of the rocket, something about reaching the stars. He’d seen it in some tacky giftshop when he was away on business and picked it up because I liked space. He’d been terrible at connecting with me, until the spelling bee, but the rocket was once my most treasured possession because it had been from my dad and he’d tried. Why did we still have that damn thing?

  I shook my head. Give him some credit? “Maybe, if this conversation had happened a few years ago. Me being gay is just a fact now.”

  “Look, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I care about you.” His voice carried a hint of a plea as he said, “Let me explain.”

  I made an annoyed noise. “I don’t need a whole song and dance.”

  “No songs, no dance. I’m still your dad, I want to protect you.” When I didn’t respond, he finished with, “I mean it, be careful. Rich guys like that see you as nothing.”

  Guess you have a lot in common with them. I didn’t say that because then he might feel obligated to respond and deny it, which meant he’d stay longer. “Can you please just go?”

  Why was I worried about this? I didn’t want to be more into Cal than he was to me, which meant that I was fucking into him. The chances of him being into me? Dammit, not only were they not good, that meant my dad’s advice was freaking helpful.

  Just when I almost accepted him being here, he moved to stand. “You don’t know the whole story about me. Maybe one day you’ll let me explain it.”

  Then, he was gone. The whole story? What the fuck did that mean? Was he going to tell me about being a drunk? I already knew that. I hadn’t known it wasn’t normal at the time, but looking back on it, he sure did like to drink. I remembered the clink of beer cans. The weird smell on dad’s breath.

  My stupid dad never gave me anything but a predisposition for anger, which I thought had skipped me until I became a teen, and an admittedly strong jawline. He wasn’t violent, but he would get so angry and yell, break things occasionally. He was bad at talking when he needed to most but always spewing endless bullshit when it didn’t matter. He ran away from problems he couldn’t handle. He left years ago, but there was a lot he left behind in me. He could have everything but the jawline back.

  Fuck, why couldn’t things from the past just stay there? Did Cal belong in that category? Maybe I needed dad’s warning. Cal and I were so different, maybe too different for anything other than fooling around. I needed to keep some distance between us.

  ***

  Cal

  I yawned as I entered the brunch nook and went to pour myself a cup of coffee. After a few hours of sleep, I consoled my tired mind by telling myself I’d sleep more in college and be less involved. That was all a lie, but my sleep deprived mind almost believed it. I heard a noise and turned my attention to the table where Brendan sat with papers scattered around him.

  My brother had his head on a book and slowly sat upright, stretching and yawning.

  “You’re up early,” I commented. Brendan wasn’t the type for all nighters. Not that I stayed up all night. Sometimes it was just so hard to get to sleep, even when I pushed my body and mind to the limit. My brain kept whirring, thinking of all I still had to do and refusing to just be quiet.

  “What?” Brendan asked, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s morning?”

  Brendan wasn’t wearing his pajamas but clothes from yesterday. I frowned. “Did you sleep here?”

  “I didn’t mean to.” He groaned. “I just want to be prepared.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” I instructed gently, coming to sit by him at the table.

  His scoff lost most of its effect when it became marred by another yawn. “Is there such a thing?”

  I tried again. “You don’t need to stay up all night.” The coffee hadn’t worked its magic yet, but this tableau startled me into wakefulness. I had a bad feeling about this.

  “Didn’t you do the same thing?” he countered. Yes, that was the bad feeling. I’d told him to concentrate on the bee and now he was pushing himself. Brendan often acted like I was the most uncool person in the world. He’d once banned me from being in the room with friends he made through sports until he felt convinced that I wouldn’t bring up school or chess. Why would he want to be anything like me?

  “Well, high school is different,” I offered lamely.

  “You told me to focus.” Ouch. I had just meant… that we shouldn’t go getting distracted by pretty brunettes. Though maybe only one of us had a problem with that in the first place.

  “It’s hard to do that without sleep,” I pointed out. Until the bee, I’d thought it was his unofficial mission in life to do the exact opposite of what I did. Why was he suddenly looking to me for guidance?

  “You manage,” he retorted. I could go overboard with my studies. I knew that even if I couldn’t quite stop. There were several other areas where I would love to impart my wisdom towards Brendan; why didn’t he want to know how to iron or create an organizational system for his closet?

  “I have coffee.” I continued quickly when he eyed my cup curiously, “Which you can’t have or you’ll stunt your growth.” He could learn the wonders of AP classes and research papers in a few years. It was an art; one didn’t just go from playing outside to meticulous note taking. He couldn’t jump in and expect the same results as me.

  He sighed. “This might be the only academic achievement I ever have.” Dammit, I wasn’t trying to make him feel bad.

  “It’s okay to take a break sometimes,” I insisted.

  “Sure,” he nodded but didn’t make an effort to sound like he believed that. He went upstairs to get ready for school.

  Fuck, what kind of example was I setting for Brendan? Brendan wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to take it easy because that wasn’t how I acted. While I sometimes lamented our differences, I liked that Brendan wasn’t like me. Maybe what I saw as a good thing he saw as a failing on his part. I didn’t know how to explain it was the other way around.

  ***

  Max

  Keeping my distance from Cal… I meant emotionally. Not physically. I didn’t have to go to Brendan’s school bee. April wasn’t going, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sneak off with Cal and fool around. Celebrate with him if Brendan won or console him if he lost.

  There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Cal, about us. I knew he was a stuck-up douche but that hadn’t stopped me so far. I didn’t know if I was defying my dad or listening to him. Defying him by seeing Cal anyway. Listening to him by using his words as a good reminder to keep things physical only.

  Instead of a cafeteria with a makeshift stage, the kids competed in an auditorium. Everything was set up, but the competition
hadn’t started yet, so parents and the participating children milled about. The children all wore their ties and blazers, and there was a refreshment table and what seemed like professional photographers. It was so stuffy and formal even though it was the same bee April competed in.

  Professor Vincent stood near the entrance of the auditorium. “Oh, Mr. Keller,” the professor greeted when he saw me.

  He didn’t sound enthused, but I was surprised he even acknowledged my presence. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “April’s not competing.”

  He smiled dryly. “Yes, then Brendan’s hopes would be cut short.” Classes of children began to arrive one at a time and he directed them to their spots while speaking with me.

  I blinked at him. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Perhaps its wishful thinking,” he mused. His face didn’t give anything away, but he sounded sincere.

  I couldn’t believe it. “Do you, are you playing favorites?”

  He scoffed. “Of course not.”

  “Why aren’t the Winthrop-Scott’s your favorites? Don’t they have a wing at the school?” I joked.

  “And they never let anyone forget it,” he muttered.

  “Oh,” I nodded. “You have a low tolerance for douchebags.”

  “Keep moving,” he said without skipping a beat to the children passing us who stopped and looked at me with scandalized expressions. “That language is not appropriate here,” he told me. He lowered his voice and added, “And if what you said was true, I picked the wrong school to teach at.”

  I laughed. He didn’t seem to be having a stroke, so maybe under all the snooty layers he was an okay guy. We took in the general atmosphere together for a few seconds: all the pomp and circumstance for this minor bee. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again, “I trust you won’t tell anyone that even my stuffiness has limits.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” I replied easily.

  He looked at me solemnly. “I remember you.” Before I could make another comment about how it was weird for him to remember me, he added, “not for nefarious reasons,” he said pointedly, “but because of the spectacle at your last competition.”