What Love Means

by F N Manning

  It wasn’t my fault. Yeah, duh. How many times had I told myself that? Except this time, I really believed it. A thought struck me, and we’d already started this painful conversation, might as well just get it all out there.

  “Was what happened—”

  “I may share that story with you someday,” she interrupted. “But not while you’re working things out with your dad.” When I frowned, she continued, “I’m serious, Max.”

  “No. I— the way you make it sound. It’s not as simple as saying dad was bipolar and went crazy?” If that’s what it was, I thought she’d share it. She’d have had enough time to come to terms with it by now. And it’s not like that would prejudice me, that would explain things.

  “Your dad and I got married too young, which wasn’t our only problem, but it’s the only one I’m telling you about.” She met my gaze evenly. “If someone could have waved a magic wand and cured him, would things have ended differently? Maybe. Who knows? My guess is probably not.”

  “I know it might not be as bad as I’m imagining, but I just can’t-” I cut off. I didn’t think it was pure avoidance and being chickenshit that kept me from investigating further about the condition. Information like that tended to stay lodged in my brain once I learned it, and I just wasn’t ready to know all the gory details yet. Maybe being mostly in the dark wasn’t the plan either and I was getting myself all worked up over nothing, but I also knew the answer wasn’t in the papers she gave me. There was no answer for what I really needed to know. Not yet anyway.

  I asked the question anyway. “Mom, what if I’m like dad?”

  “We’ll deal with that if we have to.” She sighed. “With your dad, I was so. I didn’t want to believe it at first. It was tough. And it would be a lot worse with you.” Well, just great. “But I’ll make you a deal,” she continued. “You try not to worry and despite how difficult it may be, I promise to tell you if I think you have reason to worry.”

  That might be the best solution I’d get for now even if it didn’t really solve things. There were a lot of things I could have said to that, but my eyes narrowed as I realized what she was doing. “Hey, wait, I’ve used this trick on April.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “Remember, you’re not just him. You get stuff from me too.”

  ***

  Cal

  I had a lot of thoughts. Sometimes they all came too fast and at once and made it difficult to see or breathe. Some were innocuous, others were irrelevant, and some were critical. In millions of observations, asides, musings, and revelations, very few of them became actions.

  I thought about more freedom. Being my own man. I was so, so tempted to say my point had been made. I had shown my parents that I was serious, so now it was time to do what needed to be done to go to school and stay in their good graces. My trivial musing could be just that, and I could forget about them and move on.

  I had meant it though. I wanted to deserve things on my own merits. I wanted to be worthy. Following in my parents’ footsteps just because they said so and not because I wanted to… I didn’t think that made me worthy of much.

  With Max, I overreacted. Maybe it was my turn. I wanted to go all in and went barreling ahead without giving his feelings any thought. That was shit my parents did and I was, unfortunately, very much like them. I was trying every day, though, to be different. I didn’t know if that counted for anything but that was all I had, so it had to be good enough for now.

  I was prepared and careful. I had been so on guard against things going wrong. And everything had gone wrong anyway. Here I was still standing. I always thought immersion therapy sounded ghastly but maybe I understood: sometimes only having your worst fears realized showed you that you were capable of surviving them. Fear wasn’t a choice; it was an involuntary response to stimuli, but letting fear define my actions was a choice.

  Maybe I liked Max so much because I also liked the person I was around him. A guy who was learning to do things for himself instead of other people. A guy I could be proud of being. However, as difficult as it was, I had to put thoughts of Max aside when considering my options. If I was going to do… what I was planning, I had to be sure. It had to be for me.

  I knocked on the open door of the classroom to announce my presence. Professor Vincent’s eyebrows rose, but he beckoned me inside. “I heard congratulations are in order.” I felt rude not bringing a gift but didn’t want it to seem like a bribe. Some people were so touchy about things like that. The professor was being promoted to the head of the school’s English department.

  “Most people just sent me an email,” he remarked dryly.

  “I wanted to discuss the future of the spelling club.” He would be giving it up to tend to other duties.

  “The task will likely fall to my assistant.” He set down the pen he held while grading papers and studied me. “But I don’t think you’re right for the position, Cal.”

  I’d intended to make more small talk before discussing this and maybe even charm him somehow. Oh well, I was expecting a dismissal anyway. I wouldn’t give up that easily.

  I already had references and everything. Both of the Wu’s and some of the homeschool parents had recommended I speak to the professor following his promotion. I wasn’t sure if they held my abilities in such high esteem or they just knew I was at least semi-competent and could be convinced to hold meetings every week instead of bi-weekly. I appreciated the support either way, especially as it had given me the first rays of hope.

  “I may not be pursuing a career in education, but I’m well versed in the bee—” He held a hand up and I stopped talking.

  I could have a future on my terms. I just had to convince the professor.

  He regarded me warily. “I spoke with Brendan’s gym teacher after Regionals. He told me that Brendan understands proper conduct for playing sports. In other areas, I’m not sure he’s had proper role models to demonstrate correct behavior.”

  I almost scoffed. No one had ever insinuated I was a bad role model before. Even though I’d wondered the same thing privately, it sounded ridiculous now. I never did anything wrong. The worst thing I did was… well, Max. “I’ve been overzealous in the past admittedly but—"

  “Absolutely nothing has changed. A department head’s assistant is a full-time position and that you think you can do this while attending Princeton—"

  “Princeton isn’t that far away,” I retorted before I could think about it. He’d assumed I was going to Princeton. God, it was just a fact I was going there, wasn’t it? Well, it had been. “Actually,” I said in a quiet voice, almost hoping he would carry on and keep talking, but he fell silent and looked at me seriously. I was sure about this. I was sure I was pretty sure about this. Saying it out loud still took a moment. “I was thinking of taking a year off.”

  His expression remained neutral. “What prompted this?”

  “I’ve been rather… dedicated to my studies. I wanted to explore other options.” I thought about it. “I guess this isn’t very different…” I trailed off. I’d still be in the academic world, but I’d be living on my own, earning an income. I still planned on attending college. I was the smart one, logical and reasonable, wasn’t I? Well, wasn’t this the rational solution? I take time off, get actual work experience, and become a bit more secure financially and mentally. Then whether I got help from my parents or loans or scholarships, I’d still feel certain that I was the one making the decisions. And if I went to my father with a job offer, surely that would give me more to negotiate with. Either way, I came out ahead.

  He took pity on me. “I think it counts.” The moment was companionable between for a moment until he became somber. “No matter who handles the club, it will remain open to all students who want to attend,” he informed me.

  “Uh, okay?” Oh. “My parents complained about that?” He nodded tiredly. Well, maybe I could address all this head on. “I’m sorry they didn’t have you to tutor me when I competed, but I hope we can put the pa
st behind us.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You, uh, weren’t happy they hired a tutor,” I said awkwardly. I almost said he carried a grudge but that didn’t seem like the right way to phrase it when I was trying to get him to hire me.

  The professor shook his head. “I apologize if I treated you unfairly. I was worried you’d be a bad influence on Brendan. You’re the spitting image of your parents and he’s—” He cut off.

  I got the gist. There was still hope for Brendan. I agreed, but I thought there was still hope for me too. That was really why he didn’t like me? I nearly scoffed. “Me? I’m a great influence.”

  He nodded. “Academically, yes.”

  “What else is there?” I asked without thinking.

  Professor Vincent smiled. “That’s the problem.”

  I thought about what I’d seen at Regionals. How Brendan didn’t like the idea of acting that way with April but hadn’t said he wouldn’t either. Maybe no one in our family had shown him there was other ways to act. Sports were his thing but with this world he trusted our lead. Maybe I understood the problem and I was part of it.

  “I’m sorry,” I back peddled. “I just meant, this is a school.”

  “We build character here as well and yours—” He made a tsking sound to show it wasn’t up to Milton standards.

  “I know there’s more than just being the best student,” I paused to reign in the frustration in my tone. “I’m taking a year off, aren’t I?”

  “Are you?” he fired back.

  I took more time to answer so that I could be honest. “I think so.” Quietly, I breathed, “I want to.” I thought about it. “My father says its bad form to come from a position of weakness, so I resisted from saying how badly I need a job.”

  He looked like he didn’t want to side with my father but inclined his head. “Well, I would agree with that advice.”

  “But as it’s a very real possibly I’ll be cut off,” I carried on, “I should inform you that I really need this job and that if you think I’m too much like them, well, reference the being cut off part. I’m pretty sure they disagree.”

  He leaned forward, almost like he was seeing me for the first time, before sitting back in his chair. “You could patch things up with them.” His tone made it likely he thought that would happen.

  “I could,” I agreed but continued, “I’m not sure I want to. What I have to give up-” Not just Max. That whole part of myself. My choices. “It’s too much.” Maybe they were bluffing. Maybe they’d offer more freedom and back down. Dad backing down didn’t seem likely, but then again, there was the matter of appearances. Even he cared about that and his eldest son the academic not going to college? Maybe we could work something out. I didn’t want to. Or at least, I didn’t want to have to work things out to go forward. This would give me options. I loved options; they meant I could make a pros and cons list. Life always made sense after a pros and cons list.

  He sighed. “It would be difficult to find someone who knows the bee and this school as well as you.

  “Seriously?” I asked, then coughed and tried again. “I mean, yes, that’s-” Nope, my attempt at a professional tone crumbled. “Seriously?” I asked again with excitement.

  He smiled but rose a hand. “On one condition.”

  ***

  Max

  Some kids went wild in college. I didn’t know how much wilder I could get. I’d already experimented with drugs, alcohol, and anonymous hook ups. I’d have to figure something out as I was apparently too predictable. Or maybe that wasn’t my fault since I needed to work. Maybe it was cheating to find me there.

  When Cal found me at the auto shop, I didn’t look at him. I just kept working on the bike in front of me. He didn’t take the hint. “I will say everything I need to right here if I have to.” When I didn’t respond to that, he upped the ante. “I’ll make sure to speak loudly enough so that the interested parties can hear.” I did look at him then, but he was looking at something behind me. “Yes, hello Joey,” Cal said distractedly with a little wave.

  I turned to see Joey putting his arm down from where he’d been trying to get Cal’s attention with a grin. He didn’t even pretend to work as he rested his arms on the hood of the nearest vehicle and watched us. Dammit, it looked like a few other guys took notice too.

  I grabbed Cal by the wrist and dragged him behind the shop. What a great view. There was the dingy off-white wall of the shop next to us and boring black parking lot in front of us.

  I leaned up against the shop and stared sulkily ahead.

  “I don’t want things to be over between us,” he said. Yeah, I got that last time. “I know I… got carried away.” He cleared his throat and carried on in a soft, steady tone. “I still want to be with you, and if you still want to be with me, I think we can figure things out.”

  “Won’t we just end up back in the same place?” I asked tiredly. Why was he making me the bad guy? The one who had to point out all the problems. “We’re different, your parents disapprove, we’re in our senior year of high school, its—"

  “Yeah,” he cut in. “I don’t care about any of that. Do you?”

  “So what, we’re together and our problems are solved?” Could it be that simple? I liked him. That part did seem simple now. It was everything else that seemed difficult. But none of that changed that I liked him.

  “Do you want this to be harder?” Cal asked. “Fine. We can fight or yell and scream, but at the end of it, yes, I want us to be together.” He wasn’t being all overzealous and gung go, just calm and earnest. When had I started looking at him? I didn’t know but had trouble looking away now that I was. “We can learn from our mistakes.”

  “I hate learning,” I quipped.

  His blue eyes caught me in his steady gaze. “You’re not my everything Max, but I want you to be something. Something important. I like you and think we can figure it out.” He looked away for a moment. “I got scared and kind of tried to steamroll you before. I’m just trying to be clear that this is what I want, but if you feel differently, I’ll respect that.”

  Then he regarded me patiently. Good. It might take me a while to figure this out and even longer to force the words out. No, wait. I hated making things complicated. Why start now?

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t be with Cal. It meant that it was simple. I’d been holding back before. There was something I tried to tell him once. Now, I had a choice. I either told him or I didn’t and that probably said all I needed to about us and whether this was worth keeping together or not. Why go through all the trouble if it was for a guy I couldn’t even open up to? If I could, that would tell me what I needed to know.

  Things were more manageable that way. I couldn’t think of going to college at first, so I focused on applying and taking that one step at a time. Maybe there was a method to my madness.

  I took a breath. Then, I tried to be honest with Cal. “Remember when I saw your parents at Brendan’s bee and we talked?” Cal nodded, so I continued. “Your dad called mine a drunk.”

  Cal stared blankly at me before his eyes widened. “Oh god, and you didn’t know, did you?” He put a hand over his face. “Okay, well, let’s give it another five years.” He chuckled, a hysterical little sound. “Maybe the Winthrop-Scotts will learn to keep our fucking mouths shut about things that don’t concern us by then.”

  “Probably not,” I said automatically. Had I heard Cal swear before? He was wearing his standard preppy getup and had the face of an angel, yet I very much liked the word ‘fuck’ coming from his mouth. I wanted to make him swear more often.

  Cal winced. “Right, you’re right.” He moved to leave.

  I stopped him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” I sank down onto the ground. Cal stayed standing, but he didn’t leave. “My dad isn’t a drunk.”

  “Okay.” He frowned in confusion. “Do you want me to tell my dad that?”

  “No,” I laughed weakly the
n sobered up to say, “I don’t want you to tell anyone anything about this conversation we’re about to have.”

  He heard the serious note in my voice and regarded me somberly. “Oh, you can trust me Max,” he said lightly, like it was easy. He did sit down next to me. I was vaguely proud of him for not even worrying about his no doubt expensive pants but had more pressing matters to think about.

  Could I trust him? Did I? “Don’t say that,” I answered reflexively.

  “Why not?” His steady gaze met mine. “It’s true, but I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Alright, just.” I sighed. One thing at a time. “It wasn’t drugs or alcohol. My dad lost his job and ditched us because he was just a shitty person.” That was all I could get out for a moment.

  “But?” Cal prompted eventually.

  There doesn’t have to be a but... except there was. I didn’t have to think of this in terms of confiding or opening up; I could just answer Cal’s question. I meant to do just that. Instead, I thought about the conversation I had with my father. When he asked if I was ready to listen, I figured we should do the whole thing. He’d grovel and tell me some sob story so I’d forgive him, I’d yell and let him have it, we’d get the whole ugly thing out in the open, and maybe I’d feel better in the end even if I had go through the whole messy ordeal first. Except he hadn’t tried to make excuses.

  “He said, ‘I take full responsibility for it all,’” I told Cal. “That’s the exact opposite of the guy I know.” He’d been apologetic but didn’t beg me to forgive him or understand. He said he handled it all wrong and that was on him. He didn’t blame the disorder. I couldn’t understand why. That had to have something to do with it, right? Why didn’t he take the easy way out? That’s what he did.