They’d somehow, somehow managed. It had been a tough year for both of them, but they had their routine down and Jamie was making progress. He was verbal. He’d started to learn how to dress himself and to tell his dad when he needed to go to the bathroom so he didn’t mess himself. The care and attention, though draining, made for a relatively calm life for his child.
How was he supposed to introduce someone new into that mix? If Jamie learned to like another adult, to trust him as he did his own father, and then they left? It would be so much worse a second time around.
So he supposed it was kind of safe to look at the handsome young man at the sandwich bar, maybe even fantasize a little. Because there was no way anything could ever happen, and that wasn’t the pessimist in him speaking, it was the realist. Guys like that? They had the world at their feet, people lining up around the corner for their attention.
He sneaked another look, and almost laughed as the other guy caught his gaze again. He caught sight of a dimple, and the cute guy raised his hand slightly in a small wave not meant for anyone else to see. Apparently he was polite too. Simon smiled uncertainly, dipping his head slightly in response, and turned back to his laptop.
Just do some work, Simon.
“HERE, go give him a refill. And that’s not a euphemism for anything.”
Ty set the coffeepot in front of the sandwich counter and gave Mattie his best shit-eating grin. Mattie laughed and shook his head.
“I’m busy. Can’t you tell?”
“Wiping an already clean counter?”
“Um. Yes. Get lost.”
“You’re making disgusting goo-goo eyes at him. And I’m a guy. I should never have to say that to another dude. Look at what you’re doing to me, man. I’ll be knitting next.”
“No one’s asking you to interfere.”
“No, they’re not. But luckily for you, I’m an awesome friend. Go top off his coffee.”
“No.”
“You waved at him earlier. God, I can’t believe I’m having such a girly conversation.”
“He was looking at me.” Mattie shrugged, embarrassed. “Seemed the polite thing to do.”
“He was looking because he thinks you’re hot. I’m losing masculine points by the second here.”
“Scratch your balls or something.”
He discreetly scratched his balls. “That’s better.” Ty drummed his fingers against the counter. “Titties.”
“Excuse me?”
“Big-ass titties.”
“Um, okay. You’re weird.”
“Just trying to compensate for the following….” He took a deep breath. “Ah, Jesus. Okay, look. You really like this guy. Really. I can tell. You moon over him every day. He’s always looking over his shoulder at you and clearly wants to make a playdate with the lower half of your body. Dude. Just go talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“Uh, how about: ‘Hi, I’m Mattie. Date me. Now.’”
“Very smooth.”
“You’re hot. You don’t have to be smooth.”
“Ah, shut up, I am not. Hetero boy.”
“Yes, you are, you ungrateful shit. You have biceps and everything. I bet your stomach has those bumpy things….” He clicked his fingers, looking for the word.
“Abs? A six pack?” Mattie laughed.
“Yeah! You got muscle where there should be a nice soft layer of skin. Freak.”
Mattie shook his head and laughed quietly. He wiped his hands on his apron before discreetly lifting it and the corner of his T-shirt beneath a few inches. “You mean these things?”
“You are such a douche. Do you even say anything to him when he buys food?”
“Not really.”
“Why?” Ty lowered his voice, looking around him as a customer walked past toward the restroom.
“Because!”
“Lame.”
“Because when he speaks my IQ drops a hundred fucking points!” he hissed.
Mattie sighed as his friend’s shoulders dropped, and flushed when Ty raised a single eyebrow at him that practically screamed “pathetic.” He shook his head, leaning on his elbows across the counter, and kept his voice quiet. “You have to step it up with a guy like that. You have to know shit, be able to talk about books and philosophy and God knows what.”
“I think that’s called stereotyping.”
“You’re the one who said he was a geek.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not into sports, cars, action flicks, and dirty bad sex like the rest of us.”
Mattie frowned and pushed away from the counter. He untied his apron and drew it off over his head. “I ain’t got nothing to offer a guy like that, so let’s just drop it, yeah?” He shoved the apron under the counter. “It’s quiet, so I’m going for a quick break. Get back to work already.” He gave Ty a halfhearted smile to take any sting out of his words, and headed out back for some fresh air.
Ty rolled his eyes and watched as Mattie headed toward the door marked “Employees Only.” Why do gays gotta make it so complicated? Narrowing his eyes at Mattie’s retreating back, he picked up the coffeepot and headed over to the big ol’ scary nerd’s booth.
“HI THERE, refill?”
Simon was jolted out of his work by the friendly question, and he offered the waiter a polite smile and nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Ty poured the coffee and stole a quick glance at the open laptop, expecting to see anything from porn to kitten videos on YouTube. Disappointed, he spied an open word document. “So, you a writer, or…?”
Surprised at the initiation of conversation, Simon looked away from the laptop and fought the compulsion to turn the screen away from view. “Uh, yeah, actually.”
“And ‘Don’s Diner’ is a source of inspiration for you?”
Simon smiled. “No, not really. But you give free refills and have Wi-Fi. And my kid likes it here too.”
“Oh yeah, cute little guy in a cape? He’s a favorite around here.”
Simon felt his polite smile turn into something more genuine. “He is?”
“Oh yeah. Daphne—our waitress? Thinks he’s adorable. And Mattie—the guy who stares at you sometimes because he thinks you’re all hot and stuff? Well he thinks your kid is the cutest thing alive, swear to God.”
Sputtering hot coffee, Simon quickly dabbed his chin with the cuff of his sleeve. “Excuse me?”
Instead of answering, the waiter grinned and took a glance around them before slinking into the booth, sitting opposite him. He leaned forward, his head low and voice quiet. “You are gay, right? I mean, you keep looking at him too.”
Simon swallowed, feeling his cheeks flush alarmingly. “Uh, well….”
“Or have I got this totally wrong?” A look of horror flashed across the waiter’s face. “Oh man, you won’t tell the boss I’ve been hassling you, will you? Geez, I’m sorry. Look, I can get you a free bagel—”
“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, uh….” He laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, I am gay, but….”
The waiter sat back, a totally relieved and somewhat satisfied smile spreading across his lips. “Oh, well… great! So you’ll ask my boy Mattie out, right?”
“I don’t think—” Simon paused and then leaned forward, curiosity for the moment winning over his usual realistic self. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about the guy at the sandwich bar?”
“Yup.”
“The one with the baby blues and dimples. The twenty-year-old?”
“Twenty-six, and yeah, that’s the one.”
“The ridiculously gorgeous guy with the perfect stubble and shy smile? That guy?”
“I just said—”
“And he’s interested in me?” Simon couldn’t help it; he laughed.
“Yeah, I don’t get it either. No offense or anything.”
Snorting in amusement, he shook his head and reached for his coffee. “I don’t know what kind of joke the two of you are playing—”
“No, dude. Ser
iously, I’m not yanking your chain here. He thinks you’re the shit. He doesn’t know I’m talking to you, though, and he’s too intimidated to do it himself, so don’t let on I said anything.”
Simon couldn’t think of a single thing to say; the idea of it was so preposterous. He just huffed out a disbelieving, halfhearted laugh and looked at his Blackberry when it began to vibrate on the table next to his laptop. He picked the phone up, frowned, and set it back down without answering. The waiter gave him an odd look and then glanced to the back of the room.
“Look, just think about it, all right? Mattie’s a great guy. He’s artistic and laid back, a real cool guy. He’s funny too. Sometimes even on purpose. And for some reason, he thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, or something.” The waiter picked up his coffeepot and walked away.
Somewhat stunned, Simon looked back at his computer screen, feeling utterly dumbfounded. Well, well, well. Gorgeous fantasy guy not so unattainable after all. A small smile spread across his face. It was impossible not to be flattered. Of course, he wouldn’t be doing anything about it. The fact that his secret crush seemed to return his feelings didn’t change anything. He couldn’t have a relationship. Not with all the complications Jamie attracted, and not after what happened last time. Still, he was flabbergasted that the option was there. He frowned. Was the option there?
The waiter had seemed genuine, but perhaps something casual was what would be more appropriate—the expected, of a relationship with such a knockout younger man. There was nothing wrong with casual. Casual he could do. The small flashing red light on his phone caught his attention, and pressing the center key to light the screen up, he could see he had a voice mail.
A small groan escaped him. He wouldn’t have answered that call even if it hadn’t been in the middle of one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had. He didn’t take calls from his mother anymore. Still, a small part of him that missed having a family outside of Jamie was curious as to what it was the witch wanted now. Biting his lip, he let out a quick breath and dialed his voice mail.
“Simon, it’s your mother. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed your number, though I—I… um… can you call me back? Please? I’d like to speak to you. I think all this nasty business between us is entirely unfair. I know what I did was terrible, but I’m his grandmother, and I was just doing what I thought was—”
Simon hung up and deleted the message. Three years, and she still couldn’t say the two words that would begin the mending of fences between them. But then, as mule-headed as she was, he would probably be waiting a long time, and even then, he might not be able to forgive her.
He shook his head, his mood drastically heading downhill after his momentary high. That she had disapproved of his “lifestyle,” or of who he was, was one thing. But to bring lawyers into the mix and attempt to take his son from him, on the basis that it was wrong to bring a child up in a same-sex partnership, just brought to the surface all the bad blood and tension accumulated between them after so many years.
It’d made him as sad as it had angry. There had been a time when they’d been close. He’d never known his father, so it had been just the three of them when growing up: Carol-Ann, Mother, and himself. They’d loved each other up to the sky and back, but then he’d come out to them, and while Carol-Ann had supported him and told him that she only loved him more for finally knowing who he really was, his mother was a different story altogether.
She was a conservative woman, and what started out as confusion on her behalf somehow morphed into a feeling of betrayal and anger. As much as he attempted to explain that he was not trying to hurt her, that he was the same person he had always been, the same person she had loved before she had known, it had all fallen on deaf ears. She just would not listen, and therefore could not understand that it had actually been she who had betrayed him by turning her back on him.
Having Jamie, he could not imagine, could not conceive of ever thinking him morally backward. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make him not love his son. Especially something as insignificant as whom he was attracted to. Just as he could not change Jamie’s autism, his mother could not change his sexuality. Whether it came down to nature or God, people are what they are, and it’s never wrong. Nature is not wrong. Nature is the one certainty, the one truth that is visible to people, and he hung on to that.
And yet he missed her. But Jamie came first, and he would not risk her upsetting him. The main reason she had not been successful in dragging him to court was the simple fact it was very evident that he was number one in Jamie’s life. Jamie needed him; his entire routine revolved around and relied upon his father. If he were to be out of the picture, the consequences for Jamie would be devastating.
No. It would be just him and Jamie, and no one would ever come between them, or ever give any form of authority any reason to even question to whom Jamie should be entrusted. He wondered again, like he had many times before, if Tim had resented him back then for just assuming that he would have his back and want to be a second father to Jamie. He shook his head minutely. There was no point in thinking about it, not when it didn’t even matter anymore.
The vibration of his phone against the table top drew his attention, and he steeled himself to answer if it was his mother. They would have to speak sooner or later, and unless she had a genuine apology ready, it would be an extremely short conversation. A glance at the screen showed that it was not his mother, and he quickly answered. “Hello? This is Simon Castle speaking. Is everything all right? Is Jamie—my son—”
“Simon? It’s Sarah.”
Simon let out a breath. His heart always jumped into his throat when the number for Golden Acres flashed up on his cell. “Sarah, is everything all right?”
“He’s okay, Simon. He’s not hurt or anything, but I do think you may need to pick Jamie up early.”
He was already closing his laptop down and fishing out his wallet to lay a few bills on the table. “What happened?” He heard her sigh, and stood straight when she explained. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I saw it happen. I’ve called the other parents in and explained the situation.”
“Oh God.”
“Relax, their son is autistic too, Simon. They understand.”
“I’m on my way now.”
He quickly zipped his laptop into its carry case and slung the bag across his body. He grabbed his jacket and weaved his way quickly past the other patrons and out the diner doors, not even sparing a glance or noticing the concerned gaze of the handsome young man at the sandwich counter.
The elderly woman he’d come to know as Margaret, and who sat at the school’s reception desk, had been happy to take him to Jamie’s classroom. She was also kind enough to reassure him briefly, explaining why he’d been called in by his son’s teacher. Apparently she’d seen her fair share of frantic and overprotective parents in the time she’d worked at Golden Acres.
“Sarah?” she said as she popped her head inside the classroom.
A young man came to the door, shushing his class and telling them to listen to one of the other support teachers as he pulled the door to. He offered Simon a smile and his hand to shake.
“Hello, Mr. Castle. Jamie’s with Sarah in one of the quiet rooms. I’ll take you to him now. Thank you, Margaret.”
“Is the other boy all right?” He’d never been in this position before, but then Jamie had never struck another child before either.
“Tommy’s okay. He went home a few minutes ago with his mother. He’s not even upset anymore.”
“Do you think you could give me Mrs.…?”
“Mrs. Sadler.”
“Can you give me Mrs. Sadler’s telephone number? So I can call and apologize?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t, it’s against school policy. But—with your expressed permission—I can forward your details on to her and ask her to contact you instead?”
“That’d be wonderful, thank you. Sarah has my number.”
“I’ll get that from her as soon as you leave. She’s just through here.”
“Thank you… uh?”
“You can call me Adam.” The support teacher smiled and offered his hand again.
Simon shook it, said his thanks, and headed through the door held open for him. With just one glance, he knew he would be in for a tough evening. Jamie sat on one of those small orange plastic child seats, and Sarah sat opposite him, her neck stretched forward as she dipped her head as if attempting to catch his son’s gaze. She glanced up when she noticed his presence, and offered him a sad smile. Looking back at Jamie, she reached for his hand.
“Your dad’s here—”
“I don’t like that!” Jamie snatched his hand away from the teacher, pulling his cape tightly around him.
“Jamie, Miss Protrakis is being nice.” Simon knelt beside his son’s chair, knowing better than to just pick him up as he’d like to. He barely held in his sigh when he heard Jamie mumble his prime numbers. He looked at Sarah.
“It was break time, and he was playing with the blocks. Tommy wanted to play with him, but he wouldn’t let him, so Tommy knocked over his tower,” she explained. “Jamie smacked him.”
Simon frowned and looked back at his unhappy son. “Jamie, that was very bad. Do you understand me? We never, ever hit.”
“Tommy’s fine, Simon. His mother picked him up a few minutes ago. She mentioned ice cream, and he forgot what he was upset about.”
“I’m glad.” He looked back at his son, attempting to gain his attention. “But you should never have hit Tommy in the first place, Jamie.”
The Coil Page 4