Stephen was still feeling down and out about the move. While he was excited to try a new chapter of life on the west coast, it upset him to leave behind all his friends. It was difficult for me to empathise. He had been surrounded by friends back East and always had a knack for making new ones. I welcomed the fresh start.
“I hate to ask this,” I said looking at my dad. “Are we there yet?” I asked.
Dad chuckled. “Yes, it’s the next street down.”
Thank God. I couldn’t stand being in a car any longer. We turned off Fourth St. and onto Oakwood Ave, the new street we now lived on. In front of us at the end of the road, I saw the ocean in the midday light. As we approached closer, I realized Ocean Ave and some land separated us from the beach and water. My father turned up a small driveway that curved up to the front of the house.
“Oh my God. Look at those shutters aren’t they just adorable. And the lawn! I can already see honeysuckle growing at the base of those steps,” Mom cheered.
The lawn wasn’t really that big, but I think my mom thought we wouldn’t have one.
“Let’s get settled in first dear,” Dad replied.
“Well, I love it so far.”
“Are we keeping it that ugly yellow?” I asked.
“Yeah it looks like Max pissed in snow,” Stephen added.
“That’s what I was thinking!”
Stephen and I laughed.
“All in due time boys,” Dad said.
I looked up at the house in awe, it was probably one and a half times larger than our house back in Maine. The second my dad killed the engine I got out and stretched.
“If we go Saturday to check out colors, are you two going to help paint?” Mom asked, looking over her invisible glasses at us.
“Yeah,” we said.
“I’m going to give Frank a quick call then we’ll all go in.”
“Okay,” Mom said.
Once Dad walked away, Stephen and I bee lined it for the beach. We made to the backyard only to realize we weren’t as close to the beach as we thought. We were separated by two roads, but behind both was the ominously dark blue of ocean. The view was still nice but didn’t look a thing like back home. Back home we saw pines and maple trees, not palm. The sun was setting. Shades of oranges, fuchsias, and reds smeared the sky like a watercolor. The air didn’t have the same familiar New England coastal fisherman town scent we were used to. Regardless, the view was spectacular, and gave me hope, at night I could escape to enjoy a starry sky.
“What do you think?” Stephen asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing like home.”
“This is home,” he replied.
“You know what I mean. I can’t put my finger on it but somehow it’s different.”
“Yeah. Want to go egg Mom on about stuff?” Stephen nudged me with his elbow.
I laughed. “Sure.”
We ran back toward the car. Mom was leaning on the hood, her hands on her hips. She eyed the street we lived on, scanning the neighbors’ front yards. Amy sat on the hood, reading yet another book. Since she liked James and the Giant Peach and watching the movie with me after, I suggested she read Matilda and we could watch the movie, thus a summer tradition was started.
While Stephen stuck by Mom, I approached the front door. It was a beautiful wooden door with a giant thick stained-glass window. The large oval window was too thick to see through, but I attempted it anyway. I jiggled the handle, but to my disappointment, it was locked.
“Kyle, please wait for your father.”
Stephen snickered at me. We loved to mess with our mother, it was too easy. So, I jiggle the handle and peek through the window.
“Kyle!” Mom anxiously said.
“I know Mom, I’m just looking.”
I laughed and jiggled the handle a third time.
“Kyle!” Dad roared, holding the phone away from his face.
“Some house huh?” Mom said
“You could say that again,” Stephen responded.
“Okay Frank thanks. We’ll see you when you get here, bye. He made it to Phoenix and is staying there for the night. He’s leaving early in the morning and should be here a little after one.”
“Honey, he’s been doing a lot of driving, he isn’t being overworked is he?”
“No, he’s fine.”
“How’s Max?” Amy asked.
“Max is doing great. Frank said he can’t wait to see you guys. Are we ready to see this house?”
We nodded and followed him toward the door. He fished the key out of his pocket. I heard it slide into the lock; and the click as he turned the key and opened the door. We filed in.
“Where’s the switch?” Stephen asked.
“Found it,” I said.
Our mother gasped. “You never told me there were hardwood floors.”
“Surprise!” My father said.
My parents shared the same dopey smile they always gave each other when for a moment everything about their lives was perfect, and they were happily in love. I suppose it was their ‘thing’, but I never asked. Then they did what any parents would do to make their kids cringe. They kissed.
“Alright, go explore,” my father announced.
I looked down the hall; it seemed to stretch forever. At the very end was a sliding glass French door. To our right was an archway leading into a small den. Directly across the hall to our left was another archway, which led to a larger room; probably the dining room. I walked past the den and saw a set of stairs. Stephen and I headed for them instantly while the others ventured into the den. Eager to reach the top we took them two at a time. I looked up and saw a door directly across from us and opened it revealing a medium-sized bedroom, perfect for Amy. To our right we found the master bedroom. Next to it was the guest room. We turned and headed for the other end of the house.
We took a moment to gaze down from the loft overlooking the main entrance. While it was cool to look down from the second floor, it also made me a little queasy. I shook it off and looked away. At the same time, Stephen and I pushed off the railing and noticed a door behind us. Assuming it was a bathroom we ignored it and went on to discover the two doors next to each other at the end of the hall. The rooms shared a wall in the middle. I opened the one on the left, leaving Stephen with the one on the right.
My new bedroom was dark. A sliver of evening light bled through the part in the curtains and casted a stream which extended all the way to the door. I flicked on the light and immediately noticed the room was almost as big as the master bedroom and had hardwood floors. I looked around and saw a sliding wood door. My mouth dropped when I opened it and saw I had a walk-in closet, not the normal kind, but the kind you’d see Carrie Bradshaw drooling over in Sex and the City, only much smaller.
“Yes!” Stephen yelled.
He came into my room, smiling.
“I have my own closet. We don’t have to share one anymore.”
I chuckled. “I know I just found mine, it’s massive.”
“Yeah it’s like another room. I see you have a balcony too.”
“Balcony?”
“Yeah, over there. I’m going back to my room.”
“Okay.”
I looked back to where the light seeped in and walked over to the curtained door and peered through where they parted. Outside I saw green, slate grey, tan, and twilight blue. I ran my fingertips along the curtain’s fabric, they were rough and yet soft. I lifted them up, they were heavy almost like the red curtain that came down at the end of a theatre play. I heaved them open and could just make out the beach in the background, our backyard in the foreground, and Ocean Ave and some other road in between. I stepped out and looked around in awe, rejoicing in the refreshing breeze. I couldn’t see Stephen’s balcony; it was blocked by a pair of palm trees.
“Wow,” I said to myself.
“Something else, isn’t it.”
“Where are you?”
I heard Stephen laugh then saw a light shine through the t
rees in my direction.
“This place is crazy, almost too good to be true.”
“It is California, I guess here everything is extravagant.”
I inhaled deeply through my nose. I could smell the ocean. It wasn’t fresh and piney like Maine, here it smelled clean with an underlying scent I couldn’t describe. Nothing like the salty clam flats when driving over the Trenton Bridge. Something you needed an “acquired” nose for. I felt the ground under us begin to shake, it lasted about five-or-ten seconds, growing in intensity as time passed and then died off.
“Shit dude, our first earthquake!” Stephen nervously chuckled out.
“Yeah, better get used to it,” I said.
“Dad said the house is earthquake and hurricane proof.”
“Cool, I didn’t know they made earthquake-proof houses.”
“Neither did I. Do you think California is really all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Dunno, guess we’ll find out,” I replied.
“True,” Stephen agreed. “Time will tell.”
I turned to walk inside when something caught my eye. I noticed a wrought iron spiral staircase descending from the balcony to the ground. I looked at the balcony wall. Being made of concrete and stucco, it was about waist height and boxed in the floor of the balcony leaving a small hole near the palm trees for excess water to drain from. I leaned over the edge and saw a set of what looked like granite steps leading from our backyard down toward Oakwood Ave.
I heard my parents talking downstairs and pushed myself off the balcony wall. Stephen was still ranting on about California girls and how beautiful they were when I walked back inside. Following my parents’ voices, I ventured downstairs and down the hall toward the kitchen. I saw yet another door. How many doors does this place have? I opened it; it was a half bathroom, just off the kitchen. A few steps later and I reached the end of the hall. I saw Dad leaning against the counter, I quickly scanned over our new kitchen and at all the appliances. They appeared to be brand new and were all stainless steel.
“Feel that quake?” he asked.
“A little, so the firm paid for all of this?”
“Yeah. Nice huh?”
Nice was an understatement. I noticed the glossy countertops and recognised straight away they were pink granite.
“You like the counters?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, they’re beautiful.”
“They’re special ordered from the quarry back home. It was my way of adding a little touch of Maine to our humble abode.”
I ran my hands over the sleek surface. There was an island in the center of the kitchen, perfect for Mom to make her famous rolls or Dad’s messy cooking adventures. A breakfast bar divided the kitchen from the living room. I walked over to the French doors and turned on the lights. The custom sunroom Rich had been building for us was nearly finished. I noticed we had a small kidney shaped pool. A sauna was in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around allowing the sun or moon to illuminate the room.
“What do you think?” Dad asked.
“It’s pretty cool. I like it. Where’s all the gym equipment?”
“Hear that dear, our son says the house is cool,” Dad said.
Dad ignored the question and instead the two of them laughed to one another.
“Cool,” Mom said, mocking him.
They kissed and I cringed.
“Is there always going to be an echo in here?” I asked.
“No, once we have stuff moved in it’ll go away,” Dad said.
“I can’t wait to get everything here,” Mom replied.
“Yes, I know how much you love to plan layouts, I leave full control to you.”
“As you should. You know better.”
My father laughed. “Yes dear.”
“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me. You decorate like a college student.”
While my parents continued their friendly banter, I stepped into the living room and took a quick tour. Across from me was a fireplace. A bay window lined the wall facing the backyard, a soft padded bench made a home underneath. My father startled me when I heard his voice.
“We’re thinking of getting pizza.”
“Okay.”
“What kind would you like?”
“My usual.”
I walked past Dad and joined Mom in the kitchen. I hopped up on the counter and watched my parents stare at each other for a moment, then look at me. I knew I wasn’t allowed to sit on the counter, but considering we didn’t have any chairs, it felt right. My parents kissed which made me gag on the inside, and then my dad left the room to order the pizzas.
“So, are we staying here tonight, seeing as though we don’t have any beds to sleep on.”
“No, we have two rooms reserved at The Cadillac Hotel, figured we’d pick up the pizza on our way. Rich and Jennifer will be here early in the morning.”
“Jen’s coming over?” I asked.
“Of course, she is. She won’t have time once she starts juggling school and work.”
Dad walked back into the kitchen. “Pizza will be ready in thirty minutes, we should go check into the hotel,” he said.
We arrived at The Cadillac Hotel shortly after seven. From the parking lot I heard the crashing of water on sand and was eager to explore.
“I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” Mom asked.
“I want to check out the beach before dinner.”
“Don’t be too long, it’ll be dark soon,” Mom yelled.
“Andrea relax, let the boy explore. Meet us up in our room when you’re ready, there’s something we need to talk about,” Dad said.
“Okay, I’ll be right up.”
I crossed the walkway and scanned the beach. I looked down to the right, far in the distance I saw what looked like a fair or amusement park. Lights were flashing, and the Ferris wheel popped against the twilight sky. Behind me was a skate and surf shop, I was tempted to go in and get new wheels for my skateboard, but I was awe struck by everything happening around me. I watched the people heading in every which direction and wondered what they did with their lives. I wondered if they were all locals. If they lived near me or whether any of their children would become my friends. I wondered if the lure of California girls would get to me, or would I decide I was only attracted to men.
Hello! I watched as two extremely attractive men walked by. To my astonishment, they were holding hands! It’s a sign.
I was excited to see there were others out there who felt this was okay. Others who found it kosher to hold hands in public or even kiss, and just happened to be two men. I walked down the walkway, heading toward the Ferris wheel and took in all the sights. I snapped a photo and pulled up Kip’s contact information. We made it! Look at this view, I wrote and sent before deciding to turn back. I noticed an attractive man walk out of the skate shop I had been standing in front of moments ago. He was busy talking to his female companion. They carried surfboards. His looked almost like a close-up of a composition notebook. In the low light I noticed blotches of red, orange, and yellow in some of the areas that were white. He walked with an air of confidence. It was sexy, he was sexy.
He stared at me as he passed and winked. My face flushed, and I smiled back.
“Evening,” I squeaked.
“Hello,” he said before walking on. He looked familiar-like some actor I’d seen in that one movie but this was California, it was full of good-looking people who could be stars. Though I did notice him look over his shoulder one more time.
I walked back to the hotel and met my family for dinner. Amy sat on one of the beds with Stephen. They were playing Phase 10 and my parents were on the other side of the room whispering to each other. I sat on the bed and Amy dealt me a few cards.
“What’s going on?” I asked them.
Amy shrugged. “Dad just said he has news to share.”
“More news? What now?”
“How should I know,” Amy replied.
Dad c
leared his throat and he and Mom sat on the other bed and looked at us. Amy, Stephen, and I all stared at each other. I noticed my father and mother look at each other, before my mom nodded her head.
Dad sighed. “I have some big news to share. I’ve debating telling you for a while, but now it’s kind of unavoidable. A couple of years back I wrote a novel,” he said, setting a copy of his book down in front of us.
The book’s title was A Time to Forget.
Shocked yet curious, I reached for the book and read the back cover. A cool energy instantly engulfed my head, and I wondered if I looked as pale as I felt reading the synopsis. Stephen eyed me before leaning over my shoulder to get a closer look.
“It’s a best-seller!” Stephen exclaimed.
“I know,” Dad calmly said.
“What’s it about?” Amy asked.
“It’s from the perspective of a homophobic father unable to accept the fact that his only son is gay,” Dad said.
Stephen and Amy looked at him with a shocked look on their faces. I remained natural. A Time to Forget looked to be a few hundred pages worth of writing. I had no idea my father knew how to write, let alone had it in him to write an entire novel.
“I didn’t expect you’d write a book, especially one with this subject matter, considering your views on homosexuals,” I accidently mumbled aloud.
“Kyle,” Mom started in.
Dad placed his hand on my mother’s. “It’s okay Andrea. Neither did I. It’s because of my views on the subject that I was able to write this. I know this must come as a shock to all of you considering my stance on gays in the family.”
Yeah, they’re not allowed.
“Where did the inspiration come from then?” I pressed on.
“The death of an old friend,” was all he said.
I expected him to say more, but he didn’t. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to tell us about his muse, and probably never would. I had my own secrets I was hiding from I couldn’t completely fault him on his. Nevertheless, I was full of questions.
“Brian L. Sanderson? Why didn’t you use your real name?” I asked, handing the book to Amy.
“Several reasons. Mainly the subject matter is quite dark, with a tragic ending. I’m honestly surprised I wrote it, but my friend’s death brought up some old memories. He and I were close growing up so I’m aware of the struggles he faced especially in the eighties. I also thought if the reader believed this came from the father himself it would be more believable.”
Playing It Out Straight Page 6