Something Like Spring

by Jay Bell

  “Hey!”

  Jason’s face contorted as he took a sharp breath that felt like his first. As he rolled over, that breath caught in his throat. Caesar sat on the edge of the bed, white bandana gone now and his hair a mess. That wasn’t all. The hoodie and tank top were gone too. The street light outside illuminated chest hair, dark nipples, and the gentle curve of pectoral muscles. Desire rose in Jason like a hungry beast, but he pushed it back down and looked up into tropical eyes.

  “I had a nightmare,” Caesar whispered. “I told you that movie was a bad idea!”

  “Okay,” Jason said, trying to figure out what to do. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Shouldn’t you be waking up your mom for this?”

  “I just need company until the adrenaline goes away. You know what it’s like.”

  Jason yawned. “I had a dream about an elephant on a beach once,” he said. “Scared the hell out of me. No idea why.”

  “Adrenaline,” Caesar repeated. “Come hang out in my room?”

  Jason felt a familiar mix of excitement and dread. “Okay.”

  Caesar stood, waiting for him to get out of bed. Jason did some quick equations in his head to help the swelling between his legs die down before he stood. He strategically kept his back to Caesar as he pulled on his jeans, so he wouldn’t just be in a shirt and pajama bottoms.

  “Hey, bring your guitar!”

  “Huh? It’ll wake up the house.”

  Caesar waited at the door. “So play quietly!”

  Jason grabbed the instrument from the closet and followed Caesar down the hall, which was even darker, but he could still see the strong lines of his neck, the jutting shoulder blades, the narrow waist. Caesar had a nice build. Not football player, by any means. He wasn’t a beefy guy, but he wasn’t skinny either. Somewhere in the middle, like Jason himself, except with real muscle.

  When the door to Caesar’s room opened, light flooded the hallway. Jason noticed Caesar’s charcoal-colored boxers as he squinted against the brightness, but soon his attention turned to the room itself. He could see why Caesar considered his room to be bare, since this one was bursting with personality. A king-size bed sat in the middle, dark brown sheets and comforter in a rumpled tangle, but even its bulk didn’t monopolize the room’s space, which felt larger thanks to the vaulted ceilings. In one corner hung a yellow flag with a black two-headed eagle. Posters decorated the walls, a few of girls, some hip-hop themed, and one of Jimi Hendrix that likely had more to do with what he was smoking than his music. On the far side of the room was a loveseat stained by too much snacking, probably while playing the game console that sat on the floor in front of a widescreen television. Next to this, a door revealed bathroom mirrors beyond.

  “Jesus!” Jason said, forgetting to whisper. “You’re really slumming it here, aren’t you? No wonder you keep coming to my room.”

  “Yeah, it’s a complete dump,” Caesar said, standing by the door he had just closed. He wasn’t bothering to whisper either. “Like I said, you’re always welcome in here.”

  Jason spun around once more, noticing the car magazines on the side table, the sideways pillow in bed that Caesar might have been cuddling with, and the clothes he’d worn that day piled together on the carpet. Jason’s instinct was to sit on the bed, since most people didn’t have a couch in their bedroom, but instead he just stood there holding his guitar.

  “What’s with the flag?” Jason asked, nodding to the corner.

  “Ah, that’s the flag of the Holy Roman Empire. You know… Caesar? Roman Empire? A gift from my father, or a reminder of what I’m supposed to inherit. Thing is, in Julius Caesar’s day, they didn’t carry flags. They used standards, like a golden eagle on top of a pole that would be carried into battle. Not to mention that the emperors of the Holy Roman Empire weren’t known as Caesars.”

  Jason stared at him dumbfounded. “You’re really into history, huh?”

  “Told you I study my ass off. And no, I’m not into history.” Caesar flopped onto the bed. Propped up on his elbows, his bare legs hung off the edge. Jason averted his eyes.

  “I guess when you’re named something like that,” he said, “you pay more attention.”

  “Which is probably why you like those horrible Friday the 13th movies.”

  Jason grinned. “Are you saying my mother named me after a murderer?”

  “No. Hey…”

  Jason was forced to look back. Caesar scooted further onto the bed, back against the headboard, and patted the space next to him. Jason, throat feeling tight, leaned his guitar against the wall. When he climbed onto the bed, he made sure there was distance between them.

  “I was thinking about your mom,” Caesar said. “You were how old when it all happened?”

  “Seven,” Jason answered.

  “That’s almost nine years ago. A lot can change. Maybe she’s not with that guy anymore, you know? When’s the last time you had contact with her?”

  Jason looked sidelong at him, sexual thoughts dissipating from his mind. Caesar’s eyes were wide with concern, maybe even hope. Jason struggled to understand why he would care, why it mattered if there was any chance of being reunited with his mother. He also found himself wanting to reward that hope with a positive answer, to give Caesar the happy ending he desired. But he couldn’t.

  “She died. When I was twelve.”

  “What?” Caesar looked shocked, as if he had known her. Or maybe the idea that everything could go so wrong was alien to him. Regardless, he scooted closer to Jason, their shoulders touching. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Jason shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. I saw her occasionally. There were visits, and she looked… tired, I guess. Then the visits stopped and after awhile they told me the news.”

  “What happened?”

  “You mean how? She drank herself to death. They hid the truth from me for years, but my current caseworker, Michelle, she’s different. When I asked her about it, she told me straight-up. I know people were trying to protect me, but I spent years wondering how she died.”

  “Oh man,” Caesar whispered.

  “Yeah,” Jason said lamely. Talking about this was always too hard. He felt he should be wailing over her death, even all these years later, or at least crying at little. He really did love and miss her, but it was like he’d developed a tolerance. The pain was still there, but it didn’t overwhelm him anymore. Sometimes he felt it should. If he really loved her, that pain should tear him up just as much today as it had back then. Jason changed the subject, hoping to escape these uncomfortable thoughts. “What was your nightmare about?”

  “Huh? Oh. Zombies were eating my papier-mâché brain, except in my dream it was stuffed full of Chinese food instead of explosives. Listen, I know you hate hearing it, but I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “Shit happens.” Jason shook his head, exhaling in a huff. “Sometimes I wish it had happened sooner.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I would have been put into care; I would have been seven and upset, but I wouldn’t have been angry. I fought for five years, refusing to settle down because I wanted to go home. By the time she died and I realized I never would go home, I guess fighting had become a habit. Besides, nobody wants a twelve-year-old. Not really. They want little kids.”

  “Not true. Peter had just turned eleven when he came here.” Caesar nudged him. “Or you. Why do you think you’re here?”

  “To make your parents feel good about themselves.”

  Caesar’s jaw dropped. Then he laughed. “You’re cold, man! Maybe you were named after an axe murderer!”

  “Then you shouldn’t have invited me to your bedroom in the middle of the night. Look, I even brought my axe.”

  Jason grabbed his guitar and began lightly plucking at the strings, the notes gentle, the music minimal. Caesar scooted down, grabbing a pillow and lying flat, but his head was upturned, eyes shining as Jason played. This made him feel special, like he was some sor
t of treasure, the most prized among everything in this trove of a room. Jason closed his eyes, focusing on making the music the best it could be. When he opened them again, Caesar’s were shut, his breathing deep. Jason stopped playing and watched his face for any reaction. When it didn’t come, he let his eyes travel over Caesar’s body, the black hairs on his arms, the shape of his fingers that gripped the pillow next to his head, the small of his back, the curve of his butt.

  Jason sat there and stared until his eyes burned. Then he set aside the guitar and scooted down so they were on an equal level. If the space between them wasn’t there, their lips would be touching in a kiss. He studied Caesar’s face, memorizing every detail of this unwilling emperor until his eyes betrayed him and refused to stay open any longer.

  Chapter Four

  Jason yawned and stretched himself awake. Caesar did the same a few moments later. He sat up, considering the three small windows set into the vaulted ceiling that were the only natural source of light. The muted blue sky suggested morning was still breaking. Caesar rolled over to reach the nightstand and turned the alarm clock to face him.

  “Shit!” he said, sitting upright. “Mom will be up soon. You better get out of here.”

  Instead of replying, Jason just laughed.

  Caesar blinked at him. “What?”

  “Your hair. It’s standing straight up!”

  Caesar tried to smooth it down before he nodded. “You should see yours. Hey, you’ve actually got eyes!”

  Jason brushed at his bangs selfconsciously.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Caesar said, swinging out of bed and walking to the pile of clothes on the carpet. “Here.”

  Caesar held up the white bandana he’d worn the other day. Jason just shrugged at it, not having a clue how to turn a square of fabric into headgear.

  “Watch.” Caesar folded and flipped the bandana until it became a long ribbon. With one knee on the bed, he bent over and used this to brush back Jason’s bangs, tying the bandana behind his head. “Now your hair is sticking up too.”

  Jason patted the top of his head experimentally. “This is stupid.”

  “Yeah, but it’s nice to see those green eyes. And the rest of your face.” Caesar looked him over. “It’s a nice face.”

  Jason pulled off the bandana and held it out. “I look dumb.”

  Caesar shook his head. “Keep it. There are tons of ways to wear it.” A noise in the hall attracted his attention. “You really should get back to your room.”

  Jason shrugged, not understanding why it would matter, and feeling weird when Caesar cracked open the door to peek down the hall. Had they done something wrong? All his fantasies were still a secret, so Caesar couldn’t know the things Jason wished had happened. To anyone else, the night was as innocent as a sleepover.

  “Coast is clear.” Caesar opened the door all the way. “Go go go!”

  Jason hurried down the hall, glancing backward once. Caesar was still at the door.

  “Thanks for keeping me safe from the zombies,” he whispered.

  Jason nodded, ducking into his room. He shut the door—even though he knew Mrs. Hubbard didn’t like that—and sat on the edge of the bed. He considered the bandana in his hands, wondering if Caesar was embarrassed about needing someone to comfort him after his nightmare. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want Jason getting caught in his room. Or maybe, in Caesar’s mind, the night hadn’t been all that innocent. As they lay facing each other, perhaps they had been having similar dreams.

  Jason held the white bandana up to his nose and breathed in. Then he hid it between the mattress and box-spring before he rose to take his turn in the bathroom.

  * * * * *

  “Ready to go?” Peter tugged on the straps of his backpack to make sure they were tight and considered him with raised eyebrows.

  Jason had been loitering by the front door for the last five minutes, hoping Caesar would hurry up and finish whatever he was doing. After showing up at the breakfast table and sneaking a wink in his direction while wolfing a bowl of cereal, Caesar had disappeared upstairs again. Jason was hoping to ride to school with him and had mostly forgotten Peter even existed. Until now.

  “Well?”

  “Yeah, I think I have everything,” Jason said reluctantly. Perhaps Caesar was waiting for him to leave, not wanting to attract suspicion by them being too chummy. If so, then maybe Jason had been right. Last night had been special to them both.

  “Not the best move, skipping church,” Peter said as they began their journey down the sidewalk. “But then, you knew that already.”

  Jason glanced over at him, wondering if Peter could possibly be twelve years old. Aside from his videogame marathons, he seemed much older. Like thirty. Sure, life in foster care could be hard, but Jason didn’t feel like it had aged him prematurely. Unless he was too similar to see the truth. Was he just as jaded and calculating?

  “I don’t like church,” Jason said. “That’s enough reason not to go.”

  “Has nothing to do with whether you want to go or not,” Peter said. “Mrs. Hubbard—Mom—was upset during the whole drive there. Couldn’t stop talking about it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Jason said. “She gave me an earful before you guys left.”

  “Then why didn’t you go? Unless you’re playing the redeemed sinner.”

  “Redeemed sinner?”

  “Yeah. If you’re good your whole life, nobody cares. You never get credit for it because that’s who you’ve always been. But if you’re bad and then later realize the error of your ways—” Peter made bunny rabbits with his fingers to surround this with quotation marks. “—then everyone makes a big deal out of how hard you’ve worked to change. I refused to wear these stupid clothes for the first few weeks here, and then showed up at the breakfast table one morning in a starchy white dress shirt. Mrs. Hubbard almost cried.”

  Holy shit! What a calculating little bastard! “I’m not playing any games,” Jason said. “I didn’t go because I didn’t want to.”

  They walked in silence for a block. Peter kept glancing over at him, as if trying to read his mind. Jason tried to clear his thoughts, just in case he could.

  “You’re not staying, are you?”

  “Probably not,” Jason said, mostly in the hopes that the subject would be dropped.

  “Too bad,” Peter said, but his expression held a hint of satisfaction. “I’m surprised. I mean, I switched foster families too. There were a few I wouldn’t have wanted to be adopted by, and I made sure they didn’t want me. But the Hubbards… If a rich family doesn’t do it for you, then what are you looking for?”

  “The impossible,” Jason said.

  Peter rolled his eyes. “You should at least milk it while you’re here. You have a birthday coming up, right? Ask for something cool like a PlayStation. When you get booted out, there’s no way they can ask for it back.”

  “I’ve always wanted a dog,” Jason admitted.

  “A dog? They won’t let you take that back to the group home. No, you’re better off asking for electronics. Maybe a laptop. Some are good for gaming, you know?”

  Jason felt more at ease with Peter talking video games and kept him on that subject until they parted ways. His day went pretty much as it had on Friday, right up to the moment between fifth and sixth period when a familiar face showed up at his locker.

  “Again,” Caesar said. “What do you have against my car?”

  “Peter wanted to walk with me,” Jason said. “Besides, it was wait around or be late.”

  “I’m never late. That’s why I have a fast car. I just need extra time for all of this.” Caesar gestured at himself. “Such perfection doesn’t come naturally.”

  But Jason had seen him with bedhead and knew that it did. “I might let you give me a ride home again.”

  “Actually, a couple of us were thinking about knocking some colorful balls around after school.”

  “Pool?” Jason guessed.

  “Nah,
we’re not that cool. Minigolf. Wanna tag along?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Just like the previous school day, Jason had a whole class period to be nervous, mostly because he didn’t know Caesar’s friends, but even if they were heading out solo, he still probably would have had the jitters. This time when he walked to the parking lot, not as many people had gathered yet. Steph was there, side-by-side with Caesar as they leaned against his car. The guy with the shaved head was also present. Jason got a proper introduction. His name was Kurt, and the handshake he offered was painfully firm. Jason noticed his solid build, which along with the skinhead vibe, made him intimidating. They were soon joined by two other girls who couldn’t stop giggling. They all piled into two separate cars, the giggling girls and Kurt in one, Jason and Steph riding along with Caesar.

  Steph sat up front, of course, allowing Jason to observe them as they talked. Occasionally she turned to include him in the conversation, but Jason mostly just wore a blank expression like he couldn’t hear over the music. What he noticed most from his backseat hideaway was how often Steph smiled in Caesar’s direction, how her eyes traveled up and down his features as he spoke, only rarely dropping to his arms or his chest. She loved him. Jason was sure of that. She was attractive too, with pink lips that framed straight white teeth, a pert little nose, and warm brown eyes that shone with confidence. For a brief moment, he wished he could be her, wished more than anything that he was pretty and perfect and capable of leaning over to peck Caesar on the cheek in return for whatever compliment he’d just paid her.

  When they reached the miniature golf course, Caesar paid for six clubs and declared that everyone should pair up. The giggling girls stuck together, and Steph took hold of Caesar’s arm, leaving Jason with Kurt. He wasn’t exactly thrilled by this, but he kept his expression neutral. On the course, Caesar and Steph went first, walking ahead to the next hole when finished. Jason kept his eyes on them as he played. He wasn’t alone. Kurt seemed just as interested.