“Hey!” Scott called, straightening up and brushing his hands off on his knees. “You came.”
“Yep. My mom called your mom this morning, and I can stay until she comes to pick me up after work.”
“Cool. I’m making a fort.”
“Like a real fort?”
“Yeah.”
Evan walked over to the space Scott had cleared under the tree. He had a pile of things to use for the fort: a big cardboard box, a piece of wood that looked like it had come from a broken fence, a bunch of sticks, some string, and a roll of Christmas-patterned parcel tape.
“How are you gonna do it?” Evan asked. He shrugged his backpack off and set it down next to the tree, then planted his hands on his hips.
“See that branch there? I’m gonna use that as the roof. We need to flatten the box out and attach it to the wall with the tape, see? And then the fence is the door.”
Evan nodded, the fort taking shape in his imagination as Scott described it.
“What’s the string for?”
“To tie the box to the branch? I dunno yet. I thought it might come in useful.”
“We might need another box. To make a wall on that side.” Evan pointed to where the fort would be open to intruders.
“I hadn’t thought of that. We might have another one in the garage. I’ll go check.”
“No! Later. Let’s start it now.”
Scott beamed. “Okay.”
AN HOUR or so later, they were muddy, frustrated, and the proud owners of a slightly haphazard fort. There had been a few moments where Evan had worried they were fighting, especially when Scott got frustrated because he couldn’t get the box to stick to the wall with the stupid Christmas tape. But it was okay—he was annoyed at the stuff, not at Evan.
“Boys!” Scott’s mom yelled from the kitchen door. “I’ve got lemonade and sandwiches here if you’re hungry.”
Scott looked at Evan, shrugged, and they immediately raced back up to the house.
Scott’s backyard was big, so Evan was out of breath by the time they reached the kitchen. His mom didn’t look mad that they were all dirty. She just smiled and shook her head as she picked up Lacey from the floor and bounced her on her hip.
“Can you both wash your hands, please? Scott, show Evan where the washroom is.”
The Sparrows had a washroom downstairs, a tiny space that Evan and Scott crowded into together to scrub the worst of the dirt from their hands and arms. Scott caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink and started to laugh.
“What?” Evan asked.
“I got dirt on my face.”
“I told ya.”
AFTER THEIR snack, Scott’s mom offered to come out and help them finish the hard bits of the fort. She was clever, finding some hooks from her sewing box and making some kind of rigging to hold the roof in place. She was tall too, meaning she could reach up and make sure the fort was supported from the higher branches of the tree.
“We need a door, Mom,” Scott said as they all looked at the structure, three pairs of hands planted solidly on their own hips.
“Hmm,” she said, tipping her head to the side. “Wait here.”
She went into the garage, the back door that Scott told Evan he and his brother weren’t allowed in, since it contained all of his dad’s tools and hunting stuff. After a few minutes, Scott’s mom came back with a big piece of camo net.
“How about this?” she said. “If we throw it over the whole fort, it’ll be disguised, but you can still see out through the holes.”
“That’s pretty awesome, Mrs. Sparrow,” Evan said.
“Thank you, Evan.”
It took a bit of wrangling to get the net to sit right, and then Mrs. Sparrow held up one corner to allow them space to crawl in.
“I’ll leave you boys to it,” she said with a grin and dropped the net back down.
It was darker inside the fort. It had enough space for Evan and Scott to sit side by side with their legs stretched out and was tall enough that they could stand up if they hunched over. All in all, it was an excellent fort.
“I think we should get married, Evan,” Scott said decisively.
Evan looked up from where he was patting down the mud to make a more solid floor, and frowned. “Huh?”
“Ms. Hopkinson says people get married when they like each other best of all, and I like you best of all, so we should get married.”
It took Evan a moment to think on that. “Don’t boys usually marry girls?”
Scott shrugged. “I dunno. Do you wanna marry me or not?”
“Sure,” Evan said. “Do we hafta live together now?”
“Not until we’re grown-ups,” Scott said, sounding more sure of himself now. “For now we still live with our moms.”
Evan was a little relieved. He did like Scott best of all too, but he didn’t want to not live with his mom anymore.
“Okay. What do we need to do?”
“Well, I say I want to marry you, and you say you want to marry me, then we kiss, and then we eat cake.”
This sounded entirely reasonable to Evan. “Okay. I wanna marry you, Scott.”
“I wanna marry you, Evan.”
Evan blinked twice, and Scott leaned forward and kissed him, smack on the mouth. For a moment, Evan startled. He hadn’t ever kissed anyone on the mouth before, besides his mom. Scott was already pulling away, though, so Evan made quick work of leaning in and bumping his mouth against Scott’s again.
Scott tasted like lemonade and a little like dirt.
“Do we go get cake now?” Evan asked, brightening at the thought.
“Yeah! Chocolate cake,” Scott said as he scrambled to his feet. He held his hand out to Evan, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. “Come on,” Scott said.
They raced back up to the house, not letting go of each other’s hands.
The Third Time
Christmas 2006
EVAN WATCHED, childishly pleased, as tiny flecks of snow started to fall from a sky that had seemed heady and heavy all afternoon. It had grown dark just after he’d eaten lunch—a warming chicken soup made with big chunks of root vegetables. The perfect thing for a cold winter afternoon.
His mom had the day off work and was spending the rest of the day doing last-minute Christmas shopping with her new boyfriend. Mark was a doctor at the hospital, and their friendship had grown into something more over a number of years. Evan liked Mark. He treated Evan’s mom well, didn’t try to parent Evan, and hadn’t pushed when Evan’s mom had said she wanted to keep living in her own house for now.
The fact that Mark was a doctor, a freaking doctor, didn’t cause any harm.
Evan had driven home from East Carolina University the previous afternoon, the radio playing holiday music all the way. This year he’d stayed in the house he rented with a couple of friends for the few days it took to finish the work he needed to hand in after the holiday. Bringing no work home with him meant he could enjoy the time off, to catch up with people, and spend quality time with the friends he missed.
Each time he made the trip home, Evan marveled at how much could change while it all stayed so perfectly the same. This town was as it had always been, the families he’d grown up with still living in the same homes, the same restaurants serving the same food. It was reassuring, in a way. No matter how much his life changed, there was something here waiting to remind him of where he was from.
Evan had come out to his mom over spring break.
“Mom… I need to tell you something.”
He’d been living away from home for six months now—how could it only be six months? The freedom college had given him was stunning. The ability to reconstruct himself, to be whoever he wanted, to shape a new personality. This one was far closer to the Evan he felt he truly was, the one he kept hidden underneath.
“I’m gay.”
“Oh, Evan.” She sighed, squeezing the hand that was clutched between both of hers, and then she reached up
to brush his hair back from his face. “Oh, baby. I know. I love you so much. You know that?”
He’d broken at her words, falling forward to cling to her slim shoulders, weeping into her neck like he was still a child. She’d brushed her fingers through his hair, making soft cooing noises and letting him cry it out. This had always been a safe space, the safest, in his mother’s arms.
Later, over dinner (out, at her insistence), he’d told her about Cael.
Cael was in his second year at ECU, studying environmental science and philosophy. He had cool sandy skin and warm brown eyes and dark, dark hair that he’d inherited from his Puerto Rican mother. He was passionate and intelligent and sweet, thinking nothing of bringing Evan flowers when they went on dates. Evan didn’t know what type of flowers were his favorite, so Cael brought different ones each time. Helping Evan decide.
He showed her pictures he’d taken of the two of them together. Mostly laughing, mostly being sweet and lighthearted and in love.
Evan admitted he was probably falling in love with the first boyfriend he’d ever had. And his mother was happy for him.
“Did you know?” Evan asked as they split dessert. Cheesecake—her favorite.
“Did I know what, honey?”
“That I’m gay. Did you ever guess?”
She shrugged easily, carefully separating crust from smooth, creamy filling. “I suspected. But I didn’t want to put any pressure on you if you weren’t ready to tell me. This is about you, not me, so it wasn’t my place to pry.”
“But… you’re my mom. I thought you knew.”
“Evan.” She smiled at him. “There was no way anyone could misinterpret the way you used to look at Scott. It went past friendship.”
He dropped his fork to the plate with a clatter. “What do you mean?”
“You loved him, Ev,” she said simply.
“He’s my best friend.”
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
That had haunted him, the thought that maybe someone else had looked at his relationship with Scott and seen more. More than friendship, more than the incredible bond they’d cultivated over a decade or more. Not that it mattered anymore. He was safely out of high school, keeping his secret for the last year of his formal education.
Scott had gone to the University of Wisconsin-Madison on a partial academic scholarship. The business and finance degree he was studying for—now that was something Evan had no doubt Scott would excel at. The last time they’d spoken, Scott had been enthusing over a class he was taking about the business of running a charity.
Evan stretched his feet out toward the open fire his mom had lit in the family room. It wasn’t too chilly in here, and the warmth was welcome on his socked feet. Although he’d bought gifts for the important people in his life, his mom had been nagging him for months for a piece of his she could hang in the house. According to Evan’s mom, he was the next big thing in the art world, and she needed examples so she could show off to her friends.
So he was working on a simple charcoal sketch for her. Most of this year his studies had been nudes—male nudes—and although she’d probably appreciate one of those, he decided it wasn’t an appropriate Christmas present. Instead he was working from an old photograph of the two of them. Evan guessed he was around four years old, and one of his mom’s friends had taken the picture at a birthday party. He could remember it in the vaguest terms—laughter and cake and a huge bouncy castle.
The picture showed Evan and his mom cheek to cheek, both with their lips puckered as they blew a kiss to the camera. He’d gone through three photo albums before he found it, the perfect image to recreate. The photographer, whoever she’d been, had zoomed in close enough that none of the background was visible. Just Evan, blond-haired and chubby cheeked, looking too much like his mother.
It worked well in charcoals. Since he’d only brought the bare minimum in supplies home with him, it had to be charcoal and a page from his sketchpad.
Working like this, sitting on the floor with his feet stretched out in front of him, had given Evan a crick in his back, and he reached up until he felt his spine pop. The mug of hot chocolate had grown cold at his hip, and he decided not to drink the thick, marshmallowy mess.
He checked his phone, noted that there wasn’t any message from Cael, and decided he wasn’t surprised. Cael’s family made more of a big deal of the holiday than Evan’s did. He’d spend far longer bouncing from one family party to another. It sounded nice, but Evan had grown to appreciate the calm quiet of Christmases at home with his mom.
A key rattled in the front door, and Evan was halfway to his feet when he heard his mom call out.
“Honey, can you come help with these groceries?”
“Let me find shoes,” he called back, sliding the half-finished drawing under the couch where his mom wouldn’t see it.
There were heavy boots next to the door, and he needed them. The snow had decided to fall in earnest now, covering the front yard in at least an inch of sparkling white.
“You know the stores are only closed for one day, right?” he teased, hauling two bags into his arms and carefully making his way back to the house. “I don’t think we’re about to suffer a national shortage of canned pineapple.”
“Shut up, Evan,” his mom grouched. “I need that for the ham.”
Evan laughed, loving her, and went back for the last of the bags.
By the time he got back to the kitchen, boots kicked off again, his mom was unpacking the bags and lining things up on the counter. Evan picked up a bottle of red wine and turned it over in his hand to read the back.
“And you can put that down. Don’t think I don’t know how old you are, Evan King.”
“I was just looking,” he said innocently. “Are you going to make mulled wine?”
“I’m going to try to.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She stepped back, surveying the entirely full counter with hands braced on her hips.
“Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“I forgot raisins.”
“What the hell were you going to do with raisins?” Evan laughed.
“Bake them into something? I don’t know. Stop sassing me.”
Evan laughed harder and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too. Oh, I ran into Linda McCarren at the store. She asked if you were going to Katie’s party.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” His mom started peeling off her outside layers, gloves and hat and scarf and jacket, then bundled them away in the hallway closet. “Why didn’t you mention it? You know I don’t mind if you go.”
Evan sighed and set the wine back down on the counter, leaning back against it. “I don’t know.”
“Is it because you’re worried about what people are going to say?”
“No,” Evan said petulantly, looking at the scuffed linoleum floor.
“Listen to me, Evan King.” This was her “scary mom” voice, the one Evan had been pretty terrified of most of his life. “These are your friends. Your friends. You don’t have to hide from them. They’re not going to care.”
“But what if they do?”
She marched over and pulled him into a ferocious hug. “Then call me, and I’ll come get you. No one is going to make my son feel unwelcome because of who he loves. You’re a wonderful, brave man. And you’re going to that party. You understand me?”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“I came home to spend time with you,” he protested, making sure the words came out quick enough that she couldn’t argue. “Not to get home and immediately go out and spend time with other people.”
“I’ve got you for all of Christmas,” she said and reached up to take his cheeks in her hands. “Go and see your friends. Scott will be there.”
Evan gave a soft laugh and relented, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument. “Okay.”
/> “Good.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. Wear that nice flannel shirt. The green one. It brings out your eyes.”
“I have a boyfriend,” Evan said, teasing her.
“That doesn’t mean you should stop making an effort.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy. You can help me put all of this away.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She went to swat him around the head for his sass, but Evan was expecting it and ducked out of the way, grabbing a tub of ice cream to take to the freezer.
BY SEVEN, the snow had stopped falling, and most of what had stuck had turned to thick sludge. Evan hated driving when the roads were so slick, not that he had much of a choice. Katie’s parents lived on the other side of town, and there was no way Evan was going to cycle when it was so cold out.
He’d dressed, as he’d been told to, in a long-sleeved white tee and his green flannel shirt, dark blue jeans and his boots, and had styled his hair so it fell back from his face. He wasn’t particularly fashionable, not like Scott, who always looked like he was ready to walk an MTV red carpet.
Katie’s family owned a big, shiny new house that also looked like something that belonged on MTV Cribs. Evan had been here only once before, for the party she’d thrown after prom. The memories that alcohol hadn’t stolen from that night were a little patchy, though he still remembered where he needed to get to.
From the outside, things were pretty quiet. A few cars were parked on the drive, several more lining the street, and apart from all the lights both inside and outside the house making it look lit up like a Christmas tree, things seemed calm.
Of course, that changed once Evan got inside.
Music was playing, not the obnoxious rotation of overly cheery seasonal pop hits he’d grown accustomed to, but the dirty hip-hop he only now remembered Katie loved. The family room looked packed, though a quick scan of the crowd didn’t reveal Katie’s familiar blonde head, so he went to the kitchen instead.
Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits Page 10