Fancy White Trash

by Marjetta Geerling

  “Who the hell is this?” Walt’s voice thunders in the room. We hear the phone crash against the floor, plastic against unforgiving tile.

  Barbara’s half out of her seat when Walt returns, intimidating eyebrows arrowed over his nose.

  “Who was it?” she asks.

  Walt waves a hand, speechless for a second. “They asked if my homo son was here. When I asked who it was, they said Cody’s boyfriend.”

  My eyes shoot to Cody. He’s pale. Barbara covers her mouth with a linen napkin, smothering her gasp. Jackson gets very busy shoveling salad into his mouth. Only Hannah seems unconcerned, happily dunking a cookie lion in her water glass.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Cody says after an awkwardly long moment.

  “Of course not!” Walt shouts like he’s still on the phone with the prank caller. “My sons aren’t gay.”

  Two spots of color flame Cody’s cheeks. He looks at me, swallows hard, and closes his eyes.

  “Actually, Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you.” His eyes open, wander the table before settling on Hannah.

  “Yes?” Walt prompts, then stuffs a large spoonful of rice into his mouth.

  “Mom, Dad,” Cody starts over. He rubs his nose.

  Jackson catches my eye like, Is he about to do what I think he’s gonna do? And I shake my head like, I have no idea. Even though I have a bad feeling in my gut like I know exactly what he’s going to do.

  “I’m gay.”

  Barbara’s fork clatters on the edge of her plate, then flips to the floor. Walt is frozen in place, color creeping up from his collared shirt, slowly inching its way up his face. So much for keeping it between us. It’s one thing to field the harassment at school, but I guess a crank call at home was too much. Looks like Cody’s coming all the way out. I give him an encouraging nod.

  Hannah bangs her fist on the tray and sends a cookie elephant flying. “Wan’ mine!” she screams, pointing at the floor.

  Normally, if Hannah throws something on the floor, I leave it. Otherwise, she’ll think it’s a fun game and I’ll spend every meal on my hands and knees tossing her food back up to her tray. This time, it is so awkward, and everyone is so silent, that I welcome the interruption. I slide out of my seat and grab the cookie.

  Cody watches his parents the same way a small jackrabbit watches a coyote. “Mom, Dad?”

  I am sick to my stomach, the pilaf like a brick in my belly. The longer they don’t say anything, the worse it gets. Walt’s face is now completely red, and I can actually count the heartbeats in his temple. One—two-three, One—two-three. His breath rasps loudly in and out.

  Hannah munches happily on her cookies, fingers covered in yogurt and drool. She is the only one oblivious to the tension.

  Maybe Cody planned this all along and the crank call just gave him an opening. Maybe he asked me to dinner tonight to make it easier. Maybe he is counting on me to do something. I take a deep breath.

  “That’s great, Cody!” I say too loudly.

  Barbara sits, stunned, but Walt bellows out, “Great! You think this is great?”

  I swallow. To be truthful, Walt has always made me a little nervous. As the branch manager of Valle Verde Bank, he works long hours. Outside of these Saturday dinners, where Barbara makes sure everyone is on their best behavior, I rarely see him. So I don’t answer, just spear a forkful of asparagus and stuff it in my mouth.

  Walt stands. His napkin slips to the floor. “Take it back, Cody. This isn’t funny anymore.”

  Cody trembles in his chair. “I’m not being funny. You really think I’d make a joke about this?”

  “I can’t think why else you’d say something so outrageous.” Walt thumps a hand on the table. Our water glasses rattle. Jackson’s sloshes over and water seeps into the tablecloth.

  Barbara rushes to Jackson with a cloth napkin, no doubt hoping to mop up the mess before it damages the wood table underneath. Jackson scoots to give her room to clean. Her hand shakes so badly that she knocks the water glass completely over.

  “Damn it!” she shouts.

  Cody and I both stare. We’ve never heard her swear. Never.

  She turns on Cody. “Why do you have to ruin everything? Why?”

  “He’s not ruining anything,” I say. “You knocked over the glass.”

  “Gay?” she repeats, clearly not having the same conversation I am. “I can’t believe you’d tell us now. Isn’t that kind of thing supposed to happen in college? Not now, for God’s sake. Who will go to prom with you next year if you’re gay?”

  That prom is her primary concern here strikes me as funny. A giggle escapes. Four sets of shocked eyes focus on me. I wave my hand at my face, like a fan, but it doesn’t stop the giggles. More erupt from me. “Prom?” I choke out. “You’re worried about prom?” I can’t stop laughing.

  Barbara’s chest heaves up and down like she’d just run her three-mile loop, and she takes a big gulp of water.

  Jackson forces a chuckle, which pushes Walt over the edge.

  “There is nothing funny about this!” he yells. The volume is so loud that Hannah looks up from sucking yogurt out from underneath her fingernails and lets out a yowl of her own. Once she gets started, it doesn’t stop. She picks up volume and pitch until I worry neighborhood dogs will come running.

  I pick Hannah up, yogurt-fingers and all, and jostle her on my hip. “Shhh,” I say to her, but look at Walt, hoping he’ll take the hint.

  He doesn’t. “No son of mine is going to be gay. Get over this nonsense right now, Cody. You understand? Right now!”

  Cody pushes his own chair back. He’s unsteady, but mad. “This is exactly what I expected from you! I knew you wouldn’t understand, I knew it!”

  “Cody Matthew Jennings, watch your tone of voice!” Barbara returns to her seat. “Both of you sit down. We’re going to finish this meal like civilized people.” She goes for her fork, but when she can’t find it, takes the spoon and cuts an asparagus spear in half.

  I set Hannah back in her chair and retake my seat. Obediently, we all take a few bites of our food. The pilaf takes up too much space in my throat, and for a few tense seconds, I worry that I’ll choke. Or suffocate. Or barf it back up onto my plate. I take a quick sip of water, and the rice finally goes down.

  “So, Cody, how long have you known?” Jackson asks, either braver or dumber than I gave him credit for.

  Cody finishes chewing, then answers. “For a while now, I guess.”

  Jackson nods like he’s known all along, but I remember his reaction in the car. I feel strangely proud of him for being strong for Cody now. “Cool. Will you pass the salt?”

  Walt springs from his chair again and shouts, “My son is not gay!”

  “Of course not,” Barbara agrees. “But we’ll talk about this later when we’ve all calmed down.”

  Cody slams down his fork. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m gay. You know. End of discussion.”

  Barbara grinds her teeth, and I finally see where Cody picked up the habit. “I said we’ll talk about it later.”

  “What else is there to say?” Cody says, making an obvious effort to appear emotionless. “I’m gay.”

  Walt starts to say something, but Jackson clears his throat.

  “By the way,” he says, “I’m not going to college next week.”

  Chapter 13

  "What were you thinking?” I ask Jackson later. Hannah and I escaped the war zone shortly after Jackson tossed in his grenade.

  It is hours later, almost midnight, and Hannah’s down for the night. Jackson’s convinced me to sit in the tree with him. We are squished up together, which was maybe his plan, and I’m leaning against him for balance.

  When I look up, I can make out a few stars through the leaves of the trees. The night air is cool against my skin, a relief after the summer heat of August. It may crawl back up into the nineties again tomorrow, but while the sun’s down, I actually feel like I should’ve brought a sweatshirt.
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br />   “I didn’t see how they could get any angrier.” Jackson shrugs off his timing. “I was wrong. They actually took his car back. Can you believe it?”

  The Jennings family were amateurs when it came to family fights, but they’d been loud enough tonight that I’d closed Hannah’s window so she could go to sleep.

  “Sounds like it was World War Three,” I say.

  Jackson’s forehead scrunches up. “I knew they wouldn’t be happy with me. Why make Cody take all the parental rage when I had a share coming my way? It only seemed fair.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder, something I do all the time with Cody. But it feels different with Jackson. “How’s Cody?”

  “I don’t think he’s coming out of his room anytime soon.”

  Cody has hermitlike tendencies. It’s not unusual for him to lick his wounds in private. I know he’ll come out when he’s ready. Still . . .

  “Can you sneak me in tonight? I want to check up on him.”

  Jackson snorts. “Wish you were planning to sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night.”

  I push against him, but not too hard since he’s my balance. “If you’re gonna start talking like that, I’m leafing.”

  He looks at me blandly.

  “Get it? We’re sitting in a tree? Leafing?”

  He doesn’t crack a smile, and I feel stupid. “Forget it.”

  Only then does he let a smile spread across his face. “Got you,” he says.

  “Jerk. You gonna let me in tonight or not?”

  “Only if you promise to check on me, too.” His face is innocent, but his eyes are teasing.

  “Uh-huh,” I agree. “Just close your baby blues and wait until I get there.”

  “I’m holding you to it,” he says. “One good-night kiss in exchange for a sneak-in. Deal?”

  “I didn’t say anything about a kiss.”

  “What do you think’s gonna happen if you visit me in my bedroom in the middle of the night? We’re not playin’ checkers, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

  “Maybe I won’t stop by then.”

  “And leave Cody, your best friend in the whole world, all alone on what is possibly the worst night of his life? You can’t do it, Abby. And you can’t sneak in unless I turn off the alarm for you. So, deal? Right?”

  I decide to negotiate terms once I’m inside their house. “Deal.”

  Jackson laughs and kisses the top of my head. “I’m suddenly feeling so tired. . . .” He swings one leg over the branch and onto the highest step.

  “Wait.” I stop him. He freezes in place, balanced on the old piece of wood, face turned up to me.

  “Yeah?” His eyes are as dark as the sky above us.

  “Do you think you’re Stephanie’s dad?”

  He blinks once, very slowly. “Kait told me Steve’s the father.”

  “But it could be you, right? If Stephanie wasn’t a preemie, I mean.”

  He shrugs. “I’m not sure how. It was only a couple of times, and we used protection.” He nods, and I’m not sure if he’s reassuring himself or me.

  “Condoms break,” I say.

  His face hardens. “Well, ours didn’t. Kait says it’s not me and I believe her.”

  I want to believe her, too, so I decide, at least for now, that that’s enough.

  “Good night, Abby.” Jackson shimmies down the tree, leaving me alone on the lowest branch.

  “Night, Jack-Off.”

  I watch until he is inside. He flips the lights twice, a signal Cody and I made up back in third grade, to let me know the alarm’s disabled. I carefully pick my way down the tree and go into my own house, worrying because Cody has never given me rules about what to wear for breaking and entering. Guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own. And I may as well brush my teeth, too, in case my negotiations aren’t successful.

  Homecoming. Your school probably has one, too, and there’s a game and a dance and everyone talks about who’s going with who. Maybe it’s in the gym or maybe they rent a place. Wherever you have it, there are cheesy streamers and balloons and an even cheesier photographer who charges an outrageous amount of money for you to take pictures against his “fantasy” backdrop. It was the last thing I thought Cody’d want to talk about at one in the morning, but there you have it. He won’t talk about dinner, about what was or wasn’t said. How he’s feeling or what comes next. It’s all about homecoming.

  “She’s worried about prom, but come on, homecoming’s less than a month away and who will I go with?” It’s not like Cody to be overly dramatic. It’s more like him to have already made a chart of all possible dating scenarios and ranked them in terms of cost vs. fun. I’m surprised he wasn’t already at his laptop working on it. Instead, I’d found him half sitting in bed, lights out, brain revved up in high gear. Not even slightly amazed to find me creeping into his room so late, he’d been quick to scoot over and make room on his small bed. His only comment? “What took you so long?”

  “You’ll go with me,” I say, answering his homecoming question. “Like we did last year. We had a good time, remember? ” My voice is whisper quiet. Although Cody’s parents are far down the hall and can sleep through anything, the darkness calls for soft words. Just like it also calls for black clothes, which is why my cat-thief outfit is black yoga pants and a matching tank top with little glittery butterflies across the top.

  He sighs, very melodramatic, slides down in the bed, and draws the white sheet up to his chin. Although it’s too dark to see it, he stares at the poster of the New York skyline tacked to his ceiling. “Don’t you want your own date? The Plan will be under way by then, won’t it? I’m not coming along to watch you suck face with some mediocre-looking guy.”

  Why that stung, I’m not sure. “Brian’s better than mediocre.”

  “But he’s not playing for your team.”

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t go as friends. We could all go as friends.” Sounds like a perfect solution to me. Brian gets to go with Cody, Cody gets to pretend he’s not gay, and I get to . . . be the third wheel. So it’s not a perfect plan.

  Cody reaches out from under the covers to hold my hand. I’m lying on my side, facing him, on top of the bedspread. Despite the warm cocoon, his hands are cool and dry. He laces our fingers together.

  “Abby, you’re the best. I’m sorry I’ve been so freaked lately.”

  “It’s understandable. You’re my Cody, and I love you just the way you are. I only want what’s best for you.”

  He squeezes my hand. “That’s what I wanted my parents to say. But I knew they wouldn’t.”

  “Give them time,” I say. “They’ll come around.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Relax.” I stroke back his hair with the hand he’s not holding. “The worst is over.”

  It is not unusual in a soap opera for a femme fatale to sneak into a man’s bedroom and wait for him on his bed. I’ve seen it on all of my soaps, but it’s a particular favorite on Moments of Our Lives.

  But this situation doesn’t apply to me right now. Jackson is already in his bed, so I can’t wait for him. Although I want to pretend to have forgotten our deal, I also don’t want to be the one who backs out. Maybe Cody and I talked for so long that Jackson fell asleep.

  No such luck.

  “Right over here,” Jackson says in a sleepy voice. “I’m all puckered up and ready.”

  I take one step into the room and close the door behind me. Jackson’s room is even farther from their parents’ than Cody’s, but I’m not taking any chances. His room has the same basic layout as Cody’s—bed, desk, shelves—but unlike Cody’s room, always so neat and tidy, Jackson’s looks like a tornado might actually improve things.

  “About that deal . . .” I say.

  “Nope, no backing out now. You made a promise and you’re going to keep it.”

  He knows me too well. After having so many promises broken in my life, I’d sworn never to do the same to anyone else. Of course,
a deal isn’t the same as a promise.

  “Did you brush your teeth?” I ask to annoy him.

  He laughs. “Did you?”

  “No, and I’ve been sucking on a garlic clove all evening.”

  “I love garlic.”

  “And smoking.”

  He laughs so hard the bed shakes. “Abby, just come here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Gingerly, I pick through the dirty piles of clothes and discarded what-have-yous to the side of his bed. The outdoor light leaking in through the window illuminates a Barnes & Noble bag.

  “You bought me a replacement Rumi?” I ask, toeing the bag open.

  “I don’t have to replace it. I never lost it.”

  “Then hand it over already.”

  “I told you I’m still reading it.”

  I reach a hand into the bag. “So what’s in here?” I pull out a heavy book but can’t quite make out the title in the dark.

  “Mom’s idea of a going-to-college gift.”

  “What is it?”

  “A PDR.”

  “What, like an organizer or something?”

  He laughs. “Physician’s Desk Reference. Subtle, isn’t she?”

  I drop the book. It makes a muted thunk on the floor. “You could use it to prop open a door, maybe clonk an intruder on the head.”

  He pats the edge of the bed. “Stop stalling and get over here.”

  I sit. The bed smells like him, clean and fresh, his hair still damp from a shower.

  “See, not so bad, right?” He’s not even touching me. His face is shadowed, but what I can see looks dead serious. “How’s Cody?”

  “Okay, I guess. Considering. But you know him. He’s not ready to talk too much.”

  Jackson sits up a little, and his white T-shirt stretches across his chest. He takes a deep breath, straining the fabric even more, and says, “I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’m just glad I’ll be here for him, and not off at college.”

  “Are your parents raging about lost A.U. fees?”

  Jackson is silent. “Come here.” He gently pulls me toward him, rearranging my suddenly limp body so that I’m stretched out next to him. Like with Cody, he’s underneath the covers and I’m on top. He rolls to the side and tucks my head under his chin, wraps an arm around my waist.