The Family We Make

by Dan Wingreen

  Tim winced. You’re invalidating my feelings had pretty much been Rudy’s catchphrase. He’d always sounded like a whiny little kid when he said it, but since Connor actually was a kid, Tim couldn’t really hold a bit of childishness against him.

  “I’m really not,” he said as calmly as he could. “The only reason this fight seems so bad is because you’re not used to fighting with your dad. Eventually, it’ll get easier.”

  “But I don’t want to fight with him all the time!”

  “No one’s saying you’re going to.”

  “You just said it’ll ‘get easier.’ That means we’re gonna have to fight more.”

  “Yeah, but not all the time.”

  “I don’t want to fight at all.” Connor hugged himself and glanced away again. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

  Tim had to grab the bench to keep from pulling Connor into a hug. “You know that’s impossible though, right?” he asked gently. “Things have already changed between you guys, and they’re going to keep changing. That’s just part of growing up and getting older.”

  “Jesus Christ with the guidance counselor shit,” Connor grumbled. “I know all that, okay? I’m not some stupid kid who needs to be told that things change when you grow up.”

  Tim decided not to get annoyed at the whiny, mocking voice Connor put on when he repeated what he’d said. They were wading into uncharted waters in their friendship, and to be honest, Tim had no idea where the line between friend and Big Brother was anymore. And that wasn’t even accounting for how close he and Spencer had become. The whole situation had gotten complicated and confusing. The only thing Tim knew for sure was there was almost nothing he wouldn’t do to make them both happy.

  And if this isn’t the worst time to have that revelation, I don’t know what is.

  “I never said you were,” Tim said, as patiently as he could.

  “You implied it.”

  This time, Tim couldn’t stop from rolling his eyes. Luckily, Connor wasn’t looking. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Tim having no idea what to say and Connor seeming perfectly content to stare at the sidewalk and sulk.

  “Did you fight with your parents a lot?” Connor asked suddenly. A surprised laugh forced its way out of Tim’s throat. Twin spots of red painted Connor’s cheeks. “What? You just said everyone fights with their parents. It’s not a stupid question.”

  “I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” Tim said. “It’s just the way you asked. Did I, like it’s a thing that doesn’t happen anymore.”

  “So…that’s a yes?”

  Tim hesitated. Was this another line he couldn’t see?

  You said you were going to tell him the truth…

  “Not…fights, exactly. At least, my mother wouldn’t call them fights. We have a series of ‘extended disagreements’ that get brought up every single time we talk until I give in and do what she wants.”

  Connor glanced up at him. “Seriously?”

  Tim nodded. Connor took a moment to think that over, a small frown etched on his forehead.

  “That’s the most passive-aggressive thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Tim laughed again. “God, what I wouldn’t give for her to hear you say that.”

  Connor’s lips twitched. “She wouldn’t get the full effect without meeting Dad though.”

  “Oh God,” Tim coughed. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. Sometimes I think he majored in passive-aggression in college.”

  “Because I have about twenty things I wanna say, and I’m not supposed to encourage my Little Brother to rag on his dad.”

  “Oh, come on! You can’t just say something like that and then not follow through! What things?”

  “No. Way.”

  “I’m not gonna tell on you. And it’s not like you’re not already breaking the rules by taking me out after seven for like an hour and a half.” Tim must have looked as surprised as he felt, because Connor snorted. “Like I wouldn’t look up what you’re allowed to do with me the second I decided to come back. I needed to be sure you couldn’t force me to, like, open up about my feelings or whatever.”

  I don’t think he’s ever looked more like Spencer. Tim was so thrown he almost forgot to answer.

  “I have a permission slip,” he said. “For Halloween. I don’t have one that lets me encourage you to hate your dad more.”

  The slightly teasing smile hovering at the corners of Connor’s lips evaporated.

  “I don’t hate him,” he said. Then he blinked. “Shit. I really don’t hate him.”

  “And that’s a…bad thing?”

  “It makes it a lot harder to stay mad at him,” Connor grumbled. Tim might have chuckled, but Connor seemed so put out he doubted it would be taken well. Besides, he actually had something useful to contribute now.

  “Well, you know your dad doesn’t hate you either, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “So, it’s probably just as hard for him to stay mad at you,” Tim said. “Sort of pointless for two people who don’t want to be mad at each other to keep finding reasons to be mad at each other, don’t you think?”

  “But he’s still wrong though!”

  “Yes, he is,” Tim agreed. “But you’re a little bit wrong too.”

  Connor’s face twisted into an expression of utter betrayal. “But you said—”

  “Sometimes,” Tim cut in, “people can be wrong and right in a fight. I understand why you didn’t want to go to the principal, but not going after you got attacked in the streets was a bit reckless. Even if you hit first,” he added when Connor opened his mouth to argue. “They kicked you when you were down, Connor. That goes way beyond self-defense or high-school bullying. People who can do that and just walk away have the potential to be dangerous, and as stifling as your dad is being, he’s only doing it because he knows that as much as I do, and he’s scared of having anything happen to you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Oh my God…

  Tim took a deep breath. “Okay. Even putting aside the fact that you already got beat up by these kids once, you look like you weigh about as much as a wet shoe—”

  “I’m ninety-five pounds!”

  Tim paused. “You know that’s still almost twenty pounds underweight for your age, right?”

  “Almost.”

  That’s it, I’m feeding him more from now on.

  “Whatever you weigh, you don’t have the size or the muscle to fight back against people bigger than you. Of course your dad’s going to worry about you.”

  “You’re not sounding like you’re on my side right now.”

  “God.” Tim huffed out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “I can’t believe I ever doubted you were his son.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Connor asked, frowning.

  “Nothing. Look,” Tim added when Connor started to speak, “do you want me to talk to him for you?”

  So much for not putting myself in the middle of this.

  Whatever Connor was about to say seemed to be forgotten the second the words were out of Tim’s mouth.

  “You’d do that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  Tim didn’t give himself the luxury of hesitating. If he was going to do this, he was going all in.

  “Yeah. But you know you’re gonna have to compromise with him, right?”

  Connor’s expression suddenly became mutinous. “Why?”

  “Do you want to give in, tell him he’s right, and agree to let him do whatever he wants?”

  “No!”

  “Exactly. And neither does he.” Tim stared him in the eye. “You two are both way too stubborn to give in fully. So. Compromise.”

  “But he’s wrong!”

  “And so are you.”

  “But he’s actually doing something. All I’m doing is not doing something.” Connor scowled. “He’s more wrong.”

  Tim wanted to bang his head against a
wall.

  Okay. This obviously isn’t working. Time to try something new.

  “Even if you think he’s more wrong,” Tim said slowly after a minute of quick thinking, “agreeing to a compromise would make your position stronger.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll have the moral high ground,” Tim said. “If you say you want to work something out, and he says no, then he’s the one who looks unreasonable.”

  “He’s already being unreasonable.”

  “More unreasonable, then.”

  Tim had a brief moment where he thought Connor might be seeing through the thick fog of utter bullshit he was blowing at him, but after taking a moment to think, Connor cocked his head.

  “He won’t see it that way.”

  Of course not because none of this is true, and I’m going to Hell for lying to you.

  “Yes, he will,” Tim said quickly. “Because he’s smart. Right now, he thinks he has the high ground; that’s why he’s not giving in. Once we can show him he’s being unreasonable in one way, he’ll be more open to seeing how he’s doing the same thing in another.”

  Connor frowned. “And…you’re gonna tell him? That he’s being unreasonable?”

  “If you tell him you want to compromise, yes.” Because I won’t need to tell him anything after that. Spencer will jump at the chance to make up with you, and there’s no way he won’t be open to figuring out a different way to keep you safe as long as I can be there to keep you two from starting another fight.

  Tim held his breath as he waited for Connor’s response. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tim collapsed onto Spencer’s couch and let out a moan of exhausted relief.

  Two hours. That’s how long Spencer and Connor had taken to come to an agreement. Two goddamn hours to agree to the simple compromise of giving Connor back his freedom in exchange for a promise to go to the principal if anyone got physical with him again. Two hours of pride and suspicion and shouting and both refusing to admit any fault and Tim literally having to grab them and shove them back down into their chairs at different times so they couldn’t run off in a huff. He had never in his life met two people who absolutely refused to admit they could possibly be in the wrong more than Spencer and Connor. It was so bad that, by the time they’d finally stopped fighting, Tim was 100 percent sure the easy apologies he’d gotten from Spencer back when they’d first met had to be concrete proof of God’s existence because there was no earthly way Spencer would admit he was wrong so many times without some kind of divine intervention.

  If he’d known what he was getting into, he never would have…

  Tim sighed, unable to even finish the thought. As satisfying as indulging in some childish complaining would be, he’d made a promise after Rudy that he wouldn’t lie to himself anymore. Instead, he pushed away all the negativity of the last few hours, closed his eyes, and focused on the soul-deep sense of accomplishment and peace that had flowed through him when they finally stopped fighting. On the memory of a pair of arms tentatively reaching out. On the way a slight figure still dressed as Spider-Man had eagerly accepted the uncertain offering. On the tears that had fallen down both their cheeks as they finally let go of their stupid fight and forgave each other.

  Tim wanted to live in that memory for at least the next ten minutes. He deserved that much.

  And it seemed like God agreed with him because he was able to get fifteen minutes of complete peace before he felt the couch dip as someone sat down next to him. Whoever was there didn’t say anything, but when Tim cracked open an eye, he wasn’t at all surprised to see Spencer. He was tucked into the corner where the back of the couch met the armrest, his own arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. Except for the tips of his fingers, the oversized gray sweater he was wearing swallowed his hands.

  Tim had seen smiling babies that were less adorable.

  “Hey,” Spencer said. His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper like he was afraid anything more would be enough to shatter Tim’s peace. Or maybe Tim was just projecting. Either way, his own reply was equally gentle.

  “Hey.” Tim let his other eye fall open. “Where’s Connor?”

  “Upstairs. Changing.” Spencer’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “He is Spider-Man no more.”

  Tim snorted at the reference to the famous comic title and then picked at his own sweater. “I should probably do the same.”

  He was grateful he’d already washed all the makeup off. That stuff seriously started to itch after a few hours.

  “You don’t have to,” Spencer said quickly. Tim stilled at the strangely insistent tone and then cocked his head as Spencer’s cheeks darkened in the dim light. He buried his face in his knees and groaned.

  “I mean,” Spencer said, his voice slightly muffled, “you’d have to leave for that, right? And you should totally stay. For dinner.”

  For some reason, Spencer’s head shot up with a panicked expression on his face.

  “A thank-you dinner. With Connor. And…me. Because. You know.” He swallowed roughly before continuing, his voice regaining its earlier softness. “We’d still be fighting if it wasn’t for you. So…thank you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.” Tim fought the urge to start squirming under Spencer’s grateful gaze. It was an odd feeling for him since he’d never really had a problem accepting gratitude before. “I mostly did it because you two being stubborn jerks was grating on my last nerve.”

  Tim froze. He had no idea which was worse, actually saying that out loud or sounding almost exactly like his mother when he did. To his relief, Spencer didn’t seem to be remotely offended.

  “Well, shit. Now I definitely have to make you dinner.”

  “You really don’t need to do anything for me,” Tim said quickly. “And I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Just like you should accept my thanks and eat with us.” Spencer’s grin started to fade when Tim didn’t respond right away. “Unless you don’t want to, I mean. Which you probably don’t. Shit. You’ve been dealing with our shit all day, so more of us is probably the last thing you want.”

  “Spencer—”

  “No! No, it’s fine. I totally get it. We’ll just get you a card or something. Maybe a cake—no, you’re a baker, you can probably make way better cake than Walmart. A fruit basket?”

  “Spencer.” Tim reached over and squeezed his leg. Spencer stopped, and Tim smiled. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

  Spencer’s muscles tensed beneath his hand, and Tim felt like he’d tripped into a river of white-hot mortification when he realized just how high up on Spencer’s thigh he’d grabbed him. The sleep pants under his hand were so thin he could feel the warmth of Spencer’s skin and a few rough small hairs poking him through the fabric.

  Tim snatched his hand back, apologies spilling from his lips, only to halt when Spencer grabbed his wrist. His eyes were wide as he stared up at Tim, his mouth slightly open like he was about to speak, but any words he might have said never passed his lips. Spencer’s breathing became heavy, and Tim felt his own chest tighten at the way Spencer stared at him. Tim flashed back to the last time they’d been on this couch together. Spencer’s hand around the exact same wrist, his shirt soaked with Spencer’s tears. His face started to warm, and he wondered if he’d end up with his arms around Spencer tonight too.

  “I…” Spencer started.

  The soft dim light from the only lamp in the room fell across Spencer’s face, creating shadows that filled in for the stubble Tim was so used to seeing on his cheeks and deepened the nearly invisible laugh lines around his mouth. They made him seem somehow younger and older at the same time, and Tim was almost 100 percent sure he’d never seen anything so charming in his life. A heavy warmth wrapped itself around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer had somehow bypassed his skin e
ntirely and came to rest directly on his heart.

  “What?” Tim asked. If he hadn’t been so focused on Spencer’s face, he probably would have been taken aback at the rasp he heard in his voice.

  Spencer licked his lips, and even though his throat was hidden behind his knees, Tim could still clearly see him swallow nervously.

  “Um.” Spencer chewed his bottom lip. “I…”

  Tim leaned closer. “Yeah?”

  “I…” Spencer cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I have any food…”

  A small high-pitched laugh bubbled out of Tim’s mouth, and suddenly the strange mood was broken. Spencer let go of his wrist and wrapped his arms around his knees again. Tim slowly took his hand back, fighting the urge to touch the skin where Spencer’s fingers had just been.

  “We have candy,” Tim found himself saying.

  Spencer snorted and rubbed his hands roughly over his shins. Tim wondered why the motion bothered him so much. A heartbeat later he realized it was because he didn’t know if it was a nervous gesture, or if Spencer was trying to wipe all traces of Tim’s skin from his palm.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Connor would love that,” Spencer said. He sounded completely normal like they hadn’t just been in the middle of some kind of moment, but the redness in his cheeks and the way he absolutely refused to look at Tim suggested he was very much aware of it. “Less so when all his teeth fall out and he has to be the only kid in school with dentures, but candy dinner would definitely win some short-term points.”

  “Did you say candy dinner?” Connor asked, popping his head around the doorway. His shoulder and left arm were the only visible parts of his body, but Tim could see he’d changed out of his costume and into a brown T-shirt.

  Spencer jerked violently and clutched his chest. “Jesus Christ! Make some fucking noise or something. And no, we’re not having candy for dinner.”

  Spencer twisted around as he spoke, actually having to stare up at Connor since the couch was so low to the ground. For a moment, Tim felt like he’d fallen into an alternate universe where Connor was the parent, and he’d just caught Tim and his son on the couch doing something inappropriate. He squirmed in place until Connor responded, breaking the illusion.