by J. M. Snyder
But we don’t have much time so I just skip the flirtatious talk—we’ll get to that part later, after breakfast when we’re alone in one of the rooms upstairs, cleaning and boxing things up. I’ll talk and he’ll listen, and if I say too much, he’ll catch me in a quick embrace amid all that dust and kiss me quiet. There are a lot of rooms to go through. If we get one by ourselves, maybe we can take a little break now and then to fool around…
I’m looking forward to it already. Now, though, I lean him back against the wall at the head of the bed, press my mouth to his, moan into him when his hands come up around my waist, over my back, down to cup my ass. He pulls me into his lap, our kiss deepening, and I caress his cheeks and brow, rub my nose along his, breathe his name as I sit down on his thighs, the hardness in his shorts pushing up between my legs. “Was she serious about sending the kids in here?” he murmurs between kisses.
“Them or Ray,” I tell him.
I kiss away his grimace. “I’ll have to really hurt him then,” Dan growls.
Who’s the talkative one now? “Thirteen minutes and counting,” I remind him. More kisses, his hands on me, his breath on my face, and this time it’s me who silences him.
Chapter 20: Getting on My Nerves
Aunt Billy stays true to her word—fifteen minutes after she leaves, on the dot, someone knocks on the door. Good thing, too. Dan has both hands down the back of my boxers, his fingers curved between my buttocks, pressing into me and rubbing in maddening circles that make me rise up into his palms, and my erection tents through the fly of the shorts to rub against his stomach where his shirt’s pulled up to expose his navel. Without that knock, someone would’ve walked right in on this, even though we know we don’t really have the time right now to live out this passion. Whoever it is outside knocks again, a small sound made by a small fist, and Dan extracts his hands from my shorts. Reluctantly, I snap up the fly, tucking myself back into the confines of the boxers, and I kiss him one final time, long and lingering.
The knock doesn’t come again. Instead, someone turns the knob and the door swings open to reveal a little boy with big glasses that eclipse his face—no more than three or four with a shock of dirty blonde hair. I lie down on top of Dan and smile brightly at the boy. “Who are you?” I ask.
His big blue eyes widen in terror. Obviously someone else put him up to this, and from the kitchen I hear Caitlin’s voice. “Tell them what I told you, Trevor.”
Trevor takes a deep breath as if screwing up his courage, then squeezes his eyes shut and shouts at the top of his lungs, “It’s time to get your horny asses out of bed!”
The force of the announcement sets Dan laughing, and Trevor opens his eyes, blinks at us for a second, then slams the door shut. I hear tiny feet running across the kitchen floor, and I can almost picture him barreling into Caitlin’s legs, terrified. Between giggles, I tell my lover, “I think you scared him away.”
“Oh?” Dan asks, wrapping his arms around my waist in a tight hug. “What gives you that impression?”
Before I can answer, another knock interrupts us. With a quick kiss on the tip of Dan’s nose, I call out, “Come in.”
The door opens cautiously and Caitlin is there, peeking in at us. “What did you say to Trevor?” she wants to know.
Dan laughs. “Nothing!” I cry, but the look she gives me suggests she isn’t buying that. “Honest. Dan, tell her…”
“You should’ve heard him,” my lover says, surprising me. “Said the most awful things—”
“Hey!” I sit up and try to glare at him, but it’s hard when I see the mirth shining in his eyes. Pulling away from him, I kick the blankets off my legs and climb out of the bed. “You’re pushing it, mister.”
He catches me around the waist, his hands closing over the erection still straining the front of my boxers, and despite my sister watching us, he drags me back onto the bed, crawls onto me to keep me with him, the both of us laughing like children. “Dan!” I push against his chest, my arms ineffectual against his strength. “We’ve got an audience, babe.”
“Oh don’t mind me,” Caitlin says. Dan nips at my neck, nuzzling into me, as if she’s not even there. But she is—and while my lover licks behind my ear, she comes into the room to plop down at the foot of the bed, just above my head. “Did you guys get the don’t disturb Penny talk?”
This time when I push at Dan, he lets me roll him onto his side next to me. When I try to sit up, though, a hand on my chest keeps me beside him. Craning my neck to look at my sister, I ask, “So everyone got that? Here I thought she was just telling me.”
“Like we don’t know Penny’s taking it hard,” Caitlin says. She picks at the blankets with one hand, frowns at the fabric as it falls from her fingers. “I mean, jeez. Like we’re going to run to her and start blabbing on and on about the funeral, you know? We’re not that heartless.”
I don’t answer. Personally? I don’t want to talk about it, either, but I’m the older brother here, I’m not going to let Caitlin suspect I’m weak. If I do, I’ll never live it down. “Bobbie and Billy are going to the funeral home,” she says, her voice soft—I don’t want to hear this. But she doesn’t get my drift when I turn away and I don’t know how to ask her to stop. As she speaks, her lower lip trembles like she’s close to crying, and I really don’t want her to do that. Then I’ll have to comfort her somehow, and what comfort can I give when I’m feeling the same way inside? “I asked if maybe I could go, too,” she tells us. “I don’t know. It’s almost like it’s not real yet, you know? Like any minute I’ll hear Aunt Evie and she’ll tell us all this was just a cruel joke. And we’ll laugh and have a cookout and all go home. It’s like—“
I can’t take it any longer. “Caitlin, okay.”
“What?” she asks, confused.
I push Dan’s arm away and sit up. “Just…” Just stop, I want to say, but I can’t, the words won’t come. So I get out of bed, snag a t-shirt from the floor and tug it down over my thin boxers as far as it’ll go, and start digging through our suitcase, open on the floor where we left it last night. “We have to get dressed,” I say—it’s a lame excuse but it’s the only one that comes to mind. “Can we talk about this later? After we get something to eat maybe?” Or never, that would work for me. I’m well aware of the peevish tone in my voice but I can’t help it. Penny’s not the only one who doesn’t want details. “Just go, Caitlin. Cat. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I don’t have to look at my sister to know she’s glaring at me now, but tough shit. “Michael,” she starts.
Holding up one hand to ward off whatever she has to say, I shake my head. “I said go,” I snap at her.
With that little eh noise from the back of her throat that only teenaged girls seem to do well, the one that manages to perfectly convey her irritation at me, she pushes herself up from the bed and storms past me for the door. “You tell your boyfriend to check his attitude on his way out,” she mutters to Dan, “because I’m not putting up with his shit today.”
Then she slams the door shut. I sigh—I don’t need her shit, either. Suddenly I’m the one with the problem? What the hell is up with that? I tug at a pair of dark jeans from the bottom of the suitcase, beneath everything else and probably wrinkled as all get out, I’ll have to iron them now, I can’t get them out from under the other clothes, I pull and pull and the damn things are going to rip before I’m through, and you know what? Fuck her for making me feel like this. So I don’t want to listen to her go on and on about Evie not being here—I know how it is, I’m in this, too. Talking isn’t going to bring her back. It’s just picking at the wound, she has nothing to say that I haven’t thought myself, nothing that I haven’t heard since Saturday night, nothing at all…
Tears blind me and I tell myself I’m not crying, I’m not. Behind me the bed shifts, and then Dan says gently, “Come here.”
One final tug and the pants pull free. “I’m getting dressed,” I tell him, as if he might not see that
. The jeans get thrown on the floor and I start rooting for a pair of underwear but all I find are drab Army green, nothing that’s mine. Where the hell is all my stuff? “We did pack some of my clothes in here, didn’t we?” I ask bitterly.
“It wasn’t really a request,” Dan says.
Anger flares in me—what, first Billy, then Caitlin, and now him? Is everyone against me today? “I’m not one of your Army buddies,” I mutter. Mercifully I spy a pair of white briefs wrapped up in his shorts and yank them out. “I don’t jump when you bark, Dan. You can’t order me the fuck around.”
My words hang suspended like gunshots between us, each one potentially deadly, the aftershock reverberating around the room. I’m shaking now, so badly that I almost drop a handful of shirts while picking out one to wear, and I know I should apologize but I can’t. Somehow I think this is all Caitlin’s fault. If she hadn’t pissed me off, I wouldn’t bite at him, I wouldn’t have to say I’m sorry.
For a moment I think he’s going to walk out like she did, just up and leave me. I deserve it. Shit, the way I’m feeling right now, I’d walk out on me, too.
But Dan’s not me, and before I can think around words of apology, his hands are on my waist, his touch still tender, still loving. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, his voice so soft that it reopens the ache in my heart and I turn to find myself caught up in a tight embrace. “Michael?” he asks, his hands soothing over my back. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
I bury my face into his shoulder and sob, “I’m sorry.” My voice is muffled against his shirt and once the words escape, I can’t rein them in. “I’m so sorry, Dan. Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, or Caitlin, or anybody. I’m just…I’m—I don’t know.” It scares me to admit it, but I don’t. In barely a whisper, I say it again. “I just don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking my hair, and with his arms around me, I can almost believe that. His lips brush my ear, his words sigh into me. “I think you don’t want to talk about it much, either.” Tears close up my throat and I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak. He knows me so well.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe again. “Dan—”
“It’s okay,” he assures me. “I know, baby, trust me, I do. I’ve been there myself. Just don’t push me away, please. I’m here for you, you know that.”
I nod against his shoulder, his body so warm against my cheek. “I know.”
“So don’t push me away,” he says again. I fist my hands in the back of his shirt and hug him close. No, I can’t do that, I need him too much to let him go now. With the hint of a smile, he tells me, “Anyone else, that’s fine, but not me, you hear?” I grin and kiss his neck. “And probably not Caitlin,” he adds. “I have a feeling you don’t want to be on her bad side.”
That makes me laugh. “Somehow I don’t think that would be a good thing,” I agree. Now I’m going to have to apologize to her, too. Maybe I can just blow it off, act as if nothing ever happened, but I have a hunch that Caitlin doesn’t play that way.
With things smoothed over between us, we dress—to show how much I’m sorry, I wear a gray t-shirt that I once bought as a joke at the commissary on post, the words Military Wife written across the front in government-issue letters that look stenciled on. I packed it specifically this weekend just to piss my mother off, and I’m not about to miss that opportunity, not after the cold shoulder she’s given Dan. The smile it brings to my lover’s face more than makes up for whatever my mom will have to say about the shirt.
Out in the kitchen, Aunt Sarah stands over the stove, cooking pancakes, and every chair at the table is filled. Kenny’s there, and Aunt Billy, too. Caitlin sits at the head like a guest of honor, Trevor on one side, our cousin Emily on the other. The little boy looks up when our door opens, his eyes like small moons in his face, but Emily doesn’t bother with us—she’s too busy talking at top speed about how her mom says she’s too young to wear makeup yet. “Just lip gloss,” she sighs, her voice scandalous. She speaks without looking at Caitlin or Trevor or anyone at all, and she has a way of shaking her hair back from her face that reminds me of a prom queen. “I mean, really. Just a little and she’s all like no. How old were you when Aunt Laura let you start wearing makeup, Cat?”
Caitlin’s eyes have glazed over, as if she’s grown bored with this endless prattle. She looks up and stares through us, through me at least, if that’s possible, and that alone tells me that she’s still mad. “She doesn’t let me,” she replies in a lifeless voice.
Confusion crosses Emily’s young face. “But—”
“This isn’t eyeliner,” my sister says, deadpan. Her eyes are rimmed with kohl, twin dark circles that resemble Trevor’s glasses. “These are tattoos.”
Emily gasps, impressed. “Don’t tell that child such lies,” I say, grinning at Caitlin. She ignores me—I don’t blame her. Taking her cue from Caitlin, Emily ducks away from my hand when I reach out to ruffle her hair. Only Trevor watches me, his eyes large and devouring in his face. He unnerves me. “Those aren’t tattoos.”
Cocking her head to one side, Emily asks, “Did you hear something?”
Caitlin turns her head slowly to stare at our cousin. “Don’t do that shit,” she says, and Emily recoils as if slapped. “It’s childish and fucking stupid.”
“Caitlin! Don’t talk like that,” Aunt Sarah admonishes. She offers me a cheek when I come up to the stove, and I give her a quick kiss. “Does your mother put up with such language?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit, opening the fridge. I find a half-gallon of milk that’s almost empty, but it’ll do. “I don’t live at home.”
Dan has two tall glasses ready when I turn around. I pour him a full glass, then empty the rest of the milk out into my own. It only fills about a third of the way up. Before I can stop him, Dan dumps half of his own milk into my glass, evening them out, then he hands it to me. “You’re wonderful,” I tell him. Aunt Sarah scrapes loudly at the pan—I can almost feel her bristling, and I wonder if she got a good look at my shirt yet. Aunt Billy has, I see her smile as she reads over the insurance papers that she’s spread out across the table in front of her. I’m sure Sarah will have something to say to my mother about that. “Your children…” she’ll mutter, and shake her head as if her kids never did anything that wasn’t sanctioned by God above Himself.
With a wink that no one else sees, Dan says, “I’m not the only one.” He sips his milk, which leaves a moustache beaded above his upper lip, and even though we’re not alone, I can’t stop myself from kissing it away. The milk tastes cool against his warm skin, and while I’m still close, he whispers, “Why don’t you apologize to her?”
Because she’s my sister, I think. I shouldn’t have to say I’m sorry. Still, he gives me a slight nudge in her direction, and when I move past him, he slaps my ass playfully. Yes, I definitely can’t wait to get him alone again, in one of the upstairs bedrooms maybe, or the attic where Aunt Evie stores slip-covered furniture. Just the two of us, the door locked on the rest of the family, and I’ll show him just how contrite I can be. I’m looking forward to it already.
“Caitlin,” I sigh, leaning over the back of her chair. Emily stops in midsentence and frowns at me, fuming at the interruption. Caitlin doesn’t even stop eating—she simply holds up one hand the same way I did earlier, like she doesn’t want to hear whatever it is I have to say. “Look,” I tell her, “I’m sorry. I got frustrated—”
Without turning to look at me, she mutters, “Bit my goddamn head off, is more like it.”
“Caitlin,” Aunt Sarah warns. “What did I tell you about—”
“No cussing,” my sister says, “I heard you.”
She hunkers down over her plate a moment longer, almost unwilling to let her anger go. Beside her, Emily sighs lustily. “As I was saying,” she starts.
“Just shut up already, will you?” Caitlin snaps. Now she turns towards me, and I have to s
tifle a laugh at the way she rolls her eyes. “Je-sus but these kids are annoying the fuck out of me. I know, I know,” she adds quickly, before Aunt Sarah can say anything else. “Wash my mouth out with soap, why don’t you? So my mom raised horrible kids. A queer boy and a punk chick.”
Trevor stares at Caitlin and Emily pouts into her plate as if she might cry. That enigmatic smile still haunts Aunt Billy’s face, and Kenny…well, he’s ignoring us all, too intent on his food to bother with us. “And Ray,” I add, grinning. Behind me, Dan chortles into his milk. “A queer, a punk, and Ray.”
“She should’ve drowned us all,” Caitlin says. “Is that what you would’ve done, Aunt Sarah? Put us out of our misery? Send our souls straight to heaven before we could fuck them up?”
“Heathens,” Sarah announces, and Caitlin and I both snicker at the venom in her voice. “The lot of you. Don’t think I’m not telling Laura how impertinent you are, young lady.”
I stand as Caitlin pushes her chair back. “Don’t bother,” she says, leaving the room. “I’ll tell her myself.”
Chapter 21: Change of Plans
Aunt Sarah piles pancakes onto two plates that I hold out to her—one for Dan, the other for me. “Have a seat,” my lover says, holding Caitlin’s vacated chair out for me.
“No, you.” When he starts to protest, I shake my head. “Sit, baby. The food’s getting cold.”
Without further argument, Dan slides into the chair and I set one plate down in front of him. I look around but there really isn’t room left—people keep strolling through the kitchen, making it almost impossible to sit on the floor, and no one else at the table seems willing to part with their seats yet. “Sit here,” Dan tells me, pushing his chair out and patting his knee. There’s a gleam in his eye that makes me think of our bed in the other room. When I don’t answer immediately, he tugs at the leg of my jeans like a little kid. “Michael?”