The Summer of Us: A Romance Anthology

by AJ Matthews

  “I knew it, babe.” My call waiting beeps. “Hey hang on. It’s my lawyer.” I click over to the other line. “Hello?”

  “Leif?” My lawyer asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Happy to report, all charges have been dropped. Your friend was found mentally competent. Since any case they might have had against you rested on those test results, they had no choice.”

  “I know. He’s on the other line. Thanks.”

  “Well then, I’ll let you get back to him.” And the lawyer hangs up.

  I switch back to Rid. “All charges dropped!” I yell into the phone.

  To Rid’s responding, “Woo-hoo.” Followed by a joyful belly laugh. “Best birthday ever!” he shouts then.

  “Best birthday ever,” I agree.

  We keep up the phone conversation the whole way to the courthouse where I find him standing out front waiting on me. I roll up for him to hop in. Rid and I lean into each other for a quick kiss before I peel out again.

  First things first, clearing out twenty years of oppression from his mother’s house while the woman is supposed to be back at work.

  Of course, she’s not at work.

  Why do people insist on making situations harder than they need to be? All she had to do was stay away. Ridley won’t even look at her. But he openly holds my hand as we walk into the house. He’d spent the last couple of days collecting boxes. We march right up to his room to begin packing.

  Amanda once again shows up to the rescue to help us pack. I use the time between my hug and cheek kiss, and her giving Rid his hug and cheek kiss, to reaffirm my promise to be a better friend to the woman. After everything, she still has my back. Doesn’t need to, no one would blame her if she didn’t. Yet, here she is having my back.

  A few hours in, the room looks a shell of the room we’d first walked into. His entire life packed up in boxes. One call to my parents later and we’re done, well, just about done. All it’ll take for us to be done is to move the boxes to the front lawn and wait.

  Lugging box after box down the stairs, the tedious job takes place by the three of us all while Ms. McAllister stands off to side by the wall in her living room, her arms folded over her chest. She looks to have been crying but as bad as it makes me, I couldn’t get myself to care. Rid is upstairs and Amanda’s outside when she catches me.

  “Leif?”

  Despite my better judgement, I turn to look at the woman knowing these will be the last words I’ll allow her speak to me for a while, if not forever.

  “Don’t take my son from me,” she whispers.

  “I’m not taking him. You sent him away.”

  After our little run-in, I don’t dally outside, dropping the box next to Amanda and dashing back inside. Rid’s inside and although he stood up to Gabe for us, his mom might be a different story. Especially if she turns on the waterworks. It’s ingrained in guys, we aren’t programmed to deal with female tears. Women know it. Women have been using it to their advantage against us for years, probably since time began.

  When I get back in, Rid’s carrying two boxes down the steps. I run up, make the shift of one of those boxes to my empty arms and slowly make the trek back down. Him just two steps behind. Posed photos of Ridley at every age line the wall of the stairs. So unlike the ones my mom has back home. She only ever wanted natural, organically captured pictures. Capturing not just an age, but a memory of a fun or milestone time. Ms. McAllister has none of that. Nothing natural or organically captured. All posed. Just Rid. She and Rid. A few with other people, I’m assuming are relatives. Maybe one of those is his cousin Jordan that he told me about.

  And it hits me. My original assessment of the situation was right. But at the same time, it was wrong. Not accepting Ridley being gay has nothing to do with Ridley being gay, or not completely. She’s worried about appearances. What other people think. My mood shifts with this realization. I’m no longer angry with her. I’m disappointed. Disappointed because now I have no way to know if she homeschooled Rid because she thought it was best for him, which being autistic, it wasn’t, or if it was best for her.

  Keep the flesh and blood kid with issues hidden. Put on the façade for the world. Posed family portraits. Polos, golf shorts and Keds. Now that he’s of age and she’s unable to hide him any longer, the only thing missing would be the pretty girl on his arm. All about appearances.

  I glance over my shoulder at him. He peeks over the edge of the box granting me a Ridley Smile. Damn, he must have been so lonely growing up. I feel my face drop and I know he sees it because his face drops. So I suck it up and mouth, “I love you.” To which his face doesn’t just perk back up, but goes megawatt with the amount of love radiating off him.

  Since these are the last two boxes, we have no reason to come back. As he passes, Ms. McAllister holds her hand out to him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Ridley.”

  He pauses a moment, not giving her the chance to speak. “You should call Mr. Trucker. He wants to date you.” That’s all he’s willing to give her. We move out the front door single file then drop side to side. Slowing the pace. And I know he’s drained. He did what he had to do, but it’s drained his beautiful spirit.

  “Stop Rid,” I order. Setting my box on the ground, he follows suit and looks to me to make him feel better. I don’t know if I have that power, but do the only thing that might work, and hug him. A long, strong embrace. Nothing more than a reassuring transfer of love from me to him. When he wraps his arms around me, I think he gets it. When he squeezes harder, I know he gets it, absorbing everything I aim to transfer.

  The scene must be crushing for someone like Ms. McAllister, someone whose whole life revolves around outward appearances. Her gay, autistic son hugging his boyfriend on the front lawn. What would the neighbors think?

  A rumbling diesel engine from my dad’s pickup signals it’s time to end our embrace. Not that I want to. My folks pull up along the curb in front of the house. My dad hops out and immediately starts hefting boxes into the truck bed. Amanda jumps right in to help. Me and Rid stare at the scene before my brain kick-starts propelling my feet forward. I use my chin to gesture Rid forward, where his brain kick-starts his feet too.

  We spend the next ten minutes filling the truck bed. Amazing how hours of work packing only takes minutes to stack. When we’ve finished, we invite Amanda back to my parent’s house for dinner. As Rid and my dad secure the tarp over the stacked boxes, my mom jogs up to Ms. McAllister, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder, she leans in to say something. Ms. McAllister doesn’t respond in any way. Yet another missed opportunity. Again, I’m disappointed.

  Amanda is the first to pull away, followed by my parents. Rid and I climb into my car. I ask him if he wants to drive but he shakes his head in the negative, never tearing his eyes away from his mother still standing on the front lawn. Is he waiting for her to come to him? She doesn’t. Only stares back at him.

  Happy freaking birthday. Here’s your present Rid. With conditions. Your new life awaits, though you have to completely cut ties with the old one, the only one you’ve known, in order to receive it. I don’t know if the universe listens to birthday wishes made by third party wishers, but watching Ridley watching his mom, and knowing there’s nothing I can do to ease this kind of heartbreak, I make my third party wish to the universe that his mom will get her head out of her ass someday, sooner than later. Maybe, hopefully, try to repair what she’s broken. Seeing her blank face, I’m doubtful. But for Rid, I have to hope. Even if she did have me arrested.

  Chapter Twelve

  Most of Ridley’s boxes get stacked in the back corner of the garage, as he only needs his summer clothes and a few sundries, toothbrush, hairbrush, shaving gel, razors, basic bathroom necessities. We’ll move the rest to our apartment when we get to school.

  I make room, emptying two drawers for him, clearing out space in the closet. Clearing off space on my desk for his laptop.

  Mom and Amanda spend the time we’re
getting Rid sorted out in my room to prepare salads, a macaroni and a potato. Dad happily takes his position as Grill Master seriously, grilling up steaks tonight because they’re the fastest to grill.

  When I pull Rid outside with me, holding his hand, he pauses to watch my family, his new family, setting up for the cookout. Tears shimmer in his eyes.

  “No one’s ever gone through this much trouble for me,” he says.

  “No trouble at all,” says my mom. Setting the second of two large pitchers, this one of homemade lemonade, next to the iced tea, both dripping with condensation, to sit on the sideboard table next to the salads she and Amanda made.

  With hardly a fly or mosquito to bother us thanks to all the citronella candles my mom lit and placed around the patio, permeating the air with a wonderful citrus fragrance, we actually get to enjoy our time in the outdoors. All of us sitting around the glass-topped table, making a memory.

  Rid is so comfortable with everyone now. So different from the first time I brought him here for mac and cheese with bacon.

  Bellies full, the conversation flowing, my mom and Amanda abruptly stand and walk through the sliding glass doors back into the kitchen. Maybe two minutes later Mom emerges carrying a birthday cake lit up with sparklers. Amanda follows with dessert plates and forks.

  Taking their cue, I begin to sing the happy birthday song. The rest of the family joins in. My dad, my sisters, Mom and Amanda. At the end of the song, mom tells Rid to make a wish. He looks around the table, stopping to acknowledge each of us, then closes his eyes.

  When he opens them again, my dad hands off a wrapped gift. My parents went shopping for a gift for Rid? I couldn’t begin to express what that means to me after the shitshow his mother put us through. Damn, I have a great family.

  A stunned Ridley takes the wrapped package from my dad and just holds it.

  “Go on, open it.” My dad urges.

  Rid tears into the paper. And stops. Frozen, staring at it like he’s afraid to touch it.

  “Leif told us you’ll need one for school.” My mom offers.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ridley answers honestly. And honestly, I don’t know what to say either. My parents bought him an iPad and an external microphone.

  What the what?

  Amanda turns to my dad and he hands her off a wrapped package too. She sets it in front of Rid. “Happy Birthday,” she murmurs, then bending down she pecks his cheek.

  He opens the Atlantic Tech T-shirt she must have ordered online. He’s so excited he whips off the shirt he’s already wearing right there at the table, and puts on the new one. Tears shimmering in his eyes.

  I have a gift for him upstairs in my room. “My gift is upstairs. They didn’t tell me about the party or I’d have brought it down. I’ll go get it.”

  “No.” Rid stops me. “Stay for now. Let’s enjoy the cake.”

  “Okay,” I say, resting my hands on his shoulders. Then ask the rest of them, “Will anyone here be offended if I kiss him?”

  All I get are ‘are you stupid?’ looks from the family, so I don’t waste any more time and bend down to wrap my arms around his neck. “Happy twentieth birthday, babe,” I whisper in his ear before planting a chaste, but loving kiss on him.

  I swear I hear my mom, Amanda and my sisters sigh in the background. Alright, enough of that. They’ve all been great so far, no sense pushing it.

  When I stand, Dad actually pats my back. He just witnessed his only son kissing his boyfriend yet still pats my back like he’s proud of me. Part of me, despite all they’ve done for Rid and me, still finds it hard to believe.

  Will they really ever get used to the new dynamic? I mean, my parents, sisters and Amanda at a backyard cookout. It could be two summers ago. Yet so much has changed. I’m no longer Amanda’s boyfriend. I’m Ridley’s boyfriend now. We’re moving in together.

  And I seem to be the only one taking issue with any of it.

  Time to pull my head out of my ass, I guess.

  “Wow, so Leif, you’re gay?” Caitlin, Amanda’s friend, I guess she’s my friend too, asks it in the form of a question, though I can tell it’s really a statement to wrap her head around the idea.

  Because she’s known me for years, known me for dating her best friend and because we’ve been at this bonfire for a couple hours now. Amanda and I threw it in honor of Ridley’s birthday since living with his mom never afforded him the opportunity to make friends let alone have them throw him a party.

  We contacted all our old friends. Had them meet us at the old docks, an unused section of beach since the shipping company went belly up. It’s still private property so technically we’re trespassing. But it always made for a good spot for underage partying since it’s still private property, the cops don’t patrol through here. As much as for tradition as the fact we’re all still underage, party at the old docks.

  “Yep,” I answer her proudly, if not a bit drunkenly, and lean over to kiss Rid’s cheek. It’s a game I started tonight. Every time one of the old crowd asks me, “You’re gay?” I kiss Ridley. Not to prove a point. Just my version of a drinking game, without shooting a shot.

  By the way no one really seems to care that I’m gay, and that one of the girls from Amanda’s pom squad who’s here tonight came out as a lesbian when she went away to school. And another kid we graduated with, an artsy girl who always wore her hair in a pixie cut, she’s not here tonight but we found out from Caitlin, that wasn’t just a pixie cut and she’s no longer a she, as in he’s in the process of transitioning fully from Lena to Len. I wish I had the guts to say something sooner.

  High school’s a bitch.

  But maybe I wouldn’t have hurt Amanda the way I did. Although she’s forgiven me, it’s a regret I’ll hold onto forever.

  “Hey Caitlin, where’s Gabe tonight?” One of my former teammates, not one of the one’s who harassed Ridley at the beginning of summer, calls out. He’s having a hard time standing, swaying side to side on his drunken feet.

  It probably would’ve been comical to see the way the three of us; me, Ridley and Amanda, stiffen and whip our head up in unison at the mention of Gabe’s name. Not that any of the people here are sober enough to have caught it.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” she says. A twinge of hurt crosses her face.

  “What? You two break up or something?” The guy asks.

  “A couple days ago. I found out he’s been cheating. Don’t know who with, the picture is too dark.”

  “Picture?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Someone sent it anonymously to my phone. His body is blocking the bitch, but he’s clearly… Well let’s just say, the bitch is on her knees and his head is thrown back in the throes of ecstasy.”

  Now I feel bad because I can see her picturing that look on him as I’m remembering that look too.

  Maybe one day he’ll find the courage to be who he is, if it’s gay or bi or whatever other label he chooses. Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad Caitlin extracted herself from the situation. She’s pretty nice away from Gabe. And the first thing she did when she saw Ridley was apologize for being a jerk and not standing up for him at the carnival. Even going as far as to tell him she never wants to be that person again.

  She sounded sincere.

  “It’s cool,” she continues. “State’s a big school and we don’t have the same major. He’ll go his way. I’ll go mine.” She says it with a drunken bravado, but I can clearly hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m thinking maybe I’ll try dating a hockey player next time. Those dudes are hot.” We all laugh. She raises her bottle of some fruity wine cooler type beverage and calls, “To hockey!”

  The rest of us raise our bottles and return. “To hockey!”

  I look over to Rid, taking a long pull from his beer. I think aside from his smile, his superpower might be drinking. He never has before, but manages to keep up with the best of us. The guy’s no lightweight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  August

&nbs
p; The alarm clock on the nightstand where I’d placed it directly across from my pillow—not one of my better ideas—buzzes obtrusively loud, making me wish I’d sprang for one that chimes instead.

  Of course last year, I wanted the annoying buzz to spur me to get my butt up. Now the last thing I want is to leave the bed. Not with Ridley’s heat pressing against me from shoulders to feet. His arm slung over my waist hanging heavy.

  Going to sleep next to him. Waking up wrapped in his arms has been the best part, well okay, the second best part to our adventure.

  His mom still hasn’t called.

  I know it hurts him. I can read him. But even if I couldn’t, he’s told me. We talk all the time. Not just light banter, but talk, talk. I swear the guy’s like a human Cosmo magazine with all these relationship edicts. Edicts such as, relationships won’t last without open communication. Truth be told, I love having someone I can be so honest and open with. Someone I can let it all hang out with and know at the end of the day he still loves me in spite of, or maybe because of what I’ve told him. Who the hell knows?

  Living every day with Rid has its challenges. He has quirks I’ve had to get used to. Though isn’t that the way for any couple combining lives?

  We helped Amanda move into her sorority house at State. And by we, I mean my whole family, along with hers. Then we, minus Amanda and her parents, continued on to Atlantic Tech to move Rid and me into our only slightly off campus apartment.

  The building’s not new, the apartment not nice. What it is, is ours. Mine and Rids. None of the other stuff matters. Mom helped us make it our own, decorating as mothers are wont to do. Dad made sure we had a grill for the balcony and a new flat screen and cable paid up for the year because when he comes to visit at Thanksgiving (so apparently Rid and I are hosting Thanksgiving for the Fraser family) he’s not watching the big game on my crappy television.