Short Stuff

by Alysia Constantine

  “Chase, c’mon we gotta go to the store.”

  “Ugh,” Chase hung his head. “I forgot.”

  Tommy sat back and took a breath. What had gotten into him? “Everything okay?”

  Chase stood, brushed sand off of his legs, and pulled Tommy up by the hand. He squeezed his fingers. “Definitely.” Tommy knew he meant more than just this moment, and that settled him. Rationally, he knew last night had been awesome. Irrationally, his insecurity whispered that maybe Chase hadn’t liked it or him.

  “Listen,” Chase said, glancing back over his shoulder. “We gotta run to town for food and supplies and stuff. But we’re having a bonfire tonight. Do you wanna come? Your family is invited and all. S’mores all around.”

  “Yeah, I’d love that.” Tommy swallowed. “I mean, I’ll ask them. But I would like to.”

  “Awesome. We’ll probably hang out, too, after the kids go to bed. My uncle bought a crazy amount of fireworks. I think they’re all gonna get a bit crazy tonight. My parents letting loose? I can’t even.”

  Tommy had no idea what qualified as letting loose, but he nodded.

  “We’re gonna hang out down here, Jake and Cheryl and I. Would you stay for that, too? Please.”

  “Definitely.” There was no other answer he could or would give. “We might do some family game night stuff before the kids go to bed, but I’ll come down after?”

  “Chase.” Jake jingled car keys; his voice was sharp.

  “Coming!” He turned back to Tommy, surprising him with a kiss on his cheek. “See ya.”

  Tommy expected more pushback when he announced his intention to go to the bonfire. He didn’t ask, which was new. It wasn’t even three days ago that his mother had pushed back, hard, when he’d tried to do something on his own. His mom smiled, and Tommy knew then that they were both coming to terms with the fact that he was moving on soon.

  “Okay,” she said, taking the cards from him and storing them in the cupboard where they kept their games and books.

  “Don’t be out too late though,” Jerry said. “We’re gonna have a lot to do in the morning to get on the road by eleven.”

  “Can do.” Tommy executed a sloppy salute and drank in their smiles.

  That night, Tommy sat idly burning a marshmallow, allowing it to catch fire before blowing out the soft halo of blue and yellow flames. Chase bumped his shoulder.

  “So, you’re a burning-your-marshmallow kind of guy, huh?”

  The sun clung to the horizon. Dark pressed in from the east. The stars were disrobing, one by one, and Chase’s face in gloaming, a study of shadows cast by the fire, was painfully beautiful. Nightfall and one final stolen moment on a beach were all Tommy had right now. He wanted desperately to kiss Chase, even in front of Jake and Cheryl. He would, if only he thought he could stand it. How are you doing this so easily?

  “Watch,” he said instead. Balancing a graham cracker on his knee, he pulled on the skin of crisped marshmallow, slipping it off of the molten core. Juggling the roasting stick, still with marshmallow on it, he made a s’more out of the shell. “And now, you can make another.” He held what was left of the marshmallow over the bonfire. The flames were snapping now, leaping toward the night.

  “But it’s burned.” Chase wrinkled his nose.

  “It’s toasted.” Tommy handed the s’more to him. “Try it. It’s good.”

  “If you say so,” Chase said, with a shake of his head and a tiny slip of laughter.

  “It’s an art, you see.” Tommy explained. “You have to let it catch fire, but just a little. Control it.” He swallowed a sudden tightness in this throat. Is that what he was doing?

  “And that’s it? It’s done then?”

  It had to be; Tommy knew that. Chase had given him something to carry for the rest of his life. Bittersweet, a kiss lingered, a haunting, delicious memory that made his lips tingle. He wanted more; he was hungry in a way he’d never realized he could be. How could he have known desire would be hunger pangs rather than appetite, empty palms and the aching throb of blood under his skin? This was real, this what daydreams meant.

  “No,” Tommy said.

  Chase was gamely taking a bite. Tommy liked the thoughtful look on Chase’s face as he gave it a shot. “Sorry, man, I don’t think I’m a fan.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Tommy said quietly. Chase’s eyes pierced his, unblinking, pooled in darkness.

  “Tommy—”

  “That’s not all,” Tommy rushed. “You do it again. It’s kind of a game, see. How many times can you get one layer off? Can you get it just right each time?”

  “Can you?” Chase handed him the uneaten half of his s’more. Contrary to Tommy’s directions, what marshmallow had been on his stick was being burnt into oblivion. Tommy laid the stick on the sand and considered the multitude of responses that burned on his tongue and the back of his throat. They were past subtext now and they both knew it.

  “I’ve never managed.” The graham cracker crumbled, scattering onto his pants, into the wind, lost in the dun and tan of the sand. No one would ever know it had been there, come morning.

  “You wanna go for a walk?” Chase spoke quietly, just a whisper over the chatter of friends around the fire and the raucous laughter of his parents and aunts and uncles on the deck. It was the last night, and the last night always went like this: his family preparing quietly to leave, packing and putting to rest the game that was vacation. Routine would rise with the sun as surely as the last bit of summer freedom had set. The others—those renting cottages around them, regardless of the roving groups and families each year—turned this last night into revelry. Tommy had seen and heard it all: midnight games of tag, drunken laughter over country music blasting from a stereo, fireworks, firecrackers, fights. Any other year he’d be packed; he’d be in his bed with his windows open to catch the last sounds of water, to listen to the last vestiges of summer, and imagining what it might be like to not have to slip into his homebound skin.

  Soon, Tommy would shed that skin. Home would mean the place he lived most. Who would he be every time he changed into Tommy-coming-to-visit?

  The most sobering thought: What if nothing really changed? What if he was the same tired, isolated version of himself wherever he went for the rest of his life? Last night, Chase had opened a door, had introduced him to his body, a foreign self that was unbearably sensitive, beautiful in its potential for pleasure, and helplessly entranced by the freedom of letting go.

  Through the night, Tommy had pressed his fingers to each spot Chase had kissed, had tried to force the memories in and in, so he’d never forget even if he may one day regret them. Beyond the circle of butter-colored firelight was the deep dark of places outside the city, where the scattering of stars was a brilliant blanket of lights. Tommy remembered Chase’s lips behind his ear and thought, yes.

  Beyond the circle of light, Chase caught Tommy’s pinky with his own, curling them together. “Could I hold your hand?”

  “Yeah,” Tommy said, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic uncertainty.

  “So…” Chase watched the ground beneath their feet and tugged on Tommy’s hand when they came to driftwood they needed to step over. Most of the cottages were dark. It was pushing eleven. Even the sounds of the beach party were faded and the wind and the water made their constant presence known. “Was last night—did I, like, pressure you, or was it not good or—”

  “Oh, no, god.” Tommy couldn’t read Chase’s face. “No, I wanted it. To.” He cleared his throat.

  “But you regret it.” Chase said. Tommy pulled him to a stop. Dune grass whispered when the wind kicked up.

  “No. Well, not exactly.” Rueful and a little sad, he tested words in his mind, trying to get them just right. “I don’t regret last night with you. It was amazing. You were.”

  “Yeah?” Chase shifted closer.
>
  Everything was so heavy all at once. His anxieties and his fears felt like stones pressing him into the wet sand. He’d never felt gravity like this. Tommy shrugged and took a deep breath and thought, but this is here. This is wanting. And I want.

  And so, on his toes, heart pounding so hard it drowned the beach song around them, he kissed Chase.

  “Seriously,” he said against Chase’s wet lips when he pulled away.

  “Amazing,” Chase agreed. “But it’s not a controlled burn. Is that it? The part that scares you?”

  Tommy inhaled sharply. “I’m pretty obvious, aren’t I?”

  “No,” Chase said. He, too, considered his words. “You were just…there, but not, tonight. So different from last night, and I thought maybe it was because you regretted it, or I had gone too far or something. But then—”

  “You’re turning my marshmallow into a metaphor?” Tommy laughed, incredulity painting the words. His skin pebbled with cold in the wind. Chase rubbed his arms to warm him. Tommy tilted his head left.

  “Wanna sit?” A few yards from the water was a little alcove of beach, protected by dune grass and flowers. They settled, this time closer, touching from shoulders to knees, and with their intertwined fingers on Chase’s lap. He traced the curves of Tommy’s nail beds. It wasn’t a sensual touch and yet it shivered its way up Tommy’s spine.

  “You just seem so sure,” Tommy said at last.

  “About kissing you?”

  “No, just…everything. When you were talking about college. You’re leaving. Like, leaving. You’re going to be an airplane ride away.” Tommy took a deep breath. “And here I am, scared to go less than an hour from home.”

  “What are you scared of?” Chase asked.

  “I guess I always thought college would be, like, this place where I could try to be someone…different. I mean, me but…a new me.”

  “What kind of new me? You’re kind of mind-blowing as is.” Chase’s lips on his cheek were smiling, and that Tommy could know this in the dark was thrilling.

  “I don’t know. I’m…I’m always responsible, I always try to be good. I kinda always told myself it’s what I wanted. But the closer it gets, I think, really, I’m scared. I’ve been scared.”

  “I mean…I’m scared. I know I come off as confident, but right now…” Tommy waited him out, giving Chase the space to find the right words. “We’re told, like, all the time, how big of a deal this is. At least, I always was.”

  “You mean the ‘what you choose now will determine the rest of your life’ speech?”

  “Yeah, man. And like, all the time. Taking the PSAT? ‘Sleep well and eat because this is one of the first steps to the rest of your life.’”

  “Taking the ACT? ‘Everything hinges on this single moment,’” Tommy added.

  Chase snorted a laugh. “‘Choose the right college.’ ‘This is the biggest decision you’ll ever make.’” The words were dry, laced with a hard edge. Almost bitter. “I dunno. Do you ever thing it’s just crap?”

  “Choosing the right college?” He couldn’t clearly see Chase, but confused, he still tried to read his face.

  “Yeah. Like, I don’t know how to make fuckin’ mac ‘n cheese! Seriously. Who put me in charge of this?” Chase put his head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I think—well, hope—we can change our minds, if we need to. There’s all this pressure to get this one choice right, when we have no idea what it’s even like to be on our own.”

  “So…what you’re saying is that nothing is set in stone,” Tommy hazarded.

  “Maybe. Maybe that’s just one part of it.” Chase shifted, then lay down and tugged Tommy with him. “God, look at the stars.”

  “I know.” Tommy thought he’d always remember this. He thought of bittersweetness and how it lingered. How, after he’d left Chase’s room last night, he’d tried to control the swell of emotions tangling in his chest and belly and heart. No one wanted to be hurt, and Tommy was terrified that he’d walk away from an amazing memory and regret it. “I’m scared of not having control,” Tommy confessed. He rolled toward Chase. They’d be covered in sand, and the damp was seeping into his clothes. A chill was settling into his bones, but Chase was so warm.

  “I get that,” Chase said. “But there’s only so much you can control. No matter how much you want to know how something will end.”

  “Like this,” Tommy said. He held his breath, wondering at how the words sounded, how they might land. There was such a gap between intention and reception. Even words, he realized, were out of his grasp the moment he loosed them. Suddenly he knew. He felt his body at a precipice, on the edge of something huge, and had no idea what would be there when he tipped forward.

  “No.” Chase traced Tommy’s nose and then lips with a gentle finger. “That doesn’t mean meeting you wasn’t awesome.”

  They would never have this again. Sure, they could keep in touch, trade funny snaps chronicling transitions into dorms and parties and classwork. Perhaps this fleeting connection would fade. Perhaps they’d become the sort of friends with a shared memory but nothing else in common. They were bound for different lives, different states, different truths. Tommy couldn’t begin to guess how that was going to feel a week, a month, years from now. Maybe it would hurt; he was sure that at first it would. It stung already. A goodbye sat on the horizon, ready to rise with the sun.

  The electric shock of Chase’s lips on his, right then, in the whisper of wind and the honesty of August in Michigan, the smell of sand dunes and late summer flowers, stripped him. He opened his lips to Chase’s. His fingers were lined with sand he scattered through Chase’s hair. Tommy let Chase press him back onto the sand. There was nothing about this night he wouldn’t remember, and that—that was a beautiful thing. The unknown lingered. This was a moment he could never have predicted, and maybe he felt a little wild, and maybe he was giving in to a recklessness that was utterly unlike him, but, deep down, Tommy trusted that it would be okay. He trusted that he’d be okay and that maybe change would mean holding on to who he was deep down but letting go a little as well, letting himself take a chance.

  Chance was a risk, but everything, everything that was coming next was, too, no matter how much Tommy had wanted to control it. He risked his heart with Chase, and not because he thought this was love. It was because he was putting himself into someone else’s hands. He was taking a piece of Chase for himself as well and that—when they exchanged little pieces of themselves—was a moment Tommy would always remember and think That was the moment when I let myself be.

  About Jude Sierra: Jude Sierra is a Latinx poet, author, academic and mother working toward her PhD in Writing and Rhetoric, looking at the intersections of Queer, Feminist and Pop Culture Studies. Her novels include A Tiny Piece of Something Greater (Foreword INDIES Finalist, 2019), What it Takes (Starred Review, Publishers Weekly), and Idlewild, a contemporary LGBTQ romance set in Detroit’s renaissance that was named one of Kirkus Reviews’ Best Books of 2016.

  Love in the Time of Coffee

  by Kate Fierro

  0. Before coffee

  Gemma was really hungry.

  The meeting at the school had been fun, just as Mom had promised. It was nice to play with other kids, and the teacher, Miss Lily, was pretty and smiled all the time. She could draw funny animals, too. Gemma was glad Miss Lily would be their teacher when they all started school in the fall.

  But they had been here so very long. She was not used to being around so many people all at once. It was loud, everyone talked and moved all the time, and, after a while, even the most interesting games couldn’t hold Gemma’s attention. She just wanted to hide in some quiet corner and have a nap, even though naps were for babies.

  She was also hungry. The carrots and celery sticks Mom brought for her were long gone, and Gemma was not allowed to eat any of the snacks and cookies laid out on the table in the bi
g room. She had watched other kids stuff their faces with the sweet treats and sat on her hands so as not to reach for one. Those were bad for you, Mom said. She promised, if Gemma was good, she would get a special treat for lunch: her favorite buckwheat pancakes with blackberries and coconut yogurt that she only got on special occasions.

  And she had been good. She hadn’t cried or made a fuss, she’d sat quietly on a chair waiting for the adults to finish their meeting, and she hadn’t taken a single little cookie for all the eleventy hours they had been here. But now her tummy ached, and she really wanted to go home, and her mom was still standing in the big room talking to three other ladies, even though almost everybody else had left already. Gemma squeezed her eyes shut. She was a big girl now. Big enough to start school soon. Big girls didn’t cry.

  “Yes, I agree it all sounds lovely,” her mom said. “The only concern I have is the food. I’m pleasantly surprised with the dairy-free and vegan options, but the menu we’ve been shown still leaves a lot of questions. Are all of the meals made fresh every day? What about the quality of the ingredients? I just feel the principal should be able to tell us whether they use organic or local products, and what is the school’s stand on GMO and preservatives in the food they serve to our children.”

  After a moment of silence, Gemma opened her eyes, hoping it was finally time to go home. But the other ladies were just looking at her mom with funny faces. Then one shook her head, which made her long, black hair dance prettily.

  “Well, judging by the quality of coffee they’ve served today, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” She drank from a paper cup in her hand, smiling. There was a dimple in her brown cheek.

  Gemma’s mom huffed, the way she did every time Gemma said something silly. “Please. A high-quality poison isn’t any less harmful. Did you know that coffee is one of the worst substances you can put in your body, right next to sugar? In fact—”