Dreams and Expectations

by Susan Laine

  Tom suppressed a gulp. His throat was dry. It was true he believed he was in love with Nick, even if Nick’s feelings remained shrouded in mystery. And all Tom’s talk about having a future together with Nick, well, it was largely wishful thinking at this point. But none of that detracted from Tom making a stand and proving a point.

  Charles narrowed his eyes. Beyond that his face remained fixed in hard lines that were impossible to interpret. “I see. And how do Nick’s parents feel about this?”

  “They know he’s gay, and they’re fine with it.” Tom looked away, angry again, this time at Nick’s parents instead of his own. “It’s his art stuff they have a problem with. Like the only proper career is science.”

  Charles quirked a dry smile. “You’re going to study science. Or study religions using a scientific approach, at least.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not what you wanted me to do with my life, either.”

  Charles nodded, a small scrunch between his brows. “I suppose I have tried to steer you to politics and Christianity for a long time.” Tom said nothing since he’d already made that argument and there was no point in repetition. Charles rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I… I need a bit of time to… to let things percolate.”

  “Sure. Just know it won’t change my plans.” Or my orientation, whatever it may be, Tom finished in his head.

  Charles smiled shortly. “Your dreams versus my expectations. I suppose that’s fair.” Then he regarded his son with shame and regret, his eyes shining with unexpected moisture. “I’m sorry I hit you. I will never do it again.”

  Despite the distrust in his soul and the palpitating ache in his cheek, Tom decided to take a leap of faith. “If you say so.” He put the suitcase back down. “Listen, Nick’s in a fragile place right now. His parents wanna force him to go to Harvard. I have to be there for him.”

  Charles nodded. “Go.” But as Tom was passing him, Charles grabbed his arm and stopped him with a stern look. “Be safe. In and out of bed. I’ll never raise a hand to you again, but if you get an STD… so help me God, boy.”

  His cheeks burning, Tom dashed out the door. While he was embarrassed that his dad now had intimate knowledge of his sex life, Tom was still pleased they’d cleared the air. Only time will tell if we can build on this… as a family. With that thought, Tom sprinted into a run toward his best friend’s house.

  As he ran, he made an urgent call.

  Chapter 11

  NICK SERIOUSLY considered throwing his phone against the wall. Perhaps if it was shattered, with no hope of repair, he’d stop checking for texts and calls. No one messaged him—not his parents and not Tom. Nick had never felt so alone and abandoned.

  Not to mention blue-balled. Tom had cut off the call in the middle of a jerkoff session and, man, that’d sucked. Nick fell onto his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling was white, unremarkable and boring. But it fit his mood—all white noise and heaviness.

  A tap on his window roused him from nothingness. Startled, he rushed to the window, parted the curtains, and found Tom waiting for him there with a shy smile on his face. Nick let him in.

  “You okay? What happened?” Nick insisted before Tom had set one foot inside.

  Tom chuckled, his cheeks reddening. “Dad walked in on me.”

  Nick’s breath stuttered to a halt. “While we were…?” He swished his wrist about in a quite telling gesture.

  “Yeah.” Tom led Nick to the bed, a patient hand on Nick’s impatient back, and they sat down side by side. “We had a fight.”

  Nick sighed. “Again? Dammit. I’m sorry.”

  Tom rubbed his cheek, his expression serious. “He slapped me.”

  Nick jumped to his feet, so angry he saw red. “What the fuck? I’m calling the cops on that asshole.”

  Tom pulled him gently back down. “It’s okay. He apologized. You see, I got mad too and started to pack, ready to leave and never come back.” He wiped a hand across his tired-looking face. “Dad begged me not to go. So… we talked things through. I told him about my decision and about you—”

  “Oh fuck.” Nick felt so bad. He’d not wanted to be the cause of a rift or conflict between his best friend and his dad. Then again, the two had so much history and so many differences that it had perhaps been inevitable.

  Tom shrugged. “He didn’t throw me out. Whatever that’s worth.” He ducked his head and blew out a breath. “Not like we hugged or anything. Just sort of talked. Mostly about Mom and faith and my plans for the future.”

  “Oh?” Nick realized that in the midst of his own problems, he’d forgotten to ask about what Tom had in mind for college. Tom had designs on studying at the University of Idaho, same as Nick, but what did he want out of life, what kind of career, what sort of studies? Nick had no clue. But he should have. Shame flooded him. How could he have become so self-involved that he’d dismissed Tom from his mind so easily? Goddammit.

  “Yeah.” Tom licked his lips nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to take up comparative religious studies.”

  Nick’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “What? Really?” He frowned with shame. “I’m sorry. I should know what you want by now.”

  Tom grinned seductively. “In college or in life? I hadn’t decided for sure about college before. But as far as my life is concerned, all I want is you.”

  Nick blushed. “You still on about that?” He was so happy about the idea of being with his best friend that he almost forgot how his own plans had changed. His smile faded, and grief replaced the joy in his heart. “I’m sorry, Tom, but I… I’m going to Harvard. Dad….” The lump in his throat prevented him from finishing the sentence.

  Much to his surprise, Tom smiled. “Yeah, I know. But I talked to him. He’s reconsidering that whole idea. Besides, apparently your mom wasn’t real happy about your dad forcing your hand with a guilt trip. She’s rather, uh, cross with him, as your grandma would say.”

  Nick shot to his feet. “I… I need to… to talk….”

  Tom nodded. “Yeah, babe, I know that too. Your grandma’s downstairs, and your parents are heading back to town. They’re all eager for a family powwow.”

  Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t understand….” He stood in place, staring at his best friend like he’d never seen him before, stuck and unable to find his feet, as if the whole world spun around him, moving and twirling without him.

  Tom blushed beet red, grimacing in embarrassment. “Look, I only want you to be happy. And Harvard won’t make you happy. So I intervened on your behalf. I called your parents and… and I sent them pictures and links to your webcomic. I told them to judge for themselves if you have talent worth cultivating. I figured that since they’re scientists, they’d value evidence and facts. I guess they did ’cause just before I got here, your mom called me and told me your dad’s sort of reconsidered. I think she chewed his ass out, and not in a good way.”

  When Tom ran out of breath, his face was as red and puffy as a May Day balloon. Nick was two seconds away from a blubbering fit. Tom had really gone out on a limb for him. He’d even challenged Nick’s parents to take a closer look at a side of Nick he’d been afraid to show them for fear of disappointing them.

  “So… they’re not mad… at me?” Nick murmured, his heart bouncing, at once hopeful and scared.

  Tom grinned and shook his head. “Based on the glorifying expletives your mom dished out over the phone? No, I don’t think they are. In fact, I think she was really impressed.”

  Nick did cry then, silent tears. “I gotta see Grandma.”

  Tom stood, closed the gap between them, and hugged Nick. “Go on. I’ll be here when you come back, I swear. Love you.” He bussed Nick’s cheek. It wasn’t a sexual act. It was comfort from a friend.

  Nick understood then and there that he loved Tom with all that he was.

  But that would keep for a few more minutes. Nick hurried downstairs to find his grandmother in the ki
tchen preparing supper. The smoky scents of grilled venison with juniper berries and freshly baked flatbread wafted into Nick’s nose, and his stomach rumbled on cue.

  “Ten minutes, honey,” Grandma said from the stove, where she was stirring something inside a pot—nettle soup from the smell. She wiped her hands on her white apron as she hummed a tune coming from the radio. The sight was so familiar and soothing that Nick forgot to be afraid.

  “Grandma? Mom and Dad are coming home?”

  “Yes, tomorrow, honey.” Grandma sipped some sticky substance from a ladle and nodded to herself, appearing pleased. “Leona called me a moment ago about your college plans.” She took a quick look at Nick. “I take it they’ve finally caught on to you not carrying on the family tradition of becoming a scientist. About time. We must all follow our path. Our dreams come from the spirits, and we must revere them.”

  Nick gulped, mostly in relief because she seemed to be on his side. “So you’re not mad?”

  Grandma faced him properly then, a scolding frown on her round face framed by long dark hair, some of it braided. “Of course not. It’s the same as you being gay, dear. Any faith, law, or person trying to tell me I should hate my own flesh and blood for a trait they were born with is wrong, beyond contempt. I’ll ignore such hatred till the day I die. Your grandfather was a conscientious objector, did you know that? We rallied against Vietnam together.” She huffed out an impatient breath when tiny tendrils of smoke began to rise from one of the pots. “In any case, it’s the same with your parents. If they tell me to disapprove of your choices in life while you pursue your dreams… well, my answer will be a resounding slap on their behind.”

  “Grandma!” At first Nick was shocked. Then he burst out laughing. The merciless knot in his belly eased as serenity replaced worry. He was home, with his accepting family, and he had the option to become an artist after all. Judging from his mom and grandma’s attitudes, they would never force their expectations on him. Would his dad continue, though…?

  “Try not to fret over things that haven’t happened yet, sweetheart.” Grandma moved a pot off the stove and waved the clouds of steam aside. “Plenty of time to worry about things when they actually happen. Now go get Tom ’cause dinner’s almost ready. Time for you boys to wash your hands.”

  On a whim, Nick rushed to his grandmother’s side, hugged her tight, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Grandma. Love you.”

  She shooed him off, but her cheeks pinked and her smile widened. “Don’t forget to wash up, or there’ll be no supper for you.” She went back to her pots and pans, delicious smells floating in the confined space.

  Nick’s problems were solved far faster and easier than his best friend’s. It was remarkable, fortuitous, and promising. It never ceased to astound him how easy it was for kids to fall into acting out roles in society, even or especially to their parents. Nick was a product of his upbringing, which had been more liberal and freer than most, perhaps—and yet he’d been caught in the trap too, trying to live up to his mom and dad’s expectations.

  Tom’s ordeal had been exhausting and endless; Nick’s had been short-lived and relatively painless. The difference lay in parentage. Charles never asked what Tom wanted out of life or if he was happy. He’d just assumed a strict discipline was all that was needed to push his son along. At least father and son had managed to open the lines of communication.

  Sometimes Nick wished he had a brother or sister. A sibling might have shifted or divided the pressure of expectations more evenly between the two of them or from one to the other. But life and time had chosen differently.

  In the end, Nick was very lucky.

  With a wide grin, Nick returned upstairs to his room. The second he entered, Tom looked up from the boylove webcomic—Exorcism Academy—he’d been reading. His quirked eyebrows asked the question without words.

  “We’re fine.” Nick’s voice choked as he fought the joy threatening to burst out of him. “Mom and Grandma don’t mind me becoming an artist after all.” A slight dark cloud still clung to his otherwise blue skies, though. “Not sure about Dad yet….”

  “He’ll get over it. It’s your life. You’re allowed to live it the way you want.” Tom sniffed the air, a hungry expression on his face, and he rubbed his stomach. “Do I smell—”

  “Yes, and supper’s ready. Hands, says Grandma.”

  Tom laughed. “Wouldn’t want to upset Grandma. I swear there’s a wolf spirit living inside her, ready to devour little boys who don’t wash up before mealtime and get caught red-handed.”

  The reference to the famous fairy tale and their cultural heritage in one made Nick giggle.

  I love you, Tom, and I do want to be with you. Tonight.

  Chapter 12

  “YOUR MOM’S gonna love it when you’re a big-time artist.”

  Tom’s words of encouragement warmed Nick’s heart and heated his face. “No….”

  Tom elbowed Nick in the side as they sat on the foot of Nick’s bed. It was getting late. Streetlamps lit up the road below and cast beams of light onto the ceiling. Darkness reigned in the rising night.

  Grandma had gone to her room. Although she probably was in bed, she’d be reading or knitting or watching the news for a while longer—not to mention listening in on misbehaving boys.

  Nick knew he and Tom had to keep their noise levels down.

  “Don’t dis my best friend, buddy,” Tom teased, sporting an infectious grin. Nick chuckled and shoved him in turn. Tom wrapped an arm around Nick’s shoulders, pulled him close, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Yeah, still love kissing you.”

  Nick continued to have doubts. But he also knew now that his love for his best friend had changed too. Matured, if you will. “Why do you love me?” he asked, his voice a bit whinier than he would have liked.

  Tom laughed, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Listen. Don’t interrupt me, okay? The thing is, babe—”

  “I’ll not only cut you off but throw you out if you keep calling me that.”

  Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you can try… babe.” When Nick made a move to shove him off the bed, Tom merely wrestled him to his back, then lay beside him and held Nick’s arms against his body so he couldn’t move them. “Anyway, we’ve been friends forever. Over time and in light of what happened with Bill Little, I noticed that what I felt for you just kept growing bigger and bigger till I couldn’t imagine ever being without you… or holding you and kissing you.”

  Flushed with heat, Nick opened his mouth to speak, but not so much as a squeak came out. He snapped his mouth shut and simply listened. Tom’s message was meaningful. Nick didn’t want to miss a word.

  Tom gave a lopsided grin, oozing self-confidence and sex appeal. “You’re always so busy teaching me about stuff. And since I’m apparently going to be a bona fide scientist… here’s a word of the day for you: compathy.”

  Nick’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t remember the meaning of the word. “Um, like… huh?”

  Tom chuckled. “God, you’re eloquent. A master of language, like Shakespeare.”

  Nick growled. “Shut up and explain it to me.”

  “How can I do both at the same time?” When Nick groaned impatiently, Tom took pity on him. “Compathy means feelings shared with another or many others. It’s not exactly like sympathy but close.” Tom gripped Nick’s hand and held on gently, locking their gazes. “You see, at first our friendship was compathy of happiness, just like you said. How you felt happy with me. Just happy. Remember?”

  Nick nodded, wondering where Tom was going with this.

  Tom smiled bashfully. “I realized I felt the same. In the beginning, anyway. Then we had that… incident with Bill. For which I’m gonna apologize eventually, I swear.”

  “I believe you.” Nick did have faith in Tom, specifically in Tom doing the right thing.

  “After that, you wanted me gone, and I was faced with the very real possibility you never wanted to see me again. That scared the
shit out of me. I felt like my life was over. Nothing and no one mattered anymore.”

  Nick’s heart broke. “I’m sorry. I….”

  “It’s okay. I’m cool ’cause we’re over it. The band’s back together.”

  Nick snorted. “Neither of us plays instruments or sings, at least not outside a shower.” He knew Tom’s comment was a joke, but he felt like ribbing him a little.

  Tom smirked. “You’re such a dweeb. Anyway, I reevaluated my priorities and feelings. I did a lot of reading and thinking. And I realized that our compathy is actually about love.”

  “It is?” Nick asked, eyes wide in surprise. How the heck had Tom come to that conclusion? Simply because he didn’t want to lose his best friend?

  “Yeah, it sure as shit is.” Tom sounded adamant and fearless and cocksure. “And you want to know what? I think you feel exactly the same. You’re just fighting it for some reason. But it’s of no use. Resistance is futile.”

  Nick grimaced. “I know you did not just quote Star Trek to me.”

  “What? Like you don’t like it? You were a sci-fi nerd before you were a comic nerd. I was there, remember?” Tom frowned, appearing pensive. “Although… I think I prefer Babylon 5 and Killjoys over Star Trek these days. Hey, we should totally do a sci-fi marathon!”

  Nick snapped his fingers in front of Tom’s face, startling him. “Focus, dammit.”

  “I am.” Tom grabbed Nick’s hand again and pulled him closer. “I’m absolutely focused on seeing and feeling you naked right the fuck now.” He lifted his chin, indicating the bed beneath them. “And that’s where we’re headed.”

  Nick opened his mouth to argue. But there was no point. He wanted this too. He hoped the next morning would be free of guilt and regrets. Only one way to find out.