“Patrick,” Josh said, his voice warm and scratchy. “It’s not about the fantasies. It’s much better when somebody shows up and surprises you. They form the fantasy for you and then they make it real.”
Patrick tilted his head to one side, running a finger along the side of Josh’s neck. He loved that spot under his chin where Josh never quite shaved right. It tickled every time it brushed over Patrick’s throat or cheek.
“That works well for you, then,” Patrick said, “because you are definitely not Matthew Crawley.”
Josh pushed out his lower lip.
“It’s okay,” Patrick said. “I’m also not his cousin, so I’m pretty sure I’m not his type.”
Josh laughed silently into the crook of Patrick’s neck. When he tilted his head back to look again, Patrick was smiling.
“Round two?” Josh said hopefully.
“Only if you do exactly what you told me you wanted to do over the phone,” Patrick said.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that.
Josh’s mouth curved up at one corner.
“Now those,” he said, bringing his lips to hover over Patrick’s pulse point, “are the kind of fantasies I can get behind.”
28
A week later, Patrick was attempting to make Josh’s iconic pancake recipe, and Josh was absurdly proud of him. It was actually turning him on a little bit to watch Patrick carefully add each ingredient to the bowl and stir, and yet he was so intense and focused about it that Josh couldn’t bring himself to distract him by giving him one million kisses. The hardship.
“I don’t understand,” Patrick said, “how we have been dating for like six weeks and somehow I didn’t know you were Jewish.”
“I mean, it didn’t really…come up,” Josh said. “It’s not like it’s a huge part of my everyday life. Neither of my parents are that religious. We don’t celebrate most of the high holidays, like Rosh Hashanah, which would have been in the fall. I didn’t do the whole bar mitzvah thing, though Isaiah went through a phase where he thought he wanted one and then backed out when he found out how much of the Torah he had to memorize.”
“If it’s more than the catechism, it is definitely not worth it,” Patrick said. “Trust me.”
“I remember him saying, ‘There are easier ways to make money.’”
“You make money?” Patrick said. “That sounds awesome.”
“Yeah, but it’s a lot of work, and Isaiah is really lazy. So basically, being Jewish for us means my dad is way into telling people about how our ancestors built the pyramids, and also we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas.”
Patrick’s eyes widened.
“Is that even allowed?” Patrick asked.
Josh laughed. “I mean, yes. Because of, like, religious freedom. And we don’t celebrate Christmas is any kind of religious way anyway.”
“You must get so many presents,” Patrick said.
“We actually just do little stuff for Hanukkah,” Josh said. “Bigger presents for Christmas.”
“That’s so cool,” Patrick said.
Patrick was looking at Josh a bit like he’d revealed some great secret of the universe.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Josh said.
“I’m curious,” Patrick said, sounding a bit defensive, turning back to crack eggs into the batter. “I didn’t have many Jewish friends growing up, okay? You saw where I grew up. You know I lived in the super-white-bread suburbs, emphasis on white. And Christian.”
Every time Patrick talked about where he grew up, Josh wanted to hug him close and never let him go. It was something about his tone of voice, the way it pitched up and hollowed out.
“You should come to our Hanukkah celebration,” Josh offered. “You’re not going home until right before Christmas, right? Hanukkah’s over before Christmas this year. We celebrate on the eighth night together—we have a family party.”
“If it’s a family thing, though—”
“No, it’s totally fine, you can meet my parents! It’ll be great.”
Josh realized as he said it that he did want that. He wanted his parents to meet Patrick. He was ready. God, that was terrifying.
He noticed then that Patrick paled—a true feat considering how pale Patrick was to begin with—and bit his lip.
“Unless that’s….not cool,” Josh said. “Because if you’re not okay with it—”
“No, that’s a really nice offer,” Patrick said. “I just…”
His shoulders curved inward. When Patrick got nervous, he made himself smaller, collapsing in as if he thought he could disappear.
“What?” Josh asked, getting up from the kitchen table and wrapping his arms around Patrick’s waist. He hooked his chin over Patrick’s shoulder and kissed his neck lightly, feeling Patrick relax against him.
“I’m afraid your parents won’t like me,” Patrick said in a small voice.
Josh was surprised. He knew this part of Patrick existed—the freaked-out kid who was always bracing to be bullied—but he’d seen it less lately, less since they’d gotten together. Less even since Thanksgiving, after Patrick went home and slayed some demons from his past.
But Josh knew from demons, and you didn’t always get to choose when they were dead.
“Dude, my parents will love you,” Josh said. “They’ll be so excited to meet someone I’ve actually been dating for longer than a week.”
Patrick turned to look at Josh, and then snorted with laughter, his body shaking against Josh’s.
“That sounded wrong,” Josh said. “I didn’t mean—”
“Well, if the standards are that low,” Patrick said, his mouth turned up at the corner into a smirk, “I feel less nervous.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Am I the one who captured the heart of this heartbreaker?” Patrick said. He caught Josh’s hand in his, turning in his arms so they were facing each other and pressing their palms together. “Did I change your philandering ways? Convert you to monogamy—”
“Oh my God,” Josh said, twisting in his embrace. “You are officially uninvited.”
“Too late, Joshua!” Patrick exclaimed. “I see now that I have claimed your wastrel soul, charmed you with my magical spell—”
“Shut up,” Josh said, pushing Patrick away. “You’re the actual worst.”
“You’re just mad because I’ve tamed your wild spirit, you stallion,” Patrick said.
“Make your pancakes,” Josh said.
“Pancakes of love,” Patrick clarified, and Josh collapsed into the kitchen chair, defeated.
* * *
Ever since Thanksgiving, Josh and Ramon had been talking again, and it was weird.
Or, maybe what was weird was that it wasn’t weird. It was so easy to talk to Ramon, as easy as it had ever been. Ramon texted him almost every day, sending him pics of things he termed “crazy LA shit” and messages about his classes. Ramon, like Josh, was trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to be doing after college, having spent most of his time at UCLA floundering. He’d majored in sociology, but he didn’t know what the hell to do with a degree in it. Every time he mentioned that, Josh would text back: Theater major, dude. I AM SO FUCKED.
Josh couldn’t lie. He liked having Ramon back in his life. Ramon was so solid, so consistent and real. Josh loved his other friends, but they were stoners and flakes, mostly. Ramon wasn’t like that. He was an athlete and ambitious, and he wanted to make a difference in the world.
He liked that he could text Ramon at 4 p.m. about some anxiety around the play he was writing and Ramon took him seriously, because he knew how much this meant to him. None of Alan’s bullshit, like: What is this, you want to win a Tony? We’re writing about Pat the Bunny. Ramon understood that Josh saw every word he wrote as practice and every scene he put down as formative.
Yes, that was pretentious as hell, but it was who Josh was. He didn’t do anything halfway. He didn’t know how. Part of him was terrified
to graduate, and part of him couldn’t wait to be out in the real world, where he knew there were other people who felt the way he did, who had a fire lit under them too. People who thought: I’m going to do this, and nobody is going to stop me.
One day after a particularly frustrating rehearsal for Josh’s end-of-semester project, Josh texted Ramon: Sometimes I wish I could go back to children’s theater.
Ooooh boy, Ramon wrote. Things are so bad you want to go back to doing Oliver?
I never did Oliver, Josh wrote.
Well, whatever singing kid part you played, Ramon said. I don’t know musicals, dude. Name some for me. It won’t mean anything to me, but I can google.
Well, I can tell you that I didn’t get Billy Elliot, Josh said. Apparently I “can’t dance ballet to save my life.”
How long have you been carrying that around? Ramon wrote. You sound like you’re still bitter.
Sure am, Josh texted, and Ramon sent him a laughing emoji.
I’m just used to getting what I want, Josh wrote.
There was a pause in what had been a rapid-fire stream of texts, and then Ramon wrote: Yeah, no kidding.
That tripped Josh up. What was Ramon trying to say?
Josh wasn’t an idiot. He knew they were talking about things like they used to, but with one notable exception: They weren’t talking about the two of them. Not their shared history, or the way Ramon had dropped that bomb on him at the cafe, or what that all even meant. Ramon had basically said he could have had feelings for Josh. I was into it, maybe. I could have been into it with you.
But even if Ramon had feelings for him now, then what did it matter? Josh had a boyfriend. Like, an actual serious boyfriend, one who he genuinely cared about. One he was planning on taking to meet his parents, for God sakes.
You should tell Ramon about Patrick, the voice in his head said. You owe them both that much.
Josh pushed that voice aside.
You are definitely ready for the holiday break, Ramon texted him when Josh didn’t reply. Hang in, dude.
Josh sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
“You okay?” he heard Patrick say.
Josh opened his eyes. Patrick was standing in the doorway of Josh and Kai’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe.
“I’m good,” Josh said. “Just tired.”
Patrick gave him a sweet smile, and Josh felt like shit.
29
“Hanukkah par-tay,” Isaiah practically shouted in Patrick’s face when Josh pushed open the front door to his parents’ house. “Oh, sorry. I forgot you brought a guest.”
Patrick knew he was probably looking a little wide-eyed, staring around the foyer of Josh’s enormous house. He must have been even more obvious than he thought because Josh said, “I know this house can be intimidating. I don’t think of my family as being that wealthy because I grew up with kids whose parents were tech millionaires and it’s all relative, right? I realize that makes me sound like an asshole, but, like…my parents may have their fair share of art they’ve collected and oriental rugs and dark wood furniture, but a lot of it belonged to my grandparents? And my friend Yao had a golf course. Like, attached to his house.”
Patrick tried to process all of this, especially because Isaiah and Josh seemed to be expecting him to respond. It was a lot.
“This is beautiful,” Patrick said.
“Thank you, I had absolutely nothing to do with it,” Isaiah said. He held out his hand, and Patrick shook it. “You must be Patrick.”
“Yes, Patrick, this is Isaiah,” Josh said. “Isaiah, Patrick.”
“This is Lucy,” Isaiah said, gesturing to the petite, black-haired girl to his left. She was wearing leggings and a sparkly off-the-shoulder top and black boots, and she basically looked like a rock star. This made sense, as Josh had told Patrick she was a musician.
“Nice to meet you, Lucy,” Patrick said, and Lucy smiled at him.
“Enchante,” Lucy said.
“Do you know how exciting it is for us to get to meet one of Josh’s paramours?” Isaiah said. “Because it’s pretty exciting.”
“Josh did tell me that this is not a thing that happens very often,” Patrick said.
“Possibly never,” Isaiah said.
“Isaiah, stop being a dick,” Josh said. “Don’t you have some table-setting to do or something?”
“Josh, don’t call your brother names,” Josh’s mother’s lilting voice came from the top of the stairs, and she descended the staircase wearing a flowing, silky dress that seemed to waft around her. She was wearing perfume that smelled like honeysuckle.
“Patrick,” she said, kissing him on both cheeks. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
“Thank you for having me on such short notice,” Patrick said. He felt flushed and overwhelmed.
“Oh, sweetie, of course,” she said. “Do you know how thrilling it is to have Josh bring a boyfriend over?”
“So I keep hearing,” Patrick said, pursing his lips. He was trying to contain his amusement for Josh’s sake, but it was hard.
“We have always been very accepting of Josh’s romantic and sexual preferences,” his mother told Patrick confidentially. “It’s our belief that all romantic unions are beautiful, no matter how they occur or who they involve, but Josh can be—”
“Latkes happening in the kitchen!” came Josh’s father’s voice, and Josh looked like he had never been so grateful for his father’s tendency to interrupt at inopportune moments than he was right now.
“Patrick, how do you feel about potato pancakes?” Josh’s mother asked.
“I’m pretty happy with anything that involves potatoes,” Patrick said. “I’ve got Irish roots.”
She clapped her hands. “Well, that’s delightful. What do you know about the Maccabees?”
“That they were Jewish soldiers,” Patrick said, “who defeated King Antiochus and his armies after they outlawed Judaism and dedicated the Temple to worshipping Greek idols.”
“I didn’t know you knew so much about Hanukkah,” Josh whispered, and Patrick held and squeezed Josh’s hand.
“I did a little research,” Patrick said. “I figure you know lots about Christmas, so it’s only fair.”
“Hot,” Josh murmured, and Patrick felt himself blush to his roots.
* * *
Josh and Isaiah lit the menorah together, Josh using the shamash to move the flame from candle to candle as Isaiah said a prayer that began with Baruch atah, Adonai. Patrick watched everything with a keen sort of fascination, so glad that he’d done so much reading beforehand. Still, Patrick had never actually watched someone light a menorah. It was beautiful and felt profound.
Afterwards, around the dinner table, plates laden with latkes and sour cream and apple sauce, Josh’s parents grilled Patrick about his college experience.
“Favorite class?” his mother asked.
“I like my creative writing class a lot,” Patrick said. “It’s cool to be able to take a class in writing. In high school, I just did it on the side.”
“What kind of writing do you like to do?” his father asked.
“All kinds, really,” Patrick said. “Fiction, screenwriting, maybe even a children’s book. Anything someone might want to pay me for.”
Josh’s father laughed. “See, we need Josh to have that kind of attitude,” he said. “I am fairly certain Josh only has life goals that will give him no financial stability at all.”
Josh frowned, but Patrick said, “I don’t think writing will ever pay my bills, truthfully. I’ll probably end up doing something else on the side. Maybe teaching.”
“Patrick has a beautiful voice,” Josh put in.
“I don’t know about that—”
“Oh, c’mon, you do,” Josh said. “It’s, like…otherworldly. Amazing.”
“Do we need to have a sing-off?” Isaiah asked. “Lucy versus Patrick?”
Patrick pinched Josh hard on the arm, and he barely stifled his yelp. He appr
eciated Josh’s faith in him, but the last thing he wanted to do was engage in a sing-off with a real rock star.
“Actually,” Isaiah said, “Lucy and I have some news that we’d like to make official.”
Patrick felt relieved the subject matter had switched from anything that involved him having to sing in public. Josh perked up.
Isaiah took Lucy’s hand and lifted it, and Patrick realized that amidst the many rings that Lucy wore, there was one that stood out for its placement on a particular finger: demure, a small diamond on a silver band.
“Oh my goodness,” Josh’s mother said, lifting her hand to her mouth, and her eyes welled up with tears.
“We’re getting married,” Isaiah said. “We’re making this ish legal.”
“I hope you said it in a more elegant way than that when you proposed, Isaiah,” Josh’s father said. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were suspiciously bright.
“It was very romantic,” Lucy said. “He asked me in the Rose Garden in Golden Gate Park at sunset.”
“Dude,” Josh said. “Congratulations!”
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “Congratulations.”
Josh got up from the table and enveloped Isaiah in a tight hug. Isaiah held him close, his hands bunched in the fabric of Josh’s shirt. Patrick found himself wondering what it would be like to have a brotherly relationship like the one Josh and Isaiah had. Patrick loved his sister so much, but it wasn’t the same.
Josh gave Isaiah a final smack on the back and went back to Patrick, sliding into the chair next to him.
“Sorry,” Josh said. “I didn’t know it was going to be quite such an intense family party.”
“No worries,” Patrick said. “Should I go?” He lifted his eyes to Josh’s.
“No way,” Josh said. “Why would you need to go?”
“I mean, if it’s a family party,” Patrick said. “I know I’m not…”
“You have every right to be here,” Josh said.
“Really?” Patrick said.
His eyes glinted, and Josh slid his arm around Patrick’s shoulders, pulling him close.
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