The Icicles

by R. W. Clinger

  “Now, I’m worried the same thing is going to happen to me. Is this the beginning to the end of our relationship? Are we done? Will we survive this trip? Can we keep us together that long?”

  “You hate Ohio,” Jonah murmurs, semi-smiling, unable to take him seriously.

  “That’s not my point, Jonah, and you know it! I could lose you tomorrow evening when we drive back home! We could lose everything we’ve built. Don’t you think I’m worried about that? Don’t you believe I love you with all my heart and soul, and that I’m afraid of losing you?”

  “You’re over-thinking the situation. Give it a rest. Nothing’s going to happen like that. Trust me. My family’s going to love you. They hated Lucas because he was arrogant, a success story, and wealthy. He was totally different than the Icicles, and that’s why he was pushed out of my life and ran away. This won’t happen to you. Our boyfriendhood will still stay intact.”

  Sandy pleads, “How do you know your mother’s going to like me? Jack has told me nightmares about your boyfriends when you’ve brought them home. Pam beats them up. She’s called them fat, incompetent, and worthless. She hasn’t liked a single one. Don’t you think this is heavy on my mind? Don’t you?”

  “Fuck Jack. He’s not a part of this visit. Forget everything he’s told you. You’re panicking over nothing. You’ve taken him too serious. Relax, Sandy. Just relax and try to find some joy out of this trip and holiday.”

  “But I trust him, Jonah. He’s one of my best friends. He’s prepared me for your family. He knows what they have done in the past.”

  Jonah reaches across the seat and places his left palm on Sandy’s right thigh. He squeezes and whispers, “Trust me, Sandy. I’m not going to let my family eat you up and spit you out. I promise to protect you. You’ll survive this. We’ll survive this.”

  Silence. Coldness.

  Eventually, Sandy replies with, “I’ll trust you. I honestly don’t know why, but I will.”

  “Good. And thank you. This is going to be the best Christmas Eve and Day ever. I can feel it in my bones. You’ll leave unharmed. You’re not Lucas Beam, and you never will be.”

  “Ohio,” Sandy responds. “You’re right. I hate that fucking state. It’s so flat.” Sandy continues to drive, gripping the truck’s steering wheel. He sees a sign for Channing, ten miles north, but he doesn’t smile.

  * * * *

  It feels to Jonah as if he’s emotionally gearing up and going to battle with his family, just as he always feels when attending one of the Icicle functions. As Sandy pulls his truck into the empty parking spot outside 393 Ross Street, Jonah cages his heart, tries to put blinders over his eyes to things he doesn’t want to see today and tomorrow, and pulls a metal-clad tarp over his thoughts. He knows he’ll have to keep some of his verbal remarks to himself in hopes to avoid offending his relatives for their idiosyncrasies. It’s better to be polite than to be an asshole, he guesses, but doesn’t always live by such a theory, at least not lately.

  “We’re here,” Sandy says, smiling. Always handsome. Delicious. “Am I ready for this, Jonah?”

  Jonah shakes his head. “Neither of us are ready for this. All I can say is hang on for the ride because it may become bumpy.”

  In unison, they climb out of the truck, unprepared for whatever will happen next during their time together, entering what Jonah thinks as hell, but keeps such a title from escaping his mouth.

  * * * *

  Jonah’s parent’s house is nothing extravagant: a two-floor Tudor with a castle-like tower in gray-black brick on its left side. There is no front porch. Instead, three ice-covered cement steps lead up to a wrought-iron door comprised of metal roses and thorns. It reminds Jonah of Game of Thrones; a gift from Jonah’s father to his wife on their fifteenth anniversary that he calls the Beauty and the Beast door. A tiny yard decorates the house with a picket fence topped in snow.

  “Home sweet home,” Jonah says.

  “So, this is where you grew up?”

  “I did. The first eighteen years of my life. Then I went to Templeton College and gained a degree in business.”

  Sandy peers at the house, tilts his head to the right, and asks, “How did five people sleep in such a small place?”

  “We were like plague-infected rats living on top of each other.” Jonah chuckles. “There are three tiny bedrooms on the second floor. The bathroom is on the first floor, left of the living room. I slept with my brother, Jake. We had bunk buds. Willa had her own room. Mom and Dad had their room. It was tight most of the time. Now you can understand why my dorm room at college felt like a palace. Remember I told you that?”

  Sandy nods, chuckles. “Did you and your brother jack off together during puberty?”

  “Gross, Sandy. Don’t say shit like that. My brother and I hated each other and avoided doing anything together. We were typical no-nonsense teenagers.”

  “Kidding.” Sandy follows Jonah through the open fence, over the icy cobblestone walkway, and up to the three-step stoop.

  The front door opens as if on command, and Jonah’s mother stands within its frame, scowling. Darkness surrounds her, and she wears a wool sweater, Columbia snow jacket, and boots. She looks up at the pair of men. Something stirs in her stare. Something fantastical and of science fiction. Strangeness with an edge of curtness.

  “You’re late,” she immediately says, deep-toned and obviously on edge. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

  Sandy and Jonah left the city late, but she doesn’t need to know this.

  Jonah lies and says, “There was a lot of traffic. Plus, it’s been snowing all day. That slowed us down.”

  Pam snaps, “You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes. A mother always knows when her son is being foolish.”

  Jonah steps aside and tells his mother, “Mom, this is Sandy. He’s my boyfriend.”

  A sigh escapes Pam, and she shakes her head. She sounds disgusted. “He doesn’t have a vagina and breasts. Your sister and I were both under the impression Sandy was a she. We thought you were seeing a woman. Unless, it’s a transgender.”

  “Christ, Mother. Stop. You’re being rude and vulgar. You know I’m gay. And Sandy is a man.”

  Both Jonah and Sandy step into the dark and cold house.

  To Jonah’s surprise, Pam doesn’t shake Sandy’s hand, acknowledging him. Nor does she welcome him to the Icicle residence. Instead, she glares at him from toes to head, studies him, spins around, and heads towards the kitchen, across from the living room, walking away and making an elaborate and dramatic exit with a continuous string of sighs.

  Willa, cute and blonde, greets both men with hugs. She, too, wears a sweater and her winter jacket. She seems happy to see them, brimming with a smile. When giving her brother a hug, Willa, a foot shorter than Jonah, snuggles her head against his chest and says, “I’ve missed you. It feels like forever since we’ve seen each other.”

  “It was Thanksgiving. Just a few weeks ago.” Jonah rubs a palm in circular motion over the center of his sister’s back and comforts her.

  “It still feels like forever. Things are never right in this family when you’re not around. You should move out of that dreadful city and buy the house next door. The Panders retired in Florida. Bev and Chris said they were done with the snow.”

  “I like the city. It’s home. Channing is a little too cramped for me,” Jonah says.

  Following the hug, Jonah steps away from his sibling and sees that the shadows in the living room haven’t changed in the last four decades. It’s as if he has stepped back in time because of the same lime green reading chair and sofa, shag-green carpet, chipped coffee table from 1982, and a grandfather clock in the far left corner that never worked. There’s a fire in the hearth and family photographs of the Icicles (mostly baby pictures of Pam and Bill’s children) on the paneled walls.

  Willa says to Sandy, “You’re handsome. A doll. I can’t wait to see all of you in the light. Did you ever model?”

  *
* * *

  Truth is, Sandy has modeled. At the age of eighteen, he worked for a small Pittsburgh company called Humankind, a modeling agency that paid very little cash and had the reputation that its owners, Joel and Jimmy Davison (both in their middle thirties at the time), were said to have drugged their employees and raped them. Although Sandy wasn’t drugged, he did end up naked under Jimmy Davison numerous times, learning not only the ins and out of low-budget modeling, but also the vivid and intoxicating details of having relentless sex with an older man. “I have done a little modeling,” Sandy admits, proud of his work in front of the camera. So happy there. Always.

  Just as Sandy begins telling the facts of his short modeling career, Bobo’s moving bulk exits the bathroom to the far right. He tromps through the dark living room and rushes towards Sandy. He doesn’t wear a jacket, sporting a chest of steel muscles, hard nipples, and jeans.

  Before Sandy realizes what’s happening, he’s trapped against the gym teacher’s firm chest and one of Bobo’s hard, T-shirt-covered nipples press against his bottom lip.

  “You’re a fucking hot queer, man. I’ve done guys like you. Good to know my brother-in-law knows a handsome man to put his dick into. He’s doing this family well.”

  Bobo releases Sandy and steps a few inches away from him. He rubs his palms against the scientist’s chest, feeling a flat stomach and firm pecs. His large palms twist against Sandy’s chest for a few seconds.

  “Nice to know you work out. I respect a man who takes care of his body.” Unseen because of the evening’s darkness, one of his palms travels southward and gropes Sandy’s dick and balls, squeezing them. “I had a pair of these in my mouth that were about the same size as yours. Sometimes, I can’t get enough of a man’s package.”

  “Bobo, why are your hands on my boyfriend?” Jonah asks.

  Willa leans into her husband and swats his palms away from Sandy’s goods. “You know your condition, Bobo. Stop! Stop! Stop!”

  Bobo laughs, just as he always laughs when crossing a line and taking things to the next level.

  Sandy steps backwards, freeing himself from the scene. He jokes, “Damn, Bobo, you’re handy. Maybe you can jack me off later.”

  Jonah rolls his eyes in the dark; no one can see. “Don’t escalate the situation, Sandy.”

  “Yes, don’t.” Willa scowls at Sandy, resembling her mother. “Bobo doesn’t need to hear things like that, or he’ll never heal.”

  Confused, Sandy thinks: straying hands, condition, healing. None of it makes sense. The scene with Bobo and Willa is something he has to ask Jonah about, of course.

  An ugly, long-haired miniature poodle runs down the stairs, gallops to Sandy’s right leg, and begins to hump it, yapping. The dog slobbers on Sandy’s jeans, the fuzzy beast’s tongue hanging out of its mouth.

  “Jesus Christ!” Jonah sounds like a bullhorn, his voice echoing in the living room. “Get the dog off my boyfriend, Willa! No one should be humping Sandy except for me!”

  “Fuck him, Hornfuzz! Fuck him hard!” Bobo yells, in stitches, coaching the dog.

  “Stop! Stop!” Willa pulls Hornfuzz away from Sandy’s leg. “And shut your mouth, Bobo! Shut up! Now!”

  Once she pulls the dog off Sandy’s right leg, Hornfuzz scampers in to the kitchen, yapping.

  Bobo chuckles, scratching his nuts with a right hand.

  Pissed, Willa attempts to punch her husband in his right bicep, misses, and nails the man in his right pec. “You didn’t have to instigate that.”

  Jonah shakes his head. “What a fucked-up family I have.”

  Sandy sings, “Crazy bells all the way.”

  * * * *

  “Babe, can you get our bags out of the truck?” Jonah asks Sandy, granting his boyfriend a break from the chaos.

  Two overstuffed Nike hockey bags are needed for the trip, perfectly packed with all of their necessary and queenly essentials: three different types of shoes, makeup for any visible wrinkles, long-sleeved clothes, an assortment of hats, and so many other pieces of attire that probably should have been left at their houses in the city.

  Sandy grins and replies, “I’d love to. If I don’t come back in a few minutes, I’m smoking.”

  It’s one of Sandy’s worst habits. He does have other bad habits, like getting up for work late, not bathing every day, and leaving his clothes scattered everywhere when he sleeps over. Habits Jonah has become immune to, loving the man for who he is and his differences, even the filthy addiction of smoking.

  “Take your time, guy. I understand,” Jonah says, giving Sandy permission to smoke, or whatever the man wants to do. After Sandy leaves to fetch their bags, Jonah turns to his sister and asks, “Where’s Dad?”

  “Upstairs napping.”

  “Never around, as always.”

  “Of course. We expect nothing else.”

  Bobo says from the sofa, “We’ve gotten used to it.” Then he adds, “Your boyfriend’s handsome. I hope I didn’t overdo his welcome.”

  “You overdo everything,” Willa says. She leans over and gives her husband a kiss on his left check. “Just try to leave them alone while they’re here. Poor Sandy doesn’t know your condition yet. Give him a few hours to settle in before we fill him in.”

  Pots and pans clatter in the kitchen. Drawers open and close. Bobo rises from the sofa and trots off to help Pam.

  Jonah asks Willa, “Why’s it so cold in here? And why are the lights off?”

  “The power is out. It went off about fifteen minutes before you and Sandy got here. Mom’s in the kitchen, looking for candles and flashlights.”

  “How long is the power going to be off? Did anyone call the electric company?”

  Willa says, “Bobo called them. The power’s going to be out for the next few hours. Some asshole drunk driver hit two telephone poles in a dump truck and took out transformers on the next block over. The power might not be back on until morning. Who knows?”

  Bobo’s a dipshit, Jonah thinks, but doesn’t say this to his sister. Instead, he simply asks, “What’s going on for dinner?”

  “None of us have talked it over yet. We can’t stay here, though. The ham is undercooked, and the mashed potatoes will be chunky.”

  It takes Willa about one-point-seven milliseconds to bring up the topic Jonah has no interest discussing: Lucas Beam. She leans into her brother as if she is telling him a dirty family secret, gossiping, brushes her winter jacket against his, and whispers, “How’s Lucas? I’ve been thinking about him.”

  His stomach turns, souring. Bile rises in the back of his throat. He’s somewhat dizzy. “We haven’t talked since Easter.”

  “Since Mom told him to get out?”

  A part of Jonah’s heart aches. Not much of it. Just a little. “Yes. It was ugly. He hates me. He’ll always hate me. Not that I blame him.”

  “I’m sure he hates Mom, too.”‘ She rubs Jonah’s back with a gloved palm. “Such a shame. He was the man I thought you were going to marry. I really thought he was going to be my brother-in-law. The way you looked at each other. The way the two of you laughed together. He made you happy. The happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

  “I love Sandy now. He’s good for me. My better half. Everything I’m not, Sandy is special in my life.”

  She pokes him in the chest with an index finger and says, “You were in love with Lucas. The man changed you and made you a better man. I never saw you love a man any more than you did him.”

  Jonah repeats, “I love Sandy now. He’s good for me.”

  She gets so close to his face, their noses almost touch like Eskimos kissing. Her eyes lock on his. “Mom ruined the two of you. She murdered your relationship with Lucas. We all know that. And she ruined a little part of you. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you even came on Thanksgiving and today. I probably wouldn’t have done that if I were in your shoes.”

  “We have to forgive people, even parents. And then you have to move on. This is what I’ve done. I’ve moved on. Sand
y is the second chance I have.”

  “And you’re risking your relationship with him by bringing him home for the holiday? Don’t you think that’s dangerous for your heart?”

  “Everything’s dangerous when it comes to Mom. Both of us know how opinionated and strong she is. She’s like North Korea. We just don’t know when she’s going to blow up our lives.”

  “Jesus,” Willa says. “You nailed it. A spot-on comparison. I’ll protect you and Sandy. Someone needs to look out for the relationship the two of you have while you’re both here.” She pulls away from him, snickers. “And for the record, I’ve never thought you were bringing a woman home. I know better. You’ve been into guys as long as I have. It’s something we have in common.”

  “We would appreciate your protection. Thanks for your love and care.”

  The siblings hug, and Willa kisses Jonah on the cheek. “I love you, big brother. Thanks for coming. And thanks for bringing Sandy. It’s nice to know you can love again after Easter.”

  * * * *

  Sandy enters through the front door with a fresh layer of snow on his shoulders and the case of wine. He smiles at the siblings and jollily asks, “Did you miss me?”

  “Of course, we did. More than you know,” Willa says. “Now, put that down and give me a hug. I like you, Sandy whatever-your-last-name-is. No matter what happens the next two days, I will like you because my brother just admitted he loves you. Twice. You’re his man, and he thinks highly of you.”

  “My last name is Keye.” Sandy says, placing the case of white wine down, next to a walnut bench in the foyer where visitors can sit and remove their shoes and seasonal whatnots. Before he realizes it, Willa has her tiny arms around his frame, squeezing him.

  “Another brother. I can’t get enough of them,” she says. “And such a big one. You definitely work out. Maybe not as much as my husband, but you do.”

  Sandy exits the hug, pulls out two bottles of wine for Willa, and passes them to her. “One for you and one for Bobo. It’s from Jonah and me. Merry Christmas.”