by A. M. Arthur
The movie droned on, some mystery that Gavin was only giving half his attention. He rarely sat still for an entire movie anyway, and the only thing keeping him still today was Jace. He calmed the racing side of Gavin’s brain, helped steady him when he was likely to act a little nuts. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked it. And if having it meant keeping their relationship a secret for now, he’d deal.
An out-of-place smell caught his attention. Gavin sniffed the air, inhaling hard a few times to try and place it—onions. The hell? He had to be imagining it this time. There was no reason he should smell onions in the trailer.
Jace’s ass began playing a few chords to a popular rock ballad. He lifted up and pulled out his phone. Gavin was nosy enough to glance at the screen: Dad’s Cell.
“Hey,” Jace said into the phone. Keith’s voice on the other end was an unintelligible rumble. “No, I’m fine, and I can’t believe he called you.”
Jace’s knee, had to be.
“Okay, yes, Dad, I’ll be home for dinner. Six. Bye.” Jace dropped his phone onto the floor, then pressed back against Gavin’s chest with a deep sigh.
Gavin glanced at the clock on the microwave. Quarter until five. “Dinner date?” he asked.
“Mom’s making pot roast.”
“Sounds tasty.”
“She also invited Rey and Samuel over to thank Rey for not running me over with his car today, hence the insistence I attend.”
Gavin snorted laughter. “Your mother is…”
“Strange?”
“Forgiving.”
Jace shrugged, attempting casual, but his body was tense. “Well, it was my fault, and Rey gave me a ride so I didn’t have to walk and make it worse.”
It clicked for Gavin. “You’re worried that your parents are going to notice.”
“Notice what?”
Having Jace facing away from him was awkward for the conversation, so Gavin twisted them both around enough to look him in the eyes. “Jace, if your parents haven’t looked at you and thought ‘hey, my kid’s queer’ yet, they won’t suddenly do it because a gay couple is having dinner at their house.”
Jace’s face colored. “I know it’s stupid, but what if they do?”
“They won’t. Just lock Rachel in the attic for the duration of dinner, and you’re all set.”
He groaned and pressed his face into Gavin’s shoulder. “This sucks.”
“It’s one night.”
“Wish you could come.”
Muffled though the words were, their meaning wasn’t lost on Gavin. “That would be a little obvious, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah. Nice thought, though.”
“Great thought, actually.” He nearly added that he hoped for a rain check but didn’t want to push his luck. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
They sat together for a few minutes longer, neither quite ready to break the spell they’d cast over themselves. Gavin knew that Jace would have to face his parents sooner or later, both about school and his sexuality. And he hoped Jace knew that he’d be there to support him no matter what or when.
Yeah, Gavin was falling hard and fast for the metaphorical boy next door.
God help him.
Mom’s car was already in the driveway when they arrived, so Jace resisted the strong urge to kiss Gavin goodbye before he climbed out of the Jeep. He walked up to the porch where he waited until Gavin pulled back out and onto the street. Every time they separated, he felt cold, like the thing that kept him warm despite all the other things inside trying to crush him down was taken away.
He let himself inside a house scented with roasting beef and spices. His mouth watered even as his stomach twisted up angrily. He followed the smell into the kitchen, where his mom was adding cut vegetables to a salad bowl.
“Hey, honey,” she said with a warm smile. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s fine, just a little sore,” he replied. “I’ve been putting ice on it.”
“You really should have let Rey take you to the hospital for an x-ray. What if it’s broken?”
“It’s not even sprained, Mom. I ran track for four years, I’d know if it was worse than it is, okay?”
She blinked at him over slices of cucumber, and he realized how sharp his tone had been. She was trying so hard, and he was practically needling her into meddling.
“Where are Rachel and Lauren?” he asked.
“Rachel is eating at Molly’s, and Lauren is out with that boy Alex she met at church on Sunday.”
“They aren’t eating here?”
“No.” Her tone dared him to make an issue out of it, so he shut up. They didn’t have to stay here and make nice with houseguests, because they hadn’t been dumb enough to run out in the road and into the side of a car. “Can you set the table for me, please?”
He did so silently, careful to limp as little as possible. His knee did feel better—a few more days of ice and ibuprofen, and he’d be good as new. Physically. He still hadn’t solved any of his other looming issues.
When he went back into the kitchen for paper napkins, Mom blindsided him with, “I had lunch at Dixie’s today. Lucìa says you and Gavin have been spending a lot of time together this week.”
Jace pulled a wad of napkins out of the wood holder near the stove, careful to keep his expression neutral, even though his insides were shaking apart. “Yeah, we have. He has a Wii and he’s good at Resident Evil.”
“I’m surprised, is all. I thought you’d be hanging out with your old friends while you’re all home.”
He’d barely spoken to any of his old friends all semester, and he had very little to say to any of them now. Only he couldn’t tell his mother that without making her worry and ask questions he wasn’t about to answer. “I guess we’re growing apart,” he finally said. “It happens. Part of growing up, right?”
“Sometimes. Just be careful.”
“Resident Evil is a game, Mom. It won’t hurt me.”
She rolled her eyes at his joke. “I meant with Gavin.”
Irritation prickled across his skin. “Why? Because he’s gay?”
“No, honey, because he’s older than you, and some of his friends are…questionable.”
Rachel’s warning about Casper came back like a slap. “Gavin’s cool. Can we drop it?”
“For now.”
He finished setting the table, then answered the doorbell when it rang. Rey and Samuel were standing on the porch with a six-pack of some microbrew—trying something new with Keith had become something of a tradition when Samuel came over for dinner. He let them in and hung their coats in the hall closet.
“How’s the knee?” Rey asked as he led them down the hall to the living room.
“Sore, but better. No biggie.”
Mom came out of the kitchen and welcomed them both with hugs. Jace hung back like a piece of furniture while they chatted about him, his knee and how nice Rey was for taking care of him. Jace resisted rolling his eyes several times. Rey gave him several sympathetic looks. Samuel looked generally perturbed. While Rey had a quiet energy about him, Samuel was built like a linebacker and crowded the room with his sheer presence.
Dad came home a few minutes later, and the knee conversation repeated itself. A buzzer went off in the kitchen and Mom declared dinner was ready. Jace took his usual seat at the dining table, while Rey and Samuel sat opposite him. Dad cut the roast. Mom kept conversation going. Jace covered half his plate with salad so he could get away with only one slice of beef and a few carrots.
He tried to chime in when he was included, but Jace felt distanced from the meal, like he was watching the whole thing happen on television. He nibbled on lettuce and cucumbers and cut up his pot roast into small pieces that he hid under the half-eaten salad. He was so intent on his plate that he didn’t realize he’d been asked a direction question until someone said his name really loud.
“Huh?” His head snapped up, and he blinked around the table.
“I asked
if your grades had arrived yet,” Dad said.
“Oh, um, I don’t think so.”
“I didn’t see anything in the mail,” Mom said. “Rachel’s haven’t arrived, either. I’m sure they’ll come in a few days.”
“Probably.”
She was staring at his plate, her expression a little too schooled, a little too calm. Had she been watching him pretend to eat? He speared a small piece of beef, shoved it into his mouth, and forced himself to chew. Swallow. It settled in his stomach like a dull lump. He did the same with a carrot, until she stopped staring.
“Have you picked your classes for next semester?” Rey asked.
Jace stared at him until the question made sense. Cold dread washed over him at the idea of going back—not after the peace he’d found at home. With Gavin. “Yeah, I did. It’s more general education credits. Boring stuff.”
“Have you declared a major?”
“No.” His stomach sloshed, unhappy with the food he’d put in there. Furious at having all of the room’s attention on him.
Rey tilted his head curiously. “I guess the interesting classes will come soon enough then.”
“I guess so.” His gorge rose—oh no. “May I be excused?”
Jace didn’t wait for an answer. He bolted from his chair, down the hall, and took the stairs two at a time. He almost didn’t make it into the upstairs bathroom before he threw up everything he’d managed to force down at the table. Sweat broke out on his forehead and back, and his eyes watered from the violence of his body turning inside out.
When the heaves stopped and his stomach settled a bit, he flushed the toilet. He stood on shaky legs and rinsed out his mouth, then splashed some water on his face. God, he looked terrible. Pale and bony, with dark smudges under his eyes.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Honey? Are you all right?” Mom asked.
Jace was tired of people asking him if he was all right. He wasn’t all right, and he wanted to shout that from the goddamn rooftops, so everyone would know and quit asking. Instead, he flung open the door and gave his mother a pitiful look. “I think I ate something bad at lunch earlier,” he lied.
“Oh, Jace, come here.”
He let her fold him into her arms. The hug and unconditional love made his eyes sting more, and he forced those tears away. She led him down the hall to his room and tucked him into bed. Even fetched a basin in case he had to barf again, then promised to check on him later. He waved her off, grateful to have a reason to ditch the rest of dinner, but sorry he was lying to her again.
He dozed for a while and was jerked awake by a body bouncing heavily onto his bed.
“Food poisoning, really?” Rachel asked in a stage whisper. “That’s how you get out of dinner?”
“Fuck you.” He yanked the blanket up and over his head, in no mood to deal with his nosy sister.
“Fuck you too, bro.” She pulled the blanket back down. “Are you really sick?”
“Ask the toilet I barfed into earlier.”
She studied him a moment. “You do kind of look like death warmed over.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Everyone’s worried about you.”
“It’ll pass.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t the food at Mineo’s that got you sick, because you didn’t eat anything. You left your sandwich on the table.”
He had no energy to defend himself, so he grunted at her.
“Jace, what else have you eaten today besides the pot roast you upchucked?”
He tried for the blanket again, but she sat on the edge of it, keeping it flat against his ribs. He really didn’t need the interrogation, and he didn’t have the muscle control to make her get the hell out of his room. “I don’t remember,” he said.
“Liar.” She leaned down, short hair curtaining her face. “If I call Gavin and ask what he’s seen you eat this week, what will he say?” He didn’t answer. Her face soured. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“I am eating.”
“Nibbling on lettuce and guzzling water isn’t eating. How much weight have you lost?”
“Dunno.”
“You don’t know?” Her tone suggested she didn’t believe him.
“What am I, a chick on a diet? How the hell do I know how much weight I’ve lost?”
She pressed her lips tight, working something out that Jace didn’t care about. He wanted to sleep, and he wanted for this entire awful night to disappear. He wanted to be back in Gavin’s bed where things made sense.
“Jace, if you don’t let me help you, I’m going to have to tell Mom and Dad.”
He sat up so fast his head spun. Rachel grabbed his arm to keep him upright, and he clutched blindly at her hand while his eyesight refocused. “Tell them what?”
“They’ve noticed too, you know. You’re short-tempered, you don’t eat, you barely talk, and you move through this house like a ghost. Everyone’s worried.”
“I’m—”
“If you say you’re fine, I’ll punch you in the face, I swear to God.”
He blinked at her, finally seeing the stark fear in her eyes. He hadn’t seen her this terrified since May, when she’d shown him the home pregnancy test and collapsed in his arms. But she wasn’t scared for herself this time; she was scared for him. And he didn’t know how to tell her what was wrong—she’d only blame herself, and he’d rather die than hurt her like that. She’d been through enough.
“I’m dealing with it,” he said with more conviction than he felt.
“Why do you have to deal with it alone? I owe you so much.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Jace pulled her into a hug, hating himself for making his sister cry. She wanted so badly to help him, and in any other situation, he’d have let her. Not this. He didn’t know how to tell her that during her bout with depression early in the semester, she’d come very close to flunking her midterms. He didn’t know how to tell her that she’d passed her Sociology midterm because he bought a paper for her and turned it in with her name on it.
He didn’t know how to tell her that he’d been caught, and that he’d been blackmailed to keep them both out of trouble. Or that he was scared to go back to Temple, because the blackmail could start all over again.
He couldn’t tell her any of that. She’d dealt with enough.
“I promise, Rach, if it was something you could help me with, I’d tell you.” It was mostly true too. If he came clean, she’d want to tell their parents everything, from the blackmail to the abortion. They’d both end up expelled for cheating, and her med school plans would be ruined because he’d made a stupid choice to buy a term paper. That couldn’t happen.
“This isn’t about you being gay, is it?” she whispered.
“No.”
“School?”
“I’m not telling you, so stop fishing.”
She pulled back and sniffled hard. “Will you take care of yourself? Please?”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
After she left, he stared at the ceiling for a long time, wishing it had answers for him. Because he sure as hell didn’t have any answers for himself.
10
Gavin parked the Jeep in his spot in the narrow driveway, next to the empty place where his mother’s car would usually be. Instead, it was sitting at Joe’s Garage until morning, when Joe Tully could look at it and tell them why the damn thing wouldn’t start. The repair bill wasn’t something either of them really wanted to face, but Mama was taking the extra expense with her usual good humor. She’d called him half an hour ago to pick her up from the garage, and she was still smiling when she climbed out of the passenger side of the Jeep.
“Why are you so happy?” he asked, curious about her elevated mood.
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked toward the trailer door. Mama said, “I had an excellent night at work, mijo.”<
br />
“Did someone accidentally tip you a fifty?”
She laughed as she reached for her house key. “No, nothing like that.”
“Dixie give you a raise?”
“No.”
“Peace in the Middle East?”
“God willing, but no.”
Gavin was stumped. He contemplated the reason for her mood while she pushed her key into the door. It turned too easily. Crap, had he forgotten to lock the door in his rush to go pick her up? He didn’t think so. He hadn’t forgotten to lock a door behind him since the sperm donor moved out.
Mama pushed the door and went inside, turning on the light as she passed the switch plate. Gavin followed on her heels. The screen door slammed shut behind him. He froze as the strong smell of raw onion made his nose tingle and his eyes sting. His heart seized. He grabbed Mama’s arm before she could go farther into the trailer. She stopped, didn’t fight him or ask—she knew too. He gave her elbow a strong squeeze.
“Dios mio, I forgot my purse in the car,” Mama said, and he couldn’t have loved her more for understanding. “I’ll be right back.”
“Want me to fix you some tea?” he asked, proud of his casual tone of voice.
“That would be lovely.”
Gavin shoved his cell phone at her, and as soon as she was outside, he dug a metal baseball bat out from behind the coat tree. His heart pounded so loudly it blocked out the rush of blood in his ears. He checked the small kitchen first, which was empty. The only thing out of place was an empty glass in the sink that hadn’t been there when he left. He tightened his grip on the bat.
Looking around by himself was idiotic, and he knew that with every step he took through the living room to the hallway. Knew he should go outside and wait for the police to check the trailer. They had guns and training, and all he had was a bat and some misplaced sense of nobility that might get him hurt tonight.
The stink of onion was stronger in the hallway. His bedroom door and the bathroom door were both open, the lights off. He paused, listened. Mama’s door was shut, a thin line of light glowing beneath it. Something behind the door shifted. Gavin took a step, and the floor creaked. His heart nearly stopped.