Andy Squared

by Jennifer Lavoie

  The snow fell heavily by the time they reached their house, and the roads were getting slicker by the second. It was hard enough driving with the road conditions, but his shaking hands made it worse.

  When he pulled into the driveway, all the lights were on downstairs. Great, Mom and Dad are home, he thought. This is not going to be good.

  Andrea didn’t bother shutting the door as she leapt from the truck and bolted for the house. The door slammed behind her as she entered, and Andrew stayed in his seat for a few minutes, steeling himself for a confrontation. Large flakes of snow drifted into the cab and landed on the seat and dashboard, melting from the heat.

  When the front door opened and his father looked out, he reluctantly got out of the truck, shut the doors, and slowly made his way up the house while trying to keep a calm look on his face. He stopped in front of his father.

  “What the hell is wrong with your sister? Did something happen out there? She just came in spouting all this stuff and yelling. We can barely understand her. Did someone try something with her?”

  “No, Dad. Nothing happened to her. She’s fine.”

  His father opened the door wider and let him in, and Andrew stepped inside. He set his keys down on the table and started to unzip his jacket when Andrea and his mother came around the corner from the living room.

  “Mom, Dad, your son has something he wants to tell you.”

  They all looked at him and he tensed. “No I don’t. I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, but his cheeks started to burn and he couldn’t stop them. He thought for sure he was about to be sick all over the floor. His stomach clenched tightly and the shaking in his hands moved down to his knees. He leaned against the door frame to stay on his feet.

  “Yes, you do!” she screamed, stomping up to him, just inches away from his face “I saw you! Don’t deny it. I know what I saw. I wasn’t drinking!”

  “Andrew, what is she talking about?”

  “Nothing, she’s not talking about anything. Andrea, let’s talk about this, please? Alone?” he pleaded, reaching out to grab her hand. They’d always confided in each other, so why would she tell them like this without talking to him about it first? Why couldn’t they discuss this like the rational people they always had been?

  Because Andrea hadn’t been rational lately. Ever since the stupid scholarships came along.

  “Nothing? No, we’re not talking about this alone. It’s so disgusting, I can’t even…Mom, Dad,” she said, turning toward them, “I saw Ryder and Andrew kissing. And I don’t mean like…like friends kissing on the cheek. I mean like they were kissing and really getting into it.”

  Andrew narrowed his eyes, barely able to control the anger that rose within him, and he suppressed his desire to be sick.

  His parents turned as one to stare at him. His mother’s eyes were wide and begged him to deny it. A sharp gasp escaped past her open lips. Her face turned pale, almost ghostly, and then colored to the brightest shade of red. His father’s expression was guarded and unreadable, though there was a small flicker of surprise in his eyes. His lips pressed into a firm line.

  “Andrew, is that true?” his mother asked in a nearly inaudible whisper.

  He sighed and took a deep breath before letting it out. What could he do? What should he do? Andrea would convince his parents, and he wouldn’t be able to keep denying it, would he? Maybe for now, but when would it slip out again? He couldn’t keep it from them, or himself, anymore. This wasn’t fair. He should be able to tell them when he was ready, not because Andrea was forcing his hand. “Yeah, it’s true.”

  “Oh, my God,” his mother cried, hand flying up to her mouth.

  “Andrew…”

  He cringed and looked up at his father, expecting the worst.

  “I can’t believe it,” Andrea yelled. “You’re gay! All this time dating all those girls and sleeping with them, and you’re a fag? What a joke! You’ve lied to me this whole time!”

  “Andrea, that’s enough,” Dad warned. “I will not tolerate that kind of language in this house.”

  “No, that’s not enough, Dad. Are you sleeping with Ryder, too? Is it just like being with Cynthia?”

  His mother burst into tears and left the room, her hands covering her face.

  Andrew looked down at the ground, unable to speak. Anger and shock from her violent response to all of this coursed through his body. But his hesitation seemed to give her more fuel for the fire, and she continued. “Oh God,” she whispered. “He’s turned you—”

  “Andrea! That is enough!” his father yelled. “Get upstairs and cool off!”

  Andrew couldn’t stick around to find out what would happen next, so he grabbed his keys, threw the door open, and ran out of the house.

  His father ran onto the driveway and called for him, but Andrew had already backed the truck out of the driveway and set the tires spinning. When his father’s hand hit the tailgate of the truck, Andrew ignored him and continued his race down the road, needing to get away as quickly as possible.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Andrew stood on the Kensingtons’ porch, banging on the door, still trying to calm his racing pulse. A full minute later, the porch lights flickered on and Ryder opened the door. Based on what he wore, Andrew knew that Ryder had already gone to bed. He knew he looked like crap too, as he shivered in the wind.

  “Andrew, what the hell?” Ryder grabbed him, dragged him inside, and then shut the door behind them. Once inside, Ryder dragged him over to the fireplace and stood in front of it with him. Andrew shivered violently again and wrapped his arms around himself.

  “What happened?”

  “Andrea. She told my parents,” he groaned. “After I dropped you off, she didn’t talk to me the entire way home. And as soon as I parked the truck, she bolted for the house and just exploded! She asked if we were having sex in front of my parents, and I couldn’t deny it. Oh God, Ryder. She told my parents. I can’t believe she told them!”

  Ryder jerked back liked Andrew’s words physically assaulted him. “Shit! Andrew, I’m so sorry they found out this way. Are you okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Andrew and pulling him close. “How did they take it?”

  “I didn’t stick around to wait and see what they would say. I got the hell out of there.”

  Ryder pulled back to look at him. “In this storm? You could have been killed, Andy.”

  “I couldn’t stay!” Andrew argued. “My mother started crying and Andrea freaked out. My dad…I don’t even want to know what he’s going to do when I get home.” He pushed away, out of Ryder’s warm arms, and started to pace around the room. “Why couldn’t my parents be cool like your uncle?”

  Ryder followed him as he paced, trying to catch up with him, but Andrew evaded him. He wanted his comfort but didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself together if he got it. “Not all parents are. I’m sorry, Andy. I really am. I shouldn’t have kissed you there.”

  “You thought we were alone. It’s not your fault. I could have pushed you away, but I didn’t.” Andrew sighed and shook his head, defeated. “Look, can I stay here tonight?”

  “Of course. Tomorrow we’ll figure out what we’re going to do.”

  “We?”

  “You think I’m going to be a jerk and let you go through this alone?”

  “But before…”

  “You mean what happened in Texas? That was different. My parents aren’t around, okay? We’ll talk to Uncle Kyle in the morning and figure something out. Andrea saw me, too. It’s going to get out anyway. Better to have the two of us together than face this alone, right?” Ryder offered him a weak smile.

  Andrew sighed and looked up at him, his eyes red and slightly swollen from crying in the truck. Ryder pulled him into his arms and kissed his forehead. “Let’s get you a cup of tea or something.”

  “I don’t drink tea.”

  “It’s warm and it’ll calm you down. You’re drinking it now,” he said and smiled.<
br />
  Andrew sat down on the couch while Ryder went into the kitchen. He could hear him fill the kettle with water and set it loudly on the glass stovetop. The sound of the cabinets opening and closing followed by a tin popping open filled his senses as he let his mind wander.

  Did I leave too quickly? Dad didn’t really seem that upset. Maybe he was just worried. Andrew shook his head. No way, I’m just imagining that. He’s pissed, just like Andrea. And Mom…Mom looked so miserable. She heard every word Andrea said. Oh God, did she really have to bring that up? I’ve never mentioned anything like that to them. I’ve always kept it secret. Why did she have to tell them that? Andrew cringed as his thoughts flew. What were his parents thinking about right now? Were they thinking about their son being gay? Were they thinking about kicking him out? Would they do that?

  “I feel like shit,” Andrew announced as Ryder slipped back into the room.

  “Here,” Ryder said, holding out one steaming mug, holding one for himself in his free hand. “This will make you feel less like it.” He grinned faintly.

  Andrew took a sip. “This isn’t so bad,” he said, surprised.

  “See? I told you. It has mint in it. My aunt likes it.”

  “When are they going to be home?”

  “I don’t know. Soon? It doesn’t matter; they won’t mind that you’re here. We don’t have to say anything until tomorrow, though, if you want. It might be easier, so you have some time to think.”

  Andrew nodded and continued to sip the tea, staring into the flames of the fire. “I’m going to have to face Andrea eventually,” he sighed. “I want my room finished. I can’t sleep in there with her anymore.”

  “Understandable. You shouldn’t have been sleeping in there to begin with. Your room should have been finished long ago.”

  “Yeah. But she and I have always been so close, you know? We shared everything: secrets, friends, soccer. A room didn’t seem like that big a problem temporarily. Do you know what she called me tonight?”

  “No, but I can guess.”

  “A fag.”

  “I guessed right,” Ryder admitted.

  “I didn’t think that could hurt, being directed at me. I mean, the guys on the team say it all the time, and it’s always been a joke. They don’t really mean it.”

  “Names are different when people say them and really mean them. And when it’s directed at you like that.”

  “I wonder if this is how Joshua feels when people call him that. God, it’s awful.”

  Ryder smiled and patted his shoulder. “Makes everything different, doesn’t it? You know, Josh isn’t such a bad guy. He’s really nice.”

  “You really did talk to him?”

  “Huh? Yeah, I did. Why? You knew about that?”

  “Well, Charlie said…back before you and Charlie made up, he said that you were talking to Josh. And he asked if you were…”

  “If I was gay? A fag?”

  “Yeah. But I said no. Even though I knew, because I didn’t want him to say anything to anyone else and cause trouble for you.”

  “Thanks for that. But knowing your sister it will be out now, no matter what we want. Why don’t we just head to bed? You must be exhausted,” Ryder said, taking the mug from Andrew’s hands.

  “How come you’re not?”

  “I wasn’t the one to face the barrage of insults from family. I’ll probably be tired after dealing with it at school, if this gets out of control.”

  If this gets out of control? More like when, Andrew thought in despair.

  With the mugs in the sink, they headed upstairs. Andrew changed into a pair of Ryder’s sweats and crawled into bed with him. At Andrew’s insistence, Ryder had locked the door. Once in bed, Ryder pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “Just get some sleep. Try not to think about it. We’ll do that tomorrow.”

  Andrew nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Ryder fall asleep next to him, but it didn’t come so easily for him. Andrew lay awake a long time, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what the morning would bring. Would his sister be rational and apologize for what she said? Would his parents even want to see him? What would Charlie and Sarah say when they found out?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Andrew woke the next morning to an empty bed. He rolled over and looked at the clock, which told him he had slept until after ten. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Somewhere in the house he could hear voices. One of them must have been Ryder.

  He got up out of bed and grabbed some of Ryder’s clothes and tugged them on. His own jeans were suspiciously missing. Hesitating at the door, he finally opened it and went downstairs.

  Ryder and his aunt and uncle sat in the living room, all nursing cups of coffee. When they saw him come into the room, Mrs. Kensington smiled and stood up. “Morning, Andrew. There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you want it. You’ll have to heat it up, though.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, though food didn’t entice him. Instead he got a cup of coffee and joined them in the living room. He took a sip before setting it on the table. “So, Andrew, Ryder tells us you had a bit of trouble last night,” Mr. Kensington said softly to break the tension. It only served to make it worse.

  “You could say that, yeah.”

  “We just want you to know that if you need to stay here for a few days until things smooth over, then that’s fine with us. And if you’d like, I’ll talk with your father.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kensington, but I don’t know how they would take that.”

  “Sure. I know it’s none of my business.”

  After a few minutes of tense silence, Ryder’s uncle cleared his throat, sipped his coffee and straightened up. “You should give your parents a call. They’re probably worried about you.”

  “They would have called by now if they really were,” Andrew argued, but he knew he had a point. His stomach knotted at the prospect of calling, and he took a sip of his coffee to stall the moment, though it tasted like ash in his mouth.

  Andrew left to make the call, standing outside of the living room but close enough for help should his father, say, climb through the phone to kill him. He dialed the number as slowly as possible, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he pressed the last button and waited. Temptation to press the End Call button pulsed through his veins.

  He prayed his sister didn’t answer the phone, but didn’t know which would be worse: his father or his mother. The phone continued to ring and he had been about to hang up, relieved and convinced it was a lost cause, when his father answered.

  “Hello?”

  Andrew took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaned against the wall for support. “Dad, it’s me.”

  “Andrew! Thank God you’re all right. We thought something happened to you when you wouldn’t answer your cell phone.”

  “I never heard it. Sorry,” he said, wondering where he had put his phone. It must have fallen out in the truck.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the Kensingtons’.”

  “Thank God. That’s what we figured.”

  “Why didn’t you call then?”

  “We didn’t want to worry them if you hadn’t shown up there, Andy. The last thing we wanted was for them to go out to find you and get hurt. I knew I could trust your judgment, even if you left in a hurry last night.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry. For not telling you a-and for how you found out.”

  “So it really is true, then?”

  Andrew hesitated and stared at the fireplace. The fire burned, though not as brightly as the night before. Maybe the light outside had brightened and made the room glow differently. He paced to the front window and peered out into the near whiteout conditions. Had he really driven through that?

  “Andy?”

  “Sorry, Dad. Just thinking. Yeah, it really is true. I…really like Ryder. I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to hear that and you probably think it’s horrible and all sorts of�
�”

  “Andy, take a breath. It’s all right,” said his father, softly. Andrew blinked and pulled back to stare at the phone before listening again. “I’ll admit that the news…came as a shock. A big shock, really. But I’m not disgusted.”

  “You’re not? Really? But…what about Mom?”

  “Your mother overreacted. I admit it. It caught her by surprise, too. That’s just how she chose to express it.”

  “I’m a disappointment, aren’t I?” Andrew asked quietly.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because…I don’t know,” Andrew said, shrugging though no one could see it.

  “Andy, you’re not a disappointment, and you never will be. You’re a good son, a good kid, and a good student. Your mother loves you, and so do I. But let’s have this conversation in person, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Um…how’s Andrea?”

  “Andrea is…” His father sighed through the line. “Your sister is another story. I don’t know why this has upset her so much. I really can’t even begin to guess. We didn’t raise either of you with these kinds of prejudices. But you’ll have to talk to her about it. That’s not something I can speak about for her.”

  “Okay. And Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I really, really need my room finished.”

  His father laughed at that and Andrew managed a small smile. “Believe me, I’m working on it. You’ll have it soon. In fact…” He paused and Andrew heard some muffled discussion in the background. Andrew waited and looked behind him to see Ryder watching him intently from his seat in the living room. He gave him a small smile to show he was all right.

  “Can you put Kyle on the phone, please? I’d like to talk to him for a moment,” he said when he spoke again. Andrew nodded and held out the phone.

  “Mr. Kensington, Dad wants to talk to you.”

  Ryder’s uncle took the phone. “Happy New Year, Jack. How are you? Oh, I’m fine,” he said, and walked into the other room, just out of earshot.

  Andrew sat back down and rested his forehead against his hands. “God, I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest waiting for him to answer, and then when he finally did, ugh.”