Governor

by Lesli Richardson

  A guy my mom can’t boss around.

  I’m almost hoping she tries to do that, just to see what happens, even if it means repercussions for me on the other end of things.

  It’d be worth it.

  Carter speaks up before I can. “It’s better if I go,” he says. “She sounds like someone who likes to push people around.”

  A dark gleam appears in Susa’s blue eyes that makes me rock hard. “I’d like to see her try to push me around,” she mutters.

  Susa’s eyes are a gorgeous shade of warm aqua blue that are nothing like my mother’s icy blue orbs.

  “Down, sweetie,” Carter says. “While I’d pay good money to watch that smackdown, it’s better if I go with him. I can get him out of there early.” He suddenly frowns as pats his pockets, like he’s missing something. “Oh, crap. Looks like I’ve forgotten my medication, and if I don’t take it, I have seizures. We really need to leave, Owen. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot, and I’ve spoiled this evening for you. I mean, I know how much you were looking forward to seeing your parents.”

  Susa giggles. “I believe you.”

  “I think Mom will, too,” I volunteer. I don’t want to let on to Susa how downright terrified I am of my mother, but at this point, that’s kind of moot. “I really appreciate you going with me.” I turn back to her. “Sorry we’re bailing on you Saturday.”

  “It’s fine, guys. Really. I’m going to study. And Daddy’s got a few events coming up soon that I’ll be driving up to Tallahassee for, so it’s cool.”

  I believe her. There’s no double-edged “tone” in her voice to give me a hint that she’s being passive-aggressive.

  There’s never anything in her voice but honesty. Both of them.

  “What’s wrong, Owen?” Carter asks.

  I take a deep breath. “You guys are going to think I’m a doof.”

  “Try us,” Susa says.

  They’re both staring at me, waiting.

  “You guys are my best friends,” I quietly admit. “I’ve never had friends I’m as close to as you two.”

  Susa gets up, walks over to the couch, and sits in my lap before I can even process what she’s doing. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Owen,” she says as she drapes her arms around me.

  “Yeah?” My pulse explodes. I’m not sure what to do with this, or with her sitting on my lap. I hope I’m not required to stand for a few minutes because my boner will be struggling for freedom for a while.

  “You guys are my best friends, too.” She plays with my hair. Not the first time she’s done that, and I love it when she does. “I trust both of you, and that’s something I haven’t had in a long time. It’s like I can see the three of us together, years from now, just like this.”

  “Until some guy sweeps you away from us,” Carter adds.

  I’m looking right at her and know from the way she’s staring at him that her next words are for him, and him alone.

  “No one will ever take me away from you.”

  The silence settles around us for a moment, then she looks at me and kisses me on the forehead. “No one’s ever taking me away from you guys. I promise.” She smiles and plays with my hair again. “God help any woman who thinks she’ll take you guys away from me, either.”

  I know she means those words for Carter, but I’ll take what I can get and feel grateful for it.

  * * * *

  Saturday seems to drag. We start the morning with a run at a blistering pace that I know has to be killing Carter, but also forces me to focus on the impacts of my feet against the pavement and not face-planting into an oncoming car.

  Although the thought of seeing dear ole Mom right now is inducing enough anxiety in me that I kind of want to face-plant into a car.

  It’d be a lot more fun.

  Probably a lot less painful.

  But the pace of the run forces me to pull my focus inward. In other words—mission accomplished. I’m not thinking about my mother or our impending drive to Orlando later that afternoon.

  Or the hell that awaits me there.

  Not until we return to the dorm and Carter sends me into the shower first. I stand there under the water with my face pressed against the cool tile and crying like I was ten again and terrified to so much as breathe too loudly for fear of drawing my mother’s attention and accompanying wrath.

  And wishing I knew how to get her to love me.

  How to make her just.

  Fucking.

  Love me.

  Simultaneously, I’m hating myself for still wanting and needing that, even now. Hoping that particular need doesn’t poison the well of every goddamned relationship in my life, including my ones with Carter and Susa. I’d deserve it if they ended up together and froze me out because I’m too needy, too clingy.

  Because I’m too much work.

  Which were things Mom used to snipe at me about when we were alone at home, and all I wanted was a little of her fucking time.

  I was too much work.

  I was too needy and clingy.

  I needed to learn to be independent, make something of myself on my own.

  That she couldn’t carry me throughout my life.

  That if I was going to be a man, I’d need to learn to act like one.

  That if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up worthless, like my father.

  Or, maybe Carter and Susa will end up freezing me out because the things scrambling through my deeper brain are too strange and out there for them to deal with once the details eventually bleed through and take over.

  Which is another reason why I know their talk about getting me elected is a joke, even if they don’t know it. Guys like me don’t get elected.

  Not if they’re smart.

  Because guys like me, they can either be happy not being elected…or get themselves elected, attract attention from everyone, and risk being outed and totally humiliated—or else they shove themselves deep in a miserable closet. Because if they don’t, their lives until that very public downfall are filled with fear and self-loathing, waiting for the inevitable disclosure.

  It’s a hell of a choice, because they can’t be both.

  Either/or.

  I would love to be governor. I’d love to be elected and help my state.

  I would not love that closet, or living with the constant fear, and I couldn’t bear a public downfall.

  At some point in this journey, if Carter and Susa stay with me long enough, I’ll have to talk them out of their insane plans to get me elected. Susa is the politician, and I’m smart enough to know that. I’ll be happy working my ass off helping her reach her goals. She will do great things, and only an idiot wouldn’t see that.

  I am a lot of things, but an idiot isn’t one of them. I have the test scores to prove that much.

  I’m also not strong enough to handle today alone, and it’s the first time I’ve ever had someone in my corner to help me through it.

  I don’t know if I can ever find the words to tell Carter how much this means to me, or how much I appreciate him doing this.

  Let’s hope it’s not the last time he wants anything to do with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I spend the rest of the morning trying to study, trying to keep my mind anywhere but on tonight. I’ve ironed my shirt and slacks, as has Carter.

  Carter offers to drive us over in my car and let me take over when we’re close to my mom’s house.

  I gratefully accept that offer.

  We head downstairs to leave for Orlando around two. I’ve been obsessively checking a traffic app so we won’t get caught in Disney snarls that will make us late and guarantee my mother’s ire. We can always cruise around Orlando to kill some time and deliver us to her doorstep exactly on time.

  Carter wears slacks, a long-sleeved dress shirt with cufflinks, a tie, and has brought a blazer, which he carries over his arm. His loafers are shined to perfection and the creases in his slacks are perfect.

  He looks like an attorney.
I know I’m dressed to an acceptable level to placate my mother, but next to Carter I feel like a slob, even though I shaved and I fussed with my tie for so damn long that Carter finally walked over, lightly swatted my hands away, and retied it for me.

  Part of me is glad Susa isn’t going with us, because seeing Carter dressed like this will only make her fall harder for him. Hell, I’m straight and I think the guy looks hot—broad shoulders tapering to a V above his narrow hips. But he’s not muscle-bound like some of the guys we encounter in the exercise room from time to time. He looks like he could easily work his way through one of those TV ninja course competitions, svelte and lithe and barely breaking a sweat as he did. Restrained power contained by the corporate wrapper he now wears as naturally and effortlessly as he wore the desert camo and keffiyeh in that picture on his bulletin board. If I didn’t know his history and hadn’t seen his scars or how badly pain hits him on some days, I’d think he was still a warrior.

  As we reach my car, I hit the key fob and open the driver’s door for him without thinking. It’s kind of become our thing now, and I don’t mind doing it. He seems to enjoy it, as does Susa.

  Yes, I’m a people pleaser. I get it. This has become like a drug to me, and little things such as this give me hits. Or doing the dishes, the laundry—anything like that.

  I don’t fucking care. I make no apologies for it, because it’s a survival tactic, and it’s not hurting anyone. Not like he’s leading me around in public on a leash or something.

  He hands me his blazer to stow with mine in the backseat before taking a minute to adjust the seat, the mirrors, all of that. He’s wearing his dark sunglasses today, and when he looks over at me, I know I’m seeing both a preview of the attorney he’s going to be one day soon, as well as echoes of the Army veteran.

  With the AC cooling my car’s interior, he softly ticks off a few points on his fingers. “I want you to let big brother be in charge today. Do not try to manage my relationship with your mother, because I’m an adult and can handle her. Do not stress over what I say to her, or what she says to me. If I say we leave, we leave. If at any time you feel overwhelmed, do not hesitate to come find me and tap the side of my foot with yours, even if I’m talking to someone.”

  “We don’t need a code word or something?” I’m not even joking at this point.

  “No, because if you just need a few minutes to pull yourself together and I break out the medicine excuse then, the evening’s over. The medicine excuse is my nuclear option.”

  “I can’t believe you’re actually going with me.”

  He cuffs the back of my neck, something he’s done several times before, either playfully or while we’re talking, but it’s one of those things I can’t begin to explain how good it makes me feel. Probably due to being starved for even innocent physical contact.

  “Owen.” He waits until I focus on his eyes. “Big brothers don’t let little brothers handle shit like this alone. She’s not scaring me off. She’s not going to make me hate you, or quit being friends with you, or think less of you. The only thing I want you to worry about today is you. Do not stress about me. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” It wants to slip out, and this time I don’t apologize for it.

  He squeezes the back of my neck before he releases me and reaches for his seatbelt. But he’s smiling.

  “I’m telling you, I like the sound of that. Haven’t been called ‘sir’ since I was in the Army.”

  “I’ll call you whatever you want me to. Thank you for doing this today.”

  He shrugs and starts to back out of the parking space. “Got to take care of my little bro.”

  * * * *

  We switch places at the gas station a couple of miles from their house, where we top off the tank. Mom and Austin live in a ritzy gated community east of downtown, where a low-end house probably costs over $500k. When Mom divorced Dad, we were living in an older but nice house in the College Park area, northwest of downtown Orlando. I had friends there, loved going out to play with them after school, before Mom would come home from work. Our tree-lined neighborhood felt real, like generations of love and laughter had filtered right down to the roots. We had fun fishing in Lake Ivanhoe, even though we never kept what we caught, the few times we did catch something.

  Once my parents divorced, and Mom met and married Austin, we moved. I was given zero input or advanced warning. I came home from school one day to find a moving truck parked in the driveway and that movers had already emptied my room.

  Worse, some of my stuff was tossed in the garbage, older toys I hadn’t played with in a while, but wasn’t ready to relinquish yet.

  That was my first hard lesson learned about not getting attached to things. I didn’t even have time to say good-bye to my friends in the neighborhood. It was a shocking flashback to how I’d come home from school one day to learn that Dad had moved out. I hadn’t been allowed to say good-bye to him in person, although Mom did allow a phone call every so often. It wasn’t until later I learned she’d used me as a pawn in the divorce, and had wielded their prenup against him with vicious efficiency.

  The new house and neighborhood felt sterile and stiff but seemed to thrill my mother, allowing me to see a happy side to her I both envied and resented, because nothing I’d ever done in my life up until that point had ever elicited that kind of reaction from her. The neighborhood was newer, only built a few years earlier, so there were no large, shady trees anywhere in sight.

  We were now living with Austin, too, who moved in. I found out then that they’d gotten married the weekend before at a small private ceremony at a local country club, surrounded by friends, while I was at a weekend day camp.

  I had to attend a new school. My mother drove me the next morning and enrolled me, and I found out that she’d already withdrawn me from my old school the day before and didn’t bother to tell me. There I was, in the middle of a school year, staring down the barrel of a roomful of kids I’d never seen before in my life.

  Another valuable lesson, to not get too attached to anyone.

  To keep my mouth shut, nod, smile, and not draw attention to myself.

  To work hard behind the scenes and make others look good, eschewing any credit for myself, and people would probably like me. Or, at least, not hate me.

  Long, golden late-afternoon shadows paint the high-end housing development in rosy colors that conceal the truth about the virtual hell I grew up in. Like an emotional Silence of the Lambs reveal kind of moment, except my mother constructs her person-suit out of slices she rips from my soul on a regular basis.

  I’ve done my best to deny her any new yardage, but…

  Here we are.

  Pulling up to their house in the cul-de-sac means reliving a lot of painful memories that I tend to shove to the background and ignore most of the time. Hence why I love being away at college.

  Also why I don’t return on weekends when I easily could.

  There are already over a dozen cars filling their driveway and parked along the street. I park three houses down and before I shut off the car, Carter turns to me.

  “Deep breaths, buddy.”

  I nod.

  “Remember—no matter what she says or does, I’m not getting scared off. You’re not alone. Okay?”

  If I try to speak right now, I’m afraid I might puke, so I settle for nodding.

  My stomach is a tight, painful knot I’m not sure can accept food. I long for the quiet, peaceful dorm room, or Susa’s living room.

  I don’t want to be here.

  I don’t belong here.

  I’ve never felt wanted here, or that this was ever my “home.”

  I shut off the car and start to reach for my door handle, but he stops me. “What’s our code for when you feel overwhelmed?”

  I swallow hard and take another deep breath. “I find you and tap the side of your foot with mine.”

  “Right. Promise?”

  “Yes, sir.” And I mean it.

&nbs
p; I get out and hurry around to his side to open his door and help him out, both because I know he’s kind of stiff right now, and because this is part of Carter’s plan that he ran through when we switched off at the gas station.

  In case anyone’s watching, they’ll see him having trouble moving. Injured combat vet is a label he’ll happily leverage against Mom today. While I’m terrified, I’d be lying if I denied there’s a tiny part deep inside me who wants to see Carter take her down a peg or two, regardless of the emotional and financial fallout I’ll deal with later.

  We pull our blazers on and make our way up their front walk. I’m kicking myself in the ass now that I didn’t drop Carter off and go park, but I also realize how badly I need his steady presence right now.

  When I reach out to ring the bell, he cocks his head. “You can’t just walk in?”

  I snort. “No.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Maybe Carter’s family has an open-door policy, but if I did that, even though technically I still live here and have a key to the front door, I would never hear the end of it if I did.

  Mom opens the door, her brilliant, award-winning smile faltering just a notch when she realizes it’s me, followed by the faintest scowl of confusion to see a man with me, before the wattage brightens once more. It’s like watching a light bulb dim slightly during a brown-out before it pops to life again.

  “Hello, Owen. You’re right on time. And who is this?”

  My mouth feels like shit-flavored cotton. “Mom, I’d like to introduce you to Carter Wilson. He’s my roommate, and he’s also pre-law. Carter, this is my mother, Elandra Marriott Solemar.”

  I’m always to include her maiden name. If I don’t, I’ll catch holy hell for it. I hate that it’s my middle name. For the rest of my life, I’m inextricably tied to her by my name.

  Now that she knows who he is, his relation to me, anger briefly flares in her eyes and I struggle to remember everything Carter told me about not interfering.