by Ashton Cade
Instead of engaging, I hang up, my due diligence done. No health board in the country would find me at fault for calling out in my current state and Dr. Peterson knows it.
At some point, I must have gone back to sleep, because when I reach for my tea again, it’s stone cold. My head’s a little less foggy, but my body aches even more somehow, even though I haven’t moved at all. I start to get up, planning to zap the mug in the microwave, when I hear the creak of floorboards and freeze.
Then I realize I didn’t think to tell Garrett to lock the door. It seems like a silly thing—Umberland’s a safe town, and I’m sure he’d think to do it anyway—but I’m in full panic mode when I hear another footstep.
I’m going to be the first person to be robbed in Umberland in years. Just my luck. I think about calling out, but I don’t know if it’s better to stay quiet, to keep the element of surprise, or to make my presence known and try to scare them off. There’s a footstep closer, another creak in the floorboard, and I’m looking around for something I can use as a weapon when my bedroom door swings open.
“You’re awake,” Garrett says with a big smile.
I let out a big breath.
“You’re… here,” I say, confused.
He shrugs. “Took Craig to school, did some campaign stuff, and now I’m here to look after you. Hungry?” he asks, holding up the tray I’m only just noticing. It’s got a bowl of steaming vegetable soup with a couple of slices of toast on the side.
“You made me soup?”
“My aunt made you soup. I delivered the soup. I did make the toast though,” he says, chest puffing with false pride. “Get back in bed, mister.” He ushers me back, getting me all situated again with the tray table over my lap. Then he kicks off his shoes and gets in on the other side of the bed.
“What’re you doing?”
“Hanging out with you while you’re sick. What’s it look like?”
“I’m probably contagious,” I point out, even though I don’t really want him to go anywhere.
He shrugs. “Then it’ll be your turn to take care of me,” he says with another charming grin, flipping on the TV and passing me the remote.
“What? Why the face?” he asks suddenly, and I realize I’m frowning, looking down at this offering with the same wonder as the morning he made me breakfast.
“My parents kicked me out when I was fifteen when they found out I’m gay… It’s dumb, but you wanting to take care of me…” I swallow, my throat tight, and shake my head, pushing back tears. “It’s dumb, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not,” he says, scooting closer, taking my hand in his, squeezing it.
“There’s a lot of stupid stuff in my past that just… hurts too much to talk about,” I say finally. I hope that’s enough for him. Maybe one day I’ll share everything with Garrett, but right now isn’t the time.
“Whenever you want to talk, I’m here to listen,” he says, sliding his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a snuggle.
“Thank you, Garrett. For everything,” I whisper into his chest, holding onto him, his heartbeat a lullaby coaxing me back into sleep. But I don’t fight it. Not with him here. I know I’m safe. I know he’ll look out for me. And I know he’ll still be here when I wake up. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Garrett
After spending a whole day with Eli, pampering him and nursing him back to health, he’s still sick the next morning.
“You’re worse today than yesterday,” I tell him, pushing him back down into the mattress. He gives a weak moan of protest, but he can’t really fight me. Definitely not in his current state.
“I told Dr. Peterson I’d be in today,” he pouts.
“Well, Dr. Peterson’s gonna have to get used to disappointment,” I say, crossing my arms, standing guard at the bedside until he admits defeat.
Eli sighs and slumps back into the pillows.
“But…”
“No buts,” I say, bending to kiss his forehead. “You get some rest. I’ll be back later.”
It’s time to go pick up Craig for our daily work. Truth be told, I’d rather call the whole thing off and stay in bed with Eli, but I’m trying to teach the kid something here. I’m trying to show him the value of hard work—and what he’s costing someone else when he’s not thinking and goes off busting windows.
“Thanks,” Eli mutters, eyes already closing heavily, despite the effort I can see him making trying to pry them back open. I pull the blankets up around his shoulders and tuck him in tight before turning off the lights, locking the door, and heading out.
Craig’s waiting outside for me, hands in his hoodie pocket, the hood pulled up over his head, shoulders hunched against the cold. He’s wearing the same ratty sneakers I’ve always seen him in, and I can’t imagine they’re doing as good a job as boots would. From what I’ve heard about Craig’s mom, though, I don’t think she’s making his needs much of a priority.
Poor kid.
He gets in my truck, making a face.
“Eli’s still sick,” I offer as explanation. He shrugs.
I head off from his place, but instead of going right to mine, I make a detour through town.
“Where are we—”
“You drink coffee?” I ask, pulling into the drive-through of the one coffee shop/cafes we have in town. Craig shrugs.
“Need more than that if I’m gonna place an order,” I tell him.
“That’s all right,” he mutters.
“My treat.”
His eyebrows go up, and Craig looks at me with a strange look, like he’s searching for a catch or something. But there isn’t one. I just wanna do something nice for him. As much as he hates this whole arrangement, he’s showed up every day. And even though it’s a bitch and a half to actually get him to do the work, he’s not half bad as a helper.
“I don’t know…”
“You like chocolate?” I ask. He nods. I nod back, then turn to the window as it goes down.
“Hey there, Garrett, what can I get for ya?” Emily, the girl that works the drive-through most days asks with a chipper smile.
“We’re gonna take two mochas and four breakfast burritos,” I say, handing her my card. From the corner of my eye, I can see Craig shifting in his seat, not sure how to act or what to say, so I just ignore him to let him have a moment to sort through his feelings or whatever. Emily runs my card, hands it back to me, then closes the window to go make our order.
“Sorry for the detour, but I’m starving,” I say to Craig. He gives me a signature shrug, playing it off cool. That’s fine by me. I know it’s hard for some folks to accept kindnesses shown them. If I make it like I’m inconveniencing him with the side-trip, then he feels less indebted to me. In theory, at least.
When Emily comes back, she passes the coffees through first, and I hand Craig his, dropping mine in the cup holder before turning to take the bag of burritos.
“You ever had one of these from this place?” I ask Craig as I’m pulling away from the coffee shop, already unwrapping one of the burritos carefully, leaving the bottom half encased in foil. Craig shakes his head.
“They’re great. That’s why I got us two each,” I say, passing them over.
He looks at the bag dubiously, then plucks out a burrito, peeling the foil back delicately like a scorpion is going to come out and attack him. He takes a bite, and then the next thing I know, the whole damn thing’s disappeared.
“Good, right?”
He nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, washing it down with the mocha.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Work’s never done as well on an empty stomach.” My second burrito is gone by the time we get to my place, but Craig seems to be saving his. He tucked it into the pouch of his hoodie, one hand in the pocket resting on it.
It makes me wonder how bad things are at home that he’s got this kind of food insecurity. Or maybe I’m misreading it. Maybe he’s just not that hungry.
N
ever seen a fifteen-year-old boy turn down seconds though.
“So, today we’re gonna be on the roof, getting silicone in all the gaps so the greenhouse keeps its warm air trapped inside.”
Craig looks up at the top of the greenhouse and curls his lips.
“Up there?”
“Yep.”
“It’s so high,” he says, disdain in his voice.
“That’s what a ladder’s for.”
“What if I slip?”
“Don’t.”
He doesn’t like that answer, but I wave him after me anyway. “Come on, it’ll be fine.”
I wouldn’t put him in any danger. I’ll be doing the most harrowing parts of the job on my own, but it won’t hurt him to be a little worried for a few minutes.
He wobbles as he climbs the ladder—I’m already on the roof and watching him come up, seeing the fear cross his face.
“Don’t look down,” I tell him. “Just keep moving toward me.”
He finally makes it all the way up the ladder, hands shaking, and I pull him up to a flatter portion of the roof where he can get his bearings. He shivers, wrapping his arms tight around his middle.
“Yeah, it’s colder up here. We’ll want to get the work done fast so we can get back down,” I say, handing him the silicone caulking gun, giving him a brief lesson on the kind of gaps we’re looking for and how to patch them up.
And then we’re off to the races. I catch him daydreaming and staring off into the distance a few times, but a quick admonition is enough to get him back on task.
“So this kinda work… It could be like a full-time job?” Craig asks out of the blue after half an hour or so of working.
I shrug. “Yeah, sure. My cousin Trevor runs a construction company, and this is the sort of stuff they do all the time.”
“How much could a guy my age make doing full-time work like this?” he asks casually, but there’s nothing casual about the question. I stop what I’m doing and give him a stern look.
“School is your full-time job, Craig.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Not for long. I’ll be sixteen in a couple of weeks, then I can drop out and start working.”
“Why would you wanna do that?” I ask.
Craig shrugs, mouth going firm, his whole face shutting down.
“Sites are gonna require that you’ve got an education,” I tell him, trying to be gentler. “It may not seem that important now, but it shows an employer you’ve got what it takes to stick around and not give up.”
Craig’s shoulders stiffen a little, but he doesn’t turn back to me or acknowledge what I said. I dunno if I got through to him at all.
Great.
Now I’m gonna feel like it’s my fault when he drops out and screws up his whole future.
But after that little chat, Craig’s heart clearly isn’t in it anymore. He’s hardly working at all, and keeping on top of him is taking up more of my time than just doing the whole damn thing myself.
I’m half-tempted to let him off the hook for the day with how useless he’s suddenly being, but I think that would only encourage bad habits, so we both suffer through the rest of the time before I have to take him to school.
He doesn’t say anything to me on the whole drive to the high school, his hands in his hoodie pouch, his back hunched forward. I know I should say something. I know Eli would. He’d know just what to say to defuse the tension.
Too bad he’s at home sick and this is all up to me.
“Have a good day,” I say lamely as I pull to a stop outside the school. Craig says nothing, hops out of the truck, and scampers off into the throng of other kids. I watch him a minute longer, and he goes right up to a girl—Libby Giddons, if I’m not mistaken—and wraps his arms around her in a tight hug. They walk close together, heads bent, their body language full of conflict and worry, even though they look happy to be together. Craig slips his hand into his hoodie, and I see the flash of silver as he passes his spare burrito to Libby.
Everything inside me clenches up at once: hurt, confusion, a need to help. These kids are clearly going through something, and they’re going through it without talking to the adults who could assist them. Or maybe they’re convinced there aren’t any adults who might want to help. Knowing both of their families, I’d be hard-pressed to say they had the wrong idea of things.
But there’s me and Eli. We’re here. I don’t know what kind of problem they’re dealing with, but I make a mental note to talk to Eli about it and see if there isn’t something we can help with. Maybe Eli already knows what’s up and it just hasn’t concerned me.
I text Eli to see if he needs anything before I go back to the cafe to join Clary for campaign work. When he doesn’t answer, I figure he’s still asleep, and I don’t want to disturb him while he’s trying to get better.
Clary’s already at the cafe, and Emily smiles to greet me when I walk in.
“Back again so soon?” she asks, batting her eyes at me.
“Can’t keep me away for long,” I tease back. Before Eli was in my life, the flirting was much more intense. I’m sure Emily’s probably still waiting for the day I make my move on her. Too bad she’s going to keep being disappointed. Not sure I’ll be putting moves on anyone else ever again with the way I’m starting to feel for Eli.
I’m sure that should concern me, but why? Because it’s happening fast? Because I feel so damn certain about it?
Is that so wrong?
I’ve had plenty of years of having nothing, or having something that wasn’t right. I’ve compromised, I’ve had my heart broken, I’ve been deceived and stomped on—why shouldn’t I recognize something real and good when I see it? Why shouldn’t I pounce on it and never let it go?
Clary’s busily working on talking points for an upcoming mini-debate we’ve invited my opponent to. Of course, he hasn’t responded. I tried to tell Clary there’s no way he’s going to show up, so even prepping answers for the “debate” is a waste of our time. But he’s determined to do this by the book, to run this election the way they do things in the big cities.
I don’t know how to make him understand that Umberland folks don’t care about all that. They’ve got their own values, their own measures of success and what makes a man fit to lead. It isn’t going to come from a debate at the library. But I’ve given up trying to reason with him about it. Instead, I pour myself a mug of coffee, hand Emily a couple of bucks, and join him at the table without a word.
I’m still thinking about this morning, about Craig and Libby and what might be going on there, when I feel a prickle on my neck. The feeling of someone watching me. There’s no mistaking that feeling once you know it—and I’ve honed it pretty well with all my years hiking, backpacking, and the like. You wanna know if there’s a bear or a cougar watching you. That prickle’s important.
But in town, in the cafe? Well, it’s just a couple of old ladies sending nasty looks my way for who knows what reason.
“What do you think about this?” Clary asks, passing me a note card. It’s something about sustainable energy, natural resources. I’m sure it’s good, but the words are swimming in front of my eyes, the nagging voice in my head dragging my attention back to those old ladies again and again. There’s three of them at a table together, faces much bitterer than the cappuccinos they’ve dumped inordinate amounts of sugar into. I’m sure my mom or Aunt Sheryl would know all three of them by name, but to me, they’re just nosy old ladies.
“Is there a problem?” I finally ask, my voice tight, harsh enough to make Emily’s head whip around in alarm. Clary looks up too, his brows furrowing in a quick warning scowl.
One of the old ladies pointedly ignores me, like there isn’t another soul in the cafe apart from her table. But there’s another one, with a beak-like nose and a sourpuss face, that turns her hawkish gaze to me.
“Word at Bible study is you’re a gay.” She hisses the word like it’s a curse, and my blood runs cold. That’s what this is abou
t? I don’t know whether to laugh at them or rage. It’s fucking ridiculous.
“Sure am,” I say, more chipper than I’ve ever been. No point trying to explain the nuances of sexuality to a woman that uses the term “a gay.” “And I’m running for town council, if you haven’t heard. A vote for me is a vote for Umberland’s true values. Why can’t we be polygamists and marry our livestock? It’s ridiculous if you ask me! Can I count on your votes, ladies? It’s time for a change,” I say, using the politician voice Clary coached me on so well.
The women sputter and gasp, getting all huffy and uncomfortable before letting out a “Well I never,” and leaving the cafe in a rush. I miraculously manage to hold in my laughter until they’re gone, but no one’s laughing with me. Clary’s glaring at me, and it makes me feel guilty when I don’t really think I should have to. I was just poking fun at them. It’s not my fault they can’t take a joke. Clearly the local council has no authority to do any of the things I was talking about. I just wanted them to see the absurdity of their backward views. And failing that… Well, chasing the bigots out of the store was a nice consolation prize.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” Clary admonishes. “Is this just a joke to you? I wouldn’t have come all the way out here if I knew you weren’t interested in actually winning this race.”
I sigh, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. He’s got a point. I guess. A little.
He did come all the way out here to help me, and even if I don’t agree with all of his advice or methods, I should respect what he’s doing for me and take it a little more seriously.
“I’m sorry, Clare. You’re right. I’m not taking it seriously enough. I do wanna win, but not at the expense of myself. It’s just an election. It’s not the most important thing in my life, even if you think it should be. I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t want my whole life to be politics, so if those two halves of me don’t get along, I’ll have to figure out something else.”
Clary pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long breath.
