The F Words

by Anyta Sunday

  Eric:

  can I ask what happened?

  Rory bit his lip reading the last message. He was nervous chatting with Eric like this, but it also felt good talking to him. Maybe this was exactly what his uncle had been on about. And it was easier to type than to speak the words aloud. They didn’t feel quite as real.

  ---------------------- 1 minute

  me:

  I have to get over some shit, but it sometimes seems impossible.

  I hate life right now

  Have for a long time

  Eric:

  you’re angry at life? I am, too.

  Sometimes we are dealt shit and the best thing we can do with it is

  me:

  is what?

  Eric:

  make fertilizer? I don’t know, I was saying that as much to myself as to you.

  me:

  fertilizer? LMAO

  that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard of in ages

  Eric:

  OMG, did I just make you laugh?

  And I wasn’t there to see it?

  Rory A Phillips laughing. Is the sky falling down?

  me:

  shuttup

  I laugh

  Rory frowned after he sent that. He did laugh, but he hadn’t for a long time. In fact, it’d only been since he got to Wellington that he’d heard himself doing it again. Usually at Lily and Sammy as they’d talked about their pranks. Also Willow. Willow made him chuckle all the time.

  And now Eric . . .

  Eric:

  believe it when I see it.

  me:

  how’d you know I was Rory A Phillips? You really have been stalking me, haven’t you?

  Eric:

  You’ve only just become stalk-worthy

  Rory sat up straighter at that, blinking fast as he read it again. He was now stalk-worthy? He wasn’t going to say it to Eric, but he didn’t entirely hate the fact.

  Eric:

  I got it from your email address. Hey, what does the A stand for?

  me:

  nope. No way in hell I am telling you the answer to that

  Eric:

  that was so the wrong thing to say. I’ll be hounding you until I find out now.

  me:

  just try and hound me

  I’m not saying

  Eric:

  Allen?

  no that’s nothing to hide

  Amanda?

  Artimus?

  me:

  *snort* You’ll never guess.

  Eric:

  Augustus? Hate that name.

  Apple?

  Oh, it’s Angel, isn’t it? Rory Angel Phillips.

  me:

  I wish.

  give up already

  Eric:

  never

  Chapter Six

  All of Thursday, Rory thought about his chat with Eric. It’d been . . . refreshing, somehow. Hadn’t it? Just to chat like that? Yeah, he felt lighter for it. Maybe they would do it again sometime. Unless, did that sound too eager?

  Distracted, Rory gave in to Willow and bought her an ice-cream though she hadn’t finished her marmite sand-witch. Then, when he got home after dropping her off, he hummed his way past Lily and Sammy in the living room and took the stairs two at a time to his room—his computer . . .

  In two minutes he was online. He opened his Gmail chat box—

  He hesitated. What the fuck was he doing? Responding to a chat was one thing, initiating it was a whole level of guts he wasn’t sure he could stomach.

  Rory sat back and watched the screen, secretly, silently willing Eric to see him online and bing him first.

  He was in luck.

  Eric:

  Antwon?

  America?

  You see, I’m not going to give up on this. ;)

  Rory read through the message twice before clicking into the box to answer.

  me:

  America? Fuck off.

  Okay, so there are worse names out there than mine

  I’m still not telling you what it is.

  Eric:

  You and Willow have a good day?

  I admit . . . I hoped you’d be off again today. Could have used the distraction, eh.

  me:

  Willow is fine, we went to the zoo. She wants a pet lion “a cat big enough to ride” –her words.

  Your day that bad again, huh?

  Eric:

  haha. She sounds like a hoot.

  I had to help someone today who’d switched their keyboard to German

  That’s been the most exciting part

  I still have another hour . . . then I need to go shopping for me and my kitten

  Adolf?

  me:

  sorry.

  thought about changing jobs?

  And Adolf, are you serious?

  Eric:

  Deadly

  me:

  lol

  you need to give your kitten a name

  Eric:

  I think I do. He really is mine now.

  I hope

  me:

  you hope?

  Eric:

  as long as no one rings up claiming him.

  me:

  you have posters up?

  Eric:

  there are some around the place, yeah

  me:

  then take them down you idiot

  no one will be able to claim him then

  he’s all yours

  ;)

  Rory hurriedly logged out of his account when Lily burst into his room with Sammy. “Rory. Oh great one. We enlist you to help us with a boy problem.”

  Lily flopped onto his bed, while Sammy sat timidly on the edge, looking around as she ran her palms over her jeans back and forth.

  “First,” Rory said, swiveling in the desk chair and narrowing his eyes on Lily, “knock before you go into a room. Particularly a guy’s room. You don’t know what you might stumble in on.”

  Lily laughed, saying, “That’s disgusting” at the same time Sammy said, “I told you we shouldn’t barge in!”

  “But now, what’s your problem?”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “The boys took our togs from the line and . . . decorated them. We now have smiley faces where our . . . you know.”

  “Gah.” Rory shook off the imagery. “Enough. I get it. Those two are right little perverts, aren’t they?”

  Lily nodded.

  Sammy laughed. “Well, it didn’t come unprovoked, exactly. Did it, Lily?”

  Lily kicked Sammy on the thigh. “It was your idea.”

  “Yeah. An idea. I didn’t think you’d take his—”

  “That,” Lily cut over her, hair flinging as she sat up and swiveled off the bed, “is beside the point. We need you to help us, cuz.”

  Rory clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Have you sponge-clogged their toilet yet?”

  Sammy’s face scrunched up. “Mr. Davy said we can only do pranks that wouldn’t harm them or get their parents involved.”

  Lily wrapped an arm around her friend. “You are such a goody-good.” She got an elbow in her side for the effort.

  “Well, Uncle Davy’s right. Annoying, but right. So . . . do these boys eat cookies?”

  “Judging by the way they inhale their lunch, I’d say they’d eat anything.”

  “Well, maybe you should test that. Here’s what you’ll need, some cream-filled cookies and toothpaste . . .”

  Rory swiveled on his chair, satisfied the girls had taken his idea and added their own signature to it. He liked this; liked spending time with Lily. It was like having a sister. Like being part of a real family.

  Lily and Sammy high-fived each other followed by a little pinkie shake. It was a pity she was leaving in the morning. He was going to miss her and Sammy’s antics.

  He’d miss Uncle Davy, too.

  God he hated they’d be leaving on bad terms.

  He needed to make things better between them again before they left. A way t
o show he was sorry without having to address the issue again.

  Like . . .

  Like . . .

  Making dinner.

  Yes. That’d be the perfect way to apologize without acknowledging things per se.

  “Okay Lily. Happy with your plan?”

  “It’s frigging brilliant.”

  “Wonderful,” Sammy agreed.

  “Good. Because I’m calling you to tit for tat. You’re gonna help me now . . .”

  It took an hour and a half to cut up and roast the pumpkin. While the pumpkin salad was in the oven, Rory fried some bread and made a side of rocket and tomatoes.

  “This fried bread stuff is delish,” Lily said.

  Sammy passed him the balsamic vinegar he’d motioned to. “Yeah, it smells amazing!”

  He took it, smiling at her. “You’re staying for dinner, right?”

  Sammy’s cheeks tinged pink. “Um . . . I mean, yeah, if you’re inviting me.”

  “Of course. You and Lily are the best company.” He whisked garlic into his dressing. “Say, when are you going to give those cookies to the Forster brothers?”

  Uncle Davy walked into the kitchen. He took a moment to soak up the scene, his frown slowly merging into a smile.

  “What’s all this, then?” He sat on a bench stool and pinched a cherry tomato from the salad.

  Rory swallowed the nerves and the ‘he knows, he knows!’ that rose in his throat and moved the salad bowl from his uncle’s reach. “This is a”—sorry for being a dick, dinner—“a . . . a good-bye dinner.”

  His uncle paused, a second tomato at his lips. He lowered it. “What type of a good-bye are we talking about here?”

  Rory got what he was talking about right away. He grabbed the salad bowl to set it on the table before his uncle ate all the tomatoes out of it. Sammy reached for it at the same time—maybe thinking the same thing—and he accidentally clapped a hand over hers.

  He murmured an apology at the same time Lily said, rolling her eyes, “Jesus, Dad, you’re a bit daft sometimes. Rory’s saying goodbye because he’s gonna miss us when we leave. Aren’t ya, Rory? What’cha gonna do without us around?”

  She grabbed an oven glove, letting out little disgusted squeal as she slipped it on. “Just had a scary thought.” She looked pointedly at Uncle Davy. “Dad, set him some rules about him bringing girls over.”

  Sammy choked. “Lily!”

  The cherry tomato finally found its way into his uncle’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem with that.”

  Rory froze.

  His uncle swiveled off the bar stool and took the bread board to the table. “Rory has a brain, is considerate—unlike a certain fourteen-year-old I happen to know.”

  Sammy laughed lightly, and Rory let out a long breath. He took the dressing he’d made and realized he had to grab the pumpkin from the oven first.

  Lily, still scowling, took the ciabatta out of the oven, juggling it around like a hot potato until she found the wooden bread board. “You’re stuck with your brainless, unconsiderate brat for a few years yet.”

  Uncle Davy laughed. “Inconsiderate.” He exaggerated a sigh. “Just as well I love you.”

  Rory snagged the oven glove from Lily and got out roasted pumpkin, glad his back was turned to the others. He just needed a moment to collect himself.

  This was the family he’d wished he had growing up. The family he wished he had now. He wanted to want to call his mum and tell her how he was and blab over the phone. He wanted to be himself—just as Lily was—and be loved nevertheless.

  He slid dinner from the oven, forced a smile to his face, and turned around. “Everyone sit down. Dinner is about to be served.”

  He spent the next day at Te Papa museum with Willow, trying to imagine it was just like any other day. But since he’d wished Lily and his uncle all the best for their trip, a cold hollowness had settle in his chest. He was so exhausted after the day that he didn’t immediately question the pumpkin that sat on the front porch when he got home.

  He carried the large orange thing to the kitchen and placed it in the middle of the bench next to the fruit bowl.

  Frigging pumpkins. Where did they keep coming from? It wasn’t even pumpkin season. Was it?

  He drummed his fingers over the bench. It sounded loud in the strangely quiet house.

  Huh. What should he do? He didn’t have anyone to hang with or call or . . . well there was always his mum—Uncle Davy would approve.

  Really, he should be used to it being just him, but after these last couple of weeks here . . . he didn’t want that anymore.

  He packed a swim bag and art supplies and went to the pools. Maybe—just maybe—hoping he might bang into Eric again.

  “I haven’t seen you at the pool for days. Thought you were avoiding me.”

  Hearing Eric’s voice, Rory smiled, but he made sure to lose it before turning to the guy. “Missed stalking me, have you?”

  Eric rubbed a towel over his wet hair, then draped it around his neck as he took a seat. “You did leave our last chat awfully quick. Something better come up?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Eric gave him the evil eyes. Then he looked Rory up and down. “You know, we’ve met here so many times now, and I realize, I’ve never actually seen you swim.”

  “I do.”

  “Seems to be as elusive as your laughs.”

  “So you’ll believe it when you see it?”

  “Yeah.” Eric’s gaze seemed to be analyzing him. “Something like that.”

  Rory glanced at him out the corner of his eyes, water was still dripping from his hair onto his chest and over the ink on his left pec. “The lighting is nice outside right now. I wanted to draw first.”

  Leaning to the side to peer at his work, Eric asked, “Another group event where you are the center of everything?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “It would make it easier to pin you into a box.” Rory caught a small smile curling at Eric’s lip, which disappeared as he pulled back. “But it seems I am out of luck. I like the silhouette part with the trees against the skyline.”

  “That’s the entire part.”

  “Now why can’t you be as easy to label?”

  All day Saturday, Rory avoided his computer. Ever since he’d come back from the pools last night, logging on and chatting some more to Eric was, well, pretty much all he could think of. He’d missed light-hearted banter, and for all that Eric was snarky, he was fun, too.

  Close to eight, Rory submitted to the call of Gchat, logging into his account. What the fuck . . . right?

  He opened a chat box, and began chatting. Twenty minutes into it, and he was smiling stupidly at his screen. . . .

  Eric:

  All this chatting.

  Are we friends now?

  Virtually?

  me:

  haha, funny. Yeah. But we’re not really friends

  more like acquaintances who happen to chat

  Eric:

  whatever you need to call it

  Were he and Eric starting to be friends now?—

  Bing!

  ---------------------- 1 minute

  Eric:

  Fuck!

  just went to get an iced coke . . . and my stupid fridge . . .

  this flat is depressing the crap out of me

  I need to get out

  do something

  maybe I’ll go to the pools . . .

  yeah, the pools

  See you there?

  ---------------------- 1 minute

  me:

  I dunno . . .

  Eric is offline. Messages you send will be delivered when Eric comes online.

  It was the fridge that clinched it. Eric thought he’d be able to get through his birthday just like any other day, but the second he opened the freezer and defrosted water gushed out and onto him, he had it.

  He didn’t want a shitty birthday, sitting alone in hi
s run-down house with only his kitten, his grandpa’s ashes, and a chat box—no matter how interesting the chat. He wanted to escape the daily grind and just enjoy himself in the real world.

  Dammit, he was going to take Will’s advice and have some fun on his birthday.

  He got to the pools, parking outside, and was about to get out of the pickup when he saw Rory slowing his motorbike into the half parking space in front of him.

  Phew. He’d been counting on Rory showing up.

  The guy parked, swung off the bike, and unlatched his helmet. Taking it off, Rory lifted a hand to run through his matted hair, his gaze lifting to Eric’s pickup. Once he caught Eric still behind the wheel, he quickly looked away, dropping his arm.

  There was something sweet about how nervous Rory suddenly seemed. Eric stepped out of his car and moved to the sidewalk, where he leaned against the front of his pickup. He watched as Rory hesitated before grabbing his bag and coming over to him.

  “So, the flat is depressing the crap out of you, eh?” Rory said.

  Eric couldn’t help a smile. The guy was trying hard to keep cool, but Eric sensed a little panic in his eyes. And while it was somewhat endearing, he didn’t want Rory too uncomfortable.