by Jenny Wood
“Alright, you’re good with your test; it hardly showed up at all. Now, let’s hope by next week it’ll all be gone. Do you have a counselor or someone in mind to talk to for your hours of counseling?” I ask, wanting to move this meeting along.
“No, I haven’t had a chance to look into it. We’ve been trying to get his school transferred and getting him used to being here.” Cruz answered, but I kept my eyes on Mateo’s file, jotting down what I needed to about the test and where we were going to go from there.
“Okay, well, I have a few that we use, I’ll get you a list. I won’t be in contact with them, it’s not my business what you talk about or who you see; I only require a name so I can confirm you go and I’ll give you a paper to have them sign once each hour-long session is over. You’ll need to complete the five sessions before you’re done with your community service, but that’s pretty much the only requirements. That cool with you?” I ask Mateo, and he nods. I grab a piece of stationary with my name and number on it and jot down three youth counselors and an actual psychologist.
Just let me know which one you choose.” I slide it across the desk, and Mateo folds it up and puts it in his wallet. “Do you have any questions?” I ask, but n either seem to; or if they do, neither is asking.
“Okay, well, that’s it for today. You can drop in anytime next week for your drug screen, I’m flexible, though I leave the office between four and five. Donetta has the office on her cell, so if you wanna call and make sure someone’s here and I’m not in court or something, it might be easier. Other than that, you’re free to go.” I tell them, not looking at Cruz, but I stand to shake Mateo’s hand.
“Thanks for being decent about this. Ya know, not treating me like a convict or something. The only one who seems to believe that I’m not a complete failure is my brother, here.” He smiled a genuine smile and rolled his eyes at himself. He looked older than his sixteen years, but when he rolled his eyes and smiled, he looked like a carefree kid.
“It was nice meeting you, Mateo,” I say, walking them out of my office and back into the lobby. Cruz didn’t say anything to me as they left, but I watched them as they walked away. His purposeful strides across the parking lot and the way he shoved his brother playfully reminded me of the few times he’d let loose of the tight hold he had on himself with me. I stupidly found myself remembering when it was directed at me for a couple of hours. Stupid. Stupid because I also found myself wanting it again.
Cruz
“That went a lot better than I thought it would,” Mateo commented on our way home.
“What did you think it’d be like?” I wondered. I hadn’t known what to expect either, but I hoped it wouldn’t be terrible when I read the name on the card and saw it was Murphy Kinzer. Seems like a giant karmic kick in the ass if ya ask me, but he was professional and nice to Mateo. He didn’t treat him like a delinquent like some people did when they looked down their nose at him.
“Figured he’d be all authoritative and power-trippy. Ya know, like those people who can’t be cops, so they be mall cops who act like FBI agents.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled in explanation. Murphy didn’t seem like that kind of person at all. He looked shocked as shit when he walked into his lobby and saw me standing there. I have to admit; it was cute. He looked good too, in just a dress shirt and nice pants. His sleeves were rolled up halfway like you see in insane porn flicks with muscle-bound lawyers who need to be sucked off to get some dude out of jail or something. I dunno, I don’t watch them for the stories, but you get what I mean.
“Nah, he didn’t seem like that,” I say distractedly.
“So how do you know him?” Mateo asks, pulling me from my perverted fantasies.
“Why do you think I know him?” I ask, seeing how I hardly said two words to the guy that Mateo was around for.
“Well, I mean, you didn’t introduce yourself, and he didn’t shake your hand like he did mine.” He says, the observant little shit. “And you got him all flustered; he looked nervous as hell when we first got there.”
“Ah, well I don’t know him, know him, but I met him a while back. We have friends in common.” I explain, not exactly lying just omitting the real way in which we met; which isn’t his business.
“Well, that’s cool. Is he going to the barbeque tomorrow night at your friend’s house?” Mateo asks. Fuckin shit, I forgot all about that. When Wade and I got lunch with Cameron and Foster, I’d had Mateo meet us at the diner; they’d both cordially invited him, and Mateo couldn’t wait to meet the Kennedy’s, especially after hearing all the stories about them.
“I dunno. We’ll see I guess.” I answered vaguely, hoping he was and at the same time hoping he wasn’t. I didn’t need that kind of temptation and fuck me if his little rant earlier didn’t make me want to grab him and maul him to shut him up. He’d taken what I said the wrong way completely and I was forever finding myself being a dick to him. It wasn’t intentional; I guess I just sucked at personal relation. Physical was one thing, personal was a whole different set of skills. One’s I apparently didn’t have because that was the third time I’d royally stuck my foot in it.
“You’re being weird.” Mateo comments, side-eyeing me like I was about to start singing show tunes.
“What? How?” I sounded defensive. Dead giveaway.
“I dunno. Your hands are pretty tight on the wheel there, and your jaw is tickin’ pretty hard. You look like you might wanna smack me upside the head, hermano. What’s that about?” He snickered. It took actual effort to loosen my grip on the steering wheel, and I smoothed my features on my face. I could tell it had been scrunched up.
“That looked like it took some effort.” He was giggling now, the asshole. I was about to stop the truck and let him out to walk the rest of the way home when he gasped and stared wide-eyed at me.
“You like him.” He said slowly in a voice I didn’t quite know what to do with.
“What are you talking about? What are you, five?” I didn’t deny it, but still. I needed to. I didn’t hardly know the guy, no more than I would any random guy I picked up for a night of fun. Why was this guy such a big deal to me? Why did I even care that I’d hurt his feelings or fucking kicked him out, birthday or not? I mean, sure we’d see each other since we had friends in common, but that was it. I didn’t have to go out of my way to see him or talk to him; he could just be a guy I fucked, why was I feeling guilty about it? I didn’t have to. I shouldn’t. People did that shit all the time, it didn’t make me a bad guy.
“You look pissed again. Your face is bipolar.” Mateo grumbled and pulled out his phone and started texting. I kept my mouth shut.
“Yes, Mamá, it went fine. I start classes on Monday.“ I heard Mateo pause and listen to what mamá had replied with. “No, Michael is taking me to a dinner party at one of his friends’ house. They just had twins.” I heard him say “no, ” but then his voice got quiet, and I suspected he was telling her that these twins we were going to see had two daddies instead of a mommy and a daddy. I didn’t know what my mother was saying, and I didn’t actually care. It wasn’t something we ever talked about, my “abnormality.” My being different. It would just set Jose off, and nobody wanted that, so we pretended that it wasn’t so. Well, they did, I kind of didn’t have a choice.
“There isn’t much to do around here to get into trouble. It’s like Pleasantville or something.” He said, whether he changed the topic or she did, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but I knew that Mateo got upset when he’d get his nightly updates about his father and I wanted to stick close in case he needed to talk or vent or just whatever.
“How’s Papa? Does he feel like talking to me?” He asked, and that was my cue to walk away because apparently, he did. I tried not to let it hurt me that they had a normal, father and son relationship. I had only been six when Jose married mamá, how can someone hate a six-year-old?
He claims to know what I was, even that young, but then turns around and contradicts
himself saying that it’s a choice that I make. How, at six-years-old can you choose something like that?
I was glad though, glad that my brother didn’t have to go through the same thing because I’ll admit, even all these years later, it still felt like a knife in my gut.
About a half an hour later, Mateo was still on the phone while I went to my room to start getting ready for the Kennedy’s party. In a way, I hoped that Murphy was there because I wanted to apologize, really apologize and make sure he knew that I meant it. I don’t know why everything that came out of my mouth around him was borderline shitty and fucked up, but I was going to try to make it right. I was a dick on a good day, and it seemed like he’d been around now when I was dick-ier than usual.
“Thinkin’ about leavin’ in about twenty minutes, I wanna stop and get beer; you gonna’ be ready?” I ask Mateo, who was sitting at the dining room table, phone to his ear and looking lost. He nodded but only looked up when I pulled out a chair and sat beside him.
“You okay?” I mouthed, and again he nodded.
“Mamá, I have to go get ready for this barbeque, do you want to talk to Michael?” He asks before handing the phone over. If he didn’t look so worn down, I’d have kicked him.
“Mamá”
“He sounds better, mijo.” She greeted me, sounding relieved.
“It’s slow here, nothing much going on, he’s probably bored out of his mind,” I tell her honestly. This will be the first night we’ve gone out and done anything other than going to lunch or dinner and bumping into one of the guys.
“I appreciate you letting him come to you. I know it’s not ideal.” She says.
“He’s familia. Pain in the ass or not, he’s mi hermano.”
“Language.” She said out of habit; I could hear the snicker in her voice though.
“How is he?” I ask. I hear her take a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering, she wasn’t quite used to me asking about Jose, but for my brother, I was concerned.
“They want to try to make him comfortable and think that we should think about hospice.” She clears the emotion from her throat, but I hear it choking her up. Fuck, I didn’t think he was that bad just yet. “He’s not strong enough for surgery, and the medicine seems to be speeding it up rather than making anything better because his body and immune system are just shot. I’m going to lose him, mijo.” She was crying now, and I hated it. I hated that she was hurting.
“Lo siento, Mamá. I’m sorry.” I whisper sincerely. A door slamming makes me jump half out of my seat, and I see Mateo with a red face, eyes like murder on me. “Are you ready?” I ask him, but he just walks past me to the car.
“You told him?” I need to know how to handle this. “Do you think I should bring him back so he can spend time with him?
“No. Jose says that does not want his son to watch him die. We want him to have good memories.” She says softly. I can’t help but feel a little bitterness at her words, but I want that for him too.
“Okay, well…” I struggle for a minute for something to say but figure it’s best I let her go, for now, we do have a party to get to anyway. “Teo’s waiting outside for me, we’re going to friend’s house to welcome their new babies, so, I should go. If you need us, just call. I can have him there in half an hour if I need to.”
“Alright. My boys be safe.”
“We will. Talk soon, mamá.” I tell her and end the call. Grabbing the box of diapers that Foster told me would be a good baby gift- that was easy enough- my wallet, keys and phone and head to the truck where my brother is already sitting. He doesn’t say anything as I back out and head on our way. He silent as he gets out and walks with me up the walkway to their door and as soon as we’re invited in, he leaves me to find one of the guys that’d be familiar to him. Not wanting to start something and hoping he’s just a little bummed, I leave him to it. We’re at a party, so I try to wipe my scowl away and hope I can fake it til I make it.
Murphy
The babies were asleep while everyone was arriving. They were of the age that they could be passed around and jostled here and there and they’d sleep right through it. Good thing too because the more people arrived, the louder everyone got. Morgan had been running around getting people drinks and setting out finger foods with his little baby monitor in his shirt pocket until Kingsley finally hooked an arm around his waist and made him relax and socialize. They were a gorgeous couple, and I’d now met what seemed like the entire town’s population of gay people.
I tried not to watch the door, wondering if Cruz would stop by. The guys had said he was invited and Kingsley and Jase were anxious to meet his little brother. Kingsley’s like a big ol’ kid himself, so I knew he was looking too big brother the kid. And Mateo would love Kingsley; he was hard not to love.
I knew the second they walked in the door; not because I had studiously been watching it but because like some sick, sixth sense, my body went on high alert when he was around. I didn’t see where Mateo got off to, but I know he didn’t look very happy when they walked in. I turned to study some of Morgan’s artwork on the wall in an attempt to not look like the stalker I was.
Man, in a perfect world where insecurities and fear of rejection didn’t factor, I’d stride up to him with purpose and wipe that frown off of his face with my charm and easy-going attitude. In a perfect world, right? Instead, I studied the painting and sipped my beer.
“Hey, Mr. K.” Mateo stood beside me.
“Fancy meeting you here, have you met everyone?” I asked, looking around the room.
“I think so; everyone seems pretty cool. I’m glad my brother has all these friends here.” He commented just as I’d spotted the man standing at the back door with Wade having what looked to be an intense conversation. I had wondered about their relationship before, but now that I’d met Wade’s man, Foster, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Wade didn’t see anyone else.
Letting myself have a second, I let my gaze sweep over the man I couldn’t shake from my mind. He looked good tonight, really good. Casually dressed and a long-sleeved navy shirt and dark stonewashed blue jeans and dark leather boots; his presence was the biggest in the room. Or maybe it was just me who thought so because I knew the things he could do.
“These are Kingsley’s husband’s paintings, right?” Snapping myself out of it, I’d forgotten that Mateo was standing right beside me. That wasn’t awkward or anything.
“They are.” I smile, back to admiring the painting, now with Mateo.
“Can I ask a personal question?” His body turned to face me, and I was a little worried he’d caught me checking out his brother.
“Go for it.”
“Are uhm, is everyone here…. you know… gay?” He whispered the last word as if he shouldn’t be saying it. I was a little unsure of how to answer, not because I was ashamed nor was anyone else in the room that I knew, but I wasn’t sure if his brother was “out” and I didn’t want that to be a question directed towards me.
“Most of them, yeah.” I figured that was safe. The ones that were coupled up were very obviously together if their slight public displays of affection were anything to go by.
“I mean, I know the new dads are, but I gotta be honest, none of them, you know…..look it. I mean, some do but Kingsley and his friend Jody? They’re like, gay, gay?” He clarified his question with big eyes and a fucked-up sense of morality.
“Well, I mean, they’re married, so yeah I’d say they’re, gay, gay.” I kept my tone light and watched his facial expressions change to ones of confusion and curiosity.
“I didn’t know that they could…. I mean, nevermind.” He blushed and looked embarrassed, and I wondered not for the first time if he knew that his brother liked the same sex as well. It wasn’t his business, but he still wondered.
“Not know many gay people where you’re from?” I ask nonchalantly. He was shaking his head before I’d finished the question.
“Not that I knew of, I gues
s.” He shrugged. “My dad always had all these things to say about them. Gay people I mean.” He shared with me. I had so many questions, but I kept quiet. I wondered if he was uncomfortable here since he was confessing all of this to me and I had only met him the day before. “He doesn’t like my brother because he’s gay. He thinks that it makes him weak to, you know, do that.”
“Well, that’s just not true. Look at all the guys around here, do they look weak to you? Kingsley, Jody, Joker, Kayson, your brother. None of them are weak, are they? And Morgan,” I pointed him out, “He had cancer in his brain and survived it after a really rough battle with it.” I informed him. “Cameron had an abusive boyfriend before Jody, but he got free of him after being knocked around a time or two, that’s not weak, that was scary and pretty brave wouldn’t you say?” I asked, not giving him time to answer before pointing out someone else. “Wade is a cop, like your brother. Can’t be weak and an officer of the law, it kinda defeats the purpose. Jase grew up in a group home. Never had a family until he aged out and met Cam and Jody. I’d say he was pretty strong growing up. Jay had an abusive, alcoholic dad; Joker’s been to prison. None of that is weak.”
“I didn’t mean to be a dick. I’m just confused, I guess.” He says. I get it, kind of. I couldn’t imagine the things his father said to him if he “didn’t like” Cruz.
“I get it,” I say for lack of knowing what else would be appropriate. People are ignorant to things they don’t understand. It’s easy to write someone off because you don’t understand them. Or a group of people in this instance, but I couldn’t say that to him. I didn’t want him to think that I was calling him ignorant.
Just before he opened his mouth to say something else, Jase called his name from the kitchen. He excused himself and ducked away pretty quickly. At least it answered the question if he knew about his brother. I was getting sick of myself, pining away like an idiot, I took my empty beer to the kitchen, it was deserted, and rinsed it out before throwing it in the recycling. I needed to put Cruz out of my head and enjoy the night. There was a houseful of people I could get to know, why was I so focused on one?
