The Family We Make

by Dan Wingreen

  Connor’s cheeks flushed red.

  Shit, I said that a little loud, didn’t I?

  Spencer winced. “Sorry. But this isn’t really as bad as it seems. There’s only, what, maybe two dozen people here? You eat lunch with, like, three times as many people every day—”

  “I don’t.”

  Spencer frowned. “Don’t what?”

  “I don’t eat lunch in the cafeteria,” Connor mumbled.

  “You don’t?” Connor shook his head. “Then…where do you eat?”

  “The library.”

  “There are rules against that, you know.” Not that Spencer wanted to lecture him. If anything, he was impressed. Mrs. Brown was the most uptight, humorless bitch of a librarian Spencer had ever met. He’d always been under the impression that she had a wooden stake and some matches ready for anyone who might even think about walking past her library with food.

  Connor mumbled something Spencer didn’t catch.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, Mrs. Brown likes me,” Connor said petulantly. “She says I remind her of her dog.”

  Do. Not. Laugh.

  “Oh.” Spencer cleared his throat and turned his thoughts to something more important. I really underestimated how much trouble he was having with school if he has to hide in the library to eat. He couldn’t help wondering, though, if the problem was just the crowd of kids. Spencer knew better than most how easy it was to get bullied in a packed lunchroom with lots of background noise and minimal supervision. He almost pushed—if the kids who were bullying his son did share a lunch period with him, it would be so much easier to track them down—but managed to hold off at the last second. An interrogation was the last thing Connor needed right then. But he made sure to tuck the idea away for another day. “Well. Okay then. This might not be a library, but it’s still much less crowded than the cafeteria. Do you think you could try sticking it out? For a PS4 and a new TV?”

  Connor hesitated, glancing around the room, nervousness radiating off his tiny frame in waves. “You promise you’re not gonna make me talk to anyone?”

  “When have I ever made you talk to anyone you didn’t want to?”

  Connor opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say died on his tongue when Spencer raised an eyebrow. Damn right you’re not saying anything. One of the reasons we’re here is because I indulge your shyness. No, fuck indulging, I cultivated that shit. If I’m gonna feel guilty, there’s no way you’re gonna pretend the thing I’m feeling guilty about isn’t true so you can bitch at me.

  “Fine…”

  “Good.” Spencer gave his shoulder one more squeeze before gently leading him farther into the lunchroom. “Let’s go find a table and wait for—” Tony, maybe? “—this guy to show up, okay?”

  They managed to find a free table in a corner far away from both the doors and the sandwich bar. It was round, with five plastic school chairs pushed all the way under the Formica tabletop. Connor pulled out the chair closest to the wall and threw himself into it. Spencer took the seat nearest to him much more sedately but made a show of having trouble scooting his chair over until they were right next to each other. Connor didn’t crack a smile or roll his eyes at his antics (which was a wonderful word Spencer wished he could use more often), but that was okay. He wasn’t bouncing his leg or drumming his fingers on the table, which probably meant he wasn’t in any danger of bolting no matter what Spencer did.

  Of course, after all that, Spencer ended up being the one who got all the weird looks—from both the kids and the staff. Not that he was complaining exactly. As much as he usually hated to be stared at, he was happy to divert attention away from his kid. He crossed his arms and met every questioning glance with his best flat, unimpressed teacher stare, smirking to himself when no one could meet his eyes for more than a few seconds.

  It took about ten minutes, but eventually the curious looks and raised eyebrows tapered off as the kids got their food and met up with who Spencer assumed were their Big Brothers or Sisters. He took the opportunity to study how the kids and adults interacted and found, to his pleasant surprise, the write-ups he’d read seemed to be true. No one seemed like they were in therapy. They talked and laughed, hair was ruffled, napkins were thrown, and heads were bowed in what seemed like deep, serious conversation. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew he was at a youth center, Spencer would have assumed everyone here was talking with a friend, or maybe even an actual relative. Tension he hadn’t known he was carrying around eased from his shoulders.

  This is exactly what Connor needs.

  “How long are we gonna sit here?” Connor asked under his breath.

  “Patience, kid,” Spencer murmured back. “We got here early, so that means we wait.”

  “That was a rhetorical question.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Don’t lie.” Spencer smiled briefly. “Good word usage though.”

  Whatever Connor might have said in return was cut off as a shadow fell across their table.

  “Hi,” said the man who belonged to the shadow. “My name’s Tim. You must be Connor, right?”

  His voice was low and smooth, neither young nor old, with a pleasant cheerfulness that stopped just short of being cloying. He spared a slightly perplexed glance for Spencer before turning all his attention toward the kid. Spencer took the opportunity to quickly size him up.

  He was tall, about six feet or so Spencer would guess, with wavy light-brown hair longer on the top than on the sides—though thankfully not an undercut—and artfully tousled into gentle fluffy waves. His chocolate-brown eyes were clear, friendly, and set above circles so dark Spencer assumed he was either still in college or had a baby of his own at home. The thin, navy-blue T-shirt he wore was tight enough in the shoulders and arms to show off a little bit of muscle, but otherwise, his build seemed pretty average. His lightly tanned face was handsome, in a nonthreatening, boy-next-door-kind of way, and when he smiled at Connor, the expression seemed genuine. If Spencer had been the kind of person to base his opinion of someone off appearance alone, he would have liked him on the spot. As it was, all Spencer felt was a minor sense of self-consciousness at the way the guy kept side-eyeing his dark-green cardigan and gray ThunderCats T-shirt.

  “Yeah, that’s Connor,” Spencer said when it became obvious the kid wasn’t going to say anything. “And I’m Spencer.”

  He held out his hand. Tim took it without hesitation, giving a squeeze that was firm but, Spencer noted, not crushing. Not that he was expecting a “see how strong I am, person I just met” handshake, but it was nice to have a small bit of confirmation that the guy who didn’t look like a douchebag was, in fact, not a douchebag.

  “Nice to meet you,” Tim said. He took a seat across from them—winning a few more points in Spencer’s book for not crowding Connor—and glanced back and forth between them, a small frown forming on his brow. Spencer waited patiently for the inevitable. “Are you…Connor’s brother?”

  Spencer smiled as Connor let out a disgusted huff. “Nope. I’m his father.”

  To his credit, Tim’s widening eyes seemed to be his only physical reaction, which was a nice change of pace from how this conversation usually went. Most people tended to be either disbelieving or slightly horrified when they found out Spencer had a fourteen-year-old son, especially since, when he was mostly clean shaven like now, Spencer looked a lot younger than his actual age.

  “Oh.” Spencer could practically see all the questions Tim wanted to ask lit up like bright neon signs behind his eyes; to his further credit, he didn’t ask a single one. Instead, his smile came back, a bit brighter than before. “Then it’s really great that you came with Connor. Most parents don’t really bother.”

  Spencer felt his eyes narrowing slightly as his natural paranoia started poking at the back of his mind. Tim was perfect, exactly what Spencer had hoped for when he started to seriously consider the program, and Spencer had always been incredibly suspicious of perfection.

&n
bsp; “It’s not a bother at all,” Spencer said, letting a bit of warning slip into his voice. “Gotta make sure you’re good enough to hang around with my kid. And that you’re not too interested in how he ‘hangs around,’ if you get my meaning.”

  “Oh my God, Dad,” Connor groaned.

  “Don’t ‘oh my God, Dad’ me,” Spencer said. “One of those papers I signed was to let you leave the center with him. If you think I’m not at least gonna ask if he’s gonna molest you the second I’m out the door, you’re crazy.”

  “He’s not a pedophile!”

  Spencer raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

  “I’m…really not,” Tim said, sounding torn between being insulted and bemused.

  “Well of course you’d say that,” Spencer said. “What kind of pedophile would actually admit to being a pedophile?”

  Tim blinked. “Are you saying me denying I’m a pedophile means I’m a pedophile?”

  “I’m saying I have no idea who you are, and I basically just signed my son over to you.”

  Sudden, irrational terror started clawing at Spencer’s chest the moment the words were out of his mouth.

  Oh my God, I totally just did that! I signed my kid over to a complete stranger. Holy shit. I didn’t even make sure I knew his name. He’s not a dog or some twitchy freshman; I should have asked questions! What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I can assure you I don’t molest people. Especially not kids.”

  And now Tim did sound insulted. Spencer knew he was probably in the middle of one of his bigger fuckups in recent memory, but he couldn’t get himself to shut up. He was completely freaked-out by how much thought he didn’t put into this. What if Tim really was a molester? How would Spencer even know? Was he being a giant asshole right now, insulting the hell out of a guy who seemed perfectly nice because he was a paranoid piece of shit? Or could he sense something lurking beneath the surface of Perfect Tim?

  Fuck, I have no fucking idea. But now I can’t stop worrying about this guy raping my kid.

  “Can you prove that?” He hadn’t even realized he was going to say anything until the words were already out of his mouth. Tim’s lips pinched together, and Spencer felt a surge of satisfaction laced with something he refused to admit was the beginnings of shame.

  “The center does extensive background checks,” Tim said. “Which was clearly mentioned in the forms you signed.”

  Was it? Spencer tried to think back, but, honestly, he’d kind of skimmed. He’d been more focused on getting Connor away from the front door, so he’d have more of a chance to catch up to him if he tried to run.

  “You read the forms before you signed them, didn’t you?”

  The warmth that had laced his voice when he’d first introduced himself was completely gone now. In fact, Spencer was pretty sure he heard the barest hint of derision.

  “Of course I did,” he lied. Indignation swelled inside him even though he knew he was probably in the wrong here. “But background checks only prove that you haven’t been caught.”

  “Dad, stop.”

  “Look,” Tim said, scowling. “It’s obvious you’re not comfortable leaving your son with a stranger, or at least you’re not comfortable leaving him with me. And that’s fine.” Even through his panic and the beginnings of embarrassment, Spencer got the impression Tim was the one lying now. “You can request another Big Brother for your son any time you want. But everyone here went through the exact same vetting process I did, so they’re all just as likely to be serial child rapists as I am.”

  *

  If Dick ever finds out I said that, I’m definitely getting fired.

  It was a fleeting thought, one quickly drowned out by a few dozen other thoughts that all seemed to revolve around punching Spencer in the face. It took every bit of self-control Tim had to keep from showing how close he was to snapping. Being called a pedophile by some guy he’d just met, a guy he’d actually been admiring not even five minutes ago for actually taking the time out of his day to bring his son down instead of making him walk alone like so many other parents, was the icing on the shit cake that was the last few months of his life.

  Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “So, you’re admitting it!”

  Tim clenched his hands under the table. This guy was utterly unbelievable.

  “Dad, please stop.”

  And that right there made him even angrier. The man’s son was obviously embarrassed by the way his father was acting, and Spencer didn’t even notice. Or if he did notice, he didn’t care.

  “Maybe you should come back another day.” It killed Tim to say it, especially since this was the second time in as many minutes. “You can request another volunteer on your way out.”

  God, he really was going to go zero for three, and in record time too. No, this can’t count. I barely even talked to Connor; no way is this one my fault. I’ll just tell Dick what happened, and that will be that. I’m not going to beat myself up over some paranoid, asshole parent.

  Tim shook his head. As far as he was concerned, he was done. He didn’t even care if Spencer suddenly realized what an ass he was being and apologized; Tim was going to get up and walk out and go home and wash this whole experience away with a few swigs of NyQuil.

  “No,” Connor snapped, stopping Tim before he could do more than slide his chair back. “You’re not gonna drag me back here tomorrow. We had a deal, Dad.”

  “Our deal had nothing to do with you getting molested.”

  “I’m not getting molested!”

  Tim held back a wince as a few people at the surrounding tables turned to stare at them. Nothing happening here was his fault, and he refused to be embarrassed, not for himself or anyone else. Spencer seemed to notice the stares too and met each one with a glare that made quite a few of them quickly turn away. Connor must have noticed the staring as well, but his reaction was much different than Spencer’s.

  “Forget it,” he mumbled, shrinking in on himself. “Let’s just go.”

  Connor started to stand up, and against his better judgment, Tim reached out to stop him. It was instinct, to try to stop a kid who seemed ready to run away. However, considering the “discussion” going on, reaching for Connor was probably the worst thing he could have done. Thankfully, Spencer was too busy pulling Connor back down himself to notice.

  “Wait,” Spencer said. Connor struggled, but even Tim could tell it was halfhearted at best, and after a few seconds he stopped. Spencer let go of his wrist immediately, but only to put his arm around Connor’s shoulder. He didn’t squeeze or use his weight to push his son down the way Tim had seen so many parents do. The arm was obviously supposed to be a comfort, and even though he doubted Connor would admit it, Tim could see it was working.

  Dammit, why can’t he be a terrible father?

  Good dads were one of Tim’s biggest weaknesses, and he could already feel his anger fading.

  “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  Connor shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll leave, okay?” Connor looked vaguely alarmed. Spencer smiled weakly. “Just for a bit. Stay here and…try to have a nice afternoon. I’ll come get you later like we talked about, and we’ll go get your new TV. How does that sound?”

  Connor glanced at the ground, his eyes flickering up toward Tim every few seconds. Without meaning to, Tim gave him a reassuring smile, the same one he always gave when he was trying to convince kids to come out of their shell.

  You should stop this here. It already blew up in your face once; do you really want to risk it blowing up again?

  “Okay,” Connor said finally.

  Too late now.

  “Okay,” Spencer said. “Good.”

  He gave his son a one-armed hug, then turned his hazel eyes back toward Tim. “Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

  Connor didn’t seem too happy when he heard that, but Spencer somehow sensed his distress and gave him another squeeze without breaking e
ye contact. Tim wasn’t exactly thrilled either, but he’d already encouraged Connor to stay with that smile. Freezing his dad out would send mixed messages. Possibly even set up a father/son conflict in the future if Connor and Tim managed to hit it off as program siblings.

  “Okay,” Tim said, keeping his voice even. “We can step out in the hall if you want.”

  Spencer glanced at Connor. “Maybe just a little closer to the door.”

  Somewhere Connor can still see us. That has to be on purpose.

  “That should work.”

  Spencer gave Connor one last hug before standing up. Tim got up as well and was mildly surprised when Spencer passively let him lead the way to a relatively private stretch of wall about fifteen feet away. He was more surprised by the other man’s size. Tim had to have at least six inches on him, and at just over six feet, he wasn’t very tall himself. It felt very strange to be talking to an adult who was smaller than many of the teenagers he’d spent time with recently.

  “If you’re trying to figure out how to apologize, don’t bother,” Tim said, keeping his voice down. The last thing he needed was for one of the other volunteers to overhear what was most likely going to be an argument and mention it to Dick. Getting into fights with parents was definitely against the rules. “We don’t have to like each other for Connor to get the full benefit of the program. All I ask is that if you have a problem with me, take it up with me. In private. Children shouldn’t have to see their parents arguing with people right in front of them.”

  Spencer grimaced. “I think I probably deserved that.”

  Tim stayed silent. Any agreement he made would sound too waspish—and too much like his mother—for his comfort.

  “Just like you deserve an apology, whether you want one or not,” Spencer continued. “So, I’m sorry I kind of called you a pedophile.”

  “‘Kind of’?”

  Spencer glared up at him for a second before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’m sorry I very much called you a pedophile. I just…I didn’t really think about what it would be like to leave Connor with someone I didn’t know. I’ve never done that before, and it all kind of hit me at once, you know?”