Let Me Live

by Shirley Anne Edwards

  “You still help your mom host her knitting group?” I snickered and then coughed when he glared at me. He helped his mom because he did enjoy the group. Not many things embarrassed him, but for some reason knitting was something he didn’t bring up. I thought it was cute because he learned to knit from his grandmother.

  “Every Thursday night.” He crossed his arms, appearing defensive even though his typical composed expression was still in place.

  “I don’t know how you find the time with working at the radio station and at the cultural center.”

  “Keeps me busy. But it may all change come the fall when I start taking classes for my master’s.” A small frown appeared. “I have to stay with my dad for two weeks this summer as a thank-you because he’s paying for my fifth year at Maison so I won’t drown in loans.”

  We had a lot in common, and not just because our parents had dated. We both came out to our parents at ten, and in part it caused both our parents to divorce. He didn’t get along with his dad, who lived in Maine, and I barely had a relationship with my mom, who lived less than an hour away.

  “That’s generous of him. Maybe it’s his way of apologizing for—”

  “Acting like a homophobic dick?” He thrust his fingers through his hair and tugged on the ends. Not much upset him, but his dad was an exception.

  “Maybe we should hook him up with my mom. They would get along well.”

  “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

  I grabbed some napkins to dry my damp palms instead of wiping them on my pants. “She’s been with him openly for almost seven years, but more like ten.”

  He started to respond but then paused, his eyes widening as he figured out what I’d just said. “Your mom chea—”

  “Let’s not go there. Forget I mentioned it.” I didn’t want to talk about Mom. I never did. She was a sore subject, especially with my birthday on Monday. She always gave me the same birthday gift ever since I was eleven. It was her way to make me feel guilty for not being the son she had envisioned. When and if she found out my true relationship with John, she would blame me and most likely disown me for good.

  I didn’t really care what she thought. I was more concerned about Dad and his reputation in the community. Although my plans were TBD, I didn’t want to hurt his chances at something more, especially after his term as mayor ended in less than two years.

  Theo wasn’t used to this type of outburst from me but he played it cool. He spread open his arms and hung them over the back of the booth. “Eh, I don’t talk about my pops to my friends either. Gives me bad heartburn.” He rubbed his chest. “We can talk about something else.”

  “Like your recommendation on what type of tattoo I should get?”

  He laughed and rolled his eyes. “How about I talk you out of it instead?”

  “You’re really hung up on me getting a tattoo?” Out of anyone, I would have expected him to support me.

  “You never talked about wanting one before. I don’t want you to regret it.” His tone switched to a more reflective, cautious one.

  He was right about me not wanting a tattoo before. But things changed. I was no longer the person he once knew.

  A text came through my cell the same time his rang. He didn’t bother to excuse himself and answered the phone. I checked the text from Dad, wondering where I was and when I was coming home.

  Theo lowered his voice but spoke just loud enough for me to hear. He talked to some guy named Dell about an art exhibit tonight he planned to attend.

  At least he gave me an hour of his time, the most we had spent in each other’s company in years. Based on his body language and how he shifted to the edge of the booth, he was anxious to leave.

  I snagged the bag of cookies because he would expect me to take it. At least I would have something to bring home to Dad to make up for disappearing for a few hours and not giving him a heads-up.

  “I’ll be there at seven o’clock.” A huge smile broke across Theo’s face and his cheeks reddened. This Dell person must be someone he wanted to impress.

  “See you then, D.” He finished the call, his smile still in place. “I’m doing some freelance writing also, and that’s my editor at the Public Standard. He wants me to cover this up-and-coming local artist. It’s the first article I’ll have in the paper.”

  “That’s great.” I would have high-fived him or shared one of the handshakes he gave most of his friends, but my hands were full with my cell and the bag of cookies.

  “I’m going to head home and do some research about tonight before I get ready. I wish we had more time to chill, but this is work and—”

  “No problem. I should go home also. I didn’t tell Dad where I went. He texted me when you got your call.” I was also feeling a little claustrophobic since a rush of people had entered. The smell of sugar and sweet dough almost made me queasy. Not wanting to embarrass myself more by puking or cowering in some corner like I’d done outside, I made my way to the exit with Theo following me.

  “Can you promise me something?” He held open the door for us to leave.

  “You don’t want me to get a tattoo unless I tell you first.”

  “I’d like to be there with you when you do.” He glanced up and down, keeping me more in the middle of sidewalk than near the street. If it was his way of protecting me, I appreciated that, especially if unsuspecting reporters or media hounds lurked about.

  “I’d appreciate your input and having you there when they put the needle to my skin.” I felt my scar, a prickling sensation spreading down my arm. That always happened whenever I thought about my wound.

  “We wouldn’t want you to get something you’ll regret when you’re old and wrinkled.” He ruffled the top of my hair before I had a chance to dodge.

  I gritted my teeth and allowed him to do something familiar between us. I had never been a fan of him touching my hair, even in this playful way. But I let him. It gave us both that sense of normalcy I believe he expected. So I suffered in silence, even giving him a smile and a nod.

  “I’ll check in with you in a few days. Maybe we can play some Xbox or watch a movie.” He shifted away, ready to go. He wasn’t expecting an answer from me either way, his attention on something more important.

  “Sounds good.” I lifted my hand in goodbye as he did the same and walked away, already holding his cell to his ear to make another call.

  He turned the corner, leaving me to find my way home.

  Chapter Three

  THE WHITE sedan behind Dad’s black coupé in our driveway belonged to Ms. Barnet, Theo’s mom. She took her maiden name back after she divorced Theo’s dad, unlike Theo, who’d kept his dad’s name of Mendivil, even though he was closer with his mom. I would always be a Caryll, because of Dad. Also, Caryll sounded better than Mom’s last name.

  I didn’t mind Ms. Barnet visiting Dad at our house. If they were dating again, good for them. She had been a great principal and role model. She was also well respected in town. I don’t know why she and Dad broke up three years ago. I never asked because I didn’t want to know about his sex life. But it had been around the time he was up for reelection, so maybe the stress made them separate.

  It would be something if the shooting brought them back together.

  I walked up the driveway to the front door instead of through the back so I could face Dad first and not hide. My cell pinged with a text from Theo.

  My mom is at your place with ur dad. I wonder what room they’re in?

  He then typed in a winking face emoji.

  If he wanted to get a rise out of me, to gross me out about our parents possibly getting it on in my house and me catching them in the act, it worked. I sent him a middle finger emoji and opening the front door, I called for Dad to announce my arrival just in case I caught him and Ms. Barnet doing something that might scar my eyes.

  From the front door, I had a view of the living room and dining room. Dad and Ms. Barnet sat at the dining room table with drinks. H
e had a bottle of beer, while Ms. Barnet had an empty wineglass. Both stood when they noticed me, acting as normal as anyone without any guilt would.

  “Hey, Ms. Barnet. I was in the center of town and saw Theo. We had coffee and cookies.” I held up the bag and moved toward them. “Want one?”

  She twisted one of her long, dark curls and sent me a smile that reminded me of her son. “I have dinner with some friends in an hour, so it’s best I don’t ruin my appetite. But thanks for asking.”

  “How about you, Dad?” I shook the bag and set it on the table.

  He finished his beer and moved close to Ms. Barnet’s side, going as far as to touch her back. She wore a bright orange dress that was definitely more for the summer and not for school. But it worked on her, and also for Dad because he met her skin and not fabric.

  “Same as Liana, I don’t want to ruin my appetite,” he said but still eyed the bag.

  “You’re joining Ms. Barnet and her friends for dinner?” I curled my hands around the top of one of the dining room chairs instead of crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You and I have a date grilling some steaks and watching the Phillies game, remember?” He finally dropped his hand away from Ms. Barnet when she moved forward to meet me at the end of the table.

  She set her hand on mine, so much like Theo, who was affectionate. There was much of her son in her from her dark complexion to her cheery smile. But unlike Theo, she was more on the petite side. Perfect for Dad to snuggle her under his arm.

  “How are you doing, Marshall? Your dad said you finally left the house today to go to the bookstore. Buy any good books?” She squeezed my hand and then let go.

  I mouthed “bookstore” at Dad, who shrugged. At least he hadn’t said library. That would have been a big oops on his part.

  “Um, I didn’t find anything interesting,” I said.

  “Well, I’m glad you still enjoying reading even after… ah….” She moved back and folded her hands in front of her stomach.

  Dad joined her, again placing his hand on her shoulder. She relaxed and lowered her arms to her sides.

  “It’s okay, Ms. Barnet. I’ll eventually visit a library again.” I gave her what I hoped was a believable grin and moved to let her pass.

  “I’m going to walk Liana out. I’ll be right back,” Dad said in his “wait here and don’t move” voice.

  “Take care, Marshall. I’m glad you and Theo could catch up.” She took a moment, as if she wanted to say something else. When she just nodded and let Dad guide her out of the room, I exhaled and took Dad’s seat, lifting the beer bottle to my mouth and finishing whatever was left inside.

  That’s how he found me. He didn’t tell me to drop the bottle or sit next to me. He mimicked my entrance by wrapping his fingers around the top of the chair and just stared.

  I set the bottle down and picked at the label. “When you said goodbyes to Ms. Barnet, did you kiss with tongues?”

  “Jesus, Marshall Vincent.” He wiped his palm down his mouth and snorted.

  “Am I in trouble?” When he used my full name and Jesus in the same sentence, I usually was disciplined, which consisted of him explaining what I did wrong and how I should fix it.

  “Trouble? Because of what you just said now?” He frowned.

  “No, because I left the house without telling you.”

  He sighed and snagged the café bag as he sat in the chair Ms. Barnet had. He opened the bag of cookies and nodded in approval. “Trying to butter me up so I don’t raise my voice at you?”

  “You mean yell at me.” I hated when he was disappointed in me. He never yelled at me, only “raised his voice.” The one time he did yell was at Mom when not only did she tell him she was divorcing him, but leaving him for her lover.

  “I didn’t have time to worry too much because Liana stopped by to talk.” The not-so-subtle red rising up his neck and chin made me laugh.

  “You two are definitely getting back together.” I raised the empty beer bottle. “Cheers.”

  He snagged the bottle from me and stood. “Want to have a beer before we grill?”

  “Allowing your underage son to drink alcohol? What would your constituents say if they found out?”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.” He winked. “You probably had more than a few at NCU.”

  He went into the kitchen. I hadn’t gone too wild at NCU with my drinking, but I did enjoy a beer in certain situations, like now when Dad and I would hang out and “bond.” Toward the end of high school, I had been too busy with swim meets and hanging out with friends, so our bonding time was limited. But now I appreciated it more and looked forward to it every weekend.

  He came back with two open bottles of beer. He tapped his beer to mine, and I took a deep pull from the bottle.

  “You and Theo had coffee?”

  I paused drinking, noticing the all-too-smug expression on his face. “So you and Ms. Barnet had drinks. But Theo and me are just friends. That ship with him sailed a long time ago.”

  “It’s sailed because of what happened at college?” He suddenly had an interest in reading the ingredients on the label.

  He never said the word—shooting. Usually it was called the incident or what happened at college. I don’t think he did it for my benefit but more for his own. Out of anyone, he was the one person I could be honest with. I had tried figuring out John’s motives and why Jordan had been the main target and why I was left alive. But my words came out jumbled, a first for me because I never had a problem explaining things or talking in coherent sentences before. By the time I was in control again, Dad would change the subject.

  “The shooting isn’t the reason.” I drank my beer. “But maybe it’s the reason you and Ms. Barnet are getting back together?”

  He rested his hand on the table, his pinkie finger tapping the wood but not making a sound. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impatient.

  I drank slower while I waited for his answer. His pinkie kept tapping, but when he stopped, I knew he would respond. He drank in tandem with me and then cleared his throat. “We’re taking things slow. Will you be okay if I date again?”

  Would it be awkward if my father dated my former high school principal—who was also the mother of the man I once had a bad crush on and lusted after to the point of waking up most mornings horny? Eventually the strangeness of it all would wear off, but it would stick with Dad longer. He always made sure I came first even if it meant his shot at happiness might be on hold to make sure I got mine.

  “I always liked Ms. Barnet even when she was my principal.” I leaned back in the chair with my hands behind my head. “She’d make a good governor’s wife.”

  He wiped away the beer that had missed his mouth and laughed. He had mentioned a run for governor before. I thought he had a good shot at it, and if he and Ms. Barnet became the real deal, she would be a great partner and cheerleader for him. He needed someone like her by his side since he had been alone for too long. It would also prove he was over Mom, who was fine with someone by her side—a younger man she had fooled around with while married. I couldn’t understand why she was still with Duke. But he had the looks and the money. Plus, because his dad was a high-powered agent, Mom got a sweet publishing deal and a permanent spot as an on-air cable news analyst to spew her traditional-minded views.

  “We’re nowhere near that point in our relationship. As for running for governor, it’s still up in the air.”

  “Why not run? It’s the perfect time to start thinking about campaigning, especially because of what happened to me.” I slouched in my chair to see how comfortable it felt. “You’d get the sympathy vote, and you’d have a great platform on gun control—”

  “Stop, Marshall. If you want to have a serious conversation about the shooting, then I can make an appointment with a therapist, and we can talk there.”

  I grabbed the beer bottle, wishing I could squeeze it into pieces. My grip just made my hand ache. Throwing it wouldn’t accomplish an
ything. “It’s what Mom recommended?”

  “I don’t agree with many things your mother does and says, but with this—yes.” The doorbell rang before he could continue, and he rose to answer it.

  I knocked the bottle away and watched it land on its side. My pulse echoed in my ears, and I felt hot. I needed space, away from this room with its suffocating walls. I pushed away my chair hard enough it made a scraping sound on the floor. By the time Dad came back, I would be gone.

  But I didn’t get far because he reappeared with an unwanted guest—Mom.

  THE CICADAS made too much noise even as it became late in the day. I usually liked the sound, which was louder in the backyard near the pool. Those insects drowned out the angry thoughts rolling around in my head about the woman who’d given birth to me now having dessert with the man she’d screwed over, the same man she’d promised to love, cherish, and be faithful to until she died.

  Faithless Bitch. That had been my nickname for her for many years. I would never forgive her for what she did to Dad, which was much worse than what she did to me. I once wanted her to love me so badly, and I had tried my best to be the perfect son, but that ended when I wasn’t what she wanted me to be. Although I was a straight-A student, popular in school, and athletic, not counting the sweet deal I got to NCU, I was a failure—her failure because I was gay.

  Having a gay son was the one aspect of her reputation she couldn’t fix, even more so than cheating on her husband, especially in her snobbish circles and as on-air personality on the most conservative-minded radio and cable news shows. Even as a hypocrite, she still attended church.

  I stopped going to church after their divorce. Dad didn’t force me to go. He barely went either. Another thing we had in common as father and son. We had lost our faith a long time ago.