"How will you know what's what?"
"Everything older than six years that isn't crucial financial or identification information can go. If it seems like something personal you might want I'll put it in maybe." Ace was already sorting, accessing documents with a rapid glance. "I culled my mother's stuff last year with her. Got an eye for it."
"Anything that looks like it belongs to Horizon Shipping needs a fourth pile. He sold the business, but I think they'd appreciate anything that didn't get to them." Liam reluctantly reached for the stack the seemed to hold most of the personal records.
"Want to put on some music?"
Liam dug out Gene's radio from a drawer in the desk and tuned it to the classic rock station. It seemed like a reasonable compromise between Ace's heavy metal and his own preferences.
"That work?"
"Sure."
They sorted along with The Who and Led Zeppelin. Occasionally, Liam would catch softly sung snatches of lyrics from Ace's side of the room. The "keep" pile never grew much, while the "shred" pile soared until Liam had to fetch some empty boxes to pile it into.
"He visited you in California," Ace remarked, tossing the tickets into the discard box.
"During my freshman year. He could still travel back then. Barely knew he was sick yet, just started going to doctors to figure out why he was tired all the time. We spent most of the trip on the beach, avoiding all the parents' weekend events." Liam tossed a stack of credit card statements into the shred box. "I visited him after that. Came home at holidays. I got into a school that was closer by, but Berkley offered me a good scholarship and Gene told me to go. Sometimes I wish I'd stayed."
"What'd you have to keep you here?"
"Aside from Gene?"
"No one can live at home forever. So yeah, aside from him."
Liam tucked Gene's passport into the keep pile and thought about it.
"Nothing." Which was depressing in its own right.
"Better you went then." Ace chucked a pile of papers into the shred box. "I keep thinking that if you grew up around here, then whoever taught you to ink must have been pretty close by."
"He wasn't from around here." Resting both hands on the next pile, Liam closed his eyes until the sick feeling receded.
"You all right?"
He could say yes and retreat. But Ace had listened before. Listened and not judged. For the first time in years, Liam thought he might have actually made a friendship worth working on. But he'd have to earn it.
"I took some classes as the city community college during high school. There was a program -- the details don't really matter." He stared blankly down at a bank statement, slowly crumpling in the too hard clutch of his hands. "One of the guys in my art class saw my work and liked it. He worked at a big place down the street, and he got me in as his apprentice. Gene was happy I had some part-time work, so I went out a few nights a week."
"And then you got so turned around so badly you didn't go back to it for three years."
"Sort of." Liam opened his eyes back up. He was steadying himself on tax returns. "Another story for another day."
"You will tell me though?"
Turning, Liam found Ace paused at his work and staring at him. The sun caught the stray gold strands of his hair and his eyes, washed out in the brightness, were impossible to read. Was it simple curiosity? There was nothing gossipy about Ace, nothing prying. Liam had no idea why he would want to know all the ugly little details that amounted only to old pain and sorrow.
"Maybe." Liam's voice had gone raspy and low without his permission.
"I can take a maybe. I've got old birthday cards here, you want 'em?"
The job went quickly after that. Liam hadn't realized how much easier it would be to have a dispassionate partner working alongside his own sentimentality. Whenever he found something that took him off guard or overwhelmed him, he could take his time coming back to himself while Ace kept working. Sometimes Ace took the papers straight from his shaking hands. All of the boxes wound up in the basement, the discarded ones waiting for a dull afternoon for shredding.
"Want a sandwich or something?" Liam offered when the last box rested downstairs.
"I'll pick something up for both of us on my way back. I want to get the van before it gets too late. How do you feel about tacos?"
"Fine by me."
While Ace was out, Liam vacuumed the wood floor of the study. An unnerving amount of dust emptied out of the canister afterwards. He'd been ignoring large swaths of the house for far too long. The carpet should probably be washed, but there wasn't any time for that. Instead, he muscled the desk out of the room and down the hall into his own bedroom. That left the office open and welcoming.
He was wiping down the windowsill when he heard the truck putter into the driveway. He'd left the front door open, and it was more than a little strange to hear someone else's footsteps echoing through the house.
"Where are your plates?" Ace called out.
"Over the sink!" He finished up and headed into the kitchen to find a wide spread of taco shells, ground beef, black beans, sour cream, and salsa. "I'm not even going to put a dent in that."
"No problem, most of it's for me anyway. Skipped breakfast."
"Where'd you buy it all disassembled like this?"
"I didn't. Goose's mom made extras last night and sent it along with me. Sit down, you're looming."
"Does everyone cook for you?"
"Man lives on his own, people assume things." Ace shrugged, stuffing a taco shell with meat. "I've never gotten around to correcting them."
Liam ate some of the salsa, a few tablespoons of ground meat, and a taco shell. Ace watched him break the shell into neat bites with a half-smile.
"What?"
"Nothing. Your food thing. It's sort of cute now that I'm used to it."
The back of Liam's neck flushed hot. "I'm not cute."
"Uh-huh. Can you lend me a hand getting the stuff inside when we're done?"
It took about an hour to wrestle in the twin bed, low set of drawers, and a few boxes. Liam noticed there were no garbage bags among Cole's things. Care had been taken folding clothes and tucking beloved toys into boxes.
"Joy is on the way to the rehab place now." Ace pushed the bed square with the wall, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead on the arm of his t-shirt. "The program director said she'll be there at least six weeks, but probably more like eight or ten."
"However long you guys need." Sheets with rocket ships emerged from a box, and Liam set about stretching them over the mattress. "What are you doing with him on your late nights?"
"Mom wants him on the weekends. He's used to staying with her. I'm going to cut back my hours on weekdays. Kid needs some stability, you know? It's not exactly our busy season anyway."
"If you need me to work more--"
"Already told Deb to add on the extra hours to your schedule. I figured you'd want 'em."
"Yeah, I do. Thanks."
"Least I can do, man." Ace shrugged away Liam's gratitude. "Pass me that teddy bear?"
Liam left once the room was set up to try and catch an hour or two with Gene. It wasn't much, but he knew if he didn't at least try then he'd feel guilty all night. Gene had taken a nap earlier in the day and seemed bright eyed for the first half hour before lapsing in out of sleep for the rest of the visit.
"Sorry about today," Liam told him, smoothing down the wrinkled sheets.
"It's important," Gene murmured. "Don't be foolish."
He stayed at Gene's side until the dinner hour had slid by. The tacos from lunch were already sitting heavily in Liam's stomach. Instead of going to eat, he listened to Gene's breathing, no longer easy or even. No doctor had been forthcoming with an exact timeline, only hemming and hawing around the question.
The average hospice stay was ninety days, a factoid he'd stupidly Googled and instantly regretted reading. Gene had already been in for sixty. Eight weeks ago, Liam had been preparing for summer classes and t
rying to decide when he'd squeeze in a visit home. He'd been planning a trip to the Grand Canyon with a few friends and worrying over the B+ he'd gotten in Physics for Poets. He'd been a different person without Death tapping on a wristwatch.
Who would he be eight weeks from now?
The buzz of a text disrupted that line of thinking.
At the grocery store with Cole. Why are there so many kinds of mac and cheese? Anything you need?
Liam's lips twitched into a smile without his permission. He ran his thumb over the keys before typing out, Because the white cheese kind is fancy. Pistachios and paper towels, please.
Ace's car was in the driveway by the time Liam made it back. Evidence of Cole's arrival littered the halls: an abandoned sock, a sticky pot in the sink, and an army man standing guard at the bathroom door. The pinprick of a night light shimmered under the former office door. The shower ran in the bathroom. Liam retreated to his bedroom, picking through his broken-spined copy of Watership Down and listening to the soft hum of life beyond the walls. There was something satisfying in the creak of footsteps in the hallway and the fresh-scented humidity issuing from the bathroom.
Still, Liam lay awake long after Ace had stopped moving through the house. The insomnia was his constant companion, attending his bedside with smothering concerns. He gave up tossing and turning after an hour, then rose as soundlessly as he could and padded out to the living room. Taking a blanket from the back of the couch, he nested into one corner and flicked the television on. A black and white movie with a doe-eyed actress took center stage. He watched it, sinking in and out of a restless doze.
When Cole first appeared in front of him, Liam almost mistook him for a character in the movie in his sleep-deprived haze. It took him a few heart-stopping seconds to wake up enough to process.
"You okay, kiddo?" He rubbed the grit from one eye.
"Nightmare." Cole had wrapped his comforter around himself in a cocoon.
"Want me to wake up your uncle?"
Cole shook his head, clamoring up onto the couch next to Liam.
"I wanna watch TV," Cole declared.
"It's boring adult stuff," Liam warned.
Cole rebundled himself, a determined set to his chin. He didn't protest as the heroine made a passionate declaration and everything dissolved into a slow dance number. Apparently any television was better than being asleep.
"A half hour and then back to bed," Liam determined.
About twenty minutes in, Cole started leaning heavily against him, eyes at half-mast. Liam figured he could lift him up if it came to that. There were only a few more minutes left of the movie anyway.
He woke up with the sun in his face.
"Fuck." He smeared a hand over his eyes and struck a post-it note affixed to his forehead.
Bagels in the kitchen. Eat one. Got everything covered. -A
There were bagels on the counter along with fresh cream cheese. Apparently not all of Ace's grocery run had been macaroni. Liam ate half a bagel over the sink, still barely awake. The stove clock said ten, and he groaned. Late again after barely being around the day before. Guilt twisted his breakfast into knots.
He didn't bother showering, just threw on reasonably clean clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. It wasn't like Gene cared what he looked like. He drove with the window down, catching the last of the morning's cool air.
"Good morning," Gertrude said brightly when he came in. "Your friend said you'd be late today."
"My friend?" Liam took the sign in sheet and found Ace's signature sprawling comfortably a few lines up. Of course. Ace had said he had it all covered. "Oh."
"He brought me a coffee." She pointed to the Styrofoam cup with a bemused smile. "Wasn't that nice of him?"
"Yeah." Liam choked back a laugh. Apparently, Ace knew all too well how to get by gatekeepers that gave his hair, metal, and ink the side eye. "He's a regular prince."
Unable to help himself, Liam eavesdropped at Gene's door before going in. He couldn't make out the exact content of the conversation, but Gene was laughing about something in his wheezing way. When he did go in, he found Ace sitting with his feet propped up on the edge of the bed while Gene did origami folds on one of the street fair flyers.
"There you are." Gene grinned when he came in. "Ace told me you actually slept in this morning. Could've knocked me over with a feather."
"Stayed up too late watching movies." He took the other chair, folding one leg under the other. "Looks like you didn't miss me too much though. Thanks for swinging by."
"My pleasure." Ace elbowed him gently. "You let me get my beauty rest staying up with the tadpole, so you totally get a few extra hours in the morning."
"I think I fell asleep before he did."
"Eh, details. He slept, you slept, I slept. It's a good thing."
"I used to leave tapes in the VCR for Liam." Gene winked at him. "Boy never could stay in bed all night. Told him to wake me up if the house was on fire. I was always finding him on the couch in the morning, static in the background."
"Why tapes?" Ace asked, glancing between them.
"We didn't have cable." Liam shook his head. "Or any movie released after 1975. I was the only kid in school with a Bogart impression."
"Television is overrated," Gene said smugly. "You turned out smarter for it."
"I want to hear this Bogart impression." Ace raised an expectant eyebrow.
"No way."
"It was good," Gene cajoled.
"Not happening." He folded his arms across his chest.
"Aw come on, Professor." Ace leaned in, the sweet scent of mint curling into Liam's nose. "I'll give you extra points if it's not Casablanca. Unless you don't remember any..."
"I was born when she kissed me." He deepened his voice, remembering the way he used to carry his body with all of Bogart's casual tension. "I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."
"What's that from?" Ace blinked, the faintest hint of a flush gathering on his cheekbones.
"A Lonely Place." Liam cleared his throat. "It's not a very nice story. But I like that line."
"So do I."
Gene coughed once, wet and harsh. Ace fell back into his chair, looking as dumbstruck as Liam suddenly felt.
Chapter Eight
"Hey. My mom will be by in a few to take Cole. Would you mind waiting with him?" Ace paused in the doorway to Liam's room, still tying the laces on one boot while balancing on the other. "I've got to go in early and help Deb with the last of the advertisements for the fair."
"They aren't done yet?" Liam set aside his book.
"Great artwork takes time. Anyway, I can get them to the copy shop tonight. They'll be ready for tomorrow morning. Can you wait with Cole or not?"
"I can. He in the living room?"
"Nope, already outside on the steps. He's psyched about seeing Grandma apparently. We're too dull for the likes of him." Satisfied with the knot, Ace let his foot drop. "She bakes."
"Hard to compete with homemade cookies."
"Right?" Ace laughed. "I shouldn't even try. She should be here any minute, but I've really got to haul ass. Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem."
Cole was actually sitting on the step with his small blue suitcase propped up beside him. A few army men waged war against a fluffy dandelion, spraying the seeds over the neglected lawn.
"See you later, bud." Ace dipped down to ruffle Cole's hair. "Be good for Grandma, okay?"
"Okay."
"What're you playing?" Liam asked, sitting on the step behind Cole.
"Evil invaders from outer space." Cole bonked one of the army men on the head with a dandelion.
"Who's winning?"
"The good guys."
"Oh yeah? What do the aliens sound like?"
"I dunno."
"How about this?" Liam picked another dandelion and put on his best robot voice. "Surrender fools! We will prevail."
"Like that," Cole agreed with just a hint of
a smile. "Keep doing it."
Liam was midway through an epic villain monologue when a shadow fell over the steps.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she spoke softly, the hem of her linen dress dusting over the pointed gun of an army man. "You must be Liam."
"Yes, hi, sorry." He got up, wiping the dirt from his hand before offering it to her.
"No need to apologize. I'm Elaine. It's nice to meet you."
Liam never would have picked her out of a crowd as Ace's mother. Her face was worn with age, and her faded blonde hair showered down to her waist. Cole embraced her legs, pinning the delicate lavender tie-dye dress to her legs and revealing a pair of sensible brown sandals. Even her handshake was featherlight. How this woman made of watercolor and cotton produced two children filled with metal and sharp-edged bone was a mystery for the ages.
"Nice to meet you, too."
"You must be a very generous young man. Not many would offer up their home to someone they've only known a few weeks." She didn't let go of his hand, turning it palm upwards. "You've got a very strong heart line. Not surprising."
"Um." Her fingers glided over his palm, leaving a peculiar tingling in their wake. "That's good?"
"It is. Hmmm... don't let your past hold you back. It's clinging to you hard, but you can shake it loose." She squeezed his hand gently then released it. "Ready to go, baby?"
"I'm not a baby." Cole scowled.
"You'll always be my baby," she said mildly, winking at Liam. "Your uncle and your mother are still my babies, too."
"Can we have spaghetti for dinner?" Cole headed toward the car as he asked, suitcase rumbling over the sidewalk.
"Say goodbye to Liam first."
"Bye!" Cole waved and then tapped impatiently on the trunk until Elaine popped it open.
The house buzzed with silence when he went back inside. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a container of leftover rice and beans. There were all sorts of Tupperware stacked inside, markers of dinners Ace had made or had thrust upon him. There was juice, too, that Liam remembered at the last second to pour it into a glass rather than swig from the bottle.
Dinner duly consumed, he collected his things and headed out to the shop. He wasn't actually due in for another hour, but it wasn't like anyone would kick him out. Since Ace had moved in with him, the formal schedule had melted away. Apparently no one else had ever paid much attention to it anyway, as Liam found his new approach of showing up whenever he wanted to totally uncontested.
Stories Beneath Our Skin Page 9
