Not Today

by MC Lee

  ON TUESDAY night I dashed home to get Dad fed, watered, and settled down, and then I took a deep breath and told him I was going out for a couple of hours. He looked over at me and shrugged silently.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” I said, faking heartiness. “Will you be all right by yourself for a little while?”

  Dad frowned. “Emmett, I’m not a goddamned five-year-old you have to babysit,” he growled. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Want me to bring anything back?” I asked.

  “Just make sure you’re back at a decent hour. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

  I was half-tempted to stay and talk to him for a while. He sounded so reasonable, so… there. But him being with it was also the reason I felt I could go out for a few hours without worrying too much, so I took a last look around to make sure there was nothing that might trip him up, and then I waved and hurried out the door.

  The Bloor Street Diner was a twenty-minute fast walk from my house, smack in the middle of town. It wasn’t so fancy I felt underdressed in jeans and a tee, but it wasn’t so down-at-heel that a right-side-of-the-tracks kid like Noah would stand out too much or make the customers feel uncomfortable.

  Which wasn’t to say he didn’t look amazing when I pushed open the door and sauntered in, trying to look cool. His face lit up when he saw me, and he hurried over.

  “I can only stay a half hour,” I warned.

  “That’s fantastic, Emmett.” He glanced around. “Do you mind sitting at the counter?”

  I followed him and smiled when he placed a mug in front of me and filled it with coffee.

  He shrugged apologetically and waved the coffeepot. “I’ve got to go do the rounds. You okay? You want anything else?”

  “I’m fine. Go do your thing.”

  The smile he flashed me was sweet and sent a weird tingling sensation up and down my spine. I watched surreptitiously as he stopped at every table and filled up coffee cups, chatting genially with all the customers, never looking bored or indifferent. When he’d covered each of the tables, he returned to the counter and topped up my mug.

  “Is Mrs. Sweeney sitting with your dad?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. He seemed pretty together tonight. I think he’ll be okay by himself for an hour. I just have to make sure I get back before it gets dark, so he doesn’t go stumbling around by himself.”

  “Has he had many accidents?”

  I felt the hackles rise on the back of my neck. “I can look after him, Noah,” I said, realizing how cold the words sounded but unable to stop myself.

  “I wasn’t criticizing,” Noah said evenly. “I know you do your best.”

  “But my best isn’t always good enough.” I threw up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I don’t need any stirring clichés.”

  Noah inclined his head. “I was just going to say it’s all anybody can do. Jesus, you don’t give an inch, do you?”

  I felt like a dick. Again. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about him to many people. I don’t know how to do it without sounding whiny and pathetic—”

  “You don’t sound like either of those things,” Noah protested. “You sound like a kid who’s got a lot of shit to deal with and doesn’t know how to ask for help. Even when it’s standing right in front of you.”

  I shook my head. I’d hoped we wouldn’t do this tonight. All I’d wanted was a cup of coffee, a little company, and thirty minutes away from my life. I pushed my mug across the counter and stood up, but Noah reached over and grabbed my wrist.

  “You let Mrs. Sweeney into your life. Why won’t you accept help from me?”

  “That’s different. She’s one of… she’s a neighbor.”

  “One of us. You were going to say ‘she’s one of us.’ What does that make me?”

  “A friend?” I said desperately. “Somebody who can help me forget for a few hours.”

  He looked taken aback.

  “It’s what I need, Noah,” I said. “I don’t need somebody to get dragged down into my mess. I need somebody who’ll pull me out from time to time.”

  He let go of my wrist. “I’m sorry, Emmett. I didn’t mean to push you. Sit down.” When I didn’t make any move to comply, he leaned in. “Please? We don’t have to talk about your dad if you don’t want to.”

  I looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it, so I sat back down.

  He smiled, a pale imitation of his usual exuberance. “How about a piece of apple pie? On the house.”

  I didn’t have time to reply before he turned and walked to the end of the counter. I watched in silence as he cut a thick piece of pie and slid it onto a plate, and then topped it off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. His smile seemed more genuine when he returned and put the heaping plate in front of me. I hesitated for just a moment before digging in gratefully.

  Noah inclined his head. “Do you think you could ask Mrs. Sweeney to watch your dad for a couple of hours on Sunday?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I thought we could do something together. You know, grab a coffee or take a walk. It would be nice to just… hang out.”

  He was right, it would be great to say I’d meet him and actually mean it. But that wasn’t how my life worked. Which I thought he knew.

  “All I can tell you is that I’ll try.”

  I wondered if he knew that I wanted this as badly as he did. His face broke out into a wide smile, and I decided to take a leaf out of his book and hope for the best.

  MRS. SWEENEY was happy to oblige, provided it was after nine-o’clock Mass, so I told Noah I’d meet him at Starbucks at ten thirty, and then I crossed my fingers and prayed. Luckily, somebody was on my side because Dad was pretty tuned out when Sunday rolled around, so I knew Mrs. S could handle him.

  “Two hours. Tops,” I said, already halfway out the door.

  Noah’s face lit up when I walked in, and I realized he hadn’t really expected me to show.

  “Let me grab you a cup,” he said. “Regular okay? Or would you prefer something else?”

  “Regular’s just fine.”

  I resisted the urge to shove my hand in my pocket, knowing I’d come up short anyway, and that Noah would be irritated at the gesture. He’d told me a couple of times before that I didn’t always have to fight him over money. “It’s just a goddamned cup of coffee, Emmett!” His exasperation had been clear, and I’d shrugged and told him if it meant so much to him, he could buy me all the coffee he wanted to.

  When he returned with a full mug, he slid back into the booth and smiled at me.

  “It’s great you could get away. How’s your dad?”

  I took a sip of the steaming brew and nodded. “He was okay this morning. A bit out of it, but pretty calm.”

  He inclined his head. “That’s great. So we have some time?”

  “A couple of hours. I told Mrs. Sweeney I’d be home for lunch. You want to go for a walk or something?”

  “I’m fine just sitting here, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sounds good.” I was more than happy to sit across the table from him and watch him talk. He had the most expressive face I’d ever seen. His eyes lit up when he spoke, and his whole being got in on the act, his animated hands sculpting the air as if he was creating something. Sometimes I got distracted from what he was actually saying because of the constant motion of his body.

  “How was the game yesterday?”

  He grinned. “Believe it or not, we kicked ass.” The next ten minutes were a whirlwind of gestures and broad smiles as he gave me a blow-by-blow account of every point played. I knew a stupid grin was tugging the corner of my mouth, but it slid off when he finished his description with an unexpected question. “So you and Cal had a thing?”

  I slammed the coffee mug onto the tabletop, caught out by his words. “How’d you know?”

  Noah shrugged. His eyes were locked on mine, and I didn’t want to look away. I wasn’t embarrassed, just surprised Cal would
say anything about us to a near stranger.

  “Don’t worry. He didn’t tell me,” Noah said, reading my shock. “It’s the way he talks about you. It’s obvious he’s into you.”

  “Was into me,” I said. “He’s straight now.”

  Noah snorted his disbelief. “What I heard wasn’t a straight boy talking.”

  I looked away, in case Noah saw too much. “We had something once, but it was just a phase for him—”

  “Come on, Emmett. You don’t really believe that,” Noah chided gently. “I’ve never known a totally straight boy who wanted to fuck another boy. He’s bi. Or gay and confused. The one thing he isn’t is straight.”

  I threw up my hands. “Well, whichever way he swings, we’re through, and he’s moved on.”

  Noah shook his head. “Have it your way. But I know somebody who’s still hung up when I hear it.”

  “Let’s drop it, man,” I said. “There must be something more exciting to talk about than Callum Moreland.”

  We found plenty of other topics and drank another cup of coffee each, and when a shadow fell across the table and somebody called Noah’s name, I had to work hard to keep the scowl off my face. I looked up just as Owen Jones, one of Noah’s football teammates, slapped his outstretched hand in greeting.

  “What up, man?” Owen said. “You about ready?”

  It took me a moment to realize he was talking to Noah.

  “Give me a minute?” Noah replied.

  “Okay. Wait for you outside. You coming too, Easy?”

  I waved Owen off. “Count me out.” I didn’t know where they were heading, but I knew I wasn’t going to be with them.

  Owen shrugged and turned to make his way to the door and the four or five members of the team who were standing outside waiting for him.

  “You have plans?” I said, hoping Noah wouldn’t detect the sudden wistful longing I could hear in my own voice.

  “Adam’s Rib,” Noah replied. “They said something about the best barbecue in the county.”

  I nodded. “They are not wrong.”

  Noah leaned forward. “Why don’t you come with? We could call Mrs. Sweeney. See if she could sit with your dad a while longer….” He trailed off as I shook my head automatically. He glanced down at the tabletop, and I could clearly hear the care he took with his next words. “I could always ask my mom to look in on him if you want. I know she’d be glad to help—”

  He stopped at the strangled sound that got caught in my throat. I swallowed down on my rising panic and managed to answer calmly. “I don’t want you to do that, Noah. I thought I was clear—”

  “She wouldn’t judge,” he said hurriedly. “And she wouldn’t sell you out—”

  “No!” I knew he was only trying to help, and ever since he’d found out about Dad, I’d half expected this. He’d told me he understood my situation, but this was proof that he hadn’t really gotten it.

  I pulled in a breath and lowered my voice. “Thanks, Noah. I really appreciate the offer. I do. But I can’t. Not now. Not right now. I can’t.” I stopped before my freaked-out babbling took me somewhere I didn’t want to go.

  Noah sat back with an audible sigh.

  “Another time, maybe.” I stood up quickly, and Noah climbed to his feet. “Thanks for the coffee,” I said. “Enjoy your ribs.”

  “You’re sure—”

  “Absolutely. Have a great time. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” I would have liked to reach out and touch him, but that wasn’t happening in a Starbucks in Whitmore, Pennsylvania.

  “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” he breathed. He turned and I followed him out, and when he walked away surrounded by all his teammates, I forced myself toward home, pushing down resentment with every reluctant step.

  THE NEXT day I tried not to read anything into Cal’s conversation, especially as he had his arms wrapped around Melissa’s waist and was pulling her up against his side as he spoke. I didn’t think what Noah had told me was right, although if I were honest, I’d admit that I’d recently felt some of the old spark rekindle every time Cal looked at me or we talked.

  “You missed a fantastic game on Saturday,” he said.

  “So I heard.”

  A frown momentarily creased his brow, before he obviously figured it out.

  “You talked to Noah. Did he tell you he’s the reason we won? He was amazing, man. I’ve never seen anything like it—” He stopped abruptly when Melissa dug an elbow into his ribs with such force that I saw him flinch. His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. “I mean, you were great too when you played his position. I mean when he played yours. I mean—”

  “Relax, Cal,” I drawled. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Noah was really good, Emmett,” Melissa said. “It’s a shame you couldn’t come out to watch him.”

  I wasn’t sure whether she was judging me and deciding I was a shit boyfriend, but I was saved the need to whip up a lie when I felt an arm slide around my shoulder and Noah’s voice behind me saying evenly, “Emmett was busy. It’s cool.”

  “Too busy to watch his friends?” No doubt about it, the word was loaded. And from the embarrassed look on Cal’s face, this had something to do with him. I wondered where in hell this was coming from and decided I really didn’t need this right now. If Cal and Melissa were having problems, that was between them.

  Noah’s arm tightened as he stepped up beside me. “There’ll be other games,” he said pleasantly. “Did you guys finish the history project?”

  On the way into class, I lowered my voice and leaned over to Noah. “What was that about?”

  Noah threw me a sidelong glance. “Melissa’s a pretty smart lady.” He paused before adding, “And Cal isn’t all that subtle.”

  I wasn’t sure what was going on here, but I knew I didn’t want to encourage suspicion—not about my life, not about my family, and not about Cal’s wavering conviction.

  I turned toward Noah. “I’m gonna try to get out to next week’s game,” I said resolutely. “I’m really gonna try to do better.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “DOES YOUR face still hurt?”

  I hadn’t heard the voice a lot, but I recognized an outsider’s question. I turned around to find Hannah standing behind me, her head cocked to one side as she stared at the fading bruise.

  “It’s fine.” I hoped she’d move on, but she didn’t seem in much of a hurry. “Did you enjoy the rest of the game?” Anything to stop her talking about me.

  “It was all right,” she said. “Noah was good. You should have come and had a burger with us afterward.”

  “Another time,” I said, turning to walk to class.

  “When?”

  I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “When are you coming to our house for dinner? My parents invited you, didn’t they?”

  I was beginning to wonder if she had some kind of Asperger’s thing going on. “Maybe after the next game.”

  “Promise,” she said.

  “Totally,” I lied.

  She clapped her hands. “Noah will be so glad.” She turned and walked away, leaving me scratching my head.

  In the cafeteria at lunchtime, Noah seemed edgy.

  “Listen, my parents want me to invite you and your folks for dinner this weekend,” he said.

  Hannah’s weird behavior suddenly came into focus. She’d known Noah was about to invite me to their house, and she’d wheedled an acceptance out of me while my guard was down. Too bad I wasn’t about to keep my promise.

  “That can’t happen,” I breathed.

  “I know. I tried to put them off, but it’s tough. They’re all about being good neighbors.”

  “This is fucking Whitmore,” I snarled. “Your people and mine don’t mix.”

  “Well, my parents never got the memo,” Noah said caustically. “What are we going to do? They don’t take no for an answer very easily.”

  “Lie! Tell them we’re bigots, homop
hobes. Tell them we’re card-carrying members of the KKK, for fuck’s sake.”

  Noah’s lips thinned in irritation. “Hannah already told them we’re close. They know I wouldn’t have anything to do with somebody that disgusting.” He cocked his head to the side and studied me. “Besides, do you really want anybody to think that about you?”

  “No, of course not.” I was ashamed to have suggested it, but I was in full-blown panic mode. “I’m sorry. That was a really stupid thing to say. But I can’t let your folks see my dad. And I definitely don’t want them to know we’re living by ourselves.”

  Noah patted me on the back, ignoring the crude comments from the football team sitting at the table with us. “I don’t like lying to my parents, but maybe the best thing is to play along for now. I’ll tell them you’re coming, then on Saturday morning you call with an excuse to duck out. You okay with that?”

  I nodded gratefully. “I appreciate the invitation. But even if my situation were different, I’m not sure it would happen. We’re too different, Noah.”

  Noah shook his head incredulously. “My parents have sat around the table with warring tribesmen. I doubt there’s anything here they can’t handle.”

  I offered a supportive smile, but in my heart I disagreed. This was Whitmore. This was fucking Whitmore!

  IT FELT like a chapter in a bad novel, but when Saturday rolled around, our cunning deception instantly fell apart.

  As planned I called Noah’s cell phone midmorning and told him the “news” that Pops wasn’t feeling good, and dear old Mom wanted to stay home and look after him. I sent through their effusive apologies, which Noah promised to pass on to his parents.

  Less than five minutes after I’d hung up, my phone rang.

  “It’s Noah. My mom’s here. She wants a word.”

  My stomach immediately clenched. “Hello, Mrs. Davis—”

  “Emmett, Noah told me your father is feeling unwell. I was wondering if there was anything I could do? Perhaps I could bring over some soup. Maybe—”

  “No!” I pulled in a deep breath and tried to tame my pounding heart. “That’s very kind, Mrs. Davis,” I said quickly. “It’s just the start of a cold, but Mom thinks it’s better if Dad rests for a while.”