by M. A. Hinkle
Felix arrived, looking flustered. “No,” he said to Cathal, pointing at him before climbing into the backseat of the car.
“I haven’t said a word, dearest nephew.” Cathal slipped into the passenger seat. “Whyever are you shushing me?”
“No,” Felix repeated, tucking his chin as though that would somehow make him look tough. “No, we are not doing this every time after rehearsal. It’s bad enough with you guys staring at me all the time during dinner.”
“You should be grateful, Felix.” Cathal kept his voice guileless. “We’re very invested in your happiness.”
Damon paused before pulling out of the parking spot and turned around to face Felix. “Do you really want us to stop? Because we will.” This with a threatening sideways glance at Cathal.
Felix fidgeted. Then he let his head fall back against the seat. “No. You guys give better advice than my friends. Alex is all like, ‘I’m ace and gray-aro. I do not care about your romantic problems in any way, shape or form.’ And Zach and Sarah are both like, ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out already?’”
“They do have a point,” Cathal said, trying to be gentle. “It can’t hurt to try.”
Felix glared. “Yes, it totally can, considering that I have to see this guy after school all the time now. And I have to pretend to be in love with his brother. And I’ll fail my physics test. He’s a really good tutor.”
“I’m not saying you need to ask the boy out for coffee and a movie or something,” Cathal replied, fixing Felix with a look with a capital L. “But if he were anyone else, you’d have already invited him over to the house.”
“I mean—” Felix’s eyes flicked to his father.
Damon sighed. “Felix, you can go on living your life however you like. Your mother never would have wanted you to keep your life fixed in stone, and I don’t want it either. You’re good at making friends, son. I would never begrudge you that.”
Felix chewed on his lower lip. “Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Remember what I told you before,” said Cathal. “If he’s interested in you but as shy as you think, nothing short of a brick to the face will convince him of your interest. If he’s straight, he’ll never pick up on it either way. You’re safe.”
“It’s not that. I don’t really care if he likes me back or not, now that he doesn’t look at me like I’ve got three heads.” Felix blew out a breath. “But I am going to get teased for this from every angle, and I am going to have to accept that.”
“See, look at you, handling this like a mature adult. I’m so proud.”
Felix refused to speak the rest of the drive home.
FELIX WAS VERY excited by the rainbow cookies, and also by the pizza. Even though it had mashed sweet potatoes instead of sauce.
“This is a crime against nature,” Cathal informed Damon, after Felix went upstairs to run his lines. “I hope you realize that.”
“You ate three pieces,” Damon replied.
“It was a delicious crime. That does not change the fact that it should be illegal.” He got to his feet. But Damon looked over at him, and, despite himself, Cathal paused, raising his eyebrows.
“Thank you.” Damon lifted his eyes to Cathal’s. “For being good with Felix. I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t know how I’d have managed all this without you.”
Cathal bit the inside of his cheek to keep his expression still. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “It’s really not a problem. I love him too, you know.”
“Yes,” said Damon, and thankfully, that was the end of the conversation.
CATHAL TRIED TO work, but all that came out of his pen were things like Damon makes delicious cake. I like delicious cake and George has a stupid face.
He crumpled up the page and threw it away.
When he went downstairs, Damon was sitting on the couch, a six-pack next to his feet. “Oh, good,” said Damon without looking away from the TV. “I bought some more of your fancy beer. I was worried you were going to make me drink it.”
“You drank half the case last time.”
“Not by choice.” But Damon was smiling.
Cathal realized he was smiling, too.
Ugh.
He sat down, hoping his expression conveyed reluctance and disgust instead of the strange calm he was starting to feel around Damon. “I do this under duress, mind you. Only because I know you won’t appreciate the subtleties of flavor involved.”
Damon snorted. “Who’s the chef here? I know what makes this craft beer, and I could talk about it without reading what’s written on the label like you do. But beer is not supposed to be fancy. Beer is for guys like me, who don’t need everything dressed up all the time.”
Cathal’s lips twitched. “I see how it is. You’re always after me for making speeches, but I’ve just never talked about the right things to get you started.”
“You’re right. I do care about food. I’m not near as bad as you, though, so don’t you start.”
“I am pure as the driven snow, and you know it.” Cathal settled back in his seat. “I would never dream of teasing you endlessly about this, and I have no idea how you could ever accuse me of it.”
“You are such a piece of shit,” said Damon, but fondly.
Cathal would have bet his professorship, his apartment, and his tenure on the idea that Damon couldn’t sound fond while speaking to him. Another of the long list of things he was wrong about.
Damon held up his bottle; Cathal clinked his against it. Like he’d said the other day. It wasn’t all bad.
Eight: The Great Pillow Massacre of 2016.
CATHAL HAD GOTTEN used to their routine during the day—him working, Damon making something strange but delicious in the kitchen—so he was surprised to get a knock around lunchtime. He wondered if Damon was going to nag him to eat, but when he opened his door, Damon was smiling. “Felix’s bringing his boys over for dinner tonight. Thought I ought to let you know so you’ll be nice.”
“This from you, who was weepy over how good I am with your son.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Yes, and you like taking hell out of him as much as you like making him feel better.” He paused. “Not that I won’t be taking hell out of him myself. I just figured you ought to know.”
“We’ll make his life a misery.” Cathal smiled like someone seeing his firstborn for the first time.
“Oh, yes,” said Damon. “I’m making macaroni and cheese for dinner, by the way.”
Cathal squinted at him. “That sounds normal.”
Damon smiled enigmatically, which was another thing Cathal would have said he could never do. “You’ll see.”
“What will I see?”
Damon turned to go back down the stairs.
“What will I see?” Cathal repeated. “If you’ve found a way to ruin mac and cheese, you are a bad person!”
Damon didn’t turn around. “I’m making more cake, too.”
“That doesn’t make it better, you horrible man!”
But it kind of did.
THE MACARONI AND cheese looked normal, although there were zucchini and peas in it. Damon smirked as Cathal inspected it, though, which suggested something more sinister at work. “I’ll tell you after we eat,” Damon said when Cathal asked about it.
Damon’s cake was iced with the title of the play and a blue-and-white border. Cathal squinted at it for good measure, even though it was pretty. He’d never noticed before, but Damon had the handwriting of an angel. Yet more proof that he wasn’t human.
Felix was late, but that was to be expected. He was talking as he came in, gesturing wildly. The boy following him was several inches taller—though that wasn’t surprising, since Felix was short—and had a blond braid. He was dressed for a business lunch, and his smile was cautious but true. The boy Felix was talking to, however, slouched, and was dressed like his next appointment was tagging buildings with the anarchy symbol. He had long hair as well, but his hung loose to his shoulders.
The boy with the messy clothes shrugged. “I still like my shows to end with bisexual ladies. And Korra kicks ass.”
“Gareth!” the other boy snapped. Cathal had already figured out who was who, but the confirmation was nice.
Gareth just shrugged, and Felix sighed as he climbed up onto the counter. “Guys, this is my dad, Damon Eglamore, and my uncle, Cathal Kinnery.” Cathal waved lazily, smiling his most evil smile. Damon crossed his arms over his chest, although his smile was friendly.
Morgan dropped his eyes to the floor, a blush creeping up his neck. “Um. H’lo.” His voice was hardly a mumble.
Gareth threw some hair over his shoulder like the bad girl in a high school movie. “Hi.”
Felix looked at Morgan as though he might hide the secret to cold fusion. He did not look at Gareth, who was glancing around the kitchen with an unreadable expression. “Dad, Cathal, this is Morgan. He’s Theseus. And that’s Gareth.” He pointed at the other boy without looking at him. “He’s Oberon.”
Damon smiled. “It’s good you’ve made new friends, Felix.”
Cathal set his cheek on his hand. “Oh, yes, Felix talks about you two all the time. We were wondering if you were ever going to stop by.” With his eyes, Felix signaled that he wished Cathal a horrible and painful death.
Damon glanced at the table. “Oh! I forgot we’d need more chairs today.” He went out of the room.
Felix pointed at the empty chair across from Cathal. Morgan sat, slowly, setting his bag on his lap. “I can put that in my room if you want,” Felix offered, but Morgan shook his head, his eyes flicking around the room as though he wanted to study it but didn’t want to be caught staring.
“Don’t mind me.” Gareth leaned his elbow on his brother’s shoulder. Morgan shot him a warning look, which Gareth ignored.
Felix sat next to Morgan, his back straight for once. “Ooh, is that mac and cheese?”
“There’s something weird about it,” Cathal warned him.
“Weird’s been good so far.” Felix looked at Morgan conspiratorially. “My dad’s been cooking all kinds of whacko stuff since my mom died. I think it was a coping mechanism at first, but now he does it to make Cathal mad.”
Morgan’s eyes flicked to Cathal, as though Cathal would object.
“Oh, please.” Cathal snorted. “He’ll have to be cleverer than that to keep me on my toes.”
Gareth laughed, which surprised Cathal, and apparently Felix as well, who looked at Gareth like he’d grown an extra head.
“Who is?” Damon asked, coming back in the room with the extra chairs. They’d disappeared from the dinner table about the time Era had moved to inpatient care. No one ever commented, and Cathal wasn’t about to break that streak. Though it was good to see them back.
When Cathal just looked at him, Damon rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, talk about me the moment I walk out of the room.”
“Like you don’t do the same thing to me,” said Cathal.
Damon shrugged, neither confirming nor denying, and got plates from the cupboard. “You want anything to drink, boys? We have juice, water—no soda, though. It makes someone completely nuts.”
“Dad!” Felix yelped. Gareth laughed again. Cathal squinted, but it was not a mean laugh, though Morgan shoved his brother off his shoulder.
Morgan’s lips twitched, although the smile was gone as soon as it appeared. “Water, please.”
“Smart boy.” Damon put the mac and cheese in the center of the table. “Guests first, you two. Help yourself.”
Gareth served himself and Morgan, putting more on Morgan’s plate and ignoring his brother’s frown.
“Dad. There are vegetables in this,” Felix said, frowning at his plate.
“Yes. They’re good for you.”
“Dad. You’re a bad person.”
“Yes. It’s good for you.”
Morgan watched them with an expression like he could not quite believe it. Gareth was focused on the food. Cathal ducked his head to hide a smile as he served himself.
Damon took his spot at the table. “So Felix says you’re a violinist?” he asked Morgan.
Morgan nodded, twisting his fork in his fingers. “That’s my main instrument, yes.”
“Morgan can play everything,” said Felix, envy in his voice.
“Not everything,” said Morgan, though he flushed at the compliment. “I’m useless at any kind of woodwind.”
“You have to suck at something, or else you’d be perfect,” said Felix, and it was supposed to be a joke, but there was no hiding the sincerity in his eyes.
“He can’t swim.” Gareth nudged his brother in the ribs. Morgan shot him a sharp look, which Gareth ignored.
Cathal decided to change the subject to keep from laughing. Despite what he’d said, he did have some sense of what was and wasn’t okay to tease Felix about. “Felix says you’re in a number of advanced classes, Morgan.”
Morgan nodded, which appeared to be the extent of his current ability to reply.
Cathal opened his mouth to ask why, but Felix made an irritated noise. “Would you guys stop grilling him for, like, thirty seconds so he can actually eat? He never does!” In typical fashion, he had somehow already finished his food and was going for a second helping.
Morgan looked sideways at Felix like this was news to him. Or like Felix was an alien that had appeared next to him, a common response.
“I noticed,” Felix mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “You, like, never finish your lunch.”
Gareth elbowed his brother again. “I told you.” He looked around his brother, his eyes narrowed at Felix, and Cathal braced himself to defend his nephew. But Gareth said, “Thank you.”
Felix’s jaw dropped. Thankfully, his mouth was not full.
Cathal stuffed a bite of mac and cheese in his mouth because, otherwise, he was going to laugh. The food was delicious, although there was something strange about it he couldn’t put his finger on. “How did your physics test go, Felix?”
Felix made a face. “I think maybe I didn’t completely fail?”
“You did fine.” Morgan’s voice was quiet, like he thought no one would notice if he didn’t raise his voice, and he was still looking at his unfinished food. “I’m serious. I grade the tests for tutoring credit.”
“You never told me that.”
“Oh. Well, I do, and you did fine.” He lifted his head and smiled at Felix, but it was sickly. Gareth nudged his brother, and Morgan sighed and started to finish his food.
Felix kicked Cathal under the table. “Tell him about your job, Cathal. He’ll like that.”
Cathal sniffed. “I don’t make concessions to terrorists.”
“Pleeeeease?”
“Oh, all right. Only if it will silence your whining.” But Cathal was smiling. “I teach astrophysics at a private university.”
Morgan paused, betraying cautious interest. “Really?”
“Really really. My research is about building model universes.”
Morgan’s eyes lit up. “You wrote that book Mr. Broadbeam lent me! I remember now. I thought I’d heard your name before.” He dropped his eyes, as though embarrassed he’d revealed his excitement. If he’d looked sideways, he’d have seen Felix looking at him like a Christmas present. Gareth was smiling, too, in a hidden sort of way.
Cathal smiled. “You must be advanced for your age if Aaron lent you that. It’s for college students.”
Morgan shrugged, blushing again. “I like math.”
“Look at that, Felix. You’ve gone and made a friend who makes sense.”
Felix blew a raspberry at him. He’d already finished his second plate of mac and cheese and was eyeing the pan.
“Not that I’ll complain about you eating,” Damon said, raising his eyebrows, “but there is d
essert.”
Cathal turned to Damon before he could get up. “All right, I ate it. Now spill, Eglamore. What crime against humanity did you commit now?”
Damon smiled beatifically. “The sauce is made with pureed butternut squash and cauliflower.”
Cathal looked at his plate, then at the pot. “You bastard.”
“Language! We have guests!” But Damon was laughing, and so was Gareth, though Morgan looked scandalized.
“It’s very good.” He hunched up his shoulders, like he was waiting for someone to kick him.
“Thank you.” Damon beamed at him, and Morgan smiled back—hesitantly.
“And now you’re brainwashing Felix’s new friend on top of everything else. I am alone in this tide of evil.” Cathal pressed the back of his palm to his forehead as though he might faint.
Damon patted Cathal’s shoulder. “It’s all right. We’ll make a food person of you yet.”
“You will do no such thing.”
Shaking his head, Damon got up and collected his and Cathal’s plates and put them in the sink. He brought the cake out and set it at the center of the table.
“That’s really fancy!” Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Did you make that, Dad?”
Damon went red. “I did,” he said, as though he were expecting a challenge.
“It’s nice,” said Morgan, quietly. “Is that what you do?”
“It is now, I think.” Damon sliced the cake, giving Morgan and Gareth the largest pieces. Felix did not whine because he was already stuffing his face. Clearly he wasn’t hoping to impress Morgan with his manners.
Not that Cathal could blame him. The cake was strawberry flavored, with red stuff between the layers. “There’s jam in this,” he said, turning his squint on Damon.
“Yes. It holds the layers together.” But Damon was smirking, which meant he did, in fact, understand that jam in a cake was an affront against nature and was doing this to torment Cathal.
But fuck it all if Cathal wasn’t enjoying it. He ate the cake, and it was delicious, and he couldn’t even pretend to be grumpy.
“Can I have another pieeeece?” Felix asked when he was finished, turning his best puppy eyes on his father.
