by M. A. Hinkle
“Only if the twins want one.”
Morgan was only halfway done with his first slice, but he said, “We can split another one. If—if that’s okay.” His eyes flicked toward Felix, and Cathal could not hold back his smirk. Gareth made a face, though neither of the other boys saw it.
“An excellent compromise,” said Cathal.
“Cathal was right.” Damon cut another piece. “You are the only one of Felix’s friends with any sense.”
“I think they’re nice,” said Morgan, glancing again at Felix. “Loud, but nice.”
“Oh, they’re nice. They’re also really, really weird.”
Felix sniffed. “We’re just too avant-garde for you, Dad. You’re behind the times.”
“He put squash in macaroni and cheese and sweet potatoes in pizza.” Cathal pointed his fork at Felix. “Your father is as weird as your friends, only in a different direction.”
Felix smiled. “Maybe that’s why we all get along so well, then.”
WHEN THE BOYS headed up to Felix’s room, already deep in discussion about character and theme in Midsummer Night’s Dream, Cathal slumped over the table, laughing too hard to speak.
Damon stared at him. “Are you going to live?”
Cathal didn’t answer, still laughing.
Damon crossed his arms. “I can’t tell if you’re laughing to make fun of Felix or not.”
Cathal caught his breath and sat up, wiping his eyes. “Do not tell me it wasn’t funny to watch him squirm.”
Damon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him smile that way—free, without a hint of scheming in his eyes. He and Era had laughed a lot, sure, but at the expense of other people, or at their own stupidity, or at an in-joke so complicated it required two PhDs and a writing seminar to make sense of it.
“He’s so far in over his head,” Cathal added.
Damon shrugged. He didn’t think it was funny, because he’d been there. Felix’s face as he grappled with both twins reminded him too much of his early time with Era. It hurt to think about that, but even more, it was strange to think his son was reaching that point with someone.
Cathal rubbed his jaw. “Felix wasn’t kidding, though. Poor boy’s scared of his own shadow. But I’m glad. The other one’s not as bad as I thought.”
Damon snorted at that and pushed away from the table. “Of course you’d say that.”
“What?” Cathal sounded confused instead of pissed.
Damon paused in gathering the plates up off the table. “He’s just like you, isn’t he?”
“He’s loud. And rude.”
“Pot calling the kettle black,” Damon said, turning to the sink. He thought about washing the dishes by hand, but…he didn’t feel like it. For once, he’d be all right without keeping his hands busy.
“I never understood that expression,” said Cathal, his voice dead serious. “I don’t have a black pot or a black kettle, and I don’t know why they’re talking to each other.”
Damon stared at the sink. Yeah. Definitely loading the dishes in the dishwasher. He needed a drink if he was going to deal with this all night.
And that was weird. He expected Cathal to hang out with him. Not even frustrated expectation, like he knew he couldn’t stop Cathal. When the hell had that happened?
“I’ll have to research that.” Cathal walked up to the sink and helped Damon load the dishwasher.
Damon stopped and stared at him. Not because he solved problems by staring at them like Cathal did, but because it was the only way Cathal would notice Damon was confused.
Cathal ignored him until the sink was empty and then turned to him. “Come on. Your son is trying to make nice with the boy he likes. You are contractually obligated to get drunk and further humiliate him.” He clapped Damon on the shoulder.
Damon nodded, though he was still confused. Cathal made for the fridge, but Damon waved him away. “You go put something on. I’ll bring the alcohol.” Once he was out of the room, Damon went underneath the sink, behind all the cleaning supplies that no one else touched. He kept the shot bottles in a lockbox, although that would spark Felix’s curiosity more than the alcohol itself. Still. He didn’t take chances with the hard stuff.
Cathal was flipping through Netflix when Damon came in the living room, but he stopped, frowning, when he saw what Damon had tucked under his arm. “Where did you get those?”
Damon lined the single-size bottles of vodka and rum up on the edge of the table. “I haven’t touched them before this, if that’s what you’re asking about.”
Cathal rolled his eyes. “Once again, you miss the point. I was wondering why you didn’t let me know there was hard liquor in the house. I assumed you only drank beer because that’s what guys like you do.”
Damon rolled his eyes back. “Same reason I didn’t talk about the beer.” He sat on the far end of the couch, leaving the middle cushion empty like always. “And I took them from work once in a while. We served them at private events to upcharge for the individual bottles.”
Cathal picked a bottle up and considered the pirate portrait. “I never would have thought I’d learn things from you.” He sounded honestly surprised.
Damon wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he let it drop. He didn’t want to push until he figured out what was going on. “What are we watching?”
Cathal returned his attention to the TV. “Ghostbusters.”
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
Cathal cracked the top on the bottle and drank it at a go. “I think liquor is another one of those things. We’ll have to start making a list.”
“No, no, we do not.”
BY THE TIME Felix came downstairs with the twins, they’d moved through most of the bottles, all of Ghostbusters, and half of Labyrinth, which Cathal had insisted on calling part of Damon’s gay education.
Felix stuck his head in the room. “Is it okay if—”
Damon realized he was slumping so far on the couch that his shoulder was brushing Cathal’s. Both of them straightened at the same time.
Felix squinted, and Damon hoped he was not going to ask when they’d gotten so comfortable with each other. “Are you guys drunk?” Felix said instead, wrinkling his nose.
Cathal covered his mouth. It did nothing to hide his laughter.
Ignoring him, Damon asked, “Did you need something, son?”
Felix looked between the two of them. “I was gonna walk them home if that’s okay…?”
Cathal gave up on hiding his laughter. Damon shot him a dirty look, which Cathal ignored.
“As long as you’re back before ten, everything’s fine. Behave yourself.” Damon pointed his bottle at Felix to emphasize his point. Keeping it steady was harder than usual.
Okay. Maybe he was a little drunk.
“Dad!” Felix said, covering his ears to hide that they’d turned bright red. “It’s not like that! His brother’s gonna be there. Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only real grownup in this house.”
Cathal cackled. “Getting old is boring, kiddo. Let us have our fun while we can.”
When the front door opened and closed, cutting off the boys’ argument about the merits of modal music, Damon turned to Cathal, who was still chuckling. “Do you think Felix’ll kiss him?” One good thing about being drunk: the idea of his son kissing anyone was less terrifying.
But Cathal waved his words away. “No way. Felix doesn’t have the balls. If anyone’s making a move, it’s Morgan.” He slumped toward the center of the couch again, and Damon found himself doing the same thing. Yeah, he was drunk.
Oh, well. From this position, it was easy to bump Cathal’s shoulder. “You just said he’s scared of his own shadow.”
“Yeah, but quiet people are always the weird ones.” Cathal poked Damon in the chest. “Like you.”
Damon raised his eyebrows. A month ago, that comment would have bothered him. Now he didn’t think Cathal meant it badly. Cathal was making fun of him, sure, but it wasn’t…it wasn’t m
ean. “Oh, yes, I’m the weird one here. This coming from the guy who never goes anywhere without five million Post-it notes. I think you need to take a long hard look in the mirror, Mr. Kinnery.”
Cathal narrowed his eyes and poked Damon again. “You’re the one who made pie with a fish head in it. A fish head.”
“You ate it, didn’t you?” Damon closed his eyes, since the room was unsteady. “It was worth it to hear you squawk.”
“I do not squawk!” Cathal said in a tone that was definitely a squawk. “I am dignified, as befits a professor.” Cathal poked Damon a third time. On instinct, Damon caught his wrist and opened his eyes.
“Cut that out, you weirdo,” he said, keeping hold of Cathal’s hand so Cathal wouldn’t try anything stupid. He turned his head and found Cathal’s face closer to his than he’d expected. Cathal still looked like a fox licking feathers off his lips, but somehow, it wasn’t a bad thing anymore.
“We’ve wasted a lot of time,” he said, and he didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Cathal screwed up his face.
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Damon,” he said, narrowing his eyes like a person trying to see without his glasses. “I. I am in fact pretty drunk, and therefore I cannot make the bold leaps of logic that have so far defined our relationship.”
Damon had to take a minute to process that sentence. Even tipsy, Cathal sounded like he was reading from a textbook. “You know what I mean. We could have been getting along like this all the time instead of making Era pull her hair out. She always told me you weren’t so bad, but I never believed her. Now I feel as stupid as you think I am.”
Cathal extracted himself from Damon’s grip—slowly, with a lot of twisting and grunts. Damon felt like he should sit up, too, but he was enjoying watching Cathal struggle.
When Cathal had settled himself against the arm of the couch, he sighed, deflating. “Yeah. Well. It’s not like I was any better. I knew why you were good for her, but not why you were good in general.”
Damon frowned, searching Cathal’s face for the lie or the sarcasm or the joke that was always there. Except…it wasn’t. “You say that like it’s a fact,” Damon murmured, keeping his eyes on Cathal’s face in case he revealed what was really going on. Not that Damon could ever read Cathal, but still. “I was never good for her.”
Cathal turned to face him so he could glare. His eyes could not quite focus, so it wasn’t as effective as usual, but his tone was stern. “Would you stop with that nonsense? You looked at her like she was the sun, for fuck’s sake. No, you couldn’t talk Shakespeare, but you listened when she talked. You made her breakfast and shit. You know. Like couples on TV.” He rubbed his face. “Fuck. Look. I don’t know anything about good relationships except that you had one, okay?”
Damon thought he was done, but then, softly, Cathal said, “Is that really what you think about yourself?”
It was like getting out of a hot tub into a snowstorm. Damon looked away. “It’s what I know about myself.”
“And with that, we’re both officially cut off.” Cathal shoved the coffee table and the few unopened bottles away with his feet.
Damon wanted to make a joke, but he couldn’t; he was numb all over. “Why, because we’re getting sappy?”
Cathal smacked his shoulder. Reluctantly, Damon looked in his direction, dreading the judgment he’d see in Cathal’s eyes. But Cathal looked muddled, not angry. “No, because discussions of your self-worth are not to be had while we’re both drunk.” He let out a disgusted sigh and put a hand over his face. “You need to be sober so you’ll believe me.”
Damon narrowed his eyes. There had to be a punch line in there somewhere.
Except…maybe there wasn’t, because Cathal still hadn’t said anything. “You’ve said that before. Like you mean it.”
“Because I do, you complete and total ass. I don’t say things I don’t mean. I say things I regret, but I mean them at the time, until my brain comes back.” He leaned forward over his knees like he was thinking about throwing up. “I never would have made fun of you if I thought you’d believe me.”
“What else was I supposed to think? You don’t like me.” Damon’s voice was empty of emotion. It had never bothered him before.
“Yeah, big whoop. I don’t like a lot of people. But…I was wrong about you.” Cathal hid his face, and Damon could have sworn he was blushing. Or maybe flushed from the alcohol. Damon’s cheeks were warm too, after all.
But Cathal seemed honestly distressed. Damon touched his back, expecting Cathal to move away. If something bad happened, Cathal never sought comfort—he and Era would get wasted and then never spoke of the topic again, as though getting drunk erased it from history.
Damon hoped Cathal wasn’t trying to forget all of this too.
“It’s all right. I…I was wrong about you too. Era was always telling me so.”
“That’s because Era was always right, which is the only thing you were always right about.” But Cathal’s words had no bite.
Damon realized his hand was still on Cathal’s back and took it away, though he didn’t move to his corner of the couch. Cathal had his face hidden, so being honest was easy. “I’m glad things worked out like this. With you staying here, I mean.”
Cathal parted his fingers, looking at Damon too shrewdly.
Now Damon did move away, if only because he wasn’t sure what was going on in his own head. The tide was going out inside him, and he felt like a blind man walking on the beach, stumbling over objects he couldn’t make sense of. “I mean, I was expecting you to make fun of me for the rainbow sugar cookies and stuff. It’s not like it’s manly.”
Cathal snorted, but he took his hands away from his face. “Manliness is overrated. And also they were tasty, and I got to eat them, so why on earth would I ever complain?”
FELIX CAME HOME about an hour later, long after Damon and Cathal had started watching Labyrinth again and moved back to their respective ends of the couch. Damon patted the empty cushion in the middle, and Felix plopped down between them. He looked tired, like he always did when he wasn’t in his room dicking around on his phone by nine at night, but he was also smiling in a way Damon had never seen before.
Cathal elbowed Felix in the ribs. “So how was it, Casanova?”
Felix squeaked and pressed up against Damon. Damon lifted his arm so Felix could curl up against his side. Then Felix stuck his tongue out at Cathal. “It was good.”
“None of that nonsense.” Cathal pointed at Felix with an unsteady finger. “Dish, young one.”
Felix wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me that. You’re not Yoda.”
Cathal put on his best Frank Oz voice. “Search your feelings, you must.”
Damon leaned around his son to point back at Cathal. “That was a terrible impression. Never do it again in my house.”
“Dad’s right, Cathal,” said Felix, looking somber. “Star Wars is sacred.”
“You’re only agreeing with him to get out of answering the question.” But Cathal was smiling. “So?”
Felix sighed and slumped against Damon again.
“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to.” Damon shot Cathal a quelling look. Cathal didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to: bitch, please was written all over his face.
“No, it’s okay.” Felix rubbed his ear. “I don’t really know how it went, honestly. I mean, they’re both coming to band practice, so that’s cool, but I didn’t ask the triplets minus one or Sarah first, so they’re going to kick my ass. Well, Sarah will kick my ass. Alex and Zach will laugh at my pain.”
Damon patted Felix’s shoulders. “It’s only funny because you’re a late bloomer. I was the same way. Never got stupid over someone ’til I met your mom, and my friends never let me hear the end of it.”
“You were really stupid for her, though,” said Cathal. Damon raised his eyebrows at Cathal over the top of Felix’s head. Cathal shrugged, looking away. “Usually you
spend all your time scowling like a troll in a fantasy movie. She made you smile. And vice versa. She was kind of like the bitchy elf queen, I guess. The one who don’t need no man.”
Damon had thought Felix wasn’t paying attention, but he looked over at Cathal. “What does that make me?”
“Obviously the annoying kid character that everyone hates,” said Cathal, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
“Not nice!” Felix said. “I’m so Legolas. He’s hanging out in the background making weird faces all the time.”
Damon let out a deep sigh, though he was trying not to laugh. “The point of the story is, it worked out, and yours will too, Felix. It’s hard the first time around.”
Felix’s ears turned pink, and he pressed his face into Damon’s shoulder. “I told you, I don’t care about that stuff. He’s really nice. I don’t want to mess that up by letting him know I want to smush faces or whatever people do.”
Cathal choked. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“I don’t know, actually.” Felix appeared to give the question serious thought. “Sarah’s the only one in the band who has a partner, and she won’t kiss and tell. I don’t even know who she’s dating—she goes to a different school.”
Damon raised his eyebrows. “I thought your friend Zach was making time with all the guys in school.”
“Zach talks a big game, but he’s not serious. He wants to be in love before he does anything—you know.” Felix gestured at his body, and Cathal snorted. “Shut up! I am not talking about sex with you guys! I’m still, like, ninety percent certain I don’t want to ever have it.”
Damon opened his mouth. Not that he wanted to have another sex talk with Felix, but—
Felix pushed himself up off the couch. “You’ve already told me how all that stuff works, Dad, so don’t you start!”
Cathal smirked. “Don’t be so hard on your father, Felix. He’s trying to be a liberated parent or whatever the trend is these days.”
“I’ve had health class. I know all about that stuff.”
Damon folded his arms. “Probably not whatever you’d be doing with Morgan, if you ever do change your mind.”
