by Anyta Sunday
“We don’t have much practice,” Bert says. Ernie snorts.
“Yeah, because our big mouths have never gotten us into trouble before.”
“We’re sorry!” they say in unison.
“Come to the dance with us,” Ernie says in a mischievous tone.
“Why?” I pick at the bed covers. Do I want to go? I thought I didn’t but I am curious. It has nothing to do with knowing Jace will be there with Susan. Absolutely not. “People will whisper.”
“Yeah, but they’ll whisper anyway. At least you can control what they whisper about. Have the upper hand. Show them you don’t care—and neither do your two incredibly hot, straight friends.”
A pause.
Ernie huffs. “That was your cue to confirm our hotness. You know, from a guy’s perspective.”
Bert laughs. “Come on. He’s way out of our league. We have ugly mugs.”
“Speak for yourself—”
“Guys!” I shake my head. “I’ll come but you have to suck up a little more before I’ll forgive you.”
“Did he say we have to suck him to be forgiven, Bert?”
“Ernie!” He’s laughing, and I may be grinning as well.
kyanite
Jace is in a bad mood the next time I go to Dad’s for the week. When I try to grab his arm and ask him what the matter is, he shoves me away.
I stumble onto the couch. Annie hisses in the background, flying out of her chair and abandoning her sewing machine.
“What the hell?” I push to my feet. “I just asked if you’re okay! But obviously”—I shove his chest—“you aren’t.”
He grabs my wrists and yanks them to my side. His icy-blue eyes look like kyanite—one of the few blue minerals that occur naturally in this country.
“She’s had enough bad luck! Sharing the love of her life for five years, losing the baby, getting a new family that barely tolerates her.” He glares at Annie then stabs me with his gaze. “She doesn’t deserve more!”
Annie steps between us, pushing against our chests until Jace swears under his breath and backs off. He leaves the gaming room with a slam of the door.
Annie frowns. “What was that about?”
I don’t know, but I want to. I go after him but Annie grabs my sleeve and holds me back. “Don’t. He needs time to cool off. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”
I snatch up my homework and take it to my room, pausing for a moment outside his door to hear the pounding bass of music. I pull out and rub the rare goodletite stone I found at the beach today. When I calm down, I place the goodletite on a shelf and settle in to do homework.
After not-concentrating on my biology for an hour, I take my I’m a Rock Whisperer cup and head off to make a cup of tea.
Annie stops me in the hall, twirling to display a purple skirt. “I sewed it myself. For the dance. What do you think?”
I nod. “Poufy.”
She laughs. “You’re not that type of gay, are you?”
“What type?”
“The—never mind.” She glances at my cup. “Tea? Make me one too?”
“Make it yourself. I’m not doing the loose green tea, temperature thingy you like.”
“If you boil the water it releases too many tannins and tastes bitter.”
“Wow,” I say, grinning. “You sound just like Mum right now.”
She attempts a scowl but it morphs into a grin. “Fine, I’ll make my own.”
“In your poufy skirt?”
“Shut up. I’ll see what Dad says. Probably has more to say anyway.”
He doesn’t. But that’s because he’s not listening to us. He’s sitting at the end of the dining table staring at the vase of roses. His deep frown shadows underneath his eyes. He rests his elbows on the table and rubs his temples.
“Dad?” I ask, forgetting about the tea. I set my empty cup on the table and take the chair adjacent to him. Annie does the same on the opposite side.
“What’s the matter?” she asks.
Dad blinks and clasps his hands together. “I’m glad you guys are here.”
My heart beats faster. Jace is yelling at me again, shoving at my chest. “What happened to Lila?” I ask. “Where is she?”
“She’s gone to bed. Wants some quiet time.” He shifts in his chair. “She wants me to talk to you.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Lila had a mammogram.”
“Breast cancer?” Annie’s voice is weak.
Dad slides his clasped hands close to him. “Yes. The doctors found some abnormalities. She has a four-centimeter tumor, and the cancer has spread to three lymph nodes near the armpit.”
She’s had enough bad luck!
Oh, Jace. I’m so sorry.
And Lila. Shit. “Will she be okay?”
“Yes,” he says stubbornly. “She’s going to have chemotherapy to shrink the tumor and surgery to get rid of it. And we’ll all support her.”
He looks at Annie the longest. Tears run down her cheeks. She leaps from the chair and throws herself at Dad. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. For everything. I love you. I’m sorry Lila’s sick. I’ll help. She’ll get better.”
I hug him too.
I think of Lila sick in her bedroom.
I think of Jace curled up in anger and resentment on his bed.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I’m going to be there to support you.”
Dad drags my cup across the table. “Going to make some tea, were you?”
“Yeah,” Annie and I say together.
“Good. I could use some too.” He passes the cup to Annie. “You make it, love. You know how it’s done.”
I scowl.
They sniff out a laugh.
goodletite
Jace avoids me for two weeks. He shuts himself in his room like Annie used to. He doesn’t participate in dinners, and I don’t see him around at school—except once, when he had an arm around Susan.
He needs some time to cool off. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.
Why doesn’t he come already?
The night of the dance arrives, and before Bert and Ernie arrive, I slip a folded note under Jace’s door. I linger, crouched in the hallway, hand pressed to the wood for a few moments until I hear the sound of footsteps and rustling paper. I’m about to turn away when the door creaks as if Jace is resting against it. I lean forward, my head against the cool door too. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Sniff. I’m not certain but I think I hear a murmur. “Me too.”
“Jace, I—” The doorbell chimes, ripping me out of the moment. “Dammit.”
I curse Bert and Ernie for their punctuality as I go downstairs to let them in. We move to the kitchen and I pull out three Cokes. Annie is pinning pearls to her hair. She swishes her poufy skirt and tells us to have fun. She prances off.
Bert attempts to whistle. “Damn, I thought I had it.” He frowns and tries again but he gives up when he fails the second time. “Your sister looks hot,” he says simply. Ernie doesn’t say anything but his eyes had followed her too.
“Gah!” I cover my ears. Not something I want to hear.
Ernie drops a large paper bag onto the dining table as he claps Bert on the back. “Yeah, let’s give up the wolf-whistling.” He jerks his head to me. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
Ernie and Bert wear matching black tuxedos sans tie, and shirts with wide fat collars. And they think I’m not ready? My black pants and white shirt will do very well.
“I am dressed.” I set the Cokes on the table. “Drink?”
Bert looks at Ernie. “Guess you were right about him not being that type of gay.”
“What?” I start, and Ernie hushes me.
“Don’t worry, I’m not that type of straight guy, either. I picked something out for you. Put it on.” He slides the paper bag to me. I steady a can before it knocks over. “Should be your size. Five-ten, right?”
I peer into the bag and groan. “We’re gonna look like the Three Musketeers.”
“It has a weird collar,” I say, pulling out the shirt.
“Wait for it,” Bert warns me, rolling his eyes.
Ernie asks, “Who are we at school?” I shrug. “That’s right. We’re nobody. And what makes us stand out from the crowd?”
“Not much?”
“Exactly. Doesn’t matter how sleek our suits are because every other guy will look sleek too,” he says, gesturing for me to hurry up. I pull off my shirt and slip into the fat-collared one. “To stand out, we have to do the unexpected.”
“And these shirts are the way to go?”
“Hey, dude, you said it. Three Musketeers. Girls dig that shit.”
I laugh. I may be gay but I’m pretty sure girls won’t dig this shirt.
I wear it anyway. For laughs, and to keep Ernie placated. The rest of the suit feels smooth and silky. I find the goodletite I had in my other pocket and slip it inside the jacket’s inner pocket. It creates a slight bulge at my chest but it’s calming. I have a rare stone made of sapphire, ruby, and tourmaline; I’ll be fine. Whispers can’t hurt me.
A wolf-whistle slices cleanly through the air. All three of us look up as Lila waltzes into the kitchen with an amused smile and a camera. Click. Click. “Looking great, boys.”
Ernie puts an arm around me, and Bert poses for the camera.
“At least one of you looks excited,” Lila says.
To make things just a little better for her if I can, I join in with the posing.
She flips through some of the shots she’s taken. “Your dad’s going to piss himself when he sees these. Now boys, the embarrassing part. You’re too young to have sex, so don’t. And make sure your condoms aren’t expired. Trust me, that would not lead to a good time. Now to find that son of mine.”
She whisks out of the room and leaves us blushing.
“Dude,” Bert whispers. “Lila is way thoughtful.”
“And way hot!” Ernie adds. I throw him a look that makes him shirk behind Bert.
And way sick.
My chest suddenly feels tight. Jace is sniffing again.
We arrive at the dance an hour into it, which is great because the whole evening will be over and done with much faster.
It’s everything I expect a dance to be: dark, flashing lights, terrible music. A group of couples dance in the middle of the converted gym but the majority of us are hanging in the corners or sitting at the tables. A few guys narrow their eyes in my direction and I sense their whispers in the air, but Ernie and Bert shield me.
A group of young girls snigger at us, and Ernie shakes his head. “They wouldn’t be able to handle all this anyway.”
Bert pulls out a flask he’s smuggled in and hands it to his friend. A good swig later, it’s passed to me. “Nah, I’m good.” I lean against the back wall. “So this is it?”
“This is it!” Ernie repeats. “Do you see how short their skirts are? How full their racks?”
Bert sighs. “We’re never getting laid.”
“I repeat. This is it? Question mark.”
“All this and dancing as well.”
A fast, upbeat song launches an outbreak of grinding thighs and bumping hips. I’ve been scouring all the faces since I got here for any sign of Jace. Jace and Susan.
“Aaaaand,” Ernie says, squaring his chest and facing me. “This dance is going to be epic.” He bows slightly and extends a hand. “Cooper, will you dance with me?”
I snort and fold my arms. What is he doing? Is this some kind of joke? “That’s not funny.”
Ernie keeps his hand extended. “I’m not joking.”
I shake my head. “We can’t do that here.”
“Why not?” He drops his hand and turns to Bert. “Hey, want to show him how it’s done?”
Ernie leads Bert to the dance floor, and Bert twirls Ernie around. Ernie scowls and tries to spin Bert but Bert’s too tall for him. They laugh and boogie some more. They’re touching—at one point they’re even grinding—and they don’t care that people are staring. A few jerks mutter “fag,” and a few guys in the corner stick a finger down their throat but more people are smiling than anything—
Jace.
Dancing with Susan, arms looped around her waist. His suit makes him appear older, like he’s a future Jace. He’s everything I imagined he’d be—and more.
Susan runs her hand up the back of his hair, and I push off the wall, glaring at her through the throngs of dancers. I might have been able to handle it. Might have been able to shrug it off.
Except that Jace smiles at her and whispers something in her ear.
My throat tightens and a strange buzz fills me with energy. I weave to Ernie and Bert, who stop dancing when they notice my clenched fists.
“You okay, man?” Bert asks, puffing out his chest. “Someone bothering you?”
“I just—” Want to go home? Was that it? “—will you dance with me?”
Ernie breaks away from Bert. “Thought you’d never ask.”
It’s strange when Ernie takes my hands and pulls me close. Awkward, and his aftershave overpowers me. But we manage something akin to dancing, and halfway through the second song, I relax as our laughter drowns out the whispers. So long as I don’t look across the room to Jace, I’m fine.
I find my sister across the hall, watching us. Her head is cocked slightly and a mesmerized smile makes her face glow.
“Me too, me too,” Bert says, butting Ernie out the way and grabbing my hips. “All the girls are looking. Share the love.”
Bert is taller than me but not by much. I’m spin him around per Ernie’s request.
“Fag!” some bastard says at the sidelines. I flip him the bird.
When Class A bastard says it again, Bert balls his fists and storms toward him. I grab Bert’s shirt. “Just leave it. Probably a closet case himself.” My words shut the dumbass up.
I smile. See? I can stand up for who I am.
I whirl around at the tap on my shoulder, ready to block a punch if I have to.
“Jace!” I search the crowds for Susan. “But I thought—”
“Can I cut in?” He says to Bert, who backs off with a grin.
The mirrored ball reflects squares of light onto Jace’s face. I try to nudge a small smile from him, but he’s not biting. Something lurks behind the depths of his eyes. I glance at our shiny black shoes.
He touches my forearm.
I glance up. “What will Susan think?”
He looks at Susan, who’s sitting on a bench chatting with Darren and my sister. “It’s fine.”
His hand slides up my arm to my shoulder, and he steps closer. We’re almost the same height. “I got your note.”
The last of my jealousy bleeds away, replaced by a pulsing ache. “I am, okay? Always there.”
“She’s going to fight it. She will.” His voice is stern, determined, as if he’s convincing himself. “Now, just . . . dance with me?”
I swallow and fumble for a loose hold on his hips. His fingers press into my shoulder blades as he draws me nearer. Our auras hum, and our lengths are but an inch apart. His cheek brushes mine for a tender moment. “I’m sorry for shutting you out.”
We sway slowly to the beat, but everyone else is jumping and swinging wildly.
A tear falls onto my neck and rolls under my collar.
I slide my arms around his waist and squeeze. “I’m here. I’ll be here for whatever you need.”
Another tear follows the same path. With every inch, my pain deepens. I don’t know what else I can say. Don’t know what else I can do.
So I say nothing. Do nothing.
Just feel the stone against my heart and pray everything will turn out okay.
And dance.
opal
Dad fumbles with his key, trying to open the damn door. Jace has an arm wrapped around his mum. The air is tense, pensive, as it always is after coming home from one of her treatments. The key s
liding into the lock sounds like cymbals battering together. Then the key gets stuck, and Dad jiggles.
I rest a hand over my dad’s trembling one, and take over. Lila burps softly as I push open the door. She makes it over the threshold before retching. A pained and embarrassed groan warbles her “Sorry.”
Dad and Jace stroke her back as another spasm takes hold of her. Annie pales. “I’ll . . . make some tea.” She hurries away.
The acidic scent fills the entranceway and follows me to the cleaning supplies, where I grab a mop and then fill a bucket of soapy water.
When I come back to clean up, Jace grabs the bucket and mop. Twisting his back as if to curtain his mum from me, he cleans up. I back away. I feel so . . . so stupid. Useless.
I race upstairs and make sure she has a bucket by the bed and some water. Dad carries Lila to the bathroom first, and then settles her in under the covers. Jace stands with me at the door; his body is strung tight and he shifts from foot to foot, then pushes his fingers into his pockets. Pulls them out again.
Lila chuckles softly. “Knock-knock,” she says, looking at Jace and me.
Jace frowns. “Who’s there?”
“Cancer.”
His Adam’s apple bobs with quick swallows. “Cancer who?”
“Cancer see I need some sleep?”
Jace blinks rapidly, twists, and darts out of the room.
Lila swears, tries to call after him, but he isn’t coming back. “Too much, then,” she says.
Dad kisses her thinning hair. “He’ll be all right. You rest now, beautiful.”
She leans back against the pillows. “Just for a bit. Then I’ll talk with him.”
I awkwardly wish her a good sleep. I’m itching to find Jace, and race downstairs where Annie points out the kitchen window. I slip out the opened patio door, catching Jace in the back garden at the exact spot I bloodied his nose all those years ago. His shoulders spasm with a silent cry and then he hiccups. I fold him into a hug, and he clutches me so tight that I taste his fear. He sniffs against my neck and whimpers. “Don’t let go.”
* * *
A month later, Jace is at his piano, pounding out sharp, violent pieces, surging his anger into the instrument. Waiting. Waiting for Lila to come home.
