by Kyle Baxter
Alex followed him. “Aunt Claire is throwing me out.”
“What?” David choked out a laugh as he rinsed the cups in the sink.
Leaning against the doorframe, Alex waved a hand in the air. “She told me to get out and move into my own house and, I quote, ‘quit haunting my attic.’”
“That sounds like her. Let me know when and I’ll come help.” David put the cups in the dishwasher. When he didn’t answer, David pointed a finger at him. “I told you before: let me know or I’ll just show up.”
Alex held up both hands. “Fine, I’m going over to my dad’s house, about 10:00 a.m. I mean, if you want to come.”
David’s eyes went wide “Tomorrow? I’ll be there.”
“Don’t you work tomorrow?”
“Shush,” David said with a rumble.
“Okay, thank you . . .” They walked to the mudroom at the front of the house. Alex sat on the bench and pulled on his boots. When he stood up, David helped him on with his coat.
“One more favor?” his old friend asked, blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. Alex found them mesmerizing.
He pulled his knit cap on. “Enough with the favors. We aren’t keeping score.”
“I have an afternoon meeting later this week, an interview for the supervisor position.”
“Good,” Alex said. David didn’t talk about this promotion much. Was it even important to him? It was hard to tell. Too often David kept his worries to himself. Was that why he let Zooey keep him on a short leash?
“Can Eric come and hang out with you after school? He wants an excuse to come help anyway.”
Alex put a hand to his chest. “You still want him to hang out with me?”
David’s eyes flitted upward. “Stop it.”
“Of course, I’d love it.”
David threw the scarf around Alex’s head and tucked it into his jacket, buttoning up the top button. He eyed Alex’s green scarf. “I mean, as long as it’s no bother.” His eyes glimmered with amusement.
As Alex groaned, David pulled him into a hug. Surprised at first, he returned the gesture. Though not a big hugger, Alex clung on longer than normal. He was in David’s arms!
Palms cupping his cheeks, David gazed deep into his eyes. Alex’s head was dizzy with the heat of the moment. They leaned in, their lips hovering inches from each other. They just barely brushed, and it—
“Dad!” Eric’s voice rang out, breaking the spell.
“I need to go,” Alex choked, though he wanted nothing more than to stay here with David where it was warm and home. I am in so much trouble.
#
First thing in the morning, Alex climbed into his truck, pulled out of Capili’s parking lot, and headed toward Eighth Avenue. There, the Old Quarter gave way to the business district of Midtown. The offices of the Cooper Youth Association were on Riverside and he was eager to take a look at the facility.
After a few minutes, he arrived at the offices. They were in the old Multi-Service Community Center. A holdover post-World War Two structure, it was solidly built but long past its best days. More, it looked shabby.
Walking in the front door of the almond-colored building, he found a small waiting room with linoleum tile and a dozen plastic chairs. A woman with her two children sat in the corner farthest from the door. She eyed him warily. A heavyset woman sitting at a desk looked up from her book as he walked in and nodded at him.
“Can I help you?”
He pulled his knit cap off and sat in the chair in front of the desk. “I’m not sure. What kind of services do you provide?”
She handed him a brochure. “We provide counseling and referral services for at-risk children and their families. We focus primarily on LGBTQ folk, but we don’t turn anyone away. Do you have a particular need?”
Pausing, he realized he didn’t think this visit through. What did he say? Did he vomit some form of “don’t you know who I am?” Did he ask for a tour?
He settled on, “I’m helping out with the CYA Christmas party and thought I should come down and take a look-see.”
The woman’s face opened wide in delight. “Are you Alex?”
“Yes, I am,” he stammered.
She came around the desk and locked the front door. She turned to the woman with her children. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
The woman nodded.
“Come right this way. I’m Delia,” she said. “Let’s take a quick look, okay?”
He gestured to the family. “Aren’t they waiting on something or someone?”
With a pat on his shoulder, she took his arm. “We have someone on the way to take them to a shelter.”
“There’s no shelter here?” He looked back to the waiting area as she led him down a carpeted hallway.
Shaking her head, she sighed. “No, the bulk of this building is empty. We’re mostly referral, sending people where they need to go. We hook them up with services as best we can.”
She led him into a large back room. A big table sat in the middle, rounded by plastic chairs. He immediately knew they held self-help meetings here. Something about the arrangement and the table against the wall with the coffee pot.
At the far end, the narrow corridor continued. Several small offices branched off of it. Alex heard voices. Someone was talking on the phone.
She noticed his interest. “We have a staffer answering the help line during the day.”
“I answered the line last night,” he croaked. Did he ask about the kid that called?
Squeezing his hand, she said, “I heard about that. You did a good job. It’s tough sometimes, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you paid?”
At the coffee pot, she poured herself a cup. “There are several paid staffers, and yes, I’m one along with two counselors. We take turns answering the line.” She gestured for him to get a cup, but he declined.
“Do you get a lot of calls?”
“Depends on the day and time of year. The holidays are especially tough on people.” She walked to the table and sat in a chair.
“They are.” Alex joined her.
She looked around the room. “There’s not a lot to see, I’m afraid. But we’re hoping to expand.”
He put an arm on the table and leaned forward. “What would you like to see happen with the CYA?”
Delia stirred her coffee. “I wish we could at least offer a temporary shelter for some of our clients before we send them to better-equipped facilities. Unfortunately, we have to tell some of our clients to go back in the closet in order to get help. Some of the big shelters are run by church groups and do not accept our folk. And in some it’s just not safe to be out. All kind of people in need and not all of them take kindly to us. Fuses can be short and substance abuse is always an issue.”
“At a certain point of misery it’s impossible to stay sober,” he recited.
“You’ve been around the rooms.” She raised an eyebrow.
He raised a hand. “Adult Child of an Alcoholic.”
Putting her coffee down, she examined his face. “How are you doing? Really?”
“What?” He leaned back, her stare unnerving him.
She waved a hand over his heart. “How are you doing with all that?”
“I have no idea.” No one asked him that. It was years since he went to an ACoA meeting.
“Is it tough coming back home?”
“You know I’m—”
She took his face in both of her hands and looked deep in his eyes. “I know who you are Alexander Danilo Capili. I remember your mother. Eliza was good people and we miss her.”
He almost fell off his chair. No one talked about his mother—ever. Her death was so tragic, so long ago, and his father’s decline so extreme that everyone avoided the subject. He shuddered.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You can cry if you like. I cry all the time.” She pulled him into a hug that he gratefully accepted and sobbed. She rocked him back and forth. He hadn’t cried about his mot
her in years.
She led him back out into the waiting room and handed him a tissue and a list of self-help meetings in the area before unlocking the door. She smiled as he left.
“Come back soon.”
As he drove back through the Quarter toward his house to meet David, he remembered Delia. When he was as a kid, she worked with his mother at the hospital. Of course she knew him. And now she worked with the CYA? It was a small town, still.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Na Na Hey Hey
Alex felt a pit in his chest as he stood on the stoop of his father’s house—his house. Max thumped his tail beside him. He’d picked up the dog from the shelter on the way over. Looking around, he saw no sign of David.
Alone, he thought. Stop it. It’s not 10:00 a.m. yet, and David’s usually a few minutes late for everything. You’re not being fair.
Hands shaking, he pulled the key out. There were so many memories tied up in this place, good and bad. His mother wasted away and died here, in her own bed. She hadn’t wanted to die in the hospital.
Steeling himself, he put the key in the lock and turned. The timbre of a familiar voice came from behind him as someone cleared his throat, asking for attention. He knew before he turned it was David, who strode up the walk with Eric beside him.
He yanked him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I told you I’d come.” David grinned.
“I’m here too.” Eric tugged on his jacket and Alex swept the boy up in his arms.
David reached around him and pushed the door open. “‘Let’s do this,’” he growled.
“Was that a quote?” Alex searched his memory.
“Yes,” David agreed, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Every action movie ever?”
“Okay. Okay . . .”
They walked in the foyer, the house’s mudroom for winter boots and jackets. A dining room lay on the left, and a large living room lay on the right with a big, stone fireplace taking up the far wall. What furniture remained in the house was covered in sheets. Dust particles danced in the cold air.
“Oh, sorry.” He let go of David’s hand. When had he taken it? “I’m going to get the water heater running.”
“I’ll get that lit.” David pointed to the hearth. “Let’s warm this place up.”
“This is new.” Alex examined the stonework and ran his hand on the mantle.
“I think your dad cleaned up his act and started doing some work on this place in the last few years.” David squatted in front of the fireplace.
“He never tried to reach out to me.” Cleaning up his act didn’t include reaching out to his son? Quelle surprise.
“What do you want me to do?” Eric asked, his sunny smile dispelling the cloud.
He turned to David only to get a bemused expression. “Get the sheets off the furniture and fold them. Then start dusting. There are cleaning supplies in the box on the porch.”
The boy gave him a thumbs-up and went to work.
“He’s never that eager to clean at home,” David whispered. Within an hour, the house was warmer and their coats hung on hooks by the door. After three hours, they were sweaty.
Pizza was delivered and they ate at the coffee table in the living room in front of the fire. Max waited patiently in the corner for the crusts.
Alex was struck by how at home he was. Sitting in his house with David and Eric felt right. “That’s enough for today,” he announced between bites.
“Not hardly. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” David pointed a breadstick at him.
“The construction team from the theater is due any minute to paint, fix the cabinets, and patch up a few things.” He looked around. “This was the pre-cleaning.”
Eric’s face scrunched up. “The pre-cleaning?”
“You have to pre-clean before the cleaning team comes in,” Alex said.
“I’d say something snarky, but I’ve seen my mom do the same thing.” David hung his head.
“So, what did we do all this for?” Eric asked.
Alex snapped his head in the kid’s direction. “We still have time to get you to school. You only missed, what, two classes?”
“I’m good,” the boy said sullenly and examined his pizza slice. Looking up from under his mop of hair, he batted his big brown eyes and gave Alex a deliberately pitiful look.
“You’re just like your father.” Alex threw a napkin at him. “I wanted to see how bad the interior was and if I could move in today.”
“What’s the verdict?” David munched happily.
“It’s a yes. The old place is in good condition.” Picking up a slice of pizza, Alex gestured around them. “And we did a lot. I’m grateful to both of you.” Reaching over, he mussed Eric’s hair.
“Hey,” the boy said with a grunt and fixed his hair.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Alex asked.
“I’m playing hooky.” He grinned mischievously.
“You’re okay with that?” Alex turned on his friend.
“It’s fine. He has perfect attendance.” David waved it off. “Besides, he’d never forgive me if I came here and helped you without him.”
Eric took several crusts and ran to Max sitting in the corner. He worked on getting the dog to roll over on command. The Labrador Retriever was clearly trained before, because he took to it immediately.
“He tried to play sick to get out of school today,” David whispered. “Before I told him what we were doing.”
Alex turned his back to the boy to shelter their conversation. “What happened?”
“He tried our old trick.”
“Where you put the thermometer in the hot water?” Alex laughed.
David stifled a chuckle. “Burned his tongue. Didn’t hurt him, but he learned his lesson.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“No idea. He said he just didn’t want to go. I need to keep a sharper eye out. I’m afraid something’s going on. He used to love school.”
That’s it. He needed to tell David everything. “I think I know—”
David’s phone chimed, making them jump. He stood and walked into the other room while he talked.
“That was the hospital.” Eric scowled.
“How do you know that?”
“The ringtone. They’re calling Dad in.” The boy sat down with Max by his side. “He works a lot.”
The dog eyed the pizza box. Alex held up a warning finger and Max dropped to the ground with a snuffle, making Eric giggle.
David returned with a sullen face. “I have to go. I switched shifts with an on-call—and they just called me in. I’m sorry. I hate leaving after promising to help you exorcise ghosts.”
“It’s fine, Coop. You got me over the worst part and Bonnie’s on her way. We’ll keep an eye on the nugget.” He winked at Eric.
“Here.” David fished a shiny new key out of his jeans.
“What’s this?”
“Spare key. Thought you might need it.” David gave Eric a kiss on the head. “See you boys later.”
He stared at the key in his hand while David put on his jacket.
#
Workers came and went. The clear boarding was removed from all the windows and stored in the attic. Some interior walls had minor holes, but they were easily patched and painted.
With the fire roaring and the comings and goings of many people, the house felt inviting and warm. Alex and Eric even got in a sparring session, much to the amusement of the cleaning crew.
Once Eric told his father, Alex planned to suggest he sign the boy up for karate. The nugget had no interest in hockey or skating but he loved these self-defense workouts.
Bonnie arrived, bringing a basket of food staples as a house-warming gift: coffee, sugar, bread, cereal, milk, eggs, rice and peanut butter and jelly. While Eric watched videos on his tablet in the living room, she and Alex sat at his dining room table, drinking coffee.
Deciding if he was going to stay he
re for the next few weeks, he might as well make it homey, so he ordered the delivery of a TV. The missing washing machine still puzzled him. The dryer was here but no washer. Why not take both? He shrugged it off. No doubt there’d be an after-Christmas sale where he could grab one.
He kept telling himself he was getting it ready to rent or sell. An article he read said that a home was a better prospect than an empty house. But it was starting to sound hollow.
“It’s in good shape. Fortunately, Uncle Felix didn’t get rid of all the old furniture. My old bed is still in my room.” I need linens and curtains. Add them to the list.
Bonnie sipped her coffee. “It certainly won’t stay empty long. This neighborhood is popular.”
“It’s amazing. Back in the day, this was the shady side of town, and now it’s trendy. A Cooper lives three blocks away.”
Taking a deep breath, Bonnie sat her cup down and put on her game face. “Listen, I have an idea about the restaurant.”
Leaning back, Alex gestured with his fingers. “Give it to me.”
She put both hands on the table in front of her. “Right now, we’re only open for lunch and then, later, dinner. Maybe we should open for breakfast, too. There’s a lot of foot traffic in the day, and as you said, we’re now in the thick of it.”
“It’s a sound idea.” Alex took a sip of his java and sat the cup down. “Why aren’t you managing the restaurant? You’re doing the job. I’ve seen it. You should have the title.”
Her brow knitted. “It never occurred to me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been in New York a long time.” Bonnie leaned close. “You’re used to how cosmopolitan it is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is still a small town,” she said. “I’m a transperson. Some days, most days, I’m just grateful to have a job where I can be my true self. Your aunt and uncle are good to me.”
Putting a hand to his chin, he considered that. “That’s why you do the freelance web design.”
She nodded. “It’s a way to earn extra money, and I seldom have to see a client face to face to worry about their disapproval of my ‘lifestyle choice.’”
He tapped the table with a finger. “Maybe you should be the one moving to New York.”
