Billy drove Erika up to the Mischen Rink in the truck. He only had to remind her of the “no sex while driving” rule twice.
“Whoa.” She stared in awe out across the ice upon entering.
“Come up to the stands. You can see it better.” He led the way.
“You’re right.” There were dozens of hearts, in various sizes, etched into the ice. “It’s amazing.”
“Yeah?”
Erika turned to Billy. “Yes.” She kissed him.
“Irina will probably pitch a fit,” Billy said. “Now that you’ve seen it, maybe Tom Alan can Zamboni the evidence away before she gets here.”
“No. Come skate on it with me.” She led him back down the steps.
“I’m going to be late for class.”
“So…?” Erika touched his chest and then his belly. She didn’t stop there. “You can copy someone’s notes.”
Convincing him wasn’t difficult. They swirled and twirled around the ice, over and between the hearts. Erika swirled and twirled. Billy hobbled. He could skate at full speed. Anything else was less graceful. How he’d managed to make the hearts actually look like hearts in hockey skates, Erika could only imagine. She pictured him meticulously skating on one blade, sticking his tongue out on one side like he did whenever concentrating hard. The mental image brought forth a smile.
“You’re so romantic,” she said.
“Damned right.”
“And aroused still? From watching the guys?”
“No. It’s because I’m close to you. Let’s not talk about the guys.” Billy’s kiss took Erika’s breath. “I’m happy where I am.”
“Yeah?” She got in front of him, skating backwards as she pulled him by his belt over to the boards. “Well, I think I can make you happier.”
“Babe,” he muttered, when her hand went down his pants.
“You’ll never be able to concentrate in class if we don’t take care of that.”
“What time does Irina come?”
“Seven-thirty. Right on the dot. Every day. You have plenty of time.”
“We have eleven minutes.”
“Think you can…?”
“Can you?” Billy’s hand was at her ass and he grabbed it.
“Uh-uh. I can’t. It will ruin my practice. Relax.”
He did. His breathing calmed and he started to hum. “I’m close.”
Erika undid his pants and let them fall to his shoes.
“Oops. Dang! Sorry.” Billy spun around in the direction of Tom Alan’s voice. “My bad.” Tom Alan turned and headed back for the locker room.
“He’s come on this ice,” Erika said. “And he and Milo skated around in here naked,” she whispered.
“I’m not thinking about them.”
“You’re not?” She was right at his ear.
“Only you. So, why haven’t we?” Billy asked.
“Because you’re always cold.”
He shivered.
“See. Press yourself into me. I’ll keep you warm.”
Billy came against Erika’s thigh with her mouth at his neck. She looked over his shoulder, and caught Tom Alan’s eyes before he disappeared behind the wall. “Nice. I love my hearts. Thank you.”
* * * *
Tom Alan didn’t come back to the house that night, or the night after that. The following day, they were standing on the ice, prepared—or possibly not—to debut their “Sounds of Silence” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” programs.
“I don’t feel like we’re ready.” Those were not the words she wanted to hear from her partner fifteen seconds before taking the ice.
“You do not have a choice,” Irina Mischen told Tom Alan, as they waited to hear the preceding team’s scores. “If you want to make it any farther, if PyeongChang is your goal, it starts right here. Today.”
Trust was important for pairs skaters. For Erika, it was imperative. When Paul Simon’s lyrics spoke of darkness, Tom Alan covered her eyes with his hands, and she relied on him more than ever to guide her. She’d never felt uneasy about it before. That day was different. She stumbled, because for the first time in over a decade, she didn’t feel safe in his arms.
“Stay on your feet.” Those had been Irina Mischen’s last words at the railing. They were still ringing in Erika’s ears when she went up for the side-by-side triple Lutz jumps. Yes. Hers was flawless. Shit. Tom Alan was on his ass. She had to shake it off. They both did. Their throw jump was next—a throw triple flip—a teaser for the big moment in the free skate, when they would add one more revolution to something already near impossible. It happened during an eight-beat rest in the music. Tom Alan flung her into the air during several seconds of total silence and she came down—hopefully on one foot—just before Simon and Garfunkel began to sing again. Tom Alan’s arm was at her waist.
She settled in, inhaling deeply to get the essence of him, like she always did. “I love you,” she whispered. It was part of their superstition by now. She had to say it, and he had to say it back, ever since they landed the jump at the World Championships back in 2014. But Tom Alan didn’t say it back. Why? She waited. All she had to wait and think was a second. They were turning. She had to tap in her toe pick and make sure she took off from the right edge at the right moment. Why wasn’t he saying it? Erika was airborne with the question unanswered. She pulled in tight for the revolutions, spun three times in midair, and came down to finish the jump with a beautiful arch. The crowd erupted, happy to have Tsuchino and Baranowski-Tsuchino back in competition. Erika could only imagine how loud they’d be the next day, if they landed the quad—if they even tried it.
“What the hell?” she said to Tom Alan, catching him in the hallway of their hotel room several hours later. “Where have you been?”
“Walking around.”
“We always leave a venue together,” she said. “Always. Then again, I guess we’re not doing things the way we used to anymore.”
“You landed the jump. What’s the problem?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.
Erika raised her hands to shove him—but she couldn’t. “That’s a good question,” she said, and then she walked away.
They didn’t speak much before the free skate. That was unusual as well. They tried the quad three times at the morning practice, and never landed it once.
“Take it out,” Irina said. “It’s not ready.”
There was no point in arguing. She was right.
They left their comeback competition in sixth place out of twelve teams, a pretty lousy showing for a pair that had been to the Olympics and had won a World Championships medal. They’d be moving on, but barely—unless they didn’t.
“Maybe we should stop,” Tom Alan said in the car parked out in the driveway.
“What?” He’d been quiet most of the way home—not his home anymore—and though he’d said what he’d said barely above a whisper, Erika had heard him. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Fine. Figure it out and let me know. You’ve already abandoned me…for whatever reason…when it comes to our life off the ice. Why not just go all the way?”
“I haven’t abandoned you.”
“No? How about Etsuko?” Billy had brought her out onto the front porch. She hadn’t been feeling well, so the two of them had stayed behind for the one night and two days Erika and Tom Alan had been away. “She misses you.” Erika got out of the car and slammed the door.
“That’s no fair.” It took a moment, but Tom Alan got out, too.
“It’s true.”
“I’m giving you space…you and Billy.”
“Bullshit. I never fucking asked for space. Billy never did either. You still don’t like him and you’re trying to punish me.”
“That’s not true.”
“What is it then?”
“I…”
“You what? Damn it, Tom Alan! What?”
He wouldn’t look at her, though he did glance back at Billy and Etsuko. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Though Erika had held onto some doubt, Tom Alan did show up for practice every day. Midweek, Billy left Erika another cleaning day tribute.
I Love Your.
“He loves my what?” Tom Alan asked, his smile obviously forced.
“I think the R is, like, a typo.”
Unfortunately, Billy wasn’t there to ask or thank in person this time. When he returned Erika’s text, he admitted the R was just a squiggle he’d made when he fell on his ass.
Irina Mischen cracked the whip hard, and when Erika and Tom Alan Facetimed with Kyoko, she didn’t hold back her disappointment. “I have never seen you two so far apart,” she said. “Not even before Sochi, with all the turmoil. I do not understand.” She asked about the kids, probably as a distraction.
“I wish we knew.” Erika was somewhat worried about Jesse—and even Kensuke. They hadn’t heard from either one since the first day of school a week ago.
“Well, hopefully both are fine. You have enough to think about, I suppose.” Kyoko ended the session with “Nana korobi ya oki.”
“I hope so,” Erika said.
During their next break, around twelve, Erika finally got a message from Jesse.
Jesse: Can I come over?
Erika: Of course, Jesse. We’ve missed you. We’re at The Mischen Rink, right around the corner.
When Jesse arrived, shortly after two, Erika was careful to temper her reaction. The long blond hair was gone in favor of a buzz cut, and as masculine as Jesse’s attire had looked before, it had been turned up a notch, with baggier jeans, a polo shirt with the buttons on the men’s side, and a large watch.
“How’s school going?”
“Snack?” Tom Alan held out a paper plate. Erika had sent him around the corner for after school milk and cookies.
“Thanks. I have a big favor to ask.” Jesse ate like a boy—the whole cookie all at once and then a big gulp of milk—no dipping or dainty bites. It made Erika smile. They had to wait until he swallowed to hear what that favor was. “I want to move in with you.”
Tom Alan almost spit his cookie out.
“I have to switch schools,” Jesse said. “My grandmother will sign all the papers. I’ll skip tomorrow, and can start at the one in your district on Friday. Next Monday at the latest.”
“Jesse…why?”
“I’m just not comfortable where I go anymore.”
Erika wanted to argue. She wanted to bring up senior prom, graduation, leaving friends he’d made, not since kindergarten maybe, but there had to be someone special Jesse would miss, even after only half a year. Kensuke, maybe. And who was to say the new school would be any better? Still, after the whole blow up over Jesse not being invited to play hockey and because of a promise to her mother to do whatever she could, Erika tread very cautiously. “Did something happen?”
“Because of my new look?” Jesse asked.
“Yes.”
“This is who I am now. I did it last Tuesday. New year, new me.”
“Your grandmother…?”
“Was incredible, actually. She says she’s known all along. We shopped together for my boy threads.”
“That’s awesome.” Tom Alan dribbled cookie crumbs onto the ice.
“It’s great,” Erika said. “But something happened at school?”
“Oh, yeah. Something happened.” Jesse’s phone buzzed. “My uncle. If I move in with you, my grandmother is going to go live with him.” Erika was dizzy from the whirlwind. “I should take this.” Jesse tapped his screen. “Give you guys, like, a minute to discuss things.” He stepped outside.
“Oh, yeah,” Erika said. “A minute ought to do it.”
“We have to say yes,” Tom Alan told her.
“We do? You don’t even live at the house anymore.”
“I’ll be back…probably…when Milo is.”
“Well, thanks for letting me know.”
“What if your parents had said no to me thirteen years ago?”
“The situation is hardly the same; Jesse has a loving home. He can’t just go running away from school the minute someone says something to him he doesn’t like.”
“That’s bullcrap, Kiki. We don’t know about his home life. Not really. How good can it be if he’s so eager to leave it?”
“He said his grandmo—”
“And I’m sure whatever was said to him—maybe even by a teacher—was a little more homophobic…transphobic, I mean…than ‘Blue really isn’t your color, Jesse.’”
Erika thought of that awful Mr. Schwabb from Billy’s brother’s school as Tom Alan grabbed his cellphone from the boards at the side of the ice. “Okay. Yes,” she said. “I’m not playing down bullying. But we should really find out exactly what went down before we encourage Jesse to cut and run. If I’m reading him right, his demeanor doesn’t really screech upset.”
“He’s putting up a front.” Tom Alan’s demeanor did. “I’m calling them.”
“Who?”
“The school. What’s the name of it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Never mind. I found it…the closest one. I should just go down th—Yes,” Tom Alan said into the phone. “I’d like to speak with the principal regarding Jesse…What’s his last name?” he whispered to Erika.
She shrugged. “I forget.”
“Jesse with just an e,” Tom Alan tried. “Who am I? I’m a concerned citizen and a gay taxpayer in this county, that’s who.” Tom Alan looked at Erika, his expression uncertain, but his words must have worked. “She’s putting him on,” he told her. “Tom Alan Baranowski,” he said, back on the phone. “No. I’m not Jesse’s parent. Not yet. I will be his guardian in a matter of hours.”
No one was going to buy that.
“And I think it’s sad and unacceptable that in the year 2016, a school district is allowing the type of harassment Jesse was subjected to at your school to continue.”
Go, Tom Alan.
“Now he hasn’t filled in all the details, so I don’t know if it was one student, or possibly a whole group of them, but it’s only the sixth day of school for the year, and already, he wants to leave yours. Please tell me it was not a member of your faculty, because that would be completely unaccept…Excuse me. Oh…Oh…”
“What’s he saying?”
“Oh.” Tom Alan put his finger to his lips. “Thank you…sir. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.” Tom Alan hung up. “Shoot!”
“What?”
“There was an altercation, but only one other person was involved: Kensuke.”
“The principal told you that.”
“Not exactly. He couldn’t, because of confidentiality rules. He couldn’t even confirm Jesse was a part of the scuffle—or even that there was a scuffle, but I inferred it from what he said. ‘We have always strived to provide an inclusive and safe environment, and what is surprising is that one of our most progressive students over the past five years was the one involved in—’ And then he shut up. Now, tell me, how many progressive students would be around ‘the past five years’ to be involved in…?” Tom Alan spread his hands apart to indicate the missing word the principal dared not speak. “It had to be Kensuke.”
“It was,” Jesse confirmed, stepping back in the door. “If I’m not there, both our lives will be easier.”
“You’re doing this for him?” Erika asked.
“After the way he treated you?” Tom Alan seemed stunned.
“He’s not…Kensuke’s different lately. He’s taken a lot of shit in just the few days we’ve been back from vacation. I feel bad about that.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve gotten some looks, and I think a few girls laughed. And the gym teacher didn’t know what to say when I said I wasn’t taking her gym class—the girls’ one.”
“There should be something in place already,” Tom Alan said. “You’re a leader in this school, and you might be in the new one, but there have got to be schools where a student in your precise situation—and forgive me if that’s the wrong phrase—doesn’t have to go to administrators to change in a locker room or go to the bathroom.”
“There is. My school rocks. I just…To be fair, I kind of sprung it on Coach Mallory the first day instead of going the administrative route. That’s what the guidance counselor said I should have done. It’s all cool now, at least as far as that goes.”
“Wow. I am impressed with that,” Tom Alan said. “So the problem is the other students…more than one…or really only Kensuke?”
Jesse shrugged. “It might just be easier to start over. Maybe I can pass and no one will even ever know—at least not for a while. The staff of a school isn’t allowed to reveal a transgendered student’s identity if they don’t want them to.”
“Gotcha.” Tom Alan nodded. “Well, we’ll check out the school in our district. If it rocks, too, and you really want to switch…we say yes. Talk with your grandmother and let us know what we have to do.”
Jesse hugged him, and then Erika. The moment they broke away, he announced he had to go, and Irina Mischen called her pupils back to the ice. She worked them until well after five, and they were on fire. Perhaps it was Tom Alan’s anger, or just getting his mind off Milo being gone—if that was the problem. Unfortunately, just about the time Freddie Mercury sang the final lyrics one last time for the day, Kensuke, the troublemaker himself, showed up.
“What do you want?” Tom Alan flicked his head, showering the immediate area with perspiration.
“Hockey.” Kensuke’s hands were in his pockets, his head was bowed and his shoulders drooped. “Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays.”
“Um, only during the summer,” Erika said, still breathing hard from the final run-through. “Hockey’s at night on Wednesdays now and Saturday mornings. No Monday practices.”
“Oh.” Kensuke looked at his feet. “I missed a couple.”
“Rough day?” Tom Alan asked abrasively, wiping his face with a towel.
“Kind of.”
“We heard.”
“Jesse was here,” Erika explained.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Tom Alan took his shirt off. Kensuke looked up then, and followed the towel down one side of taut oblique muscles and over the ribs. When it rubbed all over Tom Alan’s gut, the little golden hairs there pointed in every direction for a moment, before finally flattening back out. Erika noticed, and so did Kensuke. “I gotta shower, so…bye.”
“Oh. I can go, I guess.” Kensuke offered.
“You don’t have to,” Erika said. Tom Alan looked at her sideways. “He doesn’t.”
“Whatever.” Tom Alan left.
“We have some milk and cookies,” Erika said, wondering if she sounded as lame as she suddenly felt.
“Is Coach Wahl here?”
“I’m sorry, no. And forgive Tom Alan. Milo’s away for another week…seminars and training down in Virginia. He misses him. That’s why he’s a little grouchy.”
“Yeah, right. Somebody’s always mad at me for something.”
“So…” Erika took out her ponytail and finger-combed her hair. “Do you need to talk?”
Kensuke was still staring at his brand new, pristine, white sneakers. They looked like they probably cost a small fortune. He had that first day of school smell several days in. With his backpack and glasses, it was as if a few years had come off his age since the night at the rink playing hockey with the big boys. “I don’t know,” he said. “Not really, I guess. Just tell Jesse he can go back to school tomorrow. I won’t be there.”
“Oh.” Erika touched his arm. “Where are you going to be?”
“Around. No idea really, but I quit.”
“Kensuke…you can’t quit school.”
“I’m nineteen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“You’re not. Not yet. And you know Mrs. Mischen doesn’t allow cursing in her rink.”
Kensuke made a sarcastic sort of noise. “I don’t go to high school, I can’t play hockey, so who cares? Guess I’m done here, too.”
“You can still skate. I really think you should register for some adult competitions. You may have to start out as a novice adult, but your innate talent will have you moving up the ranks in no time. Of course, that should be along with school…not instead of.”
Kensuke just huffed again.
“Why don’t you want to go to school?”
“‘Cause I’m stupid. Look. I got stuff to do, yo. I’m outta here.”
“What happened today?” Erika brought his eyes up to hers by touching his cheek.
“Jesse was all…happy, I guess. She…he…goddammit!”
“Kensuke…”
“Sorry. But, fuck—Damn it! Son of a bitch! I can’t stop. I fuck up everything.” He scraped his foot across the floor and suddenly he was even younger, a little boy who was feeling something he didn’t know how to put into words. “I don’t even do that on purpose…confusing he and she. I swear.”
“I believe you. You’re not a mean person…a bad person.”
“You don’t know.”
“Jesse does. He said as much. Just take a breath.”
Kensuke did. “Jesse was all over me today, like, out of nowhere. We’ve been texting and talking, and a while ago, I said I was sorry and everything for how I acted, but nothing happened. He never said okay or nothing. We haven’t hooked up at all, not even just to hang. So’s when he’s trying to kiss me in front of the whole lunch bunch, I figured he was using me, because, like, I’m a god at that school.”
Erika’s brows shot up, seemingly all on their own.
“I know it sounds conceited, but ask him. I came out in ninth grade. I knew what I was, and I was tough enough, yo, to kick any ass that frigging tried to cut me down. You stand up to a few, and nobody comes at you after that. I know it ain’t like that everywhere, and I know a lot of kids who kiss my hot gay ass from seven to two probably go home and sit around the table with their Republican ‘God hates fags’ parents and call me the school cocksucker. Sorry.” He seemed to mean it. “But you know what I mean, and I can’t think of a better phrase. Those kids don’t bring it around the school much, though, and so I decided I can’t be no more concerned for what they do at Sunday dinner than they should be with who I bang, ya know?”
“You aren’t an activist at your school?” Erika thought about what the principal almost told Tom Alan.
“Not really. I may have painted a poster or two.”
She’d bet it was more.
“Jesse and me, we’re not the only LGBTQ-whatever-letter-comes-after students, ya know? I’ve messed around with a couple. I give the best BJs. Everyone says.”
“Back on topic,” Erika suggested.
“Yeah. Sorry. I…I don’t know if Jesse and I were ever anything special. I thought we were, but everyone says we’re kids, what do we know?”
“Who says that? Your parents?”
“Shit. Not even. Like you guys, I bet. All’s I know is even after the crap hit the fan last week, I didn’t let Vijra blow me back after hockey. I give head. I don’t get it. That was the deal Jesse and I had, and I stuck to it.” Kensuke seemed so proud about that, so Erika tried to keep her expression neutral. It wasn’t the kind of deal she’d ever offer the man in her life—except she once had. “I mean, damn, yo! I got Olympic medalist dick. Even Jesse got off on that. Ask him.”
Erika doubted she would.
“I would never do nothing to hurt Jesse, but then I did.” Kensuke hung his head.
“Maybe it can be fixed. Maybe Jesse was trying, but didn’t know how.”
“Nuh-uh. Today was all show,” he said again. “And in the lunchroom…That’s our place, yo. It’s not for bullshit. He got all pissed off when I said so. He called me a pussy and I called him a dick. We both got busted, but I’m pretty sure the principal was afraid to do much to either one of us. Overcompensating, right, so’s he won’t get accused of being insensitive or prejudiced. Why I even need to have lunch?” Kensuke asked. “Frigging scheduling dipwads have me in Band before lunch and English after.”
“You stuck with Band. That’s good.” She squeezed his elbow.
“I liked band.”
“Jesse said you’re amazing.” The song “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” played in Erika’s mind.
“No one ever came to hear me play anyway.”
“We’d love to hear you play sometime—Tom Alan and Milo, Billy and me…Billy and I?”
“You’re asking me? I passed four years of French in four years. English, not so much.” He finally smiled, but it faded quickly. “Frigging Shakespeare.”
“You could always get your GED…I bet you could even start college in January, if you’re done with high school, if you want to catch up to your age. College has band…and orchestra, I bet.”
“High school’s alright…and being nineteen means I can pass easier for twenty-one and get booze. That makes me pretty popular.”
“Kensuke…”
“Kidding.”
“Then stay in. Two classes…heck, why not four?”
“The drama club is doing Music Man.” That brought some excitement.
“We’ll come see you in that, too. Why can’t you still be in the chorus? Maybe take an art course. Tom Alan would love that.”
Kensuke made a dismissive spitting sound. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s angry—disappointed. Smoking here that day, and now this…” Kensuke started to object, but Erika stopped him. “Tom Alan doesn’t know the whole story. Not yet. We’ll sit him down, you and me. He’s the sweetest man in the world. He’s always fair. I promise.”
“You guys are tight. Like Jesse and me.”
“And there are bumps,” Erika said softly.
“For real! Half the world thought you were having his kid while he was banging One Direction.”
“Yeah.”
“But now everything’s good?”
Erika didn’t answer. “Hey. Pick up another math class. That way I can help you. I’m Asian smart.”
“Ain’t that a stereotype?”
“A true one in my case.”
“We’ll see.”
“Your parents aren’t going to let you give up so close to your diploma. And what about college?”
Kensuke shrugged. “My parents kind of washed their hands of me finally.”
“How about I let you in on a little secret? Parents say stuff like that all the time. I can see where you might frustrate someone once in a while.” She said it with a smirk and waited for one to come back. It didn’t. “Go home, Kensuke. Talk to them like you just did to me.”
Kensuke didn’t offer a response right away. “You say my name like my mom.” That was what he said a few seconds into the longest silence yet, then he added, “I should probably take off, ya know, before Tom Alan comes out of the shower.” He tugged at his magenta skinny jeans in front. “See ya.” Kensuke stopped at the door. “I really did love her…whether it made sense or not. I know I could really love him, so maybe it made sense all along.”
Damn. The kid was good with words.
Almost as if on purpose, Tom Alan didn’t appear again until Kensuke’s Camaro peeled out of the parking lot. He and Erika rode to the Wahl home in silence—except for inane topics like whether or not Supergirl would still be good over on The WB Network. Erika was a bit surprised Tom Alan had even agreed to join her and Billy at his parents’ for dinner.
“So, you’re an inconsiderate, teenage hoodlum,” Billy said to his brother at the table. “What’s your take on everything?”
Peanut—Burgess—was the exact opposite. He was an honor roll student and a choir boy—literally. “How are things for gay kids at your school?” Tom Alan asked, buttering a third dinner roll. “As far as you know?”
“Seems good to me,” Burgess answered, between bites of the deliciousness that was Mrs. Wahl’s roast chicken dinner.
“You’ve met them both through Billy, right?” Erika asked. “Jesse and Kensuke?”
Burgess nodded.
“My vote, concerning Jesse moving in, as a member of Baranowski, Tsuchino, Fisher, and Wahl, is no. Jesse’s a good kid, but it’s a huge responsibility and I’m not sure we’d do him any good.” Billy took a bite of peas and carrots. “I doubt it will even come to a vote, though. Teenagers are flighty—boys and girls. He’ll probably change his mind again tomorrow. Dada?” He looked to Etsuko, who was busy playing in the creamiest mashed potatoes Erika had ever eaten.
“You should know,” Mr. Wahl said.
Billy squinted at his father like one of the cats at home Tom Alan had left behind.
“My boys were definitely as bad as my girls,” his mother added. “Remember the time you pulled up half my flowerbeds for Lisa Carlson?”
“Who’s Lisa Carlson?” Erika asked.
“His Sunday school teacher’s helper. He was eleven. She was seventeen. The next week, he asked her to give them back so he could give them to Pamela Ferber next door.”
“Mom!” Billy hid behind his napkin a moment. “Must we dwell in the past?”
Erika glanced over his shoulder, to the wall where a picture of him hung in his Army dress blues. A shadow box with a pair of medals hung on either side. Billy never talked much about those five years, several of which he had spent overseas. All Erika really knew about them was that he’d been in combat and that his time in Afghanistan had a lot to do with his decision to become a veterinarian. He’d told her that in a story about one of the medics in his unit who’d saved the stray puppy he had brought back home with him. Erika passed Tuxedo some chicken under the table. She hoped Billy would be able to tell her more someday.
“You raised eight kids, Mrs. Wahl.” Erika stared at her with a new admiration. “How on earth did you survive?”
“I had help.” She touched her husband’s wrist, and the look they exchanged, after so many years, warmed Erika’s heart. Of course, Mr. Wahl had just taken another bite of potatoes and gravy, so his expression could have been from that. “But you know what else helped?”
“What?”
“It’s something I had to learn along the way, so I’m saving you some heartache by sharing the secret. When a teenager says they hate you, they’re likely lying. When they tell you they love you, they likely want something.”
Burgess snickered with a mouth full of food.
“When they ask you for help, they probably need it. When they don’t, they probably need it more.”
“Oh.” Erika looked to Billy and then Tom Alan. “How do you know they’re in trouble, then?”
“That’s the hard part. There’s no secret I can spill on it either. You just have to guess. And here’s another thing: you’ll drive yourself crazy if you try to raise the ones that aren’t yours.” Though it could have come off as sarcastic and brash, it was said quite softly, almost with a hint of defeat. “Every one of mine had friends with one issue or another. You do the best you can with those—offer a place to sleep when they need it, say something to your own when it seems as if the lot of them are about to make a huge mistake…In the end, though, no matter how hard you try, there will be days you wish to God you would have done more and days you’ll end up with a broken heart anyway.”