Trevor spent the next morning vacuuming the living room and hallway while his grandma dusted, then working on a new commission, someone’s orc original character, which was good practice for him and gave him some thoughts on orc genitalia. In between that, he drove to the next town to the big box stores for various household supplies. His mother called while he was out. She was at work, but still concerned about the family and Anne’s wedding situation, as if this one wedding was some sort of make-or-break event and the family was going to fall apart over it.
Everyone had been trapped inside or limiting social stuff for a while now and that put a lot of pressure on this event, granted, but Trevor still thought his mom was overreacting. Something he was smart enough to not say, although even his silence was taken to mean things.
“You could have been nicer to her in the chat,” was what his mother finally landed on in what Trevor belatedly realized was an attempt to get him to change his mind about going. “This is a chance to get everyone together again for the first time since all this.”
He did not understand her freakout. Anne didn’t care about Trevor going, only Grandma, and anyway, the wedding wasn’t until the fall and lots of things could happen before then. “We could do an outdoor thing in the summer.”
That was reasonable, and safer for both his grandma and Amanda’s sister-in-law, who was undergoing chemo. That was, if Amanda invited her in-laws, which she often did.
“Who’s arranging that, Trevor?” his mother demanded, exasperated. “You don’t know a thing about planning anything bigger than one of your board game parties. You’d show up, eat, and leave. Planning is work.” Unlike making drawings for a living. She didn’t say it, but Trevor heard it.
Trevor visualized how smartly Sky would push his glasses up before preparing for a tirade—which Trevor would have to cut off—and then, to distract himself, wondered if G.G. also thought of Trevor as a flighty artist type with no common sense or practical experience.
“Anyway, where would it be?” Trevor’s mother made a scoffing sound in her throat that they probably heard in the next aisle over from where Trevor was staring blankly at cleaning products. “I’m not dumping hosting duties on my mother in all this.”
Grandma, for all that she made faces about them, liked having her family over. But it was true, the extended family wouldn’t all fit into the backyard, which was why Trevor hadn’t suggested it. He said, “You can reserve spots in public parks. I could probably do it on my phone right now. And instead of having Grandma cook everything, you can do a potluck. B.Y.O.B., or whatever. Done.”
His mother sighed deeply. “It only sounds easy. It would be simpler if you talked to your sister. And then possibly Anne. Drew was supposed to be the ring bearer.”
Amanda’s four-year-old hated wearing pants with a passion and would not enjoy being a ring bearer unless he magically got over that hatred in the next few months.
Trevor considered that, and whether or not the family would show up if he planned an event in a park for the Fourth of July, and his grandma’s expression when the wedding was mentioned.
He made his voice firm.
“I didn’t order Amanda to do anything. She wouldn’t listen if I did.” Not to living-in-his-grandma’s-house, no-real-job Trevor. “So I don’t know why you’re appealing to me,” he told his mother. “And I was nice to Anne. If I’d been mean, I would have told her not to marry into a family of bigots and made sure to tell her I won’t ever be visiting her for that reason.”
He didn’t actually think that was mean. That was just facts.
For the moment of silence following that, he thought his mother might have listened. But then she sighed again. “Well, now you’re being dramatic.”
“Going to the register now,” Trevor lied without a second of regret. “Love you. Bye.”
After getting home and unloading the car, he relayed some of that conversation to his grandmother during more food prep. She’d already heard it, apparently, since his mom had called her after Trevor had hung up.
His grandma said, “When the weather warms up, we’ll get out the hose in the backyard and let Drew run around in his undies to his heart’s content.” Then she said, “If we do a potluck, Barbara will make that curried chicken salad that’s always runny and tastes like vinegar. You have to plan to bring a container to put a decent-sized portion into so she thinks people ate some. Then you throw it away at home. You need to remember things like that when dealing with the family.”
“Fair,” Trevor allowed. His great aunt did always bring her terrible chicken salad to things. Though Trevor hadn’t realized his grandma had been sparing her feelings by squirreling away some of it to toss later. His grandma wasn’t sly in just her sunset years. She had always been sly—and caring. “And noted for the future.”
“But otherwise, I thought it was a nice idea.” His grandma patted Trevor’s cheek, startling him with the sudden glint in her eyes. “You’ll learn as you go along. Besides,” she stopped, “your mother isn’t thinking about the future. I’m glad someone is.” She looked down at what Trevor was doing and exhaled. “Dicing and mincing are different things, but at least you got all the pieces about the same size.”
“I’ll do better next time,” Trevor promised, and grinned for another pat on the cheek.
Trevor eventually left his grandmother to her work in the kitchen so he could move on to his other chores. Namely, to brush out Ellie’s fur in the bathroom. Poodles, like some humans—probably including Trevor considering his family history—could develop joint issues. They could also get allergies and skin problems. So his little miss got vitamins and fish oil in her food as well as baths every few weeks with a special shampoo. But first, a good brushing to limit hair in the tub drain.
She was not a Sky replacement. Ellie was a friend in lonely times.
Trevor emerged with the brush, his nose itching with the phantom sensation of stray dog hair, to learn that while he’d been occupied, G.G. had been over to return the dish.
Trevor immediately wondered how G.G. had washed that dish, but didn’t think he’d like the answer since it almost definitely involved getting his stitches wet.
“He asked if we needed anything,” his grandmother revealed while Trevor was still feeling his feelings about G.G.’s possibly compromised stitches. “I told him he didn’t need to repay us, but you know how he is.” Trevor did not know how G.G. was but nodded in encouragement. “So I mentioned that you needed a new desk and you won’t let me get you one from Walmart.”
“Grandma!” Trevor didn’t shout but it was close.
“That one you have is falling apart,” she continued, unbothered. “And if you want to succeed with that story thing of yours that you’re so protective of, you’ll need a real office.”
“I don’t need that right now,” Trevor protested. “And he doesn’t need to buy me a desk.”
“Buy?” His grandmother stopped stirring onions to give Trevor a study that was vaguely G.G.-esque. “G.G. makes things. I thought you knew that.”
Trevor didn’t ask how she thought he would know that. He was too busy gasping like a fish out of water.
“He can’t make anything at the moment,” was what Trevor finally managed in reply. “But a desk for me is still too much for feeding a cat. And you did all the cooking, so if we were trading services, which we are not, then you should get something.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” his grandmother answered, seemingly mild. But the family was familiar with that tone; the matter was over and no more discussions would be had. According to his siblings, Trevor had used it once or twice too. Not that they had been great about listening to it if he had. Being the youngest and “artistic” meant Trevor’s stance on issues were taken less seriously and had been since birth.
He imagined his grandmother, having grown up in a different era, was also used to being taken less seriously. Maybe she’d learned to end certain kinds of arguments before they could get worse.
Trevor took several moments to consider that. She loved him and was supporting him. She was just asking for too much on his behalf. The next time he spoke to G.G., Trevor would have to explain that he didn’t need a desk. Trevor hadn’t been nice to him to get something.
Well, not something like that.
Well, he hadn’t done it for any reason other than to be nice. But if Trevor were ever to cross over into doing it for other reasons, those reasons were not tangible.
Biting his lip, Trevor finally turned on his heel and whistled for Ellie to get back into the bathroom for her bath.
When he and a bouncy-happy poodle came out some time later, his grandmother was waiting with another dish.
Trevor was damp from bath steam and occasional splashing, and wearing shorts he didn’t generally wear in public. But once again, going to change and clean up would have led to questions. He was willing to bet if his sister had been there and still single, his grandmother would have sent her over there after insisting she put on something nice. That hadn’t occurred to her with Trevor yet because heteronormativity was fucked like that, but it would if Trevor put any effort into his appearance before going over.
He washed his hands at least, and hoped the smell of medicated dog shampoo was nicer than the smell of wet dog.
“Ask if he’d like anything in particular!” his grandmother shouted as he was on his way out.