DAD HAD made toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. He called it “the lazy man’s supper.” I was in the kitchen dishing myself a hefty serving when Abe showed up.
“Hey, Bro.”
“Whassup, Abe. You hungry?”
His arrival was an unexpected but welcome surprise; I figured he’d hang with some of the other track team guys today. He smelled like he was fresh from the showers, his skin shining with the healthy glow it took on after a good workout. I didn’t ask him how track practice had gone because it looked as if he’d enjoyed every minute of it. With a casual shrug, he glanced down at my soup and sandwich. “I could eat.”
“Help yourself.”
I carried my food to the table and grabbed two cans of orange soda from the fridge. Abel got a plate and bowl from the cabinet, loaded up at the stove, and joined me at the table. I slid a can of soda over to him. He popped the tab and raised the can to me. “Happy eats.”
I bumped cans with him in a toast and we dug in. Abe seemed even hungrier than I was, so there was no conversation for a few minutes while we concentrated on stuffing our faces. After chomping halfway through his lunch, Abe said, “Where’s your dad?”
“In the backyard, planting a new pecan tree. More leaves for me to rake next year. Big yay on that.”
Abe pulled apart what was left of his sandwich and started licking the cheese off the slices of toast.
“Okay, Abe, that’s just nasty. Yuck.”
I thought he’d smile or crack a joke, but he didn’t. “There’s talk about you going around school, man,” he said soberly.
“So what else is new?”
“You need to take this seriously. Kids are saying that you and Mr. Dakota are having a thing.”
There was no way I’d heard that right. I dropped my half-eaten sandwich onto my plate. “What?”
“A couple of the guys on the team were telling me this morning that you and Mr. Dakota are like the new ‘it’ couple around school. Word is that you’re completely into the man, eating breakfast with him every day, going out with him. Like, on dates. Fawn texted me a picture she took of you and Mr. Dakota this morning at some theater. She said a bunch of kids from his classes were there, but you were the only one who got to sit next to him.”
I slapped a hand over my eyes and let my head fall back. “Shit. This can’t be happening.”
“What’s up, Brodie? Are you, like, gay or something?”
The groan rumbled in my throat. “Oh. God. Damn!”
“Hey, it’s cool with me if you are,” Abel said quickly. “You’re my friend no matter what. But dude, you can’t do this with a teacher. Think about it. You could get kicked out of school, and Mr. Dakota could go to—”
“Abe, nothing is going on between me and Mr. D.” I sat up and looked into his worried eyes. “Things were crazy with my mom while you were gone. You know that. I didn’t have anybody to talk to, so I turned to Mr. Dakota, and he helped me hold myself together. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been there. He helped get my mom into AA. I’m grateful to him after all that, Abe. I still like talking to him. That’s it. That’s all that’s going on between us, I swear.”
“Okay, man. I get it.” He gave me his it’s-cool look, only he didn’t quite seem to believe that.
“What?” I said anxiously. “You think I shouldn’t have anything to do with Mr. D outside of class, don’t you? You think I should just cut him out.”
Abe brushed that idea aside with a snort. “You didn’t cut your mom out when all that stupid talk about her went around. Why cut Mr. Dakota out? You said the rumors about you and him aren’t true.”
“They’re not.”
“Well, if they’re not true, there’s nothing to worry about. Right?”
“Yeah, definitely.” I sighed inwardly. A sensation tightened in my stomach like a fist, fear tangling with guilt tangling with shame. I wasn’t hungry anymore. “Can we talk about something else?”
“You gonna finish that?” Abel nodded at the remains of my sandwich.
I shook my head.
He grabbed the sandwich from my plate, pulled it apart, and licked off the cheese.
“There’s something else I want to tell you,” he said after swallowing. “When I got home from practice today, I had a talk with my dad. Grandma was worried, like a lot, about Grandpa before she died. She was worried enough that she’d told Dad about it. Sometimes Grandpa would drive off on an errand, to Home Depot or Walmart or somewhere, places he’s been to hundreds of times, and he’d forget how to get there. He’d be gone a long time, and Grandma would get in her car to go look for him. She’d find him in his car on the side of the road or at a gas station, trying to figure out what he was doing there. Remember I told you he has trouble driving now because he doesn’t see so well? It’s not that he can’t see, it’s that he sometimes either forgets where he’s going or forgets how to get there.”
The knot in my stomach started giving way to alarm. “Man, I’m sorry, Abe.”
“Grandma took Grandpa to his doctor. He’s coming down with some kind of dementia. The doctor wanted to do more tests to find out exactly what’s going on, but Grandpa wasn’t having any part of that. Then Grandma died before she could talk him into it.” Abel looked at me as clear and direct as an anchor on a cable news network. “I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to believe it. But Dad was right. Grandpa can’t live by himself anymore.”
He talked some more about his grandfather, and I could see how scared he was. My heart hurt for him. I gave him more soup, told him everything would be okay. I did my best to make him believe he and his family would get through this.
LATE AFTERNOON, maybe an hour before the sun was due to start setting, I walked over to Mom’s apartment.
“Brodie,” she said in this admonishing tone when we faced each other at the door. “What are you doing here? I told you not to come today.”
I leaned in and hugged her, totally ignoring what she’d just said. “Hi, Mom.”
She studied my face when I let her go. Her eyes softened; she must have seen that I was feeling lousy. “Come in, hon,” she urged, taking me by the arm and guiding me into her living room.
The air here smelled of spices and tomato sauce. “Have you been cooking?” I asked, surprised, as she closed the door.
“I decided to treat myself to a nice dinner, so I made lasagna and Greek salad.”
That was a hopeful sign. She didn’t cook a whole lot when she drank. And she looked good, better than I’d seen her in a while. She was more… at ease with herself. Although this was still very much the beginning of what would be a lifelong process for her, she really was trying to beat her alcoholism, and I felt better seeing that for myself. Antsy despite the improvements she displayed, I paced back and forth in front of the sofa.
Mom was watching my face closely. “Brodie, what’s wrong with you?”
I kept gliding back and forth. She took my hand to make me stop. “Brodie?”
I stared down at the floor between our feet. “Is it possible for something to feel right deep down in your heart, but still be wrong?” This was what I’d come to discuss with her, and it was hard to get the words out. Not so much because I was afraid for myself; I didn’t want to say or do anything that would cause trouble for Mr. Dakota.
“Here, sit down.” Mom sat on the sofa and, still holding my hand, gently pulled me down next to her. “Now take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”
I kept staring at the floor. “Mom… I think I’m attracted to… no, I’m definitely attracted to this guy….”
“Okay.” Just one word, nothing else, and I didn’t know how to take that. I was expecting—hoping for—more.
I stammered on. “And I don’t… I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know what to do.”
“Is this someone at your school?”
“Yeah.” Okay, it was only half of the truth. Still it was enough for her to get an idea of what I was facing.
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“No. I mean, I’ve tried, but I get scared and I can’t say it. But I already know he’s gay, and I think he knows what I’m feeling for him. It’s just that… people think what I feel is wrong. I just don’t know how to fit in anymore. Maybe I never did. I’m this big nothing. Everyone already sees me as some freak, mixed-up loser, and now this. I’ll never stop being a joke to everybody.”
Mom squeezed my hand between hers. “Brodie, look at me.” I turned to face her, and her eyes were glistening as if they were about to shed tears. “I don’t want you to ever talk about yourself that way again. Do you hear me? Never again. I know some people have said ugly things about you, but none of that is who you are. You’re a caring, devoted person, and bringing you into this world is still the best thing I’ve done in my life. A person’s identity isn’t right or wrong, it just is. You don’t choose your race, gender, or sexuality. Your attraction to this guy isn’t wrong and it doesn’t make you a freak. The only way you would be wrong is if you don’t act responsibly and if you aren’t true to yourself.”
I could feel the sting of tears in my own eyes. Oddly enough, I started smiling instead of crying.
Mom looked surprised. “What? What’s that smile about?”
I let go of her hand and took her by the shoulders. “This is the mom I’ve missed. The one who used to rake me across the coals and point me in the right direction when I needed it. This is the mom I’ve wanted back.”
We hugged again, holding on to each other for what seemed a long time.
Then Mom let go, pulling away from me. She took my hand once more. “I haven’t been the mom you deserve, and I’m sorry for that, hon. I promise you I will try to be better. I am trying. But I think we’ve both let fear dominate too much of our lives. I tried to drown my fear in bottles, and you’re letting yours box you in. You’ve got to stop being afraid to trust. That not only keeps out the people who mean you no good. It keeps out people who could become true friends. And never be afraid to tell someone how you feel. You will have a much happier life, my dear Brodie, if you would just do those two things.”
I used my free hand to wipe away a tear. “Okay. I promise I’ll try, Mom. Thanks.”
“Good. Are you hungry?”
“Uh… yeah. Actually, I am.”
“Come on. I’ll reheat some lasagna for you.”