work. Straight to my door, too. I hear him come in, then heavy, blanket-familiarfootsteps right to me. A while ago, he quit coming inside without knocking.
Instead, he arrives, leans against the frame, crosses his arms over his chest. Casual, like he’s visiting my office before heading to the water cooler.
“Big day, huh?” he asks.
I spread my arms. “I’m going to my own funeral, check it out.” My desk is a haystack of cards and notes, little balloons on sticks and stuffed animals. “Chelsea helped me dump the flowers off the custodian’s dock.”
When he’s nervous, my dad coughs out a laugh, heh heh. “Learning anything?”
“Yeah, it looks like I’m 2 good 2 b 4 gotten.”
“Wisdom for the ages.” Heh heh.
A guilty itch starts at my edges; maybe I don’t know half these people, don’t recognize the handwriting, couldn’t match it with faces. But I fell through the ice and they caught their breath. They deserve some kind of respect.
I swivel toward Dad. “Olivia’s having a party this weekend.”
Dad sheds his discomfort with a smile. “Getting right back into it. That’s a Todd, right there.”
“Since I can’t drive, I’ll probably stay over.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I think he wants to call me Sport or Champ but he doesn’t because I’m not seven any more, which he knows. And I can almost mouth along with him when he adds, “You have protection?”
He’s asked me that before every party since ninth grade. Sometimes, I wonder if he wants me to say no so he can hand me a twenty with a wink and a nudge. We’re pals, my dad and I. We never talk about anything.
“I’m covered. Thanks,” I say with a thumbs up.
“Good deal. I’ll tell your mother,” he says. Then he’s downthe hall, off to change his work clothes.
It seems like we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. Even when I came out to him, it was painlessly friendly.
ME
Yeah, Dad, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.
DAD
( Heh heh )
That’s all right then. You have protection?
ME
Yeah. Uh, yeah.
DAD
Good deal. I’ll tell your mother.
And he exited, down the hall to change his work clothes. Later, Mom asked a bunch of questions about falling in love. If I had. If I wanted to. Then, as she stood, she asked, “Did I do something …?”
Before I could say no, she answered herself.
“What a stupid question.” She kissed me, both cheeks, then brushed my hair from my face. “I love you, beautiful boy.”
“I love you, too,” I said.
Now she worries because I haven’t brought anyone home. Well, actually, now she probably worries because I drowned in Miller’s Pond and told her I was dead. I swivel my chair again, stealing a look at the darkened mirror in my bathroom.
A silver bead of water streaks down my cheek.
And on that note, I go back to my funeral.
DISSOLVE TO:
Though the air still hazes with frost, Olivia’s party spills out in rings around her father’s cabin.
Up in the woods, everything’s barren; leafless branchesstretch toward a bitter black sky. A haze hangs between us and the stars, so glittering white lights strung everywhere make up the difference.
“Evan,” Olivia crows when she sees me.
Olivia is gorgeous in a camel wool coat, two shades lighter than her skin. The buttons gleam, competing with the rhinestone flowers hiding in her hair. I swear, when she shakes her head, I see the blue part of my lips in every bauble.
She swoops over and clasps the back of my neck. Two bright spots of crimson light my cheeks—not a blush, but her lipstick. Olivia loves that trick. “Evan, Evan, Evan Todd, look at you.”
“Hey, sexy, you come here often?” I ask. I dip my head, but I don’t wipe off her kisses. They drive Tyler nuts, and I figure he owes me.
Waving me off, Olivia tugs on my knitted hat. “Fail.”
“It’s twenty degrees out,” I say.
Her laughter is warm. “But there’s cider inside. Wine, a pony keg … mixers if you’re good to
Instead, he arrives, leans against the frame, crosses his arms over his chest. Casual, like he’s visiting my office before heading to the water cooler.
“Big day, huh?” he asks.
I spread my arms. “I’m going to my own funeral, check it out.” My desk is a haystack of cards and notes, little balloons on sticks and stuffed animals. “Chelsea helped me dump the flowers off the custodian’s dock.”
When he’s nervous, my dad coughs out a laugh, heh heh. “Learning anything?”
“Yeah, it looks like I’m 2 good 2 b 4 gotten.”
“Wisdom for the ages.” Heh heh.
A guilty itch starts at my edges; maybe I don’t know half these people, don’t recognize the handwriting, couldn’t match it with faces. But I fell through the ice and they caught their breath. They deserve some kind of respect.
I swivel toward Dad. “Olivia’s having a party this weekend.”
Dad sheds his discomfort with a smile. “Getting right back into it. That’s a Todd, right there.”
“Since I can’t drive, I’ll probably stay over.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I think he wants to call me Sport or Champ but he doesn’t because I’m not seven any more, which he knows. And I can almost mouth along with him when he adds, “You have protection?”
He’s asked me that before every party since ninth grade. Sometimes, I wonder if he wants me to say no so he can hand me a twenty with a wink and a nudge. We’re pals, my dad and I. We never talk about anything.
“I’m covered. Thanks,” I say with a thumbs up.
“Good deal. I’ll tell your mother,” he says. Then he’s downthe hall, off to change his work clothes.
It seems like we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. Even when I came out to him, it was painlessly friendly.
ME
Yeah, Dad, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.
DAD
( Heh heh )
That’s all right then. You have protection?
ME
Yeah. Uh, yeah.
DAD
Good deal. I’ll tell your mother.
And he exited, down the hall to change his work clothes. Later, Mom asked a bunch of questions about falling in love. If I had. If I wanted to. Then, as she stood, she asked, “Did I do something …?”
Before I could say no, she answered herself.
“What a stupid question.” She kissed me, both cheeks, then brushed my hair from my face. “I love you, beautiful boy.”
“I love you, too,” I said.
Now she worries because I haven’t brought anyone home. Well, actually, now she probably worries because I drowned in Miller’s Pond and told her I was dead. I swivel my chair again, stealing a look at the darkened mirror in my bathroom.
A silver bead of water streaks down my cheek.
And on that note, I go back to my funeral.
DISSOLVE TO:
Though the air still hazes with frost, Olivia’s party spills out in rings around her father’s cabin.
Up in the woods, everything’s barren; leafless branchesstretch toward a bitter black sky. A haze hangs between us and the stars, so glittering white lights strung everywhere make up the difference.
“Evan,” Olivia crows when she sees me.
Olivia is gorgeous in a camel wool coat, two shades lighter than her skin. The buttons gleam, competing with the rhinestone flowers hiding in her hair. I swear, when she shakes her head, I see the blue part of my lips in every bauble.
She swoops over and clasps the back of my neck. Two bright spots of crimson light my cheeks—not a blush, but her lipstick. Olivia loves that trick. “Evan, Evan, Evan Todd, look at you.”
“Hey, sexy, you come here often?” I ask. I dip my head, but I don’t wipe off her kisses. They drive Tyler nuts, and I figure he owes me.
Waving me off, Olivia tugs on my knitted hat. “Fail.”
“It’s twenty degrees out,” I say.
Her laughter is warm. “But there’s cider inside. Wine, a pony keg … mixers if you’re good to
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