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I don't CARE if it's quiet 'round here don't CARE that I can't write anything other than my C/Z-Daddies!AU MUST POST MORE FUQQIN TORRIN!FIC!!! :D
Title: Just Like You: Checkmate
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: Light R (again, ?)
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey pays his past a visit back in Herrington.
However cool Casey was playing it, he was trembling deep inside as he pulled into the park's lot. Torrin sat on the passenger side, twirling his basketball and craning his neck to get a good look around. “This is a cool park,” he said.
“Yea. They remodeled it since I've... been here,” Casey replied. It was a little disheartening, seeing the more modern surroundings, instead of the old, classic metallic style he'd grown up with. Gone were the horsie-swings he'd been addicted to since he was put on one by his father as a tiny toddler, the maze of steel that offered as a jungle gym, swings with solid plastic seating a kid could slide from easily to see if they could leap higher and further than their friends had... all replaced with multi-colored plastic play-areas, rubberized, pliable swing-seats, deep beds of mulch and other things stripped away when just one kid on the planet had fallen to his doom upon metal poles and hard dirt. Childhood was supposed to have its bumps and bruises, wasn't it? But even though Casey was disappointed, it wasn't his old haunt having changed so much that made him nervous.
Torrin wasn't interested in the playground equipment, however. The moment the car came to rest in a shady spot near the old maple tree (THAT had stuck around), the awkward almost-teenaged boy hopped out of the car and smiled. “He said I didn't have to have some kinda membership to tag-along, right?” he asked.
“No, it's for anyone who comes to the park,” Casey replied. He slipped his sunglasses down, shut the door and went over to Torrin. “I always wanted to be a park and rec worker in the summers.”
“Why didn't you do it?”
'Because I'd probably have had to work with assholes from school, not an option,' Casey thought, but he shrugged and said, “Eh, your grandparents wouldn't let me,” instead. Half-truth, anyway. If his mother had had her way, he'd still be in a playpen.
“You'll let ME be a park-guy when I'm old enough, right?” Torrin asked as they began crossing over the grass leading to the playground. Casey smirked.
“We'll see. I bet you would be good at it, especially with the skills you've got on the court,” he said. After passing by the giant playscape full of yelling, laughing children, they approached the small pavilion where more kids were gathered at the picnic tables provided. Casey had to smile; the young high school kids, two girls and one boy, were helping the children in making pot-holders. Some old-fashioned stuff stuck, and instead of whining about wanting to play video games or sitting away from the others to screw-around on cellphones, the group looked happy and excited, getting to do this.
“What're those?” Torrin asked.
“Potholders.”
“They're making potholders?” The boy paused to look, getting spotted by the perky blonde, nametag reading 'Patti' who had to be a cheerleader at Herrington High. Casey was always good at spotting the traits, to this day...
“Hey, there... if you want, you can join us?” Patti said to them with a bright smile. “It's free, everyone can play.”
Torrin wore an expression that told Casey he was about to be accidentally rude, so the man smiled and said, “Maybe in a little bit, we're heading to the courts.”
“Oh, okay. Come back later, we're gonna have a Monopoly tournament,” she said.
“Yea, okay,” Casey said. In a way, he wished Torrin wanted arts, crafts and board games more than shooting hoops, staying in the nice shady spot with nice kids, nice park workers-instead of running into that one familiar face, the one Casey vowed he'd never set eyes on again if he could help it. But he got the courage to follow Torrin, who was bouncing the ball and looking excited. Why wasn't he nervous when it came to joining-in on activities with kids he'd never met before? Even if he was a great ball-player, shouldn't he have been squeamish in his walking into what could be a lion's den?
Casey's throat tightened when they finally reached the large basketball courts, four in total. More people in 'Herrington Parks and Recreation Dept.' t-shirts were around, and it didn't take long to find the one worker Casey had come here to see; he stood at the edge of the court, filling a water-cooler with ice. Torrin, brave as always, jogged over to that person and started talking to him.
“Hey... you're Gabe, right?”
The man looked up, blinked fast and stood straight. “Yea, hey... Torrin, right?”
“Yep.”
“I could tell. Jesum, you're a carbon-copy of your dad.”
Torrin shrugged, chuckled and nodded to Casey, who hadn't found the will to close the distance between them just yet. “My other dad said you said I could jump in if I wanted.”
“Uh huh, no problem.” Gabe looked to Casey and made a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Connor.”
“Hey,” Casey muttered before finally stepping away from his spot to go over.
~*~
I ran into the guy at the S&S and he asked if he could have your email addy. Is that... cool?
Casey's skin hadn't stopped prickling since getting Stokely's email, and now that he was here, waiting for Gabe to go on his lunch break, it'd only gotten worse. No matter how hard he tried to focus on Torrin's happy face or be pleased that his son had been accepted by the other kids without an iota of issue, no matter if this wasn't a surprise run-in but a planned meet-up, Casey was tempted to run over to Torrin, say, “I gotta head back to Gram's for a bit, I'll be back for you in a couple hours,” and bolt. But when he saw his old high school adversary coming back from the lot with a large, vinyl lunch sack, there wasn't an escape left. Casey sat up straighter on the park bench and watched as the man got under the maple's shade, sighed and sat down next to Casey.
“I didn't know if you'd eat before coming, but I packed an extra sandwich,” Gabe told him. “Which one's better, ham and cheese or salami?”
“Salami's fine,” Casey said.
Gabe nodded and dug around in the sack for a moment before producing the sandwich. It was full of lettuce, tomatoes, mustard, mayo and meat, thick enough to force Casey to use both hands to eat it. “Got some veggies and crackers, too,” Gabe said.
“This is good, for now. Thanks.”
Gabe smiled, put the opened sack on the dirt between them, unwrapped his meal and took a big bite. He gazed at the kids and shook his head. “God...” he mumbled through a mouthful before swallowing then turned back to Casey and say, “He really DOES look like Zeke; I almost fell over when I saw him.”
“He's got a lot of Stokes in him, too. Believe me,” Casey said.
“Yea, I see that, too.”
God, this was awkward. It was obvious that Gabe was giving it his all to be nice, and while it didn't seem contrived or fake, Casey didn't know what to do with the... 'niceties'. Old habits died hard, in particular his flinch when Gabe jerked down to grab two small water bottles from the bag.
'It's been almost eighteen years, chill the hell out,' Casey thought as a bottle was set down next to him. “Thanks,” he said again.
“Hey, it's too hot out, gotta have the H2o,” Gabe said. Before he could crack it open and take a sip, he paused to stare out onto to court, eyebrows raised. “Wow. Your kid can freakin' shoot.”
Casey followed Gabe's line of sight; he'd missed whatever play Torrin had performed, but it had to have been good. The other boys cheered a little, even gave him friendly slaps to the back. “Like I told you, he'll be hounded by every agent in the NBA with how he plays,” Casey said.
“No kidding.” Gabe sipped, took another bite... “'Glad you came out here.”
Casey glanced to the man, who was staring at his sandwich as if entranced. “Yea, we make it a point to visit every summer and on holidays. Torrin sometimes goes on vaca with the egg donor, too.”
“S'cool. Like I told you in the emails, I tried getting outta here. But-it's just where I gotta be, y'know?” Gabe said. “And it ain't all that bad, really. I think we all hated Herrington growing up.”
Casey almost scowled. How could this former sports-hero, worshiped by everyone in town have hated that town? He'd had nothing TO hate, while Casey had plenty. “I only come back for family stuff,” he replied finally. He took a bite from the sandwich and stared at Torrin, who was going to the water cooler with a few others, all of them chattering and laughing. “When I left, I left. Period.”
“I figured you would, after graduation,” Gabe said.
“Huh?” Casey turned blinking eyes Gabe's way. The man was nodding, as if to himself.
“I heard that you'd gotten into some damned good schools, doing art stuff. You were always good at that, like the school paper pics,” he said. “One pic you did was up in my locker for my whole junior AND senior years... our rare win against Akron, with me and the guys hoisting Gary McSween up for getting the winning goal. Loved that one; I remember that day like it was yesterday.”
An uncomfortable, hot feeling was encompassing Casey's chest, trickling into his arms and neck. Gabe Santora, the guy who'd beat him senseless whenever he could, sometimes to the point where doctor's visits were a requirement... gushing about photos Casey hated taking, his skills in photography used to glorify those who'd make him bleed? Before he could express these thoughts, Gabe sniffed and said, “I found it in an old box in the attic this past winter with a bunch of school shit I'd forgotten about. The second I pulled it out, all the memories came. The win, the after-party, getting shit-faced-how I'd busted your nose in that morning cos' you bumped into me on your way out of the boy's lav.”
Casey stilled and looked to Gabe, hard. The awkward smile was gone, half-eaten sandwich being put on the plastic wrapping on the bench between them. “There I am, staring at this photo, and instead of thinking of my 'glory days', I start feeling sick. 'How'd he take this?' was all I could ask myself, not just cos' I'd punched you in the face, but that... you're still there taking pics of people who treat you like crap.”
“I...” Casey started, but had to swallow before continuing, “...I hated every minute. Yea.”
“'Don't blame ya,” Gabe said. He rubbed at his chin and lips a moment then opened his mouth to speak again. “I said how we'd partied, gotten drunk... that shit went on after every game, then the next Saturday, then a couple times during the school week. Cos' that's what us guys just did. It got worse in college, until I got my ass kicked out for my grades. Then it got even worse, and worse, until Mom found me in the basement unconscious. After a stomach-pumping and almost a week spent in a hospital bed, I'd had it.”
Casey watched as Gabe reached into his pocket, got his wallet out and opened it. The coin he drew out wasn't currency, but it shone like gold in the sun. Casey saw the number '10' in the middle. “My ten-year sobriety award. 'Just got it a few months ago,” he said.
“Oh,” Casey muttered and nodded slowly. “Um, good.”
“Yea. It took a few falls off the wagon, but I kept going back. It's an every Sunday and Wednesday thing for me,” Gabe explained.
It dawned on Casey that this was much more than a guy who'd peaked in high school thinking he and the kid he'd bullied to pieces could be 'best buds'. Casey's lips curled into a smile as if on their own. “Am I one of your 'twelve steps', Gabe?” he asked.
“'Guess you could say that. Yea.”
“Hah, well... I've been okay, okay? Seriously. Don't worry about it.”
Gabe cleared his throat and finally looked to him. “You flinched a bit ago, when I got the water out. It was pretty fucking familiar, Case,” he said. “I saw it every day in school when you'd see me in the halls, even if I wasn't rushing into you and giving you shit.”
“Gabe... I...” Christ, he couldn't think on what to say right now. He only knew that bad history was bending up to touch the present, coalescing and clear. Casey's thinking of this as Gabe giving him a 'gift' of sorts was shifting; Gabe wasn't sitting here, trying to make Casey feel better which would only make Casey feel weak, as if Gabe thought that the only way Casey could 'go on' was through his former tormentor's admittances and I'm sorrys. It was deeper than that. Gabe knew quite well that Casey had found the life he'd always wanted, and it was Gabe himself who desperately needed to be known as a changed man.
“I just wanted you to know that-I know. Y'know?” Gabe said. “That... it makes me happy nowadays, knowing that you're living the life, cos' I worried... about the stuff I did, what that could've led to. Telling ya now; going by the history, you were a lot stronger than I was, all along.”
This was definitely a 'wow' moment. Casey was getting much more than a 'sorry' or 'glad you're okay'; perhaps deep down, Casey HAD needed this in a big way. The discomfort and prickliness was fading fast, leaving him with a smile. “Thanks, man,” he said.
“S'only the truth.” Gabe's smile also returned as he tapped a beat out with his feet. “I work at the Y in town, too; after seeing that pic, remembering the stuff that happened when I thought I was such a 'big man', I decided to put a fundraiser together for a hotline... for kids getting bullied and needing to talk to someone. I just needed to do something, y'know?”
“Wow. That's... really awesome. Seriously,” Casey said, chuckling in appreciation.
“Yea, it's gotten some good results. The schools around here started giving us feedback, letting us know that bullying's gone down in a major way. Me and some of the other people who work-it even went to our alma-mater in the Spring to talk to the kids assembly-style. And I told 'em why I put the hotline and program in place... that anyone who's doing the crap I used to will regret it,” Gabe explained. “It's been a long time coming, really. I figured out a while back that I didn't need to be an angry idiot and... well Christ, here comes one of the reasons for that... hey!”
Casey looked past Gabe to see a woman walking down the walk between the hoops and tennis courts, smiling at them. She pushed a stroller along, while a young boy trotted beside her. Gabe chuckled and stood. “Decided to be nosy, huh?” he asked her before placing a kiss on her cheek.
“'Course. Can you blame me?” She now looked to Casey and beamed. “Hey, Case.”
Casey blinked furiously. He didn't recognize her in the slightest, but couldn't blame Gabe for putting her under his arm; it didn't matter if Casey was gay, as she was utterly gorgeous with her perfectly-styled hair, makeup and pretty polka-dot sundress. She reminded Casey of an African-American Delilah. Had Gabe talked to this woman-his wife and mother of his children, by all appearances-about him? “Um, hi,” Casey replied, giving a weak wave her way. She laughed and turned to Gabe.
“He SO doesn't recognize me,” she said.
“Well, it has been ages...”
With a wide, bright grin, she moved closer and said, “E-three... checkmate!”
Casey's brain burst with rapid-fire synapses, her words instantly bringing her to light... “Liz... Lizzy Crest??” he said through the shock.
“Well, Crest-Santora nowadays,” she said, nudging her husband with her elbow before turning back to say, “Maybe if I still had the glasses, braces and stupid braids sticking-up a full foot in the air with a chessboard between us, you'd remember me.”
Unbelievable; this girl, or grown woman had been even geekier than Casey had been, back in the day. That 'chessboard' had been drawn on the back paper-covering of her science textbook, M&M's their chess-pieces; Casey couldn't count how many homerooms and study classes they'd spent together, with the girl always getting to say 'check-mate!' And there she was, marrying and making babies with the most popular jock from their class. Casey let a puff of chuckles escape as Gabe reached into the stroller and cooed. “Hey, baby-girl, what's goin' on?” he said, bringing the pink-bomb that was his daughter out for Casey to gaze at. “This is Nora... and this big guy over here's Ben.”
“Hey,” Casey said as Ben stepped over to stand next to Gabe, who sat down and sighed. Casey reached over to take Nora's tiny hand. “She's adorable... how old is she?”
“Four months, just yesterday,” Lizzy said.
“I'm three,” Ben said, holding up two fingers before pulling another one up.
“Wow, that's old,” Casey said, making the boy chuckle.
“Nut uhhh...”
Gabe grinned and patted the top of his son's cap-clad head. “Mom's trying to make this kid the next chess champ... he ain't half-bad.” He then gave Nora a light bouncing. “THIS one's all mine when it comes to making her an WNBA star.”
“Maybe Tory can help her out with that when she's old enough to dribble,” Casey replied.
“Oh, she dribbles,” Lizzy said, taking the cloth she had on her shoulder to dangle in the air.
“DAD!”
Casey jumped and turned, finding Torrin running over and screeching to a stop before he crashed into him. “Whoa, whoa, what??” Casey said.
The boy panted heavily before turning halfway quick then back, saying, “The... the ice cream truck... just pulled.. into the street to... come into the park, can I... have some... money?”
“Oh... hah, okay,” Casey said with a shrug. He reached into his bag, got his wallet and produced a five dollar bill. “Get me a Bomb-Pop.”
“Thanks!” Torrin said.
“This kid and sugar...” Casey said as Torrin sped off with his new friends.
“Holy Jesus, he looks just like Zeke!” Lizzy spat out.
~*~
“Wow.”
“I know, right?”
Zeke smiled around the rim of his beer bottle and shook his head. “Gabe Santora, hero to downtrodden, bullied dorks... who'd'a'thunk'it?” he said.
“Here's to growing-the-hell-up.” Casey held his own beer out to Zeke, who chuckled and clinked them together. After a long swig, Casey smacked his lips and stared at the pool Stan had put up before Casey and company had showed up, where Torrin and his half-brother were splashing away. “We should get one of these for OUR place. Tory's been bugging-out about wanting one for ages now.”
“He wants an inground, though. Brat,” Zeke replied.
“Well, he likes this one enough. And they're cheap, Stokes said, she got it at the outlet down the way,” Casey said. “You just gotta get the equipment, it goes up and down on a whim...”
“You don't gotta use Tory as the excuse for it, just say, 'Zekie, can we get a poooool?'” he drawled in a high-pitched voice.
“'K, I so don't sound like that.”
“You do when you WANT something,” the man retorted, wearing his sexiest smirk.
“Do. Not.” Casey kicked his ankle up onto his knee and sighed. “Know what I've noticed?”
“What?”
“Every time we come out to visit, we're shanghaied into giving Stan and Stokes four or five date nights.”
Zeke's badly-timed sip of beer almost had him snorting the stuff through his nose. After a few coughs, he chortled and said, “Hey man, at least we don't gotta spring for motel costs... and like Stokes doesn't always say, 'so hey, since I made you a BABY, wanna watch the kids for a while?'”
“She milks that shit so hard,” Casey replied.
“Mmhmm, shameless...” Zeke sighed, settled further into the lawn-chair and turned his head to face Casey. “So, how's it feel?”
“How's what feel?”
Zeke rolled his eyes and smiled. “Your former bully begging for forgiveness...?”
A soft smile came over Casey's face; he watched as the boys carried out a handstand contest as he replied, “He didn't beg. 'Didn't have to.”
“I would've made the guy grovel, myself...”
Casey sighed, shrugged then reached over to Zeke's hand and held it, tight. Maybe Zeke would understand better the next night, when they'd be in Gabe and Lizzy's backyard enjoying a cookout with the kids. After the invitation was given, Casey taking it, he'd given Gabe the typical 'bro-hug' and went to part ways... but at the last minute, he had to ask...
“So how DID you hook-up with the girl who was geekier than me back in the day, anyway?”
Gabe smiled, made a slow shrug... “She's 'Mercy Hospital's best nurse... always came in to talk to me, even though I'd treated her like crap, too-she even taught me how to play chess.”
Title: Just Like You: Checkmate
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: Light R (again, ?)
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey pays his past a visit back in Herrington.
However cool Casey was playing it, he was trembling deep inside as he pulled into the park's lot. Torrin sat on the passenger side, twirling his basketball and craning his neck to get a good look around. “This is a cool park,” he said.
“Yea. They remodeled it since I've... been here,” Casey replied. It was a little disheartening, seeing the more modern surroundings, instead of the old, classic metallic style he'd grown up with. Gone were the horsie-swings he'd been addicted to since he was put on one by his father as a tiny toddler, the maze of steel that offered as a jungle gym, swings with solid plastic seating a kid could slide from easily to see if they could leap higher and further than their friends had... all replaced with multi-colored plastic play-areas, rubberized, pliable swing-seats, deep beds of mulch and other things stripped away when just one kid on the planet had fallen to his doom upon metal poles and hard dirt. Childhood was supposed to have its bumps and bruises, wasn't it? But even though Casey was disappointed, it wasn't his old haunt having changed so much that made him nervous.
Torrin wasn't interested in the playground equipment, however. The moment the car came to rest in a shady spot near the old maple tree (THAT had stuck around), the awkward almost-teenaged boy hopped out of the car and smiled. “He said I didn't have to have some kinda membership to tag-along, right?” he asked.
“No, it's for anyone who comes to the park,” Casey replied. He slipped his sunglasses down, shut the door and went over to Torrin. “I always wanted to be a park and rec worker in the summers.”
“Why didn't you do it?”
'Because I'd probably have had to work with assholes from school, not an option,' Casey thought, but he shrugged and said, “Eh, your grandparents wouldn't let me,” instead. Half-truth, anyway. If his mother had had her way, he'd still be in a playpen.
“You'll let ME be a park-guy when I'm old enough, right?” Torrin asked as they began crossing over the grass leading to the playground. Casey smirked.
“We'll see. I bet you would be good at it, especially with the skills you've got on the court,” he said. After passing by the giant playscape full of yelling, laughing children, they approached the small pavilion where more kids were gathered at the picnic tables provided. Casey had to smile; the young high school kids, two girls and one boy, were helping the children in making pot-holders. Some old-fashioned stuff stuck, and instead of whining about wanting to play video games or sitting away from the others to screw-around on cellphones, the group looked happy and excited, getting to do this.
“What're those?” Torrin asked.
“Potholders.”
“They're making potholders?” The boy paused to look, getting spotted by the perky blonde, nametag reading 'Patti' who had to be a cheerleader at Herrington High. Casey was always good at spotting the traits, to this day...
“Hey, there... if you want, you can join us?” Patti said to them with a bright smile. “It's free, everyone can play.”
Torrin wore an expression that told Casey he was about to be accidentally rude, so the man smiled and said, “Maybe in a little bit, we're heading to the courts.”
“Oh, okay. Come back later, we're gonna have a Monopoly tournament,” she said.
“Yea, okay,” Casey said. In a way, he wished Torrin wanted arts, crafts and board games more than shooting hoops, staying in the nice shady spot with nice kids, nice park workers-instead of running into that one familiar face, the one Casey vowed he'd never set eyes on again if he could help it. But he got the courage to follow Torrin, who was bouncing the ball and looking excited. Why wasn't he nervous when it came to joining-in on activities with kids he'd never met before? Even if he was a great ball-player, shouldn't he have been squeamish in his walking into what could be a lion's den?
Casey's throat tightened when they finally reached the large basketball courts, four in total. More people in 'Herrington Parks and Recreation Dept.' t-shirts were around, and it didn't take long to find the one worker Casey had come here to see; he stood at the edge of the court, filling a water-cooler with ice. Torrin, brave as always, jogged over to that person and started talking to him.
“Hey... you're Gabe, right?”
The man looked up, blinked fast and stood straight. “Yea, hey... Torrin, right?”
“Yep.”
“I could tell. Jesum, you're a carbon-copy of your dad.”
Torrin shrugged, chuckled and nodded to Casey, who hadn't found the will to close the distance between them just yet. “My other dad said you said I could jump in if I wanted.”
“Uh huh, no problem.” Gabe looked to Casey and made a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Connor.”
“Hey,” Casey muttered before finally stepping away from his spot to go over.
~*~
I ran into the guy at the S&S and he asked if he could have your email addy. Is that... cool?
Casey's skin hadn't stopped prickling since getting Stokely's email, and now that he was here, waiting for Gabe to go on his lunch break, it'd only gotten worse. No matter how hard he tried to focus on Torrin's happy face or be pleased that his son had been accepted by the other kids without an iota of issue, no matter if this wasn't a surprise run-in but a planned meet-up, Casey was tempted to run over to Torrin, say, “I gotta head back to Gram's for a bit, I'll be back for you in a couple hours,” and bolt. But when he saw his old high school adversary coming back from the lot with a large, vinyl lunch sack, there wasn't an escape left. Casey sat up straighter on the park bench and watched as the man got under the maple's shade, sighed and sat down next to Casey.
“I didn't know if you'd eat before coming, but I packed an extra sandwich,” Gabe told him. “Which one's better, ham and cheese or salami?”
“Salami's fine,” Casey said.
Gabe nodded and dug around in the sack for a moment before producing the sandwich. It was full of lettuce, tomatoes, mustard, mayo and meat, thick enough to force Casey to use both hands to eat it. “Got some veggies and crackers, too,” Gabe said.
“This is good, for now. Thanks.”
Gabe smiled, put the opened sack on the dirt between them, unwrapped his meal and took a big bite. He gazed at the kids and shook his head. “God...” he mumbled through a mouthful before swallowing then turned back to Casey and say, “He really DOES look like Zeke; I almost fell over when I saw him.”
“He's got a lot of Stokes in him, too. Believe me,” Casey said.
“Yea, I see that, too.”
God, this was awkward. It was obvious that Gabe was giving it his all to be nice, and while it didn't seem contrived or fake, Casey didn't know what to do with the... 'niceties'. Old habits died hard, in particular his flinch when Gabe jerked down to grab two small water bottles from the bag.
'It's been almost eighteen years, chill the hell out,' Casey thought as a bottle was set down next to him. “Thanks,” he said again.
“Hey, it's too hot out, gotta have the H2o,” Gabe said. Before he could crack it open and take a sip, he paused to stare out onto to court, eyebrows raised. “Wow. Your kid can freakin' shoot.”
Casey followed Gabe's line of sight; he'd missed whatever play Torrin had performed, but it had to have been good. The other boys cheered a little, even gave him friendly slaps to the back. “Like I told you, he'll be hounded by every agent in the NBA with how he plays,” Casey said.
“No kidding.” Gabe sipped, took another bite... “'Glad you came out here.”
Casey glanced to the man, who was staring at his sandwich as if entranced. “Yea, we make it a point to visit every summer and on holidays. Torrin sometimes goes on vaca with the egg donor, too.”
“S'cool. Like I told you in the emails, I tried getting outta here. But-it's just where I gotta be, y'know?” Gabe said. “And it ain't all that bad, really. I think we all hated Herrington growing up.”
Casey almost scowled. How could this former sports-hero, worshiped by everyone in town have hated that town? He'd had nothing TO hate, while Casey had plenty. “I only come back for family stuff,” he replied finally. He took a bite from the sandwich and stared at Torrin, who was going to the water cooler with a few others, all of them chattering and laughing. “When I left, I left. Period.”
“I figured you would, after graduation,” Gabe said.
“Huh?” Casey turned blinking eyes Gabe's way. The man was nodding, as if to himself.
“I heard that you'd gotten into some damned good schools, doing art stuff. You were always good at that, like the school paper pics,” he said. “One pic you did was up in my locker for my whole junior AND senior years... our rare win against Akron, with me and the guys hoisting Gary McSween up for getting the winning goal. Loved that one; I remember that day like it was yesterday.”
An uncomfortable, hot feeling was encompassing Casey's chest, trickling into his arms and neck. Gabe Santora, the guy who'd beat him senseless whenever he could, sometimes to the point where doctor's visits were a requirement... gushing about photos Casey hated taking, his skills in photography used to glorify those who'd make him bleed? Before he could express these thoughts, Gabe sniffed and said, “I found it in an old box in the attic this past winter with a bunch of school shit I'd forgotten about. The second I pulled it out, all the memories came. The win, the after-party, getting shit-faced-how I'd busted your nose in that morning cos' you bumped into me on your way out of the boy's lav.”
Casey stilled and looked to Gabe, hard. The awkward smile was gone, half-eaten sandwich being put on the plastic wrapping on the bench between them. “There I am, staring at this photo, and instead of thinking of my 'glory days', I start feeling sick. 'How'd he take this?' was all I could ask myself, not just cos' I'd punched you in the face, but that... you're still there taking pics of people who treat you like crap.”
“I...” Casey started, but had to swallow before continuing, “...I hated every minute. Yea.”
“'Don't blame ya,” Gabe said. He rubbed at his chin and lips a moment then opened his mouth to speak again. “I said how we'd partied, gotten drunk... that shit went on after every game, then the next Saturday, then a couple times during the school week. Cos' that's what us guys just did. It got worse in college, until I got my ass kicked out for my grades. Then it got even worse, and worse, until Mom found me in the basement unconscious. After a stomach-pumping and almost a week spent in a hospital bed, I'd had it.”
Casey watched as Gabe reached into his pocket, got his wallet out and opened it. The coin he drew out wasn't currency, but it shone like gold in the sun. Casey saw the number '10' in the middle. “My ten-year sobriety award. 'Just got it a few months ago,” he said.
“Oh,” Casey muttered and nodded slowly. “Um, good.”
“Yea. It took a few falls off the wagon, but I kept going back. It's an every Sunday and Wednesday thing for me,” Gabe explained.
It dawned on Casey that this was much more than a guy who'd peaked in high school thinking he and the kid he'd bullied to pieces could be 'best buds'. Casey's lips curled into a smile as if on their own. “Am I one of your 'twelve steps', Gabe?” he asked.
“'Guess you could say that. Yea.”
“Hah, well... I've been okay, okay? Seriously. Don't worry about it.”
Gabe cleared his throat and finally looked to him. “You flinched a bit ago, when I got the water out. It was pretty fucking familiar, Case,” he said. “I saw it every day in school when you'd see me in the halls, even if I wasn't rushing into you and giving you shit.”
“Gabe... I...” Christ, he couldn't think on what to say right now. He only knew that bad history was bending up to touch the present, coalescing and clear. Casey's thinking of this as Gabe giving him a 'gift' of sorts was shifting; Gabe wasn't sitting here, trying to make Casey feel better which would only make Casey feel weak, as if Gabe thought that the only way Casey could 'go on' was through his former tormentor's admittances and I'm sorrys. It was deeper than that. Gabe knew quite well that Casey had found the life he'd always wanted, and it was Gabe himself who desperately needed to be known as a changed man.
“I just wanted you to know that-I know. Y'know?” Gabe said. “That... it makes me happy nowadays, knowing that you're living the life, cos' I worried... about the stuff I did, what that could've led to. Telling ya now; going by the history, you were a lot stronger than I was, all along.”
This was definitely a 'wow' moment. Casey was getting much more than a 'sorry' or 'glad you're okay'; perhaps deep down, Casey HAD needed this in a big way. The discomfort and prickliness was fading fast, leaving him with a smile. “Thanks, man,” he said.
“S'only the truth.” Gabe's smile also returned as he tapped a beat out with his feet. “I work at the Y in town, too; after seeing that pic, remembering the stuff that happened when I thought I was such a 'big man', I decided to put a fundraiser together for a hotline... for kids getting bullied and needing to talk to someone. I just needed to do something, y'know?”
“Wow. That's... really awesome. Seriously,” Casey said, chuckling in appreciation.
“Yea, it's gotten some good results. The schools around here started giving us feedback, letting us know that bullying's gone down in a major way. Me and some of the other people who work-it even went to our alma-mater in the Spring to talk to the kids assembly-style. And I told 'em why I put the hotline and program in place... that anyone who's doing the crap I used to will regret it,” Gabe explained. “It's been a long time coming, really. I figured out a while back that I didn't need to be an angry idiot and... well Christ, here comes one of the reasons for that... hey!”
Casey looked past Gabe to see a woman walking down the walk between the hoops and tennis courts, smiling at them. She pushed a stroller along, while a young boy trotted beside her. Gabe chuckled and stood. “Decided to be nosy, huh?” he asked her before placing a kiss on her cheek.
“'Course. Can you blame me?” She now looked to Casey and beamed. “Hey, Case.”
Casey blinked furiously. He didn't recognize her in the slightest, but couldn't blame Gabe for putting her under his arm; it didn't matter if Casey was gay, as she was utterly gorgeous with her perfectly-styled hair, makeup and pretty polka-dot sundress. She reminded Casey of an African-American Delilah. Had Gabe talked to this woman-his wife and mother of his children, by all appearances-about him? “Um, hi,” Casey replied, giving a weak wave her way. She laughed and turned to Gabe.
“He SO doesn't recognize me,” she said.
“Well, it has been ages...”
With a wide, bright grin, she moved closer and said, “E-three... checkmate!”
Casey's brain burst with rapid-fire synapses, her words instantly bringing her to light... “Liz... Lizzy Crest??” he said through the shock.
“Well, Crest-Santora nowadays,” she said, nudging her husband with her elbow before turning back to say, “Maybe if I still had the glasses, braces and stupid braids sticking-up a full foot in the air with a chessboard between us, you'd remember me.”
Unbelievable; this girl, or grown woman had been even geekier than Casey had been, back in the day. That 'chessboard' had been drawn on the back paper-covering of her science textbook, M&M's their chess-pieces; Casey couldn't count how many homerooms and study classes they'd spent together, with the girl always getting to say 'check-mate!' And there she was, marrying and making babies with the most popular jock from their class. Casey let a puff of chuckles escape as Gabe reached into the stroller and cooed. “Hey, baby-girl, what's goin' on?” he said, bringing the pink-bomb that was his daughter out for Casey to gaze at. “This is Nora... and this big guy over here's Ben.”
“Hey,” Casey said as Ben stepped over to stand next to Gabe, who sat down and sighed. Casey reached over to take Nora's tiny hand. “She's adorable... how old is she?”
“Four months, just yesterday,” Lizzy said.
“I'm three,” Ben said, holding up two fingers before pulling another one up.
“Wow, that's old,” Casey said, making the boy chuckle.
“Nut uhhh...”
Gabe grinned and patted the top of his son's cap-clad head. “Mom's trying to make this kid the next chess champ... he ain't half-bad.” He then gave Nora a light bouncing. “THIS one's all mine when it comes to making her an WNBA star.”
“Maybe Tory can help her out with that when she's old enough to dribble,” Casey replied.
“Oh, she dribbles,” Lizzy said, taking the cloth she had on her shoulder to dangle in the air.
“DAD!”
Casey jumped and turned, finding Torrin running over and screeching to a stop before he crashed into him. “Whoa, whoa, what??” Casey said.
The boy panted heavily before turning halfway quick then back, saying, “The... the ice cream truck... just pulled.. into the street to... come into the park, can I... have some... money?”
“Oh... hah, okay,” Casey said with a shrug. He reached into his bag, got his wallet and produced a five dollar bill. “Get me a Bomb-Pop.”
“Thanks!” Torrin said.
“This kid and sugar...” Casey said as Torrin sped off with his new friends.
“Holy Jesus, he looks just like Zeke!” Lizzy spat out.
~*~
“Wow.”
“I know, right?”
Zeke smiled around the rim of his beer bottle and shook his head. “Gabe Santora, hero to downtrodden, bullied dorks... who'd'a'thunk'it?” he said.
“Here's to growing-the-hell-up.” Casey held his own beer out to Zeke, who chuckled and clinked them together. After a long swig, Casey smacked his lips and stared at the pool Stan had put up before Casey and company had showed up, where Torrin and his half-brother were splashing away. “We should get one of these for OUR place. Tory's been bugging-out about wanting one for ages now.”
“He wants an inground, though. Brat,” Zeke replied.
“Well, he likes this one enough. And they're cheap, Stokes said, she got it at the outlet down the way,” Casey said. “You just gotta get the equipment, it goes up and down on a whim...”
“You don't gotta use Tory as the excuse for it, just say, 'Zekie, can we get a poooool?'” he drawled in a high-pitched voice.
“'K, I so don't sound like that.”
“You do when you WANT something,” the man retorted, wearing his sexiest smirk.
“Do. Not.” Casey kicked his ankle up onto his knee and sighed. “Know what I've noticed?”
“What?”
“Every time we come out to visit, we're shanghaied into giving Stan and Stokes four or five date nights.”
Zeke's badly-timed sip of beer almost had him snorting the stuff through his nose. After a few coughs, he chortled and said, “Hey man, at least we don't gotta spring for motel costs... and like Stokes doesn't always say, 'so hey, since I made you a BABY, wanna watch the kids for a while?'”
“She milks that shit so hard,” Casey replied.
“Mmhmm, shameless...” Zeke sighed, settled further into the lawn-chair and turned his head to face Casey. “So, how's it feel?”
“How's what feel?”
Zeke rolled his eyes and smiled. “Your former bully begging for forgiveness...?”
A soft smile came over Casey's face; he watched as the boys carried out a handstand contest as he replied, “He didn't beg. 'Didn't have to.”
“I would've made the guy grovel, myself...”
Casey sighed, shrugged then reached over to Zeke's hand and held it, tight. Maybe Zeke would understand better the next night, when they'd be in Gabe and Lizzy's backyard enjoying a cookout with the kids. After the invitation was given, Casey taking it, he'd given Gabe the typical 'bro-hug' and went to part ways... but at the last minute, he had to ask...
“So how DID you hook-up with the girl who was geekier than me back in the day, anyway?”
Gabe smiled, made a slow shrug... “She's 'Mercy Hospital's best nurse... always came in to talk to me, even though I'd treated her like crap, too-she even taught me how to play chess.”