WHITE PICKET FENCE 2/?
Trigger warning in later parts for mention of abuse.
Regular warnings for relatively non-explicit sexy times.
(BTW, I have about 22,000 words of this already finished, but I have a habit of burning out on stories about 2/3 of the way through before finally getting back and finishing them, which is kind of where I am with this piece.)
----
Tyler and Elliott could both crawl into Tyler's bed: it was a queen, way too big for Tyler, even with all his lanky legs and seemingly endless elbows. The window was open, letting in the smell of new grass and the moonlight. It wasn't exactly bright, but it was enough that they could make out the shapes of each other's hands, signing slowly (and, in Elliott's case, clumsily).
"NEED TELL-YOU THING," Elliott signed. "NOT-KNOW SIGN."
"HEARING-AID," Ty said, and pointed to the table next to Elliott's side of the bed. Elliott handed it over. "YOU TELL-ME."
Elliott looked small and a little scared. "I lied about my parents," he said. He knew the sign for "parents" so he made it, grimacing.
Ty furrowed his eyebrows, cocked his head like a puppy. "They aren't out of town?"
"No, they aren't -- they don't --" Elliott bit his thumb, and even though it all but ruined his speech for Ty, Tyler didn't stop him. "I didn't want to tell you because it's embarrassing but it's stupid to lie. I live in like a foster house. It's cool and everything but I share a room and sometimes I just want to spend some time away. Your dad is so nice."
"Oh," Tyler said. "I kinda thought you were lying. Because you're really bad at it." Elliott blushed and laughed all at the same time, and Tyler wanted to take a picture of this new expression, but he said seriously, almost tenderly, "I figured you'd talk about it if you needed to."
"Can I tell you something else?"
"Sure," Tyler said.
"It's kind of sappy."
"Ok."
Elliott made the words carefully, using signs Tyler hadn't taught him yet: "YOU BEST FRIEND MINE."
The way Elliott's fingers looked, curled together to say "friend," Tyler thought his chest might burst.
Nick went to the school early to meet a friend over coffee in the teacher's lounge. Joel was waiting at one of the rickety tables, two large coffee cups in front of him from the little shop down the street. "Got the good stuff," he said, and yawned.
"Buenos días," Nick said. Pointing at the coffee: "Black, right?"
Joel snorted. "I promise I didn't let anything touch your manly coffee."
"Good." Nick sprawled in one of the chairs. He looked like a teenager himself, with his shirt still untucked and legs thrown over the arm rests of the chair. He took a big gulp of coffee, even though it was still hot enough to burn. It was nice, like a good, hard liquor. "Do you know Elliott, uh, Meyers, I think it is?"
Joel squinted, thinking. "Little blonde kid?"
"That's the one."
"I don't see much of him, but I know who he is."
"What do you know?"
"I know he's not in any of your classes, just a freshman, so why are you asking?"
Nick gulped more coffee. "Tyler's been spending a lot of time with him."
"Oh," Joel said.
"Like, a lot. Every night this week. Is that normal? Are they doing drugs?"
"Elliott didn't seem the type to me, but he's in a rough spot so he's probably pretty high risk. I know his foster brother got caught with drugs on campus and was transferred to Horizons last year."
"Are you sure you're thinking of the right kid? Elliott's not a system kid. He told me his parents were lawyers, or something."
Joel shrugged. "Maybe they are, but he doesn't live with them. I know who you're talking about. I've seen him with Ty."
Nick frowned and looked at the lid of his coffee.
"I spent a lot of time with my best friend when I was that age."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Me too, I guess."
They thought on that for awhile, occasionally nodding at the other teachers who shuffled in and out of the lounge like bleary-eyed zombies.
Joel said, "Ok, so I know I totally blew the Linda thing, but there's this other--"
"No," Nick said. "No, no, no, no, no. You set me up with Miss Border Patrol, you don't get another chance to play matchmaker."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I will just be alone and unsexed for the rest of my life. No complaints."
Joel laughed, glanced at his watch. "I've got to run. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." On the way out, he grabbed Nick's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry so much about Tyler. He's a good kid. He won't disappoint you."
Finals were approaching, and, just like every year, it was like the whole world had gone crazy. Seniors alternately gloated and cried about college. Teachers handed out so many assignments they couldn't possibly expect all of them to be finished on time. All the while, the summer sun was to the students like a full moon is to a werewolf: they transformed into creatures who did nothing but stare out the window longingly, except for when they were staring at girls, whose skirts had gotten shorter and shorter as the semester dragged on.
"Listen up!" the professor -- a newbie just out of college -- was saying, but Tyler was staring out the window, thinking about the places he wanted to take Elliott to take pictures that weekend. "The next person who talks without raising their hand gets a week's worth of detention!"
The chattering students didn't even slow down. Tyler had turned his hearing aids down at the beginning of class, so it only registered as a dull roar. He thought about the fountains in the city and the way Elliott would look standing in the middle of one, drenched and laughing.
Amber tapped his arm from the desk next to him and passed a note. Turn ur hearing aids on, jackass. Want 2 go to my lakehouse this weekend w/ me, Melissa, Brian, Jon & Sammi?
Tyler turned back to Amber, smiling apologetically. "I can't," he said, "I've got a thing with--"
"Ohhh, come on!" Sammi and Amber said, nearly in unison.
"You never hang out with us anymore," Sammi said.
"Yeah, what are you doing with that weird kid all the time, anyway?" Amber said.
"Yeah, and what's up with his clothes?"
"He doesn't care about clothes," Tyler said, not sure if he was feeling defensive for Elliott or for himself for spending time with Elliott, and not liking the implication of the latter.
"Ty-Ty," Sammi said, giving her best puppy-dog eyes. The effect was ruined by the thick smear of black eyeliner under her lashes. "You have to come. It's going to be awesome."
Tyler bit at his lip, glanced at the notebook in his bag that was mostly full now with cartoons he and Elliott had drawn for each other. He and Elliott hadn't actually made any plans; he'd just assumed they would hang out, like they always did. But it was true that he hadn't been seeing any of his other friends. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time they all hung out. He didn't even have lunch with them anymore.
"I'll have to ask my dad," Tyler said.
The girls high-fived. Everyone knew Mr. Lima let Tyler do just about anything.
Elliott caught up with Tyler at his locker after the last bell. They shared a grin and their hands started flying. "You were right about that math test," Elliott said. "I think I aced it."
"I told you. You're smarter than you think you are."
Elliott blushed and changed the topic. "Don will be at the house this weekend. Do you think I could stay with you?"
Tyler cringed. Don was Elliott's foster "father"; he drove a truck cross-country and was almost never around. When he was, Elliott stayed at Tyler's, but Tyler didn't ask why. "Amber invited me out to her family's lakehouse and -- we didn't have any plans so --"
"Oh," Elliott said. His face went blank the way it never did with Ty but always did with everyone else. "That's cool. Have fun. I've got to go work on my English final, so I'll see you later, ok?"
"I thought we were going to work on that together."
"No, I'm just going to go to the library."
Elliott turned away from Tyler's hands, shutting him down.
Elliott wasn't at school on Monday. Tyler needed him, needed his best friend, after a weekend at Amber's lakehouse he could only describe as "fucked up." He tried to talk to Nick about it but he could tell his dad didn't really get it. He was younger than everyone else's parents, but that didn't mean he actually remembered what it was like to be a teenager.
After school Tyler drove by Elliott's house, a force of habit as much as anything; he drove Ell home on the days they didn't go straight back to Ty's. He even idled his truck at the curb and thought about going in, but decided not to. There were three beat-up cars in the driveway, all of them looking like they were on their last miles. One of them must be Don's.
And Elliott had never invited Tyler in, even just for a few minutes. Tyler had never even been on the porch. He didn't think he should just barge in without being invited, especially if Elliott wasn't feeling well. Maybe tomorrow, Tyler told himself. If Elliott wasn't at school again tomorrow, Ty would knock on the door and see if he was ok, if he needed any homework brought over.
Luckily, Elliott was waiting for Tyler in the spot they always met the next morning. He looked pale, his eyes hollow and dark-ringed, but he gave Tyler a tentative smile as Ty rounded the corner.
Elliott's hands said, before Tyler could even start to say anything: "I'm sorry for being a jerk. It was stupid I was just jealous because you're -- my only friend, really, and you get to go to lakehouses for the weekend and I never get invited to anything. That's really pathetic but please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I'm glad you're talking to me again." Tyler grinned, slung his arm over Elliott's thin shoulders, dragging him back towards the staircase. "Mega donuts in the teacher's lounge. My dad snagged some for us."
"How was the lake?" Elliott said as they tromped down the stairs, arms touching.
"Weird," Tyler said. "Really weird. I mean it was pretty fun at first, but I kind of thought I'd rather be hanging out with you, and then... well." He faltered, embarrassed. "Melissa tried to like kiss me."
Elliott nearly missed the last step but got his feet under him with a surprising grace. "How was it?"
"I mean, she didn't. I didn't want her to. I thought she was cool and stuff but -- I don't know, just not into her like that."
They went into Nick's classroom. He wasn't in there, but in the drawer of his desk were a few donuts wrapped in paper towels. "Plain, sprinkled, or cream-filled?" Tyler asked.
Elliott leaned over the drawer, staring at the uncovered donuts with a nearly animal hunger. He grabbed two -- cream and sprinkles -- and had nearly swallowed the first one before Ty could even get started on his. Hands sticky with icing, Elliott said, "Have you kissed someone before though?"
"No," Tyler said, laughing. They both sat on the desk, legs swinging, eating at the same pace. "It sucked though because I guess she told everyone else, and it was really awkward, and then yesterday she said some pretty fucked up stuff about me. So I guess none of them like me anymore."
Elliott's tongue circled his lips, catching any extra frosting. "What did she say?"
"What? Oh. It doesn't matter."
Elliott looked at him strangely.
"You have cream on your face," Tyler said. He wiped it off of Elliott's cheek with his thumb before Ell could grab a paper towel.
Tyler didn't know, but it was more than just talk. On the mirrors of every girl's bathroom in the school, one of the girls had written "Tyler Lima sucks dick" in Sharpie. Nick helped the janitors wash them off Monday night, and Tuesday morning -- he shouldn't have, but he did -- he had all of the girls that Tyler ran with called into Joel's office in the counseling center.
"No one's going to come forward and say it was one -- or all -- of you, so there won't be any official sanctions." He stood in front of Joel's desk, hands folded in front of him, and all the girls were sitting in chairs in front of him. It was a Power Stance he purposefully never adopted in his classroom. It made the girls shrink in front of him, looking like sinners in the confession box. "But I'm not stupid. I'm watching you. And the next time one of you wants to play your little Lindsay Lohan-Gossip Girl tricks, you will be on the first bus to Horizons. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Lima," each of them said in turn, though their eyes blazed.
"Go to class."
Nick started thinking of Tyler and Elliott as "the boys" -- practically a singular entity -- not too long after the Sharpie incident. Truth was, no matter what his misgivings about Elliott, he was a sweet kid, and Nick was proud of his son for standing by the friendship, despite the consequences it had on the rest of Tyler's social life. Sometimes Nick thought Tyler was a better man, even at sixteen, than Nick could ever be.
The boys were at the house celebrating the end of finals (and the school year) with two large pizzas and a movie marathon. Nick had a stack of finals to finish grading, but he thought his brain might turn to jelly and melt out his ears if he looked at one more short essay about the separation of powers between state and federal governments. He felt weird intruding on Tyler and Elliott's time together, too, so he grabbed his keys and went for a drive.
He told himself he had no particular destination in mind. It wasn't true, because he ended up at the place he'd told himself he wouldn't go. It was a single door on the back side of a fancy strip mall with an overpriced antique store and a way overpriced fabric store and "children's boutiques," whatever that means. The sign was a laminated piece of paper taped to the inside of the door. It just said "RYO" with a phone number.
There was a light on, he could tell through the blinds. He pulled the parking brake on his truck and just looked at the door, like he expected one of Tyler's movie monsters to come crashing through it at any moment.
Nick paused again at the door, swinging his keys around his finger. It would've made him feel like an idiot to go back to his truck after standing there. He shoved the keys in his pocket and pulled open the door.
There was a single woman behind a desk. There were a few little cubicles and what looked like a meeting room in the back, but Nick didn't hear any keys clacking or even computers humming. He didn't know what he expected, but this certainly wasn't it.
The woman cleared her throat. She was looking at him pointedly, not particularly nicely. "We're closed," she said. "You can come back tomorrow between one and six."
"Sorry," Nick said. "I was in the area..."
"That's nice, sir. I'm kind of busy."
"Is this the Rainbow -- uh, on the internet, it said you have counseling for parents?"
"I can get you a business card," she said. "I can't help you with that directly."
She rummaged around in her desk and pieces of her hair, deep brick red and wavy, fell from the messy bun it was shoved in.
"Thank you," Nick said. He took the card from her. She gave a tight smile, and he noticed that the plaque on her desk said Cassandra Ferris, Volunteer Coordinator. "I'm Nick Lima. Hey, there's this real nice all-hours coffee house over on Santa Fe -- you look like you've had a long day, so I'm going to go have some coffee, and if you want some sort of coffee drink, like a mochacarmelatti or whatever, I would buy you one."
He didn't wait for her to answer.
Nick sat with a large coffee, black, and scattered sections from the last week's worth of newspapers. He went through them one by one, trying not to look at the clock. He hadn't really expected Cassandra to show, but it disappointed him all the same that he'd made it most of the way through his stack of papers without the bell over the door tinkling.
He'd even decided to gulp the rest of his coffee and go home when the door finally opened. She was taller than he had realized and her hair had been tamed back into a loose bun. "Hi," he said, as if she wouldn't see him otherwise, the only person in the place.
She sat across from him at the booth. "You convinced me."
"Well, with that kind of sales pitch..."
"It was really bad. I don't think I've been propositioned that awkwardly since sixth grade."
Nick laughed, ducking his head in exaggerated embarrassment. "Nothing like being told your talking-to-women skills are in line with a twelve year old's. But, you know, guilty as charged."
"Married?"
"No. You?"
She showed her hands, ringless with short, neat fingernails. "I'm Cassandra, by the way."
It was weird, because it had been a really, really long time since he even tried to get involved with someone, but Nick was suddenly sure he should let Ty know he'd be home late.
Cassandra's apartment was small and full of books. On the wall over the couch was an abstract painting (or at least abstract was what Nick thought they called it) that looked suspiciously like a naked woman. "My ex bought that," she said, seeing the direction of his gaze. "I like it, though."
"Me too."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"I just had coffee."
She smiled at him, a patient smile used usually on children. "Would you like an adult beverage?"
"No thank you," Nick said.
A fat cat appeared, stretching and mewling, and Cassandra busied herself filling its food and water dishes in the tiny kitchen off the living room. Nick watched awkwardly, unsure if he should sit or what he should do with his hands.
With the cat satisfied, Cassandra came back into the living room. She stared at Nick a long moment while he stared back. She rolled her eyes, put her hand on a hip tilted to the side -- the pose exaggerated the delicate curve from hip to waist. "Nick Lima," she said, "I know you're not a 34-year-old virgin because you have a son."
Laughing: "No, I, uh, definitely not a virgin."
"Well, then, why are you just standing there?"
She turned and sauntered -- yeah, it was definitely a saunter, and it made him hot all over -- into the bedroom. At the very least, Nick did figure out he was supposed to follow.
Regular warnings for relatively non-explicit sexy times.
(BTW, I have about 22,000 words of this already finished, but I have a habit of burning out on stories about 2/3 of the way through before finally getting back and finishing them, which is kind of where I am with this piece.)
----
Tyler and Elliott could both crawl into Tyler's bed: it was a queen, way too big for Tyler, even with all his lanky legs and seemingly endless elbows. The window was open, letting in the smell of new grass and the moonlight. It wasn't exactly bright, but it was enough that they could make out the shapes of each other's hands, signing slowly (and, in Elliott's case, clumsily).
"NEED TELL-YOU THING," Elliott signed. "NOT-KNOW SIGN."
"HEARING-AID," Ty said, and pointed to the table next to Elliott's side of the bed. Elliott handed it over. "YOU TELL-ME."
Elliott looked small and a little scared. "I lied about my parents," he said. He knew the sign for "parents" so he made it, grimacing.
Ty furrowed his eyebrows, cocked his head like a puppy. "They aren't out of town?"
"No, they aren't -- they don't --" Elliott bit his thumb, and even though it all but ruined his speech for Ty, Tyler didn't stop him. "I didn't want to tell you because it's embarrassing but it's stupid to lie. I live in like a foster house. It's cool and everything but I share a room and sometimes I just want to spend some time away. Your dad is so nice."
"Oh," Tyler said. "I kinda thought you were lying. Because you're really bad at it." Elliott blushed and laughed all at the same time, and Tyler wanted to take a picture of this new expression, but he said seriously, almost tenderly, "I figured you'd talk about it if you needed to."
"Can I tell you something else?"
"Sure," Tyler said.
"It's kind of sappy."
"Ok."
Elliott made the words carefully, using signs Tyler hadn't taught him yet: "YOU BEST FRIEND MINE."
The way Elliott's fingers looked, curled together to say "friend," Tyler thought his chest might burst.
Nick went to the school early to meet a friend over coffee in the teacher's lounge. Joel was waiting at one of the rickety tables, two large coffee cups in front of him from the little shop down the street. "Got the good stuff," he said, and yawned.
"Buenos días," Nick said. Pointing at the coffee: "Black, right?"
Joel snorted. "I promise I didn't let anything touch your manly coffee."
"Good." Nick sprawled in one of the chairs. He looked like a teenager himself, with his shirt still untucked and legs thrown over the arm rests of the chair. He took a big gulp of coffee, even though it was still hot enough to burn. It was nice, like a good, hard liquor. "Do you know Elliott, uh, Meyers, I think it is?"
Joel squinted, thinking. "Little blonde kid?"
"That's the one."
"I don't see much of him, but I know who he is."
"What do you know?"
"I know he's not in any of your classes, just a freshman, so why are you asking?"
Nick gulped more coffee. "Tyler's been spending a lot of time with him."
"Oh," Joel said.
"Like, a lot. Every night this week. Is that normal? Are they doing drugs?"
"Elliott didn't seem the type to me, but he's in a rough spot so he's probably pretty high risk. I know his foster brother got caught with drugs on campus and was transferred to Horizons last year."
"Are you sure you're thinking of the right kid? Elliott's not a system kid. He told me his parents were lawyers, or something."
Joel shrugged. "Maybe they are, but he doesn't live with them. I know who you're talking about. I've seen him with Ty."
Nick frowned and looked at the lid of his coffee.
"I spent a lot of time with my best friend when I was that age."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Me too, I guess."
They thought on that for awhile, occasionally nodding at the other teachers who shuffled in and out of the lounge like bleary-eyed zombies.
Joel said, "Ok, so I know I totally blew the Linda thing, but there's this other--"
"No," Nick said. "No, no, no, no, no. You set me up with Miss Border Patrol, you don't get another chance to play matchmaker."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I will just be alone and unsexed for the rest of my life. No complaints."
Joel laughed, glanced at his watch. "I've got to run. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." On the way out, he grabbed Nick's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry so much about Tyler. He's a good kid. He won't disappoint you."
Finals were approaching, and, just like every year, it was like the whole world had gone crazy. Seniors alternately gloated and cried about college. Teachers handed out so many assignments they couldn't possibly expect all of them to be finished on time. All the while, the summer sun was to the students like a full moon is to a werewolf: they transformed into creatures who did nothing but stare out the window longingly, except for when they were staring at girls, whose skirts had gotten shorter and shorter as the semester dragged on.
"Listen up!" the professor -- a newbie just out of college -- was saying, but Tyler was staring out the window, thinking about the places he wanted to take Elliott to take pictures that weekend. "The next person who talks without raising their hand gets a week's worth of detention!"
The chattering students didn't even slow down. Tyler had turned his hearing aids down at the beginning of class, so it only registered as a dull roar. He thought about the fountains in the city and the way Elliott would look standing in the middle of one, drenched and laughing.
Amber tapped his arm from the desk next to him and passed a note. Turn ur hearing aids on, jackass. Want 2 go to my lakehouse this weekend w/ me, Melissa, Brian, Jon & Sammi?
Tyler turned back to Amber, smiling apologetically. "I can't," he said, "I've got a thing with--"
"Ohhh, come on!" Sammi and Amber said, nearly in unison.
"You never hang out with us anymore," Sammi said.
"Yeah, what are you doing with that weird kid all the time, anyway?" Amber said.
"Yeah, and what's up with his clothes?"
"He doesn't care about clothes," Tyler said, not sure if he was feeling defensive for Elliott or for himself for spending time with Elliott, and not liking the implication of the latter.
"Ty-Ty," Sammi said, giving her best puppy-dog eyes. The effect was ruined by the thick smear of black eyeliner under her lashes. "You have to come. It's going to be awesome."
Tyler bit at his lip, glanced at the notebook in his bag that was mostly full now with cartoons he and Elliott had drawn for each other. He and Elliott hadn't actually made any plans; he'd just assumed they would hang out, like they always did. But it was true that he hadn't been seeing any of his other friends. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time they all hung out. He didn't even have lunch with them anymore.
"I'll have to ask my dad," Tyler said.
The girls high-fived. Everyone knew Mr. Lima let Tyler do just about anything.
Elliott caught up with Tyler at his locker after the last bell. They shared a grin and their hands started flying. "You were right about that math test," Elliott said. "I think I aced it."
"I told you. You're smarter than you think you are."
Elliott blushed and changed the topic. "Don will be at the house this weekend. Do you think I could stay with you?"
Tyler cringed. Don was Elliott's foster "father"; he drove a truck cross-country and was almost never around. When he was, Elliott stayed at Tyler's, but Tyler didn't ask why. "Amber invited me out to her family's lakehouse and -- we didn't have any plans so --"
"Oh," Elliott said. His face went blank the way it never did with Ty but always did with everyone else. "That's cool. Have fun. I've got to go work on my English final, so I'll see you later, ok?"
"I thought we were going to work on that together."
"No, I'm just going to go to the library."
Elliott turned away from Tyler's hands, shutting him down.
Elliott wasn't at school on Monday. Tyler needed him, needed his best friend, after a weekend at Amber's lakehouse he could only describe as "fucked up." He tried to talk to Nick about it but he could tell his dad didn't really get it. He was younger than everyone else's parents, but that didn't mean he actually remembered what it was like to be a teenager.
After school Tyler drove by Elliott's house, a force of habit as much as anything; he drove Ell home on the days they didn't go straight back to Ty's. He even idled his truck at the curb and thought about going in, but decided not to. There were three beat-up cars in the driveway, all of them looking like they were on their last miles. One of them must be Don's.
And Elliott had never invited Tyler in, even just for a few minutes. Tyler had never even been on the porch. He didn't think he should just barge in without being invited, especially if Elliott wasn't feeling well. Maybe tomorrow, Tyler told himself. If Elliott wasn't at school again tomorrow, Ty would knock on the door and see if he was ok, if he needed any homework brought over.
Luckily, Elliott was waiting for Tyler in the spot they always met the next morning. He looked pale, his eyes hollow and dark-ringed, but he gave Tyler a tentative smile as Ty rounded the corner.
Elliott's hands said, before Tyler could even start to say anything: "I'm sorry for being a jerk. It was stupid I was just jealous because you're -- my only friend, really, and you get to go to lakehouses for the weekend and I never get invited to anything. That's really pathetic but please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I'm glad you're talking to me again." Tyler grinned, slung his arm over Elliott's thin shoulders, dragging him back towards the staircase. "Mega donuts in the teacher's lounge. My dad snagged some for us."
"How was the lake?" Elliott said as they tromped down the stairs, arms touching.
"Weird," Tyler said. "Really weird. I mean it was pretty fun at first, but I kind of thought I'd rather be hanging out with you, and then... well." He faltered, embarrassed. "Melissa tried to like kiss me."
Elliott nearly missed the last step but got his feet under him with a surprising grace. "How was it?"
"I mean, she didn't. I didn't want her to. I thought she was cool and stuff but -- I don't know, just not into her like that."
They went into Nick's classroom. He wasn't in there, but in the drawer of his desk were a few donuts wrapped in paper towels. "Plain, sprinkled, or cream-filled?" Tyler asked.
Elliott leaned over the drawer, staring at the uncovered donuts with a nearly animal hunger. He grabbed two -- cream and sprinkles -- and had nearly swallowed the first one before Ty could even get started on his. Hands sticky with icing, Elliott said, "Have you kissed someone before though?"
"No," Tyler said, laughing. They both sat on the desk, legs swinging, eating at the same pace. "It sucked though because I guess she told everyone else, and it was really awkward, and then yesterday she said some pretty fucked up stuff about me. So I guess none of them like me anymore."
Elliott's tongue circled his lips, catching any extra frosting. "What did she say?"
"What? Oh. It doesn't matter."
Elliott looked at him strangely.
"You have cream on your face," Tyler said. He wiped it off of Elliott's cheek with his thumb before Ell could grab a paper towel.
Tyler didn't know, but it was more than just talk. On the mirrors of every girl's bathroom in the school, one of the girls had written "Tyler Lima sucks dick" in Sharpie. Nick helped the janitors wash them off Monday night, and Tuesday morning -- he shouldn't have, but he did -- he had all of the girls that Tyler ran with called into Joel's office in the counseling center.
"No one's going to come forward and say it was one -- or all -- of you, so there won't be any official sanctions." He stood in front of Joel's desk, hands folded in front of him, and all the girls were sitting in chairs in front of him. It was a Power Stance he purposefully never adopted in his classroom. It made the girls shrink in front of him, looking like sinners in the confession box. "But I'm not stupid. I'm watching you. And the next time one of you wants to play your little Lindsay Lohan-Gossip Girl tricks, you will be on the first bus to Horizons. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Lima," each of them said in turn, though their eyes blazed.
"Go to class."
Nick started thinking of Tyler and Elliott as "the boys" -- practically a singular entity -- not too long after the Sharpie incident. Truth was, no matter what his misgivings about Elliott, he was a sweet kid, and Nick was proud of his son for standing by the friendship, despite the consequences it had on the rest of Tyler's social life. Sometimes Nick thought Tyler was a better man, even at sixteen, than Nick could ever be.
The boys were at the house celebrating the end of finals (and the school year) with two large pizzas and a movie marathon. Nick had a stack of finals to finish grading, but he thought his brain might turn to jelly and melt out his ears if he looked at one more short essay about the separation of powers between state and federal governments. He felt weird intruding on Tyler and Elliott's time together, too, so he grabbed his keys and went for a drive.
He told himself he had no particular destination in mind. It wasn't true, because he ended up at the place he'd told himself he wouldn't go. It was a single door on the back side of a fancy strip mall with an overpriced antique store and a way overpriced fabric store and "children's boutiques," whatever that means. The sign was a laminated piece of paper taped to the inside of the door. It just said "RYO" with a phone number.
There was a light on, he could tell through the blinds. He pulled the parking brake on his truck and just looked at the door, like he expected one of Tyler's movie monsters to come crashing through it at any moment.
Nick paused again at the door, swinging his keys around his finger. It would've made him feel like an idiot to go back to his truck after standing there. He shoved the keys in his pocket and pulled open the door.
There was a single woman behind a desk. There were a few little cubicles and what looked like a meeting room in the back, but Nick didn't hear any keys clacking or even computers humming. He didn't know what he expected, but this certainly wasn't it.
The woman cleared her throat. She was looking at him pointedly, not particularly nicely. "We're closed," she said. "You can come back tomorrow between one and six."
"Sorry," Nick said. "I was in the area..."
"That's nice, sir. I'm kind of busy."
"Is this the Rainbow -- uh, on the internet, it said you have counseling for parents?"
"I can get you a business card," she said. "I can't help you with that directly."
She rummaged around in her desk and pieces of her hair, deep brick red and wavy, fell from the messy bun it was shoved in.
"Thank you," Nick said. He took the card from her. She gave a tight smile, and he noticed that the plaque on her desk said Cassandra Ferris, Volunteer Coordinator. "I'm Nick Lima. Hey, there's this real nice all-hours coffee house over on Santa Fe -- you look like you've had a long day, so I'm going to go have some coffee, and if you want some sort of coffee drink, like a mochacarmelatti or whatever, I would buy you one."
He didn't wait for her to answer.
Nick sat with a large coffee, black, and scattered sections from the last week's worth of newspapers. He went through them one by one, trying not to look at the clock. He hadn't really expected Cassandra to show, but it disappointed him all the same that he'd made it most of the way through his stack of papers without the bell over the door tinkling.
He'd even decided to gulp the rest of his coffee and go home when the door finally opened. She was taller than he had realized and her hair had been tamed back into a loose bun. "Hi," he said, as if she wouldn't see him otherwise, the only person in the place.
She sat across from him at the booth. "You convinced me."
"Well, with that kind of sales pitch..."
"It was really bad. I don't think I've been propositioned that awkwardly since sixth grade."
Nick laughed, ducking his head in exaggerated embarrassment. "Nothing like being told your talking-to-women skills are in line with a twelve year old's. But, you know, guilty as charged."
"Married?"
"No. You?"
She showed her hands, ringless with short, neat fingernails. "I'm Cassandra, by the way."
It was weird, because it had been a really, really long time since he even tried to get involved with someone, but Nick was suddenly sure he should let Ty know he'd be home late.
Cassandra's apartment was small and full of books. On the wall over the couch was an abstract painting (or at least abstract was what Nick thought they called it) that looked suspiciously like a naked woman. "My ex bought that," she said, seeing the direction of his gaze. "I like it, though."
"Me too."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"I just had coffee."
She smiled at him, a patient smile used usually on children. "Would you like an adult beverage?"
"No thank you," Nick said.
A fat cat appeared, stretching and mewling, and Cassandra busied herself filling its food and water dishes in the tiny kitchen off the living room. Nick watched awkwardly, unsure if he should sit or what he should do with his hands.
With the cat satisfied, Cassandra came back into the living room. She stared at Nick a long moment while he stared back. She rolled her eyes, put her hand on a hip tilted to the side -- the pose exaggerated the delicate curve from hip to waist. "Nick Lima," she said, "I know you're not a 34-year-old virgin because you have a son."
Laughing: "No, I, uh, definitely not a virgin."
"Well, then, why are you just standing there?"
She turned and sauntered -- yeah, it was definitely a saunter, and it made him hot all over -- into the bedroom. At the very least, Nick did figure out he was supposed to follow.