aterovis_bm_reapthewhirlwind.p65 (6 page)

I nodded. I was ashamed to admit how relieved I was that he wasn’t going to don rainbow t-shirts and announce his sexual orientation to the entire Eastern Shore.

“So, uh, what are you majoring in?”

“I just changed my major to psychology, so we’ll see how that goes. I was doing criminal justice and some psych courses are part of that, and I really found them interesting so I switched over.”

“Okay, wait, I’m confused about something.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, earlier you said that your mom had to go back to work to support the family but—I don’t mean to be rude—I was under the impression that money wasn’t an object. I mean with the rent and all this…” I trailed off as I gestured around the apartment.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that would be confusing. If it was up to my mom and me to pay for my college, I’d be living at home and going to a local school still. But thank God for rich relatives,” he laughed. “My grandmother on Dad’s side is stinking loaded. We only see her once a year at Christmas ’cause she lives in Belgium or something like that. Dad was her only son and we’re her only grandchildren, so she is paying for all of us to go to college. She has trust funds set up in case she kicks the bucket.”

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“Must be nice!”

“Yeah I guess it is, now that you mention it. It’s funny the things you take for granted. I don’t even think about it. It’s just something I’ve always known. God knows, she reminds us of it every time we see her.”

“You don’t sound like you like her very much.”

He thought for a moment, then slowly said, “I’m grateful to her for what she’s doing for me. I mean I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her, but I always get the impression that she does it out of a sense of duty rather than any real affection. So no, I don’t really like her. She’s always treated us like the poor relatives. I guess Dad was kind of a disappointment becoming a professor at a small college instead of some jet-setting socialite. You know, she didn’t even come to Dad’s funeral. She just sent flowers. Can you believe that?”

“No. Even with my family’s strained relations, I think we’d still show up for a family member’s funeral.”

“You’d think. My dad was like her in a lot of ways, except he didn’t have the money to throw around. He was always distant, as if he didn’t know how to show affection. I don’t know what his dad was like. He never talked about him and he was dead long before I was born. My mom was very affectionate though, so I guess that made up for it.”

“My family’s always been pretty affectionate.” I looked down at the photo I was still holding and noticed that Asher and Killian were holding hands. “They look really happy together,” I said almost without thought. I was surprised to hear a wistful note in my voice.

“They are,” Aidan said matter-of-factly. He either hadn’t noticed my tone of voice or had chosen to ig-47

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nore it. Either way I was grateful. “I’ve never seen any two people be more completely in love. Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we invite them over this weekend? I promised them I would once I got settled in and now that you’re here its even better!”

“Sounds good! But don’t tell them who your new roommate is, I want to surprise Asher.”

Aidan laughed. “I love it! I’ll call them now.”

He flipped through an address book he kept by the phone and dialed the phone. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned toward me, a huge smile lighting up his face. “It’s all set. Asher was there, as usual, so they talked it over and got permission. They’re coming over tomorrow night around six and spending the night.”

“Cool! Our first slumber party!”

We both laughed as I thought how much I was going to enjoy living here.

***

We chose a large section of the living room closest to the huge windows to be my studio. We placed Aidan’s in-home gym next to me so we could talk while I painted and he worked out. Setting up all my crap just the way I wanted it took up a large chunk of the afternoon, but Aidan seemed content to watch me while he did sit-ups, push-ups and reps or whatever you call them. I’m 48

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not really up on my exercise lingo since as Garfield, the cat not the president, once said: my idea of exercise is a good brisk sit. Actually, I like to roller blade too but that just about sums up the extent of my physical exer-tion.

Aidan seemed fascinated by all my paraphernalia, occasionally asking what something was and what I did with it. The last thing I pulled out of its protective cover was the painting I had completed last Saturday night. I was very self-conscious about my artwork; for the most part only Joey and Laura had seen much of my work.

My parents had seen some, enough to know I had talent, so they’d sent me to a few art classes when I was younger. They seemed to think of my interest in art as a phase that I would outgrow like my rock collection or my chemistry set.

“You did that?” Aidan exclaimed when I pulled out the painting.

“Yeah,” I said shyly. “You didn’t think all this was just for show did you?”

“No, but…I mean that’s really good, Will. You’re really talented.”

I felt a blush begin to creep up my neck. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“You just do this as a hobby?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever sold anything?”

“Are you kidding? I’m not good enough to sell this stuff. I’ve never even had any real art classes, just school stuff and some kiddie classes.”

“Who says you have to have art classes? Haven’t you ever heard of natural talent? If your other stuff is this good then you’re a heck of a lot better than a lot of people 49

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I’ve seen showing in galleries.”

“You know art?”

“Some. Like I was telling you last night, my dad was a bit of a snob. He made sure us kids were exposed to

‘culture.’ Most of the stuff he dragged us to see was modern crap that looked like something my youngest brother did the day before in Pre-K. Worse, one time he took us to see a toilet. I’m not kidding. It was just a regular toilet that the guy had bought at your average hard-ware store and stuck in the middle of the museum. And it was art. What a joke. But some of the stuff I fell in love with: the old Masters, the Impressionists, and the surrealistic stuff.”

“At least you had the opportunity to see that stuff.

The Eastern Shore’s idea of culture is the Delmarva Chicken Festival. I envy you for that.”

“Well, I envy you for your talent. I love art but I can’t even draw a straight line.”

“I guess that makes us even then, huh? We can agree to envy each other.”

Aidan laughed then asked, “Do you have any more paintings here?”

“Um…I think I left most of them at home—well, Mom and Dad’s because I didn’t know what I’d do with them here.”

“Next time you go by there, pick them up; I’d really like to see them. This is really good; it’s kind of different. It reminds me of some stuff I saw one time at this show by some guy who was being called the next big thing. That was actually how they billed the showing.

Maybe that could be you, Will. You could be the next big thing!”

I felt a blush coming on again. I really hated having 50

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both fair skin and a predisposition to blushing.

“You don’t like getting compliments or talking about yourself, do you?” Aidan asked, noticing my discomfort.

“No, not really. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I guess I feel like I don’t deserve the compliments, like they aren’t true.”

“But you have to know how talented you are,” he persisted.

“You’re just saying that to be nice. I mean what else could you say. Man, Will, that sucks?”

“I wouldn’t say I liked it if I didn’t. First thing you need to know about me is I’m always straight—well, bad choice of words but you know what I mean.”

I laughed as he grinned at me.

“Just accept the compliments for what they are and say thank you,” he went on.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re confident and out-going.”

“And you have low self-esteem.”

“Thank you for your diagnosis, Dr. Scott, but I could have told you that.”

“Why do you think you have low self-esteem? I mean you’re cute, talented, funny…”

“Do you think we could continue this session at another time,” I interrupted loudly as I felt my face blaze with color. “Killian and Asher will be here in an hour and we still have shit all over the place.”

“Hmm…aggression, change of subject—the subject is exhibiting signs of classic avoidance,” he said in a phony Freudian accent.

“I’ll show you avoidance,” I growled playfully as I 51

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tackled him. We rolled into a laughing heap on the floor where we wrestled for several minutes. I wrestled with Joey all the time but I was no match for Aidan; he had me outweighed and out-muscled. There was really no contest, but I suspected that he was giving me a lot more openings than I would have ever gotten if this were a serious fight.

We were so caught up in our wrestling match that we didn’t even hear the knocking or the door swinging open. The first we knew of our visitors was when someone called, “Hello? Aidan?”

Aidan let go of me so quickly that my head bounced off the hardwood floor. “Ugh,” I grunted and stayed still while I waited for the stars to stop spinning. Aidan scrambled to his feet above me. His shirt was pulled halfway over his head and he hastily tugged it back into place. For the first time I saw him blush for a change. I heard giggles from the door but from my spot on the floor I couldn’t see who it was.

“Are we interrupting something?” the same voice asked.

“No, I mean—uh—we were just playing around,”

Aidan stammered. It was the first time I had seen him really flustered and I was definitely enjoying seeing the usually unflappable Aidan come unflapped. Uncharacteristically, I decided to push things a little farther. I ran my hand up his leg to his thigh. Aidan yelped and danced away to a safer distance and glared at me.

“We have guests, darling,” he said deliberately, then turned back toward the door. “Come on in, Asher and Killian.”

At the mention of Asher’s name I sat bolt upright.

Asher’s mouth dropped open and a very satisfied grin 52

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spread across Aidan’s face. The boy I assumed to be Killian just looked confused as he looked from Aidan to Asher to me. His eyes grew wide as he looked back and forth from me to Asher.

“Will?” Asher gasped.

“Uh, hi, Asher. Long time no see, cuz,” I said as I turned what I could only guess to be approximately the same color as a stop sign.

“Cuz? As in cousin?” Killian asked, his blue eyes bright with amusement. I had to say one thing for Asher; he had good taste in his men.

“Yeah, this is my cousin Will. What are you doing here?” he asked me.

“I live here.”

“You’re Aidan’s roommate?” Killian asked.

“Surprise.”

He looked from me to Aidan. “And you two are—”

“No!” I gasped. Aidan started laughing.

“But when we walked in you two were…”

“We were wrestling! That’s all. Right, Aidan?”

He laughed for another minute before he managed to choke out, “That’s what I tried to tell them from the beginning, before you decided to feel me up.”

“I didn’t—I was just—I’m not—” I sputtered.

Aidan was bent double laughing while Killian and Asher still stood uncertainly in the doorway. Aidan waved them in as I pulled myself up off the floor and attempted to salvage what little dignity I still had left.

“You should have seen your face!” Aidan crowed.

I chose to ignore him. “Just put your stuff over here by the wall for now,” I said playing the host. “The couch opens up into a bed so you can share that. Sorry about all the boxes, we weren’t expecting you to be here this 53

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early.”

“Obviously,” Killian said with a grin. “We’ll help you clean up.”

Aidan managed to stop laughing in time to help straighten up the living room and carry the empty boxes out to the dumpster. By the time we were done Killian had visibly relaxed, but Asher still seemed tense. Then I remembered that Asher didn’t know that I knew he was gay. He must have been worried about what I would think if I figured it out. As soon as I saw a chance to speak to him privately, I sat down next to him. Killian and Aidan were busy hooking up my N-64, arguing about which wire connected where.

“Asher,” I said quietly, “I know about you and Killian, and it’s okay. I’m cool with it.”

Relief flooded his eyes, “What about Uncle Lowell?”

“Dad doesn’t know and he won’t find out from me,”

I assured him. “I just found out last night. While we’re on the subject, Dad doesn’t know that Aidan is gay either, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me telling him.

It’s not like I talk to him anyway. No offense but I usually try to avoid Uncle Lowell at family reunions. I always feel guilty around him. Not for anything in particular—just guilty in general.”

I laughed. “Yeah, he does have that effect on people.”

Killian wandered over and peered closely at both of us.“Quit that!” Asher said testily.

“It’s just that you guys look so much alike it’s freaky.

The only difference is that Will’s eyes are blue.”

“Stand up,” I ordered Asher as I stood up myself. He complied and Killian laughed.

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“Okay, so there’s also about six inches of difference.”

“Seven,” Asher said smugly, “I grew an inch.” I stuck my tongue out at him showing that what I lacked in height I made up for in maturity.

“I didn’t think anyone could be cuter than you, Ashke, but I think you might have some competition with Will on the scene.”