It's Like This (14 page)

He draws towards me and presses his forehead against my cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he says, quietly, earnestly. “That was so horrifically stupid of me and I swear to God I’ll try never to fuck up like that again.”

I nod and grip his hand. My eyes burn and I didn’t know I could feel this relieved. “Thank you,” I whisper. He squeezes my hand back.

“I like to think I know what I’m doing, especially when it comes to you, but I guess I don’t, and I hate that.”

“Yeah, but you do like ninety-eight percent of the time, so I think you’re alright.”

“OK,” he replies, and there’s an unfamiliar note of sadness in his voice. “I’m seriously sorry and I love you, OK?”

“I love you, too,” I reply, quietly.

We breathe together for a moment.

“God, that orange shit still stinks up the place,” Rylan says, to ease the silence. “When did you buy it again?”

“Just after the third time we had sex.”

He smiles slyly at me. “Remember the first time?”

“You mean do I remember the first time you had sex on me, in Julie Upperman’s basement?” He had, too—waited ’til everyone else had passed out drunk, pushed me down, sucked me hard and climbed on my dick, right next to the washer and dryer.

“I wanted to show you it wouldn’t hurt,” he protests.

I crack up completely. “You’re kidding! You looked like you were gonna die the whole time. I could barely get off!”

“How was I supposed to know saliva is shitty lubrication?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The internet, maybe?”

“Oh. Right,” Rylan replies. He blushes and I bite his chin, playfully. “Guess that’s another example of me not getting it right.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “But thankfully for both of us, you learn from your mistakes.”

* * *

I take the summer off school. I was planning on going back for a couple of courses, but I figure as this is going to be pretty much the only time pre-retirement that I can sort of justify not working that I might as well. My parents are still so freaked about the Kya thing that they are being super generous and affectionate and seem legitimately happy to keep paying my bills. Rylan tells me I’m spoiled as fuck and I wholly acknowledge this.

In penance, I spend a lot of time over at my parents’ house, hanging out with Kya and, when she’s around, Matilda. We do dorky-fun local things: ride the little, green, inner-harbour ferries; visit the bug emporium; eat shitty, over-priced gelato. When Rylan’s not working, he tags along. Or, more, I tag along with them. It’s like they have a secret language, one odd noise accompanied with a ridiculous facial expression from Rylan sends Kya into peals of giggles, while I stand nearby, oblivious and dog-paddling between jealousy and adoration.

People stare a lot, and not at Rylan and me. Every once in a while, of course, some stupid redneck tourists will give us a glare, but honestly we get more encouraging smiles than anything else. I sometimes think they think maybe Kya’s our kid? Mostly it’s not about the gay PDA thing, though. I think the curious glances are at Kya and her sequined eye-patch.

Most people think it’s a costume or something and people behind counters and at ice cream stands love to smile and say, “Oooh, a pirate!” or, more often, “Now, why are you hiding one of those beautiful brown eyes?”

Kya, of course, thinks that the best way to address this is just to flip up her patch and expose the green, plastic comforter that fills the socket, and grin. This is awkward as fuck, causing people to blush, and apologize profusely, which in turn makes me blush and apologize profusely and hiss, “Kya!” which Rylan says I shouldn’t do, because it’s not her fault people are rude enough to ask.

Today, Shona is coming along on our daily adventure. Kya is bringing one of her friends. Everyone shows up at my parents’ house around eleven. Kya’s friend’s mother hands me an EpiPen.

“Cara can’t have peanuts, walnuts, pecans, cashews, bananas, eggs or wheat!” she spouts, and I decide right then and there that we aren’t eating today. I refuse to purchase a single edible thing, because there is no way I am being responsible for inserting a needle into a young girl’s thigh. Not gonna happen. So, fasting it is. Rylan joins us on the driveway just as we are about to climb into the car.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “I thought you had to work.”

“Bathroom flooded. Had to close shop.” He grins.

“Oh really? And just what did you flush in order to arrange that?” I ask.

He looks scandalized. “Just how terrible a person do you think I am!?”

Before I have a chance to answer, Kya catapults herself onto Rylan’s back. Shona shrieks in reaction because all of us, including Shona and excluding Kya, are blatantly terrified of Kya injuring herself as a result of her recent loss of depth perception. Rylan manages to adjust though, flinging his hands under her knees. He makes a sound like a trumpet, and continues into a few bars of some song I don’t recognize, but that Kya seems to know, because she finishes it off with him. Cara stares.

Kya scrambles awkwardly up Rylan’s back until she’s perched on his shoulders, and he marches over to me. Kya forms huge claws with her arms.

“NILES CLARENCE RUTEBAKER!” she wails menacingly. “WE ARE GOING TO EAT YOU UP!”

“Clarence,” Rylan snorts. “I need to remember that more often.” He kisses me squarely on the mouth, while Kya’s hand-claws attack my hair. “Itinerary, Captain,” he commands, lowering a reluctant Kya onto the cement.

“Petting zoo, followed by walk along the breakwater, followed by one of those downtown horse-drawn carriage tour things.”

Rylan whistles. “Who’s doling out the big bucks?”

“Mom and Dad!” Kya announces.

“Spoiled much?” Rylan counters.

I blush. “Almost to the point of decay,” I answer, but I feel awkward. I know I am, or at least my family is, a lot more well-off than Rylan. I just don’t know what to do about it.

“Decrepit. You know what I like, Alberta,” Rylan laughs and licks my cheek. “Mmmm…fetid flesh. So good right now.”

Cara looks stunned.

“Christ, you guys. Children and necrophilia don’t mix,” Shona cuts in. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

“What’s necra…feelings?” Cara lisps hesitantly.

“Um. It’s a…dangerous…animal. That you shouldn’t pet,” I offer, weakly, fighting with Kya to buckle her seatbelt.

“No it isn’t!” Kya argues, bright eye fixed accusingly on me, “It’s when a guy puts his thi—”

“KYA!” Shona and I collectively shut her up. Rylan cracks up.

“C’mon, Trooper. There is plenty of time to discuss that in, say, twelve years. But right now, if you value Cara’s friendship, you’ll keep it a secret,” he says, conspiratorially. Kya looks slightly disappointed, but doesn’t fill her friend in on the sad facts of life (or death?), thank goodness. If she did, the EpiPen would be the least of my worries.

* * *

“Nigh,” Rylan says to me as we stand against the fence at the petting zoo, watching Kya and Cara feeding the baby goats and squealing. “I want to ask you something and I don’t want you to answer right now, but I want you to know I’m thinking about it and I want you to think about it, too.”

“Um. OK…” I answer, looking at him sideways. Rylan snakes his hand around the small of my back, oblivious to the mothers standing awkwardly by, watching while trying to pretend they aren’t. He leans his face in close to mine. He grins, then kisses me, perhaps a little more heartily than is decent for a local children’s attraction. He pulls back, his eyes lighting on my mouth before swooping up to my face.

“OK, good. It’s this: do you think we should have a safe word?”

Whatever I was expecting, it was not that, but I don’t even have to time to think, let alone reply, before Kya bounces up to us, face wind-whipped and bright.

“Niles, we’re bored,” she announces.

“You weren’t bored thirty seconds ago! I saw you hanging with that fat goat.”

“Her name is Pearl,” Kya corrects me. “And I’m bored. And hungry.”

“We’re fasting today,” I reply immediately. Rylan gives me a confused look. “What? I don’t want to feed Cara anything she’s allergic to,” I justify.

“I’ll cover it,” Shona says, walking up to us, one hand holding Cara’s and the other wiping sawdust off on her jean shorts. “Don’t worry.”

“OK.” I hesitate. “If you’re sure. I am very anti-anaphylaxis.”

“It’ll be fine,” she promises.

“Thank you,” I reply, grateful to be relieved of responsibility. “Kids are terrifying and stressful and should be avoided.”

“Good thing you don’t have a uterus, then, I guess,” Shona replies. “Careful with the gate, girls. We don’t want any runaway goats.”

* * *

After lunch we walk the sea wall, and then climb over rocks and driftwood, down to the pebbly beach, where Rylan races ahead with Cara and Kya, dashing in and out of the surf. The three rescue tubular kelp from the ocean and then proceed to squish the round, rubbery heads firmly underfoot. They hoot and screech and then repeat.

I squint out, watching them. Shona seems to have chosen lunch wisely—Cara is in no apparent distress.

Shona’s looking at me, with a strange sort of smile on her face.

“What?” I ask, feeling my face heat up slightly.

She shrugs. “You look happy.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t know. I just think it’s nice.”

“What’s nice?”

“You. And Rylan. You just seem…happy. It’s nice.”

“Alright. Weirdo.” I nudge her gently with my shoulder. She looks back at me through giant, red polka-dotted sunglasses.

“I still don’t really get the monogamy thing,” she elaborates.

I raise an eyebrow. “So, Jesse, he was just, what? A year and a half of faking it?”

“No!” Shona backpedals. “I mean, technically, I never cheated on him. I mean, we broke up a lot, so I hooked up with other people when we were being broken up, but never when we were actually together.”

Oh. “I didn’t know that.”

Shona shrugs. “It’s not something I’m, you know, proud of. I just figured that was the way people are. Like, can anyone really be faithful to someone for a lifetime? Like in forty years, am I going to want to be looking at the same old dick? Is my life going to devolve into a series of, ‘Did you turn off the outside lights?’ and, ‘Pack me a lunch, would you, sweetheart?’ like my parents?”

“I don’t know. Is that so terrible? I mean, my folks have been together for a long time—and I guess there is routine, but they also seem to genuinely like each other. And then there’s other stuff, like support? Like when we were going through the thing with Kya it seemed almost like it brought my parents closer?”

“Yeah,” Shona vaguely agrees, “but yours and my parents are like, some of the only couples I know who are still together after a decade. And that’s supposedly the best case scenario? Like figuring out whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher or take out the compost? Is that really it for us?”

“I guess. I don’t know.” She might be right. I’ve never wanted to think of the life my parents built as depressingly mundane, but it isn’t exactly extraordinary, either, but then again, it’s safe, and easy and—happy. “So, you don’t want to…be with someone? Like, permanently?” I ask. “Not that I’m judging, I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “Maybe I’m still reeling from the whole Jesse catastrophe, but even when I was with him I always had an eye out, trying to see if I had, I dunno, better prospects or something.”

“Huh,” I reply, genuinely surprised.

“Well, don’t you? Maybe not have an eye out, exactly—sorry. I guess that’s a shitty choice in words. I mean, don’t you ever even wonder what it would be like with someone else? If the sex would be better, or another guy would complement your strengths and weaknesses better, or I dunno, he was taller than you? And I’m not trying to bash Rylan here, because it seems like you guys are finally figuring shit out and you know I’m happy so long as you’re happy. Just don’t you ever daydream, even briefly, about a different guy, a different relationship?”

I think about it. But, really, if I’m completely honest… “No.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t. I mean. I think about what things would be like if
our
relationship was better. Like if I was better at saying what I’m thinking, or we’d been more clear when we’d first started out. I mean, to be fair I’ve been so preoccupied with terror that I’ve had it all wrong all this time—like, fixated on whether
he
wanted me or not, to the point of not even thinking of alternatives. But, I dunno. He’s what I want.”

“Monogamy. Weird. I don’t know, Nigh. I don’t think most people are like you, in their heart of hearts. I think most people are more opportunistic.”

“Do you mean you think Rylan is more opportunistic?” I challenge.

“Jesus, I did not mean that and I am so not even touching that. Do not even try to pass your insecurities off on me, got it?”

“Yeah,” I concede. “Sorry. I need to stop doing that.”

“You don’t need to do anything, Niles, for any
one
. Not unless you genuinely want to. That’s kind of the point. C’mon. Let’s get our feet wet.”

I accept the segue and balance on one foot to take off my shoes. Shona follows suit. We walk along barefoot through the mud, and she takes my hand and I know we’re good.

Cara runs up to us, stares at us, suspiciously, and runs away again.

* * *

Cara, it turns out, is both confused and not very good at being secretive. To be fair, she’s only eight. It’s the end of the carriage ride and we’re all disembarking, heading back to the car. Rylan is bounding ahead, inexhaustible. Cara and Kya are walking just in front of Shona and me. Cara is whispering very loudly.

“Kya, I have to tell you something,” Cara states decisively, like she’s been dying to say this all day and has just summoned the courage and there is no way of going back on her word now.

“What?” Kya interrogates. “Is it a secret? Is it good?”

Cara glances conspicuously at Shona and me. “I think your brother is not a very good boyfriend. He’s holding hands with that girl, again, but I saw him kiss that man,” she motions furtively to Rylan, “six times today, and one time my mom saw her boyfriend holding hands with a girl at ShopMore and she said it made him a bad boyfriend.”