Taking Chances (8 page)

“I’m sure,” I answered, nodding.

“You remember where I live?” he asked.

“You still live there?” Now I wondered if he had seen me stalking him earlier.

He nodded. “My parents moved to Florida a couple of years ago, and they gave it to me. Never had the heart to sell it.”

“Yeah, I remember. Where you live, I mean,” I said after pretending I had to search my memory.

“Awesome!” Tyler’s face lit up, causing my knees to grow weak. “When is good for you?”

I forced myself not say
now
and instead offered, “How about tomorrow?”

He pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it over to me. “That has my cell on it. Call me and let me know when you’re heading over, all right?”

The card had “Tyler Parker: Parker’s Sporting Goods” printed on its face. Out of nowhere, my mind added up two and two. “Your dad owned the sporting good shop on First?”

He laughed as if I was telling a joke. “Well, yeah, you didn’t know that?”

I put the card away. “I mean, yeah, just forgot. It’s been awhile.”

He gave me that three-second stare again and then laughed. “Okay! Well, awesome. Thanks for this, Matt. I owe you one. Uh, I’m going to go pay for these,” he said, holding up a handful of movies. I could see from the spines they were two animated movies and the latest sci-fi thriller.

“Those are great movies!” I exclaimed.

He looked down and nodded. “Yeah, I saw them in the theater, just never got around to picking them up on DVD.” He looked up and asked earnestly. “You sure this isn’t a problem?”

“Nah,” I said, trying not to imagine the different ways he could repay me. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

“Tomorrow, then?” We shook hands again, maybe holding on a little longer than was strictly necessary.

“Count on it,” I said, this time savoring the physical contact and really taking a second to soak in what I could see of him. Though I was a year younger than Tyler, he was in excellent shape, better than I was if I could tell by the button-up shirt and khakis he wore. He looked like a television model come to life. His teeth were perfect, and I could see a light dusting of freckles on his face that made me want to stare even more than I suddenly realized I was.

He smiled before he turned walked away, and I had to admit he was as hot going as he had been coming.

I was in a daze by the time I got home. I resisted the urge to drive by his house to somehow verify he had been telling the truth and that the past two hours hadn’t been the culmination of a decade-long joke where I get my heart broken at the end.

Instead, I drove sedately to my parent’s house, packed the new system into my brother’s trunk, and walked back into the house as if nothing had happened.

Things had calmed down some; the smaller kids had been put to bed, and my brothers and dad sat around the TV watching what looked like
Terminator 2
while the older kids sat on the floor transfixed by the old-time special effects. My mother was at the dining room table with the wives. She got up as soon as she saw me. “You were gone awhile; I was worried,” she said, grabbing my hands. “Come sit with us.” She tried to pull me toward the table.

It was bad enough that I was treated like a stranger every year because I’d had the nerve to leave the town and stay gone, but for some reason, being consigned to the women’s table was just too much for me. “I’m fine, Mom. I think I’m going to wash up and get ready for bed.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to hide being upset. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about Frances’s son because—”

And something snapped.

“Look, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. “I am not alone. I am not lonely. I am not miserable, and I do not need my mother trying to hook me up with men on Christmas, okay?” She looked as if I had slapped her. “I just….” I tried to compose myself. “I just don’t want to talk about this with you, please.”

Her face hardened as she tried to hide the pain. “Well, fine,” she said, turning back to the table. “Fresh towels are in the closet,” she added. As if I hadn’t lived here for eighteen years. I looked around and saw that everyone was staring at me as if I had decided to defecate in the middle of the living room. They were clearly disgusted.

“I hate Christmas,” I said, taking the stairs two at a time and fleeing toward the shower.

I
RANG
up the movies at Linda’s register. “So you’re a big cartoon lover now?” she said, scanning them in.

“Shut up,” I snarled at her, looking around as subtly I could without looking like I was looking. “They were the first things I saw.”

“Oh, and look!” she chirped brightly. “
Starship Troopers
. Didn’t this win an Oscar or something?”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I groaned, seeing the glee in her face as she bagged the movies.

“Oh, in so many ways!” She smiled back. “But you talked to him! That is a huge event for you. I’m proud.” I searched her face for signs of a dig, but I saw the sincerity in her eyes. “I mean it, three points for just showing up.”

I cocked my head. “Three? Are we playing basketball now?”

She pushed the bag of movies at me. “Shut up. I know those games have points and balls, past that I couldn’t care.”

I slid them back to her. “Keep them, give them to Kyle or Toys for Tots or something. We both know I’m not going to watch them.”

She put them behind her counter. “So, what are you going to do now?”

I pulled my keys out of my pocket and grinned at her. “Find a way to break my computer that seems legit.”

“Also,” she added as I walked away, “you might want to clear your browsing history.”

I wanted to say something snarky back at her, but I didn’t because she was right—again—and I hadn’t thought of that.

T
HE
next morning, I got up early hoping to catch a moment to myself before the insanity began. I made my way downstairs and went straight for the smell of coffee. My father sat at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand, folded paper in the other. I thought about sneaking back upstairs, because the only thing worse than dealing with my family
en masse
was dealing with my father by himself.

“Coffee’s hot,” he said, not looking up. “Better get it before it’s gone.”

“Busted,” I muttered under my breath, sounding more like a seven-year-old than anything. A row of mugs sat on the counter next to the coffee brewer. I picked up the old green-and-blue plaid one with my name on it and poured myself a cup of coffee. My father didn’t move, but I knew he’d already told me to sit down without saying a word. I sat across from him and slid the business section out from the stack, hoping we could skip the lecture for once and just sit there in silence.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” he said from behind his paper.

No luck.

“I never said you were, Dad.” I sighed as I put the paper down.

He folded his paper up and looked across at me. I had always shrunk from his stare even as a little boy. It was as if I knew from an early age I was going to be the one who broke the mold. Two perfect little jock boys for Dad, and then there was me. We had never talked about it openly, but as an adult, I still couldn’t imagine I was anything but a failed son or, worse, a twisted daughter to him. That thought killed me a little more every time I had it.

“You act like we are,” he said as if he was Chuck Heston speaking from the top of Mount Sinai holding two stone tablets that both said “Thou shall not be gay” on them. “You’re short with us, and the sighing and the eye rolling makes you look like you’re still nine. I don’t know if you even realize you’re doing it, but it’s offensive.”

I was shocked because I had thought I had a better poker face than that. “I didn’t, I mean, I never meant to….”

He waved his hand indicating he wasn’t done. “You aren’t as smart as you think, Matt. Oh, you’re smart enough to fool yourself, and that’s always been your problem.”

This wasn’t the annual Christmas scolding I normally got; worse, this wasn’t about me snapping at my mom. This was something altogether different. At a loss and floundering, I asked, “Meaning what?”

“Meaning this,” he said, putting his coffee down and staring me straight in the eye. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

“No, don’t just answer. Think on it and
then
answer. Are you happy, Matt? I mean, you hated this town so much, you took off the second they put a diploma in your hand. I couldn’t figure out if you left because of the town or because of us, but I didn’t say anything. You said you couldn’t be you here, and that was fine. If you were going to be out there and happy, I was fine with that. But it’s been going on ten years, Matt, and you’re still as miserable as the day you left this house. So I ask you again, are you happy?”

This was the most my dad had spoken to me all at once in—well, ever. Normally my mom was the one who spoke for the family, and I assumed she did because my dad never really wanted to deal with me. But this was a level of insight that frankly was beyond my mom. I was stunned into silence. Evidently, I had been wrong about that and, from the sound of things, a lot more as far as my father was concerned. His insight came from a perspective my mom could never have, and it hit me hard.

“Because if being gay and being here makes you miserable? I can understand that.” He stood and grabbed his red-striped Christmas mug. “But if you’re gay there and still that sad, have you considered your being sad has nothing to do with Foster at all?”

He walked out to the kitchen, neatly avoiding my nephews, who came bounding down the stairs followed by their weary mothers, who no doubt
loved
Christmas break as much as I did. Within twenty minutes the house was bustling with activity, and my dad was back to being my dad again, but his words stung like nothing I’d ever felt before.

“So we’re going to throw the ball around,” John said, slapping my back. “You coming with us so we can kick your ass?”

Normally I would have joined in, at the very least to rub it in my brothers’ faces that at least one of us still possessed a waistline. But Dad’s words had left me numb, and there was Tyler….

I felt a slight thrill knowing his name for some reason.

“I actually have to go help a friend fix his computer today,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe later.”

“You have friends here?” he asked with a goofy grin. “When did that happen, ’cause I know you didn’t have any when you lived here.” He burst out laughing as he walked away, no doubt to share his new joke with the rest of the family.

I would have told him to fuck off if he hadn’t been right.

I had stayed in contact with absolutely no one when I left town, since I believed everyone I actually knew only tolerated me because they were friends of my brothers. I’m sure my silence only helped my reputation of being stuck up, but I didn’t really care at the time. Now I wondered what was I pulling away from in high school—in fact, in my whole life.

The funny thing is that looking back, Tyler was the same type of guy I was. Though he had friends, I had heard more than once he was aloof, remote, even cold to most people. Of course, back then he could do no wrong so I’d ignored the stories, but as I think about it now, it made perfect sense.

We were both afraid and hiding in our own skins.

After breakfast, I grabbed my laptop, slipped it into my bag, and told my mom I’d be back before dinner. She was still mad and barely grunted as she helped my sisters-in-law make lunch for when the boys would be back. If there was anyone on Earth capable of feeding a grudge longer than I could, Mom was my first choice.

It was going to be a long Christmas

I decided to walk. The weather was decent, and fresh air invaded me when I inhaled. The truth, of course, was that I hadn’t had an excuse for years to approach Tyler’s house on foot, and I had never had a solid reason. Now I had both. Another deep breath in the silence of the morning, and I walked down to the sidewalk.

It was like a time warp; with each step I felt like I was being hypnotized. The noise of my shoes hitting the pavement mesmerized me, and I could feel my thoughts going back. I felt like I’d stumbled into a slipstream. Every step was another bit of time back toward the point where I’d first approached his house, hoping to see him. I couldn’t remember the last time I was really happy, and it was bugging me. I had been satisfied and I had been content, but actually being happy had always eluded me. On that quiet walk, I faced the facts. I had been deferring actual happiness to some future point that was never going to come.

I’d be happy when I moved out of Foster. I’d be happy once I graduated college. I’d be happy when I had a career instead of a job. I’d be happy—when? It ceased being a statement and began being a question I knew I still couldn’t answer.

Deep in thought though I was, I still stopped walking at the head of the Parker sidewalk. Another deep breath, a sharp right turn, and I traveled the few feet from the road to his porch on autopilot.

I knocked on the front door. When would I be happy? Was I even capable of it? Maybe I was just a naturally miserable person, destined to be alone. I didn’t know what was worse—not knowing the answer, or knowing it and not wanting to accept it. I knocked again and checked my watch, a little thread of anxiety winding through me. It was almost noon so I knew I wasn’t too early.

The door swung open, and I almost fell off the porch.

He was standing there, hair wet, a blue towel clutched around his waist. If I had thought he was in good shape before, I was assured by the way the water dropped off each and every muscle. “What? Oh…,” he said, once he realized it was me. “You didn’t call.”

“What?” I echoed, noticing the way the wet towel bulged and then unable to look away.

“I was expecting you to call,” he said, sounding more shocked than angry. “I was in the shower. Come on in and have a seat,” he added, moving aside. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right down.” I watched him climb the stairs and realized that sixteen-year-old me would have blown his load right then and there. I was relieved I had a bit more control. To keep my attention off Tyler’s attributes, I looked around the part of the house I could see from the living room couch. Of course, thinking of the word couch and what a person could do with another person on said couch caused a near misfire, so I firmly fixed my attention on the furniture and pictures around me.