The Coil (21 page)

Mattie sighed and sat next to Ty, who was unwilling to meet his gaze. “My mind’s already made up. I’m still going to get my GED, okay? But I want to be a part of his life more than I want New York.”

“That’s unacceptable, Mattie.”

“Look, I appreciate that you—”

“You’ve had a shit life, Mattie,” Ty interrupted, meeting his gaze straight on. “You are such a good guy, one of the best, all right? And I hate the thought of you not getting—not even
trying
for everything you deserve, because that’s only going to happen in New York. It was a big goal for a reason…. It’s a big goal because you’re meant for big things.”

Touched, Mattie could only stare at his friend. Ty rolled his eyes again and shoved at Mattie’s shoulder playfully.

“Come on,” he groused. “Don’t look at me like that. Anybody’d think you didn’t know how much I care about you. And yes, I’m aware of how gay that sounded.”

Mattie let out a breath of a laugh and then swallowed. Ty was the first person who had really cared about him on such a genuine, personal level. No mother, a dead father who hadn’t noticed him during life, and a high school dropout with nothing going for him but a pretty face… he’d been alone. But he had one good friend who wanted to see him do well and who wanted good things for him.

“Look…,” Ty began softly. “I know you had this huge crush on him and that the past few months have been good for you, but….” He trailed off, looking away.

“What?”

Ty shook his head sadly.

“No. Say it. I’m giving you permission right now to say anything, no matter how blunt, as long as it’s honest.”

Ty looked at him. Took a breath. “Are you sure he’s not ashamed of you?”

Goddamn, the coil was back and wanted to kill him. “Ty…,” he choked out, and Ty screwed his eyes shut for a second.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I only ask because, if I’m supposed to let you give up on what has been a lifeline for you—this dream of art school and New York—then I gotta know that he’d be worth it. It doesn’t seem like it, but I’m trying to be a good friend here.”

“I know,” he said softly. “What… what is it you see when you look at the two of us together? What is it you see that makes you think he’s ashamed of me?”

Ty winced. “I do genuinely see someone who is crazy about you. It’s not like I think he treats you like crap or anything, but….”

“Then what?”

“It’s just…
shit
,” he sighed. “You look like you’re in love. And he does look like he cares about you. I’m not saying he doesn’t….”

Mattie nodded, encouraging him. “But…?”

“But I don’t think you’re at the top of his list of priorities.”

Mattie felt a wash of relief. He even smiled. “Well, of course not. Ty, Jamie will always be—”

“No.” Ty winced again, shaking his head. “No, it’s more than his kid. I do get what you were saying about him having to integrate people into the kid’s life slowly and all, but… I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out!”

“You’ve never even been to his house or met any of his friends—”

“He doesn’t have any!”

“He’s never going to introduce you to his kid,” he continued.

Mattie blanched. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, Ty. Jamie’s situation is so much more delicate than—”

“When’s the last time he brought the kid to the diner, huh? Isn’t it a coincidence that you guys start dating and then suddenly he doesn’t bring Jamie there anymore?”

Mattie looked away. “He has a sitter so he can write and spend time with me alone.” He swallowed hard when feeling Ty’s hand on his shoulder.

“I am so,
so
sorry to say this nasty shit to you. I know how you feel about him, and it’s not like I even think he’s a bad guy, but you have got to ask for more if you’re really considering giving up New York for him. I mean, does he even know that you want to stay? Does he have the first clue?”

Mattie sighed. “No, but it’s… it’s this time scale thing. We have to go slow. It has to be easy and gentle for now. But that’s okay.” He nodded earnestly at Ty. “It’s okay because we’re headed in the right direction.” He glanced away. “And if I have to miss that time slot—that window to get to New York—on the off chance that we could be a family a year down the line… then I think it’s worth it.”

“Crap,” Ty whispered.

“There are art schools here in San Diego.”

Ty shook his head. “I know there are other schools. Shit, you think I want my best buddy to leave town? Hell no. It’s the meaning it has behind it. All those times you’d tell me about ‘when you got to New York’. And then that one New Year’s in that basement, the one you keep going back to, all alone, watching the ball drop? You said New York seemed like a new beginning, and you know what? You were totally right. Why else would I be here going over these fucking textbooks with you?”

Mattie smiled sadly. “Simon could be that new beginning, Ty. I haven’t let go of the dream. It’s just changed shape, that’s all.” He waited for Ty to say something. Anything. And when he didn’t he nudged him in the arm. “I promise you that I am going to get that GED.”

“Make me a different promise. Promise me that after you get your GED—and you will—you’ll still apply to this school anyway.” Seeing Mattie about to interrupt him, he spoke over him. “
That
way, at least in a couple months down the line and, worst case scenario, it hasn’t worked out between you two, you can still have New York to fall back on.”

Mattie bit his lip. “And if Simon and I are still going strong?”

“Then I will shut the fuck up and genuinely be happy for you. Boy Scouts honor.”

Mattie snorted. “You were never in the Boy Scouts.”

“No, but for credibility’s sake….”

“You’re a good buddy. That’s all the credibility you need.”

“You know that I have no personal vendetta against him or anything, right?”

Mattie slapped his knee. “And here I thought you were secretly in love with me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Ty blanched, and then laughed anyway.

Mattie laughed quietly, feeling unsettled by their conversation but oddly satisfied with the compromise they had agreed upon.

“Can, um… can I ask something?”

“What?” he asked cautiously, put off by the hesitant note in Ty’s voice.

“He… he knows, right?”

Mattie knew immediately what Ty meant, and felt the familiar uncomfortable, shame fuelled heat rush up his neck. He nodded, looking away. “He knows.”

“And he’s all right with it?”

Mattie lifted one shoulder. “He’s… accepting. He gets a little jealous sometimes, but it’s not like I’m… I haven’t even, um….”

Ty lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve stopped?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean not officially, or even intentionally. I just haven’t since Simon and me… not since we started to get a little more serious.” He trailed off with an embarrassed laugh.

Ty snorted. “You’re getting shy? Wow.”

“Yeah, well… that’s how it is.” He felt something twist in his stomach, knowing that he had actually planned on regretfully breaking his dry spell later that evening when Ty left. No paints were one thing; no groceries were another.

Ty looked around the sparse living room. “I did notice that you don’t have any paints lying around.” He frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Bit of both, I guess.”

“What about thumper over there?” He nodded over to the open rabbit cage in the corner. “He pulling his weight?”

Mattie laughed. “No. Little asshole.”

Ty grinned for a moment, and then a note of seriousness crept back into his voice. “You’re doing okay, yeah?”

“I’m getting by. Who needs to eat every day, anyway?”

“
Mattie
,” he groaned, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “You know you can ask—”

“No,” he snapped, frowning. “No. I already owe you sixty for the exam entrance fees. I told you, I’m getting by.”

“Ten bucks is hardly—”

“Ty, come on. You’re not exactly made of money yourself, are you?”

“
Ahh
, but I have the winning ticket right here.” He pulled a card out of his wallet and held it up, smug as anything.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” he snorted. “You shouldn’t be lending me money, let alone wasting it on scratch cards.”

“You’ll change your tune when I’m a gazillionaire.”

“That’s not even a word.”

He put the card back in his wallet and pulled out a bill. “Whatever. Just take this.”

“I can’t keep borrowing money off you, Ty.” He closed his eyes a second, hating to admit his next words. “It’s embarrassing, not to mention unfair. We’re practically on the same wage, for fuck sake.”

“Perhaps, but I also have parents who’ll send a check to their underachieving son if I can’t make my rent.”

“That may be, and I appreciate the offer, but I cannot keep coming back to you for cash. Believe it or not, but I actually have a bit of pride left.” Something that would probably disappear that very evening. He was already worried about how he’d act around Simon the day after.

Ty nodded, unwilling to press him any further. “Well….” He pushed up with his hands on his knees to stand. “Shall we hit the books?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “You were saying something about snow….”

H
E
’
D
called Mattie to reassure him that everything was okay and would have given anything to be within hugging distance of the man right now. But Mattie was studying, and Sarah had just taken Jamie—who was back to his normal, smiling self—and he was now waiting for six thirty.

Simon felt like he was in some sort of western, waiting to draw guns at high noon, or in this case, evening. He sat on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled and pressed against his lips. He felt troubled that he couldn’t remember the last time his mother had been… his
mother
to him. It certainly had to be before he came out to her.

If anything, that would be the starting point to all contention between them. She hadn’t liked it and had reacted badly. And stupidly, he’d actually hoped that maybe his announcement would be a small thing to them, just kind of like a heads up.

You’d have thought he’d told her he had the plague.

Goddamn, why couldn’t she have been a better mother instead of the conservative, disapproving,
disappointed
woman she turned out to be? And he hated that word. Conservative. It was just another word for disapproving, wasn’t it? Another word for cautious. As if a person has to pick between being a patriotic do-gooder, or a free thinking, loving human being who would never consider choosing between their children and keeping up appearances. And just why the hell did it have to be choice, anyway? Why wasn’t there a middle ground by now? A word for someone who was all about the family values but smart enough to recognize the need to change the way we think.

He knew his mother had come from a very conservative background. His grandparents had been as right-leaning as could be: American flag out in the yard, addicted to FOX News, an intolerance for foreigners, and a dislike of anything that hinted at being even the slightest bit unpatriotic. He’d always suspected they’d been unhappy with his mother over… well,
him
. He knew next to nothing about the relationship between his mother and father. For all he knew his father could be dead, but what he did know was that they’d never been married.

And there was no greater shame to a conservative family than having—other than a gay grandson—a daughter knocked up out of wedlock. It’d always been a strained atmosphere when they’d visit, because not only had their daughter gotten knocked up at a young age without a wedding band, but she’d gone and done it again a few years later with Carol-Ann.

Carol-Ann’s dad, well… he’d visited her at least, but barely spoke to his mother and had absolutely zip to do with him. He’d always felt bad for his mom when he’d visit, because she’d get this young, desperate look in her eyes that’d always made him feel uncomfortable—like she was waiting to be rescued.

He’d always suspected that his mother’s feelings toward him must have something to do with her parents’ stern disapproval of her. Perhaps showing a hate of his “lifestyle” was a belated way of proving to her folks that she wasn’t a total lost cause. Or maybe love just
was
conditional.

He was working himself up. With a frustrated, sharp exhale he stood and swung his arm out to swipe at a houseplant leaf. Was it a generation thing? He could never consider loving Jamie less over something he just
was
. Surely he’d proven that. But could he have said the same thing thirty—hell, fifteen—years ago? Perhaps he wasn’t being fair. His mother hadn’t had the easiest of times raising Carol-Ann and himself alone, and he had to admit, they had, once upon a time, been a happy threesome. They’d gotten along, cared for each other, and been interested in each other’s lives. Now? Now it felt as if they’d all gone their own separate ways. The Castle family that had at least once a week turned off the TV to play charades, the family that had held family meetings over what color the kitchen should be painted—this
normal
, content family had evaporated.

How could something so good and natural disappear? Carol-Ann was gone. She was dead, and he would never
ever
see his friendly, loving sister again. His mother, who had played the role of both parents, who had taught him all the usual stuff like tying his shoelaces and riding a bike… the woman who had bought him his first suit and taken him to the San Diego Museum of Art when all of his friends had gone on a father-son camping trip, that wonderful woman had turned on him.

He’d tried to announce it so casually. The three of them were in the living room. Carol-Ann was fifteen and curled up next to their mother, her head resting against her shoulder while watching a rerun of
M*A*S*H
. He’d been eighteen and about to leave for college, sitting on the love seat and terrified of leaving his small family without them really knowing him. Stupidly, he’d thought he
owed
them, and that they’d be pissed he hadn’t mentioned it to them earlier.