When Peter had to contact Spencer, who then had to have Andrew pass on a message to his mother to get in touch with me, Mr Landon went on a mission. “Aha!” he cried, victoriously holding up a white phone charger as he came out of his office. “I knew I had one!”

He handed me the cord that went along with the phone he’d handed me earlier. It was an old model iPhone, still newer than what most people had. “I got a free, new upgrade, and this has been in the drawer in my office since then.”

I turned the phone over in my hand. “Thank you. I’m not sure what to say.”

Mr Landon pretended not to notice how thankful I was. “It was literally just lying around. You may as well have it.”

I was grateful, and I was very humbled by his generosity, but he was forgetting one thing. “I don’t have any money to pay to use it. Like, I can’t afford a bill or credit.”

“It’s funny you mention that.” Mr Landon was trying not to smile. “Something came up at the school today. A job, if you want it.”

“What?” I shook my head. “No, I can’t accept that. You’ve already given me too much. Done too much. Everything, you’ve given me everything.”

He put his hand up as if calming a wild animal. “It’s nothing too flashy, and it’s only temporary. Probably four weeks, at the most. Christopher will want his job back; he was quite adamant about that.” Mr Landon smiled fondly. “Christopher has worked at the school for eight years. He takes his janitorial supervisor role very seriously. But he twisted his knee, and his doctor insisted he take some time off work.”

“Janitorial?”

“Yeah, I said it wasn’t too flashy a job. Is that okay?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. He must have taken my hesitation for uncertainty. “I just thought it would keep you busy, give you something to do during the day before you start classes.”

“Oh no! Of course it would be okay. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’d love to do it! Cleaning toilets and sweeping floors is not beneath me.” The more I thought about it, the more I looked forward to it. I held up one finger and tried not to smile. “On one condition. You don’t pay me. You’ve already given me enough—clothes, food, this phone.”

Mr Landon smiled like I amused him. In a good way, though, not a patronizing way, like he found my principles admirably cute. Yes, I was grateful for everything they’d done for me, but I didn’t want to be a charity case.

“Then how will you pay for your phone?”

“Oh.” I felt a little deflated. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“How about you get paid base wages? You can pay for your phone, and I insist that you buy me pizza at least once a week. Just don’t tell Helen.” He rolled his eyes. “She keeps telling me I have to eat healthier for my age.”

“Deal.” I laughed. “When do I start?”

Mr Landon grinned at me. “Tomorrow morning, seven o’clock.”

* * *

Arriving at LA’s School of Performing Arts—or LASPA, as it was known—with Mr Landon was something out of a dream. The school itself was small, and while most of the acting world called it elite, the Landons would call it intimate. They were so humble, and that trait in LA was disgustingly rare. And incredibly wonderful.

Mr Landon was a presence in any room. A bubble of energy, larger than life, and people smiled just because he was there. He could be living off the glory of his stage career, charging ludicrous amounts of money to give lectures, appearances, and advice to this whole town of wannabes, but instead, he gave his time to budding actors, spending hours with them honing their craft, helping them achieve their dreams.

He put his hand on the auditorium doors, looked at me, and smiled. “You excited?”

I nodded, practically bouncing on my toes. Walking into any stage theater, even an acting school―especially an acting school―made my heart want to burst.

Mr Landon chuckled and put his hand to his chest. “That feeling? I still get it. Each and every time.”

“Really? It never goes away?”

Now he laughed. “Yanni. If it ever goes away, it’s time to give it away. Walking into an auditorium or an amphitheater or a community hall with a stage will always give me a rush.”

“It’s breathtaking,” I said quietly. “Like the moment an artist puts a brush to a blank canvas.”

Mr Landon paused, and something in his eyes softened. “Oh, my boy, you get it, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “Acting is all I want to do.”

He took a breath and seemed to bask in my response for a moment. “Come on, we better get in there. Christopher doesn’t stand for tardiness.” He grinned, then he pushed on the doors, and we walked into the seating area of the auditorium.

“Mr Landon, you’re late,” a man said. He had to lean on his crutches so he could tap his watch. “Seven oh-five. You’re supposed to be here at seven.”

Mr Landon checked his watch as we walked down the aisle toward the man near the stage. “Oh, I’m sorry, Christopher. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Is this the guy who will do my job?” Christopher asked, looking me up and down.

“Yes,” he answered. “Christopher, this is Yanni.”

Christopher, as I just discovered, was a man with Down’s Syndrome. He was kinda short, maybe in his thirties, with neatly brushed brown hair and a firm, warm handshake.

“Hello, Christopher,” I said with a smile. “Mr Landon told me I’ll be doing your job until your leg is better.”

Christopher looked down at the crutches. “The doctor said four weeks.”

“It was very nice of you to come in today to help me learn the ropes,” I said. I wanted him to know I wasn’t trying to steal his job. I just wanted to help.

Christopher finally smiled at me. “That’s okay. You ready? We’re already late, and I have a schedule to get it all done before the classes start.”

I clapped my hands together. “I am very ready.”

Mr Landon put a gentle hand on my arm. “You all good here?”

He wasn’t asking if I was capable of the work, he was asking if I felt comfortable being left with a guy I just met. I gave him a smile. “I am all good.”

“Okay, this way,” Christopher said, starting to walk to the side of the stage. He was slow with the crutches, but I didn’t mind. I stayed beside him at his pace and listened as he gave me detailed instructions on what my duties were.

I swept, mopped, cleaned mirrors, organized, emptied trash, and changed the paper towels and toilet paper in the bathrooms. I vacuumed, wiped doors down of hand marks, and unstuck some gum from carpet. All under the watchful eye of my supervisor, Christopher. He seemed pleased with my work.

“Class starts soon,” he said, looking at his watch. I got the feeling that time and routine were important to him. “I normally take my break now.” He turned and walked to the staff room, where everyone who saw him greeted him with a fond, “Hello, Christopher,” to which he replied with their full name in return. Some asked how his knee was doing, some wished him a speedy recovery, and mostly people ignored me, and that was fine by me.

I would soon be a student here. I didn’t need the small teaching staff to all know I was a special case, living with, and the latest charity case of, the Landons.

Christopher had a lunchbox in the staff room, where he neatly set out his food and proceeded to eat it. He asked if I liked the work, if I liked Mr Landon. He admitted Mr Landon told him I was starting classes soon, and he asked what kind of acting I liked most. But soon after, Mr Landon appeared with a woman who had come to drive Christopher home, and he promptly told Mr Landon I did a good job and would be all right to work on my own for the four weeks only, until such time he would be fit for duty.

Mr Landon took it all in stride and shook Christopher’s hand, thanking him for being such a good mentor.

After they’d gone, I followed Mr Landon to his office, where he offered me a seat. “So, how was it?” he asked. “Not too horrible?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You know what? I actually enjoyed it. It feels good to be productive, and Christopher is a nice guy.”

“He is,” he agreed. “Loves his job.”

“Yes, he does. But it was nice to chat with him. He asks a lot of questions,” I said with a bit of a laugh. “But he doesn’t judge. Just nods and keeps going.”

Mr Landon chuckled warmly. “Perfect. Now, I know it’s early, but how about we celebrate your first day with a sim card for your phone and a slice of pizza.”

* * *

After a quick stop by the phone shop for a new sim card and ten bucks credit, courtesy of Mr Landon, he pulled up at a pizzeria I could never afford. “Uh, if we’re taking a rain check on this weeks’ ‘wages in exchange for pizza’ deal we have going, then maybe we should choose somewhere more in line with a janitor’s wages.”

Mr Landon grinned. “Well, you can pay next week. This one’s on me. Plus, they have the best Italian wood-fired pizza on the entire West Coast, and Helen doesn’t let me eat here because ‘heart health is important, Allan,’” he said, mimicking her voice perfectly. It was said good-naturedly, and I knew he meant no harm. “But this is man time. We’re being pizza-eating men!” When he got out of the car, he quickly added, “I’ll eat bran for breakfast tomorrow and do an extra mile on the treadmill tonight.”

And it was real good pizza. Worth every ridiculously overpriced penny. But I could see why he craved it. When we were done eating and I’d set up my new phone, Mr Landon took out his cell and sent off a quick text message. It beeped not a moment later with a reply, and he turned it around so the screen faced me.

“That’s the guy’s number about the silent movie. You had to text him, right?”

“Oh. Peter, yes.” My face flamed. “Yeah, but I don’t have to right now.”

“No time like the present.” He studied me for a moment. “Are you embarrassed?”

I sipped my soda but figured I owed the Landons nothing but the truth. “Well, yeah. I felt like a kid in kindergarten asking if he wanted to be my friend.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. He said yes, right?”

“Well, at first he thought I was asking him out on a date. That was horrifying. But yes, in the end, and I’m certain out of pity, he agreed.”

“Pity?”

“Well, yeah. You know. Considering I’d just asked him if he wanted to be my friend.”

Mr Landon chuckled. “Send the text. If he doesn’t want to go, I’m sure he’ll say so. Go on, just type his number in so you have it anyway.”

I did that, even though it made me nervous. I had no other contacts, just Peter, a guy I’d met only once and briefly, at that. I couldn’t remember his last name, so I added him as Peter-Charlie-Chaplin and turned the phone off without texting him.

Right then, Mr Landon’s phone rang and Helen’s name flashed on screen. His whole face lit up, then he answered, “Hello gorgeous.” He laughed at whatever she replied with. “Yes, I got the number, thanks. I’m having lunch with Yanni. He’s just about to text that guy about the silent movie, and we needed his cell number.” He waved his hand at me and my phone. Text him, he mouthed, then spoke to Helen. “Where are we having lunch? Well, we’re absolutely not at Alberto’s Wood-Fired Pizzeria, that’s where we’re most definitely not.” He grinned without shame and laughed at her response. While they chatted, I summoned the courage to actually text Peter. With conviction I didn’t feel, but with Mr Landon’s and Patrice’s words in my head, I typed out a text.

Hi, this is Yanni. I met you with Spencer and Andrew the other night and mentioned maybe catching a movie at the silent film theater. Let me know if you’d still like to.

I read it and re-read it, trying not to dwell on how lame I sounded. Then, in case he needed an out, I added, If not, that’s okay.

My thumb hovered over the Send button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. But the waiter appeared at our table and startled the hell outta me when he spoke, and I must have bumped the screen.

I could literally feel the blood drain from my face when the phone pinged in my hand. Message sent.

“Yanni? Everything okay?” Mr Landon asked. He had that talking-to-a-frightened-animal tone again. He handed over his credit card without taking his eyes off me, and the waiter was gone.

I put my hand to my heart, feeling the staccato under my palm. “Oh, um, I didn’t mean to send it, but he scared me and it sent. He’s gonna think I’m a loser.”

“No, he won’t,” Mr Landon said kindly. “And if he does, then he’s not worth your time, okay?”

I nodded, though it was wooden at best. My lunch rolled in my stomach. Because now I had that dreaded emotion hanging over me, wondering if Peter would reply or not, and if he did, what would he say?

Hope.

It was a dangerous thing.

When the waiter returned, Mr Landon signed the check and tried to smile for me. “You ready to go?”

I was suddenly very tired. “Yeah.”

“Helen said we’re having salad for dinner,” he grumbled on the way out. “But it was worth it. That pizza is the best this side of Italy. I don’t care if I have to eat salad all week, it was worth every calorie.”

I smiled, despite my downturn in mood. “It was good.”

Mr Landon put his hand on my shoulder. “You can admit it. It was the best. Though if we need to come back next week to make sure, I won’t mind.”

I chuckled, feeling a bit better. “You’ll get me into trouble with Mrs Landon.”

Now he laughed and snorted. “Never. She loves you! And believe me, she knows damn well whose idea it always is to come here.”

We climbed into his car, and my nerves about texting Peter were forgotten. Maybe Mr Landon didn’t realize what he’d said. Maybe he said it on purpose. I didn’t know. But he said Mrs Landon loved me, and the warmth that bloomed in my chest made me smile the whole way home.

* * *

My smile and my good mood lasted all afternoon. Mrs Landon came home, pretended to chastise Mr Landon, but her smile gave her away. She wasn’t joking about the salad, though, and the three of us stood in the kitchen, washing and chopping vegetables, getting dinner ready, laughing and telling stories, like a… family.

It made something squeeze in my chest that felt a lot like longing and heartbreak.

I missed my family. Despite everything I’d been through in the last twelve months, or because of it, I wasn’t sure, I missed my family. The way my mother would laugh when she told stories from her youth as she cooked dinner. The way my father would smile, even though he’d heard each story a hundred times before. I missed my sisters. I even missed the way they would hog the bathroom every morning. Even if they’d been staunchly religious and homophobic, there were times I missed them.

But that was before. Before they knew what I was. Before everything I knew, and everyone I loved, was taken away from me.

Standing in the Landons’ kitchen, slicing avocados and telling Mrs Landon about my work with Christopher, I was torn between relishing in this safe haven with them, a feeling of warmth and acceptance, and a hollow, empty feeling that would accompany memories of my family.

Rejection, in any form, was never easy. But when it came from those who were supposed to love you unconditionally, it left a wound I doubted would ever heal.

“Yanni, you okay?” Mrs Landon’s expression was soft and sad. “We lost you there for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking…”

She put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Did you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. God, I could barely stand thinking about it. “No.”

She seemed to understand and thankfully didn’t push. She took the plate of avocado and put it on the table. “Come on, let’s have dinner and we can talk about our plans for tomorrow.”

Mr Landon talked about auditions and getting classes ready, and Mrs Landon talked about the Acacia Foundation, board meetings, and funding. We talked about the planned productions for the next semester, and by the time dinner was done, I’d almost forgotten the dull ache in my heart caused by thinking of my family.

The loss of my family was like a dripping faucet. Constant background noise that never went away. Sometimes it was drowned out by other noises, but it was always there just drip, drip, dripping in the back of my mind.

I knew it was a subject choice that Patrice would want to autopsy with both hands, but I wasn’t sure I was ready or brave enough to face it yet. She had years of work ahead of her just peeling back the layers of damage done to me by him, without even touching the surface of what my family, what my father, did to me.

A vibration and a buzzing coming from my pocket scared the life out of me. I almost jumped off the chair. The sound of my fork hitting my plate was louder than it should have been, and I knew my reaction startled Mr and Mrs Landon. I realized it was my phone in my pocket, and I put my hand to my heart and tried to laugh it off. “Oh my God. That scared me.”

I’d forgotten all about the phone, and I’d certainly forgotten about my text message to Peter, but I fished the phone from my pocket and put it on the table. The name Peter-Charlie-Chaplin was on screen.

I had a text message.

“Oh, it’s from Peter.” Of course it would be from Peter. He was the only one who had my number.

“Well, what did he say?” Mr Landon eyed my phone, trying to read the screen. “Go on, open it.”

Trying not to think about what I would do if he said no, I opened the message.

Hi Yanni.

I’m glad you messaged me. I’d love to catch a movie with you. There is a lunchtime matinee of City Lights this Saturday, if you’re interested. Let me know what you think.

Peter.

Mr and Mrs Landon were both watching me read the message. I looked at them both and I knew my smile gave the answer away, but I said it anyway. “He said ‘yes.’” I read the text aloud for them, and it was ridiculous how happy it made me.

Mr Landon did some weird hand gesture. “Quick, you need to reply!”

Mrs Landon shook her head. “No, not just yet. You don’t want to sound too eager.”

“Good point,” Mr Landon said. He tilted his head, looking at Mrs Landon all confused. “What’s an acceptable wait time? He doesn’t want to sound too willing, but he also doesn’t want to sound like he doesn’t care.”

She just laughed at him. “Yanni will do what feels right for him.”

“Is Saturday okay, though?” I asked. It wasn’t like I had a car or even the money to go to the cinema. God, why hadn’t I thought of that before? “This is starting to feel like a bad idea.”

Mr Landon frowned. “What? Why?”

Mrs Landon seemed to understand. “It’s okay Yanni. One of us can drop you off and pick you up, and you will have been paid by then. You’re working now, remember?”

My smile was back. “Thank you.” For this. For everything. “I’ll reply after I’ve cleaned up after dinner.”

Which literally took all of ten minutes. That was a good wait time, and it let Mr and Mrs Landon know I wasn’t about to bail on my responsibilities. When the dishwasher was loaded and I’d wiped down the sink and countertop and table, then started to wipe the sink again, Mr Landon stopped me. A gentle hand on my arm was all it took. “Yanni, reply to him. Friends don’t keep friends waiting.” He winked. “And don’t be nervous.”

“I really am nervous.”

“I can tell. If you keep scrubbing the sink, you’ll hurt yourself.”

I laughed. It might have sounded a little crazy. “Okay. Sorry.”

“So, how about we check out the cinema times so you can see if you’re free.” Mr Landon took out his phone and started scrolling. “He said matinee, right?”

“Uh, yeah. And why wouldn’t I be free? It’s not exactly like I have a social calendar.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that.” Mr Landon didn’t even look up from his phone. “Ah, here it is. It starts at twelve fifteen. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “Yes. It’s not a date.”

He looked at me then. “I know that.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Does he know that? Do I need to meet him first and lay down some ground rules?”

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile, but couldn’t help it. “Ah, no, it’s okay. He knows.” I really liked that he was protective of me. “But thanks anyway.”

I picked up my phone and hit Reply to his text.

Matinee sounds great. Meet you out front?

I took a deep breath and hit Send. “Done,” I announced. “First step in making new friends has been made.” I cringed at my own words. “I sound so lame.”

“It’s not your first step,” Mr Landon said gently. “Your first step was letting us help you. You’ve agreed to see Patrice, said yes to a job. You’re already miles ahead of where you think you are.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Give yourself some credit.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. And even before I could open my mouth, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was another message from Peter.

Do you need a ride? I could pick you up on my way.

Instinctively I took a mental step back. The Landons’ home was my safe haven, and I liked the fact that nobody knew where I was staying. There was a comfort in that, a security blanket, almost. Anonymity was a form of defense. Even though Spencer said he trusted Peter, a part of me was always wary. Would probably always be wary after the hell I’d gone through, then doing my best to escape only to realize I still wasn’t safe. But I was safe here, and the idea of letting a stranger into the Landons’ safety net made my stomach sour.

I quickly thumbed back a response. It’s fine, thanks anyway. I can meet you on the steps out front. Is noon okay for you?

His reply came back a few short moments later. Sounds good. Will see you there.

I let out a long breath, and Mr Landon gave me a reassuring smile. “Excellent. Right, then, I’m turning in early. Don’t forget we’re up with the sun tomorrow. We can’t be late, or Christopher will never forgive me.”

I smiled to myself as I reread Peter’s message. Now I just had to get through the next five days without getting too excited. Or without texting back to cancel.

* * *

Patrice gave me her wide, warm smile. “Come in, Yanni. Take a seat and tell me, is there anything you want to discuss this week?”

I sat in my allocated seat, wrung my hands together, and took a deep breath. “I started work as a janitor at the LASPA. It’s only temporary, probably just four weeks’ worth, but I like it. It feels good to be productive. I made plans to see a movie with a new friend for this Saturday. I’m trying really hard not to talk myself out of it. I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot, and it hurts each and every time. They kicked me out when they found out I was gay. They told me I was ‘a mistake in God’s eyes. A stain on their faith,’” I quoted bitterly, using finger quotes in the air. “And I feel safe at the Landons’ house, I really do. I know he can’t get me there, but I still have to sleep with the light on.”

Patrice blinked, then gave me half a smile that was a mix of pride and sadness. “Thank you for telling me. It really shows me that you’re ready to move forward, and I promise we will get to each and every one of those things. But to begin with, how about we start with one at a time.”