Chapter 4
“IF YOU were a guy, I’d marry you,” David said.
“Alex would have something to say about that,” Maggie retorted. “So, you likee?”
“I likee,” David replied, running his hand over the doorframe. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
“It’s not new—it’s a 2004, but it’s the old version of the Saturn before GM completely took over, so it’s a fiberglass body—no rust. And those old Saturns lasted forever. I know someone who’s got a ’93 that has almost 500,000 miles on it, and it’s still running.” Maggie patted the car’s roof. “She’s got about seventy-five thousand miles on her, but Alex made sure she was maintained well, so she’s just a baby, engine-wise. I’ve hardly driven her at all since we bought the urban assault vehicle—it’s just a little awkward getting the mondo car seat in the back. I think the damn car seat is bigger than the car.” She patted the roof again. “I’m just glad she’s going to a good home. Now if we can only find you a good home, we’ll be set.”
“Bless you, child,” David said. “Were you able to find any candidates before I got here?”
“Well, there are plenty of places where you can live,” Maggie said, and followed David back to the porch, where he’d put a couple bottles of Sam Adams on the railing. The condensation steamed gently in the late afternoon sun. “But whether you’d want to live there is another story. High concentration of new construction, you know, from the cardboard-box school of architecture….”
“Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky, little boxes on the hillside and they all look just the same….” David sang softly.
“Another hippie song from your mother’s misspent youth?” Maggie asked, and took a swig of beer.
“Of course. I was raised on hippie songs. They formed an integral part of my psychological development. That and Warner Brothers cartoons.”
“God bless Warner Brothers,” Maggie intoned, and they clicked bottles in salute. “I’ve been looking for something a little more culturally significant as a habitat for you, but so far I am failing miserably. Though, frankly, why you’d ever want to live someplace other than this, I don’t know.” She sat on the porch steps and looked off into the distance.
David watched her serene face in amusement. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yep.”
“I know. And it was hard to leave. Almost as hard as it was to come back.”
Maggie cocked her head. “Do tell.”
“Nothing to tell.” David drank some of the Sam Adams. “Got home yesterday, on schedule. Back in my old bedroom, just like always. Nothing’s really changed.”
“Nothing and everything,” Maggie said wisely. “Have you seen him?”
“Nope. And don’t plan to.”
“What is the deal with that? You never said. I mean, you guys were like best buds. He worshipped the ground upon which you tread. It wasn’t you who sent him off to hell. Unless you mean he blames you for the whole situation. But if I recall correctly, he kissed you, not the other way around. So….”
“I don’t know. I guess he must blame me. He freaked out when his parents asked him if he wanted to see me.” David swallowed the hurt, still vicious after two years, and went on. “I guess he does blame me. It might not make sense to you, but you didn’t spend five years as a hostage in god-knows-what conditions.”
“No, guess I didn’t,” Maggie admitted. “Is it true he didn’t talk for months after he got back?”
“From what I hear, it’s true enough.”
They drank in silence. Finally, Maggie said, “That’s the reason for the moving out, right? So you don’t accidentally run into him again.”
David sighed. “On the one hand, I kind of wish I could get it over with. You know, have the big confrontation, screaming match, fistfight, whatever the hell it’s going to be, and be done with it. But I really don’t want that. I can’t see fighting with Zach. I still see him as this gangling little kid with big eyes and all that hair. Plus I don’t know how a fight would impact Mom and her relationship with Dick and Jane. I mean, she works for them, but they’ve been friends a hell of a lot longer than that. They gave her the job when Dad died so she wouldn’t have to go back to her family, not because she needed the money or anything. But her folks were pressuring her to move back home, and this gave her an excuse not to. Not that my grands are anything but nice, but Ohio’s not Colorado, you know?”
“I know,” Maggie said, and raised her bottle toward the mountains. “That sight gets in your blood. Which is what I suppose is the real reason you decided to come back here, all my superior blandishments aside.”
“Yeah, much as the offer of a gallery show and the job at Wesley appealed, you know it was this place that got me back here. Only place I ever lived that could compete with this was New Zealand, when I had that internship with Weta. It was fucking gorgeous. But they all talk funny there.”
“But those Maori tattoos are hot,” Maggie said.
“No question.”
“So Weta internship, ILM internship—and you still want to stick with painting over computer graphics?”
“For now. Mom said Dick asked if I was interested in coming back; if the teaching thing doesn’t work out, then maybe I’ll change my mind. I guess they’re getting into some graphic arts software-building. I like that part of it more than the actual design end, anyway. I’m doing a couple of things with that in my spare time—working with some of the new 3D technology. Did you ever notice some of the effects that Disney got with his early full-length features, using multiple layers of painted cells? You got some really artistic results with that. I’m trying to design a program that will automatically build those layers, but in a way that reflects specific artists’ styles—like Renoir, or Rembrandt, or the individual draftsman—”
“Which sounds pretty damn promising,” a new voice interrupted. David and Maggie looked up toward the end of the porch.
Richard came around the house, hand-in-hand with Jane. “Sure I can’t talk you into coming back to work for me?” he asked with a grin.
“Hey, Rich,” David said, grinning back. He bounded down the steps to grab Richard’s hand for a violent shake, then gave Jane a hug. “No thanks, but thanks! Hey, Jenny, how goes the battle?”
“Endless, as you well know,” Jane replied, hugging him back. “Welcome home, Davey! We’ve missed you!”
“Missed you too,” David replied.
“Hi, Maggie,” Jane said with a smile. “Isn’t it nice to have our Davey home again?”
“I think so, but my husband says I’ve got a screw loose anyway,” Maggie said cheerfully. David pretended to hit her with his beer bottle.
“Behave, or I won’t buy your beater.”
“‘Beater’? I’ll have you know that’s a classic!”
“Are you buying Maggie’s Saturn?” Richard asked. “Good car.”
“Well, you should know, you’ve had what, five? Six?” David grinned.
“Only four, counting the convertible.”
“Guy’s a gazillionaire and he drives Saturns,” David said to Jane.
“I’m practical,” Richard said.
“It’s a change from Volkswagens,” Jane told David. “And we do have the Rolls for showing off.”
“Now that is a classic car,” David agreed. “A ’36 Silver Ghost? They don’t come any more classic.”
“I thought Alan was going to cry when he retired,” Richard said. “We had to give him visitation rights. He comes by on Sundays and polishes her just for old times’ sake.” He was silent a moment, then said carefully, “We’ve got a few cars in the garage that when they’re restored could probably compete with the Rolls. Zach’s working on the engines—auto shop was always his favorite class in high school—and then we’re going to see about getting someone to do the body work. Right now, he’s working on a ’71 Dodge Charger convertible. It’s a beauty.”
“So how are you getting home?” Jane asked Maggie brightly.
“Oh, Alex is going to swing by on his way home from work.”
“He’s a bright kid, Alex,” Richard said. “His team leader likes him, and George doesn’t like many people.”
David laughed. “George doesn’t like anyone.”
“Okay, well, then,” Richard said, “George doesn’t hate him.”
“That’s about the best you can expect with George,” Jane said.
“You guys want something to drink?” David offered. “I’ve got more Sam Adams in the refrigerator. Or you can have juice, soda, whatever.”
“Sam Adams sounds good. Jenny?”
“Sure,” Jane said, and sat down on the porch steps next to Maggie. Richard sat up a step or two, his long legs tucked around his wife. After David came out and handed them their beers, he swung up onto the porch railing and linked his feet around the slats. “Been hiking yet this year?” he asked.
“We’re thinking of going up to the Peak this weekend with Zach. He hasn’t done any hiking since he came back; at first he wasn’t physically able, but now he’s in pretty good shape. He needs new boots, though; he outgrew his old ones while he was away.”
“He outgrew everything when he was away,” Jane said. “It was silly to keep all his stuff for so long, but I had it in my head that when he came home he’d be just the same as he was when he left. But the difference between fifteen and twenty is pretty substantial. He’s as tall as Richard is now, and his feet are bigger.”
“You never gave up hope that he would come home, did you?” Maggie asked gently.
“No, never,” Jane said with a smile. “I always knew he would.”
“I didn’t,” Richard said bluntly, and he lifted his beer to his lips. When he brought the bottle down, he went on. “I figured he was dead the minute the kidnappers didn’t release him after the ransom. Shit,” he said, “I really didn’t want to get onto this subject. So. David. What does teaching have to offer that working for me doesn’t?”
“Um, let’s see,” David said. “Pathetic salary, lesson plans, staying up all hours grading papers and/or projects, crappy coffee in the teachers’ break room, paperwork….”
“Sounds great,” Richard said. “Sign me right up.”
David laughed. “At least it’s not grammar school. I did student teaching at a grammar school once and it was the longest freaking six weeks of my life. That pushed me toward my master’s more than anything else. As for getting the job at Wesley—I think it was probably more my background at Tyler Technologies that got me the job, rather than my education. They’re really pushing the electronic graphic arts programs there, rather than the traditional forms. But it’s a community college, so they’re going to go for the more economically feasible programs. Doesn’t hurt either that they got a grant for their computer department from a prominent local businessman.” He saluted Richard with his bottle.
“And before you ask, I had nothing to do with you getting the job. I didn’t even know about it until Annie told us yesterday.”
They went on talking about the job, the state of Tyler Technologies, Maggie and Alex’s baby daughter Annabel, and inconsequentials, until Alex pulled up to pick up Maggie. They chatted a bit with him, then the younger couple drove away, and Richard and Jane bid David good night and another welcome home and started their walk back to the main house, hand in hand like a couple of teenagers. David watched them go until they crested the hill beyond the house and vanished from view. Well, he thought, that wasn’t bad. Apparently, whatever grudge Zach had against him didn’t bleed into Dick and Jane’s opinion; they treated him the same as they always did.
He sat on the porch a while longer, watching the light fade. The sunset was spectacular, as usual; the white clouds stark against the blue gradually turning all shades of pink and purple and orange. He remembered that it was just about sunset the night the world changed, too. Dropping Zach off after a soccer game, the kid all sweaty and excited in his dusty, muddy shorts and uniform T-shirt…. He’d left his game shoes on the floor of David’s Cavalier, and David had thrown the car into park and gone after him with them.
Zach had stopped and turned, grinning—no, glowing—with triumph from his team’s win, his eyes bright and his face alight with the soft colors of the sunset, and David froze a half a dozen steps from him, holding the shoes out wordlessly, shattered by a sudden, unexpected realization. He’d never thought of Zach as anything other than the little tagalong, the kid that he schlepped to baseball practice and soccer practice and football practice, that he’d taken on hundreds of hikes, shepherded through skiing lessons, beat in video games, shared the big events and the little. But suddenly he realized that Zach was nearly as tall as his own six-foot frame, and broad-shouldered and strong, with the faint beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow, and the notion shook him. Zach wasn’t a kid any longer.
Still smiling, Zach stepped forward and took the shoes, then dropped them on the ground. “I’ve been waiting for you to look at me like that,” he said, and kissed him, his mouth soft and warm on David’s.
For an instant, David fell into the kiss, barely feeling Zach’s hand curling around the back of his neck, only aware of the scent of Zach and sweat and mud and the taste of his mouth, peanut butter and chocolate from the candy bar he’d eaten after the game. Zach’s tongue licked inside, teasing his.
Then he jerked away and stared at Zach in disbelief. “What…?” he stammered.
Zach laughed delightedly. “The look on your face!” he chortled. “What’s the big deal, Taff? You’re gay; I’ve known that for a long time. Well, so am I.”
“You aren’t gay,” David said. “You’re fifteen.”
“Since when are the two mutually exclusive?” Zach asked. His smile faded. “So—what? You’re not interested?” He swallowed. “Gee, sorry. Didn’t mean to infringe on your personal space or anything.”
“No,” David said, putting out a hand. “Zach… Jesus, Zach, you’re fifteen. It’s—it’s like hero worship, or a crush, or something. You’re too young—fuck, Zach, you’re jailbait.”
“You’re only three years older than me,” Zach retorted. “And I’ll be sixteen in two months. I’m not stupid, Taff. I’m not imagining things. And I didn’t imagine the way you just looked at me. Hell, the way you’re looking at me now. You want me, Taff. I can see that.” He reached down and palmed the thick, heavy ridge of David’s erection through his jeans. “You want me like I want you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“It ain’t okay,” David snarled, grabbing Zach’s questing hand. “You’re fucking jailbait, Zach, if nothing else.” He took a deep breath, but that didn’t help; all he could smell was sweet, sweaty Zach, all he could feel was the taut muscles of his wrist under the silkiness of his young skin, all he could see was the beautiful curve of Zach’s cheek and the arch of that wickedly sweet mouth. “Christ,” he muttered, and despite himself reached up to stroke that silky cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Zach. Yeah, I want you, but you are too. Fucking. Young. And here I am perving over you. Jesus.”
“‘Perving’? Is that what you think? Like you’re some old man and I’m just some kid?” Zach’s voice was hurt.
“Not ‘just’ some kid,” David said miserably. “But you are a kid, Zach. You got time… Jesus, think about it. Just—think about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for two fucking years,” Zach snapped. “Ever since I figured out that girls just don’t do it for me. You know what my wet dreams are about, Taff? Dicks.”
David covered his ears. “I can’t hear this. Fuck, Zach, your parents are gonna go berserk. They’re gonna blame me for this. I am so dead.”
“Fuck you,” Zach had said, and walked away. David had walked back to the car but hadn’t gotten in; he just stood beside the driver’s side door and rested his forehead on the warm metal of the roof.
Richard’s voice had come out of the gathering twilight. “David.”
David looked up to see Zach’s father standing with Zach’s forgotten soccer cleats in his hand. It didn’t take a genius to see that Richard knew exactly what had just gone on between David and Zach. “I’m going,” David said curtly. “I won’t talk to Zach again.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jane said from behind Richard.
David groaned. “I take it you heard everything?”
“Enough,” Jane said. “Enough to hear you discouraging him. David, we’ve known—or suspected—that Zach was gay for a long time, but he never seemed to think of you as anything but a big brother, and so we didn’t worry about it. He never seemed interested in sex of any kind….”
“Which in itself was a little weird for a teenage boy,” Richard said, “but Zach is hardly your average teenage boy.”
“We meant to have this talk with you sooner or later,” Jane said uncertainly. “We just thought we had a little more time.”
“So, what?” David asked, looking from one to the other. “You want me to leave, right? Take that scholarship you offered me? And go—where, someplace like the Sorbonne? University of Moscow? Is that far enough?”
“We’re not asking you to leave, Davey,” Richard said. “Particularly after hearing what we did.”
“And what was that?” David asked in confusion.
“You said just what we would have asked you to. That Zach is too young for a relationship—with you or with anyone else—and that he should wait until he was older. Zach’s brilliant, but he’s still emotionally a kid. He’s not ready for anything like that. And when he is—whether it’s with you, or with someone else—we’ll deal with it then as appropriate.” He hesitated. “Zach was accepted by the early admissions program at MIT. We weren’t going to let him go because he is so young, but we’re reconsidering it. It would mean relocating to Boston for the school year, but there’s no reason I can’t work from there; it’s just been more convenient to be so close to home. I’m not saying this because we plan to keep you two apart, but because hopefully the excitement of college will distract him from feeling resentful of us trying to rein him in a bit.”
“I’m not in favor of the idea,” David said bluntly. “At MIT, he’s gonna be meeting and working with guys even older than I am, who are used to students who aren’t as young as Zach. They’ll think of him and treat him like a contemporary, particularly since he doesn’t talk or act like your average fifteen-year-old. If you don’t want him in a sexual relationship, keep him away from that kind of environment.”
“You have a good point,” Jane said, nodding. “Zach is not the only brilliant kid around here, Davey.”
David shook his head. “Not brilliant. It’s just common sense. I’ve visited friends at college and I know what kind of crazy-assed shit goes on. Jeez, guys—you aren’t that old—don’t you remember how it was?”
Richard actually flinched. “Shit.”
“See?”
“Yeah. So we deal with it as is.”
“Zach’s upset, though,” Jane said. “He’s angry with David, and hurt.”
“I’ll apologize,” David began, but Richard shook his head.
“No, don’t. Zach needs to learn that he can’t get everything he wants.”
“I wonder….” Jane said thoughtfully.
“What, Jenny?”
“Well, my sister Alicia’s been asking for Zach to come visit her. She’s the one who’s got a grant to study climate change at the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. Zach was excited at first when she invited him, but then he lost interest.” She glanced at David. “I think I know why, now. But maybe it would be good for him to go see her after all. It would be a distraction….”
AND how, David thought wearily as he watched the sun slip behind the mountains. Quite a distraction for all of us, particularly after Zach disappeared from the San Jose airport in Costa Rica….
Still, that was all over.
Right.
A wave of grief as strong as any he’d had during Zach’s five-year absence washed over him, and he clutched the porch railing. The grief didn’t care that Zach was home, safe, recovering. All it cared about was that Zach was as irrevocably lost to David as if he had died in that jungle.
“Shit,” David said angrily, wiping tears from his face. “Shit.” He slammed into the house, went to the kitchen, and turned on the little under-cabinet TV, switching channels until he found a loud, mindless game show to keep him distracted until his mother came home.