JEREMY
We’re at Dad’s. By we, I mean me and my mum and Steven. Luke goes without saying. We’ve just eaten a big birthday brunch, and now I’m unwrapping gifts. Dad sits on an armchair and Luke is perched on its arm. They are lost in puppy-dog, lovey-dovey looks at one another—and it’s about enough to make anyone feel nauseous.
Steven, sprawled on the armchair behind me, carefully leafs through one of the collector’s comics Luke bought me, while I’m on the floor, staring at the wrapping paper of mum and dad’s gift in my lap. I think they must have flipped a switch or something, because there’s no fucking way that is funny.
But obviously mum thinks it is, if her light giggling behind her flute of sparkling wine is anything to go by.
I stare at the banana-covered wrapping, and shake my head. “I’m going to be traumatized the rest of my life for sure.”
“What’s that?” she asks, eyebrow arching.
“I’m not sure I want to open this one.”
She picks up the discarded wrapping from one of my other gifts, screws it up and throws it at me.
I catch it, and chuck it back at her. She jerks and splashes sparkling wine over her front. Luke and Dad don’t seem to have seen a thing. Whatever they’re chatting about in hushed tones must be seriously gripping.
I shake my head at them, and grin at Mum. “That’ll teach you for drinking wine at midday!”
“Hey, do I have to remind you that fifteen years ago to the day”—she checks her watch—“scratch that, to the hour, I was pushing you out of me.”
Gah. Too much imagery.
Now Dad pipes up—and it’s with a groan. “God, don’t remind me.”
The wrapping-paper ball sails over to ping him on the head.
“For all the bloody, hard work,” she says, cruelly emphasizing so that it has Steven shuddering too, “I deserve this glass as much as you deserve all these gifts, Jeremy.”
“Fine, okay. You can be a booze-hag on all my birthdays to come.” I shake the banana-wrapped gift. “Do I really want to open this?”
She sighs, rests her flute on the small table where my gifts are piled, and clasps her hands together. “You’re fifteen now, you’re growing up. I . . . I have to learn to step back and trust you more.”
“So . . . does that mean I’m un-grounded?” I batter my lashes and give her my most charming smile. Steven puts out his fist and I lift mine and bump it over my shoulder.
She laughs. “Good try. No. It means I’m not going to hassle you so much about the Golden Condom Rule.” At this point, Steven gurgles something, and from the corner of my eye, I see him lift the comic high to cover his face. Mum continues, “You can consider the bananas in the fruit bowl nothing more than something to eat from now on, okay?”
Steven chokes on his suppressed laughter and murmurs, “You’ve been holding back on me, Jer.”
I glare at him and his comic. “Seriously, you wouldn’t want to know.” Then to Mum, I say, “Considering ‘tis the season, I’ll thank you with: Hallelujah.”
Luke barks out in laughter, and I’m glad I have his attention. Dad’s not the only one with his birthday. Though, it’s not an entirely fair thought. Dad pretty much told everyone to pretend like it wasn’t his birthday, so he could keep the illusion of being twenty-nine.
Finally, I open the gift. It’s a blue-spotted piggy bank. The piggy bank that has been sitting on Mum’s bedroom dresser for years.
“Every week for the last year, your dad and I put five dollars each in there.”
“Are you serious? That’s like $520.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you take after me when it comes to math.”
Dad cuts her a mean glare that has Mum grinning. “Come on, it’s the truth. Jeremy wouldn’t even be here if you’d been better at math.” She laughs as Dad goes a shade of red that really should be reserved for emergency services.
“Do tell us that story, Mrs. Carole,” Steven suddenly pipes up, the comic book lowered to his lap.
“The night of our . . . misguided passion, we first tried to buy condoms from the supermarket. But your dad only counted two dollars and twenty cents in his wallet and we needed three. He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Well guess that’s not happening.’ But of course, later that evening, our hormones got the better of us. And afterward, when we hopped on the bus, he realized he actually had four dollars after all.”
Dad groans and scrubs his face. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that little error of mine.”
Mum cocks her head at me. “That little error gave us a son. One that almost eats us out of house and home.”
“Hardly. I never touch the bananas.”
Mum and Dad laugh so hard that I can feel it flapping in my belly. I lift the piggy bank, pointing its nose toward mine, and sigh.
“Thanks guys, but, I mean, it’s too much. Mum, Dad, you need this.”
Dad laughs. “Actually, we both figure you’ll need it. Well, now that you can get your driver’s license, we figured you’ll soon be wanting a car to go with it. You have to save up the rest of course—and anything you save, we’ll double.”
“I’m, like, flabbergasted.” And I am. Seriously. I think I’m going to need Steven to kick my back to dislodge the lump in my throat.
I kiss the piggy bank. Hell, I’m so freaking psyched, I could kiss the damn banana wrapping.
“It’s still a way off yet,” Mum reminds me, “but we wanted to give you motivation to save yourself.”
“Your parents are so freaking cool,” Steven says behind me. “If I could choose, I’d choose yours. Mrs. Carole, Mr. Sam, and Mr. Luke.”
“Of course,” Luke says, “if any of us find you using that car for anything more than driving—”
Steven kicks me then and says under his breath. “Dude, he’s talking about you and Suzy.”
Well, duh.
Ohhh, but there’s an idea. Me and Suzy in the backseat of a car . . .
“—then you can be sure we’ll take your keys and throw them in shark-infested waters.” Luke shivers as he says it, and my Dad lifts a hand and pats his knee, smiling softly to himself.
Luke slides a hand on top of his and threads their fingers together. Steven must have seen it too, because he makes a sound like a sigh.
“You won’t be catching me in any compromising position with Suzy in the car. You can count on that.” Because I would be very, very careful not to be caught.
Mum’s phone rings. She’s just picked up her wine again and, startled, spills more over herself. “Well, darn it,” she mutters and quickly knocks the rest of the liquid back before answering her phone. “Hello?” She stands up suddenly, smiling. “Oh, hey.”
I’m guessing it’s Greg. She tiptoes her way around wrapping paper as she moves out of the room. “Yes.” She glances over to me. “I’ll pass on your congratulations.”
A sinking heaviness settles in my gut—and I don’t like it a bit.
Luke clears his throat and keeping his hand on Dad’s, reaches down to the floor on his side. Another gift is tossed over to me. “I’m thinking this one is entirely appropriate right now.”
The gift folds easily in my hands, and I quickly unwrap to find clothing. A T-shirt.
I open it up, and damn if Luke isn’t right. It’s fucking perfect for the moment, and I’ll do good to heed its advice.
I read the smaller, red version of one of Luke’s T-shirts.
“Stay Calm, and Suck It Up.”