“A’right, A’right, A’right,” Todd gestured with a long finger for Haley to come forward. She crossed the stage. “I see what you’re getting at, but see what I’m getting at.”
She nodded for her director to continue.
“Just imagine, when you’re crying about your sister being dead… She was your home.”
Haley looked at him for a while.
“She was your home and everything in it,” Todd said again. “Now let’s try it again?”
Haley went back and Todd said, “All right, all! Here we go.”
Man could not live by documentary alone, and about the same time Fenn had gone back into acting in small films, Todd had gone into directing them. He figured directing was directing, which wasn’t quite true. But it had landed him at the playhouse and now here he was. Fenn had told him something about how once upon a time there were no formal directors. One of the characters would step up and direct, so this wasn’t an impossible skill to pick up, and Todd did.
“All right, that’s great guys. That’s making me really proud, and…” Todd stopped. His eyesight wasn’t what it had been. He wore black rimmed spectacles much of the time now, and he squinted a bit at the guy who had entered the theatre now. He was coming forward quickly as Todd stood up, and even as he neared him, Todd’s mouth opened in surprise.
“Hold on folks. Practice among yourselves,” he said. Approaching the stage, and then jumping onto it with one
hand, was a young blond man with a bit of a goatee. “Uncle Todd!”
Surprised, but having more tact then to simply demand what he was doing here, Todd looked at his broad shouldered nephew, tall as himself now, fully a man.
“Ruthven,” he said.
“I know,” Todd said. “You don’t have to tell me that. We all know it.”
“Are you talking about Dylan?”
“No,” Todd said. And then, “Yes. What happened between you guys?”
“Whatever happened, part of the reason I’m here is to repair it,” Ruthven said, pushing a hand through his uncut hair. “It can’t be done over the phone.”
“Fenn thinks you guys had something.”
Ruthven blinked. His face was reddish, not from embarrassment, but from being sun scoured.
“I said that Dylan might have had a crush on you, but he told me that Dylan is a beautiful kid and you might have had something for him.”
“Dylan is a beautiful kid,” Ruthven said. “Girls must be knocking at his door.”
“Are you pretending you don’t know Dylan is gay?”
“Are you pretending you’re not asking if Dylan was my boyfriend?”
Todd shrugged.
“Dylan wasn’t my boyfriend. I’m too old anyway. Dylan is my brother.”
Todd realized that Fenn had been too old for him once. It would have been impossible for him to have that relationship with Fenn when he was fourteen their age difference was so great. But with other men, Dena’s father chief among them, age had not mattered. Todd looked at his nephew, whose past was as troubled as his own.
“I am not Dylan’s boyfriend,” Ruthven repeated.
“No,” Todd said, and then added, just to see the look on his nephew’s face, “Lance Bishop is.”
“Sheridan,” Logan said in a voice like he was ready for anything. He had to be, because anything could happen whenever Sheridan came.
“You know what I just spent the night doing?”
“Oh, you’re so funny,” Sheridan told him. “You’re so hilarious, cause sex and tearing up people’s lives is hilarious. It’s all scripted. It’s all a joke.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Grocery Store Goodies.”
“You saw that?” Logan snorted, and put a hand to his mouth.
“Yeah, I saw it. What’s so funny about it. You getting blown by that douche Derek.”
“Derek is a douche,” Logan agreed.
“And then fucking him in the baked good’s section and letting him pump a load out of you.”
“He’s a douche who knows what he’s doing.”
Sheridan clapped his hands to his head. “You don’t seem to hear what I’m saying.”
“I hear what you’re saying, Sher. I just don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. You spent the night watching my pornos, which is making me feel a little weird. But why?”
“You’re doing the same stuff with these people that you’re doing with me. And then you’re telling me you love me.”
“Hold up!” Logan put up a hand and closed the door, which he remembered was still open. “When did I ever fuck you in a grocery store? When did you ever suck my dick in front of the chocolate chips, and please tell me when you jacked me off in a stock room. Or at all. You’ve never done that.”
“That’s not my point.”
“Alright, Sheridan!” Logan said, beginning to lose his patience. “I gotta go meet Casey in a bit. I’m going to stay at his place for a few days until I get my own, and I’m gonna do a little something for him. So I need you to tell me just what your point is.”
“That’s my point!” Sheridan said. “That the little something you’re doing for Casey is fucking someone in a porno, or possibly, since it’s Casey, fucking him.”
“Yeah! Maybe, Sher. We might fuck each other and then high five and go on. It’s business.”
“And is business all that other shit you do? How can I be with someone, how can I leave my boyfriend for someone who, every time I have sex with him it’s just what he does for a living? You see what I’m saying? You see that?”
He didn’t know what he expected Logan to do. But suddenly Logan’s face went dark and twisted.
“This is bullshit, Sheridan,” he said.
“It isn’t—”
“This is bullshit, and you’re bullshit. Get the fuck out.” Logan moved to open the door and, gently for someone as strong as himself, pushed Sheridan out, locking the door behind him.
They were having what Laurel Houghton considered a good day. She and Amanda were eating lunch on the steps of the little alcove into the church of Saint Barbara’s, and on the brick wall, in their navy pants, Lance and Dylan sat, facing them, legs swinging, Lance almost looking too tall for his uniform. Now and again Laurel caught what Amanda could not, how Lance and Dylan’s hands would almost touch and then go back to their laps. It was all sweet, and simpler than anything had been in a long time. She hoped it stayed that way.
And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that it wouldn’t.
Because there HE was.
“What?” Dylan said.
“Well, shit,” Laurel thought. He had seen it. He had seen her turn and look over there and he had seen her face, and now he followed her and stopped.
“What, bud?” Lance said, touching his hand openly.
“Nothing,” Dylan said quickly, and started swinging his legs again. He smiled at Lance, and Lance relaxed.
They had been family too long. Laurel got up and went to the fence, knowing this was what Dylan would have her do. On her way there, Maia called out from a group of seventh graders, but Laurel put a finger to her lips and gestured for her to stay back.
Maia made a face, but she knew Laurel. She must have had a good reason.
So Laurel Houghton moved along the fence, away from the view of Dylan, and especially away from the view of Lance, knowing that Ruthven, on the other side, would have the sense to follow her lead.
“Why are you here?” she begged.
“To see Dylan.”
“You’re a grown up, and this is a playground. You could be arrested.”
“In Rossford?”
“What do you have to tell him? That’s Lance. You can’t show up right now.”
“Did Dylan send you?”
“Yes. Sort of.”
“I… I wanted to say something to his face. I wanted to talk to him.”
“Well….” Laurel, always prepared, reached into her cardigan and pulled out a paper and pen. “Write it down. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
I saw you on the playground in that blue jacket and those pants. Do you know what you look like now? You look like a grown man. You look so beautiful. I shouldn’t say things like that, but that’s what I mean. Dill, I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for not being able to handle things in the past. I saw you next to that Lance guy. God, he’s got a big forehead! But he’s not bad looking. If he makes you happy, if having some good undercover Catholic school boyfriend makes you happy, well then good. I shouldn’t say that. That was wrong to say. I should be wishing you all the best. I have no right to wish you less than the best. I don’t deserve you, but I miss you. Laurel’s only given me a few minutes to write this. I miss you. Really, I love you. I’ve never written that down on paper. I have tried to get you out of my mind. I’ve tried like shit to do the right thing. I don’t know, maybe this is the right thing.
If things were right between us, then I would stay with Todd and Fenn. Then we could be together. But they aren’t right. I’ve come to make them right. So, until they are, I’ll be at Dena and Milo’s place. All right. You know where to find me. I hope you find me. I’ve left my number. It’s my cell, so I’m easy to reach, and I’ll always leave it on. I’ll leave it on and in the pocket of my tight, tight jeans. Just playing! Sort of.
-Ruthven
Laurel had been loyal enough to not look at the letter. In the hallway she stood beside Maia, at a distance, watching Dylan read it, and then Dylan slowly crumple it up as a look of distaste crossed his face.
“Dill?” Maia started.
Lance was coming down the hall toward them, and Dylan had been about to throw the wadded note in the trash when he thought better of that and simply jammed it in his pocket.
“Dylan,” Lance said.
But Dylan lifted his messenger bag over his shoulder, and still upset, walked away from them all toward choir practice.
