Chapter 4
Peanut Butter woke me. He nipped my chin, meaning he’d been trying to wake me for a while. I blinked into the dark of the room, taking a few seconds to recall I was at Grandpa’s, and wondering why the cat thought I needed to be awake at two in the morning.
I heard the door open and close with a gentle click. Fuck.
I jolted up, finding the couch empty, bathroom door open, and Ivan’s bag missing. Where the hell was he going to go?
“Keep an eye on Grandpa,” I whispered to Peanut Butter.
I jumped into my shoes, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door after him.
Scanning the darkness, I searched for movement.
Halfway down the street I saw him and raced his way, hoping he didn’t actually run.
Two in the morning was the worst time for an impromptu marathon.
I caught up to him, jogging to his side, and matching his pace. He sighed.
“Can I ask where you’re going to go?”
He said nothing.
“I signed paperwork at the hospital that makes me liable for you,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t ask for that,” he snapped, the first words he’d spoken to me since we’d picked him up.
“And if it had been Grandpa? It would have been okay for you to run around while he’s responsible for you?”
“I’m not a kid.”
He was, but I wouldn’t argue. I’d been in the same place as him myself decades ago.
We walked, and I wondered if he had a destination in mind.
Grandpa’s place wasn’t on the normal bus route, but maybe with his phone recharged, he’d called for a ride-share.
I kept pace with him, regardless. The chill in the air brought back a lot of memories from the time I’d been on the streets looking for a safe place to sleep.
“Where will you go?” I finally asked.
“Home, eventually.”
“Okay. Can I give you a ride, then?”
We kept walking. I cursed myself for not bringing a coat of some kind, but Ivan didn’t have one either.
“They told me you were dead,” he whispered.
Those words made me pause for a half second, my heart flipping over with a lot of untouched trauma. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Even while it hurt like a knife in my gut. “They kicked me out ‘cause I got caught kissing a boy.”
He gasped and stopped; his eyes wide as he stared at me. “They said it was a car accident, and why they won’t let me get my license.”
“Sorry. Still here and queer.”
He studied me for a few more seconds before turning around and walking again. I followed.
“Grandpa never said anything,” Ivan said after another block of silence.
“They cut him and Grandma out when they took me in. They didn’t even show up at Grandma’s funeral ‘cause Grandpa wouldn’t give in to the demand I not come.”
“When Grandma died, I was in rehab.” He flashed me his left wrist and the long, white, raised scars running down the inside of it.
Fuck. Those had to have been deep. I steadied myself mentally with a he’s still here, while trying to keep the worry off my face. “Your release papers didn’t have a list of any medications you need.” I’d glanced through them after he’d gone to change into pajamas.
“Dad won’t let me take anything.”
I took a minute to process that. “You obviously have depression. Why wouldn’t he let you see if medication can help? I’ve been on meds since Grandma died and they really helped me. I couldn’t stop crying and thinking all the terrible what-ifs. The meds quieted that, and let me have better control.”
“You’re not a zombie from medication?”
I didn’t mention I’d seen real zombies, but understood what he meant. There was a terrible stigma around taking medication for mental health.
“No. I think some medication can do that if it’s not the right med for you. But for me, it really helped steady me. I still cry. I still laugh. Nothing is forced. I’m just not in that endless wasteland of ‘the world hates me, so why should I be here’ mentality.”
I took a long breath and let it out. “It’s not always perfect. Some days, it’s really hard to get out of bed.”
Becoming variant and being forced over to SED without my consent had made the last few days rough, but I wouldn’t share that, since he’d been dealing with being variant his entire life. “I’ve been through some therapy that helps when the meds aren’t enough. I haven’t had SI in a long time.”
He kept walking, staying a few feet ahead of me. From time to time, I thought I caught a sniffle. Was he crying, or just cold?
“How about we head back to Grandpa’s?” I asked. “It’s cold out. If he wakes up and finds us gone, he’ll worry.”
“He’ll eventually forgive me,” Ivan whispered.
“Grandpa?”
“Dad.”
Oh. “Is that what you want?” From what I remembered of our father, he was a cold man with little care for anything other than money.
Not that he was uber-rich. He did well, headed a small company, but never top-tier.
Mom was a status symbol for him—a pretty wife who obeyed—and I was supposed to be the obligatory heir.
I guess Ivan now had that role. What a terrible place to be.
“No one cares what I want.”
“That’s sort of normal,” I said. “Adults rarely look at teenagers and think, ‘Wow, they are so smart, they know everything,’” I teased.
“But honestly, some things we know, especially about ourselves. I knew I was gay when I was little. I can’t remember the name of the first boy I had a crush on.
But I kept it to myself. I can’t say that even I know exactly what I want.
Love, that’s always a hope—dream, really—but my job?
” I shrugged. “I like the mystery. The rest of life is just finding what you enjoy and hoping for a chance to pursue your dreams.”
We walked another few blocks in silence.
“I know more now that I’m older. About myself and the world.
But I’m still learning new things all the time.
Would I have kissed that boy if I knew? Maybe.
Honestly, Grandma and Grandpa were good to me.
But I spent a few weeks on the street before I admitted to myself I couldn’t do it alone.
I was only sixteen. Not that I make the best choices now, either.
My dating record is pretty shitty. But I have the misfortune of being attracted to men, and a lot of men are shitty. ”
“Are you happy?”
“Mostly. I mean, we all wish we could make more money, right? Have a nicer place? Find someone to share our lives with? I have friends I adore, and Grandpa is my family. I loved my job…” And that had been stripped away.
Would I like the new one? I sighed. “Sometimes, changes get thrown at us and we have to roll with them or find a way to fix things. Other times, we are the instrument of change. Two sides of one coin. It’s our choice to flip it or not. ”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“I think that’s normal, and brave of you to admit it. Can I do anything to help?”
We walked long enough that I worried I’d need my phone to GPS us back to Grandpa’s. He finally said, “I don’t know.”
“How about we head back and get some sleep? See how things look in the morning? If you need a ride home, I’ll take you. No questions asked.”
“Do you hate them?” I knew instantly who he meant.
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t get mad when I think of them sometimes. But I don’t think of them much anymore. And when I remember back, they weren’t much there when I did live with them.”
“Do you hate me?” He whispered so softly I barely heard him.
“No.”
He stopped again to gaze at me, tears running down his cheeks. When I took a step forward, he took one back.
I held up my hands. “I won’t touch you. Promise. Just know that I’m here if you need me. I don’t hate you. Neither of us asked for our shitty parents. It would be dumb to blame you for their mistakes, and I’m grown up enough to understand that.”
He stared at me for a long time, arms crossed, shivering. Finally, he said, “Okay,” and looked around. “I don’t know how to get back.”
“Good thing I remembered my phone.” I pulled up the GPS and guided us back toward Grandpa’s place.
“My only request is that you put my number in your phone. Probably name it something they won’t suspect, ‘cause if they see my name in there, they will lose their minds.” I didn’t want him hurt.
Ivan hadn’t said anything about our dad getting violent, but he’d beat the shit out of me before throwing me out.
I never told my grandparents, and hoped he’d saved that special treatment just for me.
“Call if you need me. Memorize the number if you worry about them finding it.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Why call?”
“Why would you help? You don’t know me.”
“Because someone should, kid. Everyone deserves a chance. Blood related or not, I have the ability to help. So why wouldn’t I?”
He didn’t say anything else the entire way back. When we entered the condo, it was dark, and Peanut Butter sat in the doorway to Grandpa’s room. “He okay?” I asked the cat.
Peanut Butter chirped, then leapt up to the back of the couch. I really hoped it would be the last trip I had out for the night, but at least my cat planned to watch my little brother for any more after dark excursions into homelessness.