Chapter 8
PRIDE [FLAGS] AND PREJUDICE
The room was bathed in faint light that seeped through the gap between the curtains, giving Oscar no indication of what time it actually was.
Groaning, he stretched, pressing his face into a pillow far plumper than his own, and as he drew in a deep breath, Oscar inhaled the faint spicy scent of Aaron’s cologne.
Right.
Blinking his eyes open again, he allowed his vision to adjust to the empty room.
Aaron’s side of the bed was neatly made up, which was a testament to the fact that Oscar could sleep like a brick, proving his mother right when she’d said a bomb raid wouldn’t wake him.
Oscar remembered telling her he wished a bomb raid would, so it would take him out and spare him her shrill voice at seven in the morning.
But Oscar’s mother was somewhere else, in the house where he’d grown up, and Oscar was in Aaron’s bed, facing the red gaming console that had lulled him to sleep, a small bar of orange chocolate, and a note.
His lips curled as he unfolded the notepaper, taking in Aaron’s handwriting for the very first time. It was neat and round with large clear letters that curved over the lines.
Spike,
I had to go to work. Mean :(
But feel free to stick around as long as you’d like.
Joe’s home all morning, and he knows you’re here.
I have a double shift (help), so you’ll probably be gone because of Luigi when I get home, but stay as long as you like and have some real food.
In case you want to be a gremlin, I got you your favorite chocolate. I got it right, didn’t I?
You better like it; it cost a boob and half a kidney ;)
See you soon
Aaron x
Oscar’s eyes snagged on the little “x” beside Aaron’s name and imagined it as meeting mouths—theirs. He brought the paper close to his nose, inhaling, trying to capture the fragments of him he’d left behind.
You’ve got it bad, Spikey, Oscar thought.
But deep down, he somehow knew that Papa would approve.
He’d like Aaron, like him for Oscar. He’d find some other cool nickname to give him, something that wasn’t plain old Ron, like Joe had called him the previous night.
Aaron didn’t look at all like a Ron. Maybe a Ronnie, but Papa would come up with something completely unrelated.
Like how he’d called Oscar “Spike” and Lina “Minnie.” Maybe he’d call Aaron something like Sonic or Scooby. Papa had always loved cartoons.
Bambi. When Oscar thought about Aaron, he imagined Bambi, a fawn fumbling around without his family, looking effortlessly majestic, being effortlessly kind.
The sound of a vibrating phone knocked Oscar out of his cartoon fantasies, and he reached for it, hand dropping as he found nothing but air. Right. No bedside tables.
Begrudgingly, he pushed himself out of bed and headed to the desk, where Aaron had plugged his phone in to charge.
Well, shit.
Several text messages and missed calls from Lina awaited him. Oscar sighed, opening the thread.
Lina: Let me know when you’re home.
Lina: Oscar, please. I was trying to give you some space before I texted. Are you okay?
Lina: Can you just let me know you’re alive? Stop being a dick.
Missed Call from Lina
Missed Call from Lina
Lina: OSCAR!! Please. Just a sign you’re alive. No need to talk to me. Please. I’ve just been to your apartment, and I know you’re not home.
Lina: Please just tell me you’re sleeping over at someone else’s house.
Lina: Morning. Are you awake? Are you okay?
Missed Call from Lina
Lina: Please text me when you’re up.
Oscar’s heart filled with remorse. Sure, he’d been furious when he’d left the previous night, and he hadn’t looked at his phone since coming to Aaron’s, but Lina hadn’t been the one to say those awful things to him.
Maybe she’d chosen Ryan for a boyfriend, but she hadn’t put those words in his mouth.
Oscar: Sorry. Fell asleep. I’m fine. Maybe you should be checking on your boyfriend. See if he’s still stuck in the 1800s.
It was biting and bitchy, but Ryan deserved it. What an asshole thing to say. The bouncing dots appeared almost instantly.
Lina: I would if I were talking to him. (:
Lina: I’m so sorry, Oscar. Honestly. I sent him straight home after.
Oscar: You should have put him in the corner like Miss Lisa in Kindergarten.
Lina: Yeah, I would have, but I couldn’t stand to look at the back of his head.
Oscar: Lol
Lina: Don’t lol me. Are you really okay?
Oscar: Alive and well.
Lina: That isn’t what I’m asking, but fine. Avoid. You’re a lot like Mom sometimes.
Oscar: Go face the corner.
Oscar: *Kisses*
Lina: *Kisses*. More than Ryan’s getting. >:(
Oscar: Papa approves
Oscar sent her the picture of thumbs-up Papa, practically a sibling meme by now. He wondered how Papa would have reacted if he’d been around to hear Ryan misgendering Oscar.
Lina sent him a picture of herself thumbs-upping back, a grin on her face, but Oscar could see the red rimming her eyes, and suddenly, guilt consumed him.
It couldn’t feel good for her to be arguing with her boyfriend over her brother’s honor, but then, her boyfriend shouldn’t have put her in that position either.
And Lina deserved someone better than that.
Oscar sent her a snap of himself lying on Aaron’s pillow, tongue sticking out.
Lina: Where are you? :O
Oscar: I’m at ‘None of Your Business.’ Ever been there?
Lina: It’s right next door to ‘Fuck You,’ right?
Oscar: Yes (: Now go and get started. Don’t you have a job to get to?
Lina: Tomorrow. But yeah, I’m going to walk around campus for a bit. I’ll send pics.
Oscar: Can’t wait ;)
Right. Oscar should have stayed. They’d planned on walking around, spending the day together.
He and Lina hadn’t done that in so long, and he’d walked out the first time he’d had a chance in weeks.
Months, really. The lead-up to his surgery had been such a messy time: so many late nights googling recovery, so many appointments with his surgeon, looking for alternatives to drains, extra mornings with Christina, going over everything, as though he wouldn’t have taken a kitchen knife to them if that was his only chance.
The point was, he hadn’t really been around for Lina, and Oscar needed to make it up to her. She was his little sister, and she’d been there for him after Papa couldn’t be anymore. He owed her more than this.
Oscar was still thinking about it when he emerged from Aaron’s room, his bursting bladder precluding him from delaying any interaction with Gymbro Joe.
“Morning! Oscar, right?” Yep. This guy seemed like the exact type of almond-chewing, protein-shake drinking, 5am-run-going perky athlete who might get along with wannabe policeman Ryan.
“Yeah.” Oscar tugged on a thick strand of hair, looking for a door that might indicate the presence of a toilet. It wasn’t a maze. This apartment was even smaller than his own. It was a wonder three people could live here.
“Bathroom’s there.” Joe jerked his head at a door adjacent to Aaron’s. “And I’m making some lunch. Sandwiches. Want one?”
“Uh, sure.”
Well, at least he ate carbs.
Oscar lingered awkwardly a second longer, then passed through the door and shut it, praying to whichever god might exist that he didn’t fart while peeing, with Joe standing so close in the kitchen.
Oscar didn’t, and he was relieved, but being so self-conscious about Joe’s proximity also meant that Joe would instantly know Oscar was done when he flushed, and if he took his time, then Joe would think Oscar was taking a dump, and Oscar didn’t want that either.
He glanced at the selection of items on the sink, hoping his morning breath wasn’t as bad as he imagined, because he could in no universe imagine using a toothbrush that had already been in someone else’s mouth, and settled for a hand-cupped serving of tap water.
He ran his hand through his hair, calming the frazzled strands and hoping he seemed at least presentable.
It would have been nice if the woman were around, too; might have eased him a little. She seemed nice.
Oscar glanced down at himself, only now realizing he was still wearing Aaron’s clothes, his own slung over the chair at Aaron’s desk, but it would be rude to go in and change after Joe had offered to make lunch, so he determined to try not to care too much and headed out to the living room.
“I hope you eat everything. I didn’t ask.” Joe stretched his mouth into a yikes expression that felt miles and miles away from Ryan. “You good with, like, mayo and cheese and butter?”
“You good with me potentially using your toilet after?”
Oscar wanted to bite his tongue off and slip it between the halves of bread Joe had so neatly put together on a waiting plate. So much for holding in that fart. There were even potato chips on the side, crispy and salty—the cheap kind Oscar liked to get from Paulie.
They took him back to quiet beach mornings with Papa and Lina, the long drive away from home to go swimming when it was still early, the potato chips and ice cream, the long drive back, soft pop ballads playing through the speakers, Papa raspily singing off-key.
Joe laughed, eyes narrowing on his handsome face. He didn’t have a hint of stubble on his chin, as clean-shaven as a military officer. Maybe he was one. He had the frame for it.
“Come on, I’m starving.”
The chair cushion made a squishy noise as Joe dropped to sit, wrapping his hands around the fat sandwich he’d prepared.
Oscar’s seemed identical, filled with thick slices of ham and cheese, crispy lettuce, and what looked like beautifully marinated tomato slices.
The baguette was toasted and crispy, butter and mayo softening the middle.
His stomach was growling by the time he sat.