Talk to Me

17

Evie was lying in the yard when I pulled up in the driveway. Her arms and legs were flailing as she laid in the slushy layer of snow that was already threatening to melt away. Theo stared out the passenger window at my sister as I pulled up next to my dad’s pickup and parked. The beater ’77 Chevy Scottsdale had a new dent in the rear fender, but otherwise, it looked the same as it had for the entirety of my life. I shook my head and smiled as I gazed at it out of my window. Dad’s newer Super-Duty Ford was obviously put away in the barn, but the Chevy always endured the elements. If it could handle the cows and goats ramming against it during feeding time, the snow wouldn’t do it much more harm.

The white classic farmhouse and its wraparound porch loomed down on us as we sat there, the engine still idling. Our traditional red barn sat out further from us, about fifty yards from the house. Theo was looking around in wonder at the property. His eyes hit the house, the giant metal silo in the distance, the animal pens and enclosures near the barn, and then back to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

“I told you it was a farm,” I said.

“I thought it was, like, just a thing Iowans say.”

“Nope.”

An ear-splitting squeal had Theo jumping in his seat. Rolling my eyes, I popped my door open and slid out of the car, a candy bar wrapper falling from my lap into the floorboard as I exited the vehicle. I’d barely cleared the car and closed my door before my ten-year-old sister was leaping on me like a spider monkey. Squeals pierced my eardrums as her arms latched around me and she hugged me for all she was worth.

Over the top of the car, Theo’s head appeared and he smiled nervously at the sight of my sister attacking me like a hellion. I hugged my sister back and planted kisses all over the top of her head as she talked nonstop. Apparently, so much had happened in the few months since I’d last seen her, and it was important that I found out about all of it immediately.

“…and then I told her that I didn’t even like her and she told Mrs. Baker that I said that and,”

Evie’s motormouth rambled on as she pulled back to look me in the eyes. “And I got in trouble! Mrs. Baker didn’t even scream at her for being so mean to everyone and—”

“Evie,”

I said, trying to calm her down.

She continued.

“—I don’t think it’s fair and I told Mom and Dad and they told me that—”

“Evelyn Mae Montag!”

I said loudly with a laugh.

Evie stopped talking, looked confused for a moment, then smiled at me.

“What?”

she asked innocently.

“Hi,” I said.

She grinned. “Hi.”

Then she was squeezing my neck again.

“We have several days to catch up,”

I said, lowering her to stand on her own feet. “You can tell me all about Mrs. Baker and the injustices of the public school system later.”

“Okay,”

Evie said cheerfully, grabbing my hand with both of hers. “But I have so much to tell you and I don’t know if we even have enough time! When are you going back to school because—”

I held Evie’s hand and listened to her squeal about her feelings as I retrieved my keys from the ignition and my phone from the driver’s door console, then shut the car again. She was still holding onto my hand as I moved to the trunk to get my bag. When we rounded the car and Theo joined us at the trunk, Evie immediately stopped talking and stared up at him, her mouth agape.

“Evie,”

I said, laughing at her reaction, “this is my friend, Theo Hendrix. He’s staying with us for Thanksgiving. I think Mom told you, right?”

Evie just stared at him. Theo, grinning awkwardly, gave her a small wave.

“Hi, Evie,” he said.

“You’re famous.”

Evie whispered and leaned forward, as if informing him of something he was of yet not aware.

I laughed. Theo chuckled.

“I don’t think I’m fam—”

“Oh, yes you are,”

Evie said matter-of-factly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen you on the internet and Marcella—she’s my friend from homeroom—she said everyone knows who you are and—”

I was about to interrupt Evie again, especially since Theo looked completely overwhelmed. However, the voice from the porch kept me from having to settle her down for the second time in under a minute.

“Evelyn Mae!”

I looked up to find my mom on the porch at the edge of the steps, her hands on her hips. Her breath was visible in the chilly air. “Were you rolling around in that yard? You look like you messed all up the back of you!”

Evie looked down and kicked at the ground guiltily, holding my hand tighter. I laughed.

“Hi, Mom!”

I exclaimed.

“Hi, honey,”

Mom said, waving a hand at me. “Evelyn Mae, you get in this house and you march upstairs and clean up! I’ll have lunch on the table soon and you are not going to drag mud all through my nice clean house!”

“I was making snow angels!”

Evie exclaimed, clutching my hand for protection.

I squeezed her hand back and gave her a tough look. Evie and me against Mom. As long as Mom was okay with it, of course.

“Mud angels!”

Mom shot back. “Get in here and get cleaned up. Now!”

Evie looked up at me, grinned, then let go of my hand and ran towards the porch. Mom gave her a stern look, but Evie and I both knew her enough to know it was for show. As Evie ran up the steps towards the front door, Mom swatted at her playfully, and Evie giggled and dodged her, entering the house a half second later.

I popped the trunk and Theo and I pulled our bags out, slinging them over our shoulders. After closing the trunk, I gave him a reassuring smile, and turned towards the porch. The car beeped lazily when I pressed the lock button on the fob, and I suddenly wondered why I’d bothered. Parked in front of my parents’ house, who was going to break into the car? Even on campus it was questionable that anyone would want something from my 2007 Honda Civic.

As we approached the base of the stairs up to the porch, Mom spoke.

“I told her the ground was too wet and there wasn’t enough snow to play in it,”

she said. “But she just insisted on coming out here and messing around. You see the back of her? Looked like she shat right up her back.”

I laughed. Theo chuckled nervously, which drew my mom’s attention. She gave him a warm smile.

“Well,”

Mom said, “y’all just get up here and let me look at you good!”

Dashing up the steps, I fell into my mom’s arms, giving her a big hug. Theo trudged up the stairs, obviously unsure if my family was sane or not. Mom returned my hug, then pushed me out to hold me at arm’s length to get a look at me. I’d only been gone a few months, but anytime I came home she always looked at me as though she hadn’t seen me in years.

“Well, you look no worse for the wear,”

she said softly. “Are you being good?”

“Have I called for bail money?” I teased.

“As if you would be dumb enough,”

she said, throwing her arms around me.

After another big hug and finally letting go of me, she flapped her arms at Theo, urging him towards her.

“You must be Theo,”

she said, giving him an equally warm, but less psychotic hug. “I’m so glad you could join us for the holiday!”

Theo grunted slightly at my mom’s tight hug, but gave me a smile over her shoulder. I shrugged and mouthed “sorry”

to him. When she pulled away and looked at him at arm’s length, she made a “tutting” sound and shook her head.

“Both of you boys need a good meal!”

she exclaimed and patted his shoulders before turning to me. “You both get in this house and get warm!”

Mom rushed over and opened the front door and Theo and I shuffled into the foyer. I dropped my bag at the base of the stairs and Theo, knowing it best, followed my lead. Mom closed the door and shivered, then snatched her cardigan from the coatrack by the door. After she’d wrestled it on, she turned to us again.

“You boys are staying in your room, of course,”

Mom said, waving her arms towards the stairs. “We got that old cot out of the attic and set it up for you, Theo. Dean—that’s Josh’s father—found a better mattress pad for it so it won’t sleep so bad. But if my son is a good host at all, he’ll take the cot. Now, I’ve got lunch about ready. We’ve got some chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, smothered green beans, biscuits, a good ole pecan pie for dessert, fresh tea, and—”

“Mom,”

I said, “Theo needs to be eased into the crazy.”

She cackled and slapped at my arm. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she leaned into me, mumbling as if Theo wasn’t right there to hear her.

“Merle called me this morning,”

she mumbled. “Diane got into the raw milk again—you know she’s into that natural living now—and she was in the hospital for three whole days and nights getting antibiotics. She’s had the trots for a week since getting out. Merle said she could make through a screen door if she wanted. So, I don’t know if we’ll see them tomorrow.”

I blinked at her.

“At least I hope not,”

Mom said, turning to Theo to laugh. “We only have the two bathrooms and I can’t have her keeping one occupied all day long with a house full of people. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

Theo laughed nervously as my mom cackled.

“Uh,”

Merle is Mom’s brother and Diane is his wife. My uncle and aunt. No one really likes Diane,” I said, explaining to Theo.

He nodded back. I turned to Mom.

“And could we keep the watery diarrhea stories to a minimum on Theo’s first day with us?” I asked.

Mom swatted at me again.

“I just wanted you to know in case they don’t show up and you wondered where they were,”

Mom said, shooting Theo an apologetic smile. “Everyone poops, Josh.”

“Diane’s situation feels…different,” I said.

“Oh.”

Mom waggled her head at me. “Go take the bags upstairs for you and your guest.”

Mom slipped her arm through Theo’s and turned him towards the back of the house.

“And you come with me and tell me all about you,”

she said to him.

As I slung both bags over my shoulders, Mom was dragging Theo towards the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder, a terrified expression on his face, and I laughed. Not bothering to try and rescue Theo—since Mom wouldn’t have let me—I jogged up the stairs, our bags bumping against my back with each step. At the top, I turned left in the hallway and walked down to the last room on the left. I swung my hip against the half-open door and stepped inside.

My bedroom was exactly as I’d left it when I’d started my junior year at Midway. Mom had dusted and deodorized the room for us, and Dad had set up the cot on the far side of the room, but it was virtually untouched otherwise. The same band posters were on the walls. My blue and tan plaid comforter covered my bed. My study desk was still organized and neat, ready for homework to be done. And it was still the chilliest room in the house.

Shivering, I placed my bag next to my queen bed on the left side of the room, then I went over and set Theo’s bag next to the cot. Due to the layout of the room, the cot was tucked against the wall under one of the two windows. The farmhouse was in good shape, but it was old and drafty, especially around the windows. I checked the bedding Mom had put on the cot and found that she’d put a fitted sheet on the mattress pad, a flat sheet, a blanket, and a comforter. Even with the chilly room and the draft, Theo should be okay for sleeping.

Rushing back downstairs, enough time had passed that I could save Theo from Mom without her getting upset with me. I made sure to trudge down the stairs loudly so Theo would know I was on my way to rescue him. There’s no relief like knowing help is on the way. I found them both in the kitchen, Theo sat at the table and Mom busying herself over the stove. She was talking ninety-to-nothing as Theo nodded and listened with wide eyes.

“So,”

Mom was saying, “I told him that chickens can remember nearly a hundred human faces. So, if they take off after you and peck at you like that, they remember what you did. He can’t fool me. He was mean to those chickens and they attacked him because they remembered. Chickens aren’t mean just to be mean.”

“That makes sense,”

Theo responded.

“Does it?”

I asked, sauntering into the kitchen. Theo looked over at me, relief etched all over his face. “Dorothy attacks Dad every time she sees him and he’s been nothing but nice to her over the years.”

Mom turned to me, pointing a spoon covered in gravy at me.

“Dorothy is a sensitive soul and she knows your dad doesn’t like her!”

Mom grumbled.

Gravy dripped off the spoon and splattered at her feet.

“Well, shit,” Mom said.

She quickly put the spoon back into the gravy pan and dashed to the counter to grab some paper towels.

“He doesn’t like her because she attacks him,”

I said as Mom knelt to wipe up the spilled gravy.

“Speaking of which,”

Mom said, standing up, “go out there and tell your father that lunch is about ready. ‘Bout ten minutes. I’ll holler up at Evie.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

Marching across the kitchen, I reached down and grabbed Theo’s wrist, pulling him up from his seat. I’d never seen such a relieved look on a person’s face as I did on Theo’s when I pulled him towards the kitchen door. Before Mom could ask why I was stealing her conversation hostage, I pushed open the door and led us down the back steps into the yard. Theo shut the door behind us and gave me a wide-eyed look of shock.

“Mom has never met a stranger,” I said.

Theo stared at me for a moment as we stood there.

“Who’s Dorothy?” he asked.

“A chicken,”

I replied. “Her, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia are four Plymouth Rocks that Mom got a couple years ago.”

“Wha—what?”

“Plymouth Rock is a breed of chicken. They’re probably the most common breed in the U.S. Or close to it. She named ‘em after The Golden Girls,”

I explained. “As if any of that makes sense to you.”

Theo laughed, loosening up a bit.

“My family is a little overwhelming,”

I said. “You’ll get used to it.”

I turned and started to lead us across the yard to the barn. Theo dashed across the yard to catch up to me.

“No,”

he said. “No. I liked your sister and your mom. They’re very friendly.”

I laughed. “That’s polite of you.”

“I mean it,”

Theo said. “It was just a lot all at once.”

As we walked across the yard, the slushy snow crunching under our shoes, I wanted to tell Theo that it would get better. However, I knew my family. Whether you were a family member, a friend, a friend of a friend, or a stranger, you got the same thing from them. There was no deviation in settings when it came to my family. Regardless of the situation, they were authentically and perpetually themselves. I loved them, obviously, but I was aware that other people might find them a bit much.

Out at the barn, I found that the doors were opened enough to let in some sunlight, but not so much as to let in more chilly air than necessary. Theo followed me as I slipped through the opening into the big red building. Hay crunched under our feet as our steps made clunking noises on the wooden planks beneath us. Inside the barn, Theo immediately began looking around, and pulled out his phone, firing off a few quick photos.

“Do you think your followers have never seen a barn?” I teased.

Blushing, he took a few more photos and went to slip his phone back into his pocket. Before he could, I pulled him over to the side and up to one of the pens. Inside, a giant pot-bellied pig was lying in a heap of hay, snoring gently.

“That’s Berta,”

I said. “The pig my mom was talking about yesterday. Feel free to pretend you’re at the zoo.”

Theo chuckled and snapped a picture. I pulled him back across to the other side of the barn to the goat pen.

“That’s Laurel and Hardy.”

I waved at the two goats asleep in the hay.

As Theo took a picture, Laurel lifted his black head and bleated at us, his eyes glimmering in the low light, before laying his head back down.

“We’ve got some cows and the chickens, too,”

I said, leading Theo further into the barn as he looked around in wonder. “There’s mostly hay in here, though. A couple of horses at the end there. The cows are in the pasture and the chickens roam around their pen, but right now they’re probably in the coop. They tend to stay in there most of the day with the heater during winter.”

“Do…do they lay eggs?”

Theo asked.

“The females do,”

I said, teasing him. “The rooster? Notsomuch.”

He nudged me with his elbow and smiled.

“The hens start laying eggs after, like six months,”

I explained as we walked. “And they can lay eggs for years, but the older they get, the less they produce.”

“What happens when they stop laying eggs?”

“Sunday dinner,”

I said with a shrug.

Theo whipped his head around to look at me in horror.

“Where do you think you get fried chicken?”

I laughed. “At least our chickens are treated well until the time comes. You don’t want to know how the farms that supply KFC treat their chickens.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing at the front of his throat.

“Mom basically treats them like pets until their day of reckoning comes,”

I said with a shrug. “They have good lives. Trust me.”

“Do you eat all of your animals?”

Theo asked quietly.

“I think Berta, Laurel, and Hardy are all safe,”

I said. “The horses are safe. But the cows and chickens all eventually end up as part of the cycle.”

“That’s strange,”

Theo said.

“Why?”

I asked. “Everything on this earth is part of the cycle. Is it better that an animal is raised merely for slaughter so a restaurant can serve fast food? I mean, at least here the animals live long, full lives, and then end it by nourishing another animal so that it can keep on living. I mean, we don’t necessarily raise any animals for food—Dad grows corn and soybeans—but the animals we have aren’t wasted when they’re no longer able to thrive.”

“I mean, I guess,”

Theo said, then gaped as we passed the corn harvester parked away for the season. “Jeez.”

I looked up at the machine.

“Yeah,”

I said. “For the corn harvesting.”

“That thing looks like something out of Final Destination.”

I laughed loudly. As we approached the back of the barn, I could hear scuffling and mumbled curses, and I knew we’d found my dad. Sure enough, when we got near the backdoor of the barn, Theo and I stumbled upon him. He was in the back corner of the barn, his back turned to us, fiddling with something. As we drew close, I could tell he was struggling with a propane tank, annoyed at how tightly a hose was fitted to it.

“Hey, Dad,” I said.

Jerking upright, Dad spun, a wrench in his hand. Theo squeaked out a terrified squeal. Laughing, I looked from Theo to my dad. Realizing that the raised wrench looked menacing, Dad gave an amused grin and lowered his arm.

“Well,”

Dad said, “don’t just fiddle-fart around. Get over here. Hold this thing.”

“Okay,” I said.

I shuffled over and grabbed ahold of the propane tank, holding it steady. Dad took to the hose with the wrench, twisting and grunting.

“Geeeee-zus!”

he groaned as he finally loosened the hose from the regulator. “I don’t know what the hell we did last time we used the fryer, but that sucker did not want to get off there.”

I let go of the empty propane tank and brushed my hands on my jeans.

“Well, when you put a new tank on there, don’t tighten it so much,”

I said. “Who are you trying to impress anyway?”

“Buster did it!”

Dad exclaimed. “Not me. He doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

“Must be genetic,”

I said. “Thank God it skips a generation.”

Dad made a goofy face and reached out to ruffle my hair. I swatted his hand away and we both laughed.

“How ya’ doin’, kid?”

he asked, slipping the wrench into his hip pocket before picking up the deep fryer that was no longer attached to the propane tank. “Grab the tank, would ya’?”

I grabbed the tank and followed Dad as he led us back the way we had come through the barn.

“Who are you?”

Dad asked as we passed Theo, but didn’t stop walking.

I laughed as Theo fell in behind us.

“Theo, sir,”

Theo said nervously.

“He’s my friend from school,”

I said. “Mom surely told you.”

Dad waggled his head. “Surely told me. Glad they’re teaching you to talk fancy for what you’re to go there.”

Laughing again, I said, “Theo’s parents went out of town for Thanksgiving, so I invited him here to eat with us.”

“That was mighty kind of ya’,”

Dad said as we trudged along. “Are you that gay fella Evie talks about so much?”

Theo didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, sputtering behind us.

“I’m the gay fella Evie talks about so much,”

I said, making Dad laugh. “But yes, Theo is on that social media site, Peepers?”

Dad shrugged. “Never heard of it, but if Evie’s yammering on about it, it must be something special and trendy.”

“Why does Evie have Peepers?”

I asked. “I’ve been wondering that for the last few days.”

“God only knows,”

Dad said as we exited the barn. “I let your mom deal with her phone usage. Grab those doors, would you, Theo?”

Dad kept walking, so I set the propane tank down and turned to help Theo close the doors to the barn. He seemed to have no clue how to close a door if it was attached to a barn, so I figured some help would be welcome. Once the barn was closed, I grabbed the tank and dashed after Dad, Theo jogging to keep up.

“Buster’s getting up at butt-early-thirty to make sure the turkeys are smoked,”

Dad explained as we trudged back across the yard. “Then he’s gonna come over here and help me do the frying. I’ll need to get to the store later to exchange tanks. Your Mom says she needs your help in the kitchen, so you gotta deal with the women this year.”

“Oh, gee,”

I said playfully, “I don’t get to risk getting blown up with the men this time?”

Dad shoulder checked me and laughed as we stopped outside the house. He set the fryer down a few yards from the back door and I set the empty propane tank next to it. Dad leaned back and stretched, reaching to the sky with both arms. His back audibly cracked and then he popped his neck.

“Getting old is for shit,”

he said, then held his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Theo.”

Theo took his hand and gave it a shake.

“So, you boys in the same classes?” he asked.

“Some,”

Theo said. “Um, American Literature and Economics of Information.”

“I know what one of those things is,”

Dad said. “You dating my son?”

Theo gulped. Laughing, I waved Dad off.

“He’s here because I didn’t think it was right that he ate turkey sandwiches in the dining hall alone for the rest of the week,”

I said. “Stop it.”

Dad shrugged. “Reasonable question. You’re gay. He’s gay. Both handsome boys. He came home with you. Gotta ask.”

“Thank you?”

Theo managed.

“It’s nothing like that,”

I said. “Theo’s already put up with Mom and Evie. Give him a break.”

Dad thought for a moment.

“That’s fair,”

he said. “I’ll tone it down. Sorry, Theo.”

Theo squeaked out, “It’s fine.”

As if she’d been summoned by my mentioning her name, the backdoor flung open and Evie practically flew down the stairs. Before she could be stopped, she’d sidled up to Theo and grabbed his right hand with both of hers. Staring up at him adoringly, all Theo could do was look down at her and smile back.

“What do you want?”

I asked her.

“Mom said lunch is ready and she’s tired of waiting on you,”

Evie said, not taking her eyes off of Theo’s.

“Then we better get in there,”

Dad announced, clapping his hands together.

Evie pulled Theo towards the steps, still staring up at him like she’d never seen another person before.

“I got ringworm from playing with the chickens,”

she said suddenly.

As they started up the steps, Theo shot a horrified look at me over his shoulder. Dad and I laughed loudly as the four of us made our way inside for lunch.

Somehow, we made it through lunch without Theo running away. I half expected him to scream for mercy and dash from the house hollering about crazy farm people, but he handled my family fairly well. As the day went by, helping Mom get things ready for Thanksgiving, putting the leaves in the dining room table, setting up the kids’ table in the living room, and doing some last-minute cleaning, Theo loosened up. It occurred to me that he finally realized my family simply had no filter. They weren’t dangerous, simply uncouth.

We helped Dad with some of his chores and I took Theo out to meet the chickens and collected the eggs that had been laid since the morning check. Fascinated by farm life, I watched as Theo took pictures and videos of practically everything we did. When Dad sent us out to saw down the yearly Christmas tree, Theo was beside himself with awe.

Explaining to Theo that we were cutting down the tree before Thanksgiving, he had nothing but questions. I explained that cutting it down now and standing it up in a bucket of water in the barn allowed it to get nice and hydrated, and some of the loose needles could fall off outside instead of in the house. When Dad set it up in the house the day after Thanksgiving, it would last longer after the long soak and de-needling in the barn. The whole process helped to ensure that it would last through the season.

Though he’d been impressed with the chicken fried steak lunch, and proclaimed he would never be able to eat again, he’d changed his tune at dinner. After all the work around the house, he was as ravenous as the rest of us when Mom laid out a dinner of goulash, buttery garlic toast, and salad. Each time his plate got close to empty, Mom slopped another giant helping of goulash back onto his plate. By the time we were done eating dinner, Theo looked as if he could vomit.

With Thanksgiving being the next day, and not being able to sleep in, we all retired early in the evening. Theo, Evie, and I would be getting up early to help Mom, and Dad would be getting up early to organize meat cooking with Uncle Buster. Theo and I let Evie use the bathroom we shared first, then I let Theo get his shower and get ready for bed next. Finally, I took my turn in the bathroom, not getting to spend nearly as much time in the hot shower as I wanted since most of the water had been used up. However, I managed to wash the day’s stink off of me and brushed my teeth and hair before slipping into my basketball shorts and t-shirt.

Back in my room, with only the desk lamp on, I found Theo sitting in the dark corner on the cot, talking to the screen of his phone. I crept into the room so as to not disturb him, closed and locked my door, and tiptoed across the cold wood floor to my bed. The bed creaked slightly as I sat down and I winced, but Theo didn’t even look up from his phone.

“You guys aren’t going to believe it,”

Theo was saying, “I’m spending my Thanksgiving on a farm!”

I grinned widely, holding back a laugh as Theo told his Peepers followers all about his holiday plans, the things he’d seen, and all of the content he was going to have for them soon. Finally, when he ended the video and laid his phone atop his bag on the floor next to the cot, he looked over at me.

“I am so tired,” he said.

“Farm life,”

I said with a shrug and began pulling back the covers on my bed. “You’ll sleep well. Which is good, since we’re getting up early.”

“How early?”

Theo asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Not too early,”

I said. “Seven-ish.”

He lifted his phone to look at the time. Relieved to find it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, he laid his phone back down. Watching me, Theo realized that I was getting ready to slip under the covers, so he started to pull back the covers on the cot.

“Do you guys always go to bed this early?”

he asked quietly.

“You just said you were exhausted,” I said.

“Well, yeah,”

Theo responded. “Just wondering.”

“When you do manual labor all day, you look forward to bedtime,” I said.

“Fair enough.”

I pulled my legs up on the bed and slid under the covers before laying back until my head was on the pillow. I pulled the covers up to my chin, blocking out the chill of my room. I looked over, and once I saw that Theo had gotten under his covers, I reached over and switched my desk lamp off. Enveloped by the darkness, I sighed and wiggled around in bed, finding the perfect position. Theo groaned happily on the cot across the room.

“I’ve never been this tired in my life,”

Theo said. “Or so full.”

“You’ll be starving in the morning,”

I said back in the darkness. “It’s a way of life.”

I heard Theo shift on the cot.

“What will your mom make for breakfast?”

he asked, and I could practically hear him salivating.

“Probably biscuits and gravy, eggs, sausage. Nothing healthy,”

I said. “And we’ll eat as soon as we get up so our tummies will be empty when we eat Thanksgiving around three o’clock.”

“Does she cook like that for every meal?”

“Well, yeah,”

I said. “Hard work deserves hearty meals. Expect bowel issues for the first week back to school.”

Theo chuckled and then the room was silent once more. The cot creaked as Theo shifted once more.

“Is it always this cold in here?”

he asked. “I’m freezing.”

“I have the coldest room in the house. I like it. It makes for good sleep.”

Theo shivered hard enough on the cot that I could hear it rattle.

“I don’t know how you stand it,”

he said. “I mean, I don’t like it hot, but it’s like a freezer in here.”

I sighed. “Grab your blankets. Come on.”

“What?”

Theo whispered in the darkness.

“Come on,”

I said again. “We can share the bed and blankets. Being under the window over there just makes it worse.”

Without any further questions, I could hear Theo springing off of the cot. I scooted back in the bed until I was against the wall that my bed was against. With the blue moonlight coming through the windows, I watched Theo traipse across the room and toss his covers over me on the bed. Then he lifted them, cold air rushing in to attack me, before he slid into the bed and pulled the covers back over us. With my butt against the wall, I was facing Theo, and he turned on his side to face me.

“Let’s just make sure we put your blankets back on the cot in the morning,”

I said quietly. “Otherwise, my parents will have questions.”

“They won’t get mad that we shared the bed, will they?”

he asked in a hushed whisper.

“Well, no,”

I whispered back. “I’m twenty-one years old. But I don’t want the questions.”

“Will they get upset if I posted a video of all the pictures I took?”

I thought about that. “No. As long as you ask permission to use any photos they’re in, I guess.”

“I’ll ask first if I do that,”

he said, reassuring me.

“I still…don’t get it,”

I whispered. “Peepers. Social media. The influencer thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Theo shifted in bed, holding the covers up to his chin with a shiver.

“Why do you do it?”

I asked. “Why give up your privacy like that? I mean, does it even make money?”

Theo sighed. “Well, not a ton right now. But when Ben and I had our mutual account, we were making ten-thousand dollars a month each. Between Peepers and brand partnerships and stuff.”

My eyes grew wide and I knew that the whites of my eyes had to be like headlights in the dark. Theo laughed at my expression.

“I should have made you buy twice as many road trip snacks,” I said.

“Right? It can be decent money. If everyone doesn’t hate you.”

“Is it worth it?”

I asked. “The money? And the hate?”

Theo thought about that for a moment.

“I’m good at it,”

he said. “Getting people to engage online. It’s something I can do naturally. Some people are born to be accountants or doctors. I was born to entertain people with silly shit online.”

We both chuckled.

“So, yeah,”

Theo said. “It’s worth it. The money outweighs the bad stuff. Most of the time.”

“Okay.”

“You know, it’s weird, sharing a bed sometimes,”

Theo said. “I think I’ve shared a bed more in the last few months than I ever have in my entire life.”

I laughed. “What? You and Ben just screwed and hopped in separate beds to sleep?”

Theo didn’t laugh.

“We both liked our own space when we slept,” he said.

“You do take up more room than you should,”

I replied. “For a skinny guy, you take up big guy space. If I’m being honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,”

I said. “As long as you keep me in snacks.”

He chuckled softly. We stared at each other in the darkness, my full belly and the warmth from the blankets making my eyes heavy.

“I really like your family, Josh,”

Theo mumbled sleepily. “And your house.”

I smiled.

“But am I going to get ringworm?” he asked.

Chuckling, I reached over under the covers to pat his side.

“You’ll be okay,”

I said. “I promise. But Mom got me a tube of anti-fungal cream in case.”

Theo groaned, but there was no power behind it. Possible ringworm was no match for how exhausted the two of us were. Before I knew it, I was drifting off to the sounds of Theo’s light breathing.