Lance
Chapter five
At one point overnight, I hear Parker on the air mattress. He’s not tossing or turning—he’s trying to be quiet about it, but I can hear the hitched breathing, the way he keeps swallowing it down. He’s crying and trying not to let me know.
The only reason I’m still awake is because every time I close my eyes, I can feel fire licking at the car windows, flickering on the other side of the walls.
I see Elliott clutching his stuffed snail.
My God, poor kid. He must have been so terrified and I abandoned him.
I was the driver. I should have done something.
She wouldn’t listen to Parker, but I could have made her listen to me.
I look over at Parker. I wish I’d won the argument and let him have my bed. I slide off it and crawl onto the mattress next to him. I don’t put my arm around him—I just put my hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and rub gently. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s over. You’re not alone.”
He stiffens. “Lance?”
“I’m sorry. You sounded—I just—” I stop. “I can’t sleep either. Every time I close my eyes I see the fire. I’m better when I’m close to you. Can I stay here for a bit? No strings. I promise.”
He rolls over to face me. In the moonlight filtering through the window, I can’t read his face. He hesitates. “Please stay a little longer. If it’s not weird,” he adds.
“It’s not weird.”
He’s quiet, but his shoulders sag in relief. He rolls so that his back is to me. I hesitantly drag down my pillow from my bed and put my hand on his hip.
“Just a few minutes,” I say. I close my eyes and the flames are gone. We are alone in this little raft, where we can feel safer. I think I will be here for just a few minutes, but when I wake up again, it’s already morning.
Light is coming in through the gap in the curtains, warm and golden.
I can hear Mom moving around in the kitchen, the clink of a coffee pot.
I lift my head and stare at Parker, not daring to move anything more.
In sleep, his face has finally relaxed. The pinched, haggard look he’s had lately has drifted away, and he’s just Parker again—sweet, handsome Parker.
Where he got the idea he’s ugly, I have no idea.
There is a soft tap at the door. My mother opens it a crack and peers at us. I’m still in my boxer briefs—Parker’s in the full pajamas Dad lent him. He’s sound asleep. I crawl off the air mattress and pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before joining her out in the dining room.
She looks tired, and I can tell she’s been crying. She pours me coffee and puts it out for me. The rest of the house is still quiet.
“We weren’t doing anything,” I start. “He had a bad dream.”
She sits down. “Honey, you’re two teenage boys. If you’re going to do…that…then I’d rather you weren’t going to lie about it.”
“But we didn’t!” I insist, then drop my voice.
“I know. This time. I can’t stop you, but I’m your mother first and foremost, and I’m worried.”
“I know what to do,” I say. “I looked it up.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She leans over the table. “Honey, look at him. He’s clearly been through the wringer. When was the last time anybody touched him kindly who wasn’t you?”
I don’t know the answer.
She reaches out and puts her hand on my wrist. “I know you really care about him, but this is bigger than that. I’m really concerned that his home environment is not good. How close is he to his eighteenth birthday?”
“It’s this right after Halloween, on November 4th.”
“Well, he’ll be old enough to leave home on his own steam. Do you think that his mother will have a problem with your relationship?”
“I’ll have a problem with her,” I grumble.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Do you believe he might be unsafe in the household if his mother suspected he was gay? Because what he said last night didn’t reassure me.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Mom, you didn’t see the way she talked to him. It’s like he’s just her unpaid babysitter. I’m scared she can’t cope without him, and he’ll never get to college or have a life of his own.”
“Honey, a lot of young people care for family members, and they do it willingly. We can’t make assumptions. Even so, it does seem like it’s hard for Parker, and maybe not in his best interests.”
I purse my lips together. “So you think I’m going overboard?”
“I didn’t say that. If you say that something’s not right there, if you say that he’s not being treated well, I do believe you.
All we can do is make sure that he always knows he’s welcome.
Even if she came to our door today, I wouldn’t let her take him without proof that she has a place to keep him.
If I had my way, I’d find some way to let her keep him here until at least his birthday.
After that, all we can do is support him. ”
I nod.
“And that means giving him space.”
“But he needs me,” I insist.
“He’s confused and in pain. Sweetheart, I know you mean well, but let him decide what he wants. If he wants to be alone, find somewhere else to be. If he wants to talk, listen.”
I look down at my hands. “You do at least like him, right?”
“Yes, of course we do, honey, but when I said that he was fragile yesterday, I just thought it was because of the fires and the worry. After what he said about his family last night, well, that’s something different. I need you to be careful for yourself as well.”
“I’ll take care of him.” She looks at me. “That’s not me being noble, Mom. I want to. When he’s right here I know he’s okay, and I—” I stop, because I don’t have the rest of the sentence.
She sighs and looks like she’ll say something else, but then she smiles. “Good morning, sweetheart!” she says louder than we’ve been whispering. I turn and see Parker framed in the hallway. Mom stands up. “What would you two like for breakfast?”
“Do you have any cereal? That would be great,” Parker says. He looks at his phone. “We can still make it to school on time.”
“Oh, no, you’re not, buster. I’m keeping you both home today, and I am going to fill you with soup until you float. You’re not going anywhere until I get you in to see Dr. Hanson. That cough of yours is scaring me.”
“I don’t have my insurance card.”
“Honey, I’m the adult. I will take care of it. Sit, sit. Let’s see what I can whip up for you two.”
Parker sits next to me and looks at his phone.
“Anything?” I ask him, even though I can tell by his face that there’s nothing.
Dad turns on the news, and Parker’s eyes lock on it until Mom turns it back off again.
She gives Dad a look and proceeds to chat with Parker about food, while he nods and looks freaked out until she retreats to the kitchen.
She cracks enough eggs to feed a football team.
Parker sits awkwardly at the table and teaches Bree how to layer colors, guiding her as she frowns at her coloring book.
There’s a knock at the door and we all freeze. Mom looks at Dad. “Robert?” she asks. I stand up and put my hands protectively on Parker’s shoulders. He reaches up and squeezes my fingers.
Dad opens the door. There is a woman standing on the front porch. “Excuse me, is Parker Bishop here?” she asks.
“Aunt Shelley?” Parker asks uncertainly.
Dad stands aside for her as she rushes into the dining room and envelops Parker in a hug. She’s smaller than I expected—shorter than Parker, with dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh my goodness. You look so much like your mother,” she says, and her voice cracks on the last word. She cradles his face in her hands and doesn’t let go. “The police called me this morning. They’ve found Mom and Angela and Elliott.”
“Oh, thank God.” He pulls back to look at her. “Where are they? Are they in the hospital—is that why they haven’t called? Is it Elliott? Mom? Do they need something? Blood? I can give blood. Elliott likes those little juice boxes. Anything fruit punch, and he can’t get enough.”
Shelley hesitates. She looks up at me, and I know. Her lips tighten. She takes both his hands. “Parker. They’ve gone. I’m so, so sorry. They didn’t suffer—the police said the smoke would have taken them long before the fire did. It would have been just like going to sleep.”
The room is dead silent. Parker is stock still. He just stops.
He stares at her, unblinking. “No. No. It’s not true.
It’s not like going to sleep. Because if it’s like what happened to me, it’s coughing until you make yourself throw up, and still being unable to get the air in even after you’re heaving and your vision gets dark.
You can’t breath and you’re so scared. We just saw them, Lance.
” He turns to me, panic widening his eyes. “We just saw them and they were fine.”
I take the hand he’s reaching out and pull him into my arms. He drags in one shaky breath, and then everything he’s been holding gives way at once and he sobs into my shirt.
I look around the room. Mom has both arms around Bree, who is crying into her shoulder. Dad is staring at the floor. Shelley has her hand over her mouth. I’m not far off myself.
“I’ll just—we’ll be—” I tip my head toward the hallway and get him out of there.
I sit him on the bed and wrap my arms around him while he cries, muttering Elliott’s name over and over. Elliott didn’t even understand what was happening. He was fourteen years old and he thought it was a game.
I kiss the top of Parker’s head and rub his back while he buries his face in my shirt. He clings to me, and I keep rocking, long after the first wave has faded and he’s been reduced to ragged, choked breaths.
I don’t know how long we sit there. Long enough that the light through the curtains shifts, and I can hear Mom’s voice in the other room—low, careful, talking to Shelley. Long enough that my arm goes numb where Parker’s weight presses against it, and I don’t move it.
“You don’t have to go out there,” I tell him. “You don’t have to see anybody.”
He shakes his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s okay.” I want to tell him that I’m honored that he trusts me with this, but that seems like the wrong thing to say.
He sits for a while longer, staring at his hands in his lap. I watch him pull himself together piece by piece—the breathing steadying, the jaw setting, his spine straightening. It looks like it costs him everything he has.
He rubs his eyes. “God, your shirt.”
I take it off, and he looks away while I put a fresh one on. “There. Problem solved.”
“I’m okay now. Thanks. I’d better go and talk to Aunt Shelley.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. On my own. But thank you.”
I nod and open the door.
When we go back into the dining room, all conversation stops on a dime as the adults turn to look at Parker.
“Hi, Parker,” Mom says. “We were just talking to your aunt. Come sit down.”
“I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost,” his aunt says.
“But I’m your guardian now, and I’m your family, and you will always have me.
Always. You are not going to be alone in this.
” She stops and steadies herself. “It’s only a studio apartment.
I don’t even have room for a sofa. We’ll make it work.
But you might have to transfer schools.”
Transfer schools. That means Central, over by the university—a different school. It wouldn’t be far on a map. It’d be far enough. I sink into the nearest dining room chair.
“Oh,” Parker says.
Mom reaches across the table and covers Parker’s hand with hers. “We don’t have to figure any of this out today. There’s time.”
Shelley nods, and I can see her hands shaking in her lap. She looks as wrecked as Parker does.
Parker looks at me, then back at his aunt. “Can I talk to you?” he says to her. “Just us?”
She stands and follows him out to the front porch, and I see their silhouettes as they sit on the wooden bench next to the living room window.
“Is she nice?” I ask.
“She seems nice,” Mom says cautiously. “But she’s not prepared. She’s grieving herself, and she’s overwhelmed. I would be, too.”
“Why can’t he just stay here?” I can hear myself getting loud. “Then he wouldn’t have to change schools or anything. He can have my room. I’ll set up in the basement if you’re worried about something happening. He won’t be any trouble. I swear.”
Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “Son, whatever we think, it’s his decision to make. Not ours.”
I don’t answer. I go to the window and watch Parker and his aunt on the bench.
She’s talking and he’s listening, his hands clasped between his knees.
At one point she reaches over and squeezes his arm, and he doesn’t flinch away from it.
I press my hand flat against the glass and wait for him to look for me, at least once.
He doesn’t.