Lucky

Two

  In the days that followed I tried to spend as little time in my house as possible. With both dad and Lucky gone, it felt extra empty. I spent Tuesday night at the library getting a jump on homework that needed to be done over Thanksgiving weekend so it was one less thing to worry about while I was visiting mom.

  Wednesday afternoon I was about to walk out of school when I heard someone call my name and turned to see that it was the school secretary, Mrs. Donahue, who also happened to be Kate’s mom.

  “Oh, hey, Mrs. D,” I said.

  “Katherine tells me you’re going to see your mom for Thanksgiving,” she said.

  “Yeah, she’s going to drop me off at the bus station, actually,” I said.

  “How is your mom doing these days?”

  I wasn’t really in the mood to make small talk since I had a lot to do before I left New Jersey but Kate’s mom is one of those people that’s so nice you can’t help but be nice back (even if you’re repeatedly telling her to shut up in your head).

  “She’s doing pretty good. She’s working and has a small house up near my grandparents. She says she’s seeing someone, but I haven’t met him yet,” I said.

  “Well, your mother was always such a lovely woman. I’m sure he’s great.”

  Yeah, great like my dad, I speculated to myself.

  “Let’s hope so,” I said, finally. Before she had a chance to ask anything more I said, “Hey, I have a million things to do before I leave so I better run. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

  I made a mad dash toward the door before she had a chance to comment on what a shame it was that my parents are divorced and how I can still be okay even if I come from a broken home. No – seriously – she’s brought it up before. More than once.

  “Okay, hon. Say hi to your mom for me, okay?” I heard her say from behind me.

  “Will do,” I said, as I finally walked out the door.

  Kate was waiting outside for me, looking irritated.

  “What the hell took so long? She asked.

  “Oh, I got stuck talking to the school secretary. You know how she is. Blah blah blah blah. She just never shuts up,” I said, only half-joking.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Kate said, less jokingly. “Let’s go.”

  We went to the mall where I picked up a new shirt, two DVDs, and some magazines and a book. Those were all things I was planning bringing with me for my long weekend up in New York. Dad would find out later that he was generous enough to pay for all of it.

  Kate drove us back to my house and I quickly got everything together and she then brought me to the bus station to catch the 6:05 bus that would eventually bring me to Albany.

  “Thanks for driving me around today. I appreciate it” I said when she dropped me off at the bus station.

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “Have a good time and say hi to your mom for me.”

  “I will.” If anymore people asked me to say hi to my mom for them, I was going to have to start writing a list.

  “Hey, aren’t you going to need a ride when you come home?” She asked me with her head half out the car window.

  “I’m not sure which bus I’m coming back on so I don’t know yet. I’ll worry about it later,” I said.

  “Okay then. Bye.”

  “See ya,” I yelled back and then watched her drive away.

  It was one of the better bus rides I’ve had. I made sure my MP3 player was fully charged and that I had plenty of reading material. After our stop in New York City I was able to snag a window seat and stayed there for the remainder of the trip.

  Mom nearly smothered me to death when I got off the bus.

  “I’m sorry, but I never get to see my little boy! You’re really growing up, Travis. You look more like a man every time I see you.”

  She said this every time I saw her in person. Did she think one of these days I was going to show up only to discover I’d grown into a donkey?

  I forced a smile. “I know, mom, you always say that.”

  “I know I do. But it’s true.”

  The Thanksgiving dinner roster included a few relatives I hadn’t seen in years. There was mom and grandma and grandpa, two aunts, one uncle, three cousins, two of whom I hadn’t seen in about ten years. My cousin Jackie would come down to our area every once in a while, but I hadn’t seen Bobby or Ross since we were little kids. Ross, who was only two years older than me, turned out to be really good-looking and I decided I didn’t feel badly for thinking so because we’re only second cousins.

  Dinner and dessert were vast and filling. I spent a good part of the evening lounging on the couch as I was too stuffed and lazy to do much else. Mom’s boyfriend Robert showed up soon after and I immediately disliked him.

  Robert was definitely too young for mom and he had large arms with muscles that looked a little steroidy to me. His blond hair was so light I suspected a little peroxide may have been involved. He was a little taller than me and was not only wearing a shirt at least one size too small, but also one of those rubber bracelets that people wear to show their support for cancer awareness or other worthy causes. On closer inspection, his rubber bracelet simply said, “Got game?” He’d been a frat boy about ten years too long by my estimation. He was loud and obnoxious and had obviously been drinking long before he showed up at mom’s house. He was in no way an appropriate mate for my mother and I was extremely unnerved by his presence only to later find out he wasn’t leaving.

  “What do you mean he’s sort of living here? When the hell were you going to tell me this?” I asked, angrily.

  “Well, I was waiting for the right moment and I guess time just got away from me,” she said, knowing full well I wasn’t buying her excuse. “I asked him to stay at his apartment last night so I didn’t spring it on you all at once,” she explained, “but he’s in the process of moving in and has been staying here for the past few weeks.”

  “Wow,” was all I could manage to say.

  “You know I’ve been seeing him for a few months. It shouldn’t be a big deal,” mom said, as she dried the silverware and neatly placed it back into the fake red velvety case to lie dormant until the next holiday. Robert was passed out on the couch and the others had already gone.

  “Mother, I think not telling your son, who you knew would be staying with you, that you have a guy living here is a very big deal. And why him? I don’t get it.”

  “What does that mean? Is there something wrong with him? He likes you.”

  I sat at the table and looked at her back which was turned to me.

  “How could he like me? He only said about three words to me. And one of them was in the form of a belch.”

  “Well, he told me you seemed nice. He had dinner with his sister and her family and he had a little too much to drink, I’ll admit. He really is a good guy. Once you spend some time with him, you’ll see.”

  “I don’t want to spend time with him. I want to relax and visit my family,” I said.

  “Of course, and you will. But tomorrow is Black Friday and I’m expected to work so you’re going to have to hang out with Rob, at least for a few hours.”

  I definitely did not like the sound of that. Why did I have to spend time with this idiot? The last thing I expected was to be holed up in mom’s house with a complete stranger. I had yet to have an actual conversation with him and so far had no reason whatsoever to like him.

  “Can’t you just drop me off at grandma’s for the day?” I asked.

  “Travis, it’s not going to kill you to spend some time here. I’m not asking you to call him daddy. I just want you to give him a fair chance before you decide that you hate him.”

  I thought about this for a moment. The rational part of my brain said it wouldn’t hurt that much to get to know him a little bit. Plus, I didn’t want to spend the weekend arguing with my mom because I hardly ever saw her as it was.

  “Alright, mother, I’ll spend a little time with him. But if he starts acting like a jerk again, I’
m not gonna stick around the house.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, with a sigh. After another moment I kissed her goodnight and went to the guest bedroom.

  After finding steady work, mom decided to rent a small house on a big mountain. You could tell it was old, but it wasn’t falling apart. It definitely had more character than the modular home I’m used to back in Jersey. On the first floor there was a small kitchen, a dining room/living room, and bathroom. Upstairs there were two bedrooms, the larger one belonging to mom and apparently now Robert, and the other was currently my temporary living space.

  I took my shoes off and grabbed my cell phone to text Patrick and Kate and was promptly disappointed to be reminded that I had no service where I was.

  “Crap,” I said, turning my phone off.

  I stripped down to my boxers and crawled into the bed which was a really just a futon As I laid there, I brainstormed ideas of how I could spend the least amount of time possible with Robert. I would sleep in and then maybe watch some television or read. If I got really desperate I could walk the six miles to grandma’s house. This was one place where it truly sucked not having a car.

  This part of New York was just mountains and trees and maybe a farmhouse or two every mile. The roads were long and winding and very dark at night. The local grocery store was a fifteen minute drive into town, and the town consisted of one very un-fancy supermarket, a dive-bar, two gas stations, and a pet feed store. If you wanted anything along the lines of a Walmart or Target it would be an additional twenty minutes of driving. This, of course, certainly didn’t leave much to do within walking distance.

  I was having a difficult time shaking one thing mom had said to me about not asking me to call Robert daddy. The fact that she said it didn’t bother me, but it made me wonder if she already had actual plans to marry this guy. I don’t think I could take that. Even if they were to marry I would never, under any circumstance, call him daddy.

  The loud knocking on the door jarred me out of my sleep. I was momentarily in the crazy panic state that usually happens when a nap ends abruptly and you briefly don’t know where you are or what day or time it is. By the time I sat up and had my bearings, the door opened and in walked Robert wearing blue plaid boxers with an apron. On one hand was an oven mitt in the shape of a rabbit, complete with a gigantic tongue. It was the Miley Cyrus of rabbit oven mitts.

  “Hey, buddy! What can I fix you for breakfast?” Robert asked, literally shaking a frying pan at me.

  “Um – I don’t know. I usually don’t eat when I first wake up. What time is it, anyway?” I was expecting it to be 7:00 am or some other early time for which I could find fault in his waking me, but it was already 9:30. “Sorry,” I said. “There’s no clock in here.”

  “No problem, bro. So, what’s it gonna be? I have some fresh farm eggs I picked up down at the market. You like scrambled, fried, poached, soft-boiled, hard-boiled?”

  “Scrambled will be fine,” I said, interrupting the apparently infinite list of egg possibilities. Or so I thought.

  “Sunny-side up, over easy, or-”

  “Scrambled will be fine, Robert, okay?” I couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore. I knew he was trying to be nice (which I suspected mom probably had put him up to) but I just wanted him to go away and cook the eggs already.

  “I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed,” I said.

  “Okay, buddy. You want toast? We got rye bread, wheat bread, white bread…”

  I appeared in the kitchen ten minutes later, after having brushed my teeth and pulling on jeans and a tee shirt. Neatly arranged on the table were toast, orange juice, milk, cereal, and a fruit bowl. It looked like the breakfast they show in television commercials when they tell you their product is part of a complete breakfast. Up until this moment I had always wondered what kind of weirdo put together a breakfast like that.

  Robert was hovering over the old black stove and told me the eggs would be ready in a moment. I was looking around at mom’s old country furnishings – the blue curtains with white lacey trim, the rounded old style refrigerator with a giant shiny chrome handle, the wood table that since last night had its big leaf removed and was now perfectly circular.

  “Here you go. Hope they are okay. I made you three. Is that enough?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I said without looking at him. As much as I didn’t like him, I suddenly felt that I was being ruder than necessary so I added a “Thank you.”

  “I guess I wasn’t so friendly last night,” he said as he sat across from me. He seemed to have a touch of a southern accent. Maybe a little redneck-y. I wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry if I was being a horse’s ass. I drank a few beers.” I nodded my head as I chewed. “Your mom and I – we really like each other, you know? I’d like for us to be friends.” With a scowl on my face I couldn’t really hide my feelings about the whole situation but I still said nothing. “Okay,” he continued, “how about friendly. Can we at least be friendly?”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “I’m 31.”

  I thought for a moment. “You were, like, thirteen when I was born, you know.” I poured some orange juice into a glass and took a big gulp.

  “Well, that’s impossible, bro. I didn’t lose my you-know-what until I was sixteen.”

  I stared at him. Was he serious? Was he seriously serious? For a moment I considered explaining why his reply made no sense in relation to my observation. Then I thought, the hell with it.

  I guess he at least had the mental capacity to figure out that the conversation had gotten awkward and changed the subject.

  “Listen – your mom kinda wanted us to bond today. Can you at least give me a chance?” He suddenly looked tired.

  “Alright. If you can do me just one favor I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Okay. What?” he asked.

  “Could you please stop calling me bro?”

  He seemed baffled by this request and then asked, “Well, what do you want me to call you, then?”

  “How about Travis,” I suggested.

  “Okay. Travis it is.”

  We made small talk for the rest of breakfast and it was still a bit awkward, but tolerable since he stopped trying to be little Robby Sunshine. I offered to help him clean up the breakfast dishes and he refused so I went to read for a while and then took a shower and got dressed.

  I took a long walk in the afternoon to waste some time and brought my cell phone just in case I hit a spot where I had a signal. No such luck. I hated not being able to call or text anyone from my own phone because I didn’t want to have my conversations in the kitchen or living room where the landline phones were located. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, my mother’s phones actually had cords connecting them and the people who used them to the walls.

  I decided that maybe Robert wasn’t as bad as I originally thought. He still seemed a bit obnoxious and perhaps a little simple, but he’d been really nice to me. He’s “trying,” as mom would say. I wished there was some kind of balance between his drunken anti-social state and his bright-eyed and bushy-tailed chatter.

  When I returned to mom’s house, she still hadn’t come home from work and Robert didn’t appear to be around. I used the bathroom and then went up to my temporary bedroom and found that Robert had folded the bedding and pushed the futon back into its original upright position. Unfortunately, he was sitting on it and reading. I immediately realized that he was holding the book I bought at the mall and a hundred kinds of panic coursed through me when he looked up at me. This was bad.

  “Hey, Travis,” he said, slightly emphasizing my name. He put the book down.

  My eyes were wandering around the room and I had no idea what would happen next. I hadn’t gotten that far into the book myself, but there’s no way Robert could have read any part of it and not realized the story was about a gay character in gay situations. And why would I be reading a book with gay themes if I wasn’t gay? Even he couldn’t be that dense.


  “You know, the kid in this book is pretty weird.” He got up and left the room without saying another word and I avoided him the rest of the day as much as possible. I couldn’t be certain of in which way he thought the kid in the book was weird. Was it because he was an antisocial outcast? Was it because he occasionally found comfort in orally pleasing random men? I had no way of knowing.

  That night I persuaded my mom to bring me to grandma’s house. I think she had a feeling that I hated Robert even more than the day before, so I told her about how he cooked breakfast and that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. I omitted the part about him finding my book and probably making the connection that I was gay since I hadn’t even come out to her yet. I was praying to every deity I could think of that Robert would also keep his mouth shut about the situation. I wasn’t ready to be outed.