Chapter Forty-Eight

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Chapter Forty-Eight

APOV

I had come to believe that there were no words more powerful than I Love You.  Turns out there were three other words that were just as powerful: I Need You.  

I was at work when I got a text from Tyler saying just that.  

I left immediately, telling Anatoly that there was an emergency.  I was calling him before I even got out of the building.  

“Hey.”

“Are you ok?”  

“No, not really.”

“What happened?  Are you hurt?”

“No.  I’m at my mom’s.  Caroline’s traumatized—some bitchy little girls cut her hair at a party and I don’t know what to do for her really.  None of us do.”  

“They cut her hair?”

“Yeah.  Because they’re mean, spoiled little cunts.  And now they’re saying she did it to herself.  We really don’t know what to do.  My mom is freaking out.  My dad made, like, an obligatory stop and Caroline wouldn’t even talk to him.  Her hair looks like someone took a hacksaw to it.  I mean there’s going to be no way to fix it unless it’s all cut really short.”  

Shit.  Kids could be really fucking cruel.  And Caroline was different, so that marked her already.  “I’m on my way.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Ok?”

“Ok.”

I was about to hang up when I heard him call my name again.  “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”  

“Of course.”  

I took a cab because I figured that would be faster than any other way, and I needed to get to him as fast as possible.  I didn’t know what to expect really when I got there.  I’d seen Tyler in just about every mood that I could think of.  I wasn’t really sure what to classify this one as.  He was smoking on the stairs outside of his mom’s house when I pulled up.  He stood and dropped the cigarette, crushing it and paid for the cab.  He didn’t need to do that, but the mood didn’t look like one that I’d argue with at the moment.  

I touched his face as the cab pulled away, and he just started talking.  

“I feel completely helpless.”  His hair was a complete mess, and his fingers were permanently embedded there, tugging like that would help.  “I don’t know how to help her.  I hate that.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to do for her.  I can’t make this right.  I mean I could.  I could make it right and go chop all of their hair off, but I can’t do that.  She needs me and I don’t know what to do.”  

I grabbed his hands.  He was seriously losing it.  I pulled him into a hug, holding him to me.  He latched on to me tightly, if nothing else because it gave him something to do for a while.  Just to let me hold him together.  “You’re here.  That’s all she needs right now.  Believe me.  Sometimes there’s nothing you can do but you can just be there.  You’re awesome at that.  You’re always there for her.”  

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

Aww.  I sighed.  “You can’t fix it, Tyler.”  

“I need to fix it.”

“You can’t fix her.  She has to do that on her own.”  

“I can’t just do nothing!”

“What have you been doing?”

“I just sat with her for a long time.  I read to her for a while.  She fell asleep then.  She’s still sleeping now.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what she needed.  You know, Tyler.  You always know what I need.  I can’t imagine it’s any different with her.  You’re doing everything you can.”  

“I think I should be doing more.”  

I eased back, touching his face again.  “Do you want me to try to talk to her?  When she’s awake?”

He shrugged, wiping his hands over his face while sighing.  “I don’t know what to do anymore.”  

“Well I can try if you want.”  

“Yeah, sure.  Might as well.”  

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s been on the phone a lot.  I think with the parents of the girl that had the party.  All of the others girls have basically just lied and said she did it to herself.  No one is telling the truth.  And it’s all of their words against Caroline’s.  I can’t even imagine when she goes back to school.”  

He was doing the hair tugging shit again.  I grabbed his hand.  “Let’s go in.”  

~ooOoo~

Tyler wasn’t much better when we got inside.  He seemed jumpy and nervous and his mother was in the kitchen trying not to fall apart.  She didn’t look much more successful at not falling apart than he looked not jumpy and nervous.  I met Caroline’s stepfather in a sort of passing way.  He smiled and shook my hand, told me that it was nice to meet me, and he had kind eyes; he looked like a decent guy.  He was on his way to check on Caroline, a tray with tea or something on it.  

It was sort of awkward in the kitchen.  Tyler was distracted and basically pacing, biting his fingernails.  Diane sort of had this lost, far-away look, like she was checking out.  It was not exactly ideal for, like, the second time we ever met.  I wasn’t really sure what to do.  I was here for Tyler.  I came because I knew he needed me.  And I mean, I could just stand there, and watch their whole family fall apart, or I could try to do something about it.  While I was trying to figure out what that something was, he made the most frustrated noise ever, and slammed his hand down on the counter.  

“I have to do something.”  

“Like what?” I asked.  

“I dunno.  I just have to be doing something.  I can’t just stand here.”

“There’s really nothing else you can do right now.”

“Well that’s bullshit.  I’m gonna go for a while.  To the store or something.  I’ll get stuff for when she wakes up.”  

I was sort of terrified to be left all alone with his mother.  What the fuck would we talk about?  It was bad enough meeting her last time.  It wasn’t exactly a day we could bond and shit.  But Tyler was literally vibrating with the need to just be busy.  So he needed to go.  And I could stay here and try to just help out or whatever.  

I gave him a small smile.  “Just make sure you’re not thinking with your fist.”

“I won’t,” he said, chuckling.  “Going to the store is not code for kicking little girl ass.”  

I nodded.  He kissed me quickly, and was out the door.  

And then, it was just me and his mom.  She didn’t really even seem to notice he left.  

So… What exactly did you do with a family that’s kinda broken?  Like so many other times, I didn’t have any experience in this area.   I could have just sat there with her while she checked out.  Or I could have bailed and sat on the stairs until Tyler came back.  I could have checked on Caroline, but I think Les was taking that route at the moment.  

So I kinda started to cook.  I was in a kitchen.  I was good around kitchens.  And it didn’t seem like Diane was going to notice that either for the moment.  She didn’t seem like she’d care if I rooted around a few cupboards.  

I started opening and shutting cabinets quietly until I found a skillet and then dug out the makings of a stovetop casserole.  It was easy and fast and reheated well.  Maybe it was all for nothing because upset people didn’t always like to eat, but it was something I could do for them, and they could eat the leftovers even if they didn’t want to eat it now.  It made me less nervous to be doing something, too, even if it was sort of odd for me to be using her kitchen without asking and shit.  Maybe I needed to do something as much as Tyler did.  

I think I was somewhere around throwing frozen vegetables in when she sort of came out of her check-out.  

“Are you cooking?” she asked quietly.

I nodded and smiled over my shoulder before shrugging.  “Seemed like something I could do.”  

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t sure anyone would want to eat right now, but I figured you could eat it later and not have to make a meal or something.  I dunno.  Tyler always seems to be hungry so food never goes to waste around him.”

“Really?”

I nodded again, stirring.  “Yeah.”  I thought a second about that and then turned to look at her.  “Hasn’t he always been a big eater?”

“Tyler?”  She chuckled.  “No, not really.  He was always really skinny growing up.  I think his teachers used to think I didn’t feed him.”  

It was my turn.  “Really?”  I shook my head.  “I can’t even imagine that.  Usually with me he eats like a fucking fat kid that can’t get enough cake.”  

She laughed.  Loudly.  And then stifled her giggles with her hand.

I realized immediately what I just said.  To his mother.  Fucking hell, why don’t I just talk about our sex life, too?  On meeting two.  “I’m so sorry,” I said quickly.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  Or swore.  I don’t really… There’s no filter sometimes.  And I really shouldn’t have said that about fat kids.  I love kids.  All kids.”  Oh my God, shut the fuck up!  You like fat kids?!

She waved me off, laughing harder.  “No, I think I really needed that.  It’s fine.”  

I nodded, turning back to the casserole.  I should have really just focused on that.  And kept my mouth shut.  

“What kind of food does Tyler like?”

That was kind of an odd question.  Like he never ate with her?  “Um, he doesn’t really care honestly, I don’t think.  He likes all kinds of food.  He really likes this chicken I make.  And he really seems to like bacon, I dunno why.  I think that’s a guy thing.  He likes anything that’s home-cooked basically.  I think since he’s been in school he ate a lot of take out and fast meals, so he seems to really like it if I actually cook something.  What kind of food did he like growing up?”

“Well I can tell you he hated scallops and wild rice.”

“What?”

She chuckled again.  “I was never really that great of a cook.  I worked and I didn’t really feel like making big meals, so they wound up eating a lot faster ones, or sandwiches, things like that.  I made scallops and wild rice really well.  That was my specialty.  But I don’t think any of the kids really liked it, and since it was one of the only things I was good at, they got tired of it very quickly.”  

Scallops?  Not something most families have a lot.  An interesting choice.  I didn’t really know what to say, but she didn’t really seem to need my input on that one.  

“He did like when I made burgers.”

“He actually told me that.”

“He did?”  She seemed surprised.  

“Yeah, he said you used to toast the bun.”

“I did, yes.”  She smiled.  “It’s nice he has at least one good memory of my cooking.  Even if it was few and far between.”  

“I’m sure he has lots of good memories.”

“Probably not with food.”  She propped her head on her hands.  “I’m glad you’re a better chef than I am.”  

“Pffft.  It’s really not that hard.  I just got a recipe book and went from there.  Anybody can really make anything if they have directions.”  

“I did not get that gift.  That smells wonderful.”  

I shrugged.  “It’s fast and easy.”  

I think she was studying me while I stirred the casserole.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but still kind of nerve-racking.  I wasn’t sure what she thought of me and my kitchen take-over.  I was sort of combing through ideas of what to talk with her about when she just started talking again.  

“Tyler seems very happy with you.”

“I think he is, yeah.  He makes me happy.”  

“I want you to know that he’s never called anyone before.  A girl, I mean.  He’s never brought a girl when we’re having a family crisis.”  

Was that good?  I didn’t know how to take that exactly.  

“He obviously thinks very highly of you.  You should know that.”  

Well I kinda already knew that, but it was really awesome to hear from his mom.  I turned, taking the skillet off of the burner.  “Thank you.  That’s really nice to hear.”  

“What do you think of my son and his crazy, crisis-filled family?”

Well that was a loaded question.  What was funny was that it kind of sounded like some of Tyler’s: a lot packed in, but no judgment there.  See seemed genuinely curious.  So I answered honestly because that’s all he ever asked for.  “I think I’ve seen a lot worse.  And I don’t think you’re crisis-filled.  I think you’re pretty normal.”

She didn’t really respond to my assessment.  “Are you from New York?”

“Florida originally,” I said shaking my head.  

“How did you happen to come to New York?”

“A friend was moving.  We were…well, we weren’t really roommates, but she was moving here and sort of just took me along with her.”  I think this was the start of questions, the Q&A section like Doug had done to Tyler, but she was so conversational it didn’t really seem that way.  

“And you work in a club?”

Oh, that was smooth.  That must have been a Caroline original.  I had all to do not to laugh.  “I bartend, yeah.”  I took a deep breath.  “I used to strip there, though.”  

She didn’t seem at all fazed.  “That’s not an easy job.”

I smirked.  “It definitely had downsides.”  

“Did you meet Tyler there?”  

I burst out laughing.  “No.”  

She laughed with me.  “Hey, I had boys first.  Strip clubs are boy things.  I wouldn’t put it past him.”  

“No, we actually met in a bar.  He was kind of annoying.”

“Now that sounds more like my son.”

I smiled.  “There was something different about him.  Different from other guys I knew.  I suppose that’s why I went out with him.  Even if he was annoying, he was…I don’t know what the word is…”

“Intriguing?”

I nodded, smiling more to myself than to her.  “Yeah.  He was weird.  But in a good way.”

I think she was smiling because I was smiling.  I was getting the sense that she didn’t feel like she knew a lot about her son anymore.  “Weird how?”

Another loaded question.  “He was kinda cocky, but that’s not who he is.  I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with guys,” I settled on.  “I knew instantly there was something different about Tyler.  And he worked really hard to prove me right.”  

I realized the casserole was still sitting there on the cool burner.  “Did you want some?  Or do you want me to put it away for later.  I hope it was ok I sort of just took over your kitchen.”

“It’s nice someone did.  Les does some cooking now and then, but it doesn’t get as much use as it should.”  

“It’s a really nice kitchen.”

“You’re free to come over and use it any time.  It’ll only be a benefit to us.  And I’d love to try some.”  

So I kind of served Tyler’s mother in her own kitchen.  And it didn’t seem that weird.  

“I think we were supposed to have you over for dinner and I would have catered in, not that you’d be making the first meal we have together.”

“It’s cool.  I don’t need anything catered in.”  I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the offer or gesture or thought of that or whatever.  I think I sucked at mom-talk.  “I mean thank you though, for the thought.  But I think I like this better.”  

“Me, too,” she said.  “Despite the circumstances.  I wish it would be on a better day.”  

“How is she doing?”  

“She hasn’t really talked about it.  Tyler was with her the most.  I think it’s easier for her to be with him than it is to be with me.  I cry and she cries and then it’s just a lot of crying.  He can just hold her if she wants to cry.  It’s different.  And she feels safe with him.”  

I nodded.  “She’ll be all right.”  I suppose that was a really stupid thing to say to a mother that was a social worker.  Of course she’d be ok.  I’m sure she already knew that.  

“Thank you.”  She put her hand on top of mine, and just like her son, I think it meant more than what she was just saying with those two words.  

“Of course.”  

Diane had just finished her plate and was rinsing it off when Tyler sort of tiptoed through the door.  It was completely pointless because he was juggling, like, the entire contents of the store, but he was trying to be quiet I think.  

“Did you rob the store?”  I asked when he started piling the bags onto the counter where I was sitting.  

“What?  No.  Of course not.”

I peeked inside the bag closest to me.  “Does Caroline like Ding Dongs?  ‘Cause I dunno, I guess it just could be me, but she doesn’t look like a big Ding Dong eater to me.”

His face lightened immediately.  “I’m going to be a stress eater.  The Ding Dongs are for me.  And the Pringles.  And maybe the second pint of ice cream.  I just grabbed a bunch of shit.  It’s comfort food.  For everyone.”  

“There’s casserole on the stove.”  I nodded in that direction.  

He blinked at me.  “You made casserole?”

I nodded.  “It’s on the stove.  Probably still pretty warm.”

He looked between the stove and me and his mother and me and the stove again.  “You made casserole at my mom’s house?”

“Yeah.  I needed something to do.  And I don’t have a junk food craving or the need to buy 12 packages of Ding Dongs.”  

He kissed me impulsively.  Right in front of his mother.  And then hugged me like he was going to squish the life out of me, basically picking me up right off the stool.  “I love you.”  Right in front of his mother.

“I love you, too.”  Also right in front of his mother.

He set me down and moved over by the stove, grabbed a plate and then came back to sit next to me.  The bags seemed forgotten.  I ran my hand down the back of his head and left it resting over the nape of his neck as he started to eat.  “This is really good.”  

Comfort food.  He could have saved himself the trip and about sixty bucks by the looks of the huge pile of crap he bought.  “I’m glad you like it.”  

He grunted through the next bite.  “I always like it.”  

I sort of forgot Diane was standing right there by the sink.  Tyler didn’t seem to care she was there watching all of it.  When I chanced a glance over at her, kind of sheepishly, she was just smiling at us.  I liked that we seemed to put the smile there.  It was way better than her checked-out look.  

He looked up, too.  “Is she still sleeping?”  

His mom nodded.  “Les is sitting with her.  He said he’d come out if she woke up.”  

He nodded and went back to eating.  He sighed after he finished the plate.  “I hate this.”  

There wasn’t really anything else we could say to that.  So we all sort of sat there in silence for a while before Les appeared.  “She’s awake.”  

“She talking?” Tyler asked.

“Not really.  I asked her if she wanted some tea and she turned it down.”  

“I’ll go,” he said quietly, starting to get up.  

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back.  “Let me?”

He watched me for a second, and I glanced at his mom, too.  I think they were both out of ideas.  “Yeah, ok.”  He sat down again.  “It’s the first door on the left there.  Call if you need something.”  

I thought about taking some of the junk food with me, but decided against it.  I’d start simple.  I knocked softly on her door and pushed it open and the entire room was very…Caroline.  The walls were purple and there were drawings everywhere; a large painted picture that she’d done hung on one wall.  

“Hey,” I said quietly.  

She was facing away from me, all curled into herself on the bed, but she turned at my voice.  I think she was surprised it was me and not someone else.  

“Hi.”  

It seemed really stupid to ask how she was, so I didn’t.  I just picked a chair over by her desk and plopped myself in it.  She wasn’t looking at me at all, just staring off into space.  She looked a lot like her mom when she did that.  

“Tyler bought, like, an entire convenience store’s worth of junk food if you want some of it.”  I decided on.  

“No, thanks.”  Junk food fail.  

“I made casserole, too,” I tried instead.  

“What kind of casserole?”  Food interest was good.  

“Just a stovetop one.  Hamburger, can of soup, few veggies.”  

“Maybe later.”  Maybe was better than ‘No, thanks.’  

“Ok.”  

She looked really small on the bed.  And her hair did look awful.  There was no way around it; it was going to have to be cut.  And really short.  I was sort an authority on depression and fucked up situations.  I should be a wiz at this.  Should I share horror stories so she could see how it didn’t ruin your whole life?  Should I tell her how things would get better?  And that later in life she’d have an awesome boyfriend like her brother and all of them would be fat cunts with bad dye jobs and fake boobs?  I wasn’t sure that was productive.  Sitting here with her saying absolutely nothing really didn’t seem to be a great option.  I tried to think of what I wanted to do when I was depressed, or what I tried to do to get myself out of it.  Positive things.  Not things like my bad example of trying to drug it out into oblivion.  What did Caroline like that would distract her?  

I sighed quietly, and grabbed a drawing pad that she had on her desk.  I grabbed one of her pencils, which was obviously an artsy one, not like a plain-old No. 2, and drew a house.  The kind that was basically a square with a triangle on top, a chimney, some piss-poor trees around the property and a really fucking happy sun above all of it.  

I turned it toward her.  “What do you think?”

Her eyes had been darting to me when I started, which was my first clue I was onto something.  She took a long look at my drawing and then her eyes jumped up to mine.  “Um…it’s very…nice.”

“So that means it’s just shit, huh?”  I smirked.

“No, not at all.”  She shrugged.  “It’s just a little…basic.”  

“Next to yours, it’s shit.”  I pointed to all the drawings on her wall.  

She sighed like this was something she’d said to people before.  “No, you’re just a beginner.  It’s not shit.”  

I was surprised she swore, but any emotion was good.  It was better if she just let shit out instead of bottled it up.  She seemed like a bottler.

She used her patient voice next.  “Art is about expression.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like, your art is the way you communicate ideas and your emotions.”

“So communicate something to me.”  I held the pad out.  

“Like what?”

“How about what you’re feeling today?”

“I don’t really want to.”

Too hard of a push too fast.  I shrugged.  “Ok.  I’ll just keep sketching myself then.”  

I was not a good sketcher/draw-er person.  And I made sure I wasn’t really trying to be, either.  I drew some stick figures and I’m pretty sure Caroline actually flinched.  Her mouth and her nose kept moving in this stooooop kind of way, and I knew she’d cave eventually.

“Do you…do you want me to tell you how to sketch?”

“Sure.  I don’t have much… What’s the word?  My people are flat.”

“No dimension,” she offered, kind of distractedly.  

“Right.  Mine are sticks.”

“Yeah.”

She moved over by me.  “Sketching is sort of like a rough description of something.  It doesn’t have to have detail.  You start by picking something that looks interesting to you.  Once you have that, you work out the rough shapes and sizes that you can see.  Then you work in from that always using value shapes.  Sometimes just a line can be better than trying to make huge details.  That comes later.  So, like, if you can’t see an edge in something you’re sketching, you don’t draw it.  You can overlap stuff to make dimensions.  When you first start, I wouldn’t worry too much about proportions or if things are lining up.  Just draw what you see.  And when you start, skip stuff like faces and feet—and if you want to try that, use Tyler because he’ll be easier than strangers that move around.  Sketching isn’t about portraits really.  That’s a much higher level of drawing.  So just start with the rougher stuff and work your way there.”  

Well…I obviously picked the right topic to get her to talk.  “So how do I express something if it’s just random and I pick it from wherever?”  

“It’s still what was interesting to you, and how you sketch it is what you’re communicating.  It’s sort of hard to explain until you see what someone’s drawn.”  

I pointed to her wall at one of her drawings of Tyler.  “What does that one say?”

She studied it a second.  “He was sad that day.  I guess I was, too.  Or I was just documenting our shared emotion.  Sometimes art is about what you’re seeing of the world, too.  It doesn’t just have to be what you’re feeling.  But it’s weird sometimes how what you feel comes out in what you draw anyway.”  

“So what does my house and piss-poor trees say?”

“That you weren’t really thinking about what you were drawing.”  

“Or I have no art basis whatsoever?”

“No, you just weren’t putting anything into it.  It’s more of a doodle.  Does that make sense?”

“You mean my stick figures aren’t a work of art?”

“The can be.  Anything can be.”  

“Will you draw with me?”

She considered that for a minute.  “Yeah, ok.”  Score.  

She sat down and I looked around her room for something to draw that would be an expression.  I wasn’t entirely sure I really knew what the hell she meant, but I could find something interesting.  She had this birdcage in her room.  Inside of it was a weird looking pink and purple monster.  I decided to try to sketch that.  I tried really hard.  And I mean, it wasn’t horrible, I don’t think.  It just didn’t really look like a birdcage with a pink and purple monster in it.  

In the time it’d taken me to sketch that, she’d drawn an entire picture of me.  Me sketching.  

“Wow,” I said.

She shrugged.  “I’ve been doing it a long time,” she said quietly.  

“My birdcage sucks.”

“It does not.  You’re just trying to do too much detail still.  It’s hard to sort of work backwards.”  

“It looks like a blob.”  

“It has some definition around here.  Maybe the stuffed animal should have been left out.”

“Yeah that kinda ruined the middle part here.”

“It’s great for a first sketch.”  

“What’s with the monster in the birdcage?  Is that an expression?”  

She just looked at me for a second.  “Maybe.”  

“Kids can be real assholes.  I’d like to tell you it gets better, but there will always be assholes.  They just get bigger.  I’ve never stopped being myself though.  Or if I had thoughts of it, it was time for me to do something else.  It doesn’t matter what other people think of that.  They can fuck off.  You’re amazing just like this.  This is amazing what you do.  Don’t let anybody tell you different.  And I think you go to a school with basically the entire population of cunt little girls.  Eventually you’ll meet people that aren’t like that and they won’t matter.  Don’t let them win.”  

“What’s a cunt?”

“It’s a really bad word that I’m sure your mother never wants to hear you say.  I guess in the most basic way it’s a term for women’s…” I struggled for the right word.  Probably wasn’t something I should have said anyway, but it was the only thing appropriate for the situation.  

“Genitals?”

“Sure,” I said nodding.  Good save, Caroline.  I don’t think I could have been that scientific.  “For some reason people find it really offensive, but I dunno, I just like the word.  Still, I’m sure your mom wouldn’t think it’s cool to use it.  But the girls that did this to you—that’s the best term for them.  I’m sorry they did it.”  

“Me, too.”  

“It doesn’t matter what they say.  We all know the truth.  That’s all that matters.”  

“School is really going to suck.”  

“Yeah, it might for a while.  But if you just go back like you’re proud of yourself and try not to let it bother you, they’ll stop.  It’s no fun if you’re not biting.”  

“How’re my two favorite girls doing?”  Tyler was standing in the doorway.  He gave me this look that I knew meant he was really asking how things were going in here.  

I smiled softly.  “We’re doing ok.  Caroline was showing me how to sketch.”

“Can I come in?”  He was really good at this with her.  Not wanting to intrude if she just wanted to hang out with me.  

“Yeah,” she said, sort of not paying attention to him.  She was still darkening lines on the picture of me she drew.  

“Did Allison tell you about the massive amount of junk food I bought?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want some?  I got Twinkies.  And ice cream.  And a bunch of other stuff.”  

“Not right now.  Thanks.”

He was sort of defeated that it didn’t work.  I shrugged at him, letting him know that she was still ok even if she didn’t want to eat the convenience store he brought home.  “What are you sketching?”

I held up my paper.  “I drew that.” I pointed to the birdcage.  “And Caroline already said it didn’t suck, so be nice.”  

He smirked.  “It totally doesn’t suck.  It’s great.  Good job.”  He looked over Caroline’s shoulder to see her sketch.  “Wow.  That’s amazing.  Are you gonna hang that one up?”

“Probably.”  

“You should.  It’s really great.  Hang it next to one of me.  Then we’ll be together on the wall.”

I snickered.  “You are such a fucking dork.”

He raised a brow at me.  

I waved him off.  “Caroline and I have made peace with my lack of swear filter.  She’s cool with it.”  

“The girls that cut my hair are total cunts,” she announced.  

I think Tyler nearly choked.  And almost fell over.  “What?!”

“They’re cunts.”

He shot a look at me.  “Do not let mom hear you say that.”  

“It’s true,” she said just as matter of fact.  

“I know it’s true, but still.  Mom will shit a brick.”  After the initial shock was over, he kept smirking at me.  “I think you’re a bad influence.”  

I shrugged.  “I only speak the truth.”  

It was quite possibly the happiest he’d been all night, other than the brief lightness he had when he was eating.  Caroline was at least talking; that was a plus.  Score one for the girl with the broken swear filter.  

We sketched for a while longer, Caroline giving me pointers while Tyler started in on the massive amount of junk food while reclining on her bed.  Eventually he offered to read to her again, and she jumped at the chance to snuggle with him on the bed.  They both looked over at me when they were settled.  “Well?” he asked.  

“What?”

“Are you reading with us?” Caroline asked.

This night was full of surprises.  Which is how I wound up on the other side of Caroline, her tiny body smooshed between the two of us while we tested the limits of one twin bed’s capacity.  Caroline obviously felt the same way about Tyler’s reading voice as I did.  It was incredibly calming and she fell asleep pretty quickly.  I admit I had to fight not to do the same.  

“Cunts, huh?” he said quietly over her.  

“Well!”

“You’re amazing.  You know that right?”

“All it takes sometimes is a little bit of swearing.  Helps with the anger.”  

“It was a brilliant idea.  And I wouldn’t have thought of it because I was too busy freaking out.”  

“I’m good in a crisis.  I can cook and shit.”  

“You’re amazing.”  

I shrugged.  

“So I basically freaked out, spent a fortune in junk food that I’m now eating and getting fat, and you buttoned this shit up in a half hour.  I fail at brotherhood.”  

“You do not fail at brotherhood.”  

“So you’re saying I’m fat?”

I snorted, trying not to wake Caroline.  “Just more of you to love?” I teased.  

“I was thinking maybe we’d stay here tonight.  What do you think about that?”

“In your mom’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“Where would we be staying?”  

“My room.  My old room.”  

“Your mom is ok with that?”

“Yeah, I kinda already talked to her about it.”  

“Oh.”  

“We don’t have to.  If it makes you uncomfortable we can go home.  I just thought ‘cause it was late and I dunno, I just kinda wanted to be closer tonight.”

“No, right, of course.  We can stay here.”  

“It won’t weird you out?”

“No, it’s cool.  It’ll be cool to see your room.”  

He chuckled.  “Oh, I see.  This is now a ploy to check out my stuff.  See what kind of weird shit I was into as a kid.”

“Pffft, of course.”  

~ooOoo~

We left Caroline all tucked in, and I was kind of excited to see his room.  I wondered if he was this excited when he first got into my room.  

The walls were blue—not a cold, light blue but a warmer, earthy kind of blue.  It fit him.  The floor was hardwood with a huge, fluffy rug covering a lot of the room.  The room, by kid-bedroom standards, was huge in my opinion, but that made sense because the house was huge and they were obviously very well off.  There were the normal things most bedrooms had: a desk, dresser, bookshelf that looked like it’d been raided when he moved out.  It sort of left a jumbled-looking mess on the shelves—books he hadn’t taken, CD Walkman and CDs with other random shit sort of stuffed in.  The radiator was painted black, which fit more with the colors—Caroline’s was white which wouldn’t have gone as well in here.  Things that weren’t in a normal kid-bedroom: large flat-screen TV, futon (because the fucking room was big enough), elaborate gaming system, killer stereo system that he obviously must have thought would have been ripped off at his place now.  

Other stuff made me smile, like the beat-up looking footlocker at the end of his bed, an old skateboard, a poster of The Departed, band stickers at odd angles next to the poster on the wall, an album cover layered on top of it all with Silent Shout peeking out, a small collage of pictures, mostly of Michael and Caroline and him.  Random shit still littered the floor like Diane hadn’t changed anything since he left or she wanted it to be the same if he stayed a night or something.  Magazines, papers, guitar strings, a baseball mitt and ball, a bat leaning against the wall.  

A tiny globe-like thing caught my eye on the dresser and I turned toward him with it.  

“It’s the Death Star.”  

“The what?”

He sighed.  “You still have so much to learn, young Padawan.”  

“Pada-what?”

“Use the force, you will,” he said in the most idiotic and strange voice ever.  

My blank stare came before the raised eyebrows.  

He sighed again, more heavily.  “I can’t believe you have no knowledge of Star Wars.  It’s obviously moved up on the list of things you need to see.”  

“If you say so, honey.”  

I looked over the other stuff on his dresser.  A really nice watch, guitar picks littered the top, and in the corner, a really ragged teddy bear.  I pointed to it.  “Is this Star Wars related?”

“No, that’s Woobie.”  

I snickered.  “Did you speak another language as a child?”

He scoffed.  “Woobie was my first stuffed animal.”  

“There were others?” I said smirking.

“Shut up!  This is a really important childhood memory I’m trying to share with you.”  

“Sorry,” I said quickly, leaning into him.  

“My grandma gave me Woobie when I was born, and I took him everywhere.”  

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, until I was like…I dunno, seven or something.”

“Seven?!”

“Boys can like stuffed animals!”

“You’re cute.”  

“Don’t listen to her Woobie.  She doesn’t understand the bond between a boy and his bear.”

“You’re kinda scaring me.”  

“Oh, shut up.”  

“What’s this?”  I pointed to a trophy on a shelf on the wall.  “What the fuck is falconry?”

“It’s a sport.  I was into it when I was younger.”

“What kind of sport?”

“You basically train a falcon to hunt smaller game and bring it back to you.”

“Ew!”

He laughed.  “I suppose that’s why I didn’t stick with it.  I didn’t really have the stomach for it.  But the birds were incredibly beautiful.  Amazing little creatures.  Very smart.”

“So you won something for it?”

“Yeah, I dabbled as a kid.”

I ran my hand over a few other things on the shelf.  “So where’s your stash?”

“My stash?”

“Yeah, where is it?”

“Are we talking, like, my weed stash or some other kinda stash?”

I shook my head at him.  “Your porn stash, honey.  Every boy has one.”  

“Ohhh.”  He pointed to the nightstand.  “I’m not saying it’s there, but you might want to check behind the storage container there.  Not that I know for sure or anything, but if a teenager in this room was going to hide something of that nature, he might do it there.”  

I started rifling for it immediately.  I’m not sure what even prompted me to ask.  I suppose I was curious about the teenage Tyler and what he was into, and if he was still into the same shit.  

He only had a few magazines, the rest were all discs that looked home-burned.  I held them up.  

“Peer-to-peer sharing websites saved my life.”  

I burst out laughing.  “How is that exactly?”

“Well you can find anything on peer-to-peer sites.  Anything a young boy might be curious about.”  

“And what was this boy curious about?”

“Everything.”  

“Elaborate.”  

“I was curious about everything.  I’m sure there’s at least one of every type of porn on those discs.”  

“What was your favorite?”

“Well, I liked sex.”  He laughed.

“Yes,” I said, drawing out the whole word.  “But what kind?”

He took a deep breath and let it out.  “Well, I had a thing for spanking for a while.  That was a solid few months.  Face-sitting interested me…”

“You certainly watched enough to get reaaaally good at it.”

He laughed.  “I took good notes.”  

“What else?”

“I dunno, I mean sometimes I liked rough sex, sometimes I watched anal.  Cumshots are always a safe bet.  Those can always get you off.  Blowjobs were kinda the same thing.  Creampies…”

“Creampies, huh?”

“Well, yeah.  How is that not the most amazing thing ever?”

“So this is a thing from way back, huh?”

“Of course.”

“Tyler?”

“What?”

“Is this a kink?”

He thought a second.  “Well, yeah.”

I snorted at how matter-of-fact he just decided it was.  

“I mean, how could it not be?  With you it’s like it’s not even a kink, it’s like a necessity.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how that statement could be romantic from anyone else, but I found it so.  I leaned over and kissed him.  “Show me.  Pick some of them for us to watch.”

“Seriously?”  

“Yes, seriously.”  

He was grinning at me, trying to figure out if I was really serious about it.  I nodded again.  “C’mon already.”  

He moved over to the DVD player and started loading a disc immediately.  I had to say, watching porn on his flat screen was gonna be pretty sweet.  The second it was in, he basically ran to the door and locked it.  I had to chuckle at him.

“Well!  I mean, I can’t just let my mom walk in when we’re watching porn.  And we’re gonna have to mute it.”

“Mute it?  Sometimes the sounds are the best part; we’re obviously going to just have to turn it way down.  There can be no muting.”

He considered that a second.  “Yeah, ok.”  

I laughed some more and sort of launched myself into his bed.  He had nice shit in here.  Why did he not take this nice shit with him?  I rolled over, looking up at him.  “How come you took some of your stuff but not this awesomely comfortable bed and that sweet flat screen?”

He sat down on the bed next to where my head was laying and shrugged.  “I dunno.  I guess I wanted to sort of break away from it.”

“It’s nice shit, Tyler.”

“I know it is.  It’s also not technically mine.  I mean, I didn’t pay for any of it.”

“But I’m sure your mom wouldn’t have told you that you couldn’t take it.”

“No, I’m sure she’d tell me to take it.  I dunno.  Pride maybe?  Rebellion?  Who the fuck knows.”

Decent enough explanation.  And it made sense, especially if at the time he had any association with his father buying it.  Which in a way was kinda funny because his dad still paid for all sorts of shit…

“Why are we not naked?” I asked, and looked over at the screen.  “And where’s the porn?”

“You’re pretty demanding.”

“Thought I was amazing.”

“Think you can be both.”

“Then fucking get undressed and start the porn.”

Which is how we wound up lying in Tyler’s teenage bed, naked with him scrolling through porn videos to find ones to watch.  

“Sometimes the longer ones suck.”

I laughed.  “Is that right?”

“Well, I mean, sometimes you just wanna watch people get off.  There doesn’t need to be a whole 15 minutes of pretense and build up.  And the ones that have stories are just usually the most random and annoyingly boring things anyway.”  

“You seem to be very thoughtful about your porn.”

“The Philosophy of Porn, by Tyler Hawkins.”  He paused.  “But seriously, the lame stories just make it unappealing.”

“So you’re telling me you’re only into hardcore porn?”

He shrugged.  “I guess.  If that’s what it means when stories are eliminated, sure.”  

I pressed a kiss to his chest.  “I’m just messin’ with ya.  Hardcore is better than long, drawn out stories.  I totally agree.”  

“Just another reason to love you.”  

“Are you gonna just keep scrolling through shit or are you gonna pick something?”

“Well I’m looking for appropriate ones.”

“Just fucking pick something.  You’re naked and I’m getting horny.”  

“Noted.”  He pressed play and our world was basically carried away with the low sounds of fake sex.  The soft glow from the TV lit up the darkness in the room enough that I could still see him perfectly clearly.    

I don’t honestly know if he was actually picking things that he remembered at all or if he was just plucking random things and seeing what happened.  The first few were sort of…mechanical was the only word I could think of.  A vast majority of porn was just really bad, and while these weren’t horrible, they weren’t really much of a turn-on, either.  I was about to tease him when he picked a decent one, and maybe it was more to do with the people in them than it was the actual stuff happening on screen.  Porn stars that tried to oversell or talked way too fucking much were never appealing, but the ones that kind of just let the act speak for itself, and no one dubbed cheesy, “sexy” music over it were the ones that were interesting.  

I don’t remember which one of us even started it.  It was probably a joint effort.  If I could notice his breathing change, he certainly could tell mine had, too.  And touching him became almost—like I was preoccupied with what was happening on the screen, but I could feel him, sense him— like knowing he was there more than seeing him, touching him but still watching the screen, not absently, but strangely more noticeably, more focused—if doing it while distracted could even be described that way.  But it almost felt like everything else in the room was completely outside of me besides him, or it made the sensitivity that much higher.  

And it also struck me how just like with sex, porn before had been something that just was.  There was nothing attached to it.  Some of it got me off because people were getting off on screen, but it was purely physical.  With Tyler naked next to me, the entire energy was different because we were doing it together, and because I knew we were sharing something, it was on a completely different level.  It wasn't just about getting off, or the physical side of it.  It was about experiencing it with him.  It was about touching him when there was a sound I could tell turned him on.  It was about licking his jaw and forgetting the people were even on the screen. 

I don’t even know how long we were messing around with the porn on like background noise.  Long enough that I kept him on edge and kept backing off, and because he was a sharing kind of guy, he did the same to me, getting me just thisclose and then making me start all over.  When we stopped, a new one had already started, and it was kinda cheesy, kinda artsy, but it was more “real” than others in the grand scope.  Sometimes you can just tell one’s going to be hotter, or more intense.  Even if it included some stupid massage dude rubbing her down to start, it was on the fast track to goodness soon enough.  We basically covered massages ourselves in a manner of speaking, so I was interested to see where it would go next.  It held my interest enough that I was just lazily touching him, waiting for them to really start something more than foreplay.  Maybe it was that I knew we were basically past foreplay and just waiting to start something ourselves, too.  

It was pretty standard with some oral before they started fucking.  He was standing to fuck her; she was on the stupid massage table, but it was decent, not overkill.  But if they were just going to continue this, it was gonna get boring.  So I was gonna start messing with Tyler again when the scene changed and they cut away to a different position.  It was an abrupt transition, but it didn’t matter—the chick was on her stomach and the guy was over her, her legs straight between his while his were bent to get leverage.  We’d done this before, but it just looked incredibly sexy and intimate on the screen; he could touch her tits, she was holding onto his hair and his neck, his forehead was resting against the back of her head, she turned to kiss him, he linked their hands together while he kept pushing in her and—“Fuck me like that.”  It was the first time either of us had said anything since we started watching, and the first time I actually turned to look at him.  

He met my eyes, the look there like he was just as ready as I was, but that was pretty much it; nothing else was said, and I was on my stomach faster than I even thought I’d be.  

It wasn’t like we had to work up to this; we’d both been ready for basically the entire time we were watching.  I stayed propped on my elbows, and even with his first push inside, I was nearly gone.  I was so wet, and the push so effortless, yet still intense and strong.  His hips started moving immediately, his lips mouthing over my shoulder, my neck, tracing my ear.  The angles—Jesus Fucking Christ, the angles—were amazing.  It almost felt like it did when we were spooning, but with so much more power behind it, way more thrusting.  I had to crane backwards to kiss him, and it created a delicious sense of tension everywhere.  I experimented with which way felt the best, and decided it felt way better if I was arching myself up and back instead of staying with my tits just pressed into the bed.  If I lifted my legs up a little, he’d get so far inside me.  

He linked our hands together just like the guy on the video had, and honestly, I think that’s what sent me over.  Pent up tension and teasing for hours, but usually something small and comfortable, familiar, that made the tension break.  He wasn’t far after me, keeping our hands locked together until we were both completely done.  

He pulled out slowly and then kinda half-rolled/half-fell onto the bed next to me, his breathing still fast and erratic.  I stayed on my stomach, smirking at him, and looked over at the screen.  The couple was actually still finishing, but I hadn’t noticed any of it while he was fucking me.  Their releases looked not nearly as intimate as mine felt.  I turned back to look at him, and his eyes were closed, but he had a smile on his face.  

“What are you so fucking happy about?” I teased; my tone quiet and just as sated and happy as he was.

His eyes opened slowly, and they looked really bright, even in the dimness of the room.  “Thank you.”

I chuckled.  “You don’t ever have to thank me.  In case you didn’t notice, I love fucking you.”  

“Not for that.”

“For what then?”

“For coming tonight.”  

Oh.  I leaned down, resting half of my body on his, and kissed him softly.  “Of course.”

“You liked that one, huh?”

“Tyler,” I said in my patient voice, “pretty much all of them I was just imagining you fucking me all those ways.”  

“I’ll fuck you any way you want, girl.”  

“Good, ‘cause it’s early and I’m nearly ready to fuck that flat screen it’s such a thing of beauty.  Did I ever tell you what my plan was after NOLA?”

“I don’t think so.  Before you got to Vegas you mean?”

“Vegas was just supposed to be a stop on my way to LA.”

“What was in LA?”

“Porn.”

“You were going to LA to do porn?”

“Yeah, that was my original grand plan.  That I’d work my way there and then get into the porn industry.”  

“Why didn’t you?”

“Vegas.  And I left with Jordan and came here, so that plan just sort of didn’t happen, and I don’t think if I had stayed in Vegas it ever would have anyway.  I think I would have just been stuck there forever.”  

“I’d happily shoot porn with you.  I totally have an ancient camcorder that we could use.  If you want to, ya know, try out the industry with me.”  

I dissolved into a fit of giggles.  “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?  What else could be sexier?  I mean, watching us have sex?  My mind, it would be blown.  And lots of other stuff would be blown, too.”  

I kissed him impulsively.  Hard.  Like I was afraid I might have dislodged a tooth I mashed our mouths together so roughly.  “I really fucking love you.  You know that right?”

“Well, I am a fuck god.  What else do fuck gods do but make porn videos with their girlfriends?  I’ve also just decided—well, not just decided, but more reaffirmed—that you are the perfect girlfriend.  You're amazing and beautiful, good in a crisis, can cook like a chef, are sexy as hell and incredible in bed; you make a mean cocktail and you totally just watched porn with your boyfriend.  There is really nothing else a guy could ask for, you realize this, right?  You've outdone yourself.”

I smirked, raising a shoulder.  “Well, I mean, what can I say?”

“Oh, and my mom loves you.  And my sister.  So it’s kinda sold.  End of story.”  

“Was that the last test?”

“Yes, I orchestrated this entire ordeal just so you’d come over and seal the deal.  I love drama.”  

“Sounds just like you,” I teased, kissing him again.  

“My mom was kinda surprised, ya know…”

“Surprised?  About what?  That I cooked?”

“No.  Us.”

“What about us?”

“I think it might have been the ‘I love you.’”

“Yeah, I kinda wondered what she’d think about that.”  He didn’t say anything else right away.  “What did she say?”

“Well, I mean, she loves you.  She said you remind her of herself, which I thought was funny—but she meant that you were very empathetic and just took the initiative to make dinner and everything.  She told me that she’s never seen me be that serious about something other than Caroline and it was obviously important to me.  She said we seem very happy.  And as she’s never told me I seem happy before, I’m taking that to mean you’re pretty much golden now.  So not only have I been replaced as the awesome brother, now my mom loves you more.”  

“You don’t seem very upset about that.”

“Well, did you miss my speech about you being the best girlfriend ever?  Because I really can’t compete, and I’m ok with that.  Nobody else is a fuck god, so I’ve got that going for me.  We won’t be sharing that part with my mother.”  

I laughed.  “Your secret is safe with me.”  

We were happy.  It felt kind of odd to be this happy with him given what Caroline had going on, but maybe our happiness was part of the reason why she seemed to be getting better tonight.  His mom certainly seemed better and less distraught knowing that he was happy with me.  Maybe happiness could be infectious.  And I’d never really been truly happy before, so all the oddness in the world couldn’t make me feel guilty about that.  I was still half-draped over him, and pressed a kiss to his chest.  “Hey.”

He ran a hand over my hair.  “Hey, baby.”  

“Make love to me?”

He sort of cocked his head to the side, eyeing me up and had this lazy-content smile on his face.  “Yeah?”

I nodded.  “Yeah.”

I suppose that was kind of odd to ask for after watching porn, but it also seemed kind of perfect in some way.  Because that was just another side of us, just another part of who we were in a very long list.  I loved that about us; we were never just one thing.  And we could change it on a dime.  We could be whoever we wanted to be with each other with complete understanding and no judgment.  That was the most amazing thing.  

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine |  Thirty  |  Thirty-One  |  Thirty-Two  |  Thirty-Three  |  Thirty-Four  |  Thirty-Five  |  Thirty-Six  |  Thirty-Seven  |  Thirty-Eight  |  Thirty-Nine  |  Forty  |  Forty-One  |  Forty-Two  |  Forty-Three  |  Forty-Four  |  Forty-Five  |  Forty-Six  | Forty-Seven  |  Forty-Eight  | Forty-Nine  |