Big Guy Read online

  “I heard you were sick,” I say. “I guess you’re better?”

  Mrs. Buckley cackles with laughter. “Of course I am,” she says. “I wasn’t going to hang around that hospital any longer than I had to. One night was plenty.” She leans closer to me. “The nurses were terrible,” she says. “They kept taking my food away before I’d finished with it. Wouldn’t even let me save a few bites for later.”

  I remember the moldy bagels hidden in her dresser drawers and can’t help smiling. “That’s too bad,” I say.

  She smiles back at me. “My grandson came to bring me home. And at least it’s finally stopped raining.”

  I turn and look out the window. I hadn’t noticed, but she’s right. The clouds have parted to reveal a sky such a pale shade of blue that it looks like it’s been bleached clean by the rain.

  “Everything okay, Gran?” A guy has stepped into the room behind her. He takes her arm protectively.

  I do a double take. He is seriously good-looking. Dark hair and eyes, long lean muscles, blue jeans that fit like they cost a lot of money. “You’re her grandson?” I ask stupidly.

  “Uh-huh. And you’re Derek. I’ve heard all about you.”

  “You have?”

  “Oh yeah. Gran says she showed you my baby pictures.” He grins widely, showing straight white teeth. “She said you thought I was cute.”

  I blush furiously. Is he flirting with me? I look at Mrs. Buckley, who is nodding happily, and figure out what he’s talking about. “Oh. The baby with Santa.”

  He nods and holds out his hand. “I’m Keenan.”

  I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He grins again. “Thanks for taking care of my gran. She’s pretty special, huh?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

  He guides Mrs. Buckley toward the door. Then he turns back to me. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says, winking.

  I manage to smile but to tell you the truth, I’m kind of stunned. Keenan is seriously hot, and I’m 95 percent certain that he was flirting with me. For a second I feel really, really good. I turn toward the window. Even through the glass, I think I can feel the warmth of that high winter-white sun.

  Then a wave of longing hits me like a brick wall, and all I can see in my mind is Ethan’s face.

  God, I miss him.

  Gabi and I make a huge pot of vegetarian chili. After eating dinner with her folks, we head down to Java Joe’s. I need to go by Dad’s place tonight to get my stuff, but I’m putting it off. I really don’t want to see my father.

  It’s clear and cold outside and Java Joe’s is busy. Music is playing loudly and the windows are all steamed up. It’s my turn to buy: regular coffee for me and something strawberry flavored and frothy for Gabi.

  “Do you think I’m a coward?” I ask her when we’re sitting at our favorite corner table.

  She looks surprised. “Of course not. Why?”

  “I met this woman,” I say slowly.

  Gabi opens her eyes wide. “Derek! You’re kidding!”

  I make a face at her. “Please. Not like that. She’s a friend. Well, a client I guess. She’s one of the residents at the place I work.”

  She looks curious. “Okay.”

  I take a sip of my coffee. “Well, she said I was a coward for dumping Ethan. For not at least trying, you know? Not giving him a chance.”

  “That’s a bit harsh,” Gabi says.

  I make a face: half grin, half grimace. “She says it like it is, you know? She doesn’t pull any punches.”

  Gabi looks at me, head tilted to one side. “What do you think?”

  The radio is playing some old love song. I put my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my hands. “I think she might be right.”

  “So?”

  I avoid her eyes. “So nothing. So I’m a coward.”

  “Derek! You can’t just give up. It’s too important to you.” Gabi’s practically jumping off her seat in frustration.

  I shrug. “It’s not that big a deal.”

  Aaliyah’s right. It’s way easier just to pretend you don’t care.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It’s almost ten o’clock when Gabi taps her watch, tilts her head to one side and says, “Well?”

  “Yeah. I should get moving.” I make a face. “I just don’t feel like dealing with my dad tonight, you know?”

  “Can’t say I blame you. Still, you have to get your stuff sometime.”

  She’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking when I packed, but I’ve got nothing decent to wear to work tomorrow. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be asleep on the couch.”

  “If we’re going, let’s do it,” Gabi says as she gets up.

  “If we’re going?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Gabi.” I look up at her for a long moment. “You let me stay at your place, you listen to me and let me dump all this crap on you... You’re the best. If we were even slightly straight, I’d ask you to marry me.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, yeah.”

  I push my chair back and get to my feet slowly. “You know what though? I think I need to do this on my own.”

  The lights are all still on when I get to my dad’s place. My place until last night, but already it doesn’t feel like home. The truth is it hasn’t felt much like home since Mom left.

  I hesitate at the door, wondering whether I’m supposed to knock. It’s tempting just to walk in. If Dad’s passed out, I might be able to sneak past and grab my stuff without having to say a word. On the other hand, Dad made it pretty clear that I’m no longer welcome here.

  I knock loudly. Then I wait. My heart bangs around, thump thump thump, all fast and hard and uneven, like it’s lost its rhythm. Finally I hear footsteps, and then the door swings open.

  Dad stands there, hand on the door knob, not saying anything. He’s wearing saggy burgundy sweatpants and a white T-shirt that’s a size too small.

  “I’ve come to pack up my stuff,” I tell him.

  He steps backward to let me in and then closes the door behind me. I don’t take my shoes off, although this is one of the many things Dad has big control issues about. I just walk right past him down the hallway to my bedroom.

  What used to be my bedroom.

  Dad has dumped all the clothes from my closet, all the books from my shelf, all my stuff, in one jumbled heap on the floor. I don’t say anything. I just start packing. Socks, photo albums, sweaters, school yearbooks, winter coat, pack of markers—I don’t sort it out. I just cram it all into my backpack and the extra bags I brought.

  I can feel Dad standing there, in the hallway behind me, watching. His eyes are burning holes in my back but I don’t turn around. I just keep packing, keep breathing, keep telling myself it’s just a few more minutes until I’m out of here.

  Dad clears his throat. “Derek.”

  I don’t answer. The only thing he could say that I’d want to hear is sorry.

  “Look,” he says. His voice is cracked and high-pitched. He doesn’t sound like himself at all. Despite my intentions, I turn around and look at him. Those skinny legs and that sticking-out stomach, those track pants pulled halfway up to his armpits.

  “Look,” he says again. “This isn’t how I expected things to be.” His face crumples. He looks lost. He looks old. “This isn’t how it was all supposed to turn out,” he says.

  “Yeah, well.” I start to turn away, to pick up the next armful of crap to stuff into a bag.

  “I just want you to know that,” he says. “I didn’t choose this.”

  “You think I did?” It comes out in a weird croak, and to cover up I raise my voice so that I’m practically yelling. “I haven’t had a whole lot of choices either, Dad.”

  There’s a long, long silence.

  “This gay thing,” he starts to say.

  I cut him off. “You know what? I’m not really interested in discussing this gay thing, as you call it.”

  He sighs and folds his ar
ms across his chest. “Your mom would know how to handle this.”

  He just doesn’t get it. “Mom’s gone,” I tell him. “She’s gone. When are you going to get it through your head that she’s not coming back?”

  Dad stares at me. His face is pale and he has dark baggy circles under his eyes. He looks like hell. I feel a flicker of pity and, beneath it, some crazy mixture of feelings, anger and sadness and I don’t know what else, all bubbling up inside me and threatening to spill over.

  I take a deep breath. “It’s just us now, Dad,” I say, more softly. “It’s just you and me.”

  “I’m tired,” he says. “I’m going to bed.” He starts to turn away. Then he hesitates and looks back at me. “If you decide to forget about the gay thing, I guess you could move back in.”

  It’s so stupid I almost laugh, except I feel more like crying. So I just nod and keep on packing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After a few days of having me in the spare room, Gabi’s folks ask if I’d like to stay with them more permanently. They’ve got a basement suite and they’ve been thinking about renting it out but don’t really want a stranger living there.

  The amount they want to charge me is ridiculously low. Pocket change. I know what they’re doing. They don’t want me to go back to my dad’s place unless things between him and me change a whole lot, and they know me well enough to know that I’m starting to worry about overstaying my welcome. It’s exactly the kind of thing that Gabi’s parents would do.

  I think it over for about three seconds before I accept.

  Gabi’s mom gives me a big hug. To her, I’m still the little kid who fell out of Gabi’s tree fort in the second grade. She’s still trying to put Band-Aids on my scraped knees.

  I squirm away, but not too quickly. The truth is, her hugs feel pretty good.

  Mom used to hug me like that. I usually try not to think about Mom, but the thought just pops into my mind. Maybe, I think, I will try to find her after all. Not hitchhike to California or anything too crazy, but just make some calls. You never know. Maybe I’ll get lucky.

  And maybe Dad will change.

  But I’m not holding my breath. For now, I’m pretty happy to stay right here.

  That night, my mind keeps drifting back to Aaliyah. It’s bad enough to be stuck in a body that doesn’t work the way it should, the way it used to. But to be stuck in another prison as well, with someone like Francine controlling every little thing about your life... The thought makes my stomach twist with angry frustration.

  I can’t sleep. Finally I get up and go to the computer. For once, I’m not thinking about Ethan.

  A few minutes later I’ve found a web page for the local health authority. Residential programs, housing, assisted living. Program manager.

  Francine’s boss.

  When I sneak up to see Aaliyah after my next shift, I tell her I’ve made a complaint about Francine. I don’t know what reaction I expected, but it wasn’t this.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” she snaps, spitting the words out like they taste bad.

  I step back, startled. “I just...I don’t know. I just thought it wasn’t right, the way she treats you.”

  Aaliyah’s eyes are narrowed. “How she treats me is my business, not yours.”

  “It’s my business too. Francine accused me of, you know, being involved with you.”

  She spins her chair around to look out the window. Her back is stiff, shoulders drawn up tightly, sharp prickles all over.

  “Don’t lie to me, Derek. That’s not why you did it.”

  “Sure it is.” I’m feeling a bit lost here. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” A little late, a thought occurs to me. “Will it...are you worried that it’ll make things worse for you?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Well, it couldn’t really.”

  “Then why are you so mad about it?”

  She spins back toward me. “Damn it, Derek. You were the one person here who at least treated me like an adult. Don’t you think if I wanted to complain, I’d do it myself?”

  “You didn’t do it,” I say, stung. “You were too busy pretending not to care.”

  “So? That’s my choice. You don’t have to agree, but you have to let me make my own choices.”

  I stare at her. I can’t think of anything to say. The thing is, she’s right. I was feeling sorry for her. That’s why I did it. Not because of what Francine accused me of. Not because I wanted to clear my name. But because I was feeling sorry for her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say at last. “I really am. I just...I just wanted to make one thing right. Just wanted to fix this one thing.” My voice cracks a little and I shut up, swallow hard, dig my nails into my palms.

  She finally sighs. “Try fixing your own life, not mine.” The words are tough, but her voice is suddenly softer and I know she’s not really mad anymore.

  Or maybe she still is, a little, but she’s willing to give me a break this time.

  Aaliyah meets my eyes and smiles, her face relaxing. “I called him.”

  “Who?” But I know who she means as soon as the word is out of my mouth. “Your fiancé? You did? What happened?”

  She looks a little embarrassed, almost a little shy. “We’re having dinner together tonight.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah.” She laughs. “And I’m really nervous. I think...well, I think pretending not to care might have been easier.”

  “Yeah.” I push Ethan out of my mind.

  “Derek? He wants me to move in with him.” Her eyes are wide. Scared? I can’t tell.

  “Wow.” I’m happy for her, but I feel lonely all of a sudden. “I’ll miss you, if you go.”

  “Well, I haven’t decided anything yet. We’ll talk about it over dinner.” She gives me a crooked grin. “He’s taking me to Shallot’s.”

  Shallot’s is probably the most expensive restaurant in town. Needless to say, I haven’t been there. “Wow. That’s pretty special.”

  “Yeah.”

  Something occurs to me. “Hey, Aaliyah? I’m not supposed to be here, really, but...well, my shift’s over and, this dinner’s a big deal.” I look at her, not sure how she’ll take this. “Can I help you get ready?”

  Aaliyah hesitates. “Paula’s coming.”

  I shrug. Pretending not to care.

  She meets my eyes. “Screw Paula,” she says. “Yeah. I’d love it if you’d help me get ready.” She wheels her chair toward the bedroom, stops, turns and talks to me over her shoulder. “If Francine finds out, you’ll be out on your ass.”

  I nod. “I think I’m pretty much done with this place anyway.”

  She raises one eyebrow.

  “I was thinking, you know, about going back to school. Finishing grade twelve.” I look down at my hands, missing the feel of the keyboard, missing the long late hours talking online. “Ethan was always bugging me to go back,” I say. My voice seems to come from a long way away.

  Aaliyah picks out the same soft brown shirt I helped her into the first time we met, with a straight denim skirt and brown nylons. Clumsy as always, I manage to snag one of her nylons and put a run in it. I expect her to snap at me, but she just laughs and tells me there’s another pair in her drawer. I blow-dry and brush her hair so that it’s straight and shining, help her put on blush and a touch of lipstick.

  Of course, I don’t know what I’m doing. But when we’re done, she looks gorgeous.

  She looks in the mirror. “Wow. You’re good at this.”

  I shake my head. “Nah. It’s just not that hard to make you look fabulous.”

  “So.” She catches her lip between her teeth.

  “So.” I know it’s none of my business but I ask anyway. “Do you think you’ll say yes? You know, move in with him?”

  Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I think I might.”

  I feel like giving her a hug, but she’s not the huggy type. I touch her shoulder lightly, just for a second. “You’re br
ave, Aaliyah.”

  She nods. “What about you? What are you going to do about that boyfriend of yours?”

  I feel a weight settle inside me. “It might be too late,” I say slowly. “It might be too late to change my mind.”

  She nods. “Mmm. And it might not.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Back at Gabi’s, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I splash cold water on my face, shave carefully, brush my teeth. I comb my hair and wish I’d had it cut more recently.

  There is a soft knock on the door. “You’re taking forever,” Gabi hisses impatiently. “Come on.”

  I give my reflection one last look. Okay, I tell myself. This is it. This is me. This is as good as it gets. Then I follow Gabi down the hallway to her bedroom.

  “Stand by the door,” Gabi says.

  I lean against the wall and try to look relaxed while Gabi adjusts the settings on her digital camera.

  “Maybe I should check my e-mail first,” I say. “What if he got my e-mail and hates me? What if there’s a message from him saying he never wants to hear from me again?”

  Gabi shrugs. “What if there is? Would you just leave it at that?”

  I shake my head slowly. “I’d still owe him the truth.”

  “Well then.” She lines up the camera. “Smile.”

  I do my best to stretch my mouth in an imitation of a smile and she clicks. The flash makes me blink.

  Gabi looks at the picture. “Well, it’s not your best picture ever.”

  I look at it anxiously. My eyes are half closed and the flash makes me look like a ghost.

  “Maybe we should wait until the morning,” Gabi says. “Flash pictures always look bad.”

  “Just take another,” I say. “I’m not waiting until morning.”

  Gabi grins at me and lifts the camera again. “Okay. Try not to look like you’re in front of a firing squad.”

  I lean back against the wall again. Tomorrow I’ll quit the job. Then I’ll go to visit Aaliyah, I think. Just as a friend, to find out how her dinner went. And I have to tell her about this. For some reason, the thought makes me smile.