Something Like Winter (11 page)

Tim matched Ben’s smile as
he left, but as soon as the door shut behind him, he didn’t feel so
happy. He slowly made his way through the house, doing one final
inspection for any damning evidence. Already the place seemed a lot
colder, like Ben had taken the heart of the home with
him.

Chapter Seven

“
Oh, you’re home! Didn’t
you hear us honk? Go help your father with the luggage.”

“
I can try,” Tim said with
a grunt, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up from the
kitchen table.

“
¡Gordito!
” His mother set her bag
down, staring at his cast with concern. Even his father, hauling in
the first suitcase from the garage, appeared worried. “What
happened?”

Tim had thought about
dramatizing events, running with a story about thugs who had jumped
him, or maybe how he kicked down the door of a burning building to
save orphans or some crap like that. Obviously he didn’t want to
tell them that a gay guy on skates knocked him over and later
seduced him.

“
Some crazy biker ran me
off the path when I was out jogging,” Tim said. “Fell right into a
drainage ditch. Don’t worry, it’s just a sprain.”

“
My poor baby!” His mother
took his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks. “Sit! We’ll get
the rest of the luggage.”

Tim smiled and sat,
enjoying the attention, but his parents began to fuss over where
the laptop bag was, if they had packed the charger in a separate
suitcase, and if his mother should do a load of laundry. He was
pretty damn sure he sat there for half an hour waiting for more
from them. Maybe something like:
Why
didn’t you call us? Did it hurt? Is there anything you
need?

Finally his father brought
out a ridiculously huge bar of Swiss chocolate and set it in front
of him. “Did the hospital get your insurance information?” he
asked.

Tim nodded. “We got it
figured out eventually.”

“
Good. I broke my arm when
I was a kid.” His father chuckled at the memory. “Casts are
terrible, aren’t they?”

“
Yeah,” Tim said, taken
aback by this divulgence. “How did you break it?”

“
Oh, my kid brother and I
were—” Tim’s mother walked by with a laundry basket, distracting
him. “Ella, if you’re washing shirts for tomorrow, I need the blue
one. I have a meeting with a new client. No, not that one. The
light blue shirt. I’ll show you.”

His father left but didn’t
return. Tim let another ten minutes of solitude pass before he gave
up and went upstairs to his room. His mom knocked on his door an
hour later, asking if he had eaten. She never failed in this area.
Tim never went hungry, but they seemed to have already forgotten
his injury. He supposed they were jet lagged or tired from their
trip, so he tried not to blame them. When the house went silent,
his parents retiring for the night without saying another word to
him, he wished Ben was still there making him feel
special.

* * * * *

Monday arrived like a
Kansas tornado, tearing up and sweeping away the two oddest weeks
of Tim’s life and returning the world to normal. Getting back to
school helped. Tim was the center of his friends’ attention, and
even though he had been gone for nearly as long as they had known
him, they still acted like his absence was a big deal. After
school, Darryl threw another of his impromptu parties, this time in
Tim’s honor. And without the depth-chargers, thank god.

Krista was crazier about
him than ever, clinging to him like her life depended on it. But in
a way, that felt nice. The only time it got weird was when she
kissed him, because for a second he felt like he was cheating on
Ben… but then he reminded himself that Krista was his girlfriend.
If anything, he should feel guilty about what he had done behind
her back. But he didn’t.

Tuesday wasn’t quite as
good. The excitement about his return had died down, and he had
cross country practice after school, so no partying. Tim could only
sit on the sidelines and watch, but being part of the team was more
than just competing. He watched the other guys, asking himself if
he found them attractive, trying to see them in a new light. But it
wasn’t the same. He knew which ones were handsome and who had the
nicest body, but he didn’t feel that connection like he had with
Ben—or that desperate need to kiss any of them. If he was gay,
wouldn’t he want them too? Tim began to wonder if he had been the
victim of hormones and two weeks of cabin fever.

On Wednesday, while
strolling to class with Bryce at his side, Tim noticed Ben walking
down the other side of the hallway, head forward but eyes watching
him. And it was funny, because a whole team of athletic runners
didn’t do much for him, but seeing Ben for one brief second called
up all those feelings of home, of being cared for. Tim brought a
quick finger and thumb to his face, signaling that Ben should call
him. Ben gave a hint of a smile and a nod before they broke eye
contact.

Tim felt strangely elated
by this small interaction, his good mood lasting until he got home
in the afternoon. His mother was there, which wasn’t surprising
since she did much of her translation work from the house. But his
father was home early too, and that was rarely a good
omen.

“
Your school called,” his
mom said, after asking him to sit down at the kitchen
table.

“
What did they
want?”

Ella’s face was strained,
bringing out the lines and making her appear older. “They said the
reason for your absence wasn’t reported.”

“
Oh. I had a friend of mine
pick up homework for me, but not from all my classes. One of the
teachers made a big deal about it on Monday, but I explained
everything.”

“
Including that we were out
of town and couldn’t call?” his father chimed in. “You’ve made us
look incompetent.”

“
Sorry!” Tim said, getting
his back up. “I’ll go into school tomorrow and tell them I kept you
in the dark. God forbid anyone think ill of you.”

“
Don’t get smart!” Thomas
growled. “A counselor wants to meet with us, which I sure as hell
don’t have time for!”

“
We know the school called
while we were gone,” his mother said in gentler tones. “All you had
to do was pick up the phone and explain the situation. And really,
a sprain isn’t a good enough reason to miss two weeks.”

Now his father chimed in
again. “The counselor asked if we felt you should be punished for
skipping, since you were capable of attending.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “I
had a lot to deal with, okay? I didn’t want to ruin your stupid
trip, and it’s a class three sprain, by the way, which is pretty
damn close to being broken.”

His father’s face turned
red. “Don’t use language like that in front of your
mother!”

Tim looked to his mom,
whose eyebrows were raised. Tim couldn’t believe it! Out of
everything he had said, all they heard was a cuss word? “I’ll take
care of it. I’ll talk to the school counselor tomorrow and get it
all cleared up. I promise.”

But this wasn’t enough. His
father was still angry, and worse, his mother appeared
hurt.

Tim’s shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry.”

That satisfied them enough
that they let him escape to his room. Once he got there, his phone
rang. His parents had splurged for a private line—for their
convenience more than his—and if he had been smart, he would have
given the school that number instead.

Tim picked up the receiver.
“Yeah?”

“
Hey.”

Benjamin, like a lifeline
from another world, one that Tim was eager to escape into. “Hey.
You have to come get me. I’m totally sick of it here.”

“
I don’t have a car,” Ben
reminded him.

“
I think you’ve driven mine
more than I have. Get over here.”

And Ben came, lightning
fast. Tim met him in the driveway, and before long, he had relaxed
again. He wasn’t sure if Ben would be able to recreate the magic,
to make Tim feel good outside the bubble they had existed in for
two weeks, but once again, Ben knew just what to do. Commandeering
his vehicle and taking him hostage, Ben brought him to the city of
Galveston, where the beaches overlooked the Gulf of Mexico. Tim had
never seen the ocean before, and even though he technically still
hadn’t, the waves and sand sure looked like the real
thing.

Together they sat on the
beach, talking until the sun went down. Ben was easy to be around,
like he always was. There was nothing weird. Tim didn’t have to
hold his hand or constantly fend off his advances. When a group of
college girls spotted them and offered to share their beer, Ben
grew a little quiet, but that could have been because the girls
were so loud. Of course they flirted with Tim, which he couldn’t
help but enjoy. One of them even followed him down the beach when
he went to relieve himself. She kissed him, the fumes on her breath
much stronger than his, and he kissed her back, curious if his body
would react. A kiss was a kiss, it would seem, because Tim began to
get turned on and started to feel her body. But it seemed empty.
Like masturbation, it felt good, but it didn’t mean a damn thing.
Then the girl tried groping him, which only reminded Tim how much
he had to pee. He untangled himself from her so he could
go.

He swayed a little as he
relieved himself, trying to force Krista and Ben out of his mind.
Sometimes he felt like he didn’t have room for himself anymore. He
glanced over his shoulder to see another ghost. The girl waiting
for him, the evening shadows obscuring her features, could have
been Carla, back from the past to ruin the one good thing that had
just begun. And Tim realized that good thing wasn’t
Krista.

“
I have to get my friend
home,” Tim said.

“
Why? Does he need to be
tucked into bed by a certain time?”

“
Something like that,” Tim
replied.

The girls wanted them to
come back to their hotel, but Tim managed to bluff their way out.
The relief at breaking free of them, of being alone with Ben in the
car, weighed heavily on him. If Bryce or Darryl had been in the
same situation, they would be in that hotel right now, living a
story worthy of
Penthouse
Letters
. Instead, Tim was happier cruising
along with his new gay buddy. What did that imply?

Tim put on a CD to avoid
conversation so he could sort through these thoughts. Ben sang
along to a few of the songs, making up lyrics once he caught the
rhythm of the chorus. Every time Tim looked over at him, he seemed
happy. Unpopular, scrawny, and about as uncool as you could get,
but happy. Tim wanted to be like that too, to not give a shit about
what anyone else thought, to not need so much from every stranger
he met. To the untrained eye, Ben had nothing, at least by the
bizarre rules that governed high school. But really, Ben was one of
the few who wasn’t pretending, one of the few who was
free.

* * * * *

The school counselor was an
older woman with short gray hair. Tim supposed she looked wise,
like a frumpy old owl. He just hoped she wasn’t so shrewd that she
saw through him. He smiled, which helped like it always did. People
put an amazing amount of stock in beauty. A handsome face could
open doors, inspire confidence, and most of all, deceive. Tim’s
mother had once said—the palm of her hand on his cheek—that he was
beautiful because he had been touched by God. Sometimes Tim
wondered if the other guy down below hadn’t touched him
instead.

“
Mr. Wyman,” the counselor
said, “I was hoping to meet with your parents soon.”

Tim glanced at the
nameplate on her desk. “That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Hewitt.” Tim
leaned on his crutches like a beggar from a Charles Dickens novel.
God this was humiliating, even if he was playing a role.

“
Sit down,” Mrs. Hewitt
said.

Tim thanked her and sat. “I
wanted to tell you the truth. My parents were out of town when I
got hurt, and even though I could have called their hotel, I
didn’t.”

Mrs. Hewitt nodded. “That’s
exactly what your parents told me, but I also feel that leaving
someone your age alone for two weeks isn’t appropriate.”

“
Oh. Well, I talked them
into that. Argued, is more like it. I kept saying it was time they
treat me more like an adult, but I guess I let them
down.”

Mrs. Hewitt considered
this. He was halfway there.

“
We just moved here from
Kansas. Usually I stay with my aunt when my parents aren’t home.
Everything is kind of new for us, and I guess I took advantage of
that.”

Now Mrs. Hewitt looked at
him more sternly, no doubt seeing a rich spoiled brat who tricked
his parents. Maybe that’s all he was.

“
Well, Mr. Wyman, what do
you feel a suitable outcome to this would be?”

Ugh. She wanted to know who
was going to get the blame so she could cross his name off her
list. “I didn’t show up for two weeks, so two weeks of detention, I
guess?”

“
Your parents have at least
raised you to admit your mistakes.” Mrs. Hewitt made some notes.
Tim watched her and wondered if she really did have a list of
names. “I trust you’ll convey the details of this conversation to
your parents?”