Spark (8 page)

Hugo felt his mouth and nose scrunch up in compassion. Things had felt awkward for him too, but his ill ease was probably nothing compared to Kevin’s. “Not to point out the obvious, but you weren’t stunned silent when you stopped kissing me last week. We talked all the way home about lots of stuff. It wasn’t until the next day that it got weird.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “You got a point. I didn’t know if you were going to expect me to kiss you some more or what. I’m not sure I can go there again.”

“Okay. I’m cool with that. What I’m not cool with is being treated like a leper. I’m not gonna molest you or anything. I promise. So….” Hugo lifted a shoulder and raised his brows to try to ease the tension in the room a little so he could help Kevin and him get back to normal. “So, we don’t kiss anymore. We’re friends. I’m totally fine with that. But I like you, Kevin. You’re one of the few people around this town to get me, even my sense of humor. You don’t need to be playing some sport that requires a ball to have a good time. We have fun together, plain and simple. One stupid kiss in the woods shouldn’t ruin all that, right?” he asked, knowing full well that the kiss in the woods was about as far from stupid as perfect could get. But he was trying to diffuse the situation, not make it worse. “And now you know I’m gay. No other friends know that about me.”

“I’m sorry I was an ass, Hugo. You’re right. So we kissed. Big deal. I’m just extra freaked ’cause you’re a guy, but if you were a girl, I would’ve blown it off and talked to you. I’m okay,” Kevin said with a slight shake of his head. “I’m really okay, and so are we. Right?” He raised a hopeful brow and looked at Hugo.

Hugo nodded and dared ask, “So, wanna get together sometime this week?”

“Sure,” Kevin said with his typical smile lighting up his face again. “What do you have in mind?”

So they hung out like normal again; although every once in a while, Hugo would feel Kevin’s gaze on him, looking at him longer than normal. Hugo tried not to read anything into it. Kevin was probably just thinking.

One day, Kevin came into Hugo’s prep area at Hormel and just stopped and stared at Hugo until he glanced up, finally setting aside a delicate piece of glass equipment he’d been rinsing.

“We should do something after work. I’m bored,” Kevin said.

“Movie? My parents are… gone until late tonight. We could do it tonight or tomorrow.”

“Okay. How about we go rent something after work? I told my parents I’d be home for supper tonight. I think Dad is gonna grill. Maybe you could come too,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Why not get the unpleasant introductions over with now?” he laughed.

D
INNER
at the Magnus house was an odd affair to Hugo. He was used to informal banter, his family talking about the good and bad in their days while sitting around their small kitchen table covered with unbreakable Corelle dishes and drinking from Smurf glasses Charisse had gotten from Hardee’s a decade earlier. Hugo always made sure to set Lazy or Brainy Smurf at his seat. But at Kevin’s house, even with the meal being cooked outside over an open flame, Mrs. Magnus set a full, formal spread complete with crystal candlesticks, super fancy dishes, and silverware so heavy it had to be actual silver, all set on a large table nestled under a grandiose gazebo.

“Please pass the tenderloin” and “The salt, when you’re finished, if you will” were about the only words spoken aside from the uncomfortable questions for Hugo. First they wanted to know the history behind his first name, which Kevin’s dad deemed unusual. He told them as much of the story of his great-grandfather as he could, which then led into the little bit he could remember about when and how the Thorsons came to America from Norway.

“What do you plan to do once you graduate from high school, Hugo?” Mr. Magnus asked with a steely gaze over his tortoise-shell-framed glasses that didn’t quite go with his face—too trendy compared to the clothes and other accessories he wore. He looked like a stressed and much older Kevin with silvery-gray sprinkled throughout many shades of short blond hair. His intense gaze intimidated Hugo, but he had been warned about Mr. Magnus, so he pretended he was in class being put on the spot with challenging questions from a teacher.

“I plan to go to college. I’m thinking the University of Minnesota.”

“Which campus?”

“Twin Cities.” He almost felt as if he should’ve finished with a
sir
.

“And you hope to study…?” Mr. Magnus let hang.

“Uhm,” Hugo started, knowing full well his dream wouldn’t ever measure up to anything Mr. Magnus would consider as a decent career. Worried, Hugo took a quick look at Kevin across the table from him and saw the small, encouraging smile on Kevin’s mouth as he opened it for another piece of marinated tenderloin. “I know it’s a long shot, but I’d like to be an actor and director. I’m thinking about a fine arts degree. “

Mr. Magnus made a sliding sound deep in his throat that Hugo recognized as a noncommittal response steeped in heavy disapproval.

“Lovely,” Mrs. Magnus said with a smile in her voice. “Do you perform in any theater productions at the high school or in the community?”

“I’ve been in every school play or musical I’ve had the chance to be in, and my parents have taken me up to Rochester and Minneapolis for various drama camps in the summers.”

“What’s been your favorite role?” she asked with obvious enthusiasm that wasn’t rubbing off on her husband, who sat beside Hugo seeming to put all his focus into cutting his meat with the gentle pressure of his fork.

“Oh, I have a lot. I enjoyed playing J. Pierpont Finch in
How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying
. No one really knows the musical very well.” Hugo nodded toward Kevin and said, “He started off in the mailroom and worked his way up to a corner office.” Kevin looked up and laughed, knowing just what Hugo was doing. “But I liked playing the talking tree in the sixth grade musical because I got to be on stage for nearly the entire play, and I had all the funny lines.”

“I acted in college before I met Kevin’s father,” Mrs. Magnus shared with wistfulness in her voice. “I played Sandra Dee in
Grease
in the mid-seventies.”

“I can see that.” Hugo nodded, easily able to envision her in the role. She still had shoulder-length blonde hair curled in loose, soft waves reminiscent of Kevin’s. “I’d love to play Danny Zuko at some point, but I know more and more high schools are refusing to produce the play because of the sexual innuendo and gang violence at the heart of the story. Great musical, though. Maybe in college.”

“What do your parents do?” Mr. Magnus brought the drama conversation to a quick halt, not only with his question but also with the way he reached across the table for Mrs. Magnus’s hand and gently held it in his own.

“My dad is at Hormel. He’s a researcher. My mom is a nurse.”

Mr. Magnus harrumphed. Actually harrumphed. Then silence blanketed the dinner table again aside from forks and knives hitting plates and requests for seconds being made.

“W
HAT
did your dad mean by the sound he made when I told him what my parents do for a living?” Hugo asked after dinner as he and Kevin walked toward Hugo’s house to watch the movie they’d rented.

“Shit. Just ignore him.”

“No, I mean…. Why did he harrumph when I said what my mom and dad do? What’s wrong with their jobs?”

An apologetic look washed across Kevin’s face as he prepared to explain his father. “There’s nothing wrong with what they do. That’s not why he made the sound. I’m guessing he did it because he thinks it’s a waste of the genetic smarts you must’ve inherited for you to want to be an actor. Acting to him seems like a pipe dream where working in science is at least somewhat respected by him, even if it’s not as good as business or finance in his eyes. But don’t let him get to you. All he really gives a shit about is making money, moving up the ladder, and retiring with a hefty portfolio in his right hand and a gold watch on his left wrist.”

“Mmm,” Hugo said, trying to figure out if there was a way the conversation could’ve gone better.

“It’s not your problem; it’s his. He’s…. His parents were pretty poor. When my grandparents were first married, they struggled through the Depression and Dust Bowl trying to farm, and they never really recovered. It was bad in North Dakota, and it didn’t help that they had nine kids. Even though Dad was born in the fifties and the Depression was long over, he still grew up with nothing and his parents were extremely frugal, scraping by and pinching pennies. He was also the youngest kid. If you could be spoiled as a poor kid, which he wasn’t, being the youngest was probably the best place to be. All his siblings looked out for him. My aunts and uncles talk about how ambitious he was and how he wanted to compete all the time to prove himself, and he had the support of eight siblings to help lift him toward his goals. He thinks he’s a self-made man. He really isn’t, but he has nearly everyone around him fooled. My mom says that hunger just carried over from his childhood to his career and then over to me. I don’t think it’s normal or right. He’s forty-three, but he looks closer to fifty-three because of the stress he puts himself under. And you saw my mom. She looks like she’s barely thirty.

“All I know is that if being as driven as he is turns you into an inconsiderate asshole to the people you say you love the most, keeps you away from them and at the office for eighty hours a week, and makes you look twenty years older than your wife, count me out. Not to mention, he was a total prick to you.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hugo tried to soothe Kevin, never intending his question about a sound to elicit such an impassioned explanation.

“Maybe not to you, but he does this. I’m sure my mom is yelling at him right now, but he’s not listening. He’s probably grabbing his briefcase and heading back to the office. He pisses me off.”

“Obviously,” Hugo teased with a shove to Kevin’s side, which made him take a few steps into the grass on the boulevard before regaining his footing on the sidewalk. “It’s really fine, though. I didn’t know if he was insulting my parents or what. I can handle him not thinking acting is a ‘worthy’ career. Who fucking cares what he thinks about what I want to do with
my
life? Even if I never make a dime acting, I’m still going to try to do what I love. There are a lot of working actors out in the world. I’m not dreaming of making it big in Hollywood.”

“See, but the whole not caring if you don’t make money, he doesn’t get that. Money and success are what drive him, which is sad. He basically sticks every dollar he makes into stocks, bonds, real estate, and the bank, but he hardly ever enjoys it.”

“I think
that’s
a waste,” Hugo said sadly, bringing their conversation around full circle just as they walked up his driveway.

“It is,” Kevin agreed, following Hugo into his house and down the stairs to the cool air of the family room.

“Come on, let’s watch the movie.” Both boys got comfortable on the large overstuffed L-shaped sectional sofa, each taking a side.

F
ORTY
minutes into the movie, Hugo heard the door upstairs open and close. “Charisse?” he shouted as he pushed pause.

“No, sweetie. It’s Mom. I think Charisse is still working at the restaurant,” Hugo’s mom said as she walked down the narrow stairway, then stood at the bottom, seeming to allow a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dark before she moved closer to the couch. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company. I’m Hugo’s mom, Ruby,” she said. Her brown hair looked messy hanging in a hastily created ponytail at the back of her head.

Kevin stood and walked to formally shake her hand. “I’m Kevin Magnus. Hugo and I work together.”

“He’s mentioned you. I’m glad you boys have been able to entertain each other this summer.”

“Where’s Dad?” Hugo asked with some worry in his voice, which Kevin must have picked up on because he looked with concern at Hugo for a moment as he retook his seat.

“Oh, he needed to stay overnight for a procedure. I’m just home to get his toiletry kit and a change of clothes for us both in the morning and to grab a quick bite to eat. Have you boys eaten?”

“Yeah,” Hugo answered. “We ate at Kevin’s house.”

“Would you like me to make you some popcorn?” Both boys shrugged, apparently still feeling full from supper. “I’ll do that before I get on the road again. Get back to your movie. I’m sorry I interrupted,” she said as she climbed the stairs.

Hugo immediately started the movie again, hoping the action on the television screen would distract Kevin from asking questions about Hugo’s father. It seemed to work, but when they had to pause it again when the popcorn was delivered, his mom started talking. Hugo tensed, but she said nothing related to his dad’s illness that was too obvious. She seemed to sense his reticence even though he’d never told her he didn’t want friends to know about his dad.

“It looks like next week is going to be busy for Dad and me, but we’ll be home this weekend,” she said as if their conversation had only been interrupted by a quick phone call or the paperboy collecting a payment rather than a day of her being away at Mayo Clinic talking to medical professionals. “I left money for groceries in the usual spot. I also put the checkbook by the bills. I signed about ten checks already. Could you remind Charisse to pay the cable and utilities?”

“Sure.” Hugo nodded. “So, you’ll be back for supper on Friday night or earlier?”

“I’m thinking it’ll be earlier, but we’ll know more tomorrow afternoon after we talk about the results from today’s procedure. I’ll call you guys if we know anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you Friday for a special supper.” She stepped a little closer and set both palms on Hugo’s hair as she leaned in and absently kissed the top of his head. “Don’t work too hard. Love you,” she whispered and started to leave. “Oh, it was really good to meet you, Kevin. Have a good night, guys,” she said, her mind obviously on everything on her upcoming agenda.

Kevin stood to shake her hand once again, saying, “It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Thorson.”