Spark (9 page)

“Uffda! Call me Ruby, sweet boy. Mrs. Thorson is my mother-in-law.”

Kevin chuckled and said, “All right, Ruby,” and sat down before she smiled and turned to head back up the stairs.

“Drive safe,” Hugo called after her and then reached into the bowl for a handful of buttered popcorn. The screen door slammed shut, and Hugo restarted the movie.

Kevin shut it off and moved closer to the popcorn, turning his body to face Hugo. “What’s going on with your dad?” he asked.

Hugo hesitated saying anything at all. He felt vulnerable. But Kevin had shared things about his own father, revealing his own vulnerability, so Hugo decided it was okay. Maybe they could rely on each other even if the circumstances were far from ideal. He just didn’t want pity, so he chose his words very carefully, as well as his tone of voice.

“He’s up at Mayo doing some tests. He has cancer.”

“Oh man. I’m sorry. Is he gonna be okay?”

Hugo shrugged, not sure what to say. “He’s doing better, but no, he’s not okay. His doctors are looking to see if there’s anything else they can do, though.” He gave a short, brave nod and took another handful of popcorn, popping it in his mouth as he restarted the movie. Kevin took the hint and dropped the subject.

Several times their fingers brushed as they reached for popcorn, but Hugo didn’t read anything into the random touches. When Kevin laid his hand down between their thighs, pinky brushing up against the thin fabric of Hugo’s shorts, Hugo had a harder time ignoring that. Hugo drew his thigh a little closer to his other leg, away from Kevin, but Kevin readjusted himself, subtly scooting his entire body closer to Hugo so his outer hand was right against Hugo’s leg again.

For Hugo’s part, he kept his hands to himself, his eyes on the movie—when he could, but they’d occasionally drift down to study the long, masculine fingers touching him through material—and he kept his mind from turning the innocent touch into anything else. This wasn’t a secret message—or a blatant one, for that matter. It was just two friends watching a movie together.

A Gift, a Sleepover, & a Hand Job

“H
EY
Hugo.” Kevin was enthusiastic the next day at work.

“Hey.”

“My dad left today for some sales thing at one of the other offices. Wanna sleep over?”

“Sleep over? What? Are we twelve?” Hugo teased.

“No, I thought we could maybe play
Mortal Kombat
and watch a movie.” Kevin shrugged as if to throw off the awkwardness of the twelve-year-old-girl moment.

“Yeah. I can do that. My parents don’t get back until tomorrow. Let me call Charisse and let her know. I’ll come over at…?”

“Eight, nine?”

“Nine might work better.”

“Oh, and happy birthday.” Kevin handed Hugo a small box and an envelope. “Go on. Open it.”

“Thanks. I kinda forgot.”

“How could you forget your sixteenth birthday? You can
finally
get your real driver’s license.”

“Yeah,” Hugo said with a chuckle. With his mom being so busy, he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to take his driver’s test to move beyond his learner’s permit, but he blew it off and started opening the envelope.

The card was funny and made Hugo laugh out loud, and enclosed were a few skateboard stickers he’d been eyeing at the mall. The small box had a hinged lid on it like a jewelry box, and Hugo opened it to find a shiny square, a key ring piercing one of the corners with a miniature compass mounted in the center of the heavy metal. When he lifted the keychain out of the box, it twisted, revealing words engraved in the silver on the backside, spiraling around and around toward the center.

So you’ll always know your way.

Tears rushed to Hugo’s eyes, and he swallowed hard and noisily. When he looked up, Kevin smiled.

“Ah, come on,” Kevin said in a playful way as he drew Hugo into a quick hug. “I just meant so you wouldn’t get lost in the woods if I wasn’t around.”

“Thank you,” Hugo managed as he fought his tears back. From the look on Kevin’s face, Hugo knew Kevin meant a lot more by his words than finding magnetic north.

A
FTER
a birthday phone call from his parents that ended up with them talking about how his dad’s health was going downhill quicker than the doctors thought, Hugo packed his duffle bag, shoving his pillow inside. He blankly walked to Kevin’s and accepted a pop from Mrs. Magnus. He grabbed another one for Kevin before walking up the elegant stairway Mrs. Magnus had directed him toward. This was the first time he’d seen Kevin’s room.

Kevin was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed with a game controller in his hand, attention focused on the muted television that sat on a low piece of black-and-chrome furniture.

“Hey. Take a load off. Give me a few. I’m close to finally beating this dude,” Kevin said as Hugo crossed the room and unzipped his duffle bag to release his pillow so the feathers would come back to life and not just be a flattened disappointment. He hoped having his own pillow would make it easier for him to fall asleep in a new place. Then Hugo looked around the room and noticed a VCR, lots of VHS tapes, a sweet stereo, and two rows of CDs. Kevin’s bed was at least a full size, if not a queen. A lot bigger than Hugo’s little twin back at home. Hugo kept looking around, trying to find another thing to focus on so he wouldn’t think about his dad.

He sat down on the foot of the bed beside Kevin’s shoulder and watched as the computer-generated characters fought on-screen. After a few minutes, he stood and started flipping through the CDs.

“Do you mind if I put in some music?” Hugo asked.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Hugo found a CD with instrumentals, something mellow that wouldn’t overtake conversation or get in the way of Kevin’s concentration on the video game. He hit play and sat back as the sound drifted out of the speakers and around the room. Hugo lay back on the bed and released a long, weary sigh.

“Wanna play?” Kevin asked, most likely mistaking Hugo’s sigh as boredom rather than the worry he felt over his father and the future.

“Nah. I’ll just watch.”

“You sure? I don’t ever get to play unless my dad’s out of the house.

“Maybe in a while.”

Suddenly Kevin stopped playing, his character quickly beaten, but he didn’t pay any mind. “What’s wrong?”

Hugo shook his head, but that only brought Kevin closer, driving Hugo toward the head of the bed where his pillow rested.

“No, seriously. Something is obviously wrong. What happened? Is it your dad?” Kevin asked with grave concern in his voice.

Hugo could only nod because a gigantic knot had somehow lodged itself in his throat, and he was unable to talk let alone breathe or swallow like a normal person. He felt his eyes fill with tears and rapidly blinked them away before they fell.

“There’s nothing left the doctors can do,” he finally said after the long moments it took for him to take control of his voice once again.

Kevin propped himself up on an elbow and reached over to palm Hugo’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Shit. What now?”

Hugo shrugged, wishing he knew for himself. Maybe coming over to Kevin’s house had been a bad idea. He should’ve probably stayed home even if it was still going to be hours before his sister was done working her shift. He should’ve been with his sister when he felt like this.

“I’m not the best company right now. I should go home… maybe.” He swallowed the rapidly rising lump in this throat again to get his thoughts past it.

“No. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Does Charisse know? When does she get off work?”

“She knows. Mom said she was going to call her at work, but she won’t be home until late.”

“Do you want to talk to her? You can call her?”

Hugo shook his head, not wanting to be so needy at sixteen that he had to call his sister at her job because he was upset about something he could do nothing about.

“Seriously, Hugo. Call her. Does she know you’re here?”

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll call,” Hugo said, watching as Kevin retrieved a cordless phone from his bedside.

Kevin stayed right beside Hugo as he called the restaurant and asked to speak to his sister, Kevin’s hand in a constant, comforting motion over Hugo’s shoulder or bicep or upper back.

“Charisse speaking,” his sister said in a cheery work tone.

“Hi. It’s Hugo.”

“Oh, hey.” Her voice suddenly sounded more tired and sad than it did in her initial greeting. “I take it you talked to Mom?”

“Yeah. It sucks,” Hugo admitted.

“I couldn’t have said it better, but we’ll get through this. We aren’t entirely unprepared. He’s ready. He’s made his peace with the world.”

Tears quickly filled Hugo’s eyes and finally spilled over his thick lashes, clearing his vision. There was no holding them back. He took in a huge breath through his nose, and knew it was now obvious to his sister he was also crying.

“Hey, kiddo. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t know,” he managed to get out between sniffles. Kevin handed him a tissue and squeezed him close to his chest.

“Are you at home?”

“No. I’m over at Kevin’s house. Remember I was gonna sleep over? But I can come home,” he said with suggestion in his voice.

“Hugo, I think being over at Kevin’s is probably a good place for you to be. I’m going to go over to Kip’s after work. Besides, we’re gonna have to face this in the coming days anyway. Let’s do the best we can to distract ourselves tonight. Okay?” Charisse sounded worried about him but exhausted too. She’d been holding things together for months at the Thorson house, and Hugo could understand what she was saying. One night away wouldn’t make any difference, especially considering their parents weren’t even home yet. There was nothing to rush home to.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We’ll all celebrate your birthday tomorrow night when Mom and Dad are home, and we’ll have a great time. Okay? I love you, kiddo,” Charisse whispered down the line.

“You too,” he said before hanging up.

Kevin allowed several minutes of silence—aside from the background music—to penetrate the room before he wisely asked, “Do you wanna talk about it or try to distract yourself?”

Hugo gave a half smile. “Distraction is good.”

“So, play video games or watch a movie?”

K
EVIN
’
S
bedroom was dark except for the flickering television across the room as a movie played. Both boys were propped against the headboard with lots of extra pillows piled behind them, half sitting, half lying. Kevin seemed to be insistent about touching Hugo, moving closer each time Hugo tried to pull away to make the bed a more neutral zone. Kevin was the one who had put limits on their relationship, and yet he was the one who was pressing his arm against Hugo’s, not to mention making subtle touches with his hand. It was different than the comforting touches while he’d talked to Charisse.

Hugo didn’t know what to think of it. If Kevin hadn’t had his total freak-out and made kissing off-limits, Hugo would’ve been totally into what was happening. He wanted to feel Kevin’s warm skin touching his own. He wanted to revel in the barely there touches as they reached for the snack mix Kevin’s mom had brought to them, the bag crinkling loudly when they both dove to reach savory pretzels and rye crisps at the same time.

But he couldn’t. Hugo needed to maintain this line, this demarcation between them, so they could continue being friends. No one else knew who he really was, after all.

Friends were important to Hugo even if he didn’t have any close guy friends or anyone besides Kevin who knew the truth about him. He was outgoing and loved to have fun, but being gay in his small town was just not acceptable. Hugo had been pushed aside for years except by a group of girls, including Becca, who he’d known since he was still in diapers. They’d first laid eyes on each other on a blanket in Hugo’s backyard when they were only one, their moms meeting after Becca’s family moved into the house next door.

Maybe the kids in Austin had no idea why they treated Hugo differently, but they did. They may not have recognized their own discrimination, but they seemed to sense even back in grade school that something was
off
about him. Eventually, Hugo learned to hide away great parts of himself so he could fit in better.

He pretended to care about football and hockey instead of indie music and theater reviews. He listened as other guys talked about the cars and trucks they wanted, how they’d use them to pick up girls, the seats decked out with soft blankets so they could make the girls feel special, taken care of so they’d put out. He listened, but he listened with disgust as these boys turned the girls they liked, girls they talked about marrying someday, into nothing more than sexual objects. Hugo didn’t get it.

Just like he didn’t get the preoccupation with country music or line dancing or ginormous belt buckles or Stetson hats or cowboy boots these boys, these classmates of his, insisted on wearing to school. Maybe the clothes would’ve made more sense while working on an actual farm riding horses or rounding up cattle for slaughter, but these were kids who lived in the city. Their pickups were used for little more than carrying lumber for a deck reconstruction project or bringing a keg to a party out in some farmer’s field. None of these guys were cowboys.

None of them were Hugo’s friends either. Maybe it was because they were so different from Hugo, who acted in plays and sang at the top of his lungs in musicals and in choir. Maybe it was because he didn’t wear purple or green on days the Minnesota Vikings or Green Bay Packers played but instead chose to wear orange or—God forbid—the opposing team’s colors. And he occasionally did things like that just to fuck with his classmates’ sensibilities.

Hugo had always walked to a different beat than the rest of the people in his small community. But he was a good actor who, for the most part,
seemed
to be marching in time with everyone else. Some people recognized something was different about him, but no one had really pinpointed what it was yet. Who knew how long that would last?