In the Middle of Somewhere (33 page)

But Will is an amazing artist. He begins to draw and, with only a few pen strokes, pulls a whole story out of the page. His drawings have style and personality even when they’re things like milk or flyover states.

We’re playing to ten and we’re tied at nine, our team having lost the last round, so if Will and Leo get the next point, they win. It’s Leo’s turn to draw and I gave him The Talking Heads.

“A corpse! A mummy! A mannequin?” Will guesses. “A guy blowing a bubble! A guy blowing a bubble through a straw! A guy fishing with his mouth! Two guys mouth fishing? Two guys blowing bubbles? Come
on
, Leo, what the hell
is
that? Wait, fellatio! Come on, Daniel, you gave the kid ‘fellatio’?”

“I can assure you I did not.”

“People with dentures! People with dentures blowing a bubble! People with wax lips and clown noses sucking each other off! Robots! Dick-sucking robots!”

“There are no dicks, you asshole!” Leo finally yells. “That is not a penis!” He points to his paper.

“Draw, draw, draw!” Will yells. “Oh, they’re talking. Talking heads?” he says suddenly, with a grin that suggests he’s known it all along.

“Yes! Fuck!” Leo yells furiously just as the timer on his phone goes off.

Will lets out a whoop and launches himself sideways into Leo, knocking them both onto their sides on the rug, Marilyn pawing at them curiously.

A
N
HOUR
later, after Will and Leo have bonded over a Halloween episode of
Buffy
that they swear is ingenious, Will has shuttled Leo home and the three of us sack out on the couch, drinking beer, and I rib Will about having a crush on Leo. To my surprise, Will looks guilty, and I can’t help but wonder if it might actually be true. Before I have a chance to examine it too closely, though, my phone rings and I know it’s Ginger, since no one else ever calls me.

“Happy Halloween!” Ginger crows when I answer.

“Happy Halloween, Ginge,” I say, as Rex and Will start laughing at something.

“Ooh, are you with Rex?” she asks. “Put me on speaker!”

I put the phone on speaker and gesture to Rex.

“Hi, Ginger,” he drawls. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, Rex. You have a hot voice. Don’t ever stop talking to me.”

“I already like her more than you,” Will says.

“Everybody does,” I tell him.

“Not me,” Rex says, smiling at me.

“Who is that?” Ginger says. God, I hate speakerphone.

“He’s Rex’s ex-boyfriend, Will, who showed up out of the blue to try and sleep with Rex.” Oops, didn’t mean to say that last part. Will is staring at me, wide-eyed.

“Uh, well, okay, then,” Ginger says uncomfortably, clearly wanting information from me but unwilling to ask for it in front of Rex and Will. “Have a good night, Dandelion.”

“Ha! Dandelion?” Will whoops.

“Don’t make me kick your ass, pretty boy,” I say, glaring at Will.

“Pretty boy?” Will says, getting in my face. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Rex picks up my phone and takes it off speakerphone, talking to Ginger as Will and I glare.

“Ginger, I have two beautiful drunk men who are about to fight in my house. If I didn’t
hate
fighting, it would almost be…. Yeah, I should. Huh. Okay, thanks. Nice to talk to you. I hope so too. Thanks.”

Will is staring at me. I’m staring at Will. I won’t hit the idiot because Rex wouldn’t like it, but dammit, I want to. Rex shakes his head.

“Hey, tough guy,” he whispers in my ear. His voice is low and his breath raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I lean into him a little, but keep my narrowed eyes on Will in case he makes a move. Then Rex digs his thumb into the incredibly ticklish spot on my ribs that only my brothers and Ginger know about and I’m done for.

“Goddammit, Ginger!” I yell, squirming. Rex and Will laugh, the tension gone.

“Now would you two idiots stop it,” Rex says, dropping onto the couch. “I can’t even be flattered that you’re fighting over me because you’re not. Not really. You’re just fighting because it’s what you’re used to and I don’t like it.”

“Sorry,” I say, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

Will’s face is unreadable.

“You are kind of scrappy,” he says to me with a touch of admiration, and I can tell he’s thinking about our tag-team effort to teach Leo this afternoon.

“Yeah, well, you’re not as much of a pansy as you look either,” I grudgingly admit.

Rex shakes his head, looking between us. He points Will into the armchair and pulls me down onto the couch next to him. Marilyn wanders over, looking up at us on the couch, and I fold myself into Rex to make room for her. I’m helpless against the look of hope she gets when she wants to snuggle. Rex usually makes her sit on the floor, but I like the feeling of her lying on my feet. She puts her paws up on the couch and I pat the space next to me.

Rex sighs, but just strokes my hair as I put my head on his shoulder and pat Marilyn’s head. Rex puts his arm around me and flicks on the TV, flipping channels until he gets to the classic movie channel he likes so much.

“Hey, it’s your monster movie,” I say when I see it’s
Frankenstein
. Rex squeezes my shoulder and I relax against him.

“Poor Frankenstein,” Will says. “Bastard couldn’t catch a break, could he?”

“The doctor is Frankenstein,” I say absently, my eyes fixed on the screen. “That’s his creature.”

“Call him whatever you want,” Will says. “He’s miserable and alone and he’s about to be mobbed by a whole fucking village. Sucks.”

“—
SISTER
OKAY
?”
Rex is saying quietly when I wake up. I dozed off during
Frankenstein
and it looks like now it’s a movie about rats or something. Marilyn is a warm weight on my feet and Rex smells delicious. I’m kind of lying on him now; I must have been out for a while. I decide I’m not in the mood to talk to Will anymore and I close my eyes and relax into Rex again.

“She’s all right,” Will says, and then starts talking about some boyfriend or her boss and I’m not really listening, just thinking about how comfortable I am and how I wish Will would disappear in a puff of magic Halloween smoke and leave me alone with Rex so we could go to bed.

I must have fallen asleep again for a minute. When I drift back awake, Will’s voice sounds different.

“He really likes you a lot.”

My first thought is to sit up and ask Will who the hell likes Rex, but then my sleepy brain catches up and I realize he must mean me. I know I should tell them I’m awake, but I can’t make myself do it. I want to hear what Rex says in response. Also, part of me is curious to hear how he and Will interact when it’s just the two of them. Sure, Will isn’t turning out to be quite the asshole I thought he was, but I haven’t seen much that makes me understand why he and Rex are friends either.

“Yeah, you think so?” Rex asks, his voice vulnerable. He’s stroking my hair, which feels amazing. “Sometimes he’s just so… I dunno. Like he doesn’t want me close.”

“He’s lying on top of you,” Will jokes.

“Ha, smartass. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Will says, sounding serious. “And I think for a guy like Daniel, what he’s like when he’s drunk or tired says more about how he feels than he’ll say out loud.”

“Yeah?” Rex asks.

“Well, you saw how he went right for me today and the other night. I can tell he’s been fighting his whole life. That shit’s ingrained.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly discouraging it,” Rex says.

“Hey, man, I reacted to him. You know I don’t start fights. I’ll fight back, but I don’t throw the first punch unless I have to. You know that. Daniel… he doesn’t like it, but he’s used to it—you know, like, he throws the first punch to stop whoever from throwing the second and third and the fourth. I get it.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Rex asks.

“Nah. Stronger than I thought, though. When you said he was an English teacher I thought he’d be a pansy.”

“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”

“Anyway, I saw how he jumped when we startled him at the bar yesterday. He’s either been jumped a bunch of times or he’s been abused. Maybe both. Am I right?”

“It’s not your business, Will,” Rex says gently.

“That’s fine, babe,” Will says, and I resist the urge to jump up and throttle Will for the term of endearment. “All I meant to say is that for someone who’s used to fighting, the fact that he defaults to relaxing around you means something. That’s all. Besides, the way he looks at you….”

“Yeah,” Rex says fondly.

Wait, how do I look at him?

Will changes the subject even though now I’m desperate to hear more. I don’t like that he could tell so much about me, having only known me for a few hours. More than that, though, I’m curious. Because he’s right.

I never relax around people the way I do around Rex. I hadn’t really thought about it because I’ve been anxious about other shit, but I’ve never fallen asleep on anyone except Ginger. I’ve never put my head on someone’s shoulder while we were sitting next to each other. It’s never even crossed my mind. And yet, with Rex, I have. I’ve done those things and not even really thought about them. Maybe Will is right. Not only do I like Rex, but I let my guard down around him in a way I can’t even verbalize. Maybe Will’s not such an idiot after all.

I wake up the next time to Rex shifting beneath me. I sit up and look around the darkened room.

“Will gone?”

“Yeah, he just left,” Rex says, smoothing my messy hair back from my face. He stands up and reaches out a hand, pulling me up. I rest my forehead on Rex’s chest to stop my head from spinning. I guess I was a little drunk after all. Rex strokes my back gently.

“He’s not so bad, I guess,” I say into Rex’s chest.

“He said the same about you,” Rex says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

November

O
N
W
EDNESDAY
afternoon I’m in my office, trying to get some work done on one of my book chapters, and am more than happy for the interruption of my phone ringing.

“What’s the good news?” Ginger asks. She’s been texting me for days, trying to convince me to come home for Thanksgiving.

“I can’t come for Thanksgiving, Ginge. I’m sorry. There isn’t time to drive and I definitely can’t afford to fly. I’ll come for Christmas, though—sorry, Chanukah.”

“Bummer, babycakes,” she says. “Who will I eat Thanksgiving burritos with?” We usually get these amazing burritos with turkey, sweet potato, stuffing, and cranberry sauce from a weird hole-in-the-wall place near Ginger’s and listen to Elvis (at Ginger’s insistence) on Thanksgiving.

“Maybe I’ll keep the shop open and only give Thanksgiving-themed tattoos. But, like, literal ones. Like, I’ll tattoo turkeys, Thanksgiving foods, the genocide of indigenous peoples, et cetera. Whattaya think?”

“I like it. Maybe you could also tattoo Wednesday Addams as Pocahontas from that Addams Family movie where they go to camp and are tortured by Disney movies.”

“Good one!”

“Sorry, Ginge, really.”

“No worries, pumpkin. I know money’s tight. If I could afford to fly you out, I would. But if you abandon me for Chanukah, I’ll Jewish-guilt you until you’re dead. I need your ass on my couch, eating Chinese food and listening to Christmas music, or our friendship is basically over. And, lucky you, Chanukah goes all the way up until Christmas this year, so your schedule should be fine.”

“I’ll be there,” I tell her. Chanukah at Ginger’s is one of my favorite traditions, even though I hate Christmas music. Ginger thinks it’s cruel and unusual that there is no Chanukah music and she’s not one for klezmer or Adam Sandler, so she’s reclaimed Christmas music. She even rewrote some of the lyrics.

“So, are you having Thanksgiving at Rex’s?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t come up.”

“Well, is he going to be in town or does he go visit family?”

“He doesn’t have any.”

“Family? What happened?”

“He didn’t know his dad, he’s an only child, and his mom died when he was a teenager. Actually, except for Will, I haven’t even met any of his friends. I’m not sure he has many.”

“That’s sad.” Ginger and I both have fraught relationships with our families, but at least we have them.

“Do you think I should ask him? I mean, I don’t know if I should bring it up. Maybe holidays make him sad, or maybe it would seem like I’m trying to invite myself over, or what if—”

“Um, Daniel. Those are kind of the things you’re
supposed
to talk about in a relationship.”

“Oh, right. Sure.”

Maybe I’d rather go back to my book after all.

“D
ANIEL
!” L
EO
exclaims as I walk through the door of Mr. Zoo’s.

“Hey, man,” I say.

“Need more tapes?” Leo asks with a cheeky smile.

“No, but you might want to check your cases. Some Pet Shop Boys fan is going to be surprised by a John Hiatt album. I’m looking for a record.”

“But I thought you didn’t have a record player?”

Jesus, does this kid remember every goddamned thing I say?

“It’s, uh, for Rex.”

“Aw, Rex,” Leo coos.

“Careful there, kiddo. At least I can remain upright in his presence, which is more than I can say for you when Will is around.”

Leo turns a satisfying shade of red.

“Um, the records are over there,” he mutters, pointing.

I flip through them, looking for something special. Something that Rex would love. I can’t quite figure his taste yet. Everything he listens to is old, passed down from his mom, but he likes Tori Amos and he’s seemed to know several other bands I’ve mentioned. I consider getting him a few things I really like, but I’m not sure he’ll like them. I linger over an Etta James album and a Lou Reed, then consider some of the bands I first saw play live, but that seems sappy. I finally decide on an Emmylou Harris record and take it up to Leo.