Something Like Spring (6 page)

Caesar’s attention was on him, not the guitar neck. “We don’t have to do this,” he said.

Jason stood and wiped the frustration from his expression. “It’s cool. You’re ready. Try strumming.”

Caesar did, and while his grip on the neck wasn’t tight enough and his strumming was too strong, he managed something resembling a chord. “All right!” he said. “This is great. Now teach me everything else.” He laughed at Jason’s reaction and handed the guitar back. “Honestly, man, I think I’d rather listen to the master himself.”

Jason smiled at the compliment. “I’m not sure the rest of your family will feel that way.”

“They’ll love it,” Caesar said. “Where’d you learn to play?”

“My mom. She knew the basics, and we had a neighbor a few houses down who gave me lessons in exchange for help around the house.” He glanced down at the guitar adoringly, barely seeing the spots where dry wood peeled or dirty strings needed replacing. “This was hers. When she first gave the guitar to me, it felt huge. It fits better now. Or I guess I fit better to it.”

Feeling awkward, Jason ducked into the closet to hide the guitar there. The instrument was one of the only things he still had from his original life, the one which felt more real despite having ended nearly nine years ago, and he was starting to worry Mrs. Hubbard would take the guitar away to make him fit her ideal. When he left the closet, he found Caesar glancing around the room.

“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked. “It looks like you haven’t moved in at all.”

“I travel light,” Jason explained, going to the dresser to fetch a shirt.

“You’ve got to do something to personalize this place,” Caesar said. “It’s like living in a hotel. Or is that how it feels to you anyway?”

“Foster care?” Jason turned to him and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never stayed in a hotel.”

Caesar laughed, but not in a condescending way. “Well, being in a hotel feels like this. There’s a room, and it has everything you need, but none of it is personal. Come see my room. It’s stuffed full of crap. You can go shopping there. Pick stuff out to bring back here.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, “but I don’t have any money.”

“I meant that figuratively. You can have whatever you want, no charge.”

“No thanks.” The idea made him nervous. Being in Caesar’s presence was challenging enough. To be surrounded by him would be overwhelming.

“Then let’s go shopping for real. Let me buy you something small. Anything to breathe life into this place.” Caesar didn’t wait for an answer. He took off down the hall. Jason hurried to put on his sneakers and a T-shirt before following.

He found Caesar sitting in his car, wearing a maroon hoodie over the tank top. Jason settled into the passenger seat, but the engine didn’t start. Caesar was texting again. Jason worried this meant others would be joining them for their shopping trip. Caesar’s frown of concentration deepened. Finally he glanced up. “Some people just don’t understand the need for guy time.”

“Your girlfriend?” Jason asked.

“Something like that,” Caesar said. He pressed the top of the phone until the screen flashed and went blank. “Oh, look! My battery just died. What a pity.” He tossed the phone in the back seat and started the engine. “You ready for this?” he shouted over an explosion of hip-hop music.

“Yeah,” Jason shouted back.

The truth was, he had no idea what “this” referred to or if he’d be ready for it. But he did know that being in Caesar’s passenger seat sure beat an uncomfortable church pew.

* * * * *

“What’s it going to be?” Caesar asked, flipping through framed posters. “Boobs?” Flip. “Trippy black-light mushrooms?” Flip. “Eminem?”

“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” Jason said.

“You make it sound good, but these posters suck.” Flip. “Gwen Stefani impersonating Madonna.” Flip. “More boobs.” Flip. “Here you go, a bunch of greased-up, shirtless firemen.”

Caesar turned to face him, but Jason gave him a practiced blank expression. Inside he was wondering if his slipup during the guitar lesson had given him away. If so, he wasn’t about to confirm it now.

“Suit yourself.” Caesar shrugged. “If you don’t like boobs, firemen, or Madonna impersonators, what do you like?”

Jason took over, flipping past posters of bikini models and cannabis leaves. He stopped on a vintage movie poster and grinned. “This.”

“Friday the 13
^th
?” Caesar asked. “You like horror movies?”

“Yeah. Ever since I was a little kid. This series was my favorite because of the main character’s name.”

“Jason?” Caesar said after a moment’s thought. “The guy in the hockey mask?”

“Yup. That’s me!”

Caesar’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that!”

“Not a fan?”

“No. Not of any horror movie.” Caesar looked back at the poster apprehensively. “I scare easily.”

Jason smiled. “Those movies aren’t scary. They’re funny. You just have to see them with the right person.”

“You really want this hanging on your wall?” Caesar asked. “I have to look at it every time I walk by your room?”

“It’s either that, or you go to a horror movie with me so I can show you how fun they really are. There’s a new zombie flick I’ve been dying to see.” Jason nudged him. “See what I did there? Dying?”

Caesar raised an eyebrow. “That’s your idea of funny?”

“Too stiff?” Jason asked. “Don’t like deadpan humor?”

“All right. Stop with the horrible puns and I’ll take you to your movie.”

“Today?”

Caesar shrugged. “Why not?”

The mall cinema was showing the right movie, but not for another hour, so they strolled past shops and then hit the food court. Jason wanted pizza, but when Caesar suggested Chinese food, he pretended that’s what he wanted too. Otherwise they would have to stand in separate lines.

“So what do you think of life with the Hubbards?” Caesar asked between bites of broccoli beef.

Jason just nodded.

“What sort of answer is that? Come on, be honest with me. I can take it.”

“Well, you guys probably won’t get a reality show any time soon.”

“You’re saying we’re boring?” Caesar’s eyes twinkled. “Just you wait until Amy throws one of her fits. Or Carrie goes through another breakup. The censors will have to bleep every other word.”

Jason smiled in response. “I like boring. I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime.”

“So you’re here to stay?”

This made him more solemn. “It’s a nice house,” he said, “and your family is all right. But that doesn’t have much bearing on if I stay or not.”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing this a long time.”

Jason nodded again.

Caesar poked his food around with his chopsticks. “We get guys like you sometimes who never settle down. One of them told me he resents us. Like, he understood what we’re doing is generous or whatever, but he kind of hates us regardless.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Jason said. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but there’s this part of me that still wants to go home. My real home. I want to be with my mom again, and even though I know it’s not possible, I can’t help what I want. So yeah, when people come to me and basically say ‘don’t worry, I’ll be your mom,’ I get angry. Not at them, necessarily, but at the situation. Dealing with it would mean accepting the life I knew is gone. It’s much easier to just keep moving, keep avoiding the truth.”

“Which is why you pack light.”

“Yeah.”

Caesar let go of his chopsticks and leaned back. “What happened? Can I ask that? I usually don’t, but—”

“But what?”

Caesar shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”

Jason swallowed, telling himself not to read anything into this, not to indulge in yet another hopeless fantasy. But Caesar’s open expression was enough to get him to talk about a subject he normally avoided. “Okay, but promise you won’t say you’re sorry. I hate it when people feel sorry for me.”

“I promise.”

Jason took a deep breath, then exhaled. “My mom was sixteen when she got pregnant. Before then she was practically a saint. Bible camp and church every Sunday. Or walking door-to-door with pamphlets, which is how she met my father. He was a couple of years older. They went to the same school but never talked. That day at the door they did. Later, after she got pregnant, he enlisted in the Army. Mom said it was to escape becoming a parent, not that it matters, since he died in a motorcycle accident a few years later. My mom kept me, obviously, and my grandma helped raise me until my mom was out of high school.”

Jason hesitated, unsure if he wanted to continue, but seeing Caesar’s look of pure sympathy prompted him to continue. “When I was six, everything started falling apart. My grandma died of a heart attack, and I think my mother started drinking. I remember she didn’t smell right to me anymore. Eventually she started seeing this guy, and in retrospect, I think it was the first relationship she’d had since my father. I guess she was lonely or desperate or maybe just drunk, but something was wrong, because when the guy started hitting me, she didn’t tell him to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Caesar said.

“You promised not to say that.”

Caesar’s jaw clenched. “I know, but that’s really fucked up. I wish I could have been there. Like as old as I am now, I mean, because I would have beat the living shit out of that guy.”

Jason couldn’t help smiling. “He was pretty big.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” Caesar responded. “Don’t let these good looks fool you. Beneath this pretty exterior is a tiger!”

Jason shook his head, no longer wanting to dwell in the past when the present had him buzzing. He chose to summarize the rest. “Eventually too many people noticed the bruises and stuff, and Child Protective Services stepped in. That’s when I was seven years old.”

“What about your mom?” Caesar asked.

“There’s no chance of me going back.”

“Maybe she’s not with that guy anymore. Or—”

“That’s enough about my life.” Jason said this firmly, but he tried to inject humor back into the conversation. “Tell me about the almighty Caesar. What’s life as an emperor like?”

Caesar shook his head ruefully. “You have no idea how often I get teased about my name, although I suppose it is appropriate.”

“How so?”

Caesar moved his plastic tray to the neighboring table and leaned forward. “I really am going to inherit an empire. My parents have groomed me since day one to take over my father’s business.”

“I don’t even know what he does.”

“Flight computers,” Caesar said, sounding unimpressed. “Black boxes and some other specialized equipment that gets shoved into airplanes. Not just civilian but military as well. That’s where the real money is. Anyway, ever since I started high school, the pressure has really been on for me to follow in his footsteps.”

“Is that hard?”

Caesar waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. I’ve got it made. I don’t take anything for granted, trust me. I’m not spoiled. Stories like yours show how random life can be, how lucky anyone is to have a family, not to mention a successful one. I study my ass off and my grades are near perfect. That’s what my parents want. I’m supposed to get into Yale and make the right contacts there before I return to learn the ropes from my father. In return, I get to do whatever I want.”

“That’s not spoiled?” Jason asked.

“Maybe it sounds that way to you,” Caesar said. “I told them church is too much, that I’ll get straight A’s, but I need some time to myself. I honestly think my father is happy to let me run off with my friends, because being social is a big part of those military contracts. You don’t get them without being charming. He’d probably say us being in this food court right now is practical training. Am I charming you?”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“Then I’m halfway there.” Caesar stole a bite of sweet and sour chicken from Jason’s plate with his bare hand. After chewing thoughtfully and sucking the tips of his fingers clean, he continued. “You have to understand how my parents function. They like to decide what their kids do, so I let them. I’m giving up my freedom of choice, and sure, the life that awaits me will be comfortable. But it won’t be my own. I won’t pretend I’ve got it hard, but I pay a price for the things I have.”

Jason made sure he didn’t look convinced.

“How old are you?” Caesar asked.

“Almost sixteen.”

“Almost?”

“My birthday is next week.”

“Oh, wow. Okay, what do you want to do with your life?”

“No idea.”

“Well, I don’t mean to play the age card on you, but when you do figure it out, ask yourself how easy it would be to give up that dream.”

Jason noticed the tension on Caesar’s face. “So you’re saying you don’t want to run your father’s business?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why? What was your dream?”

“Doesn’t matter. Listen, I know Peter hates me, and maybe the rest of you guys do too, but there’s nothing I have that you can’t. Amy knows this. She’s smart. My parents want her to be the perfect little princess, and she plays that role to perfection. When they’re not around, she’s kind of weird.”

Jason thought of how one of their dollhouse dramas had ended in a quadruple homicide. “Weird is good.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t show that side when Mom and Dad are around. Carrie still fights against it, but she’s made it this far. Peter stepped into line too. He got adopted, but he still lets my mom dictate how he dresses. Have you considered that?”

“No.”

“Peter knows how to play the game. I don’t get why he still resents me, but whatever. So I guess what I’m trying to say is you can have my life too. If you want it, I mean.” Caesar flashed him a smile. “I’m willing to share.”

Jason shook his head. “I still say you’re spoiled.”

“Says the guy who’s getting a free meal and movie out of me.”

Jason laughed. “Well you did say you were willing to share. Hey, what time is it? Doesn’t the movie start soon?”

“No phone, no clock. Let’s head over there anyway.” Caesar stood, picking up their trays. “Aren’t you going to eat your fortune cookie?”

“Nah,” Jason said. “I can’t stand the things.”