Something Like Spring (9 page)

Then again, those moments had been fewer in number. Even now, Caesar’s eyes kept returning to the rearview mirror to meet his. Why? Why did he look at Jason just as often as Jason looked at him? Surely that had to mean something.

“You going to let me give you a ride tomorrow morning?” Caesar asked.

“I feel bad abandoning Peter.”

“I’d give him a ride too, if he’d accept.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you,” Caesar said. “The kid hates me. Don’t ask me why. I don’t have a clue.”

“Oh.” Jason thought about it. “Maybe we’ll just keep things how they are. I’ll walk with him in the morning and ride back with you in the afternoon.”

“Suit yourself, although I have a meet after school tomorrow.”

“A meet? What kind? Track?”

The eyes in the rearview mirror smiled. “Wait and see. I’ll be by my car at the usual time. You can come with and watch. Cheer me on.”

“Okay,” Jason said, and feeling some bravery return to him, he added, “It’s a date!”

* * * * *

Torture. Absolute torture.

For the second time, Jason sat in the bleachers and stared as Caesar thrust, squirmed, and writhed against another guy. High school wrestling was nothing like what he’d seen on television. Gone were the campy costumes and over-the-top characters giving ridiculous speeches. So far no one had been hit over the head with a folding chair. There wasn’t even a wrestling ring! Just guy after guy, wearing skin-tight spandex, rolling around together on a mat.

During the wrestling meet on Tuesday, Jason’s impression had been of guys driven to insanity by hormones but absolutely clueless as to how sex functioned. Heads would often be stuffed into crotches, and a certain starting position mimicked doggy-style, and yet none of it was quite right. The two guys on the mat would switch positions countless times, not finding satisfaction in any of them.

Since then, Caesar had taught Jason the basic rules, how pinning was the goal, but that competitors had a number of other ways to earn or lose points. Understanding how the sport worked made it appear a lot less perverted. Regardless, Jason’s mind did wander at times. Especially when Caesar was out there on the mat wearing nothing but a sky-blue singlet. The amount of curves that the uniforms revealed was astounding and yet still left so much to the imagination. Jason often found his mouth hanging open. He’d have to practice keeping it shut, and would have plenty of opportunities. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he planned on sitting right where he was. At least until wrestling season was over.

“Thinking of joining the team?”

Jason looked up just as Steph sat down next to him. She had the smiliest eyes ever. He supposed he would too, if he were her.

“No. Sports aren’t really my thing.”

Steph considered the match in progress. “Then you’re the first sensible guy I’ve ever met. Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Unless you can explain it.”

Jason could think of countless reasons why rolling around with another guy was appealing, but opted for something he’d heard recently. “It’s a time-honored sport. The oldest of its kind.”

Her head swiveled back in his direction. “Did Caesar tell you that?”

“No,” Jason said. Then his shoulders slumped. “Well, yeah. You probably know more about wrestling than I do.”

Steph swatted his shoulder playfully and laughed. “I don’t know much either. I tend to zone out when Caesar talks about it. So boring!” A referee whistled loudly before beginning to yell, attracting their attention. “Then again, it is sort of hot.”

“Yeah,” Jason said without thinking. When Steph looked at him in surprise, he quickly added, “I can see why you would think that.”

Jason wasn’t in the closet. He didn’t feel like he’d ever been. Around age twelve he realized he found guys more attractive than girls. Perhaps one of the few perks of not having parents was not feeling pressure to be someone he wasn’t. He didn’t fear what his mother or father would think because they were already gone. He supposed he could have told his caseworkers and caregivers over the years, but why would it matter to them? The only people he ever felt like confiding in were the guys he became infatuated with. As for Steph, he’d only obscured the truth because he didn’t want anyone to know he was drooling over Caesar.

Especially now. What greater proof could there be that Caesar was straight? Jason wouldn’t be able to wrestle like that, be intimately close to another guy without getting hard. Even watching Caesar closely for such a reaction caused a stirring in his pants.

“It’s really nice to support your brother this way,” Steph was saying. “By being here, I mean.”

“He’s not my brother,” Jason said, still half-distracted.

“Oh. I guess it takes a long time before it feels like family, huh?”

He pulled his attention away from the action. “To be honest, it never feels like family.”

Steph’s eyes searched his. He was sure she was going to say she was sorry, which would have set his teeth on edge. Instead she nodded, as if understanding. “It can feel that way with blood relatives too, believe it or not. I’m sure it’s not exactly the same, but I refuse to believe I’m related to my father.”

“Home life not so good?” he asked.

“Home life is great. Dad took off when I was a baby but likes to show up every few years—usually drunk—to remind us all what a loser he is. So I’ve had a glimpse of what it’s like to not have parents. I’m halfway there.”

Jason nodded. She couldn’t understand completely. No one could unless they had been through it themselves, but he appreciated that she was making an effort instead of pitying him. And perhaps that incomplete home life provided a Freudian explanation as to why she incessantly texted Caesar.

“So what do you think of your new foster parents?” Steph asked casually.

Jason hesitated. If he planned on staying, which he kept seesawing on, and any badmouthing got back to the Hubbards…

“What I mean,” Steph continued, “is do you also find them to be overbearing, controlling, and just a little bit creepy?”

Jason smiled. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Steph nodded. “I got a full dose when Caesar and I used to date. Mrs. Hubbard gave me a huge lecture once on how much makeup a ‘young lady’ like me should wear. I swear Caesar is adopted. I don’t see how else he could be so normal.”

As if on cue, Caesar strolled out to meet his opponent. When he noticed them in the bleachers, he pretended to stumble, pinwheeling his arms comically.

“Maybe not normal exactly,” Steph amended, “but by way of comparison, he turned out fine.”

“So you two used to date?” Jason pried.

Steph nodded. “Off and on. Each time we’d get all starry-eyed for each other, then we’d bask in the honeymoon stage, and later we’d eventually remember why we broke up in the first place. Not exactly a vicious cycle, since we both enjoyed ourselves, but it couldn’t go on like that forever. Now we’re just good friends. Some people in life—most of them, really—aren’t meant to be anything else.”

“How can you tell who is who?”

“Friends accept you for who you are,” Steph said. “Lovers always want more from you—like your time and affection—or more for you, like they want you to be happier, healthier… just
more
.”

“And Caesar didn’t want more?”

Steph mulled the question over. “We’d reach a certain point, and he’d be content with who we were. He didn’t need it to be more. That’s why he can do this whole friends-with-benefits thing and not need to take it to the next level.”

“And you?”

Steph shrugged. “Beats being lonely.”

“I hear Kurt is single,” Jason said helpfully.

“I hear you are too,” Steph said, but her attention remained on Caesar, eyes shining as he finished pinning his opponent. Then he leapt to his feet, pumping his fists victoriously.

No, she definitely wasn’t ready to move on yet. In that regard, neither was Jason.

The morning felt faded, the sun higher in the sky than it should have been. Jason lay in bed and contemplated this. Was it Sunday? Had the Hubbards gone to church, leaving him to sleep in for once? But no, Friday was still too fresh in his mind. Saturday was here, and yet he still lazed away in bed. No being summoned to the bathroom for his allotted time, no dreadful chore awards. Could this be a birthday gift to him? If so, it wasn’t a bad present.

He lay there another half hour, just because he could, his morning wood rising and falling depending on the thoughts drifting through his mind. Caesar sent it racing up, up, up! Thoughts of another birthday—one without his mother or any true semblance of a family—made it flop over with despair. Originally, he was supposed to spend this birthday with Michelle. They’d talked months ago about what he wanted to do. That was before the Hubbards had shown up at the group home. Still, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The day was already off to a good start.

Sitting up with a wide-mouthed yawn, Jason got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. Once showered and dressed, he went downstairs to the kitchen and dining area where the table was empty except for his place. There, an empty plate and clean cutlery awaited him.

He was wondering if this was meant to teach him a lesson for sleeping in when Mrs. Hubbard came into the room.

“He’s awake!” she cried, loud enough for the whole house to hear. Then she went to him and pressed her hands to his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Jason! Sixteen is such a special milestone! Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he said, more than a little taken aback.

“What would you like to eat? You can have anything you want.”

“Pancakes?” he tried.

Mrs. Hubbard nodded but hesitated. “Pancakes are awfully sweet, and you’ll be having cake soon enough. Maybe eggs would be better?”

He almost felt relieved that she was still so controlling. “Scrambled?” he bargained. “With cheese?”

Mrs. Hubbard nodded and went to the refrigerator.

“You should have asked for a lobster omelet with truffle fries,” said a welcome voice as Caesar strolled into the room. “Or maybe an Irish coffee. Use those birthday wishes wisely.”

Jason smiled as Caesar plopped down a present in front of him and took a seat. “For me?” he asked, eyeing the elongated box with interest. He couldn’t think of anything he really wanted, but he was curious to see what Caesar had chosen to give him.

“Yup, for you. I can’t believe you’re sixteen already. It seems like only yesterday that you were fifteen.”

“Ha-ha,” Jason said, still eyeing the present.

“Go ahead, open it.”

“Not until after he blows out his candles,” Mrs. Hubbard called from the stove.

Caesar rolled his eyes. “Open it. You’ll need them for this afternoon.”

Jason glanced over at Mrs. Hubbard, whose lips were pressed together, but she nodded. He didn’t need any more prompting. He tore off the paper, breath catching when he saw the Converse logo. Had Caesar really remembered Jason mentioning them? Did he pay that much attention to his words? Surely not! They wouldn’t be the right color, but any pair would be better than the horrible shoes he had now. Jason flipped open the box.

Lime green. Just like he wanted.

“I tried telling him you already have a perfectly good pair of shoes,” Mrs. Hubbard said.

“These are different,” Caesar said. “They’re racing shoes.”

“Racing shoes?” Jason asked.

“Must you give away everything?” Mrs. Hubbard scolded.

Jason looked up. “We’re going go-kart racing?”

Caesar nodded. “Mom called your caseworker for ideas, and she tipped us off. So what do you think of the shoes?”

“They’re perfect!” Jason breathed. “I love them!”

Caesar smiled. “Good. I bought myself a pair too.” He leaned back and put a foot on the table, Mrs. Hubbard tsking as she brought over a plate of eggs. Caesar’s shoes were at least a size larger, and neon blue rather than lime green, but they were the same style. “Now we match. Lace them up!”

“Let him eat,” Mrs. Hubbard said. “This is exactly why I didn’t want him opening anything yet.”

Jason kept the shoes next to his plate as he wolfed down the eggs. Then he carefully weaved the laces through each hole before sliding them on. As he was doing so, the rest of the family slowly gathered in the room to congratulate him, each bringing along another present.

Money can’t buy love, but it certainly could rent it. For the first time—and in a completely superficial way—Jason loved the Hubbards. He was used to getting a present on his birthday, and would often be taken out somewhere like McDonalds when he was younger, but he’d never had a birthday like this before. A huge cake almost as wide as the table was set before him, his full name spelled out below
Happy Birthday
. After he blew out the candles, he opened his next present. Peter had bought him a computer game.

“It’s an expansion pack for World of Warcraft,” he explained. “Not the ideal place to start, but I thought we could run a few quests together and see what you think.”

“Great!” Jason didn’t have a clue what Peter was talking about, but he was having too much fun to mind. From Amy he got guitar picks and an electric tuner, and from Carrie, an MP3 player loaded with some of her favorite music. Mrs. Hubbard gave him his first suit, which was gray and appeared extremely uncomfortable. Her husband gave him a jacket too, but this one was camouflage.

“For a weekend out,” he explained. “Just us men.”

If that included Caesar, then it sounded like a good present to Jason!

After cake and ice cream, he was taken to an indoor race track that not only had go-karts, but special ones for adults that required the driver to be at least sixteen. These beefed-up karts included mandatory helmets, which made the experience feel more genuine, like they were part of a miniature Indy 500.

On one of his previous birthdays, Jason had asked to be taken to Chuck E. Cheese’s. This was tricky, since the care home couldn’t afford to bring the other kids along, so just Jason and his caseworker had gone. He’d been given twenty dollars worth of tokens, which seemed like a lot at the time, but they disappeared into video games in under an hour. Today Jason expected to race on the go-kart track once, maybe twice—which they did. He loved every minute of it too, getting lost in the rush of speed. When the second round came to an end and he stepped out of the kart, Mr. Hubbard walked up to him.