Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Old Growth

Old Growth

“COME ON, honey,” his mother said, tugging gently at his arm. “Come on. You need to give him some space.”

“What just happened?” Mark asked, baffled and hurt.

She gave him a crooked smile. “You were late,” she said simply, and he opened his mouth to say that happened all the time, but between the time he thought of the words and the time he could say them, everything Cassidy had ever said about being late came crashing through his thick head and stopped his tongue.

“Fuck.”

“Mark!”

He shook his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of what he’d done. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

“Mark, he was tired and a little overwrought. I think—”

“I’m an insensitive prick? Because yes. Yes I am,” he said bitterly. “God—Cassidy!” He raised his hand to bang on the door, but before it hit, they both heard what sounded to be muffled screaming.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, leaning his face against the door. “Mom! I’ve got to fix this!”

“Give him his space,” she said softly. “Let him calm down a little. He’s been trying not to work himself up into a state for the last two hours—I had no idea he was so upset.”

Mark shook his head. “Mom,” he said painfully. “I just… I just fed into every nightmare he’s ever had about a relationship. Do you understand what I just did?”

She let out a breath. “You were late home from work,” she said softly. “And you forgot to call. It was thoughtless, but it wasn’t a crime.”

“It was to him ,” he said, miserable to his bones. “So many people have let him down, Mom. So many people have not shown up in his life. And I know it’s only been a week, but… but we’re the most important thing to happen to him emotionally for a really long time.”

“That I knew,” she said, patting his cheek. “And I also know that you threw a monkey wrench into things, taking them up to another level so soon. But it’s not necessarily a bad thing—just, you know. Needs extra care.” She frowned. “But you need to decide right now that you’re up to the extra care. This was once—and of course it will happen again. You both need training up. But are you up to the job? Because if you aren’t, you need to pull out of this relationship right now.”

“I a—”

She held up a hand. “Go. Just, I don’t know. Take Gus-Gus for his walk. Do your laundry. Take a break. Let him get this out of his system and you both can cool down. But think about the question while you do. Mark, I’m really starting to care about this boy. You two don’t have to be an item for me to pull another one into the fold, but it sure will make things hard if you’re constantly at odds.”

“I’ll—”

“Think about it,” she said implacably. Then she sighed. “And I’ll try to get him to open the door.”

Mark sighed and went, calling to a confused Gus-Gus as he walked out. The two of them ventured into the blustery night, and Mark thought she might have a point. He crossed their front lawns and made his way around to the back entrance to the garage apartment, the one behind the house. He was surprised to see the glowing tip of a cigarette as he neared, and the blocky silhouette of his brother.

“Mark?” Keith asked softly. “You’re home late.”

Mark grunted. “And you’re out late. Where are the kids?”

“In bed,” Keith said, blowing out smoke. “LizBet was asleep when I got them home, and the kids…. Well, it was a shitty day.”

“Giving them space?” Mark asked, thinking of their mother’s admonition to him.

“Yeah. Too many adults checking on them. I asked Brandon if he was okay in the middle of dinner, and he shouted, ‘I’m eating pizza!’ I, uh, told him to carry on.”

Mark smiled a little, sad for them all. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t going to be an easy time.”

Keith grunted and leaned against the door. Gus-Gus waddled next to him to lean against his leg, probably because it was under the overhang and drier there. Mark took a hint from Gus-Gus and leaned against the house, shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

“You all saw this coming, didn’t you?” Keith asked bitterly.

“Wasn’t ours to see,” Mark said diplomatically. “I’m pretty sure you all saw Brad coming too, but, you know….”

“Wasn’t ours to see,” Keith agreed after taking another drag. “Brad was a prick.”

“Mm. Am I allowed to say bad things about Tanya now? Because I’ve got some saved. But if it’s too early, I can hold on to them for next year.”

Keith gave a humorless laugh. “Give it a month or two, then take me out and get me drunk and lay them all on me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Your new guy sounds promising.”

“My new guy?” Mark hadn’t even really spoken to his brother since Cassidy had come home from the hospital.

“Next door.” Keith gestured with his chin. “Kids love him. Say he’s nice. I mean, I don’t think they even remembered who Brad was.”

Mark thought about it, about all the family events Brad had been to where he’d paid the kids only cursory attention, and about all the family events Brad had missed because he just hadn’t wanted to go.

“Small things,” he said. “When you’re a child. It takes so little to make kids happy.” And the thought of all the moments Cassidy had missed—and had known he was missing too. “God. I’m such a fuckup.”

Keith snorted. “My marriage broke up and I’m living with my mother, Mark. My wife is about to get the house in the divorce settlement just so I don’t have to fight her for custody for the kids. I have to start from scratch. Don’t tell me what kind of fuckup you are.”

“I was late tonight,” Mark said.

“So?”

Keith was really looking at him funny, so he tried to explain. And every time he talked about Cassidy’s past, he felt the hugeness of his crime all over again. “So Brad was probably right about me,” he said bitterly. “I’m an irresponsible child who can’t be trusted with people or nice things.”

Keith snorted. “I think we covered that Brad was a prick,” he said. “He hated our family, he hated the dog, and I’ll be honest, I think the only reason he was interested in you was that you’re hot and you’re a doctor. He just looked at the outside and didn’t see that being a good person—which includes loving your family—is the thing that makes you tick.”

“I can’t believe my brother said I’m hot,” Mark muttered. “Ew.”

“Shut up,” Keith retorted, sounding so much like the older brother he was that Mark couldn’t help but think Keith , at least, was going to be okay. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re right. Cassidy’s been broken, and he’s been broken in the place that’s sort of your weak spot too, so you’re going to have to work on that. But I think he’s also got your priorities. Did you say Mom’s teaching him how to… you know?” Keith flicked his cigarette to the concrete strip next to the house and made little motions with his hands. “The yarn thing she does.”

“Crochet,” Mark said dryly.

“Yeah—she tried to teach me, she tried to teach Dani, she tried to teach Tanya—”

“And me.” Mark had been able to do it, but he hadn’t really loved it.

“And she said this guy was excited to try. So this guy is, like, the anti-Brad. I mean, they may have the same pet peeve about time, but they definitely have different priorities about how you spend your time. And Cassidy sounds… I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m sort of raw, because I think my kids are fucking awesome , and Tanya doesn’t seem interested in them, and that hurts. But he also seemed to think they were fucking awesome. Brandon said he put Brandon’s drawing on the refrigerator—do you know Tanya wouldn’t let them do that? She wouldn’t let anything go on the walls that wasn’t in a frame. I had to take all their artwork to my office and then show them pictures of it posted up there so they’d know it was up. So this guy’s a little broken. I say you fix him, and learn how to write a goddamned text, and see if this can go somewhere, you think?”

“I was planning to try,” Mark said, loving his brother in that moment. God, one of the most frustrating things about watching Tanya treat him like a cash machine was knowing that Keith was so much more than a provider. He was such a good father—and he’d make some woman a really good partner; Mark was absolutely convinced of that. “But… but I can’t be the one that fixes the damage. Not all by myself.” Mark sighed. “I mean, I can do my part, but… you know.”

Keith’s mouth twisted. “Am I about to become the world’s greatest brother-in-law? I am. I’m about to become the world’s greatest brother-in-law. I’ll fly kites with this guy, I’ll take him fly-fishing—”

“Do you even know how to fly-fish?” Mark asked, surprised.

“I am the fly-fishing king —as you are about to find out when I move all my equipment into the garage, along with my woodworking shit—”

“He’s got woodworking shit,” Mark said, thinking about all the machines in the garage that he and his mother had covered with tarps so the dust wouldn’t damage them while Cassidy was laid up. “He’s really talented.”

Keith let out a chuckle. “You’re killing me here. I love this guy. I’m going to be a stellar brother-in-law. You need to make this work.”

Mark smiled, comforted by Keith just like he’d been as a little kid when he’d had monsters under the bed. He could hear Keith’s voice in his head now. I’ll kill them for you, Marky—I swear I will. But first you need to pull that bastard out from under the bed so I know what I’m fighting.

That was Mark’s brother. He’d slay any dragon you needed him to, as long as he knew what it looked like.

In this case, it looked like Cassidy’s fears and Mark’s unreliability, and in the light of Keith’s die-hard practical nature, that monster didn’t seem so big.

“I’ll fix it,” Mark vowed. He remembered telling Cassidy that one late arrival shouldn’t have changed the entire course of Cassidy’s life. There should have been lots of chances besides that one.

He certainly hoped it was true.

“I know you will.” Keith slung a protective arm over Mark’s shoulders, and for a moment they just stood there, staring out into the rain. Then Keith shivered. “Are you cold? I’m cold. Did you need something from your room? Because I… I gotta tell you, Marky, I’m beat. Today was sucktastic, and it’s great I can be your Jiminy Cricket and all, but I need some fun television and zero conversation, stat.”

Mark leaned his head on Keith’s shoulder for a moment before straightening. “I need some clothes for tomorrow,” he said. “And another pair of pajamas. And my shower stuff. I’m sort of moving into his house if he’ll let me, and I miss my own stuff.”

“That’s my boy,” Keith said tiredly, giving him a squeeze before pulling away. “Always thinking ahead.”

And with that, he led them both into the garage and up the wooden staircase to the apartment so Mark could pack a duffel bag and hope for the best.

HE STAYED for another half hour, having a beer with Keith as Keith settled down on Mark’s denim couch with Mark’s wool throw, recovering from their stay in the rain. The apartment itself was snug—the walls textured drywall, and Mark’s mother had chosen a sweet shabby-chic blue wallpaper to decorate. Not particularly masculine, but Mark had thought ruefully that it was her house, and he was living in the little studio rent-free. There was a kitchenette with an oven, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a sink, as well as a bathroom with a shower cubicle just big enough for a grown man to possibly soap his pits. Mark had brought his couch, recliner, coffee table, a couple kitchen chairs, and the queen-sized bed he and Brad had kept in the guest room when they’d lived together, and with the bed stashed in one corner and the living room furniture ranged around a big-screen television, the space was big enough not to feel claustrophobic but small enough to keep I’ve got to get my own apartment singing through the back of a grown man’s mind as he lived there.

Mark and Keith shot the shit as they sipped their brews, and Mark kept his cell phone on the table so he could see if his mother needed him, and he popped up like a jack-in-the-box when a message from her flashed.

You ready to come back?

“Good news?” Keith asked.

“Hope so,” he said, texting OMW before sliding the phone in his pocket and grabbing his duffel bag. “See you tomorrow, maybe.”

“Yeah. I may need you and Mom to help me with the kids at school. I know Dani gets back from her business trip next week, so she’ll be in town to help too.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “That thing about taking a village is not bullshit.”

“No it is not,” Mark said, making his way to the door. “Thanks for the beer.”

Keith grunted. “Thanks for not sucking as a brother, Marky. Talk to this guy—you’re probably a decent boyfriend once you get past the being-late thing.”

Mark chuckled to himself as he left, duffel bag slung over his shoulders, Gus-Gus once again at his heels. Keith deserved all the good things for Christmas this year—Mark would have to ask Cassidy what he thought they could do.

The idea made him square his shoulders and head purposefully back into the rain. Cassidy was waiting on the other side of the yard, feeling miserable and left behind and forgotten. Mark hoped that now they’d both had some time to think, Mark could make that better.

WHEN HE walked into Cassidy’s house, his mother was in the front room, crocheting, and he saw what must have been Cassidy’s work—done in a stormy blue worsted wool—sitting on top of a canvas bag at the other end of the couch.

“See what he did?” she said with pride.

“I saw that when I came in,” he told her. He’d known immediately who it belonged to. “Why’d you put it there?”

“So he knows he can work on it when he’s watching television.” She gave him a smug smile. It was when she got most of her yarn-work done.

“Very clever.” He grew sober. “How is he?”

“Awful,” she said with a sad smile. “But he unlocked the door when I told him if anything happened we’d have to break it down. I haven’t heard any sounds in a few minutes—he might have fallen asleep. Where’d you go?”

“Talked to Keith,” he said briefly, and her eyebrows went up.

“It’s been a day all around,” she told him with a sigh. “How is he ?”

“Ready to not talk about it,” Mark said, grimacing. “And I think the kids are asleep, but you may want to check.”

“Mm.” With a little sigh, she packed her ubiquitous project tote, pausing to toss a couple of yarn cakes on top of Cassidy’s bag. “So he can finish it in his own time,” she said.

“Scarf?” he asked—but he knew her answer. As far as she was concerned, all “larval” crocheters were in the scarf stage. Eventually they would learn to cocoon themselves in their passion for the craft and emerge able to create blankets, sweaters, and accessories, but first they had to make a scarf.

“Yes,” she said, and her lips quirked into a smile. “Don’t tell him, but I think it’s for you. He asked what your favorite color was.”

Mark bent and fingered the yarn, recognizing the pricey hand-dyed small-mill brand. “It’s the good stuff,” he said, surprised. “You gave us the crap yarn to start with.”

“ You were all acting like I was forcing you to go to school,” she said archly. “ He was happy to learn, so he gets the good stuff.” She sobered too. “Go make things right, sweetheart. I have hope for both of you. Oh! And there’s dinner on the counter for you when you’re ready.”

Mark nodded and kissed her cheek before seeing her out, making sure she’d pulled her umbrella out of her crafting bag so she wouldn’t get too chilled as she crossed the yards.

Then he looked down at Gus-Gus, who had curled up on the kitchen mat because he’d decided that was his sleep cushion, because he was Gus-Gus apparently.

“You think he’ll talk to me?” he asked.

Gus-Gus thumped his tail experimentally, and Mark took some hope with him as he walked down the hall.

“Cassidy?” he called softly, knocking on the door. “Cassidy, baby, are you in there?”

“Go away,” came the wretched reply, and Mark laughed softly.

“Uhm, no. Here, I’m going to let myself in, because talking through the door is stupid.”

The room was completely dark, the only light coming from the bathroom. Cassidy was lying partially on his side, the cast keeping him from the full fetal curl, his back toward Mark. Mark thought about going to the other side of the bed so they could face each other, but maybe he should let Cassidy make a move of his own. Instead he drew up the chair he’d sat on previously and placed himself at Cassidy’s back, hoping Cassidy would turn toward him when he felt safe.

Meeting each other halfway was going to be essential.

“Cassidy? I, uh, just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I should have texted. It was stupid. I got caught up in what I was doing and forgot. It was so thoughtless of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Cassidy said, voice clogged. “I mean, yeah, you should have texted, but….” He let out a shuddering breath and said, “Ribbit. Ribbit.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry?”

Cassidy let out a miserable little laugh. “I… I wish I could rip back the entire last hour. Like with my project. Rip-it. Rip-it. And then when you walked in, all happy and excited to see me, I could have said, ‘No, we didn’t see the rain coming in! Gee, you’re late.’ And then you could have said… well, what you just said. That you were sorry and you should have texted. And it could be normal, and everyday, and not a problem. And I wouldn’t have overreacted and had an anxiety attack and—” His voice started to tighten, his emotions ratcheting up again, and Mark rubbed a circle in the center of his back, his chest starting to loosen for the first time since he’d walked in.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Hey, don’t get upset. Baby, were you in here having an anxiety attack? Is that what happened?”

“I tried to make it go away,” he whispered. “I… I haven’t had one in years. Since Rose told me my probationary period was over and I was hired full-time. I… felt it coming, and you were late, and I couldn’t stop it and—”

“Sh….” This time he leaned forward and kissed the crown of Cassidy’s head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry. Don’t apologize. I know enough people who’ve had those to know you can’t just wish them away. And….” He laughed a little, bitterly. “And this has been a roller coaster week for you, hasn’t it? The leg and my family and… and us. So much, so soon. And then I was late and it just sent all of that spilling over. It’s no wonder.”

“But I like us!” Cassidy sniffled. “I like your family. I… well, I could do without the stupid cast and the ache and the wheelchair, but I’ll get used to that, and then I’ll get past it. I mean, I may need a cane for a while, but… but I’m alive , and the tree could have crushed my skull. I… I’m fine. It’s just….”

Mark wrapped his arm around Cassidy’s shoulder this time. “It’s a lot,” he said softly. “I… I’m sorry I rushed things. Do you want me to go? My mom can come over—”

“No,” Cassidy whispered, and tried to look over his shoulder. Mark helped him out by standing up a little so they could make eye contact. “No. Maybe no… uhm, nakedness tonight—”

“Lovemaking,” Mark clarified, and was relieved when Cassidy nodded.

“I just want you to be here, with me. I… I want the other stuff, but right now….”

Mark opened his mouth to say something the perfect boyfriend would say, and his stomach growled instead.

Cassidy chuckled weakly. “Go get food,” he said. “I’ll… you know, work to sit up. We can watch television and—”

Mark smiled. “Rip-it?”

“Yeah.” Cassidy nodded. “Rip-it. And we can start again.”

“Good.”