The room is as it ever is — quiet, apart from the hum of machines, the hiss of the respirator, and the steady beep . . . beep . . . beep of the heart monitor. So, not really quiet at all, but Kevin has learned over the past three months that those sounds fade pretty quickly into the background. But the room is, as always, devoid of the sound he most wants to hear — his grandfather’s voice.
Not for the first time that afternoon, Kevin drops his head into his hands and rubs his hair vigorously. He needs a haircut, and he has for a while, but what if Gramps decides to go while Kevin is out getting his hair cut? While he’s at school is one thing. After he’s gone to Aunt Ruth’s for the night is another. But anything else? He’d never forgive himself.
Sometimes he starts to think about what happens after Gramps finally goes, but he never spends long on that because he can’t even begin to imagine it. It’s not even not coming here anymore, it’s not having Gramps to take care of. He’s been doing that for two and a half years now, he can’t fathom going back to a “normal” teenage life. He hasn’t been a “normal” teenager since ninth grade. He’s not sure he knows how to be anything but an adult.
The problem with being forced into pseudo-adulthood at fifteen, he muses, is that there’s so much he doesn’t know, and there’s no one he can ask. Gramps used to ply him with advice constantly, even more so after the diagnosis. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have to help you out,” he’d say, breaking Kevin’s heart every time. Now, he really needs advice, and unfortunately, this scenario isn’t one they ever covered.
“I think I really screwed up, Gramps,” Kevin says softly into the quiet stillness of the room. He slides down the chair until his head rests on the back and he’s staring up at the ceiling. “This girl I’ve told you about, Zoe . . . I got so caught up in having someone I could talk to that I never even noticed she was getting a crush on me. And, of course, in all our conversations, the one thing I never told her was that I was . . .” He trails off on a huge sigh, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his hands into them. “Let her know in the worst possible way, by the way, making an ass of myself over her friend when he came in. That was last Tuesday, and she hasn’t been back since. Might be egotistical, but . . . it’s hard not to feel like I’m the reason, you know? Of course, it might also just be the guilt speaking, since I can’t stop thinking about her friend, which I’m pretty sure betrays some kind of ancient code.”
Slowly, he lifts his head and stares at his grandfather’s still form. There’s no reaction, no change in his machine-assisted breathing or the steady beep from his heart. God, Gramps would hate this. Not being able to help his grandson, living only with the aid of machines . . . short of completely losing his memory, this was his worst fear, the worst end he could imagine. Don’t let that happen to me, Kev, he’d said on more than one occasion, but in the end, that hadn’t been anything Kevin could control, so now, here they were — Gramps trapped in the limbo he had so feared and despised, Kevin left with one more person he was letting down by not being able to give them what they wanted.
With a heavy sigh, Kevin leans forward, so that his grandfather is within reach. He smooths back the hair on his forehead and presses a kiss to the papery skin. “You can let go anytime,” he whispers, so softly the words are almost inaudible. “You know that, right? I’ll be okay. Even if I have to live with Aunt Ruth and her horrible attitudes and prejudices, even if I have to go into the system for a few weeks. I’m almost eighteen. I’ll be okay. Really.” He has to blink back tears then, and he’s glad there’s no one else here to see them. “Anyway,” he says, fitting his hand into Gramps’s limp one. “Thanks for the talk, Gramps. I love you.”
He settles back in the chair, and then he catches a glimpse of white-blonde through the gap in the blinds. “Be right back,” he promises with a squeeze of his grandfather’s hand, and goes to the door. “Zoe?” he calls, coming out into the hall that leads to the waiting area. The girl turns around, and Kevin realizes his mistake.
“Sorry,” Lissa says. “Just me.”
“Never apologize for your lovely self, Miss Lissa,” Kevin says with a smile, and Lissa snorts.
“You are quite the charmer,” she tells him. “I can see why Zoe likes you.” He knows she’s trying to tease him, but given everything that’s happened recently, he can’t keep his face from falling.
“Not sure she likes me that much anymore,” he says, trying for light-hearted and missing by a mile. Lissa stares at him.
“Why wouldn’t she?” she asks, and while Kevin is trying to figure out how and if he should fill in the thirteen-year-old, she says, “Because you’re gay?”
It’s his turn to stare. “How do you—” He has to resist the urge to look for Aunt Ruth over his shoulder. “How do you know that?”
“Because I watched that little soap opera play out on Tuesday?” Lissa says, like that should be obvious. Then she looks nervous. “Do you . . . do you want to sit down? Dad and Grandma are in with Mom, and without Zoe here, I could . . .”
“Use the distraction?” Kevin supplies gently when she doesn’t continue. “I get that. Yeah. I can come sit with you.”
He grabs his bag from his grandfather’s room and joins Lissa out in the main waiting area. “So,” she says when he sits down. “You’re gay.”
“Yes,” he says. “But keep that under wraps, okay? I’m not out of the closet so much as I’ve invited a couple people in with me.”
“Don’t worry,” she says with a devious smile. “I can keep a secret. I’m just surprised we didn’t pick up on it before.”
Kevin nods. “Yeah, I know, that’s because . . . well, I don’t exactly fit the typical mold. I’m not flamboyant and I don’t care that much about fashion or music or theatre. I like sailing and hockey and woodworking. I’m gay because I like guys, and that’s pretty much the extent of it. I’m also used to covering because my aunt is . . . not supportive.” Lissa nods, and after a second’s consideration, he asks, “So you’re sure Zoe’s not weird about . . . any of this? She wasn’t here Thursday, or this weekend, or today . . .”
“No, she has a project for school,” Lissa says with a laugh. “I promise. She’s helping with a play, so she’ll be gone all this week, but she’ll be back next Tuesday.”
“Okay,” he says. “And . . . that’s all that’s going on?”
Lissa looks away. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “She said there was something else, emotional stuff she was dealing with–”
“Great,” Kevin mutters.
“But, it doesn’t have to do with you, okay?”
“How do you know that?” he asks her.
“Because she was planning on coming last Thursday, until something happened with her penpal,” Lissa says simply. “That’s all I know, though. But it’s not about you.”
Kevin nods. He supposes he’ll have to accept that. “So . . . how much do you know about her friend who was here last week? Gabe?”
He tries to ask casually, but Lissa’s look is knowing, and he knows he’s been caught out. “Nothing at all,” she says slyly. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, you know, just wondering. Just curious.” He tries to shrug it off, but Lissa’s gaze is shrewd and devious.
“Uh huh,” she says. “Do you think he’s cute?”
“I — am not going to answer that,” he replies archly.
“Hmmm…” Lissa says. “Okay.” Kevin watches her suspiciously, but she appears to move on. She pulls her phone out and fiddles with it for a minute before pulling out a textbook and starting on her homework. He thinks he sees her hiding a smile, but before he can call her out on it, his phone rings. Zoe the caller ID says. Frowning, he answers.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“You want Gabe’s number?” Zoe asks, her voice incredulous.
“What?” he asks, guilt flooding his entire body, and he immediately denies it. “No! No, I don’t, that is — ridiculous, why would you think — I mean –” Lissa is across the table from him trying not to crack up, and Kevin figures out what happened immediately. “You,” he hisses, pointing a finger across the table. “You are troublesome.”
She grins at him with her tongue in her teeth and shows him her phone, a text to Zoe shining off the screen. Kevin thinks Gabe is cute and wants his number.
“Your sister is troublesome,” Kevin says to Zoe over the phone.
“Is she wrong?” Zoe asks, and Kevin stumbles his way through another denial.
“Yes! Of course she’s wrong, why would I — that would be a horrible thing to do to you, I would never be so –”
“Kevin,” Zoe interrupts with a laugh. “I don’t have a crush on you, honest.” He exhales.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yes.” She’s emphatic enough that he believes her.
“Good. Then, yeah, Gabe’s really hot, could I have a phone number?” Lissa bursts out laughing from across the table, and Kevin pulls a face at her, which just makes her laugh harder. “Shut up!” he says.
“Wow,” Zoe says over the phone. “Seriously?”
“Hey, you just said it was fine! And — and it’s not just that, you know, it’s–” He falters, trying to find the words, because it wasn’t until they started having this conversation that he realized how badly he wants someone he can talk to about all this, someone who has had similar experiences, someone he doesn’t have to pretend with. A boyfriend would be great, and he hasn’t been able to get Gabe out of his head since Valentine’s Day, but he’s really just looking for a friend. If more grows out of that, then, well . . . He takes a deep breath and continues in a hushed tone. “It’s someone to talk to, who knows what this is like.
“Kevin, I get it,” Zoe says gently. “I was just giving you a hard time. Honestly, I was going to suggest that you talk to Gabe anyway.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I think you two would really hit it off, and I think you need more friends.”
Kevin laughs wryly. “Thanks. That doesn’t make me sound at all pathetic.”
“Is it untrue?”
He sighs. “It is not. Pathetically.”
“So, yes. I will give you his phone number. He actually already asked me to.”
Kevin is sure he hasn’t heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, he did what now?”
“Yeah, couched it in concern, the whole ‘I just want to make sure he has someone to talk to’ bit, you two are ridiculous and I reserve the right to heckle you about this for ages to come, by the way.”
“That — sounds totally fair.” He tries to keep his voice casual, but his heart is pounding. He totally understands why he has a thing for Gabe, Gabe is gorgeous and hilarious and protective. But he can’t think of a single reason beyond pity why Gabe would think anything of him. He was the worst kind of ass last Tuesday, and he’s just this guy with untold amounts of emotional baggage, and he does not understand why Gabe would be into that. “Did he seriously ask you to give me his number?”
He tries to keep his voice low, but Lissa hears him anyway, judging by the smirk on her face. He sticks his tongue out at her.
“No, he asked for yours because you two really are shameless and two of a kind. I didn’t give it to him, though, because I don’t know how private your phone is with your aunt.”
He grimaces. “Yeah, not private at all. It’d actually be better if you gave him my Twitter.”
“You’re not afraid she’ll find out if it’s on Twitter?”
“Honestly, I’d be surprised to learn that she knows what Twitter is, let alone how to use it and how to find me.”
“Fair enough. Okay, I have to go. Rehearsal is about to start. I’ll see you next Tuesday, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he says. “And — you’re sure you’re okay with this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Yes, doofus,” she says with a laugh. “I am fine with it, and I really do have to go. Talk to you later.”
He hangs up, a stupid little grin on his face, which he only realizes when he catches Lissa smirking at him. He turns his grin into a glare, but Lissa just gives him a sweet smile.
“You’re welcome,” she says.
“You’re devious. And troublesome.”
“I prefer Evil Matchmaking Genius,” she informs him. “First stop, you and Gabe. Second stop, Zoe and her penpal.”
Kevin’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says like it’s obvious. “Just have to figure out my angle on that one, and get her to confirm that she likes him.”
She grins, and Kevin shakes his head. This kid is going places, but hey, if it gets her mind off her mom, well . . . he supposes he can’t begrudge her that.