up looking like gigantic penises.”
I pour for him. “Imagine that.” I turn to Kyle. “And what were you doing while these two juveniles played in the sand?”
Camille snorts and pops another potato chip in her mouth. She’s glaring at Kyle. “Yes, I can’t imagine you not wanting to participate while something phallic was happening.”
There’s sudden acid in her voice. The transformation is jarring. When it was just the two of us here she was relaxed and cheerful. Now suddenly she’s breathing hard and trying not to cry.
Silence. Kyle gets a glass out of the rack, too. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, dear.” She slugs down the rest of her wine and holds her glass out for more. “Nothing at all.”
Tommy plops down in the chair next to me and picks up my sandwich for a bite. He smells like salt and sweat. “So what’s up, big brother? It’s not like you to hit the booze so early.”
I take my sandwich back before he can eat the whole damn thing. “Camille made me.”
She smiles but there’s no humor in her eyes. She shifts in her chair. “That’s right. I didn’t want to drink alone and since my husband left me to go prancing about at the ocean, I twisted Nathan’s arm and forced him to join me.”
Kyle fills his glass, glaring at her. “I hate it when you get like this, Camille. What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.” She stands up. “It would just be nice to get a fucking kiss from my fucking husband every once in a while without having to beg for one.”
Five minutes ago she was goofy but completely in control. Now her face is bright red and she’s weaving a little. Philip’s staring at the floor and even Tommy is looking embarrassed. He reaches for the sandwich again. “Hey, Camille. Chill out, okay? Let’s have a good time.”
She doesn’t even look at him. “Hey, Tommy. Fuck you, okay?”
There’s a knock at the screen door and everybody but Camille turns to find out who it is. She’s standing in my way with her eyes fixed on Kyle, so I have to lean around her to see.
It’s Simon. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
I push my chair back and step around Camille. “Simon? What are you doing here?”
And who was the idiot who told you where I live?
I open the screen door.
“Hey, Mr. Bishop.” He smiles sheepishly. He obviously heard Camille’s last comment. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Tommy comes up next to me. “Who’s this?” He sticks out his hand and puts on his most charming smile. “I’m Tom. Nathan’s brother.”
Simon takes his fingers. “I’m Simon.”
“Hi, Simon. You must be new. I know everybody in Walcott and I haven’t seen you before.”
Philip comes up behind Tommy and sticks his tongue in Tommy’s ear. Simon’s eyes get big and he drops Tommy’s hand like it’s burning him. Tommy just grins and drapes an arm over Philip’s shoulders.
Goddammit. Now every kid in school is going to know I’ve got a house full of fags.
“I just moved here a few weeks ago,” Simon mumbles, trying not to look at anybody.
Tommy motions for him to come in. “Want a glass of wine?”
I put my hand on Simon’s shoulder and move him back so I can step outside. “Simon is one of my students, Tommy.” I shut the screen door behind me. “Let’s talk out here.”
We move away from the front steps. Tommy is watching from the doorway and when Simon can’t see him he shapes his mouth in an O and bobs his head up and down, miming a blow job. I flip him off behind my back and lead Simon around the corner of the house, out of sight.
It’s another brutally hot day. I’m still wearing the shirt and shorts I had on at the school, but my shirt is unbuttoned and I’m barefoot. Simon is dressed in his habitual cutoffs and T-shirt; there are sweat stains on his chest and under his arms.
I lead him into the shade of a red maple. “Don’t mind my brother and his friend. They’re both retarded. So what’s up?”
He looks up at me then drops his eyes. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about how I acted in class today.”
“Yeah, I needed to talk to you about that. What’s going on?”
He shrugs and still won’t look at me. His chin is quivering. “Nothing, really. I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.”
Why is it you have to browbeat people into talking about what they obviously want to talk about? “That’s not good enough, Simon. You were being a jerk today, and besides that, you got me into trouble. What’s up?”
“You got in trouble?” He glances at me, surprised, from under his hair. “Who with?”
“Mr. Baker. He came to see me after class because Vernette complained about you. I got a lecture because I didn’t send you to him.”
“Shit.” His chin quivers some more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” A tear runs down his cheek.
A kid blubbering on my lawn is all I need. “Don’t worry about it.” I touch his shoulder awkwardly. “It’s not a big deal.”
He sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “My dad’s being a dick.” He blurts the words out. “He found a joint in my room this morning and he flipped out and started pushing me around and shit. Mom tried to stop him but he just yelled at her to get out of the room and let him deal with it.”
He pauses and I have to prod to get him talking again. “What happened then?”
He lifts up his shirt and shows me an ugly, fist-sized bruise on his side. The skin around it is angry and red.
“Jesus.” On impulse I reach out to touch it but I stop myself before my fingers connect. “Does it hurt to breathe?” My hand falls to my side.
“Not really. I’m just kind of sore.” He drops his shirt and he looks up at me wordlessly, his eyes full.
I feel myself getting pissed. Why are fathers such fucked-up human beings? “You should get it checked out anyway and make sure you’re okay. You might have a cracked rib or something.”
“I’m okay. I cracked a rib once and it doesn’t feel like this.”
“Is this the first time he’s hit you?”
He nods. “He’s slapped me once or twice but never very hard. I don’t think he meant to…”
“It doesn’t matter if he meant to or not. No one has the right to hit a kid.”
Tommy pokes his head around the side of the house. “You guys doing all right out here? Need anything?” He comes closer, smiling at Simon.
For Christ’s sake. His boyfriend’s in the house and he’s out here lusting after a fifteen-year-old. “We’re fine. We’re just having a private conversation.”
“Okay, but you might want to come inside soon. Camille’s getting a little out of hand.”
What does he expect me to do about it? I wave him away. He makes a pouty face and turns around.
Simon’s eyes follow him as he disappears around the corner. “You guys look a lot alike.”
I snort. “Now I know you need to see a doctor. Your eyesight is definitely messed up.”
He looks at me curiously. “No it’s not. His hair’s a different color and you’re a little taller but you’re obviously brothers.”
Whatever.