The Families in Rossford

“Maggie, I love you, but this is some seriously weird shit,” Maris said as the sky was darkening.

“What do you mean?”

“Alright,” Maris said, “every time we’re with you, we pass this house, and we sit out here in front of it keeping vigil and—oh shit.”

“What?” Maggie said.

“That woman’s coming out of her house. She’s coming to the car.”

“Drive! Drive! Drive!” Lindsay said.

“We can’t just pull off and gun it down the street,” Maris told her.

“You’re right,” Maggie said and rolled down the window as, from the single storey white house with the slate roof and the dormers, Dena Affren approached.

“Can I help you?” Dena said.

“How’s that?” Maggie tried.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you are outside of my house, just sitting here everyday. I don’t mean to sound paranoid, but—”

“We just think you have a really pretty house,” Lindsay said, breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Maggie said. “I’ve always wanted something like that. So… sorry to scare you.”

“That’s alright,” Dena said, still sound suspicious. “It’s just, I have kids you know? I didn’t even know there were girls in here. It could have been anyone.”

“Right,” Maggie said, nodding and putting on a smile. “Well, you have a good night.”

“You too.”

Maggie twisted the key in the ignition, to signal for Dena to step away, and then pulled out, going down the street.

“Call him now,” Maggie said, more savagely than she meant.

“I guess it is time,” Maris took out her phone, sounding a little reluctant.

“Bennett,” she said. “You’re home? Good. I need to come by. I have something to tell you.”

She hung up and Maggie said, “I’ll take you over. We can even wait outside for you.”

“Are you sure about this?” Lindsay said.

“We’re all sure!” Maggie shouted.

“Ease up on the gas,” said Maris.

Maggie took a deep breath and breaked the car to a screech as they came to Demming.

Waiting for the light, Maggie muttered in a snarky voice, “That’s alright. It’s just I have kids.”

“Well, she does,” Lindsay allowed, but Maggie continued:

“What a bitch.”

In the middle of making out, Elias separated from Dylan and said, “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I think we got a lot accomplished,” Dylan said. The two of them lay on his bed in Tom’s house, their clothes rumpled while Dylan’s hand went up and down Elias’s side. “Learning all about… chemistry. I think we make a pretty mean covalent bond.”

“You’re funny,” Elias said. “But I’m going to ace my English paper and you’re going to get a C on your test if we keep this up.”

Dylan sat up and grabbed his book. But before he opened it, he sucked on Elias’s neck again. It felt so good Elias closed his eyes. Dylan’s hands on him felt so good.

“I told you,” Dylan said between kisses, “when you get me heated up, it’s hard to cool down.”

“I know,” Elias said, using everything in him to resist. “But I would seriously hate myself if you didn’t do well. Here, cool off and take this test.”

“You made me a test?” Dylan blinked in surprise.

Elias got up and flipped on the light.

“I made you a test. I’m going to read this chapter about the Renaissance while you take it, and you tell me when you’re through.”

They sat on the floor on opposite sides of the bed, and though Elias never looked back to see Dylan, there was something about knowing his boyfriend—was that who Dylan was?—was right there. He was not distracted, in fact, he read the story with a little more knowledge of love, thinking of what it was like to be in Dylan’s arms, for them to be tight together, running their hands under each other’s tee shirts, and through each other’s hair. His mind strayed from Savanarola to the way Dylan smiled at him.

Toward the end of his chapter, a piece of paper landed on his head.

Without dignifying this by much of a response, Elias took it, read the quiz and said, “Fuck, Dylan!”

Dylan scrambled over the bed and hung over him.

“What?”

“You got a ninety-five. You’re awesome.”

“Maybe you’re awesome for teaching me.”

“Yeah,” Elias agreed. “Maybe I am.”

“So should we make out again?”

Elias sprang onto the bed and Dylan caught him, laughing.

“Yes,” Elias said.

All Dylan did was wrap his arms around Elias and hold him very close for a long while though.

“Dylan,” Elias said to him.

“Yes.”

“You know eventually I’m going to want us to sleep together. I’m going to want you to fuck me.”

Dylan’s arms went lose.

“I thought you liked the way we were.”

“I love the way we are,” Elias turned around and looked at him. “But… the way we are almost makes my body scream. I want us to be together.”

“Alright,” Dylan said, sitting up. “We can talk about it.”

“We are talking about it,” Elias said. “And, really, we’ve already done it anyway.”

“I know,” Dylan admitted. “But that was a by accident thing.”

“Not for me.”

“I always felt like it was one thing leading to another and me being out of control. You and your friend messing around in the dark isn’t the same thing as having sex with your boyfriend for the first time. I just wanted to get it right. I wanted to date you and all of that a little longer before anything happened. If anything happened.”

“I get it,” Elias said.

He was getting off the bed when Dylan grabbed his hand.

“If you want us to,” Dylan told him. “We can. If that’s what you want.”

Elias didn’t look at Dylan directly, at first. However Dylan had felt, Elias had loved that night, before Lance, when he had never been with anyone. It was what he’d always wanted with Dylan. He wanted it again.

“Yes,” Elias said. “It is.”

 

Dylan drove Elias back to his home almost in complete silence. When they reached the brick path that led up to the door, Dylan touched his hand.

“I’ll be right across the street,” he said.

Elias nodded. He leaned forward and Dylan kissed him on the cheek.

Dylan watched the boy go up the walk, shifting his bag up his shoulder. He shut off the car, got out and leaned over the top until Elias was inside, and then he turned toward Layla and Will’s.

 

“Am I late for dinner?” Elias asked, entering the kitchen.

Matthew, at the table, shook his head.

“What?” Elias demanded.

“No hello, no ‘how are you?’ Just: ‘am I late for dinner?’”

“He’s got a point,” Paul said.

“Where’s Dad?” Elias asked him, seeing Kirk was gone.

“He had to go over to your Aunt Sheila’s car lot.  So everyone’s late for dinner—except Matthew,” Paul added before Matthew could say anything.

“What about Bennett?”

“Upstairs,” Matthew said, pointing to the ceiling. “He said he wasn’t hungry.”

“I’m sorry I ever learned to cook,” Paul lamented while Elias shook his head and went up to find his twin.

Though well lit enough, Elias felt something dark and forboding coming to the second floor. Quickly he knocked on his brother’s door.

Bennett did not speak for a while, and when he did it seemed he was trying to keep himself together.

“Not right now.”

“It’s me, Ben,” Elias said.

Only a few seconds later the door flew open and Bennett was looking at his twin, his eyes red and his face wet.

He pulled Elias in.

“What’s going on?” Elias demanded, closing the door behind him.

Bennett sat down on the edge of his bed, his face in his hands, and he just began sobbing.

The doorbell rang. Dena lifted her finger and told Milo, “Never mind, I’ve got it.”

She went out of the kitchen, down the hall to the front door and answered it, surprised to see the dark haired girl from today.

“Hello, Ma’am. Is Milo Affren here?”

“We just talked,” Dena said, suspiciously.

“I know. But is Milo Affren here?”

“Who is it?” Milo’s voice came from the kitchen.

“Is that him?” Maggie’s voice was excited.

“No one, babe!” Dena shouted back as she came outside and shut the door behind her.

“Look, little girl, I don’t know who you are, or what your deal is, but I’m seriously going to have to take action if you come around my house again asking for any member of my family. Is that understood?”

Maggie took a deep breath and then said, “I just want to see Milo Affren.”

“You need to leave,” Dena told her.

Maggie pressed on a smile, nodded, and then said, “Yes. You’re right. Good night. You won’t see my again.”

And then she went down the walk, got into her car, and was gone.

“I’M GLAD everyone came,” Sean Babcock said. He rose as awkwardly as he had ever done anything in his life and said, “I would like to make a toast.”

Everyone looked around, and then Shelley looked to Jonah and Jonah nodded and they rose with their glasses.

“I want to make a toast to our family,” Sean said.

“I’m thinking about our parents,” he looked to Brian, “about our sister Erin, Shelley’s mom. About those beautiful kids right over there, those little Andersons.”

“This is getting long,” Shelley told Sean, He frowned at her. She shrugged.

“And I am thinking about the people who have come into our lives to teach us love.

“Chad,” he nodded at Chad who smiled, awkwardly, “who makes my brother so happy. And Matty who is such a good husband to this girl right here. And my Jonah,” Sean wrapped an arm around him quickly in a squeeze, that given the quizzical look on Jonah’s face, seemed not to happen too often.

“I really want us to be a family,” Sean went on. “A happy family.”

“We are a family,” Brian said tiredly, and raised his glass to toast. “So cheers—”

“No!” Sean interrupted the interruption.

“Maybe the kids don’t know, but we know,” Sean said, pointing from himself to Brian. “We know.  You and me. And I remember years ago, when he was still alive. Uncle Frank told me that I wasn’t really sorry for what I’d done, that I thought I was. But I wasn’t. He said that one day I would be. If you could know how sorry I am, Brian. And you too, Chad. I did something horrible to you too.”

Chad turned away, not angry, but embarrassed.

“I didn’t respect what you had. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

Sean had started to cry now, and Shelley found herself looking at Jonah with great admiration, for there was no discernable expression on his face as he led Sean away.

“Why is Uncle Sean—” Sinclair began, but Brian moved around Chad and said, “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you guys start eating?”