The Houses in Rossford

“Dena, are you going to be free tomorrow?”

“I’m free everyday,” Dena pointed out over the phone that night. “It’s you that’s always busy.”

“With—”

“I know, Brendan. With work. I was just saying.”

“I can’t very well tell them, sorry, now that you’re giving me the hours I asked for I have to cut back because I want to hang out with my girlfriend.”

“Especially if you don’t.”

“What? Look,” Brendan said, “I do wanna spend time with you.”

“I was just joking, Bren. You’re very tightly wound, you know that?”

“I’m stressed is all.”

“Well… come on over tomorrow. We’ll hang out just the two of us. Tomorrow afternoon, like you said. And you can get unstressed.”

There was a pause, and Dena could feel him unstressing on the other side of the phone, she fancied.

“That sounds real good.”

“We can watch a movie or something. I Got 27 Dresses.”

“Really?”

“I was really joking. We’ll watch something gory with too much sex. Just our taste.”

“That’ll be great,” Brendan told her.

“How’s Kenny?”

“Whaddo you mean?”

“I mean,” Dena said, “how’s Kenny? I mean, isn’t he a cashier now?”

“Oh… Oh, yeah. Yeah, Kenny’s great. Well, you know. He’s Kenny.

“Ey, Deen, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I mean, not since your birthday and all. And I should have been.”

“It’s all right,” Dena told him. “It’s like you said. You do have work. And I’ve got the gang. And Milo is great.”

“I don’t even know him. Not really.”

Dena wondered if she’d mentioned Milo to make Brendan jealous. She wondered why he wasn’t.

“Well, like you said, you’ve been busy. Oh, one last thing, Bren.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s Will. Layla thinks he’s feeling a little left out. Since you started hanging with Kenny.”

“Oh,” Brendan said. “Oh, shit. I’ll make it up to him. It’s just we work together and… you know. Everything.”

“I know. Just make sure Will knows. He’s a good guy.”

“I know he is. He’s my friend.”

“And, besides, if you don’t talk to him, Layla’s gonna have your ass.”

“Brendan, long time no see.”

“I’ve been working a lot, Mrs. Reardon.”

“I guess,” Nell said. “Come here.” She looked him up and down. “Have yo gotten taller?”

Brendan blushed and shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“See what happens when you don’t come around?” Nell shuddered when she touched his hand, and then grabbed his fingers.

“That’s a cold grocery store. Sit down, Brendan.”

Nell went to the bottom of the kitchen stairs and shouted up, “Dena! Brendan’s here.”

“All she’s been talking about is how you’re never here,” Nell resumed in a more confidential voice. “And when you do show up, she just… does whatever she’s doing upstairs.”

“I like what you’ve done to the house, Mrs. Reardon,” Brendan's wide, light blue eyes surveyed the ceiling and wallpaper.

“All I’ve done is clean it, Bren,” she said as Dena came down the stairs in a baggy tee shirt and jeans, her long dark hair in a ponytail.

“Okay, so do we watch Rose McGowan's horror movie debut, or do we watch Return of the Homicidal Van?”

“Homicidal Van?” Nell said.

“Yes,” Dena explained. “It’s this old VW peace van that a bunch of protesters were murdered in back in the Sixties. It comes back to avenge them. Sort of like a cross between Christine and Herby the Love Bug.”

“Oh,” Nell said, making a face.

“You know,” Brendan cocked his head, “as bad as Rose McGowan is, that sounds infinitely worse. Let’s watch it.”

They caught hands and ran out of the kitchen and down the hall while Nell shook her head looking after them.

“I’ll make popcorn,” Dena said.

“Well, I’m not just going to sit here and watch the movie while you slave over popcorn.”

“It’s not exactly slaving,” Dena said as she got up. But Brendan hit stop, and followed her out anyway.

By the time he was in the kitchen, she’d already stuck a bag of microwave popcorn in and was watching it, convinced that even after twenty seconds, if ever unattended it could burn.

“What happened to Mom?” Dena wondered.

Brendan shrugged and took down the salt.

“Extra butter?”

“Yes,” she said. “You know, you never gain any weight. It’s not fair.”

Brendan crossed his feet and, leaning against the counter, shrugged.

When the popcorn was done and Brendan had taken out sodas, Dena set to shaking salt and pouring popcorn. And then they went back to the den.

“You know,” she said, setting the bowl down, “I missed you, but I have a feeling I lost a lot of weight when you weren’t around.”  

Brendan cackled and tossed kernels into his mouth. They never hit the floor when he did it.

Halfway through the movie, when the Van had come up out of the swamp, covered in shit colored algae, round lights blinking menacingly, and it was about to chase a sheriff down the road, Dena felt Brendan take her hand in his long, cool one.

She placed her head on his shoulder. He was tall, but thin, and he’d always been all angles. Sometimes she wondered, would a strong wind—a considerably strong wind—blow him away.

“You’re my best friend, Dena.”

That caught her off guard.

“What?” He turned to her with those sad, vaguely tilted eyes. He was so pretty to her.

“That’s pretty… strong.”

“I guess,” Brendan shrugged.

“Bigger than some corny I love you.”

“Well, I do love you. But, you are my best friend. You mean so much to me.”

“Thanks, Bren. You mean so much to me too.”

“How long have we been together?”

“About two years.”

“Yeah,” Brendan said, slowly, frowning wisely.

A scream of horror and the rev of the killer van roared from the television.

“Dena?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time we had sex.”

“And then you told him No.”

When Dena said nothing for a prolonged amount of time, Layla repeated

“And then you told him no.”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What the hell do you mean, not exactly? The man says, Dena, let’s watch a gay porn. Dena, I am going to work all the time and never be around. Then he pops out of the blue with, Dena, let’s start having sex? What’s there to think about? Not really anything.”

“Well, when you say it… that way...  it makes so much sense. You’re so sensible.”

“And usually you are too. Put his shit out of your mind.

“And what about Milo?”

“What about…?” Dena looked at her. “What about Milo?”

“Well, all this time that Brendan’s been in hiding—”

“He was at work, Layla.”

“Wherever he was, all this time Milo’s been right at your side.”

“But we are friends. Just friends.”

“But he is fine,” Layla observed. “I mean, for a white dude he is definitely fine.”

“Did you just say for a white dude?  What is Will?”

“You are completely missing my point.”

“No, I’m not. Your point is ‘What about Milo?' and my point is, ‘There is no Milo.’”

“Does Milo know that?”

“What?”

“Don’t… don’t WHAT me, Dena. Does Milo know that? Ever since he came to town, Brendan has been a no show and you all have been thick as thieves—”

“He knows about Brendan.”

“Maybe he just puts up with you talking about Brendan. Don’t do this, Dena.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“I mean, seriously.”

“Layla!”

Layla put up a hand. “All right already. Oh. By the way,” Layla added, “Did you talk to him about Will.”

“I told him you’d beat the hell out of him if he didn’t make things right with Will.

Layla frowned and said, “I don’t think I ever said that, Dena. But… shit…”she shrugged, “whatever it takes.”

“It’s all right,” Will was saying. “Besides, it’s not like I’m bored. Layla’s a handful.”

“Is it true?” Tom Merrit said. “What they say about Black girls?”

“What do they say about Black girls?” Kenny turned on him with a frown.

“Just… you know…”

On either side of Will, Brendan and Kenny folded their arms across their chests, and Brendan said, “I think you came  to the wrong part of the school for a joke like that, Merrit.”

“Uncool,” Kenny pronounced.

Tom Merrit put a hand up in the air and murmured, “Fine…Chill out.” He walked off.

Will turned around and shut his locker while Kenny and Brendan stared stonily after Tom, and then turned around.

“So,” Kenny said with a twinkle in his eyes, “is it true?”

“Kenny—!” Brendan began when he heard Layla Lawden shout his name.

“Layla!”

“Hey, Lay—” Will began, but Layla pulled Brendan by his arm and dragged him to the end of the lockers.

“A word with you. Now.”

“All…..riggght?” he said, looking suspiciously at her.

“Did you just tell Dena you thought the two of you should start screwing?”

“I don’t believe I said that. In fact, I’m sure—”

“Brendan. Don’t bullshit me.”

“And don’t do your,” Brendan snapped his finger and made a small circle, “sistuh’ routine. I’m not afraid of you, Layla.”

“Yes you motherfucking are. And yes you motherfucking should be. Dena is confused and fucked up. She just found out her dad raped her uncle. The shit’s not cool. What you need to do is tell her you were wrong. You were hasty. You need to rethink this shit.”

“Layla,” Brendan straightened up and, face stony, looked down at her. “What happens between me and Dena is me and Dena’s business. And no amount of threatening can change that. Alright? It’s our business. Let us take care of our business.”

“Fine,” Layla said. “Fine, Brendan.. I’ll try begging tactics. I’ll try nice tactics. Howabout, please, don’t do something stupid? That’s all I can say.”

“Layla, how long have you known me?”

“Since we both had snotty noses. and you smelled like graham crackers and spit.”

“I never smelled like spit!”

“You, did. Brendan,” Layla sighed and took a breath. “Fine, Bren. I’m trusting you. All right?”

“I know, Layla. Just… trust me to do the right thing. And quit being such a bully.”

Brendan shrugged, turned up the collar of his blazer and walked back to Kenny and Will while Layla repressed the urge to ask him why he had to do that and tell him to take his collar back down.

“You know what?” Brendan said, as Layla joined them, “They are like that.”

“They?” Layla began, and Kenny burst out laughing while Will made a nervous smile.

“Who the hell is they? They are like that?”

“Don’t worry about it, Lay,” Brendan said.

Layla frowned and shook her head. “I’m going to find out,” she told them. “And when I do, you’ll all be sorry.”

“No, doubt,” Brendan chuckled, putting his hand over his mouth. “No doubt.”

“No cozy family dinner this Sunday,” Fenn said. “Cause I’m going down to East Carmel with Paul.”

“I would love to see you in East Carmel,” Tom sniggered over his coffee.

“Well, you can’t because you’ll be here. Todd will be over at Nell’s so he won’t be lonely. I figured that maybe this will be a time when you and Lee can get together again. Talk.”

“Fenn, what the hell are you doing?”

“Fixing you up with my cousin.”

“Now look here—”

“Now, you look here,” Fenn said. “It’s not like you don’t want me too. Right?”

Tom looked at him.

“Right?” Fenn repeated. “So, stop pretending this embarrasses you. It delights you. I know it. I’ll set the whole thing up. You all can spend the evening together. I know you can’t get enough of him.”

“Well, as you might remember, I’m with Brian.”

“You’re not with Brian. You’re occasionally humping Brian, which is not the same thing. The way you look at Lee… Well, I haven’t know you to be seriously wild about someone in… Well, never, actually. I mean, I imagine it’s hard for anyone to live up to me. It only makes sense that it would take a Houghton to fill a Houghton’s shoes.”

“I think you’re a little nuts.”

“I may be, but I’m a lot right. That I know.”

“Do you know… How he feels about me?”

“Hum?”

“You’re right,” Tom said. “At least a little. Far more than being in love, Lee… holds my interest. I mean, I like being around him. But… it really doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fill the same way about me, does it?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Lee’s sort of, you know, loud and flashy.”

“He’s obnoxious.”

“He’s like you. And your whole family for that matter. He’s… fun. And I’m… I’m just me.”

“Thomas,” Fenn knocked him on the back of a head. “The first time I saw just you, all brooding and brown eyed with that dark hair falling in your eyes and you were so... serious, I knew I’d have to get your attention somehow. It was all I could think of for the better part of a week. You would just be so… quiet, and cool. And then sometimes you would smile and that smile… God! So I did the only thing I could, I skidded into you with my bicycle, and the rest was history.

“Loud, obnoxious men love brooding….quiet… slightly too serious—”

“Thanks Fenn,” Tom smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

“—And mildly anal men such as yourself.”

I guess I’ll be leaving in a few days,” Lee said.

“Where are you going now?”

Lee shrugged and sighed, “I don’t exactly know. I’ll find somewhere.”

“Well,” Tom said, “if you don’t know where you’re going, I mean, if you don’t really have any place to go, then why go? You’ve got a place here. Why can’t you hang around here for a while?”

“I have hung around here for awhile,” Lee said.

“A week.”

“Is there anything else I’ll see in Rossford if I stay longer that I haven’t seen in this week?”

Tom sighed and snapped a breadstick.

“You know what? Back in college I never traveled a long way from home. I always felt bad that I never did the year abroad thing. People talked about how culturally fulfilling it was. All of that. How good travel was for you. I never disagreed. I just didn’t do it.

“But now, Lee, I think there’s such a thing as too much travel. I think there’s something to be said for sitting down and staying in one place. For a little while. I think…” and then Tom stopped himself and bit into his breadstick.

“No,” said Lee. “Go on. You’ve got yourself on a roll. Might as well continue.”

Tom swallowed and pounded his chest.

“Fine. I think too much traveling is just running.”

“That’s a brilliant psycho analysis. You should have become a shrink instead of an organist.”

“You can be cute about it if you want to. I’m just saying.”

Lee Philips believed that most of the things people said, and most of the issues they brought up, were bullshit. But he also had a deep sense of obligation when it came to responding to points that actually contained some truth and were sincerely stated.

So he said: “When you were in school being what you wanted to be, Tom, and probably no one was giving you grief about it, I wanted to be a playwright. I wanted to do that and no matter what I did my parents never believed in any of it. I had to shut their voices out of my head to get anything done. I had to go away to get things done. A lot. And every time I stopped, now and again I met someone I thought understood me. Saw what I saw. But they didn’t. It was just more voices to shut out.

“So, I am not terribly close to very many people, and after awhile most people are sort of… tiresome. The best way to get rid of all the stupid voices and hear my own is to shake them all off.”

“By going away.”

“Yes.”

“But, but that was then, Lee. I’ve seen some of your plays. I’ve read some that I haven’t seen.”

“You just finished reading one right now.”

“Whaddo you mean?”

“The Uppity Knight by Ripley Bogart?”

“What? That’s you? That’s—” Tom burst into a smile. “Of course it’s you!

“Well, see, that’s my point! If that is you, then what’s the problem? You’re great. You’re a powerhouse.”

“I’m me,” Lee said. “I keep my vision clear and wait for the story, and when I do something else, when I start listening to the compliments, well that’s just as bad as all the you can’t do it’s, you’ll never do it, find something practicalthat I heard when I was… much younger.

“If you want to create, you have to stand on the edge of creation, away from everything else. It’s like… waiting on the edge of the sea, and waiting for the wave to come in.”

Lee observed a feverish look in Tom’s eyes.

“If you could stay awhile, maybe you could get that same feeling here.”

“Maybe,” Lee said, doubtfully.

“Besides,” Tom said, because he sensed he had to, no mincing words would do, “the difference between all those other places and here is me. I’m here. How will you ever know me if you’re not here too?”