Family Ties (Sharing Space #2) Read online

***

  I decided to head to Long Island a day early. I guess part of me figured that staying more than two days might make up for Charlotte not being there at all. Also, I hadn’t seen much of Paul and Max and hoped to catch up with them that weekend. I left early Saturday morning and hopped on the Long Island Railroad. I was not looking forward to telling my parents that I was unable to convince Charlotte to come home for the weekend. I sighed and looked out the window; we were passing through Rosedale station and fast approaching my stop. The ride couldn’t last long enough.

  As soon as I walked in the door the aroma of fresh bread hit me like a slap in the face. I inhaled deeply. I entered through the side door that led into the kitchen and found my mother wearing black slacks and a hunter green turtleneck and looking like a red-haired Martha Stewart, leaning over the oven. She turned as the door closed behind me.

  “Patrick!” She glanced quickly over my shoulder, checking to see if Charlotte was with me, I’m sure. When she realized she wasn’t, there was a moment of disappointment, but not so much that she couldn’t hug me like she hadn’t seen me in years.

  “Ma, oxygen is becoming an issue.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re home. I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I know. I got a little homesick so I decided to come today instead.”

  “Sean!” my mother called towards the family room. “Patrick’s here. Come and get a look at him.”

  My father entered the kitchen a few moments later. When I was a little boy, my father had always seemed larger than life. Not just because of his size—he was six foot three and boxed in the Army—but also because of all he had done and how he carried himself. Growing up, I was very much aware that every day my father went to work he was risking his life. However I also knew that he saved lives, which meant he could do no wrong in my book. When my brothers, Thomas and Kellam, became firefighters, he was thrilled and I think it would have secretly made him proud if all his sons had done so, but he never made Liam or I feel bad for choosing other paths.

  Now, many years later, I stood at six feet and two inches tall, yet still viewed him from the perspective of a small boy in awe. As an adult I’d come to realize just how special he was; working hard for all those years to help raise seven children couldn’t have been easy, but he did it and he did it well.

  “Well, this is a nice surprise.” My father and I hugged. He looked at the floor around my feet then looked behind me towards the door. “And no dirty laundry? I guess that’s one good thing about you living in the city, too far for you to bring all your clothes over here, huh?”

  “Yeah, I was considering renting a U-Haul but…” I let the sentence trail good-naturedly.

  My mother pulled a golden brown loaf of bread from the oven. “Sweetheart, you know you’re more than welcome to bring your clothes here. We don’t mind.”

  “I know, Ma. Don’t worry about it though; we have a laundry room in our building.”

  “How’s that working out?” my father asked as he took seat at the kitchen table.

  I joined him and replied, “Good. The apartment is close to my job, the rent’s not as high as most places in the city, and it’s a really nice apartment.”

  “You don’t know how relieved I was when you told me they’d installed that intercom system. I can sleep at night,” my mother said as she poured three cups of coffee. She sat at the table, placing cups in front of my father and I, not trying to hide her scrutiny. “Are you eating enough? You look thin.”

  I let out a deep breath before taking a sip of coffee. “I’m eating great, Ma.”

  My father came to my rescue. “He looks fine, Theresa. Just fine.”

  “Well, are you cooking your meals or eating out a lot?”

  “I thought that I’d be too busy to eat at home, but it’s actually worked out pretty well. Chloe’s a great cook and we go back and forth making meals, leaving dinner for the other one in the oven if they’re not home. We have a good system.”

  “So, when do we get to meet this girl?”

  “You make it sound like she’s my girlfriend, Ma.”

  “She cooks for you—”

  I cut her off. “She doesn’t cook for me. She will make dinner every now and again and, if there’s extra, she might leave it for me so that I don’t have to cook when I get home, or if I’m making dinner and she’s home, I’ll ask if she wants to join me. No big deal.”

  My mother didn’t look convinced. “Is she pretty?”

  “Theresa!”

  “Ma!”

  She looked at both my father and me, offended.

  “What? Why are you two yelling at me? It’s a simple question.”

  “Honey, leave him alone. He just got here and you’re going to run him off. Come on, son. Let me show you the shelves I’ve been working on.”

  My mother rolled her eyes at the both of us as we grabbed our coffee cups and headed for the garage. Before walking out of the kitchen, I turned over my shoulder and replied, “Yes. Very pretty.”

  My mother actually winked.

  ***

  Later that day, Paul and I were seated on the bleachers at our high school watching Max coach his team through a scrimmage. We didn’t have to sit as close as we were to one another; there was no one around to hear our conversation, but it was cold, so we did. It didn’t hurt either since Paul was unloading a bombshell.

  “I’m thinking of coming out to everyone.”

  I knew he was serious; he would not have said it if he weren’t. “Are you sure?”

  “No.”

  We both laughed.

  “Why now? Did something happen?”

  “Yes and no. I’ve met someone.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’d say that’s something.”

  “His name’s Derrick. He’s a copy editor at work. He moved here from Chicago to take care of his old man; he’s got cancer and hasn’t been doing too well. Anyway, sometimes when we work late he’ll ask me out for a drink after. The thing is I don’t even know if he is asking me out, like out out. No pun intended. But he’s openly gay and I’m sure people will just assume I am too if I start spending time with him outside of work.”

  “Does he know you’re gay?”

  “I’ve never come out and told him, if that’s what you mean. I’d be lying though if I said there wasn’t an attraction, because there is and I’m sure he picks up on it.”

  I stared at my close friend and realized that this was the first time we talked about his romantic life since he came out to me years before.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Paul asked.

  “Honestly? I thought it might be weird, talking to you about stuff like this—you know, dating a man… but it doesn’t feel any different than when you and I talk about my love life.”

  “Except that people won’t treat you any differently because of your dating choices. I can’t afford to lose my job, my friends—”

  “Paul, first of all it’s illegal for them to fire you because you’re gay.”

  “What planet have you been living on?” Paul asked incredulously. “They won’t come right out and say, ‘Hey queer, you’re fired!’ but they can make my life a living hell, deny promotions and raises, and cut me out of important assignments. The hard part is proving that you’re being fucked over because you’re gay.”

  I had never seen Paul so passionate. He was afraid, and I realized that he had every right to be. My romantic problems would never be so serious as to threaten my livelihood or the way people looked at me. I suddenly felt foolish for even comparing the two.

  Paul continued, “And you know… I think about why I’m so afraid to get to know Derrick and it pisses me off. Why should I miss out on a relationship because I work around ignorance? I’ve heard a few people make stupid comments about him once they find out he’s gay. I guess I was afraid that one day they’d be making those comments about me.”

  I blew in my hands to warm them. “Sounds like
you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I just needed to say it all out loud. Derrick may not even be the one, but I’m missing out on finding him if I live my life this way. I deserve better than that.” Paul glanced over at me. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

  “Aw come on man, you don’t have to thank me. I’m sure you’ll be returning the favor soon enough.”

  “Why? Have you met someone?”

  I started to answer when I noticed Max climbing up the bleachers to where we sat.

  “What are you two homos up to?”

  Without looking at Paul I replied, “Max, shut up, alright?”

  Max looked at Paul innocently. “What’s his problem?”

  “Nothing. We can talk later.”

  “Cool. Listen, I just came up to tell you guys we’re almost done here. Don’t my boys look fan-fucking-tastic? Anyway, why don’t we all meet at McDoo’s in about an hour? Give me time to shower and change.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  ***

  McDoo’s, our college hangout, was packed every Saturday night. A circular bar was the centerpiece of the restaurant and it was flanked by wooden tables and plush booths. There were pool tables in the back and live music on the weekends. Paul and I arrived first and waited at the bar for fifteen minutes before a booth opened up. Our waitress transferred our tab from the bar to her station and we decided to wait for Max before ordering any food.

  “You come home for the weekend and you’re out eating McDoo’s and not your Mom’s home cooking? She’s gonna kill you,” Paul said.

  “I know,” I replied. “But I had to get away. This whole business with Charlotte is taking a toll. My father and I talked about it this afternoon. He wants to drag Charlotte home by her hair and my Mom is worrying herself sick over her. It’s a mess.”

  I shook my head and tossed a few pretzels in my mouth. While in college, McDoo’s—affectionately shortened from McDougal’s—provided a much-needed escape from our day-to-day woes. We could always go there to unwind after finals or pig out on hot wings and beer while studying for exams. I was hoping our college hangout could now take my mind off the situation at home.

  Max finally showed up about thirty minutes later, took one look at the table, and started complaining. “What? You guys didn’t order anything?”

  “We were waiting for you, Your Holiness,” Paul replied.

  “You guys know what I eat by now.” Max signaled to the waitress and ordered a platter of extra spicy hot wings, potato skins, and mozzarella sticks. This was fine with me; I needed the comfort food.

  “So have you banged that hot roommate yet?”

  Paul glanced at his watch, reached into his wallet, and handed me a ten-dollar bill. “You win.”

  “What’s that for?” Max asked.

  I replied, “I bet Paul it would take you less than five minutes to say something douchey.”

  “I told him at least ten,” Paul chimed in, “but you are obviously in rare form tonight.”

  Max shot Paul an incredulous look. “Like you haven’t wondered the same thing.”

  “I haven’t.” Paul shrugged.

  “Whatever,” Max said, dismissing Paul. “I want to know. You been making any conjugal visits to the bedroom down the hall?”

  “Man, Chloe and I are just friends. I’m not trying to go there.”

  “Go where?”

  “Getting into a relationship with my roommate.”

  “Who said anything about a relationship? I just want to know why you haven’t tried to tap that.”

  “Because Chloe isn’t the type of girl you get with just for sex. She’s smart, funny, got a lot going for her. Too classy.”

  I glanced up from my drink to find both Paul and Max were staring at me.

  ”What?” I asked innocently.

  Max replied, “You sound like you want to marry the damn girl.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was just wondering why you haven’t tried to get a taste and you start waxing poetic. Next thing you know you’ll be comparing her eyes to stars and her smile to the sun, Shakespeare.”

  “All I’m saying is she’s not some girl you just hook up with. Besides that, we live together. Let’s say we do start something and it doesn’t work out, then we have no choice but to see each other every day and that could be weird.”

  I looked to Paul for confirmation and, as usual, he looked like he understood perfectly where I was coming from. Surprisingly so did Max as he nodded his head.

  “Yeah. Also, even though it would be nice having live-in booty, it would definitely cramp your style if you decided to sample elsewhere.”

  I was wrong. Max still didn’t get it. Paul and I looked at him then at each other as Max dug into the plate of hot wings the waitress sat before us. We couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What?” Max asked. Hot sauce dripped from his chin.

  ***

  Hail, hail the gang’s all here. Well, almost.

  All the Murphy children and their children were present at Sunday dinner the next night—all except Charlotte. I couldn’t help but notice how many times my mother’s eyes darted towards the front door, hoping to see Charlotte standing there, perhaps apologizing for being late. It never happened.

  In fact, everyone seemed quite intent on not mentioning my sister’s name. This was unusual for a family so close, a family that discussed their problems and worked together to resolve them. I think deep down everyone was in a bit of denial and chalking it up to normal college behavior. They could do that, but I couldn’t after seeing Charlotte for myself. Seeing that glazed over look in her eyes and her drastic physical transformation made it hard to say that what she was doing was a phase or college experimentation. There was no way I would bring up my fears to my parents, at least not yet. I wanted to try and reach out to Charlotte once more.

  Dinner was pretty uneventful. The food was delicious and plentiful. My parents looked like little kids on Christmas morning. Nothing warmed their hearts more than seeing their children healthy and happy and under one roof. After coffee, I told my parents that I needed to go. I had a busy Monday planned and wanted to get home early to prepare.

  With tears in her eyes my mother told me she understood and squeezed me hard in a long hug. Unlike when I had arrived the day before, I didn’t break the hug short or comment on how hard she held me. She needed it and, at that moment, so did I.

  Chapter Three

  Family Secrets

  Chloe

  When I took Brianna home, not only did the shit hit the fan, I stepped all in it. I found out later that while Patrick was dealing with his family drama, one of my own was beginning to brew. That Sunday morning Brianna and I awoke early and made a big breakfast of banana pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I wouldn’t come right out and admit it if asked, but I made a little extra in the hopes that Patrick would come home and join us.

  I knew he hadn’t come home the night before; his arrival would have awakened me from my spot on the couch. It was with half curiosity and half jealousy that I wondered if he had spent the weekend with a woman. Not that it was any of my business; Patrick was a grown man and certainly didn’t owe me any explanation if he spent the night out, but I couldn’t help trying to imagine what kind of girl Patrick would choose to spend time with. About halfway through breakfast I decided that it wasn’t fair not to devote my full attention to Brianna, seeing as how she would be going home soon. I put all thoughts of where Patrick was, what he was doing, and whom he may be doing it to or with, out of my head.

  After breakfast I took Brianna to FAO Schwartz. Every visit I tried to give her a little something special she could take home to remind her of our time together. This time I picked out an interactive model of the solar system. With one touch it would tell the child all kinds of facts about each planet, the moon, and the sun. Brianna loved it and couldn’t wait to get home to try it out. We carried the big box on the train to Harlem an
d she remarked more than once that she couldn’t wait to see the look on Crystal’s face when she showed it to her.

  It did my heart good to see Brianna so excited over something I gave her. I knew that I didn’t have to, but it gave me such joy to do things for her. Before the train could pull into the station Brianna was already asking when we would see each other again. I told her that perhaps I’d come to her house and help her dress up for Halloween. She loved the idea.

  It was a bit of a struggle trying to carry both Brianna’s gift and my bag, and Brianna wasn’t much help as she had her overnight bag on her back. I didn’t think I would make it the two blocks from the train station to Crystal’s apartment building without dropping the box. Just when it seemed that both Brianna and I were losing the battle with our heavy loads and trying to open the front door to their building, a tall thin black man came to our rescue and grabbed the door on his way out. I looked up to thank him, and when I did I realized that something about him struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t place it. He looked as if he recognized me as well and his eyes quickly shot to Brianna, who was more concerned with whether or not I was going to drop her gift than thanking a Good Samaritan.