Nieces and Parents and Sibs, Oh My

Nieces and Parents and Sibs, Oh My

Quill did have his promised date. We went to a little deli and then to the movies. I don’t think we could’ve been more square if we tried. If it had been Lawrence, we would’ve had elegant French fare that required a tie and an encyclopedic knowledge of wines, but Quill was happy to have corned beef on rye and see the latest blockbuster. Of course I would’ve been more than happy to have endured a five course meal if he’d done more than kiss me chastely on my forehead when he wished me good night in front of my door. What happened to the wild passion on the dock? Was he gently declining to go any further?

“Are you coming Thursday night?”

“Don’t you usually have a foursome?” I asked with a touch of belligerence. I’d much rather have him alone without cards, game tokens, and especially other people.

“I’d rather have you,” Quill said, brushing his fingers through my hair.

I tugged on his hand. “Then come in with me.”

“Not tonight, Jake.”

“Why not? It wasn’t like you were a chaste Victorian maiden watching the sunset on the pond.”

“I know.” I heard a slight catch in Quill’s voice, and he was blushing furiously.

“Asshole,” I exploded, pounding on his chest with my fists.

“Stop it. Stop it right now. The neighbors will hear,” he hissed, grabbing my wrists.

“You fucked me from here to East Jesus and back, and now you’re afraid the neighbors will hear.”

He said nothing but pulled me tighter to his body and started frisking my pockets until he came up with my keys. Still hanging on to me, he pushed me into my tiny efficiency and kicked the door shut with his foot. He pushed me into the nook that was described as the kitchen in the floor plan but had nothing more than a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a hot plate. A table that made up the dining room was shoved under the window. It was piled high with my laundry and two weeks of junk mail. Quill grabbed the clothes off the chair and stacked them on the table, increasing the pile to gravity defying heights.

“Sit,” he growled. He gave me a soft shove, and I collapsed into the chair. He clattered in the cupboards behind me, and then I heard water running. He plunked a glass of water in front of me on the one clean surface of the table. “Drink.” He backed away and stood leaning with his back against the one wall of cupboards that served as the only storage except for a small closet in the bedroom.

I gripped the glass. For an instant, I thought of throwing the glass against the floor.

“I wouldn’t.” He said with a mild shake of his head. I assume you don’t have a decent vacuum and glass shards are a bear to get up. If you want to break glass, we can stop at the thrift shop tomorrow and get a box of cracked dishes and break them in my driveway on the concrete. I have a shop vac. We can even take the pellet guns and shoot them, but that will have to wait for a trip to the country.” He shot me an easy grin, reached into his pocket, and fished out a piece of looped string that he started weaving into elaborate patterns between his fingers. 

After his little speech, there was nothing to do but swallow the tepid water and want to die of embarrassment. God, I’m going to cry I thought as I choked back more water with the tears that threatened. 

“Grab those top two loops would you,” Quill said, stepping towards me. "And loop them over my thumb.

I obliged. I glanced at him from lowered eyes. I was too ashamed to look right at him after my  juvenile outburst. If he’d been having second thoughts about our relationship before, I was sure it was over now.

He gave me another smile, the flecks in his eyes dancing brightly. “I have five brothers. One of us was always shouting about something. I will say yours was Oscar winning, but it’s no big deal.” He smiled again before showing me his string thing. “It’s a fish in a bowl.”

It just looked like pieces of crossed string, but I nodded politely. He collapsed the string back into a loop and tossed it to me.

“Here, I’ll show you how to make a witch’s broom.” He withdrew an identical piece of string from his pocket, and led me through the motions until I could make a figure that did if you looked at it just right resemble a witch’s broom. “Have you lost your urge to throw things?”

I nodded. It’s pretty hard to throw things if you got a bunch of string between your fingers. “I’m sorry,” I started to apologize, but he cut me off.

“No, I’m sorry. I think we got our wires crossed, or maybe I should say strings crossed,” Quill said with a gentle smile. “I refused to have a roll in the hay with you, so to speak, because I like you a lot. I think I could love you. I want our relationship to be about more than lust or fuck buddies. God, I hate that expression. But I can see how you thought I was pushing you away.”

Quill kissed me hard on the forehead, pushing my bangs away from my eyes before he lowered his mouth and kissed me again. It was a long, passionate kiss, and we both drew away panting.

“I better stop,” Quill laughed, “or I’ll end up in bed with you for sure.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” I pouted.

“You are incorrigible.” Quill playfully swatted me on my exposed thigh. “If you promise to be good, we can have a repeat performance this weekend. Does that work for you?”

“Is that your final offer?”

“Yep, unless you want me to make it two weeks.”

“No,” I almost shouted before a sudden shyness seemed to overtake me. I fiddled with the loop of string on the table.  “Can I see you before then?”

“Of course, you silly thing. How am I going to learn more about you if I don’t see you before the weekend? I could of course pump my dear brother Stu for more information,” Quill said with a sly smile.

“You wouldn’t?”

He laughed, and I couldn’t tell if that meant try him because he just might, or he would never do that and was just teasing.

He hung in my apartment another half hour until he started to fold my laundry. I didn’t want to be reminded about my lack of domesticity. Lawrence had done the laundry; he’d even ironed. He claimed that my creases were never up to snuff so it was easier to do it himself. “Quill, I get the message. I’ll fold my laundry, just not tonight. If you’re going to get all domestic, you better go home.”

“I’m not trying to give you a complex. I’m just trying to be helpful.” He kissed me again. This time a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Maybe Quill hadn’t been trying to give me a guilt complex, but I folded all the laundry and did the dishes before I went to bed.

I met Quill at the toy store. He and his brother were constructing a giant Lego police station with difficulty. The construction had come to a halt and they were both staring at it exasperated. “Hey, here’s the engineer,” Justin said, “Maybe he can tell us why we can’t get the roof on straight.”

“I don’t have much expertise with building bricks.” My protests were ignored when Justin thrust the instructions in my hands. 

“You’ve got to be better at it them I am. How in God’s name is a ten year old supposed to put this damn thing together? I have no idea,” Justin moaned. “I’ll leave you guys to it, I have better things to do with my dates.” He gave his brother a cheeky grin, waving over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“Um -- Do you have any more of the blocks like you put on the bottom layer?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. They're in the wrong place, aren’t they? I should have expected this. I’m going to kill Justin.”

“Why?”

“Well, if he didn’t spend all his times flirting with the mothers under thirty, he might have actually read the directions. He can rebuild it all by himself tomorrow,” Quill said with an evil grin. “He hates Legos, swears up and down he’ll never let one of his kids have them.

“We could have dinner in, and I could do it.”

“We got other plans tonight, my friend -- a date with some crockery that needs breaking.”

I blushed scarlet at that comment, remembering my meltdown in the hall. Quill wrapped his arms around the back of me and pulled me into a tight hug.

“I thought you might want an authorized way to vent your frustration It sure beats getting hauled down to the police station for disturbing the peace,” Quill whispered in my ear. “If we do these Legos tonight, the police will definitely have to haul me away. I’ll be out on the street, throwing Legos at passing cars.”

I’d been primed to be angry at Quill when he mentioned my loss of control, but his Lego travails turned my sharp retort into a bark of laughter. “All right you got me.”

“Good. You can follow me home since you need to find my house anyway.”

Quill lived in one of the older inner ring suburbs at the top of a steep hill. For someone who had a country place, his house in town was modest. At least from the outside it looked like it might have two bedrooms, and one would have to be tucked up under the eaves of the steep gable roof. A short driveway led to a small one car attached garage, but Quill parked on the street, and I found a spot behind him. As we climbed out of our cars, the near side neighbor, who was laboring over his manicured lawn, waved a friendly hello.

“Grab the box out of the back, and we’ll get set up.” Quill walked ahead of me, opening the garage that was chock-full of odds and ends nearly spilling out into the driveway.

Quill must have seen me looking in amazement at the variety of stuff because he laughed. “You never know when some of this might come in handy. Just last year we had a street fair, and the dunking booth was a big hit.”

“Who was the victim?”

“There were two: a local disc jockey and a city councilman. It was to raise money for new play fields in the park.” As Quill was talking, he dragged a couple of battered TV tables and a box of assorted balls from the garage. He dove back into the garage, weaving around the lawn mower and trash cans to the back wall, where he opened a drawer in a workbench and pulled out what looked like plate holders. My mom displayed her china on something similar in the corner cupboard. “Have you ever played carnival games?”

“Only tossing Ping-Pong balls into fish bowls at the school carnival. I never won any fish.”

“This is kind of the same idea. You throw the ball and knock the plates and glasses off; only I don’t have any fish for prizes. I could probably come up with something else that would be a lot more fun.” Quill gave me a leering smile as he said the last bit. “How about three in a row a kiss on the forehead, four in a row on the cheek, and five in a row on the lips.”

“You’re on,” I said with a grin. Unfortunately my enthusiasm was a lot greater than my accuracy. I never did get more than three in a row; all too soon the driveway was full of colored bits of glass and the box of mismatched china was empty.

Quill grabbed me and kissed me on the forehead. “Sorry, you didn’t earn any more.” He ruffled my hair and laughed. “Let’s clean up, or you may win the grand prize after all.”

I saw Quill almost every evening that week, and we did go for a lovely Sunday drive in the country and the promised roll in the hay. Hay lofts are seriously overrated for that kind of thing. Little bits of hay stuck in all kinds of places that are best left unnamed. We didn’t see much of each other the following two weeks because I’d promised my parents several evenings for some overdue projects and Quill had to go to a toy convention. 

It wasn’t till Tuesday after Quill returned that we’d planned to get together. I swapped projects with Stuart, so my final job finished only a few miles from the toy shop.

Stuart had just laughed and taken my bridge inspection on the outer belt. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you? Have a good time tonight, kids.”

I ducked my head as I could feel my cheeks turning pink. “Stuart,” I said, drawing his name out. 

Stuart grinned an unrepentant grin. “I’m just giving you a hard time. You know that, and if you’re going to be part of our family you better get used to it; we’re on each other all the time. Of course Quill will protect you like a wounded bear with her cub. Now get to work.” He snapped his clipboard against his thigh like an officer with his riding crop. “Ah--that stings.”

“Serves you right. You’re not my boss,” I teased back.

Even though the remarks had been made in fun, I couldn’t help pondering over Stuart’s offhand comment about being part of the family. Did Quill really look at me as being more than a fun diversion? I needed to talk to him, but I wasn’t good at that kind of thing. Lawrence had always handled the serious conversations, and I had nodded my head and agreed. 

I finished my work shortly after four and with the blessing of the office knocked off early and headed for Galaxy Toys. Justin’s car was in the parking lot, sporting an impressive dent on the passenger side, a missing headlight, and the tangled end of the side mirror attachment. I walked in the shop, the bell tinkling over the door. Instead of Quill or Justin, Ted moved forward to greet me, stopping when he realized I wasn’t a customer. Ted was a local kid whom, for a reason that apparently had nothing to do with customer service, Quill had hired to help after school and for the summer. The kid always sauntered around the store with a bored, disinterested air and sported a new haircut and fashion statement every week. Two weeks ago his hair had been dyed violet, and he'd worn great hunks of costume jewelry, and this week he was trying the goth look complete with black fingernails and a shiny black cape.

“Hey, I wouldn’t go back there, man,” he said as I headed towards Quill’s office and the bathroom. "The boss man’s back there snapping Justin’s head off. It’s ugly, man.”

“I won’t bother them,” I said breezily over my shoulder. In truth, I was desperate for the toilet, having drunk a super size cola. I don’t think fire breathing dragons would’ve stopped me, and I’d never seen Quill angry. Hell, I’d even tried to punch him out in the hallway. I blushed at that memory as I pulled the bathroom door shut. However, the walls in the bathroom must have been made of rice paper because I could hear Quill and Justin as if they were standing right next to me.

Quill’s voice sounder crisper and sharper than I’d ever heard it before. “Justin, now tell me again how you managed to smash your car and get a ticket for failure to yield.”

“I was texting, and I didn’t see the car. I’m sorry.” Justin sounded like he was on the verge of tears or already crying.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Quills voice was softer now.

“You’ve asked me that a dozen times. The impact was on the passenger side. I may be stupid, but I do know that we drive on the right right side of the road, and the driver sits on the left.”

“You’re not stupid.” I heard Quill reply forcefully and then silence and a muffled sob. I wondered if Quill was hugging his brother. 

“Stop it. Stop being nice about it. You already took the heat for me from my college disaster. You’re always looking after me. I’m not a little boy anymore.”

“No, but you will always be my baby brother. I love you. I agreed to look after you, as you put it, to keep you and dad from killing each other. Now would you rather have this conversation with dad?”

I didn’t hear an answer, and I was beginning to feel like a peeping Tom in the bathroom, but I didn’t see how I could leave without them noticing me now that the volume of their conversation had decreased. I’d been dragged off to distant corners enough times by Lawrence to know how mortified I would’ve been to have someone hear the details of the conversation or worse, the punishment.

“Your keys, Justin, and your cellphone,” Quill said in a level voice.

“How long?” Justin asked in a pleading tone.

“Three months for the car and six months for the phone. I’ll get you a basic phone on my account for emergencies. We’ll figure out what we’ll do about a car when the three months are up. I don’t think yours is worth fixing.”

“I don’t have money for a car, and my insurance was the state minimum.”

“We’ll worry about it when the time comes, but nobody ever said your brothers couldn’t loan you some.”

“You’d do that?” Justin’s voice sounded excited. He must bounce back faster than a trampoline, I thought. Oh, to be young again.

“I’m your brother; what do you think?”

I didn’t hear anything else, but I imagined that Justin had thrown himself into Quill’s arms. I would’ve if I’d been Justin.

I waited five minutes after I heard their feet go down the corridor to the front and then slipped out of the bathroom to the back door. I walked back around the building and reentered. Fortunately Ted had the good sense not to mention that he’d seen me fifteen minutes earlier. Justin stayed out of sight most of the rest of the evening with Quill giving him a plausible excuse of updating the inventory list.

“Jake, would you mind running Justin home? His car’s going to be out of action for a while. We can meet at the pizza place on the hill. Justin will point it out on the way to his place, so you can find it.” Quill smiled and pulled Justin into a hug. “Take a long hot shower; you’re going to be stiff.”

Justin climbed into my car and fastened his seatbelt. “Thanks for the lift.”

“No problem. Is your car out of action for long?” I already knew the answer, but I figured the average person would be curious. 

“Yeah, it’s worth less than the repairs cost, so I’ll be without wheels for months until I can scrape some money together.”

“Well, at least you weren’t hurt,” I said. “I’m sure your brother will get you to work.”

“Work’s not the problem. It’s my social life. I don’t even want to imagine what he’d say if I asked him to pick me up at a party at three in the morning.”

“He’d probably be delighted that you had the good sense to call someone who was sober.”

Justin gave me a strange look and then broke into a wry grin. “I didn’t know you were a comedian, or you really haven’t figured out my brother.”

“Why?”

“Never mind. Turn left at this light.”

Was he suggesting that his brother was a top? Justin didn’t know I’d been in a discipline relationship, but Quill had certainly had his chance to show his true colors when I had that tantrum in the hall. Lawrence would’ve spanked me for that and rightly so. Yes, he’d taken Justin’s keys and phone but that was an elder brother protecting the younger. He hadn’t spanked him. Just imaging the reaction Lawrence would’ve had to texting while driving was frightening.

I dropped Justin off at his apartment complex and found the pizza place without effort. Quill had snagged the table in the deepest corner, lit only by a flickering candle. He reached out and squeezed my hand as I sat in the booth across from him.

“I missed you.” Somehow he made that expression sound like a dying declaration of love, and I stared at him like a teenager with his first crush, tuning out his words. “Jake, Jake,” Quill repeated. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry, I was thinking about something else.” I blushed.

“I was trying to find out if you could come to the party at the farm this weekend. I want to introduce you to the rest of my family.”

“Yea,” I said, staring at the flickering candle and thinking both of romantic evenings and nights spent writing lines or standing in the corner while Lawrence cooked. Why had I juxtaposed romance with discipline? Was I that screwed up?

“Good, I’ll pick you up Saturday morning. Are you feeling OK?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re staring off into space again.”

“Oh, I guess I’m just tired.” How could I tell him I was madly in love with him? I wanted to go back to his house and cuddle in bed with him, feel his fingers on my skin, feel his mouth on my lips.

Quill gave me a long slow look and flagged down the waiter. “Could we get the pizza to go? My companion is more tired than I realized.”

The pizza came and Quill settled the check. Quill cradled the pizza in one arm and placed his other hand on the small of my back and discretely escorted me outside. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts; the humid air of the summer evening wasn’t helping. Quill set the pizza on the hood of his car and grabbed my shoulders, turning me to look directly in my eyes.

“Your pupils look even. Have you been taking antihistamines or cold medicine?”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t drugged or under the influence. I was lovesick. God, how could I be such a baby? Here I had the most perfect man thinking I had addled mental capacity or worse, took drugs.

“Have you been sleeping?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t slept well since I moved out. The narrow single bed was as hard as a brick, and I was disorganized about my bedtimes. More than half the nights I fell into a fitful sleep on the sofa, watching late night reruns. I’d been late to work a couple times. Enough that my boss had pulled me aside and gently reminded me that I was paid to start at eight, not eight thirty. She’d been nice about it and in a circumspect way alluded to not allowing my problems at home to interfere with my work.

“Come on. Let’s get you home. I don’t think you’re in a fit state to drive. I’ve already had one person I love in a car wreck today, my nerves can’t take two.” Quill flashed me his trademark grin. “Get in the car. I’ll arrange with the management for your car to stay in the lot overnight."

I sat in Quill’s car, waiting for him to return, replaying the conversation in his mind. Had he really called me someone he loved? 

“OK, tiger, let’s get you home.” Quill swung into the car, and we headed down the road. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to go to Quill’s. I licked my lips, trying to work up the courage to tell him when I realized we weren’t heading towards my apartment but his house.

Quill bundled me -- or maybe a better term would be manhandled -- from the car through the front door. Across the threshold he kissed me, his arms secure around my hips. “So what does my overwrought engineer need?” Quill said this in such a light teasing tone that it was impossible to be annoyed. I wanted to land my problems on his shoulders, but I was still reeling from Lawrence. I should be grasping my hard won freedom and parading it around like a trophy, not offering it to the first toppish guy who came along. Quill might not want that kind of relationship. Did I want it again? My head in a whirl,  I leaned against Quill, savoring the comfort of his arms.

“Jake, I’m not a muscle man. I can’t carry you up the stairs, and I can’t brew up a restorative potion like the fantasy games. So unless you want to sleep on my very uncomfortable pull out sofa, you need to help me get you to the bedroom.”

He did get me upstairs and into bed with a minimum of fuss. Even in my hazy state, his bedroom made me blink and rub my eyes. It was a time capsule of children’s toys. The shelves overflowed with what I assumed were historic games and models. I could recognize Howdy Doody and Buck Rogers but most of the characters were foreign to me.

Quill saw me look around and laughed. “We’re well protected here from the forces of evil. We have the Shadow, the Green Hornet, the Lone Ranger, and a platoon of other good guys. I keep the bad guys secure in the maximum security closet.” Quill ran his hand down my back and guided me towards the bed. “Do you want to try to eat or just sleep?”

“Sleep,” I mumbled, leaning into his hand.

“OK, love. I’ll see what I can dig up for you to wear to bed.” Quill tossed a T-shirt and a pair of boxers on the bed. “Put these on.” 

I stared dumbly at the clothes, too dazed to undress. Quill tousled my hair and pulled my shirt over my head. He kissed my shoulder and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, rubbing gently. He untied my shoes and pulled them off along with my socks.

“Up now, so we can get your pants off.”

Quill helped me out of my khakis and changed me into his boxers. I leaned against him, still feeling shaky. I knew I hadn’t been sleeping well, but I felt totally wrung out, like I’d taken a transatlantic flight and then run a marathon. I was too tired to think. I wanted him to think --no, I'd just gotten out of that type of relationship. I collapsed on the bed, too tired to process the myriad of thoughts in my brain.

Quill changed into some worn pajamas, climbed into bed, and pulled my head down on his chest. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

A hideous noise awoke me -- something between a siren and a wail.

“It’s just the alarm clock,” Quill said, climbing out of bed. “I have to put the propeller gadget back on it to get it to shut up. I bought it on the internet -- world’s loudest and most annoying alarm clock. The idea is that it makes you get up and search your room to shut the blasted thing off.” Quill collected the propeller gadget and turned off the hideous thing while I hid under the pillow. Quill lifted the pillow from my head; thank God, the noise had stopped. “When do you have to be at work?”

“Eight,” I mumbled and grabbed the pillow back from him.

“Don’t dawdle. I’ll shower and start breakfast, but you need to be up soon.”

I hated morning. I shut my eyes and drifted into a comfortable state of half awake half asleep when Quill exited the shower and shook my shoulder.

“Jake, you need to get up.”

I groaned and made a dismissive motion with my hand. “I’m getting up.” 

Quill smiled and kissed my forehead. He smelled of soap and the faintest hint of evergreens, probably his aftershave, and I would’ve have liked nothing more than to have snagged his wrist and dragged him back to bed with me. But I kept my desire at bay and made noises like I was getting up. Quill didn’t know that it took far more than a gentle shake to get me out of bed. Lawrence had put me in the corner for twice the time of my tardiness when I got home from work and made noise about spanking me if the problem continued.

I heard two shouts from downstairs, something about breakfast and being late, which I ignored. Footsteps pelted up the stairs, and Quill walked behind the bed. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t turn over. Through my half slitted eyes, I could see the glowing numerals on the clock. I was going to have to rush to have any chance of making work on time. I felt Quill’s hand on my back and then a sharp coldness.

“What the hell!” I spun around, throwing the quilt off.

“Ice -- works every time,” Quill said with a mischievous grin. “Now up you go before I put some in more sensitive places.

I scrambled out of bed as he waved the glass of ice in front of my nose, teasing and threatening me at the same time.

He must of had experience getting his brothers off to school in the morning because he harried me through a quick shower, shave, breakfast, and out the door in time to get to work at eight as long as we didn’t pick up my car.

“We’ll pick your car up after work,” Quill said as if it were the most logical thing in the world for him to drive all over the city.

“Isn’t it out of your way?”

“It’s not the most direct route, but it’s not a problem, and it’s better than you being late.” The last was said with enough sharpness that I wasn’t going to challenge it.

Quill dropped me off at work with a quick kiss and a promise to pick me up at five.

He was as good as promised and was waiting for me when I walked out of the office at five ten, hot, dusty, and bothered. Today’s inspections had been terrible: one belligerent owner, a building in a dust bowl, and a car from the motor pool with broken air conditioning. What should have taken thirty minutes had taken three hours, with the building owner turning an interesting shade of red. I’d held my temper while at the job site, but my patience was now brittle, and Quill’s easy smile did nothing to soothe it.

“You look hot.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It must be a hundred effing degrees today.”

“Ninety-five,” Quill deadpanned. “Do you have swim trunks?”

I shrugged. “Maybe at Lawrence’s place.” I was amazed how easily I called the condo that we’d shared for five years Lawrence’s place, and after Friday it legally would be. Friday I needed to sign papers at the lawyers, and our property would be officially separated. Seven years boiled down to scrawled signatures and legal jargon.

I’d been lost in thought and hadn’t noticed that Quill had pulled into a strip mall and was now unceremoniously hauling me out of the car. He escorted -- more like dragged -- me into a large sporting goods store past the pile of soccer balls and running shoes to a small rack filled with hideous swimsuits, either skimpy enough to wear in a Mr Universe contest or large and baggy with ghastly patterns. I looked at them with loathing, but Quill ignored me and pulled off the rack three or four that he must have considered acceptable. How multi-colored circles or purple stripes were acceptable was beyond me.

“They’re awful.” I complained.

“You can get in the water with them, and that’s all that matters," Quill said, turning me towards the changing room. I thought for a moment he was going to swat me, but he just put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me in the correct direction. 

I of course hated them all. The colored dots made me look like a retro shower curtain, combining the style of the seventies with the Twister game. The solid blue was a shade of blue that I wouldn’t hazard to describe, and the stripes would possibly be appropriate for a race car. I jumbled all three into my arms and walked back out to Quill with a look of disgust on my face.

“So which one?” he asked, ignoring my expression of loathing.

“None.”

“Pick, or I will.”

I shrugged. Something in me wanted to push Quill to see if he would. He started the children’s rhyme of eeny, meeny, miney, moe and ended up on the spotted swim trunks. I stared at him; even the electric blue ones would be better. “You can’t be serious,” I spluttered.

“Perfectly,” he said with a teasing smile. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket and waved them in front of my face. “I’ve got the wheels, and unless you’re more interested in obscure sporting goods than I thought, you better come along."

I tried to give him a vicious, intimidating glare, but I’m sure it fell flat flat because he just smiled. For about two seconds, I considered making a stance, but the mom with the three children stalled me in my tracks. Making public scenes was something I tried to avoid both because I hated public humiliation and Lawrence had a zero tolerance policy for it. With Lawrence, I’d already be in lines territory and rapidly heading to something with an uglier finish.

Quill reached into his pocket and tossed me a loop of string. “Can you still make a witch’s broom?”

I grabbed the string and crushed it in my hand. I could feel my face turning a dull red. Quill had already turned and headed towards the register. I followed after him, silently fuming. The last time he handed me string was because I’d almost hurled a glass onto the floor. Did he think I was going to throw swimsuits around the store?

He paid for the suit, and I concentrated on keeping my black mood until we reached the car. I was preparing a sharp, witty lecture as he unlocked the car doors, pulled me out of sight, and kissed me hard enough to leave me out of breath.

“God, I wished I’d had a camera. Your expression was priceless.” Quill was laughing, his eyes sparkling with good humor.

It must have been infectious because I started laughing. I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my cheeks. “Oh, God, I almost made a scene,” I choked as I got my laughter under control.

“I thought you might,” Quill said with a big grin. “The swim trunks are hideous.” He laughed again. “But my brother’s got children and a Muffy, Buffy wife. I don’t think in the nude would fly.”

“Muffy -- Buffy?”

“An overgrown preppie,” Quill said with another laugh.

Quill, with an efficiency I hadn’t quite figured out, drove me to get my car, collected Justin, and had all three of us at his other brother’s and in the pool in less than forty-five minutes. This guy kept jacks and gummy worms in his pockets and could spend hours debating the merits of Candy Land versus Sorry. He shouldn’t be organized; he should be rumpled and flaky. 

Quill’s brother lived in one of the more lavish suburbs, surrounded by large houses and even bigger garages. His house, compared to the neighbors', was modest and had at least refrained from the faux chateaux look. The backyard and patio contrasted with the more modest form of the house. An enormous patio featured an outdoor grill that appeared to require a certified master of the culinary arts to operate. The pool was kidney shaped and decorated with lush plantings and a waterfall. 

A woman, carrying a highball glass and wearing light green bermudas with a pink shirt, came out of the house and kissed Quill on the cheek with the enthusiasm that some people reserve for handling snakes. Quill kissed her back with hardly more enthusiasm but a good deal more politeness; at least he smiled and made eye contact. “Jake, meet my sister-in-law Ashley.” 

She gave me an offhand smile and a little wave. I was starting to make polite noises when two children hurled out of the house and ran towards Quill who scooped up the small girl and wrapped his arm around the boy, who looked a few years older.

“Uncle Quill, Uncle Quill,” they both shouted in unison.

“Doesn’t Uncle Justin get a hug?” Quill said, untangling himself from the whirling children. If I hadn’t seen only two children run from the house, I would have sworn there were now five or six with all the motion.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Justin said, opening his arms.

The children giggled and gave him a quick hug before returning to buzz around Quill, which he seemed to fully expect.

“Mommy was trying to do cat’s cradle, but she’s no good at it," the little girl said, giving him a pleading look that would’ve melted me on the spot.

“Let me introduce you to my new friend. Would you like to come swimming with us before we play indoor games?”

“Yes, yes,” both children shouted in a melee of noise.

“Brittany, Matthew, this is Jake. He’s going to come swimming with us.”

Both children looked at me, and then Matthew stepped forward and shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said in a tone much too old for his seven or eight years.

I shook his hand and looked at Quill, unsure of the appropriate response. I finally stumbled through with the stock “pleased to meet you.”

Quill laughed. “Young Matthew here is training for a future Senate run.”

“Brittany, Matthew, run and get changed. I’m sure you want to swim with Uncle Quill and Uncle Justin.” Ashley said this in a distracted way, and I got a sudden, intense feeling that she found the children a burden. I didn’t have enough information to make that judgement, and Lawrence was always telling me I shouldn’t make snap judgements about people, but I found myself taking an instant dislike to her.

The children ran into the house with Justin chasing them, laughing and teasing. I hadn’t known Quill very long, but once the children had left it seemed his posture had changed. He stood a little taller; his expression was more wary, and I saw him look around, tracking where I was. 

“Quill, darling, could you watch the children tonight? Braedon and I have been talking about going to see a film, and the children just adore you. It’s a pity you can’t have children yourself, but I guess a wife is not in your future.”

Quill reached into his pocket, took out a small rubber ball, and bounced it a few times before answering. “Jake and I would be happy to watch the children.” He glanced at me, as if for confirmation, and when I gave him a slight nod, wrapped his arm around my waist.  He pulled me close and landed a soft kiss on my cheek before turning to Ashley.  "When should we expect you back?" 

Ashley coughed, looking uncomfortable.  “Ten o’clock,” she snapped and flounced into the house.

Quill watched her disappear and then turned towards me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have involved you in my family battles. It’s just that she really gets my goat. I love Braedon and the kids, but she ...” He trailed off. 

 He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I could think of plenty of colorful phrases on my own. “She doesn’t seem very keen on me.”

“That’s an understatement,” Quill said dryly but then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking dear Ashley wouldn’t like anybody not in a skirt who didn’t come from the right neighborhood and graduate from the right school. I was imagining you in drag with Princeton pompoms. Makes those hideous swim trunks look tame.”

“You will never see me in drag,” I said, trying to develop righteous anger but dissolving into a fit of laughter.

“I told you it would be funny --maybe for Halloween.” Quill kissed me. “Come on my drag queen; let’s get changed.”

I have to admit I had a great time swimming. Quill, Justin and the two whirling dervishes played king of the raft, dunking each other into the water every few seconds.  Quill obviously thought my decorous sitting on the edge and kicking my feet in the water wasn’t satisfactory because he and Justin dragged me into the water, tossed me onto the raft, and then dunked me innumerable times with the devil children’s help. Finally tired of the dunking game, they dragged me off to play some water version of Red Rover that I never did quite figure out and a game of water basketball.  

When the children had fallen silent with exhaustion, Quill herded us all indoors and into dry clothing while he searched the kitchen for something edible. The kitchen was massive with yards of granite countertops and copper pans of every description hanging from the ceiling, but real food was scarce. Quill settled on miniature pizzas, sliced apples, and carrot sticks. He hustled us through dinner as if we were all six and needed an early bedtime and then disappeared with the two children in tow to read the promised bedtime story.

I was left downstairs with Justin, browsing the few books on the shelves while he flipped through the channels on the TV. “So how are you getting along with big brother?” Justin said, settling on talking heads on a sports channel.

I selected a book and flipped through it. “I like him.”

“That’s neutral,” Justin said, turning his full attention on me. He, like his brother, could produce a laser like stare, but he still hadn’t developed the seriousness I could see occasionally lurking behind Quill’s eyes. “You stayed with him last night, didn’t you?”

I nodded. This wasn’t a conversation I was prepared to have with Quill’s baby brother. I hadn’t sorted it out in my own mind how I felt about Quill, and I wasn’t ready to think about it, let alone talk about it.

“You won’t survive in my family if you take the timid, shy routine. They’ll eat you alive, and I happen to know Quill’s planning to drag you to the family picnic this weekend and show you off, which means he’s pretty serious.” Justin gave me a big grin and a teasing wink. “You better hang onto your hat and keep your story straight when you meet the clan. Mom’s been waiting for Quill to bring someone home for years.”

I stood, still fingering the books on the shelf. I’d already promised Quill that I'd go to what he’d described as a small family picnic. I hadn’t realized that I was going to be the main entertainment, the inquisition of Jacob Allan Wright. Maybe I could get whooping cough between now and Saturday. 

“Buck up; Quill and Stu will try to run interferences. I’d help, but I’m the baby of the family, and nobody pays much attention to what I say except maybe Quill and that’s only when he’s tearing a strip off of me for behaving like an idiot. He’s appointed himself my personal policeman.” Justin didn’t seem upset about it because he continued to smile and flipped his legs up onto the sofa to get more comfortable. “Stop hovering around the books; you’re making me nervous. I’m sure I could dig up a yo-yo if you need something to do.”

"No thanks,” I said, flopping down in an armchair and pretending to study the TV. Maybe Justin would shut up if he thought I was engrossed by these people blathering about the wild card spot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what sport they were talking about.

Justin gave me about two minutes before he started questioning me again. “So you are serious with my brother? When are you moving in on a permanent basis?”

“Justin,” Quill said from the stairs. “Jake doesn’t have to reveal his private life to you.”

“Sorry,” Justin said, not looking one bit sorry.

“Go tidy up in the kitchen so we can have some peace.”

“Yes, sir,” Justin said, giving Quill a mock salute and then sticking his tongue out at him.

“Go on, baby brother, before I lose my patience with you.” Quill came the rest of the way down the stairs and dropped a kiss on my head. “Are you OK?”

“”Yes.” I nodded and leaned into Quill’s arms.

Saturday came too early. Weekends were usually my favorite time of the week, but I kept replaying in my mind Justin’s comments about the family picnic. It seemed I was going to be the entertainment for who knew how many Maguires. The upcoming meet and greet with the Maguire clan wasn’t my only problem. Without talking about it one way or another, I had fallen into the habit of staying at Quill’s, and I‘d only gone back to my apartment to pick up a few clothes. I should talk to Quill, clarify mine and his intentions, but it was easier to let life slot itself into place. He didn’t seem to object to me staying, and he hadn’t made demands about entering into a permanent arrangement.

“Jake, Jake, you need to rise and shine. It’s almost nine o'clock.”

I heard Quill’s footfalls on the stairs, and I hurried out of bed. I’d already experienced his ice trick twice, and I didn’t need a third replay. To think some people did that for fun. I shuddered at the idea of ice followed by hot candle wax. I was already in the bathroom when Quill arrived with the glass of ice.

“You look tired. Are you feeling OK?”

I shrugged. How did you tell someone that you don't know if you're up or down right now? “Works been busy -- a lot of inspections before the weather turns.”

“Tomorrow we'll just laze in bed. Does that sound good?”

I nodded. With the killer smile Quill was throwing my way, two root canals would’ve sounded good.

We got ready to go with a minimum of fuss. I snapped at Quill a couple of times when he bugged me about eating something besides coffee for breakfast, but he laughed at me and called me grouchy. It’s hard to fight with someone who won’t fight back. With Justin in the car, a serious conversation was impossible. I brooded in the front seat, flicking my fingers across the dashboard until Quill tossed me a sliding numbers puzzle from his pocket, and Justin started to talk my ear off about popular music and an upcoming concert he wanted to attend. Justin was trying so hard to distract me that I finally allowed myself to get drawn into an animated conversation discussing the merits of Green Day versus The Clash.

Several cars were already in the drive as we bounced down the rutted farm lane to park our car in a field where a tall man whom I didn’t recognize was planting a wooden sign painted with a multicolored “Parking” and a rough sketch of a 1950’s car. 

“That’s Andy,” Justin said from the back. “He’s between Stuart and Braedon. He’s a priest down at St Patrick’s, and he has a wife and a three year old daughter with a second in the oven.”

“I thought priests were celibate,” I said with surprise.

“He’s Episcopalian, not Catholic,” Justin said. “Mom and Dad about fainted when he told them.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Quill warned.

“It’s not an exaggeration.” Justin leaned forward and propped his elbows on the seat. “Dad about had a stroke. With six kids and a name like Maguire you can imagine we’re not far from the old country. As far as he was concerned, Andy might as well have  hung the Union Jack over his house and started singing God Save the Queen.”

“Justin,” Quill said sharply.

“All right, all right. He did settle down after a few months of yelling and banging about.” Justin grinned and hopped out of the car. With the door still open, he said, “Dad’s OK as long as you survive the first few months of shouting. Mom always makes him come around.”

Quill shook his head at his brother, who jogged off to talk to Andy. “Don’t let Justin scare you. He likes to tell colorful stories, and his relationship with dad can be rocky. Justin likes to rile dad and sit back and watch the fireworks.” Quill put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “My parents have known for years that I’m gay. It was, should we say, stormy seas at first, but they’ve come around. You’ve met Braedon’s wife, and she’s the most intolerant of the lot, and that’s just her natural personality more than homophobia.  I still can’t figure out what Braedon sees in her but to each his own. Come on. We can’t sit in the car all afternoon.”

Even though it was before noon, the air was hot and sultry, and the corn seemed to hang limp in the field under the baking sun. In the distance, I could see Andy and Justin digging a hole, I assumed a barbecue pit. Other people were hurrying in and out of the house carrying bundles of covered dishes. A gray haired man sat on the porch, lightly moving the swing with his foot.

“That’s dad on the porch,” Quill said, following my gaze. “Mom will be inside bossing. My generation keeps telling her to let us run these parties, but that won’t happen until she’s six feet under.”

Quill put his arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the house. His dad watched us as we made the walk from the car. I felt like I was being inspected under his steady gaze and would’ve ducked behind Quill if he hadn’t had a firm grip on my shoulder. Quill’s dad stood as we mounted the steps to the porch.

“Dad, this is Jake Wright.” 

Quill pushed me in front of him and I shook the senior Maguire’s hand. He looked like an older version of Quill except his eyes were blue and several pounds had settled to his middle. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Maguire.”

“If you’re going to be part of the family, call me Pat.” His voice was gruff, and I couldn’t tell if he was welcoming me to the family or resigned to the fact that he might be stuck with me. “I understand you're an engineer.”

“Yes, I work with Stuart.”

“He says you’re a good man.” Pat stared hard at me and nodded. “Quill thinks you’re a good man also.” He nodded again.

Quill intervened before the conversation got any more painful. “Mom inside? We’ll go see what she needs doing. I’m sure she’s got everyone running hither and thither.” Quill’s dad nodded again, and Quill grabbed my elbow and hustled me inside.

A small woman with iron gray hair piled into a bun was whirling through the house giving rapid fire instructions on where to lay out the pie, how to stir the pot that was bubbling on the stove, and the need for more ice. “Mom, can you stop for a minute,” Quill said, raising his voice above the general din.

“Quill, honey.” Her eyes then alighted on me. She had Quill’s eyes, brown with happy flecks. “You must be Jake.” She pulled me into a hug before I could resist. “Quill’s told me so many wonderful things about you, and Stuart and Justin think you're wonderful too.”

I turned a bright red and managed to mumble, “Thank you.”

“Mom, before you make him drop through the floor with embarrassment what do you want us to do?” Quill said as he grinned at me.

“We need to unload the cars, get the tables set up...” She continued with a series of rapid fire, often contradictory directions that I stopped paying attention to, hopelessly unable to follow. Quill seemed used to it and nodded and smiled. I watched the other people in the house, trying to guess who went with whom. 

I trailed Quill back outside, filled my arms with stuff from the cars, and lugged it into the house. On my third trip, I caught my toe on the step and went sprawling. The paper cups and plates that I was carrying went flying and fluttered to the ground like leaves in autumn, covering the porch in red, white, and blue plastic. I let out a string of swear words that turned the air blue from the porch to the barnyard. 

“Young man, there are children in the house,” Pat Maguire scolded.

I ducked my head and might have burst into tears if Quill hadn’t grabbed me by my shoulders and hustled me off the porch towards the barns. I had to jog to keep from falling over my feet as Quill was determined to keep a brisk pace. He pushed me through the barn, opened the back doors, and pulled me down to sit on the ledge, keeping his arm wrapped tight around my shoulders.

“Hmm -- that was interesting.” Quill was looking at me, his face concerned and not angry. “I think that was about more than a few cups... Hmm?”

“Hmm, what’s that supposed to mean?” I could hear my voice starting to reach the hysterical range. Lawrence would have me planted in a corner or over his knee in a split second. “Is that your way of asking what the hell’s the matter with me? Why I just turned into a raving maniac? Where’s the first off ramp for this relationship?” I could no longer control my anger and frustration and burst into tears.

I don’t know how long I cried, but when I became more sensible I realized that Quill had maneuvered me so I was sitting between his legs with my back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around me, and his head rested on my shoulder.

“Are you feeling better?” Quill whispered in my ear.

I sniffled, hiccuped, and nodded. I hated this response in myself. Why couldn’t I have a good swearing session like a normal man and then recover, not need to cry all over someone’s shirt? “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? The crying’s fine. I get lots of practice. As the token gay in the family, my brothers have decided I’m the most sympathetic ear. What’s got you so upset?”

I didn’t say anything, just leaned into his chest.

Quill waited, his chin still resting on my shoulder, until he finally asked, “Everything OK at work?”

I nodded again.

Quill shifted my body and took one hand and ran it softly through my hair. “Stuart says you’ve been a grouch, actually snapped at the boss.”

“It was nothing. I was just irritated about a paperwork snafu. Do you have your brother spying for you?” I struggled to get out of his arms, irritated that he’d have his brother checking up on me. Quill wrapped both his arms back around me and sat quiet until I relaxed against his chest. 

“No, he was concerned. That’s what families do. He likes you.”

“I’m not family,” I snapped back.

“I hope you will be,” Quill said very quietly and very sincerely, kissing the top of my head.

That shut me up. I fell against his chest and sniffled; a few tears ran down my cheeks.

“Shh. Don’t cry. You made an unusual first impression, but dad will get over it, and it will give everybody something to talk about at our next gathering, Jake’s swearing spectacular.” 

I could hear the smile in Quill’s voice; he was teasing me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“I know. You’ll need to apologize to dad and everybody else who heard it. What set it off? Are you nervous about meeting the family?”

Quill wasn’t going to give up. “Don’t we need to help get ready?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“We’ve got plenty of time. Are you upset about staying the last few nights with me? Is this moving too fast for you?”

I shook my head. I liked staying with Quill, the smell of bacon in the morning, the card games and easy companionship in the evening. 

“You need to talk to me,” Quill said, gently shaking my shoulders. “At least tell me if I’m hot or cold. Are you OK about living with me?”

I twisted around to look at Quills face, and he let me, cupping his hand behind the back of my head and kissing me firmly on the forehead. “Are you asking me to stay?” I kept my eyes down, afraid that I might see rejection in his eyes.

“Yes, if you want,” Quill said, kissing me again. 

I wound my arms around his neck and kissed him back. 

Quill untangled himself from me enough to study my face. “How much of the tantrum was about not knowing how to ask me if you could move in?”

“Some,” I muttered. Tantrum was an ugly word; I could feel my cheeks reddening when he mentioned it.

“What else?”

“Do you ever give up?”

“No, I’m very stubborn.”

I sighed and tried to burrow back into Quill’s chest. He held me off with his arms.

“Talk first, then snuggle.”

“I had to sign papers at the lawyers Friday.”

“About what?”

“Splitting our joint property. It seemed so final. Seven years distilled into a heap of papers.”

“Oh, honey.” Quill pulled me tight to his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone with you.”

“It wasn’t your problem,” I choked into his shirt.

“Look at me,” Quill said sharply.

I drew back stung by his tone. 

“Look at me,” he repeated, softer but still stern. “I love you -- you silly twit. Your problems are mine. We share.” He pulled me into a rib crushing hug before setting me on my feet. “Let’s set up the outdoor games. That way we look occupied if they send a search party for us.”

Quill grabbed my hand, towed me to the cabinets, and loaded me down with nets, stakes, and sports whatnot. We were both quiet. The only conversation was an occasional direction from Quill on where to drive a stake. I watched Quill, I hoped surreptitiously, out of the corner of my eye as we anchored the volleyball net. He didn’t look angry. Had he totally put my swearing incident behind him?

Quill sat back on his heels and sighed. “Is there something else you need to talk about? My crystal ball’s out for repair.”

I shook my head and mumbled at the grass.

“My hearing aid’s also at the shop.” Quill stood, walked over, and dropped on the grass next to me. “What’s the matter? Are you still worried about swearing in front of dad? He raised six boys; it’s not like he has virgin ears. He’ll be gruff and cranky, but he’ll accept the apology.”

“No, it’s not that. Are you still mad at me?” I said almost under my breath.

“I was never mad, surprised, concerned. I wished you’d talked to me instead of making me guess, but we’ll learn how to do this together.” Quill wrapped his arms around me and kissed me thoroughly. There was no room for anything on my brain but his lips, his touch, and his smell.