Nesting Habits Read online

  They ate barbecued chicken, roasted veggies on skewers, and a green salad spiked with colorful vegetables. After dinner, Phil made a case for his spending the night. Lee kept quiet far longer than was necessary, just to listen. No opposing argument was presented. Phil never relaxed to his pre-interruptus level, but he got close.

  UNCLE LENNY frowned when Phil’s Jeep pulled up at the jobsite the next morning. Lee squeezed Phil’s hand and said he’d call later, and Phil reminded him of their deal before he let go.

  The whole morning Uncle Lenny said three words, and they were all basically grunted versions of no. Close to lunchtime, Lee got a text from Phil.

  4.5 hours until I suck your dick again.

  Lee sat on the tool bucket and grinned. He knew it was a shit-eating grin but was still surprised when Uncle Lenny tossed a wrench onto the ground at his feet and glared.

  “Put that thing away. It’s not lunch yet, and we have a lot left to do on this job.”

  “Okay.”

  “You can read on your own time.”

  “O-kay. Sorry.” He almost said his leg ached and he needed a break but didn’t want to seem too weak or lame.

  They worked another half hour and then took lunch. Uncle Lenny scowled at him over his sandwich, so Lee kept his phone in his pocket. Lee tried to talk to him, but something had crawled up Uncle Lenny’s ass and died recently, so he didn’t say much. Until he’d finished eating.

  “Another three hours on this job. Then I’m taking you out to Tina’s.”

  “I have an apartment. I’m going home.”

  “Goddammit, you think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that. I know you spent last night with that Phil. I don’t know—”

  “Don’t talk any shit about Phil.”

  They stared at each other, hard, until Lenny finally looked away.

  “I’m an adult. I’ll love who I love.”

  “Fuck.” Lenny stood, took a few steps away, and lit the second of his three cigarettes for the day. Lee gave him a minute to smoke in peace.

  “Is Bill still looking to sell that house?”

  “What the…? I thought you had an apartment.”

  “I do. But I want a house. Is he?”

  Uncle Lenny sighed and ran a craggy, tan hand over his deeply lined face. The realization he was aging—and not all that well—fought with Lee’s sandwich. “You don’t want that house.”

  “Why not? It’s a cute house, and he’s not asking the moon for it.”

  “Because he won’t sell it to you.”

  “Why not?”

  Uncle Lenny’s expression softened—as much as it ever did—but he didn’t answer. He walked the few steps to the rear bumper of his truck and half-sat, half-leaned against it.

  “You know, I get it. I know you only tolerate me and don’t accept that your only nephew is gay, but at least you could respect me enough to give me an answer.”

  After another long silent moment, Lee tossed the remains of his lunch back into his insulated bag and stood. Looking down at Uncle Lenny, Lee felt more sorry for him than angry, which came through in his tone. “Fuck you too, Uncle Lenny. Finish this job yourself.”

  He hobbled down the driveway and another half a block before sitting on someone’s low brick wall to call Phil. They’d almost made it to Jerry’s, when Lee’s phone rang. He didn’t say hello, just accepted the call and listened. It was Uncle Lenny’s play, and Lee didn’t see why he should make it any easier for him. Until he spoke.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lee almost burst into tears. As far as he knew, his uncle had never apologized to anyone in his life. It sounded sincere as hell too, ripped right from the heart.

  “You deserve an answer. Just like I deserve better friends.”

  Lee wanted to say something, because Uncle Lenny did deserve better friends. Lee knew his life would’ve been much worse if Uncle Lenny hadn’t stepped up and taken care of them after—

  Before he could figure out what to say, Lenny went on.

  “I love you like you’re my own. It busts me up, because you deserve better too.” He followed it with a loud throat clearing and a gruff “I’ll swing by Jerry’s at eight tomorrow morning.”

  THREE WEEKS later, the cast came off. Lee almost felt like he was sixteen again, driving Mom’s truck off the property legally for the first time. He felt bad about leaving Phil behind, but when he caught a ride out to Willston to pick up his car, he also had an errand to run and wanted to do it on his own.

  He felt a moment’s tension when he pulled into Miss Katie’s—Kate’s—driveway. It was less likely anything would happen on her quiet, tree-lined street than in the middle of town, but it wasn’t unheard of. The dregs usually stayed away from the nicer neighborhoods, though, and this one was one of the nicest. The houses all had personality, within half a block, he counted four different styles of architecture, all with gardens as old as the homes—some had to be inching up on a century. He would’ve liked to spend some time privately checking out his new paint job, but he was hardly unobserved. Even on the quietest street, he was still in Willston and could be sure at least one set of eyes tracked him.

  Miss Katie opened the door when he knocked and squealed a little as she threw her arms around him. “Lee, honey. It’s so good to see you. Come on in.”

  She ushered him in, offered iced tea or lemonade, and asked about Mom, Becca, and his leg in the short trip to her kitchen.

  “I wanted to thank you again, Mi—Kate.”

  “Your momma taught you well, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat in the familiar chair, in the house that had been his second home as long as he could remember, and tried to convince himself his plan was a good one.

  “What else is on your mind? Yes, I can still read minds.”

  She smiled, and Lee wiped both palms on his jeans. Who did he think he was anyway?

  “Is Kim still trying to sell her house out on Afterthought Court?”

  “Yes, she is. Are you looking for a house?”

  Lee nodded. For no good reason, he found himself concentrating on not getting an erection.

  “Wh—Are you moving in with your boyfriend?”

  Lee smiled and shrugged. “Hope to.”

  “That’s wonderful, honey. Congratulations!” She reached out and covered Lee’s hand with hers. Her eyes got a little wet, and she also resolved Lee’s little problem. “As a matter of fact, she’s on her way over with my grandson right now. You can keep her occupied, so I can have him all to myself.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say; he’d only hoped to get Kim’s number. Maybe it was meant to be that he and Phil should get that house.

  It wasn’t long before the front door opened and a familiar voice called out—yoo-hoo—like everyone used to when he was growing up. Kim came into the kitchen, and a short blur detached from her and barreled toward Kate. The little boy whooped, and his grandma scooped him up. At the same time Kim squealed and threw her arms around Lee. He couldn’t help but laugh. This was the Willston he kept coming back to—the people who’d known him all his life and didn’t judge. They loved loud, and they loved hard.

  “Little Lee-lee, where’ve you been?”

  “Portland. I’m working with Uncle Lenny.”

  “You look a-may-zing. Hah! Made you blush!” Kim kissed his cheek, and her expression turned serious. “Seriously, you look great for a guy who pitched headfirst off a cliff six weeks ago.”

  “It was nine, but thanks.”

  Kim hugged him again, to the point of pain, just like everyone else who’d ever lived in this house. He was about to ask her to let up when she released him. She went to the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of iced tea, talking to him over her shoulder. “What do you think about Kenny getting married?”

  “He sounds happy. I think he told everyone he’s ever met….”

  Kim frowned and shook her head. “He told the important people. They’re coming up in August. Maybe we can meet your myste
ry man then?”

  She held up the pitcher, offering him a refill. He shook his head, and she replaced it in the fridge and sat at the table.

  “Phil’s not a mystery. He stayed out at Mom’s after the accident. Beck knows him.”

  “So I hear.”

  Her expectant look said she wanted to hear enough so Phil wouldn’t be a mystery to her, but Lee had a different agenda. He didn’t want to burn the whole day away from Phil to get it done either. “Your hair looks good. Short, but good.”

  If it hadn’t been summer, her face probably would’ve turned red. She’d obviously been spending a lot of time in the sun, and everyone in her family tanned deep halfway through the first sunny weekend of the year anyway. She looked so different, like a real grown-up, with her straight black hair sculpted close to her head instead of long enough to sit on.

  “Thanks. I’m going for respectable since I’m an old married lady with one-point-five kids now. So, what’s brought you to my mom’s kitchen on a beautiful weekend when you should be out having fun?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your house.”

  “The—oooh, you’re all serious about this guy. What’s his story? How’d he snag the hottest guy in Willston?”

  “You can stop now. I already blushed once, and I’m not doing it again, not even for you.” He grinned at her, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping she wouldn’t push it; he didn’t have a chance to come out on top if she did.

  “Okay, okay. You can’t blame me for trying. With Kenny so far away, I don’t have anyone to tease.” She crossed her legs and sipped her tea. Her short blue dress tightened around the gentle swell of her belly. He’d never given much thought to kids, and it was strange the way his throat tightened at the sight of his adopted older sister with one in the oven.

  “You remember it’s only got the one bedroom?”

  “Yeah, that’s enough. The garage is still standing, right?”

  “Yes, smartass.” She glanced out the back door, where Kate and the little guy were tossing a big blue ball around and laughing, and then back at him. She pulled out her keys and started twisting one off the ring. “Tell you what. Go by sometime in the next week or two and check it out. If you still want it after you see it—and if your man wants to live on Afterthought Court—we’ll talk turkey.”

  She put the key down on the table, and when he picked it up, she grabbed his hand. “Remember that party when you guys graduated high school?”

  “Yeah, I kinda do. That poor tree. It died, didn’t it?”

  Kim dropped his hand, fast. “Ewww, you would think of that first. I was thinking about the music, weirdo.”

  Lee sat back in the chair as the memory of playing his acoustic guitar while two dozen voices rose into the warm summer night air washed over him.

  “Why do you look so sad?”

  “Huh? Oh, just thinking about everyone I haven’t seen since then.” He plastered a smile on his face and got to work winding up the visit. He rinsed his glass and left it in the sink and when he turned around, Kim stood at his side.

  “I’ll walk you out, and we can trade numbers.” She hooked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked out. “Becca did a great job on the car.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I tried to get her out to paint on Afterthought, but she never wanted to.”

  “Really? I didn’t think she ever passed up a chance to paint.”

  They stopped beside the car. Kim handed Lee her phone and hunkered down beside the driver’s side to get a closer look at the circus painted on its side.

  “It was right after you moved to Portland. I thought it would give her something else to think about, but she was too sad to paint.” Kim drew her fingertip down the strings on the guitar as though she were strumming it. She twisted to glance up at him and then scooted to the last picture, a hummingbird in flight heading toward the back of the car. “She likes Phil. A lot.”

  “You get out there much?”

  She started to push herself up, and Lee took her arm and helped her stand.

  “You don’t hear a lot all the way out there, do you? I work at her school.”

  Lee busied himself programming numbers into their phones. Sometimes he still wasn’t sure if living in Portland made him happy or if he just felt safer. One thing he was sure about—it felt weird to be behind on the latest news, especially Becca’s. Maybe he’d always be behind as long as he lived outside of town. Maybe someday that would be okay.

  He spent an extra second looking at Kim’s wallpaper, the picture of her growing family, before handing the phone back to her. Her husband looked familiar, but he wasn’t even sure if the guy was from a Willston family or not. Out of touch.

  He walked behind Kim to check out the hummingbird replacing the spray painted “t.” Becca didn’t bother with subtle imagery; its face even looked like Phil. In a way. Its breast and cap were both a light, iridescent blue. “How’s she doing?”

  “Great, of course. She could do my job. She’s amazing—but I don’t have to tell you that, big brother.” Kim linked her arm through Lee’s again and leaned against him. “Health wise, things are okay—not bad, don’t worry. I’ll be sure and call you if we have to have a meeting about it.”

  “Thanks, Kimmie.” Lee turned toward her and gave her a hard hug. “I’m going to check out the house. Thanks.”

  “If you get lost, you have my number.” She laughed.

  “You’re mixing me up with Kenny.” Lee opened the car door and stood leaning against the frame. “I’m glad you don’t think that house was such a mistake anymore.”

  She looked away fast and sighed. “It was, but I got my little guy out of it, so it was a mistake I had to make. If you can’t see yourself living there, it won’t break my heart.”

  He slipped out from behind the door to kiss her cheek and then got in and left for Alderbrook—otherwise known as Afterthought—Court.

  THE HOUSE sat tucked away in a funky neighborhood in North Portland, one of a half-dozen tiny homes in a cul-de-sac few people even knew existed. Six little houses that may as well have been in a different world were hidden between an impoverished area to the north and a trendy oasis to the west. Alderbrook Court crouched against an industrial district to the southeast and the highway to the southwest—and over the years it had defied multiple attempts by developers to waltz in and try to improve things.

  Lee didn’t think it had been that long since he’d been through the area, but everything seemed different. He shivered like a goose walked over his grave when he realized he’d been out of high school for seven years. Shops and condos had taken over the main street in that time—nothing over four stories as far as he could tell, but it still felt like a different world than the one he remembered. He left Trendyville’s main drag and every block he passed seemed to take him farther back in time. When he turned onto Afterthought, nostalgia grabbed him by the throat, blurring his vision in the time it took him to reach the driveway. The two-car driveway.

  He sat and looked around for a minute, thinking about how Phil would see the place. The garage in front of him was light blue with a white door, but it hadn’t seen a coat of paint since Kimmie bought it. He and Kenny, along with a cousin or two of theirs, had painted it—geez, in the tenth grade. He walked along the side of the garage—still nothing over there except a few volunteer sunflowers, the tallest about four inches high—back around the front of the garage, and up the uneven brick path, and then he unlocked the front porch door. They called it a four-season porch, which in this case, meant it had semipermanent windows instead of being open. No swing, but maybe….

  Lee stepped back to take a long look at the house. Light blue with white trim to match the garage. Or vice versa. Nothing spectacular, just a box with a peaked roof and a little attic window facing the street. Slowly, he turned around to check out the rest of the court. As far as he could tell, except for the one at the bend in the road, the same people lived th
ere. Maybe the Coopers just got a new truck.

  The door opened into the living room. No fancy entry, but the couch he’d slept on head to feet with Kenny still sat in the corner under the front window. The house was basically a square; the living room took up most of the front half, and the other half split into the kitchen and bedroom, with a bathroom between them that you had to walk through the bedroom to get to. He took the tour and everything was the way it had been. Including the laundry room off the kitchen that originally was a pantry, with no dryer and funky mirrored tile instead of wallpaper, and the grill made from a fifty-gallon drum out back. Lee sat on the concrete step leading from the kitchen to the backyard and looked around at the overgrown yellow grass and the dip in the lawn where the over “watered” tree had died prematurely, and he wanted it so badly, his whole body ached.

  He texted one word to Kim and then tucked his phone away.

  Turkey.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Lee pulled it out and thought maybe he should give Phil’s number a special tone so his heart would know when to race and when not to bother. Heidi was cool, but nothing about her made his blood race.

  Where are you?

  Lee looked around and shrugged. North-ish.

  WTF? Come get coffee.

  OK

  Even though it was just postponing seeing Phil, he headed for the coffeehouse. It had been a while since he’d hung out with Heidi, and she seemed to be the only Portland friend he had left, except Phil, since ditching the band. She wore black leggings with a teensy hot-pink knitted dress that looked more like January than July—Lee started sweating just looking at her.

  “What’s up?”

  She slid a double mocha with whip and chocolate sprinkles in front of him, and he took a seat at the counter. “Ainsley’s looking for you. I thought you could use a warning. He’s a dumbass, but he knows where you live.”

  “He doesn’t want to find me. What’s up his ass this time anyway?” He raised the humungous mug, but Heidi reached out and guided his arm back down without a word.