Gone, Gone, Gone(36)

Craig says, “And he’s like, oh, so is that the problem? You think you don’t know me, so I must have some disease or something? You’re afraid of pissing next to me because I must have some disease, is that it?”

“This is ridiculous,” Mrs. Privett says, spearing a green bean on her fork. “I don’t believe this.”

I feed the dog another carrot.

“No,” Craig says, “You have to believe it. You have no choice but to believe, because this is real life. So I’m like, ‘dude, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m just trying to pee here,’ and he pulls back from the urinal, still . . . well, exposed, and he’s like, ‘so you think I’m a faggot, is that it!?’”

Mr. Privett goes, “Craig. Do you have to keep using that word?”

“I’m gay, I think I can use it. Faggot faggot faggot. It’s what they call cigarettes in Britain, isn’t that right, Lio?”

I nod.

Mrs. Privett looks at me all skeptical and motherly. “And how would Lio know what they call cigarettes in Britain?”

I don’t know what to say. I cough a little. Todd says, “Getting sick, Lio?”

“No,” Craig and I say together.

“Just cold,” I say, softly, and Craig gets up from the table.

Mr. Privett says, “So what’s up with your hair, kid?”

Craig comes back with a sweatshirt and puts it around my shoulders. “He used to have cancer.” I look at him. Are there amphetamines in his water glass? For the first time since I’ve known him, he might be entirely present.

Although he could also just be panicking. I try to catch his eye, but I can’t.

I say, “It has nothing to do with cancer. But it’s still, um, kind of a morbid story?”

Mrs. Privett says, “Oh, you don’t have to tell us anything you’re not comfortable with.”

As much as I can tell Craig wants to hear it, what really inspires me to tell this story is looking at Todd. He’s scraping his knife around his plate, his upper lip curled inside his lower. He’s not listening to me. He still doesn’t take me seriously, even though we just threw the word “cancer” around. Does he really think I’m not good enough for his hyperactive little brother? What did I do to piss him off?

Fine. I take a deep breath.

“There’s this service online,” I say. “You send them a picture of your kid. It’s really expensive. They scan it and send you back a folder with the kid at different ages. What he would look like.”

Craig says, “So, like, if you’re really curious about what your kid’s going to look like?”

I give him a look.

Craig says, “Ohhh, so, like, if your kid dies and you’re really curious about what he would have looked like?”

I nod. “That one.” I rub the back of my head where my hair is growing in unevenly. It’s dark red back there, I think, and faded blue in the front. There’s also some green, but I can’t remember where. Really, I’m blond. “So they sent in pictures of my twin and we got them back and it was . . . scary. To see what he would have looked like. What I’m going to look like. There was a picture in there—THEODORE, AGE 16. I’m going to be sixteen in a month. So I cut it off and dye it lots of colors. Now I don’t look like the picture.”

“You were a twin?” Mrs. Privett says. Her voice is so soft and gentle, like whipped cream. Whipped cream that feels sorry for you.

I say, “I am a twin.”

Craig smiles at me. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that expression on someone. He is proud.

“More carrots, Lio?” Todd asks, because I’m down to one. I say yes. I’m a doormat.

But I made Craiger proud.





CRAIG

LIO’S DAD DRIVES JASPER OVER ABOUT AN HOUR AFTER dinner. He stays in the car while she comes in, which I can tell Lio doesn’t feel right about, because he keeps looking out the window at his dad in the car. “Is he mad at me?” he says eventually. “He didn’t sound mad on the phone.”

“I don’t know. My keys?” She takes them from Lio and hands him a small bag. “Toothbrush and shit.”

“Why isn’t Dad with Michelle?”

“How the hell was I supposed to get here without him? And she’s sleeping in the backseat.”

“Oh.” He’s still peering out the window. I can see his little sister’s feet in the backseat. They’re in socks and curled up against the window.

Jasper says, “I told him he doesn’t get to chew you out about the car when Craig’s here. So he thought it’d be best to stay outside. I think I finally got it through his head that Craig’s . . . you know.”

Lio keeps frowning, but then his dad waves at him, and his face lights like a candle. “Okay.”

“Hey.” Jasper takes Lio’s shoulder and yanks him around. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t chew you out in front of Craig.”

I swear he shrinks like five inches.

She says, “You ever do that again, I’ll skin ya.”

He nods.

She lets her air out and pushes Lio’s hair back. “You sure you don’t want to come home?”