Page 59 of A Series of Rooms
“Iampolite,” Ben’s voice came again, though the fact that the words were garbled around a mouthful of food sort of negated his point.
The coffee table was lined with veggie trays and Christmas-themed finger foods, along with a spread of assorted wines and the obligatory bottle of sparkling grape juice for the Cassidys. Ever the good Christians. Personally, Liam would have liked to snatch a bottle of red off the table and save their hostess the trouble of washing an extra glass tonight.
Ben’s father was stationed in his recliner with a glass of whisky, eyes glued to whatever sporting event was on their flatscreen. He greeted them with a raise of his glass, barely looking away from the television, and, as if by the pull of some invisible straight man magnet, Liam’s father found his way to the second chair.
“The Scotts are running a little behind. As per,” Mrs. Baker added with a co-conspiratorial smirk. “But dinner is ready whenever they are. Help yourself to some appetizers in the meantime. God knows Ben has.”
Liam sank down on the couch next to Ben.
“Hey,” Ben said, eyes on his phone.
“Hi.”
That was fine. Liam wasn’t in the mood for conversation anyway.
He sat back, watching the scene unfold around him like an interactive Hallmark movie. The graying fathers watching sports and talking about their corporate jobs, the mothers clad in cashmere sweaters and polka-dotted aprons, not a hair out of place. This was the only life that Liam had ever known. This was the warmth of his privilege, to be so secure in his comfort that he could resent it.
He ached for Jonah, in that moment, as much as he ached with the absence of him. It was too easy to picture Jonah against this familiar backdrop, seated next to him on the plush cushions, warm and safe. Fed and strong and unbruised. Liam wanted that for him. More than he had ever wanted anything, he wanted Jonah to be safe. If there was a god watching over this universe—something Liam became less and less inclined to believe the longer he knew Jonah—there would come a day where that boy got to spend a holiday with people who loved him.
The rattle of bells against the front door signaled the arrival of Nathan’s family. Mrs. Scott entered the room in a flurry of beige fleece, shrugging out of her coat while balancing a glass casserole dish on her arm. “Sorry we’re late. Couldn’t peel this one away from the game long enough to bear the five-minute car ride over.”
Trailing behind her, Mr. Scott wore a sheepish grin. Behind him was Nathan, who—
“What the hell happened to your face?” Ben voiced the thoughts of everyone in the room, finally looking up from his phone.
A jagged line of raised pink flesh tore across Nathan’s cheek, stretching from just below his eye to the corner of his mouth.
Liam was sure he wasn’t imagining the brief glint of irritation before Nathan masked it with a smile. “You should see the other guy,” he said.
“Was the other guy a bear?” Ben asked. “You look like you got mauled, dude.”
“I think we’ve held dinner up long enough for everyone,” Mr. Scott interrupted, putting a terse end to the questioning.
Maybe Liam wasn’t the only one who sensed the tension in the room, because there was a brief, uncomfortable pause before Mrs. Baker stood, untied her apron from around her waist and shepherded everyone into the dining room.
The boys were the last to follow. Ben wandered off after a lingering glance at the scar, vowing to get the story out of him later. But Liam couldn’t look away.
Even if everything else had just been in Liam’s imagination, there was no mistaking the loathing glare Nathan shot him before he turned and left Liam standing alone in the living room.
The scrape of silverware on ceramic murmured over the dining room table.
As luck would have it, Liam found himself planted in the chair directly across from Nathan, where he could feel the ugly burn of his sneer like a heat lamp too close to the skin. Liam kept his eyes down, watching the piece of roasted potato he was pushing around on his plate. He was already expending all his mental energy just by being here tonight. He didn’t know what was happening—with Nathan’s new beauty mark or the silent warfare that seemed to be waging between the two of them—but he was far too tired for it.
Liam hadn’t seen Nathan since the run-in outside the diner last Friday. So much had happened in the short time since, he’d all but forgotten about it. It was only now, under this new, indiscernible tension, that he remembered the strangeness of Nathan’s behavior that night. Jonah had brushed it off when he brought it up later, but Liam knew what he had seen: that Jonah had been just as shaken by the encounter.
He nearly choked on a bite of dry chicken at the reminder of what Nathan could do with that information, here, of all places. There were any number of ways he could weaponize his out-of-context knowledge of Liam spending time with the sex worker Nathan had once hired for him, none of which would go over well at a dining room table full of his family friends.
“Liam.” Mrs. Baker’s voice pulled him to attention from the opposite end of the table. “Do you have any plans for the fall? You were planning to transfer out of your two-year program, right?”
Liam bit his cheek to keep the scowl off his face. He could hear the implicit comment between her words:“You’ll be going to arealcollege after this, right?”
“Nothing solid yet,” he responded as politely as he could manage. “I’ve applied to a few places. My top choices.” He paused, sparing a sideways glance at his parents. His future plans were a point of contention between the three of them, and he would rather not have that conversation here. “But, you know, I’m aiming a little high. I probably won’t get in.”
“You’ve been so busy these days.”
Everyone turned to face Nathan, who spoke for the first time since they sat down for dinner.
“Must be putting in a lot of work on those applications.”
