Page 24 of The Men of Summer
“Will you two get off my dick already?”
“I didn’t realize your dick wanted any part of us, my friend! Mouth, tongue, pussy, ass, which is it?”
My son’s bluntness shouldn’t stun me; he’s always been pretty straightforward.Am I turning into a prude because I’m getting older or because I’m in a long-term relationship?
Emily doesn’t look shocked, and she snickers at Liam’s expense.
“Fuckers! You should help me score some pussy rather than mock me. That’s what friends are for.”
Emily’s voice follows, gentle but firm. “Sorry, Liam, but you started it.” She lets out a loud breath. “You know we’re here for you, right? Always. No matter what.”
The distance between them was never an issue; they’re like siblings… Well, close siblings, kind of like my two younger brothers. They have a special bond that I’ll never understand or be a part of, although I deeply appreciated their unexpected support after my disastrous coming out to my father.
“Thanks. I’m glad y’all haven’t changed over the years. I love you guys.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Jeremy nods at Emily’s confirmation. “But do I have to remind you yet again that” the three of them shout in unison “people don’t change!”
“I know, I know, I got carried away,” Liam confirms. “People don’tchange… Peopleevooolve.” He makes a big production of enunciating the word and waving his arms in every direction until they collapse in laughter.
Guilt gnaws at my insides, and I finally slip back into the hallway and start rustling the bags.
A very sudden silence fills the living room, and Jeremy appears with his two acolytes soon after; their flushed faces betray their heated discussion. I put on my best poker face and greet them.
“Hey, Father.” He hugs me, trying to sound casual. They really were oblivious to my presence. When I release him, I mask my unease with a genuine smile. At last! He juts his head towards his friends. “They were about to head out… I’ll see you two later.” He looks at them, then back at me. “There’s this new club and—” he starts babbling, exposing his nerves.
Is he wondering how much I heard?
Meanwhile, Emily and Liam interrupt him to say their goodbyes. Once we’re alone, his brown eyes meet mine. “Get all your Christmas shopping done?”
“Almost,” I reply, hiding the bags under the staircase since they contain some of his gifts. “I’m still waiting for the VR headset I ordered for Zayn. Sully helped me pick the right brand. Believe it or not, I used to be into gaming when I met your dad.”
We make small talk, and he sweetly offers, “Need help with dinner?”
“Sure… unless you slaughter it like the marshmallow,” I tease as we saunter to the kitchen. He is a good cook when he puts his mind to it, so he chuckles at his failed attempt, and I suggest, “Why don’t we fixsancocho? Let’s prep thesofritofirst.”
In the blink of an eye, we get to work, retrieving everything from the fridge, including a large onion; I read that putting it there for a half-hour helps to reduce the tear-inducing chemicals. I don’t miss how his freckled face brightens and his brows knit at my not-so-subtle message. You see, the Dominican dish somehow became our go-to recipe for bonding and often accompanies important conversations.
Too bad Zayn’s not back yet; the three of us enjoy prepping this together. Oh well, he’ll catch up upon his return, or I’ll talk him into making dessert.
Slicing the peppers and tomatoes, he asks about my mom—hisabuelita—and Aunt Rita’s arrival and probes about any plans we might have agreed on before he got back home yesterday.
“Besides the Seaside ladies and our big lunch on the 25thwith the usual suspects, not much…” I explain, chopping the onion while sobbing because the trick was a bust. “Emily will be there with her mom, so you can invite Liam if you want.” I sniff in between words. Tears roll down my stubbled cheeks, which makes him laugh.
The traitor reaches for his nearby phone to gather evidence of my misery. I pause the task at hand and grumble protests, which garner the same level of success as my attempts to block my puffy eyes and wet cheeks with my arm. My actions only encourage his paparazzi tendencies. He sends me the worst shots as a souvenir and resumes working on the dish as if nothing happened. To be honest, I enjoy this carefree side of him, so I wipe the tears away.
He grabs a fistful of cilantro, and I take care of the garlic next.
“Susie and her sisters are gonna be there too?” He sounds genuinely thrilled.
I nod, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. He hasn’t seen the Tulyakorndolpak girls in years. Looking conflicted, Jeremy runs a hand through his short hair; his college days marked aturning point, from his previously laidback attire to a preppy look, as well as shearing off his copper curls.
He washes his hands and dumps everything in the food processor.
Averting his gaze, I hear my son mutter, almost to himself, “We used to be so close, and then I fucked it up, being a self-centered teen and all.”
I don’t think he ever was, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I add the rest of the ingredients to a bowl and supply, “It’s true you were protective of her as a kid.”
“Was I?” I nod. “I’m not sure I mentioned it, but her profile came up on Instagram a few months back. Apparently, she’s a huge Pearl Jam fan… Well, she loves grunge music in general and reads fantasy novels. So we have more in common than I expected… I debated whether to follow her after the way I treated her.” He looks at his feet, swallows hard, and concludes, “I really hope she doesn’t hate me for ghosting her. I’d love for us to be friends again.” His voice carries a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.
