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“What would you do?” Anthony asked with a snort. “Paint it? The gray-beige color is really ugly.”

“No!” Cameron said, unable to hide his shock. He knocked on the surface in demonstration. “This issolidwood. Most modern furniture is engineered. You know, like cheap particle board? With solid wood, I could sand the paint off and stain it again.”

“Oh, you’re serious,” Anthony said. “You really want to keep it.”

Cameron felt embarrassed as he nodded.

Anthony shrugged and waded right into the trash. “Let’s get it home!”

Soon they were each holding on to an end, the nightstand between them, as they continued down the street. Except the sidewalk wasn’t wide enough to accommodate, forcing them to tromp through grass and risk stepping in dog poop, but Anthony didn’t seem to care.

“Do you do this sort of thing a lot?” he asked.

“Dumpster diving?” Cameron joked. “Yeah. I like to scavenge. You’d be amazed at the things people throw away. Old bras, barely used diapers, rotten fish. There’s a bargain to be found in every trashcan!”

Anthony laughed. “But when you see old furniture…”

“I can’t help myself,” Cameron admitted. “I think you’ll understand when I’ve turned this one around.” At least he hoped so. If not, there probably wouldn’t be more dates.

“I take it you need a nightstand?”

“No. I sell a lot of the furniture I restore. Usually through my friend Charles. The older guy I mentioned before? He’s an antique dealer and buys from me all the time.”

“How much would something like this be worth?”

“At retail? Hundreds.”

Anthony stumbled in his surprise. “Wow. Sothat’swhat paid for dinner. And all those tokens.”

“Hey, you paid for the movie.”

“And now I’m flat broke,” Anthony admitted. “Maybe you should teach me how to restore furniture.”

“I really could.” Cameron loved the idea. His happinessebbed somewhat when they finally reached his house. They set the nightstand in front of the garage door. “I’ll be right back,” he said, wishing he could simply invite Anthony in. He needed to be sure though. Usually, when his dad was in town, things were better. But not always.

Cameron unlocked the front door and slipped inside. The living room was dark. His mother wasn’t passed out on the couch with the TV still on, thank goodness. He hustled to the garage and hit the button to open it, his date revealed from his shoes up, one inch at a time.

“I’ve got it from here,” Cameron said, grabbing the nightstand and bringing it to the side of the garage where his shop was set up.

Anthony followed, taking note of the long workbench and its clamps, glues, sanders, and other such tools. “Wow,” he said. “Do you share this with your dad?”

“We used to, but back then it was just the basics. Hammers and wrenches. He never used it much. My dad travels a lot for business, so my mom would usually hire contractors. Until about junior high when I took my first shop class and became obsessed. Once I started fixing things around the house, they were happy to give this space to me.”

“What’s this thing?” Anthony asked, putting his hand on a long metal contraption.

“My Christmas present from last year. It’s a wood lathe.”

“And this?”

“That’s a buffer.”

“And what’s this crazy thingamajig?” Anthony asked, grabbing a screwdriver. “Oh wait! I think I know.” He pretended to insert the end into his ear while crossing his eyes.

Cameron laughed. “Exactly! I use that all the time. Best earwax collector in the world.”

There were half-finished projects on the workbench. Cameron described what he had planned for them. Anthony listened dutifully. But he clearly didn’t share the same passion. Maybe it would help if he could see some in their completed state.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” Cameron asked.