Page 15 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

I still remember the way he shouted at me that night. —Gabe Gomez

My phone rings while I’m staring at purple marshmallows again. And there were only eight of them this morning, so of course I’m getting this phone call.

I force myself to take a few breaths while Lou hums at his cereal. “I’ve got to answer this, buddy,” I tell him. “Finish your breakfast, okay?”

Lou nods and stays focused on his marshmallows, while I take the phone into the living room.

“Hi. Um, hi Dave.” And I really, really hate how much my heart rate goes up these days the minute I say his name.

“Hey, Gabe.” There’s noise in the background, and I wonder if he’s already on a job site. “Just calling to check in. Did you get rid of those fucking tutus yet?”

Not even a “how’s Lou” before he jumps right to the tutus.

I squint my eyes tightly. So many days, lately, I’ve regretted buying Lou his first tutu.

But I never stay regretful, because then I remember how Lou put the thing on and started twirling around, hands high in the air while his entire expression lit up.

Every time I think of that memory, I love that first tutu almost as much as Lou does.

I force a wide smile onto my face, even though Dave can’t see me.

Smiles help me just as much as they help other people, I’ve realized over the years.

They help me remember that there’s always going to be happiness available in the world, no matter what anyone else tries to tell you. “He really likes them, Dave,” I say.

Dave makes some kind of noise between a sigh and a growl, and I remind myself that I really can’t blame a poor tutu for this mess. The truth is that Dave and I had all kinds of disagreements about what was best for Lou long before the tutu.

You can do hard things, I remind myself.

And then I do what I always do when I have to talk to Dave: I try to conjure a memory from before my mom got sick, back when Dave was a different kind of person.

Someone who laughed and threw baseballs with me and came to my plays.

He cried when Mom told us she was pregnant with Lou.

Then the cancer came, and that all changed.

Dave was on his phone in message boards more than in the room during the days Mom was leaving us.

And while I was stuck in Connecticut and he was up here in Vermont with Lou, it’s like the transformation became complete.

By the time I got to Devon Falls, Dave was a completely different person from the man who used to ruffle my hair and make me homemade pizza.

He was someone who bought his kid football bedroom decor sets even though Lou really wanted the Frozen sheets. Someone who got upset when Lou asked for princess and prince costumes and muttered under his breath whenever Lou wanted to wear pink or asked for ballet lessons.

Then he started leaving Lou for weeks at a time.

He’d tell us he had to go away for a job, assuming I’d take care of Lou, but then he wouldn’t come back after the job was over.

The first time he stopped answering his phone while he was gone, I panicked.

At the time, I was barely making enough from odd jobs to feed myself, and Lou and I lived off a lot of ramen and hot dogs in those weeks.

But the next time Dave disappeared, I was prepared.

I’d socked money and canned goods away, and Lou and I did just fine.

I really did wonder, then, if I should tell someone what was going on. About Dave leaving all the time and about all the other concerns I had about him. I really did.

But.

I can’t take the risk that Dave would manage to keep custody and take Lou away from me again, or that the state would decide to place Lou in some stranger’s home instead of with me. Especially with my arrest record.

An arrest record for a stupid choice I’d take back over and over and over again if I could.

Since I’ve never been able to tell anyone that Dave disappears for long gaps of time or that I worry he might start saying damaging things to Lou about his clothes and interests, I’ve gotten along with Dave by doing what I do best: playing damage control.

I’ve made sure Lou only wore his most favorite outfits when Dave was gone on jobs.

I’ve fudged the dates of Dave’s absences with teachers, with his doctors, with everyone.

And that all seemed to be working… until I bought Lou a tutu he saw at a secondhand store the night before Dave left for a job in Rochester, and Dave saw it in our shopping bag.

I still remember the way he shouted at me that night, after the tutu was put away in the back of the closet and Lou was tucked into bed.

“I should’ve known you’d start trouble when you followed us up to Devon Falls,” he raged.

“You always were a weak little pansy-ass. It’s bad enough that my neighbor here has to be that rainbow-haired pastor who’s always walking around holding hands with her wife.

It’s not that I’ve got a problem with a lesbian being the mayor.

I just don’t get why they both have to flaunt it like that!

And now you’re buying fluffy skirts for my son! ”

Flaunt what? I wondered. Amelia’s just holding hands with the woman she’s married to. But I decided not to risk more of Dave’s wrath by pointing that out.

“Anyway,” Dave went on. “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “The tutu was a fucking wake-up call. When I get back from Rochester, things around here are going to change. Maybe it’s time for Lou to spend a little less time around you, Gabe.”

My vision went fuzzy around the edges, and for a second I swore I was reliving all the worst moments of my past. “But you can’t take him away from me again,” I whispered to the room.

Dave threw his hands up behind his head and started pacing again.

“You think I wanted any of this, Gabe? This isn’t what I signed on for,” he muttered.

“Things were never supposed to work out this way. Me taking care of a kid alone, living back here in this podunk town. This was never supposed to happen, you know? None of this ever would have happened if your mom was still alive.”

And that was the crux of the whole problem, you know? My mom was supposed to be here. She was supposed to do so many things. Finish raising me. Raise my little brother.

Only things didn’t work out that way. And now here I am, on the phone with my ragey former stepfather, trying to calm him down and keep my own heart rate in check.

Not for the first time since the tutu incident, I seriously consider calling someone up and telling them what’s going on.

Benson’s a lawyer, and he might help me, right?

Or… Tom would help me. Colin. If they knew what was going on. I think they would. I really do.

But then I remember that moment when Dave’s car took off down the road, and I was left alone with a social worker, still shaking with the grief of my mother’s loss. I will never, ever forget how horribly alone I felt in that moment. How lost.

Anything I do to upset the balance I have with Dave could cause Lou to end up alone without anyone who really cares about him; I know that all too well.

So. I’m just going to have to figure out a different solution to keep Lou safe before Dave gets back.

Thoughts of taking Lou and running float briefly through my brain one more time, right before Dave starts speaking again.

“So,” Dave says. “Did you get my message? I’ll be back in time for the festival, and then you and me are going to have a long, hard talk about Lou’s future. Oh, and make sure you keep the lawn mowed while I’m gone. Since you’re staying there anyway.”

Sure, Dave. I’d be happy to do all your chores while I’m working a full-time job to feed your kid and also keeping the whole town from realizing you’re a total fuck-up. No problem.

He’s never even asked if I have a place of my own here. He probably doesn’t realize I gave up my apartment when he last left town a few months ago. He never leaves extra cash when he goes away. I wanted to make sure we had enough money to eat.

I wanted to start saving up, too. Just in case I had to pull the nuclear option and get me and Lou away from Devon Falls.

“And what’s this I hear about you spending time with that weirdo movie star who hangs around Devon Falls sometimes? That guy’s a total poof.”

Only he doesn’t say “poof.” He says a word that’s so nasty it makes me want to scream through the phone at the top of my lungs.

Tom Evers is twice the man—three times the man—Dave will ever be.

But I force myself to stay calm. “He and Colin Templegate are working at the winery with me. They’re investors, remember? ”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, at least it’s kind of fucking awesome, I guess, that you’re hanging out with a damn race car driver.

Introduce Lou to Colin, will you? Maybe being around a guy like that will toughen him up.

But keep Lou away from that Tom dude. I don’t trust Hollywood types. No damn values out there.”

Every single insult or cruel word makes me want to throw my phone across the room. The Dave I grew up with never, ever said mean things like this about people. This Dave? He’ll say whatever he wants about anyone who doesn’t embrace his new brand of toxic masculinity.

And my greatest fear is that someday soon he’ll start saying these exact same things to Lou.

Dave sighs. “Just remember what I said before I left. No more tutus. No brainwashing my kid into thinking it’s okay for him to dress like that.”

Brainwashing? Lou’s the one who squeals every time he sees a pair of ballet slippers. Lou’s the one who watches Frozen on repeat but can’t decide if he wants to be Snow White or Prince Charming for Halloween. Lou is who he is, and he’s perfect the way he is.