Page 38

Chapter 38

New Horizons

Brandon

It takes three hours to drive back home, and you better believe that I am singing all the way.

We’re talking 80s rock playlist. Windows down. DGAF who’s watching.

Leaving Parker back at Summit was wrenching, to say the least. It would have been so easy to stay curled up in bed with him for another night. All the other nights, actually. Because our night together feels completely un-top-able.

So to speak.

It was better than I ever could have dreamed. I’ve noticed a lot of new things about him that I’ve never seen before. Especially how soft and fluffy he looks when he’s asleep in my arms. That one was new. I refrained from sharing that observation. I’m pretty sure soft and fluffy isn’t the look cage fighters intend to go for.

The morning sex was pretty good too.

But I couldn’t pass up the chance of seeing my dad. Especially with my birthday looming. I hold out no hope that my mother will make an appearance, and the dark and twisted part of me that nobody ever sees thinks that it’s probably a good thing.

Normally, I’m not a birthday person. Being a July baby, school was always out and most kids were on vacation which made birthday parties kind of a bust, until Parker showed up and changed everything.

One year it was just me and my dad; my mother was in South Africa on a wellness retreat with some of her co-stars. He woke me up early, played soccer in the garden, then took me to the movies, just me and him.

Normally he’d just drop me off, but he came in with me that time. I don’t even remember what the film was. But I remember that he put an arm around me, and laughed when I laughed, not because he found it funny, but he liked seeing me happy.

He was wearing his light brown leather jacket, the one with the scuffs. We devoured milkshakes and burgers afterwards, and he listened intently when I told him all about my fantasy soccer team and shared theories about why my boyhood hero Nate Suarez was definitely going to move to the premier league the following season.

I was nine years old. I fell asleep on the couch with him when we got home, and when I woke up, he’d wrapped the jacket around me.

It's not a core memory, but it’s a good one. One that warms me from the inside, even though it’s fifty degrees and I’m driving with the top down.

The next year, he ran for Governor, and everything changed. He stopped sneaking into my room between conference calls for rounds of soccer video games. Then, he changed his mind about soccer altogether. He started spending more and more time in the office, on the campaign trail, in Washington.

By the time he was Senator, it was like we had become strangers. And the things that had once mattered didn’t matter so much anymore. Like soccer summer, or swimming lessons on Fridays.

Or me. Then, everything else happened.

I turn the volume up to drown it all out.

But as I get closer to home, something twists in my gut. Truth be told, I haven’t spent much time here since that night, when Parker and I…you know. But now I’m going to see my dad. And I’m going to fix things.

Even if I haven’t figured out how just yet.

I pull up at a red and sneakily check my phone. Parker’s shot me a picture. God damn. We’re snuggled up with a glass of champagne between us, even though Parker doesn’t drink it, and I can’t stand the taste. The lighting is low, there’s a pizza box in the background. It’s a mess in a hundred different ways.

But damn, do I look happy. Really happy. Not the shiny kind. The real kind.

The second I pull into my driveway I save the picture as my phone background.

* * * *

“Dad?” My voice slides across shiny white marble. A deep voice calls back, and I bounce on the balls of my feet as footsteps get closer. He’s really here. Okay. Deep breath. I’m just gonna start with an apology. And go from there.

But it’s not my dad.

It’s Winston. “Brandon. This is a nice surprise”.

“It shouldn’t be. You knew I was coming”, I peer past him, “Is my dad back there?”

“He’s on his book tour”. A crease forms across Winston’s forehead. “Didn’t he tell you?”

I stop dead. “Book tour?” I say, my voice higher than it should be. “But you said…when we spoke…he was supposed to be here”. It all comes out in a jumble.

“Brandon, your father has obligations”, Winston says, in a tone that sounds kind and patronising all at once. “A lot of people rely on him to show up for them”.

I know. I’m one of them.

I take a deep breath, fighting for control. “When did he leave?”

“This morning. If you’d have been here earlier instead of doing…well, whatever it is you were doing last night”, I blush furiously, hoping that he doesn’t notice. “You’d know that”. Winston checks his watch. “If it’s truly important, we can schedule a call before he gets on the plane, but…”

“When is he coming back?” I interrupt. Fine, okay—if he’s not back until tonight then I can just stay another day. It won’t matter too much. Then I’d get my full birthday with him anyway. “Tonight?”

“The fifteenth”.

“That’s over a week away!” I blurt out. Winston raises his eyebrows. “Winston, you knew I wanted to see him”.

“Brandon, sometimes important things come about very last minute. It’s not exactly like you’ve been a regular fixture around here for the last couple of years, is it?” He pulls on his jacket, even though it’s scorching outside. “We can hardly blame your father for prioritising his constituents who choose to be here, over his own family who, not to put too fine a point on it, don’t”.

I blink, not sure that I’ve heard him properly. “What did you just say?”

“I know what’s brought this on”, Winston opens his briefcase, “And don’t think your father has forgotten”. He slides out a manilla envelope and passes it over to me. “On your birthday, no less”.

Is it a card? I slide it open, but instead I pull out a neat sheaf of papers, with coloured tags dog-eared over the corners. I turn it over in my hands, eyes widening and narrowing like I’m stuck in a kaleidoscope.

The words blur in and out. Obligations and expectations over the next 12-18 months…Participation at campaign events, commitment to at least six per month…Agree not to disclose any personal grievances about the candidate unless by prior written agreement….

It’s a contract.

“It’s completely standard”, Winston wipes his glasses. “Your father just wants to ensure that you’ll meet your obligations without any unnecessary fuss or difficulty, that’s all”.

“He’s making me sign a contract to, what? Act like I’m his son?” My voice is shaking. “I’m already his son. I don’t think there’s anything standard about it”.

“Most people in your position realise how lucky they are, and don’t need to be bribed. I think he’s forgiven you for enough already, don’t you?”

His eyes drop to my phone. The background of me and Parker. He looks back at me pointedly. “I think you know what I’m referring to. Sign it, don’t sign it. Either way, the result will be the same. I’ll let myself out”.

I feel my eyes start to sting. I walk unsteadily into the sitting room and lean heavily on the couch. And I stay there, for a very long time.

* * * *

I’m woken by my phone vibrating angrily across the coffee table. The memories of this afternoon fall around me like shards of broken glass. Winston. Dad. Contract. Birthday. I grab my phone, and my heart instantly warms. Parker Facetime.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

“Special contribution to rhyming. Bonus points for doing it with a straight face”.

“I always have a straight face. If only they knew, eh?” He grins as I flatten down my couch bed-hair. “How did it go with the Senator?”

Here’s the thing.

Parker might know me better than anyone else in the world, but that’s not always a good thing. This is the time when it’s supposed to be fun. Sex, dates. The honeymoon period. Hearing another anecdote from the Carter Grimoire of Broken Family Fairytales?

Not so hot. Not so second date.

“Good”, I force lightness into my tone. “Pretty standard”. I hover over the line between outright lying and keeping a secret. “How about you? How was work? Did the boys notice you’d been out all night?”

“Insultingly, no they didn’t. But they did when I snuck in the following morning”. He grins. “Pretty sure they think I’m a total man whore. Or just a raging super stud”.

“They’d be right on both counts”.

“I’ll let you have that once since it’s your almost birthday, almost-birthday-boy”. He presses his face close to the camera. “I wish you were here celebrating with me. Or I was there, celebrating with you. Actually, if I’m wishing for things, I’d wish we were both somewhere super-hot, knocking back weird little drink thingies with coconuts”.

“I love weird little drink thingies”. I peer closely at the screen. “Where are you anyway? Your background is pitch black”.

“Remember when we used to pretend play ninja fighters?”

“You’re under your bed ?” I can’t help but giggle. “Why?”

“Just felt more exciting to call you that way”. His eyebrows raised playfully. “I’m not used to being used for my body then having my lover beat a path out of town”.

“I’d much rather be with you, trust me”. I smile. The doorbell rings. “Oh shoot, two secs. Someone’s at the door”.

“Let the butler get it”.

“It’s his night off”, I slide across the shiny floor in my socks, ignoring the jibe. “And before you ask, the maid is nowhere to be found. Anyway, I appreciate you checking in on me, but I promise, I’m totally good. I’m going to order some pizza, have a couple of beers. A perfect chilled out almost-birthday night. Nothing could make it better”.

I unlock the door and fling it open. And stop, in stunned surprise.

Parker’s standing in the doorway, with a party hat and carrying a birthday cake.

I’m still holding the phone to my ear, and his voice trickles down the line like a strand of honey caught in the jar.

“Nothing could make it better?” He blows out a party popper. “You’re sure about that?”