Page 45

Getting to the Bottom of Things

Daniel

In all the times I’ve been to Bomont with Charlie to visit his parents, I’ve never noticed that this house has a basement.

The clouds split open a few minutes ago, along with thunder and lightning, sending the guests scurrying for cover. Charlie’s quick thinking led us down a narrow staircase and into this subterranean sanctuary.

The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling, identical to that upstairs.

The floor is covered in a plush, avocado-green shag carpet.

There’s a well-worn couch upholstered in a bold floral pattern, a few mismatched armchairs that have seen better days, and a sturdy wooden coffee table with a few water rings marring its surface.

The only modern addition to this retro room is the oversized beanbag that Harrison and I have claimed as our own. I’m sitting with my legs spread wide, with Harrison nestled comfortably between them, his back pressed against my chest. I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer to me.

“Y’all have quite the storms here,” Coach Bryant says to Robert as he dries his hair off with a towel.

Charlie’s dad nods, doing the same. “Rain’s a farmer’s best friend until it ain’t. ”

“True enough,” Coach says. “Have you ever had any tornadoes out here? We had a slew of ’em back in Kentucky last year.”

“No, but it’s always a possibility.”

Coach glances around the basement with approval. “This would make a perfect shelter.”

Charlie comes over, his eyes wide with concern. “There’s going to be a tornado?!”

“Relax,” Roy drawls from his spot on the couch, sounding far too amused at Charlie’s panic. “It’s just rain, little brother.”

“But what if it turns into a tornado?” Charlie insists, his voice rising five octaves.

“Then we all die,” Roy says with a smirk.

“Roy!” Esther scolds, shaking her head at him.

He chuckles and reaches over to pat Charlie on the butt. “Go help Mom open her presents. It’ll keep your mind off it.”

Charlie huffs but dutifully heads over to where Esther is sitting with a pile of brightly wrapped gifts at her feet. Robert gives Roy a thumbs-up for averting crisis number one of the evening.

“Here you go, honey,” Esther says, handing Charlie a small package wrapped in gold paper. She beams at him like he’s five years old again and just saved Christmas.

As Charlie tears into it with more enthusiasm than necessary, Robert moves over to join Esther and gives her another package, wrapped in silver foil. She opens it delicately to reveal an intricate glass vase.

She holds it up for everyone to see. “This is lovely!”

“You can display all those dead flowers that Dad gets you in there,” Roy quips, earning another head shake from Esther.

Harrison shifts against me, turning his head slightly so he can watch the proceedings without leaving the comfort of our beanbag perch. I take advantage of this new angle to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Are you always this affectionate?” he teases, though there’s no real complaint in his voice.

“Only when I’m awake,” I reply.

He laughs softly and leans into me again as we watch Charlie pass a gift over to Esther. This one is larger, wrapped in bright red paper with an enormous bow perched on top like an afterthought.

“This must be from you boys,” Esther guesses with delight as she rips open the paper and reveals our contribution: a popcorn maker.

“You said you liked ours when you visited,” Charlie explains bashfully.

“It’s wonderful!” Esther gushes, hugging both him and the machine.

The night wears on, and before long, the party devolves into a karaoke free-for-all.

A small machine gets hooked up to an ancient TV, and I’m pretty sure the sound system is on its last legs because the audio quality leaves something to be desired.

But everyone’s enthusiasm more than makes up for it.

We’ve heard everything from Coach Bryant’s off-key rendition of “Sweet Caroline” to Esther and Robert’s adorable duet of “Islands in the Stream.” Even Javi and Joe Bryce have joined in the fun, currently serenading us with “You’ve Got a Friend in Me,” while the rest of the team acts as their background vocals.

As their duet comes to an end, I can’t help but notice the sudden closeness between Javi and Joe Bryce.

The way Javi slings an arm around Joe’s shoulders, pulling him close.

How Joe leans into the touch, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

There’s a comfort there that goes beyond mere friendship.

I should know; I’ve seen it between Charlie, Harrison, and me.

Intrigued, I wave them over to where Harrison and I are still lounging on the beanbag. They amble toward us, Javi’s hand slipping down to rest at the small of Joe’s back.

“Hey, great performance,” I say as they approach. “You two have really gotten close this season.”

Joe chuckles, exchanging a glance with Javi. “Yeah, you could say that. We’re buds, now. ”

“Just buds?” I probe gently. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like there might be something more going on.”

Javi grins, completely at ease. “Nah, man. We’re both straight as arrows. But you know, sometimes a guy needs a little…stress relief. And who better to help out than your best bro?”

Joe nods sagely. “Exactly. I mean, have you seen this dude’s ass?” He reaches down and gives Javi’s ample rear a resounding slap. “That thing is a work of art. How could I resist?”

Javi yelps, swatting at Joe’s hand, but he’s laughing. “Watch it, Bryce. Don’t make me take you over my knee.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Martinez,” Joe retorts with a wink.

Harrison and I exchange smirks. It’s clear that while Javi and Joe might not be romantically involved, there’s definitely a unique bond forming.

“Well, hey, no judgment here,” I assure them. “If it works for you guys, then more power to you.”

“Damn straight,” Javi says. Then, catching himself, he chuckles. “Or, you know, not straight. Ah, you get what I mean.”

As they wander off to grab some drinks, I nestle my chin on Harrison’s shoulder, hugging him close. “Takes all kinds, I guess,” I murmur.

Harrison hums in agreement. “I think it’s kind of sweet. That they can be that open and comfortable with each other without it being a big deal.”

“Agreed. Maybe there’s a lesson in there for the rest of us.”

We lapse into a contemplative silence, content to simply observe the warm chaos of the party unfolding around us.

Esther is fussing over the popcorn maker, insisting on preparing a fresh batch for everyone to enjoy.

Robert hovers nearby, ready to help, while Charlie takes it upon himself to be the next crooner of the night.

And if his song choice is any indication, he’s going to need a lung transplant when he finishes.

He launches into Savage Garden’s “I Want You” with the intensity of a man who has something to prove, rapidly firing through the lyrics without any visible signs of oxygen intake.

“He’s really going for it,” Harrison says, eyes glued to Charlie.

“His stubborn streak is showing,” I reply, watching as Roy cheers him on with a half-empty beer bottle in hand.

As impressive as Charlie’s commitment is, I become distracted by how much Roy has been drinking tonight. He’s laughing at Charlie now, but his demeanor shifts when he catches me watching him. His smile fades too quickly for my liking, and there’s a coldness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt the chill from him tonight. He’s been giving me the silent treatment ever since we came down here. It started subtly—short answers and minimal eye contact—but now it’s as obvious as a slap in the face.

Charlie’s voice cracks on a particularly high note, and Harrison winces in sympathy. “Think he’ll make it?”

“Physically? Maybe,” I say, trying to keep my focus on anything other than Roy’s increasingly aloof behavior.

“Emotionally?” Harrison presses.

“He’s scarred for life,” I assure him with a grin.

Roy stands suddenly, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. He glances around the room as if he’s forgotten where he put something important, then staggers toward the stairs without another word.

As I watch him, a thought hits me. What if it’s not alcohol that has him acting this way? What if it’s something else entirely?

“You okay if I leave for a second?” I ask Harrison quietly.

He nods, eyes still on Charlie and his flexing throat muscles.

Reluctantly, I release my hold on Harrison and get up from our beanbag throne. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge or confrontation, but this is different—more personal, more important.

I follow Roy through the kitchen, past the piles of dirty dishes and leftover food. The farther he gets from the basement, the more I act like an overgrown stalker .

He rounds a corner and ducks into a room, shutting the door with force. It’s been ages since I was last here, and my brain’s not entirely sure what room that is. A bedroom? Maybe an office?

Fearlessly—or maybe recklessly—I open the door.

“Shit!” I exclaim at the same time that Roy hollers at me to get out.

He’s in the middle of squatting down to take care of business, and I’m frozen for a second too long, mouth hanging open like an idiot.

He chucks his empty beer bottle at my head, and I jump back into the hall, slamming the door shut as it shatters against the wall where my face had been moments before.

God, that could have ended badly in so many ways.

I lean against the wall and breathe out slowly. Not only have I probably scarred Roy for life by barging in on him, but there’s also a very real chance he’s going to murder me once he’s done taking a dump.

I decide it’s best to wait for him in the living room, where there are plenty of potential witnesses who can come to my rescue.