Page 57 of The Understatement of the Year

I pulled a face. ButGod, that smile was disarming. When he aimed it at me, I would probably do anything he asked.

Anything except the one thing that mattered. Anything except love him the way he deserved.

“If you boys are here for another two hours, I can send you back with meatballs in tomato sauce,” Grandma Rikker said. She was cracking eggs into a mixing bowl.

“I’m free then,” Rikker said. “What do you think, G? Do we need to leave before noon?”

Sometime yesterday he’d begun calling me “G” again, just like the old days. I liked it. “There’s no rush,” I told him. “I’ll need to grab a shower at some point, but that’s the only thing on my to-do list.”

Rikker lifted his chin toward the stairs. “You can go now. Breakfast will be another fifteen minutes.”

As I climbed the stairs, I could hear Rikker and his grandmother gossiping.

“Was that boyfriend of Daphne’s there? The one with the bar through his eyebrow, who says ‘fuck’ every other word?”

“Bruno?” Rikker chuckled. “Didn’t see him. So maybe he’s out of the picture.”

“Maybe she came to her senses. Daphne’s a smart girl. I always hoped she was just experimenting on him.”

“I hope so too.”

My time in Vermont came to an end before I was ready. A couple of hours later, Grandma Rikker drove us to the rental car place, and Rikker went inside to pick up his reservation. I leaned forward from the back seat of the truck to thank her for having me as a guest.

She swiveled around, squeezing my forearm. “Any time, dear. I wish you boys had more vacation days. I really do. These last few years with John have been such a gift to me.”

I smiled, because you couldn’t look at the love in her watery blue eyes and not smile. “I’m sure it isn’t always sunshine and roses,” I said, trying for a joke. “He probably leaves the toilet seat up.”

“I had two boys before him,” she said, patting my arm. “I don’t even notice anymore.”

I saw Rikker coming outside again with a set of keys in his hand. “I think we’re all set to go,” I said.

But when I went to open the door, she grabbed my hand. “You take care of yourself, Michael Graham,” she insisted.

“I will,” I said.

“And don’t forget to vent the plastic containers before you nuke those meatballs I made you boys. So they don’t explode.”

Chuckling, I got out. “Thanks for everything!”

She blew me a kiss after I slammed the door.

“I want to do that again some time,” I admitted when we were on the road. “Your grandma’s place is so relaxing.” Rikker was so quiet after I said it that I had to wonder if I’d overstepped. “I mean… I had fun. That’s all.”

“I did, too,” he said quickly. “But I think it’s fascinating that you say you were practically climbing the walls at home, yet Gran’s place is like an oasis. Because she’s the only person in the world who probably suspects you of being gay.” His eyes flicked over to give me a glance. “Because you’re visiting me. Not for any other reason. But that’s, like, backwards. No?”

When I opened my mouth to argue, absolutely nothing came out. Because Rikker was right. Most of the time I walked around in a panic trying to act like a straight guy. In Vermont, I spent my time twerking at a queer dance party and making out with my gay friend in his grandmother’s truck. Then I slept for nine hours straight and woke up feeling like a superhero. It didn’t make a lick of sense.

“What did your parents say about my news story?” he asked suddenly. “Did they see it?”

I gave a big sigh. During the days I’d been at home, I’d ducked out of several conversations about those damned articles. “They said people were talking about it at church. That’s where my mother heard about it.”

“But what didyourmom say about me? Was she, like, shocked or anything?”

“She didn’t seem shocked,” I said slowly. This whole topic freaked me right out. “She asked me if you were okay, and if I thought that Coach handled it well. I told her I thought so. Both things.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.” The truth was that Mom tried to talk to me about it. But I ran out of the room every time it came up. And I sure as hell didn’t tell her about the Saint B’s game.