Page 13 of Out of the Storm

“Close to it. He took over the funeral home.”

“From his uncle.”

Leaning forward, Gary covered his head with his hands and let out a groan. “Look, I can’t let myself like Jeff. He’s cool, and he chases tornadoes. Besides, we both know how I am. I like people too much, too soon. Kevin wasn’t right for me, and, boy howdy, Iknewthat, but still...” Gary’s hands moved lower to cover his face. In a muffled voice, he said, “Iwantedhim to be.”

“But youknowthat about yourself now. Surely that counts for something.”

“If I let myself like Jeff, and by some miracle, he likes men, and by some evenlargermiracle, he likes me, I’m sure I’ll start to cling. And that’ll push him away,” Gary lamented from behind his hands. “It’s a pattern for me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re talking aboutcollege. It was a million years ago.”

“Collegeandmy master’s program. And it wasn’t a million years ago. Only ten.” After coming out from his silly hiding spot, Gary sat up straighter, shame still making his cheeks warm. “Every fling wasthe one. Ugh, I can’t even think about it now. It’s mortifying. Somehow, I managed to findseveralmen who seemed to like me at Kent State, and yet, I messed up every single one of those relationships. Or,almostrelationships. Like I said, looking back, they were only flings, and yet, I threw my whole self into each of them before I even knew the men well enough to... to know what flavor of ice cream they liked. Geez, I mean, I scared them away before I could even begin to know if they were right for me.”

“Come on. Don’t beat yourself up. With everything you’ve been through with your family...” Mel offered a half-smile. “I can see how it would be hard not to feel the need to try for that... for that promise of forever. You’ve been scared of losing people your whole life.”

“It’s pathetic.”

“Well, you’re older and wiser now.”

“Older, yes. Wiser? Eh . . .”

Mel tossed the nail file over to the desk. It bounced off, landing on the floor.

“Are you thinking of canceling your interview?” she asked.

Gary squirmed in his seat. “A little.”

“Don’t.” Mel swung her legs over to the floor, and Gary stared down at her lime-green leg warmers, kind of wishing he had a pair. “No one said youhadto try to pursue him. Can’t you make a friend? I’m tired of being your only friend. It’s a burden.”

Gary’s head snapped up, and he caught her eyes. “Shoot, really?”

“No! I knew that’d make you flinch, though.” With a playful smile, Mel stretched out a leg to tap one of his feet with hers. “Make a friend. That way, I won’t feel so bad for wanting to spend time with Ken on Saturday afternoons.”

“I’m sorry if I’m making you feel bad.”

“You’re not, I promise. But I’d feel better if I knew you had someone else to spend time with. Come on, Gary, make a friend. Or a boyfriend. And, hey, maybe you’ll hate him once you spend more time together.”

“Here’s hoping,” Gary sighed.

For the next half hour, Gary and Mel chatted about Mel’s boyfriend Ken, which was perfectly fine with Gary. Focusing on Mel’s evening plans proved to be a welcome break from obsessing over Jeff and his unbelievably beautiful face.

When it was nearly three, Gary left to go see his mom and sister. Even though Dawn was three years his senior, she still lived with their mom, though not really by choice. Eight or so years prior, her then-boyfriend had split once she’d become pregnant with their twins, telling her that he wasn’t really up for being a father.

Funny how history tended to repeat itself.

After a quick bicycle ride across town, Gary found Dawn sitting outside his mother’s three-bedroom colonial smoking a cigarette, while her kids—Gary’s niece and nephew, though, wow, he barely ever spent time with either of them—colored with chalk in the driveway. When Gary stopped to hop off his bike, she snuffed out her cigarette in the brown ceramic ashtray by her feet and stood.

“Little brother,” she said with a smirk. “Where have you been lately?”

“Busy, busy.” He unclipped his helmet. “Didn’t you say you had a box of stuff for me?”

“Yeah, three weeks ago,” Dawn said, her hand on her hip. “Mom said we need to start clearing out the little room off of thekitchen. I think her knees are starting to bother her too much to keep going up and down the stairs.”

“She wants to sleep in a closet?”

“It’s not a closet,” she protested, to which Gary raised an eyebrow. “Okay, it’ssort ofa closet, but what else can we do?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

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