Roots to Branches

A Sanitaria Springs Story

By Dabeagle

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Growth. It's a word repeated by a lot of people about what you need to do. Sometimes if you focus and work at it, you'll achieve it. Sometimes it happens without you really realizing it. Then there's the way it feels when it starts happening without you realizing it, and when you do...you might fight it a little. You might not realize it's a good thing right away. Then, if you're smart, you'll stop and think about what's going on with you.

In the last year I'd really gone through that. Oh, I was still me, but I'm pretty confident I'm a better 'me' than I was a year ago. Much of my growth had come from letting go of things I thought defined me and the world around me. Then Caleb slowly shifted my perspective, and in a way he let me see myself through his eyes. I'm still not sure what he really saw that made him think I was worth it, but now...I think I am.

The bed shifted and he got up, padding from the room. I was always a little uncomfortable sleeping over at his parents' home. They were good to me – maybe even liked me. I'd spent some time here in my later high school days, but I wasn't...comfortable. I was conscious of this not being my home, of being a guest. It wasn't anything anyone did. His mom had told me I was welcome to whatever I wanted in the kitchen, no need to ask.

It wasn't like I was there full time. Our first year in college had been...an experience. I have no idea where Caleb's patience comes from with me. I'm very conscious of my flaws, and for a bit I was even more aware with him because, in my head, he had so few. Of course, he wasn't perfect. We didn't exactly fight, but we did 'express some opinions' as he called it. No matter what happened during the day – school stress, people stress or just stress stress, he ended his day pulling me close and thanking me for being with him.

At first I thought he was trying to start expressing ourselves all over again, but no. He was serious. I suppose if I envy my boyfriend anything, it's his ability to turn the page. To let things go. Perhaps because things don't really bother him due to a genetic condition, but whatever I may do wrong, he never holds against me. I get to start each day as I choose – punishing one of us or letting it go. It took me a while to realize that letting go was the far better option and that it was a choice.

The hinge squeaked as he came back into the room, climbing under the covers and moving close to me. He buried his nose against the back of my neck.

“Good morning, Hunter. Coffee's on.”

I stretched a bit and tried to turn toward him, but he held me fast. Of course, I struggled, and he held tighter. He thought he was being cute, but I was getting a little irritated.

“Let me turn, you big jerk,” I grumbled. Like magic, I was able to roll into him, and he folded me close. It was a little awkward, forehead to forehead. You kind of had to cross your eyes, but then his hand was up my neck, and I looped my own across his hip, closed my eyes and just was. It's a good way to start a day.

“Want me to get you a cup?” he asked.

“No, babe, thanks,” I murmured. “Just another minute and I'll go shower.”

When we'd been in our apartment for school, there had been mornings like this – eventually. I have to admit living with someone for the first time – I mean as a partner, not with your parents – had many, many awkward moments for me. How often were we supposed to have sex? Was there a chart I was supposed to reference? Who was supposed to do what, exactly? Did we have assigned chores? It took a little while for the the small space to feel like a comfortable place and to figure out my role in it.

It was then I'd started to notice the small things taking root. The way he'd get up, go to the bathroom and start the coffee pot before coming back to wake me for the day. I always woke up when he left the bed, I don't know why, but this had become part of our routine. It was one of the small ways he said he cared without putting it into words. That led easily into my learning to make some food that he liked and that led to...growth, I guess.

I was pulled from that as Caleb kissed a trail down my neck. I shivered.

“I wish you didn't have to go to work today,” he mumbled into my neck, sliding a hand to my hip.

“You have to work too,” I reminded him in a whisper.

“But I'm the boss,” he said, his lips bending into a smile against my skin. “And I have a good reason to be late.”

I started to laugh a little. “I don't think your crew would agree that their boss getting laid is a good reason.”

“The best reason,” he said and blew a raspberry against my shoulder, and I laughed, pushing him back.

I let him shower while I sat at the kitchen island scrolling through my phone and drinking my coffee. I like weird flavors, and his mom goes out of her way to find creamers I'd like. It's one of many ways they try to make me comfortable in their home. I wish I knew why I still feel like a bit of an outsider; clearly it's a 'me' issue.

The things I look at on my phone are different, too. I used to obsess over fashion, for instance, but I find that I'm looking more at the wider world. I still like nice clothes and try to look good – and I still do the odd costume to post online, but that's faded to just a few a year. First, in college, I hadn't had the time. I'd discovered I wasn't as much of a visionary in design as I'd thought myself to be, and it was hard. For the longest time I'd seen fashion as a way out...but now I was more inclined to stay, and if I was staying, fashion seemed less important.

The lies we tell ourselves.

I shop for clothes less. Over the summer Caleb and I did a pirate-themed photo shoot, and I'd made a set with a chest of treasure on a sandy beach with an ocean backdrop. It had been fun and sexy, which was kind of my signature with those things, and I'd enjoyed making up a sexy costume for Caleb. It was even better – and endlessly funny – when he put it on and tried to turn sexy pirate into role play. We couldn't stop laughing, joking and snorting things like 'Argh, I'm coming!'.

Sometimes you just need someone who can meet your freak energy.

Caleb walked in dressed for work and poured his coffee – black – into a travel mug. He walked over to me, placed his coffee down and then tilted me back so I was practically falling off my stool, only supported by his arms.

“Don't drop me!” I cried out, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Never,” he said with a smug grin. “I'll see you tonight? Out by the pond?”

“Of cou-”

He swallowed my reply with his mouth, kissing me in a way that made me think about calling in. Then he said he loved me, and he left. I sat on the stool, thinking about that moment. Equal parts sexy and domestic. Who am I anymore?

“Morning, Hunter,” Caleb's dad said around a yawn and poured himself coffee.

“Morning, Mr. Montgomery.”

He turned and leaned against the counter and sipped from his cup. “You know, Hunter, I like you. But as nice as you are and as good as you are for my boy, I have to say...him being motivated to make a fresh pot every morning is nearly more important to me.” He held his finger and thumb barely apart. “About that close.”

I couldn't help but smile at him. “Not much longer and we'll be back to school.”

He sighed after sipping again. “Yeah. It's good you're there together. We worried about him being off up there by himself; the apartment was more for our sanity than his.” He looked down. “Not sure how he'd have done in dorms.” He looked up at me. “But then there you were.”

Okay. Feeling the tiniest bit uncomfortable. “It was a good fit.”

“Say no more.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he held his hand up and waved. “No. No more. A parent needs lines.”

“You're evil,” I told him and drank the last of my coffee. He grunted and left the room, and I headed off to shower and go to work. That was another side effect – Caleb had pretty much forced me to learn to drive. His reasoning was annoyingly sound, and I'd gotten my license – but I was a terrible driver. My dad, being so proud, had wanted to help me buy a car – but I'd refused to do more than get a clunker. I didn't want something nice; I needed a car that worked, but it wouldn't matter if I jumped a curb or sideswiped a tree – because I would. I was every stereotype about a bad teenage driver writ large.

Unfortunately, clunkers can break down on their own, so today I was driving Caleb's little truck; one of the crew had picked him up this morning.

Eventually I made my way to work unscathed and clocked in, settling in to a familiar rhythm. As I walked around the store, refolding items that had been left a mess by customers, I thought back to Caleb and I entering the apartment we'd call home for the first year of college. It had been awkward, despite our relationship being in a good place. It's different, sharing space with someone versus seeing them as you could. Caleb was too easy going, letting me put things as I wanted them. In the past I'd have just been happy to have my way, but I started to feel guilty with Caleb and tried to get his opinions. Sometimes it takes a while to not be so selfish and self-centered. I'd focused on myself for so long I didn't see my issues. Caleb let me see them without condemning me, and...it was just the right chemistry to get me to grow beyond myself. Letting my roots grow in different directions, perhaps. Or maybe stretching into branches, if we want to stick with the plant analogy.

My parents noticed not long after I came home for the summer. It really made me wonder how shitty a person I'd been before Caleb had turned his light on me. One afternoon when I was bringing him lunch at his job site, I asked him that.

“I don't know,” he said with a little shrug. “Everyone's looking for what makes them happy, I guess. Not everyone has the same definition of happy.”

I thought about that a lot.

Now that Caleb and I were getting ready to go back to school, I was working my last day at the outlet mall store where I'd worked most of my high school career. Tonight we were recreating our first date in his back yard – but first I had to get through the retail work day.

It had been obscenely busy with people back-to-school shopping. I have to think being in an outlet mall is a little better than being in a traditional mall. If you have to open the door to go look somewhere, you're probably a little more likely to be there on purpose versus the people who wander into and out of open doorways in those traditional malls. I suppose it's even more likely they enter your business with purpose if it's a strip mall, so this was somewhere in between.

So when my co-worker Kari's twinkie brother showed up, I knew it was on purpose. When we'd first worked together this summer she'd filled me on his status change from riding the fence to dating a very nice boy. All the previous summer we'd had some fun with his indecision about his sexuality, though in truth he'd seemed to revel in both Kari being curious and the fact he'd had at least one of each sex 'claiming' him. I figured he just enjoyed the attention, but I guess he'd done some considering about what he wanted, and that ended up being a fellow named Marshall.

“Don't be smug,” Isaac said as I noticed him.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“I know Kari's been in here running her mouth, thinking she's got things all figured out.”

I glanced at the pleasant looking fellow beside him and then back to Isaac. “Comfy, eh?”

“That's right. I need to keep him that way,” Isaac interjected.

“I'm standing right here,” his companion said wryly.

I grinned as I approached them. “You must be the famous Marshall.” I deepened my voice. “The one who tamed Zac.”

“Tamed?” Zac asked, bursting out laughing.

Marshall grinned. “Not much tame about him.”

I arched an eyebrow at Zac and replied, “Noted.”

“Don't say anything to him, Marsh. Kari's bad enough,” Zac grumped with a little smile.

I was amused with Zac's apparently being pleased with himself. They looked nice together – Zac a bit taller, I think, than last year but still kind of thin. Marshall was filled out a bit more, but I wouldn't peg him as an athlete. Active, I'd guess, but not a big sports guy, maybe. Much as I enjoyed Isaac, I was more curious about what Marshall might say about their relationship.

“Well, what are we looking for?”

Isaac looked to Marshall and then back to me. “I wanted him to get the 'Hunter Treatment'.”

“Oh?” I asked with a grin.

Marshall shifted on his feet. “I usually just pick out stuff when my mom drags me out shopping,” he began.

“Ah,” I said with a knowing grin. “So she's thrilled you're taking an interest in your own clothes and doesn't have to fight with you in the mall.”

Marshall grinned. “Pretty much.”

I looked to Zac. “I assume your aesthetic desires will be driving today's choices? Any clues?”

Zac looked to Marshall and then to me. “His whole thing is 'comfy'.”

“So no skinny jeans or compression style clothing?”

“Right. Think 'cuddle material'.”

“Ah. Got it.” I looked to Marshall. “That work for you?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement. “You say that like I have a choice.”

Aww. Marshall really had settled in with Zac. I actually found that interesting, as I'd heard from Kari that this was Marshall's first try with a guy. Maybe Zac's too, if I recall. After all I'd experienced with Caleb, I understood how little I'd really known about healthy relationships. I felt pretty sure that I was looking at one, though, between these two. They were easy in each other's company, though they seemed long past the honeymoon stage of smiling every time they so much as glanced at each other.

“Well,” I said to Marshall, “you do have to actually wear them, so...yeah. What are the things you like to wear now?”

Marshall shrugged. “Not going to lie; I really don't care. Honestly. I just picked out things that look okay, don't stand out really.”

“This all got started when his mom was giving him crap about needing clothes and how he had no style of his own except...hobo? Was that the word?” Zac looked to Marshall for confirmation.

“Yeah. I mean, I wear stuff out. It gets holes or whatever, because it's comfortable. I don't like things where I feel, like, confined.”

I tilted my head a bit. “Okay. I have some ideas.” I looked to Zac, sensing Marshall was going to default to him in many instances – at least as far as clothing was concerned. “How far we going with this?”

“His mom didn't put much off the table, except joggers. No sweats or joggers,” Zac replied. “I mean, Kari said you did a lot with Caleb. You always look nice, but I don't want him to look like you. I want him to look like him.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, I think.” I sized up Marshall and then headed over to the young men's section. While we are an outlet store, the company likes to mix in plenty of things that keep stock current as well. So we don't just get out of season or clearance clothing; we get a good assortment without some of the markup of retail chains. Marshall wanted clothing to live in, not to show off in, and I set about showing them a line of undershirts that had extra room in the chest and armpits and was also made from a cotton blend that was very soft.

From there I showed them some of the quilted flannels we'd just gotten in that had an inner lining other brands lacked. “Most people wear an undershirt, but these are designed so you don't have to,” I explained. “But I actually think you might like these a little more.” I showed them to a somewhat hidden stash of puffy vests that were coupled with sweatshirts in complementary colors. Zac's phone rang, and he stepped a little away and greeted his dad.

I smiled at Marshall. “You guys look nice together. I think you've achieved comfy status.”

Marshall laughed a little and shook his head. “It's hard to believe if I think about it.”

I smiled. “Kari kept me entertained last summer with all her 'Oh my God, Isaac needs to pick a team already!' chatter. It's been fun hearing about how far he's come, figuring himself out.”

Marshall tilted his head. “I don't know if he really figured himself out much, honestly. With Zac sometimes an answer is really more like the seeds to more questions.”

“I can relate,” I replied with a grin as I laid out a couple pairs of stretch-fit jeans. “Now I think you should give these a try. They will be more restrictive than joggers, but they are much more comfortable than jeans you might be used to.”

His eyes went a bit wider as he nodded. “Okay. I mean, Zac says you're the clothes guy.”

I chuckled. “I don't have nearly as many as he remembers – or that his sister may have told him.”

“Why?”

I pushed my lips to one side and blew out a small breath. “Perspective change.”

Marshall glanced over at Zac, who'd wandered a bit farther away and was obviously still talking, then back to me. “Zac's all about experiences and 'the right people', and so many other things I don't think he even knows.” He crushed his lips together. “I lose track of them, sometimes, but in the last year I've noticed a lot more in the world.” His gaze met mine. “All I heard was how much you loved clothes, so...what makes a person give up something they love?”

I smiled widely. “Nice question! Honestly, I'm impressed, and I think I just got a glimpse of why Zac must find you so special.” I tilted my head to one side. “The short answer? I figured out that I didn't love clothes. Oh, I like them a lot. I get enjoyment and satisfaction, but they aren't quite the passion I thought they were once.”

He squinted just a bit, and I had the impression he was actively processing my words. “So. How did that change?”

“Caleb.” I chuckled. “I honestly think the best way to see something a new way is to look at it from someone else's point of view. You may not agree with the way they see it, but it might still be valuable.”

He shook his head lightly. “What did he do?”

I smiled at Marshall, a fond feeling settling into my gut. “He's a bit like you, sartorially.” I waved a hand up and down, indicating Marshall's body. “You take better care of your hair and such – Caleb looked like small animals were nesting on his head. He wore slob clothes all the damn time, and while he looked like he had so much potential, he just never seemed to care about his appearance – or what it might make others think of him.”

Marshall put a hand on his chest self-consciously and looked down at himself quickly before returning his focus to me. “So...he dressed like I do?”

“Well,” I replied, aiming to pull this back if he were offended, “not exactly. Loose sweats, top and bottom. Sometimes the colors of the sweats clashed pretty hard. I dressed him up a little and got the chance to know him. He lets me choose most of his clothes, but I found that...I was using fashion kind of like a wall against other people rather than being able to enjoy things. Like, I had to collect more and more. It was almost like an addiction, because there was no end to it.

“The thing was – I had no idea what the point or the goal of it all was. Once Caleb and I settled in a bit...I realized he didn't care at all what I wore; he was interested in who I was. When I really accepted that, clothes just didn't mean quite as much to me.” I paused and grinned. “Besides, there wasn't that much closet space in our apartment for school.”

He nodded, appearing to be in thought. “Huh.”

“And you? You guys have been together for a while now, right?”

“Coming up on a year,” Marshall confirmed. “I'm trying to think up something cool to do for one of the winter holidays with him. Probably have to be Halloween, since Thanksgiving and Christmas are kind of big family things.”

“Always more fun to challenge yourself anyway,” I replied.

Marshall glanced over toward Zac, who'd migrated to one of the windows and was sitting on the four-inch sill with one hand across his chest as he continued to press the phone to his ear.

“Seems like a serious talk,” I commented. “Do you want to try some of these on?”

I waited, but Marshall seemed not to notice, his gaze focused on Zac, who thankfully put the phone away and came back over to us. “I swear to dog; sorry – my dad was trying to talk about...well, doesn't matter. One of those things parents get all spun up about that no one else gives two craps about.” He glanced at the pile of clothes and then to Marshall. “Going to try those on?”

Marshall glanced at the clothes and then back to Zac. “Yeah. Okay.” He scooped up the clothes and headed for a changing room while Zac and I trailed behind.

“Uh...everything okay?”

Zac looked up at me and smiled lightly. “My dad was feeling guilty because we got cut off talking, and he was trying to finish the conversation.” He paused. “Marsh is a year ahead of me, and he's already started making some noises about not liking us being apart.” He sighed. “I mean, I don't either. I don't have a time machine though, so I guess it'll have to be long distance.”

“That can be hard,” I replied sympathetically. “I've never done it myself.”

Zac pursed his lips for a moment. “Relationships don't always last. Kari finally kicked Alan to the curb – then gave him another chance. My dad – B-Dad – his first husband and daughter died. My friends at school, Tim and Liz, their relationships both ended. She dated again a few times, but kind of broke down pretty quick. Tim hasn't found someone to date in real life again yet.” Zac looked down briefly. “Sometimes it makes me feel guilty. So many things can go wrong – what if him going to college is the thing that breaks us? What if that's what kills this?”

“Well, not that I'm an authority-”

“How did you and Caleb do it?” he interrupted.

I chuckled. “We moved in together.”

“Oh.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don't know. I'm not ready for this to be over, but it feels like there is this stress building between us as we think about it. Or maybe it's more me, because he lets stuff roll off him, while I think about it all the time. But when I try and explain it to him, he kind of tilts his head like I need to pour the information into his ear for it to get to his brain.” He looked at me. “You know people like that?”

“Not that I can think of, no,” I replied with a smile. “But I can say...you're going to be okay.”

He frowned. “How can you know that?”

I smiled wryly. “Look, I'm not promising things will work out long term. I'm saying you'll be okay. Simple truth is breaking up sucks, even if it's for the best. But...looking at you guys, I can say I believe you have something real. Real things don't fade away so easy. They can, sure. But...” I glanced toward the changing room where Marshall was emerging in a new 'fit. “I think you guys are going to figure out how to keep what you have.”

Marshall approached us and flapped his arms. “So? How do I look?”

“Delicious,” I said, just to tease him.

“You look comfy,” Zac told him – and the expression on his face. Comfy wasn't just a word to him. It wasn't just a descriptor for the way something fit. It was an idea where you were yourself and someone else was themselves and you could both be at peace with that. I recognized it because I saw it myself, all the time, reflected in Caleb.

Marshall widened his eyes at me, left them that way as he looked at Zac. “Okay, then. I'll just go...get dressed. Again.” Marshall walked back toward the dressing room, and I looked to Zac.

“You two look so good together. I would totally read a novel about you guys.”

Zac rolled his eyes and smiled. “It's been an experience.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“My dad likes to say that a lot. Experience being a teacher and how I should be out there, basically, learning as much as I can about the world and people by doing different things.” Zac looked at me directly. “I won't say it doesn't have its pluses, but my dad just hates it when I sit and play video games.”

“Most parents do, but it looks like you got a pretty big plus.” I tilted my head toward the changing room, referencing his boyfriend. “So how-”

“You and Caleb. Can you just...vibe together? Like not even have to talk?”

I tilted my head from side to side. “Yes and no. Caleb is a quiet person, so I think something like that comes easier to him. I do tend to talk more, but we can be still when we study or if he's reading.”

“I mean it a little differently,” Zac said, his gaze flicking toward the dressing room and then back to me. “My friend Derry and his boyfriend Jack can do their own thing, but just as long as they're together. Like...being there is enough to keep things good. You know?”

I nodded. “I do. It's finally getting back to Caleb after having to be elsewhere during the day. I feel relaxed.”

“That's it.” He looked back as Marshall emerged and promptly dropped everything in a comical way. “Nerd!” Zac called out to Marshall.

“Yeah. Don't help or anything,” Marshall grumbled at him.

Zac looked back to me and lowered his voice. “That's how I feel about Marshall. It's probably one of the few things I get in life, so far, that Marshall is where I want to be, and the specific place doesn't matter all that much.”

“That's pretty huge,” I replied, matching his lowered volume. Marshall approached, and I turned my attention to him. “How did you feel about the jeans?”

He bobbed his head. “Good. I like joggers better, but these weren't bad.”

I raised an eyebrow at Isaac. “Zac?”

He shrugged. “He looked good, but I like the feel of joggers. Have to see how he feels to cuddle with, I guess.”

I chuckled while Marshall rolled his eyes and pushed into Isaac. They made some noises at each other, more a 'boys will be idiots' noise rather than boyfriend noises. I glanced over at another pair of boys; one seemed to be looking around, a bit lost. “Excuse me,” I said and wandered over. “Looking for something you're not finding?”

“My brother's dignity,” the slighter of the two said. I laughed, covering my mouth as he smiled. The other one rolled his eyes and called his brother an asshole. The funny one was slender and had a more stereotypically feminine posture. The boy beside him was jock material – sturdy, wide in the shoulders and solid through his chest.

“So what are we looking for?”

“Dom needs to impress a girl,” the funny one said. “I think he's making – another – mistake, but he's not listening.”

“You don't know anything about her,” Dom said with a bit of a snort.

“I know she's high maintenance, and you're not going to turn into a preppy boy for anyone for anything,” his brother said, though his tone wasn't cutting as it had sounded before.

“Oh, high maintenance, huh?” I asked, half-trying to smooth things over and get us onto which clothes they may want to look at. Honestly, though, if I could help this situation out, I'd be happy with that too.

“She is,” the first boy said to me. “My friend Micah has really gotten into cars, and he was showing me this video – which surprisingly wasn't a complete bore – about how this one brand was so expensive to maintain. Bullatti?”

“Bugatti,” Dom said sullenly.

“Right!” The boy smiled. “The guy hosting said the average price for doing oil changes and regular maintenance was thousands of dollars.”

“But it's Bugatti,” Dom replied.

“Sure. You sink all your time and money into it for what? To say you had one?” the first retorted.

Kid was smart, I thought.

“Carlo...if you had a chance to own-”

“If I could,” I said quietly interrupting and they both looked at me with varying levels of annoyance and interest. “It sounds like your brother's concern is more like this. It doesn't sound like you ever really own a Bugatti. More like it owns you, if you want anything from it. Not a great analogy for a relationship.”

“Thank you!” Carlo cried in exasperation. Looking to Dom he said, “You honestly should reach out to Sarah. You liked her, and yeah she's in another school, but you guys had actual chemistry.”

Dom's eyes widened, and he let out a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you're right. I mean-”

Carlo looked back to me. “Dom needs 'easy clothes'. Better than tee shirts, but not fancy things like button ups. He's not a huge fan of shirt collars.”

I looked to Dom and with an amused tone asked, “Can you speak, or does he do all that for you?”

Dom chuckled. “He's better at some talking than I am.”

“You could bring him eight things, and he'd shrug and grunt and never tell you what he actually likes,” Carlo said with a musical laugh.

“Okay, let me bring you guys over here,” I said and began leading them. “So you get placed in charge of communicating for your brother?”

“I got the brain, he got the muscle,” Carlo said with another laugh.

“That's me, too dumb to breathe on my own,” Dom said sarcastically.

As I showed them an area with some Henley style shirts and other low or no collar options, Isaac and Marshall walked up – and somehow Marshall had a scarf tied around his neck.

“It looks good, right.” Isaac asked me.

My mouth was curving into a smile before I could stop it.

“I knew it! You're so evil,” Marshall said, unwrapping the thing from his neck.

“Nice poker face, Hunter,” Isaac told me.

“Well, Marshall, in fairness I don't think you have the right ensemble on right now for a scarf. It might be better with a sweater and pants,” I told him.

“I usually wear hoodies,” he said uncertainly, probably wondering if I was teasing him.

“Which would be a unique look,” I said, trying to regain his trust. “But on some occasions when you want to look a little nicer or just protect your neck – or stop your parents from seeing a hickey – they can be very useful.”

Marshall narrowed his eyes, and he looked to Zac. “Hickeys?”

Zac pointed to me. “He said it, not me!”

“I'm not getting a scarf,” Marshall grumbled as they turned and went to put the thing back. In all fairness, it was ugly. I turned back to Carlo and Dom, and they were both looking at me with a curious expression. “What?” I asked, smiling involuntarily.

“Nothing, really,” Carlo said quietly. “Dom, do you like these or not?”

Dom turned back to the shirts and nodded. “Yeah. Let's go get mom.” They headed for the door, but Carlo looked at me once over his shoulder. I wondered what that was about. I set about some of my minor housekeeping chores, but was interrupted again when Kari arrived with her brother and his husband. The adults went over to Isaac and Marshall, but Kari came over to see me.

“I hate shopping with them,” she said, sighing. “Ever since my brother got married, it's all 'That's too short' and 'What kind of message are you trying to send'?”

I chuckled at her. “I hear you dumped Alan?”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “I'm probably dumb, but I accepted his apology. To be real, he's been a lot better. I have no idea if it's going to last or not.” She glanced around. “Is Caleb coming to get you?”

I let out a sigh and chuckled. “Last year he started teaching me to drive. This summer it's been 'drive me here' and 'drive me there'. So I have his truck, and I'm supposed to pick him up from his job site later.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Must be tough. You know, dating someone that always wants more for you.”

“Shut up,” I said, sure I was blushing. “I will admit, though...it is a nice change.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning back and looking like she was trying to see me from a different view. “You're different now, though. I mean you were wonderful to work with before; obviously I loved you.”

“Obviously.”

“But you had an edge to you. I mean, I'm sure you could find that edge if you wanted to, but it seems like...maybe you don't need it anymore.”

I sighed. “What a nice way to say I was a jerk and not actually say it.”

“Well,” she said with a ton of inflection. “You were never a jerk to me.”

I couldn't help laughing.

“I loved your channel while you were in school, though. It's nice that Caleb gets so into your costumes and stuff.” She leaned in a bit closer. “The pirate theme was fire.”

I smiled and turned toward her, completely dropping any pretense of work. “I swear to you right now, he's changed me. He's so happy if I'm happy, which is kind of weird – especially when those times happen where he's not happy.” I looked away for a moment and then back to her. “I think, before Caleb, I'd be more likely to not care – or show that I did – if someone else wasn't happy. I mean, I hadn't dated for a minute to be sure, but I felt like overall I wasn't that responsive to someone else being in a bad place. Now, cheesy as it sounds, it makes my heart hurt to see him unhappy. So...yeah, we've got the mutual support thing down.”

She shook her head. “Alan has tried so much harder since we broke up. I think it might have been a wake up call for him. His parents had some trouble a while back, and he went through some changes, but I don't know. Maybe he's just...not done yet.” She rolled her eyes. “Shit, I'm not done either, I guess.”

I leaned my shoulder next to hers. “My dad likes to say 'start growing or start dying'. I know he took it from something else, but I finally get what he means.” I lowered my voice. “Not sure if it means carrying Alan until he's straightened up, but....”

“She has no trouble getting him to straighten up. That's what I hear,” Isaac said, sliding in beside us.

“What was that?” the older of his two dads asked, sounding irritated.

“Isaac,” his younger dad said in a tone of warning.

The dads moved off slowly to look at something, trying to send an air of warning to their youngest. Isaac turned to me and said, “The funny part is it only bothers them if you talk about it.”

I looked blankly at him.

“He does that,” Marshall said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Makes incomplete statements?”

Marshall nodded. “It made sense to him. The rest of us need a little more information.”

Isaac lowered his chin and fixed Marshall with a look before turning his gaze to me. “He's not wrong.”

Kari stepped up to bail me out. “He just meant Brandon will talk to us about the practicalities and being safe about sex. But if you mention any of us actually doing any of that, he gets weird.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. I know I don't want to talk to my parents about sex. Does anyone?”

They all shook their heads. The door opened, and a group entered – Carlo and Dom with a woman I assumed was their mother, and another woman. The single woman glanced around and then started toward Marshall. The dads came over, and I let myself out of that group as they started in about appropriate clothes and what they'd pay for versus what they wouldn't, and the inevitable disagreement from the youngsters. This is one reason I'd gotten a job in a clothing store – no parental input on my clothing choices.

Dom was showing his mother the clothes I'd directed him toward, but Carlo was making his way over to me. He glanced once at Isaac and Marshall before getting close to me.

“I think I know you,” he said.

I tilted my head as I straightened a stack of near-toppling shorts. “Where from? I'd remember your face, I think.”

He smiled a little. “I'm pretty sure I follow your Instagram.”

“Ohhh,” I said with a smile. “So we haven't formally met, then.”

“Nope.” He glanced over at Isaac and Marshall again and then back to me. “Are they together?”

I nodded. “They are.”

He sighed. “They fit.”

I glanced at them, Isaac smiling and rolling his eyes while Marshall laughed. “Yeah, they do.”

“Is it...I mean, I saw your pirate theme. It was amazing. But...how did you...I mean Caleb is....”

I'm not sure if I'd have had the exact same reaction a year ago, but what I can tell you is that today I felt that particular kind of devastation that comes from seeing someone who is just lonely. Carlo wasn't the kind of guy who could hide among the other boys – nor should he have to. Not if the world were fair; the reality is that the world is very unfair, and sometimes more so to those who don't fit within a common mold – because there are others willing to make the world unfair.

“I'm going to open my fat mouth, but feel free to tell me to shut up. You good with that?”

Carlo looked at me with some surprise and nodded.

“Caleb came from nowhere. I'm not saying that's what will happen to you. I don't know why he took the time with me – I certainly wasn't making myself approachable or available to anyone.” I looked down for a moment and then back to him. “Isaac and Marshall – those two adorable nitwits – just meet each other's energy. Caleb does that with me.” I looked at him intently. “You will have people in your life that will do that; just keep being you. You're enough.”

His eyes looked a bit wet, and I can't say mine didn't feel a little of the same seeing it in him. “It gets hard, sometimes. Dom...it's so easy for him.”

“It's not fair,” I said with a nod. I wanted to do something for him – anything. I seized on the only thing I could think of right then. “Hey. You're one of my Insta followers? Why don't you help me make my next theme? Join me?”

His eyes grew wide.

“You can be my first fan theme! Oh my coffee and donuts, this could be so fire!” I told him intently, getting excited. “I can come home on weekends, and we can make a set – what do you think?”

He blinked at me a few times and then a very soft, sweet smile spread across his face. “That would be so much fun.”

We exchanged numbers, and I friended him on Insta so we could plot and plan. I have no idea if it'll end up doing anything for him, but the important part is I was trying. I was still growing.

That night, after our picnic dinner and after we had been intimate in the pond, we clung together in the water, skin sliding slowly against skin.

“Thank you,” I said softly into Caleb's ear.

He leaned back and arched an eyebrow. “For the sex? The food?”

I didn't answer, just pulled him close. The truth was it was for everything he'd done and would do. For being him. For teaching me how to let my roots grow and stretch my branches up into possibilities.