The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 15

By Dabeagle

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The Monday after the Thanksgiving break things began to get messy again, only it wasn't between us. His mother had called to tell him that she was getting an apartment thanks to public assistance, but that she needed him to come home to qualify. Like the classy lady she is, she'd sent him a text message to let him know.

“What the fuck,” he said to me in the car after school. “Like, oh Rigby, you're useful to me, so come here?”

“You don't have to go, right?”

“I'm not going. Not unless your mom makes me go,” he said firmly.

“I don't think she would, but we should probably tell her. Just so she knows.”

His phone rang, and he answered. What I could hear was a lot of 'Are you fucking kidding me?' and things like that. He hung up and asked me to take him to his dad's apartment.

“Okay. What's going on?”

“My fucking mother is what's going on,” he said angrily. “She's so god damn selfish.”

“What's she doing? I mean besides what she's trying to do to you?”

“She's telling my dad that Ezra has to come back to her because assistance like the apartment and stuff she's trying to get is based on her having two kids.”

“Wow. All about her.”

“Right? I mean, I don't like Liz, but it seems like she's doing things for Ezra. Just because Brock and me got shafted doesn't mean Ezra should get screwed, too.”

We arrived at the apartment building, and his dad greeted us at his door. Ezra wasn't home yet, but Liz was getting ready to go down to the bus stop to meet him.

“This could get messy,” Rigby's dad said to him as we sat down. “Look, Rig, I'm sorry about this, but you're going to get dragged in one way or another.”

“What do you mean?” Rigby and I sat down on the couch while his dad sat in a chair.

His dad held his hands out like he was describing how long something was. “Just facts here. I'm barely making it. My own fault. I've been a lousy dad, my own fault. I'm not about to say I'm all of a sudden trying to be a good dad. I swear I never knew how bad things were at your mom's place, but that's on me too, because I never checked.”

Rigby sat back a bit, his shoulder resting against mine. “Okay, I'm not arguing anything yet.”

He clasped his hands together. “Bad as I've been, I'm not as bad as what your mom has done handling things. Now she cares about Ezra, so she can get herself an apartment. So I'm saying it seems like that's not in his best interest.”

Rigby nodded. “Not arguing, but if Ezra's with you, will you be trying to get an apartment? Something that lets him have his own room?”

“Maybe. It beats him sleeping on the couch. I don't like the idea, but my ego can't be the thing that's driving all this.”

Rigby leaned forward a bit. “So you're saying you and mom might do the exact same thing, but your reasons are better. Is that close?”

His dad sighed. “It's fair. I don't like it, but it's fair. I'm not close to losing my place or anything, but I'm not in a spot to give him something like his own room. Last thing I want is public housing. You might not know, but I grew up in those places, and I fuckin' hate 'em. But like I said...it's not about my ego.”

Rigby sat back again, pressing his shoulder back into mine. I wondered if that was making him feel better.

“Okay. So...how am I getting dragged in?”

His dad pushed his lips out and bobbed his chin up and down. “So your mother and me...we never had formal custody arrangements. I've always worked with my hands, and the jobs kind of come and go. I gave your mom cash as I had it, but we never went to court for child support or anything. I never had a steady enough income, and we never fought about those things. Other things, but not that. But now? Now she's talking going to court to force Ezra to live with her. If the court sees I don't have a bedroom for him, they may lean toward your mom and getting that place.”

Rigby nodded. “So you getting one of those places would mean Ezra stays with you and gets his own room.”

He held his hands a bit wider. “Well, being fair, he gets a room either way, I think. But...you see my place. Ezra would be safer with me, even though I'm not really dad material.”

Rigby nodded slowly. “Okay. So what are you asking me to do?”

“Just tell the judge the truth. I'm going to bring up your mom's old place and how she was living, the environment. You lived there, so you know better than I do. I'm not asking you to say nice things about me or make me look good; I'm just asking you show up for your brother and tell the truth. Judge says he goes with your mother...not much I can do about that. Judge says he goes with me, then...well, it's not perfect, but it's not what he had with your mother either.”

“Rigby,” Liz said, pulling her coat on. “I know we've never gotten on. Your dad and me...we had to have some hard talks about this. I had to really figure out a couple of things, and...I was a bitch. I was like that because I think your dad is, in fact, a decent man. I figured if he went back to your mom before, what was going to stop him going again?”

“So you took that out on me?”

She lifted her chin a bit. “I ain't proud of it. I know sayin' I'm sorry doesn't fix a thing. I screwed up. Over and over again.”

“So...you want me to forget or forgive? What for? I'm seventeen. Pretty soon I could be living on the sidewalk, and my parents don't have to do a damn thing. So what are you telling me?”

She shook her head and clenched her jaw a bit. “I'm not asking forgiveness. I'm not sayin' you forget anything. What I am sayin' is I know I did the wrong thing by you. Maybe someday we get past that, but...look around here. It's clean. Ezra would be safe. Knowing I did all that wrong by you is a lesson to me to do better with Ezra.”

Rigby shook his head and looked back to his dad. “This sounds like a sales pitch.”

His dad nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can see how it might look like that.” He sighed. “Son, I'm not good at this. I never was. It's way past too late for me being a dad to you. I'm not really sayin' you and me start over, just that...I mean. We could try a little. I could get a bunk bed, and Ezra'd love to have his big brother with him. Maybe then you'd feel a little better about how he's living. Insurance, like.”

“I don't know,” Liz said, looking away.

“You don't want Rigby there,” I said quietly.

“'Scuse me?” she asked.

My nerves were bubbling like hot oil in a pan. Hav was right, though; people like him and me could read people, a bit. “You're willing to go along with Ezra. But...Rigby wasn't part of the plan. You stiffened up when his dad brought the idea up.”

Rigby looked from me to her and then to his dad. “Dad?”

His dad opened and closed his mouth a little and looked at Liz with some frustration.

“Just who are you? This is a family conversation,” Liz said.

“You're not my family,” Rigby snapped. “And Harvey's my boyfriend.”

For several seconds it felt like the world stood still and no sound could penetrate the space. Liz was the first to break the silence.

“You want him around that little boy?” she said to his dad.

“He's not like that, Liz,” he replied, though he sounded dazed.

“Wow, did you just call me a molester? Nice one you got there, Dad,” Rigby said bitterly.

Liz started in again. “It's confusing for a little kid to hear that kind of thing. Pete, tell him!”

“Ezra only cares about grilled cheese, his stuffed whale and how much he hates carrots,” Rigby snapped. “He's never cared if I was seeing a girl before, and he's met Harvey – he doesn't even realize Harvey exists.”

“Harsh,” I whispered. Rigby looked at me and rolled his eyes.

His dad placed both his hands out flat, as though pushing something away. “Can y'all just give me a damn minute?”

The room wasn't frozen this time, but it sounded like nothing but breathing could be heard. Rigby was the first to break it.

“Remember how you just admitted to screwing up for years with me? And how you can't fix it? Well, you're doing it again.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it, crossing her arms.

“Can I just...wait a damn minute here,” his dad said. “I'm just trying to wrap my mind around this.” He looked over at Rigby. “Son...you're gay?”

Rigby crossed his arms. “Not exactly.”

“So you're confused?” Liz asked, moving over to sit on the arm of the chair beside Pete, Rigby's dad.

“Not when it comes to Harvey, no,” Rigby said, his voice faltering a little. I shifted just a bit, pressing my shoulder to his.

“Son, I...look, I...want to try and understand this. But...Liz sounds like she's right? How can you be dating a boy and not be gay?”

Rigby looked at me.

“We can leave if you want,” I whispered.

He clenched his jaw for a moment and shook his head, then turned back to his father. “It's like this, Dad. I didn't want to be you or Brock. All I kept finding, though, was the same kind of people both of you found. I kept waiting for someone to actually see me, to want to be with me for me and not just because they liked what they saw or because I might be useful to them. Like Mom was with you. Like those three girls were with Brock, before he got his knee busted up.”

“But...how does that get you from girls to boys?” his dad asked. “I mean...no offense, I'm really just trying here.”

Rigby moved toward the edge of the couch. “It's simple. I wanted someone to love me that I could love back. Problem was, I didn't really know what that looked like until I saw it in Harvey. I...needed a minute. Sometimes, with some things, I still need a minute. But the fact is...what I have with Harvey has nothing to do with me being your son, or Liz and whatever she's got going on, or being a big brother to Ezra. I'm not even thinking about gay or bi or anything. I'm just happy. Someone loves me, Dad. Loves me.”

His dad looked from Rigby to me and back. “Liz. Uh, Ezra's got to be picked up.”

“Oh, sugar!” she said, suddenly standing up. “I put my damn coat on and everything. I'll be back!” She dashed out the door, the door hinge squeaking as the door swung closed and latched.

His dad leaned back in his chair and just studied us. “I'm...just processing, Rig. I guess I never...thought about this being something that would work for you. Your mom talked about some little girls chasing you or you pining sometimes.”

“I don't pine,” Rigby said.

His dad's mouth curled into a smile for a moment and then was gone. His gaze shifted to me. “So...Harvey is it?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to make my voice sound steady and confident.

He glanced at Rigby again and then back to me. “How long...have you been dating my boy?”

I resisted the urge to look at Rigby before replying. “Just over a week. It's...well, it was a surprise.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Boy, you're not kidding.”

“You going to let Liz get between me and Ezra?”

He blew out a breath and shook his head. “No. It's not her call, but I promise. I may not have...seen this coming, but you've always been a good boy. I know your heart's good, though I can't explain why. I can't take credit, that's for damn sure.” He tried to smile. “Plus...Ezra misses you. I screwed up things with two kids. If possible, I'd like to avoid the trifecta.”

Rigby nodded. “What about Liz?”

He let out an even bigger sigh. “It'll take time, but that's on me. I promise you, though, I won't ever stand in the way of you being there for Ezra.”

Rigby looked at me and then back to his dad. “Okay, then.”

His dad turned his gaze to me. “You know, when Rigby was a toddler he used to put my work boots on and walk around the house with a plastic hammer in his hand. He'd hammer anything that didn't move, including my damn beer can.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You know how to use a hammer?”

“No, no. Do not go bonding with my dad,” he said, pushing me a little. The door opened behind us, and Ezra's high pitched voice could be heard, chattering about something to do with glue.

“Look! Your big brother is here!” Liz said to him.

“Rigby!” Ezra ran, dropping his back pack and losing a shoe. He pulled up just in front of Rigby, doing that strange squat-hop. It was kind of like he wanted to jump on Rigby, but didn't.

“Oh, look, E. It's Ezra. Did you know he'd be here?”

“Nope. I thought Ezra'd be at school,” I replied.

“I was at school!” Ezra said happily, as though he were proud of me for figuring out where he'd been.

“Well, maybe Rigby can figure out how to get you to eat your broccoli,” Liz said, picking up his bag and placing it on a table where they likely ate dinner.

“Oh, well, that's because it's not broccoli that Ezra eats,” Rigby said and turned toward Ezra. “Remember? Those are little trees, and what does that make you?”

“A giant!” Ezra hooted, dancing around a little. “I have to go pee,” he announced and raced from the room.

“Really? Little trees? I wish I'd known that,” Liz said.

“Yeah. Mom had me feed him sometimes. A lot of the time. He just likes using his imagination. He doesn't like snakes though, so don't tell him asparagus is him eating snakes. Trust me.”

“Aren't you a goldmine?” Liz asked, moving back to the arm of the chair and sitting beside Pete.

Ezra returned, announcing he'd peed.

“Did you flush?” Rigby asked.

“Uh oh!” Ezra laughed and ran back.

“Wash your hands!” Liz called out.

His voice laced with amusement, Rigby said, “He's just going to come out here with wet hands.”

“Oh, lord,” she said and went to go see about Ezra.

Rigby stood up. “I have work tonight. I have to go.”

His dad stood up and extended his hand to me. “I'm Pete. Be good to my son, y'hear?”

I shook his hand, my skin crawling at the sight of his tattoos so close to my skin. “I will.”

Ezra shrieked with laughter and came running back into the living room, circling behind Rigby and wrapping his arms and legs around one of Rigby's legs. Liz appeared with a towel in hand and started to laugh. “Rigby, you were right – and his hands are still wet!”

“You getting my pants wet, Squirt?” Rigby asked playfully, twisting around to look at Ezra, who just kept carrying on. We stayed for another few minutes, but eventually we got out the door and were headed home.

“So. That was interesting,” I said.

He shook his head in disgust. “My whole family is one bad Springer show.”

“Your dad seems to be trying,” I pointed out.

He looked out the window. “You know what's fucked, E? I don't trust him. I know it sounds like he's making an effort, and maybe he is. But for seventeen years there wasn't much.” He sighed. “I don't think he can be worse than my mother.”

I decided pointing out that wasn't true wasn't going to help anything. Instead I said, “Well, I'm proud of you.”

“For?”

“Sticking up for yourself. You stood your ground, and you weren't mean about any of it.”

Without looking at me he said, “I hate people judging our relationship. Or maybe I just hate them looking at me funny for being with you. Like I'm not allowed to grow at all?”

You grew the other night, I thought, and immediately felt embarrassed. Wow, I can't believe that even crossed my mind. Instead I said, “Ezra seems to love you, though.”

“Yeah,” he said absently.

“You okay?”

He finally looked toward me. “Yeah. It's just...more and more I just want my boyfriend, his mom and my friends. Fuck everyone else.”

“Well. You got me.”

He reached over and held my hand, and that's how we drove the rest of the way home.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The next few weeks it seemed not much changed. He got a few calls from his mother, and a court date was set for the third week in December. We spent more time hugging and holding each other, and...adjustments were required. We did our school work, and Rigby seemed to be eating up teachers encouraging him. My mom made a trip to hang out with Daphne's mom at her house once a week for coffee, and we got to try the different versions of semita alta that she was learning to bake. Even better, she taught us how to do it, so it was becoming a staple in the house.

We found out that the police were closing their investigation on Hav's father, deciding his mother had murdered him, but as she had passed on, there was nothing further to do. Oddly, Dooley wasn't around to try and keep that going. There was a rumor that he'd moved to Florida after the house fire, but no one seemed to know for certain – at least not anyone I knew.

That third week in December we also found out that the eminent domain case was dropped for Hav's property. There were rumors of a big box planning to buy or build, but then I was told rumors of that had been going for a long time. That week was the family court date, and I wasn't allowed in the courtroom, so I had to wait until everything was done. I had kind of a clue when Rigby's mom came out of the room snarling like dragon whose gold had been stolen.

She made a scene, and the cops at the courthouse had to make her leave.

“I guess I get the idea of what happened,” I said to Rigby.

“Yeah. Well, she doesn't qualify for the apartment without me or Ezra. Since she's essentially homeless, and I told the judge I'm less than six months from being eighteen and I have a place to live and am making good grades, do you know what the judge said?”

Puzzled I said, “No idea. What did she say?”

“She asked how I managed that without my parents' support.” He shook his head. “Dead ass, she just basically said how can you be doing okay with these two as parents.”

I chuckled. “Did you tell her you're just that good?”

“I'm not going to brag to a judge, E. C'mon,” he said with a big grin. “I did bring up, though, that Ezra and I are tight and I wanted to keep up our relationship. So she ordered my dad to let me see him.”

“At least you don't have to worry about that, now,” I said, happy for his win.

We stepped outside of the courthouse, and his dad and Liz were waiting for us. “Rig, I still can't believe how bad that house was.”

He nodded. “I know. I heard the report from the city inspector – it was worse than I thought.”

“I know you were worried about seeing Ezra. It stings you felt like you had to ask for it to be legal, but...I guess I can't say I blame you.” His dad bobbed his head and pressed his lips together. “Liz works some second shift, and I start a new job next week laying drywall for a building just outside of town. You think you can get Ezra off the bus and sit for him a few days next week?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Your dad's being nice. That was underhanded with the judge,” Liz said absently. “I work Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I don't know if your dad will be home Saturday or not.”

“Okay. I'll have to work out my schedule at work, but it won't be a problem.”

“I can help if you need an extra hand,” I offered.

“I don't want-” Liz began.

“That'll be fine,” his dad said. “Rig, I'll text you.” He started walking away with Liz hissing at him.

“She doesn't learn very quick, does she?”

Watching them go he said, “No. She doesn't. It pisses me off.” We started to walk to the car. “I'm low-key impressed with my dad, though. He's being more of an adult right now than I ever remember.”

“Maybe he'll be able to turn her around,” I said.

“Maybe.”

At the end of the week we started our winter recess. After about a month of sharing a room with Rigby, we'd found a few places where we annoyed each other. I am fully aware I'm a neat freak because of my father and what he enforced, but I also didn't want to live like Rigby had at his mother's. So we sometimes irritated each other with that and other small things. That wasn't affecting my desire to get him something memorable for the holiday. Christmas always felt terrible with my father. I was trapped in the house with no school to break the low-level tension and fear, and the gifts we exchanged were never much. The centerpiece was the dinner, and no matter how good, my dad was never completely satisfied. It always became criticism of my mom and wanting us both to tell him how great he was and how grateful we were for him and his protection.

But this year would be different. For one thing, we'd give gifts on Christmas Eve. My father had always insisted on waiting until the day, so we were going to break that. I hadn't spent much of the money I'd earned, because I was either at work, at school or at home with Rigby. I'd gotten the odd coffee or gone to the store for snacks, but it had mostly just built up.

Since my mom was really enjoying experimenting with baking, like the semita alta, I was getting her a mixer and a Latin baking recipe book. I'd made arrangements with Sandy to have the things shipped to the store so I could wrap them out of the view of my mother. The last thing I needed was to have them delivered to the apartment and have her open them by mistake.

I got a copy of the The One Ring from the Lord of the Rings that glowed with body heat for Tony, and I found a poster for Sleepaway Camp, the weird horror movie we'd watched at Daphne's, for her. I was happy with those items, but I was more excited for Rigby's gifts. He'd bought some cheap shoes with his money, but he'd made mention of certain kicks he really liked; they were not cheap, but I knew he'd be so excited. I also wanted to get him a piece of jewelry. I thought about a watch, but I wanted to make it something more personal. I flipped through hundreds of things online – bracelets, anklets, necklaces, weird piercing things, even magnetic earrings – which look weird. They had one that made it look like there was literally a screw going through your earlobe.

I got some inspiration from a couple of the guys on the basketball team at school. They were wearing glittering bead necklaces and I started hunting around to find out what they were. It seemed they were diamond chips and you could get them in all kinds of colors. I thought it might be too flashy for him and I went back and forth about it. I didn't want to ask him and tip my hand; I didn't even want to ask him if he saw the players wearing them, because I felt like he'd see right through me.

In the end I enlisted Daphne. She showed a picture of them to Rigby and said she was thinking about getting something like it for Tony.

Rigby took a close look, shifting the image up and down. “I saw a few guys with these at school. It's giving main character drip; if Tony doesn't want it, I'll take it.”

I didn't think he was glazing her, and I wasn't going to ask him if he was; again, I felt like it would be tipping my hand to bring it up. I ended up picking three colors – they just let you mix and match from the available colors – a light brown, a green and a gold. His eyes were hazel, and I thought they'd match, no matter what kind of light was hitting his eyes. It was more expensive than the sneakers, but not so much that I hesitated.

We treated Christmas Eve like a movie would treat the actual day, getting up early and having a warm drink and some semita alta to go with it. Then we got down to the gifts. Mom was very practical, giving us both socks and underwear, which he needed more than I did. She also got us the same hoodie in reversed colors and gift cards to the coffee place we liked. We also got blankets for watching TV with her.

She was so excited about the mixer. “I've been doing all this kneading by hand, and oh boy does it wear your hands out!” she said happily, reading the side to see which attachments it came with; that she had a recipe book to go with it was just icing. Rigby gave her his gift, an oversized sweater with deep pockets; it came about halfway down her leg. It was super soft, and she stood up and put it on right away, posing and asking how she looked.

“That's a good mom sweater, you think E?” he asked, grinning.

“That's because I'm a good mom!” my mother said and dramatically flapped both sides of the the sweater closed around her waist. Then she leaned forward and kissed the top of his head and thanked him for such a thoughtful gift.

“Okay, E, you can have one gift here,” he said, placing a box in front of me. “But I want to take a trip to the falls to give you this one.” He held up a small box. “I know our first trip to the falls wasn't really fun, even though it kind of worked out.”

“Kind of?”

“I just want to make it up to you. Fresh memory.”

“By making me go out in the freezing cold to a place where freezing water – stop poking!” I tried to roll away, laughing at him as he kept saying it would be a fresh memory.

“You two,”my mother said indulgently.

“Okay, fine,” I finally said to him, once he'd stopped with the poking. “But then you only get this gift from me here, and you have to wait for the falls for that other one.” I shoved the box with the shoes to him.

He got a gleam in his eye. “Okay. Open these at the same time. Go!”

I pulled the wrapping off and started to laugh. “Look, Mom! An entire box of Hundred Grand candy bars! These are going to be so good!”

Rigby was staring in the box. “E.” He looked at me. “Harvey. I thought you put a gift in a shoe box. These things are...Babe, they are so expensive!”

I grinned madly at his complete surprise. “Did I get the right ones? You said you wanted them.”

“Yeah I did – I do – but...I got you a box of candy bars, and you bought me expensive shoes!”

I frowned and shook my head, but my mom jumped in. “You got him his favorite candy, something he has a good memory of. You remembered, and that makes it special to him. The price isn't what's important, Rigby. It's that you spent time thinking of what he would like – and you succeeded!”

I thought, for a second, he was going to cry. Then he leaned over and we hugged, saying thank you to each other. It was one of my top three best days, I think.

“Okay. Come on, we need to go to the falls. Stand up, stand up,” Rigby said, pulling me to my feet.

“Wait, wait, wait,” my mother said, hands on her hips. “I have been so patient, but now? When were you going to tell me? Never?”

I stared at her, anxiety unspooling in my gut. “Tell you...what?”

She tilted her head. “Rigby just called you 'babe'.”

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