Lemon Tarts
Chris wakes up at 10:48 AM, blinking drowsily at the slow turning ceiling fan. His mind is clouded, dropped in a gooey batch of nectar, easing back into another dreamless sleep. Time of The Seasons plays quietly in his ear, pillow vibrating under the soft insistence of a phone call.
"M'ello." Chris doesn't remember answering but the cell is pressed to his ear, throat thick with sleep.
"Ah, did I wake you? Sorry!" Ashley's voice is a quiet ting against his consciousness.
"'s okay. What's up?" Chris latches onto her words, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth as he rolls onto his side. He smacks his lips, wincing at how sour his mouth tastes.
"Feel like driving an hour?
Chris squints, fumbling around on the nightstand for his glasses. "To where?"
"You, me and a cherry cola in Binksy."
Binksy was a ditzy, run down mall near the border. Chris definitely didn't want to drive to Binksy when they could just go to a shit mall here.
"Today's Marion's funeral. Rather not be here." Ashley explains quietly.
The town pretty much shut down for the weekend, shops closing up early, school cancelled; the main hallway became a candle lit memorial surrounded by flowers and stuffed animals. Chris didn't really want to spend a Sunday surrounded by sad people when he would have to spend Monday the same way.
"Fine." Chris sighs tiredly. "Now?"
"Now. Pick me up in 30?"
"Yeah ok. I'll be there." Chris mumbles, hanging up with a yawn. He forces himself up, shedding his ratty t-shirt with little thoughts. Chris takes a shower in the hallway bathroom, sitting under the hot spray a lot longer than necessary. He scrubs himself clean, a bit too hard, a bit too rough but it's one of the things his mom taught him so he does it every time, even if it hurts, even if it leaves his skin red and throbbing.
Chris feels just fine today.
He feels like he can breathe, like he can smell and eat and maybe Josh being upset with him affected him a lot more than he let on. He was just glad they were okay again. They hanged out most of last week and things felt normal, felt right.
Chris brushes his teeth as his hair dries, working the bristles until he doesn't feel as tired. He still doesn't fully know how to make pomade work so he fixes his hair into his usual faux hawk as the voice in his mind screams for him to commit and shave that shit. It sounds vaguely like Josh.
His dad isn't home so he leaves a note on his bed, stealing another cardigan from his parent's closet to go over his sweater. Chris locks up the house, shrugging on a tan windbreaker from the backseat of his car. He calls Ashley when he's close, leaving his ETA on her voicemail. Her subdivision is quaint, pretty, much like Ashley herself. All white picket fences, dogs in the yard, parents alive and together; the real American Dream.
Ashley's sitting on the stairs of her front porch when he pulls up. She beams when she sees him, hopping up in a wave of frills and white. Ashley's dressed the exact opposite of someone in mourning, with her pale pink dress and white frills and red, red hair. Chris notices someone peering out through a crack in the blinds. She slides into his car with a princess-like grace, smelling of pineapples and daisies.
"That your mom?" Chris inquires, watching the blinds snap shut. He had met her parents very, very briefly. More of a hi and bye type situation. They seemed very conservative and very interested in the fact that Chris was a male.
Ashley shrugs. "Maybe. I'm glad you came. How have you been?"
"I've been okay." Chris answers, a bit relieved at how honest it feels. He backs up into her driveway, turning the wheel as he steers back towards the subdivision entrance. Ashley folds her hand over the crease in his arm.
"I heard Josh forgave you."
"Yeah. Kinda. The night before Marion died, we had gotten into a fight. He went into the woods." Chris tells her. "It feels shitty, but I'm glad it wasn't him."
"Nothing like death to bring people together. My parents won't leave me alone. I could barely get out the house today."
Chris' dad had been the exact opposite, shutting himself in his room when someone even mentioned death. Chris, in turn, kept his distance and did homework or played video games until he had to feed himself.
"Why Binksy?" Chris asks, following the road to the interstate.
"Didn't know where else to go." Ashley responds softly. She touches the dent in his dashboard, tracing the faint knuckle shaped crease. Chris had almost forgot about it, forgot about how weird Josh acted that night. Ashley doesn't ask so Chris doesn't tell.
"I told him about why I didn't go. I told Josh." Chris tells her, wetting his lips. "I told him not to worry and that there were more girls to choose from."
Ashley turns to him. "Why didn't you tell him?"
"I don't know."
"Chris, you can't say there are more fish in the sea when you want the sun in the sky. It's misleading. He won't know unless you tell him."
But sometimes it feels like Josh knows. It's in his eyes, in the way he'll sometimes press in too close or insist that they share a bed when Chris stays over; sometimes he'll smirk a bit too wide or stare at Chris as he talks, tracing every word like an invitation. Sometimes Chris thinks Josh knows so he backs off, he puts enough distance so Josh will ease up, so Josh won't get weirded out.
"I can't. We're bros. He's not even..." Chris sighs, glancing over his shoulder as he merges onto the highway. Josh and Chris didn't talk about sexuality or identities, they just talked girls and video games and who Josh let blow him behind the bleachers. "I don't want to fuck up this thing we have going."
"Ah, the complicated relationship and internalized homophobia?"
"I'm past that." Chris was. He settled it within himself that he was a 'raging bisexual' and that that was okay. What was not okay was liking Josh Washington.
Ashley giggles. "The musings of a bonafide bisexual."
Chris snorts, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eye. Her face is solemn, the brightness in her cheeks from makeup. He notices the faint shadows under her eyes, blotted away with concealer. Chris doesn't comment on it and he's sure that's why their group has lasted so long. They all had secrets, had these awful harbored feelings that no one tried to fake through. They would look at each other and understand and wait until the dam burst, expecting a river instead of a barren wasteland.
Josh calls halfway on their drive, Lemme Freak filling the quiet compartment. Josh had dubbed the song "white boy trash rap" so Chris set it as his ringtone just to irritate him.
"Sup, bro." Chris answers, phone pressed to his ear by Ashley. He takes it in his hand, mouthing thanks to her. Ashley sticks up a thumbs up in response.
"Hey, man. I need to get the fuck out of this house." Josh groans loudly. "Hannah keeps crying. Beth and Sam are with her but I'm not down with any of this. I'm coming over."
Chris purses his lips. "Um, I'm not home. Not anywhere near home actually."
"The fuck? Where are you?" Josh asks, irritation evident in his voice. He clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"Ash wanted to go to Binksy."
The line goes quiet and Chris almost thinks Josh hung up if it weren't for the sound of a car door slamming shut. Chris swallows nervously at the silence. He didn't even think to invite anyone else. Ashley shoots him a questioning look.
"Seriously?" comes Josh's small voice. "Fine."
"Josh-"
The line clicks off, phone pressed to his ear and all Chris can hear is how soft and disappointed Josh sounded. Chris fights back a curse, setting his phone down into a cup holder.
"He's pissed." Chris sighs. "Again."
"He'll be okay. He has friends who aren't you, Chris." Ashley reminds him. "Josh can't expect you to always be there."
Except Josh does expect that. Chris had been there longer than anyone else had, even longer than Sam. He's had to sit with Josh through panic attacks, had to watch as paramedics drag Josh away on a stretcher because Beth called him crying, saying Josh wasn't moving on the floor. Josh expected Chris when he needed him. Chris let him down again.
Ashley traces a finger over his whitening knuckles, whispering soothing noise into his ear.
"We can turn around." She says but Chris knows Josh won't be receptive until he's done being pissy. Chris shakes his head, chewing his bottom lip, and Ashley leans her head against his shoulder, idly stroking his forearm until it relaxes.
Binksy doesn't look how it did earlier this year, a fresh paint of cost rolled over crumbling walls. Lavish bushes planted along the entrance. There was even a new set of benches near the door.
"Business must be a boomin'." Ashley jokes as they park.
"Gettin' them dollar, dollar bills, y'all." Chris responds thinking of his dad.
Ashley laughs, high and whispy and it makes Chris' heart flutter in his chest. He grins at her, feeling the weight inside him shift. Chris imagines his life would be simpler if he moved, if he changed schools and left Devil's Kettle behind. Josh would never forgive him.
But Chris considers it, considers how free his chest feels as he follows Ashley from store to store, noting all the bright red 'SALE' signs with various percentages marked below. He texts Josh while he watches Ashley sift through a rack of dresses.
From: Dickweed
I'm sorry :(
Josh doesn't text back.
"Go try this on. Stop moping." Ashley hands him a knee-length, deep navy dress. Chris stares it, then stares at her with a raised eyebrow. He snatches it from her hands with a grunt. Ashley looks at him expectantly so he grabs the ugliest, most ridiculous polka dot lime green dress from the same rack and hands it to her. Ashley takes it with a grimace.
"God, this is ghastly." Ashley cringes.
Chris gestures to the dress he's holding. "Yes because this one goes so well with my eyes."
They both shudder, wandering towards the dressing rooms. A lady at the counter hurries after them, smiling bright and wide until she looks at Ashley's dress. She unlocks the door, eyes crinkling in the corners as her smile turns pained.
"Why do we do this again?" Ashley asks once they're alone.
"To cheer each other up?" Chris reminds her, remembering the first time they went to a mall together. Ashley had been crying because of her mom and Chris tried on different dresses and blouses and bows until she cracked a smile and helped him pick out something decent. In turn, she let him dress her horribly so he could laugh.
Ashley nods furiously before disappearing into her dressing room, Chris mimicking the action, meeting his reflection upon walking in. Chris undresses with his back to the mirror, staring a bit too hard at the soft rolls that crease when he bends over. His phone buzzes loudly from his jeans on the floor.
Chris tugs the dress over his head, wiggling it past his awkward shoulders with an exasperated sigh. He smooths out the creased folds, swishing it from side to side. It'd be a nice dress on Jess because she has hips where he doesn't, plus his legs are too long. Ashley knocks on the wall between them. Chris knocks back, counting back from three before he steps out.
They meet each other on the other side, Ashley frowning miserably as they face one another. Chris inhales, eyes watering when he realizes he picked the shittiest thing for her to wear. It has a cut out back, hugging every curve nicely but the color, the polka dots, the everything is so, so bad.
"You look like a bimbo." Chris snorts and Ashley folds her arms over her chest, gesturing for Chris to turn around. He does, switching from side to side and she giggles.
"Jess would look good in it."
Chris agrees. "I was thinking that too. I didn't mean to make such a bad choice."
Ashley poses dramatically, bending at the waist, a hand behind her head, the other on her hip. She blows a kiss at him and Chris loses it, laughter bubbling out his throat into a dying wheeze. Ashley punches him, face red but smiling.
"I'll take a picture so you can look at it whenever you're sad." Ashley snorts, shoving Chris back into his dressing room. Chris manages to thank her as he slumps to the floor, tears springing to his eyes. It wasn't that funny, not nearly funny as other times but it felt so good to laugh.
Chris checks his phone while he's on the floor, wide smile slowly sliding off his face. His heart is in his throat, pounding loudly against his ears.
From: Mr. President
I kissed Josh
From: Mr. President
Sorry, dude.
He was upset.
It just kind of happened.
There are no texts from Josh, no missed calls, nothing but the desolate hollowness Chris feels inside him and Mike Munroe's fucking text messages. Chris isn't sure how to respond or what to say but he feels angry, so so angry. A knock comes to the dressing room door.
"Chris? You okay?"
He's not. He's not okay. But Chris keeps it to himself, taking the dress off and slipping back into his layers of clothes until he feels safe and warm and not suffocating from his emotional turmoil.
Ashley appears worried when he resurfaces, biting at her cuticle. Chris takes her hand, sighing heavily. Mike Munroe kissed Josh Washington. Mike Munroe, not Chris. Chris stares at Ashley, zoning into the back of his mind and he feels himself tense up.
"I need to go home." Chris tells her and she nods in understanding, taking his hand quietly. Ashley drives back, letting Chris slouch in the passenger seat like a grumpy child.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Mike kissed Josh."
Ashley makes an 'ooh' noise, fingers curling around the steering wheel. She gives him a sympathetic look.
"But that doesn't mean Josh kissed him back and you even said that Josh might not even like guys."
"We never talked about it." Chris says miserably, sinking down in his seat. "I don't... Fuck."
"Josh will probably turn him down anyway because of Hannah."
Chris shrugs. If Josh felt petty enough it wouldn't matter. But he had no reason to be upset with Hannah, no reason to steal her crush right from under her. Chris stares out the window, unsure what the pang in his chest means when he knows it's just a crush. Just a crush on Josh Washington.
"Well they're closer than my house so we'll just stop by."
Chris doesn't even know if Josh would be home. He hopes that maybe he would be, that maybe Mike came over instead and Josh made him leave. But there are no cars in the Washington drive way, no open windows or sign of life inside the luxurious walls. Chris stares at the house until it fades into trees, Ashley mumbling how sorry she is and adding hope after hope in every word that escapes her lips.
Chris is just fine today.