Something Like Spring (Something Like, #4)

by Jay Bell

Peter glanced over at him, freckles covering his pug nose. “You’re putting on an act, right? This whole quiet and polite thing, it’s not the real you. Or do you have some sort of mental disability?” Jason felt uneasy at this sudden inquisition, so he played innocent. “Huh?” Peter watched him a moment longer before snorting. “Almost had me for a minute. How old were you?” Jason let himself relax fully for the first time since Michelle had dropped him off. “Seven,” he said. “You?” “Six years old. Parents were crackheads, although not until after I was born, thank god.” Jason nodded, the pieces falling into place. He didn’t ask all the usual questions about relatives who might have taken Peter in, since he knew firsthand that life sometimes dealt nothing but cards with low numbers and mismatched suits.

Jason half-listened to him rattle on about computers while he considered what he had learned. His new foster home was safe, and he shouldn’t have any trouble with the other kids. Amy was troubled, Peter was bitter, Carrie was a snob, and Caesar was distant—which was probably for the best. Jason thought he could deal with all of that. He just needed to keep his head down, get adopted, and do whatever else Michelle thought would give him a good life. College probably. As Jason laid eyes on his new school for the first time, he realized how empty all of this sounded. A fake family and an education he didn’t want or need. What would he do with a degree? For that matter, what would he do with the rest of his life? Jason had been offered so many fresh starts previously—so many blank canvasses—that sometimes they were all he could see in his future; one giant white void. This begged the question of what he wanted to fill that empty space with. The answer that came from inside sounded an awful lot like Amy. I don’t want to feel lonely ever again. Do you?

“You have something against my car?” Jason was shoving his new textbooks around in his locker, pretending to get organized before heading to his next class. That way he could avoid awkward conversations with other students about who he was or what he was doing there. With his head almost totally inside the locker, his ears needed a moment to register the familiarity of that voice. Peeking around the locker door, he found himself face-to-face with Caesar. “Uh?” Jason managed to say. Caesar grabbed the locker door and opened it wider. “Was that a yes or a no?” “I like your car,” Jason said, not knowing if he’d ever seen it. “Then why didn’t you ride in it this morning?” “Oh. Uh… I didn’t want to be a burden,” he said, recovering slightly. “Anyway, I’m used to walking. Helps maintain my girlish figure.” Caesar’s eyes traveled down said figure and back up again. “If you want a ride home, I always park right up front.” “Okay,” Jason said. Caesar’s brow furrowed. “Okay, you understand, or okay, you’ll be there this afternoon?” “Both,” Jason said. Caesar nodded as if satisfied and turned to walk away.

“So what’s the real reason you didn’t want a ride this morning?” Jason hesitated. “I noticed Peter walking and figured if you didn’t give him a ride, you probably wouldn’t give me one either.” “Peter.” Caesar said the name as if it exhausted him. “That kid is disturbed. No one his age should be so bitter.” He shook his head, adding, “Not that I don’t get it. I mean I don’t, not entirely, but I know it can’t be easy.” “What?” Jason asked. Caesar locked eyes with him. “Trying to find the right family. One good enough for you. That’s gotta be rough. But Peter hasn’t gotten any better since he first arrived.” He returned his attention to the road. “In fact, I’d say he’s gotten worse.” “He’ll grow out of it,” Jason said. “Eventually you get used to everyone having a family when you don’t. Or getting kicked out of a home for things other kids only get grounded for.” “Yeah, but he’s got a family now.” Caesar frowned. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll admit I’m a dick and I never give Peter a ride, but the kid depresses me.” “It’s not like he chose to lose his parents,” Jason said, feeling defensive. “That’s not what I mean. You can always talk to me about being on your own or whatever. It’s Peter’s attitude that gets me down. You seem cool though, like you’ve got it all figured out.” “Oh, totally,” Jason said, repressing a smile. “The world is my oyster. The merest gesture gets me what I want. I wink and the ladies fall at my feet!” Caesar grinned. “You’ll have to teach me ...

Jason’s dreams were filled with blinding sunshine. The sound of a child’s laughter echoed in the distance, a woman’s voice calling out. When he was dragged back to the waking world, he found the opposite. The room was dark, the carefree laughter replaced by a terse whisper. “Hey!” Jason’s face contorted as he took a sharp breath that felt like his first. As he rolled over, that breath caught in his throat. Caesar sat on the edge of the bed, white bandana gone now and his hair a mess. That wasn’t all. The hoodie and tank top were gone too. The street light outside illuminated chest hair, dark nipples, and the gentle curve of pectoral muscles. Desire rose in Jason like a hungry beast, but he pushed it back down and looked up into tropical eyes.

Propped up on his elbows, his bare legs hung off the edge. Jason averted his eyes. “I guess when you’re named something like that,” he said, “you pay more attention.” “Which is probably why you like those horrible Friday the 13th movies.” Jason grinned. “Are you saying my mother named me after a murderer?” “No. Hey…” Jason was forced to look back. Caesar scooted further onto the bed, back against the headboard, and patted the space next to him. Jason, throat feeling tight, leaned his guitar against the wall. When he climbed onto the bed, he made sure there was distance between them. “I was thinking about your mom,” Caesar said. “You were how old when it all happened?” “Seven,” Jason answered. “That’s almost nine years ago. A lot can change. Maybe she’s not with that guy anymore, you know? When’s the last time you had contact with her?” Jason looked sidelong at him, sexual thoughts dissipating from his mind. Caesar’s eyes were wide with concern, maybe even hope. Jason struggled to understand why he would care, why it mattered if there was any chance of being reunited with his mother. He also found himself wanting to reward that hope with a positive answer, to give Caesar the happy ending he desired. But he couldn’t. “She died. When I was twelve.” “What?” Caesar looked shocked, as if he had known her. Or maybe the idea that everything could go so wrong was alien to him. Regardless, he scooted closer to Jason, their shoulders touching. “Do you want to talk about it?” Jason sh...

“Hey!” Jason said. “You’re home!” This enthusiasm caused a smile, but even it was weary. “That I am. Nice song. What’s it from?” “Nothing. Just a little freestyle.” Jason set aside the guitar and stood. “Should we hang out in your room? I can play more for you.” Caesar shook his head. “After a day like today, I just want to go to sleep. See you tomorrow, okay?” Jason’s head nodded, which he considered a betrayal since the rest of him didn’t like this plan at all. A whole day until he would have another chance, and every possibility that Steph, Kurt, or someone else would be around. After Caesar disappeared down the hall, Jason paced the room feeling… Too much. He craved and yearned and needed. He was horny and emotional, angry and vulnerable. He considered excuses, reasons to knock on Caesar’s door, but all of them were flimsy. In each scenario, he was sent back to his room. Jason thought of how he’d snuck into Shawn’s room just to see him sleeping. Similar emotions had driven him to do stupid things before, but they were a pale imitation of what he felt now. Shawn had been a physical infatuation. Jason had barely known him. Caesar actually talked to Jason, welcomed him into his life, made him feel good about himself. It’s a nice face. Caesar had said this and something similar on two different occasions. He liked how Jason looked. No guy had ever complimented him like that before. Not many girls either. This was a hint, an invitation. One of them had to make the first mov...

Jason needed an idea. One that would get him sent back to the group home today. Sure he could call Michelle, tell her he wanted to leave. Or he could say as much to the Hubbards, scream and shout that he hated them and wanted to go. But such methods often didn’t work, as Jason had discovered early on. People would mistake his acting out as a cry for help, assaulting him with tedious questions and well-meaning speeches. No, if he wanted to ensure the speediest exit, he would have to make himself a threat to the rest of the family. Like the stunt where he’d set the shower curtain on fire. How could anyone sleep while wondering if he’d burn down the house? During breakfast, he kept his eyes open for any opportunity. Food fight? Too tame. A butter knife at Amy’s throat? Ugh. That might work, but Jason still had to live with himself. He needed an idea that scared people, not traumatized them. By the end of the meal, he still didn’t have anything, but at least Caesar hadn’t shown up at the table. Jason was at the front door and wearing his backpack when he remembered the guns in Mr. Hubbard’s closet. If he grabbed one, sat on the stairs and refused to go anywhere… that would probably do it. Maybe he could point the gun at himself, get thrown into a mental hospital. Hell, maybe they could fix him while he was there. “Ready to go?” Peter asked, joining him in the entryway. Jason was going to say no, march into the closet to begin his ploy, but then Caesar appeared at the top of th...

Jason gently knocked on the door, wincing at how loud his soft raps seemed to echo through the silent house. He turned to make sure no bedroom lights had switched on, and ended up banging his guitar against the wall. He was still grimacing when Caesar opened the door. “Not exactly stealthy.” “Sorry,” Jason replied. Caesar jerked his head, signaling that he should enter. Jason did, noticing the room was tidier than usual, a candle lit on the side table. Casual, but still suggestive. He fought down a feeling of panic as he sat on the bed. “Here to play me a song?” Caesar asked. Jason nodded but left the guitar where it was—resting between his legs. He watched Caesar expectantly, taking in the muscle shirt hanging off the bare skin of his shoulders, and hoped for proof that this morning wasn’t a fluke or a delusion. Caesar picked up on this, chuckling before rewarding Jason with a kiss. His breath tasted minty fresh, implying that he had done the same as Jason and made sure his teeth were brushed. “So what was all that downstairs?” Caesar asked, sitting on the bed next to him. “Standard check-up or trouble?” Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re looking at Houston’s newest altar boy.” “My parents aren’t Catholic,” Caesar said after a pause, “but I think I catch your drift. Mom’s pressuring you to go to church.” “It’s that or pack my bags,” Jason said. If Caesar found this surprising, he didn’t say so. “So that’s it? Your smoking hot caseworker came here to make sure you go to church...

No wheelchair can support damaged self-esteem until it learns to stand upright. No cane can help emotions limp along until they can walk. A cast or brace can’t protect a vulnerable spirit, and not even the strongest painkiller can stop the ache caused by a failed relationship. No, the only way a broken heart mends itself is with stitches of time and the sticky tape of hastily rearranged dreams.

Jason stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Outside the open window, bugs hummed in the early summer heat, interrupted now and again by sounds from the forest. The hoot of an owl, a chase through the brush, the high-pitched growl of some unidentified creature. Jason found himself wishing for the white noise that air conditioning provided, but he knew this wasn’t the reason he couldn’t sleep. During the brief moments of silence outside, he could hear enough to tell he wasn’t alone in his insomnia. Caesar’s breathing wasn’t deep or restful. He kept tossing and turning. Jason bit his lip before deciding to roll over and face in his direction. The comforter lay crumpled on the floor, only a sheet remaining to cover Caesar’s waist. His former lover was lying on his back, one arm draped over his eyes. Jason felt feverish with desire. He suspected he could creep out of bed and take what he wanted, but only one thing stopped him. Nathaniel. Jason was sure he and Caesar were in a relationship. If something happened tonight, Jason would be the one Caesar was cheating with, instead of on. Revenge? Probably not, because he was pretty sure from Nathaniel’s reaction at the library that he hadn’t known. Jason couldn’t claim such ignorance. Not this time. If he took what he wanted tonight, he would be helping someone cheat. And yet, Jason still needed what he needed. The comfort physical closeness could bring, the dream of Caesar holding him until morning finally realized. Jason cared abo...

The creaking of the floorboards awoke Jason. He wondered if Caesar was trying to sneak out, or maybe back in after using the restroom. Except Jason was still wrapped in his arms, body warm where their skin touched and chilly elsewhere because they’d lost the sheet sometime in the night. Caesar was breathing heavily into his ear, drool dripping down Jason’s neck, but he was too happy to mind. Instead he tugged on one of Caesar’s arms to pull him closer, trying to use him like a blanket. Then the floorboard creaked again. Jason raised his head in puzzlement and saw Peter standing not far away, pocket knife in hand. He was smiling, looking even happier than he had yesterday when he’d taken down the buck. Jason’s eyes darted back down to the blade, wondering if Peter had developed a taste for blood. “Oh, don’t worry,” Peter said, gesturing at him with the knife. “This isn’t for you. I used it to get the door open. My clothes are still in the drawer and I couldn’t figure out why you two were locked away in here. Of course, I had my suspicions.” Next to him, Caesar was stirring. Jason had the urge to cover them both, even though it was pointless now. He could feel Caesar’s erection against his hip, both exposed to air. There would be no explaining this away, no twist that could make the scene innocent. “Just go,” Jason whispered. “Please.” Peter stopped smiling. He looked at Jason with something nearing pity, and for a moment, he even seemed to consider leaving. But then Caesar ...

“I’m sorry.” These were the first words Michelle said when he opened his bedroom door. He gestured for her to enter. Instead she stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “It’s fine,” Jason said, lump in his throat. “I’m an old pro at this.” “I don’t mean the foster placement,” Michelle said. She stepped back and double-checked the hallway. Then she shut the bedroom door and sat on the edge of his mattress. “I mean I’m sorry for what you’re going through. The heartbreak you mentioned last time, you were talking about Caesar, weren’t you?” “Yeah,” Jason said, maybe a little defensively because she hurried to explain. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay or having feelings for him. You know that, right?” “You’re cool with it?” “I mentioned that you remind me of my brother. He’s gay too, and yes, I’m cool with it. But when I said last time that everyone goes through heartbreak, I didn’t mean like this.” Michelle considered him and sighed. “What a nightmare.” “It’s fine,” he lied. “On the other hand,” Michelle said, trying to appear optimistic, “I get to see a lot more of you again. That’s a silver lining, right?” He smiled for her sake, knowing she meant well. “Is there going to be some horrible meeting downstairs, or can we just go?” “I’ve already talked to the Hubbards,” Michelle said. “We can go. Looks like you’re all packed up?” “Yeah.” “Anyone you want to say goodbye to first?” Jason looked to make sure she was serious. “I’m not sure if he’s in his r...

McDonald’s. An outside table next to the playground. Jason felt like he was sixteen again, celebrating another foster care birthday or a rare day out as a treat from his caseworker. The one seated across from him had been his favorite. Currently she was unloading a tray. A salad and soda for herself, and for him— “French fries and a vanilla milkshake,” Michelle said, smiling broadly. “You still like that?” “Oh yeah!” Jason said, mouth already watering. His food budget had been tight lately, and he struggled to remember his last full stomach. “I got you a quarter pounder too, just in case. You aren’t a boy anymore.” Michelle looked him over in a way his mother used to. “I can’t believe you finally cut your hair!” Jason reached up to touch his bangs. His hair was still hopelessly messy, but the tips only touched his eyebrows now. “Steph, a friend of mine, she made me do it. Said the guys would line up around the block.” “And did they?” Michelle asked. He gestured to an empty sidewalk. “They must not have gotten the memo.” Michelle laughed. “So besides that, how are you?” “I told you all the important stuff on the phone,” Jason said, removing the plastic lid from the milkshake. “Everything was going good. I thought I’d really made it.” “You haven’t exactly blown it,” Michelle said. “Late rent isn’t such a big deal. Better than a massive credit card debt. Unless…” “No credit company is foolish enough to give me a card,” Jason said. “There’s only the rent. I guess I’m behind on...

“Jason, hi!” The man extended a hand. “I’m Greg. How are you today?” Michelle walked up next to the man and swatted his hand down. “He’s not one of your clients. Jason, this is my husband.” “Okay,” Jason said, trying to pull his eyes away from the man and failing. “This all you got?” Greg asked, grabbing a box and heading toward the back of the SUV. “Yeah,” Jason managed after a short delay. Then he turned to Michelle. “I think I’m in love!” “You and everyone else,” she said before smiling. “Is this really everything?” “Hey, it’s way more than I ever had before,” Jason said, picking up a box. “That’s right,” Michelle said, doing the same. “I’d almost forgotten. Well, it’s a good thing we didn’t rent a truck, although I could have brought the boys along instead of getting a babysitter.” In a few short minutes, the SUV was loaded. When Jason slid into the back seat, he found it partially occupied. A heavyset girl just entering her teens sat there. She had a handsome face, not unlike her father’s, and while that looked a little odd on a girl, he suspected no one had told her because she seemed supremely confident. Smiling at him, she patted the seat next to her. “Slide on in, honey. After all, you did promise my mother that you’d marry me.”

Once dinner was over, Jason insisted on doing the dishes alone. When he returned to the living room, Ben was leaning against the back of the couch, petting Samson who napped there. Occasionally he still glanced toward the front door. He looked up when Jason entered, almost hopeful, like Tim had snuck in through the kitchen window or something. Then he must have realized his behavior, because he stood fully as if determined. “You know what? Go get your guitar. What this house needs is some music!” Jason didn’t need more prompting than that. He raced up the stairs—Chinchilla chasing after him—and grabbed his guitar from its new stand. When he was back downstairs, he was happy to see Ben wearing the same grin he was. This was going to be fun! “What can you play?” Ben asked him. “What can you sing?” Jason challenged back. “All right. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Roberta Flack.” “Nope. Know anything by Steely Dan?” Ben shook his head. “Sorry. I really liked No Doubt’s new album.” Jason grimaced. “How about Fleetwood Mac?” “I’ve heard of them,” Ben said. “But I can’t really name one of their songs.” “Sure you can.” Jason started strumming. “The Cranberries did a cover of Go Your Own Way that the radio stations played to death.” Ben perked up. “Oh yeah! I’ve sung that one a million times.” “There we go,” Jason said, playing louder now. Ben definitely knew the lyrics, probably finding significance in them. Jason nodded his head approvingly, loving the way the song didn’t w...

“Maybe I am a salesman,” Tim continued. “People expect art to have some deep meaning, when really it can be as simple as wanting to create something that looks nice or is fun. So I guess I’ve gotten used to putting a spin on everything in the gallery to convince people that our art has value. And it does, but not because of any convoluted symbolism. Art is art. Simple as that. So you were right. About me, I mean.” “I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Jason said. “I was impressed that you’ve managed all of this.” He gestured to the yard, the house, the land. “Ben said that you’re the one with the money, and I just figured you were one of the best salesmen out there.” “One of the best, huh?” Tim was quiet a second, the amused smile fading. “I’m a fuckup. I have been my entire life. I don’t know what Ben told you about our past but… Anyway, I was about your age when I met this guy, Eric. He was much older than me and really cool. I loved hanging out with him. Eventually there came a time when I didn’t have anywhere to go, and he took me in. Without a second thought, he invited me in like I was family. The money, it’s all his. He gave it to me because he wanted to take care of me. Or maybe he wanted to save me, because it’s hard to imagine where I’d be if he hadn’t done that. Eric couldn’t stay, but he still managed to find a way of caring for me.” Chinchilla finished peeing and trotted back, looking up at them hopefully. Then came a very odd moment when Jason and Tim praised her,...

“I’m William,” said a quiet voice, which was odd considering how big the guy was. He was a good head taller than Kelly and a complete contrast to him. Handsome rather than beautiful, and skin so creamy and pale it looked like milk. Blond hair was swept to one side, his green eyes twinkling as he made a joke. “And I’m glad there aren’t any brownies since I ate way too much this morning.” The goofy smile was insecure and quickly forced away, even though the lips quivered a moment longer in amusement. Jason’s eyes darted down to a muscular body stuffed into tight clothes, but almost instantly returned to that face. He knew him. Or at least he felt he did, even though he honestly couldn’t say from where, or if he’d ever seen him before. That didn’t make sense, not logically, but Jason’s pulse picked up anyway. William. Even the name sounded right. Jason felt like he should stand up, should draw attention to himself so William could confirm this feeling of familiarity. “Oh, hey!” he’d surely say. “I know you! I’ve always known you!”

When Jason returned home with Emma in tow, they found Ben and Tim sitting on the back patio. Samson was prowling the yard, occasionally pouncing on what he saw in the grass. Chinchilla followed along behind, head cocked with interest as she watched the cat hunt. As charming as the scene was, Jason dreaded reporting how the youth group had gone. When Ben turned around, face eager for news, Jason made an excuse to return inside and stood in the kitchen. When enough time had passed that he was sure Emma had told them everything, Jason went back outside. “Maybe you’ll have better luck next time,” Ben said. “I’m not planning on going back.” Jason sat cross-legged on the concrete. Emma plopped down next to him. “There’s no point.” “Could be different guys there next time,” Tim said. “Exactly,” Ben agreed. “Someone new or maybe a person who doesn’t attend every single meeting.” “Maybe,” Jason said noncommittally. “He doesn’t need a new guy,” Emma said. “He likes William. Don’t you think he should go for it, Uncle Ben? Surely you of all people think he should!” Ben looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” “I mean how you met Tim. Have you told him that story yet?” Ben smiled. “I was out rollerblading after school one day, and I was never a good skater—” “No, how you really met Tim. Like the first time you saw him.” “Oh.” Ben said. “In the hallway, right?” Tim asked. “At school.” “No,” Emma said. “Way before then. Tim was out jogging—” “It really doesn’t matter,” Ben said quickly. Tim s...

“Now let’s get your stuff up here so we can seal this vault of memories. I’m enjoying the present too much to dwell on the past.”

“Thanks for doing all this for me. I mean, I know it’s not all for me, but I’m sorry my crazy relationship is messing with your plans.” “Don’t be sorry,” Marcello replied. “The only thing love needs to apologize for is being too difficult to understand and too easy to give in to.” “So true,” Jason said with faux weariness.

“Why are you just standing there?” a voice demanded. Nathaniel! Again! He walked up to Jason before his expression changed to one of surprise. “Oh, I didn’t recognize you before!” Jason’s mouth went dry. “You didn’t?” “No, sorry. Marcello said two waiters would be sneaking around his house. You’re one of them, right?” “Yeah,” Jason said after a moment. Nathaniel still didn’t have a clue who he really was. “How did everything go?” “Good,” Jason said. “Better than I expected, actually.” “So lucky,” Nathaniel said, eyes shining. “There’s nothing like young love. If I can offer some advice…” Could this night get any weirder? Jason nodded numbly. “Don’t let it stay hidden. Love is like a flower. It needs to be out in the open where it can get fresh air and sunlight. Secrets can be fun, but eventually they’ll smother what you have together.” Nathaniel paused and then winced. “Did I really just compare love to a flower?” Jason chuckled. “Yeah, you did.” Nathaniel shook his head as if disappointed in himself. “Anyway, you get my point, right? If you like this guy, you’ll both have to come out or whatever the issue is. That’s the only way you’ll make it.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said. Then he licked his lips. “So what about you? Anyone special in your life?” “No.” Nathaniel said this firmly. “No, I think I’m done with all of that. I have better things to do with my time. If love is a flower, then someone ran over mine with a lawn mower a long time ago.” Did he mean Caesar? ...