her number. It should be okay to call her, shouldn’t it? She wasn’t an asshole to him the last time he’d called—actually, she’d been pretty supportive. Watch out for the ‘Rents, Dad’s a jerk for marrying Autumn so soon after Mom’s death; you’re better off being kicked out of the house; can you stand it that first Dad robbed the cradle marrying Autumn, and now they have a baby to put in it? Make me vomit. And so on and so forth.
He grinned at the memory. He and Cynthia had sixteen years between them and had never been close when he was growing up, but maybe they could be close now.
He grabbed the phone book out of a drawer beneath the phone, and looked her up. Except he didn’t find a residential listing for her. Damn. She worked with some lawyers, B-something. Shit. She’d told him the name of the firm, he knew she did, Bernstein? Bernhardt? He flipped to lawyers in the yellow pages. And laughed out loud. There were pages and pages of full-page ads for hundreds of firms. Well, he wasn’t going to call them randomly and ask for her. Actually, he probably couldn’t—they’d be closed.
Well, shit. So he’d have to come up with the right firm and then hope they had one of those totally aggravating voice mail systems with a directory.
He started flipping the pages, and there it was. Berhnquist, Bruckner, and McCulloch. He must be supposed to call. Too weird.
Even weirder was that a real live woman answered the phone instead of a voice mail system. Daniel asked for Cynthia. “Hold on a minute,” the woman said. “She’s here, but she’s working on a project and I don’t think she’s taking calls. Who should I say is calling?”
“Her little brother.”
“Oh! I’ll tell her.”
He listened to canned mariachi music for all of thirty seconds, and then Cynthia’s voice, “Daniel, is this Daniel?”
“It’s me,” he said.
“Oh my God, Daniel! I’ve been worried sick about you. Where are you?”
“I’m in San Francisco.”
“Here? You’re here? Oh! Do you need a place to stay?”
“No, Cyn, I have a place to stay. Remember that guy I told you about the last time I called, Roderick?”
“Yeah, but Dad told me months ago that he had you put in jail. He told me you kidnapped their kid.”
“I didn’t! I swear, Cyn, somebody took her but it wasn’t me. And, yeah, he had me arrested. Talk about ungrateful. But that was a long time ago, now. Like years.”
“I know. I just haven’t heard from you. And I know you didn’t kidnap her. That’s absurd. You don’t have to swear anything to me. I know what they’re like. You’re right, they’re assholes. So... tell me what’s up with you—you didn’t say much last time. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Roderick, oh, he’s this amazing guy who, like, stalked me back home. I ran away with him, you know, to make all our dreams come true.” Daniel paused for a minute, then let his voice drop almost to a whisper. “Cyn, he’s the first guy I ever met who’s like me.”
“So, when did you know?”
“What do you mean, when did I know he was... he was...”
“No, when did you know you were?”
“When I met him. I didn’t have a name for it.”
“Oh, come on, you should have. Look at what I do.”
She tried to save the world from HIV and AIDS, or at least make sure those who got it were able to keep their health insurance. Daniel had known that. And he’d known that a lot of people who died of AIDS in the eighties and nineties were gay. “Yeah, but, those aren’t real people, I mean, not to me. Not in Minnesota. You know what I mean. I always knew I wasn’t like other boys, though. Always. As far back as I can remember, my fifth birthday, even. Dad watching a baseball game that afternoon while Mom ran the party. After everyone went home Dad running out to Wal-Mart to buy a T-ball set and grinning from ear to ear, me hating it, hating it, even at five. So terrified I’d miss the fucking ball and wipe the smile
He grinned at the memory. He and Cynthia had sixteen years between them and had never been close when he was growing up, but maybe they could be close now.
He grabbed the phone book out of a drawer beneath the phone, and looked her up. Except he didn’t find a residential listing for her. Damn. She worked with some lawyers, B-something. Shit. She’d told him the name of the firm, he knew she did, Bernstein? Bernhardt? He flipped to lawyers in the yellow pages. And laughed out loud. There were pages and pages of full-page ads for hundreds of firms. Well, he wasn’t going to call them randomly and ask for her. Actually, he probably couldn’t—they’d be closed.
Well, shit. So he’d have to come up with the right firm and then hope they had one of those totally aggravating voice mail systems with a directory.
He started flipping the pages, and there it was. Berhnquist, Bruckner, and McCulloch. He must be supposed to call. Too weird.
Even weirder was that a real live woman answered the phone instead of a voice mail system. Daniel asked for Cynthia. “Hold on a minute,” the woman said. “She’s here, but she’s working on a project and I don’t think she’s taking calls. Who should I say is calling?”
“Her little brother.”
“Oh! I’ll tell her.”
He listened to canned mariachi music for all of thirty seconds, and then Cynthia’s voice, “Daniel, is this Daniel?”
“It’s me,” he said.
“Oh my God, Daniel! I’ve been worried sick about you. Where are you?”
“I’m in San Francisco.”
“Here? You’re here? Oh! Do you need a place to stay?”
“No, Cyn, I have a place to stay. Remember that guy I told you about the last time I called, Roderick?”
“Yeah, but Dad told me months ago that he had you put in jail. He told me you kidnapped their kid.”
“I didn’t! I swear, Cyn, somebody took her but it wasn’t me. And, yeah, he had me arrested. Talk about ungrateful. But that was a long time ago, now. Like years.”
“I know. I just haven’t heard from you. And I know you didn’t kidnap her. That’s absurd. You don’t have to swear anything to me. I know what they’re like. You’re right, they’re assholes. So... tell me what’s up with you—you didn’t say much last time. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Roderick, oh, he’s this amazing guy who, like, stalked me back home. I ran away with him, you know, to make all our dreams come true.” Daniel paused for a minute, then let his voice drop almost to a whisper. “Cyn, he’s the first guy I ever met who’s like me.”
“So, when did you know?”
“What do you mean, when did I know he was... he was...”
“No, when did you know you were?”
“When I met him. I didn’t have a name for it.”
“Oh, come on, you should have. Look at what I do.”
She tried to save the world from HIV and AIDS, or at least make sure those who got it were able to keep their health insurance. Daniel had known that. And he’d known that a lot of people who died of AIDS in the eighties and nineties were gay. “Yeah, but, those aren’t real people, I mean, not to me. Not in Minnesota. You know what I mean. I always knew I wasn’t like other boys, though. Always. As far back as I can remember, my fifth birthday, even. Dad watching a baseball game that afternoon while Mom ran the party. After everyone went home Dad running out to Wal-Mart to buy a T-ball set and grinning from ear to ear, me hating it, hating it, even at five. So terrified I’d miss the fucking ball and wipe the smile
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