Every Time I Think of You by Jim Provenzano Page B

didn’t that make it natural? I mean, unnatural is this table talking, or a cereal bowl turning into a cat.”
    “Lots of animals have gay relationships,” Holly said. “It’s been documented.”
    “Exactly.”
    “So, you sure you can’t stay over for New Year’s?” Holly asked. “I’ve got at least three party invites. Those opera queens sure can drink!”
    With the sudden rush of meeting Everett, the holiday had completely slipped my mind. For the past few years, my parents had attended an annual party given by my father’s company, leaving me contentedly alone to watch other people celebrate across the world on the television until my parents arrived home, slightly buzzed and, on a few occasions, somewhat amorous.
    But now, being nearly old enough to drink legally, realizing the prospect of having the house to myself that night led me to consider inviting Everett to join me.
    But before I even had a chance to ask him, he said to Holly, “Mother’s having her annual shindig, and I’m expected to help out.”
    My sudden lurch of hopeful anticipation collapsed. Everett gave me a resigned look, as if he could sense my disappointment. I said nothing.
    “Well,” Everett took his plate to the sink as he rose from the table, “Your other natural passion, or should I say, our flimsy ruse for this glorious visit, awaits at the museum. We should head out. I’ll have to get back home before too late, help Helen prepare the whore’s devores, and give my okay to what I’m sure will be another of her military-level packing efforts for school.”
    While I assisted in clearing the table, maintaining a casual air, I felt anxious. We had less than a day left, the last day of the year, before Everett returned to his private school an hour north, and I to my last semester of high school. The wonderful gift had arrived suddenly, a few days late for Christmas, and would be taken away as swiftly.
    “Wait! Wait!” Holly called out, chasing us as we headed towards the apartment door. In her hand she held a camera.
    Everett knew there would be no turning her down, and tugged me back inside. Holly commanded us to take off our coats, settle on the sofa, then instead, the chair beside the front window, “for the light,” she said, pointing to a late morning sun glowing through her white window curtains.
    The extent of my portrait-posing had previously been limited to holiday shots usually taken by my dad, a few team group photos and the obligatory yearbook pictures. Having Holly direct us to “act natural,” as I sat crunched into the large padded chair with Everett practically in my lap, was just odd at first. Then we settled, and she took a few pictures, Everett’s arm around me. At one point, I felt a light touch of moisture at my temple, and realized that Holly had caught Everett kissing me.
    “Okay, that’s enough,” I shrugged my way up, embarrassed but quietly pleased.
    Holly walked us downstairs, hugging us farewell before we left. On the porch, she still in her bathrobe, our breaths fogged in the chill as she shivered.
    “Be good,” she called out as we trundled down the porch stairs. “And if you can’t be good…”
    “Be perfectly wicked!” Everett shouted back with a farewell air-kiss. “It’s an old joke,” he confided as we settled into my mom’s dirt brown Plymouth. Although already slightly beat up, it usually started in even the coldest of winter days.

    “Your sister’s great,” I said appreciatively.

    “Isn’t she? It’s amazing my ice queen of a mother and jerk of a dad popped out such a marvel.”

    “Two marvels,” I corrected.

    Everett interrupted my attempts to start the car with a hasty peck on my cheek. “So; the muv zee vum?”

    “Que?”

    “Muv zee vum. You know how old museums always have V’s for U’s?”

    “You’re no end of clever.”

    “That’s why you like me.”

     
    The giant Allosaurus greeted us in the lobby with a frozen brown snarl. Herds of