movie.”
“Today?”
Caesar shrugged. “Why not?”
The mall cinema was showing the right movie, but not for another hour, so they strolled past shops and then hit the food court. Jason wanted pizza, but when Caesar suggested Chinese food, he pretended that’s what he wanted too. Otherwise they would have to stand in separate lines.
“So what do you think of life with the Hubbards?” Caesar asked between bites of broccoli beef.
Jason just nodded.
“What sort of answer is that? Come on, be honest with me. I can take it.”
“Well, you guys probably won’t get a reality show any time soon.”
“You’re saying we’re boring?” Caesar’s eyes twinkled. “Just you wait until Amy throws one of her fits. Or Carrie goes through another breakup. The censors will have to bleep every other word.”
Jason smiled in response. “I like boring. I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime.”
“So you’re here to stay?”
This made him more solemn. “It’s a nice house,” he said, “and your family is all right. But that doesn’t have much bearing on if I stay or not.”
“Sounds like you’ve been doing this a long time.”
Jason nodded again.
Caesar poked his food around with his chopsticks. “We get guys like you sometimes who never settle down. One of them told me he resents us. Like, he understood what we’re doing is generous or whatever, but he kind of hates us regardless.”
“Hate is a strong word,” Jason said. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but there’s this part of me that still wants to go home. My real home. I want to be with my mom again, and even though I know it’s not possible, I can’t help what I want. So yeah, when people come to me and basically say ‘don’t worry, I’ll be your mom,’ I get angry. Not at them, necessarily, but at the situation. Dealing with it would mean accepting the life I knew is gone. It’s much easier to just keep moving, keep avoiding the truth.”
“Which is why you pack light.”
“Yeah.”
Caesar let go of his chopsticks and leaned back. “What happened? Can I ask that? I usually don’t, but—”
“But what?”
Caesar shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”
Jason swallowed, telling himself not to read anything into this, not to indulge in yet another hopeless fantasy. But Caesar’s open expression was enough to get him to talk about a subject he normally avoided. “Okay, but promise you won’t say you’re sorry. I hate it when people feel sorry for me.”
“I promise.”
Jason took a deep breath, then exhaled. “My mom was sixteen when she got pregnant. Before then she was practically a saint. Bible camp and church every Sunday. Or walking door-to-door with pamphlets, which is how she met my father. He was a couple of years older. They went to the same school but never talked. That day at the door they did. Later, after she got pregnant, he enlisted in the Army. Mom said it was to escape becoming a parent, not that it matters, since he died in a motorcycle accident a few years later. My mom kept me, obviously, and my grandma helped raise me until my mom was out of high school.”
Jason hesitated, unsure if he wanted to continue, but seeing Caesar’s look of pure sympathy prompted him to continue. “When I was six, everything started falling apart. My grandma died of a heart attack, and I think my mother started drinking. I remember she didn’t smell right to me anymore. Eventually she started seeing this guy, and in retrospect, I think it was the first relationship she’d had since my father. I guess she was lonely or desperate or maybe just drunk, but something was wrong, because when the guy started hitting me, she didn’t tell him to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Caesar said.
“You promised not to say that.”
Caesar’s jaw clenched. “I know, but that’s really fucked up. I wish I could have been there. Like as old as I am now, I mean, because I would have beat the living shit out of
“Today?”
Caesar shrugged. “Why not?”
The mall cinema was showing the right movie, but not for another hour, so they strolled past shops and then hit the food court. Jason wanted pizza, but when Caesar suggested Chinese food, he pretended that’s what he wanted too. Otherwise they would have to stand in separate lines.
“So what do you think of life with the Hubbards?” Caesar asked between bites of broccoli beef.
Jason just nodded.
“What sort of answer is that? Come on, be honest with me. I can take it.”
“Well, you guys probably won’t get a reality show any time soon.”
“You’re saying we’re boring?” Caesar’s eyes twinkled. “Just you wait until Amy throws one of her fits. Or Carrie goes through another breakup. The censors will have to bleep every other word.”
Jason smiled in response. “I like boring. I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime.”
“So you’re here to stay?”
This made him more solemn. “It’s a nice house,” he said, “and your family is all right. But that doesn’t have much bearing on if I stay or not.”
“Sounds like you’ve been doing this a long time.”
Jason nodded again.
Caesar poked his food around with his chopsticks. “We get guys like you sometimes who never settle down. One of them told me he resents us. Like, he understood what we’re doing is generous or whatever, but he kind of hates us regardless.”
“Hate is a strong word,” Jason said. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but there’s this part of me that still wants to go home. My real home. I want to be with my mom again, and even though I know it’s not possible, I can’t help what I want. So yeah, when people come to me and basically say ‘don’t worry, I’ll be your mom,’ I get angry. Not at them, necessarily, but at the situation. Dealing with it would mean accepting the life I knew is gone. It’s much easier to just keep moving, keep avoiding the truth.”
“Which is why you pack light.”
“Yeah.”
Caesar let go of his chopsticks and leaned back. “What happened? Can I ask that? I usually don’t, but—”
“But what?”
Caesar shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”
Jason swallowed, telling himself not to read anything into this, not to indulge in yet another hopeless fantasy. But Caesar’s open expression was enough to get him to talk about a subject he normally avoided. “Okay, but promise you won’t say you’re sorry. I hate it when people feel sorry for me.”
“I promise.”
Jason took a deep breath, then exhaled. “My mom was sixteen when she got pregnant. Before then she was practically a saint. Bible camp and church every Sunday. Or walking door-to-door with pamphlets, which is how she met my father. He was a couple of years older. They went to the same school but never talked. That day at the door they did. Later, after she got pregnant, he enlisted in the Army. Mom said it was to escape becoming a parent, not that it matters, since he died in a motorcycle accident a few years later. My mom kept me, obviously, and my grandma helped raise me until my mom was out of high school.”
Jason hesitated, unsure if he wanted to continue, but seeing Caesar’s look of pure sympathy prompted him to continue. “When I was six, everything started falling apart. My grandma died of a heart attack, and I think my mother started drinking. I remember she didn’t smell right to me anymore. Eventually she started seeing this guy, and in retrospect, I think it was the first relationship she’d had since my father. I guess she was lonely or desperate or maybe just drunk, but something was wrong, because when the guy started hitting me, she didn’t tell him to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Caesar said.
“You promised not to say that.”
Caesar’s jaw clenched. “I know, but that’s really fucked up. I wish I could have been there. Like as old as I am now, I mean, because I would have beat the living shit out of
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