A Purple Winter Page 5

  Say something, O’Reilly. Oh, God. Say something.

  Chapter 6

  “You’ll ruin your eyes.” Mom touched my shoulder as she walked past the kitchen table. “Tea?”

  I was doing math homework, sitting under the dim light of our dusty ceiling lamp. Outside, it was snowing and I had the radio tuned to my favorite oldies station. It was late and I should have been in bed, but I didn’t want to be down there in the basement with my loneliness and bitter disappointment.

  Mom sat across from me at the table. She looked rested, her auburn hair combed for the night and spilling over her pink flannel robe. Her face was still young and fresh, even with all the misery she seemed to cling to. We had the same eyes—green and gentle. “Here.” She pushed the tea cup my way, then the sugar shaker.

  I poured sugar into the cup. And a little more.

  “Not so much, Red.” Mom laughed quietly.

  I couldn’t remember sitting with her like this. Her smile hurt. I pushed the feelings down. Why did it feel like this was all a memory?

  These days were like living in a submarine.

  “You’ve grown this year,” she said, gazing at me with affection. “You’re turning out to be a handsome young man.”

  I looked at her, deeply, searching her face. Did she love me still? Would she have preferred to die in childbirth, leaving this world with my brother?

  Mom touched my hand over the math book. “Do you have a special girl?”

  She was my mother. She’d made me. She knew I was gay. Did I have to say it out loud?

  “Your father’s coming home for Christmas. It’d be nice if you invited her over and we could have a little get-together.”

  I hadn’t caught a glimpse of Nick since that evening he’d given me the cake. A week had gone by. He was busy with his new garde-manger job. And David Pinet, too. Had I imagined that whole moment by Nick’s front door? Had he simply said those words to pacify me?

  November was cold and bleak. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Sometimes I’d lie around in the living room and listened to the Lunds’ voices next door. Their happy family life was the background to my lonesome afternoons. Johan had invited me to dinner again this week, but I’d made up an excuse not to go. How could I possibly sit at their table? I felt unworthy, as though my mother’s depression and father’s absence were reflections of me. That it was my fault I hadn’t been born into a close-knit family. That it was something inside myself that had caused my parents to emotionally abandon me.

  I was an exile in my own clan. I wanted so much to be included, so I stayed away from people, protecting them of my ravenous need to be loved. Because if they discovered how many holes I had in my heart, they’d be scared to take a chance on me.

  Maybe Nick knew this about me. Maybe he saw right through me. Did he know he could fill me up with a simple smile or kiss?

  “Derek…what are you thinking of?”

  I realized I was holding my cup up to my lips, staring at the snowflakes drifting in the wind. “Where’s Aunt Fran?” I asked, suddenly.

  My mother stared at me over the rim of her cup, her eyes going blank. “I don’t know,” she said, after a while. “Somewhere on this blue planet, I guess.”

  Blue. The word felt like a dream.

  * * * *

  After school, free at last, I came walking up the path which was covered with inches of fresh snow. Next door, Lene and Boone were building a fort, digging and plowing snow with blue plastic shovels. “Hey, Red,” Boone said, his kind eyes shining in his flushed face. His tuque was on crooked. “Wanna play with us?”

  I remembered what Nick had said about his little brother, so I went inside my apartment and dropped my schoolbag there by the door, then stepped out again. I grabbed our shovel on the balcony and crossed over to where Lene and Boone were.

  Lene was wearing an all pink snow suit with a yellow wool hat. She threw a snow ball at my chest. “You’re Menelas and I’m Paris!” She hid behind her brother. “Boone is Hector and he’s gonna kick your butt!”

  I stared at them and then slowly bent to gather some snow. I had on cheap gloves—the dollar store kind—and they were already wet. I rolled the snow into a perfect ball and they both screamed, laughing happily. I eyed Boone.

  “Come on, hit me!” Boone started running around.

  I chased him, throwing ball after ball at his back, with Lene yelping behind me and clapping. Boone retaliated, and pretty soon, we were engaged in a heavy battle, the snow whipping past my face and hair as he bombarded me, while I tried to catch him. I’d forgotten my troubles and the cold. I was laughing and wheezing a little, but not enough to have to use my inhaler. Then I finally caught up with Boone and threw him down into the snow, pinning him back. “Ah-ha!” I cried, struggling to keep him down. He was a strong little boy, all arms and chest. “I got you now, Lund!”

  Boone was laughing so hard, I thought he’d pee himself. I realized I hadn’t seen him this happy in a long time.

  “Knee him in the nether regions!” Lene screamed behind us.

  Boone and I stared at each other. “The nether regions?” I whispered. Boone cracked up again and I rolled over to my back to stare up at the sky. I was breathless, pumped and feeling alive.

  “I like playing with you,” Boone said, looking over at me. For a second, I could see what he’d look like when he’d be older. He’d surely be a handsome man. A kind one, too.

  I nudged his shoulder with a knuckle.

  “Nicolai!” Lene cried joyfully, running off. “Swing me into the snow pile!”

  “Oh, yeah? I’ll swing you so high and far, you’ll end up across the canal.”

  I lay there behind the snow fort, unseen. Boone rose and joined in the fun. Then he called my name. “Derek, come stuff snow down Nico’s pants!”

  I had an image of my hand sliding down the front of Nick’s pants and warm blood shot up into my cheeks. I slowly stood, coming face to face with Nick. “Hey…”

  A great big smile lit up Nick’s face. He took a step closer and brushed snow off my shoulder. “Hello there, O’Reilly.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes, the world around us fading out. I could hear my heart beating.

  It sounded like a machine beeping far away in the distance…

  “Gotcha!” Boone yelled, aiming a snow ball at his brother’s head. That broke the spell and Nick went chasing after Boone.

  Grinning, I watched them wrestle in the snow. Nick was letting Boone win, until he picked him straight up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Let’s roast him and have ourselves some little Norwegian boy hamburgers.”

  I laughed again, the cold air and afternoon fun giving me a boost. I’d never grow up. And Nick would stay like this, young, on the edge of seventeen, forever surrounded by snow—forever mine.

  “Were you going somewhere?” he asked, after he’d gently dropped Boone in the snow.

  How could I be going anywhere when he was here?

  “Wanna go for a ride with me?” Nick dusted the snow off his swede coat. The coat was lined with real lamb’s wool. “I just need to get out of my clothes, ‘cause they reek of the kitchen.” He walked past me, heading for the stairs. “Gimme a minute?” His blue eyes paused on mine. “Yeah?”

  Right then I knew I’d never say no to him. Nick’s stare hesitated on my mouth, his cheeks reddening. When he entered the apartment, I stood there for a while, tasting his stare on my lips.

  If love had a taste, then this was it.

  * * * *

  We were parked by the river, behind the Verdun auditorium with the heater on full blast.

  The car windows were fogged and Nick’s scent was slowly filling up the car, taking me under, deep down into myself, somewhere warm and dangerous I’d never gone to, like a jungle where beasts were lurking in a luxurious foliage.

  We’d driven around for an hour, but the car was almost out of gas, so we’d stopped here and had been sitting in silence f
or minutes.

  “God,” Nick said, softly. “I hate this place.” He looked over at me. “Don’t you?”

  It wasn’t all that bad.

  “But you’re gonna go to school and make something amazing of yourself. You’ll go to Concordia. Live uptown somewhere in a fancy place. You won’t have to worry about money for the rest of your life.” He wasn’t looking at me. “David might get a job in a club in Vancouver. Dancing.”

  I watched Nick’s face, my eyes following the curve of his mouth. Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d do everything he’d said and more. But right now I was sitting here with him and wouldn’t let him escape.

  “I’m gonna leave, O’Reilly,” Nick said again, the words like a challenge. “Next week maybe. With David. To Vancouver. I’m gonna work on cruise ships and he’s gonna dance.”

  My mouth was so hungry for his, I couldn’t think of anything but kissing him.

  Then Nick looked at me, his breath hitching. “But then there’s you,” he said, leaning back into the car door, watching me like a trapped animal from an invisible cage. “I can’t get you outta my mind lately.” He shut his eyes, then opened them and leaned in so close, I felt his breath on my face. “Say something…please.”

  His mouth was less than an inch from my lips. I’d never kissed anyone before, but I couldn’t hold back any longer. I realized I’d never touched him until now. His face was warm against the palm of my hand. I leaned my forehead to his and our noses brushed up together.

  “Say something,” Nick breathed, slipping his fingers into my hair, moving closer, until his lips skimmed mine. “Anything.”

  Drugged by my own senses, I pressed my mouth against his, breathing in his warm breath, feeling the tip of his tongue touch mine, and then he opened his lips, our mouths fusing. Nick held my face in his hands, nipping at my lips and licking into my mouth, his tongue rubbing the roof of my mouth and lacing with mine. Overwhelmed with the new sensations, I pressed up against him, sliding my greedy hand down his chest, but when I did, Nick pulled away. “No,” he said, looking at the windshield. “Not so fast.” He cracked open his window, cold air breaking into the car. “Don’t wanna lose control.” He blew out a short breath and shook his head at me with a smile. “Damn…your hot. Wow. I had a feeling about you.”

  I couldn’t think straight. My mind was all in a fog.

  Nick was watching me. “You don’t say much, but you sure know how to kiss.”

  I knew I was beginning to blush. I hesitated and reached for his hand, turning his fingers over. I loved his long fingers. He had big hands, but they were finely shaped and his fingernails were smooth and narrow. I wondered how much pleasure I could get from his hands and fingers.

  “Why do you keep coming to me in my dreams?” Nick narrowed his eyes, searching my face. “You’re so grown up. What happened to that scrawny little kid? Why can’t I get you outta my mind lately?” He tipped his head. “Look, O’Reilly, I wanna leave this place. I can’t breathe here. Can’t be me. I’m too limited here. My family—my mother—she’s got this idea that I should get some kind of technical degree or something. Get married. Make little Lunds. Man, that’s Boone’s job. Not mine.”

  He’d be great at making little Lunds, but I had a feeling that wasn’t his path.

  A shadow moved over Nick’s face. “You know, you were right next door. Never even thought about it before. And now…I ache for you these days.” He gently touched my brow. “Say something. Please, O’Reilly.”

  I gently grabbed his hand and pressed it to my face. “Don’t go.”

  “Damn…” Nick shut his eyes, a sad expression coming over his face.

  Then I knew those were the very words he’d been afraid to hear from me.

  Chapter 7

  A few hours later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to solve a math problem I couldn’t quite figure out. The answer kept eluding me. There must have been something slightly off in my calculations. I’d been at it for half an hour. There was nothing on TV and I’d read every book in this house twice or more. Well, except for that book I’d been given as a reading assignment in my advanced French class.

  Didn’t feel like reading about no bloody musketeers.

  Someone was knocking on our front door and I glanced up, but couldn’t see the entrance from where I sat. I slipped out of my chair and walked into the dark hallway, one of my socks catching in a loose floor board. I checked my mother’s bedroom door. She was locked in again, watching her soaps. She’d tape them during the week—all five daily episodes—and then watch them all in one sitting. She said it was because she hated the commercials. I believed it was more a question of patience, myself. She couldn’t stand not knowing the end of anything.

  Halfway down the hall, I spotted Nick peering into the glass in our door. I stopped abruptly and glanced down at myself. I’d already taken a shower and changed into my pajamas, which consisted of loose checkered cotton pants I’d gotten for Christmas and a random T-shirt I’d found in my dad’s drawers. It was a gas station T-shirt with some logo printed across it. And it was red. I never wore red.

  “O’Reilly,” Nick called out from behind the door, cupping his hands around his face. “I see you.”

  I couldn’t resist. I walked up to the door and cracked it open. It was dark out already, the sun setting sooner and sooner these days.

  Nick picked up a big brown bag that was at his feet. “Hey, can I use your kitchen for an hour or two? I’ll give you guys some money—you know, for the energy bill and all.”

  Our kitchen?

  “‘Cause, uh, my mother’s doing hair in ours and I need to try out a recipe I wanna get onto Chef Helen’s menu at work.” He blew a breath up into his long blond hair, holding the bag and watching me with laughing eyes. “Yeah? Would that be all right?”

  As if I’d say no.

  I nodded and moved aside, letting him in. I looked at the end of the hall, at my mother’s bedroom door. If she came out and saw Nick here, I had a feeling she’d be shocked. Though I really didn’t understand why she was so fearful or distant with him. Could she see the power he had over me?

  “Don’t worry.” In the entrance, Nick was half kneeling, slipping his big black boots off and looking up at me through a strand of his hair. “I won’t disturb your mom or anything.” He stood. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt that hugged his wide chest and made not staring at his muscles difficult. “Look at that,” he said, touching my shoulder. “I’m wearing blue and you’re wearing red.” He winked. “Cool. Purple’s my favorite color.” He picked up the bag and walked by me. “Nice pajamas, by the way.”

  In the kitchen, I stood by the table, leaning a hand on a chair, while at the counter by the sink, Nick plucked things out of the bag. It was mostly dried fruits of all colors and fresh lemons and some herbs, too. There were other things I couldn’t identify. A pouch of large rice maybe?

  “You know, O’Reilly, people don’t know much about Norwegian food.” He arranged the supplies on the counter. “There isn’t one halfway decent Scandinavian restaurant in the city.” He looked at me, his blue eyes giving me a thrill. “I think maybe I could change that one day. Yeah, I think I will.”

  “So, you—ou want t—to be a ch—chef?” My speech impediment frustrated me so, but the more frustrated I became, the worse off I was.

  “An executive chef.” Nick came around to where I stood and peeked down at my math book. “Gonna own a restaurant. Fine Norwegian cuisine with my take on it. Maybe I’ll call it Split. ‘Cause that’s how I feel about everything.”

  Split. That was what he was. I felt it in my bones, right through my marrow. Divided. Always chasing two ideas at once.

  Nick was skimming his long index finger along a page of my math book. He frowned. “What’s it say there?” he asked softly, staring at the problem I hadn’t been able to solve.

  I moved a little closer to him, looking over his arm.

  Nick tender stare lingered on my face. “You’r
e good at math, huh? And you read a lot. I know you’re brilliant…underneath all that silence. Maybe you could help me. I mean—with running the restaurant and all. You could do the books. Read all the legal shit I can’t. Makes sure no one fucks with us. Right?”

  Had he said us? Yes, I’d help him. I’d do anything for him. And I’d never let anyone mess with his dream.

  “You read this for me. What does it say?” He pushed the math book my way on the table.

  I sighed, my mouth and throat too tense to read or speak. Every time he was near me, I had a setback with my speech. I stared at the book, my cheeks beginning to burn.

  Nick touched a strand of my hair, right by my ear. “You’re as stuck as I am, aren’t you,” he whispered. “Just in a different way.”

  He knew then. He understood. Yes, I was trapped. Buried under miles and miles of silence. There was no one to talk to in my house. My aunt was gone. My father, too. I didn’t have any real friends. I was a prisoner in my own mind.

  “Look at me.” Nick took my chin in his hand, raising my face to his. “There’s more to you than those beautiful green eyes. I know that. Maybe I’m the only one who knows it. Maybe that’s why I’m so obsessed with you. Now read this. Let me hear you.”

  I let out the breath I’d been withholding and looked down at the text. “An a—airp—p—plane fli—ies ag—g—g—” I stopped. Blinked. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bloody do it. I pushed the book away.

  Nick furrowed his brow, staring right at me. “That’s all you got? One time and you quit? Hm, okay. Funny, I thought you had a little more gusto.”

  His challenge made my jaw hard. No one had ever cared enough to defy me. But I couldn’t read the thing out loud, challenge or not. “I c—can’t.”