Saving Scott

6: "But I have spaghetti noodle arms."

"Yeah?" I said. I didn't mean for it to be a question, but it was. Mostly because I wasn't sure what he was getting at. He walked to the couch with two opened beers and handed one out to me.

"Go on," he said. "It's good for you. It'll put hair on your chest."

I side eyed him but took it. I waited until he took a drink first, and then took my own, making sure to wince at the taste like I'd never had a sip before - much less chugged enough vodka to pass out.

Dad chuckled and nodded. "That'll do it, boy. Little liquid help to get you through. It ain't gonna be easy from now on."

I waited for him to go on, but he didn't say anything else, so I took another drink of my beer. He made an encouraging motion so I took another one, then licked my lips and asked, "What are you trying to tell me, dad?"

"How to be a man, Scott! It's about time you learn how to step up! You've gotta keep your grades high to get into a good college, make good money, marry a good woman. I bet you haven't put any thought into it, have you?"

I rolled the can between my hands and didn't answer. Because I hadn't. My grades had always been what I needed them to be to stay on the football team, whatever money I had came from my allowance, and marrying a good woman. Well.

My father stood up and clapped my shoulder. "You been with a girl yet, Scott?"

"Uh," I faltered, I could feel sweat starting to gather around my hairline. I took another drink of my beer to buy time, and stared at the cross my mother had hanging on the wall above the tv.

Cross.

"The bible says to wait until marriage," I said. It wasn't an answer, so it wasn't a lie.

My father chuckled again. "You're right. But you should think about getting a move on, Scott. A little practice before your wedding night won't hurt."

He patted my shoulder before walking away from me. He already needed another beer, and I felt like I could use twenty.

"Oh, and son." He stopped just before the hallway, looking back at me with an utterly displeased expression. "Stop spending so much time at that beaners house, alright? You're not a kid anymore, people are going to start thinking you're queers."

My fist clenched around the can I was holding but I kept my mouth shut. It wouldn't do any good to start a fight. If I did, I'd be there all night.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I had a text from Lakyn waiting.

Wanna go for a run?

***

Lakyn always ran like he was running away from something. I always wanted to jog, maybe talk, maybe flirt. Something about the way he glared at me for doing that always got my pulse racing.

But he never wanted to. He wanted to go, to run like the world was ending, to push himself until he literally collapsed onto the ground.

He stopped at the end of the block, breathing harshly, and unscrewed the lid on his water bottle so he could dump it over his head. I slowed to a stop next to him, hating the fact that I had to lean down and grip my knees. The unhealthy little bastard was faster than me.

"Why can't you just want to lift weights and show off like everyone else?"

Lakyn chuckled. "If you wanted someone like everyone else then you're barking up the wrong tree, bro."

I dipped my head and took in long breaths. "Maybe I just wanted to thirst watch you lifting something heavy."

Completely monotone, he replied, "But I have spaghetti noodle arms."

I peeked up at him, and blanked faced, he was wiggling his arms as if to make a point. I hit the ground laughing, rolling to sit on my ass and run my fingers through my sweaty hair a few times.

"I hate you," Lakyn said, but he was smiling. "You're ridiculous. That wasn't even funny."

"That was hilarious," I replied, and took the water bottle when he made to sit down next to me. He let it go without a fight.

He didn't look well. I had a feeling he wasn't sleeping, if the bags under his eyes had anything to say. I let the silence sit around us for awhile, took a few gulps of water, before asking, "What's new with you?"

Lakyn shrugged. "Got my name changed, finally."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. He hadn't mentioned it before, though he had said offhandedly that his uncle was adopting him. "But you were already a James, right?"

Lakyn nodded. "Yeah. But my first name was a hand-me-down from my father. So I took it out, and spelled Lakyn the way I like it. It used to be with an 'e'."

"Jeremy," I remembered, some long lost recollection of early school years. Lakyn's nose screwed up, but he nodded.

"That's good," I told him. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," he said. He plucked a blade of grass free and dropped it in front of an ant that was making it's way across the sidewalk. I watched him as he did it a few more times, creating a maze. The ant kept trying, even when Lakyn blocked his path.

"You?"

I thought about not answering at first, but insights into Lakyn's world were few and far between. What he had told me wasn't anything to take for granted. So I said, "My father decided to talk to me about being a man."

Lakyn snorted and put on a deep voice, "Now, here's what you got to do, son. Get a job, make a lot of money, keep that woman of yours barefoot and in the kitchen. She's gonna make you a sandwich every night and you're going to down it with beer while you watch questionable porn."

"That was uncomfortably accurate," I said. "I don't think I like you right now."

"Good," Lakyn answered. He let the ant go free, watched it scramble off, then pushed himself up. "Maybe you'll stop looking at me like I hung the moon or some shit like that."

"I don't look at you like that," I said.

Lakyn shot me an unimpressed look and I rolled my eyes while I stood with him. We took a moment to stretch and Lakyn said, "Race you back."

"What do I get if I win?" I asked.

"I'll hold your hand for five minutes," Lakyn said.

I gave him the middle finger and he grinned at me before taking off. He was running slower this time, though. Like whatever was chasing him had finally given up.