Chapter Eight
Bas stared out the window of the plane as it landed, wondering what was next for him. He’d go home, clean up the house, and go back to the day-to-day of school and the crisis center. He couldn’t help the loneliness he felt. He knew it was because he would be going home to a house without his grandmother. The last year he’d been taking care of her a lot, making meals, cleaning, getting her to doctors appointments. Now it was just him.
He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since his parents had kicked him out and he’d spent a few days sleeping on the streets before finding a shelter that would take him. Without Gran, he still would be there.
His only close friend, Adam, wasn’t even home since he was in California for spring break with Ru. At least now Bas could keep up with his college classes. Not like he had anything else to do. Maybe he’d stop by the shelter this week. There were a few regulars he wanted to check on, and just because he couldn’t work didn’t mean he couldn’t say hello to everyone.
The plane set down, and he waited for everyone else to get off before moving to retrieve his carry-on. He made his way slowly to the baggage claim and hoped that Mr. C would be waiting with a warm car for him. The last thing he wanted to do was step out into the frigid air after basking in western heat for two days.
Mrs. C waited for him at the carousel. He blinked at her, thinking for a moment how nice it was that someone came to greet him. And then he missed Gran again. He glanced up at the lights and told himself enough of the tears. Mrs. C pulled him into a hug before he could get his calm, confident mask back in place.
“Glad you’re back, Sebastian. Josiah has the car running. Did you check a bag?” She pulled a stack of tissues out of her purse and handed them to him, her only acknowledgement of the tears, which made him feel like such an idiot.
“Just one. It’s bright orange.” He had packed enough for a week, but he hadn’t brought as much as he would have liked. California would have been the perfect place to meet someone. Maybe he’d go back when his head wasn’t so filled with loneliness and regret. If he had time before he started college full-time.
He watched the carousel until his bag popped up and dropped onto the belt. After grabbing it and flipping up the handle, he followed Mrs. C outside. Mr. C got out of their SUV and grabbed the bag from Bas to put in back.
“Get in and get warm, boy. It’s far too cold out here for niceties.”
Bas got in and smiled at the couple. Adam’s dad told him to buckle up before heading away from the airport. No wonder Adam had turned out so great. Bas wondered how different he would be if his parents had been nicer people. Or even cared about him a little.
“The police will stop by later to ask you some questions about the vandalism,” Mr. Corbin told him. “I believe they just want to get a feel for who might have done it.”
“It’s something to do with me being gay, right?” Bas asked, not really wanting to know. Gran had been gone less than a week, and already people were desecrating her house because of him.
“It’s a hate crime, Sebastian. Not your fault, don’t go thinking it is. Some people just aren’t right in the head,” Mrs. C assured him.
Yeah, it was something to do with him being gay. He glared out at the snowy landscape. It was one of the coldest winters on record. He couldn’t wait to get home, start a fire, and curl up in front of the hearth reading a good book. Maybe then he could finally shake the self-pity out of his head. A lot of people had it worse than him. He’d met dozens of kids his age that had no homes, no families, and very little chance to better their lives. At least he had a roof over his head and enough money for school to improve his circumstances.
They pulled into the driveway of his house, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the red scrawl on the garage. He got out and glared at it. Angry, misspelled words covered most of the double door. How dare someone do this to Gran’s house?
Mr. C put a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s get your stuff inside, and I’ll show you how we get rid of this.”
Bas grabbed his bag, unlocked the door, and headed in to his room. Everything was just as he left it: empty, sad, and lonely. He left the bag beside the door and grabbed up an extra pair of gloves and a stocking cap before heading outside.
Mrs. C passed him on her way to the kitchen.
“I’ll make some soup,” she told him, “and cocoa to keep you warm. Come in and warm up as much as you need.”
Outside, Mr. C had some sort of concoction of foul-smelling chemicals and a couple scrub brushes. He was already at work on one of the words, turning the nasty graffiti into a swatch of red jumble. The stuff was coming off, thank God. Bas picked up the other brush and began to scrub.
He lost track of time, just poured himself into the monotony of the work, letting his body move until he could see nothing but the red stain of paint fading away. Mrs. C brought them hot chocolate in a couple thermoses. He sipped it for a few moments, enjoying the warmth before setting it down and getting back to work. The sky was growing dark. Was it that late? His flight had arrived after one, so it had to be after five, probably close to six. There was still so much left.
Mr. C turned his SUV on, letting the lights illuminate the door. Mrs. C suggested they come in, warm up, eat some soup, but Mr. C just shook his head while Bas continued to work. He needed to make Gran’s house clean again. He was so tired of being the one who brought shame to her. She had left her church for him, cast aside a network of friends who couldn’t handle the fact she had a gay grandson, and stopped talking to her own daughter, Bas’s mother, because of him.
Even after her death, he could do nothing but take things from her. He would have to talk to his therapist about upping his meds at least for the short-term. His depression was getting dangerous. At least he knew how to recognize the feeling now.
He barely heard a car pull into the double drive, but the light illuminated another patch of red he had yet to work on. He sprayed on more of the chemical and scrubbed. A moment later strong arms wrapped around him. Someone else pulled the brush from his hands, and suddenly he was turned and wrapped in Adam’s warm embrace.
Adam held him close for a minute, then pulled away to rub Bas’s arms.
“Let’s get you warmed up,” Adam whispered.
“I have to finish this,” Bas told him.For Gran.It was like a damn scarlet letter screaming to the world of his undeniable sin.
“We’ll help you finish it tomorrow. Come on. You need to get warmed up. You feel like a big ice cube. No point in making yourself sick.” Adam pulled him toward the house. Ru was talking to Mr. C. Bas was so tired, he just wanted to lie down and sleep for a month.
