“We’re not in there yet. We can always drive right back home if you want.”
He gave me a fragile smile. “Thank you, but we’ve been spotted.” A water balloon exploded on my window and I jumped. Kids shrieked and ran away, and I laughed and popped my door open.
“Let’s go, then, before they progress to rocks.”
There were screeches of “Uncle Harley” as he climbed out, and while he was a good sport about it as he scooped up a little girl with blonde pigtails and gave her a hug and then bent down to hug the other three kids who swarmed him, two boys and another girl, he didn’t look like himself. His face had closed off and he was more like the Harley I’d met the first night at Black Out.
“Hey, Uncle H. The adults are around back,” the teen near the trees called, but didn’t move. He had his cell phone out and was busy tapping something on the screen while he bounced a free water balloon in his other hand. He glanced up and I was startled for a second. He looked a lot like Harley, which made sense. I loved that. It made me instantly like the kid.
“Hi, I’m Brad.” He glanced up again and used his phone to give me a small salute before he went back to his zombie impression.
Harley took a deep breath, and then said at top speed, “That charming young fellow is my brother Dylan’s oldest, Francisco. I like to use his full name, but he will throw a fit if you call him anything but Risk. He thinks he’s a rapper.” Harley shot me a scathing glare as he said this, and I held in my laugh. “It’s Dylan’s birthday. So I’m the youngest, then Brian. Dylan’s the oldest. Dylan has three more teenage boys. Brian married, then divorced. He and his new wife, Patricia, have a newborn girl named Rose, who I love, and a toddler named Evangeline, who is probably out back with Mom. They’re angels. The little hellions who vandalized your car are Brian’s from the first marriage. The ex is out of the picture, so you won’t have to remember her name. They’d probably set you on fire for fun if you sat still too long, so don’t.”
“Gotcha.” He sighed, and I took his hand. “Lead the way.”
He walked with me around the house, but his feet moved to the tempo of a funeral dirge, and I thought it might have been faster to pick him up and sling him over my shoulder, but that might get us some funny looks. Since this was his territory, I let him set the pace. As we were about to round the corner, I stopped, and he did too. I didn’t like the way his eyes were slightly too wide, or the death grip he clamped onto my hand.
“Is having me here making you nervous? I can go home.” I brushed my fingertips along his cheek and up to move a few strands of his dark hair off his forehead. He smiled, and it looked slightly closer to normal. “I don’t mind. I’ll come back and pick you up when you’re ready to leave.”
“No, no I don’t want you to go. In fact, I’m better than usual with you here.”
“This is better?” I asked and couldn’t help my chuckle. He was so tense he was practically a pretzel. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him around a little until he was rolling his eyes at me.
“Yes.” He took my hand firmly again and we rounded the corner of the house together. Far in the back of the long, wide yard broken up by ancient oak trees was a badminton net with rackets stacked on a tree stump beside it and chairs scattered nearby. Around a firepit with red coals glowing in a brick circle, sat some ancient folks on metal lawn chairs, who I assumed were great-aunties and uncles. They were white-headed and gabbing good-naturedly to one another. Around the rest of the lawn were more people talking, eating, and laughing, who all seemed to know one another. One other gay couple stood near a tree with beers, holding hands—older men, who seemed to be in their sixties or seventies—and that gave me a good jolt. I loved seeing guys their age who were happy and with someone. I waved and they waved back, and then Harley nudged me with his elbow.
“Those are the neighbors across the street.” He let out a little moan. “She didn’t say everyone would be here. She left that damned part out.”
Nearby a woman bustled outside from a sliding glass door at the back of the house, carrying plates that she set on the end of a long table already packed with summer party food. She had a face shaped like Harley’s, and her yellow summer dress let me see her legs, which oddly looked a lot like his. I knew before she turned and caught sight of us that she must be his mom. She let out a little gleeful yell and came directly toward us with her arms above her head. Harley’s nose crinkled, but he allowed her to wrap him up and shake him around while she gave a little bounce. They were about the same height.
“You came! I thought you were dead.” She stood back and gave him a disapproving frown that kept twitching into a smile.
“I’m here,” he pointed out quietly.
She followed the line of his arm where our hands were still linked and then squealed and came over to hug me too. Laughing, I patted her back. She was pleasant and warm and felt like a mom. I loved it.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Brad.”
“Jane!” She beamed up at me, and there were Harley’s pretty eyes, too. I shook his hand around and he sighed.
“Harley’s here,” she called to the older people near the firepit, and then she had both our wrists in her hands and dragged us in that direction. Sitting closest to the fire with blankets over her legs, even though the sun was bright, was a woman so old she reminded me of an apple pulled from a dehydrator, but her eyes were bright when they landed on us.
“Great-grandma’s here?” he asked, and his mother nodded fast.
“That’s part of why I wanted you to come. Who knows when her last family party will be? She’s ninety-seven!” She got us to the older lady, and then determinedly put her hands on Harley’s shoulders and physically bent him where she wanted him. The old lady’s hands came up and she patted his cheeks.
“Hi, Great Grandma,” Harley said very loudly, and she laughed, patting him some more. She reached a hand toward me, and his mom shrugged and gave me the same treatment, nudging aside Harley to put me in the place of honor in front of the old woman.
“Nice to meet you,” I said clearly, mimicking what I’d seen Harley do. The other elderly people, although they seemed positively young compared to Great Grandma, stopped their conversations to watch us.
“You’re such a good boy, Gordon,” she said and gave my cheeks some pats as well. I put my hands over hers and they were soft and felt very fragile, like holding onto a baby bird.
“Thanks!”
She smiled and Jane nudged me back.
“She thinks you’re my husband,” she said with a little shrug that clearly said what can you do ?
“Honored to be mistaken for family.”
