"Thanks. But it wasn't that bad. I probably make it sound worse than it was, but there definitely aren’t a lot of good memories. I was pretty much pleased when school was over. I wasn’t physically harmed or bullied, it just didn’t feel good to be the odd one out.”
"Because the kids thought you were gay?" Simon asked.
Despite the sad memories, Patrick chuckled. "Iwasgay. But no, that wasn’t part of it. I guess I was a bit of a klutz—dropping books and losing stuff. And I preferred books over sports.”
Simon started drawing little circles on his pectoral muscle. "Please tell me you had at least one friend."
"Not really; no one who lasted, anyway. We moved around a lot, which is another reason it was hard to make friends. By the time I'd meet the other kids, get to know them a bit, and maybe a friendship would start, it would all be over. There wasn’t enough time to properly bond before it was time to move on.” Simon kept tracing the small circles, his touch comforting, as Patrick continued his story. “I didn’t have any brothers and sisters. Maybe it would have helped having siblings going through the same experience, but it was just Mom, Dad, and me. They tried their best to help me settle in, but as long as we moved every year or so, it was never going to work. The few friends I did make drifted off—long-distance friendships don’t work at that age. You say you’ll keep in contact but you never do, and Facebook acquaintances don’t really count.”
"What made your parents move so often?" Patrick was glad Simon asked the question instead of voicing pity. He’d come to terms with his childhood, and aside from wishing it didn’t happen to anyone else, he was okay with it.
"My parents were older when they had me. They tried for an awfully long time to have kids, but Mom had a number of miscarriages. I think they were surprised when I finally came along. Dad worked hard, putting in long hours, and things were fine until I was about ten. Then he got laid off, and at his age it was pretty difficult to find work. Who wanted to employ an older man when there were younger men looking for work? He usually managed to get short-term contracts, though, and we would end up moving around as he followed the work. On the bright side, I did get to see a lot of the country and experience different things."
“I don’t like thinking of you as that lonely kid moving around a lot, but I’m glad you finally settled here.”
Simon grasped his hand and Patrick squeezed back. “Me too. What about your family? You have a sister, right?"
Simon released his hand, lay back down on the blanket, and put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I have a sister, Megan. Dad died when I was a kid, so it was just me, Mom, and Megan most of the time, and Gram lived with us when she got too old to stay in her own home."
Patrick recalled that every time Simon had mentioned his sister, he’d smile but sometimes with a hint of sadness, and he’d smile fondly when he spoke of his grandmother. He couldn’t remember Simon discussing his parents at all. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“There’s no need. I don’t remember him so it’s not like I missed him.”
“Still, it must have been hard not having a father around.”
“Maybe. I think it’s more a case of ‘you can’t miss what you never had.’”
“And what about your gram and your mom? Do you talk to them often?”
“Gram passed away a few years ago, and Mom and I aren’t close. I talk more with my sister, but still not often enough as far as Megan is concerned.” Simon chuckled quietly, and Patrick could imagine him rolling his eyes.
“It must be nice having a sister, even if she does give you a hard time every now and then.”
Simon turned to look at him. “Megs and I have been through some tough times, but I think we’re finally moving forward. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s the one who encouraged me to do my paramedic training.” Patrick felt a surge of jealousy that he didn’t have that type of relationship, but at the same time he was glad Simon had family support, and although he wondered what Simon and his sister had been through, he was glad it sounded like it was in the past. “She’s older than I am by a few years and has a daughter. Samantha is four years old and she’s the spitting image of her mom.” Patrick could hear the pride in Simon’s voice.
“And what about your mother? You said you don’t speak much. Is that something you hope will change?”
Simon turned to look at the sky again. His voice was rough when he spoke. “I did something that Mom found unforgivable. I wasn’t able to help my nephew when he was run down by a car.”
“Oh, Si, I’m so sorry.” Pain tore through Patrick’s heart.
“I’m okay. It was a while ago now, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to look at me without being reminded. So, to be honest, although we still talk, and we see each other every now and then—Christmas, birthdays, that kind of thing—I’m not sure we’ll ever be as close as we once were. We used to be a really close-knit family, maybe because we didn’t have Dad and it was just three generations of Dawson women and me living together. But things change.” Simon rolled onto his side again as he spoke, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Things can change in an instant. That’s why you need to make the most of every minute of every day, because you don’t know what’s just around the corner, what’s going to come along and snatch it all away.”
Patrick shivered, suddenly aware of the drop in temperature as the last of the day’s warmth faded. Or maybe it was just that he regretted the direction the conversation had taken. Instead of the pleasant romantic evening he’d planned, he’d made Simon talk about what were obviously painful memories. He wanted to ask more, to find out what Simon had done that caused the rift with his mother, but at the same time, he wanted to end the evening on a happy note. He reached out and grasped the hand Simon held out. Simon tugged, and Patrick flowed with the movement, scooting across the blanket and nestling up against Simon, who wrapped an arm around him and held him close. Simon’s scent filled his senses and his warmth permeated the thin layer of clothes between them.
Patrick tilted his head back to look at him, but Simon was watching the sky. Patrick stared back at those same stars. What did Simon see in the glittering patterns? Did he see the same things Patrick did? What was he thinking as he held Patrick and gazed at the sky? And did he feel the same things Patrick felt—the fluttering in his stomach and hammering of his heart that hinted at the emotions bubbling inside?
“Thanks for arranging tonight,” Simon whispered, his breath warm against Patrick’s cheek. “I’m glad you told me about your family. The picnic was a wonderful idea and it’s nice spending time together, just the two of us.” Simon kissed his temple.
Patrick smiled into the darkness. “I’m thankful you didn’t find the idea of a picnic too sappy.”
“Who said anything about it not being sappy?” Patrick tensed, but only for a moment as Simon chuckled and tightened the hug. “I, for one, happen to be a big fan of sappy. But Patrick?”
“Yeah?”
“How about we take this party inside?”
