When I cross the threshold, he points to the bed. “Get under the covers and lie on your stomach. I mean, if you want. I just want to try and see if you like something.”
I do as he says, settling down and pillowing my cheek on my crossed arms. Cole’s comforter is thick, and his sheets are warm, and I can feel contentment beginning to settle over me. “Like this?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect.”
I feel the bed dip beside me, and then Cole is settling over my back, lying down on top of me and pressing me into the mattress. I grunt at first as he puts his weight down, but then contentment begins to steal over me, the last of my discomfort melting away as I breathe, feeling Cole’s body rising and falling as my lungs expand and contract.
After a minute, Cole stirs. “Does that help at all?”
“You have no idea.”
We drift, and I can feel myself getting sleepy. It would be so easy to drop off, but I lift my head, forcing the words out of my mouth. “Hey, Cole?”
“Yeah?” He sounds pretty out of it, too.
“Could you let me turn over?”
“Oh, sorry —” He scrambles to the side, and I roll onto my back. “Was there something that you needed to —”
“This.” I reach for his face and pull him back down, and we’re kissing, wrapped up in our own little world. And as he scrambles under the covers to press his bare skin against me, as the rain lashes against the window outside, I think about how good it feels to get something right once in a while, even if it doesn’t last forever.
***
February 2013
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR COLE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”
As Cole leaned over to blow out the candles on his cake, Sharon rested a hand on his shoulder. We’d offered to throw him a party for his eighteenth birthday, to invite the kids from school and do something special. But he’d insisted that he only wanted the two of us. And so Sharon had roasted a chicken and baked a cake, and we’d gathered around the kitchen table together, just Cole and the two people who cared about him the most.
“This looks awesome, Gram,” Cole beamed as Sharon put a slice of chocolate cake down in front ofhim.
“I always remembered it was your favorite when you were a boy, dear,” Sharon replied, and they locked eyes, something soft passing between them.
The cake was a little bit rich for me, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it.
As we ate, Sharon hemmed, a little carefully. “Have you heard from your parents today?”
Cole rolled his eyes. “They called me this morning before school. And oh, they sent the usual card stuffed with cash. Just the right amount of effort, I guess.”
Sharon pursed her lips, a frown line between her brows, but then she straightened her shoulders. “You know you’ll always have a place here, sweet boy, as long as I am in this house.”
“I know, Gram.”
They were quiet for a beat, and then Sharon turned to me, her eyes bright. “Ezra, I should have congratulated you earlier! Cole told me you got your letter from Rutgers.”
“Yeah, I did.” I looked down at my plate, patting the crumbs with my fork. “It’s a relief to have that all figured out.”
“Pardon me for asking, but you didn’t want to go away for school, like your brother did?”
I shrugged. “You know, he’s been wanting to be the next Mark Zuckerberg ever since there was a Mark Zuckerberg. He’s where he needs to be, but I don’treally know what I want to do yet. And Rutgers is a good school that has everything.”
Sharon patted my hand. “That sounds very sensible.”
Across the table, Cole looked faraway for a moment. Then his eyes met mine, and he wiggled his eyebrows. Nothing ever felt too serious when he was in the room.
After we finished eating, we tried to help with kitchen cleanup, but Sharon waved us upstairs. I had barely closed the door to Cole’s room before he was all over me, throwing his arms around my neck.
“Finally—”
