For the fans, p.2
For The Fans, page 2
Mom’s eyes overflowing with tears of devastation. “I need to tell you something, Aviel… It’s about your father.”
“I’ll just stand here.” I fold my arms over my chest petulantly. As if standing up will make whatever this is less real.
“Aviel, for the love of God, just sit down,” she huffs.
“Fine…” I mutter, stepping over to the couch. “But I’m doing it because I want to, not because you’re telling me to.”
She chuckles and shakes her head as I take a seat next to her. “Okay, fine. You’re the boss.”
My throat is all dry and scratchy as she reaches for my face, brushing her fingers through my dark hair.
“How was school?” she asks, and I squint at her.
“Mom, please. You clearly have something to say, so let’s cut the small talk and just get to the point. You’re stressing me out.”
Showing me a sympathetic look, she tilts her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t want you to be upset…” Her voice trails, and I lean in, my skin crawling all over in suspense. “But I have some news.”
“What news?” I ask quietly. I’m trying to be patient and let her work up to it, but my fingers are twitching.
She swoops in a breath, letting it out slowly before she hits me with, “I met someone.”
My entire body feels frozen solid, like someone ordered an ice sculpture of a shocked teenager.
I don’t know why, but this is the absolute last thing I ever expected her to say.
Mom’s brows knit together while I gawk at her like she just told me she wants to become a rodeo clown. “Avi… are you alright?”
“Uh… what?” My head shakes and I force myself to blink a few dozen times. “Yea, yea. I’m uh… I’m… fine?” I don’t mean for the word fine to come out like a question, but I’m just really confused right now.
She met someone…? As in, like, a person… she wants to… date??
My mother has gone on a few dates over the years, but it’s never led to anything. Usually, she just tells me she’s going out with a friend, or something along those lines. She’s never felt the need to sit me down and talk to me about it.
My mother shifts. “Okay… because you look kind of pale—”
“So you mean you’re gonna… go on a date with someone, right? That’s fine,” I tell her casually while trying not to fidget.
She clears her throat. “Actually, we’ve already gone out a few times.”
“Oh…” My mind is running in jittery circles, like a hamster on a wheel. “But you didn’t mention anything…”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it until it was serious.” She blinks her deep blue eyes at me.
“Wait… so you’re saying it is serious??” My voice croaks out of my throat. “Who is this person?”
“His name is Tom.” The way her face sort of lights up even saying his name tightens my gut.
“Tom?” I can’t help the way I scoff. “That’s a stupid name…”
“Aviel.” She glares at me. “That’s rude.”
“Sorry.” I rub my eyes. “I’m just… I’m surprised, that’s all. This is kind of coming out of nowhere… You’ve never sat me down to tell me about you dating before.”
She squeezes my arm. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it from you, but I just figured with the move and you being busy at school… I wanted to give it a few dates before I told you. To make sure I really liked him.”
I swallow down even more dry uncertainty. “And you do?”
She nods. “Yes. He’s really sweet and smart. And he has a boy your age…”
“Where did you even meet this guy?” I ask, still flabbergasted, but trying not to let it show. I don’t want to be acting like an immature idiot, but this is really throwing me off. “And how did I not notice you’ve been going out on all kinds of dates?”
“He brought his car into the dealership,” she tells me. “He asked me to lunch, and we ended up having lunch a few times. And then a couple dinners…”
“So when you said you were working late…” I mumble, piecing it all together.
“I’m so sorry I lied, Avi,” she whimpers, taking my hand between hers. “It’s just… this is all so new for me. You know I haven’t…” She pauses, her eyes falling to our hands. “I haven’t had a real relationship since your father.”
The way those words sting my chest feels like battery acid pumping through my veins.
My dad died when I was six. It’s been ten years, and my mom hasn’t had a meaningful relationship since. That sucks.
I don’t want her to be miserable. She’s still young, after all. Just because she lost the love of her life unexpectedly in a tragic accident, that shouldn’t mean she never gets to be with anyone else.
Granted, I know literally nothing about love. I’ve never even had a girlfriend… Unless you count Kelsey Lachlan in sixth grade, who I dated for three days. Or Taylor Nguyen, the girl I used to make out with on occasion back in Brooklyn. And I definitely don’t think I’d count them as anything relationship adjacent.
Really, it’s not that I don’t want to date, I just haven’t found anyone who’s swept me away… The way Tom apparently has to my mother.
“Oh, baby boy, I can see you spiraling,” Mom says, launching herself at me.
She grabs me in her arms and squeezes me tight, brushing her fingers through my hair. It reminds me of when I was little…
When we’d both be crying over the loss of my father.
“Mom, I’m not a child,” I grunt, wriggling out of her hold. “And I’m not fragile. I can handle you dating. I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to hide it from me…”
“I know, Av,” she squeaks. “You’re such a good son. That’s why I needed to tell you the truth.” She cups my jaw with her slender hand. “It’s just as strange for me to be feeling this way, I promise you.”
Nodding, I take one last heavy gulp, swallowing down my hesitations. It’s not the end of the world that my mom likes a guy. He’s just a guy. He’ll never be my father.
“So… you really like him?” I force a smile, and she grins.
I have to say, she looks years younger right now; illuminated by this new relationship. And not that I really want to dwell on these thoughts… but I guess it means this Tom person must be important to her.
“I do, Av,” she breathes. “He’s really great. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” My eyes go wide again, and she chuckles. “When you’re ready, of course.”
I let out a slow breath. For Mom…
I can be happy for her. I’m sure I can manage… meeting this guy.
And when I do, he’ll have to pass my test. If he’s not good enough for her, then this will be a very different conversation.
Suddenly, something she said sticks out in my mind. “You said he has a son my age?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I haven’t met him yet. We were waiting to talk to you both first…”
This is something they’ve been planning??
“Mom… How long have you actually been seeing this guy?” I narrow my gaze at her.
She chews on her bottom lip for a second before answering. “It’s been about… two months.”
“Two months?!” My eyes are bulging all over again. “We’ve only been living here for three months! Jeez, I guess the sharks are circling the chum here in Boston…”
“Avi!” She glares.
“Okay, fine. The pigs are hunting for truffles.” I grin while she stares at me. “You’re the truffle… ’cause they’re fancy.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “How did I make this person…”
My smirk widens.
“Aviel, I told you I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” she goes on, sighing regretfully. “Can you please not make me feel bad about this? It’s a strange situation, for all of us. I mean, Tom is coming out of a nasty divorce… We just wanted to make sure it was something real before we told you boys.”
My stomach clenches like a fist. The way she’s talking… it’s like we’re already a family. The four of us…
Me, Mom, Tom… and this other kid.
Stepbrother??
Whoa… trippy.
I’ve been an only child my whole life. I would have no idea how to be a brother…
“Mother, I have something very serious to ask you,” I mumble, and she gawks at me. “Can I please go smoke?”
She lets out a laugh, and it quirks my lips. Despite the unease slinking around inside me, she’s still my mother, and my best friend. Epic Momma’s Boy, reporting for duty. As long as we’re still us, I’m sure it’ll all work out.
But now I definitely need to mellow before I really do start spiraling.
“Okay…” Mom straightens. “You can go outside on the deck while I start dinner, and I’ll pretend I don’t know what you’re doing out there.”
I grin and stand up. “Thanks, Ma.”
She smiles, her voice stopping me before I can leave the room. “I love you, Avi.”
Pausing with my back to her, I peer over my shoulder to show her a casual smile that feels only a bit stilted. “Love you too, mother.”
On my way outside, with my joint already lit between my lips, tension grips my muscles and unease cradles my thoughts. I don’t want to think that things are about to change drastically, again, for the second time in three months…
But tell that to the weed I don’t stop smoking until it’s at my fingertips.
Sedate these rabid thoughts, please.
Unicorndicks: God, I would beg you to ruin my life and thank you for it after.
I want absolutely no part of this…
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I try harder to focus on what I’m doing. Push away the nagging thoughts and the frustrations of what I know is coming, and just be present.
Her tongue is silky wet in my mouth, hair in smooth strands, threaded between my fingers as I hold on to it, matching her energy. For every suck and gentle nip she gives my lips, I give her one back, reclined on her bed while she grinds her supple curves all over me.
It feels good. No fucking shit it does. But I’m still distracted. I don’t want to be…
I’d give anything to really be in this moment with my girlfriend. But I just can’t stop thinking about what I’m supposed to be leaving to go do…
It’s bullshit, is what it is.
Attempting to pry my mouth away from Becca’s for the third time, I mumble onto her pouty lips. “I really have to go, babe. My dad will freak out if I’m late…”
“Just stay…” she whines, hand sliding in between our bodies, down to my crotch. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Is there ever a time when a guy my age is able to decline such an offer? I don’t think so.
But I don’t exactly have a choice here. Tonight is a special night, according to my father, and I’m already fucking miserable over it. The last thing I need is for him to also be shooting me disapproving looks the whole time after I show up disheveled and covered in hickeys.
I don’t think Becca was able to plant any visible ones, but I can’t be sure just yet.
“As tempting as that sounds”—I grin, kissing her one more time softly while also subtly pushing her off me—“I gotta go. If I piss him off now, I’ll wind up grounded for the rest of summer break. And we can’t have that… Can we?”
She continues to pout, touching me everywhere with needy fingers. But then she sighs, “No, we can’t. Especially because Kim’s pool party is in two weeks, and you have to see the bathing suit I bought.” She flutters her long, fake eyelashes at me. “It’s gonna blow you away.”
My fingertips dig into her waist a little. “I look forward to it.”
One last peck on the lips and I manage to extract myself from her grip, rolling off the bed. I wave and blow her a kiss before darting out of her bedroom, heading downstairs. On my way out the door, I’m shaking my head in annoyance.
I can’t believe I have to leave hooking up with my girlfriend to go do this… We have the house to ourselves, for fuck’s sake!
Both of Bec’s parents work during the day, and now that it’s summer vacation, we could do literally whatever we want in her house as long as it’s before six. I’ve been looking forward to having sex with her again. The first time—which was both of our first times—was good, but it was sort of… awkward. Maybe awkward isn’t the right word…
We were both kind of nervous, I guess. So I’ve been itching to get back on that horse—ew, bad analogy. Practice does make perfect, though. And I’m awesome at most things, so I figure I’ll only need to do it a few more times before I become awesome at sex, too.
But no. Instead of getting my eager dick back inside my girlfriend, I’m going home on a Friday evening to have dinner with my dad, the woman he’s currently screwing, and her son.
I’d rather rip a shot of bleach.
Yet I’m still doing it, because of my pathological need to please authority figures, my father being the main one. Sometimes I wish I could just say fuck it. Toss up my middle finger to everything and do what I want.
But then I remember that I need the order; the structure. It’s good for me. Keeps me from thinking about… things.
Shoving those thoughts away, deep in the back of my mind, I walk up the block to the bus stop and wait. I’m usually a pretty patient person, but I am so motherloving sick of riding the bus. I can’t wait to turn sixteen and finally apply for my driver’s license. My dad said if I get straight As my first semester of junior year, he’ll buy me a car. There’s a goal for this fall that I’ll have absolutely no problem achieving.
The bus shows up and I hop on, sitting quietly with my mind thrumming as it drives up Highland Ave. Our house in Somerville is nice… Actually, nicer than the one I grew up in, which was also in Somerville, just across town. I think after the divorce, my father was trying to prove how fine he was by buying a better house than the one we lived in when he and my mom were still together.
It’s the image. The portrayal. Everything needs to look perfect on the outside… no matter how decayed and rotten it is beneath the surface.
Grinding my teeth together, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the camera. I force a smirk and snap a selfie, posting it to my Instagram account with the caption:
Crushin another day in Somerville. Love my hometown. #blessed
I post it and let out a slow breath.
When the bus comes to a stop, I hop off and wander up the block to my house. Thankfully, I don’t see any other cars in the driveway, which means the guests probably aren’t here yet. Maybe they cancelled… Maybe we’re not doing this stupid fucking dinner and I can hang out with my friends tonight instead of this parental version of waterboarding.
Unfortunately, when I step inside the house, I smell food cooking, which means a dinner of some kind is happening. I spot Theresa in the kitchen, and I can already tell she’s making a fancier meal than what she usually cooks for just Dad and me.
My father doesn’t cook, or do really any sort of housework, so when he and my mom split, he hired Theresa to do all that stuff. She’s a nice lady, and not that I would ever admit it out loud, but I like having her around. She provides a buffer between my dad and me. A much-needed one.
I don’t even want to think about what it would be like if it were just the two of us in this house…
“You’re late,” my father’s gruff voice calls from the den, and my spine stiffens.
“You said five-thirty…” I murmur, turning around slowly.
“And it’s quarter to six.” He lifts his wrist to display his Rolex, as if to make some bullshit point. “That’s what late means, Kyran.”
My fist tightens at my side. “Well, they’re not here yet… Right?” He narrows his gaze at me, and I sigh an exhale meant to calm me down. “I was hanging out with Becca.”
His head does a barely visible nod, which means he approves, at least a little. My dad likes Becca, mainly because her family is from Southie, and they’re well-off. Really all that matters to him.
He doesn’t give two shits about personality or interest… If you were raised Irish Catholic in Boston, then you’re alright in Thomas Harbor’s book.
“Go get ready for dinner.” He takes a sip from his glass of Jameson. “They’ll be here shortly.”
There is oh-so much I’d like to say right now, but as usual, I stuff it all down and obey his command, stalking off to the stairs and up to my bedroom.
I just don’t understand why this is even necessary…
My parents have been divorced for three years. My father has dated women, I know he has. I mean, he doesn’t tell me about it, but I know it’s happening. He goes out for the night, dressed in a suit, and usually doesn’t come home until after I’m already asleep.
But that’s just it. I don’t give a shit if he wants to date women. He could fuck his way around the entire Greater Boston Area for all I care.
What I don’t want to deal with is having to meet the broads he’s sleeping with. He should just keep it to himself. Why put me through some forced awkward dinner with this woman and her son? What’s the point??
My mind flits to my mother while I strip out of my clothes and get redressed in dinner attire. She remarried six months after the divorce was final, and got pregnant only a few months after that. Elena Harbor is now Elena Harbor-McLaughlin. She lives in Cambridge with her husband, Paul, and my half-sister, Paige, who I’ve only met once.
I never see my mom anymore, which makes sense. She couldn’t get out of their marriage fast enough. It was like she was itching to escape from him… and me. And the memories of… everything. How fast it all deteriorated…
Closing my eyes, I rub them hard with my fingers, causing spots in my vision. Reaching for my phone, I open the camera and aim it at myself, posing for the perfect shirtless selfie. While I don’t plan on posting this one, I still take the picture. And I stare at it afterward, for minutes on end. Examining myself, frame and physique.
