"So when I talk about you to new people, what do you want me to say?"
They're sitting on the floor of Henry's bedroom, sorting out all the tapes and records he'd unpacked too fast and thrown on the shelf. Henry looks up from the pile, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, on Sunday, after church, I'm gonna have to introduce you to a bunch of people." Gene shrugs. "So am I saying, 'this is my son, Henry', or am I being nonspecific, like, 'my oldest', or something else?"
"Well, what have you been doing?"
"Hasn't come up yet."
"Oh. Yeah." Henry's eyes dart around the room. All the half-unpacked boxes; the posters they'd carefully taken down from his room in the old house; the new desk. Avoiding the one box in the corner. "I didn't know it was gonna be a big deal."
"It's not." An immediate answer. Suddenly and painfully aware of the sorting Henry and Lucy will be doing later, all the clothes he outgrew last year. Things they're going to keep for Jason, down the line, and things they'll donate to the church, come Sunday afternoon. "Your mom and I just don't want to do it wrong. That's all."
"Uh... I don't know."
"That's okay. You can think about it. We've still got a few days. --When we're done with this, we should probably make sure your dress clothes are unpacked. Probably need to wash them."
"Ugh. I hate those pants."
"You can wear jeans if you want. I am. Just, y'know, something without garage vomit on them."
Henry turns a tape over in his hands, putting it in the pile to his left. So that's where Gene's missing Clash tapes went. "...Is it okay if I change my mind about it, later?"
"Yeah. What's not okay is that you stole my tape. Give it here." Sure enough. "I'll make you a copy of it tonight."
"Sorry, I forgot I had it."
"Yeah, yeah. I knew that box felt light. How many more are we gonna find?"
Henry's grin answers that question on its own.
"But I mean that, y'know. You're not gonna figure everything out in two months. Takes digging. That's not a bad thing."
"It's not?"
"Nah. Nobody figures themselves out in two months. I'm pushing forty and still working on that, are you kidding?"
"Huh." Henry gets that look -- processing, accepting. "--Is it weird? This whole thing, I mean."
Oh. Well.
"It's got a learning curve," Gene admits. "But you don't need to worry about it."
"Well, I just..."
"I know. But that's on me and your mom. Not you. You just keep doing what you're doing." He reaches over and ruffles Henry's hair. Can't make it worse. "You need a haircut. You wanna go do that tomorrow?"
"...Yeah." Not exactly convincing, but he gets points for trying. "It's not that bad."
"You look like an unshaved yak, kid."
"I do not." Henry pauses, blinks. "...Do yaks get shaved?"
"When you're avoiding other things. Like laundry, or calling your grandma..."
He means your mom's parents, and they both know it.
"Have you and Mom told Grandma and Grandpa yet?"
"No. Not until you tell us to."
"Okay." Nods slowly. "How do you think they're gonna take it?"
"I don't know."
Half true, but only in the same sense that he doesn't know exactly where Lucy or Jason or Katie are, right now. Just that they're in the house. No specifics. Just the general vicinity.
And Henry knows that well enough. Trying to keep it off his face, but... well, he's fifteen. It's a work in progress. "At least we're not going to their church."
"Yeah. That's, uh... That's why we're not doing that."
One reason of many.
"Have you told your parents yet?"
"Nope. Not them, either." That, at least, will go a lot better. "Your mom and I aren't telling anybody until you're ready."
"Has that been weird?"
"You get used to it. It's all about context, right?" Gene shrugs. "If I can figure out how to use a text editor, I can figure out how to change how I talk about you when we're not at home. Command mode or insert mode. Son mode or daughter mode. Same thing."
Henry gets that grin -- the one that's a little too big for his face, like he's never quite going to grow into it. "That's so dumb."
"Maybe. But it's true."
"I should probably tell them before Sunday."
"I'll talk to them."
"No, I think I wanna do it."
"Really?" It makes some amount of sense, now that he's said it -- Henry's always been closer to Gene's parents than to Lucy's -- but Gene had been assuming he'd have some "here's what's going on; this is what these words mean" conversations first, just like last time around. "Alright. Well, we're going over there tomorrow night, and I think it's just gonna be us. I'll call and make sure. Let them know we've got good news."
"...Good news?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"
After all, this is the happiest Gene's ever seen him. Hell of a lot better than he was doing a year ago.
Gene's on the phone, when Lora storms through the gate. Sitting on the back porch, telephone wire strung through the open screen door. A careful balance of the phone on his shoulder and the papers stacked on his lap.
"...Yeah. --Oh, hang on, Lora's here. Looks pissed. Better go. I'll call you back later. --Uh-huh. Love you." He hangs up. Waves at her, like he hasn't done a damn thing wrong in his whole life. "Hi."
"What the hell are you doing?"
Gene blinks at her, the very model of confusion. Infuriating. "Checking the kids' math homework. Just about done. Was talking to my mom. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Day off for lab cleaning. But that's not what I mean, and you know it," Lora hisses. She drops down to the porch in front of him. Freshly redone. Still smells like the stain and sealant. "Who gave you the right to give my boyfriend the break her heart and I break your wrists talk?"
"Oh, that's what this is about?" He shrugs. "He took it alright."
"That is not your job."
"Look, if your dad does it, he's gonna go overboard and scare the poor guy. And you don't have any older brothers to do it, so... Oldest cousin. Absolutely is my job."
"Both wrists."
"Well, yeah. He can still play video games if it's his knees. It's gotta have consequences. And anyway, that was, I dunno, how long have you been dating him? Six months ago? So I mean, if you're just finding out about it now..."
"You didn't think maybe that was a little excessive?"
"Not really." He circles something on the last of the papers, sets it aside. "I've heard things about Flynn's track record."
"Unbelievable." Deep breath. He's got a point, about how long it took for her to find out. "Where would you have heard that?"
"We've got some mutual friends. And Lucy knows a couple of his exes. One of 'em in the computer club..."
"Okay, okay, I get it. But we're not even that serious. --Both wrists!"
"I'm nothing if not thorough."
"And a pain in the ass."
"That's me." He grins, collects the papers, stands up. "You want coffee?"
"Yeah. Sure." 5:30 in the afternoon. "So what, your sixth of the day?"
"Fourth. I've only been home for half an hour. Jason's practice ran long." He collects the papers up into two folders, one green and one blue. Picks up the handset, one-handed and precarious. "Kitchen's a mess, but... y'know."
Sure enough. Not an inch of counter space in sight as Lora closes the screen door behind her -- not that there's a whole lot to go around. Unwashed dishes and juice glasses stacked in the sink. The kids have, evidently, been making snacks. Peanut butter and strawberry jam, half a loaf of bread.
"...Hellions. Well, hellion." Gene sets down the phone on its side table, glances around to look for the offender. "Henry, how many times do I gotta tell you to at least tie off the bread when you're done?"
The recliner in the living room creaks; a quiet thud and some giggling. A few seconds later, the culprit appears, book in hand. "Sorry. I forgot."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"I did, honest." Henry grins, hastily tying off the bag and scooping up the jars in the opposite arm. "Hi, Lora. What are you doing here?"
"Day off, thought I'd drop by. Got those?"
"Yeah, it's fine." Kid's got this down to a science, apparently -- sliding the bread bag off one elbow into the pull-out drawers. Opens the cabinet, closes it, opens the one beside it for the peanut butter. "It's fine."
"Four years in this house," Gene says solemnly.
"You've never been any better." Lora's watched him mix up left and right more times than she can count. "She comes by it honestly."
"Uh-huh." He pulls down two mugs from the shelf, and then, to Henry-- "Can you take Jason's homework upstairs? I'll make your coffee. Couple things on yours we've gotta look over."
"Alright." Henry picks up the green folder and sprints up the stairs, practically kicking the door open, from the sounds of it. Jason yells something indistinct; she must have tackled him.
Lora watches Gene pour the coffee, squinting at the second mug in amusement. "Since when does Henry drink coffee, anyway?"
"Recent. A month ago, maybe? Helps her concentrate."
"Huh." Lora hasn't been around as much as she'd like, lately. "Fourteen in a couple weeks."
"Yeah, don't remind me." A single scoop of sugar in one, two in the other. About equal amounts of milk. Passes Lora the first mug with a grin as the human tornado returns down the stairs. "Another five years and the kid's gonna take over the world."
"You can't just tell people that, Dad." Henry's glasses immediately go opaque as she takes her mug from the counter. She frowns, wipes them on her shirt. Probably hasn't cleaned her glasses in a week anyway. "It won't work if it's not a secret."
"Y'know, we'll be better off for it when it happens, but you'd better still call once in a while. --Can't tell anyone, huh? Not even Lora? She's got a laser."
Lora rolls her eyes. "It's not that kind of laser."
"But it could be. If you really wanted it to be."
"I don't."
"You've never thought about it? Not once?"
"Oh my God. I am not helping her with her plan for world domination." He's ridiculous. "Sorry, kiddo. Won't get in your way, though."
"That's okay." She follows Lora to the table, taking the chair next to her. "Gotta get through eighth grade first, anyway."
"Now that's a supervillain backstory if I've ever heard one."
