Carter's Shadow - 17. Chapter 17

There was silence around the kitchen table the next morning. A hefty stack of pancakes was steadily being demolished as his mother, father, brother and sister all watched West expectantly.

It would have normally been unnerving, but West hadn't slept well, and he was fighting random bouts of spontaneous yawning, as he chased maple syrup around his plate with his fork. He really didn't notice, until his mother placed a mug of coffee down in front of him.

The act alone was enough to make him focus. His mother detested the thought of kids drinking coffee, saying on repeated occasions how it 'stunted' people's growth. At six feet, West often figured he could use a little stunting. But the fact that she had gone and gotten him a mug of the liquid, willingly and without West's usual futile pleas, made him meet her eyes.

She was looking at him with a mother's "Well?" look.

He smiled. "Morning," he said, stirring sugar into the coffee before she could change her mind and take it from him.

"How are your pancakes?" she asked, not at all interested in the consistency(would "composition" be a better word????) of his breakfast.

"Good," he said, taking a drink and sighing into the mug gratefully.

"What your mother is trying to say is, how did it go last night?" His father chuckled over his paper that he was pretending to read.

"How'd what go?" Sammy asked, innocently looking up from her smiley-faced blueberry pancakes that she was taking her time to eat.

"Never you mind," her daddy said, lowering the paper to smile at his only daughter. "You'll find out when you're older."

Joey looked up from his pancakes, mostly untouched; he seldom ate much in the morning, "We all know, Dad..."

"Still," his father replied, "I'd rather not have to explain a certain subject to her this morning..."

"Is it 'cause West likes to kiss boys?" Sammy said cheerfully, causing everyone to turn to her except Joey, who was smirking triumphantly.

"Joey!" His father folded the newspaper carefully and set it down, glaring at the boy.

"I didn't tell her!" Joey protested. "She overheard you and Mom last night..."

Sammy batted her eyelashes and smiled as she continued to dig happily into her breakfast, as West suddenly wished he were somewhere else.

"D-do..." his mom stammered and looked over at her husband. "Say something, Jonathon."

"Kid's a smart cookie, she gets it from your side," his dad said with a light chuckle. "Do you have any questions?" he asked, looking at the bright-eyed little girl.

"I kissed Jamie," Sammy said boldly. "He wants to be my boyfriend, but Jessica said that he also asked her so he's a player."

West choked on his coffee, as his father stared incredulously at the young girl who was facing them with a deadpan expression on her face.

"I meant about..." her father managed after his initial shock wore off.

"Nope," Sammy said with a smile, pushing her plate back. "Can I get down from the table now?"

"You may," her mother said as Sammy got up, took her plate dutifully over to the sink and set it inside before dashing off back to her Saturday morning cartoons. Joey got up as well, without asking, as he emptied his plate into the bin and added it to hers, rushing off upstairs to go get changed.

Leaving West to face the Spanish Inquisition.

"So?" his mother pressed.

"It was okay," West replied, settling back into his chair and sipping his coffee. "We went for a picnic by the river and watched the sun go down."

"He gets that from you," his mother said with a dreamy look on her face as she looked over at her husband.

"I should hope so," he replied to her, looking at his son. "So it went well then, you'll be seeing this Blake again?"

"We decided to stay just friends," West said honestly. "We're not in the same place, you know?"

"Right," his mother said, sounding disappointed.

His father studied his face, those heavy eyes trying to read his expression, trying to glean an answer to a question he wasn't about to ask his son. West caught it and shook his head a fraction of an inch to either side.

His father nodded in satisfaction, "Well, I'm going to need you helping me in the bottom field this morning, get it ready for planting."

"I'll need him after lunch, though," his mother said looking up. "I have errands I need him to run for me. I want to redecorate the living room and need him to get some paint."

"Didn't we just..." his father fell silent after a stern look from his wife, as she put her hands on her hips, "Don't argue with me, Mister Harding, it was your daughter who decided that my walls could use some crayon horses last week."

"How is it, when the kids do good they're your children, but when they do something wrong they're mine?" he asked cheerily pulling on his boots and light spring jacket.

* * *

West had passed the morning mostly locked into his own thoughts as he ploughed the bottom field.

His parents' land was fifty acres set on a single long hill that climbed towards the farm house; if he looked up he could see his mother hanging out washing on the line. Life went on, despite dates, the team, or what happened at school. And he turned the wheel of the tractor to make another circuit of the field. His father was planning to get his crops in early this year; if he was lucky, he might be able to get a second growth out of the field before fall.

West stood up in his seat as he navigated around the large rock that sat in the midst of the field. When they had been little he and his brother had played on that rock, pretending it was a castle, or a fort, depending on the game.

Too many long summers spent around there; he realized how much he'd miss it when he went to university and joined the military. The innocence of playing around, of just being a kid. No real worries to deal with, just...

He sighed, regretting that he hadn't been able to feel anything with Blake; if he'd tried a bit harder, maybe something would have come of it. Blake was this great guy, and in his opinion, would have made an awesome boyfriend. But West had to be honest with him, as he had to be honest with himself. He couldn't run a relationship on sexual attraction alone, there needed to be substance, there needed to be passion there. An intensity of emotions that he craved but couldn't find.

He turned the wheel again, back again, one more circuit and he'd be done for the morning and off for lunch. He returned to his thoughts again. Thoughts of boats, picnics and the feel of Blake's hair through his fingers.

Why hadn't he simply slept with Blake? Blake was attractive, and West admitted he could get turned on. Why was he clinging to his prudish outlook? If he just loosened up and learned to go with the moment maybe he wouldn't end up disappointing so many people. It would make Blake happy, hell, it'd make Matty happy, but instead West felt like he was being selfish. Again, like with Jenny-Lynn, he seemed destined to hurt people who wanted to get close to him because he was incapable of getting close to them.

Was that a psychological problem, was that it? Was he just incapable of falling in love? He knew it wasn't supposed to be easy, being gay. His mother had warned him of that shortly after he had come out, how hard it had been on her friends to find something more tangible than a one-night stand. He'd always said that he wouldn't do that, that he wanted more, he'd even said as much to Blake. And he wanted to hold by that, but there he was second-guessing that choice.

Guilt preyed upon his thoughts as he finished the ploughing, and turned the tractor back towards the track that would take him up to the house.

He had natural urges--every guy did; he relieved himself the same way every other guy did. He liked to think he was pretty normal, at least in that respect. But why was he so hung up about sex? Most of the people he knew had all done it; he secretly suspected his brother had done it with the girl he had been dating last summer.

How sad was that? he thought, my brother had sex before me.

He had sudden images of being a twenty-five-year-old virgin, still living at home and...

He shuddered; maybe he should just take Matt up on his offer? Get it over and done with; see what all the fuss was about... but it was Matt. It would be like doing his brother, wrong on so many levels. What about Blake? But he'd already messed Blake around enough; if he slept with Blake it would be for all the wrong reasons and would only lead the poor guy on. West was trying to alleviate his guilt, not add to it.

He drew a long breath as he parked the tractor next to the barn where his father was labouring with the dry feed, hopping down and trudging up to the house where lunch was probably already waiting for him.

His father caught up to him just before they climbed the back steps up to the house, tapping him on the shoulder as he removed his work gloves and looked up at his son. "You okay, son?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah," West replied with a nod, taking another step then stopping. "Dad, when did you first... you know...?"

His father shrugged. "Too young," he replied truthfully. "I wished I'd waited, sometimes; it was... bad..." He chuckled, "I didn't know what I was doing, legs everywhere, and don't even get me started on the clown..."

"C-clown?" West stared at his father again in disbelief.

"Best you don't hear that story," his dad said with a wink. "We'd best get inside before your mom gets upset at us for being late for lunch."

West ate in silence again, and his parents exchanged worried looks when they thought he wasn't looking. No doubt wondering what had gone wrong on the date the night before to make him so pensive.

West just sat looking down at his Chicken Tika sandwich, thinking again about the guy he had just let slip through his fingers. Melancholy thoughts, and regrets setting in and taking up residence.

"Hey Mom?" Joey asked, hanging the phone back into its cradle. "Is it okay if Tony crashes here tonight?"

"Don't I say yes every weekend?" his mom said up to her elbows in dishsoap, scrubbing the morning pans. She stopped and looked up, "Wait, did you say Tony?"

"Yeah," Joey said, shifting anxiously in the doorway to the kitchen.

"What happened to Randy?" His mother turned, wiping dry her hands.

"Oh, he can't come, he's gone to Toronto this weekend." Joey looked hopeful, "Please, Mom?"

"Okay, I suppose." She exchanged another look with her husband who just shrugged. They had gotten used to Randy's near constant presence each weekend. It seemed as if the two had been friends their entire lives, and when the weekend sleepovers had become a part of Harding family tradition, his mother hadn't complained too much--at least it meant her baby boy was home on a Saturday night. But this was the first time someone else, other than Randy, was spending the night.

"Cool," Joey said with a smile, still shifting anxiously. "And can we go get him?"

His mother sighed, "I don't know Joey, I have a lot of..."

"Please?" Joey begged hopefully. It was rare to see him go to such trouble, and West looked up.

"I have to do your errands this afternoon anyway, so I can pick him up if he doesn't mind coming a bit early."

"You're okay with that?" his mom asked, looking over at West gratefully.

"Yeah," West said, "I need to get out of the house for a bit anyway, so it's no big deal."

Joey looked relieved. "Thanks, West," he said with a smile, grabbing the phone to let his friend know. West's mom dug through her purse to give West some money to pick up the things she needed that afternoon, his dad adding a few items to the list as well.

Before too long West and his brother were driving in the Bronco heading for downtown.

"Thanks again, West," Joey said, reaching out to plug his CD player into the Bronco's tape deck and adjusting the special adapter till alternative music began flooding the Bronco's cab.

"So who's Tony?" West asked as they got on the highway to head into Ottawa, accelerating around a little old lady who could barely peer over the steering wheel and drove like she was on her way to Sunday church.

"He's one of the guys I hang out with on a Friday night," Joey said, fishing out his knit cap and pulling it on, slanting the brim off to one side fashionably. "Tony's a skater, goes to U of O..."

"He's in university?" West asked, glancing at his little brother in surprise.

"Yeah," Joey said. "He's cool, though; we're going to get the pay per view tonight and just chill."

West nodded, "Cool. Do Mom and Dad know he's older?"

"What's the difference?" Joey asked with a shrug. "I hang out with older guys all the time. I mean he's only eighteen, it's not like he's that old."

"Right," West said with a slight shrug. "So where are we meeting him?"

"Saint Laurent Mall," Joey said. "There's a Canadian Tire just up the road from there, so if you drop me off you can get the stuff, and we should be good when you get back."

West shrugged. "Sounds good to me," he agreed, taking the appropriate exit, and swinging around under the massive flag flying over the Perkins Restaurant next to the Saint Laurent Mall. He pulled a quick stop to let his brother dart out, before he pulled away again to run the errands he needed to run.

It was a pretty simple list, and he was done relatively quickly. It seemed his family was constantly working on one project or another, the unending string of home renovations promising to make life easier after the initial inconvenience caused by trying to rearrange all the furniture at the same time.

He returned to the Mall and pulled into the side lot, near to where a group of skaters were taking advantage of one of the other lots undergoing repairs. It was a large empty square of asphalt, railings and steps, with plenty of obstacles to keep them entertained for hours.

West sat a moment and just watched them whisking about trying stunts and showing off some newly improvised trick they had just come up with. West chuckled, he'd never been much into the skateboarding scene; he preferred to do his skating on ice, and at least with a stick in his hands breaking his neck had a purpose.

Joey had spotted his brother. Sitting on a low graffiti-covered wall, he held up a finger asking West to wait a minute, and West nodded, shutting off the Bronco's engine as he turned up the music, just enjoying watching Joey's friends do their thing.

There was one skater that really stood out--firstly because he was on inline skates, doing loops of the lot, dressed in a loose-fitting coffee-coloured tee-shirt two sizes too big, and a pair of chocolate-coloured jeans that matched the shade of his hair perfectly. But also because he skated like a pro, sliding along a rail on the inline skates with the same ease others had on skateboards. West knew enough to realize that took some real skill.

He completed his stunt and came over to sit beside Joey on the wall, balancing his hands on his knees in front of him as he chatted, the wind stirring his brown hair as he caught his breath. He nodded over to the Bronco when Joey gestured to it.

West shifted in his seat and rolled down his window as the pair came over, the taller guy skating in slow circles around Joey as they crossed the lot.

"Hey," Joey said, "Tone, this is my brother, West. He's giving us a ride."

"Nice to meet you." Tony wiped his hand off on his jeans as he reached into the window to shake West's hand firmly, letting go and trying to brush his hair from his eyes. It looked, from that distance, like it was in that awkward stage just before needing to be cut, tufts rebelling against the flow of the rest of the hair, and the bangs just beginning to become a nuisance.

"We going, or do you need a bit?" West asked.

Joey shrugged and glanced at Tony, "I'm good if you are."

"Sure," Tony said in a confident voice, nodding in agreement. "I just have to grab my bag," he thumbed behind him. "Be right back." And with that he shot off on his skates.

West rolled his shoulders as he settled into the seat of the truck, looking up at the warm sun; it was really beginning to feel like summer. He mused, looking at Joey, "'sup, bro?" he asked.

Joey smirked, "Nuthin'." He nodded "'s'all good."

West frowned, Joey was up to something... he knew him too well not to realize it.