The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 8. Chapter 8

Taine and I went downstairs to the dining-room, and found elegant place settings at the expensive-looking antique table. I assumed that Sly had servants, owing to the posh decor and his wealth and celebrity, but then Sly himself came in from the kitchen holding a large serving bowl of spaghetti, which he set down gently on a cast-iron trivet in the middle of the table.

"Almost ready, guys," he announced in his deep, raspy voice, then hustled back to the kitchen.

Taine took a seat on the long side, and I sat opposite him, expecting Sly to sit at the head of the table. It was then that I noticed that there were four places set, and all four of our crystal water glasses had been filled. I wondered who might be joining us as I looked toward the far end of the table, but my eyes drifted up to see the portrait of Taine's mother, and I suddenly understood.

Taine must have noticed what I was looking at, because he caught my attention and said, quietly, "Don't laugh, okay?"

I widened my eyes and shook my head, mouthing "no" at him. I would never laugh at that, and wanted to make sure he knew it. I felt another swell of sadness and compassion in my chest, touched at the way that Sly and Taine chose to honor their beloved memories.

Sly reappeared with a hot, steaming basket of garlic bread and a large tureen full of homemade spaghetti sauce. It smelled amazing, and looked even better. As he went back to the kitchen for the meatballs, I looked over at Taine. He had his head down and his eyes closed, and I thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep. Then I saw his lips mouth "Amen" and realized he had been praying.

I believe in God, but I had never been one for much public display of faith, including going to church or making a big show of saying Grace over meals. My mother had taken me to church only once that I could remember after we left New York, one year on Ash Wednesday when we lived in South Carolina. My ill-timed attempt at humor after that event -- something about "making an ash of myself" -- earned me a serious beating, but she never took me back to church again.

Rex and Tynah said Grace over meals, and Tynah went to church occasionally, but my Sunday mornings were usually spent with Rex in front of the TV watching pregame shows and highlights of Saturday's college gridiron action. As Texans were always fond of saying, their priorities were God, Texas, and football, although not necessarily in that order.

Sly returned with the meatballs, taking his seat at the head of the table. I noticed that he did not say Grace, but quickly kissed his fingertips, extending them toward his late wife's picture, then tapping his heart and crossing himself. I was deeply moved by the gesture.

"Okay, guys," Sly exclaimed, "dig in!"

Sly watched as I served myself, then offered the spaghetti bowl to Taine, who took only about a cupful. Taine declined both garlic bread and meatballs, which I loaded up on, but did ladle a small amount of sauce on his noodles. Sly, of course, loaded up his plate with heaping quantities of everything and tucked in as if he had been starving.

* * * * *

Dinner passed fairly uneventfully, as we were all too busy eating to spend much time in conversation, and I joined Taine in helping Sly with the cleaning up afterwards.

"That was really great, Sly," I told him. "Thank you so much for dinner and for having me as a guest in your home."

Sly looked up from scraping plates into the trash can and seemed impressed at my manners. He smiled a lopsided smile.

"You're very welcome, Rick," he grinned, "and you can come over anytime. Mi casa es su casa."

"He's talking Spanish again," Taine said with one of his adorable smirks. "He'll be dragging us to one of those chupacabra stores in no time."

Sly shook his head. "It's called a bodega," he said. "A chupacabra is some...what is a chupacabra?"

"It's a mythical creature," I chimed in. "They call it a goat-sucker. It's how they explain what happened to dead livestock they find in the morning. Like white farmers blame UFOs."

"Smart kid," Sly said, nodding. "When we lived up north we had the Jersey Devil. You remember the Jersey Devil, Taine?"

"Natch," Taine replied, washing the dishes and handing them to me for drying.

We finished our cleanup in short order, and I was hoping that there would be some after-dinner activities planned, because I wasn't looking forward at all to the private talk which Taine had told me was forthcoming.

It was not to be, however, as Sly had to get ready for a late meeting with the owner of his racing team, a local bigwig known as Texarkana Gus, who owned dozens of auto sales locations throughout Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana. Gus had been instrumental in getting this house for Sly after the death of his wife, and had told him that he would be happy having Sly in Texas so that he didn't have to fly to New York all the time for meetings.

While Sly dressed, Taine and I sat in the living room playing Atari. Taine was clad in a white t-shirt, white tube socks, and thin grey sweatpants, sitting on a giant, chocolate-brown overstuffed Naugahyde sofa. I leaned against the same couch, but sat on the thick, golden shag carpeting in khaki shorts, my Sperry TopSiders, and a dark-blue Izod . Like I said before, I'm a "floor person," even when I'm a guest.

Taine thoroughly whipped me at Missile Command, but I made some progress with Space Wars. We didn't talk much, as Taine was obviously biding his time for our discussion until after his father was gone. I felt an ominous air of foreboding, wondering just what that talk had in store.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes, Sly came bounding down the stairs in a yellow silk shirt, sky-blue slacks and black Italian ankle-boots which must have cost more than my entire house. He had a gold chain around his neck, and a dark blue blazer folded neatly over one arm.

"Okay, guys," he announced, "I'm out of here. Don't burn down the house. I'll be back around one."

With that, he was out the door, and I heard the brand-new Lamborghini Countach revving up in the driveway, then pulling away from the house. I think both Taine and I were holding our breaths until we could no longer hear the Lambo's engine from down the street. We played a game of Centipede, which Taine won handily, as I was too full of nervous dread to even make a plausible effort.

When he had slain his last scorpion, Taine dropped the controller on the carpet and regarded me for a long moment. He patted the seat of the sofa beside him.

"Come up here," he said.

I nodded slightly, then put my arms behind me and slid up onto the couch next to Taine. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, just certain that he was about to call me every foul name in the book, castigate me and excoriate me for daring to kiss him and tell him that I was in love with him.

Or, which I somehow feared even worse, maybe he was going to kill me with kindness, telling me that he had no problem with my preferences, but that he was not now, nor would he ever be interested in boys. I dreaded the soft, tender compassion in his eyes, and was sure that the words "I hope we can still be friends" coming from those beautiful, sweet lips -- which I so longed to taste once more -- would destroy me forever.

Instead, what Taine said was, "I really miss her."

I was so not expecting him to talk about his mom, I had so worked myself up into a state of panic over what had happened the night before, that I must have had a very strange expression on my face. Taine took my gobsmacked look -- in the sad but endearing way in which he took most everything -- as a judgment of his sorrow.

"What," he said sullenly, "you think I'm being a pussy?"

"No, Taine!" I exclaimed. "Oh, God, no! I know how much your mother meant to you. To you and Sly both."

"Yeah, maybe me more," Taine said.

I furrowed my brow at this cryptic remark.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not going to meet Texarkana Gus," Taine explained. "He has a date with your biology teacher. 'Betty.'"

My eyes widened. "Ms. Ogretz?"

"Yeah," said Taine. "He doesn't want me to know he's dating again because he thinks I'd find it disrespectful to Mom."

"Do you?" I probed gently.

Inwardly, I was thinking, Holy shit! Sly and Ms. Ogretz! Boy, oh boy, Mr. Arispe is gonna hit the roof when he finds out!

"No," Taine said. "He can't be alone forever. He loves my mother, and he always will. But he's starting to move on."

"He still sets the table for her," I pointed out softly.

"He does that for me. The first day after she died, I came to the table and looked at the empty place where her plate and glass would be, and I just couldn't take it. I ran upstairs and I wouldn't eat dinner for two or three days, I forget. But I came downstairs the next day, and there was her picture over her place at the table, and her plate, silverware...he even filled her glass. He's been doing it ever since."

Taine had been almost whispering as he told me this, and I had to strain my head toward him to hear. As he finished, he turned to look at me, tears in his eyes and our faces only inches apart.

He looked into my eyes, his gaze tender, vulnerable, searching for something in my face, some sign that I understood.

I held my breath, not daring to move, simply returning his tender gaze, hoping that I could pour every bit of the love I felt for him out of my eyes so that he would see it too.

He pulled back for a moment, exhaled sharply, then wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, hard.

Taken by surprise, I almost choked as his soft lips slammed into mine, pushing them against my teeth. His right hand held the back of my head, and I wrapped my arms around his thin body as he pulled me close with all his strength.

I felt his lips part, then, and parted my own in return. Our soft pink tongues met, hungrily exploring, tasting each other's mouths and our mingled tears which rolled across our lips.

His body was shaking as I ran my hands across his warm back, feeling his ribs beneath his shirt. Our lips and tongues danced together, a sad but loving tango of grief and need.

Weeping uncontrollably, he broke the kiss and pulled me closer, hugging me fiercely as the sobs wracked his slender body, burying his face into my neck and wailing as if gutted.

I held him tight, tighter, as tight as I could, weeping and wailing along with him now, something breaking inside my soul and all the pain I had been holding back flooding out to meet his, embracing and screaming out in terror, hurt and despair.

We fell back on the sofa, Taine on top of me, clutching each other so tightly we could barely breathe, our tears flowing together down my neck until I could feel the warm wetness on the back of my shirt collar beneath me.

We lay there for a long time, holding each other and letting the wracking sobs slowly subside and drift away.

Finally, Taine propped himself up on his elbows, pulling his face from my neck. Our tear-stained cheeks slid together, hot and wet, as he raised his head above mine, looking down at me. Teardrops glistened on his long eyelashes, and his eyes were an unreadable mixture of pain, compassion and sadness.

"I think you should go home," he said. "I'm sorry."