The Tull Unification - 8. Chapter 8

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I had meant to talk to Mike the night before, to try and get some advice on options for today. Matt and Nick had talked to me about those text messages I had gotten from the 'secret admirer' and all I can say is I'm glad they are my friends. I climbed in the shower and went over the conversation in my head as I tried to figure out what to do.

We'd been sitting together for lunch and it hadn't occurred to me until later that it was unusual to have Matt and Nick to either side of me. That should have told me something, if I'd been observant in the least, that the boyfriends weren't sitting together. Instead they had flanked me so that each one could speak softly and not be overheard.

“Any news from your stalker?” Nick had asked.

“No. Sometimes I think I should send whoever it is a message, but I don't know what to say.” I'd set my fork down and looked at Nick. “On the one hand it's kind of cool to know someone likes me, but on the other hand it's very creepy to think someone is watching me or something.”

“If it were me,” Matt had joined in, “I'd just feel pissed about spilling private information, you know?”

“That's not really the stalkers fault, though,” Nick had pointed out. “Before that he seemed to be flirting awkwardly. If he's not texting anymore, maybe he's afraid he's blown it already.”

“Well...” I'd said weakly. “He could have said it wasn't Matt right away, since he knew that's who I thought it was.”

“True. It's hard to imitate me, though. You should have known better,” Matt had said, teasing me.

“Still,” Nick had said, drawing my attention back to him. “He's still out there, Colin. Do you want to let this thing go or try to do something about it?”

“What is there to do?” I'd asked. “It seems weird to leave it like it is, maybe even a little scary. I mean, what if it was someone who wants to...I don't know, gut me in an alley?”

“You're not really that offensive, Colin,” Matt had replied and I'd flashed him a sour look. “I get what you mean, even if that was a little out there.”

“The point is, I don't know what he wanted, for sure. He could be interested or could be seriously screwed up in the head. Hey!” I'd glanced down at my plate as Nick's hand had snaked away with one of my French fries, which were nearly gone. I'd looked at Nick with a frown and he'd simply smiled and pointed back at my plate. Turning quickly I'd caught Matt filching a fry as well.

“That's my lunch!” I had growled at them and put my hands on either side of my tray and had bent low over it. Nick had laughed and produced a baggie full of cookies from his lunch bag.

“You had to save room for these, my mom and I baked 'em last night.” So saying Nick had placed a handful of cookies on my tray and handed some more to Matt.

“You could have just said that,” I'd grumbled.

“Nah, stealing your fries was way more fun,” Matt had chuckled and given me a friendly shove. “Anyway, back to business. I know who your stalker is.”

“You do? Who is it?”

“Well, hang on before I tell you. I think I understand what his issue is – I can even talk to him if you want. But I can tell you, he's not dangerous. I think things just didn't go the way he planned.”

It had been true; I'd known that. My assumption had thrown my business right out there. All my fear about the phone, Mike and the conflicting emotions that had been giving me.

That had made me stop and think about Mike. He wasn't awesome in a flashy, obvious way. In fact, I thought if you'd asked him, he'd just have said he was a regular guy living his life. But he'd made being who I was okay and he'd included me in things my adoptive parents hadn't. Like sharing movies he loved with me or music or books.

The only thing my parents had really shared with me was their religion. My books had been the bible and bible stories. Our movies at home had been all bible-based or had been scrubbed of bad language or other objectionable things by a company out in Idaho or Utah. We'd had no pets and the house had had to be kept quiet. There had been catechism Wednesday nights and Sunday school, bible camp and youth group. When I'd thought about it, I'd never known why they ever adopted me; they hadn't seemed like 'kid type' people.

I had used to think about that very issue when I'd be sent to my room to pray about something I'd done wrong. When I'd been supposed to be asking the Lord for forgiveness and guidance I'd wondered if this had all been some kind of cruel mistake. Maybe I'd had loving parents out there somewhere who that were frantic with my loss even then, in that very moment. Instead I had been with these dour people who seemed to treat me like a chore – an obligation.

I'd known this was different from other families because I'd seen how other people treated their kids. They'd had their school pictures on the wall and in their wallets and purses. We would stand outside church talking, or my parents would and I'd have been still and silent as a child was expected to be by my parents, and the other parents would rest a hand on their children's shoulder, or absently stroke their hair. I'd only been touched with the switch and sometimes on the shoulder to indicate I was to bend back over, that the switch hadn't finished administering to my sin.

“Colin? Where'd you go?” Nick had been saying, his hand waving in front of my eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” I'd mumbled and had shaken myself back into the moment.

“No worries. So do you think you want to talk to this kid, maybe work things out some? Or you want to let it go?”

I hadn't had an answer then, and I still didn't have one. The hot water streamed down and the room filled with steam. I bowed under the droplets as they cascaded from the shower head and massaged my scalp. The rhythm was comforting and I moved just enough to feel the water course down my neck and back and enjoyed the feeling of it making its way to my feet. Tilting back I let the water drum on my throat and wondered what Mike would do in my situation.

I wasn't as worried about how to handle this stalker thing as I had been yesterday. I had started to relax about it when Matt assured me there was no physical danger. I hadn't been convinced there was any before, but it was nice to have Matt's conviction ruling it out completely. After talking with Mike last night, I finally felt like other things weren't such a big deal. Until he'd said he wanted to be my dad – said it like he felt it was something he had to earn, something he aspired to – it felt like something inside me that had been broken or...unplugged or damaged just came alive.

I didn't know how to handle it, how to tell him how I suddenly felt. It was overwhelming – the kind of joyful suffusion I was told I should feel if I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. Instead, as it turns out, what I really needed – what was missing – was someone who actually loved me. How come I was with my adopted parents for so many years and they couldn't love me, but Mike could after just a few months? How come I felt like I belonged here when he gave me a hug?

When he did that the first time, when I was late coming home, I was stunned. I had been afraid I would be in trouble for being late. But the experience talking with Nick wasn't something I'd felt I could cut short, it had been too valuable. I think, in the back of my mind, I knew Mike wasn't like my parents and I wouldn't have a date with a switch. But when he hugged me I knew – I knew! – this is how kids were supposed to feel when they come home. This is what a home actually felt like - to be wanted, to belong.

It just bowled me over. I'd been trying to think of a way to bring it up, a way to get him to show that kind of attention to me again. After we'd talked last night, after he let me know how he wanted to be my dad...I felt good going to him for a hug. I did it before I went to bed, and not just a little hug either. I put my cheek flat on his chest and took in the warmth, the smell of his aftershave and the feel of his arms that told me...well, the hug told me exactly what I'd been missing.

As a result, I felt energized. I felt like I could change my life, control and shape my course. I felt free. I toweled off and took my time getting dressed. With my new-found confidence I decided I did want to meet this stalker. He knew about my fear – now departed – but I wanted to know him, now. I would do my best to impress and see if I could make a friend or if I felt like I could just walk away. Who knows, maybe this guy is a troll? Maybe he's another guy like Peter who wants to control things.

Then again, maybe not. Maybe he just thought this was a romantic way to meet me. Or maybe he just didn't think it through. I glanced up into the mirror and gave myself a wry grin. I could 'maybe' this thing all day, and in the end I'd still be okay no matter what. I pulled on a nice pair of jeans, new ones Mike had gotten for me, and a powder-blue long-sleeved tee shirt. There was a lighting bolt in yellow over my heart that Mike said was for a sports team; I didn't have the heart to tell him I was sports illiterate. He just looked so happy that I liked it – and I wanted to like his team, for him.

I took some extra time with my hair and headed out to get a bowl of cereal. That thought died fast, though, as my nose took in the smell of eggs and sausage cooking. I padded into the kitchen, my shoes left downstairs somewhere – I think – and found Mike cooking away.

“Morning, dad,” I said as I gave him a hug from the side. He lifted his arm and pulled me in, putting his head down on the top of mine.

“Morning, Col. Sleep well?”

“Amazingly,” I replied. “That smells good.”

“It's almost ready. Why don't you grab some silverware and I'll get you a plate.”

I shuffled over and collected a fork and knife from the drawer and then headed back to get my plate from Mike. He'd just filled it and as he started to hand it to me he pulled his hand back – with my plate in it – and looked me up and down.

“Hey! Looking good, Colin! That shirt fits you very well, you look like a true fan!” he said with a genuine grin.

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. I knew I was probably blushing from the compliment, but I was enjoying how it felt too much to care.

“Hmm, no hoodie?”

“Dad, my food?” I prompted while holding my hand out. He looked at his hand and twitched, as if in surprise. He handed the plate to me sheepishly.

“And no, no hoodie today,” I replied as I sat down and dug into the hot food. He joined me moments later with his cup of coffee and his own plate. Jasper sat next to me and whined, his tail swishing across the floor.

“It feels like this hoodie decision is significant, somehow.”

“I don't know about that,” I replied. I broke off a bite of sausage and surreptitiously fed it to Jasper.

“I just can't recall seeing you outside the house without it, is all,” he said before tearing into his food.

We ate in silence and I debated telling him I planned to meet this stalker that he hadn't been told about, but I decided that I could do this myself. At least I could knowing if it all blew up in my face I could come home and get a hug and feel better. Actually, I reflected, it didn't really matter how this went - I wanted that hug when I came home anyway.

After rinsing the plate I grabbed my bag and gave Mike – my dad – another hug before heading to the door.

“Colin?” he said. I turned back to him with my hand on the doorknob. He was framed in the doorway, coffee cup held before him.

“Yeah, dad?”

“How would you feel about Ian and Robby moving in with us?”

“It would be cool,” I said after a moments thought. “As long as Ian understands I need my dad time.”

“I...yeah, that won't be a problem.”

“Okay,” I replied, and I knew I was blushing again. “See you later, dad. Love you.”

“Love you too, Colin,” he called out as the door closed behind me.

I walked down the sidewalk and began to hum to myself. My humming turned into singing under my breath. I'm going back to the ones that I know, with whom I can be what I want to be. Just one week for the feeling to go - and with you there to help me then it probably will.

I grinned as I realized the song was from a Jethro Tull album that Mike had. The synergy that Nick had been so adamant about seemed to have affected me, at least subconsciously, since I couldn't shake the tune. Nick would probably tell me it was all due to his friend, Charlie, I thought as a smile crossed my lips.

Arriving at school I began searching for Matt and Nick, but was unable to find them in the throng of people. I tried texting each of them to no avail. Deciding it could wait I headed inside and put things away in my locker before going to wait in my homeroom. My homeroom was in the cafeteria and I picked a table and opened up the book dad had loaned me. I was a little skeptical at first, not being a big reader, but he did a pretty good job at finding something I'd read. The book was called 'Skeleton Crew' by Stephen King, a book of short stories, so I got a whole story done every few days just reading a little at a time. I did find that I was enjoying reading more – I sensed a plot.

“Morning,” said someone out of my field of view, which was blocked entirely by the book. I glanced up to see the guy that had found my phone, Wyatt.

“Hey, Wyatt. How are you?” I asked, closing my book.

“I'm okay, I guess,” he replied. “Uh, how are you?”

“I'm great, actually.”

“Oh, good. That's good.” Wyatt looked down into his lap and then glanced back at me. When his eyes met mine he flashed a thin-lipped smile and cleared his throat. “You...ah,” he glanced down and I'm sure I heard him mutter 'oh boy' before he continued, “you look nice.”

“Thanks!” I said with a smile. “This shirt is new - I love the color.”

“So, do you have plans this weekend?” he asked.

“I might, actually,” I said. “I can't be sure but my dad asked what I thought about his boyfriend moving in. I don't know if that's going to be right away or not, plus Ian – that's my dad's boyfriend – he has a boy staying with him for a while, so maybe it's more complicated than I know.”

“Oh. Moving is a lot of work. Uh, so your...dad. Uh, I might have seen him,” Wyatt said and then closed his eyes and appeared to be muttering to himself.

“Really? Where?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. First of all, how would he know he was my dad without me being around? He couldn't have just spotted Mike at the grocery store and figured he was my dad.

“I, uh - oh man,” he sucked in a breath and looked like his legs tensed to stand. He exhaled and finally managed to say, “I was over at Wave World a few weekends ago. I saw you there with a couple guys but, you know...we didn't really know each other. I figured one was your dad...you know.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Yeah, we went there, it was the first time Ian stayed for the weekend since I'd moved in.”

“Since you...” Wyatt looked down into his lap again and I leaned a bit, curious to see what he was looking at. His head came back up and he seemed startled that I had leaned in. He blurted, “Since you moved in?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I'm a foster child. Mike, my dad, he's going to adopt me.”

“Oh. Oh, that's...that's got to be a relief. Knowing, I mean.” Wyatt's tongue darted out and wet his lips. He glanced down at his lap again and I stretched – out of pure nosiness now – and when his head came back up he jumped at finding me even closer. His jump dislodged his lap and a text book fell loudly to the floor and a sheet of paper shot out and slid right under my chair. I bent over and snagged it as Wyatt leapt out of his chair. He was picking up the book and searching frantically around his chair for the paper in my hand.

I could have ended his anxiety by telling him I had it, but he'd notice in a moment anyway. Instead I took a moment to glance at it and my mouth, which was opening to tell him I had it, simply hung open. It was a flow chart with notes scrambled in the margins, lines crossed out and obvious erasures of notes made in pencil. It all began with saying good morning and went on a 'yes' or 'no' answer basis to reach the next level of conversation. A groan brought my attention back to Wyatt whose face wore a pained expressing as he saw me looking at his conversational flow chart.

“Shit,” he said.

“Wyatt,” I said slowly as I handed him back the page. “What does this...?”

“I can explain. I can. I will. Not now...not...I need to think.” He stood up quickly and I watched him go. He stopped just inside the door and I gave him his space while my wheels turned. Could it be? Was Wyatt my stalker? If that was the case Matt was certainly right that I need not fear some kind of attack. Wyatt was clearly near panic and I thought it would be best to let him be. But while I did that, I decided to...check him out.

Hed had remained standing where he was. He seemed a little uptight; that had been my impression before as well. But now he seemed completely agitated and - but that's not what I wanted to think about right now. My assumption was that Wyatt was my stalker and he was making an attempt to talk to me, with his texts having been an unmitigated disaster. Leaving aside his awkward flow chart and the rigid way he was holding himself, as if he knew I was looking at him, I decided to focus on the physical.

He was standing at attention with his back to me. He wore khakis that were the tiniest bit snug and they sculpted his behind in a very, very good way. The material was close enough to his legs to make me think he had some muscle there, and a 'leg gap' that Nick would recognize and approve of. He wore a button up shirt that flowed nicely from his wide shoulders. His hair was cut short, but not severely, and his neck looked slender as it crested his collar and disappeared as it flared out into the coppery-brown hair on the back of his head. Idly I wondered what it would feel like to run my hand over the, apparently, smooth skin of his neck and into the warm, fuzzy hair.

The bell rang and his statue-like body became animated and left the room in a rush. I gathered my books and strolled from the room with my mind now wondering a whole lot more about Wyatt. I realized now why he tried the texting gambit and why it took him so long to try something else. I found I liked the way that made me feel, and more I realized I could easily hurt him with that and I'd need to be careful. All in all it was kind of sweet, an endearing awkwardness that made me think a bit of poor Emily. I decided that if Wyatt and I ever got past this, I would never tell him that.

The day moved steadily until lunch. The one class I had that Wyatt was in, he was quite abashed and I did my best to not make it worse. I greeted him with a smile and took my seat and without paying him special attention. It was hard, though, knowing he was sitting back there. It wasn't because I was head over heels now or anything, it was just so exciting to have someone be attracted to me. Add to that the way the tables have been turned because I hadn't known who he was, and now he most likely doesn't realize I've figured it out – figured him out.

At lunch I sat down with Nick and Matt who both asked why I hadn't texted them back that morning. I pulled out my phone while protesting that they hadn't only to find responses from both of them. Apparently I'd inadvertently muted my phone and missed them.

“Sorry. But hey, I figured out who the stalker is,” I told them.

“You did?” Matt asked. Nick glanced at Matt and then raised an eyebrow at me.

“Wyatt,” I replied, perhaps a little smugly.

“What makes you say that?” Matt asked. Nick poked him in the ribs and Matt smiled and continued, “I mean, you're right, but what gave it away?”

I explained about the conversational flow chart from that morning and they both chuckled and covered their faces in embarrassment.

“So, what now?” Nick asked me.

“Well...I kind of want to talk to him. Matt, can you...help out?” I asked. Maybe he could calm Wyatt down enough so we could have a conversation or something. I wasn't sure, but my thinking was that Matt knew Wyatt better than I did so if anyone could do that...anyone that I knew...it'd be Matt.

“Yeah, I can talk to him,” Matt replied slowly. “But...he's going to want to know what you want to talk about. From what I know of Wyatt, how he is...”

“I don't think Wyatt is used to feeling stupid,” Nick said helpfully. Matt frowned at him and glared.

“He's a different kind of guy,” Matt said and pursed his lips before looking back at me. “He plans things, he tries to be in control of himself and to be ready. In his mind he is still trying to get to know you, but he's scared of looking foolish so he made that chart. So he'd know what to say. Of course, he didn't count on losing possession of the sheet.”

“I just want to talk to him. Maybe we can be friends,” I said. I hastily put some food in my mouth.

“Wait a second,” Nick said with suspicion lacing his tone. “Yesterday you were worried about being attacked by your stalker. Now it sounds like you want him to molest you.”

“I didn't say that!” I yelped.

“Nick has a point,” Matt said with a grin. “You seem to be open to the idea of a stalker now that you know who it is.”

“Okay,” I admitted sheepishly. “It doesn't hurt that he's kind of cute. Besides, he's not exactly threatening considering how circumspect he is. I don't have to worry about him being aggressive, I don't think...and he's trying hard even though he knows he screwed up with the phone.”

“Those are pretty good reasons right there,” Nick said while nodding exaggeratedly at Matt who grinned at him.

“Okay. I'll talk to him. Let's meet up after school. Deal?”

“Sounds good,” I replied.
 

The text from Matt had been welcome, and I was actually relieved it would happen this way. He'd simply said we'd hang as a group after school and to meet them out front. I hoped this would take some of the focus off of Wyatt and me and maybe allow this to develop more organically. Still, I couldn't lie to myself about being nervous. So it was with that mix of excitement and trepidation that I greeted the three of them.

“Hey, does your dad give you snacks or anything when you get home?” Matt asked me.

“He has stuff,” I replied. “He doesn't have, like, milk and cookies set out or anything.”

“Cool, I have the munchies. Your place?”

“Sure,” I replied as we turned to walk. No one was too close to anyone else and Wyatt was quiet, appearing very pensive as we strolled. Nick and Matt made up the bulk of the conversation and they asked me the odd question. The subject of the weekend came up and I volunteered that I could be helping Ian and Robby move in. This brought some new discussion about how awful it was to have a younger sibling – apparently Matt had three.

Finally we were home and dad was surprised to have a gaggle of kids in his house. Jasper was thrilled, I think he saw belly rubs for days in his future. Oddly, he managed to get Wyatt to pet him which I thought was a good sign. I'm told dogs are a good judge of character. I asked dad if I could serve snacks and he told me to go to it and headed back down to continue something he had going for work.

I kicked off my shoes and brought some snack stuff to the dining room table. After ten or fifteen minutes of small talk Wyatt asked if he could use the bathroom. I gave him directions and, no sooner had the door closed than Nick and Matt were on their feet excusing themselves.

“Hey, wait a second!” I protested.

“Nope,” Matt replied as he held up a hand. “We got him here. The rest is up to you guys.” So saying he began to back off while Nick frowned at him. Nick turned his attention to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“What my mischievous boyfriend isn't saying is this was all worked out. If Wyatt thought he could handle it he would ask to use the bathroom and allow us to leave you guys to talk. It's all good, Colin.” Nick smiled at me and said, “Good luck!” All the while Matt muttered at him about spoiling his fun.

After they left I decided to walk down to my room, whose door was almost across from the outer bathroom door. My thought was that Wyatt was in there planing what to say and how to say it, but I didn't want a script – I wanted to hear him. So I figured he planned to walk back to the table, so I's throw him off and catch him as he came out the door. I heard a cough and some mumbling from behind the door and then, at last, he emerged.

He looked startled to see me as he entered the hallway.

“Hey. Want to hang out in my room? Nick and Matt left,” I said as casually as I could.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, sure,” he stammered. I felt bad for him, really. I hoped he could get a hold on himself or this was going to get frustrating sooner or later.

“Come on in,” I invited and sat down on my bed.

“Oh...wow.” His eyes scanned my room and his mouth dropped open. “You're room is a wreck! How do you find anything?”

“What?” I said, laughing at his observation.

“Clothes on the floor, hanging off the bed post...how long has that glass been there?” he asked in horror.

“Wyatt, seriously?”

He turned to look at me and suddenly remembered he was a tongue tied guy in his crush's room. His cheeks flushed and he stammered an apology and I laughed again.

“It's cool. Come, sit,” I said and patted the bed. His eyes bulged and I moved to one end of the bed and held my hand out as permission to sit at the other end. Slowly he complied, sitting stiffly.

“So...you hate my room?” I asked with a grin.

“It's...” he glanced at me and his tongue popped out to wet his lips. “It's a real...mess.”

“My dad says it's like a Salvation Army donation site.” I smiled unrepentantly at him.

“Well,” he observed my room again and said, “I've seen cleaner drop off spots.”

I burst out laughing, clean and loud. Wyatt chuckled a little and seemed to relax just the slightest bit.

“So...any more trouble with your alphabet?” I asked.

“My alphabet?” Wyatt's forehead creased into a frown and then a was replaced by a look of horror. “Oh my God. I'm...I should go.”

“Wyatt, stop!” I said as I bolted to my feet as quickly as he'd done. “Just, stop.”

He stood still, obeying the request but unable to bring himself to look at me. The muscles in his forearms were twitching and the hand nearest me was trying to decide to open or close. Instead, it kind of looked like it was spasming.

“I'm sorry, I assumed Matt had told you I knew. Otherwise I wouldn't have joked – I thought it would be a tension breaker,” I said. “I admit I was kind of embarrassed but it's all good.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, his head turning down and towards me a fraction. “I didn't intend to find out about your personal...business. I just...”

“It's cool,” I replied. “In fact it's all resolved, and everything is great.”

“Oh? I'm...well I'm glad to hear that.” He shifted on his feet and risked glancing at me shyly. “He's going to adopt you, then? You're going to stay?”

“I am,” I said with a large smile. “But first I have to figure you out.”

“There isn't anything to figure out,” he said, his eyes drifting off my face and down to the floor. “I wasn't prepared – didn't think it though. When things didn't go the way I thought they would...I didn't know what to do. I'm not used to that.”

“Nobody is in control all the time,” I reassured him.

“I am,” he said. He brought his eyes up to mine he said, “I have packs of pens and pencils in my locker. I keep snacks in my locker that last a long time, just in case. I keep two bottles of water and a charged battery pack to recharge my cell in an emergency. My book bag is waterproof. It takes me...” he trailed off.

“So...I guess your room is really clean, too?”

He glanced around and grimaced. “It's not like yours.”

“Is someone being different from you a bad thing?”

“No, not at all. It's,” he hesitated, his tongue darting out again. “I mean, I guess I was looking for someone who was, maybe, a little like me. Someone who would understand. I thought you might.”

“How's that?” I asked and resumed my seat on the bed. He noted that and, slowly, took his spot again as well.

“I tested you. I asked you for a pen.”

“I remember,” I said. “How is that testing me?”

“You were prepared,” he said simply. “You could loan me a pen because you had more than one.”

“Oh, Wyatt,” I said while chuckling. He stiffened and I hastened to add, “I'm not laughing at you – it's the situation. My dad, well,” I smiled at Wyatt and continued, “You'd like my dad, he's pretty organized, too. He went overboard when he got me school supplies. I have enough pens to stab an English paper to death.”

“So...wow. Could I have been more wrong?” Wyatt said softly.

“Wyatt...look,” I said slowly as I tried to think this through and salvage things. “There had to have been a reason you wanted to find out more about me, right?”

He glanced nervously at me and gave me one quick nod. I guess he wasn't going to volunteer anything so I decided to gamble. What the heck, this conversation was going nowhere and if the only thing he liked about me was that I had enough pens...

“I was watching you, today. In homeroom, when you walked away. You know, after we talked.” I tilted my head and pursed my lips before pushing a breath out and admitting to him, “You're butt looks good in your khakis.”

A blush crept up from his neck and across his cheeks. The corners of his mouth tugged nervously as he glanced at me and then away. Slowly his eyes tracked back to me.

“Your dimples,” he said.

“Huh?”

“That's what I noticed. Your dimples. Whenever you smile, they make you beautiful,” he said softly, almost as if he didn't dare speak loudly or the sudden moment we'd stumbled on would shatter.

“Wyatt...thanks. No one's ever called me beautiful before.”

He glanced down and gathered his courage again as my own heart raced and my spirits soared as this delicate slice of time played out.

“I'm sorry I didn't just come talk to you. I know if I don't plan things...I know I can be awkward. I've been waiting for someone to show up at school that I could see myself with. I guess I made excuses - this guy wasn't good enough and this one wasn't smart enough. I always thought they were stupid, running around with their hormones controlling them...”

“That's kind of the stage we're in, I'm told,” I replied with a smile and a tilt of my head.

“Yeah. I guess I was just scared. I mean,” he gathered himself again and locked his eyes with mine. “There have been some good looking guys at school, but you're the only one I thought was beautiful. Enough to risk coming out, enough to try to get to know you.”

“That's just about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, Wyatt.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “I'm just, kind of, afraid.”

“That's okay. Yesterday I was afraid,” I said and allowed my hand to move closer to him. He looked down at my hand and slowly skimmed across the top of the sheet, his fingertips tentatively reaching for me. I stretched a little farther, wiggling across the mattress and he did as well. We weren't close, just close enough to touch fingertips. Slowly our hands came up and we held them together, palm to palm. Then, just a little closer, we held hands with our fingers entwined. I felt the smile on my face and I glanced up at Wyatt who was staring at our hands. The moment was perfect.

“Ow! God dammit, Colin! Come get your shoes!”

The consulting room wasn't as fancy as I pictured for a court house. The tables were of the plastic folding variety so the room could be used for multiple things and could be rearranged to accommodate different functions. Dad and I were there with our lawyer, Mr. O'Shea. Our lawyer had a manila folder of documents with some other forms laid on top of them. He was a tall man who smiled frequently and had a gentle sense of humor.

“Okay.” Mr. O'Shea set the documents in front of us and began to go through the marked tabs where my dad would sign. Each touch of pen to paper brought us one step closer to being family, officially. The signing seemed to go one forever and dad shook his hand a few times and complained of cramps. With the last document signed the lawyer turned them face down and placed a hand over the manila envelope.

“When a child is adopted we are required, by law, to show consent or a reason why consent was unobtainable from the birth parents. Because of that research we had to obtain a copy of the death certificate of Colin's birth mother as well as the disruption of adoption papers from Mr. and Mrs. McIlduff. In an unusual turn of events we got a little more than we thought we would, more than was strictly necessary for our needs.

“This,” he patted the manila envelope, “has that information. I wasn't sure if you'd want to see it or not.”

“The name of my mom is in there?” I asked.

“Yes, Colin.”

I glanced at my dad who nodded at me. I reached for the envelope and the lawyer handed it to me. Opening it I found a sheaf of papers that made little sense to me. Then I found the certificate of death, and the name was Priscilla McIlduff. I frowned wondering for a moment what this could mean. I showed the document to my dad.

“Our due diligence shows that Ms. McIlduff died when Colin was only a year and a half old of pancreatic cancer. Her parents were her only surviving adult relation.” Mr. O'Shea shifted in his chair and leaned forward just a bit. “I'm sorry for your loss of your mother.”

I felt my eyes tear up and one tear ran down my cheek. I didn't bother to wipe it, I just looked from the lawyer to my dad.

“It's okay. She did what she could and now I understand why they didn't like me. Everything worked out, though. Right dad?”

“Got it in one, Colin,” he replied.

“Well, let's go make it official, then!” Mr. O'Shea said with a jovial smile and a gathering of legal papers.

Exiting the room we were in a long hallway that all the meeting and court rooms branched off from. A table had been set up and it had gift bags and balloons taped all over it in a wild riot of celebratory color. Gloria DeJesus was standing beside it speaking to Ian and I felt a sudden pang of sadness for him. Robby had been sent back to his mother just a few weeks prior and, as tough as Robby had been, none of us wanted him to go back to his mother.

When Robby's worker had come to pick him up that last day, Robby had wandered in the front yard and delayed as much as he could. It took forty minutes and several rounds of hugs before he climbed sullenly and tearfully into the car.

Nick and Matt were leaning against a railing by the table, both dressed nicely in slacks and button-up shirts. They were keeping Wyatt company and I smiled at that.

Wyatt was very tightly wound. He regularly cleaned my room and I felt guilty enough to help him. He was right, also, that his room was nothing like mine. His parents were really nice to me and I felt very comfortable with them, despite the very squared away nature of their house. When Wyatt was alone with me, he was not nearly so conservative and that was when I saw the real him, the passionate him. I don't know how things will go a year from now – or even six months – but I do know that I am thankful everyday for Wyatt. I'm thankful for his kisses and his hugs and everything that comes after that.

I'm also thankful that underneath that rigid exterior lies a heart worth loving and a soul that loves me back. His head turned, just then, and he saw me looking at him. A slight blush crept up from his collar and he broke from the group and walked toward me.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he reached for my tie.

“Perfect.”

He leaned in a bit, ostensibly to look closer at the knot of my tie. “I feel like I'm on top of the world when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked innocently. His eyes rose up from the knot and to my face, whereupon I tried to etch every sexual thought I had into my stare.

“That,” he said with a smile. He kissed me lightly, something he rarely did in public, and my face registered shock and then quite a lot of happiness. “There, that's the other look I love. That one tells me you love me. What does the other one mean?” he said, a teasing note to his voice. I leaned in and whispered what the first one meant in his ear and he pulled back with his eyes wide.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I'm ready.”

We stared at each other, the conversation we couldn't voice happening in glances and meaningful looks. The bailiff called the petitioners in and I put my hand out for Wyatt. He smiled nervously, always somewhat uncomfortable with public displays, but he took my hand and we walked into the court room together.

We joined the others in the courtroom, all sitting on benches together as we waited for the judge. Matt and Nick sat beside one while Dad sat with Ian. Ian smiled at us and moved over to let us in. The judge entered from the back of the room and a voice rang out, “All rise!”

“Sit, sit!” the judge waved his hands and took a seat behind his desk as a group of folders was handed to him. He glanced through each and signed with a flourish, making a small stack and then he looked out on us, who were all watching him.

“As a judge I don't get to do very many things that are fun. But today I get to perform the best part of my job which is seeing kids from foster care be adopted into their forever homes. Could I have all the kids up to the table, here?” he said indicating a table far in front of his bench. I stood and joined four other kids of varying ages at the table and took a seat at the judges insistence.

“Foster parents play a critical role in our society, stepping in and providing a safe place for children – opening their homes, their arms and their hearts. What we see today is the culmination of that love, of that patience and that persistence. Many children in foster care feel they are at a disadvantage in life, that other children will succeed where they will fail. Many of you may feel it unfair that it took so long to get here. But finding the love of a parent and the happiness and security of a home gives you the advantage all children should have - and you'd be surprised at the successful people that have been in the foster care system.

“People like John Lennon, Cher, James Dean and Steve Jobs. Not everyone from foster care goes on to be famous, of course. Some of us go to law school and become family court judges,” he said with a smile as he looked down on each of the kids and made eye contact with each of them briefly. He asked if they'd be changing their names and what they would be. When he came to me he asked the same thing, if I'd change my name.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I'm Colin Tulley now. That's my dad, Mike Tulley. My friends came here to share this with me – Nick, Matt and my boyfriend Wyatt. My dad's fiancee Ian...” I quietly wished that Robby could have been here, too, as much as he bugged me.

“Tulley, eh? Like Like Jethro Tull?”

“You know Tull?” Nick said a tad too loudly for the quiet room and the crowd chuckled at him.

“'Do I know Tull?, he asks?” The Judge grinned as he looked down at me. “I think it's safe to say, Colin Tulley, that you're 'skating away on the thin ice of a new day'. Wouldn't you?”