Unwholesome Things - Part 16

Beta by Rowan. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Oren found Norman in his mother’s study, entering information into the computer.

There was a part of Oren that wanted to deliver the news in the most shocking way possible. It was, after all, the kind of thing he only got to do once. The rest of him, however, realized that tact would be required if he wanted Norman to be on his side.

Oren cleared his throat. He winced at how unnecessarily formal that sounded.

“Yes, sir?” Norman stopped working to look at him. He didn’t get to his feet.

“I…” This was harder than he’d thought.

Norman frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” Oren took a deep breath. When that didn’t help he let it out again. “There’s something important I have to tell you.”

The blend of skepticism and worry on Norman’s face was entirely inappropriate.

He concealed it, but too late to prevent the shift in Oren’s mood.

“I’m listening, sir,” Norman said.

Oren folded his arms over his chest. “Rezo and I are together.”

Norman made no outward sign of surprise.

Oddly, he didn’t appear to be making an inward one either.

“That’s very good, sir.”

Maybe Oren hadn’t been clear enough. “I mean, really together. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Congratulations. Mr. Diaz is a fine gentleman.”

It took Oren a moment to understand what Norman meant by that, although it probably shouldn’t have since the words were straightforward.

“You approve?”

“It isn’t my place to question your relationships.” Norman made a slight nod that would have been a shrug on anyone else. “But you do appear to be happier since the beginning of your association with him.”

Oren realized he was smiling, and that, despite his best efforts, he wasn’t able to stop.

Oren turned his head away before he spoke. “Now if only my parents felt that way.”

“It is possible they will.” Norman gave him another nod. “I will speak to your mother after Sunday’s party.”

“Party?” Oren asked absently.

“Your mother will be hosting a luncheon and costume party here. It’s for her literary club and is scheduled from noon until four.”

Oren grimaced. “I won’t be home.”

“Your participation, as well as Rezo’s, would make a distinctly positive impression on your mother.”

“And it might disturb Rezo to the point where her opinion no longer matters.” Oren paused to chew on his lip. “What’s the theme?”

“Wuthering Heights.”

“No. Absolutely—” Oren shook his head. “No. I had to read that book in school, and it was more like a horror novel with all the dog murdering, child abuse, and black magic.”

“I suspect your mother will not be including those activities at the party.”

Oren rolled his eyes. “She’d probably want him to play Heathcliff.”

“He would make a striking tragic hero.”

“That wouldn’t fit him at all. And besides, he wouldn’t be madly in love with Catherine.”

“Perhaps you could demonstrate a more amicable relationship between Linton and Heathcliff.”

“Maybe too amicable.” Oren paused to smirk, but then his brow creased. “Who’s Linton?”

“Heathcliff’s rival and the eventual winner of the heroine’s hand in marriage.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“The other male options are unlikely to hold more appeal for you.”

“Well, I’m not going so it doesn’t matter.”

“Your presence is not required.” Norman paused to flex his fingers. “On Saturday, however, your mother requests that you let the caterers in at noon to make preparations.”

“I can’t,” Oren said.

“I am merely relaying her message. You may contact her if her request causes difficulty for you.”

“I have plans,” Oren added.

Norman resumed typing.

“Just tell her I can’t do it.” Oren moved to leave. “She’ll have to pay you overtime.”

“I will not be available on Saturday.”

Oren stopped by the door. “Why not?”

“In addition to being my day off,” Norman paused as if that point in particular deserved emphasis, “my aunt will be visiting. I need to pick her up at the airport on Saturday.”

Oren thought for a moment. “What time?”

“Her flight arrives at ten a.m.”

“Afterwards surely—”

“I will be spending the day with her.”

“But you don’t understand.” Oren took a breath to lessen the whine that had crept into his voice. He needed to sound less like a child that could be swayed, and more like a man confident of his decisions. “I’m having my first date with Rezo.”

Norman’s eyebrow drifted upward.

“Our first real date, and he’s made all these plans because he wants to make up for how long it took us to get to this point. He’s put effort into it. And he’s probably already paid for it, and I don’t want him to lose any money because he doesn’t have a lot.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but it conveyed his meaning better than simple facts could.

“That would be most unfortunate, sir. I do hope you will be able to work out some arrangement with your mother.”

This was not the way it was supposed to work. Oren uncrossed his arms, and his hands jerked in frustration as he spoke.

“But she’s completely unreasonable.”

Norman’s expression was far from encouraging.

Oren didn’t care, he refused to give up.

Twenty minutes later, Oren called his mother.

She didn’t answer which was somewhat anticlimactic. He set the phone down on his desk.

It rang as soon as he let go of it.

“Enjoying your new phone?” his mother said in lieu of a greeting.

“Yeah, it’s great, but—”

“I wanted to get you the aquamarine one, but your father insisted on silver.”

Oren paused. “Aquamarine?”

“It was vivid—absolutely mesmerizing. But he thought it would be unprofessional.”

“Oh, well.” It was hard to agree with his father, and yet—

“Not that there’s anything wrong with being professional, but someone as withdrawn and quiet as you are would be better off with something to inspire you to be less serious.”

Was he serious? “I don’t know if having a—colorful—phone would make me less withdrawn.”

“Oh, but it would! People would see you pull it from your pocket, and the shock of color would catch their eye...”

“Um, I don’t—Mom, it’s not like…” he struggled to come up with a comparison, “fishing. Or something. You can’t just tack shiny lures all over me and expect me to be a social butterfly.”

“Don’t be silly, if I wanted you to be a social butterfly I’d cover you in flowers,” she said as if she was particularly witty.

“Butterflies don’t wear flowers.”

“That’s true.” Her tone became thoughtful. “Although, perhaps if we made you wings, those would help you get in touch with your inner butterfly.”

“What? No—” He was interrupted by her laughter.

“I’m joking. I would never do that to you.”

He wasn’t convinced.

“What I meant was that the phone would make the perfect icebreaker. The color would give you something to talk about, especially if you used one of the opening phrases from that book on making friends I gave you. You have been practicing those, haven’t you?”

“Um, that’s not—I actually called you for a reason.”

“Well, that’s ok. We can practice together. Your phone has a video chat feature.”

“Mom, you’re not listening. I want to talk to you about Saturday.”

“Did Norman give you my instructions? If you have any questions—”

“I can’t do it. I have plans on Saturday.”

“You do? That’s wonderful!” She said, and Oren had to hold the phone away from his ear and her enthusiasm. “What are they? And with whom?”

That was trickier to answer. “With, um, my friend, Rezo—”

“The one I met. He was delightful.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was more restrained. “Although we still owe him a dinner.”

“Maybe, but this Saturday he wants me to go with him to a museum.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t remember exactly, just that it’s a house. But because of our plans I won’t be able to let the caterers in.”

“You should invite him to the party instead. He would look dashing in a suit.”

He would, but that wasn’t the point. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Norman isn’t available, and there is no one else I trust with the security of our home.”

“Mom—”

“The museum will be there next Saturday.”

“You didn’t even ask me if I could do it. I’m an adult, and—”

“I have to get back to my preparations.”

“But—”

“Goodbye, honey, have a spectacular day!” She disconnected the call.

Oren fought the urge to throw his phone into the wall—lest it be replaced with something aquamarine.

He sat down on his bed. There had to be a better solution.

He could postpone the date just long enough to let the caterers in. It was the same catering company they’d used for years. His mother was being paranoid to think they needed supervision.

He set his phone down on the nightstand and lay flat on his back.

But there was a chance that Rezo would agree with her. He didn’t want to have to lie to him if Rezo asked about it.

He could disable the alarm and locks before he left, and then tape a note to the door. It was only two hours.

But even though the odds of the house being robbed in such a short period of time were astronomically small, it still felt wrong.

He wouldn’t have this problem if only he could disarm the system remotely the way his parents did from one of their computers or phones—

Oren closed his eyes. Sometimes he was so slow.

He left the bed in one swift motion, heading for his door as soon as his feet touched the carpet.

He didn’t know how his parents accomplished it, but he was confident he could figure it out.

He started his search in his parents’ bedroom, in the drawer where they kept important manuals and booklets. It took him less than a minute to find the one for the security system. Printed on the front was the website for remote access with the username and password written neatly underneath.

He downloaded the required app, logged in, and tested it by arming and disarming the alarm.

It was impossible to believe that doing something so easy could be wrong. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was more akin to planning ahead. For once, he was prepared. Responsible. Rezo would have been proud—if this had been the sort of thing he could have told him about.

#

Saturday started off better than most days. Oren woke up with enough time to shower and get ready. He’d even remembered to charge his phone the night before. Apparently all he needed was something to look forward to and he was capable of accomplishing all sorts of things. Rezo was an excellent influence on him.

Their interactions over the last few days had been limited to texts where Rezo updated him on school progress and Oren wished him luck.

He’d missed him.

So it was understandable that Oren was out his front door the moment he heard the chirp of Rezo’s car in his driveway.

“Hi,” Rezo said as Oren opened the passenger door.

“Hi.” When Oren had pictured this moment he’d imagined he’d say more, that he’d embarrass himself babbling about how happy he was to see him. But now that he was here, all he could do was grin.

But at least Rezo was grinning just as much as he was.

Oren climbed into the seat.

Rezo kissed him, but it was brief, and afterward he glanced at the windows of the house as if to make sure no one had been looking out of them.

Oren buried his flicker of frustration. “Norman knows.”

“You told him?” Rezo looked surprised—and possibly a little impressed.

“That’s usually how people find out.”

“Has he told your parents?”

Oren shook his head. “Not yet. My mother’s hosting a party on Sunday, and it’s taking up all her attention. He’ll do it the next day.”

“Monday.” Rezo nodded thoughtfully as he put the car into gear. “That sounds like a good day for it.”

Oren paused. “You mean for my mom to find out, or…?”

“And mine.” Rezo’s voice was confident, but his knuckles had constricted around the steering wheel as if he were attempting to extinguish his apprehension through sheer physical force.

He drove in silence for several long moments without any indication of relaxing. He seemed to be developing a talent for making the noble, direct way of doing things look distinctly unappealing.

“You don’t have to tell them,” Oren said.

Somehow, Rezo managed to tense even more. “I already told you I would.”

Changing tack, Oren leaned back in his seat and stretched one arm along the side of the window. He waited until Rezo noticed the movement and then slowly ran his eyes down Rezo’s body.

“You could always just invite me over—I still haven’t seen your house by the way—and then you could take me up to your room, and—”

A furrow formed on Rezo’s brow. “Oren—”

“—we could arrange to be discovered while we’re—”

“Stop.”

Oren paused, his expression neutral. “Is it really that important to you that we do it your way?”

“It is.”

“Alright.” Oren shrugged. “In that case, you can be in charge of which compromising activity we get caught doing. Although I do think it would be hot if—”

Rezo clamped a hand over Oren’s mouth. It smelled faintly like steering wheel leather.

“I’m telling them in person.” Rezo gave him a stern look.

Oren did not lick his hand, but despite the amount of willpower that entailed, he doubted he would get any credit for that.

Rezo seemed to expect a response.

After a moment, Oren gave him a stiff nod.

Rezo released him and returned his attention to the road. His posture, however, was notably more relaxed than it had been a few moments before.

Oren turned to look out the window, and his smile was reflected in the glass.

“After I tell them,” Rezo said, “and once things have settled down, I’ll bring you to my house.”

Oren’s smile turned sly. “To—”

“To have dinner with my parents.”

That didn’t sound like nearly as much fun, but that Rezo wanted him to go at all was something.

The car radio still wasn’t working, and for a while the varied (and somewhat alarming) sounds of the engine were the only things that could be heard.

“I hope it goes well,” Oren said, his voice quiet. “Your talk, that is.”

Rezo just smiled.

#

If it hadn’t been for the signs prominently marking the Idwal-Chroma House as a “Site of Historic Interest” Oren would have thought it was just another two-story farmhouse with the standard symmetrical windows and white paint.

Rezo chose a parking spot in the mostly empty gravel lot. The sky was slightly overcast, and for once it wasn’t too hot, although it was still a relief to exit the unairconditioned car.

“We pay in the office,” Rezo said, gesturing at what looked like a shed with a porch nailed onto the front of it. He retrieved a small, insulated bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before he locked the car.

As they approached the office, Oren was able to make out a man in his mid-twenties sitting behind the desk. It was hard to be certain from this distance, but he seemed attractive.

Oren could already feel his own awkwardness magnifying. It was so much easier to talk to people when they were less good-looking, or much older, or just less something.

Oren realized Rezo was studying him, and he straightened his shoulders, preparing to pretend he hadn’t just been in near panic at the thought of spending thirty seconds talking to a museum employee.

Rezo glanced inside the window and then back at Oren. “Would you like to wait here while I go inside?”

“Um...” Oren’s hesitation was from disbelief rather than a more honorable reason such as wanting to reject the offer and therefore preserve his dignity. “Ok.”

He watched, stunned, as Rezo strode past him into the office. It was only after Rezo was inside that Oren realized he hadn’t given him any money.

As Rezo completed the exchange with the employee, Oren determined that of the two, Rezo was significantly more appealing. It occurred to Oren that had they met under normal circumstances, he never would have had the courage to even talk to him.

“I could have paid my part,” Oren said when Rezo returned.

“It was my idea.” Rezo shrugged. “You can pay when you suggest something.”

“That’s fair.” Oren hesitated. “I guess.”

“Ready to go inside?”

Oren nodded, and they began to walk toward the main house.

“So why didn’t you make me go in with you?” Oren asked.

“Should I have made you go in?” Rezo sounded genuinely curious, although not so much about the ethics of his actions as about what Oren would say.

“Don’t you always expect me to face my fears? That’s what going to the park and socializing and all that is, isn’t it?”

“In part.” Rezo took a few steps before he spoke again. “But it’s our first date. I thought I’d try to put you at ease.”

Oren rolled his eyes. “So after this I can expect to be dragged into places against my will?”

“Well, if you think I’m being inconsistent...” Rezo stopped walking, and Oren’s stomach flip-flopped. “I can drag you into the office now.”

“Actually, I think you should consistently let me stay outside.” Oren stuffed his hands into his pockets.

One side of Rezo’s mouth curved upward before it was forced back down. He began to approach Oren, undoubtedly to do something nefarious.

Oren opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped when Rezo only grabbed one of his wrists and tugged it free from his pocket.

“Come on.” Rezo laced his fingers through Oren’s. “Let’s go inside.”

Oren’s laugh was an odd mix of relief and nerves. He allowed himself to be pulled along toward the house.

“What, too many witnesses out here for you?” Oren teased as they reached the door.

“Something like that.”

“Wait—” Oren faltered as he was ushered inside. “You’re joking, right?”

The moment the door closed behind them, Rezo seized him, and Oren found himself pressed against his warm, hard body.

Rezo's lips were slightly rough and tasted like the bottled green tea from the car, and Oren had no idea what he’d done to provoke this, but he resolved to figure it out and repeat it every second for the rest of his life.

“We need to get back to the tour,” Rezo said, pulling back just enough to speak.

Oren held onto his forearms to stop him from getting too far away. “You don’t actually want to stop, do you?”

Rezo made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “What I want to do with you and what I should do with you are never the same.” He disentangled himself and took a step back, almost as if he needed distance to control himself.

There was a thrill in knowing that Oren was the cause of Rezo’s lapse in self-control. It made it easier to banish his disappointment as he straightened his clothes. He didn’t understand exactly why it was so important to Rezo to take it slow, but that was alright. He could wait.

“So where do we go first?” Oren asked, and he was pleased to see relief flicker over Rezo’s face.

“Actually.” Rezo paused to look around the room as if only noticing it was there for the first time. “I believe the tour starts here.”