Chapter 1: Dropped

Arizona. Ari-fri-kin-zona. Do you know how hot it is in Arizona? In the summer? Well, if you don't, it's pretty damn hot, and that's on a good day. And I had to live there. Not just for a summer, either. No. I was moving there. I think we've properly established that I wasn't thrilled with the idea.

Why? Well, the why I was so disgruntled had little to do with the heat and more to do with everything else. Starting with my dad. Maybe I should explain. See, my father (and I use the term loosely) lived there. It wasn't that I didn't like him. No. How could you possibly dislike someone you've never met before? And I mean never.

I grew up with my mom, in Nevada. I think I asked about my father less than twice the whole time I was growing up. When I did, the only thing my mother ever said was that he was a good person, but he couldn't be with us. She never said why, and if I asked, she said that he just couldn't. And it was left at that.

But that was okay, because Mom and me, we were really happy. She wasn't one of those moms who questioned every little thing I did. Actually, she didn't have to because I told her everything. Ours was one of those open relationships that would frighten any normal sixteen-year-old. Whenever my friends realized that I had such an open, honest relationship with my mother, they'd either think it was the coolest thing in the world, or they'd think that I had some sort of birth defect that induced a mama's-boy syndrome.

But I didn't care what they thought because my mother was my best friend in the whole world. Maybe we got along so well because she had me when she was really young. Sixteen, in fact. I couldn't really imagine that, because at sixteen, I still had no idea how to change a diaper. Not that there were many diapers around to change. It was just Mom and me. And, occasionally my Grandma Alice, she was pretty cool too.

So how did I end up leaving my happy life in Nevada behind, including everyone in the world I'd ever loved, for a hot, unappealing desert and a father I'd never even met before? Well, when I was fourteen, Mom was diagnosed with cancer. I think that was the hardest thing I'd ever had to hear before. No, scratch that. The hardest was when the doctors said that it was too late to do anything about it. I was in the room when they told her.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to be sitting next to someone when they're told they're going to die? If you have, you know that the rush of emotions you feel in that moment are difficult to explain. But I felt a lot of fear. Fear for my mom. Fear for me.

It was my mom.

I won't spend hours telling you how much we just cried together while Grandma Alice stood by, trying to pick up the pieces of our broken family. But I will tell you, that my mom became a real trooper. She didn't give any of us time to be sad. She spent as much time with Grandma Alice and me as she could. And she refused to let me drift away from the small circle of friends I had had since I was still crawling

But, I did spend more time with Mom than I normally would have. And it wasn't enough time, not if you ask me. But it was time well spent. I think that Mom and I got to know each other better over the following two years than we had my whole life. And that's saying a lot.

When I was fifteen, I finally told her that I was gay. I think I had known for sure since about thirteen when all of my friends were discovering the joys of masturbation and I was discovering the joys of watching my friends masturbate. It wasn't that hard to figure out I wasn't into girls when Tiffany Toren showed me her boobs on a dare and I didn't want anything to do with them, but when Jason Cross asked if I wanted to masturbate with him, and I saw his erect cock, I almost came all over myself.

Oh yeah. I had to be gay.

And it scared the crap out of me. I heard all the rumors: gays were perverts, faggots should be castrated and left to die. I'd heard all the good ones. I tried not to be gay. I tried to think about girls. I even tried to kiss one once. Nothing. I liked boys, not girls, and sooner or later I realized that nothing was going to change that.

But Mom was really great about it. She was surprised. But she was okay. And I was grateful for that. I felt bad enough for telling her, knowing that she was going to die, but I had never kept secrets from her before. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself knowing that I had kept something so huge about myself from her. And, I'll never regret the decision of telling her.

But my mom was the only one I told. Well, Mom and Grandma Alice. I never exactly told Grandma Alice, but she found out somehow. It would have been easier to make a phone call to God than keep a secret from that woman. But Grandma was okay too. Both Mom and Grandma Alice even did a whole bunch of research on homosexuality and ultimately made me feel better about myself. They said that it was probably genetic, and I had no control over it anyway so I should stop trying to change who I was and start being myself, whoever that was. By the time my mom died, I had no idea who I was anymore.

The last year was the hardest, I think. We thought we would have more time than that, but Mom just got worse. She died in the middle of my sophomore year. I was sixteen.

The first few months were the hardest. There was the funeral, where so many people I didn't even know showed up to pay their respects. Mom had a lot of friends, and a lot of people knew her because she was a waitress at a local restaurant, so that didn't surprise me. And then I moved in with Grandma Alice. She made sure I had everything I wanted from the small apartment I shared with my mother, and she was really great about everything, but it still wasn't the same. And then the biggest bomb dropped on me.

At some point, my mother had begun to look for my father and didn't tell anyone about it. In her will, she specifically asked that if and when he was found, that I go live with him. You can imagine what a shock that was to me.

I was expecting Grandma Alice to at least put up some sort of fight. She was very protective when it came to her family. But then they did find my father, and the day he called the house, I was surprised to find Grandma Alice talking to him like they were old friends.

I didn't talk to my dad that first day. I refused. Grandma told me that he understood, but I didn't care whether or not he understood anything. He wanted to take me away. Grandma Alice was going to let him. I had lost everything I cared about and now a man I had never even met wanted to take me away from all of the familiarity I had left. I hated him.

It was ultimately decided that I would finish out the school year living with my grandma, and I would move to live with my father when summer came. Of course, I didn't decide any of this. And that annoyed me to no end. I mean, I was sixteen, not six. I thought that seemed old enough to warrant making my own decisions about major life changes. Especially since it was my life. But apparently, not everyone got the memo.

I was outnumbered. I didn't care about my so-called father, but let me tell you, Grandma Alice is a lady who gets what she wants. I couldn't even argue when she played the mom card. It all dwindled down to one thing: my mom wanted me in Arizona, with my father. So I was going.

My dad called every week, but I continued to refuse to talk to him. I was terrified of the phone, of the voice on the other end. As odd as it sounds I wasn't even curious. As far as I was concerned, I didn't have a father. I only had one parent, and she was gone.

Of course, my elusive attitude only lasted so long. About a month before it was time for me to leave everything I knew, I came home from school to find that my grandma wasn't home. I had just poured myself a glass of milk in the kitchen, (at least, when Grandma Alice asked later I would say I poured myself a glass) In reality I had drunk right from the carton, when the phone started ringing, and I picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" It came out muffled because I was wiping the milk mustache from my top lip.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. I thought I heard breathing, but I wasn't sure.

"Hello?" I said again, a little more forcefully this time. I tried to think of who it could be. My friends had just dropped me off, so it couldn't be them, at least any of my friends who actually called me at home. I wondered if it was a telemarketer. Grandma Alice didn't like telemarketers and made a point to tell them so, and seeing how my impressionable mind had been learning her habit of such a thing over the last six months, I was about to do just that, when the deep, masculine voice came through the other end of the phone.

"Rory?"

I think my entire body went rigid at the simple mention of my name through an unfamiliar voice.

"Rory?" he said again. I must have been silent for too long. "Rory, is that you?"

I swallowed, suddenly glad that he couldn't see how nervous I was, and I put on my bravest, and probably most arrogant, voice.

"Who is this?" I demanded. Not that I didn't already know the answer.

I heard a sigh on the other end of the line, and then, "Rory, this is your dad. Um... look, son..."

"I don't have a father," I cut him off. I'm not sure if that hurt him or not. It would serve him right if it did. I mean, what right did he have to call me son? At least it shut him up, if only for a moment. And then I heard a muffled voice in the background and realized that he was talking to someone else, but I couldn't hear what was being said.

"This is Eddie. Your father," he said when he came back. "Rory, um, my name is Eddie Soarda. You can call me Eddie, if you're more comfortable with that."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Soarda?" I asked coldly. Okay, I admit it: I didn't want to give this guy a cold chance in hell.

"I was actually calling to talk to you, Rory," he replied calmly. "I think we need to talk."

"Are you the guy I'm still moving in with in four weeks?" I impatiently retorted.

"Yeah, I just moved into a bigger place. You have your own room and everything. I didn't really know how you wanted things set up, but I got some new furniture, a bed, dresser, you can use whatever you want or we can have Alice ship down your own stuff..." God, he actually sounded excited. Perhaps he mistook my rudeness for eagerness. I'd have to correct that.

"Look, I have nothing to say to you," I interrupted. "I'll see you in four weeks because that's what I have to do, but don't think for a second that I like the idea."

I was just about to hang up when the voice on the other end of the phone came through so loud that it made me jump.

"Rory! Wait, damn it!" Well, it's about time I got a rise out of him. But, was that what I wanted? "Look, I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything, but please, just listen. Listen and then you can decide whether or not you want to hang up on me. Sound fair?"

"If I hang up now you can save your breath," I retorted. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say."

"Fine." He was beginning to sound exasperated. I made a note to myself that Eddie did not have enough patience to deal with a teenaged boy. I wondered how he'd do with one that was gay. "You don't have to be interested and you don't have to listen, but I'm going to say this anyway. This isn't easier for me either, Rory. I know you're angry and you have every right to be. But there are things you need to know before you decide you hate me, all right? I..." More muffled voices. Who the hell was this guy talking to anyway?

"Hello?" I said impatiently.

"I'm sorry," Eddie's voice came back, this time sounding tired, defeated. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to me, Rory. But we do need to talk. It's just that... some things should be said in person."

"Fine," I said, frowning. "So you can say them in a month. Now, if that's all..."

"No, Rory. That's not all." He sounded sad, desperate even. I was almost feeling sorry for him when I reminded myself that I didn't even like him, but then he had to go and say the next words. "I'm really sorry about your mom, Rory."

That did it. He had no right to talk about her.

"You're sorry?" I demanded. How can you be sorry? You didn't even know her!"

"Rory..."

"No!" I screamed. "I don't care. I don't care who you think you are! You didn't know my mom! And you're not my father! Do you hear me? You're not my father!"

"Rory Norick!" Grandma Alice's voice boomed in my ear. I spun around and saw her five-foot frame standing behind me, her short gray hair loose around her face and her small body dressed in a pink jump suit. "The whole neighborhood can hear you; now you will not speak to your father like that!"

I grimaced. I hated pissing off Grandma. There goes my weekend; I'd definitely be grounded now. I lowered my voice and spoke into the phone again.

"Look, I don't have anything to say to you. I just... I just don't."

I dropped the phone and the cord caught it before it could hit the ground, and then I walked away, leaving it for Grandma Alice to pick up if she wanted it. That was the first and last time I spoke to Eddie for another four weeks.

I guess it didn't entirely hit me that I was leaving home for good until the last minute. My friends all knew that I was going, but I played it off as no big deal. I really wasn't feeling the reality of the situation. I just felt numb.

I gave my new address to my closest friends and they promised to keep in touch, but I don't think I believed them. It wasn't that I thought they didn't care. I knew they did, but after my mom died I had been drifting away. I don't know. Maybe subconsciously I was preparing myself for the inevitable, knowing that I was leaving.

I don't think it really hit me how much I'd miss everyone until it was too late. There were three of us who grew up together: me, Jason and Nathan. We were best friends, at least up until the last few months when I slowly drifted away and Jason and Nathan became best friends. But I'd still miss them. I decided that I would keep in touch; at least writing a letter was in my control, even if nothing else was.

I was silent on the way to the airport. My grandmother tried to tell me that I'd really like Eddie, but I didn't care. To be honest, I wasn't even curious about Mr. Sperm Donor. I had decided a month before on the phone that I didn't like him, and I wasn't going to let him push me around.

Grandma Alice didn't cry when we said goodbye, but gave me the standard lecture on manners and said that she'd see me soon, not that I believed her. I was leaving, leaving for good. At least, that's how I thought of it.

I don't remember most of my flight, only that when we made our descent into the Phoenix terminal I couldn't see anything because of the layer of pollution clouding the skyline. And, when I got off the plane, I was basically on my own. I guess that's all I could expect with airport security these days. But, Grandma Alice told me that Eddie would be waiting for me at baggage claim. That wasn't exactly helpful, considering that I'd never seen him before and Grandma didn't have a picture. I wondered if he had any pictures of me.

I took my time getting to baggage claim, suddenly having trouble sorting out my nerves. I had been completely numb over the last few hours, but now I felt like I wanted to run and hide. For a moment I even thought of walking out of the airport without meeting Eddie, but that probably wouldn't do me a whole lot of good.

So I found myself in baggage claim. I collected the two suitcases I had brought on the flight with me and I stood around the terminal, looking at every face that passed by. Maybe I was looking for a resemblance. If Eddie was really my father, I figured he had to look like me; after all, my mother didn't.

My mother was a blonde. She had been one of the most beautiful ladies I had ever known, nothing like any of those fluffy TV sitcom moms. My mom had been tall and thin and beautiful, with blonde wavy hair and a perfect smile. I looked nothing like her.

But I did get her eyes. We both had the same oval, green eyes. But other than that, I looked nothing like her. I was darker. My hair was darker, probably a shade away from black, and I kept it nearly shaved, like everyone else on the swim team. While my mother had more delicate, feminine facial features, my face seemed to be made up of straight lines, more masculine than boyish. I wouldn't say that I was tall--at sixteen I was only five-foot-eight--but then again, I'm comparing myself to my two six-foot-tall friends.

I wouldn't say that I was a nerd either; my mother had made certain that I had enough confidence to prevent me from becoming the quiet kid in the back of the classroom. But I did own a pair of reading glasses, not that I ever wore them. I guess, I had always considered myself plain.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, wondering who I was supposed to be meeting, but somehow, when I saw him, I knew it. It was a gut feeling, like, I just sensed it. When I saw the tall man walking in my direction, I knew it was him.

Eddie was not at all what I was expecting. I was expecting a plain, maybe middle-aged man with a balding head; a pushover, someone I could ignore. I wasn't expecting the six-foot-three bodybuilder in a business suit.

And he looked like me. Kinda.

I was in no way a body builder. I was a swimmer and I looked like a swimmer. Eddie had big muscles; even under the suit I could tell he was built. He had the same, straight facial features and dark hair, but his eyes were dark. If I didn't know that I was related to him I might have thought he was actually hot--for an old guy.

But he wasn't that old. I guess since my mother had me at sixteen it was logical to believe that my biological father would have been young too, and Eddie didn't look much older than thirty.

I took what little time I had, sizing him up, wondering if I could outrun him if I had to, before he noticed me. And it didn't take him long to notice me. When our eyes met he stopped walking and just stared for a moment. Probably trying to decide if I was worthy enough to be his son or if he wanted to take me straight to the clinic for a DNA test.

I was suddenly really worried. I don't know why I was intimidated by him. Maybe it was because he looked like he could break me in half. Maybe it was because I had never had a father figure in my life and I didn't know what to make of one now. Or maybe it was because I was gay and if he found out, he might break me in half. Did I mention that he looked like he could break me in half? Eddie was the epitome of masculinity. He looked like a jock. I knew enough to know that guys like him didn't like gay people. They certainly didn't want gay sons.

How could my mother do this to me?

When Eddie started moving in my direction again, I straightened my shoulders, put on my best poker face and decided to meet him halfway, if anything to look confident. We stopped directly in front of each other, sizing each other up, him trying not to look nervous and me... well, me trying not to look like I was about to piss my pants.

"Rory." Eddie spoke first, after clearing his throat. It was that same deep voice from the phone. When he held out his hand I just looked at it, and then back up to his face as defiantly as possible.

"Eddie," I replied in my most neutral tone.

He masked a frown and lowered his hand, wiping it on his pant leg in an attempt to hide his uncertainty because I had refused to shake it. We stood there in another moment of incredibly awkward silence. Me waiting, Eddie trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with a little twerp like me.

He was just staring at me, and I was getting tired of attempting to look defiant. It was only going to be a matter of time before I ended up shifting from foot to foot and looking like the terrified kid that I was. Couldn't have that, no sir.

"Are we just going to stand here?" I asked impatiently.

Eddie shook his head in that odd way people do, like he could actually clear it that way, and then he glanced down at my suitcases.

"Um, we'll go," he replied.

He reached for my bags at the same time that I did. Eddie reached them first, and I was somewhat in awe at the way he effortlessly lifted them both off the ground, considering I was tired from just dragging them along with me.

"I've got it," he said. "We're parked this way."

Eddie led me through the airport, obviously knowing where he was going, and I followed behind him slowly. I was probably walking too slow because he had to slow down just so I could keep up. I had this complex: whenever I was nervous that made my legs seem heavy, so honestly, I wasn't doing it on purpose. But, whenever he glanced over his shoulder at me I looked away, acting uninterested.

When we first stepped out of the airport it was into a covered parking level. The light was dim and other than the overhead lights, it wasn't bright at all. But, I'll never forget the rush of dry, hot air that hit me. So this was Arizona. Even the air smelled different. I wasn't sure what the smell was. The desert, I guess, but it made me feel farther away from home than ever.

When Eddie led me to a big, white Suburban, I stood back and watched him effortlessly load my bags into the back. When he turned back and looked at me, he was smiling as he lifted the keys and held them up.

"Do you want to drive?" he asked, almost hopefully.

Was this guy crazy? Who asks a teenager they don't even know to drive their car? Especially one as big as his. If he was expecting a smile out of me, then he was gonna be disappointed, because I just narrowed my eyes on him and regarded him as the idiot I clearly thought he was.

"Do you want me to wreck it?" I asked coldly. "I don't know how to drive." And then I passed him without invitation and went to stand by the passenger door, not really paying attention to the way that Eddie's shoulder's slumped before he slowly went to his own door.

As soon as the passenger door unlocked, I opened it, reached back to unlock the back door, and then closed it again. I noticed Eddie frowning back at me as I climbed in the back seat in my obvious attempt to distance myself from him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he wisely didn't as he turned the ignition and started to drive.

The inside of the vehicle was horribly hot for about the first ten minutes, but once the air conditioner began to blast I was truly grateful, not that I was about to let him know that. I just, for the most part, stared out my window. Phoenix was bright. And flat. And dry. The palm trees lining some of the streets seemed out of place somehow, and I don't think I had ever seen so many cactuses before.

We must have driven a good thirty minutes before Eddie said anything. Before that, he'd just glance back at me through the rearview mirror every now and then. Yeah, I admit it, I was looking too. But, that's only because it's always good to keep one eye on the enemy.

"You're sixteen?" he asked me.

"Yep," I mumbled, refusing to look in his direction.

"Shouldn't you know how to drive?" he asked. "Most kids your age can't wait to get a license. Why didn't you ever learn?"

"My mom was too sick to teach me," I mumbled.

Eddie fell silent for a few minutes again. I hoped that he would just leave me alone. Of course, he didn't.

"I guess you didn't have very many options then," he said. "If I remember correctly, Alice shouldn't be allowed to drive, let alone teach anyone else how to."

Wasn't that the truth. My grandma was a terrible driver. She didn't go forty below the speed limit like most grandmas. No. Grandma Alice had more speeding tickets on her record than I could count and a revoked driver's license on top of that. Not that she let any of it stop her. It was kinda funny to think about. Damn it! He made me smile.

"You know," Eddie said, confidence coming back into his voice, "I could teach you, if you wanted. The house is kind of far out there, it might come in handy to know how to drive."

"I don't want to learn," I said curtly. Which wasn't true. Back home I had been getting tired of my friends driving me around while I didn't even have a license. But, I didn't want him to teach me to drive.

"Everyone should know how to drive," Eddie insisted.

"I don't want to learn, alright?" I said impatiently.

I heard him sigh and then there was more silence.

"Your grandma said that you like to swim," he said after a few minutes.

I grunted my response.

"You were on the team at school?"

I frowned. "Was."

"I think you'll like the school here," Eddie insisted. "They have a swim team too, you know."

"Whatever."

...

When Eddie mentioned that his house was 'out there, ' I wasn't exactly expecting to follow a two-mile-long dirt road outside of the city to what looked like the only house in the middle of a bunch of desert. And I'm not talking desert, like sand. No, I mean cactuses and dry grass mixed in with the weeds, a hill in the distance that looked like it was made out of lava rocks, and no shade as far as I could see.

Not that it wasn't a nice house. It was. Actually, it was more than I was expecting. A lot more than the apartment I had grown up in with Mom. The driveway was paved and opened up into a three-car garage, while the front yard was decorated as a rock garden. The rocks in the front were a mixture of white and red, while the brick, sand-colored house stood behind it.

And it looked like a big house. A family house. There were three mountain bikes lined up by the front door, three different sizes. Off to the side, about seventy feet away, there was a large building that looked like a barn--well-kept but obviously unused, and wind chimes hanging everywhere. I suddenly got the feeling that Eddie didn't live alone. Not in this big space. And he had said on the phone that he got a bigger space because of me. I had just figured that a bigger space meant that he upgraded from a bachelor studio to a two-bedroom apartment.

It had never occurred to me that Eddie might already have a family of his own. Great. Just great. Not only was I forced to be here, but now it looked like I was forced to be here with a family who didn't want me in the first place. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

I was one of those kids who never wished for brothers and sisters. I liked being an only child. I wanted to keep it that way. I felt myself panicking. It was enough to meet Eddie for one day. I wasn't prepared to deal with more long, lost relatives.

But, despite my nerves, I found myself following him through the front door. The inside of the house was as nice as the outside, big and open. The front door opened up into a large living room and a wide hall leading back to a large kitchen. There were stairs leading both up and down, and Eddie placed my bags in front of them before turning to regard me again.

He looked nervous, loosening his tie, and I just stood there, in front of the closed front door, feeling somewhat trapped.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked.

"No."

"I'll get you something to drink," he said anyway, and then retreated towards the kitchen, leaving me there alone. It didn't take me long to do what any kid in my situation would do.

I started snooping.

I walked into the living room, around the large, fluffy white sofa and large stone coffee table. I stopped briefly to peer into a big fish tank that seemed to be filled with all sorts of fish that I probably hadn't heard of before, and then I made my way over to the shelves lining the walls. There were a lot of pictures, but no family pictures as far as I could tell.

I took a closer look. There were a few of Eddie wearing business suits and standing with a group of older men and a few women, and then there were some more casual photos of Eddie standing in the middle of a group of young kids on a basketball court. Then there was one framed picture of Eddie, looking like he was at a party, holding a beer with his arm swung around another man, probably in his late twenties. I guess that was Eddie's drinking buddy.

I moved on and found what looked like several framed diplomas. I was just leaning in for a closer look when I heard Eddie returning to the room behind me.

"You're a lawyer?" I asked without looking back.

"Yes, I am."

"And a doctor?"

"No," there was a hint of laughter in his voice, "Jase is the doctor in the family."

"Jase?"

"He lives here too," Eddie explained. "He's your... uncle."

"Are you married?" I asked, still not turning around.

"Nope, never been."

"Kids?"

"Just you, Rory."

I turned around at that and stared at him for a moment. He was holding a diet soda in one hand and a bottled water in the other. He offered me the water with a small smile.

"Alice mentioned that you only drink water and juice."