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“Everything is all in shape.” Doctor Azeez said, folding his notebook over his knee. “You, Christopher Diaz, are going to live a long and happy life. Unfortunately, you will have chronic pain, but there are-“
Christopher Diaz, unfortunately only wearing his boxers and a dressing gown, held up his hand. “Yeah, great, I’m glad but…”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do we have to tell my dad that?”
Now, Chris was happy he was going to live well. Really! However…
Chris already knew this.
He knew he was doing fine. He wasn’t worried about how life expediency- for one, because his father would kill him if he ever happened to kick the bucket early. Two: He’s been lucky enough to have a family that had helped him take care of his body over the years.
His internal organs were fine, nothing damaging is heart nor brain. Truthfully, the only difference between his health and a horse’s is the fact of the matter that Chris couldn’t run. Or gallop. He could hop a little, but it’s a bit of a sorry sight.
(It didn’t seem to be at the fault of the palsy- Chris had watched his Abuelo do hopscotch with his cousins- now that’s a sorry sigh to behold.)
Perhaps in the next week Chris would take his information and celebrate. But now wasn’t the time.
Chris had a reason for the doctors appointment, and one reason only.
He needed his doctor to break the law for a week. Two at max. Possibly, three.
Doctor Azeez blinked his black eyes slowly. “You don’t want your father to know about your chronic pain? I don’t need to go into the specifics, of course, but I had assumed he already knew.”
Chris waved a hand, hi socked feet wiggling on the raised med bed. “No, he knows that. That’s fine I’m talking about the other thing.”
He blinked at his doctor.
“…What other thing?” Doctor Azeez asked. His brows furrowed. “I’m not following you here Chris. You’re not smoking, haven’t disclosed if you’re having and sexual relations-“
“Dude!”
“- Which I wouldn’t inform to him unless you wanted me too.” He continued. He clasped his hands on his lap and leaned forward. “You’re not smoking, you’re not drinking. I’m not seeing what there is you want me to hide form him.”
Chris nodded, glad he had his pants back on for this. “Yeah, totally, great. But I don’t want to hide those things. I want you too…”
“Too…?”
Chris took a deep breath. Come on Diaz!
“I lied. To my dad.” Chris said. He shifted in his seat. “I wasn’t worried about my stuff. I figured I was going to a live a long life- we have excellent health insurance.”
“Okay.” Doctor Azeez nodded. Then why did you come in today?”
Chris lifted his chin and did his damn best too look his doctor in the eye and keep his gaze. “Because I want you to…not tell me dad that.”
“…What?”
“I need you-“ he made a face as his shoulders twitched. “I want you too say something that makes it sound like I’m in, like, danger. Nothing too crazy! But, enough that it’ll spook him. Them.”
Chris had been seeing Dr. Azeez for a few years now. The man was used to Chris coming in, dropping some awful lore on him, and dipping. Chris liked to think it made their relationship stronger.
But the doctor was looking at thin like he had grown a third head. Chris had never seen that expression on him before- usually the man was so calm.
“And why,” Dr. Azeez pushed his glasses up his nose. “ in the world would I do that?”
“Because I’m a really good patient.”
“No.”
“Because you believe in the power of love and friendship.”
“No.”
“Because my dad is gay and his best friend is half-ly and they're both in love with each other and I have a mom whose dead and I recently learned that blood doesn’t matter?”
Dr.Azeez jolted. “Oh my.”
He regarded Chris for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he reached over to the black landline he had on his desk and pressed buttons on the black desk phone.
“Hey Emily.” Doctor Azeez said, never breaking is gaze form Chris. “I’m gonna need you to push back my appointments.”
Chris beamed. “Okay! So, it started when I was little…”
Here we are golden
Or, affectionately, lose one get one free (Diaz version)
The night before his mother left, they had what she called “Cheese Salad” for dinner.
Macaroni noodles, cut up hotdogs, crinkle French fries that were slightly burned, all smothered in box cheese mix and Velveeta. Topped with croutons and cheddar whale crackers. Garlic bread substituted spoons, a big glass of milk on the side.
It was their favorite meal. Momma and him would share it out of the pot, sitting in front of the couch and watching Blue’s Clues instead of the dinner table.
Eat lots of it! Mama said, shoveling more cheese onto his soggy garlic bread. You need all the diary you can get, squirt.
She was big on Christopher consuming dairy- yogurt was at every breakfast. Milk was one of his main sources of hydration. Cheddar cubes with crackers were his usual snack. His life revolved around dairy.
Dairy, doctors, and the way Mama’s hands felt in his.
Her hands holding his as he stepped away form his walker, how Mama wrapped the blue bandages around his heels because his shoes had given him another blister.
How Mama smelled like coffee and how her hair was loose around her shoulders, so long that Chris’s fingers would get tangled whenever they hugged.
That night they gorged on Cheese Salad until the bowl was empty, way into the night it seemed. Mama kept putting on Blue’s Clues, getting up to change every disc as they made their way through the season.
At one point she paused to get Chris changed into his pajamas. Mama didn’t get change, saying I’m gonna wait for your daddy to get home- wanna look extra pretty for him.
Chris frowned as she pulled his dinosaur shirt over his head. His hair was still wet, and water dripped into his ear. “Mama, your already really pretty.”
Mama smiled. She tucked her hands, splotched with ink form all the coloring they had done earlier that day. “You are- the absolute best person in the world. You know that?”
(Chris did know that, thank you. He was told everyday form his Mama and his Daddy and his grandparents.)
“You’re the best person.” Chris grinned, wrapping his skinny arms around her neck. He didn’t have his glasses on, but he was so close he could see her face do something complicated.
But she just sighed and settled them against the back of the couch. She pulled up the black and white tiger blanket they found at the thrift store tight around them.
At one point Chris had fallen asleep, only realizing it when he heard the heavy front door closing.
“Oh hey.” Came a soft voice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
The voice- that was Daddy’s voice! Which meant Daddy was home! Oh, Chris loved his dad, he really did.
He loved how tall his dad was and how he didn’t struggle lifting Chris into the bathtub and out. He liked how his dad’s voice sounded when he and Mama were singing songs in the cars, and how he pretended to fall asleep when they did stretches together.
Mama’s arms tightened around him. “It’s fine- he fell asleep, I was too lazy to get up.”
Chris sighed, comforted by their low voices. He snuggled deeper into Mama’s shoulder.
He heard Daddy’s heavy footsteps. “Want me to carry him?”
“No.” Mama said. “I just- he’s getting so big. I just wanna remember him.”
Chris didn’t know that that meant. Remember him? She saw him every day.
“I know what you mean.” Daddy said.
Chris’s wished someone would tell him what they meant, but he was too sleepy. Instead he stretched his leg and went back to his slumber.
He woke up again a little later.
He blinked blearily, squinting his eyes up. “…Mama?”
“Shhh.” She kissed his forehead, walking him down the hall with him in her arm. Her shoulder was hard under his cheek. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
He nodded, trying to will the sleep away form his heavy lids.
She passed his bedroom and went right to her’s. Chris’ couldn’t see, not in the dark, but he heard Daddy slow breathing.
Oh! A sleepover! Fun!
He grinned. He was close enough to Mama’s face that he could see her freckles.
Mama set him down on the bed, in her spot. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to the side table, having him touch his glasses.
“They’re gonna be right here for when you wake up.” She whispered quietly. She moved to the side, tilting his head toward the door. “Walker is right over there. Wake up your daddy if you need anything.”
Chris sighed, letting himself go limp as she tucked the blanket around his shoulders. “Okay Mama.”
She let go and held onto the blanket, tucking in his sides. When she was finished, she crouched down onto the floor. Then she just…stared.
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. Mama just sat and stared at him, for a long time.
“Mama?” Chris asked softly, confused.
Why was she looking? Why was she still in her daytime clothes? Why was he in her spot on the bed? Why wasn’t she getting in with them, holding him and Daddy?
Why was she just staring at him, like people would do when he’s in stores? Was…was something wrong? With him?
“You’re alright.” Mama whispered. She squeezed his hand. “You’re such a good kid. You…I…I love you.”
Chris relaxed as she leaned up and kissed his forehead. He smiled and closed his eyes. “Love you too, Mama.”
“I’m gonna go.” Mama said. “Don’t be scared.”
Chris wasn’t. Daddy left and he came back all the time- it’s just work. Mama will be back soon. “Okay. Bye.”
He was already half asleep when he heard her.
“Goodbye, Christopher.”
Chris had curled up next to his dad, sneaking his hand right underneath his fat armpit. He sighed, snuggling in closer.
“Bye Mama.” He whispered into his dad’s back, falling back into sleep.
A year later Chris couldn’t remember what her face looked like.
He knew form pictures, of course. Dad let him see them whenever he wanted.
Dad had to work a lot though. Always told Chris he was “picking up shifts.” Chirs wasn’t sure exactly what the guy was holding all the time, but it meant he started to spend more time with his grandparents.
Chris didn’t mind, really. He slept in Dad’s old room most nights, which was okay he guessed. Abuela made really good baked potatoes, and Abuelo always had stories to tell.
Always. Lots of stories. So much so that Chris had fallen asleep once or twice (or six) times when Abuelo was telling them.
As much as he loved his grandparents, Chris loved the days his father was off more.
He got to sleep at home! In his OWN bed! He got to wake up and walk down the hall to jump onto Dad’s bed, waking him up with head-butts and snuggles until Dad cracked his eyes open and rolled on top of Chris until Chris couldn’t breath form his own giggles.
Then they’d go down the hall and brush their teeth and Dad would do all his stretches with him, and then they’d go outside and Dad would lift him up up up to look at the tree in the backyard to see if the bird nest was still full of eggs.
Then Dad would bring him back and he’d make Chris’s some toast and he’d drink his coffee (and Dad wouldn’t eat, which was weird, but Dad said he didn’t like to eat breakfast so Chris guessed it wasn’t that weird).
Then Dad would give him a piggy-back ride to the park down the street, and then he’d make sure that Chris could get onto the playset and help him on the swings and then they’d walk around the track.
Chris was still getting used to using his crutches instead of his walker. He got a funky surgery a few months ago, and it hurt but it also was amazing because Dad spent the entire time with him! The Diaz Boys, vacationing in Houston!
Well, it wasn’t really a vacation as it was Chris healing form his surgery, but hey! His arms and legs could go straighter! He didn’t even know that arms could be long.
And the whole new thing- Crutches. Chris felt so cool, especially since Dad got him a whole bunch of “Jake and the Neverland Pirate” stickers for him to decorate them with. Dad always knew what Chris loved.
(Dad tried to get him Blue Clue’s but Chris cried so much that he puked. It was so gross.)
When people started to come and do their runs, Dad and he would go back home.
Dad would sit down on the ground and they’d color all day long, only stopping for them to eat a sandwich. Then they’d play games, color some more, build with his Legos (Dad was really intense about Chris’s fine motor skills), and they’d even watch National Geographic documentaries.
On rainy days they’d go out to play in mud, on hot days they’d go to the e pool and Dad would ask Chris to show him how swimming was going.
Eventually, the sun would go down. The stars would come out. Dad and him would sit outside and stargaze.
Dad would lay out a blanket, throw couch cushions out, and they’d both lay on their backs and look up. Chris would curl onto Dad’s shoulder, would fight how heavy his eyelids were.
He loved looking out into the night sky. He loved how many stars there were, how Dad’s heartbeat underneath his ear, how big his dad’s arms were. He liked how his dad smelled like his red deodorant and coffee, how his nails stained from the button factory.
(Chris would tell al-l-l of his second/third/fourth cousins that his father made all the buttons on their pants. They told Chris to keep dreaming. Chris would, thank you, he was always a great sleeper.)
At some point Dad would carry him to the truck so he could be driven to his grandparents.
Chris hated those nights. Dad would be dressed in his work uniform for the night shift, hair combed back. Chris would watch the streetlights bounce off his cheeks, how his voice was low when hummed along to whatever rock song was playing on the radio.
He’d walk Chris into his grandparents’ house, hand on his shoulder. He’d help Chris unzip his coat when he couldn’t get to the bottom just right.
Then, slowly, he ‘d kneel down to be eye level with Chris. He’d make sure they were looking at each other in the eye, but his warm, rough hand on Christopher’s cheek.
“Love you Dad.”
“I love you too buddy.” He’d say. “So much. I’ll be back tomorrow for lunch, I promise.”
And here was the thing: He was.
Whenever Dad would say he’d be back, he was. Whenever there was a moment to be free, Dad would call him.
He hadn’t talked to his mother since that night.
Sometimes, he would be really upset about it. But it was fine, because Dad was around! Chris loved his Dad so much, and Dad always told Chris.
So Chris was fine that he had to spend the night sometimes at his Abuelas. Dad had to work, and Chris got to hang out with his Tia’s. A win-win, as Abuela liked to say.
When Dad got the second job, Chris started seeing him less.
Instead of everyday it became every other day. But it was fine! Mostly. Chris still got to see him, he would still call. He always made sure to tell Chris he loved him.
As time went on, Dad started looking different. He was always old, but suddenly he was really old. And grouchy. But never with Chris, but with his parents and his sisters.
Abuelo and him would get into fights sometimes, and Chris would find his father after and lean on his shoulders, letting him know he was on his side. Chris didn’t know what they were fighting about, but sometimes it left Dad breathing really hard.
But when Chris was around Dad’s lungs would work better, and they’d take a walk around the yard. Chris was starting to be able faster, and further now. He could even throw rocks and made them skid with Dad at the local pond!
It was just…Chris was starting to really miss his dad. It felt like this new two-job version of him was different then the one with one-job. He didn’t want to play with Chris as much.
Yet they still colored together. Sometimes they’d eat together! Chris just wished Dad was around more often.
One night, on a two-day stretch of not seeing Dad, Chris was looking at his old pictures. Always photos.
Abuela had actually brought them out, wanting to show Chris her and Abuelo’s wedding photos. Chris was shocked that they even had pictures back in the 1970s.
“When we take pictures, do you think it’s the camera that poses or us?” Chirs asked idly.
“…huh?” Abuela answered. She handed him his favorite album to hold- the big blue one. “Are you asking if the camera takes a picture, or us?”
Chris nodded. He pointed to the photo of a young Abuela smiling with her friends. He recognized some. “Yeah. Like, did you know the camera was talking your picture?”
Abuela laughed. “Yes, I did, but that was because my friend Rose was behind it. She was holding the camera.”
Chris thought that was a boring answer. Adults always did that.
He waited patiently for her to be done with the wedding day. Lots of dresses, some pictures she turned too fast for him see (“Twenty year olds have too much fun for little kids.”), lots of hairy men.
So when she was done he (slowly) opened up the blue album.
He sighed when he saw the first page.
It was Dad, and Momma, and him when he was a little baby. They were at the hospital.
He ran his thumb over Momma’s face. He forgot that her hair was that dark, or that she light eyes like him. He forgot that Dad was once not so tired.
“Oh.” Abuela whispered besides him. She was tracing the picture too. “I always forget how…young they were.”
“Why did Momma leave?” Chris asked.
He couldn’t remember if he ever asked Abuela this. His Tia’s, Sophia and Adrianna, would ignore him when he asked them. Get him to play a board game, or try to do some exercises with him instead.
Chris never asked Dad- he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Or make Dad think about leaving too.
Abuela patted the album. “I don’t know, love.” She looked to the picture. “She was…she was so young.”
Her brow was furrowed together, her mouth in a thin line. Chris wondered if she was hiding something.
Chris frowned at Abuela. “Does she just not like me?”
From what he was told (by everyone), he was a great kid. Capitol G Great. Everyone said so. Maybe Momma didn’t know that.
Abuela shook her head. “No baby. I-I’m not sure why.”
“Does…Does Dad like me?” he asked. It made his stomach hurt, not knowing.
If he knew why Mama didn’t like him, maybe that was the same reason why Dad had so many jobs.
Maybe Dad had so many jobs now was because he knows why Mama left, and he wants to leave him too, and that’s not going to work for Christopher because he loves his dad so so much! And if he left then Chris would have nothing and have to live on the street and have to find food by getting a job at Dollar Tree and-
“Yes!” Abuela yelled. She laughed, tears in her eyes. She looked a lot like Tía Adrianna when she did that. “Yes, Christopher, your daddy loves you very much. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.”
“Then why is he gone so much?” Chris asked, doing his best to kick around a stick. He missed. “Is it…is it because of me?”
Me? Who can’t run? Who still needs help putting on his shoes, even though on television all the little kids are doing it on their own? Me, who needs a walker and crutches and (sometimes) needs to be carried?
Was it him? It had to be, because Momma left and now Daddy is leaving, leaving Chris all by himself why was he so-
“No!” Abuela exclaimed. She sat down and pulled him close. “No, no baby, it’s not you.”
“So why?” Chris asked. His eyes started welling up. “Why is he gone so much, Abuela? I want him here with me.”
He looked up to her.
Abuela was very pretty. He loved how she had lines around her eyes, how her short hair looked like a hill when brushed back. He liked when she wore her bright pink lipstick, it reminded him of bubblegum. (Chris once told her this. She must have run out, because she never wore it again.)
She had brown eyes-like Dad. Chris loved those the most.
How the sun was setting, how they were sitting, her eyes were on fire. “Dad has…he has two jobs. You know what that is, right?”
Chris nodded. “Yeah, that’s why he smells bad when he gets home.”
Abuela threw her head back and laughed, pulling him in to kiss his head. “Oh my-yes, alright, that’s true, but everyone smells bad sometimes.”
“You don’t.” Chris muttered into her sweater. Abuela laughed again.
“Thank you love.” She kissed him again. “But it’s not a bad thing. Your father works ridiculously hard.”
She sighed. “So hard.”
When she got silent, Chris lifted his head away form her shoulder. “Are you crying?”
Abuela’s eyes were wet. She pursed her lips, sniffed, and shook her head. “It’s just-Chris, your father loves you so much. So, so much.”
Her voice cracked. “And it- I know he’s busy, but it’s not because he wants to be away from you. He wants what-he wants what’s best for you.”
Chris frowned. “Is him being gone what’s ‘best’ for me?” He asked.
“No.” Abuela said. “It’s not. Sometimes, to take care of the ones we love most, we have to be.”
Chris frowned deepened. That didn’t make any sense to Chris- if Chris wanted Dad to be with him, and Dad wanted Chris to be with him, then why weren’t they together?
When he told Abuela this, she sighed again.
“When you’re older.” She said. “You’ll understand a little more.”
Chris didn’t want to be older to understand. He didn’t want to wait until he was an adult to see his father! He wanted him right NOW!
“I want him now!” Chris exclaimed. His eyes welled up again. “It’s not fair!”
“It’s not.” Abuela kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“So why?”
Abuela sighed. “Because…because sometimes life can be a little hard. And it’s not your fault, and it’s not your father’s fault.”
“is it my moms?” Chris asked.
Abuela took a long time to answer. “I don’t know.”
Adults never seemed to have all the answers.
Chris got older.
His father got a third job. Soon, Chris only saw him every fourth day, for dinner or lunch. Sometimes, if Chris was lucky, he had a doctor’s appointment and Dad was able to spend the afternoon with him.
He had his own room at his grandparents’. He saw it more than he did at home.
Or his fathers? Chris wasn’t sure. What constituted a home- the place you wanted to be, or the place you were the most?
He ached to be with his father, with every fiber of his being. When he ate breakfast with his Abuelo instead of his dad, when he brushed his teeth next to his Tia’s instead of his father.
He knew, objectively, that his father’s house was still there. Once in a while he was there for a night, but then he would have to get up early in the morning to be dropped off at his grandparents. He knew he could eat there, but there was never food in the pantry.
The only reason he knew that someone did live there was because Chris’s bed was a mess.
“Do you think someone is sneaking in?” Chris asked his Abuela one day, when they had gone over to find a pack of stickers Chris left there.
If someone was sneaking in, he would be okay with it. Maybe his father could make a friend.
Abuela was holding the doorframe tightly. “No. I…think that your room is so inviting, that your dad must forget that his is down the hall.”
Part of Chris hurt- that his dad had free time, and he wasn’t with Chris.
But that pain had become the sort of usual for him. Like his hips when he walked for too long. He calling it a ‘forever ache’. His doctor once said ‘chronic pain.’
“Oh.” He said.
Before he left, he made sure to fluff up his pillows like Abuela did for him. Maybe if Dad slept longer, he’d have energy to come for Chris.
It was an ache that had become him, wanting his father. Sometimes he didn’t know what hurt him more, or who he missed the most. Momma? Dad?
Dad was at least with Chris once in a while. It just hurt more when he left him again. At least with Momma Chris stopped hoping she was coming back.
He knew Dad would come back. He knew he would leave.
Chris wished he would give up hope that he would stay. Chris wished that…he was good enough for him to stay.
No matter how many times Abuela kissed his cheeks, or Abuelo ruffled his hair, it didn’t change anything. Christopher Diaz was not wanted by his parents.
At night he would curl up on the new mattress in his father’s old room and touch the walls, imagining that there were old germs that lingered there.
Good night, Dad he thought, tracing his fingers on the green wall. Surely his father, at one point, must have touched this? Surely there was still some left for Chris? I love you.
He would cup his hands, bring them close to his chest. Let whatever remaining atoms fuse with Chris. Imagine that they were fresh, pretend that it was Dad who came in an hour ago to shut off the light and pull the blankets up around his chin.
He would close his eyes and eventually drift off to sleep, pretending his father was down the hall making noise with his grandparents.
It was fine, he told himself. It was fine his mother didn’t want him. It was fine his father would work and work and work, because Dad cared for Chris.
Even if Chris was starting not to believe it.
One morning he there was a gift on the table.
Abuelo, who was the only one awake, smiled. “Look Chris, your father brought you this.”
Chris, who had only woken up a few minutes ago, grinned. “Dad’s here?!”
He was still working on, well, walking, but he did his best to jump and turn around the kitchen. Was he in the living room? Outside? Oh, why didn’t Chris grab his red crutches, he does his best but he really can’t go super fast without them!
“Chris-“
“Is he in the bathroom?” Chris hesitated for a second (going into the bathroom after Abuelo was a nightmare) before trotting over.
Behind him, the chair scrapped against the linoleum. “Christopher, he’s not here.”
Chris paused. He turned around. “Is he outside?”
Abuelo wasn’t smiling. “No, Chris.”
Chris blinked. His heart raced. “Is he…is he taking a walk?”
Abuelo shook his head, reaching down to grab the gift on the table. He walked slowly over to Chris. “No, he left.”
Then he handed the gift toward Chris, who took it was shaking hands.
It was a metal lunchbox. On it was his favorite character, Jake form “Jake and the neverland Pirates.”
“He saw it and told me all he could of was you.” Abuelo said, bending down to hold Chris’s shoulder. “He dropped it off early this morning so you could use it for school.”
“Oh.” Chris said.
Abuelo tapped on it. “It’s pretty sturdy. You know, he used to have one of these when he was a kid.”
“Oh.”
“How we call him?” Abuelo went on. He pulled his phone form his pocket. “He’s at work right now, but we can leave him a voice message to thank him-“
Chris lifted the lunchbox and smashed it down on the floor as hard as he could.
Abuelo jumped. “Christopher-!”
“I hate it!” Chris yelled, bending down to slam it again. “I hate this, I hate him, I don’t even need a lunchbox!”
He threw it down again. It snapped open, the lid hanging off one hinge. It only made Chris angrier.
“Chris!”
“No!” Chris yelled, going down to pick up again.
But he lost balance and landed hard on his knees. Tears sprung to his eyes, and now everything hurt.
His chest hurt! His knee hurt! Even his toes hurt!
“I don’t want this!” He yelled, going to his legs awkwardly and lifting the box. “I-“
He slammed it.
“-hate-“
Slam, slam, slam.
“-him!”
Slam.
On the final slam, the lid completely came off.
Chris stopped, watching Jake fly away and under the table. It stopped when it hit a leg, clatter nosily against the floor.
The kitchen was silent for a long time.
Silently, Abuelo sat down. He put his hand on Chris’s heaving back.
Chris was breathing hard. His whole body was shaking.
What did he do? His dad had, had bought this for him. For him. And Chris…he…he…
“I broke it.” Chris whispered.
Abuelo squeezed his shoulder. “You did.”
“I didn’t mean too.”
“I…I know.”
Chris’s heart was gonna fly away. “I don’t hate him.” He admitted.
“I know.” Abuelo said. His voice sounded weird, chunky.
Chris looked up to him.
Abuelo was looking at him, eyes wide. His brows were pushed together.
Chris slumped. “He…he didn’t say hi.”
His dad was there, he was at eh same house as Chris, and he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say hello, or good-bye, or even gave him a hug and kiss in bed like Chris would pretend.
He didn’t do anything.
Chris sniffed. His fingers reached for the hem of his shirt. “Is he going to be mad at me?”
“No.” Abuelo said. He shifted. He put his arm around Chris fully, settling a big hand in Chris’s hair. “I can fix it.”
Chris nodded.
Then-
“I miss my dad.”
Abuelo sighed. “I know.”
Then.
“I miss my son.” Abuelo said quietly.
They sat on the floor for a long time.
Chris wondered if his father missed him, the same way he wondered if Mom did.
Did they wonder if Chris had a good day at school? If they would be happy that he was starting to go up and down the stairs without help? He wondered if they would be mad at him when he snapped at his grandparents when they tried helping to walk with him.
He knew he took a long time-but hey! He was doing it, all on his own! A year ago he wasn’t able to move his elbows this way or that, but look at him.
Christopher Diaz was six years old, and he was able to put his own shirt on. He was to put his own shirt on.
It was such a quiet victory. He wanted to call his dad, but he was at work. He wanted to tell his mom, but he didn’t want to talk to her.
SO he celebrated in his room alone in his pajama pants and school shirt, and wished and wished.
“I miss you all the time.”
California. The Wild west. The Golden State, the place where him and Dad were gonna be together! Everyday!
They drove form El Paso all-l-l the way to Los Angelous- all the way to his Bisabuela house!
“EDDITO!” Abuela had yelled running and laughing down her front stairs. “Oh come here! Come here!”
Dad laughed, hugging her as bisque kissed his whole face.
Chris, who definitely did not want to be kissed all over his face (not at all nope not him he was seven, way to told for that), stood on his dad’s side and gripped his shirt.
“You’re too skinny.” Bisabuela said, patting Dad’s arms.
Dad’s face turned red. “Abuela, I’m training!”
“Firefighters are not skinny.” She grinned. “The most good looking ones have some belly to them-“
“Oh my-“
“Christopher!” Bisabuela moved on, all but pushing Dad out of the way. “Oh, look at my little baby’s baby.”
Of course Chris let his Bisabuela kiss his whole face too- he had manners.
Dad said they were going to stay a few days with Bisabuela while waiting for their house to come thru. Chris wanted to know what their house was coming out of, but when he asked Tia Pepa she just laughed and kissed his cheeks.
There weren’t enough beds for Chris and Dad to have separate beds, but Chris didn’t mind. The bed was big enough that he could roll away from Dad when he started snoring.
But he couldn’t help but be a little excited- a sleepover! With his Dad!
As he watched his dad brush his hair, Chris realized that it wasn’t a sleepover, not really.
He wasn’t going to be spending weeks at a time with his grandparents anymore. He wasn’t going to only see his own room with his own stuff once in a while. He, Christopher Edmundo Diaz, lived with his dad again.
It wasn’t a sleepover- it was forever.
Chirs laid his head back on the pillow as he digested this.
On one hand, he was going to miss his grandparents. So much. He loved them, he loved how Abuelo would talk for a thousand hours and how Abuela sometimes wore weird lipstick and how they would all hold hands before dinner and say a prayer.
But the other…his father. His father.
“Dad?” Chirs asked as his father laid down next to him.
Dad turned and smiled, putt a hand in Chris’s hair. “Yeah?”
Chris was bigger then he was all those years ago, when Momma left him in bed with Dad. He’s gotten taller, he could walk better. He could mostly straighten his arms.
But Dad had changed too.
He had a beard. His hair was shorter, and his face was pointer. He had bags under his eyes.
But he still smiled the same, and had Abuela’s brown eyes.
Chris smiled. “I like California.”
Dad sucked in a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. He wrapped an arm around Chris and pulled him close. “Even after a day?”
Chris nodded, snuggling closer. “Yeah.”
Dad’s big hand carded through Christopher’s hair. He breathed in deep again. “Yeah. Me too.”
One the third night of sleeping at Bisabuela’s house, sharing her guest bed with it’s perfume scented blankets, Dad woke him up extra early.
“I know, I know.” Dad soothed as Chris rose, cranky from being interrupted. “Trust me dude- this is going to be worth it.”
Despite being tired still, Chirs still insisted of dressing himself in his bathing suit. He did let his father brush his hair-after all, it was early.
They were in Dad’s old truck before even the sun was up. Chris was not happy about that. He felt as thought they should be at home. Where ever that was.
For a while they drove in relative silence only he low murmur of the morning radio hosts conversation between them. It was weird seeing the Los Angelus streets so empty.
“Are we there yet?” Chris whined
“Oh great, this game again.” Dad huffed. Chirs didn’t think he was really mad about it. “And yeah, we’re almost there.”
They were not almost there. Chris was sure they drove to China.
By the time Dad parked, the sky was just starting to lighten.
“A parking lot.” Chris grumbled as Dad helped him climb out of his seat. “Yay. Can we go back?”
“Oh my God, stop hanging out with your Tia’s.” Dad said. He was wearing black shorts and sandals. His indoor slides. Chris made a face. Ew.
“You better not bring those back inside without washing them.” He repeated, calling back from when he heard his Tia Pepa tell Dad.
Dad gave him a face. “I really need get you into school.” He lifted his head and took a deep breath. “Think you can swallow your pride long enough for a piggy-back ride?”
Who was Chris to deny such a request?
When Chirs was up on his shoulders’, it made him tall enough to look over the truck roof. He turned his head.
Instantly, all the air in his body left. “Whoa.”
Dad took them to the ocean.
The ocean.
The sky was dark over the water, so much so he could just see the last remaining bit of the moon.
As they traveled closer, Chris was shocked at how loud it was. At the lake the waves crashing were soft almost, like the high-pitched singers in a church choir group.
But with the ocean the waves were loud. They were big, they crashed into the sandbank like drums. The air was salty, the wind cold against his nose, his arms.
It made his nervous go crazy-more so when Dad put him down on the sand.
Chris snatched his hand and squeezed it tight. “Dad, the ocean is huge.”
Dad, who was looking him, smiled and nodded He settled himself down on the sand. “Yeah, it is.”
Chirs didn’t trust the waves. “What if it comes closer?”
“Then we’ll go back to our car.” Dad leaned back on his arms. “Come on, sit. Watch the sunrise with me.”
Chris looked between the ocean and the parking lot.
Then he looked down to his father. “Have you ever been by the ocean before?”
“A couple times.”
So Chris sat down. “Okay.”
For a while they sat quietly, watching waves go down. Chris found himself liking how they moved- how the white foamy bubbles spread across the sand, how it receded back. It reminded him of his old school, when his teacher had sat down the class with a giant tub of slime and let them shake it back and forth.
He tugged off his shoes, laid them next to his fathers. “Are we going back to Texas?”
Dad took a deep beath. “I don’t know.” His brows pinched together. “I…I hope we do. For a vacation.”
“What’s a vacation?”
“It’s when dad’s take time out of work and bring their son’s somewhere fun.”
Chirs thought about the bakery in their old neighborhood. It smelled like bread and coffee whenever Dad and him went in, and the owner Esmeralda would give Chris a free cinnamon roll. Hima and Dad could sit there for hours and play the little games she had out on the tables, or hirs would go play with the kids in the little playground outside. He used to have so much fun that that had to have been a vacation.
They hadn’t been there in a long time, not since Dad only had two jobs.
“That would be nice.” Chris said. He leaned against Dad’s shoulder. “We haven’t taken one in a while.”
Dad laughed. It didn’t sound real. “I’ve never been able to take you on one.”
Chris frowned. “Oh.”
Chris always would have fun with his father when he was out of work-so what was the man talking about? Did he not have fun?
He bit his tongue. He didn’t want to think about it.
“I have fun with you.” Chris said quietly, instead.
The waves crashed into eh sand.
Dad took a shudder-y breath. He pulled Chris in so close that his glasses dug into his temple. “I have fun with you too, Mijo.”
Unlike the laugh, that statement sounded real. Chris sighed and relaxed into his side.
The sky kept getting lighter, turning from dark blue to purple to almost grey. More and more people came, but they stayed away.
Chris had never been somewhere where people would give each other space. It was like they were all in their own worlds, so far away from one another.
He wondered when he was going to start hearing them. It was almost unsettling how quiet it was. If he threw a rock at someone, would they even notice or would it go through their bodies? Were they holograms? Were holograms real?
He turned his head to ask Dad, but his dad was frowning.
“What?” Chris asked. He narrowed his eyes. “Did someone walk through you?”
“What? No- what? Walk through me…No, no one walked through me (I gotta get you into school, no more soap opera).” Dad shook his head. “No, I’m just…”
He trailed off and looked over to the people. Chirs was glad, because it meant that it wasn’t just him seeing them.
There were some people looking up, but there were lots of younger people facing away from the ocean. They were smiling and taking pictures. They looked bright yellow.
(Chris was no longer ruling out holograms.)
Dad looked up toward the sky, disentangling himself from Chris. “What the…”
Then he stood up, swiveled his head, and turned toward the parking lot. Chirs followed suit.
And what he saw took his beath away.
Of the sky he could see behind the clouds was blue- the lightest blue he could describe. The clouds themselves as they grew closer were an explosion of different colors.
The thin ones touching the ocean were almost purple, inching across as if to touch the moon. Where they thinned out right above him were pinks. Hot pink, soft pinks, orange-y purple pinks.
Closest to the sun were all colors of fire- orange, yellow, some red. A the sun rose above their car, as it beamed down onto Christopher’s face, he suddenly felt calm.
No, not he ocean wouldn’t hurt him. The sun doesn’t, not on purpose, not if he wore sunblock. The ocean and it’s massive size didn’t want to hurt him either, he was sure.
He squeezed his father’s hand, so very glad that he had brought them here.
“Oh my fucking God.” Dad said suddenly. “The sun rises in the east.”
Then he sat crisscrossed on the sand, and started laughing.
It made Chris, who was already laughing at Dad swearing, sat down next to him and laughed too.
They moved into their new house. Dad did a lot of the heavy lifting- not that there was much to do in the first place. The pair of them spent a lot time in the thrift stores after, trying to find what worked in what room. Chris got a cool rug to use for his room-stripes!
Their living room was bare, until one day Dad was driving and found a couch on the side of the street. There was a big sign on it- FREE!
“Free is for me.” Dad would answer every time Bisabuela would come over and see it.
Chris loved their house. He loved it’s free couch and it’s kitchen and his room- most of all, he loved the tiny table in the dining room where he and Dad ate most meals together.
Already enrolled in school, Chris had told all his new friends about the fact that his father was a firefighter.
His Dad. His. Christopher Diaz’s dad was a firefighter, and he came home most nights and he ate dinner with his son and Chris got to see him!
No more two jobs! No more three jobs and only seeing Dad once or twice every week! They did it! They really, really did it!
Chris got to see him! He got his good-nights again!
…he had to stay the night at his Bisabuela.
Not that he didn’t love her! Chris did! But, if he was going to spending time away from Dad, why wasn’t it back in Texas where he had his own room at his grandparents, and not just borrowing a guests?
But he figured it was worth it, especially when Dad was able to come home almost every day.
When Christopher Diaz was seven years old, he and his father met their best friend.
“Some one drew a big butt back here.” Chris informed Buck, the guy who was driving the jeep. Chris traced over the big butt that was carved on the back seat. “It wasn’t me.”
Infornt of him Buck laughed as his Dad said “Seriously? What are you, five?”
“Who says it was me?” Buck shot back. He looked in the rearview mirror to look Chris in the eye. “It was. I was ten and my sister was giving me a ride to school.”
Dad snorted. “So you drew butts to repay her?”
“I drew butts to reward her, thank you.”
Buck was- Buck was big. He was tall, even taller then his dad, and he had muscles even bigger then his dad. He had a splotch of pink on his eyes, a birthmark. Blue eyes, like Chris. He was a firefighter- like his dad.
And he had blue eyes. Like Chris!
Chris grinned. “Dad I wanna draw a butt on your truck!”
“Hell no.”
“Eddie!” Buck gasped as Chris started laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Such language! Christopher Diaz, don’t tell me you have such a potty mouth!”
By the time they made back to the Diaz residence, Chris was sold on Buck-what-ever-his-last-name-was. The guy was cool.
“Hey Buck-“ Chris whispered as the tall man started wrangling his booster seat out. “I know where Dad hides the cheeseballs.”
Buck gasped, and knelt down to his level. He looked over to Dad, who was unlocking the front door. He looked back and grinned. “Cheeseballs you say? I bet I can throw one and hit Ed-uh, your dad in between the eyes.”
Chris grinned back. “I bet I can get some in his hair.”
“I bet that-“
“Buck! Stop gambling with my kid! My kid, stop gambling with Buck!” Dad huffed out.
He pointed at Buck with a stray envelope. “Cheeseballs are for kids. We’re having beer and hot pockets.”
Buck stood up. “You sure? I don’t need anything Eddie, this was literally the least I could-“
Dad’s eye twitched. “I’m not fighting you. Beer. Hot pockets. Kid gets cheeseballs and fruit.”
He gestured to the door. “In.”
Buck looked down to Chris. “He usually like this?”
Chris nodded. “He’s hangry.”
“Ah.” Buck nodded.
“In.”
“Bossy.” Buck complained, shuffling in after Chris. He kicked off his shoes after he saw Chris do it. “Should have known you were a shoe-free house hold.”
Chris gave him Dad’s shoe spray. “You guys smell.”
The door shut behind them. “Chris, go change. Buck, go shower. Me-uh, take shower after Buck.” He nodded. “Beer. Hot pockets. Kid gets cheeseballs and fruit.”
Dad turned to Chris and Buck, who were standing int eh living room. “Why are you still here?”
“I don’t have clothes?” Buck said like a question.
Chris shrugged. “I was waiting on showing Buck where he bathroom is.”
Buck tilted his head and smiled. “Aw, you’re a sweet little host.”
“Chris-get changed. Buck- shower, I will give you clothes.” Dad said. “Go. Now.”
Chris nodded. He head-butted Buck. “Come with me kid, I’ll show you around.”
“Kid?” Buck asked, following Chris into the hall. “I got, like, twenty years on you.”
Chris paused outside the bathroom and leered up at him. “I didn’t draw a butt on a car.”
Buck’s jaw dropped. “Holy sh-shoot. Holy shoot, I’m getting roasted by a seven year old.” He shook his head as he went into the bathroom. “What is my life.”
“SHOWER!CHANGE! BEER AND HOT POCKETS AND CHEEESE BALL FOR THE KID!” Dad chanted as he walked past them int his room. He walked out a moment later and tossed dark clothes into the bathroom. “Clothes! No boxers! Keep the pants!”
Chris shut his door behind him. “Hangry.”
After that day he even started to come around more. Chris had never known his dad to have a friend, much less one like Buck.
Buck would come and sit at the dinner table and talk to him and dad about whatever was going on outside his girlfriends apartment. He would tell Chris about how the ocean was cold in the morning but oddly warm in the afternoon, and so they should go midday if they wanted to go for a swim.
He would come eat dinner with them and make them and he’d even take them on rides in his jeep! When the hood was gone!
One day, Chris even got to spend the day with him and Dad at the firehouse! Where, of course, his coworkers were very cool. Especially the dude named Chimney who had a thing in his forehead. Chris liked when rigged the pinball game so they could play for an hour.
And it was so nice of Buck (have you heard of Buck? The guy with the butt on his jeep?) to show Chris all the way around the fire station!
Well, Buck and Chimney and Hen and Bobby. But Buck was still so cool!
He didn’t make faces when Chris walked slow, or offer to carry Chris up the stairs when he almost tripped. Buck didn’t sigh when Chris couldn’t get a word out or get mad when his muscles wouldn’t let him make eye contact for very long. Not even when Chris dropped his cup of water- he only made sure Chris had a paper towel so they could both clean it up.
Chris was being treated like a kid. A real kid, not one who was a special pet.
(“Nah, we don’t have a firehouse dog.” Buck answered sadly when Chris asked later that day.
“Why would we need a pet when we have you?” Hen, the woman who was bald answered with a smirk. Chris liked Hen. She was so cool.)
Buck was without a doubt the absolute coolest person Chris had ever met in his entire life. And he told Dad this.
“Dad.” Chris said a few weeks later after doing his homework. “Buck is so cool.”
“Oh do you think Buck is cool?” Dad said back. “Because I haven’t heard that today. Or last night. Or yesterday morning.”
But Dad would be grinning. He leaned down to Chris’s bag and dropped some granola bars in the front pocket. “Don’t tell him this, but I think he’s pretty cool to.”
(Which Chris took very seriously. He ain’t no gossip.)
Chris loved who his dad was after they came to California. All he wanted was to be able to see him more then dinner time, but he got more than he ever dared dream for.
He got Dad’s smiles again, he got laughter and silly faces and him. Even when he was quiet or, or when he was sleeping, Chris had his father.
Even when Chris was with Carla (who, again, proved how cool Buck was for knowing her) or with his family, he still had his dad.
They had even started going out. Like, out-out. They went on field trips!
Sometimes it was down to the beach, other times it was to the aquarium, sometimes to museums or town fairs or even farmers markets.
Dad took him to almost all his appointments. They went shopping together, and ate dinner together and even had breakfast together!
Chris loved it. He loved being the only thing his dad would give his attention too, he loved knowing that it was the Diaz Boys against the world. Together.
At school he made a friend- Dylan Higgins- who was in his art class. Dylan had thick hair and was taller then him, freckles and moles dotted all along his cheeks. They even had playdates! Chris NEVER had playdates back in Texas!
Dylan’s Mom had long red hair tucked up above her head and dark eyebrows that looked almost sharp. When she met Chris and Dad, she held out her hand to both of them. Her handshake practically broke Christopher’s fingers.
“I hear so much about your little boy.” Dylan’s Mom said to Dad. “I’m Vicky.”
“Eddie.” Dad said, shaking out his hand a little when they pulled away. “I hear a lot about Dylan, this one was willing to take out the trash for a year if I finally brought him over for a playdate.”
A playdate. Because Chris could do stuff like that now.
He could go on playdates and not have to worry if he was going to miss time with Dad.
Life in California was the best. What would make it better was if his grandparents would move out here with them.
He would talk to his Abuela every day- tell her about his day, about what Carla or Buck did, about Dylan.
“I’m glad you’re having so much fun.” Abuela would say every time. “I love and miss you. Honey.”
Then Mama came back.
Mom…it was really nice having her. Back.
She liked to ask questions, which was nice.
She asked if Chris still liked Cheese Salad, but he had to tell her he had no idea what that was. He had a faint memory of macaroni, but that was it.
She asked if he still liked Blue’s Clues, and he showed her his Mutant Ninja Turtle notebook.
She asked if he still liked coloring, and he said-
“I drew a dinosaur in space. I gave it to Buck.”
He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he never thought he’d see her again. It was nice! Really!
But there was something…not right. Whenever he saw her leave, he didn’t expect her to come back. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad when she did.
He wasn’t sure how he felt having her around for breakfast, or dinner. He liked it, because his dad would smile and she would smile and it would feel nice. He hated it because suddenly he didn’t have Dad all to himself anymore.
Which- he was pretty sure that that was, like, selfish or something. He was supposed to want to share, and he didn’t mind doing it at school with all his art supplies. He didn’t mind going to library to check out books and returning them. But he did not like sharing his dad, but he also didn’t want him to be alone.
He figured there was only one person in the world that he could share Dad with, and it meant that Chris had a person too.
“Can Buck come over?” Chris asked one morning.
He didn’t mind sharing his dad with Buck.
“How about this.” Mom said, smiling form the back. “I’ll go back to my place tonight so you guys can have a boys night?”
Chris wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.
He didn’t want his mom to go, but he didn’t want his dad to be splitting his time. H didn’t want to be alone with his mom but he didn’t want be without her. But he was fine without her, they were happy without her.
Chris looked to his dad. He was happy when it was just the two of them, right? Had he been sad that it was just them? Was he happier more now that Mom was back? Was it Christopher that made everyone want to go? Was it him that made everyone sad? Was it-
“What if Buck just takes you out.” Dad asked, squeezing his shoulders. “He’s been bugging me about seeing you, this way you guys an go do stuff without your boring old man.”
Chris looked between them. They were gonna be alone? Without Chris?
…he did like the idea of hanging out with Buck. So he nodded.
A little while later, the same man came.
“I’m sorry.” A voice floated down the hall. “I’m looking for someone way more better looking then you. Have you seen him? This short, talks about turtles, left a stale donut with the frosting licked off for me in my car? Heard of him?”
Chris rushed down the hall, one sneaker already on. “Buck!”
Buck was grinning. He reached up and put his palm in his dad’s face and pushed him away. “Oh there he is! I thought I was gonna have to talk to this guy all afternoon.”
Chris didn’t say anything, just launched himself at Buck.
“Oh.” Buck said above him all tiny. Then he hugged him back. “Man, if this how I’m greeted every time I come here, I’m moving in.”
“Yes please.” Chris mumbled.
Buck laughed. “Eddie, is your kid usually this affectionate?”
Chris pulled away to smile up at him. “Just missed you.”
He did. Not as much as he missed him mom, or nearly as much as he missed his Dad this time last year, but it was still there.
Buck had a hand still on his shoulder, and Dad put one on his other shoulder. “Buck, man, thank you for coming.”
“Yeah of course!” Buck said. “Any excuse to hang with the cooler Diaz boys.”
There was a sigh behind him, and they all turned.
Mom was standing there, and she smiled. “It’s…nice to meet you Buck. Chris is obsessed.”
Both Dad and Buck’s hand squeezed his shoulder.
“Um.” Chris looked up. Bucks face was red. “Well, I tend to make an…impression…”
“His car smells weird.” Chris agreed.
“Yeah. Uh-hi!” Buck clapped his hands together before reaching over to shake Mom’s. “Nice to meet you. Finally.” He sucked in air. “Not that I was waiting.”
Another breath.
“Or that I wasn’t…waiting?”
Breath.
“Not that I cared. Or didn’t care! Because you’re also Christopher’s parent. Not that that’s the only thing you have to identify yourself! Woman are more than motherhood!”
“Buck?”
“Yeah Eddie?”
“Please stop.”
Buck nodded. “Yeah.”
Mom was smiling though. “It’s fine. Um. Nice to meet you too. Finally.”
They stood in place for a few minutes. Chris figured someone should the door.
He kind of liked looking at all three of them in the same room. It was…nice.
“Okay!” Buck clapped his hands together again. He turned to Chris. “So I figured-“
He frowned. “Wait-Eddie- hang-let me talk to you real quick.”
Dad frowned. “Okay…?”
They both went outside.
Five seconds later they came back in. Dad was smiling.
“SO!” Buck yelled, crouching back down to Chris. “I figured you are a man with fine tastes-“
Chris nodded. “I am.”
“And so, as a fellow fi-i-ine man-“
Dad snorted.
“-I figured that you and I could go to the zoo.” Buck said grinning. “If your-“
“YES!” Chris agreed. He threw his backpack to Buck. “Yes, I’m ready!”
He was half-way toward Buck’s jeep when Dad called him.
“What!”
“Your shoe? Your crutches?”
Chris looked down, both to his socked foot and his bare arms. Oh. Right.
He took a sad walk onto their front stoop and sat down on it, reaching for his sneaker.
As he pulled it on, Dad and Buck came out to stand around him. Like weirdos.
“Thank you, Buck.” His dad said after a moment. “Seriously, man I…I don’t…do this.”
Buck gasped. “What? You, who didn’t tell anyone you had a kid until, like, the third shift?” Buck shook his head. “I’m shocked.”
His dad took a deep breath and smiled. “Text me if anything goes wrong.”
“And when I get there, and when he sneezes, blah blah blah.” Buck said, reaching down to grab Christopher’s bag. “I have watched “Full House” you know, I could raise a whole generation.”
Chris giggled, finally getting his shoe tied.
Someone handed him his crutches- he looked up to thank them and saw Mom.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Then he turned to Buck and stood up. “Now I’m ready!”
Buck grinned. “Oh hell yeah.”
The day was not, as Buck put it, Hell Yeah.
The sun was too hot and the air was heavy and Chris’s shoes kept coming untied, seriously, who got him shoes that needed to be tied he was perfectly fine with the rubber laces (even though he loved the converse when he first got them because they were green).
It took hours to get there, and then when they DID finally get there Chris’s buttcheek had fallen asleep so he had to walk funky, and the lions were sleeping and the monkeys were throwing their own feces and even the birds, the birds which Chris did not particularly like, were avoiding him.
There were too many people and not enough seats and no, he did not want to sit down he could walk thank you, and what made matters worst was that stupid Buck was having a GREAT time.
He was smiling and laughing and holding Chris up on his shoulders and letting him feed a giraffe with leaves.
Chris felt horrible that he was being lousy, but then he thought about Dad and Mom being all by themselves and then he’d get mad all over again for some reason.
And he didn’t want to be! He wanted to laugh and play and kind-of-run with the other kids! He wanted to think it was funny to drink out of the lion head water fountain too!
But when Buck brought him over to it Chris said “No.” when he wanted to say yes.
Then he stomped away too glare at the fancy bird exhibit.
“Okay!” Buck called. “Are you hungry? There’s gotta be something around here for you.”
Chris’s belly rumbled. “I am not hungry.”
“Yeah okay Eddie.” Buck rolled his eyes. “You’re angry when your hungry, you know that? Just like your dad.”
So, despite Chris absolutely not wanting to eat anything at he zoo, Buck took them to the restaurant.
He got himself a vegan burger with fries- and a cheese burger with tator tots. Tator tots.
And, sure, maybe it was because when Buck asked what he wanted Chris stomped his feet and looked away.
The fac that Buck DIDN’T know that Chris wanted French fries and not tator tot was the last straw.
Didn’t he know him? Didn’t he know automatically that Chris absolutely HATED tator tots? That he hates how salty and gross and soft they are? Huh? HUH?
“I hate them!”
“…We had them with burgers last week. Remember?” Buck tilted his head. “You okay, buddy?”
Buck tried to put his stupid hand on Chris’s forehead.
So Chris hit him with his crutch.
“Dude!” Buck yelled stupidly. He robbed the spot on his calf where Chris got him. “What the hell- uh heck? Why would you do that?”
Chris huffed. “I hate tots!”
“Since when?” Buck looked back up at him and stood back to his full stupid height.
But Chris didn’t want to answer him. He wanted the tator tots to be gone and he wanted French fries only he didn’t really want French fries, he really just wanted tots but he didn’t want to be eating tots with Buck, he wanted Dad and Mom and he wanted Buck but Buck didn’t come around when Mom was around and Mom didn’t come around if Buck was around and Chris wanted to spend the night at his Bisabuela but he couldn’t because Mom was back and he couldn’t-
“Christopher?” Buck asked softly.
Chris looked away. There were red-hot tears going down his cheeks. He felt them be absorbed in the neck of his shirt.
“I just. I just really hate tator tots, okay?!” he choked out.
Then he burst into tears.
“Whoa! Hey, what’s wrong?” Buck asked. It only made Chris cry harder.
He was being mean to Buck all day, and now buck was gonna drop him off somewhere and go with Dad and Mom and they’d all go away and leave Chris all alone. He wasn’t the greatest person on the planet, he was a big mean jerk.
Thinking about it made him feel bad, so it made him cry harder. He was shaking, and one of his crutches feel and clattered on the pavement as he covered his face.
Buck put his hands on his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in circles. “Okay, hey, we can get french fries buddy.”
“I don’t want them!” Chris sobbed.
“…I’m so confused.” Buck rubbed his back harder. “Okay, um- first thing, here. Drink some water.”
He held out a water bottle to Chris.
As he slowly drank it, Chris felt his body start to relax. His shoulders loosened and his hips stopped aching. He was ablet o take a deep breath.
Buck didn’t take his hand off his back. It was a nice pressure.
“You ready to tell me?” Buck asked. “Because, honestly, I’m not as good as a kid-whisperer as I make it out. I’m totally doing it blind.”
“I’m sorry I kicked you.” Chris stuttered out, reaching forward to grab the collar of Buck’s shirt. “And, and that I didn’t eat the, the French fries. And that I told you-“
Buck hugged him.
A big bear hug, not one of those wimpy one-armed hugs his teachers would give him sometimes. Buck wrapped his big arms around Chris and pulled him in, smushing him against his chest.
Chris sighed, and closed his eyes.
He’s felt safe in his grandparents arms, like when he had a nightmare and Abuela would kiss his forehead until the thoughts were gone. He felt safe in his fathers arms all the time.
But with Buck, Chris felt different. Not bad, but different. It wasn’t a family hug, really, but it felt the same.
He felt safe.
“My mom came back.” Chris whispered into Buck’s shoulder.
“Yeah I noticed.” Buck said. “Um-sorry, so not helping, keeping petty thoughts to myself.”
He pulled back. “You wanna talk about it? I can’t guarantee I’ll be world changing, but I’m here. I’ll listen, buddy.”
Buck was his father’s partner. Buck protected Dad- Buck was safe.
So it had to mean Chris was safe with him too, right? Buck wouldn’t leave him. Buck wouldn’t leave them.
“I don’t know how it feels.” Chris admitted. “There’s a lot of thoughts in my brain.” He fisted his hands together and held up to Buck. “See? Too big.”
Buck looked at his hands and laughed. “First off, that’s not how it actually works. Second- have you told your dad? Because, honestly, I bet he’s having a lot of big thoughts too.”
“Really?” Chris asked.
“Oh yeah.” Buck said, nodding. “Definitely. I mean, you’re his favorite person ever, and now that your mom came back, you’re spending some time with her. He might be thinking-“
He broke off, grinning as seagull landed and started picking at Buck’s lettuce. “You know when there’s a toy at school that you really love?”
“Yeah?”
“Okay, so you love it. It’s your favorite marker or something.” He poked Chris. “You love you, you’ve taken care of it it’s entire existence, and you are the only one who knows how to draw with it or something.”
Chris nodded.
Buck grinned. “Great! SO it’s you and this marker, and then suddenly one of your ex-uh, one of your friends come by and want to also play with the marker. And they’ve made some very questionable choi-uh, decisions with the marker. But you’re gonna try to trust them with the marker because they, too, love the marker. Pretty sure.” He made a face. “Like, we’re listening to outside sources and not just fellow co-workers who have kids of their own (and bias friends), then yes.”
Chris was lost.
“You lost me.”
Buck deflated. “I had a feeling.”
“Am I the marker?”
“Yes!” Buck grinned.
He frowned. “Wait, is this how objectification starts? You’re a person.”
He started mumbling a whole bunch of other things, but Chris stared forward into the crowd instead.
“Does Dad think I’m a marker?”
“I think Dad is never going to let me talk to you again.”
“Buck-“
“Yes.” Buck said. He shifted over. “Your dad loves you Chris. He might just not be able to see your struggling a bit, and that’s okay.”
“But why can’t he?”
“Small brain.” Buck said. He paled. “He is so never letting me talk to you again.”
Chris kicked out his legs. “I don’t want to be feel like this. It makes my brain hurt.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t know how I feel about Mom coming back.”
Despite eh people at the zoo, Chris felt as if they were all listening. They were all going to turn to him and point and laugh and talk about what an ungrateful child he was, and why don’t you want your dad to be happy, it’s your mom, don’t be selfish you need to do your exercises more before she leaves again you need to stretch you need to learn how to run don’t be such a BURDEN-
Buck sighed. “I don’t blame you.”
Chris looked up. “Really?”
Buck nodded. “You kidding? It’s a lot of change for a little kid. Big changes too. I don’t think anyone expects you to be perfect.”
Chris took a deep breath and looked away.
Oh. He hadn’t…he never thought that anyone would say he was fine.
“I don’t want to tell Dad.” Chris admitted.
Buck hummed. “I don’t feel right keeping secrets from him- good lesson, do not keep secrets from your dad. Especially with an adult. Unless it’s like a surprise party for him, but only if it’s a party and nothing else.”
Chirs didn’t say anything. He watched a family wearing matching Disney shirts walk by.
Was that ever going to be him, Dad, and Mom?
It…it could be nice.
“How about this.” Buck held up a tot to Chris. “I won’t tell him exactly what you’ve told me, I’ll just say you’ve been having too many thoughts. I know he looks like he got a teeny brain-“ Chris smiled. “-but he’s actually pretty smart. One of the smartest people I know. That way you can tell him what you want, and he still knows you got some stuff going on.”
Chris thought about it. TH idea of his dad knowing and actually helping hadn’t occurred to him. He forgot that his dad has any feelings at all- he just always seemed so happy when he was around Chris.
“You promise you won’t tell him anything else?” Chris asked cautiously. He didn’t want anyone to go away, and if he told Dad he’s not sure a out Mom…
A lady on unicycle came wheeled past them. Buck grinned, and held up his pinky finger. “I promise.”
Chris latched onto him. “Okay, deal.”
“Besides.” Buck said after a moment. He looked over and pointed with his chin. “Dad wanted to join us after all.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Chris did.
Across the way was his father.
He was standing by a turtle exhibit staring at them. But as soon as Chris and Buck were looking at him he quickly turned his body toward the turtle, only he turned so fast he twisted his leg and fell into the raised fenced.
Buck hissed. “Oof.”
Chris was grinning far to hard to care that his father totally butted himself into his and Buck’s playdate. But look! Dad! Was there!
“DAD!” Chris shouted excitedly.
Dad turned and even from so far away his cheeks looked red.
Even as he walked over with a hand behind his neck. He must have been really embarrassed about scaring the turtles.
“You really don’t do this.” Buck said as Chris hugged his dad.
Dad groaned. “I know, I’m sorry Buck-“
“For what, Eddie?” Buck offered him a tot. “Being super worried about your kid?”
“I didn’t mean to follow you! I just-“ He sighed. “I was just-“
Chris hummed. “You should have come in Buck’s jeep. We go really high over potholes.”
Buck laughed loudly. “Don’t worry buddy, he saw us.”
Dad’s face went redder. “I-well-whatever.”
“Yeah.” Buck said. For some reason Buck’s cheeks and his birthmark were extra red, too. “You love your kid. Whatever.”
Dad turned away from him and back to Chris. “Are we all good here? Did you have fun?”
For a moment Chris burned in shame. If Dad was here, it meant that he saw him wack Buck with his crutch.
But he wasn’t scolding him, so maybe not.
“I’m good.” Chris said, pressing his face into Dad’s shoulder. “Buck said your brain is small.”
“Oh my god-“
“Did he?” Dad laughed. “Well, don’t listen to him. All those protein shakes may give him big arms, but they’re killing his braincells.”
“You think my arms are big Diaz?”
Both of their faces were red again.
Chris finally ate the tator tots. All three of them went through the rest of the zoo, and Buck was even cooler than Chris thought; he knew so many animal facts!
Hours went by before they left. Chris was able to go home with Dad. No Moms in sight.
“Thank you, again.” Dad said as he buckled Chris into the car. “I know I hijacked your plans, but thank you anyways.”
“Eddie.” Buck didn’t say anything else, waiting for Dad to turn to him.
In the setting sun, Buck could have been a candle. He was smiling, soft, and it made Chris feel good.
Chris was so happy in that moment that he knew Buck-Whateverhislastname was.
“Chris-“ Buck grinned wider. “is lucky to have a father that loves him as much as you do. Don’t apologize for that. Honestly, I felt better knowing you were with us all day in case something happened to him.”
His face got a little funny. Dad wasn’t saying anything, just breathing deep, so buck looked around him and waved to Chris. “See you in a while, crocodile.”
“Later alligator.” Chris responded, yawning. He held his new lemur plush toy closer to his chest. “It was fun.”
The door closed.
Dad had the car already on, cool air blowing and radio turned up, so Chris couldn’t hear what Buck was talking to his father about.
It made him nervous- but not scared. It was a good kind of nervousness, because h knew Buck wasn’t going to tell Dad anything that Chris didn’t want him too.
Chris shifted forward in his seat to stare out eh windshield. He saw a family walk by, a mother and father and their kids.
Belatedly, he wished Mom had come too, so she could feel as good with Buck as Chris did. Maybe the four of them could go to the zoo together.
“So.” Dad said, way later that night. “Buck said you’ve been having a lot of confusing thoughts about Mom.”
Chris looked down to his comforter. He tucked his socked feet underneath a heavier bit. “Mhmm.”
Dad waited for him to say something. When Chris didn’t say anything, Dad sat down next to him and put a hand on his leg.
He waited until Chris looked up. “You know there’s nothing you could say that would change who you are. I love you no matter what.”
Chris felt the air in his body leave. His shoulders drooped.
“I don’t know how it feels.” Chris decided to say. “That Mom is back.”
He waited with bated breath, watching for his fathers reaction.
Dad sighed. With only his side lamp on, Dad’s brown eyes looked almost black. “Me neither.”
Maybe it should have made Chris uneasy; if his father didn’t know how he felt, how was Chris supposed to know?
Yet it was nice to know he wasn’t alone in this. That it was still Chris and Dad.
(and Abuela and Abuelo even though there a few states away.)
Satisfied, Chris sighed. “Dad I was really mean to Buck today.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I said sorry though.” Chris felt his lips wobble in the corner. “He said thank you, but I feel really bad. He even told me that I should talk to you how I feel cause, cause if I don’t it could all be vomited and stink.”
Dad took a deep breath. “Oh. Uh-wow. He’s uh, he’s pretty smart.”
Chris nodded. “Yeah.”
“We’re really lucky to have a guy like Buck in our lives, aren’t we.” Dad murmured. Chris rolled onto his side to look at him.
He had his eyes shut. “Honestly Chris, he’s like so cooool. You know, he’s my best friend.”
Chris huffed and snuggled closer to his dad’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you with one before.”
If Dad ever answered, Chris wouldn’t have known. He fell asleep.
“Is Bobby your dad?” Chris asked four months after the tsunami.
It was a really good day. Buck had been coming back around his home for about a month again, after he did what dad said “some bullshit.”
(Later when Chris asked about Buck’s bullshit, Dad sat him down and told him that he was wrong, that what Buck was fighting for wasn’t bullshit, and that Dad was sorry he told Chris it ever was. Chris didn’t know what or care what it was, as long as Buck was back to hanging around.)
Buck looked up form his-whatever it was. He said he was crocheting. “What? No.”
Then he grinned and flex his biceps. “I know it can look like I got this from him, but these are 100% Viking blood free.”
Dad, who was walking in with cookies, smacked Buck on the back of his head. “Don’t be gross in front of my kid.”
“I’m not being gross!” Buck defending, rubbing his hair. He flexed an arm. “Bobby and I are built like houses!”
“Sure.” Dad said, staring at Buck’s arm. He held the cookie tray about three feet away from Chris, who was sitting on the couch. “That’s why.”
Chris, after fighting for life for a sugar cookie, shook his head. “No, I just wondering because he was talking to Maddie about your physical therapy.”
“…oh.” Buck answered.
Dad was silent. He was still looking at Buck’s arm, which was still flexed. Weirdos.
“Uh.” Buck relaxed his arm. “No, he’s not my father. He’s just- well, he’s not just my captain, but he’s my…captain.”
He trailed off on the last word, looking uncertain.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked. “It seems like you’re not. It’s, like, okay if he is. I won’t judge.”
Dad laughed. He had finally stopped looking at Buck’s arm. “No, he’s not Bobby’s biological son.”
“Oh.” Chris made a face. “Then who are your parents?”
“The Buckleys.” Buck answered. He shook his head. “They live in Pennsylvania. We’re not close.”
Chris and Dad looked at one another.
“Are you sad about it?” Chris asked after a moment.
Buck shook his head. “No, not really. I don’t…I don’t need them. I have everything I need, I think.”
Dad nodded. He shoulder bumped Buck. “Have a cookie.”
“Wow, expert advice from Edmundo Diaz. I’m so lucky.”
“Wait.” Chris raised his hands and pointed to Buck. “Your name is Buck Buckley?”
Buck blinked. “No? Do you-Chris, do you not know my name?”
“It’s…Buck.” Chris answered. He looked to his father. “Right? What am I getting wrong here?”
Dad went pale. “Oh my God.”
Buck turned. “He doesn’t know?”
Dad was staring at Buck. He was sucking on his own mouth like there was a lemon in there. “Well you never told him either!”
“Told me what?” Chris asked.
“My name is Evan.” Buck said finally, turning back to Chris. “My last name is Buckley.”
It was like a bomb had been dropped onto Chris’s lap. It’s been- it’s been two years, had Chris never been made aware of this? What other secrets are they hiding form him? Did he have a able-bodied twin? Was the sky purple?
Chris, at a loss of words, simply glared at his father.
Dad’s cheeks were red. “I already knew what his name was. I am his best friend, you know.”
“Aw.”
Chris flared at Buck.
Buck’s brow raised, and he threw his hands up. “Hey, I didn’t know you didn’t know! Wait, have you been thinking my name was Buck Buckley this whole time?”
Chris shook his head. “No!” he frowned. “I don’t know. I never really thought about your last name. I guess I’ve been thinking it was, like, Nash or something. “
“Buck Nash.” Buck said aloud. He smiled. “It’s nice.”
“Buck Diaz is nice.” Chris huffed, for no other reason than to defend his own name.
For some reason. Dad started laughing really loud. It looked painful.
Buck loved his father.
It was clear as day to Chris. Buck loved his father, in maybe every sense of the word.
For weeks the man lived in their home and took care of the both of them.
He would get up early enough to get Chris up and make sure he was doing his exercises before school. Four out of five days, he would have made breakfast for them- ranging from pancakes to warmed pop-tarts.
When he and Chris were done, Buck would sit him down at the table and go and wake up Dad.
Now, there were a lot of good things about Dad. Being a patient was not one of them, and Chris thanked God every day that Buck was there to help him.
Dad was cranky. He liked to try and do things himself, to the point that even Chris would give him looks to et him to stop trying to pick up the new tub of laundry detergent with his bad arm. He would silently fuss (by huffing) when being cared for and silently complain (grumbled under his breath) if Buck did something he didn’t think he needed help with.
For a while Chris felt really, really bad for Buck. He couldn’t understand why Buck was still hanging around them, especially with Dad’s terrible mood.
Chris didn’t want to say anything to them. There was a part of them that was afraid that he did, and Buck realized that Dad was being super rude, that he would get common sense and leave them.
And Chirs had no idea what to do to help his dad. He didn’t know what meds to give him or what stretches to do- for God sake, Chris was starting to think about asking for a wheelchair to sue sometimes, much less be able to get his crank of an ungrateful-for-his-bestfriend father up.
One week Buck was scheduled for a forty-eight-hour shift. Buck was a wreck and, truthfully, Chris was a bit worried too.
But Dad had told Buck- “Stop worrying. Anna said she’ll come over. Maybe I’ll be able to sneeze on my own.”
“Great.” Buck had said mindlessly. He stood up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. “She’ll meet Hangry Eddie. What a treat.”
During the first day, Chris thought his dad was happy.
He was kind, he used his manners, and he even smiled when Anna handed him his meds. He didn’t snap when she stretched his arm, he didn’t roll his eyes when she asked if he was getting hungry. Hell, he didn’t even blink wrong at her.
It made him want to fight for Buck’s honor or something. Poor guy, all he got was attitude.
However, when Anna asked Chris if he needed or wanted any help over his own stuff, Dad had quickly said “No!”
Anna and Chris both looked at him.
Dad’s jaw twitched. “Sorry Anna, it’s just that- he likes to do them himself.”
Which was true.
But Dad hadn’t been objecting to when Buck offered the past few weeks. Neither had Chris- Buck usually had something to talk to him about.
“Oh. Sorry.” Anna said gently.
“You…you don’t need to apologize?” Dad answered.
After that things were quiet.
The next day was the same routine. Dad was sweet and kind to Anna.
However, when Chris walked past Dad and Dad reached out for hug, Chris felt how tense the dude was.
And that was coming from Chris, the only person in that household that had to have a daily fight with his muscles.
So Chris kept a close eye on him. How his shoulders stayed by his ears, or his hands were fisted on his knees. Even his breathing was mechanical. Chris doubted the man could poop at that moment, he was so wound up.
It was until Anna left on the last evening that Dad finally started to relax. It wasn’t by much- at least he was leaning against the couch.
“Night Chris.” Dad said before going to bed.
“Night Dad.” Chris answered, already curled up on his bed. He grinned. “Buck comes back tomorrow.”
He meant it as a joke- he honestly couldn’t tell if Dad would be happy or not if Buck was here. He was such a jerk to him.
Surprisingly, Dad simply nodded. Softly, he said “Yeah, he does.”
“Oh my god.” Buck said when he came into the house early the following morning. He was still in his uniform. “You look like shit.”
Chris looked over to Dad.
He had bags under his eyes. There was tightness that had been there since Anna came and was now loosening. Chris could literally see his shoulders loosen.
Instead of saying anything, lie thanking the guy, Dad frowned.
“Take a picture.” He snapped. “It’ll last longer.”
Buck shook his head and made a beelined for the bathroom. “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a bitch. Hey Chris! You have a good weekend?”
“Uh, yeah.” Chirs answered, grinning. Not often someone called his father a name. “You?”
“Sure!” He leaned out of the hall and grinned. “I got to show Probie how to do an oil change on the rig!”
“Fantastic.” Dad mumbled. He was leaning against the back of the couch. “Love that for you.”
Buck pouted. “What, Anna not fluff your pillows right, Pretty Princess? So sad.”
Dad grumbled. “Whatever. Wake me up in an hour.”
Two minutes later, Dad was completely zonked out.
It shocked Chris- they both had only woken up only two hours ago. Had Dad not…?
Chris looked toward the bathroom. Back to Dad. To the door that Anna left hours ago.
He thought that Dad would have told Buck to go home. Call Anna in.
But Dad…didn’t.
And Buck came back knowing that his father was a jerk.
“Wow.” Chris said to his rude sleeping father. “Buck must really love you.”
Chris never knew he had to worry about Buck not coming back.
He should have. Earth almost took him when the truck landed on his leg. Water almost took him during the tsunami. Now, what? Lightning? Chris had to worry about the sky?
Dad had spent a lot of time at he hospital, so on the ninth day when he came back Chris was scared.
They were sitting down in the living room when Dad told him that they, Buck’s family, was going to pull him off the respirator.
Dad didn’t sound happy over it.
“Bobby wants to?” Chris asked. He had tears running down his cheeks. He’d spent enough time in hospitals over his life to know what could happen to their best friend.
“No, not Bobby. Buck’s…his real family.” He grimaced. “His biological family.”
Chris sat forward. “I hate them.” He said finally.
“Yeah.” Dad whispered. He leaned over to hold Chris’s hand. “Me too.”
They sat there for a long time.
It didn’t feel real.
But it was. It was real, and it felt like Chris was going to lose half of his world.
Buck woke up.
Chris didn’t have to lose anyone again. Now that didn’t seem real.
Dad was with his blonde dead mom.
Marisol left. Chris knew it was going to happen. No one ever stayed.
Not Mom, not Anna or Marisol, not even his father.
Diaz men. They always seemed to drive people away.
Chris couldn’t lose anyone else- but, fuck, he didn’t want to be in the same house as his father.
“I don’t want to keep secrets from your dad.”
It time for Chris to go. Screw them all- if they didn’t want him, he would go where he was.
Chris hated chess, holy shit did he hate chess.
Maybe, a long time ago, he wouldn’t have minded it. But Abuelo took that one game Chris won and RAN with it. Sprinted away, and with it was all of Chris’s dreams of having a nice relaxing life.
Hang out with his Texas friends? Sorry, he had a chess match.
Facetime his best friend Dylan? Nope, chess practice.
It was great, at first, living with his grandparents again. It was exactly like how it was when he was kid.
Literally.
It was exactly like how it was when he was a little kid, and he wanted to be grateful that they loved him, but BY GOD would they let him shower in peace.
He knew there was a learning curve- they al had to adjust that life wasn’t the same from seven years ago.
Chris was so glad to see his father in person after three months.
Not that Chris was going to tell him that.
He would be nice enough to say that it was alright that he wasn’t a firefighter anymore. Not that Chris cared about his ego. Frankly, from what Chris had seen, the man could do with less of it.
Dad’s place was…well, they were together, and that’s all that mattered. It was humble.
But it was fine! Chris got to see his grandparents’, and got to see his dad, and the best part was that no one was arguing. Everyone was using their words- and they didn’t try to gloss over anything when Chris was in the room.
It was like he was five years old again. He was in Texas, surrounded by his cousins and tias and grandparents again. Only this time, he wasn’t depending on decade old germs on the walls to be close to his father.
He got to have dinner with together and say goodnight and hello to everyone most nights. He got to go a room that was his and his only, and he didn’t have to wake up to thoughtful gifts.
It was everything Chris had ever wanted.
And it wasn’t until he had that Chris realized that…it wasn’t.
There was a missing link, something that felt open that didn’t sit right in his bones.
The only problem was that he didn’t know quite what it was.
Did he miss Dylan, his best friend? Of course. Did he miss seeing the pretty girls in his school, the eons who stopped caring about his cp long ago and didn’t treat him like he was something breakable? Damn right.
The beach? Eh. The food? No- he loved his Texas barbeque.
It wasn’t the less-wet air, the sea-salt wind, the golden sun that set every day.
Not the influencers on the street who tried to use him as a token video (it only happened twice and Dad was real mean with them). It wasn’t the bakeries, the Russian food spots, the constant revolving door of shops.
Not the traffic, or his old doctors who didn’t need to ask him questions about his medical past. Not the teachers who knew what he was capable of, not quite a specific firetruck he was used to seeing.
Barbeques were close. The familiarity of his dad’s other family wasn’t quite it.
It was close though, but not quite.
What Chris was lacking, really, was someone he’d known for half of his life. It was someone he knew more than his own mother, whose voice he heard over cellphone calls and was enough but not.
It was looking over at the dinner table in Texas and knowing that the one thing that was missing was, again, in California.
“I miss Buck.”
Dad, who had been brushing his teeth, choked.
Chris kind of figured it was going to happen (which was why he said it at that moment) so he waited patiently until the toothpaste was all washed out before he repeated himself. “I really miss Buck, Dad.”
For a long moment Dad stared at eh spit in the sink, washing his mouth out with water.
“Yeah.” He said quietly. “I miss Buck too.”
There was heaviness in his words that Chris couldn’t decipher.
He had a feeling he knew what it was. Dad had been trying, really, to be happy with Texas. Holy crap, Chris was happy to see him in Texas- no matter how much he tried to deny it, he loved and missed his father.
But if he wanted Dad, who was very clearly a California man, to stay with him in Texas, Chris had to do some planning.
He waited until they were in the living room to watch t.v. to open his mouth.
“Buck should visit-“
“I’m gay.”
They both jumped back. Dad’s face went white.
Chris blinked. “Oh.”
The words sinked in.
“Oh.”
His father was gay? Gay? It’s not- of course, Chris didn’t care what someone’s sexuality was, he's got a million and one more things to worry about before thinking of who is kissing who.
His father is- or was- his father was straight . Was. He’s only dated woman- but he cheated on his serious girlfriend? With a woman? So why didn’t he- with a man- when he-?
Chris wanted to ask questions but…but.
His father was sitting next to him looking scared. Like whatever Chris could say could…hurt him.
Didn’t he know that Chris loved him? That, regardless of who he was out dating and then cheating on, Chris was always going to love him?
Even when Chris was in Texas, he loved his father. Even his father was out working three jobs and Chris didn’t see him, Chris loved him.
Christopher will and has always loved him, so why-
Chris sucked in a quest breath.
Sometimes, maybe, you could hurt someone even on accident.
He knew he had been quiet for too long, so he said the first thing that popped into his head:
“Women around the world feel safer form your emotions already.”
Chris winced at his own words. Dear God, what was wrong with him?
Dad laughed. Chris didn’t pretend not to see the tears in his eyes, not this time.
Instead he reached up to hold his face and wiped one away. Dad sighed and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Mijo. For being so good.”
He wanted to ask questions- what made Dad realize this? Who made him?
Chris had a pretty good idea. Admittedly, he was a little afraid to ask.
What if his dad went to the “Who” and it didn’t work? What if they did? What if they didn’t?
It was cowardice of both of them to not acknowledge who/what/where/how it was. Chris wasn’t ready to hear it.
“How long have you known?” Chris asked instead, hoping it would diffuse the knot in his stomach.
Only it didn’t. Instead, it made the knot solid like cement.
DI heis dad know when he was a teenager? Did he know when Chris was born? When he married his mother?
Chris had seen the posts on the internet- of those who had to hide who they were, especially in conservative areas. Chris was lucky enough to have some his formative years in Los Angeles, that anything pertaining to the LGBTQ+ community was normal to him.
Because it was normal. He never understood why it would be such a problem if boys kiss boys or if girls kiss girls, or if someone wants to go by a new name and pronoun.
Maybe it was because his father had never cared- he had always made it a point to tell Chris there was nothing wrong with it.
Or, maybe, it was because Chris really did have something else to worry about. One couldn’t be concerned about someone else’s business when your muscles started turning on you.
His dad nodded. His hands were clasped together on his lap, tight. “I…I don’t know. When I was your age, I wouldn’t think about it.”
“If-not if, sorry, I support you, your gay, no denial over here-“ (Dad snorted) “- but since your gay, have you always been- how did you and mom-“ Chris made a face. “-How did you guys…you know…”
He lifted up his hands and punched them together.
Dad’s eyes went a little wide. He turned to Chris. “Please tell me that’s not how you think we made you.”
“Oh my GOD! I know what sex is!” Chris’s face was on fire. “I just meant- how did you guys make me if-not if sorry- your gay! God!”
“Oh.” Dad answered. His voice was squeaky and his face was also red. “Um. Okay. Okay I can- I can tell you.”
Chris nodded. “Spare me the details.”
“Oh my god.”
And so his father told him.
About his first crush, a boy named Micheal who danced a little too awful for ballroom, about the boy in middle school who loved talking about his cross match meet ups.
That, when Eddie Diaz was growing up and in charge of his little sisters, he didn’t think that any of it meant anything, so when his mother pulled him asides when he was fourteen Eddie vehemently denied it.
“I’m not Ma!” Eddie had once said. He was tired, felt overworked form the constant hours in the ballroom studio. He had been frustrated with himself for dropping his partner Michelle that evening. “I like girls!”
And he did, to a point. He did like how Michelle’s arms looked in her dance costume, and how her blue eyes caught the light, and how across the room Joe Mills would smile with his whole face-
“I’m not.” Eddie had repeated.
He wasn’t! Not really. Besides, if he was, what would his father think? His sisters? His abuela? No, it was safer for him to not be.
So he would sit in school in the hot classrooms, the windows open to let the air move. And if sometimes the hair on his male classmates moved, or if he got a whiff of their body spray, then Eddie was known the wiser.
Sure, he would laugh too hard at his friend Kenny’s stories, and when he got older he stood closer to Mile’s then he did to Angelica. But he never let his eye wonder in the locker room, never let it slip how he thought Prince looked extra good that day.
Eddie could hide it, the longing. He didn’t need to look up Stonewall, or see what states allowed same-sex marriage.
Because one day a girl named Jennifer walked into his science classroom, and he couldn’t stop staring at her legs.
And so that had to be proof, right? It meant that Eddie wasn’t-that. That he could be on the narrow, that he didn’t need to worry about what his father-sister-Abuela would think of him. He could look at Jennifer’s legs and be fine.
And he was. He was, he was, he was.
And then he met a girl at a lake, with blue eyes and a kind smile and talked to him for hours.
They fell in love; at least, for a couple of sixteen-year-olds.
They fell in love, and then they had a baby.
And then she left them.
After that, Eddie didn’t need to worry about his sexuality.
He had a son! A boy, who was depending on him. Eddie needed to focus on surviving, on making sure his boy had everything eh needed. Eddie needed to keep him close, because if he didn’t then he thought his own parents were gonna take him away.
So Eddie worked. And they moved, and he became a firefighter.
They found Shannon, they lost her. Eddie found Anna, he didn’t love her.
He found Marisol, he didn’t love her.
And throughout all of this, there was someone there. Who made Eddie think I don’t need to worry about this anymore, because they were there.
Eddie didn’t need to think about the woman or men. He didn’t need to work three jobs, he didn’t need to admit defeat in his own ability to be a father, or a man, because then-
He had never had a support system. A village, a family like he had made in California. People who loved him and, more importantly, his son.
Because, in California, there was-
His father stopped speaking.
Chris wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know, not even after his father’s story. He was scared.
What if Dad said it, and it never happened? What if his father messed it up? What if-
What if Chris was too much?
Too much baggage, too weak, too feeble, too damaged, too complicated. What if he, Chris, wasn’t worth it?
Mom left, Anna left, Marisol doesn’t text him anymore.
The only one he-
No. The only one they had left was the same man Dad couldn’t say.
Suddenly Chris was angry. Unfair thoughts filtered through his mind. Why didn’t his father recognize this part of himself sooner? Why couldn’t he say anything in California? Why now, when they were back in Texas? Why-
“Why did you date her?” Chris asked. “Of all people, why her? She looked- Dad, come on.”
Chris rubbed his eyes. “I just don’t understand. Why couldn’t you just, like, break up with Marisol at least? Why did you bring her to our home?”
“I saw her and I thought…that I had a restart.” Dad said. “I wasn’t thinking of how it would affect anyone- which was awful to you, and to Kim. I just saw your mother and there was some part pf me that wanted to see if I could…fix it.”
He laughed bitterly. “Which is so unbelievably messed up.”
Chris looked to his hands. “But why do you want to even do that? She…she didn’t love us.”
Dad turned. “Chris-“
“Mom left me. She left us- no matter what, she left.” Chris sniffed. “I remember that night. She told me she loved me, she watched Blue’s Clues all day with me, she even carried me into your guy’s room and told me my glasses were on the dresser. She didn’t want to be my mom anymore, and your gay, so why did you choose to be with Kim?”
Dad sucked in a deep breath, looked to the floor, and nodded. “That’s…that’s fair. And the truth is Chris, it was because I was selfish.”
“No shit.”
Chris slapped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words slipped out.
Dad laughed/ “you know what, I deserved it. No shit I was selfish, right?”
He laughed again, but not in a ha-ha-funny type of way. In the same way Chris would when his current math teacher would do when Chris got a question wrong in front of the class and say “Oh it’s alright Diaz, I know. It was a difficult one.”
His father ran a hand down his chin. “Honestly, Chris, I saw her in a store and just…stopped. It was as if your mother really did come back.”
“She didn’t though.” Chris said.
“I know, bud.”
“No, Dad. I mean she didn’t come back to us.” Chris dug his thumb nail into the pad of his finger. “We went to her.”
The silence was deafening.
“Holy shit.” Dad said slowly. “You’re…your right.”
Chris nodded.
Dad was blinking down to the floor. “I forgot about that. She never came back. I don’t- I don’t know if she would ever have.”
Chris reeled in shock. It was the first time he had ever heard his father say anything remotely negative about his mother.
Dad kept going.
“I was so angry with her, after.” His hands fisted over his knees. “I know, now, that I wasn’t a good partner for her.”
He turned to Chris. His eyes were wet. “I loved you, so much, but I was so scared of being your father. And, admittedly, when you were diagnosed with cerebral palsy, I was even glad that I wasn’t home. I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt, so I threw myself into making sure I could financially provide for you all.”
He laughed bitterly. “I sure did. I didn’t think about what your mother was going through, or what you were going through. I figured that I was too busy paying the bills to think about doctor appointments, or how my parents got very involved with you guys. I didn’t defend Shannon to them. I didn’t care.”
“When I came back, after I healed, I didn’t even try to deal with my PTSD. I was angry, Chris. I didn’t know what or who I supposed do or be, all I knew was that I had to take care of my family.”
His hands spasmed. “I don’t know if you remember, but your mother and I were fighting constantly. And it was my fault. I wasn’t willing to hear her, I wasn’t willing to understand. So when I woke up with you in our bed and a note saying she needed space, I couldn’t tell you that I was surprised.”
He looked up and put a hand in Chris’s hair. “I never thought that it would have been you she would keep space form, too. I figured we would have gotten a divorce, and I would have had to fight tooth and nail for even visitation rights. I never expected to have full and complete custody.”
He squeezed. “Not that I’m complaining. I was so fucking-“
Despite the situation, Chris giggled.
Even Dad cracked a smile. “I was so fucking lucky that she left you with me.”
“But wouldn’t it had been easier if she did?” Chris asked timidly. He looked to the wooden floor, tracing a scuff mark with his eye. “You had to work all the time, especially when I started needing surgeries.”
Dad stood up and kneeled in front of Chris, moving his head until Chris was looking him straight on.
His eyes were still wet. He smiled. “I was so fucking lucky that she left you with me. Do you hear my words? There is not a day that goes by that I am not incredibly grateful you were with me.”
He squeezed Chris’s knee. “Would it have been easier, yes. And I would have been miserable, because it meant that my wonderful son would have been away form me.”
Chris was tearing up. He felt the tears slid down his cheeks. “I know you did the best for me, when we were here. I just didn’t get it.”
“Why should you?” Dad sighed. “You were a kid. You had one parent abandon you, and then the one that stayed kept leaving you with your grandparents. What kid wouldn’t be scarred form that?”
Chris had always loved his father. He was pretty sure that there would be a piece of him that would love his abandoning mother too.
His father had been so open that night about everything. His sexuality (gross), his past, everything.
So maybe it was time Chris be a little open, too.
“When I saw you with her.” Chris started. “I was- I thought it was mom.”
Dad nodded. His eyes were a little wide, and he slowly shifted so he was sitting on the coffee table.
Chris went on. “I saw her, and I was so mad at you for being with her. Some part was for Marisol, who I did like. And some of it was because I was shocked that you could cheat on anyone.”
He drew up his shoulders. “But…I was mad at you because it felt like you were choosing Mom. It felt like when I was eight again, and she came back into our lives and you started spending time with her, and it reminded me how scared I was that you were going to leave me to be with her, and that I would have no one anymore.”
He heard Dad’s air leave his lungs.
Chris went on.
“She didn’t want me. She can say she loved me, but if she did she would have contacted me. I mean, Dad-“
Chris leaned back, reaching to the side for his phone. He pulled up his messages. “Dad, you know who talks to me? Buck! He’s not even- he doesn’t have too! But he does!”
Dad was breathing hard. “I know Chris, I know sweetheart. He loved you so much.”
“So why didn’t Mom?” Chris almost sobbed. “Why did- I know, you thought you could do it right, I’m really glad you’re getting therapy, but why? When you with blonde her, you were choosing her, you were choosing the woman who didn’t want us!”
His father was flinching. Chris rubbed his cheeks, controlling his steadfast crying.
It was a moment before Chris could breath again. The whole time his father, his hero, was rubbing his back, not saying a word. He was there.
“It just…it seemed like you didn’t want to be my dad anymore.” Chris hiccupped. “And I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”
His whole life.
Dad but his hands on Chris’s face. “I will always, always, be your father, Christopher Edmundo Diaz. There is nothing and no one that could make me change that.”
Then his face caved. “And I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t want to be, because being your father in the single greatest thing I have every done in my life. Okay? So even if you turn eighteen and you decide that you don’t wany anything to do with me-“
His voice cracked. “With me, it still wouldn’t matter. You are the love of my life and nothing, in any way, will ever change that.”
Chris pushed forward and threw his arms around his father’s neck.
The air left Dad’s body, and he wrapped his thick arms around his back. He pressed his cheek against Chris’s hair as he shuddered.
“I was really happy when you came here.” Chris said into his dad’s shirt. He closed his eyes and let his tears stain the blue fabric. “I missed you.”
Dad let out a sigh, a laugh of sorts coming out. H brushed his warm hand through Chris’s curls. “I’m sorry you thought I didn’t want you.”
He pulled back, his own eyes wet. Chris hated it. He didn’t want his father to cry.
“There is-“ Dad wiped the tear that fell onto Chris’s cheek. “-Nothing, or no one, that I will ever put above you. I love you so much, Christopher Diaz. Even if you weren’t my kid I’d still love you.”
Even if you weren’t my kid. It echoed, over and over, even as Dad held him tight again.
Even as they stayed up late to watch bad movies, and went Chris went to bed and when he woke up.
Even if you weren’t my kid.
Could it be so simple?
Chris moved back with his father.
He didn’t think about California at all. Nope. Not it’s beaches, golden sun, or influencers.
He didn’t think about how he didn’t know where their best friend Buck was or his jealously when he saw photos of Buck hanging out with Denny and Mara Wilson. Not at all. Chris was above that, thank you very much.
Where was home? The place you were, or the place you and your father wanted to be?
Chris hated that the reason they went to California was because they thought Bobby Nash was dead.
But he was extremely glad when the man turned out to be alive.
Bobby had come over for dinner while Dad went out to do his Uber runs.
He thought, after being away for months, that it would be awkward. That Buck and him lost whatever it was that made their relationship good, and that adding Bobby to the mix was going to make for a evening in which Chris wanted to run.
To both his confusions and excitement, it wasn’t.
Buck still chewed with his mouth open, talked with his arms and laughed loud at something funny. He still poured a glass of milk for Chris and went into depth about how he made the roasted turkey, and the mash potatoes and how he didn’t shulk the corn but “Bobby don’t be a hater, it’s still fine out of the can then it is off he cob, I’ve been a little busy man.”
And Chris was able to laugh and talk about his friends and joke about chess and how he still wanted a dog and “Buck you should really get one, it would be nice.”
Besides Buck, right across the round table, Bobby was all smiles. He kept looking at Buck, grinning harder when Buck did, eating the ice cream with joy.
Chris wasn’t sure if Bobby knew how he looked at Buck. Like how Abuela and Abuelo looked at his dad, at his Tia’s.
“I’m really glad you’re alive Bobby.” Chris said when Buck went into the bathroom. “I think Buck would have had a hard time if you died.”
He paled. “Not that that’s the only reason! I’m glad you’re alive for yourself!”
Bobby didn’t seem to have taken what he said as an insult, for he was laughing at Chris. “It’s alright Chris, I understand.”
He smiled and leaned over. There was a twinkle in his eye. “I’m glad I’m alive for my family too.”
Buck had come out by then. “Guys, there’s a America’s Worst Chefs marathon happening! Right now!”
Chris had managed to stomach a whole episode with the critics until he had to escape. He didn’t know what was worst; them pointing out and explain to Chris every little cooking mistake, or every fire hazard.
It was like watching documentaries with Abuelo. Bobby even paused the show every five minutes, just. Like. Abuelo.
He let them down gently.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He stood up, his stance a little wobbly from sitting down for a million hours. “You guys are the worst to watch food shows with. Good night. Love you.”
“Love you Chris!” Buck said. He stood up and hugged him. Chris headbutted him back. “Let me know if you need anything, alright.”
“I need to never watch food network with you guys.” He said with no real heat.
Bobby laughed from his spot on the couch. He reached over to squeeze Chris’s arm as he walked by. “Night buddy. Thank you for being glad I’m alive.”
Chris ambled to his room. His room, because Buck had never taken down his bed.
“I figured you’d come back at some point.” Buck joked at the beginning of the week, knocking into him as he handed Chris an extra set of bedding. “Figured you’d want your bed.”
Most of Chris’s things had gone to Texas- even his old rug that was in Dad’s living room. But there were still some traces of him in California.
Like the drawing he did of a dinosaur a few years back. A picture he must have drawn for Buck. A few odd socks, his old dresser that didn’t fit on the moving van.
His bed and bed frame, a basket of stuff that Chris didn’t want.
And, tucked into the corner of his closest, still lied the letter that his mother wrote to him.
He hadn’t opened it since before he caught his father talking to Blonde Dead Mom Doppelganger. He’s been scared too, honestly.
But, more than that- he just didn’t want too.
He was finally accepting that Mom had left, believing that there was a part of her that loved Chris. Not just a part-but her in general.
She had too. Right? Yes. Yes, she did.
She cared for Chris, and sometimes you have to be away from the ones you loved to take care of them. Weather Abuela meant for him to remember that or not, all these years later, Chris chose to think of Shannon Rodgers of that.
Maybe she should have called. Emailed. Sent a severed thumb or something, let him know that she was thinking of him.
But if she did, what would have happened? Would Dad still move them to California? Would Chris have ever met Dylan, become close to his Bisabuela?
Heck, would Dad have survived Texas? Surely not, is heart would have given out between the three jobs.
God, they never would have met Buck.
Chris sucked in a deep breath at the revelation.
They never would have met Buck. Buck.
Chris stood up form his spot on the floor, gingerly stretching his tight ankles. A ferocious bubble and expanded inside of him, missing Buck for a moment despite the fact that man was down the hall.
He went into the living room. He was expecting to see Bobby and Buck in a middle of a conversation.
They were not.
Instead, they had fallen asleep on the couch. Bobby’s head was tilted back, and Buck was slowly slumping into his side. Bobby had an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers curled loosely around Buck’s shoulder. They snored in sync.
Chris smiled, and took a photo of them on Buck’s phone.
He went over and turned off the lamp. He reached for the remote on the table, turning the volume of “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” so low that Guy Fieri's voice was no higher then a mumble.
There was a basket on the side of the couch that held extra blankets, and Chris grabbed the top one to cover them. Burgundy with blue and green patch work.
He shut off the kitchen lights, turned the one over the oven on. He grabbed himself a snack form the pantry and filled up his owl before heading back to his room.
When he was in his room, he went into his duffle bag and pulled out a small photo album.
Deep red, with gold lining. It could only hold about fifty pictures. Christopher Edmundo Diaz was written in black marker on the front in loopy handwriting. There were heart and star stickers surrounding his name.
The first few pages were of him, right after he was born. He was skinny, all leg and arms. His face was a bit bruised- Chris assumed that that’s just wanted happened with childbirth. He was always held by someone.
His dad, who was so freaking young. His mom, who looked the way Chris could remember her.
His grandparents, his tias. He really had grown up with them, hadn’t he?
Chris sat and stared at then all for a long time. At his mother, how her brown hair was pulled back, how her cheek squished against the toddler in it.
Had she decided then? No, she couldn’t have. Look, she loved him.
Chris couldn’t remember how his mother smelled, or how her voice sounded when she sang to him. He remembered her tucking him in and saying “Good-bye.”
He kept going.
Towards the middle of the album were a lot of pictures of him and his grandparents. Where his father would be was a man who had eyebags the size of Alaska.
They didn’t go away until California. Until…
Chris turned the page.
Looking up at him was a candid photo of Dad and Buck, leaning against his other and laughing.
Chris sighed, setting his thumb on them.
There that feeling was again, the same form all the back to when he was seven and Mom had briefly come back into his life. When he saw all three of them in the living room looking at him.
His brown’s pinched together. He leaned into the emotion, instead of only wondering why.
Why did he love Buck so much? Was it because he was his best friend? No, because Dylan was Chris’s best friend.
He loved Buck different- like, like he loved Mom?
No. That kind of love hurt.
Like his grandparents? His friends? Bisabuela?
No, no no. None of that seemed right to label Buck. He was more than that.
He turned the page.
It was a photo of all three of them, the kiss day Chris had his old goofy smile.
Buck had been holding the camera, and it was them cheesing big. Chris smiled at them.
He looked at his father. Even form the picture before, his father looked younger.
His skin wasn’t swallow like in Texas, his hair was done. He was rested.
He was happy.
And it was- it was California.
Chris narrowed his eyes. He turned the page.
It was him at his middle school graduation. Everyone was there; his grandparents, his Bisabuela, Carla, his father. Buck.
Buck.
Buck, who was in California. Who never left, who was left.
Who saved Chris, who knew Carla, who protected and saved his dad.
Who made his father happy.
Chris sucked in a deep breath.
I don’t need them, Buck had said years ago. I have everything I need.
Buck had meant…Buck meant Bobby.
Bobby was his father, even though they met hen Buck was well into his twenties. They didn’t live together, they didn’t even see each other everyday.
But Buck loved Bobby like he was his father and- and Bobby loved Buck back. If he didn’t, if Bobby only thought as Buck as his coworker or even just a friend, he wouldn’t have been on the couch at their house with one another.
They were family, they were father and son and they loved each other.
Just like-
If Bobby could love a grown adult, then maybe seven wasn’t too old. Maybe Christopher wasn’t at a disadvantage, maybe-
Maybe blood really didn’t matter.
And if blood didn’t matter and twenty-six and seven wasn’t too old, and if crutches and torn muscle didn’t matter, that could maybe mean that Buck-
That blood really didn’t matter. That Chris wasn’t this…this person who was made to be abandoned. That ,somehow’, he was someone who was even worth staying for, that he wasn’t a burden.
It meant that Buck loved Christopher. It meant that Chris could look at Buck and think he was like a father because he was.
And Buck chose too. He chose to stay.
He chose him.
Buck Buckley chose them.
His dad, who used to go hungry so Chris could eat. Hs dad, who worked three jobs and who moved states and who was left and whose treated ever women he’s dated in California a little terrible.
And Chris, who would break things when he got angry, who would leave and go and cause fights and smash lunch boxes and salad bowls and cried.
Buck loved them, even when they were bad.
Which meant that Chris wasn’t bad, that he must be sort of good, that he did deserve parents who loved him as much as he loved them.
It meant that his father could be happy, well and truly happy. He could be loved and be gay with his best friend.
That they, the three of them, were already what Chris wished for since he was seven years old.
A family.
Dad had stopped into his room when he came back from his shift.
“You see them out here?” Dad asked, a little breathless. “How long they been sleeping for?”
Chris shrugged, and out down his novel- The City we Became. “I’m not sure. Maybe two hours.”
Dad shook his head. He looked down the hall again, acting like he could see Bobby and Buck sleeping. They sure could hear them.
Then he looked around Chris’s room.
He stared at the walls, where the ghost of pictures remained. The floor, the absence of a striped rug.
To the bed, the one Chris had been sleeping on since he was a kid. Event to the window, where Chris used to regularly dump his old drinks so the flowers beneath could get some water.
Back down the hall.
Dad hummed.
“How committed are we to Texas?” Dad asked softly. “Because, full discloser, I am not.”
Chris thought about how Dad just bought a house. “Can’t believe you’re gonna enter your landlord era. Gross.”
They went back to Texas long enough to pack some boxes.
It was the last time Chris ever wanted to move to California.
However.
However, his father was a bit of mess. So was Buck.
True, Chris had no definitive proof that Buck was the who/what/where/when/why of the great gay revelation. All he had some substantial evidence. And, unfortunately, front row to some horrendous flirting (as a ladies’ man himself, Chris would know).
And since seven wasn’t too old, and his father loved him, it should be easy for a boy with cerebral palsy to have a few questionable aches.
Enough so that a doctor’s appointment was made. And since said wonderful son with cerebral palsy was fourteenish, he should be allowed to speak to the doctor alone.
Afterall, if there was one thing that Christopher Edmundo Diaz did know, it was that tragedies brought people together.
“Wow.” Dr. Azeez said, leaning back in his chair. He blinked a few times, staring at the floor. “Wow.”
It had been almost forty-five minutes since Chris asked the doctor to lie about his projected lifespan. His dad must have been going crazy out in the waiting room.
“So you see.” Chris nodded. “Even if it’s just for, like, a week, I’m pretty sure that’s enough time for them to, like, collapse into each’s arms in grief.”
He’d seen the telenovelas. Chris knew what he was talking about.
Dr. Azeez let out a deep breath. “Christopher, even if I could lie to your father- which, for the record, I cannot it’s illegal- I wouldn’t. I’m not going to pretend his own son is gonna die soon just so he could get together with his…Buck.”
Alright, yeah. It made sense. Chris understood. Lying is bad, kids dying are bad, blah blah. But it wasn’t like it was that far off the truth. Chris was going to die. One day. Apparently not for a long time, which was good.
“But is it really a lie if I’m gonna die-“
“I’m not telling your father you’re dying next week.”
“Well how about a month?” Chris debated. “It’s a bit longer-“
“Christopher.”
Chris stopped, albeit unhappily.
Dr. Azeez sighed and shook his head. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Look, it’s admirable how much you care for their happiness. But this isn’t a thing you can do. It’s up to them- you don’t want to start off their relationship by manipulating them into one.”
Chris frowned. He didn’t necessarily think it as ‘manipulating’, more like providing the perfect life or death scenario.
And not real death, no, because that would probably seem insensitive to Denny Wilson’s close call of death.
But honestly, what was the point of having cerebral palsy if he didn’t get to weaponize it a little? Huh? Sympathetic stares and being able to cut the line at the local bakery? Now that’s true manipulation.
“Did you not listen to me?” Chris tried again. “I love them. But they’re not going to do it on their own. If they were, the already would have. They need a little push.”
“Counter point.” Dr. Azeez stood up, tugging his coat back into place as he walked toward the door. “It’s clear that they care about each other, and you, deeply. But to repeat your words back: If they were, they already would have.”
“No.” Chris said as Dr. Azeez opened the door. “They wouldn’t.”
Dr. Azeez paused. He turned. “You’ve lived a long life for such a young boy. You know that?”
Chris nodded.
Dr. Azeez smiled. “But it’s also sounds beautiful.”
Driving back home, one would have thought his father had one billion dollars.
Grinning, singing loudly to the music on the radio, even stopping at the gas station for slushies and butter cakes. He just kept laughing and smiling, telling jokes that were sort of bad but somehow funny.
And Chris couldn’t help but mope.
One hand: Dad being happy that his son was going to live life. Good. Other hand: His dad and Buck couldn’t be sad and dramatic together as they waited for some fancy scmancy test to know if their only child was going to be okay or not. Bad.
Well, not bad. But it’s just unfortunate. And dumb.
It wasn’t like Chris was asking his doctor for an SAT score or something insane like that! Hell, Chris would have even agreed to some random body testing so it wouldn’t be much of a ‘lie’.
…
Okay, it would have been a big fat fatty fat lie. Whatever.
But would Dr.Azeez really lose is license? Like, maybe. Honestly, he would have probably just have gotten a slap on the wrist, a week off from work. He should have been thanking Chris fort eh opportunity for a vacation, really.
He tried not to let his own sourpuss
There were boxes in the corner, all marked with assorted items.
“Are we moving?” He asked. He had just put his socks away.
Dad paused. Slowly he shook his head. “Uh. No. They’re…Buck is.”
Now, Chris wasn’t a kid anymore. A little kid. He was a teenager, and teenagers don’t throw and break breakable items in the house when they feel angry.
What teenagers did do, was mope.
So Chris sighed and planted his face onto the couch. It was not comfortable.
Above him, Dad groaned. “Chris, come on.”
Chris mumbled nonsense.
Dad sat down next to him. He patted Christopher’s head. “Bud, you knew this was going to happen. And he’s not going far, literally down the road.”
“Easy for you.” Chris grumbled into the cushion. It smelled like pants. “You’re an able-bodied man.”
“Oh my fucking- is this how it’s going? Really? This is the day we’re gonna have?” Above him Dad sighed. “Can we, like, do this in a few hours? Please? We have plans. I promise you can do whatever this is for as long as you need tonight.”
“Really? Tonight?” Chris lifted his head. “I would love that! How about you go up to Buck, tell him you’re in love with him instead of making him move out, sure, let’s wait until-“
Chris lifted is head and shut his mouth.
His father’s face was pale like paper.
For a moment the world was silent.
“Um.” Chris swallowed. “…sorry.”
Dad took a deep breath through his nose and out his mouth. “It’s…fine.”
Another moment of silence.
“You…know how I feel? About Buck?”
Chris moved so he was sitting up. “Dad…he’s your only man friend.”
“I have friends.” It came out weak. Chris didn’t care- what was important, was that his father didn’t deny his feelings.
Chris almost felt guilty, airing out his father’s laundry like this. He was just so tired of watching him settle.
All of Chris’s life, his father had fought.
He fought for his life in Afghanistan, he fought for survival after he came back. He fought fires in L.A. and fought his own mind to finally make himself whole again.
His father had fought, and failed, and succeeded. He deserved more than to watch his best friend down the hall- Chris wanted more for his father.
There weren’t many people Chris trusted the man with, but he trusted Buck. And he knew, from the will and to everyday interactions, that his father trusted Buck too.
“Dad…” Chris sighed. “I want you to be happy.”
Dad nodded. H was smiling, but Chris could see his eyes were wet. “I am happy, Chris. I have you, and I do have Buck, and everyone else in our family.”
And what a big family they had.
Chris would love to say that he played a part in it- but it was all hs father. He’s the one who made his firefighter co-workers into family. He’s the one who let all these people into their lives, why the calendar in their kitchen had so any birthdays and anniversary reminders.
Recounting his life to Dr. Azeez, Chris felt raw. He had almost forgotten what he felt when Mom had left, how she died. When he realized that, maybe, she really did love him.
Love came in unexpected ways. Sometimes it meant that you had to be away from the person you care about, because if not, you would hurt them.
And sometimes love meant being with someone forever.
Chris was so incredibly lucky he had fathers who wanted to be with him.
“I think you did a good job when we moved out here, Dad.” He said. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”
“I did it for us.” Dad said. His shoulders were tight, and Chris was mad that he was the reason why. He didn’t want his dad to be nervous- couldn’t he see that this was good?
Chris tangled his fingers together. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable-“
“No, no Chris. You’re not.” Dad said, turning to face him. “I…you’re right. I am in love with Buck.” He swallowed. “I’m not going to ask you to keep it from him. Frankly, the guy could stand to hear it more. But whatever happens, you know that neither of us would ever let it interfere with yours and his relationship.
Chris blinked. “I mean, I’m hoping the guy would adopt me one day, but sure.”
Dad laughed, all sad. “I don’t know if that’s an option. I’m sure he would love too, I have no doubt.”
“Gay/bi marriage is legal in California.”
“It’s same-sex marriage, you don’t have to be specific.” Dad held up a pointer finger. “Second, I don’t even know if he would feel the same. I haven’t even asked him on a date. Third-
His voice lowered. “I was going to ask how you felt about this, but I’m gonna say it’s safe to say you’re…okay with it?”
Chris nodded. “Blonde dead mom, remember?” Dad seized. “Besides, Dad, I…”
There was one thing that Chris didn’t want to tell Doctor Azeez. It was his, it was for him.
“I just…do you remember the first time the three of us went to the beach? After the tsunami?”
His dad blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Well…yeah. Yeah, I remember.”
Dad smiled. “You were so brave. You didn’t hesitate.”
Which was lie. But Chris felt safe because he was with Buck.
Chris shook his head. “No, not that part. Do you remember before?”
“Before what? You mean…the drive?” His brow furrowed. “Did we hit a pothole?”
“No, not the drive.” He’s fairly sure they did, indeed, hit one though. “I’m talking about when Buck first started coming back over, after you’re guy’s fight.”
Dad looked around the living room, a mirage of half of Buck’s stuff and half of Diaz boxes. Even Chris was having a tough time remembering what the living room looked like before.
“I was sitting right here-“ Chris patted the couch. “- And I was really starting to recognize how different I was, how other boys in my class had straight legs and I didn’t.”
Dad blinked, mouth parted. “And Buck came out in shorts.”
“And Buck came out in shorts.” Chris agreed.
“Can we go to the beach?” Chris asked, blinking up to his dad, hand sticky form the blueberry muffin.
It was still morning. Chris was still in his blue pajamas yet. Even Dad was in his pajamas- a shirt that Chris hadn’t seen before and some ugly pants.
But even better- Buck was there! In his house! Buck was back!
Chris missed him so much when he was gone. He did not like that Buck stayed away for so long. Like, yeah, Chris knew he was alive, but it felt like it wasn’t.
Carla didn’t know where he was, Dylan really didn’t know, and Dad wouldn’t give Chris a real answer.
He’s figuring stuff out Dad said.
Well Buck should have figured his stuff out here. At home. With Chris.
It was fine now! Buck was there. And he said sorry to Chris, and that he’d never ever be gone for that long again.
Sure, someone else also said sorry for being away for so long and that same someone was dead, but it was Buck! Buck wouldn’t die on them!
“You sure?” Dad asked, looking at him over his coffee cup.
Chris nodded and he looked at Buck.
Buck (who was here! At home! With Chris!) was the only person who had real clothes on, jeans and a shirt. His hair was all curly, like Chris’s. Chris liked his hair like that.
When Buck didn’t answer right away, Chris frowned. “Buck?”
Buck must have forgotten to breath (dummy) because he sucked in a big breath. “Me? You want- uh, if that’s- that’s alright- you don’t- I know I kinda invited myself over-“
And he was looking at Dad now which, okay, Chris didn’t care, but Dad wasn’t the one who was talking to Buck (who was here at home with Chris).
Right before Chris could point this out, his dad said “Yeah Buck, come to the beach. It’ll be- good.”
Chris looked back at Buck and grinned. “So?”
Buck’s birthmark got brighter. “Uh, yeah. Yes.”
Then he grinned, so big and wide his entire face scrunched. “I’d love too.”
Chris looked back to his dad, who was grinning just as big.
They cleaned
Chris looked in the mirror.
He liked his lime green swim shorts. He liked his mismatching bright orange shirt. He tolerated his ugly swim shoes.
What he wasn’t sure about was his body. More specifically-his legs.
He’d never known life without his body looking like it was. It just was.
And he thought he was a charmer. In fact, he knew this, because Dylan’s Mom was also nice to him and that woman isn’t nice to anyone.
However… people stared.
And he knew it was their problem. It wasn’t like he was different, not really. He hated a well-done steak like anyone else.
But it’s not like passing adults who are shushing their children care about his opinions. Don’t point or ask questions!
Chris wanted people to ask him questions!
Ask him about his legs so he could talk about how he could now walk on his own! Ask him about his crutches so he could talk about the straps his Abuelo got for him! Ask him why his muscles sometimes move on their own!
He's not ashamed of having cerebral palsy. He just had it, and that’s okay! It does make him different, but it doesn’t mean he’s anything special.
He tightened his shorts and went out into the living room.
Dad was already changed, and he was handing Buck his extra pair of swim trunks.
“Wow.” Buck said, grinning as he held them up to the sun. “Didn’t know you were a pink man, Diaz.”
Dad smiled. His cheeks were red. “Pepa picked them out for me. Said they were my color.”
They both looked down to the black shorts Dad was currently wearing.
“I think you’d pull it off better.” Dad said quickly.
“I like them.” Chris said. He walked up next to Buck. “Very fancy.”
Buck held them up higher. “And so short. Is this even going to be safe for me to wear?”
“Very safe.” Dad promised. He looked down to Chris. “Wow. Look at that outfit.”
Buck blinked. “Very…bright. And safe.”
“And practical.” Dad said.
Then he pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of thin air and pushed Chris down onto the table. “Unfortunately, the UV is at a nine today.” He looked up and smiled. “Sorry white boy, you’re gonna be a lobster by the end of the day.”
“Yeah white boy!” Chris singsonged, holding out a palm. “You’re gonna get pasty!”
Buck gave them both a flat look. “I did live in Peru for like a year, you guys know that right?”
He only sighed as he started his slow walk toward the bathroom.
Looking at Buck walk, it made Chris look at his own legs again. He moved his knees around.
Dad tapped his calf. “Okay, what’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Christopher…”
Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, really. It’s just…”
Dad got up and sat on the couch. “Just…?”
“People stare.” Chris said.
There was a door clicking shut, and Chris stuck up his leg. “You think if I wear a sign, people will come up to me? Its not like I can kick them.”
Dad’s mouth was in a thin line. He breathed out his nose. “No, you’re not wearing a sign. If people want to stare, they can. You know why?”
“Because it’s their problem, not mine.” Chris recited the same phrase he’d been saying for eight years.
“Exactly.” Dad agreed. He stood up. “It is their problem. And if they try to mess with you, they’re gonna have to go through me.”
“And Buck.” Chris added. A door opened.
Whatever Dad was going to say, it stopped because he was staring into the hallway, mouth open.
“DIAZ BOYS!” Buck yelled. “WHOSE READY TO PAR-TAY!”
Chris looked up and over.
“Whoa.” Chris breathed out.
Buck was wearing the swim shorts. They reached way above his pale knees, proving that they were, indeed, too short.
One leg- gross – one of Buck’s legs was super hairy. Like, the kind of hairy that Chris kinda wanted to touch to see if it felt like a dog.
But the other one…wasn’t.
Instead of hair, there was smooth oink flesh . It started at his ankle and reached up-up-up, right to his knee.
Chris saw little dents in his calf, uneven against Buck’s other leg. It wrapped around him like vines, chunks gone.
Buck’s ankle was the worst. There was a big scar that ran form bottom of his foot, over the bone, and a quarter up his calf. The top of his foot was littered in old stitch marks, some still blue, some red.
“What?” Buck asked. He rubbed his chin. “Something in my teeth?”
Chris raised his gaze enough to look into Buck’s blue eyes. He looked back down to his own legs.
Buck smiled. “Well? Are we going?”
“Uh.” Dad blinked. “Yeah, yeah we’re going.”
Buck looked at him dn down. “You want to pack some waters?”
“Yeah.” Dad crocked like frog.
Chris tilted his head as Dad walked into the kitchen. He bumped into a chair as he went.
Buck shook his head, plopping down next to Chris. He stole the sun block form his hand. “you’re dad is weird, you know that?”
Chris grinned and knocked one of his legs against Buck’s. “Yeah. Super weird.”
The drive back home was long, thanks to the traffic.
Soft rock was playing low on the radio, and Chris was warm from being wrapped in the blanket. He leaned his head against the window, cushioned by his hoodie. He smelled like sand and water, and he hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
He’d had had such a good day. They made sandcastles and ate ice cream and Chris even got too hold a crab.
Chris was even brave enough to go into the water- but he had to hold Buck’s hand.
He thought that Buck was feeling pretty scared too, because he was crushing Chris’s hand. They only went out high enough for the water to hit Chris in the waist, and Buck moved his hands so one gripped the back of his swim shirt, too.
They stood out there for a while. Buck kept doing breathing exercises. Chris hummed Bisabuela’s favorite show, La Gata, theme song.
When they came out Dad was sitting in the middle of their beach chairs, two towels and two bottles of Gatorade in his hands. Waiting.
Chris had felt so safe- he had his father, and his Buck. Together.
As soon as he got in the car he dozed, lulled y the radio and his dad’s and Buck’s voices. He’d come in and out of it, not really knowing if he was asleep or not.
A long time went by when he was softly jolted back into reality.
“I didn’t realize how…Buck, man, I’m so sorry.”
That was his dad. Why did Dad sound so worried? Everyone was fine. Must have been an adult thing.
“Eddie-“
“No just let- you- Buck, your leg. How are you even walking?”
They drove in silence for a little while. Chris kept his eyes open, pretending there was a little man in the shadows that jumped form car to car.
“They were going to amputate.” Buck said quietly. “But Maddie knew that- that I had to at least try.”
They moved forward. Chris opened his eyes.
The sky was dark, and they were on a brightly lit street. “I have a metal rod in my calf, and that helps.”
“Does it…how much does it hurt?”
Buck shrugged. “I mean, it depends. It gets better as the longer time goes on. It doesn’t stop me form doing anything.”
“Because it hurts so little, or because you push yourself?”
“Both.”
Dad looked over to him, eyebrows raised.
Buck shrugged. “More the second.”
“Why?” Dad shook his head. “You could have- why would want to come back? After what Bobby did-after what everyone said?”
“You fight for family.” Buck said simply. “And the 118 the closest I’ve ever been to having one.”
Chris closed his eyes. He was warm all over again.
“I had-“ Dad blinked at he floor. “I almost forgot about that.”
“I wasn’t even feeling insecure.” Chris said, knocking his knee against his dad’s. “But Buck thought I was, and he wanted to make me feel better. He wanted to make sure I was going to have fun, so he went and did that. For me.”
Dad sat back. “He’s- he loves you.”
“Buck loves me.” Chris agreed softly. “And he loves you, he won’t leave us.”
Chris felt he was so big, as if he were list of the grains of sand and the stars and the California sunsets.
His mom left. So Dad and him left Texas. Then Chris left California. Then Dad left.
But now they’re home. They came back, and Bobby came back, and someone should probably sit down with Chris and make sure he’s still feeling alright with death and how permanent it was instead of asking him why he was trying to get the doctor to lie about his life span.
And in all that time, Buck was here. Waiting.
“He loves us.” His dad said softly, eyes big. “Buck loves…me.”
The way he said it made it out like it never occurred to him before.
Had Chris been wrong? He had banked on his father having feelings for Buck, oh god, Chris thought his father was gay for Buck! In a way. Not that anyone could make someone gay.
Point was, Dad didn’t have many friends, especially male friends that weren’t already married.
What if Chris ruined their friendship? What if every terrible thing was going to happen and, this one time, actually be his fault?!
But then his father breathed out. “Oh.”
Chris didn’t know what it meant- it was one word.
He could only hope that it meant something good.
**
Ironically, that very same day, the Nash-Grant household were hosting a barbeque. Something about celebrating living and “Oh I am for sure retiring now, you guys can catch me in a garden every day” sort of gig.
Dad hadn’t said a whole lot since their conversation that morning. Chris hoped he didn’t break his father’s mind, it , like, just got it’s shit together.
“You good?” Chris asked once they were both outside of the car.
Dad, who was holding a batch of cookies Buck made yesterday, nodded. “Yeah. So good.”
Chris sent out a tiny prayer as they went up to the front entrance. When Dad knocked there was a distant “THE DOOR IS OPEN JUST COME IN!”
They went in.
And of course, who was there to greet them but their best friend.
Buck was smiling, standing at the end of the beige entrance halls. 9 “Hey guys!”
The sun had started to set, and the entirety of the hall was bathed in yellow light that bounced form wall to wall. His curls were frizzy, his cheeks pink form the heat of the oven.
He was holding a metal spatula, which he was tucking into his very stained apron. Black, with he words “Kiss the cook” written in pink font.
All in all, Buck looked like a hot mess. Chris narrowly avoided the hug he was reaching for, and instead opted for a nice fist bump. He still got buffalo sauce on his arm. “Hi Buck. You smell weird.”
“It’s the tuna pasta!”
Chris tried his best not to flinch. “Um. Sounds nice.”
Buck laughed. “You’re such a liar. Everyone is in the backyard if you guys want to go ahead, I just have to finish my- Eddie? Dude? You good?”
Dad had made it a foot inside the house before he stopped. He was still by the door, staring, holding the thing of cookies like a baby. Just…staring. Like a freak.
Buck made a face. He looked to Chris. “He good?”
Chris shrugged. He looked back at his dad. “You good?”
“Kiss the cook.” Dad mumbled.
Buck tilted his head and looked down. He laughed. His birthmark turned bright pink. “Oh, yeah. It’s Bobby’s.”
“Okay.” Dad said. He put the container of cookies down. “Kiss the cook.”
Then he took a step forward, grabbed Buck’s face, and kissed him. He kissed him!
On the mouth!
In front of Chris.
His dad was kissing Buck on the mouth in front of Chris, God help him.
“Oh.” Chris said. He looked away. “Um.”
One hand: Dad and Buck!
On the other: They were blocking the doorway.
Chris hated his life. He looked in the hallway. Looked back to the street. Looked back up. Quickly looked away because he regretted looking at them.
“Guys.” Chris said, studying his shoes.
Nothing
He groaned.
“Guys, seriously, my legs do not work as well as yours, can you move?” Chris somehow choked out. “Like, why do you keep making me go through this?”
There was something wet (Chris gagged) separating. “Oh shit-uh, not this- uh-Sorry-“
“Sorry? Wait, sorry-“
“Chris!” They both said at the said time.
Chris refused to meet there eyes. “Do not look at me- just let me by. Please.
They finally pushed to the side.
“I’m really happy for you guys.” Chris yelled back, going as fast as he could to literally anyone else. “I’m gonna warn everyone not to come this way.”
“Thank you!” Buck yelled back. There was a thwack, and giggling, and Chris did his best impression of a runner.
When he got to the back yard, he was greeted by everyone.
“Hey Bud!” Chimney, who was not wearing an apron, grinned. “Where’s your worst half?”
Chris sat down next to Maddie, who was holding baby Nash. “Don’t ask.”
He looked down to Nash, who was blinking at him with chubby cheeks. Chris guessed he was his big cousin now.
His family just kept growing and growing. He wondered is Abuela would teach Buck how to make her tiramisu.
A little while later, Dad and Buck came outside.
They were holding hands, fingers intertwined. Chris did not like knowing why their hair was messy, or why their faces were red.
He didn’t mind the fact that they were grinning.
“Uh.” Bobby laughed. “Hey Eddie.”
“Bobby.” Dad said.
“Um.” Maddie stood up and looked over to Hen. She was grinning. “Is there anything you guys want to tell us?”
Buck grinned. In the setting California sun, he looked liked it was him that was glowing. “The apron worked!”
There were collective groans.
Then there were hugs and kisses and so much talking.
“Is this why you told me to not ask?” Chimney asked Chris quietly. Chris nodded.
“Good man.”
“What’s the date?” Hen asked. “I mean, yeah. So supportive of whatever this is (someone tell me the date I can’t think).”
“I can’t believe it worked.” Chris heard Ravi tell Buck.
“I can’t believe I hadn’t tried it before.”
Dad was hugging Karen, who was whispering something in his ear that made Dad smile low at he ground.
Maddie was next to Chris, holding his shoulders tight. She leaned down and hugged him. “He loves you guys so much.”
Buck, who was currently be smothered by Bobby and Athena, smiled. He looked up to Maddie. “We love him so much.”
Buck came home with them.
He kicked off his shoes in the corner, and then stared at Chris until he straightened his own. He kept close to his father, and arms or a kiss on the cheek.
He put away the leftover food, only to take it out two hours later when they were all hungry again. He set a plate for all.
“Are you still moving out?” Chris, stomach full form leftover mac and cheese.
“Oh.” Buck’s brow furrowed. “I forgot. Uh, maybe? I don’t know, that’s a- if I do, it’s not because I don’t love you guys, but ,also, I’m in a contract.”
“Cancel it.”
“Cancel it.”
Dad and Chris high five each other for their synchronicity.
Buck shook his head. “We’re all crazy.”
That night Chris said good night to every single person he loved.
He said it to everyone at Bobby’s.
He sent a message to his cousin and Tia group chat. He texted Dylan, and his Texas friends.
He called his grandparents (“yes Abuela, I’m eating enough, no I do not want to join the California Chess Club for Youths, yes I liked the shirt you sent, wait your neighbor Maria cheated on her husband with the librarian?”). He even liked Jessica Glock’s Instagram post.
He touched the old letter in his desk, the one form his mother.
At midnight his parents came back in to turn off his television and hug him goodnight.
“Good night.” They both said, smiling.
Christopher Diaz was fourteen when he finally, finally, got to say good-night to all of his parents under the same roof.
It was all he ever wanted.