Cooking with Carrot & Grape (Ely)

That’s Ronan: thick, curly, black hair, an angled jaw, stringy legs that never fill his pants unless he wears skinny jeans. He has a soda in hand, crumpled to fit his grip because he lost another match to Luther46, some asshole online who either has loaded parents or cheats to get money. If I had any money of my own, I’d bet it was the parents.

I’m not watching the screen, I’m watching Ronan. He’s a foster kid, not that you could tell by looking at him. He has it made — parents that care about him and an adoption in process, even though he’s an older kid. He has to beat the privileged scum like Luther46 the hard way, but otherwise he has everything he could need.

I’ve learned not to ask why he’s so pissed off most of the time. He’s my slice of paradise, and I’m not about to mess that up.

Today is like every Friday. We went to school, we went to Ronan’s place, now we have games and snacks. Not normal snacks, like pizza rolls and chips, but Ronan snacks: crisp apple slices with fresh ground honey sunflower butter, a chocolate drizzle, and some cocoa nibs sprinkled on top, a cheese platter with cheddar and Swiss and crackers, and these little muffin cups of mac and cheese – all homemade, with bread crumbs toasted on top. Ronan ruined boxed mac and cheese when he introduced me to his parmesan, sharp cheddar, and blue cheese. It’s the trifecta: creamy, tangy, and full of words I can’t say without choking on my own tongue. I keep telling him he should be a chef.

If I went home, I’d be having fish. I hate fish – the little bones get stuck in my throat and the choking is more obvious. I have ten brothers and sisters, so choking means someone makes a comment. Or worse. Have you ever seen someone gag – or throw up – because of someone else gagging or throwing up?

But, God forbid they eat meat – literally. And Dad forbid they eat something I can swallow.

Once, my dad suggested they puree my fish in a food processor with some thickener. I’m not sure if he’s ever eaten cat food, but I’m pretty sure pureed with thick sauce added is a good starting point to make it. Maybe I should open my own pet food shop someday – Ely’s Edible Pet Food for Dogs, Cats, and Dysphagians.

As for the choking – make it a regular occurrence and you have home sweet home. Add some fish bones…no one complained when I stopped being there for fish night. Or soup night. Or…

I don’t hang out at home much. Ronan calls them a good Catholic family, and he calls me their pariah. All of my brothers and sisters go to the same Catholic school – I don’t really know how my parents afford it, except at the expense of everything else. Scholarships, maybe? I never asked.

I go to a public school. The thing about epilepsy is you need a nurse on staff – full time, not that one day a week school-share crap. I have Duchess, my service dog, but she can’t give me a shot if I’m seizing too long and enter status.

So I got sent to the public school – the standout in my family.

None of that matters when I’m here next to Ronan. He pulls out the game disk, fed up with Luther46, and tosses in a racing game. In between, Ronan’s brother’s country music blasts through the walls – all the way from his bedroom down the hall to the living room where we are.

Duchess perks up when she hears it. She sets her head on my leg and I rub her ears. I haven’t had a seizure in a few weeks. It’s a good night, Ronan and me. I’m in my favorite place, with my favorite person.

Ronan tosses me a controller. He picks out the bike that drives like shit in the mud, but it can handle the slime cliffs well enough that the mud won’t be a problem. It’s my turn. I’ve spent too long looking at Ronan and now I have to catch up. I pick the ATV. It’s my favorite: good in the mud, good in the sand, easy to handle if I twitch a little and start to fall off a cliff.

Ronan picks the race – something easier to ease me into the game. He’s my service human. He worries he’s going to offend me because a ton of other people offend me. But, when it’s him I don’t mind. We play the game.

Halfway through the race I feel it. My body doesn’t belong to me anymore. My mind has lost a sense of gravity, a sense of direction, so I lean back while the whole place spins. I don’t belong here, in this skin. I want out. I want to run. I can’t even sit upright and it’s fucking shit. Now everything is cold, but I pull out of it – just a partial seizure. Not even enough to make Duchess alert.

Ronan notices. I’m not sure when he stopped the game, but he pushes play just as my toes regain normal-life-experience: no tingling, no shivering, and the panic subsides. So much for my few weeks.

Duchess licks my arm and rests her head back on my leg. She likes to watch TV, or maybe she just can’t avoid noticing things that move and the TV is the biggest source of environmental stimulus for her right now. At least I can think again. Everything is back to normal.

I lose the game because I can’t focus. I want to punch some shit, but that doesn’t help anything. My fists are balls of tension.

My toes are tingling again. It’s going to be a long night of partials – a cluster. I hate these days, like a dam was building and just when I thought hey, maybe this week I can be a normal kid I’m reminded that I’ll never be normal, and I probably won’t live that long either.

We finish the race and Ronan leans back – it’s my turn to pick. Most of the time, I get to pick the soundtrack and Ronan picks the track. It’s my way to share with him how I’m feeling. I go for it: the lava one that I’m good at losing. Ronan’s debating. I’m not sure why. He won’t look at me.

At last, he stops on Pet Shop Boys’ cover of Always on My Mind.

He clicks play and I want to move closer to him, but the game has started so we’re stuck racing through lava to a song that might be the start of my romantic life. The real start, not the years that led to this moment.

The song shifts to a wordless song. It’s one of those deep songs where the notes serenade you through the Mariana Trench of the piano. It vibrates through me and my hands relax, my arms relax, and my whole body sighs against the couch. We finish the race and I choose rematch. The focus is good for me.

Except all I can think about is Always on My Mind.

We start another game, but Duchess perks up. She turns to the door and is ready to make a flash decision: cuddly dog or defensive beast.

It’s Ronan’s older brother, Cole. Another foster kid who had graduated from the program to be a functioning adult.

He’s got on jeans, heavy work boots with steel toes, and a heavy collared shirt. There’s bits of dried cement and paint on his clothes, but otherwise he looks put together.

He’s not alone. Ronan was expecting a big girlfriend reveal, but instead Cole ushers a kid in: brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin. Not Cole – who has a tan but above the sleeve line is as white as my sister’s makeup powder that gets all over the bathroom counter. Behind the kid is another guy – tall, white skin, white hair. Albino, but his eyes aren’t red and I think it might be rude to call him that. Maybe he is just exceptionally and entirely pale.

“Heard of knocking?” Ronan asks, pissed again.

Cole looks at me, then at Ronan. “Heard of bedrooms?” He taps his fingers together once without realizing it. Cole and Ronan used to wrestle all the time. I think the kid is why Cole holds back today.

While they have their standoff, while Cole looks at me, I try not to flinch. Cole knows I’m in love with Ronan. It’s never been a problem, and until Always on My Mind, I was pretty sure it never would come up. But Cole’s here, and he’s telling us to get a room, and he brought his boyfriend home.

“Do you see any chicks here?” Ronan snarks.

“Then what’s the problem?” Cole asks.

I sink back against the couch. I’ve always liked my place of not knowing how Ronan felt – not against it, not for it. Now, I can see he’s against it. The way he looks at Cole is disgusted.

  If he ever knew who I was, he’d look at me like that too.

“What if I had a gun?” Ronan asks. He looks at Duchess, who is sniffing the air like she can taste the new people. The kid is looking at her too.

Usually, I don’t let kids play with Duchess. She’s not just a dog – she has to be vigilant, but I could cut the tension with a knife, so I pet Duchess and look at the kid. “She’s nice,” I say, as clear as possible.

The kid – boy – comes over and sits a foot away from Duchess. He scoots closer. One scoot at a time he makes his way to her side and starts to pet her. Duchess loves it, but Ronan glowers.

“You’d be an ass for shooting your brother,” Cole says a second too late. “You knew I was coming home and I had a key.” He’s spellbound by the kid playing with Duchess. Cole takes a step back, so the albino-esque guy is more in view. “Hi, Ely. This is Argan.”

I smile at them, but before I can say hi Ronan replies, “Like the Noble gas?”

Cole and Argan exchange a look. “Just like it. He’s pretty noble.”

I take a second to lean toward Ronan. I can’t help but think I’m missing something. No one says anything else, so I let it go too. For now, I ask the question I’m sure Ronan wants to ask too. “Did he get married?”

Ronan shrugs, but Argan must have heard my attempt to whisper because he says hi, finally. Argan’s voice is higher than I expected, buttery soft, warm.

“This is James,” Cole adds. He goes over by James and rubs Duchess’ head. “Hey, girl.”

Duchess likes Cole. I can tell it annoys Ronan, but right now everything annoys Ronan. He’s a firework waiting to be lit.

Cole doesn’t care. I pass Ronan an apple slice while Cole leans toward James. “James, this is my brother Ronan and his best friend Ely.”

“Hi,” James squeaks.

I’m trying to be patient, but I’m getting tired and all the tension and slow introduction is lasting too long. It’s not fair to them, they don’t know I just had a seizure.

Ronan rubs my back. It’s something he does casually all the time, but today, I wonder if he does it as a friend thing like Duchess setting her muzzle on my lap, or of it means something.

He’s sending mixed signals – Always on My Mind, offended that Cole’s girlfriend isn’t a girl…

Just when everything is calm, Ronan’s hand falls and he grabs a macaroni cup. “You got married?” he asked. He stuffs his face so he won’t be able to respond right away. It’s an anger management technique he taught himself. His foster parents think it’s rude, but they also think him slamming his fist so hard on the dining table that cups spill on the other end is rude.

Ronan’s good at picking his battles.

Cole smiles. He doesn’t seem to care what Ronan thinks. “We’re getting married. Formally.”

“You’re gay?” Ronan mumbles through macaroni. He sounds almost as messed up as me for once. 

“Yeah,” Cole confirms. “I’m gay.”

Ronan chugs some soda and clears his throat. “Why did you even come back?”

My stomach falls from my throat to the other side of the world. This is my best friend, above anything else, and he hates gays.

  This is the guy I love, and he probably hates me. The real whole me.

Cole glances at me. He can see it I bet. The tear in my eye, the way I’m holding my stomach with one arm. If I move, Ronan will know too.

“Dad insisted,” Cole says.

He’s still looking at me.

He’s still thinking Dad wanted to nudge you along, I can see it in his eyes. But everyone was wrong. Even I was wrong. Ronan doesn’t want me that way, and it just blew up in everyone’s face.

“We have a hotel,” Cole says. He finally looks at Argan, who shuffles his shoe against the carpet. I think Cole is lying, but I’m not sure.

Ronan turns the TV off. He’s done playing. He starts to gather all of our snacks. “Hope you got a nice hotel, cause Mom and Dad are going to flip.”

The tingling starts edging up my legs again. It’s filling my arms. I can feel another seizure coming on, but I don’t want anyone to notice. I don’t want Ronan to notice. He’ll know something is wrong – two seizures back to back.

Cole grabs an apple slice and a macaroni cup, which doesn’t earn him a scowl from Ronan. James takes the macaroni cup.

“If they don’t flip, maybe you can stay a hotel,” Cole suggests.

Ronan’s entire body becomes more rigid than a plank. He’s teetering, like those extra-long boards at the store. I unplug the game system. “Want to move the game to your room?” It’s not allowed, but I have a feeling tonight is an exception.

“Deal,” Ronan says to Cole. He turns to me. “Good call.” He sets the snacks on the kitchen island, because even if he’s pissed he loves to share his cooking with the world. At least gay doesn’t disqualify you from eating his food. I’m going to have to learn about boundaries, since no one else wants a friend like me.

In the background, I hear Cole murmur “Welcome home,” to Argan and James, I suspect. They’re a happy little family. Perfect.

Ronan’s family drives me crazy. How can a group of foster kids be so happy when I hate my real family? Olive is the only kid naturally born. Cole came with a little brother – Quaid. There’s Ronan, the surly, and then there’s Micah, a seven-year-old who should be arriving home any minute with their mom.

“We don’t have to stay,” Argan says, soothing to Cole.

I don’t hear the rest, I’m too focused on carrying the console to Ronan’s room. I don’t want to trip. If I do, I might break it. I already broke a fish tank this morning. It should have been my first sign that I was due for seizures today. I need to sleep, but I’m not sure what would happen if I took over Ronan’s bed.