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El Paso is exactly like Chris remembers it.
Well, mostly.
His grandparents’ house is the same. He doesn’t think they’ve changed anything since before he was born, besides adding the occasional framed photo to the mantle whenever somebody gets married or graduates or has a baby. The most recent photo Chris can find of himself was taken out in the backyard. He’s tiny in it, a missing tooth evident in his smile and little plaid shorts and a striped t-shirt on his body, and he’s sitting alone in a comically large patio chair while the sun beats down on him. He thinks he remembers it being taken, in that way that you can never really trust that memories from when you’re little are real. Maybe he’s just filling in the gaps, but he swears he can feel his thighs sticking to the chair.
Chris can’t actually remember if it always sounded this way in El Paso. He can’t even put his finger on what the sound is. What matters is that it doesn’t sound the way his house in Los Angeles sounds, or the way that Buck’s apartment or Denny’s house sounds, and he’s laying in a guest bedroom that his grandparents say is his now, and Chris feels six years old again, and he doesn’t love the feeling. So he turns on his headphones.
For a split second, Spotify refuses to load, and Chris panics and wonders, did Buck change his password, but then their playlists appear and the seizing feeling in his chest subsides, because of course Buck wouldn’t change his password. His grandparents just have a slow internet connection.
Usually, Chris’ Spotify homepage is a blend of those random daily mixes, his own playlists, and whatever podcasts Buck has been listening to lately. He and Buck are both pretty predictable, which is why the whole account-sharing thing generally works. Buck only really uses Spotify while he’s working out or driving, and the rest of the time Chris is free to listen to whatever he wants.
Chris recognizes all of Buck’s playlists because he really only cycles through three of them (“gym,” “car,” and “Maddie,” though Buck sometimes makes playlists titled “Chris listen!” with some random songs from before Chris was born that he thinks Chris might like). But right now when he looks under “Recently Played,” there’s a playlist that Chris has never seen before.
The title is just a storm cloud emoji, the one with both rain and a lightning bolt coming down. He wonders if they’re songs that make Buck think about being struck by lightning, and then he thinks, what kind of songs could possibly sound like how being struck by lightning feels, and then he thinks, why would Buck even want to remember that feeling at all?
Dad doesn’t know that Chris has seen it. He didn’t see it back when it happened, because he doesn’t watch the news like an old person, but a couple months ago Jason at school was swiping through videos on TikTok and Chris made him stop because he saw the exact shade of bright red that he’d recognize anywhere, and before he knew it he was watching Buck tumble down and jerk to a stop like Gwen Stacy in The Amazing Spider-Man 2, and for a second Chris forgot that it was an old clip and the air left his lungs and he thought Buck is gone like Mom, and then he realized that everybody else was talking about how crazy it was, and how they heard the guy lived but they couldn’t believe it, and Chris hadn’t said a word about knowing the firefighter personally. He went home that day and searched “firefighter struck by lightning” on YouTube while he was supposed to be doing research for a project. He had nightmares about it for a few weeks, and he couldn’t tell Buck because Buck would feel bad, and he definitely couldn’t tell Dad because he thinks Dad might have felt even worse, and it was all his own fault for seeking the video out anyway. Sometimes he thinks about watching it again, maybe rewatching it over and over until it doesn’t terrify him, but then he remembers his dad also got thrown off the ladder from the force of the electricity, and he doesn’t look up the video again.
Seeing a dumb emoji on a playlist doesn’t feel like seeing the video, but it’s still… bad. It’s probably personal. Chris shouldn’t open it. Maybe Buck forgot that Chris is even on his account. Even if he didn’t forget, he probably figures that Chris is decent enough to mind his own business.
But, well. Chris isn’t feeling very decent right now. It feels sickly satisfying, opening the playlist.
The first song is called “Let Me Drown,” and Chris suddenly remembers the tsunami. Not just the idea of it but the feeling, the way he was tossed around by something so strong he almost couldn’t believe it existed, salt water burning his nose and throat and lungs, and this has happened before, and Chris tries to think about the other feeling, the feeling of sitting with Buck atop a fire truck, exhausted and aching but secure and safe, too. The feeling of his dad’s arms around him when they made it to the hospital, and how he’d slept in his dad’s bed that night and felt tiny and warm and held. The way he and Buck went to the zoo together a couple of days later, and afterwards Chris pretended to be asleep so that Buck would carry him from the car and up to his apartment, laying him gently out on the sofa and tucking a big fluffy blanket around him while saying what a shame it was that Chris had fallen asleep because now Buck would just have to watch Finding Nemo aaaaall by himself.
Usually Chris doesn’t think about the tsunami. If he saw the song title on a normal day, he doesn’t think it would have crossed his mind at all. Usually, the tsunami is just a crazy fact about his life, the ultimate trump card for playing “two truths and a lie” with new classmates, but right now he feels six years old and small, and a stupid song title is enough to make the ocean swirl around his body. He wishes that he’d called Buck instead.
Chris doesn’t think he could admit it to anybody, because it makes him feel evil, but he didn't even want to stay with his grandparents at all. He doesn’t really want to be in El Paso. He should have called Buck, shouldn’t have forced his grandparents to take a long trip on his behalf and shouldn’t have stranded himself in Texas without any of his things or his friends, but his dad and Buck are just too close, and he was mad at Dad and that transferred to Buck, too, and Buck would always be on Dad’s side anyway, and… Chris is still lying to himself.
It wouldn’t have hurt Dad so much, if he asked to stay with Buck. It wouldn’t have broken his heart, because Chris is supposed to go to Buck when he has a problem Dad can’t help with, and Buck’s apartment is still close by, and Chris couldn’t admit it to himself when he did it, but he knew that calling his grandparents instead and going all the way to Texas would hurt his dad in a way that just going to stay with Buck couldn’t. It felt good, when he did it. It feels a little less good now.
Chris hovers over the “play” button, and he thinks about the myth of Pandora’s Box. He’s never really understood that one. Is it really a good thing that Pandora kept hope in the box? If letting the other ones out unleashed them on the world, why wouldn’t she give everybody else hope, too? Isn’t keeping hope in the box just keeping it for herself?
But maybe hope is just as bad as the others, as sickness and death and whatever else Pandora released. Chris had hope back at home, for just a moment there, but it wasn’t real, and it hurt so much more than if he’d never had that hope at all.
Huh. Chris doesn’t think this whole experience is really worth finally understanding a random Greek myth, but at least he’s got something to show for it.
He doesn’t press play on “Let Me Drown.” The next song, “My Father’s House,” seems a bit less frightening. It’s by Bruce Springsteen. He already knew that Buck likes Bruce Springsteen. They listen to a lot of Springsteen in the car, enough that Chris and Dad can both sing along with Buck now, but Chris hasn’t heard of this song before.
It’s about fathers, though, and Chris doesn’t think he’s up for whatever it may hold for him. Maybe he’ll open that box another night.
He scrolls through the playlist. “Lonesome Loser,” and “Puppet Boy,” and “Linger,” and “Vienna,” and “How I Get Myself Killed,” and “The Curse of the Blackened Eye,” and “Dearly Departed,” and it just keeps going, and wow, it’s kind of a long playlist. The vibe is distinctly depressing.
Chris clicks on “No One Lives Forever,” because the artist is called Oingo Boingo and he can’t imagine what Oingo Boingo might sound like.
About halfway through the song he concludes that, yeah, that’s probably exactly what Oingo Boingo should sound like. He lets it autoplay, and the next song is called “City of Gold.”
He likes it immediately. Chris doesn’t usually listen to country music at all because his friends think it sucks, but he did spend the first half of his life in Texas, and it feels nice, listening to a guy sing gently and strongly over a soothing guitar.
So just sit with me morning and nighttime
Have me on your front porch
I’ll be still, I’ll be quiet
I never knew why it was so hard for me to be who you want.
Chris has always known, distantly, that Buck is kind of an insecure person. It’s still strange having that insecurity laid bare like this. When they talk, Buck is always so conscious of the fact that Chris is still a kid. He asks for advice, sometimes, and Chris knows that Buck takes him seriously, but he still isn’t as honest as Chris knows he must be with Dad. Buck just asks Chris for advice on how to handle having physical limitations and how to stay positive and keep on swimming and—
Wait. Is the storm cloud because Chris left?
Chris knew that it would hurt Dad. He knew that he should have called Buck. But somehow those two things hadn’t overlapped in his brain to form this new, painfully obvious fact, that of course if he’s breaking his dad’s heart, he’s breaking Buck’s, too.
He closes Spotify and lays in the silence, headphones still on to block out the strange sounds of El Paso, until he falls asleep.
Abuela and Abuelo are fine. They’re nice. They spoil him, a little bit, and Chris lets them. Every day is a new activity, the mall or the park or the golf course where he and Abuela ride around in the cart heckling while Abuelo and all of his old guy friends play. Neither of them ever suggest going to a museum, and Chris doesn’t think there’s any zoos or aquariums in the area. He never asks. It’s fine. He doesn’t really want to go on that kind of outing, anyway.
They do make him go to Mass on Sunday, which is weird and uncomfortable and kind of makes Chris feel like he’s in a play. It’s not torturous or anything, but it feels pointless and silly, and Chris spares a moment to think, Hey, God, is this all really what you want people to spend their lives doing? It’s the first time during the daylight that he wishes he were at home.
On Monday, Chris gets the honor of introducing his grandparents to the Alamo Drafthouse where they watch Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, because Abuela and Abuelo have never seen any of the Mad Max movies before but know enough about them to have zero interest in taking him to see Furiosa. Abuelo thinks the food prices are insane, but he likes the recliners a lot and he orders himself a beer, and Abeula thanks Chris for having such a great idea of where to go.
The praise somehow makes him feel a bit like another adult and a bit like a little kid at the same time.
“How soon do you think we’d need to reach out to get him enrolled for school in the fall?”
Chris just wanted a glass of water. But there's already a light on in the kitchen, and Dad is so hypervigilant that Chris rarely gets an opportunity to eavesdrop on anything when he’s at home, so instead of getting his water he takes advantage of the situation and hides in the hallway and listens.
“I know Deborah works at the high school, I’ll ask her if she knows.”
“We’ll need to ask Eddie to send the records from his old school.”
Chris thinks back to the desperation in his Dad’s face, his voice when he said five minutes or five months. He hadn’t thought Dad meant the five months part literally. He didn’t… Chris didn’t mean that. He didn’t even think it was an option, staying with his grandparents any longer than the end of summer, and he still doesn’t really understand why they're talking about it like it's an option. How could that possibly be an option?
“He’ll just start another argument.”
“Helena, it’s his son, of course—”
“He’s not good for Chris, we both know that. Chris is better off here, with us, away from all of the… craziness. Eddie will realize it too, once Chris gets settled in.”
“I just…”
“Ramon, you’re here now. It won’t be like raising Eddie. We won’t make the same mistakes.”
They stop talking after that. Chris goes back to bed and focuses on not throwing up.
“You really want to spend your summer here?”
Tía Adriana looks at him over her frozen yogurt like she thinks he’s crazy. Chris is starting to think that maybe he is. Somehow the heat in El Paso is so much worse than the heat in Los Angeles.
“I don't know,” he tells her. “Everybody seems to think that I want to stay here forever. I just needed some space.”
“Hell of a lot of space,” she says, but it doesn’t sound judgmental. Just true.
“I overheard Abuela and Abuelo talking last night.”
Tía Adriana immediately leans in a bit closer to him. “What were they saying?”
“They were talking like I’m gonna be here forever. Abuela said they wouldn’t mess me up like they did with Dad.”
Adriana doesn’t look remotely surprised. In fact, she looks a bit disappointed, like Chris had promised her a million dollars and then handed it to her in Monopoly money.
“Oh,” she says, “Yeah. Yeah, they would say that.”
“What do they mean, that they messed up with Dad? Why do they think I’m better off with them?”
Chris is angry. Some nights he thinks he hates his dad. But he can’t really fathom why his grandparents think they messed up raising him. His dad can be moody sometimes, and make stupid decisions, but he saves people’s lives every day, even has two different awards for doing it in two different ways in two different jobs, and all Chris can really think of to explain how he could possibly be a disappointment is the fact of Chris’ own existence.
“...Chris, what your dad did was crazy, and awful, and it hurt you,” Tía Adriana says. Her face says that she’s clearly deliberating whether he’s old enough for what she wants to say. “But can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think a guy who’s mentally well would strike up a secret friendship with some random woman who looks just like his dead wife?”
Chris snorts before his brain can even fully process her words. No, he thinks, a guy who’s mentally well would not do that.
“I’m not…” She sighs, glancing over at the next table where a baby is screaming and wiggling in its father’s arms. “I’m not trying to, like, say that your dad is insane, or that they did mess up with him. I think he’s a pretty cool guy, honestly, and I’m proud of him, and I know he loves you and loves being your dad. But he has feelings. He’s always had big feelings, and our parents seem to think that means he isn’t much of a man, so he tries to pretend like he doesn’t have feelings and pushes everything down, and then he ends up doing something batshit crazy.”
“And he had me,” Chris says, because he thinks maybe somebody should finally just say it to his face. “He was young when I was born, and they think I’m a mistake.”
“...Maybe.” Tía Adriana says, shrugging. “But honestly, I think that no matter what Eddie did, it wouldn’t have been the right thing to do, in their eyes. It’s not your fault. It was always like that, since way before you were born. They were always so hard on him. Everything was his responsibility. You know, like, if me or Sophia broke something, it was his fault for not watching us, or… Like, if he did his homework but didn’t finish mowing the yard, he’d get in trouble, but if he mowed the yard and didn’t finish his homework, Mom would be upset about that, too. A lot of our childhood was just me and Sophia watching while Eddie got in trouble, and half the time we weren’t even sure why.”
It makes Chris think about Charlotte, who can only be a girl at school and whose parents always call her by the wrong name. Jason, whose parents pay for speech therapy and hearing aids and won’t let him learn any ASL for when those aren’t enough. It makes him feel bad for his dad, which he really doesn’t want to do right now.
“But marrying my mom, having me when he was young, that was part of it.”
“If I’m honest, I think they were secretly a little bit relieved,” Adriana says, and then snaps her mouth shut like she’s said something she shouldn’t have.
“Relieved?”
Adriana screws her face up in a way that says, I hate what I’m doing right now, but she keeps talking anyway. “...Your dad has a friend named Buck, right?”
“What does Buck have to do with anything?”
“They’re close?”
“They’re best friends.”
“...Your mom used to be his best friend,” Adriana says slowly, and Chris knows, somehow, that something in his understanding of the world is about to shift forever. “Eddie’s friends used to always be girls, when he was younger. He struggled to really connect with the other guys, sometimes.”
“So?”
“So… People start to think certain things about you, if you’re a boy who always hangs out with girls but isn’t necessarily dating any of them. At least, they did here, back when we were growing up. Eddie was always… Sweeter than most boys. More the caring type. He just never really felt like he had much in common with the other boys, I think, and Mom and Dad were worried about that.” Adriana looks at him, and Chris knows she’s hoping that he’s smart enough to read between the lines without making her say it.
The idea of his dad being gay is, intuitively, kind of hilarious, especially considering what landed them here. Chris almost smiles. Then he lets the idea settle, lets it connect with the idea that his grandparents apparently think there’s something so wrong with his father that they should just keep Chris forever, lets it overlap with Tía Adriana saying that they thought his feelings made him not much of a man, thinks about his father’s absolutely pathetic track record with women, recalls when he asked Buck why he’d never had a boyfriend before Tommy and Buck had thought about it for a long time before he said sometimes people make your feelings seem so impossible and scary to have that you can’t even let yourself realize that you’re feeling them, and then Chris is too nauseous to take another bite of his frozen yogurt.
“Baseball helped him out, with the whole friends thing. He was good enough that the other guys wanted to hang out with him, and he was able to make some male friends, and suddenly he was, like, this normal macho guy, but then Mom and Dad started worrying that he was too close to some of the boys on his team, and so when he started dating your mother…”
Tía Adriana groans, and hides her face in her hands. “Dios, please don’t tell your dad I told you all of this.”
“I won’t,” Chris says, and wonders whether maybe his grandparents were on to something.
It strikes him for the first time that he knows, in a way some of his friends don’t, that his dad will love him no matter what. He never second-guesses using the right name when he tells Dad stories about Charlotte. Dad was confused, the first time, and thought that he had mixed up Chris’s friends in his head, and when Chris explained Dad had said that he was proud of Chris for being a good friend, and if Charlotte ever didn’t feel safe with her parents, Chris should tell him, and Dad would help her. And Chris believed him. Still believes him.
Five minutes or five months, he thinks. Dad called Buck to talk to me, he thinks. I came here to hurt him, but I didn’t realize it was this kind of hurt.
“I don’t… Listen, I’m sure your dad and Buck are just good friends, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m just saying what it might have looked like to your grandparents. And, uh, don’t mention any of this to them.”
“Obviously.”
Dad and Buck look like something to a lot of people. So many strangers have called Buck “Dad” over the years, said things like, “are your dads okay with,” and, “your dad says that,” and, “you look just like your dad.” Chris never really thought about it before, but he’s thinking about it now, and it doesn't feel… wrong. It never really felt wrong in the way that somebody calling Marisol or Ana “Mom” would feel. And of course it's different, because if Dad died then Chris would never call Buck “Dad.” But if Dad died, Chris would still want Buck around. He would still need Buck around. In a dad-like capacity. He wouldn’t want anybody else, and he knows that his dad and Buck wouldn’t want it to be anybody else, either.
Which is probably not how most straight men feel about their best friends. Hm.
That night, he opens Buck’s storm cloud playlist and clicks on the Springsteen song, “My Father’s House.”
Last night I dreamed that I was a child
Out where the pines grow wild and tall…
It doesn’t sound like the Bruce Springsteen songs that Buck plays in the car. It’s slow, and sad, and almost spooky, and when he hears “I broke through the trees and there in the night/my father’s house stood shining hard and bright/the branches and brambles tore my clothes and scratched my arms/but I ran til I fell shaking in his arms,” Chris begins to cry.
It reminds him of the tsunami. It reminds him of Mom’s funeral, and Dad being shot, and Buck in a coma, and the look on his dad’s face when Chris left, and Bruce Springsteen sings, “I imagined the hard things that pulled us apart/will never again, sir, tear us from each other’s hearts,” and Chris weeps, burying his face in his pillow and trying to stay quiet enough that he can still hear the words.
Bruce Springsteen arrives at his father’s house, and a stranger lives there, and “she said I’m sorry son but no one by that name lives here anymore,” and Chris sobs so hard he chokes on it.
Chris reads all of his dad’s texts in the morning, over a breakfast of eggs and sausage. Without any responses, the endless string of one-way messages reminds Chris of talking to a coma patient. Or a grave.
I am so sorry, and I will always be here for you whenever you’re ready to talk to me. I love you, Christopher.
I love you.
Hey, buddy, just wanted to say good night and that I love you. Sweet dreams.
I love you. I hope you’re having a great day.
I love you.
I saw that you went to the lake today! I hope you had fun. I love you.
I know it’s late, but I just got off work and I wanted to check in. I hope you’re having a good time with your grandparents. I love you so much.
Hey, buddy, I just wanted to tell you that I’m thinking of you and I love you.
That little red bird came by and hung out in the backyard again today. I swear to God I think he was annoyed that I wasn’t you. Kept chirping and tilting his head at me like he expected me to pull you out of a hat or something. Don’t worry, I fed him some sunflower seeds for you.
I love you, bud.
Hope you have a great day. I love you!
We had a funny call today with some ferrets. You should ask Buck to tell you about it next time you talk to him, I think you’d like the story. I love you.
Good night, Chris. I love you.
Buck has sent him some texts, too. The vibe is somehow both more and less desperate than his dad’s texts.
Hey, bud, you know I’m always here, even if you’re not. Call whenever you need me.
And maybe sometimes even when you don’t need me. Love you.
Just had to stop your father from feeding poor Raspberry BREAD like some kind of lunatic. I fear you took all of the Diaz family’s common sense to Texas with you. Don’t worry, I gave him the safe seed rundown, so the birds of Los Angeles should be safe from his ignorance now.
Have you watched Life in Color on Netflix? It’s so good. Even kept Jee entertained which is very difficult to do these days without the Paw Patrol dogs, Octonauts, or a princess.
Buck sent a picture of Jee with that one, sitting in his lap and staring enraptured at the television with a plastic crown on her head and Buck’s thumb clenched in her little fist. Chris hearts the message.
Sorry I’m texting super late, we just got off a rough shift and I was struck by ligh- JK the urge to tell my best buddy Christopher goodnight. Please don’t make fun of me for calling you that. I love you!
Hey, your dad and I took your library books back for you so they wouldn’t be overdue, but we made a list of them so you can just go check them all out again when you get back if you want. I hope El Paso has a good library!
You’re gonna say I sound insane but I think Raspberry misses you.
Had an absolutely CRAZY call today!! Remind me to tell you about it next time we talk, it’s too much to tell over text but WOW! Hint: there were some small, wiggly mammals involved!
Chris wants his dad. He wants his bed. But he can't have those yet, and he and Dad never really text because if Dad’s not working they’re usually together or one of them is too busy to text, so texting Dad feels weird, but Buck… He can text Buck.
do you think it was a good thing for Pandora to keep hope in the box?
The little dots pop up immediately, which Chris wasn’t expecting.
I’m not sure. I do know that it technically wasn’t a box, it was a pithos, which is like a big jar they used for storage. Box is a mistranslation, but it became so widely used that we all just roll with it now.
It’s a very classic Buck response. The dots keep going.
On that note, “hope” isn’t an exact translation either. Another way that people translate it is “deceptive expectation.” Hope isn’t necessarily deceptive, and we tend to use it in a positive way, so it’s maybe not the BEST word to use, but I guess in English we don’t have a better one for “deceptive expectation” and “hope” sounds pithier.
Deceptive expectation. Huh.
You been reading that new Percy Jackson spinoff?
no just thinking about it i guess
Not to pressure you or anything but I’m way too old to watch the Percy Jackson show without it being kinda weird so you are gonna have to come back at some point before the next season to watch it with me. Jee’s too young she won’t appreciate it.
It makes Chris smile, even though he’s kind of annoyed at Buck for trying to make him come home. The knowledge that Buck misses him settles warmly in his chest.
i can’t help you there you’re always gonna be weird either way
Buck responds with a giant frowny face emoji. Chris grins.
“Who are you talking to?”
As he says, “Buck,” it occurs to Chris that maybe he should have lied.
Abuela frowns at him. “Eddie’s friend? The one who was at the house?”
She says it like it’s a bad thing, being Dad’s friend. It’s not a tone that Christopher’s ever heard from her before.
“Uh, yeah,” Chris says. He feels weirdly on edge. “I was just asking him if they’d had anything funny happen at work. Since I’ve been here.”
Abuela sighs. “That job,” she grumbles, taking a sip of coffee, and Chris wants to defend his dad and Buck, wants to say that they help people and they’re both his heroes, and then he remembers that he's mad at his dad, and Abuela might hate Buck for the crime of not being straight, so he doesn't say anything, because he knows nothing good could come of it.
Chris’ phone buzzes. He looks down, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Abuela leans over to peer at his screen. Chris can’t really get away with switching to a different app or tilting his phone away now. There’s a brief flash of terror that Buck will suddenly send him some suspiciously gay statement that sets off Abuela, and Chris has just enough time to ask himself what on Earth a suspiciously gay statement would even entail, and then he’s reading Buck’s text.
Let me know if/when you want to hear about that funny animal call. It’s a great story, your father was very embarrassed.
Relief floods his body as Abuela squints at the screen briefly before humming and redirecting her attention from his phone to her own breakfast. “Any plans for today?”
“Maybe we can go and see if my old library card still works?”
She smiles at him. It’s so sweet, so loving, that Chris thinks she can’t possibly be homophobic. Right? She’s his abuela.
“That sounds fun,” she says, “I’ve been meaning to start a new book.”
Maybe Adriana was just seeing things that aren’t there.
Abuelo is working on some project out in the yard. He never asked Chris to help, which Chris is thankful for because it’s 96 degrees outside and he’d much rather sit in the guest room with his headphones on and read.
If he did his homework but didn’t finish mowing the yard, he’d get in trouble, Chris recalls, and curses Adriana for haunting his thoughts like some kind of annoying, Dad-sympathizing ghost.
Maybe it’s just different because he’s the grandkid. Maybe it’s because of his CP. Chris suddenly can’t think about anything but the fact that he hasn’t had to do a single chore since he came here. He tries to focus on his book instead of thinking about his own life.
So that’s the situation. I’m stranded on Mars. I have no way to communicate with Hermes or Earth. Everyone thinks I’m dead.
The Martian is a good book. Chris knows it’s a good book, because Buck said it was the first fiction book that had managed to really draw him in in months, and Chris has a good feeling about it, but he can’t focus on Mark Watney or Mars because he keeps thinking about the time his dad got buried underground and had no way to communicate with his team and everyone thought he was dead.
Buck told him about it just a few weeks ago. Because he watched the lightning video, YouTube had recommended another video, and this one had Buck clawing at the ground, and Chris never told Buck why he was curious, he just said, “Can you tell me about that time my dad went down in a well?” and Buck did. Not in much detail. He never mentioned the fact that his response to the situation was so extreme and emotional that people on YouTube said “EGOT for the dude sobbing in the mud holy fuck” and “watching this made me want to throw up how can i literally feel somebody else’s grief through a screen”.
What Buck did tell him is that his dad did the impossible. That the odds were against him. That a lot of people didn’t think he could have possibly survived, but Buck did, because if he knew anything about Eddie Diaz, it’s that he would always fight to come home to Chris.
God damn it.
Chris will never forget the sight of his dead mother standing in the living room. The hope and confusion and crushing pain that followed. The fury. He’s pretty sure he’ll always be a little bit pissed at Dad for doing something so shitty to Marisol for no reason (though, maybe, Chris reflects, there is actually a reason, one that makes him feel a bit sick because it’s so insanely sad that he doesn’t want to look it in the eye) and therefore getting dumped by her so spectacularly that she and Chris didn’t even say a proper goodbye. Dad hurt him. But he’s also hurt Dad back, now. And if Chris knows anything, it’s that his dad, for all his mistakes in dating and parenting, at least never once did something to hurt him on purpose.
Chris’ phone vibrates. Because the universe screams sometimes, it’s Dad.
Hey, Chris, just got back from a call and wanted to tell you that I love you and I’m thinking of you. I’m not ready for this shift to end. It feels weird, having to go home when you’re not there.
Chris’ head hurts. His throat feels tight. The little dots pop up for a few seconds, and then another message appears.
I don’t mean to make you feel guilty, or like you’re responsible for my feelings. I just miss you and thought you deserved to know that you make my life better just by existing. I’m so proud to be your dad.
Tears spill from Chris’ eyes. He doesn’t even think about it before typing.
I love you too
Then, because it feels incomplete, insufficient, like he’s just saying the words he’s supposed to say:
It’s not like I stopped because we’re fighting
Dots. Chris sniffles, tries to keep his slow tears from developing into heaving sobs.
Personally, I don’t know if I’d classify this as fighting. I think we’d have to actually fight for that. Feels like more of a cold war situation. Or “ghosting,” as you kids say.
Chris laughs. It’s the kind of thing he knows his dad says explicitly for the purpose of making him laugh, which should piss him off, but it just feels nice.
Buck says you embarrassed yourself at work
Buck is an evil demon attempting to fill your head with lies.
It’s easy, talking about Buck instead of the cold war slash ghosting situation.
Btw is he like okay? He’s been listening to this super sad playlist lately
I forgot you’re on that account. Buck’s okay.
Chris sends the emoji with a single raised eyebrow.
Lying to me is not a good strategy for ending the cold war
The dots are up for a longer time than usual. Eventually, Dad responds:
Well we both miss you so that could be part of it. And since Bobby’s not back in the saddle as Captain yet, we have a different guy in his place who’s not exactly friendly. He’s kind of racist actually. And homophobic. And misogynistic. Pretty much all of the bigotries. Chimney came up with this game we call Bigotry Bingo where we bet on how many prejudices he can hit in one shift. Maybe it could be worse, but none of us are really happy about it.
That sucks so bad. Can’t you guys report him or something?
It’s complicated. We’re working on that, but it’s going to take some time. We’ll be okay, it’s just annoying, mostly.
Chris wants to ask… he isn’t sure what. He doesn’t know how to say it. How to ask without sounding crazy, or like he doesn’t trust his grandparents, or like he thinks they’re bad people.
Is the guy super old or just like evil, he decides to send. It’s a reasonable question that doesn’t point fingers at anyone else.
Both? Both. I mean, your bisabuela is pretty old and she’s always been fairly accepting. Maybe she uses outdated words sometimes, but being old doesn’t just automatically mean you’re a bigot. I think everybody learns a lot of bad stuff throughout their lifetime, but a lot of us also make an effort to forget the bad stuff and learn new, good stuff.
Sorry that sounded a little bit elementary school. Hen would articulate this better.
Was it weird growing up here? I guess I never thought about it before but LA is way better about some things than El Paso
Is something going on there?
No I just was thinking about Buck lately and how he didn’t know he was bi until like five minutes ago even though you guys are old. It must have been different back then is all I’m saying.
Oh. Yeah, it was really different. Still is, honestly. There are good people and bad people everywhere, but the culture can be really different in different places, or even just… change, a lot, in a short amount of time. When Buck and I were your age, being gay or bi or anything else just wasn’t something you were open about. Unless you were really brave and you were ready to get beaten up sometimes.
Also we’re not old. Bullying your father is not a good strategy for ending the cold war.
The second message makes Chris smile. He’s inexplicably reminded of him and Dad brushing their teeth next to each other in the mornings.
It makes him feel brave enough to send:
Do you think Abuela and Abuelo would be weird if they knew about Charlotte?
I would be careful about the way you talk about her around them, if I were you. Just exclude anything that might tip them off that she’s trans. If you need advice to help her with something, I’m here, or I could ask Hen or Karen to call you, maybe?
No she’s okay. I don’t even know how her being trans would come up in a conversation it was more of a hypothetical. I guess I was really wondering if I could say that Buck has a boyfriend or if that would be a problem.
I don’t know for sure, buddy. If it were fifteen years ago, then I’d say absolutely do not mention it around them, but fifteen years is a long time. Maybe it would be nice to give them the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t want you to get stuck in any uncomfortable conversations. Maybe don’t lie if it comes up naturally, but I wouldn’t suggest volunteering it, if that makes sense.
Chris is hitting the call button before he can second-guess himself. It rings twice before Dad picks up.
“...Chris?”
Chris bursts into tears.
Dad sounds scared. “Chris? Baby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” he wails, “Don’t… I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m fine.”
“...Did you call me because you’re crying, or are you crying because you called me?”
God, Chris loves his dad so much. “The second one.”
“Thank god,” Dad says, “I kinda want to cry, too.”
“Can you…” Chris sniffs. “Wait? Til I can… can talk?”
“Of course. You want me to tell you about my day?”
“Mm-hm.”
Dad takes a deep breath. “So, the power went out for a bit last night and it reset my alarm clock.”
“Use your phone,” Chris croaks, “Like a normal person.”
“Cold war,” Dad says, offended, and Chris snorts. “Anyway, I was running late all morning, and then when I finally got to work, the second I made it upstairs Ravi spilled his coffee all down my uniform.”
“Ravi the probie?”
“You spend too much time with Buck,” Dad says. “Yeah, the probie. But he’s not a probie anymore. Still the youngest, though. He was so upset about his coffee he didn’t even think to say sorry until Chim made fun of him for it.”
“Did you, um. Did you run into him?”
“No, he was on his phone, wasn’t looking where he was going. Anyway, we’re a bit behind on laundry, so I had to borrow a pair of Buck’s uniform pants, but, well, they’re Buck’s, so.”
“They’re freakishly long?”
“Exactly. They were dangerously long, I couldn’t even walk in them. I had to try three different people’s spares before I found a pair that fit and wouldn’t have me tripping all over the place. Then… we had breakfast, nothing super interesting there except that Chim choked on his food so bad we thought we’d have to Heimlich him for a second. We didn’t.”
“Lame.”
“Eh, he’s almost died so much, choking would just be an embarrassing thing to have to add to the list. Like, rebar, stabbing, encephalitis, then Bobby’s breakfast casserole? It’s going downhill fast.”
Unfortunately for Chris, his dad can actually be very funny when he wants to be. His best jokes are usually the mean ones, so he holds back a lot, but as Chris gets older he’s been making them more and more.
“You feeling better, mijo?”
“Why do Abuela and Abuelo think I’m staying forever?”
Dad doesn’t answer immediately. Chris hears something clatter on the other end of the phone, then shuffling, and mumbling, and Dad says, “I don’t… I don’t want you to have anything against your grandparents.”
“I’m old enough to know about things that are literally about me,” Chris says.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, you’re right, I…” Dad sighs. “Okay, I’m still on shift right now and Gerrard’s a hardass, so if he calls for me or the bell rings I’m gonna have to hang up or I’ll get fired, alright?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Dad takes a deep breath, sighing again. “Well, you know they took care of you a lot when you were little. I wasn’t well when I came home from Afghanistan. I think you know that.”
“You still aren’t well,” Chris says, mostly just because Dad handed him the opening and he’s gotta take the shot when he has it.
“Yeah,” Dad says seriously. “That’s why.”
“...What do you mean, that’s why?”
Dad is quiet for a few seconds. “...Look, your grandparents love you, okay? They… they want what’s best for you. And they don’t want me to… They, uh, they just don’t think that’s me.”
Chris has never really thought about being a parent before. He thinks about it now. Tries to imagine a world where he’s an adult having a hard time, messing up and hurting his kid, needing help, and his dad just swoops in and doesn’t try to help. Just tries to take the kid for himself.
If such a world could possibly exist, it would make Chris furious. But it couldn’t. Because his dad would never do that.
“I want to come home,” Chris says. “They said they’re looking at high school here. That’s insane, right?”
“You are not going to high school in El Paso,” Dad says.
Chris blames his next words on euphoria-induced insanity from getting confirmation that he will not have to spend the next four years of his life going to Mass in 96-degree weather.
“Do you think maybe you’re so bad at dating women because you’re gay?”
“I. What?”
“Sorry,” Chris says, “Ignore that. Please come get me.”
“...No? I mean, yes. Obviously I’ll come get you, uh, tomorrow? Or… I could, I could tell Captain Gerrard it’s a family emergency, I’ll say Abuela broke a hip or something.”
“Abuela isn’t that old. You were a teen dad.”
“Yeah, well, Gerrard doesn’t know that.”
“Sorry I called you gay.”
“Did you… mean it as an insult?”
“Um. No. I actually think it makes a lot of stuff make more sense. But that’s not really my problem.”
“Seems I make a lot of my problems your problems. Oh!” Dad exclaims, in a way that makes him sound like Buck, “I’m back in therapy!”
“Thank god. You need it.”
“So, you think… why would, uh…”
Chris feels a little bad. Maybe he should have minded his business. “You and Buck aren’t exactly normal friends. You’re kind of in love with him, I think. You act like you’re married. Like, if I was Tommy, I would hate you.”
“Oh. I don’t think we…”
“Yeah, you do. And Buck’s literally been sending me the same sad texts as you this whole time. He’s been listening to a depression playlist because I left.”
“That was me, actually,” Dad says, “Or, well. Both of us.”
“You guys hang out and just listen to sad music together?”
“...Well, we weren’t gonna go to the zoo,” Dad says petulantly.
Part of Chris wants to say that he’s getting a bit old for regular trips to the zoo. They all know the place by heart. The rest of him, though, all of the embarrassing bits shoved together, hopes that he can go to the zoo with his dad and his Buck for the rest of his life.
“That seems like married behavior,” he says. “I’m not… Like, it’s not like I want you to date Buck. That would actually probably suck for me. But I think you screw up dating women way more than you screw up other stuff and there’s probably a reason for that. You know?”
Chris honestly was just spitballing when he first started considering Adriana’s gay theory, but the more he talks the more he’s convinced that he’s right. It’s the Buck of it all, really, and Chris is almost embarrassed that it took him this long to notice.
“Why would that suck for you?”
“I don’t know. I never… had you and Mom at the same time, really.”
“I’m sorry about that. That I couldn’t make it work—”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I think… When I was little, I didn’t get it. Why you were always apart. It was just how things were. But I guess you both didn’t really want to be together. And it was nice, before she died, having you both at the same time. But even then you guys still weren't, like, married, you know?”
“...Yeah, I know,” Dad says, sounding very much like he didn’t know and this is new information to him.
“I just don’t know what it would be like. To have my parents be married. Maybe it wouldn’t suck, if you were better at dating Buck than you were at dating Marisol.”
“It’s not a very high bar,” Dad says weakly, then clears his throat. “You’re, uh. You’re kind of blowing my mind right now, kid.”
“I’m very smart.”
Dad laughs. “I’m gonna tell Gerrard that Abuelo had a heart attack and come get you right now.”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, what if he has a real heart attack, like, next month?”
“Then I’ve established his medical history.”
“Isn't there a chance he's overhearing this conversation?”
“No, I’m in the closet right now,” Dad says, “Buck’s guarding the door.”
“That sounds like a very on the nose metaphor.”
“I’m coming to get you,” Dad says, “If I wait til the end of this shift Buck can come, too. Would you want that?”
“Buck’s just gonna ditch everything to drive all the way to Texas and back?”
“You know he will.”
“See, this is why if I was Tommy I’d hate you. I bet he has a date or something but he’s gonna cancel it for you.”
“Christopher. Do you want Buck to come?”
“Yes, please.”
“Alright. I’ll let you know when we head out. It’s about a twelve hour drive, but with two of us we shouldn’t need to take breaks.”
“Right after your shift?”
“Right after our shift. We could probably be there by… maybe ten, tomorrow night? We’ll have to spend the night.”
“Okay. I’ll, um. I’ll pack my stuff up.”
“When we get there, please don’t…” Dad lowers his voice. “Please don’t tell Buck that you think I’m in love with him.”
“I’m not dumb, I know he has a boyfriend right now. I get that cheating is bad, Dad. You really hammered that one in.”
Dad laughs. “God, I love you. I love you more than anything. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Chris says. “I know.”