Sand-Man's Family

  Sand-Man’s Family

  By CJane Elliott

  Wild and Precious: Book Three

  When Sandy Nixon’s conservative Catholic parents discover he’s had sex before marriage, they are furious. But when he blurts out he’s bisexual, they go ballistic. After they threaten him with conversion therapy, Sandy does what many queer kids long to do—leaves his homophobic parents in the dust. He moves in with his Uncle Phineas and Phineas’s partner, Cody, in Portland, Oregon, and is finally safe to be himself. Sandy misses his siblings, though, and decides to visit his former home in Rockford for Thanksgiving. On the train, he runs into Jade Byrne.

  As the only out gay kid in their Catholic high school, Jade had stared down homophobes while being fabulous in the school musicals. He’s crushed on Sandy for years. But he’s made sure never to show it, even after they had a onetime hookup, because Sandy’s the good Catholic kid, the altar boy, and the apparently straight athlete—all the things Jade isn’t.

  Traveling back to Rockford together sees the start of a month of adventures, a blossoming attraction, and a chance for Sandy to learn what it means to have a family that hurts and to choose a family that heals.

  For Kathleen, with whom I’ve enjoyed many helpings of Michael’s colcannon, and who let me steal her hometown of Rockford and her Irish Catholic roots to use in this story.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to everyone at Dreamspinner, in particular my editor Ione, who gave me such fantastic direction on this story, and AngstyG, cover artist extraordinaire. Thank you to Charley Descoteaux for unwavering support and early readings, and to Ryan Loveless for once again helping me with that pesky blurb! And a big kiss and hug to my husband Michael and my son Nathan.

  Chapter One

  Sandy walked down the aisle balancing snack box and drink as the train gently lurched from side to side. He entered the compartment just in time to catch Cody and Uncle Phinney stealing a kiss. Those guys were so storybook— it was enough to make him barf. Seeing his Uncle Phinney happy more than made up for having to watch him and Cody act all gooey, though. Uncle Phinney had been sad for years over Allen’s death, and now look at him—all smiles as Cody messed with his hair and said something to make him laugh.

  “Hey, dude.” Cody grinned at him, and Sandy grinned back.

  Cody Bellstrom was awesome. He’d befriended Sandy on a train much like this one eight months before, when they’d both been headed west to Portland, Oregon—Sandy running away from his homophobic home, and Cody doing his own brand of running. But then Cody had met Phinney, and boom. Instant attraction. Sandy had watched them fall in love, and the best part was that Cody had settled down to live with Uncle Phinney, and Sandy got to make his new home with both of them.

  “That looks delectable.” Uncle Phinney arched a sarcastic eyebrow at the bright orange cheese on Sandy’s pile of nachos.

  “Yep.” Truthfully, it looked kind of gross. Cheese probably didn’t come in that color in nature. Or, wait—did cheese exist in nature? You had to make it, so that meant it didn’t exist until then. Which brought up philosophical questions Sandy was too lazy to pursue. Anyway…. “Yeah, well, get your own if you want any.” Sandy made a show of protecting his snack box.

  “You wound me, child. That means I have to walk all the way to the cafe car, and at my advanced age.”

  “C’mon, old man.” Cody gave Uncle Phinney a nudge. “You could use the exercise.”

  Grumbling good-naturedly, Phinney unfolded himself from the seat and landed a soft punch on Sandy’s shoulder. “You got all you need? Sure you don’t want another serving of orange cheese glop?”

  “Nah, ’m good,” Sandy mumbled through a big bite of nacho. Hmm.

  It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

  The door slid shut, and Sandy munched, watching the scenery flash past the window. They were in Washington State, a few hours into their two-day journey to Chicago. Once they got there, they’d drive the rest of the way to Rockford. “Going home for Thanksgiving,” Uncle Phineas had told Blaine and Gemma, excited and nervous about introducing Cody to the relatives. But Sandy didn’t call where they were going “home” anymore.

  He’d gotten himself out of Rockford for good.

  He hoped he wouldn’t change his mind and get all sentimental once he was actually home… at my parents’ house, he amended. Oh, who was he kidding? He’d always think of the house he grew up in, with his four siblings and his parents, as home. It was going to be hella weird to see the family for the first time since April.

  Sandy slumped in his seat as memories of those last awful days at home assailed him. Dread began to eat at his insides. Or maybe that was the lump of nachos now sitting in his stomach. Maybe he should have gone with the hot dog instead.

  Eight Months Earlier

  Sandy followed his parents up the aisle of St. Ignatius Catholic Church and out into the lobby, trailed by his brother, Connor, and sisters Maureen, Bridget, and Caitlin. He thanked the various adults congratulating him on his acceptance to University of Chicago while mentally rolling his eyes that Mom had just had to stand up and announce it to the whole congregation.

  Brittany waved at him from across the room, and Josh came over to give him a high five. “U of C all the way, buddy!”

  “Yeah, I’m stoked we both got in.” Sandy nodded at Brittany, who pantomimed “call me” with her hands, then gave him a thumbs-up. Good.

  He hoped that meant she’d arranged for them to go to her family’s cabin next weekend. He wanted time alone with her to continue what she liked to call the sexcapades of our fallen Catholic youth. “Still wanna be roommates?”

  “Absolutely. Who’re you nodding at?” Josh looked across the lobby.

  “Oh. Your honey. Big deal.” Josh failed to see what Sandy saw in Brittany.

  She was a little too alternative/edgy for his taste, which ran to the St. Ignatius cheerleaders who hung around Sandy and Josh and the other star athletes in their small high school.

  “You’re just jealous,” Connor said, which made Sandy smile. His younger brother stuck up for him as a matter of habit. Only a year apart in age, they’d stuck up for each other all their lives.

  “Sandy!” Mom stood by Father Gilhooly and Dad, beckoning to Sandy. “Father wants to speak to you.”

  “Lucky you,” Josh said before escaping with Connor to wait outside.

  Sandy made his way to where his parents stood with the parish priest as his younger sisters chased around behind them.

  Father Gilhooly gave him an unctuous smile, his bald pate gleaming under the light. “Sandy, son, I wanted to congratulate you on your college acceptance.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “It’s good to see our Catholic school students holding their own. I’m sure you’ll make us all proud.”

  Whatever that means. Sandy shook hands with Father Gilhooly while Mom beamed. When Dad clapped him on the shoulder, Sandy almost flinched before he realized it was an approving hand, not a punitive one.

  “Yep, we’re proud of him,” Dad told Father.

  Sandy blinked. It had been a long time since he’d heard anything like that from him. They’d been close when Sandy was younger. Dad had taken him camping and fishing in the summer, and had coached his and Connor’s ice hockey teams in the winter. He’d taught Sandy about cars and home repairs and other manly pursuits, making his points in his gruff manner. A sports fanatic, Dad still made it to most of the St. Ignatius games.

  But Sandy no longer got along with him, in fact, hadn’t in the last several years. Dad—who had always loved his beer—had started drinking more heavily around the time Sandy hit puberty. When he was drunk, the father Sandy had known and loved in childhood disappeared, and a berati
ng tyrant appeared in his place. Suddenly nothing Sandy did, no matter how stellar, seemed good enough for him. He targeted Sandy for his tirades, when he wasn’t yelling at Mom, and sometimes he used his fist to make a point.

  After schmoozing with Father Gilhooly for a few more minutes, they left to have a celebratory lunch at Sandy’s favorite restaurant. Dad’s rare genial mood continued through the meal, leading him to recount funny stories from his years as a traveling salesman, and everyone laughed more than they had in a long time.

  It was the last memory Sandy would ever have of uncomplicated enjoyment with his family. The last time Sandy was still a good kid in their eyes—former altar boy, current class president, shortstop for the St. Ignatius baseball team, model student with a GPA high enough to get into U of C, and all around popular guy.

  Sandy had long been told he looked like Opie from The Andy Griffith Show with his freckles and strawberry-blond hair. His appearance, along with his sunny nature, reinforced his squeaky-clean image, so Sandy imagined it had been quite a shock to his parents when he fell off his pedestal.

  The trouble started later that day. When Sandy and Connor got back from hanging out at Josh’s house, Mom and Dad called him into the living room, and what he saw on the coffee table made his mouth go dry. His laptop sat open, his e-mail program on the screen and all the messages from Brittany with their suggestive subject lines out there in plain sight. Fury at the invasion of his privacy mingled with cold dread. He gazed nervously at his father’s hands.

  “What are you doing with my laptop?” he blurted, then winced as Dad closed his hands into fists.

  “Don’t take that tone with us, young man,” Mom snapped. “It was open on your desk when I went in to get your laundry. And when I saw the… those….” She pointed at the screen, her face pinched, and compressed her lips.

  Sandy didn’t have to look. Brittany loved to include the word “sex” in her e-mail titles. For one wild moment, he thought about lying through his teeth, denying everything and pinning the blame on Brittany having some kind of mental health issue. That might be as believable to his parents as the truth—their upstanding oldest son with the purity ring (never worn and now stuck in a desk drawer) was having sex before marriage.

  “Are you and Brittany doing what we think you’re doing?” Dad thundered.

  “Keep your voice down—the girls are upstairs. And Connor.” Mom glanced at the ceiling, then at Sandy. “Answer your father.”

  “What if I am? And that’s between her and me.”

  Mom drew herself up with a glare. “Not while you’re our son and under our roof! We raised you better than this. I can’t believe you would take advantage of her like that!”

  Sandy almost snorted at Mom’s words. Although he’d had girlfriends since he was in seventh grade, Catholic (lack of) sex education and purity ring morals had kept them from doing much beyond kissing and a few fevered gropes. Brittany had been different from the start. She didn’t play games. She’d told him straight up she wanted to sleep with him, in fact had selected him to be the one with whom to lose her virginity, and they’d been each other’s firsts to “go all the way.”

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “‘Sorry’? That’s all you have to say? We’ll be confiscating your laptop after you remove all those e-mails. And we’ll be having a talk with Brittany’s parents. Consider yourself grounded until further notice.”

  “No arguments,” Dad warned as Sandy opened his mouth.

  Sandy knew the futility of arguing about them talking to the Livingstons or being grounded. His laptop, though…. “I need my laptop for my classes. I’ve got all the data for my final science project on there. And my graduation speech.” He watched Mom’s face soften as he knew it would. His school success made her happy, and she even stood up to Dad when he started bitching about the cost of this or that school activity.

  “Well, you can keep the laptop, but I don’t want you on e-mail or Facebook or any of those other things you kids do without supervision. I’m very disappointed in you. You will come straight home after school and stay home on weekends for the time being.”

  “What about baseball practice?”

  “Goddammit, stop arguing and listen to your mother!” Dad’s sudden yell made Sandy jump. “I should throw this damn thing in the trash!” He slammed the cover down on Sandy’s laptop. “That’s all you and she are! Goddamned trash!”

  “Bob….” Mom did her useless cowering thing as Dad advanced on Sandy, fists curled.

  Keeping his face stony, Sandy tensed to ward off Dad’s blow. He could smell the liquor on him as he got closer, stronger still when Dad opened his mouth to continue reaming him out at the top of his lungs.

  “I oughta knock you into next Wednesday! Knock some sense into you, you little shit.”

  Before Sandy could reply, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Connor ran into the room and stood between him and Dad. “Stop it, Dad! Leave him alone.” At six feet, Connor stood a few inches taller than either Sandy or Dad, and he’d bulked up this year to make the varsity football team.

  Dad’s face purpled with rage, but instead of taking a swing at either Connor or Sandy, he turned away, swaying, and lurched toward the table and Sandy’s laptop. Sandy darted around him and grabbed the computer while Mom put a restraining hand on Dad’s arm, only to be thrown back when he shook her off violently.

  “Fucking leave her alone!” roared Connor, running to her side. “Leave us all alone. Go sleep it off and leave us the fuck alone.”

  “Connor, language.” Mom’s voice was weak and shaky.

  “Mommy?” Ten-year-old Maureen stood in the archway, mouth trembling.

  That ended that particular family drama. Dad slunk away to his den and his bottle of Jameson, Mom went to comfort Maureen, and Connor and Sandy took shelter in their room.

  “Why’re the ’rents going ballistic?” Connor asked as they flung themselves onto their beds.

  “Wait a minute.” Sandy grabbed his phone and shot off a text to Brittany, warning of the impending parental explosion. “Mom saw Brittany’s e-mails, and they all have ‘sex’ in the subject line.”

  Connor shook his head. “Jesus. So now they know their perfect firstborn isn’t a virgin?”

  “Yeah. According to them, I’ve destroyed Brittany’s innocence.”

  “Right.”

  Sandy grunted in agreement at Connor’s snort of disbelief. Sandy had been the innocent one. He’d mistakenly thought he and Brittany must be “in love,” because they were supposed to be in love to have sex, weren’t they?

  But Brittany had scoffed at the notion. He’d been hurt until he’d realized he wasn’t in love with her either. It had made more sense after she’d disclosed she was queer and pansexual and planning to widen her experience now that she’d gotten rid of that pesky v-card. And when she’d encouraged Sandy to experiment too, he’d done something completely out of character— something he hadn’t told anyone else about, not even Connor.

  Sandy sat up. “Let’s play Mass Effect. I need to chill, and Dad’s hogging all the whiskey.”

  Later, after he and Connor had turned out the light, Sandy lay in bed staring at the darkness and thought about Jade—his other experiment in sex. Experiment? More like one of those seismic shifts they’d studied in Geology.

  He’d been aware of being attracted to other guys since elementary school, but he hadn’t ever planned to act on it. Not after years of Catholicism had drummed into him that same-sex attraction was a sin. As a devout preteen, he’d prayed to be relieved of his sinful urges and been grateful that girls also turned him on. But by the time Brittany cracked open the door to sexual exploration, Sandy had become considerably more jaded about the Catholic Church and religion in general, especially after watching Dad and other supposedly religious adults being assholes. He knew good people like Uncle Phinney who were gay, and he couldn’t believe that they were going to hell just because of who they loved or slept with.

 
Still, when Brittany had told him she was queer and pansexual, he’d been jolted—and for a moment those old voices had risen up in judgment, especially at how unrepentant she acted. Shouldn’t she be wracked by Catholic guilt? Wasn’t having premarital sex enough of a sin? Then he’d realized he was jealous at her ease with sex and sexuality. Could it really be no big deal that he wondered about doing it with guys? Could it, in fact, be okay to act on those urges? Brittany obviously thought so, and when he’d confessed his “sinful” attractions to her, swearing her to the utmost secrecy, she’d given a delighted laugh and told him to go for it. Then she’d told him to shut up and let her figure out the best guy for Sandy to experiment with.

  “Aha! Jade Byrne!” she’d cried after only a moment’s thought.

  “No way.” It had been an automatic and doomed denial, because he knew as well as Brittany that Jade Byrne was the perfect guy for this “experiment.”

  Jade Byrne—the decathlete of performing arts at St. Ignatius. He sang, he danced, he acted, he played the saxophone in the school band. Jade, whose real name was John, was also one of the few Asian kids in school.

  His mother must have been the Asian one of his parents. She hadn’t been around since Jade was little, and Sandy didn’t remember her, but Jade’s dad was as white and Irish as they came. Jade walked the halls with pride, seeming to have no problem with being the only out gay guy in their high school. Androgynous and “fabulous,” to use his own word for himself, Jade made no excuses for who he was.

  Sandy admired Jade’s fearlessness, but he couldn’t conceive of being so unconcerned about what other people thought of him. Sometimes he wanted to shake Jade and tell him to stop being so free. Jade made Sandy laugh with his wittiness and dazzled him with his acting and musical chops, but he also scared him by being so damn alluring. A huge flirt in general, Jade seemed to love flirting with Sandy and watching him squirm.