CARTER'S VANGUARD: WILLIAM CARTER
II
Chapter 02 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
Will was eating cereal and reading a newspaper when Brody came
down the next morning, smacking his lips, his hair in disarray, and definitely
looking like he needed an extra few hours of sleep time.
He stood staring vacantly at the wall before he flopped onto
the couch with a dramatic sigh of relief. Will looked up from his paper and
shook his head in bemusement, "Morning, sir. Coffee?"
"You know why I like living with you?" Brody said,
rolling a bit to look back. "It's like I have my own personal butler:
you do dishes, you cook, and you clean... sort of." Brody wiped a hand
over the dusty coffee table and rubbed the muck off his fingers.
Will gave him a look, "The day I see you do the dusting
will be the day you have a right to complain." He closed the newspaper
and got up to put his bowl in the sink and pour two cups of freshly-brewed
coffee.
"Aren't you going to breakfast?" Brody asked, accepting
the mug Will handed to him and looking skeptically at the tie Will was wearing
on a Saturday.
Will arched an eyebrow, "This is Andrew we're talking about;
it's nine now, by the time he gets up it will be noon..." Will shrugged,
"Common sense says I eat now and lie when he gets here."
Brody started, "Ok, who are you and what did you do with
my butler?"
Will cracked a smile, "Still right here, mate." He
sipped his coffee and frowned up at the French doors, "Speaking of which,
I need to do the windows at some point." He shook his head shaking off
the momentary distraction as he wandered back towards the kitchen, "You
must be glad to be home; how were your exams?"
Brody emitted a low groan, "Plato--dude's an idjit. I prefer
Aristotle--at least he made sense."
"Philosophy?" Will inquired, running water to do the
dishes and rolling his sleeves up to get started.
"Yeah, I love it," Brody replied, flipping on the
television and channel-surfing. "But you should have seen some of the
girls in my class... I'd love to explore a little bit of Plato with them,
if you know what I'm sayin'."
Will chuckled, tossing the pizza pan into the water, "Uh
huh. There's more to university than girls..." Will shook his head again;
if there was one person nobody expected to get an acceptance letter to university,
it was Brody. Somehow he had managed to wrangle an acceptance to Dalhousie
University on the east coast; into the program of his choice as well. It came
as a shock to everyone who knew him. Especially Lisa, who had taken it hardest
of all.
It was odd. Will was considering Dal as it was one of the best
schools in the Country, and he would be relatively close to Andrew who went
to the University of New Brunswick. The temptation was of course to go to
UNB as well, but Andrew and Will had both decided that education came first.
"The girls are bonus credits," Brody replied, finding
the hockey highlights and shifting to watch them. The Stanley cup playoffs
were in full swing and it seemed every other channel had a viewpoint or another
on who was going to bring home Lord Stanley's cup.
"Typical," Will replied, scrubbing a particularly
charbroiled pot that had suffered at the hands of French Canadian cuisine.
Brody was an excellent cook, however he seemed to enjoy making dishes as dirty
as possible just to watch Will scrub them.
He had just picked up the scouring brush when a gentle tapping
at the door made him grin like a schoolboy. Andrew was early, and Will could
barely contain his excitement as he wandered over to the door and threw it
open.
His jaw hit the floor.
The little old woman standing on the doorstep admonishing the
taxi driver carrying a collection of bags, turned to give him a warm smile.
"I was worried I had the wrong address," she said, peering again
at the numbers on the door to be sure.
Will was in shock; he gripped onto the door, his jaw working
like a wet fish as he stared at her. "What are you doing here?"
he asked incredulously.
Brody, still in his underwear after getting up, smacked his
lips and walked into the hallway to see who was at the door. He gave Will
a puzzled look as he walked up behind him.
The old woman gave Brody a considering look before she pursed
her lips. "Come now, William, don't leave me standing on the doorstep
all day," she said, already pushing past him and motioning for the taxi
driver to deposit her bags in the hall. "It was a long flight and I could
use a cup of tea."
Will nodded, his eyes still wide as he moved on automatic towards
the kitchen, plugging in the kettle and fishing down a couple of mugs. His
grandmother, the iron matriarch of his family: when she spoke, all trembled.
She was supposed to be safely five-thousand-odd miles away, not standing in
the hallway with his half-naked roommate.
She had paid the driver, who looked blessedly relieved to be
allowed to leave as he scuttled out of the door and made for his cab as fast
as he could, leaving the three of them alone together.
Will turned back to her, setting the mugs down on the table.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. Then, realizing he sounded
rude, he quickly added, "Not that it isn't good to see you, mind."
Old Mrs. Carter pursed her lips, eyeing the mugs suspiciously.
"You've been here too long if you think that's how you make a cup of
tea," she said, pulling off her coat and handing it to a surprised Brody
to hang up. She looked at Brody a moment, "You really should put some
trousers on, before you catch a cold." The way she said it, she sounded
so maternal and Brody blushed as he wandered downstairs to the laundry room.
Mrs. Carter walked into the kitchen and liberated the two mugs
from Will and began searching for a teapot. "It was a snap decision,"
she said, picking up a tea towel to wipe the dust off of the teapot. "I
was out for a walk last week and saw a sale on flights in the travel agent's;
well, I couldn't turn down the price. It gave me a chance to come and visit
my boys."
Will nodded, still in shock. "I see," he said slowly.
"Oh, don't worry," Mrs. Carter said, catching his
eye as she deposited two fresh teabags into the pot. "I'll be staying
with your father and he'll be picking me up in about an hour."
"Here?" Will asked, starting in surprise.
"Of course," Mrs. Carter said as if that should be
obvious. "But I wanted to see how you were keeping yourself, first."
She looked around here at the neat house, the freshly washed dishes and finally
settled on him, "I can see you're taking good care of yourself."
"I try," Will replied, shifting uncomfortably from
one foot to the other, glancing as Brody emerged from the laundry room wearing
a clean pair of jeans and a Clash tee-shirt. Will caught sight of it, his
eyes widened and he shook his head desperately.
Brody gave him a confused look and looked down at himself, not
seeing anything wrong with what he was wearing.
Old Mrs. Carter was busy pouring hot water into the pot, so
Will took the opportunity to quickly walk across to Brody and hiss into his
ear, "She's a monarchist!"
Brody looked down at the tee-shirt again and sighed dramatically,
returning to the laundry room muttering something derogatory about the English.
Will turned back to the kitchen, "It's nice to see you..."
he said hesitantly. "How long are you staying?"
"Just two weeks," old Mrs. Carter replied, pouring
the tea into the two mugs. "I felt like taking a break, checking up to
make sure you are doing ok for yourself." She handed him one of the mugs
and smiled warmly as she sat down at the table, "How is school going
for you?"
"Well," Will admitted, sitting down across the table
from her. "Exams are coming up, and I've been teaching in the mornings."
"That's nice," Mrs. Carter said with a nod as she
blew lightly on the surface of her mug. "I always felt you would make
a good teacher."
Will gave her a quick nod. She was the reason he was able to
live alone in Canada. She was adamant that he finish his education and her
monthly cheques paid his rent and allowed him buy food and clothing. It was
all hinging on the condition that he worked hard at school, and despite a
really hard year in mathematics, he had pulled in straight A's.
"Have you spoken to your father?" The question was
probing, as if she were feeling the ground ahead of her, gauging his reaction
to it. She asked him the same question every time she spoke to him on the
phone and his answer was always the same.
"No." He kept his tone decidedly neutral, not wanting
to dig up the old pain that lay there. He was happily independent; he was
looking at a bright future and he didn't really want to think about the darkness
of the past.
"You really should, you know," the old woman pressed.
"At the end of the day he is still your father, and despite all his faults
he loves you."
Will stood up and walked to the sink, "I'd rather not get
into it again." He didn't; he hated this conversation, it always left
him feeling depressed.
"I understand." The way she said that, he knew she
didn't. To her it was a simple train of logic: a father loved his son and
visa versa. But then she didn't know the full story. Even after a year and
a half, he still didn't have the heart to tell her that he was gay. It would
disappoint her, and Will just didn't want that on his conscience.
Brody returned wearing a more respectable 'I am Canadian' shirt,
his mild protest at Will's instance that he take off the Clash one. And Will
shot him a look of thanks.
"And how is Mr. Levesque?" she asked, turning to Brody.
Over the last year, Mrs. Carter and Brody had often talked to great lengths
about Will and they had formed a quiet friendship.
"Just fine, Mrs. Carter," Brody replied with an incline
of his head as he took a seat. "Just finished school and looking forward
to summer."
"Chasing all those young girls again, I bet," Mrs.
Carter said with a wink at him. "One day one of them will slip a ring
on your finger and then what'll you do?"
"Tijuana," Brody and Will replied at the same time,
causing both to chuckle at the inside joke. It was common knowledge that should
any of their circle of friends find himself in the unfortunate condition of
marriage, the extraction team would rescue the poor individual and whisk him
off to Tijuana for immediate rehabilitation.
Mrs. Carter looked at both of them in some confusion, but chose
not to ask.
They all looked up in some surprise when the door rattled open
as Andrew let himself in. He had a broad grin on his face and a pair of skiing
sunglasses on. The young Canadian grinned in his customary lopsided manner
as he yawned expressively.
"Sorry I'm late," he remarked, not seeing Mrs. Carter
seated at the table as he made to cross to Will. "Mom wanted to talk
this morning, you know how she is..."
He paused, seeing Will back up a step, and followed Will's glance
to the corner, "Hello," he commented in mild surprise upon seeing
the stranger.
"My grandmother," Will said nervously.
Andrew nodded, turning to her and extending his hand, "Andrew
Highmore."
Mrs. Carter shook the hand lightly, "So you're the Andrew
Highmore I have heard so much about."
Will nearly dropped his mug of tea. She knew? Of course she
knew, his Aunt Majella knew about Andrew and she couldn't keep her mouth shut
about any juicy gossip, especially not something as large as...
"I'm honoured," Andrew said with a confident smile,
stepping back beside Will and wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's waist
possessively.
Old Mrs. Carter's eyes swept down to the arm and back up to
Andrew, "I heard you were looking after my grandson; it's good to see
he is in safe hands."
"Always," Andrew reassured firmly, a warm smile spreading
across his face as his sparkling eyes lit up happily.
Will got the impression there was more being communicated between
the two than was being said. Old Mrs. Carter was checking Andrew's suitability,
and Andrew in turn was making his intentions and his feelings very plain with
his actions. It was like an old-fashioned marriage arrangement, and Will wondered
if he should be the one buying a ticket to Tijuana.
"We should sit down for dinner one night this week,"
old Mrs. Carter stated flatly. "I'd like to get to know you a bit better.
And William and I need to talk about a few things."
Will was dreading that conversation. He was already beginning
to feel very uncomfortable with the situation. But with Andrew's hand steadying
him he could draw upon that strength. He'd missed being able to do that; Andrew
had a natural ability to calm Will with the simplest touch.
There was the sound of another car door in the driveway, and
Will wondered if everyone was running early that morning. He slipped out of
Andrew's grip and took a step away as the door was knocked-on once, and banged
open as the Major didn't wait to be invited in.
It was like a cold chill had descended over the house even though
it was the middle of May. Will shivered, and glanced at Andrew, who had immediately
squared his shoulders and had taken a step to put himself between the Major
and Will. Even after a year and a half Andrew was still overprotective.
Brody glanced up at the door lazily. "I thought it was
polite to wait to be let into another person's house," he commented dryly.
The major ignored Brody completely and his eyes swept over Andrew
in disgust before they focused on old Mrs. Carter, "Mother, I'll be waiting
in the car." And with that he turned and left again.
Will shivered involuntarily as he thrust his hands into his
pockets. "Well, that made my day," he commented, his voice laced
with sarcasm.
Old Mrs. Carter set her mug aside and stood up, "Could
you fetch my coat, Brody dear?" she asked as she motioned to her bags.
"And could someone give me a hand loading these into the car?"
Will had no immediate desire to see the Major again, but he
and Andrew wrestled the bags out to the Bronco and loaded them into the back
as the Major ignored them completely, his hands gripping the wheel and his
eyes staring directly ahead.
Once they had left, Will felt Andrew's arms wrap themselves
around him and his chin rest against the nape of Will's neck. "You okay?"
he asked in concern.
Will pressed himself back into the embrace. "I am now,"
he replied honestly.
