“Oh, Chris Powers is your son.”
Mason realized most sixteen year olds would have flipped it, would have said, “You’re Chris Power’s dad...”
“Yes.”
Balliol said, neutrally. “I think he’ll take us to a championship.”
“He’s a good player.”
Balliol nodded.
Mason wanted this to end. He knew that Chris must have said something about Balliol, and Balliol must have known that Mark knew who he was.
Something was about to happen.
Balliol smiled at Mark.
And Mark smiled back.
A lot had happened in five seconds, and Balliol had managed it well.
“Dad, do you know what this is?” Mason handed him the photograph that had been in his book bag.
“This?”
“Oh, yeah, the picture,” Tommy said, handing Mason a soda and giving one to Balliol who clicked cans with him.
Mason put his hand to his mouth and started chuckling.
“Oh, my God...” he murmured. “Oh, my God!”
“Look!”
Sidney handed the picture of the little brown boy between the two white kids in their blue pants and their sky blue shirts, with their thick hair.
“It’s you all,” Balliol realized looking from the little boys to Mark and Joel and Sidney. “It’s you.”
“Yes,” Mark said with a smile at Balliol. “It is.
“Back at Saint Mary’s when you were in kindergarten they’d give you a big brother or a big sister. Usually boys got big brothers and girls got big sisters. They were a few years ahead of you, just old enough that until maybe fourth grade you’d have someone, and then you got to be a big brother.”
Joel added: “You usually liked your school little brothers better than your real ones.”
“Mine were Joel and Mark,” Sidney explained. “And back then, in the seventies,” Sidney shook his head and smiled over the photograph “I thought they were so grown up. They all had that post-Brady bunch hair, and back then your pants were usually one size to small—”
“To show off the package,” Joel remembered.
“And,” Mark added reflectively, while the younger boys shook their heads in amazement and Mason but a hand over his mouth, “if you didn’t have a package you stuffed your pants like you did.”
“I never stuffed my pants,” Joel held up a solemn hand. “Mickey Howard—Dickhead Howard’s brother—did stuff his pants. Tom Rafferty held him upside down and shook him until each roll of socks fell out.”
“But I mean, my God we could all tell,” Sidney said. “It was either tube socks or elephantitis.”
“Who’s Dickhead—” Mason began, and then the light of realization dawned on him and Balliol said, “They called Dean Howard that back then, too?”
“I don’t know why,” said Mark. “He’s a perfectly good person.”
“How was that Irish thing?” Joel remembered suddenly.
“It was nice. I mean, I had a really good time. I wish we’d known each other—me and Rick that is—back in high school. It’s nice to meet other people. I mean, I’ve got you guys and you’re great, but...”
“It’s just nice to meet a new friend,” Sidney said, gesturing to Balliol and Mason.
Sidney took back the picture, “I thought wavy hair, and Izod Lacoste sky blue shirts, tight navy pants and a kickball were the epitome of all things manly. You were all so...”
“Manly?” Joel said in a deep voice.
“Yes.”
“Well,” Mark said, sitting back, “You still think we’re the epitome of all things manly, right?”
“Naturally.”
“I remember,” Joel took the picture from Mark and gazed at it, “Sidney used to want to have all that hair. I felt like the blond duke of Hazzard. God, I looked like the Blond Duke of Hazzard! Sid thought that was so cool. And then, Mark ,when you got older you looked like Movie Jesus cause you had all that dark hair, and those eyes.”
“Those crazy eyes?” Mark said, eyeing Sidney. “Those odd eyes that shut people out?”
Sidney shrugged and murmured, “I love it when you call up things I’ve said in the past… like I’m going to apologize for them or something.”
He didn’t.
Mark reached over and grabbed Sidney’s head.
“What are you—?” Sidney began.
“I had hair like Christ,” Mark said, “and now I have Sidney’s hair cut. I lost my first girlfriend cause I looked like Jesus.”
“Sleeping with Christ can fuck a girl up,” Joel said, and as soon as he did, the three men instantly looked up and turned red. Well, Sidney didn’t turn red.
“We forgot you were here,” Sidney told them.
The boys just looked at each other and grinned. Then Mason said, “We’ll just be going to my room now.”
After the boys were gone, the men sat on the couch still sat grinning stupidly. At last Joel began to chuckle and Mark punched him in the arm, and then punched Sidney and then Sidney punched him and then they began punching each other and sat down on the couch chuckling and rubbing their arms.
“Ouch,” Sidney murmured.
“She got tired of sleeping with Christ?” Mark said to Joel.
“I remember the time we walked in on you and Vanessa,” Sidney said.
He and Joel said together:
“God! Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! Oh my God!”
Mark was totally red, and he said, sinking into his seat, “Shut up, both of you. I never said I would wait till my wedding night, and I’ve only been with two people in my life, So... shush.”
“When you think of how horny we were,” Sidney said. “It’s amazing that our combined sexual experience is about five women.”
“But oh,” Mark said, eyes glowing and a stupid look on his face, “those five lucky women.”
Balliol glanced around and then sat on the bed.
“I really like this room,” he told Mason. “You’re a great artist.”
“I’m an okay artist,” Mason amended.
“You’re a great artist,” Balliol said, this time in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Okay,” Mason shrugged as Balliol said, “Good God, that’s amazing,” and crossed the room to look at the large black and white monster with the mouth full of spiraling teeth.
“I generally go from making something pretty to making something ugly,” Mason explained. “Though I may stay on ugly or beautiful for a while depending on how I’m feeling. Beats psychology.”
“Yes,” Balliol said, smiling over a fierce Minotaur. “It sure in the hell does. Mason, you’re unbelievable.”
“I wanna thank you guys,” said Tommy. “For coming to that with me. I really appreciate it. Especially you, Balliol.”
Balliol shrugged.
“What are friends for?”
“Are we friends then?” Tommy said.
Balliol looked at the two of them. Mason and Tommy seemed to be waiting for an answer.
“Well, hell, I guess we are. I think the three of us could do a hell of a lot worse. Don’t you?”
Tommy laughed brightly, and nodded.
The door opened and Mason said, “Nobody knocks.”
It was Addison.
“I had to get the fuck out of my mom and dad’s house,” he said. “I shouldn’t be there today. I should be out.”
Mason thought, I should get this out of the way. Right now.
“Add, can I talk to you a second?”
“Yes,” Addison said, and then he said, “Tommy, Balliol?”
Balliol nodded.
“Did you all enjoy the conference?”
There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in Addison’s voice though Tommy looked for it.
“Yes,” Tommy said, uncertainly.
“Good,” Addison told him. “Good for you, Tommy.” He leaned down, caught the other boy’s head in a lock and nookied his head.
“That’s just because I love you. I love all of you. Even Balliol. And we don’t even really know each other. Come on, Mase.”
Mason looked at his other two friends, shrugged and went out the door into the hall with Addison.
“Addison—” he began.
But suddenly Addison hugged him tightly and, letting go, whispered, “Oh, God, Mason. I hope one day it happens to you. I mean, I know it will. But when it does I hope it’s as good as it was for me. For us. God, Mason. It’s like… I feel totally new. I can’t believe it. I—”
“You were here last night?” Mason said.
“Yeah. You couldn’t tell? That was the goal. Clean sheets and everything. I took yours back to my house to wash. I would have washed them here, but—what’s up?”
Mason felt his breath draining out of him. He felt a little light headed. His oldest friend had just had sex in his own bed last night. Addison Cromptley wasn’t a virgin anymore. Mason, who had just returned from Holy Trinity Episcopal, where he was lead tenor at High Mass on Sunday had furnished the whole thing.
His mouth was a little open. His vision was a little hazy. Addison smiled brightly and hugged him again.
“Thanks, Mason,” Addison said.
Mason shrugged stupidly and heard himself croak, “You’re welcome.”