Javi, Come Home

CHAPTER TWELVE

     In the morning, Oscar and Lena would be awoken with a call from a hysterical Margie. "Oscar!" she would scream. "Oscar, Tate's missing. Is he there? Tell me he's there?"

     Lena would already be on her feet, heart pounding, afraid that Javi was gone, too. She'd move down the narrow hall, passing the bathroom and the kitchen till she was at Javi's door, pushing it open frantically. And Javi and Tate would still be sound asleep in his bed, curled on their sides, facing each other like yin and yang.

     Lena would breath a sigh of relief, clutching her chest. Oscar would come up behind her and she would push him back, not wanting to wake the boys. She'd close the door and nod to him. He'd say quietly to Margie, "Tate's here. He's alright. We'll send him home."

     Margie would still be crying. "He's alright," Oscar would say again. "He's here with Javi."

     And then it was later in the morning. Tate roused first, shooting up, climbing over Javi to look at his digital clock. "Oh god, Javi, wake up, wake up, we slept in."

     Javi slept like the dead, so it took him time to come back to the living. He was groggy as he looked at Tate. "What time is it?" he asked.

     Tate slipped out of bed and went looking for his shoes. "After nine! My mom's gonna kill me!"

      "Just go out the front door," Javi said as Tate, pulling on his sneakers, hopped over to the window.

     "Fat chance. We're lucky they haven't come in here and skinned us yet. Maybe everyone's still asleep."

     Javi doubted that but didn't want to distress Tate any more than he clearly was. His mom and dad were both early risers. In fact, his mom was probably outside right now gardening. Javi jumped up, passing Tate to lift the screen and poke his head out. It was quiet outside except for the sounds of a heatwave coming on. Javi always thought it sounded like the sun was pulsing.

     "Alright, I think it's clear."

     Tate hesitated for a moment, looking at Javi. Javi couldn't tell what was going on in his head but it felt heavy. Tate seemed pinned to his spot from the weight of it. Javi took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

     "We're us, that's all that matters," he said sincerely.

     Tate smiled briefly, nodding his head, before he ducked, sitting down on the sill so he could hop down. Javi watched him try to be stealth as he hedged up the path and couldn't help but laugh at him. He was such a dork sometimes.

     Tate got to his bike without being made. He was grateful, since he was wearing Javi's sweatpants, which was only obvious because they were printed with Dallas Cowboys and Tate was purely a Pats fan.

     Tate rode fast through the morning sun, sweat dripping into the collar of his teeshirt. He felt grimy, in desperate need of a shower, but when he got home and saw his mom sitting on the front porch, legs crossed, meaning business, he knew he wasn't going to have one anytime soon.

     "Tatum Rowe," she said before he'd even dismounted. "Sneaking out in the night! No note, no nothing. Do you know how worried I was?"

     "I'm sorry," Tate said as he dropped his bike and started towards her. "I couldn't sleep and I—." What was he supposed to say exactly? He wanted to see Javi? He wanted to kiss Javi?

     "I'm sorry," he said again, coming to a stop in front of her.

     Her eyes scanned over him and then she pointed to the door. "Get in the house."