Tripod Chapter 30

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TRIPOD

Chapter -- 30

I decided to hold off telling the guys about what happened with Darius until school the next day. The lunch table would be the right place and time. I'd also be able to tell everyone at once. After the usual crowd had settled in with their less-than-delicious cafeteria lunches, I held up a hand.

"I have something I need to tell you guys."

"Let me guess. You cooked a shitty dinner and your parents threw you out?" Brandon snickered.

"You fucked Darius so hard on Saturday that cum shot out of his nose?" laughed Tyler.

"Ew, that's gross," moaned Seán.

"I know! You've been accepted into the record books as the man with the highest penis-size to height ratio in the world?" snapped Eddie.

I rolled my eyes. "To answer your questions in the order they were received," first, pointing to Brandon "Fuck no! I've never cooked a shitty meal...ever." Then to Tyler, "Close, but not quite. No complaints from Darius. Actually, can you believe he kept screaming for more cock. Is there such a thing as a bottomless bottom?" Then turning to Eddie, "It's still unofficial. I'm waiting for them to send a hot representative to do the measuring, but I'm pretty sure I've got that record locked up. Actually, It's none of the above, you idiots. First of all, Darius came out to his folks yesterday."

All of a sudden, the table went quiet and all eyes were on me.

"When he was about to tell them that he was gay, his mom asked him if I was his boyfriend."

"No shit!?" said Tyler. "What did he say?"

"He said, `Sort of.'"

"Well, that's commitment for you," Tyler laughed.

"Anyhow, his mom said that she really likes me and that he made a good choice and that they only want him to be happy. Darius was scared shitless to tell them and it went great. His sister had already figured it out."

"Yeah, but what about the boyfriend part?" Seán asked. "I mean, you guys are sort of just friend with benefits, right? You said you weren't ready for a relationship."

"That's what I really wanted to tell you guys. After he came out to his folks, and to his best friend, I forgot to mention that part, he texted me and asked if I was home. I said yes, then crickets from him. He didn't respond. I was shitting bricks. Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock at my door and it's Darius. I thought the worst, but actually, he came to ask me to be his boyfriend officially."

"Well?" asked Brandon.

"I said yes. I didn't think I was ready, but Darius is kind of amazing, not that all of you aren't, but he kinda caught me off guard."

"That's awesome!" said Seán. "When do I get to meet him?"

"Soon, I've already told him about Connor and also about your amazing butt. That clinched it. He said he'd love to meet you," I laughed.

The reactions from the others were more low-key than I'd expected.

"Does this mean you're off the market entirely?" asked Tyler.

"Like no more playing around?" Brandon asked, his lower lip pouting slightly.

"Fuck no!" I laughed. "That was my first question to him. He doesn't want to give up you guys either. He loves you guys, too. Can't wait for us to get together again."

"TMI," said Seán. "Keep it clean. There's a lady present."

"Who the fuck are you talking about, Seán?" asked Tyler.

"Me, of course," laughed Seán.

"Hey, what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked.

"Got a friend who's an amazing cook. Going to his place," Brandon snickered.

"Heading to my grandma's place in Tinley Park," said Tyler. She always takes pity on us because my mom can't cook for shit. Always cooks an Italian feast with some Polish stuff thrown in. I mean pierogi are just ravioli by another name, right?"

"Careful, Tyler, you could start a war in this town with language like that," I chided.

Eddie said, "We've got relatives coming to town. My mom's side of the family is coming up from Georgia. My dad's folks just live in Arlington Heights, so they're coming over, too."

"The usual shit show at our house," added Seán. "Like forty people. My mom's got four sisters. My dad has two brothers and two sisters and they've all got kids, except my dad's brother Patrick who's a priest. We all know he's gay, but no one talks about it."

"I think you should keep track of how many times he drops stuff on the floor for you to bend over and pick up," Tyler joked. "Bet Father Patrick can't resist getting a look at that fine Irish ham of yours."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," moaned Seán. "Well, come to think of it, every time he comes over, he always sends me into the kitchen to get him a drink. You think he's checking out my ass? Eww."

We all laughed.

"Seán, remember that kid Asher we met at the Rainbow Center last week? I invited him to our Thanksgiving dinner. He can't wait. Poor kid. He's so lonely. I figured it was a chance for him to meet some new people and get out a little."

"Yeah, he did seem lost. That's really nice of you," said Seán.

"What's Darius up to?" Eddie asked.

"He's headed out to L. A. That's where his parents grew up and where his mom's parents still are, so no after-feast fuck-fest for me."

"What are you talking about? We're all still in town. I could give new meaning to `Black Friday,'" Eddie laughed.

"Now that does sound like a great deal. `Clothes, 100% off! Wet cleanup in aisle 69,'" said Tyler.

"I'd definitely line up at 5 AM to be first in line for that kind of a deal," Brandon added, snickering.

"Let me talk to Darius first. I just want to be sure he's cool with it, OK?"

"You gotta ask permission now?" Tyler asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's still new to me. He's already said he's cool with fooling around with you guys, but we haven't talked about if he's only cool with both of us doing it or if he's cool with me alone. Didn't you and Eddie work this out between you two a while back?" I asked.

"You've got a point," Eddie responded. "We think Darius is amazing and we're happy for you, really. But you're kinda special to us, too, and we don't want to lose that."

"I feel the same way. Let me see if he's open after school today. I don't want to deal with this in a text message."

Me: Hey, Aziz-am, sup?

Darius: LOL. Someone's been googling. That's the phrase my grandmas use for me. But my dad also uses it on my mom, so I'm cool. That's sweet. I'm good. Leaving in two days. Can ICU before?

Me: Free after school today? Maybe meet up at Deep Steep?

Darius: Yeah! No wrestling practice this week `cause of 🦃

Me: Awesome. CU@3:30. Our first date as an out couple

Darius: 😲UR right. Later 😍🥰😘

***

I walked home from school at 3:00 PM and grabbed my bike. It was definitely chilly but with a decent jacket and a pair of gloves, not too cold to bike to downtown Evanston. Around here, the snow usually holds off until after Thanksgiving but not always. Winters are brutal though, and once the snow starts to fall, my bike gets tucked away until at least March.

Darius was already at the counter ordering when I arrived. I walked up to him, gave him a hug from behind and a peck on the cheek. He flinched and pulled back, catching me off guard.

"Shit. I'm sorry," he said, clearly embarrassed by his own reaction. "It's not you. I just need to get used to PDAs. I ordered you a latte and a piece of carrot cake. Is that OK?"

"That's awesome. Thanks. How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"It's on me. It's the least I could do. I feel like an enormous weight is off my shoulders. Thanks for giving me the little kick in the ass that I needed."

"I think a little spank to that fine, furry butt of yours would have been more fun. Hey, have you come out to the wrestling team yet?" I asked.

"Nah, that can wait until after Thanksgiving. We won't have a practice until we're back next week anyway. I did come out to a lesbian friend though. She just about shit her pants. It was kinda funny. Said she had no clue, except that I always have cool haircuts."

The server brought our order to the table. Darius had gotten a chai tea and a brownie to go with my latte and carrot cake. As the server set the drinks and sweets down, Darius looked at her, took a deep breath, then reached across the table to hold my hands. He looked at me with a big, shit-eating grin.

"You make a really cute couple," the server said.

"You just earned yourself a nice tip," I replied.

She just laughed, turned and headed back behind the counter.

Darius let go of my right hand but held on to my left. He reached for his brownie. "Gotta have my chocolate fix," he smiled. "Wanna bite? I don't just share my brownies with anyone, ya know. I'm very possessive."

"Now I really know I'm special," I laughed, accepting a forkful of the moist, chewy and very chocolatey brownie.

"I need to ask you something, but I'm not exactly sure how to get there," I said.

"Just come right out with it."

"OK, it just seems like weird timing again, since you just asked me to be your boyfriend," I said sheepishly.

"I already said I'm cool fooling around with your friends," Darius said.

"You're going out of town this week and my friends aren't and they already asked if I wanted to hook up on Friday. I told them I needed to talk to you first. I never asked if you only want us to play together or if you're cool with me playing with them by myself."

"The fact that you care enough even to ask me makes me like you more. I want you to be honest every time. I think when people hide stuff from their partners, that's when relationships hit the third rail.

(A note of explanation here. Chicago's elevated train system the `L' runs on three rails. Two are for the wheels and the third carries a high-voltage electric current that powers the train. If a person touches the third rail, they get electrocuted. You can figure out what Darius meant.)

"You've been friends with Eddie and Tyler a long time and I know that Brandon is kind of fragile and relies on you. I'm cool with you and them playing around without me, but want some time with you alone when I get back, OK?"

"More than OK. I can't wait. You're back on Sunday?" I asked.

"Monday, actually. We're taking the redeye back from L. A., rushing home to take a quick shower, then I'm off to school. I'm guessing that I'm not gonna be my most perky self on Monday night. We'll figure something out though."

He leaned in and with a crowded coffee shop as our witness, kissed me softly on the lips. He seemed to be getting used to PDAs pretty quickly. That was fine with me.

***

That night, as I sat in my room reading a chapter for chemistry class, my phone rang. It was not a number in my contacts.

"Hello."

"¿Usted es Jaime?" ("Are you Jaime?")

Before I go any further, the whole conversation was in Spanish. I'll just relate it here in translation. Yes, my Spanish is pretty good. My mom and her parents insisted on speaking to me in Spanish as a kid, then I took Spanish classes all through school to make sure I could read and write it, too.

The voice on the other end belonged to a woman. It was odd that she addressed me formally with "Usted." I'm a kid. Adults don't address teenagers that way unless they think of themselves in a lower social class than you. It would be like someone addressing me as "Sir" or "Mister" even though I'm seventeen.

"Yes, I'm Jaime.

"This is Mariela. I'm Miguel's mother."

I felt a slight jolt run through me, then took a deep breath.

"You shouldn't be calling me. You can get into a lot of trouble if they find out you called me. It's called witness tampering."

"Please, Jaime, Miguel is still in jail. We haven't been able to post the money for his bail. Please let me talk to you for a minute."

(I had to ask what the Spanish word for "bail" meant. It's not one I'd ever heard come up in polite conversation before.)

"I don't have that kind of money, señora. Please, I don't want you to get into any trouble." I replied.

"Oh, no, Mr. Jaime, I'm not asking for money. I just called because Miguel wanted me to thank you. Because you and your friends were honest and told the policemen that he didn't have a gun and didn't know about the gun, he's only being charged with simple attempted theft. Since it's a first offense, Miguel could even get off with time he's already spent in jail and probation. He knows that he wasn't very nice to you when you invited him for dinner, but you still were honest and kind and helped him. The guy who he was with, he's a bad kid who Miguel's known for years. He's in a lot of trouble because of the gun and threatening you boys. He could be in jail for a really long time."

"I'm honestly glad to hear that Miguel is getting fair treatment. He's a decent guy but he's angry at people who never did anything to hurt him. And you're right, he wasn't very nice to me, but it certainly wasn't something he should go to jail for," I said.

"He's always been a good boy. He knows he made an awful mistake. He's always had big dreams, but has never been able to make any of them happen because we've got no money. He knows now that he hurt me more than anyone else. It's been terrible for me all alone. He's my life."

I could hear her choking back tears.

"I can't even imagine how it's been. I'm so sorry for you," I said.

"I want to say thank you, too. I hope he'll be back with me soon. God bless you, Jaime."

I decided not to tell anyone about the conversation. No one threatened me or asked me for a favor. No harm done.

***

I'd been planning the Thanksgiving dinner for weeks, coordinating with my parents and grandparents to figure out who would do what. Instead of trying to get all of the food cooked in our kitchen on Thanksgiving Day, it just made sense to have some things brought in the day of the holiday that had been made in advance. Abuelo José was bringing a tortilla de patatas (Spanish potato omelet) and piquillo peppers stuffed with codfish that we could pass around as tapas while we were still preparing the main meal.

Mama Bernice was bringing her banana pudding. It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it. But I'd asked her to make it without dairy this time.

"Jaime, what in God's name are you talking about?" Mama Bernice asked. "Do we have a guest who's lactose intolerant? I could use lactose-free milk, I guess."

"No, it needs to be dairy free. I have my reasons. Please. It's kind of important," I begged.

"OK, baby. I'll figure it out. There's got to be some decent non-dairy banana pudding recipes that won't make us all gag. Are eggs OK or does it need to be, oh heaven forbid, vegan?"

"Eggs are OK, Mama Bernice," I laughed. "What do you have against vegans?"

"Philosophically speaking, nothing. It's very noble to want to protect animals and save the planet. It's also a healthy lifestyle and I always advise my patients to eat more veggies and less red meat, as long as they don't load up on sugar, but let's be honest, baby, turkey made of tofu is just God awful."

Then, I asked great-grandma Esther to make a challah.

"Listen, Jaime, I know I'm getting old and maybe a little slow in the brain, but challah is made for Shabbos on Friday. Thanksgiving is Thursday, right? Why am I going to the trouble of making a challah on a Thursday?" she asked.

"I know it's a weird request. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't really important. I know it's a lot of work. Is there something I can do to show my thanks?" I asked.

"I'd like to get a handsome man to take me out to dinner and dancing, then home for a hot time between the sheets. The only problem is that most of the men my age are already dead and the ones that aren't can't get it up anyway. Hell, I'll take one of your apple pies as a fair trade for the challah then."

Once I'd stopped laughing, I told her that it was a deal.

"By the way, you may need to brush up on your language skills for Thanksgiving this year, Alte Bubbe."

"Yiddish??!! Oy vey, I haven't spoken Yiddish since your great-grandpa Morty died ten years ago, and even before that, we'd only speak Yiddish to each other when we didn't want the kids to understand what we were talking about...mostly about kinky sex. Who the hell speaks Yiddish these days?"

I told her Asher's story about getting thrown out of the house when he came out to his family and how hard it's been for him trying to live his life in a secular world for the first time.

"Oh, the poor boy! How could a family throw out a child like that? You know I'm not very religious. It's horrible when people use religion to hurt other people, especially children. I don't care what religion it is. All children should be cherished and loved for who they are. Of course, meyn teyer eyngl, I'll do what I can."

With the weeks of planning behind me, recipes in hand, and trips to bunches of different markets done, I was ready for Thanksgiving. Being head chef, I designated Grandpa David and Abuela Zyanya as my sous chefs. Mom and Dad were also going to help. Since Mama Bernice, Abuelo José and Great-Grandma Esther had already done their parts, they got to hang out and enjoy the atmosphere.

I wanted to serve dinner at 3 PM, so needed to get the 16lb (7kg) turkey into the oven by around 11:00 AM. It had been brining in the fridge for a day. That keeps it nice and moist.

I'd made pie dough for two different pies the night before and let it rest in the fridge overnight. That makes it flakier and keeps the pie crusts from shrinking. But this time I'd had to use vegan butter instead of the regular stuff. Fingers crossed that it was going to taste the same.

The plan was to have everyone arrive at 10 AM to get started on all of the dishes.

On Thanksgiving day, at 7:00 AM, I was in the kitchen getting stuff organized, putting recipes by each prep area so that everyone could get to work as soon as they arrived. All of the stuff that could sit out at room temperature was organized by work station, keeping the dash for ingredients to a minimum.

At 9:30, I arrived at Asher's foster family's home, a typical, Chicago-northwest-side bungalow, probably built in the 1920's. I rang the bell and within seconds, the door swung open and a beaming Asher motioned for me to come in.

"I guess you're ready," I laughed.

"Soooo, ready," he beamed, "but let me introduce you to Joan and Will."

Asher grabbed my arm and led me into the kitchen where a couple in their mid-sixties were sitting having what appeared to be their second cup of coffee, judging from the fact that the breakfast dishes were already in the sink waiting to be washed.

"Joan and Will, this is Jaime. Jaime, Joan and Will."

I reached over and shook their hands, "It's very nice to meet you."

"Asher has been talking about you and your friends for weeks now. Even though he won't admit it, I think he's been counting down the seconds until today," Joan said.

"What? Me?" Asher laughed. He turned to me, grabbed my arm and said, "Let's go!!"

"What time does he need to be home tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, we thought he was going to spend the night," said Will. "Isn't that right, Asher."

Asher froze for an instant, but before he could answer, I jumped into the conversation, "Of course, sorry. I've got so much on my mind with cooking that I forgot. Got your toothbrush and pajamas, Asher?"

"All set," he beamed, as he reached down to grab a back pack and pulled me toward the door.

As we got in the car Asher turned to me and said, "Thank you soooo much for covering for me...and letting me stay the night. I just really need to talk to some people closer to my age. Joan and Will are nice enough, but I don't know what to talk to them about. We don't really have anything in common."

"You told me you came from a large family?" I asked.

"Yeah, three sisters and two brothers. I'm number three...at least I was." Asher said. His expression suddenly changing from smiley to sullen.

"I'm an only child," I responded. "I always wondered what it would be like to have siblings."

"We were close. At least I thought so. I was really close to the brother who's only a year older than me. We stuck together like glue, at least until I got thrown out of the house. None of my brothers or sisters have tried to contact me, at least as far as I know. I mean they don't have cell phones. I don't either. And my dad made it clear that I was dead to them, so I guess I won't ever hear from them again. Sometimes, I feel like I'm floating in a boat out on the ocean all alone. Nothing is familiar. Everyone seems strange and talks funny. It's a horrible feeling, Jaime. I know it could have been worse. I know what some of the kids who go to the Rainbow Center do just to survive. I guess I'm lucky in that way. But what's going to happen to me when I turn eighteen and have no money and no place to go?"

"Well, let's take things one day at a time. Today, you're going to be part of my family. I know that it's not your family, but we'll do our best to make you feel like you belong. Have I told you about my ethnic background?"

"No. I can't really tell just by looking at you. You don't really look like anyone I've ever met before. But I don't mean that in a bad way. You are cute."

"Thanks. I'm one-quarter Jewish...on my father's side, so I guess that doesn't count to make me Jewish, right?"

"That's true. It's your mom's religion that counts, not your dad's, at least for religious Jews."

"My dad is half African-American and have Ashkenazi Jew. My mom is half Zapotec Indian and half Spanish."

"What's Zapotec? I never learned much about India in school," Asher sighed, looking embarrassed by his lack of secular education.

"They're actually from Mexico, not India. The Zapotecs are one of the ancient native tribes of Mexico."

Asher blushed. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid! Don't say that. I'm sure you're smart in a lot of things I know almost nothing about. Just because you don't know something doesn't mean you're not capable of learning about it. I bet I could help tutor you. I'm good at math and English and history. What did you learn at school anyway?"

"I got mostly a religious education. We got taught English and basic math, but no history, science or advanced math. I have so much to learn if I'm even going to be able to graduate from high school. Learning history isn't hard. You can just read a book and memorize what happened. But with science and math, you can't just jump into what everyone else in your class is studying because it's all based on what they learned before. I know addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, but not algebra or geometry or anything more advanced. I was always good at math and I really want to learn."

"What is that community like? I mean, I've seen Chasidic people walking around. The men are all dressed in black suits and white shirts, usually with big black hats. The women are always in dresses or skirts and I noticed that most seem to be wearing wigs, right?"

"It's a very tight community. We don't really mix much with others. The dads go to work either in the jewelry trade down on Wabash or they're rebbes...teachers, rabbis. The moms stay home and have kids and take care of the house. It's a very warm and loving community, as long as you follow all the rules, and there are tons of them. All based on what's said in the Torah and Talmud or by powerful rabbis. No sex before marriage. No sex with anyone other than your wife. Food is strictly kosher. You have to observe the sabbath. You marry within the community. Period. Women have to wear skirts or dresses because it's forbidden to dress like a man. Women can't show their hair, which is why many women shave their heads and put on wigs. Men dress very conservatively and don't shave because it's forbidden to do things that women do and shaving your hair is considered something that women do."

"It sounds exhausting," I said.

"If that's all you know, and you fit the mold, it works for you and you feel like a part of the community, but if you're gay or trans or if you're a woman who wants a career or an education, it can feel like you're suffocating. I thought I would be OK telling my folks that I'm gay because they loved me so much, but it was like a switch got turned off when I told them. I was `an abomination' because that's what the Torah says. Never mind that most Jews in this country, even modern Orthodox ones, love their gay kids and would never throw them out. But not in my community."

"Welcome to the outside world. I'm really sorry it's been such a tough journey so far. But I hope you'll have fun at your first Thanksgiving and that you'll love my family as much as I do," I said.

"This is going to be amazing," Asher beamed.

"By the way, I've invited my friend Brandon and his family to join us tonight. You didn't meet him at the Rainbow Center. He had a very strict religious upbringing, too. Evangelical Christian. But his super strict dad isn't in the picture anymore and his mom has broken away from that, but Brandon and his brother Braden will understand what it's like to grow up in a very religious setting.

"I haven't met Brandon's brother or his mom yet, so tonight will be the first time for both of us. Brandon's gay and out to his mom, but he hasn't come out to his little brother yet, so please keep his secret for now, OK?" I asked.

"Of course!! Gosh, if anyone knows what it's like coming out to the wrong person, it's me."

"I can't wait for you to meet my great-grandma Esther. She's 93. She's originally from Germany and is a Holocaust survivor. She met my late great-grandpa Morty in a displaced persons camp in 1945 and they immigrated to the US in 1947. She still loves to cook.

"By the way, all the food today is kosher. Maybe it's not super strictly kosher, I mean, we've cooked non-kosher food in our ovens before, but we've got no dairy and the turkey is a kosher turkey."

"You didn't have to do that for me," Asher said, clearly touched by the gesture. "I'm getting used to the idea of not being able to keep strictly kosher."

We really want you to feel comfortable. You don't need to think about what you're eating tonight. Just enjoy the food and eat lots of it. That's what Thanksgiving is about anyway."

"My first Thanksgiving! Honestly, I can't wait," Asher gushed.

"Now, be honest, what's the deal with inviting yourself for a sleepover?" I asked.

Asher's smile disappeared. "I just thought it would be fun hanging out with you. I really don't have any gay friends. Actually, I don't have any friends anymore." He paused for a second. "I'm really sorry. I know I'm being rude. I can go back to Joan and Will's house after dinner." He looked crushed.

"No! I'm happy for you to stay. We've got a nice guest room downstairs. But I just want to set some boundaries here. Strictly friends, OK? I just want to be sure you aren't expecting anything else," I said.

Asher turned bright red. "No!! Oh, I'm so embarrassed. I'm not looking for anything like that. I was thinking maybe you could teach me some videogames or you could help me with computer stuff. And to be honest, I really miss my family so much. I just want to spend time with other kids close to my age who I can talk to and not feel like a freak. The ones at my school ignore me."

"Then I'm happy you're staying. I bet you and Braden will hit it off. He's had a very hard time making friends, too, and only just started playing videogames. You guys probably have a lot in common. I won't go into details, but he's had a rough time in his life, too and could use a friend."

"Is it OK if he knows I'm gay?" Asher asked.

"Let's keep your sexual orientation off limits with Braden for now. I just don't know how he'd react. His father drummed some extremely hateful stuff into his head and Brandon isn't sure what Braden thinks about gay people. He really doesn't need to know you're gay if you're learning about videogames, right?

"Absolutely," Asher nodded.

We pulled up to the house at 10:00 on the dot. Asher and I walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. Mom and Dad walked over to welcome him.

"It's nice to meet you, Asher. I'm Barry," Dad said, grabbing Asher's hand.

"And I'm Nayeli. Is it OK to shake your hand?" Mom had done some research and learned that for ultra-orthodox Jews, touching a person of the opposite sex who is unrelated is forbidden."

"New world. New me," said Asher smiling as he extended a hand to my mom.

"I know you've met my mom Zyanya. She and my dad should be here any minute. I didn't tell her you'd be coming. I wanted it to be a surprise. Jaime, you haven't said anything either, have you?"

"Not a peep. By the way, Asher is going to be spending the night, so I'm going to make sure the guest room bed is all made up and that there are towels and stuff in the downstairs bathroom, OK?" I wanted to announce the plans out loud so that my parents, given the general level of sexual activity that I'd been engaged in recently, didn't think I had any sights set on Asher.

"I'd be happy to take care of that," Mom said. "Jaime really needs to get into the kitchen if we're going to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner at a reasonable time."

"That reminds me," I said, "When you're done downstairs, can the two of you get the table set? Twelve people, right? You think that you'll let Brandon and me have a little wine with dinner?"

"You get half a glass. Enough for a toast. As for Brandon, that's up to his mom," Dad said.

"OK then, just two places set without wine glasses. We'll assume Brandon's mom will be cool," I said.

"I think probably three places without wine glasses," said Dad, "Grandma Esther really shouldn't be drinking at her age. She has a hard enough time just staying awake through the meal as it is."

Just then, the door opened and Abuelo José and Abuela Zyanya walked in carrying plates of food and chatting to each other in rapid-fire Spanish about what a treat it was driving in the city when there's hardly any traffic and how at least it wasn't snowing this year for Thanksgiving. Distracted in their own discourse, Abuela was well into the house before she looked our way and did a double take, fixing her eyes on Asher. It took a split second for the light bulb to go on in her brain.

"Asher? How are you, young man? And what the hell are you doing here?"

"Hi, Mrs. Cruz. Jaime invited me for Thanksgiving."

"Well, that's kind of obvious, but I think I need a bit more back story."

I filled Abuela in on how Asher and I had met and that I wanted him to feel what it's like to have Thanksgiving surrounded by my wonderful family.

"Well, Asher, we're not exactly your stereotypical family, but we seem to get along just fine and we're so happy you could join us. I assume that Joan and Will know you're here?"

My own mom jumped into the conversation, "I spoke to Joan last week. It was pure coincidence that you turned out to be Asher's social worker."

"And a wonderful coincidence it is, too," Abuela responded. "Now, Jaime, put me to work in the kitchen."

I got Abuela set up peeling sweet potatoes and topping haricot verts, those little French green beans.

Then Grandpa David, Grandma Bernice and Great-Grandma Esther strolled into the house, each carrying dishes or serving trays of food. After Mom, Dad and I had all given them hugs, I introduced them to Asher and explained that Asher needed a new family this Thanksgiving and I'd offered up ours. A handshake from Grandpa David followed.

"He looks a little like my Uncle Moshe," Asher whispered to me, with a quick chortle, "short and furry."

"Would you like a hug?" Mama Bernice asked. Before Asher's head had even completed the nod, she had scooped him up into the kind of hug only moms know how to give. Asher melted into her arms.

When Mama Bernice had finally let go, Great-Grandma swooped in to seal the deal with a hug and, "es iz a fargenign tsu trefn aza a fayn iung mentsh. (It's a pleasure to meet such a nice young man.)"

Asher's eyes went wide once he realized that she wasn't speaking English.

"Redt ir Yidish?" (Do you speak Yiddish?)

"Eyn shprakh iz keynmol nisht genug (One language is never enough.)," she laughed.

Before she could even get her coat off, Asher had whisked Great-Grandma Esther off to a chair in the living room and had begun an animated conversation in Yiddish. Within ten minutes, they were acting like best buddies caught up in intense discussions one minute, then laughing up a storm the next. The sad look in Asher's eyes was gone.

By noon, everything was well under way. The apple and dairy-free pumpkin pies were out of the oven. The sweet potatoes had been peeled and the chipotle glaze prepared. The haricot verts were trimmed and blanched and the shitake mushrooms stemmed and sliced.

Asher had made his way into the kitchen where he was chatting up Grandpa David and Grandma Bernice, asking how they met and if it had been hard for them as a bi-racial couple. Asher clearly wasn't shy and seemed to revel in having new people to talk to. It was obvious that David and Bernice were enjoying the chat just as much.

I bounced from station to station in the kitchen, checking on my parents, Abuela Zyanya and Grandpa David. Since each was quite an accomplished cook in his or her own right, there wasn't much for me to do.

Brandon, Braden and their mom arrived shortly thereafter. It was nice to finally be able to put a face to a name.

"I'm Abigail and this is Braden," said Brandon's mom. She was tall, thin and blonde with a surprisingly strong handshake grip and a warm smile. High cheekbones and bright blue eyes were set next to a nose that looked as though it could have been the "after" picture from a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon but no surgery for that face. Had her life taken a different path, a career in modeling wouldn't have been surprising.

Braden sheepishly extended a hand to me. It was clear that he was going to grow into a stunningly handsome man. At age thirteen, he was already several inches taller than me with his mom's bone structure and deep blue eyes. His hair, unlike his older brother's, was golden-blond to the roots. He had beautiful, full lips and chiseled features. In a different time and place, Braden's Aryan countenance could have graced a poster for the Hitler Youth, a fact that would undoubtedly have made his racist, sexist, homophobic psychopath of a father swoon. But behind his very handsome exterior, I got a sense of shyness and discomfort in social situations.

I led the three of them into the kitchen and introduced them to my family and to Asher. Asher's eyes widened. He stood there slack-jawed and flushed. He obviously had a thing for tall, handsome, blond boys in the same way that Ron loved getting spanked and Darius obsessed over huge dicks. I could almost perceive a small trickle of drool forming at one corner of Asher's mouth. Once he'd regained his composure, he politely extended a hand to the three guests.

"Do you guys wanna head down to the basement to play some videogames until dinner's ready?" I asked.

"Absolutely!" said Asher, just a touch too enthusiastically. "I hope you guys can teach me. I don't really have much experience with videogames."

"Jaime filled us in," said Brandon. "Braden said he'd be happy to teach you. Right, Braden?"

Braden nodded and gave up a tight smile.

Abigail headed over to thank Abuela Zyanya for the social services information she'd provided after the Reverend Bradley Grimes's arrest. It had proven to be a lifesaver in many ways.

I led Brandon, Braden and Asher down to the basement and set them up with a driving game. Braden, who up until that point hadn't said more than two words, patiently and precisely explained to Asher how the game worked and gave him a couple of pointers on how to avoid common pitfalls. Even though he'd only been playing the game for a month, Braden clearly had a talent for both it and teaching. Asher hung on every word and seemed to be picking it up quickly. Brandon was clearly pleased.

As I walked back upstairs, I found Abuelo José chatting with Abigail about his research into native cultures, but oddly, work in the kitchen had stopped and the rest of the family was huddled around the kitchen island chatting animatedly, with Great Grandma Esther gesticulating to get her point across.

"Jaime, get your cute, little tuchus over here," she said, after noticing my return to the kitchen. "I was just telling the rest of the family what I've learned about Asher. That boy is super smart. Very charming. And he needs a new family desperately."

"OK, Grandma Esther. I knew that. But why the family meeting in the middle of cooking Thanksgiving dinner?" I asked.

"I think this should be his new family," she said emphatically.

Reactions ranged from enthusiastic nods from the grandparents' generation to a slight look of shock and terror from my folks. I was just stunned.

Dad broke the silence, "Grandma, I don't think this is really the time or place. Maybe we can talk about it another time."

"This is exactly the time and place," she said, trying not to raise her voice. "How often are all of us together at the same time? Zyanya's his social worker, for God's sake. She knows better than anyone what a good home can mean to a kid who's been abandoned. Asher isn't a baby who needs constant care, Barry. I know you and Nayeli are busy, but you managed to do a great job raising Jaime. Asher is old enough to be able to care for himself, but too young to be out on his own. And what would be better for a gay kid than to have a gay older brother he can look up to?"

"I couldn't agree more," said Zyanya, jumping into this unplanned intervention. "You two would make perfect foster parents. I can pull a few strings and get the background checks rushed through. Even though Evanston is not my specific jurisdiction, it's still in Cook County and I can get his case transferred here easily. Having Asher attend a school where he already knows people would be a huge deal. If you haven't guessed it already, he's a very sociable kid who's had no one to socialize with. I'm very concerned about his mental health in his current situation."

"Jaime, this would fall on your shoulders as much as on ours," Mom said. "I want to hear your opinion before we make any decisions."

I took a second to think about my response. "Each one of us here knows what it's like to feel different, to feel hated for who we are or for who we love. I can't think of a better way to say `go to hell' to the haters than to give our love to someone who's experienced hate. You've all shown me what a difference giving some of my time and effort can make in someone else's life. I think I'd be proud to be Asher's big brother."

"Spoken like a true public relations master," Dad smiled. "What do you think, Nayeli, are you ready to have another kid?"

"No labor and no stretch marks this time. Hell, why not? Count me in," Mom said.

The elders at the table breathed a sigh of relief and broke into broad smiles.

"OK. Get back to work, everyone. I'm getting hungry and we need to get dinner on the table," I said.

At 3:00PM, with the turkey freshly out of the oven and the rest of the food out on the table, Mom called down to Asher, Brandon and Braden to come upstairs.

Set on one end of the table was Grandma Esther's beautiful, six-stranded challah. She motioned to Asher to come stand by her side next to the delicious-looking loaf.

"It's Thursday, Alte Bubbe Esther," he said, obviously curious about the odd appearance of a challah on the wrong night.

"You might have noticed that we are not exactly your traditional family," she began. "If I remember correctly, this bread symbolizes the double portion of manna that God delivered to the Jews from heaven on the day before the sabbath. Today is the day before the sabbath and we are also doubly blessed. We are sharing our day of Thanksgiving with family and friends and we also would love you to become a member of our family, too."

Asher's eyes went wide as saucers. He looked over to my mom and dad, who nodded and smiled back. Then he looked at me, the tears streaming down his face, and pulled me into a bear hug.

"Would you like to say the Hebrew blessing over the challah?" I asked.

Asher let go of me and regained his composure long enough to shake his head and said, "No! That's Grandpa David's job. I couldn't."

"I would be honored if you took my place today," said Grandpa David.

Asher wiped the tears from his face, took a deep breath and with his new family and friends looking on, he began, "Baruch atta adonai..."

End--"Tripod"--Chapter 30