Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 115

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 115

One Year Later
Eli maneuvered the rented truck down his parents’ street at approximately half a mile an hour.
It wasn’t his fault that his driving skills were still rusty. Nick had told him over their last FaceTime
call that living in LA for nearly a year should have built up his confidence on the road by now,
but clearly that had not happened and probably never would.

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“Please, Lord Jesus,” he muttered as he finally completed the slight turn, coming within a few
inches of sideswiping a mailbox shaped like a marlin. The mailbox belonged to a house that was
flying a MAGA flag so old and decrepit it was practically ribbons, so Eli wasn’t too concerned
about decapitating the fish. He didn’t want to scrape the paint and lose his deposit on the U-
Haul, however.
His parents were waiting for him at the end of the driveway in front of their overly decorated
house. Along with Max. And Uncle Hank. And the dresser that Eli’s mom had insisted that he
and Nick would need when they finally moved in together.
“It’s a great dresser! Solid mahogany, none of that particleboard. And look how deep these
drawers go,” she had said on their last FaceTime call, pointing her phone’s camera into a black
pit that could have been a coal mine for all Eli could tell.
He’d sighed. “I have a dresser already.” It was fine. It was from one of those websites that was
one step up from IKEA.
“Son.” Wendall Ward’s face had appeared on the screen. “Take the dresser.”
So here he was, making a slight detour on the way to pick up his boyfriend so they could start
their new life together because Cora really, really wanted him to have Great-Aunt Margery’s
dresser. But he hadn’t known it was going to be a party.
“Why are you all here?” Eli asked as he dismounted from the truck.
His parents hugged him fiercely before his mom said, “To help you load up!”
“You didn’t think we were going to let you fellas handle the move by yourself, did you?” Hank
tightened the Velcro waist… cincher… thing that he wore around his middle; Eli didn’t know
what it was called, only that it conjured up images of dockworkers and the guys who stocked
shelves at Costco.
Eli caught Max’s eye. There was a silent communication the likes of which sometimes passes
between the two queer cousins in a family. It said, in both directions, “Are you seeing this?
Because I am seeing this.”