He stopped talking so I whispered, “Okay.”
“Mom gave me the name Tucker,” he told me. “Dad used to tease her. Said she was crazy, namin’ me Tucker. ‘Least I gave him Creed,’ he’d say, laughin’, grinnin’ big at her, makin’ her roll her eyes right before she’d giggle and give him a hug. So that’s who I am. I’m not what my Mom gave me. I’m what my Dad gave me. I’m Creed.”
“Creed,” I agreed.
He looked away and muttered, “Done bein’ Tuck. Done bein’ crazy, drunk Winona’s boy. I’m Brand Creed’s boy. I’m Creed.”
“You’re Creed,” I told him.
He turned his face further away and I had a feeling he was trying not to cry or not to let me see him cry so I gave him that. Boys did that and I didn’t know why but I did know it was important.
I sat next to him though, got close, shoved my shoulder into him and started wiggling it so he had to put his arm around me. When he did, I pressed even closer. He got kinda stiff for a second then he relaxed and his arm curved tight around me so I rested my cheek against his shoulder.
But I didn’t say anything. Sometimes, when I was trying not to cry and someone said something, it’d make me cry.
So I just pressed close.
We stayed this way a long time. It wasn’t comfortable but it was warm and it still felt good.
Finally, he said something.
“You know, I lost him too.”
“I know Tu… I mean, Creed.”
“She acts like she’s the only one.”
“I know.”
“It’s been years and I still find her drunk, smellin’ bad and passed out on the stupid couch with a stupid bottle, booze drenched in the carpet, his picture in her hand.”
I pressed closer.
“I lost him too,” he whispered.
“I know, Creed.”
He pulled in a loud breath.
Then he said quiet, “You gotta get home.”
I didn’t want to but I agreed, “Yeah.”
We got up and he took my hand as we walked back to the gate. He stopped me like he always did outside. Then his eyes dropped to my throat, his hand let mine go and he lifted it and twitched the pendant there.
He looked back at me and grinned. “You’re always wearin’ one ‘a those.”
I nodded.
“Even if they don’t match your outfit,” he kept talking.
I grinned back. I liked it that he noticed. It felt good.
“I like them,” I said. “And they’ve never turned my skin green.”
He shook his head, still grinning and told me, “You’re a goof.”
I shoved his shoulder and told him, “You’re a goof.”