This story is set in Chicago, the February following Mr. Sean Fitzgerald's arrival at West River High School (concurrent with 5x16 Tested). Roderick is a junior. It's a continuation of the events set forth in Apprehensive Naked Little Trembling Boy, and it has lots of spoilers for the Donutverse, so you definitely want to read that first. In that story, Mar's character has chosen to use the pronoun "they" for themselves, so that is what I have used here.
I wrote this for superbarnacles for my Donutverse birthday prompt. Hope you like it! Warnings for polyamory, and some intense discussion of gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia, and I'm not a therapist, etc. Enjoy. -amy
Mar posed the question on Tuesday night shortly before bed. When Roderick thought about it, it was kind of amazing none of them had suggested it before.
Do you think, they said, for Valentine's Day, maybe we should share pictures of ourselves?
Sarah responded right away. Why not just Skype? People look weird when they're stuck in photos.
Webcams kind of freak me out, Mar said. Their mood label in the What's Up box said "Thoughtful," which could really mean anything with them. I think it's because I don't feel like I have any control over how people see me on a webcam. It's just a whole bunch of yuck.
Roderick couldn't disagree with that, though his experience had been with video cameras in therapists' offices rather than webcams. It wasn't until he saw himself on the screen that he would start to worry about how other people saw him.
You dont have any control over what people are seeing ever mar, Jake said.
Permit me my illusions, dork. Okay, maybe I'm scared about you guys seeing me.
Uh, didn't you suggest it, Mar? Roderick had to ask.
Correction: scared about seeing you guys seeing me. If I don't have to watch your reaction, I can brace myself, but if it's happening right there in front of me, I'll have to deal with it, won't I? I don't know if I can handle that. But sharing pictures would be okay.
He sighed. With every minute, it sounded like a worse idea. I'd rather not, he said.
It's not even a fair situation, Sarah said. Ricky's the only one who hasn't seen any of us. If he doesn't want to, I'd say don't.
Sarah had a point. She and Jake and Ry and Mar were all juniors at the same school now. Katie had graduated, but she still checked in with them most nights when she wasn't performing. There were still other kids who showed up on the discussion board, but since Holly stopped seeing new clients, the attendance had dwindled significantly. Most of the time, it was just the six of them who remained. Roderick couldn't quite figure out why she and the others bothered to visit the group, anyway, since they saw one another at school every day.
You suggested it for a reason though, said Jake.
Well, we've shared a lot of things, Mar replied. This would be one more thing. I consider you guys my best friends. You're all my Valentines. But Ricky, if you're uncomfortable with it, I'm not going to push you.
That was worse, because Mar was always being accommodating. Katie might be pushy, and Jake got angry sometimes, but Mar was the peacemaker of their group. If they wanted something, even Jake was inclined to say yes.
Can I think about it? Even as he typed the words, he knew he was going to give in.
Absolutely. We've got a couple days left. Anybody already have plans for v-day?
Roderick sat back from the screen, barely paying attention to Sarah's commentary about what she and her best friend Frances were doing with their respective dates. He opened up a window for a new email as he worked his way through Holly's breathing exercises to calm himself down.
Date: 8 Feb 2014
To: fitzgerald dot sean at westriver dot k12 dot il dot us
From: roderick1551 at gmail dot com
Re: appointment tomorrow morning
Mr. Fitzgerald,
I'm sorry to bother you after school hours, but I can already tell I'm going to need to talk on Wednesday morning. I hope your schedule isn't too busy. 9:30 okay?
Thank you,
Roderick
No matter how many times Mr. Fitzgerald told him he could just drop in, he didn't really feel comfortable doing that. It was better to warn him he was coming just to ensure he wouldn't arrive to an empty room. There was something particularly awful about being stood up by somebody you admired. Roderick would prefer not to face that from Mr. Fitzgerald.
Roderick watched as Mar and Jake and Sarah moved on to other topics. He knew the question hadn't been settled, that they were basically just waiting for his okay. The fact that he wasn't ready to give it made him feel a little guilty, but it was better than lying and saying he was.
It stayed with him all through breakfast the next day and into his morning. Mr. Fitzgerald was waiting for him in the counseling office at 9:30. He gave Roderick a sympathetic smile.
"What's up?"
Roderick made a face. "That's what Holly asks us every time we log into our discussion group. My status would be freaked out, if I were online. It's Mar. They suggested we post pics for Valentine's Day."
Mr. Fitzgerald nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, and waited for Roderick to pull out a chair across from him. "What kind of pictures?"
"Just regular ones, I think. Mar's kind of a prude."
He was definitely hiding a smile now. "Okay. So what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is we've never shared any kind of pictures before." He could tell he was closing in on himself, pulling his headphones down around his neck. "Why do they want do that now?"
"My stepbrother would say, Is that a question or a complaint?" He shrugged. "What do you think?"
"Both?" Roderick set his backpack down on the floor beside his chair. It was interesting how Mr. Fitzgerald's stepbrother seemed to come up every time they discussed important things. He wasn't sure if he was a real person or an amalgam of thoughtful rhetoric Mr. Fitzgerald had gleaned from the Internet, but he supposed it didn't matter much. Even if he were real, it wasn't like Roderick was ever going to meet him.
"What would be the worst thing that could happen if you shared a picture of yourself with Mar?" Mr. Fitzgerald asked.
Roderick winced. "You're seriously asking that?"
"I'm seriously asking that," he said patiently. "They want you to show a little vulnerability. This would show them you were trustworthy."
"Come on." He gestured at himself. "Tell me how knowing what I look like is going to make anybody want to be closer to me. And Mar doesn't even know about my diagnosis."
"No, but you said none of your friends care about that."
That was theoretically true. They all had reasons they'd gone to therapy, even if they hadn't discussed them explicitly. He could say the words selective mutism to them, and probably nothing would change. Probably. But supposedly being nonjudgmental and actually being nonjudgmental were two different things.
"Sarah suggested skipping the pictures and moving right to Skype," said Roderick. "That scared Mar right off. Skype would be worse. I mean, who knows if I would even be able to talk to them at all."
"Yeah, I guess you never know." Mr. Fitzgerald nodded at him. "So have you figured out what you're going to do?"
That was how Mr. Fitzgerald worked. He almost never gave Roderick advice about anything. Sometimes that was nice, but mostly it was annoying. He sighed.
"I think I'm going to do it," he said. "It's just a picture, right? But I think I'll ask if I can go last. It'll give me some time to find one I don't hate. How about you?"
Mr. Fitzgerald looked confused. "You want a picture of me?"
"No, I mean — sure, yes, but — for Valentine's Day. You and, um. Ben? You have any plans?"
Ben had stopped by the school enough times now to pick up Mr. Fitzgerald that Roderick was on a first name basis with him, but it still felt a little weird to say Ben when he was also saying Mr. Fitzgerald. He wasn't about to call Mr. Fitzgerald Sean, no matter how much time they spent together. Mr. Fitzgerald was still his teacher, so that meant certain rules applied — but Ben was just Mr. Fitzgerald's boyfriend, not a teacher.
Mr. Fitzgerald looked a little uncomfortable too. He shook his head. "I think he might have to work. But whatever, it's not important. I don't think either of us care much about Valentine's Day." Then he grinned. "Did I ever tell you what my friend Dave did one time on Valentine's Day? He delivered secret admirer notes and stuff in a gorilla suit to this guy he liked, every day for a week, but the guy had no idea it was from him. Then he showed up on Valentine's Day in the suit to tell him how he felt."
"A gorilla suit." Roderick raised an eyebrow. "Did it work out? Did he get the guy?"
"No." His smile faded a little. "It was kind of awful how it came out, actually. Broke Dave's heart. Uh, again."
"That's a horrible story."
Mr. Fitzgerald shook his head. "Yeah… yeah, I guess it is. Sorry. Just, compared to some of the stuff we went through that year, it practically feels like comic relief."
"But you get that I don't want to be comic relief?" Roderick leaned back in his seat and exhaled. His nerves were buzzing. "Okay, I don't have to be the lead in this drama. I'd be satisfied with being part of the B-couple."
"A couple. Is that how you feel about Mar?"
"No, no, it's not like that. It's — everybody. I care about all of them." He tried to explain. "I think it's that I've never been part of a we before. This collective group of six of us, we're a we. And without faces or bodies or any of that stuff, it's, like, it doesn't matter who's hot and who's not. We're all on even footing. Everybody's important."
Mr. Fitzgerald wrinkled his brow, looking closely at him. "You do realize they all see one another every day. And you said Mar and Ry, they're dating?"
"Yeah, yeah, and Mar and Jake before that, and Sarah and Ry for a while, and Katie and Ry over the summer — and that's just the groupings I'm sure about. I think maybe there was at least one threesome in there. But that's almost not important? I think it's like… if you're part of this group, it doesn't matter who's actually doing things with whom at the moment." He gave Mr. Fitzgerald a sheepish look. "I guess that would sound really weird to you."
"No," Mr. Fitzgerald said quickly. "No. It's — familiar. That kind of trust, it's pretty special."
"I know," Roderick said. "I know."
"Yeah, I know you know." Mr. Fitzgerald reached out and bumped Roderick's knuckles with his own. Roderick made a conscious effort to relax his hands. "You feel part of this we."
Roderick nodded. "Yeah. I do."
"But you still don't think you can trust them not to judge you because of how you look?"
He shrugged. "I don't think it matters what I think. I just know things are going to change after this, and I don't want them to."
Mr. Fitzgerald nodded. They both sat there in silence for a few minutes. Then he reached into his pocket and set his iPod and the headphone splitter on the table, waiting. Roderick nodded back, reaching for his own headphones around his neck. Mr. Fitzgerald went to close the door while Roderick chose the track.
"Maroon 5," said Mr. Fitzgerald, looking over his shoulder as he sat back down. His mouth twisted.
"You're not going to freak out again, are you?" said Roderick with a straight face. The dirty look Mr. Fitzgerald shot him made him snicker.
"I'm never going to live that down, am I? Either of those times."
"Falling apart over a P!nk song is totally allowed," Roderick said. "But falling apart over a Katy Perry song, that's just embarrassing."
Mr. Fitzgerald was smiling, but even if he hadn't been, Roderick knew he wasn't crossing any lines. Mr. Fitzgerald was tough — tougher than just about anybody, no matter how much music made him cry.
They both sang along with their headphones on, getting a little gritty and loud, but the counseling staff had long since learned to leave them alone when they were immersing themselves in music.
When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
You'll understand what I mean when I say there's no way we're gonna give up
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams
Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
It did the trick. By the time they were done, Roderick was feeling a lot more calm about the prospect of sharing a picture of himself with the group. He even went to the library and logged into the board at lunch to say, Okay, I'll do it, before logging right back out again.
It was the kind of conversation that made Roderick glad he wasn't allowed to carry his cell phone around at school, or he knew he'd be logging in to check what they were saying all day. At least this way, he had to wait until he got to a computer to read everyone's responses. Today, Roderick made sure he was safely in his chair in his own family room with Dexter's furry head resting on his foot when he logged in again.
He discovered they'd set up ground rules for picture-sharing in his absence. Sarah had withdrawn her Skype suggestion. Plain selfie, Ry advised, but Mar's request was for each person to share whatever picture made them feel best about themselves. Katie had dropped in to excitedly offer support for that idea.
Me first, Jake had said around mid-afternoon. His mood was Asshole, which was an adequate warning flag.
Roderick knew enough about Jake's dancing and the existence of his YouTube channel, complete with literally hundreds of thousands of viewers, to guess what he was going to look like. That didn't make seeing him any less depressing. Roderick adjusted his headphones and sighed, staring at the picture of Jake in his tight white t-shirt.
"God," he said, closing his eyes wearily.
This is pretty much me on a bad day, Jake said. what you see is what you get.
He's totaly lying, said Ry. I took it and he made me do it six times. Your such a crap subject, man.
At that point Roderick should have logged off and gone to bed, but then Mar spoke up and said, All right, I'm ready, and Roderick just sat there, literally on the edge of his chair, until their picture appeared.
His first reaction was: holy shit, they're a girl.
His second reaction was more visceral. He was glad he didn't have to school his face, because he was pretty sure he drooled a little. In retrospect, he'd been expecting someone androgynous. This person — Mar — was not even a little bit androgynous. Now he felt like a total traitor, because he wasn't sure he was going to be able to think of them as anything but her ever again.
Mar had chosen a picture of themselves on stage, caught in mid-wail. The hat they were wearing didn't cover up their long brown hair, or their pink lipstick. Roderick couldn't stop staring at their perfect white teeth.
"This is not happening," he muttered.
"Ricky?" his mom called as the front door opened. He closed his laptop in a hurry, feeling for all the world like he'd been caught looking at porn.
"Here," he said, pulling himself to his feet, and went to help her bring in the groceries.
It was another half hour before he was able to sit down in front of the computer again, and by that time Mar had already logged off for the night.
Sorry I had to leave so quickly, he said. My mom got home from work. Can you apologize to Mar for me tomorrow?
Apologize to them yourself, Katie said. You've got their email address.
Roderick did, though he'd never used it. I don't know if that's a good idea, he typed slowly.
Uh oh that doesnt sound so good, said Jake, just as Ry said, Why not?
Roderick resisted closing the laptop again, cringing as their words appeared on the screen. Anything he typed here would be open to Mar's scrutiny tomorrow when she logged back on. He'd never been worried about that before, had never tried to censor himself in front of any of them. It felt awful.
I just can't imagine why Mar would feel worried about us judging them when they look like that.
Talk to them, man, Ry said. They trust you. They'll tell you anything if you want to know.
Roderick felt unreasonably, suddenly angry. Of course I want to know! What kind of Valentine would I be if I didn't?
All im gonna say is dont get them chocolates, said Jake.
There was a virtual chorus of offended Dude! comments.
Sarah added, Jake, you really are an asshole tonight.
What its true, he said.
That, coupled with what he'd learned over the past couple years about Mar's eating disorder, was enough information for Roderick to make some guesses about what might be going on. It took him out of his own self-pity enough to open up an email window and address it to Mar, but he had to take a walk around the apartment before he felt ready to actually write it.
Date: 9 Feb 2014
To: rosemar84 at gmail dot com
From: roderick1551 at gmail dot com
Re: your picture
Mar — I wanted to apologize for not sticking around tonight after you posted your picture. I have excuses, but I don't think they count for much. Mostly I wanted to know if you'd be willing to talk with me about why you're worried about us judging you by the way you look. Because I think you look pretty amazing.
He revised that sentence sixteen times before he settled on that particular wording. Anything less emphatic wouldn't be authentic, and anything more would feel like creeping.
I really want to hear what you have to say. I'll listen without judgment, I promise. Thanks for being so brave.
-Ricky
He couldn't resist logging in the next morning before school. There was another picture, this one from Ry. Again, Roderick knew Ry played football and danced, and that he had always come off as apologetically heterosexual in all their conversations, so Roderick wasn't surprised to see the ordinary handsome blonde guy in the striped sweater smiling at him.
Katie, are we going to see Unique or what? Ry asked. Roderick knew that was sort of like Katie's stage name.
I haven't decided yet, was Katie's response. I feel like I want to be as honest as possible here.
That made Roderick feel a little ashamed of his own reluctance. If there were any people in the world he'd want to be honest with, it was all of them. He also noticed none of them was pushing him to share. That made him feel even worse.
But then he checked his email, and immediately had to sit down with his orange juice and cereal to read what Mar had said in reply. Thankfully his mom was busy getting ready and wasn't really paying attention to his flushed face.
Date: 10 Feb 2014
To: roderick1551 at gmail dot com
From: rosemar84 at gmail dot com
Re: re: your picture
Ricky —
Thank you so much for your message. I was a little scared when you took off like that, so thank you for letting me know what was going on. I want to do my best to answer your question, but it's going to take a while and it's hard, so I'm sorry if I ramble.
It's kind of weird to be alone with you in this space, but it's nice, too. I've had alone time with all of the others in the group except you, and I didn't realize until just now that I was missing it. You're so much a part of us, and still so far away. I think that's why I wanted to share pictures, because I wanted to give you something we had, maybe to bring you a little closer to us.
He had to take a break and breathe before reading further. Even if Mar hadn't said anything more than that, it would have been enough. But there were many more words after that.
I'm so much not in my body. I'm constantly scared and embarrassed and sick of how the world perceives me — like an incompetent little girl — and I hate it so much, I don't even have words for it. That's saying something, because as you know, I have words for most things.
I chose a picture of myself singing on stage because of how I feel when I do that: powerful and strong and proud. But part of that is because when I'm on stage, I'm not a girl, I'm a boy. That's how I feel when I'm being intimate with someone, too. I think that's a big part of why I don't want to have sex— because it feels wrong somehow, like I'm misrepresenting myself. When I'm making out with someone, I can get myself into the right mindset, imagining what it would be like if I was… well, doing what boys do. But then they just want to grab my boobs and it's, like, no. I can't. All I feel is fat and wrong.
And I know in my brain that's not true? I can look at the scale and say, yes, that's normal. But I can't look at myself and think that. I can't be in my body and feel normal. I can't know people are looking at me without feeling angry that they're not seeing the right me. But then on stage, I can do that magic thing where people are watching and I make them see someone else, someone I really am inside, and it's just wonderful.
I hope maybe you saw some of that in the picture I posted. I really want you to see me for who I am.
Thanks again for asking, and for everything, really. You're great.
-Mar
Roderick took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before rereading the whole thing again. He went to brush his teeth and pack his bag for school before sitting down again, so his mom couldn't accuse him of wasting time on email. Not that she was likely to do that, but he absolutely wasn't going to leave for school without responding to Mar first.
Date: 10 Feb 2014
To: rosemar84 at gmail dot com
From: roderick1551 at gmail dot com
Re: re: re: your picture
Mar — wow, did I call you brave before? Is there a word that means so much more than that?
I guess I always thought I understood a little about what you and Katie and Holly were going through, feeling uncomfortable in your body, but I can tell it's a lot different from the way I feel about myself. Being comfortable in my gender, that seems pretty lucky from this end of our conversation. But I'm really not interested in being that guy who makes everything about him, so I'll just stop talking and say thank you for trying to help me understand.
I'm going to ask questions and you can just ignore any of the ones you don't want to answer, okay? Do you think you want to have surgery like Katie does? What about hormones like Holly took? I don't know what testosterone would do to get you closer to how you want other people to perceive you, but maybe it would help, I don't know.
I've spent a lot of time looking at that picture of you, both before and after you wrote your email. I want you to know I can definitely see what you mean about being proud and strong and powerful. Not that I have anything to compare it to. I absolutely don't want to objectify you or make you feel uncomfortable. I wish I could see you perform. Would
Roderick paused there, because what he had been about to offer felt completely okay until he stopped to think about it, and then he began to hyperventilate. In the end, though, he decided to go with his original impulse. At the very least, it would be a way to be honest about himself.
Would you like me to post a video clip of me singing? I think I can do that. I've never sung in front of anyone other than my family and my guidance counselor.
I've also never had a Valentine before, and I'm really glad to be yours.
-Ricky
He thought about changing it to say "all of yours," but he decided to leave it the way it was. This was a personal conversation, and although Mar was right, that it felt a little weird to be alone together, it still felt good.
Roderick almost forgot to stop in the office to see Mr. Fitzgerald before lunch. He paused in the doorway, glancing in both directions before noticing him over by the copier. He hurried over.
"I got an email from Mar," he said. The grin came out before he could hold it back, and he bounced on his toes. Mr. Fitzgerald blinked down at him, smiling back.
"Awesome," he said. "I take it it's awesome, anyway?"
"I think it qualifies, yeah. She shared her picture. She's — " He swallowed the word beautiful, and said, "She's amazing. I told her that. And I offered to post a video of myself singing."
Roderick paused when he realized the entire counseling office had stopped what they were doing and was staring at them. The secretary, Ms. Lauer, looked like someone had doused her with cold water.
"So, uh," he went on, a little more quietly, "I was hoping you might… be able to help me with that. Recording me."
"I can totally do that," said Mr. Fitzgerald. He didn't sound uncertain, and his smile was so big and proud that Roderick felt a little dizzy. "Just let me know when. After school work for you okay?"
"I didn't bring my guitar," he said. "But maybe my mom can drop it off? I'll call her."
"Great. Tomorrow, if we can't do it today." Mr. Fitzgerald held out his hand, and Roderick wasn't sure what he was meant to do with it for a moment. Then he clasped it, and Mr. Fitzgerald shook it. "Was it worth the risk?"
"I think," he said. He nodded. "Yeah. It was."
Roderick didn't like the whispered voices he heard behind him from the teachers and office staff as he turned to leave, but he figured he could live with blowing their mind a little. Yeah, maybe he'd never spoken a word in front of half of these people, but at that moment, he'd only been talking to Mr. Fitzgerald. Somehow, he made whatever else was going on around him inconsequential.
Lunch could wait. He headed for the library and logged into his email — and there was another response from Mar.
Date: 10 Feb 2014
To: roderick1551 at gmail dot com
From: rosemar84 at gmail dot com
Re: re: re: re: your picture
Ricky —
I had so many feelings when I read your reply this morning, I don't even know how to express them. I guess I'm mostly relieved that you still want to be my Valentine after what I told you about me. Writing it all down like that was a little terrifying, but I'm really glad I did it.
Of course I didn't expect you to be the kind of guy who looks at me like a Barbie doll. You've always been the most thoughtful and well-spoken person. I'm grateful for that every day. Your words, the way you communicate, it definitely keeps me sane when I'm surrounded by Ry and Jake all day. Sarah still doesn't say much to me, even if we get along better than we used to. After the stuff that happened between me and Jake, she got angry at me and I think she never really stopped. But that's not important right now. I miss Katie a lot, she was the brains of our group until you came along, and not having her at school is hard in so many ways. But I think — this might sound strange — I miss not having you here more? Can you miss somebody you've never met?
I think about surgery sometimes, but most days my answer is no, I don't want it. For one thing, I'm scared of it going wrong. Everything I've read about the rates of success, it's all pretty abysmal if you want to have a normal sex life. And by that I mean lots of orgasms, which I can have now. I don't want to jeopardize that part. I think if I were going to do anything it would be top surgery, because I've always felt like breasts were so completely not part of the way my body should be. But I promised my mom I wouldn't consider anything permanent until after I was older.
I hope none of this is coming off as TMI or disappointing, but I'm not very worried about that. I think I'm actually not scared to say anything to you, which is kind of amazing.
Oh my god yes to the video. I would be so honored to be the fourth person to hear you sing. And I'd share one of mine too, if you wanted to hear it. I'd listen to anything you had to say.
- Mar
It was almost impossible to imagine going to class after reading those words from Mar. Yes, the comment about lots of orgasms was more than a little distracting, but it was the I'd listen to anything you had to say that made Roderick's heart stutter.
I have so many things to say to you, he thought, and that all by itself felt revolutionary.
He wouldn't have time to respond to her email before lunch was over, but he could at least check the discussion board. Sure enough, Katie had posted her picture. It was brilliant, her eyes shining as she raised them to the sky.
In the state he was in, Roderick had no trouble at all responding, Wow, that's a really great picture.
No one else was online at the moment, but there were already comments from all of the rest of them. Katie's own made him feel especially warm inside: This is me singing one of the songs you wrote for our competition last year, Mar, so that's why I picked it.
Roderick was able to reach his mom at work and beg her to bring his guitar to school by sixth period.
You want to play your guitar at school? was her question. He could almost hear her incredulous tone through the text.
I really do, he said. Mr. Fitzgerald said he was going to help me record myself. I'm going to sing a song for my friends online.
You're not supposed to make your mother cry at work, Ricky. I'll drop it off in the office before 2:30.
He made a valiant effort to pay attention for the rest of the day and do some useful work in his remaining three classes, but he gave up halfway through sixth period and asked for a pass to the library. He needed to write something to all of them before attempting to sing in front of a camera.
When he logged in, he saw Sarah was online too — her mood was Grainy, whatever that meant — and she had just posted her picture. He was pretty sure she hadn't taken it herself. Her long curly hair was tousled, and she looked a little distracted, as though she was making eye contact with someone.
I'm not sure what to say about why I took this here, she said. Maybe it matters that this is the old choir room, now the computer lab. My brothers spent forever here when they were in school. In fact, there's one of them on the wall behind me.
He scanned the wall in the picture behind her — and stopped. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.
It was a plaque, the kind you saw when you were commemorating something important, bearing a gold rectangle beneath a large photo of Mr. Fitzgerald. There was absolutely no question that it was him. It didn't just look like him - it was him.
Roderick sat there for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Finally he put his hands on the keyboard.
Is that the brother who passed away?
Yeah, she said. Finn. He was the Glee club coach for about six months before he died, so they put up that plaque for him.
Roderick already felt sick, even though he hadn't even said anything, but if her answer was an honest one, there was nothing he could say about Mr. Fitzgerald. If Sarah thought he was dead, there weren't too many possible explanations — and Roderick was pretty sure he didn't believe in ghosts. At least not ones who had jobs and worked at his school.
Thank you, he said. I'm really glad to find out more about that part of your life.
It's kind of sucked a lot being here alone. Everybody's gone.
Gone?
Kurt's in New York with Blaine. Noah's at Fort fucking Lee. Adam's on tour in Europe.
That's a lot of brothers.
Yeah, they filled the house. Now it's mostly just me.
And your folks?
Foster folks. Tatenui's a representative in the Ohio house, so he's a little busy.
Roderick's head was reeling. He definitely wasn't sure he wanted to know , but he also wasn't sure he could go on with his original plan anymore, not feeling like this.
What happened to your brother? Finn? If you don't mind me asking.
No, I don't mind, but I don't have a very good answer. He went to Columbus to sing at a coffeehouse one day and he didn't come home. The police called to let us know he'd been found in a motel room, that he'd overdosed on heroin. Which is totally fucked up, because Finn didn't do drugs.
Roderick could feel the hair on every surface of his skin standing on end. What do you think happened?
I've been trying to figure that out for almost a year. I have some suspicions, but so far I haven't uncovered much concrete evidence. The police ruled it accidental overdose and closed the case.
I really wish I could give you a hug, he said. At least that was honest.
I really wish you could, too. Mar said something about you having a surprise for us?
Yeah, I think so. He took a deep breath and let it out, steadying himself against the desk. He could still do this, for Mar, and all of them. I'm going to post a video of myself singing.
Awesome.
Well, there's something you should know about me? I don't talk. At all. I mean, historically I don't. I'm a little scared it won't work if I try to record myself talking. Maybe it won't work here either. So I'm going to try just the singing, and no talking, and see if that works.
That sounds like a good plan. You don't talk?
Not really, hardly at all. But I do talk to you guys, and you listen. All of you.
That's because you actually say stuff worth hearing, Ricky.
Hearing Sarah say that that made it easier to focus on why he was trying in the first place. As he brought his guitar down the hall toward Mr. Fitzgerald's office, he thought about the pictures everyone had posted, and what Mar had said about it bringing him closer to them. It felt almost like he was carrying a pocket of protection with him through the school. The disdainful, suspicious looks from other students slid off him like water, but the friendly ones didn't seem as fake as he usually assumed they were. He even smiled back at some people as he walked.
"Hey," he said to Ms. Lauer at the desk.
"You can go right in, Roderick," she said. "He's finishing a phone call."
"Thank you."
It was more words than he'd ever said to her. She really didn't know him at all, other than in passing from his frequent visits to Mr. Fitzgerald's office, but the happy smile she gave him made him feel bad he'd never made an effort to talk to her before.
Mr. Fitzgerald had moved the conference table to one side and stacked the chairs to make room for a little combo amp and a microphone stand. He was in the corner, murmuring words into his phone, but when he saw Roderick, he grinned and gestured enthusiastically at the guitar. Roderick sat in the chair beside the microphone and did some of Holly's breathing exercises to stay calm.
He tried not to be completely obvious about studying Mr. Fitzgerald as he talked. Sarah's brother. He tried to connect the names Sarah had said with what he knew about Sarah and Jake and their family. Noah was Sarah and Jake's other brother, the one who'd had all that trouble and then had gone to join the Air Force after graduating. Kurt and Blaine, he had no idea who they were. Were they twins? Maybe they were younger, living with Sarah's estranged parent? And Adam on tour in Europe was particularly intriguing.
"Yeah," Mr. Fitzgerald was saying into the phone. "Okay. We'll be here. Just meet me in the back, the door by the — yeah. No, I think seven-thirty'll be late enough. Thanks again. You too." He tucked it into his pocket and turned his smile full-force on Roderick. "Okay, we've got plenty of time now."
"Was that Ben?"
He nodded. "He's changing our dinner reservations. This is more important."
Even with the revelations of the last hour, Roderick had to laugh at the excited expression on Mr. Fitzgerald's face. "I wouldn't get your hopes up. This might not work at all."
"Yeah, no pressure," he said. "I just don't get a chance to make music much anymore. I'm gonna live vicariously through you."
Glee club's coach for six months. Roderick realized with a start that meant Mr. Fitzgerald knew Mar and Katie and Ry. He knew all of them. All this time he'd been talking about them, and he'd been pretending not to know them, but that wasn't true at all. It must have shown on his face, because Mr. Fitzgerald's smile faded as he looked back.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I — yeah. Yeah. I'm okay." Roderick busied himself with tuning his guitar. When Mr. Fitzgerald handed him a patch cord, he plugged it into his guitar and strummed, nodding at the sound that came out of the amp. It wasn't exactly quiet, though. "Um... I know the school day's over, there are still a lot of people out there. Are you sure this won't bother the rest of the counseling staff?"
"Are you kidding?" Mr. Fitzgerald gave his head an amused shake. "Do you even know how much they look forward to your visits? Even a cappella, you sound better than most stuff on the radio."
"Is that supposed to make me feel less nervous?" Roderick muttered. But the comment did, actually. Whether or not it was true, it was clear Mr. Fitzgerald thought he could do this. He handed his phone to Mr. Fitzgerald, watching him as he settled it into the grip of a tiny little flexible tripod. "You, uh, look like you've done this before."
"I've done a lot of amateur recordings of performances, yeah."
"You were — in a band?"
Mr. Fitzgerald paused, then nodded. "For a while. And I sang with my Glee club in high school."
Roderick had so many other questions, but all of them would have been suspicious, and he didn't want Mr. Fitzgerald to think he was trying to distract him. Maybe he was. He adjusted his capo and strummed an A flat. "Okay. What do I do?"
"Just sing," said Mr. Fitzgerald.
The hardest part, Roderick realized, was that he was singing without his headphones on. He hesitated for a moment and even considered digging them out of his bag, but he didn't want to look funny wearing them on the video. Suddenly he was nervous all over again. He set his guitar in his lap and sighed in exasperation.
"It's okay, Roderick," Mr. Fitzgerald said softly. "C'mon, I'll sing with you. What're you doing?"
"John Legend," he said.
It was a sappy choice, but the lyrics didn't need any tweaking for it to be clear that the song wasn't just for one of them. It was for all of them — for the people who meant more to him than anybody or anything.
Mr. Fitzgerald sang along, fumbling through the lyrics and, predictably, tearing up a little, but even that made him feel good. If he was actually Sarah and Jake's brother, even in a strange secretive way, Mr. Fitzgerald was connected to their group in a way, too.
What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down
What's going on in that beautiful mind
I'm on your magical mystery ride
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be all right
My head's under water but I'm breathing fine
You're crazy and I'm out of my mind
'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you
You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I'm winning
'Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you…
They sang it through twice. The second time, Mr. Fitzgerald didn't sing along, but Roderick was able to manage on his own.
They sat there in their familiar, companionable silence while Mr. Fitzgerald looked the recording over. It was a little awful to hear himself singing on the tinny speaker of his own cell phone, but he bit his lip and waited it out. Finally Mr. Fitzgerald looked up at him.
"That's good," he said, his voice sounding rough. "You're… really good, Roderick."
The way he said it, Roderick thought Mr. Fitzgerald wasn't talking about his singing. He nodded, blushing to the roots of his hair, and did his best to take in the compliment.
"I didn't talk," he said.
"No, but that's okay. You can type whatever you need to say on that group thing, right? Unless you have something you really need to say out loud."
So many things, he thought, looking up at Mr. Fitzgerald. It was just the same way he'd felt when he'd read Mar's email. He hadn't cried at all through the song, but now it was impossible not to. Mr. Fitzgerald handed him a tissue.
"Thank you," he said. That would have to be enough for now.
They didn't talk a lot while Mr. Fitzgerald packed up, either, putting the cover on the amp and loading the microphone and cables into a crate. They waited at the back door for Roderick's mom and Ben to come pick them up.
"Roderick?" said Mr. Fitzgerald.
"Yeah?
"I —" Mr. Fitzgerald paused, looking troubled. Roderick just waited for it. There was no hurry. Finally Mr. Fitzgerald sighed. "The other day, you asked if you could have a picture of me. I just wanted you to know… I can't let you have one. And I'm sorry about that. I wish I could, but... there are reasons."
"I know," said Roderick.
Mr. Fitzgerald nodded slowly, watching his face. "You know?"
"Yeah. I know. Not all of it, but… I know there's something. It's okay."
It felt a little strange to be comforting Mr. Fitzgerald, but he seemed to appreciate it, even though he was clearly still confused. "Okay. Yeah. Thank you."
I saw your picture on the wall at McKinley, he could say, or I know everybody thinks you're dead and you're obviously not. But whatever the reason, Roderick had the feeling hearing that stuff was just going to make Mr. Fitzgerald more sad.
"I know it sucks to be alone with your thoughts," he said instead. "You can tell me things, if you want. I won't talk."
Mr. Fitzgerald let out a shaky, troubled breath. Then he smiled, still looking sad. "I'm not going to make anybody else keep my secrets. But as long as you know there are things I can't tell you, and you still want to be my friend…?"
"Your friend?" Roderick said.
"Yeah, definitely," he said. "I consider you my friend. I mean, you, and Ben… that's already more friends than I thought I was going to find in Chicago."
Roderick nodded. His heart felt warm. "Yeah. I know what you mean."
"I don't know if you do. There are things about me you don't know. Things… you deserve to know." He fixed Roderick with a determined look. "Someday, I'm going to tell you all of them."
"All right," he said. He held his headphones a little closer around his neck. "I can wait."