“I’ll always be here for you, Baby J. Whatever you need.”
Joel pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the fragrance of Athena’s shampoo and perfume, and fell into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gabriel Drinks All of the Whiskey
The door slammed closed and Gabriel dropped his weight onto his heels, the floor biting into his knees.
Thomas clapped his hands together, breaking the silence left by Joel's departure. “Well, that was fun. Now, let's have a little chat about how you,” he pointed down at Gabriel, “know my wife, and what the fuck you two have been doing behind my back.” He glared at Madeline.
Gabriel unfolded himself from the floor, wiped his eyes, and sighed. “I have never owed you an explanation for anything and I'm not going to start with one now.” He crossed to the wet bar, poured himself two fingers of whiskey, and swallowed it down.
“I'd love a drink, thanks Gabriel.” Madeline sat on his couch, staring expectantly across the room at him.
Gabriel took down a clean glass, poured two fingers of whiskey into it and crossed the space between them. He stood in front of her, glancing at her outstretched arm, and drank the whiskey, then handed her the empty glass. “I'm certain you would.”
Sitting in an armchair, Gabriel shifted his attention to Thomas. “Your wife sent me Christmas cards for the past six years. I missed the last one, must have been because the return mail forwarding was up on my old address.” Gabriel sighed and watched the way the muscles in his feet shifted as he flexed his toes into the carpet. He thought about Joel's feet, delicate and slender, and the way Joel’s skin had tasted in his mouth. Gabriel closed his eyes, his entire body going slack and drooping back against his seat.
“You've what?” Gabriel heard Thomas speak, but recognized the question was directed at Madeline so he kept his eyes closed.
“He hasmoney, Thomas. Of course I would reach out to him. That's what family does. They share their wealth. He should have shared with us.” Madeline answered Thomas as though he was an idiot and her explanation made perfect sense.
“We aren't family.” Gabriel and Thomas echoed each other with their responses.
She eyed them both before continuing, “Either way, Joel needed to be sent away and we couldn't afford it. He was out of control, letting that little queer from school fuck him.”
“Why do you think I never talk about my brother, Madeline? Becausehe’san older version of the boy who fucked Joel. It’s what he did whenwewere in school, and he had no shame and didn’t care who knew! I don't want his fucking money. I don't want anything to do with him. If it weren’t for your faggoty little son, I wouldn’t even be here.” Thomas spat the words, laced with anger and resentment, at his wife.
Gabriel was surprised to feel a sharp stab in his gut. After twenty years, his little brother could still slay him with his vitriolic words. He kept his eyes closed.
“That's not practical, Thomas,” Madeline interjected. Gabriel opened his eyes and Thomas stepped toward her, pointing a shaking finger in her face.
“I'll tell you what's not practical, Madeline. Marrying my dead best friend’s wife and getting stuck raising her faggot son. That's not practical. Having a wife who thinks her missing brother-in-law, who is fucking queer, mind you, can do something to fix her worthless gay son. That's not practical.”
Thomas was cut off as Madeline threw Gabriel's empty whiskey glass at him.
“Oh, you were such a fucking martyr to marry me, weren't you? God, you're such a fucking asshole.”
Gabriel stood from his chair, the sounds of Thomas and Madeline arguing fading into white noise. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and drank it at the bar, then deciding against the extra work, took the bottle back to his seat.
It had only been minutes since Joel left and Gabriel was certain if he looked down, there would be a gaping hole in the center of his chest. He had feared that his lie would collapse his world around him in spectacular flames, but never imagined the match would be struck by his own brother. With his free hand, he rubbed his chest, trying to press his fingers into his sternum to make sure there were no physical holes. Gabriel could feel his pulse in his throat and he was overwhelmed with how much he hated himself right then.
The look on Joel's face before he’d left was permanently etched into Gabriel's memory. The clenched jaw and red-rimmed eyes, the tears tracking down his cheeks. Gabriel should have gone to Joel when he’d fled to his bedroom, but like a coward, he’d stayed and listened as his sweet and perfect Little Red fell to pieces alone no more than forty feet away. He had been paralyzed with fear and regret, unable to will his limbs to do what his heart begged for.
“Gabriel!” Thomas's voice snapped him back into the cold reality of the situation. Gabriel raised his eyes to his brother, feeling his shoulders stiffen.
“I asked you a question. Did you fuck my wife's son?” he demanded. “Fuck. That sounds filthy, doesn't it? How appropriate.” He chuckled derisively.
Gabriel had spent the majority of his youth being verbally abused by his father, and his late teens being judged and ridiculed by his brother. He’d been free of their hate for over twenty years, and as a thirty-eight-year-old man, he was most definitely not going to stand for it in his own home. He inhaled a steadying breath and stood from the chair, only showing a slight wobble from all the whiskey coursing through his bloodstream.
Gabriel was tired of lying, and tired of deceiving. Most of all, he was tired. He raised a hand to point at Thomas, swaying on his feet.
“Let me tell you a story, brother. You should have a seat.” He closed the space between them in four short steps before shoving Thomas on the shoulder, forcing him into a seated position. “When I was thirty-five, I met a man at a bar. Thomas. His name was Thomas. Ironic, no?” Gabriel paused, recognizing the slur in his words. His head shifted heavily around his neck as he willed himself sober enough to continue, “I brought him home, and I tied him to my bed. I called him a twink, a queer, and a fag, and I fucked him senseless, Thomas. I fucked him all night and then I cried over him, about you. Pathetic, don’t you agree?”
Madeline shifted her gaze between the two brothers, Gabriel wavering on his feet, and Thomas frozen on the couch. The atmosphere in the condo was combustible and one wrong word would ignite all of them.
“He said, ‘go find your brother, Gabriel, it will be okay.’ I kissed him and apologized and I decided to find you. I had your address of course, because your wife had been sending me Christmas cards for years by then.” He lowered his head and mock-saluted Madeline with the bottle of whiskey still clenched tightly between his fingers.
