I’m pretty sure that’s debatable, but I don’t say that, because I’m not exactly thinking with my big head. Instead, I clear my throat. “I’m — I’m not either. Not into relationships, I mean. Because I’m — me. But were you thinking — just when we see each other for wedding stuff?”
“Fuck, no — I was thinking I might follow you out to Brooklyn and ride your cock again tomorrow. Or, you know — whenever you’re free. Just for sex, though.”
My stomach flips over, sending shivers all through me. I can already picture myself rolling him onto his back, pressing him into the mattress and slipping inside him once more. But all I can do is squeeze his hand.
“Um — okay. I’m in. But if sex is all we’re doing — I mean, maybe it should just be between us? It feels complicated telling people if we’re not trying to be — you know.”
There is a little frown line between Cole’s brows. “If that’s what you want, I guess that works. But — whydoesn’t your family know you’re queer? Would they be cool about it?”
“It’s just private, I dunno. I’ve never — introduced them to anybody. Not a woman, not a guy, nobody. It’s not you, it’s just — how I am. I don’t really have that kind of relationship with them.”
Cole studies me carefully, and he must see whatever he wants to see, because he seems to relax. He leans forward, kissing me on the forehead. “Okay, that’s good enough for me. I’ll call you the next time I need somebody to nut in me with no strings attached.”
It doesn’t take me long to gather my things and get dressed. Cole, meanwhile, slips into a clean pair of briefs and a dramatic silk robe with bell sleeves that sweeps all the way to the floor. Of course he has something like that, probably custom-made for him. The silk is a shimmering emerald green that makes his eyes glow, and it swishes softly as he walks me to the door.
“Until next time,hmm?” He leans down, tipping my chin up to give me a kiss that’s full of promise.
“Mm, yeah. Night, Cole.”
The spring evening has cooled considerably, and I’m grateful for the gentle breeze on my face as I walk to the subway, grounding me back in reality. The scent of Cole’s cologne is still clinging to my shirt, and I can taste him on my tongue, but the sidewalk is firm under my feet and I can hear the ever-present honk of taxihorns, the rumble of the subway deep below the street. The world is moving on, and I have my place in it, even if just the thought of Cole sends vibrations through the very axis of my being.
I just wish it was still simple, like it was when we were kids. I mean, I guess I didn’t think so then, but compared to this —
Not for the first time, I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t fucked it all up.
But I guess all I can do is keep my feet on the path in front of me.
Six
Nothing but the Night
December 2012
“DAD, I CAN’T ON SATURDAY!I have that paper for English class and I haven’t even started it yet —”
I could barely hear myself think over the hum of the kitchen radio, classic rock jangling against the chatter from the television blaring out of the living room, a cacophonous wall of sound. Dad was standing at the stove, frying pork roll for dinner, and every snap and sizzle from the pan felt like a tiny explosion on my skin. Usually I liked a pork roll sandwich as much as anyone did, but tonight the greasy, spicy smell of the meat was turning my stomach, a layer of film almostvisible in the too-warm air of the kitchen. There was no way I was going to be able to eat it.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about, kiddo.” Dad stabbed one of the slices in the pan with a fork, flipping it over with a flick of his wrist. “Your college applications are already in. Can’t you afford to phone it in a little?”
“I can’t just —” The words were stuck in my mouth, logjamming against the back of my teeth in their rush to form sentences, everything I wanted to explain that Dad would never understand. Instead, I flapped my hands ineffectually, then reached for the bag of kaiser rolls, pulling two out and aggressively slicing them in half.
Dad was still talking. “I know you want to be like your brother and go off on your own, and this life isn’t for you. But you know I’m swamped right now, and I could use an extra pair of hands if you ever decide to pull your head out of the clouds.”
That wasn’t fucking fair. It had been a month and a half since Sandy, and Dad was still working six days a week, putting in every hour he could to get the town back on its feet. I knew he felt a little weird about it, the contracting business doing so well because our neighbors were suffering, but he took the work anyway. He had his usual crew, but he’d been asking me to pitch in a lot more often than usual, and generally I went along with it. Sometimes Cole joined us, which madethe days go faster, although his handling of power tools was frankly a little alarming. But Cole or not, I would be glad when this was all over.
I could feel my gorge rising, the tang of metal on my tongue, and I took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. Overhead light, flickering slightly, not quite reaching the corners of the room. Black and white tiles — when Seth and I were kids, white was rock, and black was lava. But now my feet were too big to fit. Refrigerator, covered all over with Mom’s magnets. Wooden table in the corner, scuffed and worn, gouged by baby spoons, the burn mark from the time I put a pot of spaghetti down without a trivet. Three panes of glass in the back door with the inky night beyond, reflecting the kitchen light and Dad and me and —
“Dad, what the hell are those?”
Beside the back door were two clear plastic bags filled to the brim with clothes, and as I knelt to inspect them, I felt a stab of ice down my spine.
Mom’s things.
“Dad —”
“Ezra, it’s been over a year since we lost her — you know your mom wouldn’t want us to keep every single shirt she ever wore, and there are people in this town who have lost everything —”
But I was already out the back door, grabbing my winter coat off the peg as I went, Dad’s last words fading behind me as the door slammed.
