by Ashton Cade
“Hey Eli,” I say, trying to act casual, but there’s nothing about this that says casual. Good job, Garrett.
“Uh… Hey, Garrett,” he says, eyes darting back over his shoulder, his teeth working on his bottom lip. I take a slow step toward him, and I see that he’s trembling, shaking like a leaf, his skin paler than usual.
“What’s going on?” I ask, skipping the song and dance where we pretend everything’s okay.
“What—” He stops when he sees my face, then shakes his head, eyes still doing that panicked darting thing like a cornered animal.
“Hey… Hey… I’m not… I’m on your side, okay? Can I drive you home? You don’t look like you should be driving.” I don’t know what’s got him so freaked out, why he’s spooked like this, but I’m not going to get any closer to helping him if I scare him off before he’ll talk to me.
Eli wraps his arms around his torso and hugs himself, nodding slowly.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he mutters, letting me take him to my truck. He’s a pliant little zombie, letting me lead him along with me, and that only makes me more concerned. Eli’s anything but pliant or a zombie. He’s sharp and sassy, quick to call you on your shit.
Once the truck’s moving and we’re headed away from the clinic, he seems to relax a little.
“Wanna talk about it?” I ask gently.
He shakes his head, looking out the window, lips thinned.
“I don’t know where you live,” I point out, earning a little hint of a smile from him. He doesn’t say much else, but I at least get turn-by-turn directions.
I pull to a stop in his driveway, and consider dropping him off. The consideration doesn’t last long. How could it? He’s obviously upset, shaken, whatever you wanna call it, and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving him alone right now. That’s not how my mother raised me.
“Why don’t I come in and make you a cup of tea?” I offer.
Eli looks like he wants to reject the offer, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t tell me not to, and that’s the important thing. Maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to be alone as much as I don’t want to leave him alone right now.
I don’t try to pry anything more out of him while I’m navigating my way around his tidy-yet-sparse kitchen. He’s got only the bare minimum, not enough settings for more than one person. It’s kind of strange to see, coming from a family like mine.
Still, he’s organized, and the cabinets are labeled, so it isn’t hard to find what I’m looking for.
“Milk, honey, sugar, lemon?” I ask, pouring the hot water from the kettle over the tea bag. He has a decent variety of tea, so he might be particular how he takes it.
“No thank you,” is all he says. I pass him the mug and stand over to his side, still just watching him concerned.
“Gonna tell me what had you so spooked?”
“Nothing—”
“Don’t tell me it was nothing,” I say quickly. “Tell me it’s none of my business if you don’t wanna tell me. That I’ll respect, but don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s obviously something.”
Eli’s lips practically disappear with how tight he presses them together, and I’m sure he’s going to tell me to get the hell out of his house and leave him alone. I’ve gone too far, pushed too hard. That’s something I never seem to be able to stop myself from doing.
Instead of blowing up at me, Eli sighs, his shoulders slumping.
“Dr. Barnes is on maternity leave and… I know the physician filling in for her. I was living a different life back then and I never thought I’d see any of them again…”
“Them?” I ask, frowning.
Eli shakes his head and hugs himself with one arm, drinking tea with his free hand.
“You hungry?” I ask. “Why don’t I make you dinner?”
Eli raises a skeptical brow at me.
“Bold of you to assume I have things for dinner, let alone for two.”
It gets a grin out of me. Maybe he’s starting to feel better already.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got groceries in the truck.”
“Were you planning on this?” he asks, skeptical of me.
“Was I planning for you to leave work freaked out over something you won’t explain to me? Busted.”
Eli rolls his eyes and flips me the bird, but he’s laughing the whole time, so I know he doesn’t mean any of it. And that easy camaraderie feels so natural right now. So right.
By the time Eli’s stuffed from my steak and potatoes, he seems completely over whatever had him rattled earlier. Or at least, if he’s not over it, it’s not bothering him as much anymore. I don’t feel guilty for leaving him when I finally do—he’s no longer seeming so vulnerable and frightened—but I do regret it the moment I’m gone.
And there’s still so many questions about that previous life he was talking about. What could be so bad that he had that kind of reaction? I literally can’t imagine anything, and that’s worrying.
Regardless, I’ve had a great time with Eli the last couple of days, hanging out with him and getting to know him, and I’m not about to let some phantom fear get in the way of that.
Eli
As soon as Garrett’s out the door I let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding in since three o’clock when Dr. Peterson’s late flight finally arrived and he came into the clinic.
I let out that breath and slump into the couch, letting the full weight of my misery crush me—for just a minute. I’m not going to wallow about it for long, but I’ve got to get it out. There’s no moving on otherwise.
I blow out another long breath.
Okay, Eli, consider the facts.
Fact one: so far, it doesn’t seem to me that Dr. Peterson recognizes me. That’s pretty much the best-case scenario, so I hope it holds true, but just in case it doesn’t…
There’s fact two: I’m not that skinny fifteen-year-old kid he knew me as. I’ve grown up, I’ve filled out—I do wish I hadn’t shaved this morning, maybe scruff would help disguise me more—and to him, I’m probably just another face in a sea of thousands.
Right?
My throat’s tight when I try to swallow.
“Fact three,” I say out loud, my voice shaky. I need to focus; I need to stop panicking. Right now, the threat of him revealing my past is minimal. I hug my middle tighter and squeeze my eyes shut.
Dr. Peterson’s probably not going to recognize me. But even if he does, even if I somehow managed to make an impression on him all those years ago that’s lasted till now, outing me is going to do just as much damage to him.
He may not have realized I was underage back then—not something I exactly advertised, but no one really tried all that hard to be sure I was legal, either—but that still doesn’t excuse him soliciting a prostitute.
Hot tears sting at the back of my eyelids, but I manage to blink them back.
It is what it is.
That’s my past. There’s no point in denying it or trying to pretend it didn’t happen. But that doesn’t mean I want everyone in my new life to know all the mistakes I’ve made. I did what I had to do in order to survive. I had no one after my parents kicked me out—me being gay wasn’t exactly okay with them—and I had to figure out my own way, too young to get any legitimate job.
Didn’t take long for me to fall in with a certain group. We looked out for each other. It was way closer to what I’d always heard family was than my blood relations.
It would be crazy for Dr. Peterson to tell anyone about our shared past, but even if he did—even if I take this to the worst possible scenario—how bad could it be? It would be awkward and embarrassing, sure, but would the people of Umberland run me out of town over it? This town’s had its fair share of scandals in the last few years, and the townsfolk have consistently surprised me with their tolerance and acceptance.
“Fact three: he’s not chasing you out of your home,” I say, my voice firm as I pull in a long breath that starts
shaky but ends steady. That’s all there is to it. I came to Umberland because it was the first opening available, but this little town has charmed its way into my heart and I’m not leaving it for anything—definitely not some scumbag doctor who likes young boys.
A shudder ripples through me and my chest tightens. How long has it been since I’ve talked to anyone from those days?
It’s not exactly a part of my life I like to think about, but it wasn’t all bad. I made some good friends, some solid memories.
And if it weren’t for Nathan, I wouldn’t be where I am now.
My fingers itch, hand twitching at the thought of reaching for my phone and calling him. Would he even still have the same number? It’s been a while since I’ve called him because I know the risk. I know the odds that I’ll call and it won’t be his number anymore, or he’ll be in jail, or rehab, or dead…
As gruesome as that thought is, it’s the one that makes me actually pull my phone out. There was a time Nathan and I were best friends. Almost like brothers. I should know how he’s doing, I should check in on him, even if I’m worried that I won’t like what I find when I do.
It’s been… I don’t know how long. Over a decade at least, since the night Nathan almost died. We both found different ways to deal with the scars left by the things we had to do to survive, but Nathan’s nearly killed him.
If I had been any later getting back to him…
The phone rings twice, and my heart’s a golf ball in my throat.
I’m crazy for calling him out of the blue like this aren’t I?
Shit.
“Hello?”
It’s him. His voice is deeper, a little rougher, but he sounds good. Healthy. At least from what one word tells me.
“Nathan?” I say, even though I know it’s him. I don’t know why it seems the only thing to say.
“Eli?” he gasps. “Holy shit, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again!” he exclaims, and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice. A smile for me? I smile too.
“It’s been a while, yeah,” I say, looking down at my lap shamefully. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know, things aren’t too bad. I’ve been doing the stylist thing for about eight years. Built up a nice little client list, never hurting for appointments.”
He says it all casually, in that modest way he has about him, but I can tell Nathan’s proud of what he’s accomplished—and he damn well should be.
“What about you? Still playing doctor, picking up strays?” he asks with a chuckle.
I think about Craig and wonder whether Nathan would classify him as a “stray.” I’m not mentioning him either way; it’s not important.
“Nurse, but yeah, it’s good…” I clear my throat. “Listen, uh… Do you ever run into anyone… from the old days?” I ask cryptically, knowing he’s bound to catch my drift.
Nathan blows out a heavy breath. “Uh, once or twice. What’s this about? You run into someone?”
I chew on my bottom lip, worrying it until it’s tender.
“How’d they act?” I ask.
“They acted like I was part of the damn furniture when they could!” he proclaims. “Pretended not to know me, despite being old regulars for years.”
“Seriously?” I ask, aghast. I’m not sure what’s worse—having an old client out you, or having them not recognize you after years of regular meetings.
“It’s just as well,” he says, sucking his teeth. “It was awkward, but they didn’t uncover my dark secrets, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. Somehow, I think he managed to make me feel better. This isn’t the end of the world. It’s going to be awkward as hell having to work with Dr. Peterson, but if we can both just act like we don’t know each other, we can get through the time until Dr. Barnes comes back from maternity leave.
“How are… other things?” I ask, careful not to press too hard. I’ve had more than my fair share of training on how to deal with addicts, but it’s always different when it’s someone you care about. Someone close to you. No matter how many years it’s been since you talked.
“Other things?” he asks, the smirk evident in his tone.
I scoff, rolling my eyes.
“You know what I’m asking, Nate.”
He chuckles. “I’m still clean, Eli. Ten years last month, thanks to you.”
“You’re kidding? Last month?” I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was the anniversary of such a huge event in my life.
“I thought about calling you, but I figured you’re busy with your new life—and you should be! Don’t think I’m having a pity party. I had a party, but it was fabulous, believe you me. But none of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there for me when no one else was, so thank you.”
“Nate, I—”
“You don’t have to say anything, honey,” he says, and I can just picture him the way he always was, with that warm brotherly smile sparkling in his dark eyes.
“You’re why I became a nurse, you know,” I tell him.
“I had an idea, but I appreciate you telling me. I hope you’re able to help some other lost soul like you did me. I’ve never forgotten it,” he says, making my chest tight. I think about Craig again and wonder if I’m handing things with him the right way. I think his arrangement with Garrett is about as good as I could hope for, but it still doesn’t touch on why he vandalized Garrett’s place.
That’s just not like him.
I don’t want to fail him when he needs me—and I’ve got this clear evidence of the impact I can have on someone’s life.
“You sure you’re doing all right?” Nathan asks after a long stretch of silence. I start, shaking myself out of my own thoughts. I kinda forgot we were still on the phone, and I huff.
“Yeah, I am. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I think you can probably guess most of it,” I grumble, skin crawling again at the thought of Dr. Peterson, the memories that seeing him this afternoon immediately conjured up in my mind. I shudder.
“It’s not all just the john, is it? I mean, I get it if it is. Believe me, I freaked when I saw one of my guys at the salon I was working in. I was sure I was going to get fired right there, and back then, I didn’t have a fallback or what I now know is called rent money. I get that it’s a nightmare, but—”
I sigh, nodding my head even though he can’t see me. All these years apart and it’s like time doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t make a difference. He still knows me. He knows that I’m twisted up about more than just seeing a familiar face I’d rather never see again.
“No, you’re right. It’s not just him…”
“A guy then?”
How does he know?
“Shut up,” I grumble, instantly a teenager again, my friend laughing as my face turns crimson.
“I’m right, am I?”
I blow a raspberry at the phone. We should really talk more often. I already feel so much better. Why was I always thinking the worst of him? Expecting him to have relapsed?
Blame all those statistics in that substance abuse course, I think snidely.
Truth is, odds weren’t on his side. But I’m so glad my old friend seems to have beat them.
“Maybe you are.”
“So what’s got you worked up about him?” Nathan asks.
I shrug. “Besides him being bi-curious?”
He sucks in a breath.
“Yeah,” I mutter. It’s not so much that I have a problem with Garrett being bi, it’s that a guy’s first comes with a lot of baggage, a lot of special attachment—and it can be hard to separate that from anything genuine.
And I like Garrett. Which means I run the risk of getting tangled up with someone who only thinks they like me because of first-time hormones.
“Well, one thing at a time,” Nathan says. “What are you doing about it?”
“We have a date Friday?”
He snorts.
> Okay, so going out with the guy isn’t exactly the way most people would avoid entanglement. I get it. I’m weak.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have no sense of self-preservation,” I mutter.
“You should call me afterward with all the juicy details,” he says, voice verging on giddy. My stomach twists into a knot, but I force my voice to stay light and joking when I reply.
“What if it’s a disaster?”
Nathan chuckles. “Then I suspect you’ll be needing a shoulder to cry on. Are you trying to get out of calling me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, an odd mixture of guilt and relief flooding through me. Nathan’s been a Schroedinger’s addict all these years, and to know that he’s doing okay, that he’s not mad at me for being out of touch…
It’s like winning the lottery, cheesy as that sounds. It’s like getting my best friend back.
“I’ll talk to you then,” I say, hoping I’ll have good news to share.
“You better! Unless you’re otherwise occupied,” he adds as a suggestive afterthought.
We’re both laughing when we hang up the phone, and after I lie on the couch for a minute longer, catching my breath and letting the warm glow of friendly laughter fade, I finally feel like I might be able to get some sleep tonight without nightmares involving Dr. Peterson.
Garrett
“Hey, how was your flight?” I ask, giving Clary a one-armed hug before I heft his luggage into the back of my truck.
“I swear they take an inch out of the leg room every time I fly,” he grumbles, stretching his long legs. He’s got a couple of inches on me, and I’m already over six feet. He’s also long and lean, like a bean pole, with a quiet Bruce Banner kind of strength hiding behind his glasses.
He’s a Rainier after all. No getting around genetics.
Still, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my cousin, and he looks way older than I remember—and also somehow exactly the same. He’s got streaks of gray in his hair, and the way he fills out the business-casual attire he’s got on is way more adult than kid.