by Rachel Kane
Alex’s crutches clicked as he paced the floor in front of the mystery section. His foot was about to kill him, but he wasn’t going to demonstrate any pain in front of Judah. No more helplessness. Judah had to get past this guilt, this trying to help Alex. It wasn’t necessary. It was too much.
I don’t even deserve the help. If you knew Ian, he’d tell you all about it. He’d describe all the ways in which I am beyond help. Clumsy—no, what was the phrase he used? Careless of hearts?
It was hardly the time to puzzle that memory out. He gestured with the feather duster he’d been using on the books. “I’m not a charity case, Judah.”
“I’m not saying you are. But this is all my fault—”
“Would you stop saying that? It was an accident. It was my accident. Not yours. Stop bringing your guilt over here. I can do just fine on my own—”
The problem with dusting was, one of his hands was no longer holding the crutch. So when a random spike of pain shot through his leg, the duster slipped and clattered to the floor, and when Alex tried to bend for it, the crutch toppled and crashed next to it, loud in the small store.
“See?” said Judah.
Alex winced. “That doesn’t prove anything but that I’m clumsy!”
“You know, I picked you up once,” Judah said. “Maybe I should do it again. Just grab you, sling you over my shoulder, and walk you right back to Superbia Springs. You’re being ridiculous. Let me help you.”
Judah handed him his crutch, but thankfully didn’t lay hands on him. Didn’t try to hold him upright. No contact. Alex turned his back and continued his dusting. His face burned.
“I spoke to Thaddeus Mulgrew today,” he said by way of changing the subject.
“No kidding! Did he recognize the lions? Did he say where they were from—or when they were from?”
“You know Thaddeus, everything has to be a soap opera. He wouldn’t tell me right away. Give him time. Once he figures out how to make the story as dramatic as possible, he’ll let us know.”
The change in Judah was as drastic as it was unexpected. It was like watching someone whose hope had fled their body, leaving them a deflated shell. His shoulders slumped, and he turned away from Alex, wandering aimlessly.
Not the reaction Alex would’ve expected. Maybe Judah had expected a full dossier of answers, right away.
But it was clearly something Alex ought not probe. As much as he’d hated the way everyone today had asked how he was, had been overly solicitous of his feelings, he thought Judah might feel the same way, if Alex tried to find out why he suddenly looked like he’d lost his best friend.
Was it because I didn’t have an answer for him right this second?
People were so mysterious. At least in books, you got an explanation. You could peer into their heads, and understand what someone was thinking or feeling. People were always trembling in fear, or looking pensively out windows, their actions a clear symbol of what they were feeling.
Impossible to tell what was going on with Judah, just by looking at him. He was wandering near the counter now, fingers trailing over the polished wood, perhaps on the verge of saying something, of explaining this sudden shift.
Instead, he did something that left Alex’s heart jumping.
“Hey, is this the postcard you broke your leg over?”
There was no way he could rush over and snatch the thing from Judah’s hand. Even if he could be quick enough to do so, with the crutches and the cast, it would’ve immediately given away something he didn’t need anyone knowing, the depth of his anger and resentment and…grief? He’d never been able to name the emotions he’d felt after Ian.
Another thing books did better than real life.
Judah may have been an absolutely deceitful liar according to Thaddeus, but he was no snoop. After looking at the picture on the front of the postcard, he set it down, leaving it unread.
Alex didn’t sigh with relief. That would’ve been too obvious. But he was grateful not to have to rush across the store to do something foolish like grabbing the card away from Judah. That would have made the pain blindingly worse than it already was.
And with that pain, he was thinking of walking all the way up those narrow stairs to his apartment?
Thinking of making his own dinner, walking from the kitchenette to the bedroom? Doing everything himself, while waiting for the pills to kick in, and then being utterly helpless, at the mercy of whatever tricks his opiate-riddled mind played on him?
“Listen…is that offer still open?” he asked.
Judah brightened immediately. “Of course it is.”
It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be pampered for a little while, would it? Just until the pain died down some?
“I won’t stay long. Maybe just tonight.”
“Sure,” said Judah. “However long you need.”
8
Judah
“Please, eat. Please,” said Liam, and the plaintiveness in his voice was only half a joke. He looked absolutely overwhelmed, and Judah could see why. As the table stretched away from them, towards the other end of the dining room, it was hard to imagine how it was even standing upright, it was so laden with food. Steam trays and chafing dishes, chargers and tureens, all combining the scents of hors d’oeuvres, entrees, sides, desserts, into one overwhelming tidal wave of deliciousness.
“This is how you eat every night?” laughed Alex. “I’ve gotta start coming over more often.”
“It’s the chef,” said Liam. “We’re planning menus. He brought a little of everything. And I do mean everything.”
Judah walked down the length of the table, taking it all in. “He expects us to eat all this?”
“And take notes,” said Liam. “He wants feedback. Mason will be here soon, and Noah too, and thank god Alex is here to help.”
“Toby’s going to be sad he’s tending bar tonight,” said Alex.
“Do you want me to fix you a plate?” asked Judah.
“I can get my own plate, thanks.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
But Judah saw the way Alex’s jaw tightened. The man would just not accept assistance. Judah was actually a little surprised Alex had agreed to come at all, surprised he’d let Judah go upstairs and pack a few things for him (“Just clothes. We’re a resort, we’ll supply the shampoo and stuff,” he’d insisted to Alex), surprised he’d allowed Judah to do the driving.
But fixing him a plate was apparently going too far.
Roo was already in her booster seat, looking with big eyes at the table, wondering what they’d allow her to sample first, but she made a horrible face when Liam presented her with asparagus spears.
“You’re going to have to learn to eat asparagus,” Liam told her. “The chef has a real thing for it. There’s sauteed asparagus, asparagus soup, deviled eggs topped with asparagus foam…”
They all laughed at the way Roo stuck out her tongue at that news. “She doesn’t like eggs, either,” Liam mentioned.
“I should thank you for letting me stay here,” Alex said. “I’m really going to try not to be a bother.”
Judah started to say he was welcome, but Liam was already talking: “Oh please. Mason and I wouldn’t even be together, if it weren’t for your help.”
His help? What about your own brother’s help?
That wasn’t even the worst part. Liam took a plate and tongs, and came over to where Alex was standing. “What looks good to you? Let me put a plate together, since you’ve got those crutches. Here, first off, you have to try the spring rolls, the cilantro will seem out of place at first, but you have to let it settle in your mouth a moment. And the lamb is insane, you really have to try that too. And—”
And, Alex was eating it up. He was letting Liam serve his plate! Judah looked on in disbelief.
“Is that the…the foam?”
“Don’t let it scare you off. Here, I’ll give you just one egg.”
What was next, was Liam going to
feed him? Put a little forkful of asparagus up to his lips? Here comes the airplane, vroom!
“Can you make it to the chair?” Liam asked. “Here, let me get it for you, no, let me, you’re the guest…besides, if the waiters were here, you would’ve already been seated by someone.”
“This is amazing,” Alex said. “First class all the way!”
I was the one who invited you, thought Judah.
“How’s the leg?” asked Liam. “Need to prop it up?”
“No, no…well, maybe?”
Liam turned to Judah. “Want to grab the ottoman out of my office?”
“Why don’t I look after Alex, and you go after the ottoman?”
“I’ve got Roo launching asparagus at every wall. Do you mind?”
It was all very friendly, the way Judah was kicked out of the dining room, shoved away from the conversation, exiled from the laughter. Rodion of Margathea was exiled in just such a way, he thought glumly, when his brother was trying to take hold of the galactic throne.
Was this jealousy? It was something. He didn’t know the name of it. It couldn’t be jealousy because Alex wasn’t his. Not really his guest. Not his problem. Not when the Great and Powerful Owner of Superbia Springs allowed him to stay. Now Liam would get all the credit.
But why did that matter?
Liam’s office was a study and a day-care and a sitting room. A day-bed near the window gave Roo a place to take her naps. The desk and the bookshelves and the computer were all very professional. The nerve-center of the house. And a very Liam room. Practical, elegant, grown-up. The sort of room occupied by a man who has his life together.
There was no Judah room. His bedroom, obviously, was his. It wasn’t as though Liam had him sleeping in an old trough in the barn. But where was his office? Where was the space where he could live his daytime life, that expressed his sense of practicality?
Come to think of it, Alex had that too: His store. What a perfect expression of him, the books all lined up tidily, yet a certain happy shabbiness to the fixtures.
That’s all Judah wanted. A place in the world. Maybe it was younger-brother syndrome, the hand-me-downs, the sense that he would always take second place in life.
He thought about the lions again. They would surely be part of any world he called his own.
They were laughing when he returned. “So doped up,” Alex was saying. “I don’t know what they gave me, but I was babbling for hours. Happily, though!”
“Well, don’t feel you’ve got to put on a show for us,” Liam said, setting yet another plate in front of him. “I know that thing has to hurt. Hey, Judah, bring the ottoman over here.”
Yes, I know where to bring it.
"Oh," said Alex, "Judah, did you tell Liam the news?"
It was almost embarrassing how Judah lit up, having the bookseller's attention clearly on him.
Where it belongs, rightfully!
"I do like news," Liam said. “I hope it’s not about books, though. The only books I read anymore are for a certain toddler who has managed to cover herself in asparagus foam.”
"Not books," said Alex. "Lions."
Liam paused, and inwardly Judah groaned. Not in front of him, please. "You've been bothering Alex about those lions?"
"It's no bother, really. I called in the expert, Thaddeus Mulgrew—"
Liam spun on Judah. "You made Alex bring a Mulgrew into the situation?"
Alex laughed. "He didn't make me. But who knows the town's history better?"
There was supposed to have been an order to this. Alex would supply Judah with the secret history of the lions. Judah would present it to Liam as part of a sound, rational, logical argument why the lions should be upstairs for everyone to see, and Liam, overcome with the sensibility of the argument, would have to concede.
That's the way life was supposed to work. Intelligent people agreeing on logical things.
Liam might've been a statue himself, the way his expression hardened. "I'm sorry Judah pulled you into this," he said to Alex. "I didn't realize he was trying to get outside help on his little quest."
Alex blinked and looked from brother to brother. "Oh, hell. I've stepped in it, haven't I."
Judah smiled and grimaced at the same time. "It's a sensitive topic apparently."
"Just as well. Thaddeus couldn't give me any real information on them, but he certainly got weird as hell when I asked. Acted like I was trying to bring the whole town to its knees when I showed him the picture."
Now that the ottoman was in place, Judah had been circling the table, looking at the dishes, wondering which he felt brave enough to try, but Alex's words stopped him short.
"What do you mean?"
Liam had stopped wiping off Roo's face, and was also looking in Alex's direction.
The bookseller shrugged. "Hard to describe. But he made it seem like there's a story behind the lions."
"Surely if it were that big a deal," said Liam, "we would've heard it before."
"You'd think, wouldn't you?" asked Alex.
"This is really too much," Alex said, looking at the room. "You can just throw me in some back closet somewhere."
"Back closets are only for family and enemies," said Judah. "Now, the housekeeping staff hasn't really started yet, so don't expect a big turndown service, or a mint on your pillow, or fresh flowers—"
"This bed!" said Alex, letting himself fall back, his crutches tumbling to either side. "Oh my god, it's like lying on a cloud!"
"Or sinking into asparagus foam, I suppose."
"I didn't want to say anything to Liam, but please don't let asparagus be the big culinary theme of the place. Everyone's pee will smell funny. It'll be unmistakable."
"Maybe you should tell him. He never listens to me."
Alex brought himself up to a seated position, readjusting his cast gently against the rug. "I shouldn't have brought up the lions in front of him."
Judah shrugged. "How were you supposed to know? I should've warned you."
Why didn't you let me get your plate? Why didn't you let me help you?
"I'll do better next time. Now I suppose I should take my pills and go to bed. Let the narcotics work their magic."
"You're turning our house into an opium den."
Alex laughed. "Well, it is a historical artifact. Maybe I could be a consumptive poet taking laudanum to calm my anxious nerves. Damn. Do you realize what it's like, spending the night here?"
"I mean, I live here, so..."
"I was so scared of this place growing up. Petrified. You know those little-kid nightmares you'd get, the ones that were so awful? And now here I am, on the cushiest mattress I've ever sunk into, preparing to stay the night."
"I'll be sure the Old Widder Woman doesn't bother you."
His face was so watchable when he laughed, the way his cheeks lifted and his eyes squeezed happily closed. "God, don't say that, I'll be up all night."
"Do you need anything? A glass of water? Help with your PJs?"
There was a subtle change that came over Alex's face, subtle but unmistakable, a flattening of that smile. "I'll be fine. Thanks for letting me stay, Judah."
The house slept in silence. Such deep silence that he already felt underground, before he even descended the basement stairs. His flashlight was off. He didn't need it. The darkness held no fears for him. After all, if there were any widowed ghosts haunting these halls, then surely he would be protected by his own mythical beasts.
He'd left their door unlocked, and walked in now, maneuvering with his hands in front of him, eyes closed as though in sympathy with the darkness around him.
His fingers found the cold bronze waiting for him. So cold, colder than the air around him. How did they manage that?
"Well, my secret plan is a secret no more," he told them, taking a seat between their angular bodies. "Liam knows all about it. I don't know what that's going to mean. Will Thaddeus come up with some big surprise, some sliver of history no one was aware of, that'll
change Liam's mind? I kind of doubt it. So maybe you don't get to come upstairs anytime soon. It's a shame. I wish you could meet Alex in person. He'd love you. He's..."
Words failed. It wasn't that he had any illusions about Alex. They were friends, and that's all they would ever be, no matter how Judah's heart stirred when he remembered how Alex had looked, helpless on the floor. But friends didn't get weird when you offered them help. Their faces didn't suddenly fall, they didn't start acting like you were intruding on their lives.
Maybe we're not even friends then, he thought, and there was actual pain in that idea, pain in possibly having misunderstood those long conversations they'd had, the talks that had felt like friendship to Judah. Maybe Alex had just been polite. After all, he ran a business. He had good manners. Maybe he had just tolerated Judah's presence all this time.
Judah had not felt this uncertain about himself since high school, when he'd first begun to realize the directions his attractions swayed in, and realized too how unreciprocated his feelings were. It wasn't an uncertainty he liked.
He rested his face against the cool scales of the beasts, and sighed.
9
Alex
How quickly luxury can turn into discomfort, and for such simple reasons.
Alex had been sleeping like a stone. One of those deep, dreamless slumbers the pills offered him, where he could forget his pain for a while, forget everything, and let his body heal without him.
The phone shouldn't have woken him up. Maybe for all that he felt deeply asleep, by morning he was coming back to the surface, and some part of his mind had been listening for a signal that it was time to wake. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of his surroundings, as comfortable as they were, his head sinking into a giant, white, cool pillow, like settling back onto a glacier.
But that sound, that ping, it's hardwired. His first confused thought was that maybe it was Vidalia, messaging him about another box, another postcard. But clearly the sun wasn't up yet; there was just a strip of dawn painted onto the horizon out the window. Good view this place has, he thought blearily, reaching in the wrong direction, his hand forgetting he wasn't in his apartment, the phone wasn't on his nightstand, it was somewhere new.