by J. A. Rock
“My town too,” Daniel said.
“That what you think?” Clayton’s voice was soft. “Think you can show up at the diner with your cop friend and expect people to treat you like you ain’t a murderer?” He paused, watching Daniel. “Are you a murderer, Whitlock?”
Daniel stayed quiet. Wasn’t like he could deny it.
Clayton nodded. “Right. I wanna talk about how things go from here.”
R.J. reached out and pinched Daniel’s arm. Daniel staggered back, hitting a shelf of picture books and knocking several to the floor. R.J. and Brock laughed, but Clayton didn’t. “The hell do you mean?” Daniel stepped forward, anger finally overtaking fear. What the hell did Clayton think he was doing, coming in here and ruining Daniel’s first good dream in years?
“I mean the law didn’t see to it you paid for what you done to Kenny. So I’m gonna.”
“You can fucking try,” Daniel snarled. “But I done my time, and this is as much my town as yours. And you don’t know shit. I paid. I paid more’n you think.”
Clayton gave a lifeless smile. “Fuck you, Whitlock.”
It was then that Daniel recognized the hollowness in Clayton. Daniel had felt that himself in the months after Kenny had attacked him. And he’d felt it again after Kenny’s death. After the trial. After his jail sentence. Sometimes there was loss without grief. Sometimes the person you were mourning was yourself.
Maybe Clayton had grieved for Kenny, but Kenny was gone now. Clayton had had years to come to terms with it. But he was still running on an old anger.
Sometimes it’s a slow burn, ain’t it, Clayton? Sometimes you don’t even see how it’s ripping you open new every day. Sometimes you live with it for years. And then one day, you snap.
It was never going to be over. Not for Clayton. Not for Daniel. Not if Daniel stayed here. Logan would never be his home as long as there was this much hate burning in both of them.
“I think you’d better leave,” Daniel said. “If we’re gonna settle this, it ain’t gonna be here.”
As if on cue, they heard the back door to the library creak open, and then Carl called, “Daniel?”
Clayton looked at Daniel. “Gonna have to finish this one day, Whitlock.”
And Daniel felt a strange peace at those words, a calm that shifted beneath his anger. At least they understood each other.
At least they agreed on something.
The guys edged toward the side door. Carl showed up just as they reached it. He looked from Daniel to Clayton, confused. “What’s going on here?”
“Thought I’d left my phone here,” Clayton said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Whitlock let me in to check.”
“You find it?” Carl asked.
Clayton shook his head. “Nope. Gonna try some other places.” He nodded at Carl, then he and R.J. and Brock went out the side door.
Carl looked at Daniel. “Library’s closed. You ought to’ve had him wait outside while you looked for the phone.”
Daniel stared at the door. Listened to the truck start up in the parking lot.
Tires spinning in gravel.
The thud of the pig’s head on the porch.
Crack of gun against bone.
A whoop.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “That was dumb of me.”
* * *
Bel woke in the middle of the night to find Daniel sitting in the armchair, drawing. The kitchen light was on, but the main room of the cabin was still gloomy. “How c’n you see?” Bel murmured.
Daniel didn’t answer. Bel got up slowly. Daniel glanced at him, then went back to sketching, the pencil making soft noises on the paper.
“Not drawing me, are you?” Bel asked.
“Yeah, Bel.”
Bel flipped on the lamp and walked over. Sat on the arm of the chair.
The drawing was of Bel, but Daniel hadn’t been drawing from life. In the sketch, Bel was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands beside him, looking at something off to the side. He was in three-quarters profile, and there were dark patches on the skin of his face. “You gave me the plague or somethin’,” Bel commented.
“No.” Daniel’s voice was soft, dreamy. “Those are your burns.”
“My burns?” Bel’s heart clenched.
Daniel kept drawing without looking at him. “From when you saved me.”
“I didn’t get burned saving you.”
When Daniel spoke again, his voice shook. “So sorry, Bel. Your face.”
Bel put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. Didn’t jostle him. Didn’t want to spoil the drawing. Just squeezed lightly, hoping to get Daniel’s attention. “I ain’t burned, Daniel. Look at me a minute.”
Daniel turned slowly. Looked at Bel’s face.
“See?” Bel said. “No burns.”
Daniel shook his head, as though he wasn’t quite believing this. “He was right.”
“Who was right?”
“He said you wouldn’t. Said the fire couldn’t hurt you.”
“Who said that?”
Daniel worked around the words for a minute. His jaw trembled. “Um, Kenny. K-Kenny Cooper. He said, um . . .”
“Take it easy,” Bel said, sliding off the arm of the chair and sharing the seat with Daniel. “Kenny ain’t here. You’re sleeping.”
“You’re hurt, though. Aren’t you? Even if I can’t see?”
Bel took Daniel’s hand. Brought it up to his face. “Feel.”
Daniel gently stroked Bel’s cheek. Started to smile. “Oh, yeah,” he said.
“I’m not hurt. No burns.”
Daniel’s brows drew together. “You saved me though?”
“I got you loose. The night of the fire.”
Daniel leaned against Bel, and Bel wound his arms around him.
“We ought to get you some proper art supplies,” Bel said. “Maybe take a trip to the store in Goose Creek. How’s that sound?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He took Bel’s hand and guided it to the back of his head.
“Feel that.”
Bel smoothed Daniel’s hair. “What’s that?”
“Feel!” Daniel insisted.
“What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“My brains,” Daniel said very seriously. “They were gonna fall out.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“He hit me. And they were gonna fall out.”
Bel went cold all over. Stroked Daniel’s hair again, trying to keep calm. “You’re all right now. Your head’s fine. See?”
Daniel gave a shaky laugh. “Not after what he did.”
“Kenny?”
Daniel hummed.
“What’d he do to you, Daniel?”
Daniel laughed again. “Hurt me. With his gun. It hurt, Bel.”
Bel wasn’t sure what else to say. He fucking hated it when Daniel got like this. He didn’t want to remember how fucked up Daniel was. And yet, Bel’s fear and repulsion were overshadowed by how much he cared about him. Deep breath, he reminded himself. He needs you to be in control. Bel slid his palm down Daniel’s back. “That must’ve been really scary.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No?”
Daniel’s eyes were wide and blank, the pupils just tiny dots. “Suck my dick, cunt. I’m gonna shoot down your throat.” Bel’s stomach twisted. Wasn’t that what Daniel had yelled at Clayton that night on Main? “Suck my dick, cunt.” Daniel kept saying it, his voice getting louder. Hadn’t been goading Clayton that time, Bel realized. He’d been remembering.
“All right. That’s enough,” Bel said, holding him close. “You’re all right.”
But Daniel wouldn’t stop. “Suck my dick, cunt. Suck it. Suck it till I shoot, you fucking faggot cunt!”
Bel thought it was Daniel trembling, but he realized Daniel’s body was perfectly still, rigid. Bel was the one shaking. “Daniel, that’s enough. It ain’t happening anymore.”
Daniel started to struggle. His elbow caught Bel hard in t
he ribs. “Let me go. Let me go!”
“I can’t till you settle down.” Bel tried to keep his voice gentle. Tried not to panic. But Daniel was fighting hard. Bel stood them both up and got Daniel so he was pinned by his own arms, his back to Bel’s front.
“Let me go!” Daniel screamed. “No! Please let go!”
“I need you to listen.” Bel’s voice was firm but quiet. “Are you listening? You know I’m in charge and that you need to listen, right?”
Daniel stomped on Bel’s foot, but Bel ignored the pain. “I need you to take a couple of deep breaths, and I need you to stop yelling. We’re gonna get through this. Okay?”
Daniel wasn’t listening. He writhed against Bel, gasping and shouting.
“Daniel,” Bel said sharply.
“You fucker,” Daniel yelled. “Gonna have to finish this one day.”
“Wake up. You hear me, Whitlock? Wake up right now!”
“I am awake. I’m awake, you fucker!” Daniel turned and tried to bite Bel’s shoulder.
Bel attempted to change positions, tried to get Daniel to where he could see his face. Because something in Daniel’s voice made him wonder if it was true. If Daniel was awake.
“If you’re awake, Daniel—if you understand what’s going on—I need you to calm down.”
“Why should I?” Daniel’s voice was high-pitched, shredded, furious. “Why the fuck should I? I’m allowed to get mad, Bel! I’m not asleep; I just fucking—hate this!”
Bel manhandled Daniel over to the bed. Tried to keep a hold of Daniel with one arm while he searched for the hospital restraints under the mattress. Pulled them out.
“No,” Daniel shouted. “No! Don’t leave me!”
“Shh. Shh.” Bel wrapped both arms around Daniel again. “I ain’t leaving. Gonna help you. You like these, right? They make you feel safe. I’m gonna put them on you.” Bel’s voice was hoarse, as though he’d been the one screaming.
Daniel stilled for just a second. Then he started thrashing again. “No! I don’t want them! I’m tied down, he can get me. He can get me!”
“You’re asleep, Daniel.”
“No!” Tears streamed down Daniel’s face.
Bel studied him. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t fucking tell if Daniel was awake or asleep, and either way, this was too much.
“He can get me,” Daniel repeated, arching against Bel.
“But not if I’m here,” Bel said. “And I’ll be right here. We can read a little. And nothing’ll get you.”
Fuck, there was a lump in Bel’s throat he could hardly swallow around. Daniel didn’t stop fighting, didn’t stop yelling, and yet somehow Bel managed to get one of the restraints around his wrist. Daniel pulled away from him as he fastened it. Backed up until he was at the front door of the cabin. Bel held the other cuff, the strap taut between them, Daniel pulling so hard Bel could barely hold his ground.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Bel warned.
Daniel banged on the door of the cabin. “It’s an emergency,” he said. “Let me in.”
The panic spilled over, pouring down Bel’s whole body. What if Daniel had snapped for good? If he was awake and having these delusions, then nothing Bel did was gonna make a difference, was it? “Daniel . . .” Bel didn’t have the breath to reason with him anymore. He pulled on the strap, reeling Daniel toward him like a fish. He drew the other cuff through the bedrail, and when Daniel got close enough, Bel shoved him onto the bed, no longer worried about being too rough. He just needed to get Daniel contained. Then they could sort this out.
Somewhere in his mind, though, a voice was saying, Nothing you can do.
Bel climbed on top of Daniel. Daniel was losing energy, and Bel took advantage of this, strapping the other cuff around Daniel’s wrist.
“No . . .” Daniel’s eyes watered. “Please, no. Don’t leave, Bel.”
Bel held Daniel against the mattress, but used his thumbs to rub gentle circles on Daniel’s upper arms. “You know it’s me, don’t you? That’s good. You know it’s me, and I want to help you. I love you, and I’m gonna help you.”
He kept murmuring to Daniel. It wasn’t nonsense, what he was saying. It was true, though Bel didn’t have time to worry about how the “I love you” had gotten in there, or what he’d meant by it. Finally the lump in his throat hurt too much, and he had to quit talking.
“Bel?”
“Gonna let you go now,” he whispered. “You’re tied to the bed. Don’t hurt yourself.”
He climbed off the bed and stood in the center of the small room.
“No.” It wasn’t a shout now, just a pathetic whimper. “Don’t go.” His voice was getting louder again. He pulled against the cuffs. “Don’t leave me here.”
“I’m not leaving. Just—just stay still a minute.” Bel’s voice cracked. Shit. Wasn’t gonna do any good to fall apart in front of Daniel. “I’m gonna help you. Just— I need a minute.” What if it’s too big for me? What if this never fucking gets better?
Daniel was staring at him, dry-eyed, his breathing a little slower. “Bel?” he said again.
Bel nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Bel shrugged. “Nothing you can do.” He ought to get back in bed with Daniel. But he couldn’t move. His hands were shaking. He tightened them into fists.
“You think that’s true?” Daniel whispered. “Nothing I can do?”
“I don’t know,” Bel said wearily. “You’re the one who said there’s nothing to be done for it.”
“Except you can keep me under control.”
No. You can’t count on that. Because what if I can’t? “Maybe.” Maybe I can’t. Maybe I can’t do this each time. How many times are there gonna be?
“You do.”
“I try.”
Daniel’s eyes watered again, but he nodded. “Not forever, though.”
Bel sat on the edge of the bed. Picked up Daniel’s hand and stroked it.
“Sorry I didn’t listen,” Daniel said.
Bel shook his head. “Quit. None of this is your fault, okay? You get that I’m not—not mad at you. Right? I just don’t know what to do.”
“Yeah, Bel.” Daniel kept looking at him. That same hope and wariness Bel remembered from their first days together.
“I am not—you hear me? I am not gonna leave.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Tell me you hear that.”
Daniel was silent for a long moment. “You might, though.”
“I won’t.”
“If you have to, it doesn’t make you bad. I'd leave me if I could. Walk right out of this body. Shit.” Daniel almost smiled. “I’ve tried. So many times. But I’m always here.”
Bel tried to take a steady breath. “Good. Because I’m here too.”
“You wanna be with me?”
“Yeah.” Whatever that meant. Now or forever or in love or just on Daniel Whitlock’s side. He'd rather be here than anywhere else.
He climbed onto the bed and settled beside Daniel.
17
Bel took three days off work. Knew Uncle Joe would have something to say about it, but right now, Bel didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave Daniel.
Except once Daniel nodded off each night, Bel couldn’t sleep with all the thoughts jumbled in his head. Could he really stay with somebody who might need this kind of supervision long-term? What if Daniel needed more than Bel could provide? If Bel did have to leave this—this relationship for any reason, what would become of Daniel?
Not gonna leave him.
Some things you just know.
If he knew so much about his feelings for Daniel, then why was he sitting awake asking himself the same questions over and over?
Said “I love you.” The fuck was that about?
How the hell could I know I want to stay with him? There’s a whole fuckload of future that ain’t happened yet.
But just as Daniel had occasional access, when he slept, to some brilliant, violent, a
nd primal part of himself, Bel had a part of himself too that was reckless, passionate, and stupider yet somehow better than his conscious self. And that part of him knew it loved Daniel. Knew even if that love wasn’t the kind of shit Shakespeare wrote about, it was real and it ran deep. Chained the two of them together in some weird underworld.
After the third day stuck in Daniel’s cabin, Bel said, “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
Daniel lay sprawled in the chair. “Didn’t go so hot last time, Bel,” he said to the ceiling.
“Yeah, well, this is another try.”
Daniel shifted. “Don’t want another try. Let’s fuck.”
“I’m all fucked out. Get up.”
Daniel continued to gaze at the ceiling. “I made you miss work.”
“You didn’t ‘make me’ do anything.”
“You didn’t have to stay.”
“Said I would, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” Daniel’s voice was soft. “You did.” He knocked his head lightly against the back of the chair.
“Can you quit moping and get dressed?”
Daniel reached between his legs and stroked his cock. “You like me undressed pretty well.”
“Yeah, I do. But a guy needs a change of scenery now and then.”
Daniel didn’t move.
“Thought I was in charge?” Bel said.
Daniel got up without a word. Went to the bathroom, shut the door, and stayed in there a long time. Bel felt frustrated. Then cold with panic. “What’re you doin’ in there?”
“Not carving my fucking eyeball out or anything, don’t worry,” Daniel called back.
“Daniel. Come on. I got an idea for a way we could actually have a nice time, if you’d quit acting like this.”
“We could have a nice time here.”
Bel sighed and leaned against the wall. “Come out here, or I’ll—”
The door swung open. Daniel gazed at him coolly. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “You’ll what?”
Bel grabbed him before he could duck back in the bathroom and kissed him. Daniel started kissing back immediately. Got in Bel’s car without any further protest, and they headed out to the interstate.
“Where we going?” Daniel asked.
“Wait and see.”