Murmuration
Page 34
Calvin comes a day later. Nice guy.
He knows if he’s going to get this right, if there’s any hope to recreate what came before, he has to wait.
And he does.
For seven days.
They’re the longest days of his life.
He passes by the diner every morning and every night.
He sees the people inside.
He resolutely doesn’t look for the person he wants to see the most.
Once, on the fourth day, he thinks he sees him anyway, and his heart thunders in his chest as he hurries on to the store.
Mrs. Richardson introduces herself on the sixth day. She doesn’t smell of alcohol. Her minions titter behind her. She appraises him briefly and says, “It’s very nice to meet you. I am the head of the Amorea Women’s Club. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?” She hands him a casserole and tells him it’ll hold until he’s ready to eat it.
IT’S A Friday. He plans on opening the shop tomorrow for a sort of preview before the official opening next week.
He’s spent the morning unpacking books and setting shelves. He’s sore, but it’s a good soreness, derived from hard work.
And he can’t wait anymore.
He thinks, Now, now, now.
He thinks, Okay. Okay.
He thinks, It’s time.
His hands are shaking when he closes the door to Bookworm, but he’s resolute.
He’s never wanted anything more. He’s sure of it.
He walks down Main Street, the sky so blue above, the birds chirping. People say hi and hello and how do you do? as they pass him on the street. He nods in return, not trusting himself to speak.
He pauses outside the diner. Something tugs in his chest, some ache that seems like a memory, but he doesn’t have time to focus on it now. He’s here for one reason and one reason only.
He opens the door. The bell jingles overhead.
People turn to look at him, curious at this stranger in their midst. They know of him, but they don’t know him. Not yet. They will, and soon, but for now, he’s still a curiosity. There are friendly smiles and small waves and he does his best to smile back while thinking, Oh please, oh please, oh please.
Walter’s there behind the grill. He nods his head in greeting before going back to the burgers and the fries.
He thinks, Wait. Just wait. Just—
A voice says, “I think I know what you’re looking for.”
He closes his eyes. Takes in a shuddering breath.
Finally, finally, he turns his head.
Standing next to him is a slight man. A young man. A man with messy dark hair that seems to have a mind of its own. His eyebrows are slightly bushy and his nose slightly crooked. His ears stick out just a little bit from the sides of his head, and he wonders how his shoulders can be so broad while he’s so skinny, but he doesn’t wonder about the stumbling of his heart.
He’s staring and he knows it, but he’ll be damned if he can make himself stop.
The man isn’t handsome, not by traditional standards. He’s lanky, and maybe his lips are a little thin, his fingers boney, like spindly little spider legs. He’s still growing into himself, but there is just something about him that captivates more than any other. The people in Amorea are the nicest people he’s ever met. They’ve made him feel welcome.
They’ve never made him feel like this.
Ever the wordsmith, he says, “Hi.”
The man smiles wider. “Hi. I’ve heard about you.”
“You have?” he asks, never breaking his gaze from those bright green eyes.
The man cocks his head. “Hmm. Here and there.”
“And everywhere?”
“They talk. They always talk. And apparently you’re something to talk about.”
“Yeah?”
He wrinkles his nose a little bit and says, “Yeah.”
He thinks, Oh. Oh. Oh, how I love you.
“Now, like I said, I think I know what you’re looking for.”
And he wants to say you and yes and I’ve been looking for you for so long. Instead, he says, rather gruffly, “And what would that be?”
“You look like a meatloaf kinda guy,” the man says, taking a step forward. “Side of mashed potatoes. And peas? No. Corn. You look like you’d have corn.”
He swallows thickly and prays for any sign of recognition, any sign of something. He plays his part and says, “That… sounds amazing.”
The man looks pleased with himself. “I’m good at what I do.” And then he’s standing within arm’s reach, and it’s so hard not to do that, to grab him, to pull him close and never let go.
“I know,” he says instead.
“You do?”
“I’ve heard.”
The young man looks amused. “People talk.”
“Yes.”
He laughs. “I’ve heard too, you know. About you. Your name’s Greg, right? Greg Hughes.”
And he says, “No.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” he says, and he can barely breathe. “My name’s Mike. Mike Frazier.”
“Mike,” he says, like he’s tasting it. “Mike Frazier. I wonder why they said you were…. You know what? Never mind. Mike. It’s a good name.”
And Mike says, “Yeah,” and he thinks, I will spend as long as it takes. I promise. Because I did everything I could to get back to you. I promise you. One day, we’ll dance. I’m sorry I had to miss it the first time, but I promise. We’ll dance.
And there it is. Again, for the first time. That smile. That just-for-Mike smile. It takes Mike’s breath away at the sight of it. It always has. And he thinks it always will.
“What’s your name?” Mike asks, even though he knows this man better than he knows himself. It’s expected of him to ask.
“Sean,” he says. “My name’s Sean.”
“Sean.” Mike puts the weight of everything behind it. He thinks of the first time their shoulders brushed together, the first time they laughed at a joke, the first time they fell asleep side by side on the couch listening to the radio, the first time they held hands, the first time they sat on the dock in the park, the first day, the first kiss, the time they made love, the just-for-Mike smile, the way they fit together like they were made for each other and only each other.
Sean says, “You okay there, big guy?”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “I’m okay.” Because he is. For the first time in a long time, he is. He has blood on his hands and there is a body buried in the forest, but he’s okay now. He’s okay.
“Good. Tell you what. I’ve got a booth just for you. You can sit, relax, and let me take care of you. Sound good?”
He nods, not trusting himself to speak.
“All right, if you could just follow—you know what?” He shakes his head. “Sorry.” He’s blushing now and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’ve just….”
“What?” Mike asks.
“Déjà vu. Like… I don’t know. You ever get that feeling?”
“What?” Mike asks, and he’s hoping. God, how he’s hoping. “What feeling?”
Sean looks up at him, then away, then back again. “I’m… this is going to sound strange, and I swear, I’m not trying to… just. Have we met before? You seem really… familiar to me. Like….”
“Like…?” Mike manages to say, and his heart hurts, but it’s good, okay? Oh god, it’s so good.
Sean laughs nervously. “I don’t know. Just like… home. Like… home.” He runs his hands over his face and groans. “Oh, geez. Just ignore me, okay? I’m tired, I had a headache yesterday that I’m still getting over, and here I am just dropping this all on you like a crazy pers—”
“No,” Mike says, and he knows his eyes are wet. There’s nothing he can do about that now. “No. We’ve never met.” It’s easier than saying I’ve loved you before. I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow. And every day after.
“Okay,” Sean says. “I guess… I don’
t know. You’re just… here. And I’m being weird, and I’m sorry. You didn’t come in here for this.”
“It’s okay,” he says, because it is. All of this is. “I don’t mind.”
Sean searches for something in his face, and he must find whatever he’s looking for, because that smile comes back, that beautiful smile that’s just for him. “You sure?” he asks, sounding shy.
“Yeah,” Mike says. He is.
“Yeah,” Sean says, and it’s like it’s a joke, like a little secret, just between them. “Come on, then. Let’s get you fed. Can’t have you starving to death.” He takes a step backward, never taking his eyes off Mike, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear the moment he looks away.
Mike knows that time is against them. That this won’t last forever. That one day, and maybe one day soon, one of them will be gone like they never existed at all. Maybe they’ll be lucky and go at the same time. Maybe they won’t. One day, it will happen.
But that day is not today.
Today, all is right in the little town of Amorea.
The sun is shining.
There are birds murmuring their songs in the trees.
And Sean is smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world. “You wanna follow me, big guy?” he asks.
And with a bittersweet ache in his heart, Mike Frazier does the only thing he can.
He follows.
Author’s Note
THEY’LL BE happy, I promise. One way or another. Because it’s not about the length of time you have, but what you do with it.
The word Amorea comes from combining the names of Dr. Amzica and Dr. Florea, two researchers who discovered and led studies on Nu-complexes, those brainwaves in coma patients beyond the flat line. If you get a chance, you should check out their research. It can be some pretty trippy stuff, and the implications behind it are quite startling.
And as my editor pointed out, Amorea sounds like immoral.
To me, it sounds like memory.
Both fit like a glove, don’t you think?
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Readers love TJ Klune
Wolfsong
“Nothing I say will do this book justice, so if you’re a fan of TJ Klune, just go read it. If you’re a fan of werewolves/shifters, just go read it.”
—Sinfully Gay Romance Book Reviews
“Even now, as I begin writing, I can only hope I have the best words to convey my astonishment and amazement at how spectacular this book truly was. I don’t even know where to begin.”
—Get the Chance
The Queen & the Homo Jock King
“It is a brilliant combination of hysterically funny, incredibly romantic, and quite sexy, all in one package. I loved every minute and highly recommend it.”
—Joyfully Jay
“In true TJ Klune fashion, this book was hilarious, ridiculously witty, and the sexual tension between Sandy/Helena and Darren was scorching.”
—Gay Book Reviews
How to Be a Normal Person
“This book is amazing. It’s ridiculous and weird and hilarious, and I possibly got a contact high while reading it, but I loved every single word of every single page.”
—Just Love: Romance Novel Reviews
“This is a definite must-read if you’re looking for an entertaining and heartwarming story with a brilliant
sense of humor and lots of heart.”
—Three Book Over the Rainbow
When TJ KLUNE was eight, he picked up a pen and paper and began to write his first story (which turned out to be his own sweeping epic version of the video game Super Metroid—he didn’t think the game ended very well and wanted to offer his own take on it. He never heard back from the video-game company, much to his chagrin). Now, over two decades later, the cast of characters in his head have only gotten louder. But that’s okay, because he’s recently become a full-time writer and can give them the time they deserve.
Since being published, TJ has won the Lambda Literary Award for Best Gay Romance, fought off three lions that threatened to attack him and his village, and was chosen by Amazon as having written one of the best GLBT books of 2011.
And one of those things isn’t true.
(It’s the lion thing. The lion thing isn’t true.)
Facebook: TJ Klune
Blog: tjklunebooks.blogspot.com
E-mail: tjklunebooks@yahoo.com
By TJ Klune
Burn
How to Be a Normal Person
Into This River I Drown
John & Jackie
The Lightning-Struck Heart
Murmuration
Tell Me It’s Real • The Queen & the Homo Jock King
Wolfsong
BEAR, OTTER, AND THE KID CHRONICLES
Bear, Otter, and the Kid
Who We Are
The Art of Breathing
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
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