by Jaime Reese
It's not real. It's not…
Or was it? He fought the memory but didn't have the energy to distinguish the now blurred line between reality and memory of a darker time. He focused his vision at the tile wall staring him down.
No. It's not real.
He was in a shower. His shower. Not out in the sun and mud under the spray of the ice cold water. He wasn't bound or gagged. He snarled at the tile wall, gritting his teeth and willing himself to straighten.
No. This isn't real. They can't break me.
With his remaining strength, he desperately scanned the shower for the fallen washcloth, snatching it up from the tile floor and feverishly rubbing his legs and body to wash away the lingering phantom blood and mud.
"Aidan?"
He spun quickly, almost losing his balance. A figure stood on the other side on the steam-covered glass. Jess. So close, yet so far away. He wanted to reach out. He needed his tether to ground him and support him and recharge his strength to battle the inescapable memories.
Aidan slowly straightened when Jessie approached. He inhaled sharply as Jessie opened the shower door and stepped in, not caring that he still wore his jeans. He reached out and grabbed Aidan by the shoulders, gently guiding him to turn his back toward the shower head, never breaking eye contact. He couldn't tear his focus away from every move Jessie made and how his lean muscles flexed with each controlled, careful shift in position.
Aidan closed his eyes when Jessie cupped his face, unable to control the strangled whimper that escaped, craving the closeness and strength his mind and body desperately needed. He reached out and snaked his arm around Jessie's waist, pulling him closer, reveling in the warmth and safety of the embrace, not caring about the harsh denim rubbing against his bare skin.
He exhaled a shaky breath, feeling a small ripple of peace begin to spread throughout his body as if a pebble had been pitched into the dark, still water of his soul. One pebble, then another, and another. Fingers stroked through his wet hair, calming his inner storm and tossing another pebble and another. He wrapped his other arm around Jessie's shoulders and held him close as Jessie placed tentative kisses along his neck, and pitched more imaginary pebbles his way, finally enough to stop the overflowing well of flashbacks.
"Dinner's going to burn," Aidan mumbled into Jessie's now wet hair.
"It'll keep. You're more important."
Aidan took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the body in his arms until the water ran cold, thankful for the endless supply of strength and peace Jessie always seemed to offer.
* * * *
All these damn flashbacks sneaking up on him were forcing Aidan to bump up his timetable to speed along his progress. For the last two weeks, he made it a point of trying harder during his therapy sessions, well, at least he thought so. He had to do something, anything to lessen all these damn memories that had suddenly awakened and messed with him. But he couldn't lock them away again. He'd been there and done that, and wouldn't go down that road again.
He hadn't been here in a while, but when the good doctor issued his first homework assignment, he figured this was a good place to start. He exited his SUV and rolled up his shirt sleeves as he worked his way along the familiar path. Another hot day but he figured he might as well do this now before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. He had sneaked away at lunchtime to be here. He had a goal and a deadline. Two things he could manage. Now he just needed to figure out all the details in between.
He ducked under an overgrown tree as he thought about his last few sessions.
"The increased frequency of your flashbacks is your mind's way of letting you know it's ready to heal," his doctor had said. Well, apparently his brain hadn't gotten the memo that a simple I'm-ready-let's-work-on-this would have sufficed. But in his typical style, he never did anything the easy way. "You need to talk," his doctor had said. No shit, he remembered thinking. "Say something to someone about something you're keeping to yourself. That will let you know it's okay to open up, to put yourself in a situation where you feel vulnerable. Pick someone. I don't care who, but it has to be someone you're close to. Someone whose opinion matters to you. Then share something you've kept closely guarded."
He finally reached his destination and sat on the ground between the two raised stones. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, suddenly feeling like the junior high school kid who used to cause them so many headaches. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," he said with a sigh. He'd managed to nail down the who part of the assignment. He'd picked someone. Now he just needed to cover the what and the why—what he wanted to say, and why it needed to or should be discussed. Essentially, if it nagged his mind repeatedly, Ms. Fix-it said it merited a talkie.
Lovely.
He sat for a few minutes, trying to find the right set of words to string together to cover the other two parts of his assignment so he didn't feel like a failure. "I kinda suck at this, but my pain in the ass doctor seems to think talking will help me with stuff, so I figured I'd start with you guys since you can't push me if I don't say enough or tell me to shut up if I say too much." Leave it up to him to find a loophole in the doctor's homework assignment. Even knowing they weren't physically there, listening, he still found himself looking over his shoulder and off at a distance, avoiding the one-sided conversation.
He took a deep breath and tightened his arms around his knees. He could do this. Maybe. Now or never. "Dad, I know you loved me. I never questioned that. But it was really tough for me to be your kid. You were the Calloway. Everyone knew you, and everyone wanted to be you. And there I was, your son, heir to the car throne I didn't want. I felt as if I had failed you. And it didn't help that I suck at this whole talking thing. And when we did try, I couldn't hold an interest in a car conversation if my life depended on it." He took a few deep breaths, recovering for a moment after the rushed spill of words. "I'm sorry about that," he mumbled. "I know that was important to you." He sat for a few minutes, enjoying the sun's heat on his face and the silence. It was a different type of quiet. A place of rest and supposed tranquility. The sounds weren't muted, but there was a certain calmness in the air.
He sat for a bit more before breaking the audible stillness with his voice. "I felt like an outsider most times. When Ty came along, it's as if he just made everything perfect. You and he could do the car thing and he and I totally meshed with the sports. He was the glue that held everything together."
He quieted again. He needed to focus on what he came here to say. He had warmed up. Sorta. Kinda. Not really. He figured it was best to speak before he found some other excuse to stop.
"Dad, I'm…gay. I know I never actually told you, but I know you and Mom probably talked about it. She knew." He sighed. Had he actually just come out? Had he officially slapped a label on himself? He'd said it out loud, that should count for something. He looked over to his mother's headstone. "I know you knew. I figured that out the first time you asked me if I had met a nice young man in school." He shook his head at the memory. "Who the hell asks their son that?" he asked with a smile. "Thanks for never pushing. I'm not sure I would have been able to hold a conversation about this back then. Even after Ty came out to you guys. I guess I didn't want to risk creating any more distance. Being gay was one more thing that made me different from you both."
Why the hell is it so damn hard to say this stuff out loud?
He looked upward and sighed. "Gay. I hate that fucking word. Makes me sound as if I'm supposed to be happy 'cause I like dick." Shit. He cringed and ducked his head in his knees. "Sorry." He took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder again before returning his focus to the carved stones. "I probably should have said something, especially after Ty came out. But…it's not like I had to worry about bringing home a date or something. No one ever stuck around that long. So I figured…it was best to just leave things alone…and not bring up something else that made us different. I had a million excuses…but I know now…I…just di
dn't want to disappoint you."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Dad, I know you're probably looking at me sideways, and Mom, I know you'd try to hug me if you were here, but that's how I felt at the time. It just never worked out for me and I always felt I was being punished for wanting to be with someone. I couldn't risk you guys turning away too." He pushed the tips of his boots into the ground and started rocking back and forth. "Ty's kinda pissed at me about it, and I know he wishes I would have told him years ago. It's just…too hard sometimes. Ty makes it look easy. He surrounds himself with others who are totally okay with him. Me?" he scoffed at himself. "Seems I can't do anything the easy way."
He swallowed heavily and rested his chin on his knees, trying to think of how best to talk about what had happened. Where to start, what to say. His mind wandered, thinking of different ways to begin the conversation. What would they say? What would they think of him once they knew? It was silly, but somehow, even in a one-sided conversation, talking about what had happened brought it all to the surface again and made it too real.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He couldn't do it.
He didn't want to bring something so ugly to a place of supposed peace and rest. Besides, he'd spoken more to them in one stretch than he thought he'd be able to manage when he'd arrived. He had officially moved on from toddler steps to a trotting stride. He could be hard on himself but wouldn't deny he'd made progress.
One point for Team Calloway.
He stretched out his legs and leaned backward, resting his weight on his hands. "So, guys. Now you know, with one-hundred-percent assurance, your Calloway legacy is two very gay sons." He couldn't resist a chuckle before quieting. "Don't worry, Ty's got Cole. Dad, I think you would have adopted him if you could. He's a total gearhead like you and Ty. It'd be great for everyone else if his mouth was taped shut, but I'm learning to pick my battles with him.
"And, Mom, now that I'm officially out, I know what you're going to ask me." He half smiled, swearing he could hear his mother's soft laughter before she asked the question he knew would soon follow his declaration. "Yes, I've finally met a nice young man. And I think you'd love him."
Jessie rested his head on Aidan's shoulder and sighed. He loved their quiet time together. They sat on the bench on the back porch and enjoyed the silence of the night, the only sound the occasional barking of a dog at a distance. He wrapped his hands around Aidan's arm and kissed him on the cheek. "You're really quiet tonight."
Aidan ran his fingers through the back of Jessie's hair. "Sorry. I've been racking my brain with a few cases and they're driving me nuts."
Nuts. Jessie snickered. "I don't mean to laugh."
Aidan shook his head and scoffed. "You need to chat with your therapist about your ball fetish." His features softened and his smile lingered. The openness in his hazel eyes made a slight appearance.
"It's not my case, is it?"
"No." Aidan's brow lowered. "The team's not letting me go anywhere near your case until there's something solid to go on." He quieted, his expression deepening as if he were lost in thought.
"I'm sure they're trying. But if Michael doesn't want to be found, that's going to make it tougher for everyone." Including me. "I'm not going to put my life on hold and I'm not going to let him have that much power over me."
"Can we…not talk about that asshole?" He placed a tender kiss at the side of Jessie's head. "Please."
"Okay." Jessie could only imagine the self-torture Aidan subjected himself to, not being able to solve the case and having most of his team members fight him on his involvement. And stress was certainly not something he wanted to focus on at that moment. "Tell me something about you."
Aidan turned to face him, reaching up to brush his thumb against Jessie's cheek. His expression relaxed as if a burden had been slightly lifted with the change in subject. "What do you want to know?"
Jessie inched closer, hoping Aidan would take the not-so-subtle hint. He smiled when Aidan leaned in for a kiss then slid his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a single-armed embrace. He lay down across Aidan's lap, clasping Aidan's hand and holding it to his chest. "Tell me about the first guy you liked. And don't give me just a year, grade, or age. Tell me where you met. Tell me something about him."
"Okay." Aidan quieted for a few moments before speaking. "Sixth grade. I met him at a football game. He went to the opponent's school."
"You were a rebel even back then." Jessie laughed, slowly stroking their entwined hands. "Don't stop now. You're on a roll."
"Who's the smartass now?" Aidan ran his fingers across Jessie's forehead, brushing away a random strand. He quieted for a few seconds as if gathering his thoughts before he finally spoke. "We talked between plays, and it was…easy. After school, we'd meet up at the basketball court at the nearby park." Aidan took a deep breath. "One day, we're hanging out by the bleachers at his school, watching the visiting team scrimmage before the football game. My arm was up against his. Before I knew it, we were holding hands. It felt…nice."
Aidan's hold on their still-clasped hands tightened.
"One of the kids from the visiting school saw us. All hell broke loose after that. They beat us up so badly. After that, he hated me. He said it was all my fault because I had held his hand." He quieted and his body became rigid. He released Jessie's hand and spread his arm across the back of the bench.
"What about after him? And I swear, if you mention the quota for the week—"
Aidan glanced down at Jessie. "You should amend your requirement and make it one subject matter for the week rather than one detail."
"Consider it amended. What about after him?"
Aidan shrugged then looked away again. This would have been the perfect time for Aidan to deliver another Aidanism to steer the conversation away from revealing something personal or emotional. Instead, he remained quiet and his jaw muscles tensed.
Jessie reached up, running his hand along Aidan's neck then chest. "Tell me."
Aidan nudged him to sit up. He then leaned forward, pushed his palms together. Aidan's thinking face was not something most people experienced. He usually cloaked whatever thought crossed his mind with something snarky. But it was obvious he was struggling with the thought. Whether it was what to say, how to say it, or how much to say, Jessie wasn't sure, but he was certain Aidan was trying.
Jessie leaned forward in a sitting position, mirroring Aidan's pose, hoping to break his concentration before he strained a reveal-too-much-personal-info brain muscle.
Aidan sighed. "Sorry."
"Don't overthink. Just tell me."
He ran his fingers through his hair and clasped his hands again, almost seeming angry at himself for the nervous gesture. "I screwed around a lot in high school. Nothing steady and nothing serious and definitely nothing at my school. I'd talk to a guy, meet him at the mall or something."
"So no cheerleaders?" Jessie teased, bumping Aidan's shoulder and hoping to lighten Aidan's mood.
Aidan half smiled. "No, but the captain of the football team blew me after the championship game." He looked sideways and tried to hold back a playful grin.
"I thought you didn't do anything at the school?"
"The game was at the visitor's school."
"Do you always look for the loophole in a situation?" Jessie laughed.
"Always."
"What about after high school?"
Aidan shook his head at some thought. "I thought things might change, you know, because times are supposed to change and all that crap. But all that's bullshit. When I was in the service, just after boot camp, there was this guy. We clicked right away, but we kept everything on the down low for the few months we were together. One night, we're messing around… I mean, we weren't doing anything, just sitting really close, shoving each other and saying stupid shit. Two other guys from our unit walked in and started cracking jokes about how friendly we looked together. I played it off, but he couldn't."
Aidan sighed heavily and shook his head again. "Rumors started spreading and it got really tough out there."
He quieted for a few moments, leaning forward, resting his forearms against his thighs. "When you're in the field, you need to know the guys in your unit have your back. And somewhere along the line, that changed. He couldn't handle that. He decided to call it quits, but I stayed. When I signed up again, I thought things would settle down, but they didn't. I got pissed and…reckless. I put myself in the line of fire and at risk more often than not just to prove I didn't fit their stereotype." He pursed his lips almost into a sneer while his eyes held a slow simmering anger beneath the surface. "We had talked about doing a tour together." He shrugged. "I guess that's the closest I ever came to a relationship."
"Did you love him?"
"No," Aidan said without hesitation. "We shared something in common and that made things a little easy, but that's it. It might have turned into something down the line, but who knows. I was pissed off he didn't even bother trying."
Jessie placed his hand at the back of Aidan's neck, rubbing the tension in the tight muscles. "What about after the service? Anyone since then?"
"No," he responded, his features devoid of any emotion.
Jessie remained quiet, processing the new bit of information—personal information—Aidan had provided. After all this time, he'd barely opened up about details, especially something that seemed to hold such a mix of emotions for him. Aidan often said little in his words but spoke volumes in his body language and tone. His words from the other night connected with the new personal piece of information, interlocking like two pieces of the same puzzle, finally revealing a little more of the big image. "You're worried I'm going to walk away if we get closer," he said, more as a statement than a question.