by M. C. Roth
Trent would’ve done anything to go back to the moment where he was still standing above the sink, looking at Ian as he played with the chickens in the back yard. Why the hell had he needed to play music suddenly? The silence hadn’t even been that bad.
He crumpled to his knees in the front hall. A stray pebble dug through his pant leg and pressed a bruise into his kneecap as a tear rolled from his eye and dropped to the mat. It disappeared into the acrylic loops in seconds, leaving no trace behind. His sobs peaked, then faded to nothing.
He struggled to his feet, preparing to follow Ian. He would chase him down the street if he had to. He knew the destination. There was only one place for Ian to go.
He ran out of the door with tears still running down his face, and his eyes probably red and swollen for anyone who cared to look. His neighbour, Cindy, could look through her curtains and judge him right now and he wouldn’t give a fuck. Nothing mattered except reaching Ian and making him listen to reason. He couldn’t part on bad terms…not like this.
He was breathing hard by the time he reached the garage parking lot, but it was empty except for the smashed remains of an old Volvo that was covered in a thick layer of dust and scraggly leaves. The beautiful yellow Corvette was gone. There wasn’t even a single tyre track left in its memory.
When Trent got back home, he numbly stacked his CDs and placed them back in their usual spot beneath his television stand. The stray disk was scratched beyond repair, but he placed it back in its case and stacked it along with the others.
His shoulders drooped and his swollen eyelids pulled shut. He crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets to his face. There was still that sweet scent that hadn’t belonged there before Thursday night. His tears started again, against his will.
He spied something on the bedside table that gave him a thread of hope. Ian’s phone was there, still connected to the small charging cable. The screen was open and unlocked with Instagram flashing across the screen. Ian had probably scrolled through his messages before he decided to wake Trent up in the best way possible.
Trent grabbed it, careful to avoid the power button to keep it from locking. He opened the contacts and skimmed through the names with determination. Over the entire weekend, Ian had only mentioned one name to him—Mac, his best friend in the world and his boss, who he was expertly avoiding.
Trent scrolled down the list of contacts and clicked on the name. He deleted the last conversation before he could read it, doing his best to salvage privacy. Wiping the tears from his face, he typed in the only thing that might be able to heal his broken heart. It was a lie, but one that Ian would know if the message ever made it back to him.
Hi, this is T from Marvin’s auto. Ian was just here to pick up his car and he accidentally left his phone on the counter. Would you be able to let him know when you see him next? TIA
He pressed send before setting the phone back delicately on the bedstand. A second later he scrambled to pick it up as it vibrated with a response.
Please ship it to…
Trent ran to the kitchen and pulled out a pad of paper before scribbling down the address. It was Miami, in an area that Ian had mentioned once or twice. It could be his address or Mac’s. Trent didn’t know. His meagre plan hadn’t worked at all. Ian wouldn’t be coming back to get his phone so Trent could make him listen.
He was about to turn off the phone when inspiration struck. He added his own cell number as a contact, saved simply under T. He saved Ian’s number in the contacts on his own phone as well. Then he opened notes and added one to the main screen. He tapped against the surface as he typed out a short letter.
Hey, Ian. I really didn’t realize who you were until I saw that picture. I am a fan, but I am definitely not a groupie. Just ew.
Trent paused with his finger hesitating over the backspace. He ploughed on through the note.
I had a wonderful weekend and I’m glad I met you. I put my number in your contacts if you ever want to call and have someone to talk to. What my Mom said is true. You are part of the family now, and there is always an open door and an open ear here. I wish you would come back just so I could kiss you one more time. I think I’m falling for you, and I thought maybe you felt something too. I’ve never had this kind of a connection with anyone before. I know we hardly know each other, and I want to get to know you better. Please call me.
T
Trent saved the note to the home screen and hit the power button before he could back out. He could mail the phone tomorrow. If he used express shipping, it might even beat Ian home.
He wiped the tears from his face and ground his teeth in determination. A seed of hope threatened to blossom in his chest, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He kissed the phone and set it in the centre of the table. With a sigh, he headed out to the back yard. His feather babies always made him feel better.
Chapter Seven
“I swear I didn’t break it,” said the blonde woman next to Trent. She tapped her nails against the plush office chair before she spun around once while looking at the tiled ceiling. Her feet, which were wrapped in strappy blue sandals that matched her blouse, slipped over the carpeted floor.
“I’m sure you think that.” Trent sighed as he skimmed through the vague code of the computer before him. It was the third time he’d heard those words today, but that didn’t make them any truer. A headache had formed behind his eyes, which made the numbers and letters on the screen flow noisily in front of his face, and his back ached from bending low over the desk.
The office had a surprising number of employees for being in such a small town, but most of them drove in from the surrounding areas that had a smattering of houses. The builders had taken an old brick mansion and converted it into a tasteful building that used the tiny rooms as employee offices instead of using cubicles. He was currently in one of the larger rooms, which had been painted bright blue by the current occupant, who was committed to driving him insane.
“I don’t understand how you manage to crash your computer just by using Excel. Your skill is astonishing,” said Trent as he tried to smile. The curl of his lips felt heavy and false on his face. “It’s okay though, Candace. I get it. Your hands are made of magnets.”
“Nope, just my bracelets. They help with my carpal tunnel.” The blonde flicked her hair back over one shoulder and rolled her eyes. She flung her chair aside as she stood to hover over his shoulder.
Trent held back another sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Candace was a good person—she really was—but sometimes she just got to him. She had an abundance of energy that was just sucking him dry on the hot summer day.
“You okay, Trent? You’ve been awfully quiet for the last few weeks. Longer than that, now that I think about it. We haven’t even gone out for drinks lately.” She shouldered her way past him so that Trent had to meet her eyes. Her bright red lips were turned into a frown as she looked him up and down. He could see her mind turning as she searched him like a geological map.
Trent shook his head and tried to focus on the screen. “I’m okay, Candace. Just tired.” Work…that, he could handle. He didn’t want to think about anything else, including the reason he was up every night.
“Did you want to talk about it?” She stepped into his line of sight again. Her hand came up to rest against his shoulder and he deflated under the soft touch.
“Can’t fool you, can I?” asked Trent as he flopped down in her chair, giving up on the computer all together. She rolled a second chair up close and sat. Their knees knocked together and she smiled, pressing her hand on his kneecap.
“I’m not your best friend for nothing.” Her smile was genuine.
He didn’t know what to tell her. He’d told Candace, and only Candace, about what had happened between him and Ian. He’d thought he’d be able to put it behind him as the weeks turned into months, but obviously not. If he could just forget about it, then the pain in his chest might disappear.
“Would
you date me, Candace?” He asked, fixing her with a stare.
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if she were seeing him for the first time. She patted his knee twice before she withdrew and crossed her arms.
“Not unless you have the superpower to grow a cunt,” she said with a straight face.
“Shut up,” Trent hissed before he slapped his hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one had walked by. “Someone could hear you. That is not a work-friendly word.”
“This isn’t a work-friendly conversation. Tonight. Nine o’clock. Get ready to get fucking plastered,” she said as she pushed his hand away. Her eyebrows waggled and she licked her lips.
“It’s Wednesday,” Trent deadpanned.
“And you’re boring,” she threw right back at him.
Trent knew she meant the words to be light-hearted, but they carved in deep. “Is that it? I’m just too boring to keep a man in my life?” He didn’t have much besides his usual routine, after all.
“Trent, don’t say that.” She pulled him into a quick hug and the smell of her floral perfume overwhelmed him. “Come to my place tonight and we can talk. There will be a two-drink minimum.”
He found himself smiling for the first time in weeks. Even if things weren’t great, Candace always knew how to make them at least a little bit better. He had something to look forward to that wasn’t an empty house and a quiet phone.
He fixed her computer, threatening her with certain doom if she crashed it again. He knew he’d be back by tomorrow at the latest.
When their shift ended, Trent met Candace back at her desk. She packed away a few pieces of paper into a small filing cabinet, before she grabbed her purse and they were out of the door. Trent squeezed himself into her compact Toyota, dreading his aching knees by the end of the ride.
“So, what’s your problem?” she asked as she started up her car. Straight and to the point. No wiggling around in the mud, looking for a lost pig.
“You know, I’ve never actually dated anyone,” Trent mused as he clipped on his seat belt. “I’ve fucked lots of people, but in thirty-plus years, my longest standing relationship was two months.”
“Two months is totally dating,” said Candace as she wheeled out of the parking lot. “Two months is enough time to figure out if it’s good dick or not—or pussy, in my case.”
Trent glanced at her as her hands gripped the steering wheel tight. She hadn’t put on her seatbelt and the alarm was beeping. She waved her hand as if that would make it disappear. He reached across her and expertly threaded the belt over her arm and across her waist before he buckled her in.
“See? That’s my problem. That’s all we did for two months,” Trent sighed as he leaned back and rubbed his sore forehead. “We hooked up a couple of times a week, then I would end up heading home. I never asked to stay over and he never asked me to stay. When I finally asked him out to dinner, he turned me down.” He knew she’d heard the story before, because she was the one who had gotten him out of his slump when it had happened.
“Allergies?” asked Candace, catching him off guard. Outside, the edge of town fluttered past, and fields stretched out on either side.
“What? No. He already had a boyfriend.” Trent gave her a strange look. “Why would someone turn down dinner because of allergies? I’m not going to force-feed him shellfish.”
“I dated this chick,” Candace said as she rifled around in her centre console, taking her eyes off the road for way too long. “Every time we went out, she was running to the bathroom after. I thought she was bulimic, but her teeth were too nice. When I called her on it, she said that she was allergic to restaurant food.”
“You can’t be allergic to all restaurant food,” said Trent shaking his head. This was a story he hadn’t heard before, but Candace didn’t talk too much about her side of the fence…unless it was to cheer him up.
“Well, that’s what I thought too.” She nodded and flipped down her visor so she could apply a thin layer of balm over her lower lip. She swerved to miss the barn cat on the road without looking. “So, I followed her into the bathroom the next time we went out. Just curious, right, not super creepy. That was our last date.”
“She was lying?”
“Nope.” Candace shook her head. “But I can’t date someone who shits themselves every time I want to go out. It took me a day to get the smell out of my hair, and I was only in the bathroom for a minute.”
“You are so shallow,” said Trent, shaking his head. The best thing about his friend was that she always made him feel better about himself. It was like starting a diet, then watching My Six-Hundred Pound Life, before realizing that an extra ten pounds wasn’t that bad.
“Hey,” she said as she reached over to smack his chest. “You weren’t there. It was bad, like rotting corpse mixed with dead worms.” Her laughter died off. “Things were ending before that, though. She was in the closet, hard. She wouldn’t introduce me to friends or family. We always had to drive forever to go on a date, and she would cancel last minute, sometimes, if she got nervous that we were going to get caught. I couldn’t live that kind of life.”
Silence settled between them and Trent shifted in the small seat, his knees knocking the dash that was keeping him partially paralyzed. He ran his hand through his hair, massaging at his temples as his head started to throb harder.
“Is that what this is about? You’re dating someone who’s in the closet?” She looked at him and completely ignored the road. He grabbed the wheel and steered them back into the correct lane.
Trent shook his head. “Not dating, no.”
“But you want to,” she said, sighing as he nodded. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful, Trent. Guys like that…? Sometimes they never come out, even if they make promises. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting hurt, if he would just call me,” he said as the car rocked to the right when Candace took a sharp corner. They passed a herd of cows that had a blanket of white around their middle. A calf ran along the fence as it chased something Trent couldn’t see.
“You talking about Ian?” she asked, taking his silence as an answer in itself. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, that guy is just another famous prick. He used you too, Trent, but then he has a freak out and just leaves you like that? What a dick.” She shook her head. “You need a nice guy who you can take care of, not one who’s going to break your heart like that.”
“But that’s not what I want, Candace. It felt real. For the first time in my life, it actually felt real. I wasn’t trying some move that I’d seen in porn, and I wasn’t going down on a guy because I thought that was what they wanted. For the first time, I did it because I wanted to—and not for any other reason.” Trent let his head fall against cool glass. His head pounded ever tighter.
“How much vacation time do you have saved up?” asked Candace. She pulled into her driveway and hopped out of the car. Trent followed with much less enthusiasm. After a nine-hour shift, she was still like the Energizer Bunny.
The flowers in the front bed were completely dried and wilted, and the grass was just a touch too long to be safe for small animals. The house itself was massive compared to Trent’s own, but it lacked the polished shine of care.
“I don’t know, like three or four weeks.” He shrugged. “I didn’t book any time off this summer.” Her driveway was gravel that was still fresh enough that he sank into the stones as he made his way to the porch. It drained the energy from him even faster.
“You are calling in sick tomorrow and taking next week off. I know the boss loves you, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” She twisted the key in the lock and pulled the handle hard to open the latch.
“What? Why?” Trent shook his head as he followed her into the house.
“Well, after you told me about Ian, I may or may not have done some research,” she said as she threw her keys into the bowl at the door and flipped of
f her sandals.
“Invading his privacy, you mean.” He shook his head, denying that he had done the exact same thing. He set his shoes neatly on the empty boot-tray before following her.
“Google is not an invasion of privacy. Besides, it was the band page I was looking at.” She disappeared into the depths of the house and Trent tried to keep up.
She was in a suburb that had been sold and resold over five times to different development companies. The houses were old now, some barely standing and sparsely placed around empty lots. Her neighbours were dicks, too, and wouldn’t hesitate to grab what they needed from her house if the doors were unlocked.
“Okay. That still doesn’t explain why I am wasting my vacation.” Trent looked around the house as he tried to track her voice. It was three times the size of his, with more bedrooms than he would ever need in a lifetime. She was waiting for him in the kitchen with her hair down and sprawling around her shoulders.
Everything inside the large room was perfectly colour-coded, except for the line of dust on top of the fridge. Even the mugs were arranged in order behind the glass doors that were smudged with fingerprints. He moved to the table, which was pushed off to the side of the room and piled with a stack of flyers that looked to be a few weeks old. He took a seat on a hard, wooden chair after swiping a bit of what looked like egg off the seat.
“Well, I had a plan if Ian got in contact with you, but I put it on hold, because he’s a dick.” She paused, waiting for some sort of response from Trent. “Your boyfriend is playing in Toronto tomorrow night.”
Candace brought him a mug that was filled to the brim with something dark. He took a sip, suppressing the shudder from the pure taste of whisky as it washed over his tongue.
“And I happen to know somebody who knows somebody.” She trailed off and waggled her eyebrows.
“Meaning you had a threesome with somebody just so you could fuck their girlfriend,” he said, taking another sip.