The Drumbeat of His Heart

by M. C. Roth

  “You naked?” He heard Candace call from the front room. There were two thumps as she removed her shoes and tossed them in the vicinity of the shoe mat. He knew he’d be finding bits of gravel all over his wall later.

  “I love cooking in the nude,” Trent answered just as the butter in the pan snapped and splashed on his arm. He hissed as the grease shot a split second of burning pain down his arm before it faded.

  She popped around the corner in a whirlwind of colour and Trent squinted at the sheer depth of the tacky atrocity that assaulted his eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a loose, sloppy bun, where more hair had escaped than was actually held back by the thin black elastic band. She had on a bright pink pyjama T-shirt with the picture of a half-eaten gingerbread man. That gave way to plain red shorts that showed too much leg for the cold weather. Her ankles were warm, though, covered in purple leg warmers that stretched from ankle to calf.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Trent glanced up and down as he looked for some clue to her disastrous outfit. She always took pride in her appearance, and he’d never seen her outside her bedroom with something that made his eyes burn so badly. Then he saw her face.

  Bits of mascara were stuck to each side of her nose, as if she had been crying and desperately trying to wipe away the evidence. Her nose itself was red and swollen and her eyes were bloodshot and moist. She looked worse than he felt.

  He didn’t ask if she was okay when she very obviously wasn’t. Instead, he slid the eggs over his toast before he popped another egg into the pan. He dropped another piece of bread into the toaster and cranked the settings down, just the way she liked it. Her toast was nothing more than slightly warmed bread, completely dry, and with an egg on the side.

  When they were done, he slid the plate in front of her and sat down across the table, digging into his own meal. He was ravenous after sticking to small meals the previous day for fear they might come back up.

  She stared at the egg as if it were a disgusting ball of slime before she picked up the warmed bread and started nibbling on the corner.

  “OJ or coffee?” Trent asked as he took a breath from eating.

  She shook her head and set her bread back down on the plate. The butter on the egg had started to congeal into a greasy mess. Trent couldn’t help but frown at the wasted food, but at least it didn’t cost him much. Keeping chickens was cheap, and he made his own bread.

  “You want me to knife the bitch?” Trent asked. “We made a pact, and I’m not backing out.” He swallowed the last bit of toast and wiped his hands on a napkin.

  “No.” She shook her head again as her eyes started to glisten. “She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault.” Her features crumpled and her shoulders sagged even farther. The bright clothing looked as out of place as a red car in a thunderstorm.

  “It can’t be that bad, Candace. You drive me crazy, but deep down I know you’re a sweetheart. I’d even ask you out if I wasn’t so fascinatingly grossed out by your boobs.” He tried for a joke, but her lips stayed turned down.

  “It’s bad, Trent.” She didn’t even look up at him as she spoke. “I fucked up huge.”

  “I didn’t think you guys were that serious,” said Trent as he grabbed her plate. He tilted her uneaten bits into a bin to go out into the compost later, before sliding both plates into the dishwasher.

  “Remember what you said to me when I was home visiting from my first year of college on the August long weekend?” she asked. She gripped the placemat and twisted the fabric out of shape.

  He shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about. That was years ago, and long enough that he scarcely even remembered those days at all.

  “You told me that you didn’t see any point in having a relationship if you were just going to cheat.” She met his eyes and a stray tear rolled over her cheek.

  Trent didn’t remember saying that, but he could sympathize with the words. He’d never been one to settle down with someone. His biggest reason at the time was that he was horny as fuck and couldn’t see himself staying with just one guy. He wanted something different every time he went to a bar. He always made sure that his partner understood that they were nothing more than a one-night stand.

  “I was dating a chick named Sara when you told me that,” Candace continued, “and I never imagined cheating on her. I didn’t even love her, but it never even crossed my mind. But now, when I’m finally getting serious with someone and we’re thinking about taking it to the next step, all I can think about is other women.”

  “Oh no, Candace, you didn’t actually…” Trent trailed off.

  “Yep. Twice.” Candace shuddered and her head drooped even lower as she held up two fingers. “I guess once wasn’t enough, so I had to try again. It wasn’t even that great either. But I want to do it again. I want to go to a bar and finger fuck the first hot chick I see, just because I fucking can.”

  “Okay.” Trent took a deep breath and forced his thoughts away. He knew how it felt to be on the other side of that fence, but that didn’t matter right now.

  She looked up, drawing her eyebrows together and turning her lips down into a deep frown. “What do you mean ‘okay’? It’s not okay, Trent. I’m a monster.” She let out a long sob and curled even farther down into the chair.

  “Monster is too harsh a word. I’d settle on bitch.” He let out a tiny smile as she laughed softly at the joke. A flash of utter relief passed over her face before it disappeared again.

  “You aren’t helping. You’re supposed to yell at me.” She sniffed and wiped her nose delicately on a napkin before she folded it and set it to the side. Trent knew he would be picking the tissue up later.

  “I’m your friend, Candace, and I’m always here for you, no matter what.” He reached across the table and took her hand. She was cold and clammy under his palm, despite the layers of clothing.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Trent. Ian didn’t even cheat on you, but you still have him eating out of your palm.” She shook her head again and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair.

  Trent pushed down the confusion and the ache from Ian’s name. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was already moving on.

  “I don’t get it. I mean she’s cute, she’s nice and has the sexiest little face when she comes. Who wouldn’t want her?” She glared at him through the tears, biting her lip in frustration. Trent had never seen her looking so small and powerless. She was always the terrorizing blonde who would be ready to take on the world for him. She’d never been so vulnerable.

  “You know that guy in our TV show?” It was the one they binge-watched and stayed up way too late on weekdays to see. They would call each other the next day at work, just to talk about it. “The main character, Steve… I find him completely unattractive.”

  “But he’s gorgeous,” she said, pulling back from him with her mouth wide. “Perfect height for kissing and hair you just want to put your hands in. I could get lost in those brown eyes for days. I mean, if I were straight, he could have me any which way.”

  “Not me,” said Trent as he shook his head. “I’d sooner fuck a dirty sock.” He shrugged one shoulder self-consciously. “Sure, he’s cute, but one hundred percent not my type. I’d rather grind navel lint.” He waved away her spluttered exclamation. “My point is, maybe she’s just not your type.”

  “I like chicks. That’s my type,” she deadpanned, her eyebrows creeping up into her hairline.

  “Okay, but what if she was seven hundred pounds and had thirteen clit piercings?” asked Trent. That brought an image that made him shudder.

  “Ew, no.”

  “Okay,” Trent continued, “then what if she chewed gum every waking moment and wore a cowboy hat and boots, even though she’d never ridden a horse?” Now that was something that he could remember from his college days.

  “I’d think she was strange. I don’t know where you are going with this.” She crossed her arms. “Just because I have standards, do
esn’t mean I have to have a certain type.”

  “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you,” said Trent, finally starting to lose his patience. “She’s a fucking brunette. You hate brunettes. They make you feel inferior because you worry that they’ll think you’re that stereotypical blonde. You rile them up to try to prove a point and it always comes crashing down. The only person you’ve stayed with longer than a month was a redhead. In particular a tall, huge redhead that could probably beat the shit out of me. You like them hard, butch and the shyer the better.”

  “Shit,” her face fell and a fresh wave of tears spurted from her eyes as the realization finally dawned on her. “I can’t stand her, Trent. She’s just trying to be nice, but every time she opens her mouth, I just want her to shut it. She’s so slutty and needy.” She looked up at him with hope in her eyes. “Can’t we just share Ian? I can be your hands-off side slut.”

  His face flushed before he could stop his mind wandering to their voyeuristic ménage. The thrill that it sent through him made his cock twitch, even with his friend sitting so close. He cut back a groan, and it came out a tiny squeak instead.

  “Fuck it,” she pushed her chair back and stood, marching towards the door. She looked back at him. “I’m gonna go break a heart, and you call Ian. This is totally on.” She laughed at the look on his face. The sound of it followed her out of the door until it was cut off by the slam of wood.

  Trent looked at the folded tissue still sitting on the table and shook his head. “There is no way I’m living with that bitch.” He laughed to himself, feeling better than he had in days. His friend was back to herself, but he only hoped that she was truly joking.

  His better mood finally gave him the courage to plug in his phone, which had gone dead the night before. He pushed the cord into the plug closest to the couch, which was just long enough that he could still see the screen if he held his arm to the left. A rush of notifications from various social media apps flooded the screen with pings and beeps. It was way more than he would usually get in such a short time, so he hit the clear-all button without looking at a single one.

  There was a single text message waiting for him. It was from Ian. He had honestly expected a virtual barrage of messages after he had so rudely left the other man hanging. One seemed almost anti-climactic. The message was short and consisted of only two words.

  You win.

  The two words only deepened his confusion. That, mixed with Candace’s mysterious declaration of her sudden love for Ian after being furious at him the night before, set him on edge. Yes, she’d left on good terms, but not that good—not enough for her to say that when she hadn’t even asked how their conversation had gone. There was something that he was missing. Something big.

  He scrolled back to his social media notifications but he’d already deleted them, and the entire stack had disappeared. He desperately pulled up the app, shaking as it loaded. He’d never been more infuriated by a slowly spinning circle, and he fixed computers for a living.

  As a devoted lover, he followed Ian on every platform that was available. It made conversations more interesting when he could ask how Florida was before Ian could tell him where he was. He could make comments on how hot Ian looked during a drum solo in Vegas when he saw a fan pic. And how cute the small kitten they’d found at a fast-food restaurant was. It was the most supportive thing he could do when he was so far away, and it helped him feel like he was closer to the man.

  When the application finally loaded, he saw the post that Ian had typed the night before. The time was two hours after Trent had left him alone in the bathroom, and only minutes after the text message had been sent to his dead phone.

  There was a video link—the same one that Trent had watched with Candace the night before. There was a picture too. A screen shot of the guy pushing the woman up against the side of the elevator. Her head was thrown back in the throes of artificial ecstasy as he rammed his below-average dick home with hurried strokes.

  Ian’s comment below made his mouth drop open. It started with a laughing emoji that rolled from side to side.

  Saw this video of this guy impersonating me. Lol, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t swing that way.

  Following the declaration, there were several hundred shares and nearing two thousand comments. Trent scrolled through them quickly, ignoring the single-word comments. There were only a few slurs and come-ons, and a couple preachy verses, but the comments were mostly positive. The ones that were poking fun were laughing at the guy in the video, not at Ian.

  Trent scrolled back to the text from Ian.

  You win.

  That was it. There were no missed calls or any other texts.

  Those two words had the opposite effect than Ian had probably intended. Trent knew that he should be overjoyed, or at least grateful that his lover had finally taken that step in front of the world. Instead, he felt like he’d been dragged across hot coals by a runaway mule. The idea that he had forced Ian into the decision, even if it was the right thing for their relationship, made him shudder.

  If someone had taken that choice away from him, he probably would’ve tried to crawl his way back into the closet. It was something that someone had to be ready for and something they needed support with. Trent realized that he had offered neither. He’d pushed Ian before he was ready and had acted like a whining bitch the entire time.

  He hesitated over the call button. He could imagine Ian sitting on that bus surrounded by his friends, who were now pelting him with questions. He could see Ian’s face go sour and his arms cross as he shut down to the people who thought they knew him. He was probably too worried to check his phone. He would be completely isolated. Would he want to hear from the man who had done that to him? And would he want to hear the apology that Trent longed to give him?

  His phone pinged with an incoming text before he could make up his mind. He scrambled to read it.

  You didn’t tell me you could sing.

  The text was from Ian. Attached below it was a video file of Candace and him sitting on the couch. He was belting out a song to the imaginary tune while Candace cried silently just out of view. His phone pinged again with another message from Ian.

  Mac said we should sign you. He’s been hoping to get a break anyway.

  Trent blinked twice before he typed back rapidly, not wanting to lose the positive wave.

  Haha, very funny. I can’t sing that well. I just remember lyrics. That’s all.

  His phone was ringing in his hand a moment later.

  “I’m sorry,” Trent said automatically into the phone. He clenched the placemat that was already askew from Candace’s fiddling.

  “What for?” Ian answered in his deep, rich voice that never failed to send a shiver down Trent’s spine. There was no trace of tears left in the tone, and he sounded good enough to eat.

  “For being an immature brat,” said Trent. “And for not giving you an out. I never should’ve forced you to come out like that.” He glared up into the flickering light on the ceiling of his kitchen, wishing he could kick himself as punishment for his wrongdoings.

  “You shouldn’t have, no, but I’m glad you did.” Ian laughed softly.

  “Really?” Trent smiled, and every bit of doubt was swept away. He heard the warmth in Ian’s voice, and it was positively infectious. “So, are you on cloud nine right now?” He could remember the body-sweeping chill that soon melted into an exhilaration like he’d never experienced when he’d first come out.

  “Something like that,” Ian replied. “But anyway, I was being serious. Mac wants to meet up and talk to you about singing in the band. I mean, you’re already family anyway, right? Then we would get to see each other.”

  Trent sucked in a huge mouthful of air, choking as it stuck in his throat. “Are you fucking with me?” He pinched the thin layer of fat along his belly, just to make sure that he was, in fact, awake.

  “Yep. I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I mean, he’d have to hear m
ore and see what your range is like, but he thinks you’d be great for lead or at least second.”

  It was something that every kid dreamed about as they’d studied their way through high school then college or university. Being a rock star was the pinnacle of the kind of dreams that made someone wake up hard—the energy of the crowd, the music and the way each sound was heard by so many others.

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass,” said Trent. “I have a job, Ian—a great job that I love. I would love to see you more, but if we worked together, I think it might get old fast. I have some vacation time saved up, though, and I could bus it down to you over the holidays. I’ll get Candace to watch the ladies.” The flashing lights of grandeur dimmed away to an old flickering light on his kitchen ceiling.

  “Just take a plane, then you could be here tonight.” Ian’s voice ramped up with sudden excitement, instantly forgetting about the job offer. “I get home later today, and we’ll be taking a break over Christmas.”

  The difference between them felt suddenly stark and unreachable. “I can’t afford a plane ticket, but I can ride the bus for a quarter of the price. I’ve already looked up the cost of the tickets.” Trent shifted in his chair and the wood creaked. He’d picked the chairs up in a garage sale a few years before, and not a single one of them matched.

  “But it would take three days for you to get here.” Ian pouted on the other side of the line.

  “Four, actually, but I could be there for Christmas and we could spend it together.” Trent could picture them sitting by the Christmas tree with the scent of pine filling his lungs. The little Christmas lights would glow against the stockings pinned over the entertainment unit. “Do you have a fireplace?” he asked, ready to edit the forming picture in his mind. They could watch the flames together, curled up on the carpet, slowly making love over and over.