Taking a deep breath, Kevin shoved the apartment door all the way open and they went in again. He shut the door quietly, and on the sofa, Blake didn’t stir. He had begun to snore a little bit. Kevin inclined his head in the direction of the bedroom, so they went there, and Lia shut the door behind them.
Kevin sat on her bed and looked at her. He always seemed too big for this room but she liked having him in it.
She liked how, after he spent the night, her entire apartment smelled like him.
She liked that when he spent weeknights, the morning after he would rush around in her tiny space, complaining about not understanding what her called her “counterintuitive storage system,” which was his way of saying there was no order or reason to where she kept things.
She loved that to get ready on time—him for his high-falutin’ job managing the “family interests” in DC and hers at the gallery where Blake had gotten her a gig—they had to elbow each other for room at the tiny bathroom sink, and invariably wound up tussling, then tickling, then kissing.
She loved that all her greatest hopes for how they would be together had so far come true—that they were friends foremost, laughing and talking and being interested in pretty much the same things, with no disagreements that lasted longer than a few hours.
She loved that even with all her career aimlessness, he expressed the unwavering belief she would eventually find a place where she wanted to land, and stick. Even Stephanie, her oldest and dearest friend had yet to develop that faith.
And most of all, she loved that though he was by far the best lover she had ever had, he had become one of her best friends as well.
Now, he was sitting on her bed, palms resting on his thighs, and looking like he was in dire need of an explanation. Of all the things they had talked about in the several short weeks they had been together, Blake was rarely among them. It hadn’t felt like avoidance at the time, but looking at him now, Lia had to admit that it was.
“Well, you know he used to come here, before we … that right after Florida, he came over. And we got closer. And …”
Kevin held up a hand. “I know all that. But things are different now.”
“How are they different?” she asked.
She didn’t make a move to get closer, or to sit next to him and was still standing at the door to her bedroom, like a mother attentive to the possibility that a baby might begin crying, or a child may call to her from the next room. Lia knew how that must look to Kevin, how it must feel, but still she stood there.
“They’re different because now you’re with me, Lia. You’re with me and my brother is a co-dependent who is always going to be looking for someone to take care of him, some shoulder to lean on. And that person can’t be you. Because I’m not having that.”
He spoke so calmly that it frightened her. His cadence was that of a man delivering an ultimatum.
“But what if …?”
“What if what?” Kevin asked calmly. “The old man found out he’s gay and laid into him? Yelled and screamed and threatened to disown him? Actually did disown him? So what?”
“How can you say that?”
“I know you think that’s cold, but it’s not.” Kevin shook his head, still calm. “The point I’m making is that even if the worst has happened, it’s not your problem to solve. And it’s especially not your problem because you’re my woman and Blake is my brother. Some boundaries …” He paused to shrug. “Some boundaries he just shouldn’t cross, and you shouldn’t let him cross them.”
This time it was Lia shaking her head. “This isn’t about me, is it? This is about Christina all over again. D’you think there’s something …”
“Don’t even ask that,” Kevin said sharply. It was starting. He was just beginning to lose a little bit of his cool. “No, I don’t think something’s going on. This has nothing to do with that!”
“Then I don’t get why me being friends with him, and being with you are mutually exclusive. It’s childish, Kevin! You two need to get your shit straight and keep me out of the middle of it.”
“Then keep your ass out of the middle of it, Lia!”
There it was. Cool lost.
“I didn’t tell him to come here. He just did. And instead of blaming me for that, maybe you should ask yourself why. You and Nicki both should ask yourselves why. Your brother is in distress and he didn’t come to you. He didn’t come to Nicki. He came to me. Why is that, Kevin? Aren’t your two supposed to be his saviors? At least that’s how you’ve cast yourselves from the moment I met you. Like he’s hopelessly broken or something. And all this time, you both had your own shit to deal with … hell, you still do!”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Suddenly Nicki is blissful and in love with Gabe, and you … you’re all loved up with me, so no one has time for Broken Blake anymore. So as for as you’re both concerned, you’re all fixed, and suddenly he’s an inconvenience.”
Kevin stared at her, and his eyes were cold. “What shit do I have to deal with, Lia?”
“Well, for starters … do you even like what you do?”
“What’re you talking about?” But his eyes shifted a little.
“Your work, Kevin. Your job. Do you like it?”
He stood at that, and shook his head. “Y’know what? If you want to be his security blanket …”
“Don’t change the subject!” She didn’t mean to yell, but she had. And she was as startled by it as Kevin looked.
And then they were both startled when the bedroom door opened. Blake was standing there, with tired, red, and bleary eyes, disheveled hair, and a seriously rumpled shirt.
“Hey, man,” he said to Kevin. He showed no signs of having heard a word of the argument, though Lia knew he most likely had. “How ‘bout you and me take a ride?”
Lia looked from Kevin to Blake, watching the wordless communication between the brothers. Kevin considered the offer, Blake’s eyes implored, Kevin’s relented.
Nodding, he took a deep breath and looked at Lia.
“We’ll be back,” he said.
And then he followed Blake out of the room. Lia stood where she was until she heard her apartment door shut, signaling that they had gone.
~25~
Sitting next to Blake in the car, Kevin could smell him.
He smelled like several days’ worth of sweat, sleep, alcohol, with a healthy dollop of don’t-give-a-damn. And he looked just as bad. He’d looked bad enough just lying there on Lia’s couch, but once Kevin was looking at him up and ambulatory, he got the full effect of Blake’s deterioration. How long had it been since they’d last seen each other? Weeks? Yes, that was right. Since the day after Nicki’s party.
And they hadn’t spoken since then either. Probably by design on Kevin’s side. He tried to remember how many missed calls of Blake’s he had failed to return; how many voicemail messages he had ignored. A few, at least. He couldn’t even remember now whether he was angry at Blake for bringing up Christina at the party, or if he was angry before that because Blake had been chummy-ing it up with Lia after Florida. Maybe it was because he was just always on some level angry, or resentful of his older brother. Even when they were getting along, and Kevin was helping him manage his complicated life, he was always, just a hair’s breadth beneath the surface, enraged with Blake.
They were on their way to the Five Guys burger joint, because Blake said he was hungry and since it was open late, wanted to swing by for some of their Cajun fries and a cheeseburger. And Kevin agreed because sitting in the car, they could talk, but surrounded by darkness and not forced to look at each other.
Blake cleared his throat, and Kevin tensed, waiting for him to speak.
“How’s it going?” he asked. The throat-clearing didn’t seem to have worked, because his voice was still hoarse. “Y’know, with Lia?”
“Good,” Kevin responded. And then, he couldn’t help but ask, “she doesn’t talk to you about stuff like that?”
“Then what do you talk about?”
Blake gave a short bark of laughter. “I don’t know, man. Politics, art, The Walking Dead? What does anyone talk about with anyone?”
Kevin said nothing, and Blake must have sensed his dissatisfaction with that response, because he tried again.
“We talk about everything and nothing. But mostly, she just lets me be. I watch television, we eat takeout. We joke around about stupid shit. She asks for nothing, and is always trying to give me something. Even if it’s just her time.”
Squelching the jealousy … and the pride that Blake’s words made him feel, Kevin still didn’t speak.
“The point is,” Blake said, “that I know she’s yours. And …”
“So you have to let her be that, Blake!” Kevin said, surprising even himself. “At least until … Shit, man, I’m tryin’ to build something with this woman and here you come, crowdin’ me out. Again.”
For a long time, Blake didn’t reply, and the only sound was that of the traffic around them, muffled in the confines of the car, and the rhythm of the tires against the surface of the road.
“Want to know something tragic?” Blake said. “Lia is the first person in a long time, that made me feel like she wanted to be there for me. Ain’t that some shit? The paid companion. Felt like she wanted to be there more than my own brother and sister did.”
“Blake, that’s some bull-crap. Me and Nicki …”
“Look, I know you love me, man. I know. But sometimes I feel like I’m the job neither one of you wants. And with Lia … it just felt good … feels good, not to be that. For once.”
“I get it. But she can’t be that for you. Not anymore.”
“So, your girlfriend and I can’t be friends? Even though you know there’s no chance I’ma try to get some?” He was trying to make a joke out of it, but Kevin could feel that the answer really mattered.
“Oh, do we know that for real?” Kevin asked.
“I told you, man. With Christina …”
“You were saving me from myself. Yeah, so you said.”
“And it’s true. Whether you believe it or not. I’ll tell you I’m sorry as many times as you need to hear it. The way I went about it was messed-up, but I was never that attracted to her, never that attracted to women period, to blow up my relationship with you over a piece of tail.”
“Well it was enough to make it damn near impossible for me to completely trust you with Lia, I know that much.”
“So that’s where we’re at?”
“That’s where we’re at,” Kevin confirmed. “At least where Lia is concerned.”
“You don’t want me calling her, or …”
“Call her, text her, be friends with her … but don’t show up at her fucking house, Blake. Never again. Not unless it’s with me.”
“That’s a hard line you’re drawin’, huh?”
“Yeah. It is.” And at that, Kevin took his eyes off the road long enough to make sure he made eye-contact with his brother, and that he was understood.
Shortly after that, they were in front of the restaurant and Blake went in, while Kevin waited in the idling car. His phone buzzed and he reached for it. It was Lia, asking if everything was okay.
Fine, baby, he texted back. I’m handling it.
What does that mean? she responded.
Talk when I get back. Just know that it’s being handled.
Twice he saw the ellipsis that indicated she was typing a response. But none came. Kevin put the phone away, and turned on some music to wait for Blake’s return.
Blake came back bearing a brown paper bag that reeked of grease and onions, and Kevin didn’t complain when he opened it and began eating. He pulled away from the curb and waited for his brother to take a few bites of his burger before broaching the other big issue of the evening.
“Did you really tell the old man?”
“Yup.”
Kevin contained his surprise. “He didn’t call me or anything.”
“Why? You think he’d ask you to see about fixing me, finding someone who could take care of it, or something?” Blake asked sarcastically.
‘Fixing me’. The choice of words was identical to Lia’s. Was that how he had approached his relationship with Blake? Was that what it felt like to him?
“No, I just thought he would have said something.”
“You know what he did say?” Blake asked between bites.
“No. What?”
“He asked me whether I’d been acting up all these years because didn’t know how to tell him I was gay, or because I didn’t want to be gay.”
Kevin was stunned into silence.
“Who would have known that he could even think something so … nuanced. Or be that sensitive. About something like this.”
“What did you say?” Kevin asked quietly.
Blake gave a short laugh. “You don’t know the answer either do you?”
To his shame, Kevin realized that was true. He had no clue how Blake felt about being gay. He didn’t know because he had never asked. Never even truly considered it. All this time, he had viewed Blake being gay as something that required him to do what he had always done where Blake was concerned—damage control.
“That’s okay,” Blake said, sounding resigned. “Why would you know? It’s not like we ever talk.”
It was late when Kevin returned to Lia’s apartment. When he knocked, he wasn’t even sure she would answer, because maybe she had given up on him returning and had gone to sleep. But she did answer, and then exhaling a deep breath pulled him into her arms.
“You okay?” she breathed. “Everything okay?”
Kevin shrugged and held her tighter. “I’m okay, yeah.”
“And Blake? Where …?”
“I took him back to his place.”
“But …”
“He’s alright, Lia. I went in to make sure he was good, and got settled. And we talked for a while. A long while. About lots of things.”
She pulled back a little though still in his arms, looking up at him with her brows furrowed, and her large, expressive eyes full of worry.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, still holding her in the semi-dark room.
“Yeah. Anything.”
“Just from what you know … would you say Blake’s issue was that he didn’t know how to tell his father he’s gay, or that he didn’t want to be gay?”
“The former,” Lia said without hesitation. “I mean, Blake does a lot of pretending, but he knows who he is. I don’t think he has any shame about who he is. But your family … his father … all those expectations …”
Kevin nodded. So, Lia knew the answer. She, who had only just met Blake knew the answer, while he, his brother did not. Maybe Nicki didn’t know either. Was Blake right? That they had been too busy trying to handle him that they forgot to see him, to know him? And maybe Lia was right too, when she said that he and Nicki used Blake as an excuse not to expose and deal with their own problems. And when they felt their problems were solved, they simply abandoned him.
“Why?” she asked. “Did Blake say …?”
“Can we talk about it some other time?” Kevin said. “I just want to …”
“Of course,” Lia said, before he could even finish. She turned and tugged gently on his hand, leading him back into her bedroom.
The only light came from the street outside. Kevin undressed without speaking and then got into bed next to Lia who had been holding back the covers for him. She turned so he could hold her, spoon-fashion, and acquiesced when he slid his hands up, and under her lightweight t-shirt. Her nipples hardened under his touch, and she sighed, but didn’t speak. He closed his eyes and disappeared in her, thinking for a while only of how she felt, sounded, tasted. And when he turned her over onto her back, and she lifted her hips to receive him, he felt something like peace.
When, afterwards, she fell a
sleep, Kevin was still awake. He could barely see her in the dark, but he watched her nevertheless. He knew she had to have a dozen questions—Lia always had questions—but he loved that she withheld them, choosing instead to give him what he needed. Perhaps that was her special gift—knowing how to give people what they needed most. She had done as much for Nicki, and for Blake. But there was only so much of that, and of her that he was willing to share. Blake had problems, Nicki had problems … and hell, he had some problems. But she wasn’t going to be the solution. Not for any of them.
What Kevin had with Lia, this peace he was keeping separate, sacrosanct, and for him alone.
Lia was making their morning coffees when Kevin walked into the kitchen the next morning. Wearing a skirt that hugged her cute butt, and showed off her legs, with a silk blouse that had a huge floppy bow at the neck, she looked like Kevin’s fantasy of a sexy librarian. The gallery where Blake had gotten her a job was a little on the conservative side, she’d complained to Kevin once. Their version of risqué is Georgia O’Keeffe’s labia-like flowers, she said, rolling her eyes, and he’d laughed. But she loved being around art and artists every day, and always came home teeming with ideas and schemes for how she would get the gallery owners to push the envelope, eventually.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled when she heard him enter, and then did a double-take when she realized that he was still in his boxer-briefs.
“Hey. It’s almost seven-thirty, Kevin. Are you going to …?”
“You were right,” he said, walking up behind her and putting his arms around her waist.
“I know I was,” she said without missing a beat. And then, “but what was I right about in this particular instance?”
“I hate my work,” he said. “Hate it. I hate my job.”
Lia froze for a moment then slowly turned in his arms to face him. “Baby!” she said. “That’s amazing!”
Kevin laughed. “You think it’s amazing that I hate my job?”
She punched him lightly in the abdomen. “You know what I mean. I think it’s amazing that you’re …” She paused, apparently trying to think of a gentle way to say what she wanted to say.
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