Something Beautiful

by Jenna Jones

  It was late and he was already tired. But he had to see his sister.

  Chapter Eight

  It was still dark when Micah parked his car in front of a townhouse in Santa Cruz. The sky to the east was starting to turn pink, and the neighborhood was early-morning quiet; a few birds beginning to peep in the stillness, a few lawn sprinklers beginning to run.

  Micah sat for a few minutes, biting his thumbnail, and when he saw a light go on inside he got out of the car and walked up to the front door. A man jogging past slowed down, watching him. Micah smiled uncomfortably and raised a hand in greeting, hoping the man saw "Hi, I'm just an early visitor" and not "Hi, I'm scoping the place out and your house is next." The man waved back and continued jogging, and Micah turned back to the door just as it opened.

  The woman standing in the doorway wore a thick, blue bathrobe over white pajamas, her long, curly, brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked like she could be any young wife from any city -- but Rebecca's crooked smile, her hazel eyes, her freckles were the same as they had always been.

  Without saying a word Micah put his arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder. Rebecca stroked his hair and whispered, "It's okay, mini-bro. It's okay."

  She led him into the house, sat him down at the kitchen table, and held onto him until he calmed down. "This wasn't how I imagined our reunion," Micah said, wiping his face with his hands. "I thought maybe we'd meet up in a coffee shop somewhere and have awkward small talk for a while."

  "We could still have awkward small talk, if you really want," Rebecca said, smiling as she rubbed his shoulders.

  Micah laughed damply. "I think we're past that point now. I think we were past that point the moment you opened the door."

  She smiled at him and looked away when there was a quiet squawk from down the hall. "Is that the baby?" Micah said, and Rebecca nodded.

  "I'll be right back." She rose and left the kitchen, and came back a few minutes later with her round, pajama-clad baby in her arms. "Here. Hold your niece."

  "I'll break her," Micah said.

  "Don't be silly. Just crook your arms -- there you go," Rebecca said, and laid the baby in his arms. Micah looked down at her, and Kitty stared straight back and then batted her fists against his face. "See?" Rebecca said, pleased. "She likes you."

  "Cool," Micah murmured, and cautiously kissed Kitty's forehead. Her skin was smooth and soft and she smelled like baby powder and milk. Her fingers curled against his cheek. He was fascinated by her tiny hands and restless feet and hot round head -- he'd never had particularly gooey feelings toward babies, but as he watched her wriggle and coo he felt a tug in his blood toward her, such a strong feeling of family that his eyes stung.

  "Hi there, Kitten," he said to her softly. "I'm your uncle Micah." He said to Rebecca, "How old is she?"

  "Five months." Rebecca reached over to stroke Kitty's head. "At this point she knows smells and touch, but she hasn't learned to recognize faces yet, I don't think."

  "You're right about her having Mom's eyes." Big, blue and solemn: Old soul eyes, he thought, and then thought, You've been hanging around Ocean too much.

  "She looks a lot like Justin in the face, though. She has his mouth and his dimples, in particular." She reached over to stroke Micah's head the same way she'd been stroking Kitty's. "Justin should be up soon. We don't do much sleeping in around here anymore."

  "She wakes up early, huh?"

  "Like clockwork. I was giving her the six a.m. feeding when I read your email, in fact." She folded her hands together on the tabletop and looked at him seriously. "Tell me what happened."

  Now that he was here, Micah wasn't sure how to answer. There were so many things to cover -- seven years' worth of life to talk about. The last three years alone would fill a novel or two. "I had a fight with a friend."

  "And you've never fought with a friend before?" Rebecca said, amused.

  "Of course I have -- just not with this friend. We'd been talking earlier tonight about how we never fought. And then we did fight and now --" He sighed and closed his eyes as Kitty grabbed for his glasses. "And now I'm in Santa Cruz to bother my sister that I haven't seen for seven years."

  "You're not bothering me. What did you fight about?" she asked, but before he could answer her husband came into the kitchen. Rebecca grinned and stood to give Justin a quick kiss on the cheek, her arms around his neck. Kitty made a happy squeal. "Sweetheart, this is my brother, Micah."

  "Hi," Micah said, and Justin nodded and smiled back.

  "Hey there, Micah." Justin was a few inches taller than Rebecca, making him at least half a foot taller than Micah: broad-shouldered and strong, though not in a way that said it was all he thought about. He had chin-length dark blond hair and a faint drawl when he spoke. His arm rested comfortably around Rebecca's waist. "I thought I'd take Kitten and get us some coffee and muffins while you two caught up."

  "Thanks, sweetheart. Let's get Kitty ready for an outing with Daddy," Rebecca cooed, and took the baby from Micah's arms.

  "How do you take your coffee, Micah?"

  "With cream," Micah said, smiling as he watched them.

  "With cream," Justin said with a nod. He got out a stroller and a black diaper bag from the front closet. "And the usual for you, darlin'?"

  "Yes, please." She fit a knit cap onto Katherine's head and put the baby into the stroller, giving her daughter a few more kisses as she snapped the straps into place. "Do you want a bottle for her?"

  "We'll be back before she gets hungry again." Justin squeezed her hand, murmured, "Love ya," and then guided the stroller down the front steps. Rebecca closed the door and turned back to Micah, grinning.

  "What do you think? He's pretty great, isn't he?"

  "For a five-minute meeting, yeah," Micah said. "I'm impressed, and you like him, so what's wrong with him? Why didn't Aunt Olivia like him?"

  Rebecca snorted as she got a carafe of orange juice out of the fridge. "Aunt Olivia doesn't like anybody. She doesn't even like Uncle Andrew. Juice?"

  "Yes, please. He's kind of --" Gorgeous, Micah thought. His brother-in-law would be a hit with most of his friends. "I don't know. Charming?"

  Rebecca grinned as she poured them both glasses of juice. "He's from Texas. Southern boys know how to do charming."

  "How did you meet him?"

  She gave him a glass and sat down at the table. "He was a youth pastor at Aunt Olivia's church."

  "No way," Micah marveled.

  "Yes," Rebecca said, nodding. "He was getting his degree and helping out at the church on the side. We got thrown together a bit -- Aunt Olivia thought he'd be the one to save me." She shook her head. "At first I thought he was like everybody else, you know, judgmental; but then we started talking and hanging out a little after church, and then during the week after the youth meetings, and then he took me out to lunch a time or two during school, and -- well, things happened. Like they do." She sipped her juice. "Anyway, he was getting pretty unhappy with some of the directions the church was taking, and when he decided to leave I decided to go with him. And Aunt Olivia freaked out."

  "You should have heard her on the phone."

  "Oh, I got it live and up close. See, here's the thing that Justin showed me -- that people can be good, you know, people can be righteous, but that doesn't mean they have to be self-righteous. You know what I mean?"

  "Yeah. I think I do." That sounded like most of his friends: good, but not obvious about it.

  "When he asked me to marry him I thought, how could I not spend the rest of my life with you? You're the only person I understand." She took a slow breath and smiled at Micah again. "So here we are. Seven years later and still happy."

  "I'm so glad," Micah said. "I'm so glad. I was so afraid for you for the longest time."

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Hey," she said quietly, "I -- I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For all those times I was such a bitch to you. I know I was," sh
e added when he started to protest, "don't try to make me feel better by denying it. I was terrible to you."

  "Not all the time," Micah said. "And I know it wasn't the real you."

  Her eyes shimmered a moment and she hugged him tight. "God, I've missed you, mini-bro." She pulled back, her arm still across his shoulder. "So. You and this friend. Why did you fight?"

  Micah bit his lip. "I have to tell you something first. And it's not something that's easy for me to talk about."

  "Okay," Rebecca said. Micah drank a gulp of juice, not sure how to go on from there. After a moment, Rebecca said, "Do you remember that time we rented A River Runs Through It and you watched it over and over for days? And Dad thought you wanted to learn fly-fishing?"

  "I remember."

  "I figured out why you loved it." She drank her juice. "Brad Pitt's naked ass." Micah choked on his juice, and Rebecca gave him a paper napkin. "Sorry, honey, sorry, I didn't think --"

  "It's okay," Micah said and coughed, and wiped up the spilled juice from his hands and the table. "I'm okay. And you're right. You're right." He looked up at her, not sure what he'd find.

  She was smiling, though, and at his glance she laughed quietly and gave him another gentle squeeze. "It's okay, honey," she said, staying close until he met her eyes. "You know I love you no matter what."

  He kissed her cheek. "I love you, too, Becca. Thank you."

  "Of course, mini-bro. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

  "No," he said, and it all came pouring out: about Jamie, about Ryan, about Lucas, about the men he'd slept with in Europe and at school, about Stuart and Leo and Dune. Mostly about Dune -- he was aware of how often his sentences started with, "And then Dune --"

  "And then Dune said he didn't think we should live together and I should try to understand, and I said I didn't and I left and drove here." He drank a big gulp of his forgotten orange juice.

  Rebecca had listened without comment, her feet propped up on Micah's chair and her chin on her hand. When Micah stopped speaking she said, "Why is his name Dune?"

  "That's the most important thing you can think of?"

  "It's my first question. Why is his name Dune?"

  "Because his mother's partner's name is Ocean, so he's kind of named after her. And his middle name is for his dad's partner, Adam."

  "And?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "Don't leave me hanging. What's his middle name? Japeth? Cain? Nimrod?"

  "Jericho," Micah said, and Rebecca laughed, delighted.

  "Oh, oh. That's good. That's better than ours. He wins."

  "I think he went by DJ when he was little, but he's just Dune now." He leaned his head on his hand. "So? What do you think?"

  Rebecca pressed her lips together a moment, then said, "I think he's right."

  "Oh." Micah frowned at his juice glass.

  "Hey." She poked his leg with her bare foot. "Don't do that. You left Lucas because you weren't ready for the same level of commitment he wanted, right?"

  "Well. Yeah."

  "And if you've only ever lived with family or with roommates, you really should live by yourself for a while. Just for a year or two, and you can date Dune and still be independent."

  "What if Dune doesn't want to date me?"

  "Make him want to date you, then." She poked him again. "You really like him. I can tell."

  Micah shrugged, following the pattern on the juice glass with his thumb. He mumbled, "He's really beautiful."

  "Is that all?"

  He sighed. "He's my favorite person ever, and I hate the idea of never seeing him again -- but he doesn't want me."

  "Okay," Rebecca said. "Let me get this straight. He's your best friend. He helped you figure out the Jamie thing and the Ryan thing, and the only reason he didn't help you with the Lucas thing was because you were in Europe. You talk to him every day, you were planning to be roommates -- and now because you've had sex, you think he doesn't want you."

  "Well," Micah said. "See, here's the thing about Dune. For as long as I've known him, he's never had a boyfriend. He's never lived with anybody. There are guys he sleeps with -- and guys he sleeps with a lot -- but nobody's, you know, his."

  "So why did you sleep with him, if you knew that?"

  "I thought the same thing everybody else probably thinks: 'I'll be the one he keeps.'" He sighed, exasperated with himself. "They're always telling me I need to grow up. This is just proof, isn't it? I wanted the fairy tale and got the toad."

  Rebecca swirled her juice, thoughtful. "Who's always telling you this? Mom and Dad?"

  "No. My friends. I think Mom and Dad still wish I was fifteen and they could make all the decisions for me."

  "And they don't know you like guys, do they?"

  Micah snorted. "Are you kidding? They think I'm still a virgin. They fixed me up on a date last night. They want me to get married and start having kids. Can you see me with kids?"

  "You held Kitty like a pro. You're not entirely hopeless. But they're going to keep pressuring you until you cave or tell them the truth. You know that, right?"

  "Yeah, I know," he said, and laid down his head on his folded arms.

  "Poor mini-bro." She rubbed his shoulders. "Have you slept?"

  He shook his head. "I don't sleep much, anyway."

  "You still need to."

  "I know, but --" He yawned.

  "How about you lie down on the couch for a while, and I'll wake you when Justin gets back."

  "Okay," Micah said, and followed her to the tiny living room where they had two overstuffed couches in a homey shade of blue. He sat down on one and pulled off his shoes and jacket -- getting another snort of laughter from Rebecca at the sight of his mesh shirt -- and lay on the couch, under a soft boiled wool blanket.

  "There. Comfortable?" Rebecca said as she smoothed the blanket over him.

  "Yeah. Thanks. Becca?" he said as she started to move away. "Thanks for being so --" He wasn't sure what the word was that he wanted here. "Cool with everything."

  "Of course I am, mini-bro," she said gently. "I love you. Get some sleep."

  "Yeah," Micah said, and was out the moment he closed his eyes.

  ***

  Dune had fallen asleep on the couch and woke when the sunlight hit him in the face through the big industrial windows. He lay blinking in the sunlight for a while, remembering the events of the night before and frowning. He expected Micah to sulk and avoid him for a few days, and then eventually Micah would come back, apologetic and adorable. It's what he'd always done before.

  But this was different, wasn't it. It wasn't Micah going off in a snit over some perceived insult. They'd fought, really fought, and Micah was upset, and Dune still wasn't sure what he felt about the whole thing.

  Dune pushed himself to his feet, showered, made coffee and had breakfast. He made cookies to bring to movie night -- they wouldn't be as professional as Ben's, but he still made pretty damn good cookies -- and once that was done he flopped on the sofa, opened a novel and tried to read. His mind drifted, though -- mostly toward Micah.

  Their friendship had always been an odd thing: Dune had appreciated Micah's beauty at first, and then his sweetness -- and even though at times he'd been terrible to Jamie, he could be unbelievably tender and loving -- and the more Dune got to know Micah the more he wanted to look after him, take care of him, help him find his place in the world. Jamie hadn't had the patience, Ryan hadn't had the knowledge; the other men Micah had dated, however briefly, hadn't been right for him. Dune knew he had been more of a mentor to Micah than a friend.

  But that had changed over the summer. Dune knew he was the only one to get postcards from Micah and he suspected he was the only one who had gotten regular emails from Micah, too. Micah's blog had kept most of his friends updated, but Dune knew what Micah had left out, because Micah trusted him. And he trusted Micah -- he'd admitted things to Micah that he'd never admitted to anyone, not even Leo. With Micah, he never had to be the strong one.

  And now thi
s. Micah's lithe body, his cherubic face, the taste of his skin under Dune's tongue...better than Dune had ever daydreamed. Sweeter, because it wasn't just a pretty boy in his arms -- it was his friend.

  He wanted, Dune realized as he held the novel open on his chest, more than Micah's body -- he wanted Micah’s company. The summer had been far too quiet and uninteresting with Micah gone. None of his other friends made everything so much fun -- even Jamie, who was the epitome of unselfconscious. Micah just made things...worthwhile.