Scars

by Avery Ford

  Caleb’s scars were burning this morning, the red-hot itch sparking and dancing across his skin at random. His brain felt too tight against his skull. Had the power gone out overnight and killed the heat? He was certain he’d set up automatic payments, so he didn’t think it had been cut. There had to be something else.

  When he tried to sit up only to see the room start spinning, he understood what was happening. He was sick. The scratching in his throat and his nasal congestion wasn’t from the accident, but from illness.

  Great.

  Caleb wondered if he’d woken up feverish and turned his own alarm off, then stripped his pressure shirt off. He couldn’t remember, and his head ached too much for him to think too much about it. All he knew was that his blankets were warm, and the rest of the room was freezing. It looked like he wouldn’t get to do the dishes he’d put off from last night.

  The door to Caleb’s room opened gently, and Caleb looked toward it to see Henry push his way through. He walked on his tiptoes, as though afraid to make too much noise. When Henry turned around to see Caleb, he jumped. There was a tray in his hands, and the objects on it rattled. Caleb saw a bowl, and he heard the clink of silverware.

  “Caleb!” Henry whispered. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d be awake. I’m so sorry I didn’t knock, but you were out cold the last few times I came in.”

  “It’s okay,” Caleb said. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. He drew the blankets closer to his body, very aware that he was topless and that Henry could get a glimpse of his scars if he wasn’t careful. “Why are you here?”

  “Well.” Henry made his way to the bed and cleared off some space on Caleb’s bedside table. He put the bowl down, and then set a spoon beside it. “I woke up this morning because your alarm was going off non-stop, and I waited for probably fifteen minutes for it to stop before I figured that you must have gone out and weren’t in the house to turn it off. I came in to do it for you and found you huddled beneath the blankets in a pile, and when I tried to wake you up to see if you were okay, you croaked at me that you felt terrible and that you needed to sleep.”

  Caleb blushed. Had he really done that? He couldn’t recall waking up at all. The only thing he remembered were fragmented pieces of fever dreams, nonsensical and irritating. Even those fragments were fading fast.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you apologizing for?” Henry asked with a gentle smile. He set the tray on the floor, then sat on the edge of the bed. Henry’s brown hair was still pushed up at all angles, like he’d just rolled out of bed. “You can’t help that you’re sick. It’s something everyone goes through.”

  “I should have woken up to turn off my alarm. You’re on the later shift today, right? There was no reason for you to get up early.” Speaking was difficult and taxed his brain. With a sigh, Caleb settled onto the bed and relaxed. He trusted Henry. If Henry had seen the rest of his scars and still come back, then it was likely he wasn’t ever going to back away.

  Henry shrugged casually. “I called off work today. I figured that you might need some help around the house if you were sick. I remember how awful it was not to have anyone to look after me when I wasn’t feeling well, and you seemed so out of it this morning that I couldn’t just leave you alone.”

  “What?” Caleb wasn’t sure he heard right. It sounded like Caleb spoke through a tunnel. “You took off work?”

  “Yeah.” Henry picked up the bowl from the table and extended it toward Caleb. “It’s no big deal. My boss, Norman, is a great guy. He understands. Sometimes, I think he only keeps me on because he’s sorry for my financial situation.” Henry laughed coarsely. “So don’t feel bad. If I needed to go in, I would have. I’m doing this because I can, and because I want to.”

  In the bowl was chicken noodle soup. Caleb looked up from the broth and at Henry, incredulous. “You made me soup?”

  “Yup. Always makes me feel better. And I’m going to make some chamomile tea with honey in it, for your throat. You sounded a little more grainy than usual when we were speaking this morning. The honey should help reverse some of that discomfort.”

  Caleb’s dizziness wouldn’t let up, and Caleb lifted his left hand to brace against his forehead. The room was spinning, and he felt like he might throw up. “I’m not sure that I can eat right now.”

  “You’ve got to try to eat something soon,” Henry said. “Once you get something in your stomach, you can take something to help you get back to sleep and feel better. I found some NyQuil in one of the cupboards downstairs. If you’re not feeling well, I really think you should take today to sleep it off.”

  Henry was being nice to him. Caleb still couldn’t wrap his head around it. They were largely strangers, but Henry didn’t hesitate to take care of him when he needed it. No one was that kind. But even if Henry was playing him, Caleb didn’t think he minded anymore. If it was a game designed to hurt him, he’d roll with the punches as they came. Right now, the care and affection he received was too good to close himself off from any longer.

  Caleb had never had another man care for him like Henry did. The hook-ups and temporary boyfriends of his past were always shallow, caring only for how good he could make them feel. Caleb had never known someone to return his affection, or act so selflessly.

  Henry had taken the day off work. Caleb couldn’t think of a single person in Johnson City who would have done the same for him.

  His heart melted, and even though his stomach roiled, he felt at ease. It didn’t matter how sick he felt, because he knew Henry would be there for him.

  “Okay.” Caleb allowed himself to lose control and listen. The bastion of strength he prided himself on being no longer mattered so much. It felt good to trust someone else. “I’ll try to eat, and then you can drug me.”

  Henry laughed. “That makes it sound so dramatic. I promise I won’t drug you on a regular basis.”

  “I know.” Caleb smiled. The rough skin along the right side of his face stretched and itched, but he couldn’t help himself. Hearing Henry laugh and seeing his face light up was worth the discomfort. “I was giving you a hard time.” Caleb slowly sat up and braced his back against the headboard. His head spun, and his stomach turned, but he managed to hold back his nausea. “Now let’s get some soup in me.”

  The blankets settled around his waist, leaving his chest exposed. The right side of his body was in poor shape. Following the accident, the surgeons had debrided the dead tissue they could safely remove and grafted skin from his thigh onto the areas they could. The skin grafts were mostly healed, but the worst of the damage — the areas that couldn’t be salvaged so easily — were going to be uneven and red forever.

  Caleb hated how he looked.

  Henry didn’t even bother to glance down. He gave the bowl of soup to Caleb and handed him the spoon. Caleb accepted both, heart warming.

  “Thank you,” Caleb murmured as he dipped the spoon into the broth. He meant it for more than just the soup. The fact that Henry wasn’t repulsed by his body meant more to Caleb than anything else. It made him feel human, like he wasn’t a living nightmare.

  “You’re welcome,” Henry replied softly. There was gravity in the response.

  Henry understood.

  Caleb’s heart fluttered, and he ducked his gaze and did his best to talk himself down from how good he felt.

  The night before had established that Henry didn’t want him, after all.

  Caleb had wanted to learn the truth, and now he had to respect it.

  Caleb

  In between the fever dreams, there were moments of fuzzy lucidity. Caleb remembered them only partially, like those moments were made of sand that slipped out of his cupped hands. Sometimes, he was trapped in the building all over again while an infant wailed just out of reach. Other times, he was waking up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented, only to find the hospital staff were people from Blue Mountain, leering at him. Caleb remembered reaching out to call Kota after one particularly tro
ublesome dream and talking to him in disjointed sentences about how he didn’t want their old high school math teacher to perform the surgery.

  None of it made sense, and all of it left him feeling like a prisoner of his own body. Caleb couldn’t even toss and turn, because turning too quickly onto his scars brought on waves of pain so great, he almost couldn’t tolerate them.

  When the doorbell rang and Caleb opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake.

  There was no way he could get up to answer the door, and he groaned and clutched at one of his pillows, planting it firmly over his head. Caleb figured that if it was real, the person outside the door would go away.

  The doorbell rang again. Then again. Caleb pushed the pillow away from his head and blinked to clear some of the blurriness from his eyes. Even lying down he was dizzy. Getting to the door wasn’t going to be easy.

  Caleb heard shuffling by the door, then the sound of the door opening. Henry must have gone to answer it. Good. Content that there wasn’t going to be any further disturbance, Caleb closed his eyes and did his best to get back to sleep. The NyQuil was taking its toll on him, and his drowsiness resurfaced and started to drag him back under.

  “Um, no, you can’t come in.” Henry’s voice pierced Caleb’s drowsiness, and he blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling. His room was close to the stairs, and it wasn’t hard to hear the conversation going on by the door, especially since Henry was speaking shriller than before. “This isn’t your house.”

  “I’ve slept in this house more nights than you have.” It was Kota. Caleb rolled over slowly, then eased himself into a seated position. The room spun, and he clutched the bed sheets tightly to try to anchor himself down. Kota sounded angry. “You’re going to let me into this house. I belong here more than you do.”

  “No!” Henry was resolute. “You need to back off. Caleb is sleeping, and he needs to be left alone so he can recover. If you want to go see him, you can come back when he’s awake and can invite you in himself.”

  “I’m Caleb’s best friend!” Kota argued. “I need to see him. If you weren’t here, you know that he’d let me in. Why are you keeping him from me? What are you doing to him?”

  “What are you even talking about?” Henry’s voice warbled with anger. “I’m not doing anything to him. All I’m doing is making sure he’s comfortable and hydrated. He’s been sleeping all morning!”

  “Then why did he call me in a panic, talking nonsense, mentioning you again and again?”

  Caleb lurched to his feet. The argument was growing heated, and despite his health, he stumbled to the door and grabbed a sweater as he went. Pulling it over his head, he made his way to the stairs and glanced down at the scene unfolding below. From his vantage point, he saw the top of Henry’s head and his back. He stood rigidly by the door, arm barring across the doorframe to keep Kota out.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Henry said heavily. Caleb took his first step downward, his head throbbing. Anger rose up inside of him. Who did Kota think he was to come to his house and talk to his Henry like that?

  “Something’s going on here,” Kota accused. “Ever since you came to my office the other day, I’ve felt like something was wrong. Hearing from Caleb only confirms it. I want to see him right now. You will let me in.”

  Caleb took another step forward, clutching at the banister as he went. Each step he took was uncertain, but Caleb took them anyway. The fight needed to end and Kota needed to back off. Henry wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  “Kota.” Caleb summoned as much presence as he could, letting it strengthen his voice. As an authority figure, he’d used the same tactics when dealing with victims of fires. “Leave Henry out of this.”

  Caleb reached a point on the staircase where he saw Kota standing on the stoop. He was in his police uniform. Had he come from work?

  “Caleb, what the hell is going on?” Kota demanded. Caleb cleared the rest of the stairs and put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. The gesture was subtle, but the message was clear — they stood united. Caleb wasn’t going to turn against Henry, just like Henry hadn’t turned against him. “You called me three times today so far, each time out of your mind. I couldn’t even understand half of the things you were saying.”

  Caleb pushed his lips together and tugged Henry a little closer. Three times? He barely remembered reaching for his phone to call Kota, and even then, he was almost certain it had been a dream.

  “He’s sick,” Henry said. “He’s got the flu or something. He’s probably a little feverish and loopy from the NyQuil.”

  “Then why was he talking about you every time he called?” Kota shot back.

  If their bickering wasn’t going to stop, Caleb would have to break it off. He stepped around Henry and stood between him and Kota, a human barrier. The cold air from beyond the door bit at his bare feet and chilled his exposed hands. Still, Caleb didn’t allow Kota to come in.

  “Kota,” Caleb said slowly, making sure Kota redirected his attention from Henry to Caleb. “I’m sorry that I bothered you, but you need to back off. Henry didn’t do anything to me. All he’s been doing is helping while I take it easy.”

  Kota glanced at Caleb, then looked over his shoulder at Henry. Caleb stepped into place to keep Henry out of sight, challenging Kota silently. They were best friends, but that didn’t mean they never fought. Caleb didn’t have the resources to explain why he would have brought up Henry so often in his semi-conscious phone calls, especially not with Henry standing there with him.

  Explaining to Kota that he had feelings for Henry wasn’t something he wanted to do while feverish.

  “We’ll talk later,” Caleb said. “I’ll give Henry my phone so I won’t call you again.” He paused, forced a grin. “Thank you for checking on me. You know I appreciate your caring, but everything’s fine. Henry has been nothing but kind, and you came in slinging accusations. I never want to hear you accuse him of anything unjustly again.”

  Kota’s lower lip twitched, and Caleb could tell by the look in his eyes that he had something more to say. Instead, Kota gestured with his chin in Henry’s direction. “Just remember that I’m your best friend, and he’s your roommate.”

  “I know.” Caleb didn’t move. “I’ll talk to you later, Kota.”

  The conversation was over. Kota backed away from the door and turned. Caleb watched him walk down the driveway and get back into his car, standing there until he drove off. Then, Caleb backed away from the door and closed it firmly. He turned the lock, then sighed.

  “Caleb?” Henry asked timidly.

  “I’m okay,” Caleb said. His stomach turned, and he knew he was going to be sick. “Gonna puke.”

  Caleb had no sense of balance, but he took the stairs at a run and flung himself into the bathroom just in time to plant himself in front of the toilet. By the time he was done and washed up, he found a pair of slippers and a bottle of water waiting by the bathroom door. Henry had to have set them there.

  Caleb smiled, stepping into the slippers and taking the bottle of water back to bed with him. He didn’t regret the fight with Kota at all, no matter what Kota thought of him. In fact, Caleb hoped that he’d made a strong impression on Kota, one he wouldn’t forget.

  It wasn’t just the fever talking. No one would come to his house and badmouth the man who’d been nothing but kind to Caleb.

  No one was going to hurt his Henry.

  Henry

  Henry’s palms burned despite the protection of his gloves. The box of pizza he held was piping hot, and not even the cold winter temperatures helped. He was on his way back from Crossroads, one of Mrs. Turner’s pizzas in hand. Neither he nor Caleb had felt like cooking, and Mrs. Turner’s was a quick, cheap alternative. Henry had walked to the diner to pick up their order, and then made his way back home.

  Henry pulled open the door and stepped into the house. Caleb was in the living room, snuggled beneath the blankets on the couch. A week had passed
since Caleb had come down with his illness, and he was mostly recovered. The worst of it had ended after a twenty-four hour period, and since then, he’d been sniffling and grumpy, but otherwise normal.

  Henry was glad. Seeing Caleb sick made him feel something he’d never felt before — something creeping and fearful, like Caleb’s health was linked to his own. In a way, Henry supposed it was. Caleb was the one with the house, and without him, Henry wouldn’t have anywhere to go. He’d spent the week applying for jobs and working shifts at Rustic Treasures, but so far he hadn’t heard back from any of the nearby companies he’d applied to.

  None of the businesses he’d applied to were located in Blue Mountain.

  Henry did his best to push that thought aside. The idea of moving shouldn’t have caused him any distress, except it was starting to. What he shared with Caleb meant more to Henry than he initially realized, and that connection showed itself in full force when he considered leaving.

  Like a flower beneath the sun, Caleb was opening up to him. Henry felt like he was getting to know the real man Caleb tried so hard to hide, and he found that intimacy priceless.

  Henry walked into the living room and set the box of pizza on the coffee table. Caleb looked up at him from his nest of blankets, the hard lines of his face gorgeous, despite their scars. His rugged jawline and the angles of his cheeks always caught Henry’s eye. Now that Caleb was on his way to good health, his skin no longer looked sallow, either. Today, Henry noticed how good he looked more than ever.

  “Pizza,” Henry announced. “Mrs. Turner says hi, and that she’s expecting you to make your way to the diner tomorrow since I’m working through lunch. She says that she’s going to make her famous pulled pork just for you, and if you don’t show up, she’s going to send Kota after you.”

  Talking about Kota like nothing had happened was hard, but Henry did it with a smile on his face. Kota was his friend, too, after all. Whatever tension was between them would be resolved at some point. Henry didn’t think Kota could stay angry forever and besides, from their conversation before, Henry knew that Kota was just deeply worried about Caleb.