by Anyta Sunday
“Do you know why she’s crying?” I ask.
Annie shakes her head. “Dad was comforting her. He looked upset too. I came right up here.”
I bite my lip. Has Dad told her about me and she’s crying for my soul? Will Dad change his mind about being okay with me?
Calm down. Lila has never been narrow-minded. This has nothing to do with you.
But what if it does?
We wait for Jace a while and slither off to our rooms when he doesn’t return.
I place today’s stone in a shelf above my dresser. I stare at it for a few minutes until I hear Jace behind me. He slumps through the open door and sits on my bed. I turn, lean against the dresser, and watch him. He’s frowning and staring into the space between us.
“What’s the matter with your mum?” I ask carefully.
He glances at me. “She won’t tell me but something’s up.”
“I’m sorry.”
He draws with his foot against the carpet. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” I say, hoping to console him. “It’ll be fine.”
Nodding, he draws in a breath. He speaks but he’s not really paying attention. “So what were you about to tell me?”
I shake my head. I can’t tell him now, and I don’t know that I would have before either. Coming out to him is not the same as it was the others. With Jace, it feels like I have more at stake—more between us that can break—and I’m not ready to deal with those consequences.
I know I have to do it eventually but . . . not yet.
flint
Over the weekend, Jace buys a used car, a small faded-teal hatchback that reminds me of mottled flint. But it works and it’s rust-free. He takes me for a drive around the block, though technically this is illegal on a restricted license.
We stop at the beach, where I run in to the local dairy to buy us ice cream. We lick our ice creams while we stare at wisps of sand whipping across the beach. The choppy water is enjoyed only by a couple of surfers.
The sweet vanilla ice cream tastes good, but the silence between Jace and me feels bad. Since he found his mum crying, his mind has been elsewhere.
Jace slumps into the front seat and rests against the headrest, ice cream melting down his fingers.
“Nice buy,” I say, patting the dashboard. “Think of the freedom you’ll have now. No more buses.”
He grunts.
Why’d you invite me to come along for the ride if you’re not going to speak?
After we finish our ice creams, he gestures for my rubbish and disposes of it in the bin outside. He wipes his sticky hands on his jeans on his way back to the car, then stops. He bends down and picks something up. His back is mostly to me when he stands so I can’t see what’s in his hand. For a fraction of a second he looks at me, then he slips his find into his pocket and hops back in the car.
His pocket bulges a bit and I recognize the shape. A smile stretches my lips and it won’t go away. I stare out the passenger window so Jace doesn’t wonder why I’m grinning like a madman. When I regain my cool, I ask him what we’re doing next since we have the whole day to kill.
He looks at me for a long time without speaking. I lean over and pinch him.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You’ve been lost in your head for days. It’s time to snap out of it.”
He opens his mouth to protest but slams it shut again. He starts the car, throws an arm around the back of my seat, and backs out of the park. The heat of his arm at my neck makes me shiver, as does the confidence with which Jace drives. He likes it and he’s good at it.
“You don’t understand,” he says around the corner from home.
“Then make me understand, or do something about it so you can get back to the real you.”
Jace slaps a hand on my thigh and then pinches me back. “Stings, doesn’t it?”
My mouth is dry. All I can do is nod because I still feel the weight and warmth of his hand clasping my thigh the moment before he pinched it. The shocks are still shooting to my groin and making me hard.
I shift, hoping my hardness isn’t noticeable. Thank the stars he’s concentrating on driving.
At home, Jace races up to his room and I wander about the house aimlessly like I’m living in the clouds. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel tingly and happy, like no one could piss me off even if they tried.
“Good, you’re home,” Dad says in the dining room. “I have a chore for you.”
“What’s that?”
Dad raises a brow and a chipper attitude. “The two upstairs bathrooms need cleaning.”
“Fun,” I say, rolling my eyes but following it up with a grin.
He observes Lila preparing lunch. “Where’s Jace?” he asks. “I have an extra fun chore for him.”
“Better than scrubbing toilets?”
Dad jingles his car keys. “Since he has his own car, I figure he’ll want to keep it clean. He’s going to wash mine while he’s at it.”
“He’s in his room.”
“Tell him to come down.”
I comply. Jace is on his laptop when I push his ajar door, and he hurriedly shuts it when I call his name.
His face contorts when I relay the menial task Dad gave him, but he gets up.
I start cleaning Lila and Dad’s bathroom. They have their own sinks, which is a real pain in the ass since I have to clean both.
Jace strolls in the moment I finish vacuuming. He’s wearing a raggedy T-shirt with a hole near the hem and a pair of soccer shorts. He moves over to Dad’s sink and plucks his toothbrush from the holder.
I unplug the vacuum cleaner. “What are you doing?”
He holds the toothbrush up. “Time he replaces it anyway, don’t you think?” He edges to the door where I’m standing. “This’ll make our tire rims shine.”
He jumps past me and strides down the hall, but he stops suddenly. “I almost forgot,” he says, coming back to me and digging his free hand into his pocket. “This is for you.”
He throws it to me. It’s a quartz pebble, peach with a vein of white running through the middle in the shape of a wave, and it’s still warm from Jace’s pocket.
I look up to thank him, to tell him it’s amazing.
But he’s gone.
rock salt
The night before Jace’s seventeenth, he leaves to party at Darren’s house. I’m not invited but I have an essay to finish anyway. Jace’s birthday is tomorrow, and I don’t want this stupid assignment hanging over me.
I sit at my desk to finish my essay. When the clock hands indicate twelve o’clock, I smile and text Jace happy birthday. Ten minutes later, I jump into the shower, jerk off, and ready myself for bed.
I’m climbing into fresh sheets when my phone rings. I fall out of the bed and knock my head against the carpet.
I rub my head and find the damn phone. Jace. But I knew it was him the moment the phone rang.
“Happy Birthday!”
He groans. “Happy? I don’t know. What is happy, anyway?”
“Are you drunk, Jace?”
He burps and that says it all.
“Can you pick me up, Coop? I left my wallet at home and I’m too drunk to walk home.”
Shit. “I only have my learner’s permit.” And no car—
Annie’s car. She got picked up by a friend earlier so her car’s available.
“Please? I don’t want Mum or Dad to see me like this.”
“I’m on my way.”
I pull on a pair of jeans over my boxers but I leave my nightshirt on. I don’t plan on socializing. After shoving on some shoes, I snatch Annie’s car keys. Jace has taught me all the tricks to sneaking out without getting caught—I make sure to switch off the sensor light before leaving.
I climb into Annie’s run-down Honda parked halfway down the street. I start the car and pray I don’t get pulled over.
I’m in luck, and after a quick stop, I arrive at Darren’s fifteen minutes later
. The house is swarming with teenagers in various stages of sobriety and undress. I weave around giggling girls and couples making out, and follow the pounding beat of the music to the heart of the party—the drinking games.
And Jace.
A guy pushes past me, slopping beer out of his paper cup. I jump back so it doesn’t hit me. Close.
Jace is sprawled face down on the couch, one arm touching the floor, his feet sticking over the end of the couch, and a pink streamer hanging over his calf. His T-shirt has risen up, and the hard plains of his back and the curve of his hip are on full display. He seems to be searching the crowd.
When he spots me, he transforms. His body sparks with life and he pulls himself off the couch. “Cooper,” he mouths as he crashes toward me.
“Brother’s here to pick you up, eh?” Darren says as he throws an arm around Jace’s shoulder and walks the rest of the way with him.
“We’re not even stepbrothers,” I mutter, but this is mostly to myself—and the punk guy at the booze table next to me.
“I told him not to drink so fast,” Darren says when they catch up to me. “But he was nervous.” His thumb jerks to a bunch of girls in the corner of the room.
I immediately recognize the blonde, who has just slopped red wine down her front and is laughing about needing salt. Someone tells her to head for the boys drinking tequila.
I know she’ll have to pass us to get to those boys. “Right,” I say. “I’d better get him home.”
Jace mumbles something but the slurring music pounding in my ears deafens me. I say good-bye to Darren and take his place, slipping an arm around Jace and steering him out of the party.
He’s not so drunk that he can’t fold himself into the car, thank God. But he jerks the seatbelt and it doesn’t extend. I know it’s a fiddly fucker to deal with when sober so I lean over and draw it out for him.
Jace’s glazed eyes match his amused smile. “What?” I ask as I click him in.
He shrugs and rubs his temples. “I need some water.”
“Glove compartment.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
He drinks while I drive us home.
When he stumbles out of the car, I notice his wallet bulging in his pocket. I shrug it off. He was probably too drunk to realize he had it all along.
I lock up the car and sneak us back into the house.
Upstairs, he goes to the bathroom. I figure he’s good and climb back into bed. Two minutes later, my door opens and Jace flops onto the bed next to me.
I roll over to turn on the bedside lamp.
“Wrong room, Jace.”
“Nope,” he says, sounding a little less slurred now. “The right one.” He’s stripped down to his Angry Bird boxers and is lying on his belly, arms under his head, looking at me. “It’s my birthday, and I want to chat.”
I shuffle back against the headboard. “How was the party?”
“Okay, I guess. Not great.”
“What did you do all evening?”
“Talked about bullshit. Drank. Started some games.”
“Games?” I know what games he’s talking about, so now my belly is lurching.
“Childish. They thought they were being so funny. Got put in the closet with Susan and I nearly puked all over her.”
I’m relieved. “Suave.”
“I didn’t want to play anyway.”
Ernie and Bert are always trying to get such a chance. “Why not? Thought you liked her?”
“I do but that’s not the way to start a relationship. I want to take her on a few dates first. Flatter her. Spoil her. Let it progress from there.”
I loathe every word. “She must be special then.”
“I hope so.” Jace shifts his attention to the shelves behind me. “The stones above your bed. Those are your favorites, aren’t they?”
I glare at them and shrug. I want to kick him out of my bed. I want to slam the door and be alone. I want him to stay right where he is until he opens his damn eyes to what’s in front of him. “My favorites from the weeks I’m here.”
Jace pulls one out, the amethyst he denied giving me. “What’s this one remind you of?”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s my birthstone,” he says. “I kind of have to like it.”
Just as I thought. The stones he’d given me back then meant something.
“So what does it mean?” he asks. “What do you think about when you look at this one?”
“I think about you, actually,” I say while refusing to look at him. “You probably don’t remember but it happened last year. We were watching classics with Annie. When she went to bed, we stayed up and watched Silence of the Lambs, and it freaked the shit out of me.”
“I remember,” Jace says, and his voice tickles the hairs on my arms and makes my neck prickle. “You were trying to be all tough like you could handle it but your shudders were vibrating the couch.”
“Hardly.”
“Coop, I was about to turn it off and send you to bed.”
This I didn’t know. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because you kept saying these stupid jokes,” his voice changes pitch. If he’s mimicking me, he’s doing a poor job of it. “When does a cannibal leave the table? When everyone’s eaten!” Jace chuckles. “You kept asking if I could handle it. I knew you were determined to get through it. We each need to have a movie that freaks us the fuck out so we can laugh at ourselves later.”
I growl at him and swat the back of his head.
“That’s what the amethyst reminds me of,” I say, though that’s not all of it. I also remember when Jace grabbed a blanket and stopped himself from tossing it to me to lay it over both of us. We were sitting with our feet curled to the middle of the couch, the rest of our bodies as far from touching as possible.
Then I got a fright and my foot slipped against his. I waited for him to jerk away from me and rearrange himself, but he didn’t, and for the rest of the movie our feet were touching.
Suddenly Jace clears his throat, puts the stone away and pulls down the white Cheshire stone, the most recently added favorite. “And what about this one?”
“That one’s kind of personal.”
Jace smirks. “Remind you of your first proper wank? Your first French kiss?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yeah. But that gives me courage.”
“Courage to do what?”
“To ask you.”
“Ask me what?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Is this a trick question? Sounds pointless.”
“You don’t get it.” He sighs and picks up another stone. “What about this?”
That one I can tell him.
After I finish the story, he smiles and yawns. “I want to see one more.”
“What’s that?”
He holds out a hand and rubs his fingers. “Today’s stone.”
“Today’s?”
“That’s what I said.”
I slink out of bed and retrieve it from a cubbyhole above my desk. The stone is a layered slice of sediment I found at the local park down the road when I rehearsed my speech for Jace’s birthday. I couldn’t think of the right words so I picked up the stone in frustration.
I pass it to him and he eyes it carefully, as much as a drunk guy can. He sniffs it and touches it with the tip of his tongue.
It’s fast becoming one of my favorite pieces. He hands it back to me and I set it on the side table.
Jace yawns again. “Can I sleep here, Cooper?”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Warmer with you next to me. Be like camping again.”
I shiver. I want to beg him to sleep in his own bed, to dream of Susan there, but I’m too weak because I want him here, so I can pretend he’s mine.
“You can crash in here on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to get up early with me. I have something for you.”
&nbs
p; “How early are we talking?”
“Very. We need to head out while it’s still dark.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Good night, Cooper.”
“Night.”
His hand fishes for mine and when he finds it he draws lightly over the back. “You’re the best friend and brother I could ask for.”
Friend.
Brother.
I especially don’t like the second word. It’s trying to snuff out that little flame of hope in my belly, and I don’t want it to.
I switch off the lamp, drowning the room in shadows and secrets, and lie down.
Jace lulls me to sleep with his heavy breaths.
Sometime in the night, he cuddles under the blankets and drapes his arm around me. It’s warm and solid there. Different, but it’s a good different. I leave Jace right where he is and continue sleeping alongside him.
amethyst
He groans when I wake him, and he curses when I make him follow me to the cave. It’s later than I’d have liked. The sky is a milky grey but it’s still dark enough that the cave glows with clusters of green light.
We’re always quiet in here. It’s the perfect place to give him his gift.
We sit down in the cave, cross-legged and facing each other. The darkness and glow give us a greenish aura. Jace shifts and his knees bump against mine. He’s watching me, waiting for me to speak.
I breathe out and dig into my pocket for his gift, which is wrapped in a black velvet bag. I finger it through the soft bag, and its meaning weighs heavy in my hand. I’ve been looking forward to giving this to him for weeks but now my hands are clammy and my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I draw out the gift and, without speaking, lift his hand and press the gift into his warm palm. He stares at me, then stares at his hand. His Adam’s apple juts out with a swallow.
“Cooper—”
I lift a finger to my mouth and shake my head. I want him to like it, to accept it, not to speak.
He trembles as he opens the bag and draws out the greenstone fishhook. It’s simple and dark with flecks of lighter green. I hope when he looks at it he sees me looking back at him. I hope when he wears it, we—us and the times we’ve had together—will be in his thoughts.