by Anyta Sunday
I shut my door quietly behind me. I pull out the beach stone from Auckland. Just a regular stone. One of a million. I should never have gone into his room with just this. I should have had a piece of lapis lazuli—rich blue, the color of his eyes. A stone said to offer protection; a stone believed to foretell love that would be forever faithful.
With that in my pocket, I would have gone into Jace’s room and left satisfied.
I speed-dial Ernie.
“About that debauchery—I’ve changed my mind. I’m in.”
* * *
Bert and Ernie down a third shot of Tequila. I’m only on my second, but I’m halfway drunk already. The music rings obnoxiously in my ears and makes it impossible to think. I love it.
I don’t want to think. I want to—
I throw back my shot, hop off the barstool, and sink into the crowd. The sweaty air smells of beer and citrus, threatening the nice buzz I have. It’s the wrong kind of citrus. Too sour.
Dance!
The night becomes a blur of color, smiles, and whispers that coax me closer to some guy who is eye-fucking me from across the room. I saunter up and sway against him. His hands fumble under my shirt and over my back. He presses me against his stiff cock.
I shut my eyes against the image of Jace, head thrown back, moaning—
I slide my hand into my pocket and remove the stone. I drop it onto the dance floor and rub myself harder against my dance partner, who doesn’t smell or feel like Jace, which is what I need. Make me forget. “What’s your name?”
“Daniel.” Doesn’t sound like Jace, either. “Yours?”
I kick the stone as far away from us as possible. “Cooper.”
marble
I wake at midday to the distant sound of yelling and laughing. My head pounds and my mouth is dry, tongue glued to the roof. I throw on a T-shirt and shorts before I hunt in the kitchen for water and a magic cure for hangovers.
I drink three glasses of water and take a pain killer.
Why do people think alcohol is fun?
Never again.
I rub my tender temples, moaning under my breath. My head feels like I’ve been bashing it against the marble counter.
I’m not proud. No matter how much I wanted to cut through the fog, going back to Daniel’s place had been a mistake.
But at least I’m not a virgin anymore.
Flashes of my cock pushing into his ass while he moaned and begged make me blush again. I fling open the cupboard—any cupboard that will shield me from Lila.
Can’t shield you from what happened, though.
Dizziness and shame war for dominance. I pull out a fresh cup and turn to the sink. Movement flutters outside the windows. Over the tier curtains, I observe Dad, Jace, and Blond Mop kicking around a soccer ball.
Lila slithers up to my side with the water jug and fills my cup with water.
“Jace missed you last night.”
Somehow I doubt that.
“We came home with enough takeout to feed an army. Annie texted Dad and said you were on your way home and that she was going back to her flat. Said she’ll come by tonight.”
I finally draw away from the view of Dad juggling the ball and Jace copying him. “Bert and Ernie wanted us to hang.”
The tea kettle whistles. I grab Annie’s stash of green tea and force a spoonful into filter bags.
I feel justified and dirty at the same time.
Dirty.
I shiver. Despite showering for an hour, the bad memory from last night lingers.
Turn around. So I don’t have to see your face. So I can imagine you’re him.
I switch off the tea kettle and pour water over the tea leaves. We sit at the dining table, sipping.
It doesn’t cleanse me as I hoped it would.
The back door bursts open and Dad strolls into the kitchen. “Cooper!” he says. “Brilliant, you can even up the teams. Get your shoes on.”
“Nah, I don’t feel like playing.”
“Just half an hour. It’ll be fun. You and your dad against Jace and Samuel.”
Samuel.
I stare at a leaf floating in the last dregs of tea.
Dad will announce that I’m back home. I will have to face Jace and Samuel eventually—and rather than let Jace wonder why I refuse to come out now and say hello, I could have the upper hand. I could go out there and pretend like nothing matters. Like Jace and his friend are the last things on my mind.
All—thrust—I—thrust—Want—thrust—Is—thrust—You, Jace.
Jace? Who’s Jace?
Heat floods every pore and I drink the last of my tea, leaf and all. “Okay.” I pad toward the back door and slip on a pair of sneakers. They feel strange over bare feet but at this point, what doesn’t?
I push through the back door and brusquely walk to Jace, who is standing with his back to me. Samuel sees me first but before Jace can turn, I throw an arm around him and thump his chest, right where the hook is. “Hey stranger,” I say into his ear.
His body tenses for a moment, and his muscles shift as he twists around and grabs me into a bear hug. He holds me so tightly I can barely breathe, but my insides twist and tears prick at my eyes. True to form, he smells faintly like oranges.
“Cooper,” he says against my neck. His words ooze hurt and regret, surprise and joy. The way he clutches me says everything. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I just didn’t know how to tell you I met someone else. I didn’t know how to say I’ve moved on. But I’ve missed you, I have. You’re my friend. My brother.
I break away from the hug, struggling to hold myself together. I summon every ounce of willpower to extend a hand to Samuel.
He’s shorter than Jace and I, and I’m happy about this. “Samuel,” he says. “Jace’s . . . friend.” Samuel’s gaze flashes nervously to Jace’s, and I follow it.
Jace swallows. He knows I’m staring at him but he won’t look over.
Dad kicks the soccer ball into our midst and joins us. “Cooper and I against you Otago boys.”
We play, and despite the hangover, I kick and weave and score in earnest. No one can stop me because I can’t let them. Won’t let them.
After twenty minutes, Dad calls for a break. I juggle the ball in the corner of the field as I let them catch their breath. Jace moves close to Samuel and says something in his ear while rubbing his upper arm. He breaks away and jogs over to me.
I keep juggling. Three, four, five, six—header—seven, eight—
“I know what you’re thinking, but don’t do it, okay?” Jace whispers.
I catch the ball and hold it under my arm. “Don’t do what?” My glare drifts over to Samuel, who’s making my dad laugh.
Jace steps closer, chuckling and shaking his head. “I see it on your face. The way you look at him.” He pries the ball from me. “You want to kick this ball in his face just like you did to me.”
“I saw you two,” I say.
He stills and mutters, “The door. That was you then?”
“Do you love him?”
A sigh. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Told the folks you’re gay yet?”
“Bisexual, and yes, that kind of came up last night.”
I don’t bother to ask if they took it well. Of course they did.
Boyfriend.
“How long?”
“Since before winter but we were mates for a bit first.”
“How did you meet?”
He quiets, then says, “Kepler Track. A mate invited him along on our hike.”
I’m shaking as I recall his words: This stone made sleeping impossible. It kept digging into my back, so I snuck out of the tent in the middle of the night, lifted the pegs, and pulled it out. Still couldn’t sleep, though. After that, all I could think about was rocks.
Was it really the stone that interrupted his sleep?
“Kepler Track,” I repeat. I walk backward, blindly moving toward the house.
&nb
sp; “Just a second,” Jace calls out to Dad and Samuel as he chases after me.
I run up the stairs before he can stop me, but I’m not fast enough to slam the door in his face.
He pushes in and I ignore him, fishing for my damn phone.
I scroll through my contacts until I find last night’s mistake. On the third ring, “Daniel here.”
“Hey, Daniel, Cooper here. Wanted to see how you’re doing.”
He murmurs. “Good. Real good.”
“Last night was—good for me too. We should do it again some time.”
“Sounds goo—”
Jace smacks the phone out of my hand. It hits the floor so hard the screen cracks. Before I can chase after the call, Jace spins me around. His jaw is clenched and his gaze is livid.
“What are you doing?”
“Same thing you are.”
“Not the same thing. I know Samuel.”
Samuel, not Sam? “You’ve no idea how well I know Daniel—”
“You should’ve held out until you found someone you care about!”
“You care about Samuel?”
I realize I’ve been clinging to the hope that their relationship is only about sex. But he actually cares?
I turn so he doesn’t see the traitorous tear running down my cheek.
“Well, I mean, yeah, he’s a good guy.”
I nod and pick up my phone, which mirrors my cracked reflection. Fitting.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he continues as I slouch on the side of my bed. “But I had to make those feelings go away.” You want to have normal ones, not about your maybe brother.
“I don’t care,” I say.
Jace rocks on his heels. Hesitates. Whispers, “I do.”
moreaki boulders
I opt to stay in Wellington after all, accepting a position at Vic. Part of the way through the second year of my undergraduate studies, Jace performs as pianist in a ballet accompaniment. Dad and Lila fly to the opening show, and though I’m not invited, I take the hatchback over on the ferry and drive down to Dunedin.
I don’t announce my presence.
All the affordable tickets are sold out, so I fork out a chunk of my savings for a seat far too close to where Jace is playing.
I slip on sunglasses and sink into my seat until the lights dim and the ballet begins. I focus on the music and Jace with his back to me, his fingers dancing over the keys and mesmerizing me. Dressed in a suit with tails, he takes me back to Newtown High and the dance we shared. Only now Jace fills his suit better, and he’s grown into a man.
What wouldn’t I give to dance with this man?
First, though, we’d need to be on speaking terms. At least, more than the generic fluff. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Is Mum around? Tell Dad happy birthday. Happy New Year. Happy twentieth, Jace.
Happy nineteenth, Cooper.
No, there’ll be no dancing anytime soon.
Still, this is his biggest recital. I wouldn’t miss it for all the money in the world.
During intermission, his face splits into a grin when he spots his parents. Behind my shades, I follow his gaze. Lila, Dad, and a young woman in a sleek navy dress with raven hair to match. She smiles a seductive smile back at Jace, as though she’s promising to do secretive things to him when the curtain closes.
In my mind, I hear Jace over Skype telling Lila and Dad about her. Natalie’s a singer, her voice is . . . impossible. She’s beautiful, I hope for you to meet her.
She’s my opposite in every way: female, petite, dark features, and a talent for music I will never have.
My spirits sink, but I’m well-accustomed to being hurt by Jace’s boyfriends and girlfriends.
The lights dim and the ballet begins again. The music soothes the remnants of my old heartaches. The only thing I can do is smile and clap bloody hard for how beautifully Jace played.
I slink out of the audience before anyone spots me.
At the crack of dawn the next morning, I begin the drive back home, stopping at the Moeraki Boulders. The seaweed-tasting air has a cool bite as it whips sand against the beach’s boulders. A few tourists take pictures of the fifty-six-million-year-old rocks, but I head over to lean against a smaller boulder.
The cool rock hums over my skin like it’s sharing its memories.
I’ve borne witness to pain. I’ve seen canoes tip and people drown. I’ve collected the tears of a thousand men who have leaned against me and cried like you do. I’ve borne witness to joy—celebrations and laughter that echoed off me and settled onto my boulder brothers. Laughs that still vibrate under the surface.
I’ve existed since before myth and legend, long enough to become one. Did you know the Maori believed us to be remains of their eel baskets and sweet potatoes that washed ashore during the wreck of a large sailing canoe?
I’m a rock. The closest thing to eternal.
An anthology of stories that never end.
I smile and trace my name over its surface. Then his.
The tide sweeps in around us as if to soak up my story and run away. I envision it out there being tossed up onto the rocky surface.
Has our story ended? If so, will it sink to the bottom of the ocean, near the aquamarines that mermaids treasure? Or will heavy breezes whip it through the sky, carrying it over every surface because it’s not finished yet?
An eerie shiver follows me as I make my way back to the hatchback and continue my way to Wellington.
In a rural, coastal stretch between Christchurch and Picton, the hatchback splutters and dies. I view this annoying incident as my answer—confirmation my story has sunk.
I call roadside help, and they tow the dead car to Kaikoura, a small town.
Long story short, she’s not worth starting again.
I say my goodbyes and start trekking down the main road, thumb out, looking for a ride. Five cars pass before one slows down and flashes its lights at me. I jog over pebbles—pick a small one up—and slide into the silver car.
The driver is wearing board shorts and a Flight of the Conchords T-shirt. His crooked smile reveals a slight gap between his front teeth. Five or so years older than me, I’d guess.
His brown eyes are warm but slightly nervous.
I shake his hand. “Cooper. My car died, and I’d love to get up toward Picton.”
He grins. “Zach. And it just so happens I’m taking the ferry there to Wellington.”
emerald
Christmas, and Zach and I have been dating for months now. I want to surprise Annie with a beautiful kauri rocking chair I found at a warehouse out in Petone. It cost a fortune, but since Annie was moving into a single apartment and had just landed a job as a school counselor, I really wanted to get her something special.
Zach drives me and the chair, strapped into the trunk, to Annie’s new apartment on Christmas morning. He yawns and shakes his head. “Why so early?”
“Because she woke me at six on my birthday. It’s time for payback.”
Zach mumbles something about getting me back for getting him up so early, and I promise I’ll make it up to him later. He perks up and grins.
I laugh, leaning over to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Merry Christmas, Zach.”
As soon as we arrive at Annie’s, Zach parks the car, races around to my side and pulls me out. He nips my lips and kisses me against the car door. “You taste like peppermint,” he says as I pull a half-eaten candy cane out of my pocket.
He laughs and pilfers it. The beast.
We carry the chair up the steep incline to the small, one-bedroom house overlooking the bush and a wedge of ocean. I leave the chair at the front door with Zach and sneak off around the house to Annie’s bedroom.
Her window is partially open, and I’m about to cry out Merry Christmas and swing inside when I hear a guy laugh and say, “Here. This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
I freeze. I recognize his voice.
“You didn’t have to,” Annie says. A long beat, then—
“Do you like them?”
“I love them. I love you—”
We gasp at the same time. Footsteps stomp across the floorboards and the curtains are flung open. I am face to face with Ernie.
His face pales but he keeps his head high. Annie pushes open the window and glares at me. A long pair of emerald earrings glimmer in the morning light, making her eyes brighter.
“I came to surprise you,” I say slowly. “Turns out you beat me to it again, Annie. What’s going on?”
My attention narrows to Ernie and the thin pair of boxers he’s wearing.
“I’m in love with her. I’m in love with Annie.”
Annie blushes and smiles coyly at their feet before leaning over and kissing his cheek just the way I did with Zach.
Ernie brushes her hair over her shoulders. “Maybe it’s time to tell your brother?”
She laughs and gestures to me. “Come to the front, we’ll let you in.”
Ernie has changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top when he and Annie open the door and let me, Zach, and the chair inside the dining room.
Annie coos over the chair until I start tapping my foot. Zach comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and tells me to take a breath. Love is a wonderful feeling.
I relax against him, but I wonder if Zach is growing impatient with my excuses not to say I love you.
I block out the worry and concentrate instead on Ernie, who is nervously preparing some tea.
“How long?” I ask.
Annie answers, “A year.”
A whole year? My closest friend and my sister?
“Longer, Annie,” Ernie says. “And you know it.”
She rocks in her new chair. “It grew slowly, I don’t know how long it’s been going on but it’s a year since we—”
“I don’t need to know all the details.”
Ernie laughs. “Fine. I’ve been smitten with your sister from the first time I saw her.”
Smitten? The word sounds foreign coming from Ernie’s mouth. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Dude. She’s your sister. Be weird if I told you how much she turns me on and that every day I wank—”