The Bones of You

by Laura Stone

  “Okay.”

  Oliver couldn’t bring himself to turn and watch Seth walk out the door. He closed his eyes and focused on the lingering heat on his cheek from where Seth had touched him, telling himself that it wasn’t over, he was just making good on his promise.

  * * *

  Oliver ran his key-card to unlock his hotel room and was confronted with the room cleaned and tidied, the bed made with fresh sheets and the empty champagne glasses gone. He walked into the bathroom and saw that all of his toiletries had been lined up and the garbage emptied. It was as if last night hadn’t happened.

  He leaned against the doorway, eyes sweeping the room until the bright color by the small table and chair in the corner caught his eye. Seth’s flowers. He’d forgotten to take them. Oliver sat heavily in the chair and stared at them, touching one velvety petal with the tip of his finger. The card was back in its envelope, resting within the blossoms and the aubergine leaves of the filbert spray. He pulled it out of the envelope and read it again, remembering when Seth had pinned a similar boutonnière to his tux lapel on their hard-won prom night.

  Printed on the back of the envelope were the meanings of the flowers in the bouquet. Yellow roses were for loving friendship, he knew. Bluebells apparently not only meant gratitude, which was why he’d picked them, but also eternal love. And a filbert spray, Richard’s addition, meant reconciliation.

  The air left him in one sharp exhalation. He’d put it all on offer: love, gratitude, a future together. And Seth hadn’t said no. He hadn’t said yes, either, but Oliver wanted to focus on the “I need time.” He could do that. If it meant having Seth back in his life, he would.

  The mistake he’d made years before was not going after Seth that night. Not talking to him the next day, not trying to make things right between them. He would have to finally learn from those mistakes and not repeat them. He slipped the card back into its envelope and set it on the table, grabbed the phone and dialed the concierge line.

  “I need a box sent to room 822. The type for flowers?” He listened to the quick reassurance that one would be sent quickly. “Is there someone who can make a quick delivery as well? Great.”

  After hanging up, he pulled one of the yellow roses from the vase, fascinated by the velvet softness of its petals. For a moment, he thought about keeping one or two flowers for a memento. But these were Seth’s. Oliver still had his, the small rosebuds from his boutonnière.

  * * *

  JUNE, FIVE YEARS AGO—AFTER

  “Oliver, we’re going to miss our flight if you don’t hurry up!”

  “Coming, Dad.” Oliver looked around his room, ready to be gone for the summer and away from its mix of jubilant and heartbreaking memories, and yet reluctant to leave all the same. He was still holding out for Seth to come back. Any minute now he might open Oliver’s door, drop his satchel on the floor by the bed, smile that slow, sweet smile of his and tell Oliver that everything was going to work out, that they would work it out together.

  It had been four days since Seth left him with a shattered heart. Four days that Oliver had stayed in his room, only coming out from necessity and then going straight back in and burying his face in the pillow that still carried Seth’s distinct smell: a combination of his aftershave, his shampoo and his own natural boy-scent. Four days of ignoring phone calls and texts from their shared friends, wanting to know what he’d done wrong. Four days of wondering if a person could actually die from a broken heart.

  But his father, making a concession for Oliver since he would no longer be in New York with “that boy,” had pulled strings with the director of The Stonewall Center in Amherst for an internship position; the director, a former client of Mr. Andrews, also knew most of Oliver’s future professors at Brandeis. For Oliver to be given this opportunity when he wasn’t yet officially a college student was amazing; Oliver was fully cognizant of that. And a distant relative had offered a rental property for Oliver to stay in while he spent the summer stuffing envelopes and learning the various aspects of keeping a nonprofit functioning. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, excited for the chance to be involved with something important, to move toward a goal he’d not yet realized had been set in motion by the simple act of meeting a particular boy.

  He’d wanted to surprise Seth with a trip to Amherst to visit him—they would have a house all to themselves. Oliver had daydreamed about them imagining it was their home and that they were finally living together.

  He realized belatedly that he obviously hadn’t thought that idea through. And when his father grumped at him that morning that “Enough is enough, Oliver,” pointing out that the world still carried on without “that boy” in it, he had to force himself to pack, to leave Kansas without the promise of Seth’s phone calls, texts and letters.

  Suitcase in hand, Oliver quickly glanced around the room. His eyes skimmed over the pillow missing its case on his bed; he knew he had it safely packed in his suitcase next to his favorite sleep tee, the heather green Larsen Custom Cycles & Repair shirt. His mother had made the gentle suggestion that he take down some of the pictures of Seth; that seemed like sacrilege, as if he was trying to forget Seth. He would never be able to forget Seth. Deep down he was sure that she would pack them away somewhere while he was gone, but it wouldn’t be him doing it.

  He grabbed the spine of a worn-out copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, careful not to let the book open and spill its contents, and slid it into the front pocket of his rolling bag. He closed his eyes and wondered if he would still be able to smell the faint odor of the faded rose buds he’d pressed inside to join the underlined words he knew so well:

  For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,

  In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined towards me,

  And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.

  Seth had given him the flowers a year earlier, pinned them on with shaking hands as Mike told them in a choked voice how “good-looking” they both were in their “monkey suits.” He’d wanted to preserve the roses to honor how he felt and how much their relationship meant to him. One night when Seth had stayed with him—the first time they’d had sex, the night that changed their relationship even more than he’d imagined sex could—Seth had gone into Oliver’s closet to get some sleep pants and found that book open, that passage marked. He’d seemed pleased by Oliver’s bashful stammering about how it made him think of the two of them. And the morning after prom, when Seth had left with kisses and caresses that carried so much more meaning, Oliver had pulled out the book, found the passage and pressed one of each kind of flower there between the pages.

  Looking down at his luggage, ignoring his father’s grumbling at the front door, he knew that he had packed as much of Seth as he could—hoping that, if he surrounded himself with these tokens, they would show him the way to call Seth back.

  * * *

  A sharp double rap at the door caught his attention. Blinking away the last wisps of memory, Oliver opened the door to find a bellman holding a long, slender box. Oliver took it, slipped the man a bill and took a few minutes to carefully package the bouquet after blotting the cut ends with a tissue. He tucked the card under one of the stems to keep it in place.

  He’d done nothing the last time Seth walked away from him. He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

  He tore a piece of paper from the hotel notepad on the side table and wrote a message.

  Seth, take all the time you need, but please take these as well. You were wonderful, and that’s what the flowers were for: a reminder that you are.

  With love, Oliver

  Smiling genuinely for what seemed like the first time that day since he and Seth had begun talking, he grabbed the box and quickly made his way to the concierge desk with instructions for it to be delivered to Seth’s theater and the blossoms put in water to keep them fresh. Oliver was not going to make the same mistake
s he made last time. He wasn’t going to let Seth out of his life again without a fight. If ever there was someone worth fighting for, it was Seth.

  Chapter Ten

  Oliver spent the rest of his last day in New York wandering Seventh Avenue, watching people race by to work, to lunch, to meetings. For the first time in years there was nowhere Oliver had to be, and he felt a little adrift. He and Gus had decided to give each other space while they were in the city: Gus, so he could have the week with Emily before she headed back to D.C., and Oliver, so he could make repairs to his relationship with Seth.

  He’d promised to give Seth time to think, and he would. He wouldn’t push, even though everything in him was practically screaming to find Seth, hold on and not let him go again. What if he didn’t call? What if he decided that there was too much distance between them, that too much time had passed and the connection for him wasn’t what it had been for Oliver? For Oliver, this past week had meant everything.

  But Oliver realized underneath it all that he’d had the luxury of time to prepare, time to know this trip was coming and daydream about what ifs. For Seth, this was all new. He didn’t have the benefit of weeks to mull over the past, reliving their happy times and their worst, weeks to think about what had gone wrong and how to avoid making the same mistakes again.

  So Oliver would give him time. Now that Oliver had seen Seth, had held him and kissed him, he was surer than ever that they belonged together. Even though a huge part of him worried that Seth wouldn’t come to the same conclusion that he had, he told himself that he needed to be optimistic. It was either that or tear his hair out.

  With anything else, it wouldn’t have been a struggle. All his life, he had given people the benefit of the doubt; he approached problems hoping that things would work out in the end and believed that if he did everything he could to make something right, well, he could at least know deep down that he’d done his very best.

  But this wasn’t a public debate on policy. This wasn’t an attempt to bridge differences between rival teams. This wasn’t a proposal for a budget increase or a request for a larger lab space. This was Seth, and this was Oliver’s chance to put what went wrong in his life to rights. And this time he would make sure to do anything and everything he could to make it work.

  Walking around, he spied the MOMA gift store and slipped inside when he saw a pair of earrings his mother might like. He found a few other baubles to round out his holiday shopping for her. He had put his wallet back into his inside pocket and was tucking his packages under his arm when he was jostled against the granite block wall outside by a noisy group of people entering the shop.

  As he waited for them to decide what to do, to come or go, he noticed an elderly couple sitting on a bench outside the building, leaning against each other and watching the people pass by. The husband held out a hand while still watching the street; his wife took it, laid it across her lap and idly stroked his palm. The old man sighed and smiled, something in his posture visibly easing.

  It was something millions of couples had done for thousands of years, but the sight sent a bone-deep tremor of aching want through Oliver. Companionship: comfortable, tender, seemingly effortless companionship. He’d had it once, and he’d let it slip away. He would never take it for granted, if given the opportunity to have it again.

  He smiled at the couple and headed back to his hotel, the sky darkening as night came on. He’d held out his hand; he would just have to be patient and see if Seth took it.

  * * *

  He had no idea when he’d hear from Seth again, but he clung to the knowledge that Seth would be home for Christmas, at least. Oliver had weeks to keep from climbing the walls at his parents’ as they inevitably dragged him along to the neighbors’ holiday parties, the office Winter Cocktail Hour and so on to make small talk and polite conversation. No one was really interested in what anyone else had to say; they simply went through the motions of sipping just enough to stave off boredom, nibbling just enough to comment on the food and chatting just enough so his parents could be told in the coming months how “fine” and “handsome” Oliver was becoming.

  But there was also work: research to sort through, programs to decide on, Moira pestering him via email three times a day until he finally sent a message in huge, bold type one night: “I am giving him space. Please give me some, too.”

  He tried to keep himself busy, offering to help decorate the house or run menial errands just to have something, anything to occupy his mind other than the constant dread that he’d never hear from Seth again. Nighttime was the worst, when he lay in bed with nothing to distract him from his memories and the fear that he’d had his one chance and there would be no more coming.

  Seth called a week after Oliver had come back to Kansas. His mother carried in the old cordless house phone as if it was something she had completely forgotten they still owned. He smiled and shrugged at her as he took the phone, reminding himself to be calm and not overeager even though his insides thrummed with excitement.

  “Hi, Oliver.”

  “Seth! Hello!” He settled into the easy chair in the living room, a knot loosening inside him. He called. He said he would; he did. “Were your flowers returned to you?”

  Seth hummed pleasantly on the line. He sounded as though he was tucking the phone close. “Yes, and that was so sweet of you. I didn’t mean to leave them behind, really. I’m so sorry; I didn’t—”

  “Seth, it’s okay.”

  Seth sighed on the other end of the line. “Okay.”

  They sat silent for a moment, Oliver’s heartbeat racing. He wanted to speak but didn’t trust himself just yet. And Seth had called him; it would be rude to drive the conversation.

  “So…” Seth drawled.

  “So?”

  “So, it was really surprising to see you. A good surprise,” Seth quickly added. “Very good one. I’m just still trying to believe that actually happened.” Seth shifted on the other end and dropped his voice in a teasing tone. “That happened, right?”

  Oliver laughed, his nerves driving it to something almost manic until he tamped it down. “Oh, it definitely happened.” It could happen again…?

  “Mm,” Seth murmured. After a moment he spoke again, all playfulness gone. “Oliver, it’s—it’s been hard this week. Seeing you, being with you like that—are we still always going to be honest with each other?”

  “Of course; yes, always.” Oliver gripped the phone close, cold dread trickling through him at the seriousness in Seth’s voice. He felt like he was being shut out.

  “I can’t stop thinking about that last time—back when you graduated? How awful that was when you were just gone.”

  Oliver closed his eyes, all feelings of giddiness that Seth had called draining away. “Seth, I would do anything to take that back—”

  “I know,” Seth soothed. “Oliver, I know. I don’t want to beat a dead horse, that’s not why I called. I just meant that when you were here in New York, and I had the promise of actually getting to see you—”

  A spike of thrill shot through Oliver when he thought of Seth wanting to see him.

  “It was—well, it was wonderful. But then I realized later that night that you were just going to be gone after a few days. I don’t want that again.”

  Oliver’s chin dropped, everything inside him constricting all at once. “You… what are you saying?”

  Seth sighed. “I’m not saying anything yet. I’m… I want you to know that I won’t do a long-term long-distance thing. I’m just not built for it,” he laughed, but with the furthest thing from humor. His laugh sounded somber and resolute.

  Oliver forced himself to breathe deeply. “I wouldn’t want that either. Long-term long-distance? No, I mean, I get it. What’s the point? I’d want to be with you, not somewhere else wanting you.”

  Seth inhaled sharply on his end of the phone.

  “Oh… I didn’t mean to pressure you, I just meant—”

  “Oliver, it’s
okay. We don’t need to be coy. I mean, what are we talking about here, our philosophies on dating? We’re talking about you and me, right?”

  Oliver swallowed thickly before saying, “Yes.”

  Seth was silent for a moment, breathing softly and steadily on the other end of the line. If Oliver wanted to, he could easily imagine that they were still living with their parents, still in school, talking to each other until they fell asleep. Seth had almost always fallen asleep first, said Oliver’s deep voice lulled him to it; and Oliver had listened as Seth’s voice grew softer and softer and his breathing leveled out.

  “You don’t know what’s going to happen, do you?”

  Oliver started, blinking himself back to reality. “What will happen? With me? I have a fairly good idea, but…”

  “Care to share?” Seth said dryly, sounding so much like the Seth he’d known that Oliver couldn’t help laughing.

  “Well, I’m going to have to continue playing nice with extended family for the next few weeks, then—”

  “Oliver,” Seth reprimanded.

  Oliver sighed and rubbed his face. “My advisor is ‘on holiday,’ as they say, but when she’s back—well, when I’m back—I’ll be able to look at my timeline for graduation and make sure it’s happening in June as scheduled. But from there… honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He rubbed the tip of his finger along the base of the table lamp next to him, watching his own distorted reflection in the metal. “I haven’t needed a reason to have it all figured out until now, truthfully.”

  “Babe, the last thing I want to do is pressure anyone into changing their life to suit me.”

  “That’s not what this is,” Oliver blurted, feeling panic creeping in on the edges of his thoughts. Was Seth already shutting down? “You’re not pressuring me to do anything here.” He forced himself to relax and to talk this out calmly. Seth was being rational; he needed to be rational, too. “I’m not going to change my plans. I’m still going back to England in a few weeks,” Oliver said, trying to sound as though he wasn’t about to fall apart if Seth pulled every option off the table. He needed to be reassuring, show that he was approaching this in a thoughtful way and not rushing in like a fool. “I’d be an idiot to throw away a degree from Cambridge, no matter how cute you still are.”