The Redemption of River

by Eli Easton

  “It’s awesome.” Justin looked around, his expression envious. “I love the kombucha on tap idea, the décor…” His gaze skimmed the abstract tree painted on one wall. “The art. The logo. The colors. It’s all perfect. Mr. McKay is a genius.” He glanced at River. “Oh. And I know you helped a lot too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So… You and Mr. McKay, huh?”

  “Yup. Me and Mr. McKay.” River kept his expression neutral. His instinct was to give some excuse. Something like, We were working together all the time, and it just happened. But he didn’t owe Justin anything.

  Justin tsked. “If I’d have known he, like, at all, swung my way….” He shook his head. “Man. I would have been all over that like white on rice.”

  River didn’t say anything. Brent wouldn’t have been into Justin. Would he?

  “Are you guys serious?” Justin asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  River huffed a laugh and gave Justin a raised eyebrow.

  “Sorry. Sorry. I know it’s none of my business.” He sighed. “Hope springs eternal.”

  River was not going to tell Justin that he was leaving in September and therefore, no, it wasn’t serious. That would be like throwing a ball up in the air at the start of a volleyball game. The thought of Justin and Brent together made his gut tighten. He thought for a moment he might actually be sick.

  But, again, what did he expect? Someone else would fill the void he left. If not soon, then eventually. Probably not Justin, but someone.

  Someone else’s Brent McKay.

  “Two bowls of veggie curry coming through!”

  Chapter 30

  Brent

  “Want to go down to the lighthouse?” River asked.

  “Sure.”

  They managed to walk side by side on the hiking trail. Brent held River’s hand. Very little on Earth could make him let go. It was their last weekend together, and Brent had surprised River with a two-night stay at a beachfront B&B on San Juan Island.

  The September days were still long, and the light was golden during this after-dinner hike. River’s hair was down and silky from a recent shower. His beard looked soft. He wore green cargo shorts and a white, gauzy pullover shirt that was the epitome of summer.

  And Brent’s heart ached.

  It was a familiar pain. It had been growing for the past few weeks. After the launch of Harmony Tree Cafe, which had been wildly successful, there was less to distract Brent’s brain from the reality of what was coming. Their time together was running out like the last sands in an hourglass. Yes, he’d had plenty of business calls to field. There was an investor in New Jersey who already wanted to open up a Harmony Tree Cafe there and another guy in California. There were tweaks to make to the menu and staff. But Dani had taken over as manager, and she had it well in hand. And even though he was staying on top of Adrenaline Junkie Coffee much better these days, those branches pretty much ran themselves.

  That was good because Brent was suddenly very selfish of his time. Selfish of River’s time. Now that the Reynolds had returned from London, River lived at Brent’s house. If only Brent could keep him there. Lock River away. But that wasn’t how life worked. He couldn’t make River want this life. He couldn’t change his lover’s soul.

  There was a saying Brent had come to absolutely loathe—If you love something, set it free. It was the worst saying of all time. And Brent struggled with following its advice every single day.

  “It’s so cute,” River said, as they walked up to the lighthouse.

  It was cute—a small, square structure with a pointed red roof. It looked like a fairy house. The lighthouse tower clung to one side like an afterthought, overlooking the rocky promontory the lighthouse guarded. From leprechauns, perhaps.

  River tried the door. It opened. Inside were boards telling the history of the place. The Lime Kiln Lighthouse was its name. River took his time reading the information, but Brent didn’t have the patience for history lessons right now.

  “Can we go outside and sit in the sun? I want to talk.” Brent’s heart pounded. But he meant to have this conversation while they were on the island, and suddenly he knew it had to happen right now.

  River gave him a curious look. “Okay.”

  They left the building and found a large flat rock to sit on. The water stretched out blue, blue, blue for miles. The navy mounds of distant mountains looked like filigree on the horizon.

  Brent half turned to face River and took his hand. “River.”

  River’s eyelids fluttered and he got a slightly wary look, like he didn’t want to have this conversation. And yeah, they’d been avoiding it. But they were out of time.

  “Yes, Brent,” River said quietly.

  Brent took a deep breath. His heart hurt. It hurt so damned bad. “There’s something I want to say. Because if I don’t say it, I’ll always wonder what if.”

  River visibly swallowed. But Brent went on.

  “I know you already have all these plans in place for Rome. And I get that it’s an exciting opportunity. I don’t want to hold you back. But.”

  “Brent—”

  “No please, just let me say this.” He looked River in the eyes, laying his soul bare. “I love you. I’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with you. This is not a passing fancy for me. I want you in my life. I want to be with you, grow old with you. And I didn’t want you to leave and not know that… this is how I feel about you. That’s how I see us. I thought Kathy was the love of my life. And she was. But you are too. The two of you are like… like bookends. Only you, River, you’re part of my soul.”

  Brent had to take a deep breath to go on. “And if you really want to go to Rome and take this class, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as there’s a chance you’ll come home to me.”

  River’s eyes grew damp. Brent had never seen him cry. He suddenly looked so broken. “Brent… I tried to tell you from the start. I’m not the stay-put type.”

  “I know, but….” Brent’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a second. “I know that you’ve traveled a lot, and that’s your lifestyle. I’m not trying to change you. I just needed you to know that you have this choice. This other choice. This life with me. If you want it. Live with me. Work with me. Or focus on your clients. I know healing is important to you, and I want you to be true to that. Whatever you want. It’s all on the table.”

  Tears rolled down River’s cheeks, and he pulled his hand away to wipe them. He covered his eyes, his shoulders tight. And Brent’s heart sank further. Please.

  “That’s not fair to you.” River’s voice cracked, his expression resigned as he dropped his hands. “I don’t know what will happen after Rome. But I know it will be something. There will always be something. I don’t want to be like the wild and crazy mom—or aunt—who comes back into your life now and then before running off to something new. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be on the other end of that. You deserve better. You deserve someone who will be with you, love you, be devoted to you, every day of your life. And I do love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  Heat clogged Brent’s throat as his hope failed. He clenched his fists on his lap. “But.”

  “But what you’re talking about, that’s just not me. I’ve got my own path to follow. I told you, dedication to a spiritual path is selfish. I can’t limit myself to one place or to one… one person.”

  Brent flinched. “You wanted the white picket fence once upon a time.”

  River blinked at him. “Are you talking about when I went to live with my dad? Brent, I was fourteen. And I learned my lesson, believe me.”

  Anger sparked. “Just because your attempt at living a so-called normal life with your dad wasn’t great, doesn’t mean it can’t be. We could be so amazing together. And you can still take classes and practice here in Seattle. What is it you think you’ll find out there that you can’t find here?”

  River’s jaw clenched and his words got more adamant. “Th
at’s just not who I am! I… I need to keep moving. See new things, experience new places. I don’t expect you to understand, but please try to respect my feelings.”

  Brent deflated. For a while he watched the water, and it occurred to him how small he was, how small they all were, compared to the ocean. Yet this was his life, and if it mattered not a whit to God, it mattered to him. And he’d fought for it. And failed. “I respect your feelings, babe. And you’re right. You warned me from the start. I built up dreams and… and I shouldn’t have. That’s on me. But I just want to say one more thing.” He swallowed.

  River looked wary, like he just wanted this intensely painful conversation to end. But he sighed, and said, “Go ahead.”

  “I want to say that it’s possible to surprise yourself. It’s possible that you—and by that, I mean the universal you—are not a hundred percent what you think you are. You once told me that other people’s expectations can be a prison of the mind. Well, your own can be too. I never thought I’d fall in love with a man or have an interest in Eastern philosophy. Or kombucha.” He smiled sadly. “Just consider—as you go on with your life—that maybe you’re not the rolling stone you think you are. That maybe, someday, you’ll want forever too.”

  A breeze came up that was cool on his face, making him aware of the tracks of his tears. He held out his arms in a kind of apology, and River embraced him. They held each other, clinging hard, for a long time.

  It was goodbye. There was a deep, hollow pain in the vicinity of Brent’s heart that he knew would not go away quickly. Maybe never. He’d lost Kathy, and now River too.

  He wanted to ask River what happened when your heart chakra suffered a mortal blow. He did not.

  He simply cried. And River cried too.

  Chapter 31

  River

  Rome was everything River could have imagined and more—the bridges over the river, the grandeur of the Vatican City and St. Paul’s Square, the quaint oh-so-European shopping streets, the unbelievable food, Trevi fountain, the ruins. In Rome, you stood on the foundation of antiquity. Of sacredness. And, with the superb nightlife, of sin.

  Harrison’s apartment was up three narrow flights—which River had to help him up and down. It had high ceilings, a kitchen that was small but serviceable, and a pull-out couch that River insisted on sleeping on, despite Harrison’s many ploys. The location could not have been better. River could walk to everything, including his classes.

  And despite all that, he was absolutely, extravagantly miserable.

  He tried to shake it off. He went out to dinner with Harrison and his friends—all seniors, and all vibrant theater people. River liked them. But he didn’t feel like he belonged, especially given the hours of old stories, half told in Italian, the cigarettes, and the wine. The jokes were often insulting to one minority or another. Or to women. They were from a different era.

  Every night, Harrison tried to wheedle River into his bed, “Just to sleep, dear boy.” Every night River said no. Harrison’s attempts at seduction were annoying, but, honestly, River’s head was too distracted to pay it much mind.

  He thought things would improve once he started his classes. Tantric yoga. He’d been so looking forward to it.

  But… he didn’t love it. Of course, he always enjoyed yoga, and it felt great to stretch his muscles and calm his anxious brain. But the tantric aspects felt rudimentary compared to the ashram, and the whole discipline felt shoehorned together. The lessons were redundant to other things he’d studied and, at times, simply wrong. The teacher was an Italian yogi in his forties, and he came across as a narcissistic dick, more interested in helping the women in the class with their “form” than he was in any real spiritual practice.

  River told himself he was being harsh. Maybe he was cynical after his experience with Shri Agontha. He didn’t want to be. He wanted to believe, to be generous and openhearted.

  So River tried.

  He called his mother. Not shockingly, her trip didn’t materialize. She’d left Francois and was “stuck” in Paris with a new friend she “couldn’t abandon right now.” Of course, she had no trouble abandoning her plans with River. River didn’t bother to tell her that. It was pointless.

  The fifteenth of October came and went. Three weeks since he’d left Brent. Three weeks of feeling like he wanted to die. And then, day by long, painful day, it was Halloween.

  “A bunch of us ex-pats are taking a Dark Rome walking tour on Halloween night. You should come!” Wendy was a tall, lanky New Yorker who’d lived in Rome for five years. She was a local yoga instructor and was taking the Sacred Tantric Yoga class to add to her repertoire. She seemed nice, but River had turned down her invitations before. He couldn’t keep doing that. He needed to try to make friends in Rome. He was about as low as he’d ever been in his life.

  “Sure, I’ll go. Thanks for asking.”

  “Great! Give me your number, and I’ll text you the time and place. Halloween night, okay?”

  “I didn’t know they celebrated Halloween here.”

  Wendy shrugged. “Yeah, not so much. But more Italian families are letting their kids dress up and taking them around their piazzas to collect candy from neighbors. Some of the clubs have themed parties, but they’re a scene. I thought this sounded like a fun alternative.”

  The tour was fun. Six of them from the tantric yoga classes showed up and a few dozen strangers. The guide was an exuberant and hot Italian with perfect English. Harrison would have drooled over him, River thought. They visited piazzas where heretics were burned at the stake and were said to still roam. They went past a building from the fourteenth century where an executioner had lived, the place still haunted by his victims. They went underground and saw a huge pit of human bones where the bodies of plague victims had been sealed away.

  “How are you liking Rome?” Sergio was a lithe, doe-eyed Italian from his class, very clearly gay. He’d stuck close to River on the tour.

  “It’s an incredible city.”

  I wish I could appreciate it more. I need to appreciate it more, River thought.

  “Yes. I was born here. If you like, I could show you around. Maybe next weekend? I have heard that you are a tantrik already, and I would love to… to do some practice with you.” Sergio’s limpid eyes were filled with longing. He seemed very gentle, and normally River would be up for a tantric session with him. But.

  River gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m….” What? “I’m… sort of getting over someone.”

  “Ah, it is the heartbreak, yes? I see this in your eyes.” Sergio’s expression was sympathetic. “Sometimes it can help, being with someone new.”

  “I feel you. But… I’m not ready.”

  “Okay. Maybe in some months. We will be in class together, yes?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” River sighed. Sergio was sweet. And River knew he had to make an effort. “I wouldn’t mind getting some local tips though. Tell me what I definitely need to see in Rome.”

  They talked as the group tour wandered through the streets, and Sergio pointed things out as they went.

  On the Ponte Sisto, the guide had them imagine a ghost carriage containing the only female pope fleeing Rome. Supposedly it was still seen to this day. But all River could imagine was Brent McKay—being on this tour on Halloween night with Brent would be a blast. He could imagine how delighted Brent would be, how his eyes would sparkle, how he’d soak everything in like a sponge. He’d hold River’s hand and treat him like he was the most important person in the world.

  You could invite him to visit you here. One phone call, one email, and he’d be on a plane tomorrow.

  Yes. But what about next week? What about when it came time to move on to the next destination? River couldn’t offer Brent a fraction of his time, his life. A vacation relationship. It wasn’t fair.

  He’d planned to look for work in Rome, maybe a part-time massage or barista gig to earn some cash. But he didn’t have the energy. He didn’t care. He
stopped going out with Harrison and his friends. He went to his classes and that was all. His appetite deserted him.

  One night, he cried in the dark on the sofa bed until he realized that, like a persistent tickle in the throat, if he let himself indulge in tears, he’d never stop.

  It was ridiculous! He had nothing to cry about, feel sorry for himself about. He had to get over this. He went to a beautiful little stone church a few blocks from Harrison’s apartment and prayed and meditated for a long time. It did help for a while.

  A few weeks after Halloween, Harrison met River at the apartment door as he came up the stairs from class. He wore his long black wool coat and made a shooing gesture. “Turn around. Come, Mr. Larsen. We’re going for a walk.”

  “But I just got home. I wanted to take a—”

  “No! I sprayed for bugs, so we can’t go in there right now.”

  River tried to push past him through the open doorway. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “Out!” Harrison shut the door and locked it as if he were hiding a cardinal sin. “Now, will you make me go down those stairs by myself? I’m liable to break my ankle. Not that you should trouble yourself over lil’ old me.”

  With a sigh, River resigned himself to a walk. He helped Harrison move slowly down the stairs. The old man had a cane, but he preferred to lean on River. Out on the sidewalk, it was chilly and the midafternoon street was busy with young children and their parents, and mobs of teenagers, just out of school. With Harrison’s arm in his, they made their way the few blocks to Piazza Navona with its gorgeous marble fountain, the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi.

  Harrison found an empty place to sit on the fountain’s lip. Naturally, it was close to the enormous, naked male Triton figure. Harrison glanced over it admiringly before they settled.

  “Ah, Rome,” he said with a contented sigh.

  Chapter 32