by Eli Easton
River
“If I were casting Hamlet, you’d be perfect for the role,” Harrison began, his tone arch. “I never thought I’d see a real, live human being as morose and conflicted as that damn Dane. You’ve proven me wrong, dear boy.”
River wanted to laugh, only it really wasn’t funny. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been good company. And that’s the whole reason you invited me.”
Saying the words, he realized how true they were, and guilt assailed him. What a raw deal this was turning out to be for Harrison “I can pay you rent. I earned good money while I was in Seattle, and I stuck almost all of it in savings.”
Harrison looked heavenward as though for patience. “Oh, please. This isn’t about money. I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight. You’re depressed. I thought you needed time, but we’ve been here almost two months, and it’s not getting any better.”
River leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It feels… it feels like my heart is being ripped in two. I thought it would fade. But….” He shook his head.
Harrison clicked his tongue. “Love can be so cruel. You’re up to your ears in it, dear one. So what exactly is the problem? Does he not feel the same?”
“He does. He asked me to stay.”
“So why are you here?”
River rubbed his chest. “Brent… he wants it all. I don’t think he can do partway. And that’s not me.”
Harrison’s eyes glittered. “Because…?”
River blew out a breath. “You can’t put your faith in people. You can’t need people, rely on them. That only leads to heartbreak in the end. Buddha says desire is the cause of suffering. If you don’t expect anything, desire anything, pin your hopes on anything, you can’t be disappointed. You need to let things flow through your life. Just let things be what they are.”
Harrison made a thoughtful sound. “Sounds to me like you’ve known some crap people.”
River gave a sharp laugh of surprise. “What?”
“Is your Brent unreliable?”
River hesitated. “No. But that’s not the point.”
“Then explain it to me. Slowly.” Harrison made a theatrical flourish with his hand, as if offering River the stage.
River sighed. He honestly wasn’t sure anymore. But he tried. “Say I agree to stay in Seattle indefinitely. Live with Brent. What if it doesn’t work out? Then I’ve made a huge mistake. Or what if I really need to go do something else, like if there’s a teacher I want to study with in another country or I get a chance to do a retreat in Tibet or something? But I can’t because I’ve made promises to someone. I want to experience the world. To settle down forever in one place… that’s simply not me. Ultimately, I’m a dandelion puff. You know?”
“You’re a what?” Harrison sounded incredulous.
River gave him a sad smile. “It’s something my mother always says. She says we’re like dandelion puffs, her and I. Light as a feather. Floating wherever the breeze takes us.”
Harrison stared at him, a frown of confusion between his brows. “River…” He spoke slowly. “What is a dandelion puff?”
River blinked. “You mean, metaphorically?”
“No, I mean literally. What, literally, is a dandelion puff?”
“Um….” Did Harrison really not know? “When a dandelion flower goes to seed it turns into a puff ball that’s so light—”
“Yes. Yes. But you said the key word in there.”
River didn’t get it.
“The word is seed, River. A dandelion puff is a seed pod.”
“Okay?”
Harrison spoke with exaggerated patience. “So a seed, dear boy, cannot fulfill its purpose until it lands somewhere and takes root.”
River straightened in astonishment. He laughed. “Okay. Wow. Guess my mother didn’t really think that through.”
Harrison gave a thoughtful hum. “Listen, I made those same excuses for most of my life. What if someone comes along I want to fuck, but I can’t, because a lover expects me to be monogamous?” He said the words with mock horror. “What if I get the opportunity to direct a production in London? I need to be free as a bird. My career always comes first.” He waved a hand. “Etcetera, etcetera. So I fucked my way through half the gay men on the East Coast and a few straight ones too. I never let anyone tie me down.”
He put a hand on River’s thigh and squeezed. “And here I am, a lonely, pathetic old goat at eighty-fuck-all-years-old who can’t even get it up. And I’m still trying to seduce beautiful young things like you.”
River didn’t know what to say.
“You’re not like me, River. You’re not driven by ego. You’re a kind man. And I dare say you are infinitely capable of love.”
River felt so torn. His stomach ached and his throat stung. Hamlet, indeed. “Love, yes. Of course. But there’s universal love, love for everyone. And then there’s love for, dependence on, a specific person.”
“Mmm. Loving amorphously is safer, I suppose.”
Is it? Am I just a coward?
“It seems to me,” Harrison mused, “if you want to do something that’s spiritually difficult, loving one person, working things out with them, trusting them enough to put your heart in their hands, and be responsible for theirs in turn, is much more challenging than loving mankind. But what do I know? I was never willing to even try.”
River watched the couples and families in the piazza and thought Harrison was probably right. Loving a partner, children, was infinitely harder. And scarier.
“I do know one thing for certain,” Harrison went on. “Your heart is telling you what it wants, my boy. Do you really intend to just go on ignoring it?”
“I don’t know what to do!” River wanted to go back. His heart wanted it. Even his body was rebelling against him. But was it the right thing in the long run? “The whole white-picket-fence thing. Can it ever be real?”
Harrison nodded his chin at a stooped old Italian couple who were strolling arm in arm, elegantly dressed. He had a bright red rose in the breast pocket of his gray coat. It matched the scarf on her head. “It is for some people. I never believed in it myself. I guess that’s a choice I made. You’ll have to make that choice for yourself.”
River suddenly remembered something he’d said to Brent in India. That believing in life after death, in faith itself, was a choice.
Sounds a lot like marriage, Brent had said.
And finally, River got it. Loving someone was a leap of faith.
Chapter 33
River
River stuffed everything he owned into his two giant duffel bags and gave Harrison a final hug.
“I can fly back and escort you home. Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”
Harrison waved a hand in dismissal. “That won’t be necessary. I want to stay. More of my friends are still in the land of the living here than in Seattle. And Antonio lost his partner a few years back. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll consider me.”
Antonio was a short, very dapper Italian actor only a few years younger than Harrison.
“That would be fantastic,” River said sincerely. “You’d make a great couple.”
Harrison almost looked shy. “We’ll see. But you’ve inspired me, dear boy. Maybe there’s hope for both of us, hmm?”
River hurried down the stairs. He’d managed to find a flight to Seattle that was leaving soon. That was great except it was leaving very soon.
He hailed a taxi, which would be faster than public transportation. It dropped him at the airport, and he made it to the gate with twenty minutes to spare.
As he sat there, he thought about calling Brent, letting him know he was coming. But his phone wasn’t registered for international calls, and WhatsApp just didn’t cut it when it came to I’monmywayhomeiloveyou messages.
Instead, he brought up Facebook and looked at Brent’s personal page. It hadn’t been updated since he’d posted reviews and articles about the Harmony Tree Cafe in early September. Apparently,
he hadn’t felt much like being online.
On a whim, River checked out Justin’s twitter posts. Justin posted about everything. Maybe he’d mentioned Brent.
The top post sent a chill through River’s veins. Wish me luck, babies. Hot date tonight @rondo with a daddy I’ve been pining over forever. Aphrodite, do your thang.
No. No, no, no, no, no. It couldn’t be. Was Brent going out with Justin?
River didn’t want to believe it. But why not? It had been two months since he’d left Seattle. Maybe Brent was trying to move on, find some comfort. And he was such a good guy. Justin had had two months to worm his way into Brent’s affections by fair means or foul.
If Brent started seeing Justin, slept with him, that would be it. He was so damn loyal.
River had fifteen long hours to be tortured by the possibility on his flight from Rome to Seattle via Dublin. There wasn’t anything he could do while he was in the air except hope that it wasn’t too late. If this was really their first date, surely Brent hadn’t given his heart to Justin yet. There was still time.
His flight landed at SeaTac just before 7:00 p.m. River had no idea what time their date was, but he figured he might as well go right to Rondo, an upscale restaurant on Capitol Hill. It was on the way. If they weren’t there, he’d go on to Brent’s house in Madrona and hope to catch him before he left.
He grabbed a yellow cab outside the terminal—faster than an Uber—and gave the driver the name and the address of the restaurant. God. He couldn’t be too late!
He’d fucked up. But there still had to be a chance to turn it around. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel, even if he’d almost discarded the greatest gift life had ever given him.
“You in a hurry?” the cab driver, a man in a turban, asked him, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“That obvious? Yeah, I am.” He hesitated. “Gotta put a stop to something.”
“It’s life or death, huh?” The cab driver had a half-teasing smile.
“Of my heart, maybe.”
The cab driver nodded. “Been there. We’ll get you there as fast as possible.”
“Thanks. Could you wait outside while I go in and check something?”
“Sure. It’ll be on the meter though.”
“That’s fine.”
They pulled up outside the restaurant. River threw a few twenties over the seat so the driver wouldn’t think he was ditching him. “Just wait here.”
“You got it.”
River ran inside.
Rondo had small, intimate tables running along the window. River scanned the room, heart in his throat. God, he was about to see Brent again. His heart wanted to be happy about that, but what would Brent think? Would he be pissed that River barged in on his date? After Brent had offered him everything, and River had said he couldn’t, wouldn’t, settle down? God, he’d hurt Brent so much. Maybe Brent hated him now.
His gaze scanned past a lone figure next to a window, bounced back. Justin. He looked different in an expensive purple shirt, his hair slicked back and face glowing with moisturizer.
The seat opposite him was empty, and he watched out the window avidly. Had Brent not arrived?
River hurried to the table and plopped into the seat opposite Justin.
Justin gawked. “R-river? What are you doing here?”
River tried to control his racing heart. He had no rights here. None. He could only plead for mercy. “Hey. Um. Sorry to just show up like this, but I saw your tweet.”
Justin frowned. “Uh… so? It wasn’t an open invitation. I thought you were in Rome. I mean, Rondo’s good, but it’s not that good.”
“Look…” River sighed. “I love him. I love him so much. And he loves me, or he did. I know I left, but I’m back, and I want to make things work. Sometimes you just have to have faith, you know? And I didn’t, but now I—”
“Justin?”
River looked to his left. A man stood there with a perplexed look. He had a silver buzz cut, youthful skin, and a gold turtleneck. He looked between Justin and River questioningly.
“Oh,” River said as the world shifted back into place.
“Oh?” Justin crossed his arms and glared at River. “How do you know Carl? I mean, what the fuck!”
“I’ve never seen this guy before in my life,” Carl declared.
“No! No, I thought you had a date with Brent. Your tweet….”
Justin’s face relaxed, and he laughed. “Oh my God! You thought…! Ha-ha! I am so going to hold this over you, River. Like forever.”
River scooted out of the booth. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, you guys.”
Before he could leave, Justin grabbed his arm. His smile was gone. “Look, if you came back for him, you’d better fucking mean it.”
River nodded. “I do.”
“Because he’s been a fucking wreck.” Justin scowled. “Again.”
River nodded again, silently, before turning and leaving the restaurant.
Chapter 34
Brent
Brent’s eyelids were heavy as he tried to focus on the page. The Cold War thriller he was reading was usually a reliable escape route. Anything to take his brain offline for a while.
Outside the tall glass windows in his family room, it was dark and rainy. He could only make out a little of the rain-soaked deck. The lake had vanished entirely, as if it weren’t there at all.
The thought made him shiver. Things could vanish so easily.
He checked his watch. Eight thirty. Too early for bed. Did he really care?
Yes. Yes, he did care. He’d been sleeping too damn much lately. He’d done that after Kathy died, and he wouldn’t allow himself to go back there. He wanted to hold on to the positive things River had brought into his life, not wallow in self-pity.
Back to the spy stuck in Berlin….
He’d just managed to get back into the story when the doorbell rang. Who’d stop by at this time of night? Without calling or texting first? Sean maybe. Brent got up and went through the house to the front door, shuffling in his slippers like an old man. He opened it.
River stood on the front stoop in the rain. He wore several layers of coats, and duffel bags and a backpack were at his feet. His hair was up and messy, and there were circles under his haunted eyes. He looked like he’d just gotten off a plane. He looked like a shadow of the man who’d left Seattle two months ago.
Brent’s hand seized around the doorknob. “River?”
River’s face did something complicated. “Funny thing happened to me in Rome. I hated it. My heart was kind of broken? And I realized it didn’t mean anything. The classes. The history. The food. Nothing meant anything without you. The whole world means nothing without you.” Tears welled in his eyes and joined the rain on his face as he struggled to get the words out. “So I was wondering… if it’s too late… for me to come home?”
This couldn’t be real. It was more than Brent had even dared hope for. And maybe he should pinch himself, but instead he threw the door open and had River in his arms before he could form one single rational thought. Rain pelted down on them both as they clung together. It was fresh and cold, and River was there, real and smelling a bit of plane air, and for the first time in months, Brent could breathe.
River clung to him so hard. He kissed Brent’s cheek, lips warm against cold skin. “I never should have left. I was just so used to moving on, I didn’t know how to stop. Can you forgive me? Can I come home? I love you so much.”
The relief and joy and leftover sadness were so big in Brent’s chest that he thought he might explode. And there was River’s energy, pouring into him like the sweetest drug. “You will never not be welcome in my life, baby. No matter how far away you go, you’re still a part of me. That will never change.”
Twenty minutes later, they were dry and in bed, both wearing one of Brent’s thermal shirts against the November chill. They were on their sides, legs entwined, but with enough distance between them so Brent could look at River’s fac
e. He thought he could stare at River forever.
River’s blond hair was loose and damp, frizzed from the rain. Brent smoothed it back. His thumb traced the dark half-moon under one blue-gray eye. “You look so tired, babe. Are you okay?”
“I haven’t been. But I will be now.” River cupped Brent’s neck, his face serious. “I meant what I said. Everything about Rome, as great as it was, it didn’t matter without you. I just wanted to come back here the whole time.”
Brent swallowed a lump in his throat. “Really?”
River nodded.
“That’s funny, because I’d reached the conclusion that none of this mattered without you. I was thinking I’d sell everything and join you on the road. If you’d have me. I was gonna ask you if I could come to Rome to talk about it.”
River tried to laugh and cry at the same time, and it was amazing to see. “Oh God. We’re so stuck with each other.”
Brent smiled. “I guess we are. Just call me Sticky Man.” His smile faded. “After Kathy, I was so depressed. I couldn’t find a way to get interested in life again. Then you came along with your… your vitality and peace, your light. You taught me to feel joy, to see beauty in the world. I want you in my life, however that works for you. I don’t want to change you.”
River cupped Brent’s neck. “This works for me. For the first time in my life, I want roots. I want a house that is really mine, not a temporary room. Somewhere I can put up drawings I like and hoard used books. Experiment with cooking. Use my own things. Have a towel that I like. And a pillow.”
“You want your own pillow?” Brent teased, but his heart melted. He never thought he’d hear River say those words. But it was so, so welcome. “You want to live here with me, then? Everything I have is yours. Though we can buy you your own towel and pillow, if you insist.”
River rolled his eyes at Brent’s lame humor. “I would love to stay here. I’ll pay rent. I want to carry my own weight.”
“If that’s important to you.” Brent took River’s hand from his neck and kissed the palm. “Do you want to manage Harmony Tree?”