by A. J. Truman
EAMONN
Once the meal was over, Heath went to Apothecary, Louisa went back to Jeremy’s dorm presumably, Rafe cleaned up in the kitchen, and Eamonn returned the extra table and chairs to the neighboring flat.
When he was done, he offered to help Rafe clean up, but he firmly declined. Eamonn knew not to push. Back in his room, he lay on his bed and tried watching TV to relax him, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t get comfortable.
“Fuck.” Eamonn sat up. He rubbed his hands wildly through his hair. Moments later, he knocked on Rafe’s bedroom door. Rafe opened up, and for a second, he wished the guy would jump into his arms, and all the drama of before would be wiped from their memories.
“That was a great meal. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks,” Rafe said. He sat in his desk chair, feet on his desk, scrolling through an article on his phone.
Eamonn shut the door. He spotted a bottle of aspirin on his nightstand, presumably for the hangover he would have tomorrow. “Do you need a glass of water?”
He pointed to one already on his desk.
“Rafe, I’m sorry about earlier. I couldn’t just walk away as the shit got knocked out of him.”
“I know. You did the right thing.”
“There is nothing between me and Nathan.”
“I know, and I realized it’s not Nathan that I’m upset about.”
Eamonn sat on the edge of the bed. His knees were so close to Rafe, but he could feel the distance widening.
“Do you want me to stay?” Rafe asked. His eyes were heavy and red like he’d been thinking about this for a while. “Because I thought you were excited about the prospect of me extending, but now…I don’t know.”
Eamonn didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to be with Rafe and didn’t want to lose him, but he couldn’t ask this of him.
“Do you want to stay?” Eamonn asked.
“That’s not an answer. I asked you first.”
Eamonn had to smile at this game of chicken.
“Can we please both be completely honest with each other?” Eamonn asked. He took a deep breath. Honesty scared the shit out of him. “I do. I don’t want this to end. I fucking care about you so much, but I don’t want you to sacrifice your life and your future back in America, because then you’ll just wind up resenting me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“We don’t have snow and dance-a-thons and dining halls, and if you stay here, you might not get into that BISHoP program.”
“It’s just BISHoP. The P stands for program.”
Eamonn cocked his head at Rafe. Now was not the time for nitpicking.
“I do miss dining hall food,” Rafe admitted.
“It’s probably better than the slop they serve at the first-year halls here.”
“I doubt that. The company that supplies our dining halls also supplies food for prisons. I might just have low standards.”
Eamonn loved being able to joke with Rafe, even now. They had a comfort level with each other that Eamonn didn’t have with past boyfriends.
“Now it’s your turn.” Eamonn rubbed Rafe’s hand with his thumb. “Do you want to stay at Stroude?”
“Yes! I want to travel and get the full abroad experience and…” Rafe dragged his fingers through his hair. The jury in his mind seemed to be arguing this out.
“Rafe.”
“You. I want to be with you, Eamonn. What we have, I’ve been looking for since I was thirteen. I’m falling in love with you.”
Eamonn squeezed his hand. “Me, too.”
A tear spilled down Rafe’s cheek. Eamonn’s jaw tightened with emotion.
“I would be staying for you.” Rafe nodded with this realization. “Fuck. I can see how that would put some undue pressure on you.” He wiped the tears off his face. “But maybe it could work.”
“That’s a big maybe.”
“Isn’t it worth trying?”
Was it? That was why Eamonn liked enjoying the present rather than thinking about the future. The present had answers. He didn’t have to wonder what would happen at the end of the school year. He didn’t have to wonder if Rafe would go cold on him unexpectedly and leave his heart in pieces.
Rafe’s eyes told him all he needed to know. They were setting themselves up for disaster if they tried to make this work. Things like this never worked.
“I’ll email my advisor,” Rafe said, his voice hollow.
Eamonn brought Rafe’s hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, the same knuckles that had punched into his palm on the football pitch, back when Rafe was just the Token Yank and nothing more.
Chapter 28
EAMONN
December came and finals descended upon Stroude. A week after interviewing, Eamonn had gotten word from human resources that he’d been selected for the management trainee program. She had more enthusiasm on the phone than Eamonn. His mom got choked up, which made it all worth it. He did his best to sound when he told her, but it was hard to be jazzed about anything knowing that the Yank across the hall was all packed up and ready to leave forever.
Their breakup was assumed and went unspoken. When Eamonn walked by Rafe’s room and saw bare walls or overheard Rafe bequeathing Louisa his wooden spoon (the two had apparently made up), he got the idea. They hadn’t had sex or slept with each other since their talk on Thanksgiving. They were cordial, friendly even, but Rafe had evidently mastered that British skill of properly holding in one’s feelings.
He spent his final week of the term taking exams and writing up final papers. One more semester, and he would be done with this completely, ready to become a manager and join the real world.
Eamonn had avoided Apothecary during this time, too, for he didn’t want to bump into Rafe at work. After his final class of the term, he stumbled over to Grey’s, the unfettered, dive-ish bar on the opposite side of campus. It was mostly frequented by rugby and football players, who itched for a fight after a certain number of pints.
He wasn’t the only one with this idea. Louisa sat alone at the bar, halfway through something that seemed much stronger than a Midori sour.
“Is this seat taken?” He pointed to the stool next to her. She signaled that it was all his.
“I’ll have another,” she called to the bartender.
“What is that?” Eamonn asked of her now-empty glass.
“Vodka with a splash of soda.”
“Celebrating the end of the term?”
She cocked an eyebrow. Eamonn ordered the same drink. They toasted their glasses. He winced at the pure taste of vodka. That was why he stuck to beer. Louisa could always drink him under the table.
“So how’s Jeremy?”
“Jeremy is no more.” She swirled the straw in her glass.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I cut him loose. It was never anything.”
Eamonn figured that since he magically appeared at Thanksgiving dinner, and he hadn’t seen Jeremy around the dormitory since.
“It’s because Heath had the audacity to shag that American twat. Those damn Yanks are ruining our lives,” she said.
“She didn’t mean anything to him. She would even tell you that.”
“And now I mean nothing to Heath.” Louisa downed about half her drink, and she would’ve chugged the rest had Eamonn not stopped her.
“I don’t get it, Louisa. He’s been bloody in love with you this whole time. You knew that, and you still treated him like rubbish.” Eamonn would joke about the Heath and Louisa drama, but he knew how much it tortured his best mate. “You haven’t been fair to him. Why did you act like that?”
“Not all of us are made for relationships.” She elbowed him. “Committing to someone is scary. It’s like a real fucking decision. And Heath was always just…there. Bugger. I didn’t know what I wanted.”
“Congratulations. Now you do.”
They both drank. This time, the vodka went down much smoother.
* * *
He and Louisa returned to Sweeney Hall. Seeing Rafe’s door completely bare – no name plate, no signs, no notes tacked to the small corkboard – shot a small dose of pain to Eamonn’s heart.
“Do you smell that?” Louisa asked. The savory smells of a dinner explosion spread throughout the flat. “I reckon drinking heightens all my other senses.”
He followed her into the kitchen. It really was a dinner explosion. Plates of ravioli and bowls of soup covered the entire table. Heath sat at the head with a napkin tucked into his collar.
“Are you going for a world eating record, mate?” Eamonn asked him.
Rafe brought a saucepan of more ravioli to the table. “I’m making one final dinner. Oh, it’s the last supper!”
“I don’t think Jesus munched on Asda-brand ravioli,” Heath said. He acknowledged Louisa with a nod and nothing else.
“I have all this food that I can’t bring with me on the plane tomorrow, and rather than have it go to waste, I decided to cook it all. One last flat feast.”
Eamonn didn’t like hearing about Rafe’s trip home, but the aroma of the banquet before him overpowered those thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was welcome here. He and Rafe were on very uncertain ground.
“So when is your flight?” Louisa asked, taking a seat.
“Seven-thirty in the morning. And the van from my study abroad program is picking me up at four to make sure I get checked in on time.”
“Four?” Heath checked the clock. “So you’re going to sleep in a half-hour then?”
“Not quite.” Rafe sat at the table and poured ravioli onto his plate. “I’m going to be exhausted no matter what, so I’m going to make myself stay up. I can sleep on the plane.”
Eamonn backed away to the swinging door. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Here.” Rafe pointed to the fourth chair. “We can’t all eat this by ourselves.”
He checked Rafe’s expression to see if it was genuine.
“There would be no dinner without you, Eamonn. I would be broke and eating scraps from the campus café. I wouldn’t know what Asda is or how to use an oven.” Rafe looked him square in the eye, and it froze Eamonn in place. “Thank you for everything.”
“Are you sure?” Eamonn asked.
“Yes. It’s my last night here. I don’t want it mired in drama.”
Eamonn gave him a nod filled with more than Rafe could ever know. He took the empty seat. Louisa passed him a plate.
* * *
Rafe couldn’t leave Stroude without one final night at Apothecary. Eamonn led the way and kicked a bunch of wankers out of their usual booth.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Rafe said.
“Oh yes I fucking did. This is a special night,” Eamonn said, trying not to get mushy. He was trying to enjoy this night without mentally counting down the hours until Rafe’s departure.
Alfie came by and gave Rafe a free shot as a proper sendoff. “I’m going to miss your smiling face around here. I’ll probably never find a runner who was as excited about being a runner as you.”
“Don’t be so sure, Alfie.”
“Since we’re friends of Rafe, we get free drinks for the rest of the year, right?” Heath asked.
“Keep dreaming. I only give free drinks when somebody dies.”
“Thank you for everything,” Rafe said. He hugged Alfie, who didn’t expect it, but seemed to warm to it quickly. How could anyone resist a Rafe hug? It was pure warmth, towels fresh out of the dryer.
A larger crowd shoved against the bar. Heath and Eamonn did their best to make inroads to the front. Heath nudged his elbow.
“Y’alright?”
“Tell me, how’s the air quality up there? Are you suffering from oxygen deprivation?”
Heath shoved him, and Eamonn shoved back. He got sad thinking that this was their last night together, until he remembered that Heath wasn’t going anywhere. At least he would have Heath. Until the spring. Then they would all be going their separate directions. Eamonn’s path led directly to a cubicle, a box inside a company that makes boxes.
“How are you doing?” Heath asked. He tipped his head behind them, at their table.
Eamonn shrugged. “I’m trying not to think about it. Let’s just enjoy this night.”
“Hey!” Rafe came up behind them. “This line is taking forever.”
“Don’t blame us!” Eamonn said.
“You know, this whole term, you two have insisted that you go up to get the first round. Each and every time. You forget that your Token Yank used to be gainfully employed at Apothecary and is friends with all the staff.” Rafe raised his hand and waved at the bartender. The bartender smiled and waved them forward. “Which means we didn’t have to wait in this bloody line.”
Rafe cut between kids and marched up to the bar. Eamonn and Heath looked at each other stunned. Rafe shook his head and laughed.
“You stupid cunts,” he said.
They spent the rest of the night drinking and regaling each other with stories and memories. One story led into another into another, and the fuzzy static of nonstop laughter emanated from their table. It was a perfect night where the group’s chemistry fired on all cylinders, one that washed away all of the preceding drama of the term.
“I love that I now know what the hell you’re all talking about!” Rafe exclaimed. He drank his Midori sour. It didn’t seem to bother him anymore that Nathan had started the Midori trend.
Eamonn didn’t say much. He tried to savor these final hours, as this would probably be the last time he and Rafe ever saw each other.
But he wasn’t going to let a thought like that ruin this night.
“Another round?”
* * *
It was one of those nights where if you were a human being, you had no choice but to look up and cherish the beauty of this wondrous galaxy. Eamonn tried to hold onto this night as hard as he could. Rafe was leaving, really leaving, in six hours. But he promised himself he wouldn’t get down about it until after he was gone. He wasn’t going to waste the final hours they had left together.
They made their way down the sloping hill to Sweeney Hall.
“I don’t need your help,” Rafe said. He held his arm out for balance. “I’ve gone down this hill plenty of times by myself, many times after working a shift at the bar. The only reason I’m holding my arms out is just to be safe.”
“And because you’re pissed,” Heath said.
“Oh Heath. Shut it!” Louisa said. She also hand her arms out, though in her defense, she was wearing heels.
“Not true. I am a little buzzed, but I’m mostly just tired from doing all my last minute, final packing.”
“All that folding and zipping up suitcases is truly enervating work, Heath,” Eamonn said. “When I went to the loo and had to unzip and rezip my trousers, I nearly passed out from exhaustion.”
“Bugger off!” Rafe said. “It rained this morning, so it’s a little slippery.”
“Do you need a hand?” Eamonn asked. He couldn’t resist.
“I do not.”
“Louisa?” Eamonn extended a hand to her.
“I don’t need help.”
“Are you sure? You’re wobbling.”
“She said she doesn’t need—shit!” Heath went down on his arse.
“Timber!” Eamonn yelled. Heath flipped him the bird. “Did you crack the pavement? That was like watching a building get demolished.”
Eamonn was going to help his mate up, but Louisa beat him to it. She helped lift him back up, and she didn’t stop holding his hand.
“I got you,” she said.
They exchanged a look that neither Eamonn nor Rafe could decipher, one of those telepathic gazes built on the unique language of every relationship.
They walked down to the hall hand-in-hand, leaving Eamonn and Rafe in their wake.
Eamonn didn’t think of putting his arm around Rafe’s waist. It was completely a subconscious choice, and it felt like a subconscious choice
that made Rafe lean into him.
“Fine,” Rafe said. “Once more for old times sake.”
A pang of sadness managed to squeak by and kick him in the stones. Eamonn held him close and smelled the mix of shampoo and manly scent of his hair. His hand warmed to the heat of Rafe’s skin.
Rafe wrapped his arm around Eamonn’s neck for balance. He rested his clean-shaven cheek against Eamonn’s scruff. It was like they were slow dancing down this slope with the big moon shining down on them.
“I got you,” Eamonn said. Only this time, he was going to have to let go.
Eamonn walked Rafe to his door. He thought he saw Heath go back to Louisa’s room, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t care because the only person that mattered at this second was standing in front of him.
“Are you all packed?” Eamonn asked.
Rafe opened the door. A suitcase stuffed to the brim sat on the floor by his bed. There were no signs of Rafe here. No posters or papers or notebooks. It amazed Eamonn how fast things could change. Just a few weeks ago, this room was bursting with life. Then just like that, it was bare, stripped of a soul.
It was the cold reality check Eamonn didn’t want. Rafe was going to be gone for good, and they were never going to see each other again. Maybe they would like each other’s pictures on Instagram and maybe Eamonn would send Rafe a text when he went to Asda, but it wouldn’t be the same. They would be going through the motions of keeping in touch and ignoring the fire that once roared between them.
“Eamonn…” Rafe held his hand.
Eamonn was doing everything in his power not to cry, and it seemed Rafe was doing the same. They were each fortresses of stoicism.
“It’s been totally awesome, dude,” Eamonn said one more time in his surfer accent.
“Yeah. I…” Rafe pursed his lips together in a tight dam of a smile.
“Me, too, Rafe. Me, too.”
“I really wish there wasn’t a fucking ocean between us.”
“How long until the continental shift happens again?”
Rafe thought for a second. “A few billion years.”
“I’m a patient fellow.”
“Well, I might be busy then.”
“Wanker.” Eamonn gave him a friendly punch in the chest. Rafe caught his fist and didn’t let go. A fire burned in his eyes.