A Wealth of Unsaid Words (6 page)

A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

to count or mail. Then he"d stop sending them, stop moving,

until suddenly Everett or his parents would show up

wherever he was to get him back on track, get him working

again.

He"d been afraid taking the meds would make him

unable to write, but his cycles had taken care of that on

their own. Depression was not at all what so many thought it

was, and certainly not what he"d imagined as a boy when

he"d seen his father in bed, unshaven, unwashed, urging

Alex to get away and go be with someone better. It meant no

writing, no talking, no feelings except the horrifying

knowledge that he was taking more and more from Everett,

killing him with his exhausting misery, and then the

recurring thought that taking care of Alex was a burden that

Everett couldn"t need or want.

The attempt to end all of that had shown him how

wrong he"d been. Everett had not been pleased with him.

Neither had Ally or George, or Rachel, or Molly, or Robert.

But Everett…. Waking up to Everett afterward had been

enough to convince him he couldn"t let himself go down that

deeply again, even if he never wrote another word or became

someone else under the fog of the drugs.

Alex shook his head as he denied himself the fiction that

Everett and his family had been merely unhappy with his

attempt to kill himself. Everett and his family had been

devastated, with wastelands in their red eyes and fearful,

angry voices when they"d thought he had been unable to

hear them. Blaming themselves, each other, the school, his

doctor, everyone but him.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

He had tried to express his guilt once, just once, and

Everett had snapped at him, one of the few times he had ever

raised his voice to him. Alex recalled every second, every

breath of those moments, had lashed himself with them for

years.

Everett had been pale, shaking, and his bandaged

hands had been curled into fists as though there were still

doors he needed to break down.

“
No
.” He"d raised his head and looked straight into

Alex"s eyes, straight at him with words he couldn"t say

making him swallow.
“No.”
He"d chosen that at last, to say it

again so Alex would not misunderstand him. “You never say

you"re sorry to me again, Alex.” The order came out without

a single tremor, with Everett looming at the foot of his bed

and holding on tight to his anger for another long moment.

Then Everett had let Ally pull him into her arms and draw

him from the room.

Ally"s eyes had bored into Alex over her son"s shoulder.

George had gotten up to close the door behind them, and

then sat there with Alex whether Alex had willed it or not,

and quietly taken his hand when Alex had turned his face

into his pillow.

George had cleared his throat, twice, embarrassed at the

emotion or fighting words, but he"d finally only said some

ridiculous comment about the weather, something so absurd

that Alex might have laughed at if he hadn"t been so tired,

and if George hadn"t followed it up with some mumbled

remark about bootstraps.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

Like a few older people Alex had encountered over the

years, George had seemed to think mental illness could be

cured through willpower and hard work alone. His

disappointment in Alex for his perceived failure had almost

hurt as much as that look in Everett"s eyes.

The fact that George had helped him afterward, without

a word about being a man and being strong, probably meant

Everett had argued with him. Alex hadn"t asked; it was bad

enough now to think of coming between Everett and his

father, and he couldn"t have taken the thought then.

Alex took several moments to pull himself out of that

memory, no matter how much he bled to think of it. Life was

infinitely harder than death, but far more beautiful too.

He looked at Everett.

“You didn"t tell me.” Everett pulled up at the little

convenience store people in the neighborhood went to when

they didn"t feel like driving a bit farther to the big-chain

grocery store. He parked and then turned to face him. He

lifted one eyebrow, but then blinked and moved again before

Alex could answer.

“How did you even find this mysterious website?” Alex

changed the subject and then swore the sky blue as he got

out of the car and had to brace himself for the windchill. He

couldn"t believe he"d forgotten his gloves.

Everett quickly turned away, but not before Alex caught

a glimpse of the flush spreading from his face to his neck

where his scarf hid it. “I have your name on an alert. On my

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

computer,” he admitted quickly, and then headed into the

store.

It took Alex a moment to follow. Hell, it took him a

moment just to breathe. He"d done the hardest thing he"d

ever had to do and left Everett for Everett"s own good, and

Everett had followed him anyway?

Alex thought about inches, miles, of unbearable

distance and felt a familiar heat that reached even his

fingertips. Sometimes hope taunted him, gave him dreams

and memories that grew sharper with time instead of fading,

and sometimes hope left him panting and speechless and

with his blood hot. He was a wicked man, because it seemed

a lovely thing to know Everett had yearned for him.

He ought to give his therapist a little more credit as well,

because he hadn"t seen that coming at all, but she had. He

entered the store and looked around until he found Everett

again, and then sighed at the tension in Everett"s shoulders.

“I"m touched,” Alex murmured as he came up behind

him. Everett shivered at the breath by the warm, pink shell

of his ear, and his shoulders eased down a fraction. But he

didn"t turn. Instead he pulled out Ally"s list from his pocket

and stared down at it. After another moment, Alex took the

handheld basket from him and went down a different aisle.

He caught part of the startled, knowing glance Everett sent

him from under his eyelashes and quickly moved to hide

how he longed to stare back.

The habit was ingrained and almost instinctive. He put

his other hand to his stomach and made himself look again.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

Over the tops of the aisles he could see both Everett and

the front of the store, where a bored teenager was sitting by

the cash register where the old man who owned the store

had used to sit. Income had been spotty in Alex"s house

growing up, with his father often between jobs or incapable

of working, but he hadn"t been poor. Stealing small things

from this place had been more of a way to pass the time.

He"d been good too. It had been Ally who"d caught him, not

the old man. She had dragged him back, just the same, and

made him apologize.

He spotted a tiny wooden duck that a local must have

carved and painted to sell here, and added it to the basket. It

would have fit in his pocket, but he resisted at least that

temptation.

He looked up again as he headed in a new direction and

watched Everett at the refrigerated goods section, hurrying

on when Everett gave him another slow look. There was

considerably more thought in this one, and heat.

It was no different than any other look from Everett,

except that now Alex was willing to admit that it was there,

even if he couldn"t get himself to return it yet.

Look, look back, look away. It was an old game. He

scrubbed at his cheeks and thought of his sinful reputation,

but he couldn"t find it in this small, square building full of

memories and the typical bodega sundries.

There were some old, used DVDs on sale as well, films

he"d never heard of, and cigarettes—not behind the counter

but right next to an array of snacks. Alex"s hands skated

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