Something Like Thunder (12 page)

“Let me see.”

Nathaniel held up his hands. He’d noticed when gripping the steering wheel that some of his knuckles were cut open. All of them had begun to swell. Mr. Hubbard examined them, then turned to his son.

“Why don’t you go to the kitchen and make us some coffee?”

“How?” Caesar said. Then to Nathaniel, “Do you even drink coffee? Are you okay?”

“Now,” Mr. Hubbard said. Caesar loitered a moment longer. Then he slinked away. “Care to join me in my office?”

Nathaniel nodded, then followed Mr. Hubbard to the place where they always talked. Once the door was shut and they were seated, Mr. Hubbard offered him a sympathetic expression. “Looks like your brother pushed you too far this time.”

Nathaniel tried to respond, but his voice only squeaked. After composing himself, the story came pouring out. All of it, even the ugliest, most shameful details that he hadn’t dealt with yet.

“I don’t know what do to,” Nathaniel finished. “I ruined everything.”

Mr. Hubbard cleared his throat. “No reasonable person could blame you for what happened.” They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr. Hubbard went to answer it. A hushed conversation followed, and when Mr. Hubbard returned, he was carrying two steaming mugs. “Do you drink coffee?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

Mr. Hubbard set one of the mugs in front of him, then leaned against the desk. “Now’s a good time to start. Coffee is one of life’s little miracles. It gives you energy when you’re tired, warms you when you’re cold, and gives you something to hide behind when life keeps throwing shit your way.”

Nathaniel glanced up and managed something close to a smile. He’d never heard Mr. Hubbard curse before. Picking up the mug, he took a small sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “Got any milk?” he asked. “Or sugar?”

Mr. Hubbard shook his head. “Always drink it black. Anything else shows a lack of commitment. You’ll grow accustomed to the taste. You’ll even learn to savor it. Sort of like marriage, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Begin with coffee. You can figure out the mysteries of matrimony some other day.”

Nathaniel took in the sparkling eyes, the friendly expression. “I wish you were my father. I never talk to my own. Not like this. Maybe if I did, I would have seen the truth. I thought he was a good person. I should have paid attention. For my mother. I should have known better.”

Mr. Hubbard sighed. “You couldn’t have. Parents have an unfair advantage. Our children can’t hide anything from us, but we’re exceptionally adept at keeping the truth from them. Usually with the intent to protect. There are exceptions though. Your parents didn’t know about Dwight abusing you. That’s about to change.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Dwight will tell them he got in a bar fight or something.”

“No,” Mr. Hubbard said. “They’re going to hear the truth from me.” He held up a hand when Nathaniel tried to protest. “They’ll need a reason why you’re staying here from now on.”

Nathaniel stared. “What do you mean?”

“You said you feel like your home is no longer safe. I agree. Not until matters with your brother are resolved. Until then, I’d like you to stay here. It’s up to you, of course, but we have a spare bedroom no one is using and—”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. But I would need to talk to your parents first. About everything.”

This kept his optimism in check. He wasn’t escaping his problems, but at least he wouldn’t have to face them alone. “Okay.”

“Good.” Mr. Hubbard lifted his mug of coffee, holding it up until Nathaniel did the same. “Here’s to happier times.”

* * * * *

Caesar was on his feet the second Nathaniel entered the dining room, like a new father waiting outside the maternity ward. Nathaniel almost expected him to ask if it was a boy or a girl.

“Is everything okay?” Caesar said. “Are you all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” he replied, not knowing if it was true. Elsewhere in the house, Mr. Hubbard was trying to call Nathaniel’s parents. He had been given the option of staying in the office but had mumbled some excuse about an important test they needed to study for. In reality, he couldn’t handle speaking to his parents yet.

Caesar’s attention was on his hands. “Does it hurt?”

Nathaniel held them up, flexing his fingers, tearing the skin a little around the most damaged knuckles. “I’ve had worse.”

“Come upstairs. I have stuff I can put on them.”

“It’s fine.”

“Seriously. Come on.”

Nathaniel followed Caesar up the stairs, wondering how to deal with his inevitable questions. He didn’t want Caesar to know about his home life. Not that he didn’t trust him or feel like he couldn’t be open. Caesar looked up to him, which made Nathaniel feel good about himself. Proud, although he probably didn’t deserve it. He didn’t want to ruin that by revealing he’d been a beaten dog for most of his life, only standing up to his brother when trying to protect his mother. Even that he had gotten wrong.

“In here,” Caesar said, leading him through his bedroom to the private bathroom. From under the counter he pulled out a large red case with a white cross on the front. This was no average first-aid kit with the bare necessities, rather it was a suitcase loaded with multiple kinds of gauzes and bandages, ointments and sprays. Nathaniel had trouble recognizing most of it, but Caesar seemed delighted, sifting through different items and examining some before setting them aside or putting them back in their designated places.

Nathaniel eyed the metal implements. “You aren’t planning on giving me stitches, are you?”

“Do you think you need them?” Caesar asked. “I can’t sew you up, but I’ve got some butterfly bandages. Um… Mind if I take a look?”

Nathaniel leaned against the bathroom counter and held out his hands. Caesar bent over to see, but he didn’t touch them. Then he gave his diagnosis. “The dried blood probably makes it look worse. Let’s get them cleaned up. I have a spray—”

“No,” Nathaniel said, anticipating the sting. “Soap and water is fine.”

He washed his hands in the sink before Caesar could protest. This stung too, but he made sure not to show it. Shutting off the tap, he flung the water off his hands and held them up. “All better. See?”

Caesar shook his head. “Antibiotic cream will help everything heal faster.”

Nathaniel eyed him. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Caesar’s smile was subtle as he opened a tube. “I told you about my paramedic, didn’t I?”

“You started to.”

Caesar reached out, placing a hand beneath one of Nathaniel’s to support it. The physical contact made him feel hungry. His world had always included pain, but now he was reminded of a different sort of touch.

“I was a kid,” Caesar said, gently applying ointment. “My grandma was taking care of me when she had a stroke. It was just me and her at the time, so of course I freaked out, but at least I remembered to call 911. When the ambulance came, there was this paramedic…” Caesar shook his head. “I was worried about my grandma. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t lusting after some dude while she was potentially taking her final breath. The attraction wasn’t sexual at all. Not at that point. Instead this guy was like a mythical hero, you know? Like he strolled out of some mysterious fog at the darkest moment of my life to save me. Or my grandma. But me too, since if she had died then… Like I said, I was just a kid, and we were all alone. That would have messed me up pretty bad, so in that way, he became my hero.”

Nathaniel felt a pang of jealousy. Partly because his own hero had always failed to show. And also because being someone else’s hero must feel good. “So you wanted to be like him?”

Caesar shrugged. “Sounds dumb, I know. When I hit a certain age, I started wishing I could be
with
him instead. I never saw the guy again, but in a way, he also helped me figure out my sexuality. Funny how that works. He probably doesn’t even remember me. To him it was just another work day. For me, it was life-changing.”

Caesar continued smoothing in the cream, using a circular motion. If the skin beneath his touch wasn’t so damaged, the experience would have been pleasurable. Even so, Nathaniel’s body was beginning to react. “I think that’s enough.”

“Okay. A few of your knuckles will need bandages. You don’t want them getting infected.”

“Fine.” He watched as Caesar dug through his kit again. “I’m guessing you’re not going to Yale to become a paramedic. A doctor?”

Caesar didn’t answer. Instead he peeled the paper off an adhesive bandage and asked a question of his own. “What happened?”

Nathaniel wanted to snap at him—tell him to mind his own business. Considering he was carefully tending to his wounds, Nathaniel decided instead to give back. Just a little. “I got in a fight with my brother.”

Caesar looked up, searching his face for any damage. Or maybe for faded signs of the bruise he’d had when they’d first met. “Does that happen a lot?”

“We’ve never really gotten along.”

Caesar was quiet while finishing his work. When he was done, he asked, “My dad is going to help you, right?”

“He’s trying.”

Caesar nodded. “Good.”

Nathaniel shifted, uncomfortable with the topic. “What should we do now?”

“You mean for fun?” Caesar chewed his bottom lip. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yes. Please.” Movies were the perfect medicine. No matter how bad the day, once at home and in the safety of his room, Nathaniel could lose himself in another character’s life. An hour and a half of being a spy or a treasure hunter or even a starship pilot. Each had their problems, but none were as grounded in reality as his own. Trying to figure out how Godzilla could be defeated was infinitely more appealing than trying to find new ways of avoiding Dwight. Nathaniel loved losing himself in stories, and he found movies the most immersive form.

“What should we watch?” Caesar asked, leading the way back to his room.

Nathaniel flopped down on the couch. “You pick one.”

“Oh.” Caesar considered his DVD collection, touching one occasionally before turning around to look at him. Then he would second-guess himself and continue his search.

“There’s no wrong answer,” Nathaniel grumped after minutes of this. “This isn’t one of our study sessions.”

“Yeah, I know. Hold on. Uh… Have you seen
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
?”

“Clint Eastwood, right?”

“The cowboy?” Caesar asked, looking puzzled.

“The director, and no, I haven’t seen it. Let’s give it a spin.”

Nathaniel wasn’t into the movie at first. His knuckles were starting to ache, and his back and neck were still tense from the fight. He found himself more interested in the person sitting next to him. Nathaniel kept his head forward but stole glances at Caesar from the corner of his eye. One of the hands that had so recently been touching his was resting on Caesar’s leg. Nathaniel thought about placing his own hand over it, consequences be damned, but he found himself paralyzed.

Then the movie picked up pace, and Nathaniel was swept up into the strange world of Savannah, Georgia, where every resident seemed to hide a dark secret behind a façade of manners and etiquette. By the time the credits rolled, Nathaniel was spellbound.

“That was fucking excellent!” he said.

Caesar relaxed, as if relieved by his verdict. “I caught the second half on cable one night. It totally resonated with me.”

In what way? Did he relate to the bumbling journalist, who found himself in a world of unspoken rules? Or the drag queen, who despite all her bravado, seemed strangely vulnerable? Or maybe the male escort, who was fought over by men and women alike? Nathaniel could ask, but felt he should already know. He wanted a connection with Caesar that transcended words.

“Of course the parts about voodoo freak me out,” Caesar continued, “so I never watch it alone.”

Nathaniel made a face. “It’s not exactly a horror movie.”

“Yeah, but it is kind of a ghost story.”

Nathaniel shoved him playfully. “You’re a wimp, you know that?”

Caesar grinned. “Hey, we can’t all be bruisers.”

“Bruisers?”

“You know. A fighter.”

“You think that’s what I am?”

Caesar nodded toward his hands. “I’d say you’re pretty tough, yeah.”

Nathaniel didn’t feel that way. Not normally. Then again, he had just recently beaten the crap out of the biggest monster in his life. If only he hadn’t been replaced by another. “You’re the wrestler,” Nathaniel said. “You could probably take me in a fight.”

Caesar perked up. “You really think so?”

Nathaniel snorted. “No.”

“Sounds like a challenge to me!”

Nathaniel jerked a thumb at the floor. “Let’s go!”

Before they could get tangled up, there was a knock at the door. Caesar opened it to find Mr. Hubbard standing there. “Nathaniel. A moment, please.”

“Saved by the bell,” Nathaniel said playfully, even though his stomach was twisting up. He followed Mr. Hubbard down the hall, entering a bedroom on the left. The walls were blank, the bed and mattress bare.