Something Like Thunder (23 page)

Nathaniel didn’t. “So they think you’re at your girlfriend’s house?”

“I’m starting to wish I was!” Caesar said in exasperation.

“Sorry.” Nathaniel took a deep breath. “I was looking forward to finally spending lots of time with you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Caesar said. “It sucks.”

“Yeah. At least we still have the rest of the week.”

Caesar remained quiet. And very still.

Nathaniel clenched his jaw. “What now?”

“I’m taking a trip to Colorado with my family. There’s no getting out of it.”

“You’re not fucking serious!”

“Sorry.”

“I told you I was getting this room! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know.” Caesar kicked at the carpet. “My dad surprised my mom. She kept saying she wanted to see the snow. It’s his Christmas present to her.”

Nathaniel groaned. Then he started pacing the room, trying to find some solution. Cancel his reservation and get a hotel in Colorado wherever Caesar’s family would be? Of course there Caesar couldn’t pretend he was out visiting one of his friends. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault,” Nathaniel said, trying to calm down. “So let me guess. We’ve got an hour?”

“Yeah. Maybe I can stay a little longer.”

“Great.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to face him. “What do you want to do?”

The answer wasn’t surprising. Sex. Nathaniel went through the motions. Caesar was his usual self—talking, asking, suggesting—like an enthusiastic orchestra conductor setting the tempo for a different kind of arrangement. Nathaniel remained silent, except when Caesar reached for the condoms and lube. Then he said no, ignoring the look of disappointment that so perfectly mirrored his own. Afterwards in the shower he defrosted somewhat, washing Caesar’s back and wishing this hour could stretch into the many he had hoped for.

“I feel like I’m ruining your life,” Caesar said as he was pulling on his shoes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nathaniel said, sitting next to him on the bed.

“I’m serious.”

“I just wish you’d make more time for me. That’s all.”

Caesar shrugged helplessly. “I don’t see what else I can do.”

Nathaniel exhaled. “I’ve told you before. Tell your parents you’re staying the night at Kurt’s house and come see me instead.”

“And what? Cuddle up between you and Mr. Jung? I hate your dorm.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I do,” Caesar said. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s hard to get into the mood there.”

Nathaniel looked at him. “Seriously? Your love stops if the environment isn’t right? This is more than just sex to me!”

“I know. I don’t mean it like that. But being there reminds me of how you should be in Connecticut. That was the plan. That was the promise.”

“Which changed because I wanted to be with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

Nathaniel scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I feel like it’s my fault! And if you
had
asked, I would have told you not to stay. You need to be
there
, not here at some crappy college.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the University of Houston! I like it there. Yeah, my living situation sucks, but that will change.”

Caesar sulked. “It still won’t be Yale.”

“You’re such a fucking snob!”

“What am I supposed to do if they don’t let you in? Have you thought of that? It won’t be easy. I asked my dad if transferring to Yale was possible. I didn’t mention you, but even he laughed like there wasn’t a chance. My parents aren’t going to let me throw away my education.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” Nathaniel growled. “And hey, if you really think I’m destroying my life, the least you could do is bother answering my texts. What’s up with that?”

Caesar looked away.

A pit opened in Nathaniel’s stomach. “There’s a reason.”

“It’s hard,” Caesar muttered. “You’re not around, so it gets confusing.”

“Who?”

“Nobody. But it kind of feels like we can’t really be together, so maybe we should wait.”

“What?”

Caesar looked at him, eyes pleading. “I’ll keep the promise, but since neither of us can fulfill it right now, maybe it would be easier if we waited.”

“Easier? You think us being apart—not talking, kissing, screwing,
not anything
—would be easier?”

Caesar got off the bed. He reached for his jacket and stood holding it rather than putting it on. He gazed downward, like he was thinking very carefully about his next words. Funny that it ended up being just one little sound. “Yes.”

“Fuck you.”

Caesar looked up, his expression hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Nathaniel repeated. “Leave.”

Caesar started to but hovered in the doorway. Nathaniel rose and pushed him into the hall so he could slam the door. Then he returned to the bed so he could punch the mattress, over and over again. He noticed then the photo frame he had given Caesar, the one with the postcard from Yale. He picked it up, ready to throw it against the wall and smash it into pieces. He couldn’t. Instead he sat on the bed, removed the back of the frame, and stared at a tiny slice of time, one that was soon dotted with tears.

* * * * *

The knock on the door came an hour later. Nathaniel answered it without harboring any false hopes. His mother stood there wearing an apologetic expression.

“Is he already here?”

Nathaniel frowned. “No.”

“Oh. I know you have a romantic evening planned, but it’s Christmas, which made me think room service might not be available. So I brought you these.”

She lifted the two plastic bags, one in each hand, the outline of Tupperware containers in both.

“Thanks.” He took them from her, set them aside, and stepped forward for a hug. Once his mother was in his arms, he didn’t feel like letting go.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Can you stay?” he asked, releasing her. “Please. Just for dinner.”

His mother looked concerned. “Of course. Whatever you need.” Then she brightened. “I have presents! In the car. You probably think you’re too old, but you’re not. Help me carry them in?”

Nathaniel managed a smile and a nod.

It wasn’t the best Christmas, but his mother’s presence made it a lot better than it would have been. The next day he called Rebecca at her parents’ house. She stayed with him for the rest of the week. He thought about cancelling the reservation to save money, but after one night of sharing a carton of ice cream with her while watching bad holiday specials, he decided the expense was worth it. They were both tired and needed to recharge. His heart was weary, inside and out. He didn’t know that was possible. If his heart wasn’t broken, it was exhausted. Strange how love could be so empowering, could make getting up every morning worthwhile, could provide endless energy to make the other person happy. What he never expected was to be presented with a bill at the end. The time had come to pay, and after scraping clean the deepest vaults of his soul, Nathaniel found he had nothing left to give. He was destitute.

Interlude

A soft ticking was the only sound in Marcello’s office. Nathaniel had never noticed it before, had to turn to locate the source of the sound—a small gold clock on the desk. Normally this room was so full of life—debates over new business ventures, the popping of champagne bottles, or even the classical music Marcello put on when trying to impress others with his refined taste. In truth he preferred disco. Nathaniel had walked in on him once while he was shaking his considerable bulk to the Bee Gees.

Even this memory couldn’t make him smile. He turned back to the couch, where Kelly sat perfectly still. He was good at that. While telling his story, Nathaniel had shifted constantly, unable to find a comfortable position, before rising to pace the room. Not Kelly. He remained motionless, listening with undivided attention. No interruptions, no questions, not even facial expressions that hinted at his thoughts. Maybe this was a skill he’d learned while modeling. Or maybe he was quietly awaiting the perfect opportunity to pounce. Lord knows Nathaniel had seen him do so many times before.

“How am I doing?” He swallowed against the words, hating how desperate they made him sound.

Finally Kelly shifted, stretching out his arms as he frowned. “I’m sorry about your family life. I had no idea.”

“I came to terms with it long ago.”

“That may be,” Kelly said, “but I can only imagine how different my life would have turned out had I been raised in an environment like that.” His brow knotted, his lips moving slightly as if he had more to say. Then he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

“Don’t hold back,” Nathaniel said. “You never did before.”

“It doesn’t seem appropriate to challenge you on any of this, considering what you’ve been through.”

Nathaniel walked back to the couch and flopped down. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got it coming. Hit me.”

Kelly cocked his head. “It’s just that I
know
I asked you about your family. Many times. I don’t remember you avoiding any questions, but I also don’t remember hearing anything like I did tonight.”

“Does ‘I was never close to my father’ sound familiar? Or how about, ‘We don’t have much in common. I was always a mama’s boy.’ I found ways of telling the truth without spelling it out. I had plenty of practice before we met.”

Kelly’s frown deepened. “You said something once about not spending time with your brother because you always ended up butting heads.”

“Literally, on a few occasions. Once in the eighth grade when he found out I had borrowed his bike.”

Kelly’s jaw flexed, and something in those brown eyes flashed. “Do you have a current address for him? I wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Let karma finish the job instead. His life has been one miserable event after another.”

“The way you tell it, so has yours. I hate that. It’s not what I wanted for you. Give me a time machine and screw any paradoxes, because I wish I could go back and be there for you.”

Nathaniel felt a rush of affection that he quickly tried to tame. “I wish it had been you instead of him.”

“Me instead of Caesar? Maybe I’m getting soft, but he was just a kid. Fifteen—even sixteen—is really young.”

“We were both young,” Nathaniel said. “I don’t hold any of that against him.”

“You might have both been young, but only you were dealing with problems any adult would struggle with. Did you ever tell Caesar the full truth?”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “He never knew about my dad hitting my mom, or how long my brother abused me. He asked me once what we were fighting about, like a temporary feud had us at each other’s throats.”

“How did you answer that one?”

“I claimed I stole Dwight’s paper route.”

Kelly didn’t laugh. Not until Nathaniel did, but their amusement only banished the tension momentarily. “It’s getting late,” Kelly said, looking toward the elevator doors.

Nathaniel didn’t move. “I’ve never told anyone the full truth. Not before tonight. I’m not finished.”

Kelly appeared hopeful, which was puzzling until he realized why. As painful as his past might be, it didn’t excuse what Nathaniel had done. Kelly wanted to forgive him, sought a reason to do so, but he was no fool. Three years was a very long time to suffer an injured heart. Somehow Nathaniel needed to justify that, and only the truth would suffice. That was fine, because the truth was all he had to offer.

“Want me to make some coffee?” Nathaniel offered.

“How much more could there be?” Kelly asked.

“A lot. And it only gets more complicated.”

Kelly snorted. “Is that even possible?”

“Jason Grant.”

Kelly’s expression became guarded. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I’ll tell you. But first, coffee?”

Kelly stared a moment longer. Then he nodded at the bottle on the table. “You better pour me a real drink.”

Nathaniel leaned forward, picked up the wine bottle, and considered the label. Then he held it up. “Château Coupvray 1974. Do you recognize it?”

Kelly shook his head. “Should I?”

“It was dark that night. We’ll get there.” He grabbed the corkscrew, opened the bottle, and carefully poured. When they were both holding their glasses, he raised his slightly, but any sort of toast seemed inappropriate. He considered a declaration of love, just in case he never got the chance again. Instead, he settled for one word.

“Ready?”

Kelly looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “Ready.”

__________

Part Two

Houston, 2006

__________