Split (7 page)

David’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat. “That’s right you big retard.”

When Nick laughed, it resonated through the street. He laughs like the Green Giant. At the sound of it, everyone seemed to let out some of the extra air in their lungs.

I kind of felt like one of them for a minute.

Nick looked over at me, like he had forgotten I was even there, and frowned. “You all right? How’s your face?”

I nodded.

“You shouldn’t have come. I’m gonna be in deep shit ’cause of it.”

I had never thought of that. Of how bad it would look to Johan. I hadn’t planned on getting Nick in trouble, I just wanted to see what he was going to do with the toilet paper. “I ca-ca-came by myself. You-you didn’t ask me to—”

“Yeah, well, you try tellin’ my dad that.”

I bit down on my lip. That nice feeling was gone. I only felt like crying.

“Okay.” Nick stretched his arms out and took a deep breath. “I hear the van. You guys don’t say a thing. Not a fucking thing. Got it, Terry? You lemme do all the talking.”

When Johan pulled up, all my courage leaked out of me. I had never seen his face like that. It hung down and all his features seem to meet in the middle. Johan climbed out. He didn’t even look at any of us. He walked slowly to the front door and knocked.

Mrs. Pinet’s face appeared in the wedge. “John,” she called him.

Johan means John. I didn’t know that. That’s Dad’s name.

“I want you to know that I don’t plan on reporting this to the police.” she said. “I know you and Helga are good folk and you can handle this matter privately.” She lowered her voice, but we could still hear her. “I know he’s been givin’ you some problems. I heard about what they found in his locker.”

What was she talking about?

Johan said something, but we couldn’t make out his words. Mrs. Pinet nodded and then called to her sons, “Come on, boys, you’ll finish this in the morning. It’s late, there’s school tomorrow. Get inside.”

Sebastian immediately dropped the bag and skipped up the stairs into the house.

David hesitated, but Nick tossed his chin up and whispered, “Better do what she says.”

David’s body seemed to harden, and his mouth looked hungry for something. “Nick, oh Nick.”

Nick tensed. “Go.”

David’s lips formed a strange smile, and he disappeared into the house.

The front porch light went off.

“Get in the truck.” Johan had opened the passenger door for Nick. “Derek, Terry, get in the back.”

We all obeyed.

Johan drove Terry home. On the way there, none of us said a word. I could hear Terry swallowing beside me, that’s how quiet it was. When we got to his apartment building, Terry leaned between the front seats. “Thank you, sir. Have a good night, sir.”

Johan didn’t say anything. He waited until Terry was safely inside his apartment, and drove away slowly.

That’s when I noticed I wasn’t breathing much. As a matter of fact, none of my breaths made it past my throat. I pushed my shoulders down and forced them there, like Mom had showed me, then I widened my nostrils to try and get some more air inside them. I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes. Sometimes, if I concentrate and picture the sponges inside my chest opening up like flowers after the rain, I can get my lungs to work without my medicine.

Johan had started talking. He wasn’t yelling, just talking real slow, but it couldn’t be good because he was grumbling in Norwegian.

Nick didn’t say much, aside from a grunt here or there. Once in a while, when Johan raised his voice a bit, Nick would sigh heavily or chew on his thumbnail.

Trying to understand what they were saying helped me keep my mind off my episode and slowly, my breaths became deeper.

Then Johan looked up to the rearview mirror. “Nicolai says we shouldn’t tell your aunt you were out with them tonight. What do you think, Derek? Do you think I should lie to your auntie? Do you think a young man should avoid responsibility or consequences for his actions? Do you think it’s how good men behave? Should we all connive and deceive the women who care about us?”

I had the feeling he wasn’t really talking to me.

“Should we? What do you think? What is the proper and honorable way to deal with this mess? You tell me.”

Nick sank back into his seat. “Dad, why don’t you leave the poor kid alone?”

The poor kid. Is that what I am to Nick?

“I think we-we shuh-shu-should tell my-my aunt.” I said, trying to sound brave. “I want to.”

Johan pulled up in their driveway. He sighed. “I think so too.” He turned to Nick. “See, the boy’s eleven years old and he has more guts than you do. Go inside. Mom wants to talk to you, and I suggest you don’t argue with her.”

There was nothing I could do for him.

I watched Nick climb out of the van and walk up the stairs. He pushed the front door open and then crept inside. Johan rubbed his face. “What am I going to do with that boy?” He came around and opened the door for me. “You want me to come with you, or can you handle this on your own?”

“I’ll be okay by-by myself.”

“All right. Listen to me. You’re a good boy, Derek. I know you don’t have it easy. I know you miss your dad.”

I don’t miss Dad at all, but I let him say it anyway.

“Derek, I’m counting on you to try and keep Boone straight. His mom and I feel like he’s trying to follow down his brother’s path, and that’s not a good thing. There’s not much we can do for Nicolai, he’s too headstrong, too angry, but Boone, Boone we can still work on. I want you to be the voice of reason. Okay? You understand?”

The thought of trying to keep Boone from doing anything is kind of funny. But I nodded. “But Mr. Lund,
Johan…
Nick isn’t that-that bad, he was on-on-only—”

“There are things you don’t know about my son. He’s trouble. It’s best if you stay away from him.” Johan pointed to my front door. “Now go inside, before you freeze to death.”

Trouble. What kind of trouble is Nick?

Inside, Aunt Frannie was still on the phone. When she saw me, she hung up without saying good-bye. “Honey? What are doing? Were you outside?” She came to me and put her hands on my face. They were very warm. “Baby, you’re frozen. Where were you? I thought you were in bed. Where did you go, Derek?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but a big fat sob came out instead of words. I couldn’t control it. Snot and tears shot out of me and my shoulders heaved up and down. “He-he was trying to de-defend himself,” I stammered between sobs. “He was only trying to ma-make them take it buh-back. He isn’t dumb.”

Aunt Frannie smelled like Chantilly, baby powder, and cigarettes. “There, there. Did you get in some sort of fight, is that what happened?”

I pulled away a little, and wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. “Uh-huh.”

“And don’t tell me. Boone was with ya.”

I shook my head. “No, he’s grounded. It was Nick. But-but he didn’t ask me to co-co-come. Just wanted toilet pa-paper.”

Aunt Frannie chewed on her bottom lip for a second, and then she threw her head back and sighed. “Nicolai Lund. That boy is so dangerous. His looks alone could kill you.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but she had this dreamy look in her eyes. Then they cleared up and she got serious again. “I’m gonna run you a hot bath. Throw your clothes in the hamper and wrap yourself in your dad’s flannel robe.” She went to the hall closet to fetch a towel. “Now, how should I punish you? What would your mom do?”

I thought about it for a while.

Mom wouldn’t do anything.

Then I thought of Nick and Boone. “I should be grounded until-til Saturday. And no-no TV.”

Aunt Frannie popped her head out of the bathroom. “Sounds fair to me.”

*

I am dazed, for lack of a better word.

Last night, over dinner (the first Nathan and I have had together since he came back from England, and that was eight days ago), Nathan raised his glass, proposing a toast. “To the man who brings color to my life.”

That was sweet.

Of course, I instantly became suspicious.

He set his glass down, peering into my eyes. “Do you like the wine?”

It was spectacular. As always.

He drew in a long breath. “So,” he said, staring down at his hands. “I’ve been thinking.”

My neck tensed up. Nathan is at his best when he is doing, not
thinking
. Every time he thinks too much, we end up doing something drastic.

Like moving into a place we couldn’t afford if he ever lost his job.

“Listen, Der. You know I’m not a sentimentalist.”

Well. That’s an understatement.

“But I think me and you, we have something solid.”

I poked at my shrimp, feeling my heartbeat pick up the pace.

“Hey, look at me,” he insisted softly. “No?”

I nodded.

Yes. Solid. Absolutely.

Like cement.

I chewed on my lip.

I decided to try a bite and see if I could swallow it.

“Derek. After two years, you’re still an enigma to me.” He sighed. “You know, I used to think that would bother me one day, but I realize, it only makes me crazier about you. Makes me want you even more.”

The shrimp was definitely too spicy for my taste. Nathan swears by this fresh pepper puree. He dumps it into everything.

“Der? Hello? You listening to any of this?”

I glanced up. His ebony eyes flickered with a deadly anger for a moment. At least, I think they did.

Maybe it was the candlelight.

“Yes,” I promptly returned. “Go on.”

“What are you thinking about right now?”

Whenever people ask me that question, my mind goes blank. Imagine a vacant parking lot. Like that. Lots of expensive spaces filled with nothing.

“Der?”

I stuffed some rice into mouth, hoping to buy some time.

“Derek O’Reilly. This is Nathan Ross putting in a request for a full sentence, please. I want nouns, verbs, and if you can manage an adjective or two, I’d be eternally grateful.”

I smiled.

He poured himself another glass. “Do you know what that smile does to me?” He took a sip, and I waited, watching the wax drip along the candle. “It kindles me,” he said. “Ignites my very soul.”

Nathan is a closer.

Life is a good deal to him.

“These last two years have been the best years of my life. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

The wax had clumped; it was going to tip the stick.

“I know you need your space. I respect that. I can appreciate it. And that’s why I think we’re perfect for each other. Der—” He paused, then rose. “I guess what I’m trying to say is—” He pulled a box out of his pocket. “Derek, baby.”

Please.

A heart attack.

An aneurysm.

A flash of lightning through the bay window.

My heart had begun pounding, and its demented rhythm only reminded me that I was alive. That meant having to hear and answer the coming question.

“Let’s do it, Der. Let’s take this up a notch. You and me. What do you say? Will you marry me?”

I’ve long ago come to terms with my homosexuality. I live it in a fairly healthy way. I’ve worked through many issues through the years, and I pride myself on the progress I have made.

I am not a fag. I’m gay.

But marrying another man?
Marrying
. As in “husband and husband.”

A nervous chuckle unfortunately escaped my treacherous lips.

Nathan’s handsome features sagged. “Did you just laugh?” He shrank back.

I sprung out of my chair. “No, Na-Nate, I-I just—”

“You’re stuttering.”

I raised a brow, trying to paint on the cutest possible expression on my face. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. You did. Just now.”

“Okay, so?”

“You only do it when you’re trying to hold something back.” He sucked in a short but determined breath, then swiftly rubbed his angular chin. “All right. Let’s try this again, okay?”

Twice? I mean,
twice
?

“Derek. Marry me.”

My knees locked.

He popped that box open and there it was. A silver band.

Nice too.

“We’re ready for this, Der. I know it. I feel it.”

Forever. Monogamy. Forever.

“Look into my eyes.” His eyes were like two puddles of shiny petroleum. “Marry me, Derek. We’ll have the biggest, most lavish wedding you could ever dream of. The whole deal, Der. Think Hotel Saint James. Think top hats and champagne fountain. Think fois gras and jazz.”

My heart fluttered a little. Who can resist fois gras? Except me, of course, as I’m a vegetarian, but what’s that to Nathan?

He pulled me close, binding me to his chest. “So?”