by Rachel Kane
For a long time after she died, I thought about that day in the plane. Wondering if she somehow had known about it anyway. Wondered if Pop was right, and it had killed her. Feeling guilty, sick in my heart that I’d had a hand in it. Feeling like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be loyal to, her or Pop.
* * *
Feeling pulled in a thousand directions at once, I apologized to Marcia on the phone.
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about that,” I said. “Wasn’t thinking it’d worry you. But I was fine. Am fine. Everything’s fine.”
She was quiet, and I could almost hear her thoughts, wondering if she should question that many fines back to back.
“How is Eli, have you spoken to him since he went back to the city?”
“He’s…fine,” I said. Please don’t ask when I spoke to him.
“Good. His head’s doing okay?”
“I think so.”
“You’re a man of few words today, Jake.”
“Always am.”
“You’re worse than Pop that way.”
“Well, I gotta finish my lunch and get back to work,” I said.
“Wait,” she said. “Can I ask you… No. Nevermind. None of my business.”
Then don’t ask. If it’s not your business, stay out of it. Please, Marcia, for our own good.
“All right,” I said. “Talk to you soon.”
But before I could hang up, she said, “Okay, I guess I don’t care that it’s none of my business. But I have to know. Were you with Eli last night?”
I glanced around. Nobody else was in the break room, yet I felt like anyone might be listening.
“Can we talk about this later?” I asked her. “I really have to get back.”
“Oh god,” she said. “You were.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to say it, Jake. A simple no would’ve been so easy for you to say. You spent the night with him?”
“I really can’t talk right now.”
“Are you crazy? Have you thought about what this would do to Pop? I thought—I thought—”
My heart pounding in my throat, ears ringing, I said, “Gotta go. Talk soon.”
She said something else but I didn’t hear what it was. I tapped the red hang-up button and set my phone on the table.
This was not how I had wanted that conversation to go.
Not that I ever wanted to have that conversation with her, but I knew eventually I’d have to. She was my best friend, and it would be dishonest to hide it from her.
But not yet. Not when everything was still fresh and new, when I couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about Eli, his excitement, his eagerness, the way he had given me so much energy and life even when we were both exhausted at three this morning, still going at it with an intensity neither of us could believe.
I couldn’t tell her about that. Not yet. Not this way.
I stared down at the phone. I was in so much fucking trouble.
22
Eli
“I’m still in the defiant stage,” I said, setting down my coffee cup.
“Oh, I know that stage,” said my friend Cameron. “That’s the one where every word they say makes you a little bit gayer.”
Cam was the first person—other than Amanda, of course—that I’d told about Jake. Like me, he was a writer, although unlike me, he was actually successful, with his recent book making enough money that he’d been able to quit his day job. Thus the hanging out in this coffee shop, when we were both supposed to be writing.
“Eventually, though, I have to decide what to do with my family,” I said. “I really pictured things playing out differently on my return. I was going to be coming back with a book, instead of a boyfriend.”
Cam shook his head then took a sip of coffee. “You put too much faith in your parents’ rationality. Remember, I said the same thing when you first told me about your trip. Why would a book by your uncle make any difference to them? Why would they care if he died lonely, missing his family? Anyone who loves you one day, then hates you the next because you were gay, hasn’t exactly exhibited logical skills.”
“So what should I do? I can’t just…drop my family.”
“Can’t you? They turned on you instantly when you came out. They’re willing to cut you off over nothing. Why are you so insistent on working it out with them?”
I looked around the coffee shop. Everyone here seemed so normal. Eating their biscotti, checking their phones. Had any of them just survived a plane crash? Had any of them just verged on losing their families over something they had no control over?
Control. That’s the part that bothered me most, I think. It was one thing to nearly lose my life in an accident. As much as that was horrible (I was still having nightmares, and late last night was grateful to wake up and find Jake’s arm around me, keeping me safe), you expect that sort of thing to be out of your control. Sometimes things just happen, and there’s nothing you could do.
This was different. These were my parents we were talking about. How could they just push me aside? How could they be so angry about it? That’s the thing Cam didn’t get. He was right that it didn’t seem logical…but that didn’t stop me from trying to find the logic, feeling like if I could just figure it out, I would understand how to mend everything.
“That’s the point of my uncle’s book,” I said. “I want to know why they’re so insistent on cutting me off. They can’t talk about it. They don’t know how to lay out their case. But I was hoping Ron would understand. I was hoping, if he could explain it to me, even if only in his posthumous book, that I could bridge this gap, that I could—”
“That you could do all the work, even though you had nothing to do with the break,” said Cam. “Funny how that goes. The burden is on you for all of it. Straight people never have to work through anything on their own.”
I shrugged. “I love my folks. I don’t think they honestly hate me or anything. I think they’re just…shocked. Confused. Since the book idea didn’t work out, I just have to move forward with plan B.”
Cam peered at me. “Which is?”
“Introduce them to Jake and let them see how happy he makes me.”
The temperature at our table dropped by a few degrees. Cam carefully set down his cup, and slid it out of the way.
“Eli, I don’t know how to say this to you in a way that won’t hurt your feelings…”
“Uh oh.”
“I don’t think you should involve Mr. Fly-Boy in your family issues.”
“No, I know, I don’t want him to get hurt by them either, but I was thinking—”
“Oh, hon, it’s not his hurt I’m worried about. It’s yours. Why are you setting yourself up for even more pain?”
That stopped me in my tracks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? I could hear it in your voice when you called this morning. You have fallen for this guy.”
“Well…yeah. That’s good news.”
“No. No, Eli, it’s really bad news. You are in no place in your life to start a relationship.”
“God, not you too? Are you going to sit here and give me a hard time about it?”
“Someone has to! Do you really need me to spell it out for you? First the financial trauma of your book, then the family trauma thanks to the fight, then you fall out of the fucking sky… Eli, it has been one thing after another with you. You are emotionally vulnerable right now. The last thing you need is to get involved with somebody!”
It felt like someone had reached into my chest and gripped my heart with an icy hand. If I’d expected anyone to be on my side, it was Cam.
“I don’t really want to hear this,” I said. “You don’t know Jake.”
“I don’t need to know Jake. I know you.”
The anger was building inside of me. I tried to tell myself to calm down. This was Cam, one of my best friends. He wasn’t an enemy, wasn’t trying to hurt me.
D
idn’t matter. Hearing anyone speak against my new relationship made me see red.
“Do you know me?” I asked. “Because I think I’ve changed in recent days. I’ve learned a lot about myself, and—”
“Come on, Eli! You haven’t been rational since your book came out. Calling me in tears, saying you had to fly to some damn campsite to figure things out, getting all distracted by your uncle’s book instead of just dealing with your own emotions. I don’t think you’ve learned anything about yourself. You’re still the same person who couldn’t figure out how to come out to his parents directly, couldn’t figure out how to deal with those feelings, so you squeezed them all into a story instead of just talking to them.”
“I tried talking to them! See where that got me!” My voice was too loud. The calm and collected patrons started looking around at us.
Cam leaned across the table and whispered, “And now this man you crashed with just happens to be the love of your life. Really? Or are you just rebounding hard from disaster? You’re going to wind up even more hurt, if you go too fast with this, Eli.”
It felt like the entire world was watching me. I could have sworn I heard a whisper, Isn’t that the guy from the plane crash?
I was suddenly very aware of my bandage. It was just a small one at this point—no more gauze around the head—but still, a visible mark that I had been injured.
I’d avoided reporters, avoided the spotlight, tried to keep things as private as I could.
I could feel the adrenaline coiling inside me like a snake ready to strike.
My lungs filled with a long, deep breath. Calm down. Don’t make a scene.
Cam was my friend. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was wrong, completely wrong about me and Jake, but that didn’t mean he was an enemy.
“I think I need to go,” I said, injecting a note of self-assurance and dignity into my voice.
He reached across the table and took my hand. “Please think about it, Eli. I really don’t want you to get hurt. More hurt. You’ve already been through so much.”
As politely as I could, I took my hand away. I didn’t say goodbye to him. I couldn’t say another word, not while the entire planet was watching me.
“I need to stay home tonight,” said Jake.
Crush me, why don’t you. I held the phone away from my head, like it was dripping with poison.
“Why?” I said, my voice quiet and strained.
“It’s my Pop. It’s Marcia. It’s…it’s just everything. I need to talk to her. She’s pretty upset.”
“About us?” I wanted to say: You told her? Who said you could tell her? But that was silly. Hadn’t I just told Cam?
“I’ve never been in this kind of thing before,” Jake said. “I don’t know what to do. She’s pissed, Pop doesn’t understand what’s going on. And damn, I need some sleep. I know if I come over there, we’ll be up all night again.”
Any other time I might have laughed about that. I knew he was trying to make a joke. But it didn’t sound like a joke, it sounded like I was getting in the way of his life.
Jesus, Eli, are you going to pick fights with everybody today? Let the man rest. He’s got a lot on his mind.
I didn’t like the way this made me feel, though. Like I was being abandoned at a time when I needed him pretty much 24/7.
I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging hard, like I could yank out all the fears if I just pulled hard enough.
Tell me it’s real. Tell me Cam is wrong, and that what’s between us is real.
Wow, fuck. I was seriously overreacting. Jake wanted to spend the night at home. He was allowed to do that.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll miss you.”
I heard his soft breath, imagined him right next to me, whispering into my ear.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” he said.
“No. I mean, yes, everything’s good,” I said. “I must be tired too. My head is all swimmy.”
“Wait, are you getting headaches? The doctor said—”
“No, no, I’m just saying I’m tired. I guess we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”
He seemed relieved when I said that. “Yeah. Yeah, we have. Maybe I should just tell Pop about it all tonight. Get it out in the open. I already feel like somebody kicked me in the head, it’s not like I could feel any worse.”
Don’t speak too soon, I thought. Dealing with family could make everything worse.
“Tell Marcia first,” I said. “You need somebody on your side. Somebody with objectivity.”
“Ehhh… This is Marcia we’re talking about. It’s not like your situation with your sister. She’s definitely going to have some feelings about this.”
“Yeah, it’s funny how everybody else’s feelings matter so much,” I said.
“Damn, you talk like that, you make me wish I was coming over,” Jake said. “You sound like you need me. Do you want me to? I mean, I will, I just—”
“No,” I said. “No. You’ve got things you need to take care of. I’ll be okay. Hell, statistically speaking, after all our recent disasters, I think we’re probably due for something great to happen, aren’t we?”
“That’s the spirit,” he said. “See you soon.”
Let’s see: My family hated me, my sister was telling me not to rush into anything, my friend thought I was on the rebound, and my boyfriend would rather talk to his ex than me.
Yeah, my night was gonna be fucking great.
I grabbed a beer from my fridge and popped the top. It was cold and crisp, just what I needed to cut through the fog in my head. I went ahead and drained the bottle while standing in my kitchen, then tossed the empty and got another.
My apartment was full of entertainment. Books and movies and games, tons of stuff to do. It could’ve all gone into a fire, for all I cared. I was just going to sit on the couch and drink and hurt. That was allowed, wasn’t it?
Nobody to talk to, and yet I felt like I had to talk to someone.
I picked up my phone and flipped through my contacts.
My thumb hovered over my dad’s number.
I tapped it.
23
Jacob
Was it a mistake, staying in town tonight? Maybe I should’ve gone to see Eli. Forget talking to Marcia. Forget making things clear.
Finding a place to talk was hard. I think we both wanted neutral territory, but not in public. The idea of talking about all this at O’Malley’s or the truck stop…yeah. Not going to happen.
I knew she didn’t want to come to my place. So I ended up at hers.
It used to be ours, in the old days.
Not really neutral territory at all.
“Do you want a beer?” she asked.
“Hell yes, I want a beer.”
She waved towards the kitchen. Serve yourself. She didn’t have to say anything.
My phone buzzed on the way into the kitchen. I ignored it. Not now, Eli. But soon. Getting one of the beer bottles, I took a look in her fridge. Just checking on what she’d been eating. I don’t know why, it was just a thing we both did. She’d chide me if she saw too many leftover pizzas in my fridge. I’d make fun of her salads. One of those little holdovers from the relationship, I guess.
You don’t have anything like that with Eli yet. No little habits. No inside jokes.
I missed him so badly. Was he leaving me a voicemail right now?
“If you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen,” Marcia said when I came back. I’d filled a glass of wine for her, and handed it over, then settled into the chair with my beer.
“Shit, I’m never going to be ready to talk,” I said, and she smiled at that.
“Fine, I’ll start. Let’s talk about talking. You know how I first knew something was up? The way you talk. When you’re talking to Pop, it’s like you can barely work up a sentence. You both grunt a few words at each other. And when you used to talk to me like that, I thought it was just your personality. You were old rough-and-tough, the ma
n of few words.”
I took a long pull from the bottle. I couldn’t look at her. It seemed like I knew what was coming next.
“But there were other times when a whole different person broke out,” she continued. “Someone who liked to talk, someone who really engaged. I couldn’t figure it out. I wanted to talk to that second person so much, but I couldn’t figure out how to conjure him. He was interested in how I felt, how he felt. But I couldn’t understand why he was always hiding from me, hiding inside the man who never talked.”
I set the bottle down on one of her coasters. “Sometimes I just don’t have much to say.”
“It felt so unfair. I just wanted you to talk to me. But all I’d get was the Pop version of you. Then, when I caught you looking at those guys, things started making sense.”
The embarrassment made me want to writhe in the chair, twist away, look at anything but her. “Do we have to—”
“Yeah, Jake. Yeah, we have to. That was the first time I understood that you were deep in hiding. From Pop, from me…maybe even from yourself. You were so insistent that nothing was going on. That it was just…what did you tell me, it was just curiosity?”
“Ugh, damn.”
“I wanted to believe it, too. I wanted to believe my big manly man had just had a weird idea, just a few questions that only a video could answer. Surely Jake wasn’t like that. Surely Jake, the man who could carry me into the bedroom slung over one shoulder, wasn’t gay.”
There was no note of accusation in her voice. That was the strange part. If anything, there was a sadness, a melancholy over missed opportunities, lost futures. Now I looked up at her.
“I didn’t know,” I said. “I really didn’t know. And when I did know, I didn’t want it to be true.”
“I don’t understand how you can be something, and not realize it.”
Another pull off the beer bottle. “I think a lot of times people know something’s going on inside them,” I said, “but all they know is, it’s different. They can’t put a name to it. Maybe they never heard the name, or maybe they’re so convinced they’re one way instead of another, it gives you a blind spot over who you really are. I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist.”
