After taking care of his immediate needs, Cole glanced around, hoping to see something out of the ordinary, but of course he couldn’t see squat. All he had left was his central vision and that was fractured at best. He got down on his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor, expecting to see some color at least, but the only thing recognizable was white tile.
He pushed the small window open; grateful for the cool air wafting into the room. Crouching down, Cole reached for the can of air freshener underneath the sink and sprayed it around liberally. Finally, he moved over to the sink to wash his hands. The lingering odor of sickness bothered him, though, and he had to assume Sloan had hurled at some point. Frowning in distaste, he realized there was no way to get an answer unless he ran gloveless fingers over the rim of the toilet. He forced himself to stop fretting and hoped the smell would dissipate by the time his parents arrived.
Cole was reluctant to answer any questions involving Sloan. It was a minefield he didn’t care to navigate, not until he had more answers. He also had to make sure they kept their information about his impending blindness to themselves. The very last thing he needed was for Sloan to find out and coddle him. He’d rather deal with hostility and anger than be babied.
The trembling in my limbs was subsiding, and the cuts had started to clot. It would be safe to put on my clothes without having the blood leach through the denim. I was so pissed at myself for losing it. It had been several months since my last incident, and I thought I had everything under control, but this was twice now in the last forty-eight hours. I’d have to go back on antidepressants if this kept up. Hopefully, once I started school, I’d be too busy to do this anymore. I snorted out what could have passed for a laugh, but the idea of controlling this compulsion was ludicrous. It was as realistic as Cole asking me out on a date.
The doorbell buzzed. It was six thirty in the evening on a Sunday night. Family time for most, so I assumed it was Cole’s parents. I stared at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser to see if I was presentable.
My face was unmarked, despite our recent altercation. I appeared detached rather than agitated. If I had been in a better frame of mind, I’d own up to Max’s continued praise. My bone structure was supposedly perfect, my gray eyes arresting. Still… no matter how many times I’d received the compliments, I found them hard to accept. And my body, well, a better clothes hanger you couldn’t find. I was waiflike, to put it nicely. These bones that were so perfect for the fashion industry were the bane of my existence and the main reason I was a cutter.
I turned away, but not before running a brush through my hair and then shaking it out like a dog after a bath. It was still damp and tendrils clung to my face. I sprayed myself with a bit of Calvin Klein to try to cover the stink of the day while putting on a happy face for the sake of our visitors, whoever they might be.
Chapter 7
“Would you like another helping, Sloan?” Eileen Fujiwara asked.
“No, thanks.”
Cole could sense his mother was disappointed by Sloan’s unenthusiastic response to her prized lasagna. He’d been pushing the food around instead of devouring the cheesy concoction most people raved about.
“Are you unwell, dear? You’re quite pale and there are tiny beads of sweat dotting your forehead.”
“I’m all right,” Sloan replied sullenly.
“How’s your dad doing?” Ken asked.
Cole was eager to hear Sloan’s response. He didn’t know much about Sloan since they lost touch years ago. Perhaps his father was also in the dark. Or was he just making small talk?
“My dad is fine, sir. So is Junior.”
“Tell us about your career choice,” Ken urged. “I’ve never met anyone who went to Pratt. Isn’t that where all the artsy types go?”
“I’m a graphic artist,” Sloan shared.
“I understand you’re here on a partial scholarship. You must be very good at what you do.”
“I’ve won a few awards,” Sloan said, thawing a little.
“What do graphic artists do?” Cole interjected, addressing Sloan for the first time since his parents arrived.
Sounding slightly brittle, Sloan replied, “There are many areas of work for someone in my field.”
“Such as?”
“Animation, for one. From what I understand, Disney has a scout hanging around the school waiting to entice the good candidates.”
“Cole, do you want more?” Eileen interrupted, reaching for his plate.
“I’m fine, Mother. Please, don’t get up.”
She got up nonetheless and took his plate, spooning more lasagna into the center, adding some green beans and another slice of garlic bread. “Here you go, dear.”
Cole sighed audibly, irritated by his mother’s solicitous behavior. He’d clearly said no, yet she had ignored him. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it only made his temper, which was on the brink of erupting, harder to contain. He forced himself to eat instead of making a scene.
“Have you had a chance to explore the city yet, Sloan?” Eileen asked, seemingly oblivious to her son’s reaction.
“No.”
“Mother, he’s only been here for two days,” Cole snapped.
“Maybe you can take one of those bus tours with him, dear. You know the kind I mean?”
“I don’t think so,” Cole replied. “I have plans tomorrow.”
“Well, maybe another time,” she suggested.
“No worries, Mrs. Fujiwara,” Sloan said, “I can do it on my own.”
“Please, call me Eileen.”
“Yes, let’s dispense with all this formality. You call me Ken, okay, son?”
Sloan nodded and shoveled a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. Cole could tell his roomie was gradually calming down; his body language had improved markedly since his parents had walked through the door an hour ago. Sloan had been vibrating then, emitting a hostile aura that was impossible to ignore. Since Cole hadn’t mentioned their fight or his threat to boot him out, he seemed to relax a little.
Clearly, there was no way Cole could ask him to leave without causing problems for both of them. He’d have to learn how to live with Sloan and try to get past this. What had happened was a drug-induced encounter, something Sloan had instigated, and Cole wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore. He’d made his position very clear.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Sloan?” Eileen asked.
Cole turned to Sloan and practically held his breath, waiting for the reply that would surely send his parents into orbit.
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you’ll meet someone here. You’re a very good-looking young man.”
“Oh, please,” Sloan demurred.
“Don’t be so modest, Sloan. You have good bone structure and stunning eyes, like your mother’s.”
“Did you know my mother well?” Sloan sounded surprised.
“We were thrown together a lot while your father and Ken were playing baseball. I was saddened to hear about her passing. Was it quick?”
“It took about a year from the time they diagnosed the cancer until her death,” Sloan answered softly.
“I’m sorry, dear. It must have been very difficult for you.”
“Can we change the subject, please?”
“Yes, Mother. Let’s move on,” Cole interjected. “Have you and Dad finalized your summer plans?”
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly leave you, Cole. Not now.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Come on, son,” Ken interjected. “You know why.”
“There’s no reason for you to postpone your vacation,” Cole challenged. “I’m sure my sisters will be upset if they have to stay in the city instead of going off to Hawaii.”
“We’ll see,” Eileen replied. She picked up the empty plates and made her way into the kitchen.
I watched this whole exchange with interest, trying to read between the lines. Cole was poised
for another outburst. His cheeks were bright red and the vein on his forehead throbbed dangerously. I knew that look firsthand and braced for impact. Not for the first time, I wondered why he was so fucking angry. His parents were nice, albeit oversolicitous of his needs. In fact, the man was damned spoiled if you asked me. I couldn’t recall my mother waiting on me hand and foot like Eileen did for him. It was odd, to be sure. She treated him like a child instead of an adult. He didn’t have to ask for anything, because she anticipated all his needs. No wonder he acted like an entitled brat. Everyone indulged him, but I wasn’t going to be his little bitch; he could fucking fend for himself.
They stuck around for a few hours and finally left at eleven o’clock. I was glad to see them go. I wanted to take my jeans off because the rough denim was rubbing against the cuts. Cole and I barely said two words to each other. He went to the bathroom and I waited my turn, knowing he wouldn’t be very long. He was done and out in about ten minutes, and then he closed his bedroom door behind him and locked it. Fucker… did he think I was going to rush in there and rape him?
I decided to ignore Cole from now on. Treat him like a roommate and nothing more. If he ever got his head out of his ass far enough to treat me with some respect, I might consider speaking to him again. In the meantime, he’d have to settle for monosyllables.
The next morning, after Sloan left for school, Cole sat in front of his computer and contemplated his next move. He could continue to procrastinate, hoping his eyesight would remain at its present level, or confront his greatest fear like a man. Acknowledge his disability and try to learn everything he could before the curtain dropped. The first order of business would be to make an appointment. He needed to apologize to John for his childish behavior and work out some sort of game plan. He could also use some advice on how to handle things between him and Sloan.
Many months ago, when he’d first met the doctor and was subjected to a battery of psychological tests, he’d been asked point-blank if he’d ever had a same-sex encounter. Cole remembered his outrage at the time. He’d tossed his pencil at the doctor and walked out of the room. The anger and humiliation had continued all the way into the next week, but eventually, he made his way back to John’s office and never mentioned his outburst again. It seemed to be a pattern with them. John probed, and he shut down, avoiding the topic altogether. Cole was now an expert at dodging important issues, always falling back on his duties as the only son and heir apparent to his father’s legacy. Confiding his true feelings would start a ripple effect he couldn’t contain.
Cole blamed his attraction to other men on a youthful phase, a carryover from the brief encounters he’d experienced while attending the all-male boarding school his father had insisted on. Ken had been concerned because Cole was growing up in a household filled with women. They’d never had another son, and although his three beautiful daughters were precious and much loved, they could not offer his oldest child the male companionship Ken had hoped for. His schedule with the San Francisco Giants put him on the road constantly, and he was rarely home for longer than three days in a row during baseball season.
So he and Eileen had made the decision to send Cole to a prominent school for boys in Marin County, confident he would be surrounded by heaps of testosterone. And it all worked according to plan… except for the groping in the dark when lights went out. The camaraderie between young men in close quarters always included contests. Who had the biggest dick and the longest reach during a pissing contest. Jerking off within a circle of friends was a pretty common occurrence. What anyone refused to acknowledge was hooking up in earnest. These clandestine encounters were never mentioned in the bright light of day.
Cole’s experiences at the hands of an upperclassman had frightened him, but they were also more enjoyable than he’d expected. He’d received several hand jobs through the years and, one time, had allowed a guy to suck him off. He never returned the favor, as this would have been proof of homosexuality. Better to receive and pass off the rest as the other guy’s problem and not his.
But last night had brought back all the memories he’d buried years ago, and they far exceeded anything he ever experienced in school. He’d never felt so alive, and it was this feeling that terrified him, causing him to lash out at Sloan rather than talk about it. Cole kept trying to push it into his subconscious, but every time he envisioned Sloan going down on him, he grew painfully hard.
The next day was spent exploring Pratt. I completed all my paperwork, met with a few of my teachers, and hooked up with the school drug dealer, scoring two more grams of weed and ten Xanax, all within four hours. It was quite a productive morning and I was feeling pretty good. The shame and trauma of yesterday was starting to fade.
I headed back to the apartment and let myself in with the key Cole had left for me this morning, along with a note saying he’d be gone all day. It was a relief to be alone, to be able to turn up the volume on my iPad and let Freddie’s music lull me into a happy place.
A call from Emily pulled me back to reality and I picked up, glad to be talking to her after not seeing or hearing from her in about a month. She was also on the East Coast, but Boston University was her choice. She was getting a degree in Fine Arts with a major in theater design.
“Hey, you.” Her voice reverberated, sounding quite happy. “How’s my best friend?”
“Fucking fabulous.”
“Oh, no,” she said, knowing me so well. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me, Sloan. I know every inflection of your voice.”
I snorted. “If you must know, I seem to have found myself in a situation.”
“Already? You’ve only been there a few days.”
“And your point is?”
“What could have possibly happened in forty-eight hours?”
“How much time do you have?”
“Spill.”
So I told her everything, starting with my first night. The only thing I left out was the cutting. That wasn’t something I was willing to share with her or anyone else.
“And did he say anything to his parents?”
“Not a word.”
“Then he won’t, so stop stressing over this. Sounds like you’ve hooked up with a big closet queen.”
“It’s hardly a hookup, Em. More like a falling-down-the-hole-and-chasing-the-white-rabbit incident. Complete with the hookah-smoking caterpillar.”
“Must have been some party.”
“No kidding….”
“You want me to come and visit?”
“I’d love to see you. When?”
“How’s next weekend? Can I crash at your place?”
“Sure… not a problem.”
“He won’t mind?”
“It’s my room and my bed. Why would he?”
Chapter 8
The New York subway system could be frightening for the uninitiated and absolutely terrifying for someone with any sort of disability. The underground caverns of Grand Central and its honeycomb tunneling system was a true challenge, even at the best of times.
Cole’s experience with trains was minimal. By the time he’d moved to New York, his eyesight was seriously undermined, so he’d only ridden the subway a few times, opting for cabs after the first few dizzying experiences. Since then, things had only gotten worse. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to take the uptown train to Dr. Butterman’s office. The Lighthouse Guild was located at 250 West 64th Street on the Upper East Side of town and was a hike from where he lived. The cab fare was outrageous, not to mention the miles of gridlock, but it was better than braving the confusing labyrinth deep in the bowels of the city.
Cole was late for his appointment and spent the first five minutes of it complaining about the traffic.
“You could be here in half the time if you pulled up your big-boy pants.”
“I can’t,” Cole fumed, defensive before they even got started.
“I do it all the time an
d I’m legally blind.”
“I find it overwhelming, if you must know the truth. I’ve always considered myself to be a tough guy, John, but the few times I’ve been down there, I was out-and-out scared.”
“What are you afraid of, Cole? Getting lost? Riding on the wrong train?”
“How about getting pushed onto the track, or worse yet, just stepping off the platform all on my own?”
“Well, that’s certainly a real possibility, but if you have a cane or a dog, the chances are lessened.”
“I will never use a cane,” Cole said emphatically. “Don’t broach the subject again”
“Why not? I use one and I’m not embarrassed by it.”
“You’re old, John.”
“So it’s all about appearances?”
“You’d never know I had a problem with my vision just by looking at me,” Cole said. “Put a cane in my hand and I’ll be treated differently. I don’t care how you spin this, but the general public consider disabled people to be a nuisance, and a blind man is a walking target.”
“That’s the most cynical thing I’ve heard in a long time.” John shook his head. “Have you always been this jaded?”
“I’m being honest, and this is how I see it, pardon the pun,” Cole replied sarcastically.
“You’re wrong, but I’m not going to argue over this. How about a guide dog? Or do you also consider it pathetic?”
“I don’t know. My family never owned a dog for some reason.”
“Do you have any allergies?”
“I have asthma, but I don’t know if a dog will aggravate it or not. Is one breed better than the next for such things?”
“Yes. Some dogs have less dander than others, and even their hair can make a difference.”
Cutting Cords (Cutting Cords Series Book 1) Page 5
