by Scotty Cade
Abel looked away. Now I’m really screwed. But again Abel didn’t want to lie. “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous, and I’m embarrassed to tell you, but I can’t lie.”
“Why don’t you let me decide if it’s ridiculous or not.”
“If you insist,” Abel said. He hesitated.
“Well?”
“Man, you are a tenacious one.”
“I’m still waiting.”
Abel swallowed hard. “Okay. A minute ago when you teasingly asked what you were gonna do with me? My first thought was to say you can do anything you want to me—but just don’t leave. I’m sorry, it was a gut reaction. In my world leaving is what people have always done, but I knew it wasn’t fair to ask that of you, so I didn’t say anything. And then some old childhood wounds started to resurface.”
Cullen didn’t respond, and Abel mentally kicked himself.
“See, I told you it was crazy.” Anything to break the silence.
Cullen turned to face him. “First of all it’s not ridiculous. And secondly you are right. It’s not fair to ask that of me. And even if you did, I can’t in good conscience make a promise I’m not sure I can keep. You know better than anyone that I’m struggling with my own demons.”
“I know,” Abel whispered. “I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
Cullen held up a finger. “But what I can promise is that as long as I’m here, I’ll do everything to get you through this rough patch.”
Abel laughed. “Rough patch?”
“Yeah. Rough patch,” Cullen said. “Abel. This uncertainty and fear isn’t going to last forever. You’re gonna be a great homosexual in no time at all.”
Cullen’s voice was warm. There was a smile hiding behind his comforting words, mixed with a little amusement, and it warmed Abel.
“I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“THAT HIT the spot.” Abel folded his napkin and placed it on his breakfast tray. He slid the tray down to his feet and pulled the covers back. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“Nope.” Cullen held up his tray, swung his feet to the side of the bed, and stood. “I made the mess, I’ll clean the dishes.”
“Then we’ll do them together.” Abel stood too, not taking no for an answer.
“Okay, you win, but it’s gonna be a tight squeeze in the small galley.”
“I’m a foster kid, remember?” Abel laughed, following Cullen up the stairs to the galley. “I’m used to tight spaces. Hey! Once my bedroom consisted of simply a mattress in a closet.”
“Seriously?” Cullen asked. “Didn’t they have social workers that checked up on this sort of thing?”
“Absolutely. But they were all spread too thin, and when they finally got around to checking in on me, they saw where I was sleeping, and off I went to a new home. But at least I had a space of my own.” Abel stopped when he realized what he’d said. “Man, I was even in the closet as a kid.”
Cullen chuckled as they worked together effortlessly in the small space. When Cullen zigged, Abel zagged, and vice versa, each man dancing around the other.
Cullen threw a dishtowel over his shoulder and rested his hands on his hips. “You’re pretty good at the galley dance. As I said before, Cole was the only other person who could pull it off.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. At least I’m in good company.”
“Ya know,” Cullen said, “that’s the first time I’ve mentioned Cole and not felt a stab of loneliness and pain.”
Abel smiled. “Maybe we’re both making progress.”
“I think so,” Cullen said. “Hey! How about a run?”
Abel turned quickly in the little space, and the two men ended up face-to-face, chest touching chest. Crotch against crotch. Their eyes locked as they held each other’s gaze. Abel was instantly lost in Cullen’s beautiful blue eyes, and Cullen seemed to be lost in his. Abel raised his hands, cupped Cullen’s face, and pressed his lips to Cullen’s. The comfort with which he did it surprised him.
Not only did Cullen not pull away, he gripped Abel by the waist and pulled him closer. Abel took that as encouragement and timidly pushed his tongue inside Cullen’s mouth. Cullen was warm, and he tasted of eggs and coffee, and it was overwhelmingly divine. Cullen gripped the back of Abel’s neck with one hand, and the simple touch made Abel realize he was very hungry for something more. Something he’d never experienced. He knew then he wanted Cullen, no two ways about it.
But an internal struggle had started to manifest itself. Abel now knew what he wanted, but he also knew Cullen was still struggling with Cole’s death. He needed to slow this down or Cullen was going to freak. Abel was about to retreat when Cullen beat him to it.
“No. I can’t,” Cullen said breathlessly into Abel’s mouth, but to Abel’s surprise, Cullen didn’t release his hold on him. “I… it’s not you. I’m screwed up, Abel. Until I met you, being miserable and alone had become an accepted way of life for me.”
“And now?” Abel asked cautiously.
Cullen looked down and then looked back up to meet Abel’s gaze. “It’s like… I’m on this emotional rollercoaster. There’s you. There’s Cole’s memory. And there’s all the ups and downs that go with both. I just need more time to figure this all out. Okay?”
Abel rested his forehead against Cullen’s and closed his eyes. “Okay.”
Gently, Abel stroked Cullen’s back, trying to comfort him in any way he could, and when Abel opened his eyes again, Cullen was staring back at him with an expression of absolute confusion. It broke Abel’s heart to see Cullen so confused and in so much pain.
Abel took a deep breath and spoke slowly, willing his voice to sound steady and sure. “I really like you, Cullen, and although I know you’re still struggling with your memories of Cole, I just want you to know I want you, if and when you are ever ready. No pressure, and I’ll let you take the lead, but I wanted you to know. To hear the words from my lips.”
“Thank you,” Cullen said. “One minute I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, and then I keep having these weird dreams that make me hopeful I can work through this. And then… well. This happens.”
“It’s okay, Cullen. Forget about what just happened between us. Would you like to tell me about the dreams? Sometimes it helps to talk about them.”
Cullen hesitated and then took Abel by the hand. “Let’s sit down.”
When they were comfortably seated in the saloon, Cullen recounted his dreams, obviously struggling to give Abel as much detail as he could. Abel listened without interruption and tried to analyze as they went. Pastoral counseling training didn’t make him a psychologist, but he had learned to listen with his heart. When Cullen was done, Abel chose his words carefully.
“As much as I want to, I hesitate to comment,” Abel said.
“Why? I want your opinion.”
“But after listening as objectively as I could, I’m afraid everything I say is going to sound like I’m trying to convince you to do something you might not want to do.”
“I trust you, Abel. You’re not a selfish man. I want to hear what you have to say.”
Abel turned away, trying to decide how to proceed, but there was no real decision to be made. He had to give Cullen his opinion without sugarcoating it, whether he liked it or not. “Okay, but this is my take. You probably won’t agree, but here’s what I think.”
Cullen took Abel’s hand in his. “Remember, I trust you. It’s okay.”
“Well, for starters I think the dreams are telling you that Cole has not moved on because you haven’t moved on. In the first dream, he leads you into the water and tries to show you that you’re drowning, going deeper and deeper into yourself. And then he hands you off to me. Someone who pulls you to the surface and gives you air. Gives you life. He wants you to live, Cullen. Not only to live but be happy.”
Cullen didn’t respond, so Abel kept going. “In the second dream, he also brings you to me. He tells you he loves you, but it’s t
ime for you both to move on. He puts your hand in mine and disappears into the light. If he is willing to go into the light, he knows you’re in good hands with me. Don’t you see, Cullen? God, the universe, whatever you believe in, brought you to me. Because I needed you. But more importantly because you needed me. We needed each other.”
Abel brought Cullen’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “That’s my take. Like it or leave it. And call it selfish or self-serving, call it me wanting you, call it whatever you want, but in my heart of hearts, that’s what I believe.”
Cullen took Abel into his arms. “I want to believe Cole was helping me. Guiding me. But what if all this is just my subconscious trying to justify my moving on?”
“The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who or what’s behind it. Something is telling you that you can’t go on living the way you have been. From what you’ve told me, I think you’ve been slowly dying inside. And, Cullen, the body instinctively wants to survive. Somewhere deep down, whether you know it or not, you want to survive. I’m sure of it.”
“I just need time to process all this.”
“Of course you do,” Abel said. “And take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
A couple minutes of silence passed and Cullen smiled weakly. “You still in the mood for that run?”
“Sure. But can we go by my house first so I can change?”
ABEL STOPPED dead in his tracks when he saw his house from across the street.
“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.
“Look!” Abel pointed. His house was totally decorated for the fall season. There was a huge corncob wreath with orange and gold leaves adorning the front door. Pumpkins in various sizes were lined up on the porch, and a cornstalk garland ran from one end of the white picket fence to the other.
“It’s not bad,” Cullen said, trying to sound convincing.
“It looks like Disneyland.”
“Who did this?” Cullen asked.
“The ladies of the church,” he said, wincing. “They do this for every holiday.”
“Did they skip Halloween?”
“That’s a very touchy subject at our church. The Southern Baptists are divided on whether to celebrate Halloween or not. Some allow their children to dress up and trick-or-treat, and some think it’s the demon’s holiday and lock their door and turn off all their lights. It all goes back to paganism and the rituals that go with it. And since the congregation is divided, the church sort of ignores the holiday altogether.”
“Wow!” was all Cullen could say.
“Abel! You’re back.” Abel’s neighbor Dottie waved from a rocking chair on her front porch.
“Yes, ma’am.” Abel and Cullen crossed the street and stopped just outside her fence.
“Hello, Reverend Kiley. I’m so glad you boys didn’t miss each other.”
Abel raised one eyebrow and gave Cullen a quizzical stare.
“Long story,” Cullen said, feeling a blush creep up his face. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Arnold.”
“Another long story?” Abel teased through clenched teeth.
“Sorry.”
Dottie gestured toward Abel’s house. “Looks like the church monkeys paid you a visit again, Abel.”
“Looks like,” Abel replied, obviously trying to hide his disapproval.
“They mean well,” Dottie said.
“I know, Dottie. I know. It’s good to see you. The reverend and I”—Abel glanced at Cullen, and Cullen thought he detected a little sarcasm in his voice—“are gonna go for a run, so I need to get changed.”
Abel slid the key in his lock and pushed the door open. When they were safely inside, he turned to Cullen. “Anything you want to tell me?”
This time Cullen felt the heat that accompanied the blush as it crept up his face. “Okay. I’m sorry. I was desperate to find you. I didn’t know where you lived, and I didn’t have your cell number, and I was running out of time. Then I remembered you told me you lived a few blocks from the marina, so I ran up and down every street within a five-block radius, hoping I’d see you in your yard or something. When that didn’t work, I called the church office, and it was closed, and I was starting to get desperate. With nothing but time on my hands and no other options until Monday morning, I googled you.”
“You ran up and down every street in Southport and googled me?” Abel’s tone carried a certain amount of disbelief.
“I know. I know,” Cullen said. “When I say it out loud, I sound like a real stalker. Don’t I?” Cullen held up his hand. “But I promise I’m not.”
Abel raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. “Go on.”
Damn if he’s not enjoying this just a little bit. Or maybe a lot. Cullen rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I found an article about you online, announcing your appointment to the Southport Baptist Church. It said you would reside in a church-owned residence on Caswell Street. So I walked up and down Caswell Street until I finally saw Dottie outside and struck up a conversation. And before you say anything, yes. I added the reverend title to my name. I thought it would lend credibility.”
“Apparently it worked.”
Cullen smiled, feeling a little proud of himself. “Yes. She told me you lived right next door. For all the good it did me. You were gone by then. That reminds me. You never said where you actually went.”
Cullen waited for some sort of response, but what came was most certainly not what he was expecting.
Abel smiled broadly and launched himself into Cullen’s arms. “I can’t believe you did all that to find me. Cullen, no one has ever cared enough about me to do anything like that.”
Cullen, for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d met Abel, swallowed the lump in his throat. Here he was thinking Abel was going to be upset with him because of the measures he’d taken to find him, and instead Abel was flattered. The man never ceased to amaze him.
“Are we gonna run or not?” Cullen asked, trying to lighten the weight of the moment.
Abel kissed his cheek and started up the stairs. “Give me five, and I’ll be right down. Make yourself at home.”
Cullen peeked through an open door off of the foyer into a powder room. He walked through the living room into a dining room and eventually the kitchen and keeping room. The place was nicely furnished. Very neat and clean. But it was… what? What was the word he was looking for? Cold? Unwelcoming? Yeah, both of those words certainly applied.
It was also something else. It was sterile. Looking around Cullen saw not one personal thing of Abel’s. Not one iota of his personality. No pictures of himself. Of course Cullen didn’t expect to see any family pictures because Abel had no family, but besides that, the place just didn’t feel like a home. It didn’t feel like a place Abel would live or even be comfortable in. Suddenly Cullen was very grateful for all the pictures he and Cole had taken over the years. They served as his memories now, which was all he had left.
Stop it, Cullen. This is about Abel. Not you.
Luckily before Cullen could send out invitations to his own pity party, he heard Abel’s footsteps on the stairs. He started back for the foyer and met Abel on the last step.
“How do you like my palace?”
“It’s very nice.”
“Nice? Yes. But I’ve never felt at home here. It has never felt like my place.”
“Maybe ’cause it’s not,” Cullen said. “This place is not you, Abel.”
“You’re right. And whatever it is to me, it’s not even gonna be that for much longer.”
“That’s right,” Cullen said. “The church owns it, so if you resign, you’ll need to vacate the property. Any idea where you’ll go?”
Abel hesitated. “Not really. I haven’t thought that far ahead. Baby steps. Remember? For both of us.”
“Baby steps,” Cullen repeated.
“You take the lead,” Abel said.
Cullen pulled out his phone, started his running ap
plication, and put his earbuds in his ears. “You okay with five miles?”
“I’m not a runner, but I’ll give it my best.” Abel put earbuds in as well.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Both men waved to Dottie, who was still rocking steadily on her porch, as they ran down the steps. They turned left on Caswell Street and headed to the Riverwalk, intercepting Cullen’s normal route. Before long they both seemed to be lost in their own heads.
Chapter Eleven
CULLEN’S STEPS were steady and his breathing was regular, but his brain was on maximum overload. He looked to his right. Abel seemed to be keeping up with him just fine. Abel. What was he going to do about Abel? Cullen hadn’t meant to tell him about his dreams, but the words had flowed out so effortlessly, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. In the end he was glad he’d done it. Abel’s take on Cullen’s dreams was a little different but essentially as valid as Cullen’s. Yes, it could have been some higher power bringing two lost souls together. And Cole may have even had a hand in it. But the more likely scenario to Cullen was that it was his own guilty conscience trying to in some way validate his leaving Cole behind and moving on with his life.
Whatever the truth was, it didn’t really matter. If Cullen was even going to think about living again, he would have to do a great deal of soul searching. And what about Abel? If he took Abel down this path along with him and it didn’t work out, what would happen to Abel? Abel had been let down by too many people already, and Cullen wasn’t about to add his name to the list.
“Time: nine minutes forty-two seconds. Distance: one mile. Current pace: nine minutes thirty-eight seconds. Average pace: nine minutes forty-two seconds. Split pace: nine minutes forty-two seconds.”
Cullen waited for the British woman to stop talking and pulled out one of his earbuds. He looked at Abel. Abel had taken off his shirt and tucked it in the back of his shorts. When had that happened? His torso was glistening with sweat, and Cullen watched Abel’s pectoral muscles tense and release with each pump of his arms. His hair was falling over his forehead, and his eyes were alert. And damn if he wasn’t matching Cullen step for step. To top it all off, Abel was singing. Cullen listened to the lyrics as Abel sang. “My Soul’s Been Satisfied.” He must be listening to gospel music.
