“I understand your choice, and I love you for it,” he finally said. It was a lie, but it was a response that spoke volumes. It told Justin that he would be fine, that he didn’t need to have Justin to be happy. It told Justin that he was the better person. Not only did he understand and accept the decision, but he was still man enough, strong enough, to admit that he still loved Justin regardless.
His words told Justin he would be fine, but his words were a lie.
Justin didn’t reply. Instead, he hugged him, but Dutch’s body remained rigid.
He had no intention of returning the embrace. All he wanted was for Justin to go.
Justin sensed his desire; they were still in tune to each other to some degree. Once again, like on the night they first met, words were no longer necessary and couldn’t express the depths of their emotions.
Justin turned around. He placed the key to Dutch’s house on the coffee table and walked out the front door without another word or a final glance back.
When the door finally closed shut, Dutch continued staring at the wooden door. He was incapable of moving, incapable of emotion.
His body was frozen, his heart a block of ice.
The man he was before this moment simply ceased to be, lost to the coldness of space, where emotion couldn’t survive in the engulfing darkness or lifeless void.
CHAPTER 29
2010
AFTER Justin entered the elevator, Spencer once again made his way to Dutch’s room. His last visit hadn’t been as productive as he would have liked. He’d intended to settle the unfinished business between him and Dutch, but when Dutch brought up the subject, he couldn’t do it. All he managed was to get Dutch to promise to keep the secret.
Their secret wouldn’t remain hidden forever. He accepted that. But there were things that needed to be done before it surfaced. They were trapped, unable to gain any ground as their wheels spun in the mud pit they’d made of their lives. In order for progress to be made, they needed traction; they needed something to force them free before all three of them were destroyed.
While he drove around town after his last visit to the hospital, he came up with a plan that would hopefully do just that. What he needed from Dutch was his consent to go along with it.
It was a tricky proposition, one Dutch might not willingly agree to. But it had to be done. If successful, the three of them could be truly free of the lies they had all woven. The mud would be cleared from their path, allowing them to drive in whatever directions they needed to go.
It’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard, his father said. You can’t really think this is a good plan? Your armor won’t protect you from this, not if you’re the one that sets all this in motion. If it goes wrong, you’ll hate yourself forever. You’ll never forgive yourself. You know that.
He knew the risks. His plan was the equivalent of walking into a battlefield without a gun or body armor. Serious injury was likely, but he saw no other option. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made in war.
Sure, sacrifices have to be made, his father agreed. But this is just plain stupid. There’s no need for this. You’re throwing yourself into the line of fire for no good reason. Don’t worry about the spic or his whore. Worry about you.
That’s not being a very good soldier, he told his father. Never leave a man behind on the battlefield. Those are your words. Not mine.
This isn’t a fucking war, damn it, his father ranted. This is your life. This is your heart, the one damn thing you’ve always been so protective of. Hasn’t it been burned enough? Why do you feel the need to toss it back into the battle before it’s recovered?
You know why, he replied.
For Christ’s sake, his father said, disgusted. Not this again! You need to let it go.
I can’t, he said. Now for the final time, shut the fuck up!
His father’s voice continued to rail inside his head, until it slowly decreased to a barely audible whisper.
Logically, he knew his father was right. There was no need to put himself through this. The best thing for him, and his heart, was simply to beat a hasty retreat. Sometimes living to fight another day was a victory in itself. His armor was back on, and it would keep him safe for the rest of his life.
But he’d come to realize, after his talk with Dutch, that being safe wasn’t living. For too long, he’d lived without fear of being hurt because he never let anyone get close enough to hurt him. Family, friends, lovers were kept at a distance, on the other side of his armor, and while they lived and loved and suffered and rejoiced, he was safe. But he was also alone and miserable.
He’d never realized how miserable he was until Justin. When he let the armor go and embraced Justin, it was similar to being reborn into a world of experience he had previously denied himself. Nothing protected him. Everything affected him. And it was all good, even the pain, even the hurt. Feeling meant he was alive, not the emotionless, unfeeling zombie he had become.
Returning to that lifeless creature no longer appealed to him, despite the pain that still racked his body. The pain he felt told him he loved Justin, despite the affair. If he didn’t, he would feel nothing, only indifference. Something he hadn’t realized until his previous talk with Dutch.
Reuniting with Justin, rebuilding what they once had was impossible, though, unless he knew for certain that Justin wanted to be with him. The only way for that to happen was for there to be closure.
And the only way for there to be closure was to put all three of them through this test. When it was over, they would all know exactly what path their lives would take.
It might end differently than he expected, but he had to take the chance. He had to expose himself to hurt. Being vulnerable wasn’t something he enjoyed, but it was the only way to find the magic again.
With purpose, he walked into Dutch’s room and revealed his plan, hoping that their secret past would remain hidden long enough for his plan to bear fruit.
CHAPTER 30
2009
DUTCH ascended the wooden stairway of Reinbolt Hall. The air, heavy with a woodsy fragrance, reminded him of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Boston, where his parents used to worship every Sunday. The mixture of wood, oil, and must took him back to happier times, when he sat in the pew as a child.
Sitting there, his parents on both sides, made him feel safe and loved. This was his holy place, not for the reasons his parents taught him, but for his own. For his parents, the church was a place where they communed with God and received his blessings. It was sacred, holy. For him, his family was all he knew of holiness. Their love was unconditional and everywhere. It was like God to him. Not that he didn’t believe in God as a child. He did. But he never saw God. He always saw his parents, and their love worked the miracles in his life.
Now his parents were gone. Their love lost, returned to the heavens with their spirits. Its absence left him hollow and dead. For the briefest of moments, he believed he’d found something just as special, just as sacred—a love that would see him through this dark and turbulent world until he inevitably met his end.
He’d embraced it, given himself to it like a child trusting his parents to never do harm. And he had been hurt. Abandoned. Cast off. The love had been a lie, and he was alone and lost, drifting through the world without a compass, without a beacon.
Looking out the second-floor window of Reinbolt Hall and watching the underclassmen in the quad below filled him with no joy. Their smiles and exuberance couldn’t alter his outlook, not when he knew that despair and apathy waited in the shadows for the opportunity to ground such high spirits with harsh reality.
True happiness was an unachievable dream, something everyone searched for but few, if any, ever found. Whatever love they experienced proved fleeting or false. No longevity could be found in love, not when human nature was a part of the mix. As with everything God given, humans had corrupted love and tainted it with personal agendas.
He arrived at that conclusion a few weeks a
fter Justin left him.
At first, he accepted Justin’s decision to return to Spencer, but he stupidly believed they could at least remain friends. After all, they began as friends on Cyber. They’d helped each other through tough times they could never have endured alone. Why couldn’t they simply return to where they began?
So he tried to remain in contact. He sent Justin numerous messages on Cyber. He never sent texts for fear of Spencer discovering them. Justin replied at first, politely asking how he was doing. Dutch even inquired if any progress had been made with patching up his relationship with Spencer.
Soon, days would pass before Justin replied to a Cyber message. When he did, his messages were distant. A few weeks later, Justin’s profile disappeared.
When he discovered the profile was missing from his favorites list, he scrolled through pages and pages of profiles in San Antonio. He held onto hope that perhaps Justin had purchased a new phone and therefore created a new account. He even toyed with the idea that he had accidentally removed J-squared as a favorite the last time he sent Justin a message.
Eventually, he accepted the truth: Justin had deleted the account.
He thought about calling Justin or texting him, but he never did. He got the hint. Justin no longer wanted to communicate with him.
He threw himself into his work instead of wallowing in his grief.
Creating the new photography classes for St. Mary’s got him through the summer but now that fall was here, now that he was working, he found it difficult to remain focused, especially since the source of his pain resided in the adjacent building.
Standing on the landing, he looked up at his objective—the third floor, where the majority of language faculty offices were located. On that floor, he would find the office of Dr. Spencer Harrison.
At Fall Convocation, which was St. Mary’s yearly faculty meeting, he spotted Spencer sitting with the dean and the department chair, who had hired him. They made many attempts to get his attention, probably hoping he would join them at their table, but he pretended not to see them, choosing instead to sit at a table filled with math faculty.
Avoiding Spencer after that proved easy enough. Though they were in the same academic school, they were in different departments and housed in different buildings. Spencer sent a few e-mails welcoming him to St. Mary’s, and he responded politely, but he always refused the lunch offers.
He had no intention of spending any time alone with Spencer, not when he might catch a whiff of Justin’s sandalwood and leather scent on Spencer’s clothes.
Last night, after he picked up a dark-haired twink at one of the local gay clubs called The Heat, he had an epiphany. His trick enjoyed it rough. He begged for it. Dutch smacked his ass hard until red handprints sprang across his flesh. He even wrapped his big hands around the lithe neck and squeezed tightly while he slammed in and out of the guy’s ass, which he failed to lubricate.
Still, he wanted more abuse, and Dutch was happy to oblige. He pinched his nipples and bit them. He tugged on his balls. He called him a filthy-no-good-faggot-cum-pig and then dumped his load in his hole. Afterward, he smacked the twink’s ass with a belt until he finally shot his load.
When he left, he felt powerful, as if he had regained some of the dignity and respect Justin stole. Degrading someone else, making that twink submissive to him, restored his power and his manhood. He no longer felt lost. He felt anchored by the abject brutality.
He had no intention of losing that control again. And the only way to maintain it, the only way to assure that the power would forever remain his, was to go to the source of his pain and take from it what was taken from him.
Then, all would be right in his world. Balance would be restored.
He found Spencer’s office door open, but the office empty. He figured Spencer couldn’t be far, so he walked in and made himself at home.
Bookshelves lined with textbooks made up a majority of the left wall. A filing cabinet sat to the left with an assortment of colored folders stacked neatly on top. Above the desk hung a painting. It depicted a ship crashing onto rocks and a lone woman, in the painting’s foreground, looking at the disaster. Her eyes showed both horror and heartbreak.
Obviously, someone she loved was about to perish.
He thought the painting both appropriate and portentous. Not that he was planning on hurting anyone, at least not physically. The wounds he intended to inflict would cut much deeper than the flesh.
His gaze drifted from the painting to a side table, where photographs were prominently displayed. His heart caught in his throat.
Pictures of Justin or Justin and Spencer filled the desk. Their smiles glowed brightly within the frames, as if the glass barrier couldn’t contain their love. They held hands in one picture. In another, they kissed.
He wanted to smash those pictures into a million pieces.
“Well, well, look who’s finally come to see me.”
He turned around. Spencer’s warm smile greeted him. At first, he was taken aback. The memory of the photographs still stoked his fury, but he had to maintain his composure. Showing his hand now would accomplish nothing.
“Sorry about that,” he lied. He extended his hand to Spencer, trying his best to act as nonchalant as possible. “It’s been a crazy few weeks.”
“I completely understand,” Spencer replied, taking Dutch’s offered hand. They shook hands, and the feel of Spencer’s delicate white flesh caused his determination to waver.
In Spencer’s eyes and in his touch rested absolute trust and camaraderie. Absent of all guile, he represented the epitome of decency. He truly was an innocent, someone who didn’t deserve to be the object of his contempt.
“I’m just glad you finally stopped by,” said Spencer. He rounded his desk and sat in the executive chair positioned behind it. “Please sit.” His gaze moved to one of two leather tub chairs positioned in front of his desk.
Dutch took a seat. Guilt washed over him. Spencer’s jade eyes sparkled with clear joy at his unannounced visit. He obviously felt some sense of familiarity existed between them, most likely born from being on Dutch’s interview committee.
However, Dutch knew how far their familiarity truly ran. They shared more than just an interview. They shared a lover.
That knowledge triggered his more nurturing side, the person he was before Justin. The man who took care of others before taking care of himself. That man begged him to reconsider, to abandon his vindictiveness before it was too late.
As far as he was concerned, it was already too late.
“Well, just because I haven’t been to visit doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you.” He sat back in the chair, allowing his words to bathe in the allure he dipped them in prior to speaking.
A cloud of suspicion momentarily floated across Spencer’s vision. “What do you mean?”
“Your lunch offers,” he replied. “Haven’t been able to forget about them. Especially since I’ve been brown-bagging it.”
“Ah,” Spencer said. The winds of trust blew away the previous suspicion. “Name the day and time, and I’ll be a man of my word.”
“How about today?” he asked. “Just being here makes me ravenous.” Suspicion wafted back into view. He enjoyed keeping Spencer off balance. “I could eat an entire side of beef.”
“You have quite an appetite,” replied Spencer.
He winked. “You have no idea.”
Spencer said nothing. He simply stared at Dutch, trying to gauge his intentions. Dutch was obviously being flirtatious, but most gay men were horrible flirts. Usually, the sexually charged dialogue was harmless, even meaningless. Spencer’s confused face told Dutch he was trying to determine whether meaning existed in them or not.
“I have to ask,” Spencer at last said. “Are you gay?”
He wasn’t expecting that question. Still, he nodded. “Guilty.”
“And since you were in my office before I got here, I naturally assume you saw pictures of me with m
y partner?” Spencer asked, emphasizing the word “partner” for him.
“I did,” he admitted.
“Well, then, you know I’m gay as well,” Spencer said. “Is that why you think it’s acceptable to flirt with me in my office in our place of work?”
Spencer appeared irritated. His previously friendly jade eyes darkened considerably, and he constantly clicked on the pen he picked up from his desk.
“I apologize,” Dutch said, needing to salvage the situation. Losing Spencer’s trust now would only complicate his plans. “I’m a huge flirt, and I don’t know when to turn it off, especially when I find another man attractive.”
“Well, you need to learn,” Spencer warned. “I’m a married man and completely unavailable.” His eyes locked onto Dutch’s. “No matter how attractive I may be.”
The tone in Spencer’s last comment confused him. It sounded more playful than angry, as if the boundary previously drawn never existed. That’s when he remembered something Justin told him about Spencer.
Spencer loved to tease. In fact, the harder he tried, the more difficult it was for Spencer to maintain the act.
“You’re teasing me,” he finally said. “I can see it.”
Spencer’s resolve faded into a hearty laugh. “Damn, I hate that I can’t keep a straight face,” he said. “Justin, that’s my partner, tells me I have the worst poker face in the world.”
“You had me going for a few seconds there,” he admitted, pleased to see the return of the friendly twinkle. “I thought I had really pissed you off.”
Spencer waved the comment away. “Not at all. I’m a big boy and quite capable of handling harmless flirtation.” He stared intently at Dutch. “It was harmless, right?”
Dutch said nothing at first, letting the question linger between them until it consumed all the air in the room. “We’ll have to wait and see,” he finally said with a laugh.
3 Page 22
