by Roan Parrish
“Shit,” I mutter, and pull my T-shirt off with one hand, swiping at my chest with it.
Ginger eases the cup from my hand and puts it on the coffee table.
“Hey!” I protest weakly.
“Daniel,” she says, leaning forward to look me in the face. “I love you more than anyone in the world. You’re my favorite person too. I just wish you didn’t have to be wasted to say it.” She gives a meaningful head toss in Rex’s direction.
“I don’t,” I insist, trying to figure out whether it’s true or not.
“I know it’s a terrible day,” she goes on. “I’m not judging. I just… you get that your brothers are drunk all the time, right? You get that your dad was drunk all the time? I just don’t want you to go back to a place you can’t crawl out of. You know?”
My head is pounding. I know she’s right. But I’ve actually been doing really well since I moved to Michigan. I guess not working at a bar helps.
“I’m gonna crash,” I say, and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. She and Rex are talking quietly when I come out.
“Daniel,” Ginger says quietly. “Are—”
“We’re fine,” I say. I scrub my hands over my eyes. “I know,” I say, answering her earlier question. “I know and I don’t want to be like that. I’ve been doing good lately, I promise.” Then I drag myself over to the bed and fall in, my head spinning. It feels like I sink all the way down. I try to kick my pants off, but only get one leg out before the room starts spinning.
After a few minutes of breathing deeply, the room stills and Rex gets into bed. When he lifts the covers, he sees the state of me and huffs out a breath. He untangles me from my pants and drops them over the side of the bed, then gathers me to his chest and strokes a warm hand up and down my spine.
“Sorry, Rex,” I say. “Didn’t mean to be so terrible today.”
“You weren’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
“I threw up and got in a fight at a funeral ’n made you walk in the cold ’n got drunk,” I slur into his neck. His hand feels so good it’s melting my spine. I can practically feel myself slumping into liquid on top of him, dripping down to fill in any empty spots.
“I’m sorry you threw up,” he says, and that makes me start to laugh, only it comes out wrong and Rex pulls me tighter to him.
“Feel so much better when you’re around,” I tell him. “’S not fair you get to be with you all the time.”
I can feel Rex smile. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a drunk. Like my brothers. Like my whole fucking family. I burrow my head into his neck, thinking that maybe if I can get close enough I’ll just be absorbed into him.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
“I want to leave tomorrow,” I say, my voice so rough it’s barely even there.
“What about the wake? Party thing?”
I shake my head and pull the blanket up so it’s almost covering my head.
“Don’t want to go. They won’t care anyway.”
“All right,” Rex says. “Sleep now, love. Just sleep.”
I don’t even notice when Rex drives us straight to his house when we get back to Michigan.
“Oh, sorry,” he says in the driveway. “I didn’t ask if you wanted me to drop you off?”
Do I want that? I have no clean clothes and I desperately need to do laundry. There’s no food in my house. I could go get my laundry and do it here, I guess. No, I can’t, because my car is dead. And if—
“Hey.” Rex squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s go get your laundry and bring it back here. We can stop and get some groceries and I’ll make dinner while you do laundry. We can just go from there, okay?”
I nod, relief flooding me.
While I’m doing laundry, my phone rings, practically scaring me to death, and I walk into the living room to answer. It’s Virginia Beckwith, my dissertation advisor and all-around mentor from grad school.
“Hey, Virginia,” I say. “How are you?”
“Well, Daniel, I’m well. You?”
“I’m okay,” I say, not wanting to get into any of the shit about my dad, not to mention field questions about why I didn’t come see her when I was in town.
“Listen, you remember the junior faculty position that you applied for last year at Temple?”
“Yeah, sure. I thought the interview went well, but then the line got canceled because they didn’t have the funding to hire anyone. At least, that’s what they told me.”
“Yes, that’s my understanding as well. You were at the ASA meeting in Detroit, no?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you probably heard about the, er, incident regarding Maggie Shill?”
“Oh, I saw it.”
“Yes, very bad form, of course. Well, Maggie Shill was up for tenure at Temple this year and because of the… incident, she didn’t get it.”
“Oh wow.”
“Point being: I got a call from the chair of last year’s search committee. He asked me about you—where you had ended up, whether you were happy there. Since Maggie Shill was denied tenure, she’s leaving Temple, which means a nineteenth-century Americanist position has opened up. They don’t have the funds for a senior hire, so they’re opening it to junior faculty. The chair of the committee indicated to me that they would very much like you to apply for the position.”
“Wow, Virginia, thank you. I mean, yes, that’s great.”
“Yes, it is. I don’t like you up there in Michigan, away from even a decent library.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, listen, I’ll e-mail you the details. Of course, it’s early still, so the official call won’t be out until next month, but I wanted to make sure you could get a head start on putting your materials together. Yes?”
“Yes,” I say, because that’s what you say to Virginia.
“All right, then. You’re well?”
“Um, yeah, I’m fine. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. All right, Daniel. I’ll send you that information. Bye-bye.”
“Bye.”
“What’s up?” Rex asks, clearly having heard from the kitchen.
“The, um, the job I really wanted last year—well, almost the same job—might be open again this year and they want me to apply.”
“That’s great,” he says. “Right?”
I nod. But there’s a weight settling in my stomach that feels like a cannonball.
“What’s the job?”
“It’s a nineteenth-century Americanist job.”
“Isn’t that perfect?”
I nod again.
“It’s at Temple,” I say.
“Where’s that?” Rex asks.
“Philadelphia.”
“Right,” Rex says. “Well, of course they want you.”
“Just to submit an application.”
“Still,” he says. He kisses me on the cheek. “Listen, Will’s going to come over in a few minutes to drop Marilyn off, okay?”
I nod.
“I think your laundry buzzed,” he says, and heads back to the kitchen.
Marilyn comes bounding into the laundry alcove as I’m switching the loads, nuzzling my hand and trying to jump up on me, which I let her do because I think it’s cute and because Rex can’t see.
“Hey, girl,” I say, dropping to my knees to hug her around the neck. “Did you know that my timing is epically off?” She licks my face as if to say I know better than anyone, since you were driving down the road at the exact moment I was trying to cross it.
“Daniel?” Will sticks his head around the corner. “Rex says you’re good with cars?”
“I’m okay,” I say.
“Mind taking a peek at mine?”
“Yeah, sure.” I grab my coat and follow him outside. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, I don’t think, but I’m heading back to New York and I just want to make sure she’ll make the trip.”
“You’re leaving?” I
say, gesturing for him to pop the hood.
“Yeah. I took some time off work to see my sister, but now I have to get back.”
I look up at him. His jaw is set and he looks stressed.
“You’ll break poor Leo’s heart,” I tease as I scan his car’s guts. “Does he know yet?”
“I’m going to tell him now.”
“Well, be nice to him; he’s a good kid.”
Will stares at the ground.
“I know.”
“Your car is fine. You obviously just had it serviced. So what is this really about?”
Will looks slightly sheepish at having been caught.
“I guess you really do know about cars.”
“I know enough.”
“Listen,” he says, his tone sincere, “I’m sorry about your father. Really sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Turns out you’re not so bad. Maybe if we were both back east, we might even be friends.”
I nod when he pauses since he seems to expect it.
“So, okay, look. I want to tell you something. About me and Rex.”
My blood goes cold and I snap my head up to look at him.
“No! No, shit, sorry, nothing like that.” He clears his throat. “I want to tell you something about before we broke up because I think maybe you’re actually pretty good for Rex. I know he cares about you a lot and I think you care about him too.”
“I do,” I say quickly. “What?”
“As I’m sure you already know, Rex and I broke up because I left town. Well”—he makes an expansive gesture—“mostly. Anyway, when I told Rex I was leaving he said, ‘I guess part of me knew it was coming. I hope you’ll take care of yourself.’ That was all. And after that—he was never the same. He was still sweet, supportive Rex and he asked me about my plans and everything. But he was gone, even though we didn’t break up until I left, three months later. He was there, but he’d dropped the gate down, right? He wasn’t going to be vulnerable with me after that. If anything, he was more invested in lending a hand, being a help. But that was it.”
As Will talks, the cannonball that’s felt like it was lodged in my stomach since Virginia’s call turns into a block of ice. I’m shivering and something like panic is creeping up the back of my neck.
“So,” I start to say. “So, um.”
“So,” Will says. “I’m trying to help you. I don’t mean that your relationship with Rex is the same as mine—far from it. But I think maybe you and I are more alike than I wanted to admit. Which means that maybe I know a thing or two about how you operate. Like, maybe you didn’t grow up with a whole hell of a lot of positive fucking reinforcement. So, maybe you get that from people in your profession. And maybe you think you need that because you can’t get it anywhere else. And if that’s your choice, that’s fine. I just think….”
“What?”
“I think Rex is good for you too. So, if you think that you can leave and he’ll be here waiting for you if you change your mind and come back… he won’t. He might mean to be. He might swear up and down that you should follow your dreams—in fact, I’m sure he would because that’s the kind of guy he is. But he shuts down if he thinks someone is leaving him. He shuts down and then it’s too late. And maybe I just don’t want that to happen to you the way it happened to me. And I really don’t want to see Rex hurt. That’s all.”
He sighs and kicks at a rock on the driveway.
“I probably shouldn’t have told you that,” he says. “But I’m glad I did. Don’t fuck it up. I want you to be here the next time I come into town.”
I nod. Though I’m loath to admit it, what Will said about Rex makes a lot of sense. Rex offers help to protect himself. It’s something to fall back on when he’s uncertain. Something he can offer to show he cares without making himself too vulnerable. But how can I tell the difference between that and what he says is how we trust each other: by letting each other help? I really don’t know.
“Daniel?” Will says, snapping my attention back to him. “Take care of him, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. Will shakes my hand and gets in his car. “Will,” I say, and gesture for him to roll down his window. “You’re not so bad either. Have a safe trip.” His smile is pure victory as he backs out of the driveway.
I sit down on the front step. I don’t quite understand how my life got so out of control. How did things turn so fucked-up just when I thought I was getting everything together? And why do I feel so… so fucking vulnerable?
No, not just vulnerable. I feel panicked.
It started with the phone call about my dad, sure. But, everything with Colin—I still can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s like I have to re-see my whole life—every interaction with him—through a new lens. He hasn’t called me back either, no surprise there. Then Virginia’s call….
The Temple job is everything I thought I wanted all throughout grad school. Secure, prestigious, teaching smart students, working with brilliant faculty, having the budget to bring speakers to campus, having access to great libraries and archives. It was perfect.
Last year.
And now? Now, just the idea of leaving Rex fills me with the strongest panic of all. And the look on his face when I said Temple was in Philly… he looked resigned. Like he knew it would happen. Just like Will said.
Fuck! Everything is spiraling out of control again, the way it used to when I was a fucked-up kid with no self-control who would act before thinking anything through. Only back then the sensation was thrilling, like a kite string unspooling into who knows where.
Now I just feel like I want to puke.
I go back inside to finish changing my laundry loads, but find that Rex has already done it.
“Did you?” I gesture toward the laundry when I find Rex in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he says. “Will gone?”
I nod.
“You didn’t have to,” I say.
“It’s okay,” Rex says. “You were helping him with his car. I can help you, right?”
I look around the kitchen. Rex has bread dough rising and something that smells heavenly is in the oven.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” he says. “Why don’t you relax? Take a bath or something. I’m going to go to my workshop for a bit.”
My breath starts to come faster as I notice the salad dressing he’s made from scratch in the mustard jar on the counter. All I can hear is what Will just told me and Rex saying he can help me. It’s like there’s a screaming in my head that is Rex pulling the gate down, just like Will said. My heart is pounding so loud and so forcefully that I can feel it throbbing in my ears. I blink to try and wet my dry eyes, but they’re all prickly.
“Please don’t be all helpful!” I blurt out. “Don’t slam the fucking gate down and pull away!” I’m babbling. I can hear myself, but I can’t stop. I need, need, need to break through Rex’s unflappable calm.
“What?” Rex asks, puzzled, approaching me with arms out like you would a wild animal.
“Rex, Rex, please don’t!” I’m full-on panicking. My voice sounds incredibly loud even though I can feel that I’m almost whispering. I am begging Rex not to shut me out, not to give me help instead of himself, not to leave me, and he is staring at me like I’m out of my mind.
“Baby,” he says, “please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, just calm down and talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Will said—” But I’m breathing too fast to explain. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm down, but all I see is that coffin, heaped with dirt, my white rose sliding over the edge of another grave, my brother clutching a bottle of pills, his fist connecting with my face. And all of it shrinks backward at only one thing: Rex. And I’m convinced I’m going to lose him.
“Daniel, Jesus,” Rex says.
He scoops me up and carries me into his bedroom. He puts me in bed and crawls in after me.
“Lie down and just breathe,” he says.
“Please don’t be helpful,” I gasp, kneeling on the bed.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me what Will said,” Rex insists, holding my face in his hands.
“He said when you think someone’s leaving you slam the gate down,” I manage to get out through my tears, “and then you’re nice, and polite, and helpful, but you’re—” I sob. “You’re not there.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Rex says. He pulls me into his lap. I am a fucking mess of tears and snot and shame.
“Please, I can’t lose you,” I tell him.
It all comes out in a rush of pain and fear and sadness, and I cling to Rex, sobbing into his chest.
“Please,” I’m saying to him over and over until I hardly know what I’m begging for anymore, only that it’s the most important word I’ve ever said.
Rex holds me, cradles me in his arms, and rocks us back and forth, stroking up and down my back and running his fingers through my hair. When I’m finally calm enough that I can breathe without hiccupping, Rex pulls away just enough to look at me.
“This is about Temple?” he asks. “You think that I expect you to leave, so now I’ll pull away like I did with Will?”
I nod frantically. Rex smooths back my hair and nods too.
“Look, we don’t have to talk about that right now, okay? We have time to figure everything out.”
His thumbs smooth my tears away and everything about him is so gentle, from his fingers on my face to the way his strong arms are holding me. And his expression is soft and open in a way I’ve never exactly seen it before.
“Daniel,” he says, stroking my face. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you know? Don’t you know how crazy I am about you?”
My hands fist in his shirt and I stare into his eyes, blinking slowly. I guess I did know, but I never imagined he might say it.
He cradles my neck in his hand, thumb stroking my nape.
“I—I love you so much.”
He says it quietly, but it’s like a bomb going off.
