Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  “It’s hard,” Caesar muttered. “You’re not around, so it gets confusing.”

  “Who?”

  “Nobody. But it kind of feels like we can’t really be together, so maybe we should wait.”

  “What?”

  Caesar looked at him, eyes pleading. “I’ll keep the promise, but since neither of us can fulfill it right now, maybe it would be easier if we waited.”

  “Easier? You think us being apart—not talking, kissing, screwing, not anything—would be easier?”

  Caesar got off the bed. He reached for his jacket and stood holding it rather than putting it on. He gazed downward, like he was thinking very carefully about his next words. Funny that it ended up being just one little sound. “Yes.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Caesar looked up, his expression hurt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck you,” Nathaniel repeated. “Leave.”

  Caesar started to but hovered in the doorway. Nathaniel rose and pushed him into the hall so he could slam the door. Then he returned to the bed so he could punch the mattress, over and over again. He noticed then the photo frame he had given Caesar, the one with the postcard from Yale. He picked it up, ready to throw it against the wall and smash it into pieces. He couldn’t. Instead he sat on the bed, removed the back of the frame, and stared at a tiny slice of time, one that was soon dotted with tears.

  * * * * *

  The knock on the door came an hour later. Nathaniel answered it without harboring any false hopes. His mother stood there wearing an apologetic expression.

  “Is he already here?”

  Nathaniel frowned. “No.”

  “Oh. I know you have a romantic evening planned, but it’s Christmas, which made me think room service might not be available. So I brought you these.”

  She lifted the two plastic bags, one in each hand, the outline of Tupperware containers in both.

  “Thanks.” He took them from her, set them aside, and stepped forward for a hug. Once his mother was in his arms, he didn’t feel like letting go.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Can you stay?” he asked, releasing her. “Please. Just for dinner.”

  His mother looked concerned. “Of course. Whatever you need.” Then she brightened. “I have presents! In the car. You probably think you’re too old, but you’re not. Help me carry them in?”

  Nathaniel managed a smile and a nod.

  It wasn’t the best Christmas, but his mother’s presence made it a lot better than it would have been. The next day he called Rebecca at her parents’ house. She stayed with him for the rest of the week. He thought about cancelling the reservation to save money, but after one night of sharing a carton of ice cream with her while watching bad holiday specials, he decided the expense was worth it. They were both tired and needed to recharge. His heart was weary, inside and out. He didn’t know that was possible. If his heart wasn’t broken, it was exhausted. Strange how love could be so empowering, could make getting up every morning worthwhile, could provide endless energy to make the other person happy. What he never expected was to be presented with a bill at the end. The time had come to pay, and after scraping clean the deepest vaults of his soul, Nathaniel found he had nothing left to give. He was destitute.

  Interlude

  A soft ticking was the only sound in Marcello’s office. Nathaniel had never noticed it before, had to turn to locate the source of the sound—a small gold clock on the desk. Normally this room was so full of life—debates over new business ventures, the popping of champagne bottles, or even the classical music Marcello put on when trying to impress others with his refined taste. In truth he preferred disco. Nathaniel had walked in on him once while he was shaking his considerable bulk to the Bee Gees.

  Even this memory couldn’t make him smile. He turned back to the couch, where Kelly sat perfectly still. He was good at that. While telling his story, Nathaniel had shifted constantly, unable to find a comfortable position, before rising to pace the room. Not Kelly. He remained motionless, listening with undivided attention. No interruptions, no questions, not even facial expressions that hinted at his thoughts. Maybe this was a skill he’d learned while modeling. Or maybe he was quietly awaiting the perfect opportunity to pounce. Lord knows Nathaniel had seen him do so many times before.

  “How am I doing?” He swallowed against the words, hating how desperate they made him sound.

  Finally Kelly shifted, stretching out his arms as he frowned. “I’m sorry about your family life. I had no idea.”

  “I came to terms with it long ago.”

  “That may be,” Kelly said, “but I can only imagine how different my life would have turned out had I been raised in an environment like that.” His brow knotted, his lips moving slightly as if he had more to say. Then he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

  “Don’t hold back,” Nathaniel said. “You never did before.”

  “It doesn’t seem appropriate to challenge you on any of this, considering what you’ve been through.”

  Nathaniel walked back to the couch and flopped down. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got it coming. Hit me.”

  Kelly cocked his head. “It’s just that I know I asked you about your family. Many times. I don’t remember you avoiding any questions, but I also don’t remember hearing anything like I did tonight.”

  “Does ‘I was never close to my father’ sound familiar? Or how about, ‘We don’t have much in common. I was always a mama’s boy.’ I found ways of telling the truth without spelling it out. I had plenty of practice before we met.”

  Kelly’s frown deepened. “You said something once about not spending time with your brother because you always ended up butting heads.”

  “Literally, on a few occasions. Once in the eighth grade when he found out I had borrowed his bike.”

  Kelly’s jaw flexed, and something in those brown eyes flashed. “Do you have a current address for him? I wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Let karma finish the job instead. His life has been one miserable event after another.”

  “The way you tell it, so has yours. I hate that. It’s not what I wanted for you. Give me a time machine and screw any paradoxes, because I wish I could go back and be there for you.”

  Nathaniel felt a rush of affection that he quickly tried to tame. “I wish it had been you instead of him.”

  “Me instead of Caesar? Maybe I’m getting soft, but he was just a kid. Fifteen—even sixteen—is really young.”

  “We were both young,” Nathaniel said. “I don’t hold any of that against him.”

  “You might have both been young, but only you were dealing with problems any adult would struggle with. Did you ever tell Caesar the full truth?”

  “No,” Nathaniel said. “He never knew about my dad hitting my mom, or how long my brother abused me. He asked me once what we were fighting about, like a temporary feud had us at each other’s throats.”

  “How did you answer that one?”

  “I claimed I stole Dwight’s paper route.”

  Kelly didn’t laugh. Not until Nathaniel did, but their amusement only banished the tension momentarily. “It’s getting late,” Kelly said, looking toward the elevator doors.

  Nathaniel didn’t move. “I’ve never told anyone the full truth. Not before tonight. I’m not finished.”

  Kelly appeared hopeful, which was puzzling until he realized why. As painful as his past might be, it didn’t excuse what Nathaniel had done. Kelly wanted to forgive him, sought a reason to do so, but he was no fool. Three years was a very long time to suffer an injured heart. Somehow Nathaniel needed to justify that, and only the truth would suffice. That was fine, because the truth was all he had to offer.

  “Want me to make some coffee?” Nathaniel offered.

  “How much more could there be?” Kelly asked.

  “A lot. And it only gets more complicated.”

  Kelly snorted. “Is that ev
en possible?”

  “Jason Grant.”

  Kelly’s expression became guarded. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “I’ll tell you. But first, coffee?”

  Kelly stared a moment longer. Then he nodded at the bottle on the table. “You better pour me a real drink.”

  Nathaniel leaned forward, picked up the wine bottle, and considered the label. Then he held it up. “Château Coupvray 1974. Do you recognize it?”

  Kelly shook his head. “Should I?”

  “It was dark that night. We’ll get there.” He grabbed the corkscrew, opened the bottle, and carefully poured. When they were both holding their glasses, he raised his slightly, but any sort of toast seemed inappropriate. He considered a declaration of love, just in case he never got the chance again. Instead, he settled for one word.

  “Ready?”

  Kelly looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “Ready.”

  __________

  Part Two

  Houston, 2006

  __________

  Chapter Nine

  Fear is a cavity that rots the soul, every waking instance tainted by decay. For an individual escaping the oppression of fear, the world seems transformed. Borders cease to exist, the horizon filling with limitless possibilities. Nathaniel had a taste of this when he first moved in with the Hubbards, but one fear was soon replaced by another. No longer fearing his brother’s unpredictable hate, he had instead feared Caesar’s unpredictable love. One person he had hoped to escape from, the other he had hoped would never leave.

  Now, nearly two years later, Nathaniel rarely entertained hopes and fears. Being free from both had allowed him to grow strong. He still had plans for the future and felt optimistic about his prospects. Only his methods had changed. Hopes were too passive, fears too crippling. Action was the only way forward. He had begun that process when turning his life upside down for Caesar, and while that hadn’t panned out, Nathaniel had taken from the experience a blueprint for his future. Action led to movement, movement to change, and the change he sought was strength of body—so he continued to work out. Strength of mind—which he found in his studies. And strength of heart—which wasn’t so easy. The best way to temper the heart is through repeated use of it, a prospect Nathaniel tried not to entertain.

  The silent lulls late at night were the hardest. That’s when he felt most alone. His living situation had improved. He had a private bedroom in a shared apartment, but in the darkest hours of the day, when standing at the window, he wished for more: a friend like Rebecca, who always made time for him, or maybe someone new who Nathaniel could love back. Hell, he even found himself missing Mr. Jung and his snoring. But mostly when he stared up at a black sky that seemed to reflect the emptiness inside him, he thought of only one person.

  Caesar. The name was on the display of his cell phone tonight, Nathaniel tracing the letters with his thumb. He sometimes wondered if the number still led anywhere. Caesar’s life wasn’t a complete mystery. Nathaniel had seen photos of him on his high school’s wrestling site. Just two, one blurry with motion, the other a profile shot of him grabbing some other guy. Neither was satisfying, but the photos still made Nathaniel yearn. A little more online snooping revealed a MySpace page that included a few cocky comments and a not-so-becoming profile pic. That page was never updated. While not much, these things proved Caesar was still out there, had survived their breakup.

  Nathaniel snorted and shook his head. Of course he had. Taking a swig of his beer, he turned from the window and set the bottle on the nightstand, intending to do the same with the phone. Instead he walked the room, ended up back at the window, and sighed. Then he looked down at the phone, his fingers moving, typing out words and hitting send before he could second-guess himself.

  I never forgot you. I never will.

  He held his breath for a minute, finishing his beer in the next. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the phone’s display. The digital numbers at the top seemed sluggish, changing much too slowly. Time continued to trudge by until Nathaniel tossed the phone onto the mattress and went to the bathroom to get ready for the night. When he returned, he ignored the phone as he got undressed. Only when he started to pull back the sheets was he forced to pick it up.

  A new message. A reply! His breath caught in his throat as he read it.

  I never stopped loving you. I never will.

  Nathaniel felt torn. There they were, after all this time: the perfect parting words. Much better than how they had left things so long ago. No anger, no hurt. Just a bittersweet recognition of what they had felt for each other before they said goodbye.

  But why should they? All the reasons they had failed were fading into history. His pulse raced as he tallied a mental list. Privacy? Nathaniel had plenty of that now. Parents? Caesar was nearly eighteen, an adult. His life would soon be his own. Yale? Nathaniel had been working hard to get there and still wasn’t sure it was possible. Maybe he just needed a little extra motivation. What else remained in their way?

  A nagging suspicion, that’s what. An unanswered question. Nathaniel chewed his lip, slid between the sheets, and turned his back to the nightstand where he had set the phone. Half an hour later he rolled over and grabbed it, texting back.

  A promise is a promise.

  * * * * *

  They met in a café downtown. Nathaniel chose the location carefully. The dining area was small, not big enough to escape the daylight streaming in from the front windows. The menu offered mostly soups and sandwiches, and from his experience, the staff was eager to get customers in and out quickly and efficiently. In other words, an environment not conducive to romance. Dinner out on a Friday night? Nope. Lunch on a Sunday afternoon would have to do.

  The nagging suspicion was to blame. As was Nathaniel’s determination to remain strong. This resolve was tested as he sat by the window, watching the flow of pedestrian traffic. That’s when Nathaniel saw him, standing on the corner and looking up and down the street, no doubt searching for the right address. His skin was tan despite the early spring, his naturally highlighted hair had grown out again, tumbling down in waves that covered his ears and helped frame his pointed chin. No ponytail or glasses, although the uncertain expression reminded Nathaniel of when they had first met. Student and tutor. By the end of their time together, the tables had turned.

  He watched as Caesar started off in the wrong direction before backtracking. Nathaniel considered his body. Was he taller? Perhaps a little. His shoulders were broader, his frame still lanky, although the loose T-shirt revealed arms and a neck that were meatier and nicely toned. Nathaniel looked him up and down as many times as he could, making sure not to do so when Caesar finally entered the café. His head swiveled around, searching for him, so Nathaniel helped by standing. Then those amber eyes lit up. Recognition. Affection. Joy. Caesar hurried forward, arms starting to open wide. Nathaniel cut this short by extending a hand.

  Caesar noticed and looked reprimanded before accepting, his hand sliding softly into Nathaniel’s and staying there. “Wow!” he said.

  “You sound surprised.” Nathaniel resisted a smile. “Didn’t think I’d be here?”

  Caesar sputtered something, laughed nervously, and tried again. “You look… Wow.”

  Nathaniel pulled his hand free and used it to gesture at the table. “Sit down. You’re late. I’m hungry.”

  Caesar grinned as he sat. “I forgot how bossy you could be.”

  “Me?” Nathaniel challenged.

  “Yeah, you,” Caesar said, still beaming at him. “Oh man, it’s so good to see you again!”

  This took him aback. Nathaniel had imagined this encounter as a trial for them both. Each would have questions or accusations. Instead Caesar appeared genuinely happy to be here, his excitement contagious. Nathaniel found himself wanting to put his elbows on the table and lean forward, just so they would be a few inches closer.

  The waitress provided a welcome distraction. Nathan
iel ordered first, giving Caesar little time to glance at the menu. Not that it mattered, because he didn’t even bother.

  “Do you eat here on your lunch break?” he asked the waitress, eyes shining up at her.

  “Me?” The waitress looked panicked, like it was a pop quiz. “Yes?”

  “And do you have the same thing every day?” Caesar asked.

  The waitress tittered. “Usually.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll have. If it’s your favorite, it must be good.”

  The waitress blushed, scribbled something on her notepad, and after another glance at Caesar, twirled and walked away.

  “I see you’ve only gotten worse,” Nathaniel grumbled.

  “Meaning?”

  The nagging suspicion. But he wasn’t ready to ask. Not just yet. “So how are things?”

  “Same ol’.”

  Nathaniel waited patiently for Caesar to expound. Instead, he seemed content to leer at him. Nathaniel scowled.

  “You’re like a fucking minotaur,” Caesar said. “How often do you work out?”

  “Often,” Nathaniel said. “In fact, I’m thinking about taking a walk right now.”

  “All right, all right,” Caesar said. “It’s the weather. It gets me worked up. It’s been nice lately, huh? Way warmer than usual at this time of year.”

  “We’re really going to talk about the weather?”

  “Oh. Uh. No?”

  “Then try again.”

  Caesar sighed. “My life. Okay. I wish I had something interesting to report. Things are finally returning to normal at home. Like how they used to be before you and I got caught. I told you my parents went on lockdown, especially my mom. She’s always been a little controlling, but man, did she go overboard. Last year they finally started taking in male foster kids again, although none have stuck. We’re getting a new one in a few weeks.”

  “You’re still not talking about yourself,” Nathaniel pointed out.

  Caesar’s shoulders slumped. “What am I supposed to talk about? The people I’ve dated? The trip I took up to Yale for an interview? Both of those things make me feel like a jerk. You don’t care about my friends or high school gossip. I don’t know what you want to hear from me.”