Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  Finally, after two or three minutes that felt more like ten or fifteen, the spinning began to slow and then stopped completely. Garrett slumped against the wall, hoping his stomach would settle quickly. No such luck. When he straightened to zip up, the motion forced him to lean over the bowl as his stomach cramped and heaved painfully. Nothing came up, but the feeling of having been choked left Garrett even shakier than he had been a moment before. When he could finally leave the stall, the face he saw in the mirror wasn’t one he wanted to show Chase. Not Kyle or Bran either, for that matter, but he’d already been gone too long, so Garrett splashed some cold water on his face and went back out.

  Chase stood as he neared the booth but didn’t say anything until Garrett slid in and Chase had taken his place on the seat. “What happened in there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re shaking. Did someone—?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Kyle leaned halfway across the table and caught Garrett’s eye. “You’re not fine. What happened?”

  “Just got a little dizzy. It’s nothing really.”

  Bran leaned forward and studied Garrett closely. “That’s still happening?”

  The serious look in Bran’s eyes made Garrett pull back against the back of the booth as far as he could. “Not much. I’m fine.”

  “Tell me this,” Bran said. “Longer or shorter?”

  “Shorter.”

  Bran’s eyes narrowed. He knows I’m not being honest.

  Chase’s hand closed around Garrett’s thigh and squeezed gently. Garrett wasn’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or to prompt him to tell the truth. He chose to believe the former.

  “If it gets any worse, let us know.” Bran leaned back and assumed a posture Garrett thought hid more concern than he felt comfortable with.

  Kyle still leaned across the table, though, studying Garrett’s face. After a moment he said, “Not a question,” and grinned as he joined Bran.

  “Okay. Thanks.” Garrett turned to Chase and tried his best to smile. Chase’s eyes, wide with fear, didn’t make it any easier. “I really am fine. No more heights as long as this keeps up.”

  Chase took a deep breath and obviously forced himself to smile. He wrapped his arm around Garrett’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “As long as you hold me.” Garrett rested his head on Chase’s shoulder and looked up at him. His heart swelled when Chase picked up on his unspoken request and kissed him.

  TOO MUCH sunlight filled the room when Garrett regained consciousness that morning. Or maybe it’s afternoon. That’s what it felt like, like he’d been unconscious and not only sleeping. He groaned and pulled the sheet up over his head. It didn’t block enough of the light, but a little less assaulted him. They hadn’t stayed at the bar much longer after he’d gotten dizzy in the men’s room, and he hadn’t had another drink, so he hadn’t expected to wake up to such an obnoxious pounding in his head.

  Chase spooned against his back from the other side of the sheet and caressed his arm. “Feeling rough?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Want me to let you go back to sleep?” Chase kissed Garrett’s shoulder through the sheet. He whispered, but even the rustle of the sheets hurt Garrett’s head.

  “Just for a little while.”

  “Sleep all day if you want to. Just don’t suggest another night out when you wake up. I don’t think I could do that two nights in a row.” Chase kissed the back of Garrett’s head and eased away.

  The next thing Garrett knew, he was waking up in the dim room. He opened his eyes—just slits at first as a test—and saw the curtains closed. The shower in the adjoining bathroom sent wisps of steam curling out into the bedroom to disappear like ghosts. He rolled onto his back and smiled up at the ceiling. What I wouldn’t give to have a scaffolding hanging three feet below the ceiling and a couple handfuls of markers. He indulged his fantasies of weightlessness and the time to create his own version of the Sistine Chapel ceiling above the bed where he slept with Chase. When the shower stopped, he sat up and dug into the pocket of his jeans. He sat on the bed—the sheet puddled in his lap and hiding his hands as they twisted around the little plastic bottle—and waited for Chase.

  Before he emerged, Garrett had started to tremble. No backing out. If this relationship is going to work—if you’re really going to be a man in an adult relationship—you need to be honest. Chase will understand. And if he doesn’t, you’ll explain it until he does.

  Chase stepped into the bedroom, his dark blond hair hanging wet against his bare shoulders. He looked like a god, sculpted and perfect and beautiful. He saw Garret sitting up on the bed, waiting for him, and froze.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Chase took a couple of uneven breaths, swallowed hard, and then came to sit beside Garrett on the bed. “Okay.”

  “While I stayed with Jess, she got me in to see her doctor.” Garrett gulped a breath of air and looked down. “My anxiety. It’s—”

  “Oh thank fuck.” Chase released a breath he’d obviously been holding and dropped his face into his hands for a few seconds.

  Garrett watched as he struggled to regain his composure. As Chase looked up, Garrett bowed his head again.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. When you said doctor my first thought was… well, it wasn’t good.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

  “No, it’s okay. Please, go on.”

  Garrett rubbed his thumb over the ridges around the side of the cap, trying to loosen his hold on the pill bottle but having no luck. “My anxiety. It’s an illness, and I need to manage it better. I….” It became more difficult with each word to force his voice out, to hold the tears at bay, to keep from collapsing in a heap on the bed like a baby. “There’s no cure, but now I have….” Garrett moved his hand enough to show Chase the amber bottle with its layer of tiny white pills in the bottom.

  After a few silent moments Chase reached out and touched Garrett’s knee through the sheet. “Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy to talk about.” He waited a little while longer and then asked, “Tell me about those?”

  “What do you mean?” Garrett risked a glance and ended up not looking away as he’d planned. Chase’s handsome face was soft with love and held no trace of impatience or mocking.

  I want to believe it.

  “Are you taking them daily?”

  “They’re not antidepressants. I can’t do those 24-7 meds.” Garrett averted his gaze, back to his own hands caressing the pill bottle like a junkie. He forced them to be still. It wasn’t easy. He wanted to jump up and pace and gesture with both arms, but at the same time he wasn’t sure he could move. “I won’t. I won’t take something that turns me into a different person. That takes away my art.”

  “Okay.”

  Garrett’s throat threatened to close entirely at the gentle tone of Chase’s voice. Chase sat there—close enough to touch but not inside Garrett’s personal space—and waited for him to speak. “They’re fast-acting antianxiety pills. When I start to feel like I’m winding up, that’s when I take them.”

  “Does it help?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m glad.” The breathless quality to Chase’s voice made Garrett think he might be crying, so he had to look. He was pale and shaking but also smiling a little bit. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake to tell him. “How can I help?”

  Garrett didn’t know how to answer that, and the helplessness that overwhelmed him dashed any thought of being strong. He was still struggling to breathe when Chase scooted closer to his side. Slowly, Chase wrapped himself around Garrett, not forcing him to move to be comforted.

  “If you need one now….”

  He took a shaky breath—barely deep enough to be called a breath—and opened the bottle with trembling hands. One tiny white pill was easy to dry-swallow. It took two tries to get the top back on the bottle, but Chase
didn’t make a move to do it for him. That warmed a place inside Garrett that had been cold with fear. He hadn’t realized until then that he’d been afraid Chase would think he was weak—not only because he might dump him for it, but in case he thought Garrett couldn’t manage by himself anymore, that he needed even more care and attention than he already had.

  After a few moments, Garrett relaxed the tiniest bit, and Chase eased him closer to lean against his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. It wasn’t easy with Chase’s warm skin against his side, Chase’s strong arms wrapped loosely around him. Comforting, yes, but having Chase so close also reminded Garrett of all he had to lose. Chase rested his head against Garrett’s, and they sat without speaking for a long time. Eventually they both stopped trembling.

  “A long time ago, before we met,” Chase whispered, his voice smooth and measured, “I took antidepressants for a while. They helped me get through a dark time, kept me going until I could manage on my own. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, doing what you need to do. Anything you need, I’ll support you.”

  Garrett kept breathing. With each breath it got a little easier, the fear and anxiety that Chase would disappear from his life receding until it was barely background noise. “If you ever want to talk about it….”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying my baggage too.”

  “If you can, I’d like to hear it.”

  Chase shivered and then took two long, slow breaths, his arms tightening around Garrett just a little. “My brother… he died. We were hanging out on the river—one of those days when everyone’s out there because it’s been cold and rainy forever and you just can’t stay inside a moment longer…. He drowned. He’d always been so strong and fearless. I thought he could do anything. My family fell apart without him.”

  “I’m sorry.” Garrett turned his face into Chase’s chest and wrapped both arms around his waist. “You never mentioned….”

  “I almost did. A few times, but was afraid to.” Chase shivered. Just one tremor but it had a particular quality Garrett was familiar with: he hadn’t meant to go so far.

  That made him want to know. “Afraid?”

  “That you’d ask questions and I’d stop answering and you’d….”

  “I’d leave.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me. I only told you now so you’ll know I don’t judge you for seeing that doctor. I want you to believe I mean it when I say I’m glad you’re working on managing the anxiety, that I’ll do anything to help you.”

  Maybe Garrett shouldn’t have been surprised Chase knew that sometimes he couldn’t see past the doubts that plagued him about their relationship. But he was. He wondered if Chase guessed how much of the time he struggled and what his fears sounded like.

  A horrifying thought came on the heels of that: What if Chase imagined things much worse than they actually were in Garrett’s mind? What if he was as insecure—scared—of the age chasm from where he stood as Garret was from his side?

  I have to figure out how to make this easier for both of us. Love shouldn’t be so hard.

  They sat on the bed, holding each other, for a long time. Gradually they relaxed again. Garrett wanted to ask Chase what had really happened when his family “fell apart” but was afraid to. He didn’t want to hurt Chase any more than he already had, to drag up painful memories, maybe start an argument if he didn’t want to talk about it. But he felt like a dick for not asking. Chase—the man he loved—had just told him something huge, and he was letting it slide, ignoring it. Chase had risked his own peace of mind to comfort him, and he wasn’t strong enough to do the same.

  And it’s flaying me.

  Chapter Nine

  CHASE HAD felt Garrett winding up throughout the morning. At first he chalked it up to the fact that he’d talked about going on antianxiety medication. That had been a difficult conversation—especially since in trying to make it easier for Garrett he’d just made things harder by mentioning his own experience.

  At least I didn’t tell it all. He wouldn’t still be here if he knew the whole story.

  He might have gone down the rabbit hole into those memories if not for Garrett’s pacing. Chase stood at the stove trying to cook lunch for everyone. Which was laughable since Kyle was an actual chef. Kyle hadn’t done much cooking lately, though—too much studying in the home stretch to the test that would give him his massage therapy certificate, and to say Chase was a passable cook would have been to give him a little too much credit. But he needed to do something and didn’t want to work on the sad landscape while Garrett was visibly struggling. And they needed to eat.

  Garrett paced from room to room, alternating between a meandering gait and striding through the condo. At first he’d looked distracted, but as the morning gave way to afternoon, he grew more focused. More upset. Chase refused to suggest taking a pill, because he wasn’t about to become his lover’s babysitter.

  The food was ready, just a simple stew with beef and a few vegetables, but that’s not why Kyle appeared in the kitchen. “Hey. Is he okay?”

  “Why don’t you ask me?”

  Kyle jerked and then turned, keeping both Chase and Garrett in his line of sight. “Okay. Are you okay?”

  “I’m trying to work up the nerve to go to the West Hills this afternoon.”

  Chase dropped the wooden spoon he’d been holding on to the spoon rest on the stove and was halfway across the kitchen before he remembered not to yell, to rein himself in for Garrett’s sake. And his own. Garrett had stepped backward into the living room but also looked angry. He probably expected Chase to yell and issue orders the way he’d always done.

  “You don’t have to do that.” Chase sighed with the relief that he was able to keep from yelling. It was close. His voice was a little loud and carried his frustration with the whole situation out into the room. But he hadn’t yelled.

  “I had just finished the backsplash in the kitchen the week before. I’m not walking away from that money. I don’t have a job, nothing lined up, I—”

  “She hasn’t paid you?”

  “How would she pay me? I just quit going up there.”

  Chase hated the self-loathing he heard in Garrett’s voice but didn’t know what to do about it.

  Kyle took a step forward, and it wasn’t lost on Chase that he’d put himself between them. “She was supposed to send you a check. It never arrived?”

  Garrett gaped at Kyle for a long moment and then looked between them a couple of times. Kyle might have been thinking the same thing as Chase, because he suggested they go sit in the living room. Chase wanted Garrett to stop moving his head like that before he got dizzy. They sat on the couch, flanking Garrett, who stiffened and crossed his arms.

  “I need to go and—”

  Chase couldn’t stop himself; he leaned forward as he spoke and didn’t pull back even when Garrett leaned away from him. “You don’t need to go up there. It’s all taken care of. If she hasn’t—”

  “What’s all taken care of? What are you guys talking about?” He sounded hurt and suspicious, and it wrenched at Chase’s gut. He’d left a few voicemails, whenever there was a new development in the case, but obviously Garrett had deleted them without listening.

  Kyle rested a gentle hand on Garrett’s knee and he slowly pulled his attention away from Chase. “The day after you were assaulted, Bran and I filed a report with the Portland police. He wanted to go up to the lawyer’s house and put the fear of God into that asshole, but I was afraid it would get ugly. The boyfriend was later arrested and is doing community service.”

  Garrett seemed to deflate as he leaned back against the cushions. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “We wanted to let you rest, and then….”

  “And then I left.”

  Chase turned his body to face Garrett and willed his voice to stay low and even. “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner. I left you a voi
cemail, when the case was scheduled….”

  Garrett started to shake and his eyes filled with moisture. He stood abruptly and said he’d be right back. Chase hoped he was going after a pill and not packing. When he returned, his eyes had a slightly unfocused look that eased some of the tension in Chase’s stomach.

  “Am I in trouble for not going to court?” Garrett reached out and took Chase’s hand. He sounded almost relaxed; his grip said otherwise.

  “No. I called the day before, and your case wasn’t on the list. As far as I know, they didn’t try to serve you again. Bran said he—” Chase looked around Garrett to Kyle. “What was that he said?”

  “The asshole pleaded no contest.” Kyle looked at Garrett carefully, openly assessing how he was handling this. “He admitted to assaulting you but without actually saying that and got community service.”

  Garrett gave Chase’s hand a bone-crushing squeeze and then released him to turn and hug Kyle. “Thank you.”

  Kyle embraced Garrett and smiled at Chase over his shoulder. That smile turned into a warning look, and Chase shook his head. He didn’t know what Kyle was going to say or do but didn’t want anything to upset Garrett more than he already was.

  “You should know, we took a few pictures of you while you were sleeping. To bring to the station.”

  “I want to see them.”

  “Are you sure?” Kyle rubbed Garrett’s back and Chase thought he might have held him tighter. “You don’t have to. And we can delete them all if you want.”

  Garrett chuckled softly. It sounded a little wet, but was still an actual laugh. “They’re on Bran’s phone, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. He’s out at the coast today, but I can ask him to send one if you’re sure you really want to see.”