Between Sinners And Saints

by Marie Sexton

  "Levi, wait!"

  He debated pretending he hadn't heard her and hanging up anyway. But he debated a second too long.

  "Levi, are you still there?"

  "I'm here."

  "Will you come for your father's birthday?"

  "I don't know, Mom. I don't think it's a good idea."

  "It would mean so much to him."

  "You say that now, but by the time it's over, we'll both wish I hadn't come."

  "That's not true. We love you, Levi. We want you to come home and be part of our family again."

  I want that, too. But it was never going to happen.

  "What can I do to convince you?"

  "Promise me there'll be no lectures. No blessings. No prayers. No discussions of--"

  "I can't promise any of those things, and you know it. I could promise for myself, but I can't speak for your father or your brothers."

  "Then I'm not coming."

  "Oh, Levi." She was crying now, and he felt guilty, despite himself. "We miss you so much."

  Did she think he didn't miss it, too? Did she think he wouldn't have given anything to go back to those years when his family had felt like home, before they started to look at him with pity and disgust? He fought the lump the formed in his own throat. "The Levi you miss doesn't exist. And neither does the home he came from."

  * * * *

  The phone call had been a depressingly horrible start to his day. Several hours of surfing had driven away the worst of the depression, but left him feeling empty and tired. As he showered that afternoon, he realized how glad he was to be going to Jaime's. This was his birthday, after all, and he was determined to enjoy the rest of it. A massage was exactly what he needed. He left his melancholy on the sun-soaked step of Jaime's door. Just stepping into the dim back room of Jaime's house made him feel better. The spicy oils he used lingered in the air and soft music played. Dolly came to greet him, despite Jaime's good-natured scolding. And Jaime's bright smile eased something deep inside his heart.

  Jaime started the massage the way he often did, by putting his hands under the back of Levi's neck and pulling gently, and Levi couldn't help but laugh. "I think one of these days my head's going to pop off while you're doing that."

  "I hope not," Jaime said. "It's such a pain in the ass when that happens. I'm running out of places to hide the bodies."

  It was easy to forget Jaime really did have a slightly dark sense of humor under his Boy Scout facade, and it made Levi laugh again. "Exactly how many times has it happened?"

  "I've lost count to tell you the truth. But you'll notice my garden gets a little bigger every year."

  "That's not funny."

  "No, it's not. On the bright side, my tomatoes love it. My neighbor keeps asking for my secret."

  Levi twisted back his head so he could up back into Jaime's laughing blue eyes. "You really are sort of twisted and sadistic, aren't you?"

  Jaime smiled, but didn't say a word.

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "You asking that instead of simply asking the question makes me inclined to say no."

  "Why do you hate to be touched so much?" He had his suspicions, but he wondered what Jaime would say.

  Jaime's didn't meet his eyes, but Levi could see the wariness in them. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "Okay," Levi said, feeling that was an answer in and of itself. "I'm not trying to be an asshole. I'm just wondering why you picked massage therapy as a career? It seems pretty counterintuitive to me."

  Jaime hesitated for a moment, and Levi thought he was going to dodge the question, but he sighed and said, "I'd probably be a hermit, if I allowed it. I'd sit in my house and do some kind of job on the computer and I'd never talk to anybody at all. But I know it wouldn't be healthy."

  "So you picked a career that would force you to deal with people?"

  "Exactly."

  "But you could have worked at the DMV, if that was all you wanted. Why something involving physical contact?"

  "It's not really like that," Jaime said. "I'm not touching people. I'm just seeing flesh and muscle and bone. The body's like a machine and sometimes it's broken. And sometimes, I can fix it. That's all."

  It was a sad statement. Jaime's job was the only thing allowing him contact with people, and even then, he kept himself at a distance. Suddenly Levi knew exactly what he wanted to do. "You have any more clients after me?"

  "No, you're the last one of the day. Why?"

  "You want to go out?"

  Jaime shook his head. "Levi," he scolded, "you've been so good lately. Don't fall off the wagon now."

  "I don't mean a date. I just mean, you know, two guys hanging out."

  Jaime moved around to his left side and started massaging his arm. He looked skeptical. "Why?"

  "Because it's my birthday."

  "It is not."

  "It is! You can check my license."

  Jaime moved down to his hand, rubbing the area between his fingers and then working his way down each one. It was one of Levi's favorite parts of the whole massage, and he would have closed his eyes if he hadn't been waiting for Jaime's answer. Jaime's gaze was intent on his work. "It's Thursday. Don't you have to work tonight anyway?"

  "I took the night off."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's my birthday!"

  Jaime looked amused, but shook his head. "I don't know."

  "Fine," Levi said with exaggerated disappointment. "I'll got out for dinner alone. All by myself. Maybe if I tell the waitress it's my birthday she'll take pity on me and let me drink for free. Alone. On my birthday."

  Jaime dropped his hand and rolled his eyes as he moved around to the other side. "You're going to guilt me into going with you?"

  "Will it work?"

  Jaime didn't look at him, but he smiled a bit. "It might."

  Chapter 8

  They took Jaime's car because the horror on his face when he saw Levi's motorcycle was unmistakable. Levi directed him to a local sports bar. He was surprised at how tense Jaime was. His eyes darted nervously around the restaurant and he fidgeted in his seat like a kid.

  "Are you worried about being seen with me?" Levi asked.

  Jaime looked at him surprise. "What do you mean?"

  "Are you in the closet?"

  "No, not really."

  "Then why are you so nervous?"

  Jaime's cheeks started to turn red. "I don't get out much."

  It didn't seem like much of an answer, but the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their waitress. "Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?"

  "We're ready to order," Levi told her. "We'd like two dozen buffalo wings and an order of onion rings. And some chicken nachos." He looked over at Jaime. "Anything else?"

  "A salad with ranch dressing."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. Why not?"

  Levi managed to avoid rolling his eyes. "What do you want to drink?"

  "A Sprite."

  Levi turned to the waitress and said, "Two Absoluts on the rocks, with lime."

  Jaime didn't contradict him, but once the waitress was gone, he said quietly, "I don't drink."

  "You don't drink, as in you're a recovering alcoholic, or you're morally opposed to it?" Levi asked. "Or you don't drink meaning you don't do it often?"

  "The latter," Jaime said.

  "Good!" Levi said. "Then tonight you can make an exception."

  Jaime didn't look very confident about it, but he sighed. "I guess one can't hurt."

  "Exactly!"

  It wasn't until the waitress brought the drink, and Jaime took a giant swig of it that Levi realized Absolut straight probably wasn't the best drink for him. He seemed to be having a hard time swallowing. Levi half expected him to spit it back out, but he finally got it down. His cheeks were red, his eyes were watering, and he started to cough.

  "You better bring him something with training wheels," Levi said to the waitress, as he took the d
rink from Jaime. Jaime was too busy coughing to do anything but nod.

  The waitress returned a few minutes later with a giant pina colada. Jaime took a sip and his eyes went wide. "This is good," he said, taking another drink.

  "Be careful," Levi said. "It's got rum in it. That shit is evil."

  But Jaime didn't heed his warning. He'd had two of them by the time they finished their food, and he was significantly more relaxed. "Now what?" he asked Levi.

  "How about a movie?"

  "Sure!"

  "What kind of movies do you like?" Levi asked. He fully expected Jaime to go for some type of sentimental girly movie, but Jaime surprised him.

  "Nothing heavy," he said. "Nothing sappy or sad."

  "A comedy then, or an action flick?"

  "Something with explosions!"

  Levi couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "You got it."

  The movie theatre was in the same shopping center as the restaurant, so they walked. There was a liquor store in between, and Levi ran in and bought a couple of airline bottles, which he emptied into their fountain drinks once they were seated in the theatre. Jaime was giggling like a kid at the previews.

  "I think you're drunk," Levi said.

  Jaime shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't drink." It was the kind of logic only a drunk person could subscribe to, but it was good to see him relaxing and having fun. He drank his spiked soda, and as the movie wound down, he went from giggling to sitting quietly with his head back and his eyes closed.

  "You okay?" Levi asked.

  "Mm-hmm," Jaime said, without opening his eyes.

  "You're not gonna be sick are you?"

  "Should I be?"

  "No."

  "Good. I want French fries."

  Levi laughed. "We'll hit McDonald's on the way home. You one of those people who has to sit through the credits?"

  "Yeah," Jaime said. "Except I want French fries."

  "Come on, then," Levi said, nudging him with his elbow. "Let's go. Give me your keys."

  "I can drive," Jaime said. "I'm not drunk." Then he stood up. He swayed on his feet and sat back down quickly. He looked up at Levi in surprise. "I think I'm drunk."

  "No kidding," Levi said, holding his hand out. "Keys!"

  It was harder than he expected to get Jaime back to the car. He seemed to think it was a good night for wandering through the parking lot. Two different times, Levi thought Jaime was behind him, only to turn around and find him gone. After that, he made sure Jaime was ahead of him. It would have been easier to direct him to the car if he wasn't so adamant about not being touched. Or if he showed any propensity for going where he was told.

  "Do you want French fries or not?" Levi finally asked in exasperation.

  "No. I want one of those chocolate things from Wendy's."

  "Either way, we need to get in the damn car."

  In the end, they got both fries and smoothies, and ate them on the way back to Levi's. Levi half expected to have to argue with him about going to his apartment, but Jaime followed him in without protest and sat down on the couch. He picked up Levi's remote. "You have the same satellite service as me," he commented as he punched in a number. The TV changed to the Syfy channel, where some teenagers were about to be eaten by a monster crocodile. "Ooh," he said with satisfaction. "This is a good one."

  "You watch this shit?" Levi asked.

  "I love crappy monster movies. Syfy's are the best."

  "But they're so..." The only word he could come up with was "bad" and that didn't seem nearly strong enough.

  Jaime turned to him with a smile. "So stupid they're funny?"

  "You say that like it's a good thing."

  "You probably don't like pro-wrestling either, do you?"

  "Definitely not."

  Jaime laughed as he turned back to the TV. "I'm ordering the next pay-per-view. I'll convert you."

  Pro-wrestling and campy made-for-TV movies weren't the way Levi had pictured Jaime spending his free time. He shook his head in amusement as he went into the kitchen to get a beer. He debated grabbing one for Jaime, too, but decided he'd had enough to drink. He took him a glass of water instead. Jaime was laughing as one of the teenagers died an over-acted and under-budget death.

  "Here," Levi said, handing the water to Jaime as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "Drink this."

  "Am I going to feel like shit in the morning?" Jaime asked.

  "It's quite possible, but the water will help."

  Jaime dutifully started chugging the glass of water.

  "You've never been drunk before?"

  "Never."

  "That's pretty remarkable," Levi said. "My parents would be proud of you."

  Jaime put his glass down on the end table. He leaned back on the couch and sighed. "There's a lot of things I've never done."

  "Like what?"

  "Never been drunk. Never been high. Never been in a relationship."

  "And you've never been surfing."

  "Right."

  "But you want to?"

  Jaime shrugged. "It looks like fun."

  "So why haven't you ever tried it?"

  "I guess..." He seemed to debate what to say as he watched a bikini-clad girl make her escape from a toothy death. "I guess because I'm scared."

  "Of getting hurt?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Not that."

  "Then what?"

  Jaime sighed. He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. "God, Levi, you have no idea what it's like, do you? You have no idea what it's like to have fear rule your life."

  Fear? Of surfing? "I guess not."

  "It's..." Jaime floundered, struggling for a word, and finally chose, "Exhausting."

  "What are you afraid of?"

  "Everything."

  It seemed like such a melodramatic thing to say. As overly dramatic as the lousy movie on TV. And yet, there was no mistaking the defeat Levi heard in his voice. "Are you afraid now?"

  "Yes."

  Levi was surprised at how sad he felt hearing it. "You're afraid of me?"

  "Yes," Jaime said. "And no. I'm afraid of being here. Of talking to you. Of trying to have a friend. Of being alone. I'm afraid all the time. Every single day. It never goes away. I'm afraid when I go to sleep at night. I'm afraid when I wake up in the morning and I have to face another day. I'm afraid every time I leave my house. I'm afraid of people. I can't look at them. I can't let them touch me. I'm afraid they'll look at me, and they'll know."

  "Know what?"

  "That I'm damaged."

  "What do you mean? You're not damaged! You're smart, and you have a great job--"

  "It's all lies, Levi. It's all pretend. They'll look at me and know. They'll know I'm afraid. They'll know I'm weak." He stopped talking and shook his head. "You'll know I'm weak."

  "Jaime--"

  "And I can't let people know. Because once they do, they can do anything. Once people know you're weak, there's nothing to stop them from hurting you." He looked over at Levi, and the pain in his eyes was evident. "I won't be able to stop them."

  "Then I'll stop them for you," Levi said. He didn't examine why he felt the need to protect Jaime. He only knew if Jaime was scared, it was his job to fix it. He watched as his words sank in. He knew Jaime wanted to believe, but he didn't. He saw the doubt in his eyes.

  Jaime looked away from him and looked around the room, as if surprised to find himself there. His eyes went wide. "I can't be here," he said, and tried to stand up.

  "You're too drunk to drive."

  "I have to go home." He swayed, stumbled. Levi jumped up from the couch and caught him as he fell. "Please don't touch me," Jaime said, although there was no force behind it.

  "I think you're going to need to relax your rule this one time." He put one arm around Jaime's shoulders, put the other behind his knees and picked him up like a child. He was so light.

  "I don't drink," Jaime said as Levi carried him toward the hall.

 
"No kidding."

  "Please put me down. I don't want you to touch me."

  "Come on, kid. I'm asking you to trust me."

  "I'm not a kid, you know. I'm only four years younger than you."

  That surprised Levi. He had assumed Jaime was younger. He seemed so much younger. "Today's my birthday," he said. "So you're five years younger now." Levi reached the door to his room and maneuvered them through it, but when Jaime saw the bed, he panicked.

  "No! No, no, no!" He was suddenly struggling to break free, and it was all Levi could do to get him to the bed before he dropped him. Jaime scrambled backward on the bed until he was against the wall, his eyes wide with fear.

  Levi backed up too, holding up his hands. "Jaime! I'm not going to touch you, okay? I'll sleep on the couch."

  Jaime looked skeptical. And yet, there was a hint of hope in his eyes as well. He wanted to believe. He just didn't know how.

  "I won't hurt you," Levi said. "I promise. You can even lock the bedroom door if you want." God knew he'd never had a man in his bed begging him not to touch him. It annoyed him just a little, but it also made him sad.

  His comment about the door seemed to penetrate the haze of alcohol clouding Jaime's brain. And the fear. He saw Jaime start to relax a bit. "Okay," Jaime said with obvious reluctance.

  "I'm going to go out of the room while you get undressed and get under the blanket, then I'll be back." It was funny to be saying those words to Jaime. It was usually the other way around.

  He left the room, closing the door behind him. He hoped Jaime wouldn't fight him any more. He certainly wasn't in any state to drive himself home. He went to the kitchen and refilled Jaime's glass of water and stopped in the bathroom to raid the medicine cabinet. When he got to the bedroom, he knocked softly and got no response. For a moment, he worried Jaime had somehow slipped past him and left the apartment, but when he opened the door, he saw he'd done what Levi said. His clothes were folded in a neat pile on the chair, and he was in the bed with the covers pulled up to his chin.

  Levi put the glass of water and the things from the bathroom on the bedside table. "I brought you water, some ibuprofen, and an Alka-Seltzer."

  "I don't want them."

  "You will in the morning."

  "Levi," Jaime said. His voice was soft, and Levi could tell he was already half asleep. His eyes had already drifted closed. "You can't protect me."