Return to Sender

by Ashlyn Kane

  Jonah

  §

  Jonah,

  I’ll definitely need a better camera if I plan on taking more pictures for your stories.

  Oh, Justin… Justin wasn’t—I mean, okay, yes, he sort of was, because there was one incident, but mostly he wasn’t.

  Natalie is totally wily. I don’t trust her for a second (i.e. pictures of me sleeping!). She always seems to know everything—especially now that she’s working at the store. Seriously, if you need to know anything about anyone in Hudson Bend, ask Natalie.

  Ugh—I’m so exhausted. I just got home from forced servitude. While I was writing this letter, Hayley showed up and insisted that we go shopping. She dragged me to all these clothing shops and made me buy a few things. She says that if I want to go on more dates, I need nicer clothes. I thought the clothes I wore to class or to church with Mom were nice enough, but Hayley just gave me this look like I was from Mars when I said as much. Seriously, what’s wrong with jeans, tees, and sweaters? Hayley says everything, but whatever. I now have more button-down shirts in my closet, and I’m completely wiped after following Hayley around clothing and shoes and “accessory” stores.

  I’m going to bed.

  Emerson

  Jonah put down the letter with shaking hands and found himself gnawing on his thumbnail a moment later. What—how—

  I mean, okay, yes, he was, because there was one incident, but mostly he wasn’t.

  Oh. Oh, God, Jonah was such a tool. He’d left—he’d left the state, left home, run away from whatever this thing was that he felt for Emerson, and it had all been for nothing. He could have stayed, could maybe even have had Emerson himself if he had waited, if he’d been patient, only now he was in Wyoming of all bloody places, and Emerson was back home in Texas where he belonged and from where, if Jonah was honest with himself, he would probably never leave.

  He was such an idiot.

  He knew Xie’s phone number by heart—she was almost as good for talking sense into him as Emerson was, and he couldn’t go to Emerson with this for obvious reasons—so an hour and a half before he had to leave for work, he found himself sitting cross-legged on his bed, the only place in the apartment he got a signal, and dialing the ten digits he needed to get hold of Xie.

  She picked up on the third ring, sounding sleepy and happy. “M’hello?”

  “God, I woke you,” Jonah said abruptly, remembering the time change—Xie was visiting with Bryce’s grandparents in New York—and the fact that not everyone worked nights.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” she assured him, already sounding much more awake. There were a few rustling sounds—he imagined her rolling out of Bryce’s bed, closing the door quietly behind her so she wouldn’t wake him—“You never call unless it’s important; I’ll make time. What’s going on?”

  “I think it’s possible that I might have been a giant tool.”

  Xie let that one sink in for a few minutes, probably for his own benefit as much as hers, Jonah thought darkly. Then she said, “Uh huh, Jonah, we know this. After all, you let me go, didn’t you?”

  Jonah appreciated the attempted at levity, but he was freaking out and had to work in an hour and a half, and now was so not the time. “Xie—”

  “Relax, Jonah, I was kidding. You don’t owe me anything. Now, what did you do to Emerson that required you to call me and interrupt my nap?”

  “The day I left,” Jonah said.

  “Yes? You’re going to have to be more specific, honey.”

  “I thought—I told you how I walked in on Emerson and his boyfriend kissing?”

  “Whereupon you realized your tragic big gay love for your best friend? Can we get to the point, please?”

  “It wasn’t,” Jonah said bleakly. “I mean—Justin wasn’t his boyfriend. It was just. And I left, Xie; how can I ever tell him—”

  Thankfully Xie interrupted him before he could become any more hysterical. “One, stop running your hands through your hair, it makes you look like a hobo.”

  Jonah frowned guiltily and pulled his free hand away from his head, wondering how she’d known.

  “Two, take some deep breaths and think this through. Let’s go over your list of reasons for leaving, other than your wretched unrequited love, of course.”

  “Why are you so mean to me?” he asked, bewildered, plucking at his bed covers. “And why does it make me feel better?”

  “Because I’m not giving you time to feel sorry for yourself. So, reasons for leaving. Go.”

  Only the set of reasons pertaining to Emerson were the slightest bit valid, so Jonah jumped right to those. “Sexual epiphany, in love with best friend, major freak-out?” he recited dutifully.

  “And what exactly were you freaking out about?”

  Jonah took a deep breath and once again marveled at the force of nature that was Xie. His hands were no longer shaking, and he was starting to feel like he might make it all the way through getting to work and even the end of his shift without having a breakdown. “That apparently I was bi. That I was in love with my best friend, who obviously didn’t see me that way. That Emerson would find out how I felt. That even if the thing with Justin ended and we did get together, it might not work out, and it would ruin our friendship.”

  “So you decided it was better to go away because?”

  “I needed time,” Jonah said aloud, hearing the truth in his own words. “There was too much at stake at home. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what it’s like, and what if I—”

  “What if you fucked up your relationship with Emerson for good because you were wrong?”

  “Yes!” Jonah paused, feeling a shiver go through him at the idea. “Oh.”

  “Yes,” Xie said, “oh. Most of your reasons for leaving are still valid, Jonah. I’m not saying running away was the smart choice or the brave choice or even the choice I’d have made, but it was a choice.”

  “I guess.”

  Xie’s voice gentled. “Jonah, how long have you been away from home now?”

  “Uh.” He glanced toward the calendar he’d hung on the wall in the kitchen, but it was too far away to see. “A year and a half, I guess.”

  “And how do you feel about Emerson now?”

  Jonah closed his eyes and kept his mouth shut, because if anything, he was more in love with Emerson than ever.

  “Maybe it’s time to think about going home, Jonah, don’t you think? Or are you going to pine after him forever? Nothing’s ever going to happen as long as you’re apart.”

  Jonah thought about the manuscript he’d written painstakingly in three or four different notebooks and on bits of scrap paper, pieced together at the library in brief Word documents and so recently submitted to a handful of publishing houses. If any one of them picked up the book for distribution, his secret would be out anyway. He could wait that long. “Not forever,” he said at length. “Thanks, Xie. I have to go now.”

  §

  Emerson,

  I promise I’ll tell you next time I need a photographer so I don’t have to resort to forgery.

  I don’t think I’ll ask what you mean by “incident.” Maybe I got the wrong idea.

  Sorry about your indentured labor with Hayley. Xie made me go shopping with her once, but it was mostly to hold the bags, I think. She didn’t even attempt to get me to try anything on, and she gave up asking my opinion on what looked good about two outfits in. Anyway, who cares what you wear on dates? Especially if it’s not the first one? You wouldn’t date someone that shallow! Besides, you look fine in a T-shirt and jeans.

  We have like seventeen feet of snow. Remember that drought we had in sixth grade? When it finally broke, we were in the middle of the last baseball game of the season, but nobody wanted to come in from the rain because the summer had been so unbearably hot and dry? Well, the snow here is like the sun that summer. Any more, and I’ll need to invest in snowshoes. Or a dogsled.

  Jonah

  §

  Jonah,<
br />
  Good idea on the photography front. I’d hate for you to have to go to jail for identity fraud.

  “Wrong idea?” About Justin? I don’t know what to say to that. We did a project together and kissed once; I’m not sure how you could get any ideas.

  It wasn’t so much indentured labor with Hayley as it was cruel and unusual punishment. Apparently, for a gay man, I show appalling fashion sense. Also, it would be the first date? Alex turned out to be not that cool in the end, but I met someone else through a club, so Hayley decided I needed help.

  If you’re going to keep whining about the snow, I want a picture of you up to your ass in fresh powder. Just saying.

  I hate this time of year at college. It’s after midterms, but professors are gearing up for end of term, so I’ve got all these essays and projects that are coming due at the same time in about five weeks. Not fun. I’ve been spending most of my free time in Austin in the library on campus. Fortunately, Hayley, Zack, and Greg are all awesome, so I have people to eat with and somewhere to crash, even though they keep giving me food orders and making me cook for them. (Lesson learned: if you’re working on an essay until midnight and have class the following morning, don’t drive home when there is a couch with your name on it just five minutes away.)

  Well, my study break is over now (actually it probably really ended about five minutes ago, but who’s counting?), so I should sign this.

  Emerson

  P.S. Winters aren’t very snowy in Texas, you know.

  §

  Emerson,

  Do you think there are people bigger than me in prison?

  I thought people weren’t supposed to judge you for what you wore in university. How high school of them. That sucks about Alex, but I guess it’s good that you met someone new.

  Sadly, there is no camera to borrow for me to take pictures to send to you. I’ve seen you at work on Photoshop, though, if you want to see it that badly, I’m sure you can make it happen.

  You mean college is trying to teach you time-management skills? How utterly appalling. Seriously, Emerson, trust me when I say this, college is so much better than the working world. It has to be. Because the working world is drudgery. At least, the hospitality industry is. And the shift I’m on is pretty dead—I haven’t really met any new people other than the mohawked kid who works the late shift at my local Java Bean. (He is pretty cute, though.)

  There are a lot of great things about Texas, Emerson, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing else out there.

  Jonah

  Chapter 9

  THEN

  IT WAS a Wednesday when Emerson came home from campus feeling crappy and listless.

  He had suspected by the third date and known by the fourth that he and Alex weren’t going anywhere. Despite a really hot hand job at the end of the third date that had been the first sober and good sex of Emerson’s experience, he knew he and Alex weren’t meant to be. Alex had been hot and sweet and a great catch, but their chemistry hadn’t jibed.

  It probably hadn’t helped, either, that the day before their fourth date, Emerson had spent a good hour freaking out over Jonah’s recent letter. Knowing that Jonah knew he was gay, and he hadn’t told him, had rocked Emerson to the core. Poor Greg had spent an hour trying to calm him down. Emerson had kept telling himself that Greg was right: obviously Jonah did not have a problem with it. If he did, he would have said so before now. Besides, he wasn’t a hypocrite. Unfortunately for Greg, it wasn’t until Zack got home and said, “Emma, it’s really not that difficult to figure you out,” that Emerson really stopped hyperventilating. Instead he had clung to Jonah’s parting line about how Jonah was happy for him. He had been pretty distracted the next time he saw Alex.

  Still, Emerson wasn’t exactly happy about having agreed with Alex not to go on more dates.

  Having poured a glass of water, Emerson headed up to his room. Listless, he began to do his readings, but he soon found he was unable to concentrate. Emerson had really liked Alex. He hoped that things didn’t get awkward at Hang Out or the photography club.

  Tapping his pen on his textbook, Emerson stared blankly at the words. Despite the lack of success at long-term happily-ever-after, he had liked dating. He had liked going out, not knowing if he’d get a kiss at the end of the night. He liked the dance of getting to know someone and wondering how things would turn out. No, Emerson would do this again. The next time he met another nice, good-looking guy who was interested, Emerson was going to say yes to him too.

  Maybe if he was feeling really brave, he would even do the asking himself.

  By the time Emerson was called to dinner, he was feeling much better, though still a little melancholy. He wasn’t feeling the bone-deep sadness of when Jonah had left, but he still wasn’t feeling all that happy. He definitely wasn’t feeling up to hearing his mother’s news.

  “Oh, Harper called today.”

  Emerson looked over to see that his mom was smiling.

  “He was able to get time off this Thanksgiving,” she announced, “so he’s coming up to visit us next month.”

  Emerson held back a groan. His dad looked pleased and started grilling his wife about when their son would arrive. He looked eager at the prospect of seeing Harper again soon.

  Emerson didn’t share their sentiments. Harper had left home almost ten years ago. He had moved to New York City for college and never came home except, of course, for holidays. Harper had studied law with a diligence that was rewarded with high marks and a high-paying job out of college. He kept himself busy with work, going from one case to another. He was careful to regularly call home and talk to their mom and dad, but he showed little interest in making regular visits or talking to Emerson and Kierstyn.

  Harper and Emerson had never been close. An eight-year age gap in combination with a distance of several thousand miles meant they had never developed a relationship that could be described as intimate. Visits from Harper were always awkward and stilted as far as Emerson was concerned. Neither of them knew how to speak to the other. To make matters worse, in the past few years, Harper had taken to using women as the topic of choice to create common ground.

  The year before last, Harper had cornered Emerson in the den for the most awkward conversation of Emerson’s life. Harper had begun by apologizing for his absence and explaining how he felt there was something he should do as Emerson’s older brother: pass on the wisdom of experience. Then he had proceeded to give Emerson a long talk about women and sex, giving him advice on how to pick them up, date them, and fuck them. The last topic had ended with a strong warning about safe sex. He had threatened to do Emerson bodily harm if he got a girl pregnant because he didn’t wear a condom. Then, to cap it all off, he slapped a large box of condoms in Emerson’s lap. If Emerson never had to hear his brother say sentences like “if you let her be on top, it’s easier to hit the G-spot” ever again, he’d be eternally happy.

  Emerson wasn’t at all hesitant to admit that his reluctance to live through another such conversation—or any conversation about women at all—was the strongest reason he wasn’t looking forward to Harper’s visit.

  Unsurprisingly, Emerson found that he couldn’t muster up the energy to fake excitement over Harper’s impending arrival.

  §

  Jonah,

  Despite what you may mistakenly believe about your gargantuan size, there are actually people who are bigger than you are. In fact, there are a lot of people who are wider than you are, beanpole.

  Thanksgiving is coming up soon. Mom’s talking about having Natalie and your parents over for dinner next week. She wants to thank them for the help they’ve been. Your mom’s brought more than one casserole over ever since Dad got sick, and Natalie continues to be awesome (if wily), so maybe on Thursday, maybe Saturday. I guess we’ll see what your mom says.

  Harper called yesterday and said that he’s got business in Austin, so he’ll be coming by for a visit Thanksgiving weekend. He’ll be flying in Sunday a
nd plans to come here Wednesday instead of going home. Mom, of course, is totally excited about it. Dad’s pretty happy about it, too, though he’s not saying as much as Mom is.

  Anyway, back to the old college grindstone.

  Happy Thanksgiving, Jonah.

  Emerson

  §

  Emerson,

  Re: my gargantuan size: you noticed! But you forget that I have spent a good portion of the last year and a half doing physically demanding jobs. I have graduated from beanpole to stripper pole, at least.

  In related news, some girl came up to me on the street yesterday and said, “I love a guy who wears pink shirts!” I always thought I’d be flattered, but she was scary.

  Elijah (mohawk) has the soul of a poet, Emerson. Probably in a jar in his room somewhere, actually, and probably Byron’s, but still. He’s real, genuine, and I’ve met enough people who aren’t that that counts for a lot. We’re actually going to spend Thanksgiving together volunteering at the local soup kitchen. Say hi to everyone at home for me and tell them I love them.

  Jonah

  §

  HARPER arrived at the house late on Wednesday afternoon. It was weird to think that Harper would be in town for three days without seeing them, but he had insisted that it would be easier to give his family his full attention if the visit waited until after his business was done.

  The reunion took place shortly before dinner. Hugs were had, greetings given, and even presents passed out.

  Emerson had been uncertain how to react to the brand new iPod Touch. Kierstyn had, of course, squealed and gibbered and hugged Harper before calling him the best big brother ever. Emerson had just been relieved that it wasn’t full of porn to further his education.

  After the pleasantries, they had all found themselves in the kitchen. Mom had needed to fix supper, and Harper had complained about a dry throat. So Emerson found himself leaning against the counter and listening to an update of Harper’s life.