by Jenna Jones
"I think she would have told me if they did." She looked at Micah, still resting her cheek on her knee. "And how's Dune doing? He's been pretty quiet, too."
Micah shook his head, pressing the big square buttons on the computer. "It was a good sign that he wanted to come today. He hardly ever leaves the apartment."
"I'm glad we forced him out."
"Yeah, he loves Kitty." He turned off the computer and put it down. "Becca...what am I going to do? I need to help him and I don't know how."
She bit her lip a moment. "Sweetie...sometimes when somebody's depressed there's nothing to do but wait, if he refuses to get help. But look." She nodded to the group down the beach: Aidan and Shiloh holding hands, Dune and Justin walking a yard or so behind them. "He's talking to Justin. Maybe Justin will say the right thing. He does that sometimes."
"Yeah." He leaned against her. "But what if he doesn't? What if I can't help Dune at all? What if I lose him, Becca?" His eyes stung and he blinked them hard a few times.
Rebecca stopped patting Kitty to put both her arms around him. "I wish I could say for certain you're not going to lose him, but it's not up to you. It's up to him. He has to decide to get better. He has to decide to get help. He might do it at first to make you happy, but in the end it has to be for him, for his own reasons."
Micah nodded and bit his thumbnail and then looked up at her. "What was your reason?"
Rebecca exhaled. "Wow," she said after a moment.
"I'm right, aren't I? You lashed out because you were depressed?"
"No." Rebecca picked up Kitty and cradled her to her chest, and Micah smiled, touched by the way Kitty's body curled so comfortably against her. "I wasn't depressed. I was pissed. I was pissed as hell. Though Justin says depression is anger that's not allowed to express itself, so maybe you're a little right."
"Tell me," Micah said. "Please tell me. All this time, I've never really understood what happened."
Rebecca stroked her palm up and down Kitty's back, but with the baby sleeping Micah thought the motion was more to soothe herself than Kitty. "Have you ever noticed," she said quietly, "that you and Shiloh look a lot alike, but I don't look like either of you?"
"You have Mom's chin and nose, just like Shiloh and me."
"Yeah," Rebecca said, "but I don't look like Dad, do I?"
Micah studied her face. He'd never really thought about it, but he could see it now: Rebecca's face was long and narrow, where Shiloh's and his own were more heart-shaped. And her eyes were hazel-green, while the four of them had blue eyes. And the freckles -- neither he nor Shiloh had freckles.
"You don't," he said quietly. "You don't look like Dad at all."
"Yeah." She looked out at the ocean. "That's because Dad's not my father."
Micah looked at her, and then away. "Oh," he said, at a loss.
"When I was fifteen I compared their marriage certificate and my birth certificate and...she was about two months along when they got married. And I thought, well, they're just hypocrites, they had sex before they were married and just passed me off as premature. But then we did this thing in biology class about dominant and recessive genes, and I didn't fit. You and Shiloh, you fit, and I was sitting there in biology class and I realized that I didn't fit in the pattern because I wasn't in the pattern. There had to be somebody else."
Micah swallowed. "You never asked her?"
"Never," Rebecca said. "I tried. I could never get the words out. I don't even want to know who he is anymore -- what I really want to know is what she said to Dad to get him to marry her? Did he know, before? Did he care? Did he marry her to save her? And you know what I think?"
"What?" Micah said, slowly rubbing her arm.
"I think he loves her, but he's never forgiven her." She paused and cooed to Kitty, who had started to stir and whimper. When the baby had calmed she said, "All those years I thought he was so hard on me because I was the oldest and had to be the example. But when I realized the truth about it all, I realized he was so hard on me because he didn't want me to be like Mom." She took a breath. "So, no, it wasn't depression, not exactly. It was an identity crisis, coupled with learning my parents are only human." She looked at Micah and poked him with her foot. "Say something."
"I love you," Micah said, "and you're always going to be my sister."
"Good." She smiled uncertainly.
"And they're not perfect. But they're our parents and they love us, and if you come to them and tell them --"
"Have you told them you're gay yet?" she said.
Micah scowled. "No."
"If you tell them you're gay, I'll tell them..." Her voice trailed off. "I'll tell them I don't hate them."
"That's a start." Micah put his finger in Kitty's fist, and she gripped it tight even in her sleep. "I know I'm going to have to tell them the truth someday. I'm just not ready. It may mean saying goodbye to them forever and I can't do that."
"I know. But you'll always have us."
Micah smiled and kissed Kitty's fist and then waved to Dune when he saw the others were heading back their way.
That night in bed, Micah laid his head on Dune's back and stroked his spine, thinking. He could feel Dune breathing slowly under his cheek and he slid his hand around to Dune's stomach to stroke there. Dune pressed himself closer to Micah's chest. "I thought you were sleeping," Micah whispered.
"Nope. Not yet." He put his hand on top of Micah's. "What's on your mind?"
"Secrets," Micah said. "What they do to relationships and to people and to families. I've got so many."
"I think I know them all, sweetheart."
"No." Micah shook his head. "You don't. Are you going to forgive me for this one?"
"Does it involve you being a Columbian drug lord?"
Micah snorted and butted his head against Dune's shoulder. "Dork. Of course not. It's Stuart." He took a deep breath, feeling Dune inhale under his hand. "I slept with Stuart in France." Dune still didn't speak, and Micah went on, "He offered to get me a job in London or Paris, whichever I wanted. I almost took him up on it, but I didn't want somebody to take care of me."
"I know," Dune said, and Micah sat up.
"You know?"
Dune sat up too and turned to face him. "He told me at the cabin."
"Oh." Micah let his head drop. "Is that why you let me go? So I could be with Stuart if I wanted to?"
Dune took Micah by his shoulders and kissed him. "I let you go because you said it hurt to love me."
"I'm over that now," Micah said, moving into Dune’s lap because that was his favorite place to be. "It doesn't hurt anymore." He nudged his mouth against Dune's lips. "It feels pretty good, actually."
"Good," Dune whispered into his mouth, "that's good."
When they paused and Dune buried his face in Micah's neck, Micah stroked his back and whispered, "So we're okay? You're okay with that?"
"If that's the worst secret you've got we're doing just fine."
"Oh, Dunie, that's not even the half of it," Micah said. He traced Dune's shoulder. "But the rest can wait. Will you tell me something?"
"Sure," Dune said, uncertainty in his tone.
Micah took a breath. "Why Gavin?"
"Because," Dune said after a moment, "because sometimes you just want something familiar."
"I don't believe that." Dune sighed, and Micah said, "You knew what he was. What he is. You knew that, and you're a smart guy, and how many people have you told over the years to get out of a bad relationship? Dozens. More than that. So how did it happen, Dune? What happened?"
Dune was quiet for a long time, and Micah stroked his face and tried to look into his eyes while he waited. Finally Dune said, "I don't know. Maybe I'm not as smart as I want people to think I am. Maybe when it comes to my own shit, I'm completely clueless." He leaned his forehead against Micah's. "Maybe...deep down, I felt I deserved it. Hurting my best friend so much he couldn't even look at me."
"Dune?" Micah whispered, and Dune looked up at him. "
You didn't deserve that."
Dune smiled and nodded and closed his eyes. "You know what my biggest fear is? Has been since I was a kid?"
"Clowns," Micah said, and Dune laughed damply.
"No. Dork. It's finding out that my friends don't actually like me. That everybody I care about just puts up with me because they like looking at me. Sometimes I wish I had a disfiguring scar so I could learn the truth about how people really feel about me."
Micah kissed him. "Dune, Dunie, you are so beautiful. And it wouldn't matter what you look like: you'd still be beautiful. You are so good to people. That's why we like having you around. The prettiness is just a perk." Dune laughed again, quietly, and Micah said, "Gavin tried to take that away from you. He tried to make you believe that what makes you strong wasn't worth anything. And he was wrong, Dunie, he was so wrong."
Dune kissed him hard. "I should have -- I don't know what I should have done. Something other than what I did. I love you."
"I love you, too," Micah said and held him tight. He hesitated a moment before saying, "Dune. Will you do something for me? Will you get help? Please?" Dune started to speak, and Micah said, "We don't want to lose you again."
Dune frowned, kissed him again, and lay down. "I'll think about it," he said with a sigh.
"Okay," Micah said, lying beside him. After a moment he moved his head to rest it on Dune's shoulder, and Dune slowly stroked his back until he fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty
Dune's birthday was in May. He said he didn't want a big party --"Though I guess I wouldn't mind a little party" -- so Micah invited their closest friends and made spaghetti and meatballs, the only dish he was any good at aside from pancakes. He ordered a cake from Ben's bakery and stocked up on red wine, put Dean Martin on the stereo, and told Dune, "Whenever you're ready to kick everybody out, we will."
In theory, Dune was living with Leo. Most of his possessions were in the spare room and the rest were in storage: he'd given up the loft entirely and taken a leave of absence from the paper. But in reality he went to sleep every night at Micah's side, usually spooned against Micah's back. He did the cooking, the cleaning and the laundry, though Micah wished sometimes that he'd come home to find Dune writing instead.
He had relented about therapy, at least, and was seeing a friend of Ocean's twice a week. On those days he was moody and drained and often curled around Micah as soon as he was home. He didn't talk about his sessions, and Micah didn't ask about the bottle of anti-depressants that turned up one day in the medicine cabinet.
He seemed happy enough tonight, though, but who wasn't happy on their birthday. He accepted kisses and gifts with good humor, and when he came into the kitchen to hug Micah it was in gratitude, not for reassurance. "I'm having fun, sweetheart," he said softly and kissed Micah's cheek.
"I'm glad, Dunie," Micah said. "Go play with your friends. This will be ready in a few minutes."
"Looks delicious." He stole a taste of the spaghetti sauce and then went back to the living room, smiling.
They all were feeling nostalgic after they ate, while the ice cream melted on their plates and they nibbled the last of the bread sticks. Frances told about the night Dune was born --"You were almost born in the back yard, I went from zero to fifty so fast --" and Leo told about the time Dune had pneumonia when he was seven. "It was the first time I realized I had this dad thing kind of figured out," he said at the end.
Dune looked puzzled. "I was seven."
"Yes. For the first seven years of your life I felt like I was pretty much just faking it. After that night, though, I felt like being Superdad was within my reach."
"You've always been a good dad," Ocean assured him, and he smiled, pleased.
"I just wish somebody had told me sooner that parenthood is 'learn as you go' for everybody," he said. "Then it wouldn't have taken Dunie almost dying for me to realize it."
Jamie leaned his head on Ben's shoulder, and Ben kissed the top of his head. "So what advice would you offer to new parents?" Ben said. "So I can pass it on to Tris."
"Pick your battles," Frances said.
"Never forget how much you love them," said Ocean.
Leo smiled quietly. "Forgive your parents for their mistakes, because you're about to make them yourself."
Jamie and Ben chuckled, Dune smiled, and Micah played with his wine glass. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever had a kid," he said quietly. "I'd break it."
"They're a lot harder to break than you think," Frances said.
Micah nodded, but thought, Harder physically, maybe.
"You know what we haven't done for a long time," said Jamie, "and we ought to do while we're still young and unattached: go dancing."
"Yeah, we haven't been since your appendectomy, Micah," said Ben.
Dune drank more wine, eyes downcast. Jamie said, "Do you want to go out, Dunie?"
"I haven't been for a while."
"All the more reason to," Jamie said. "And there's been neither hide nor hair of the asshole, so I'm supposing he's left town."
Leo didn't look convinced, though everyone else was nodding. "It's not good to sit at home every night," said Frances gently.
"Is this a project?" Dune said. "Get Dune out of the house?"
"It's a spur of the moment idea to have some fun," said Ben. "You should come, too, Leo. Get back on the old horse."
"Oh yes," Leo said dryly, "the clubs are swarming with single, gay men in their fifties. You kids go ahead. I'll be fine."
"Do you mean tonight?" Dune said, surprised.
"I was thinking more of Saturday night, myself." Ben looked at Jamie with his eyebrows raised, and Jamie nodded in agreement. "Saturday night. We can have a big group date."
"I think we'll pass, too," said Frances. "A gay bar isn't the most fun place for a couple of old dykes."
"Smaller group date, then," said Ben.
Under the table Micah took Dune's hand and squeezed it. Dune smiled at him and said, "Yeah. Okay, then. Let's go be social."
"You don't have to go," Micah said when everyone had gone home and they were getting ready for bed. "But I'd love it if you did."
"Yeah, it hasn't been a whole lot of fun for you lately, has it?"
"I don't mean that. I just think this will be a good step for you." He wrapped his arms around Dune's chest and kissed his spine. "I worry, you know."
"I know," Dune said quietly. He turned in Micah's arms and kissed him. "I know you worry. I love that you worry."
Micah held him close and nodded. They kissed a lot, hugged and held each other, but Micah felt like asking for sex was pushing too far, and Dune never offered. Micah tried not to think about it much: though he missed sex, as tempting as it was to go cruising, he'd promised himself to be faithful to Dune.
Dune kissed him again, sliding both hands down Micah's back, and Micah started trembling though he tried not to get his hopes up. "You must be getting tired of just jerking off," Dune whispered, and Micah blushed.
"Maybe a little. I miss you."
"You know," Dune said slowly, "we've never really said -- I mean, if you really need to --"
"No," Micah said. "I love you. I don't need anybody but you."
Dune looked at him seriously a moment, then kissed him again, tilting back his head and running fingers through Micah's hair. He slid his hands down Micah's body to that ass, and boosted Micah up onto the bathroom counter.
"Dune," Micah whispered, "you don't have to."
"I want to." He kissed Micah again. "I miss you, too. I need you."
Micah wrapped his legs tight around Dune's waist. "I need you, too." He kissed Dune, tasting his mouth. When Dune tried to lift Micah off the counter, his arms shook.
"Um," Dune said, looking embarrassed. "I'm a little out of shape."
"I'll walk." Micah hopped off the counter, took both of Dune's hands, and pulled him along the hall, and they lay down together on the bed.
Dune's body was lean and sleek; he was starting to put on f
lesh again, starting to regain the definition in his muscles. Micah touched Dune slowly, with his fingertips, with his lips and his tongue, while Dune trembled and moaned beneath him.
Micah paused and looked at him, then licked one finger and stuck it in Dune's navel. Dune yelped and glared at him. "What was that for?"
"You said you like sex better when it's not serious." He pressed his mouth to Dune's belly and blew a loud raspberry. "So I'm not being serious." Micah pushed Dune's legs open and nibbled the insides of his thighs.
