Watching the Sky Cry

by J. B. Hartnett

  I heard them call final boarding.

  “I had a dream, Mom.”

  “Honey, we have to get going—”

  “Nick told me to say goodbye to Billy. That he wouldn’t meet our daughter. Why would that happen now? It was only a few days ago…” I gasped through my tears. “And…”

  “Lily,” Dad called out to my mom from the gate.

  “When you had her…Rylie…that’s what you said. You were sedated and holding her, and you said Nick would never meet her. Not Billy.”

  I shook my head, crying even harder, and threw my arms around her.

  “Take care of her, Quentin. We’ll bring him home. You understand?” she told him.

  Quentin transferred me from Mom’s arms to his. “Come on, Ry. Let’s get going.”

  And running up right behind my parents as they went through the gate…

  Was Miles.

  ****

  We took a detour to my place so I could pack a bag. Quentin hadn’t asked, but I planned on staying a while. And though I’d kept up this cautious trekking, not rushing into anything, I didn’t just throw a few things into a bag. I pulled out two suitcases and opened every drawer in my bedroom, dumping the contents inside before opening the closet and laying a few pieces on the bed. Into the bathroom, I grabbed my toiletries—shampoo, deodorant, hair stuff, makeup, toothbrush. And when Quentin came into the living room from taking it all to the car, he informed me, “I already got your laptop and chargers. Anything else you need, we’ll come back tomorrow.”

  When we walked out the front door, Quentin took my house keys, locked up, and handed them to me as I got back into the car. I stared out the windshield and looked at my house. I was so proud I hadn’t hesitated in buying it. I simply said, “I’ll take it,” and take it I did. I didn’t haggle on the price or take some time to mull it over. I was ready to have my own space.

  But that wasn’t the real reason.

  I had to put that money somewhere. The sale of the house in San Clemente had been painful, so painful, I didn’t want to spend any time thinking about it. Buying this place was like coming to terms with the fact he was really gone. That house had memories, good and bad, and this one…it was my clean slate.

  But something was missing. It was lovely, perfect in so many ways, but not quite right. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I reached for Quentin’s hand as he pulled out of the driveway. “It was you.”

  “Sorry?” he asked.

  “Quentin…”

  I said nothing more, thinking the time wasn’t right. Not now, not with everything going on. I’d wait until we were settled at his place. Maybe have a drink or a cup of tea. Try to relax while we waited for news. But he pulled the car to the shoulder and cut the engine.

  “Tell me whatever it was you were going to say.”

  So I shifted in my seat and looked into his beautiful, crystal blue eyes. “You want to have a child with me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “You love me?” I whispered.

  He took a breath and said each word that followed with clear and perfect enunciation. “I never stopped.”

  “That’s all I needed to know.”

  By the time he pulled into his driveway, I looked at that house with new eyes.

  “I’d like to plant a rose, somewhere near the river. A climber, pale yellow. Can you do that for me?”

  He reached for my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles.

  “Welcome home, Rylie.”

  ****

  “I wish I could say the right thing,” Billy had said.

  “I wish I could stop crying,” I’d replied.

  And these two sentences, this snippet from three years ago, while I sat in the living room of the San Clemente house, played and played on a loop through my mind.

  And finally, at three in the morning, my cell rang. I fumbled with the phone, instantly alert.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It was an accident, Ry.”

  “Where are you?” I rolled to my side and tried to keep my voice quiet. But I knew Quentin was awake beside me.

  “Still in the hospital. I’ll be leaving tomorrow. But I had to sit through a psyche evaluation. You shoulda seen Dad, Ry. I think he was close to killing the woman. She had to ask him to leave.”

  “Are you alone now?”

  He was quiet for a moment then said, “Not really.”

  “Was it an accident, Billy? And please, know it won’t go anywhere else. But I have to know the truth. I have to know, because if I don’t, and something happens, I need to know I did everything I could to help you…like you did for me.”

  His breath hitched, and I listened to my brother cry, as quietly as possible.

  “I’m here,” I told him. “Until the sun comes up. Whatever you need.”

  “Is Quentin there?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in lying. “I can go in another room…”

  “No. But I want you to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” I promised, and no matter what he asked, I’d do it.

  “Tell him…” he began and took a breath before he continued. “Tell him, it’s time. Tell him, everything’s gonna be okay.”

  “Time?”

  “And Rylie?” he asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Say yes.”

  And just as I turned to Quentin, Billy hung up.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked my man’s smiling face. “He said it’s time, and everything’s gonna be okay, whatever that means.”

  He took the phone from my hand and placed it on the nightstand. And then his lips hovered over the skin at my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Quentin, please, it’s been a long day and…”

  But his hand moved to my breast and squeezed, finding my hardened nipple barely concealed in my silky top. He moved to the other one, squeezing again and flicking the hardened tip.

  “We’re celebrating,” he informed me.

  “We are?” I asked, breathless as his hands moved down my sides to the waistband of my little shorts.

  “Yes,” he said with a yank, wrenching the delicate fabric down my thighs.

  I thrust my hands into his hair and asked, “Can you tell me what we’re celebrating?”

  “I will when we’re done.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, and, as his hand moved up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and into the sparse curls at the opening of my sex, I forgot about everything else. And when his fingers pushed inside me with a sudden, quick thrust, I inhaled between my teeth. “God…”

  He sat between my legs and reached beneath my buttocks, holding and squeezing each one as he lifted me, my knees at his sides as he pushed his cock forward.

  “This is going to be great,” I told him and listened as he chuckled.

  I dragged my fingernails down his chest and moved one hand to wrap around his cock and guide it to me.

  “Hard,” I told him.

  He grinned. “And you’re not even drunk.”

  I stopped and lifted until I could pull his mouth to mine. “You intoxicate me, Quentin Miller. I’m drunk with you.”

  He took my mouth in a rabid kiss and thrust his cock inside me all at once. A punishing, blissful push. He pulled out and slammed into me, pulled out slow, and thrust again. Then a slow pulse, a build in tandem with our breathing. One hand held the back of my neck as I steadied myself with my own. He pushed in and stayed buried as he pinched my nipples and plundered my mouth. And it seemed to go on for hours. A change of position when we both got too close to the edge. Then his mouth moved down to suckle my clit and I shifted to take his cock into my mouth, to taste us together, to bring him ever closer to orgasm, until I heard the first birds of morning outside.

  “Marry me,” he said. The words almost intelligible, murmured from his full lips swollen against my own.

>   The question I had to say yes to.

  Billy knew.

  “What are we celebrating?” I asked as he languidly pushed back inside me.

  He laid a tender kiss on my lips and let his fingers drift across my face. “Happiness, Rylie May. For everyone, you and me…and everyone.”

  And as he moved with a slow and steady grind, my body responded instantly with the need for release. Within seconds, I came harder than I could ever remember, and with it, tears that couldn’t stop. I watched as he pushed deep, his face tightened, and his body jerked forward, squeezing me against him as he found his own release.

  My heart thudded inside my chest, aching with the raw and very real understanding that our lives, his and mine, were so…real. Real, like children looking under rocks for earthworms and centipedes. Real, like telling your best friend your mother sometimes cuts herself. Real, like hearing every painful word your best friend needs to get out and wishing you could sew it up inside yourself so he’d never have to feel it again. Real as despair and heartbreak, an ember sparked in a world that seemed to be filled with solitude and darkness. But at the end of that long and arduous journey waited love. Full, absolute, and too big for one person to carry.

  “I will marry you, Quentin, and I’ll be your sky, and you…you can be my earth. My ground, in more ways than you’ll ever know.”

  “Happiness,” he whispered.

  And with that, I let my head rest against the warm skin of his naked chest. The cadence of his heart a gentle pull to slumber. In the arms of the man I’d always loved.

  Even when I loved another.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The lengthy text I received from my mom informed me she and Dad would be returning in about a week.

  Billy was coming with them.

  And he was moving into what used to be my house. Dad and Miles showed up a few days later with a huge truck of Billy’s belongings. I wanted to be a good sister-in-law—as odd as it was to think like that—so I offered to help move Billy in, but Miles declined, saying Quentin and I had been through enough. And, as much as things might be looking up in some areas, Quentin’s mother was deteriorating fast.

  Quentin joined his dad one afternoon, along with Miles, and told me it wouldn’t be long. I was surprised, knowing how Quentin felt about her, but he said he hoped it would bring them all a little peace. Quentin’s dad, Pete, and Uncle Lee were also there, a united front.

  Earlier in the day, I sent Aunt Ardie a text asking where she’d be, if I could come and keep her company. She was delighted—her words—so I went to the new café to spend some time with her.

  The minute I walked down the well-groomed path to the café’s open French doors, I could hardly believe it.

  “Looks great, doesn’t it?” She beamed. I hadn’t seen her look that happy in months.

  “It really does,” I said with reluctance. True, it looked great, especially with furniture, fixtures, and display cases installed. But…she was a little too happy. “Aunt Ardie—”

  “And look!” she said, leading me through a draped doorway.

  “Wow!”

  “I know!” she said, throwing her hands together.

  “It looks…I can’t believe it.” Dumbfounded, I walked inside, delighted beyond belief at the cobblestone hearth, the dark wood floors, and the thick, plank wooden shelves, ready for to be stocked.

  “Your dad’s been bringing boxes and boxes of things from your garage to ours.” She moved to an open box in the corner and lifted…well, I’d say it was a chandelier, but it was almost too good to be true.

  Then she plugged it in.

  My dad had fashioned a sorta chandelier made from vintage aluminum jewel-tone drinking cups. It was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen.

  “Awesome,” was the only word I had in me. But I was smiling from ear to ear. I could see right where he meant to hang it above the long rustic table. And the colors were mimicked in a bouquet of fresh flowers would be the added touch to make the whole thing come to life, each and every day.

  “Rylie?” Aunt Ardie asked, taking me from my little bubble of happy.

  I turned to her and held out my hand, showing her the simple ring which now lived on the proper finger. “He asked me to marry him.”

  “And you said?”

  I continued to smile as I told her, “I said yes, Aunt Ardie.”

  She had tears in her eyes, happy ones. “Finally,” she whispered. “Does your mom know?”

  “Not yet. I’ll tell Mom when she gets back with Billy. Is Uncle Lee here? I was hoping to tell him, too.”

  “Tell me what?” his voice asked from the doorway.

  “We’re having a wedding,” Aunt Ardie told him.

  He reached out for my hand and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Rylie…” he said into my hair, squeezing me tight.

  “Nothing…say nothing,” I whispered.

  “Did they tell you?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure who he meant by “they,” but if there was anything earth-shattering, the answer was no. So I turned my confused eyes to my aunt, who took my uncle and pulled him to her side. She stared up into his wet eyes and said, “We went ahead with the paternity test,” she began. “And, I have a stepson.”

  “And…you’re happy.” I could tell she wasn’t just happy; she was somehow healed.

  Aunt Ardie looked around the new build, to her husband, to me…“Look at us, Rylie. Our family is exactly how it was meant to be. It’ll take some time, but I don’t think it’ll take much for him to feel at home here. Especially since…”

  “Quiet, woman.” Uncle Lee stopped her from saying more.

  “This is exactly what I’d hoped for, Aunt Ardie.” I aimed a small smile at my uncle.

  Uncle Lee moved back to me and put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Next few weeks are gonna be hard for Miles and Quentin and Pete. But at least the nightmare is over…for them, and for her. Pete told me she was a good mom to her baby, and when she got pregnant again, she was happy for it, and so was Pete. But they seemed to know the happy times were gonna be few for them. As her illness progressed…every good day was like a gift. And Pete, he loved her despite the fact she couldn’t always be what he wanted. They’re free from the suffering, Ry. They’re just waiting for her to let go.”

  Having watched someone silenced by the shell of his own body, being released from it was an unexpected comfort. And, try as I might, I could never find a comfortable medium between guilt and solace.

  Until now.

  “I have to do something,” I told them.

  “You okay?” Uncle Lee asked.

  “I will be,” I said. “I’m glad…glad for you both.”

  Uncle Lee turned to kiss my aunt tenderly on the forehead.

  “Yeah,” he said, and I left them to it.

  ****

  I got into my little car and drove toward my former house. There was another car in the driveway, along with a moving truck and no room for me to park. So I drove down the road a ways to a small turnout and parked there.

  My mind was busy with amused thoughts of all that new furniture Mom and Dad had bought. It was fairly neutral, Billy’s style, and I knew they’d planned it this way. I laughed to myself as I moved down the driveway. And when I looked inside, I unexpectedly saw my brother, at long last, and was instantly flooded with relief. I was about to run at him, full force, when I saw his head tilt and a set of hands move over his shoulders and link behind his neck in a kiss. Not just any kiss. This was a kiss of passion, longing, and one that ended with the linked hands finding their way down Billy’s back and grabbing his ass.

  I wanted to snicker, feeling awkward that I was about to ruin the moment more than anything. But, obviously, Quentin was right about happy endings. And while I moved closer, knowing a few more steps and they’d know they weren’t alone, I watched as a set of steel blue eyes looked over Billy’s shoulder and shocked the shit out of me.

  “Miles,” I whisp
ered.

  Billy turned around, and when he saw my face, I think he was afraid I wouldn’t accept him, but even more than that, I was totally, absolutely, fucking pissed-off.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I cried and ran right at him, throwing my arms around him in a hug with such force, he had to regain his footing.

  “Rylie…” he began.

  But I wasn’t having it.

  “You could’ve told me. I never, ever would’ve made you feel…I don’t even know what to say, but you know me, Billy. And to think you almost—”

  “Stop it,” Miles said, taking control of the situation. “Just stop. This,” he said, waving his hand between the two of them, “has been denied for a long time, Rylie. Both of us had to come to terms with what it would mean if we both accepted there was a bond between us. You and Quentin, that makes sense. But me…falling in love with your brother?”

  I turned around and looked outside, my only view the front grill of the truck and what I assumed was a rental car.

  “Rylie,” Miles said behind me, keeping my head against my brother’s chest. “My mother knew. And there are only so many times your own mother can call you a fag before you snap.”

  Oh my God.

  “And I strung him along for years. Finally ending it when he left here on a motorcycle…”

  I spun around and saw the torture plain as day written all over his face. But it was the pain, the horror, the regret, and it was also the same expression Quentin had worn for years.

  “He knows,” I said quietly.

  “Billy wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  I understood why, and somehow, when I stopped to think about it, I’d known for a long time. “Quentin was right about me.”

  Billy moved a little, putting some distance between us, and lowered his hand down to curl his fingers around Miles’. “Rylie?”

  “I’ve been in a bubble. I didn’t mean to be, Billy. Honest to God, I had no idea you were suffering. Not like this. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. I wish I’d known,” I said, my voice trembling with each word. But Billy was focused on something else completely.

  “Did you say yes?” he asked.

  I looked at my hand. “It was my very first wish…remember?”