Wild Heart

by Kade Boehme

  “I never said she couldn’t come. I just said we wouldn’t spend the whole time on our knees in prayer.”

  “Oh, but you’ll get on your knees for that gringo.” Ase wanted to hit his brother, despising how he twisted the word Ase called Jase so fondly into something so degrading.

  Instead, he just looked at his brother drily, faking his confidence and said, “Clever.” He was too tired and too fucking sober, too emotionally wrung out for all of this.

  “We taught you this lesson once before.” He wanted to wipe the smug expression of his brother’s face. And he was ashamed to admit the word made him want to cry. Dios, what had happened? He’d been so close to this man once upon a time. As children they’d been close in age and their family so poor, they’d only had one another to lean on for a while; they’d been inseparable. Now, he couldn’t stand to look at the man, and the feeling, no doubt, was mutual.

  “Is that why you brought her?” Ase nodded in Lizeth’s direction, his deportation dig having clearly cowed her for now. “It didn’t work last time, you’ll notice.”

  Mateo advanced on Ase, so Ase rose to his full height, blowing up. “If you think you’ll be able to do that again, I’m not twenty-two anymore. I promise it’ll take more than just you this time.” Mateo had had help last time as well, but Ase hadn’t put up a fight when they’d come at him. He’d still hoped, wished. He’d had no idea.

  Lizeth gripped Mateo’s arm. “Mateo, por favor. If the policía are called…”

  “And you are trespassing,” Ase said. “So just go.”

  Mateo huffed and puffed. “I’m so sad for you, mi hermano. You have the most promise. But you throw it away.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” Ase asked, throwing his hands up, his resolve cracking. “I’m a fucking doctor. I pay my bills and hers. I am not still in San Diego, embarrassing the familia.” He spit the latter with as much venom as he could muster. “I don’t know why I can’t be left alone.”

  “You only have two more years doing this.” Mateo gestured toward the bedroom. “Mami and Papi put you through school; let you have freedoms, so you could pay it forward. You’re supposed to take care of the familia; not run from them, humiliate them.” Mateo’s tone was almost as sad as it had been angry earlier. Ase slumped into the recliner by the couch.

  “I’ve given the familia all I have. I can do no more.” He was stunned to hear himself say it. He looked at Lizeth. “And you should be ashamed, because you want for nothing. You live off me, you date who you want, you don’t work…”

  She had the grace to look abashed. He knew she wouldn’t feel it for long, though.

  “Go,” Ase said, with finality.

  “Si, Mateo, let’s just leave. There’s time.”

  The room was silent for a moment while Mateo seethed at the dismissal. So much for the whole sad, we miss you routine. “Okay,” he said. “But this isn’t over. We are in town until Monday.”

  Ase snapped, pulling up to his full height, grabbing his brother by the fucking collar and slamming him against the wall, banged his fucking head against it once. “Yes. It’s so fucking over.” Lizeth cowered, screaming for him to stop. Ase pulled open the door with one hand and shoved his brother out. Mateo stumbled, eyes wide and angry. “If you stay here, I’ll fucking kill you, Mateo. And no one will give a fuck because you. Are. Trespassing.”

  “Fuck you, you fucking joto.”

  Ase shook his head, resigned, but held his body ready to defend himself if Mateo wanted to come at him. “Go home or this joto will beat your ass and you’ll really have some explaining to do.”

  Lizeth took Mateo’s arm and dragged him away. The way he demurred to her, eventually, the way he leaned in, left little doubt Mateo’s defense of her honor was brought on by more than family duty.

  He hoped they were fucking happy together, the miserable fucks.

  After watching them drive off, Ase had a brief moment of pride that he’d stood up for himself for the first time since his brothers and father decided to help him. He hated that he still didn’t want his family to turn their backs on him. The little bo inside him was so fucking sad.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled. Hard.

  “Fuck!” he screamed at the walls.

  Of course Jase had given Ase back some of his joie de vivre. Ase’d felt like himself for the first time in so long over the last few weeks. Thoughts of Jase and how the morning’s gilipolleces, this fucking nonsense and hysterics from people who Ase had grown to despise as much as he loved them, had detonated the fragile bond he and Jase’d started rebuilding.

  Jase’d looked resigned, like he’d given up. Why wouldn’t he? Ase had been so close to giving up on himself, why shouldn’t Jase?

  Fuck, his heart hurt, and the light dimmed when he realized he was back to square one with his family, possibly with Jase also, and he was tired of his shoulders feeling so fucking heavy.

  Chapter 21

  JASE’S mother had returned to her sunny disposition—that’s to say, was a complete grump. But Ms. Jaclyn seemed to be taking the brunt of her disdain when Jase returned home from Ase’s that morning. Maybe she’d read his own mood and discerned, even in her feeble state, that crossing him wouldn’t be wise. He felt bad for Ms. Jaclyn and offered to sit with his mother while she had lunch. She’d tried to refuse, but really, he didn’t want to sit alone in his cottage with his own thoughts, so he gladly sat on the couch listening to his mother complain about, well, everything.

  She didn’t seem to have the same edge to her she’d carried the last several time he’d been around, though docile; she was not.

  After a while of picking through his phone, his mother’s voice caught his attention.

  “Did you say something?”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “Being a miserable old woman.” She didn’t sound pleased referring to herself as old.

  He smiled despite himself. “You’re not old.”

  She scoffed. “Well, at least you didn’t try to bullshit me and say I wasn’t miserable.”

  “I do my best not to lie to people’s faces.” He hated how bitter the words were as they hung there in the air. She tilted her head, but thankfully didn’t question him. Of all the things he didn’t want to discuss with her, Ase topped the list. And surprisingly, not because it’d out him. He was hurt and raw. He didn’t know what the fuck to think. He was torn between wishing Ase would call and explain, and just saying Why am I even trying? He’d thought they were good. He’d wanted to let himself fall. Had done, if he was honest with himself.

  No, he wasn’t in love, but he damn sure had started accepting he could fall that far with a little encouragement. And Ase had given it. He knew Ase’d been holding something back. Knew that drag wasn’t his biggest secret. Hell, Jase’d fallen even harder having gotten to see all of Ase, seeing Ase.

  But fuck. A wife? That was… a surprise.

  He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, and Ase’d said it was complicated. But, wow.

  “Were you expecting company?” his mother asked.

  “Ma’am?” he asked, confused.

  She pointed toward the large picture window behind the couch where he sat. “There’s a car out in front of your place.”

  Jase turned around, startled. No, he most definitely hadn’t expected company. He recognized the sedan, though. He’d only seen it in the parking lot of Ase’s apartment, but it was definitely Ase’s. And the man himself sat on the steps on Jase’s front porch, staring at the ground and sipping from a Big Gulp cup from one of the local chain gas stations.

  “Friend of yours?” his mother asked.

  “Um. Yeah.” He didn’t know whether to be elated Ase was there or nervous. Hell, part of him just wanted to be pissed at the audacity of the man to show up like he had every right. But Jase had done the same thing to Ase last night. Of course, after the morning they’d had he… well, hell, he hadn’t even had time to get
his thoughts in order so as to be able to respond to whatever Ase might have to say about the situation.

  Was he a fool for still hoping? The man had been nothing but fucking trouble since he’d come back around. How many times could their little—friendship? How many times could they rise from the ashes?

  “Oh, go on. Jaclyn’s just in the other room. I’ll sit here like a good invalid. Obviously your friend has something he needs to say if he’s just waiting on you like that.” Her curious gaze flicking between the window and Jase was disconcerting to say the least. She was almost conciliatory, perhaps a little too knowing. He didn’t think she knew the score completely, but she knew something was off.

  Although he wished it was just right and not off.

  Just for good measure, he stuck his head in to tell Ms. Jaclyn he had to head to his place. She shooed him away, insisting he’d spoiled her enough giving her time off. He thought she deserved a raise, but if having a long lunch to herself would do, who was he to argue? He stopped to buss a kiss on his mother’s cheek, which got him a smile she tried to hide under orneriness. He’d seen it, though, and was buoyed infinitesimally. One day at a time.

  He left the house and walked the few hundred yards to where Ase sat on the steps to Jase’s cottage. His stormy expression didn’t bode well in Jase’s mind, and he still hadn’t the foggiest notion what to expect or how to react. All he was sure of was that “Hey, Ase, thanks for making me an adulterer” was probably not the place to start.

  The least he could do was hear Ase out, right?

  His jaw clenched from both nerves and anger. Ase finally looked up from the argument he was having with himself. Jase wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see in Ase’s eyes when the man looked up. Maybe the usual as of late: oh-so-guarded, or perhaps he’d expected to see defensiveness, or shamefacedness.

  What he hadn’t expected was the wounded, no gutted, vulnerable doe eyes. He wasn’t even aware Ase was capable of such an expression. Jase swallowed thickly, wanting to reach out and cup the man’s face, to hug him. Fuck. He wanted to do something. But the humiliation of the morning, the information he’d been walloped with, held him in check.

  “Ase?”

  “You came to me. You were always coming to me. Thought it was my turn.” He wasn’t exactly slurring his words, but his tongue was drunk-lazy.

  Jase sighed. “Dammit, Ase. I’m a fucking cop. Tell me you didn’t drive drunk to my house.”

  Ase shook his head, looking impossibly young for his twenty-seven years. “No. It took you so long to come back.”

  Jase felt his brow furrow. How? It hit him and he made a grab for the Big Gulp cup. Ase tried to snatch it back. He took a sip from the straw and spat. “Jesus! Ase, is there any soda in this cup?”

  “Was,” Ase said, churlishly. He looked a bit like a hound dog about to take a beating with a rolled up paper. “I just refilled it a couple times is all.”

  “Fuck, Ase,” Jase said, rubbing his forehead where he felt the strain of tension from furrowing his brow so long.

  Ase stood. Not a good idea. He wobbled, opened his mouth to talk.

  He held up a finger, bent and spat on the ground. Spat again. And unceremoniously puked at his feet.

  “Well. At least you missed the steps,” Jase grumbled.

  The process of getting Ase even slightly sobered up wasn’t a pretty one. He tossed his cookies twice more after Jase’d gotten him inside. Then Jase pushed him in the shower and lent the man clothes to change into. While Ase showered Jase made coffee and breakfast. It was mid-afternoon but he couldn’t think of anything that sobered him up like scrambled egg sandwiches.

  Ase came out, still looking like a dog who’d shit on the rug. Jase said nothing, letting his frustration steel him against pitying—or wanting to fuck—Ase, who looked almost sweet in Jase’s old t-shirt and sweats.

  They sat silently as Ase snarfed down his sandwiches like he’d not eaten in a week. Hell, he may not have eaten since before the club the night before for all Jase knew. It just dawned on Jase he’d never gotten to make breakfast that morning, and judging how fast Ase’d gotten drunk, an empty stomach probably was partially to blame.

  Jase puttered around, cleaning up his kitchen, switching Ase’s clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. He wasn’t going to be the one to start this conversation. Hell, he didn’t know how. He didn’t even know what Ase’d come to say, so he’d wait until the man was ready to speak his piece.

  Jase still couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to pick a fight to burn some frustration or wait to hear Ase out. He fucking hated this. Hated it.

  He knew for damn sure he wasn’t going to sit around watching the man feel sorry for himself, so he went to shower and change out of last night’s clothes. When he’d finished up with that he padded back into the living room, still tense but feeling better for having gotten clean.

  Ase now sat on the couch, staring out one of the bay windows. His gaze came to rest on Jase when he sat on the loveseat adjacent the sofa. Another silent moment passed.

  “Sorry,” Ase said, softly.

  “For which part exactly?”

  Ase sighed. “All of it. This morning, getting trashed, puking.”

  “Okay.”

  Ase sighed again, running his hands through his hair then turned then mumbled. “Sorry I’m such a fucking monster.”

  That gave Jase pause. A monster? “Ase, you have to tell me what you mean.”

  “Mierda,” Ase hissed, more to himself than Jase, before looking up. “This is why I didn’t want you to waste your fucking time on me, Jase.” No silly nicknames, voice stripped bare. Jase just watched as Ase rubbed his hand over his face. He couldn’t respond until he knew what to respond to.

  Although. “Because you’re married.”

  Ase shook his head. “No. Well, that, too. But…”

  “Dammit, Ase. Get on with it, or get out.” Jase was done pussyfooting here. He was tired, he was heartsick, and Ase’s awkward tension was making Jase’s whole body rigid with nervous energy.

  “I fucked up a lot, Jase. A lot. I gave you shit for being in the closet, but you didn’t know I was fucking married. I lied; I bowed to my parents’ guilt.”

  “I guessed that much.” Jase had to add, “It just seems so unlike you. Taking their shit.”

  Ase smiled ruefully, without a trace of humor. “You don’t know what guilt is until a Catholic mother has dumped it on you for years.” Jase didn’t know about all that.

  “Look,” Jase said, but Ase held up a hand.

  “You are all this good. I think I was angry at you from the first, because even in your e-mails it seemed like you got to have your cake and eat it too.” Jase blinked in surprise. “I know that’s not true now, but I still feel it sometimes. But I want you. So bad. I want what we were starting; I want what we had. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “You’re all honest with your feelings and telling people you’re bi because you’re too honest to just fuck some girl without full disclosure. And I was lying to you.”

  “No arguments on that last part.”

  “You’re good, Jase. All good. And I’m that bastard whose kid was stillborn, and all I could think was I didn’t want it anyways.”

  Jase froze. “Say what?”

  Ase looked guiltier than ever. Jase had trouble looking at the man. Those were mighty strong words, and Jase sure the fuck didn’t know how to react, much less respond. But, Jase’d told Ase about the abortion way back in Munich. Yes, that’d been different than a still-birth, but he remembered that guilt he felt at being a bit relieved. This seemed like more than that, though.

  “Then, I wouldn’t even talk to Lizeth. Not a word. She was hurting, and I did nothing.”

  Okay, now that sounded all kinds of wrong. That was cold. Jase had no idea what to think. None. So many questions and Ase was being a pain and he really just wanted Ase to go now.

  Ase look
ed up at Jase imploringly, and it stopped Jase’s heart. Fuck. That look hurt. “Jase, I feel so much guilt. But I hated her. And I hated the kid.”

  “Then why’d you fuck her?”

  “To shut them up!” Ase snapped. Jase jumped to his feet and went for a beer, then thought that was probably the last fucking thing he needed, and he sure wasn’t offering one to Ase, who was barely sober, so he grabbed one of the individual orange juices he kept in the fridge.

  When he turned, Ase was in the doorway looking at him, lost. “It’s not… It’s not like I wanted to fuck her.”

  “You just fell on her?” Jase asked, drily.

  “More like pushed.”

  Jase studied Ase carefully, his rigid stance, his wringing hands, the shame written all over him. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just…”

  “No, Ase. What does that mean? You want me to understand? Say what you mean.”

  “You wouldn’t understand!” Ase’s voice broke. His body quaked. Jase stood still, afraid approaching the man would make Ase crack wide open.

  “I lived for those e-mails between you and me. Those first few months were so fucking dark. I came home, went to school, went to work. I talked a good game about it not being a big deal when my folks found out, but it was awful. Oppressive.”

  Jase wouldn’t even act like he didn’t understand that in some small way. He let his family dictate how he felt, but. “I left home. You could have, too.”

  “It didn’t work that way. They’d paid for my school. They brought Lizeth up to remind me of my duty. What, I was supposed to let them send her back to that village she was from? I hated it. I am not that weak, but after the shit they said and how hard they came down on me, I was broken.”

  Ase laughed humorlessly. “I was a prisoner, too. They owned my car. They got my uncle to sell my bike, saying those savings were by their grace, so they used it for tuition. And Jase, I love them; I never have lived without mi familia, and it felt impossible.”

  Jase nodded. He was trying to understand. He had friends who’d been really religious who were like that, still couldn’t break from their families in their late twenties.