by Chase Potter
“Depends on what it is.”
His forehead scrunches together, and it takes a moment before he can get out what he wants to say. “Promise not to just like… disappear one day?”
I chuckle at first because it must be at least the third time he’s said something like this to me, but when I see that Alex is completely serious, I shut my mouth. The irony isn’t lost on me that he’s asking me not to disappear on him while he just happens to be holding me down. “I guess I don’t know what you mean,” I admit. Yeah, I tell myself, you fucking do.
Alex sighs. “I just have this feeling sometimes that one day you’re going to… I don’t know, suddenly move on or something. And I won’t ever hear from you again.”
I swallow hard, and in that instant, I realize without the slightest hint of doubt that Alex has actual feelings for me. Not the kind that you can buy with a movie and a blow job, but the real kind. The kind that makes you feel warm inside for no reason at all, and the kind that leaves pain in their wake when they break.
My next realization kills me inside: he’s not the only one who feels that way.
When I speak, it’s barely a whisper. “I’m not going to do that.” The worst lies are always the quietest.
Only now does Alex release me from his grip, rolling over onto his back beside me. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”
For a moment I wonder if I had left him with more doubt, whether he would have kept pinning me down and straddling me. Maybe it was a mistake to be so convincing.
My eyes scroll to the side, and Alex’s gleam back at me as he grins. It’s an awkward angle, and it makes me smile because I feel like we’re doing something we’re not supposed to.
Then he shuffles a little closer to me, and the sound of his shirt brushing over the sleeping bag is a whisper in the calm afternoon. Our arms are touching, and he turns his head just enough to the side that his short hair brushes against my ear.
I consider for a second that now we might be doing something we shouldn’t, at least not if we were just friends. But Carson is probably just playing on his phone back in our tent, and my resolve weakens.
“Thanks for inviting me along,” he says, and regret nips at his words. I wonder why that is.
My answer is soft, just like the day’s cool touch. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” Alex’s chest moves with a silent chuckle, and I realize how once more I’m perfectly aware of every point of contact between us. It’s an odd feeling, being close to someone like this. A good feeling. I smile at the red ceiling of his tent, bright in the sunlight hitting it.
My eyes close as the tent collects the sun’s heat and lets it pool around me, dribbling through my fingers and my hair. Alex shifts, and it makes my ear tingle. Then we’re still. We lie side by side, and a breeze awakens outside, tickling the last dead aspen leaves to life. Beneath their rustling hush, my hold on consciousness wanes, and the minutes pass in twos, threes, as I balance on the edge of sleep.
Dribbling heat, rustling hush, and finally we’re in a place we can’t be found.
“You guys are cuddling.” The sound is too loud, too close, and for once I’m truly irritated with Carson as I force my eyes open. His face is framed at the edge of the tent flap, and Carson’s statement is purely factual in nature. As if he were making a remark about the weather.
“Get out,” I grumble and swipe an open hand toward him. He disappears from sight, but Alex pulls away from me anyway. He seems worried, and for an instant I think he might kick me out too.
I sit up, at first unsure what to say. Then: “Shit.”
Alex’s concern flows into his voice. “We just fell asleep next to each other. He was embellishing.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, but my mouth is dry. I don’t think Alex actually believes that, and neither do I.
I roll out of the tent after him, and together we find Carson with his arms crossed as he surveys the clearing.
“I wish I had a cuddle buddy bromance,” Carson says, and I think I might die.
“I barely even like Matt,” Alex argues, and he sends a pained smirk toward me.
“I don’t blame you,” Carson adds, and his voice marinates in a dry humor. “Matt has bad habits.”
“I do not!”
Alex laughs at my indignation, but then he asks, “What habits?”
* * * * *
Hours have passed since the sun fell below the tops of the aspens. I lean back in my folding camping chair, and my gaze ventures upward. The sky sunk into twilight as we ate dinner after our hike, and now it’s filled with an inky black punctuated by points of white.
The fire pops as a log splits under the heat, and for a few seconds, my view of the sky is filled with glowing bits of orange. They dance up into the night, rising until they wink out of sight and die in the dark.
Too late I notice that my marshmallow is on fire. Holding up the flaming end of my roasting stick, I blow a burst of air and the marshmallow is extinguished with a puff of smoke. “S’more?” I ask.
Alex sits up and examines the burnt husk of a marshmallow on the end of the stick that I’m offering. With the other hand, I hold out a stacked pair of square graham crackers and a hunk of chocolate. He raises an eyebrow at me.
I might be pretty good at a lot of things, but this definitely isn’t one of them. “Sorry. They sometimes start on fire,” I confess.
Alex can’t stop the smile on his face, and he seems to find it endearing that I’ve turned a marshmallow into a blackened ball.
“I like them dark,” he lies, and he takes the graham crackers and squishes the burnt blob between them, pulling it off the stick.
“Really?”
Alex takes a bite and nods vigorously. It’s always easier to be dishonest when you don’t have to actually talk.
Carson makes a snorting sound as he whisks his own marshmallow away from the coals. “Matt, no one likes burnt marshmallows.”
Alex shakes his head and makes a grunt of disagreement, but he’s also looking longingly at the golden brown marshmallow that Carson has produced. “This is how they’re supposed to look,” he brags.
“Hey now.”
Alex is still chewing like it’s his job when Carson asks him, “So what made you jump on Matt like that?”
He forces a swallow and it looks like it goes down hard. “Uh, what?”
“When you guys were playing that football game.”
I cringe, regretting that Carson was even told about that, but it takes Alex a second longer to put the pieces together. “Oh. You mean tackle him?”
“Right.” Carson shrugs and explains, “Sports aren’t really my thing.” He’s still watching Alex expectantly, and I’m convinced that he’s already starting to come to some conclusions of his own.
“Um…” Alex stalls. I notice his tongue moving behind his cheek, and I wonder if he has burnt marshmallow stuck in his teeth or if he’s just nervous. “I guess I just got distracted and forgot the rules. I’m not that used to playing flag football. Where you don’t tackle,” he adds as an explanation.
“Ah.” Carson pretends to be occupied with placing another marshmallow at the end of his stick.
And then taking the invitation, Alex starts to pepper Carson with questions. From the mundane like his age and favorite color to his preferred subjects in school and the things he can cook. Which I know is everything.
The first several questions are asked and answered with me barely breathing, but as they interact, I slowly relax. Alongside the sparks from the fire, the minutes drift upward into the night until they disappear. The two of them chat back and forth about French cuisine and law school and which pop music artist is the best. I stay out of it, and my thoughts wander, trying to imagine a world with enough space in it for both Carson and Alex.
From across the fire, Carson catches my eye, and he seems like he’s really enjoying himself. But maybe it’s just the way the flames and shadows are playing over his face. Still, I cling to the
suspicion that they’re really hitting it off, and that this trip seems to be a better idea than I ever would have guessed.
* * * * *
Hours later and the night is quiet except for Carson’s breathing beside me. But still I can’t sleep. Then again, we’re camping, so that might be why.
Even though I know that’s not really the reason. If I’m honest with myself — the dangerous kind of honesty that leads you to things you wish weren’t true — then I can’t pretend that the reason I can’t sleep is for anything else but Alex.
The more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him. The stranger thing yet was watching Carson interact with him, as if it almost seemed like he felt the same way. Maybe that’s just the way Alex is. He draws people to him. Or he tackles them to the ground and starts investigating them for felony charges, and then they get drawn to him.
At the thought, my heart slams against my chest. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to work. I sit up and swallow as I try to force my anxious thoughts to settle down. Carson shifts in his sleep, but the cadence of his breathing doesn’t change.
I need to get outside.
Slowly, I unzip the tent and slip into the night. The cold grass is wet on my feet as I walk gingerly to one of the chairs by the fire. There should be embers glowing beneath the gray ash, but as we were turning in for the night, Carson insisted on peeing on the coals. He thought it was funny as hell. Right in front of us, he unzipped his jeans and whipped it out, forcing both of us to avert our eyes. The memory coaxes a melancholy smile onto my lips. Carson can be such a dork sometimes.
Settling into the folding chair, I cross my legs and wedge my knees against the side bars so that my feet don’t have to be on the ground. And then I gaze at the sky. Without the light from even a dying fire to wash out my vision, the black overhead reveals itself to be more like a deep navy. It stretches around the world like velvet, brightest along the band of the Milky Way.
I sigh, and my shoulders sink beneath the weight of innumerable stars.
Movement in the dark makes my skin tingle and my muscles tense. Then I hear the sound of a pair of feet coming to a stop at the edge of the fire ring.
“You couldn’t sleep either?”
“Not really.”
Alex takes the seat nearest to me, the one I used hours ago while I burnt all my marshmallows to a crisp. I wait for Alex to start a conversation, but even as my eyes grow more used to the dark, the silence is left untouched. The longer we sit side by side, the more I want… to share. I grit my teeth and try to quash the feeling from my chest.
But it doesn’t work, and suddenly it’s my own voice trespassing against the night. “I’m… not good for you.” Every word echoes like thunder inside my skull, but I need to tell him.
Alex is calm, but his answer is fierce. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious,” I say, and I hate that my voice is already husky with emotion. “You deserve someone different. Someone better.” Someone who isn’t afraid of you finding out the truth.
I can feel his eyes on me, hard in the cold of the night. “If we were dating, I’d say you were trying to break up with me.”
“But we’re not dating,” I say softly, fighting to keep my voice down while still imparting my frustration.
“I know, which is why it’s stupid to try to break up.” He’s silent for a moment, then another. “You can stop hanging out with me if you want, but I’m not going to just… leave.”
My breath steals out of my lungs, painting white onto the canvas of the autumn dark. If I were stronger, I would do what I’m asking him to. But I can’t.
“I’m selfish.” It’s a whisper and a breath and a confession. And it’s the truth. A terrible kind of truth.
Alex’s voice is so soft I wonder if his words are even there at all. “I don’t care.”
A chance for an honest question, finally. “Why?”
He sighs, and when I glance over at him, he’s staring up into the sky. “You say you’re selfish, but any fool could see how much you care about Carson.”
Fingers of regret tighten around the back of my throat, but I desperately need to hear more. “Really?” I’ve always felt like taking care of Carson made me feel like I was barely an inch from failure, like I was perpetually falling without even an ounce of grace.
Alex chuckles, and even through the distance and the dark, I see his breath. But for a moment only.
“Of course. You might not be his dad, but you love him like a son. And someone who can do that… well, that’s someone worth getting to know better.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, I can hear the smile in his voice. “And besides, you’re hot.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment, and I’m glad the reaction isn’t visible to Alex. A counterpoint of fear won’t let go of me though, and I ask a question I shouldn’t. “What if I don’t have any good left over for someone else?”
Thoughtful silence spreads between us, and then he says, “Somehow I don’t think that’s the case. You might have convinced yourself of that, but…”
“But?”
“But you seem to have convinced yourself of a few things that aren’t quite true.”
It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s talking about having an interest in guys. Gritting my teeth, I push my gaze away from him. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s not something I want to think very hard about right now.
I hear him stand, and when I look up, his shoulders are outlined against the night full of stars. The tug in my throat from earlier today comes back with a vengeance, and not for the first time tonight, stirrings of desire slink through my belly.
“My tent has room for two if you want.”
“Not with Carson here.” I sigh in frustration, even though I’m not sure if it’s with myself or Alex or just the situation. Still, it’s the truth.
“I understand.” Then he kneels down, and my heart jumps in anticipation. I bring my eyes up, wanting desperately to be close to him even though I’ve just shut him down. He leans in, but it’s too high, and instead of what I’m craving, he kisses me on the forehead. “Goodnight, Matt.”
I can’t bring myself to wish him goodnight back because I’m breaking inside. I watch him straighten and disappear in the direction of the other tent, and then I find myself abruptly alone.
* * * * *
The following day, we make breakfast around the rekindled fire. As we eat and clean up, the first chilly hour whisks past, and I almost forget the conversation that Alex and I shared in the early hours of the morning. But not quite. It sticks in the back of my mind, refusing to let go, and it doesn’t help that my eyes keep catching on Alex.
I think that even Carson notices something is amiss, but he doesn’t press us with any questions. Like me, he doesn’t seem to have gotten great sleep last night.
I don’t regret bringing Alex along, especially since this trip was just a single night in the woods. But I do wish that things were simpler with him.
My chest draws in a breath, and when I release it, my breath is a soft white in the early air. “You guys ready to head home?”
Chapter Twelve
My favorite mornings are the ones when Carson and I both end up having coffee at the same time, even though nothing much is ever said. Today, he’s gazing into the glowing screen of his phone, and I’m watching the steam rolling off my freshly poured mug. Usually I have my phone out too, but I can’t stand the thought of skimming my morning emails before I even get to work. Mostly it’s just that something else is on my mind.
“You still haven’t said why you got upset when I brought up our dad,” I begin carefully. This might be a bad idea, but there’s something there. I can feel it.
He looks up from his phone. “Can we not do this right now?” Tension thrums through his words.
Worry trips me up. Carson is never so… brusque with me. “I can tell something is bothering you,” I say softly. “I want to help.”
A deep scowl tackles his expression. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Can you please just drop it? We never talked about him when I was growing up, and I sure don’t want to now.”
He sighs, and the sound is so terribly somber that I can’t bring myself to push him anymore. “I’m going to school,” he says, and I don’t have the heart to stop him as he gets up from the couch, grabs his backpack, and walks out the door.
I let my eyes drift closed, wishing that I could redo this morning. Some days I’m just such utter shit at being a parent, but I never seem to know what I’ve done wrong. Lifting my coffee to my lips, I inhale and steal a breath of its aroma. It’s perfectly black, almost austere, and I wish that parenting were as simple as brewing great coffee.
I take a sip and the bitter taste rolls across my tongue. It is good today. My gaze moves to Carson’s abandoned mug, still full minus a single sip or maybe two. He doesn’t like to waste anything, but apparently not even that could keep him here this morning. I stare at his coffee, and I wonder if he might sprint back in here. Even if just to put it in a to-go cup.
The door stays still, and out of nowhere, I feel like I want to cry. I’ve always wanted to be everything that Carson needed, but right now… I don’t know how to reach him.
* * * * *
It’s just past noon when I get a phone call from Carson’s principal. It’s so unexpected that as the man speaks, my mind lags behind as I struggle to process everything. Bit by bit, I listen and piece together the information I need.
Carson is okay.
But he was in a fight.
He’s being sent home for the day.
I need to pick him up.
My breaths are tight as I slide my phone back in my pocket. Carson has never been in trouble before, not once. He’s never gotten poor grades, never stolen anything, never gotten a parking ticket, and certainly never been in a fight.
The nervous tingle from breathing too fast is touching the tips of my fingers and toes, and I make a conscious effort to calm down. Carson is fine. I’m going to pick him up from school, we’re going to talk, and it’s going to be okay.
