Fever Pitch

by Heidi Cullinan

  The power filled him, calming him, giving him strength. Despite what he’d told Giles, he found, to his surprise, he was a brick wall. Not on everything—but on this? About music? Yes. He could take on anything.

  Rising from the couch, he said, quite clearly, “No.”

  He stood there a moment, reveling in the word, in the power of it. But they hadn’t heard him, too busy fighting, too used to him a silent shadow in the corner. Aaron said it again.

  “No.”

  They turned to him, startled. Surprised.

  Aaron drew on his courage and continued. “I won’t switch my major to law. I won’t drop out of music. In fact, the second I get back to Saint Timothy, I’m declaring music performance. It’s not something I’m going to debate with either of you. It’s something I will do. One way or another.”

  It felt good to declare that. Scary, terrifying even, but good. Because really, what could they do? Yell? Threaten? He understood, at last, what Walter had been trying to say. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible, and for the first time Aaron could see the way. It would be fine. It would be—

  “Get out.”

  Aaron startled out of his reverie and blinked at his father. “What?”

  “What?” Beth echoed, stiffening on the couch. “Jim—”

  “Get out.” Jim Seavers rose to his full height, his long arm aimed at the door. “Out. Of here. Right now.” When Beth and Aaron both sputtered, Jim’s nostrils flared. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you planning on staying here over break? Eating food? Wearing clothes I bought you? Using your expensive headphones and computers? Watching television I pay for, using Internet I provide? Did you expect I’d keep paying your cell phone? Depositing money into your account so you could fuck around like an idiot instead of doing your goddamn job and getting an education? Is that what you were thinking would happen? Or did you have a fantasy of me rolling over? You thought since I already paid this year’s bill you had me over a barrel? You’d wait me out, figuring I’d soften by fall?”

  “Jim, this isn’t—”

  “Don’t you pussy out now.” Jim Seavers’s expression was terrifying, belonging to a feral beast, not a father. “You were the one who called me here to fix it. You don’t get to backpedal now that you’ve called in the dragon. Not if you don’t want another legal battle with me over alimony. You know how painful I can make that for you.”

  “You can’t throw him out on the street.” Tears ran down Beth’s cheeks as she turned to Aaron. “Baby—”

  Aaron stepped away from her reach.

  You’re the one who called me here to fix it.

  “He’s not going to go to the street.” Jim looked in disgust at his son, still seated in his chair. “He’s going to his room. He’s going to hide under his covers like a baby, he’s going to cry—and then he’s going to do what he’s told.”

  Aaron didn’t cry. He could barely breathe, but he didn’t cry, didn’t break. He didn’t have the strength to speak, not with what he had to do. He thought of Giles, waiting at home for Aaron’s call. He thought of Walter and Kelly in the Cities, doing the same. He thought of Baz and Damien and Dr. Nussenbaum, and Nussy.

  He thought of the music, the songs that filled his head, his heart. Pushing aside his terror, Aaron steadied himself and headed for the front door.

  “Aaron.”

  Beth’s voice tore through Aaron, making him move faster. He gripped the handle of his suitcase, snagged his coat and bent to pick up his shoes, figuring he’d put them on outside.

  “Leave them.”

  Aaron paused, startled, and glanced over his shoulder.

  His father had risen and stood like a dark thundercloud drawing power from the center of the living room. “Those shoes are mine. That coat is mine. That suitcase, everything in it? Mine.”

  “James, you can’t—”

  Aaron’s father’s lip curled in a snarl. “Everything about you, every thought in your head, every possession you hold—they’re mine. They’re only there because of me. You walk out, you only get what’s in your head and on your back.”

  Beth shoved Jim aside and clambered toward Aaron, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Baby, don’t listen to him. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”

  Aaron turned away. Dropping his shoes and coat, letting go of his suitcase, Aaron walked out the front door.

  He tried not to think of his laptop, full of his notes for semifinals composition, his course essays, the headphones in his pocket and the other in his suitcase, his phone—his ten thousand downloaded songs, the remixes he’d made himself. He choked when he remembered Giles’s notebook was in his backpack, the song for him half-finished.

  Aaron shut his heart down, telling himself it was still in his head, he could write it again, better this time.

  He winced when the cold hit him, the sidewalk burning his feet, the wind cutting his face and ears, whistling through his sweater. He didn’t stop, though, not even when his mother screamed his name, not when the ice on the sidewalk cut through the soles of his feet and went all the way into his teeth. He didn’t let himself think or fear or worry. He only went forward, away, ready to burn down everything attached to his parents if that was what it took. Ready to freeze to death instead of lean on them for one more thing, ever.

  When he saw the red Honda still in the driveway, when those beautiful, precious ears stuck out of Giles’s hair as he got out, Aaron did cry. He stepped across the snowy yard, moving double-time now, his fears dying away, retreating into simple sorrow.

  Of course Giles hadn’t left. Aaron felt foolish ever thinking for a moment he would.

  His world narrowed, everything going dark except for the lighthouse of that beautiful red Honda, of Giles calling out his name, glancing at Aaron’s front door in alarm.

  “We need to go.” Aaron opened the car door, retreating into the familiar, protective warmth of his boyfriend’s vehicle.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Giles had waited in Aaron’s driveway because every time he put his car in drive, his foot wouldn’t lift off the brake pedal. He knew he was an overprotective idiot, and Aaron might be mad at him for not leaving as he’d been directed, but Giles reasoned if Aaron called him and said he was fine, he’d leave and Aaron would never know he’d stayed. Simple as that.

  Never in a million years had he expected Aaron to come staggering out of the house without a coat or shoes, looking like someone had shot him in the chest, his mom running behind him, sobbing and calling his name.

  Leaping into panic mode, Giles got out of the car. “Aaron—what—”

  “Aaron.” Mrs. Seavers hesitated a moment at the snowbank her son had crossed in stocking feet, then started tentatively after him.

  Tears ran silently down Aaron’s cheeks as he fumbled with Giles’s car door. “We need to go.”

  Giles cast one last worried glance at Aaron’s mom as her son got into the car. Behind her on the porch he saw the man who could only be Mr. Seavers, hands on his hips, posture stiff and unforgiving, wearing the expression of every bully who’d chased Giles down with a baseball bat in his hand.

  Giles got in and pulled out of the driveway without his seat belt on.

  “Did they hurt you?” Giles fumbled his lap restraint on as he burned through a stop sign onto the main road. He glanced at Aaron, but his boyfriend was eerily still. He looked unmarked, but Giles knew better than anyone that meant nothing. “Aaron—did your dad hit you? Do you need a hospital? My dad’s a doctor, but he’ll be the first one to tell me—”

  “They kicked me out.”

  Giles’s foot fumbled on the brake. Cars honked and swerved around him. “They what?”

  Aaron stared at the dashboard, his voice distant and numb as he replied. “They told me to switch my major to law or get out of the house.”

  “Without your fucking coat? Your shoes?”<
br />
  Aaron shut his eyes.

  It was only ten minutes from Aaron’s house to Giles’s, but the drive was the longest in Giles’s nineteen years of being alive. He babbled the entire way there, how they were almost home, that Giles would take care of him and everything would be okay. It was the biggest bunch of bull in the world, because Giles barely understood what was going on, let alone how to make it okay.

  Aaron said nothing, and it started to creep Giles out. He took hold of Aaron’s hand after a mile, and when Giles got freaked, he’d squeeze, a silent plea for Aaron to give him a sign of life. Aaron always squeezed back—sometimes a little delayed, sometimes weak, but he always did.

  When they got to the house, Giles held it together long enough to get Aaron inside. The socks about broke him—he didn’t know if Aaron walked stiff like that because his feet were cold or because of shock—and Giles felt sick when he realized Aaron had nothing in the car. Nothing but the clothes on his back.

  He has me. Giles swallowed his panic and made himself strong. I’ll get him whatever he needs.

  His strength wobbled when his mom came to them in the hallway. She took one look at their faces and went into supermom mode, calling for Giles’s dad. Somehow that almost shattered Giles, watching his father shift from docile guy who likes to hide on the Internet to the best pediatrician in Oak Grove, his expression soft and searching as he asked Aaron questions, taking in the stocking feet and glancing at Giles for help.

  That was when Giles did shatter, because all he saw was Mr. Seavers, watching his son go off without shoes.

  Vanessa pulled Giles off to the side, shushing and gentling him, and Giles started to bawl. Like a fucking baby.

  “They kicked him out, Mom—they kicked him out.”

  She pulled him close, rubbing his back, crushing him to her soft, fragrant, familiar body. “Honey—it’s okay. Don’t you worry now.”

  Sorrow hit Giles in waves. He felt so stupid, because it wasn’t even his misery. Aaron didn’t cry as Dr. Mulder led him away, still staring straight ahead.

  They turned him off. They turned my beautiful baby off, and now he’s dead inside.

  I have to wake him up.

  He couldn’t yet, though, because he couldn’t stop crying.

  “Mom—he didn’t have his coat. He left his bag, his suitcase—everything. His mom looked like she had second thoughts, but his dad just stood there watching. Like he didn’t fucking have a heart.”

  His mom never stopped moving her hands over his back, treating him as if he were five and had fallen and scraped his knee. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll take care of him. Of both of you.”

  A sob caught in Giles’s throat, and he gagged on it.

  It took his mom ten minutes to get Giles out of his hysterics, cycling him through the same hurt and outrage until he leveled out again. When he had himself under control, he went to find Aaron, feeling bad he’d left him alone, then remembering he’d left him probably with the best person on the planet for him right now. As Giles and his mom came around the corner to the living room, they discovered Aaron tucked into the corner of the big fat sofa, the huge Sherpa throw wrapped around him. Tim had lit the gas fireplace, and it reflected a soft glow on him as he quietly examined Aaron, taking his vitals, speaking calmly to him. When Giles and Vanessa approached, Tim glanced up at them, still radiating gentleness.

  “Vanessa, would you make our guest one of those hot chocolate pods in the Keurig? Maybe make up a batch of your special medicine too.”

  “Absolutely.” Giles’s mom squeezed his shoulder one last time, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Giles.” Tim passed over his cell phone. “If you’d please call Aaron’s friend Walter, Aaron said he needed to be told about the situation.”

  Giles clutched the phone, trying to figure out how to say he needed to be told about the situation. “Dad—is everything okay?”

  “We’re absolutely fine.” Tim smiled at Aaron and patted him gently on the knee. “We’re all warm and safe, and your mother will spend the week fattening the two of you up. When it’s time, we’ll send you to school with clean clothes, plenty of snacks and enough money to get in trouble with. Aaron will be just fine.”

  Giles started to choke up again. “But he doesn’t have—”

  “Oh, Aaron will have plenty. Wait until I tell your mother she gets to take a young man shopping for everything he needs.” Tim chuckled, winking at Aaron as if he were in on the joke. “An empty-nest mother with a new bird to fuss over? She’s going to be so happy I’ll have to peel her off the ceiling.”

  For the first time, Aaron came alive a bit. Smiling softly, wearily, he took Tim Mulder’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” Tim glanced at his son. “Do you need the number, sweetheart?”

  Giles shook his head, passing his dad’s phone back. “I have it, in my contacts.”

  “Then go. I understand this young man is anxious to hear what’s going on.”

  Giles went into his dad’s office to make the call. He didn’t break down, but he felt dizzy, almost sick as he relayed the story, weird as it was, about waiting in the driveway, about Aaron coming out half-dressed, about his mom screaming and his dad standing there like a goddamn statue.

  Walter listened, not interrupting him once, and when Giles finished, Walter spoke with iron, deadly calm. “Give me your address. We’ll be up in forty minutes.”

  They were coming up to Oak Grove? “It’s almost nine.”

  “We’ll be there before ten. I’ll have Kelly book us a hotel.”

  “We have a spare room. You can stay here.” Because it’d be a cold day in hell before Aaron slept anywhere but beside him right now.

  “That would be great, thank you. If you have time…” Giles could hear Kelly protesting in the background, but he faded, like Walter moved away, “…I’d appreciate it if you could give the room a good vacuum and dusting, particularly anything fabric. No down can be in the room, especially on the bed, and go ahead and strip the sheets. We’ll bring our own bedding, and I’ll make it up.”

  Oh yeah. The allergies. “Sure. What’s the food stuff again? My mom will want to know.”

  “Dairy, egg and almond. He’ll only break out in a rash with dairy and egg, but he goes to the hospital with almonds. Even a trace amount can kill him.”

  “No almonds, clean room, no feathers, no milk or egg. Got it.” His voice broke. “Walter—”

  “We’ll fix it.” Walter’s calm was different than Tim Mulder’s, like it had a fire inside it promising if the world didn’t work out okay, he’d make it that way. “Whatever happens, he has us, and we’ll fix it.”

  Giles swallowed the roughness in his throat. “Okay.”

  “Go to him. He needs you right now. You don’t have to be perfect, but you need to be there.”

  Suddenly Giles felt stupid that he wasn’t. “I will. Except wait—then I can’t clean—”

  “Go be with him right now. Sit with him, hold his hand, and tell him you love him. And that you won’t leave. Over and over and over.”

  Okay. “I gotta go.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Giles rose and headed into the living room to be with his boyfriend.

  Dr. Mulder explained to Aaron he was experiencing shock. His brain was processing a severe emotional blow as well as experiencing the anxiety that came with knowing his accustomed support, physical and emotional and financial, had been removed or threatened. Dr. Mulder repeated many times, matter-of-factly, that as far as physical and financial issues were concerned, Aaron had nothing to worry about. Aaron was to let him handle anything he would normally expect a father to take care of. “Maybe a little more than you’re used to,” he said with a wink.

  Aaron stared blankly at him, appreciating the sentiment and yet finding himself unable to
respond. Everything about him felt foggy and distant.

  Dr. Mulder didn’t seem put-off by this at all. “Your brain is an amazing organ. It’s doing its job right now, protecting you from things you aren’t ready to face. I understand it will take you a while to comprehend how much we’re willing to assist you. Even if you and Giles weren’t romantically involved, we would never turn away a young man in need. But since you are dating my son, you’ll receive more attention, I have to confess. Giles cares for you a great deal. Taking care of you is taking care of my son’s heart, so you’re precious to me. Feed that to your brain, because you might find later the knowledge is a great comfort.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Ah. Here comes Giles now. I’ll leave you to him and see if I can go help my wife in the kitchen. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  Thank you, Aaron thought, but couldn’t say. He could only watch Dr. Mulder rise, speak briefly to Giles, then leave the room.

  Through the fog, Giles floated to him. Giles looked upset, which bothered Aaron, but he still couldn’t talk. Well, technically he could, he knew this, but getting anything from his brain to his mouth felt like so much work.

  Giles smiled at him with watery eyes. “Hey, you.” He sat on the edge of the couch. “Walter and Kelly are coming. They’ll be here in a bit.”

  Walter was coming? Aaron tried to frown, because that didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t make his face move. He was cold, and he wished with an ache that burned in his belly that Giles would hold him and make him warm.

  Maybe he did talk, because the next thing he knew, Giles was nudging him over, backing him farther against the cushions, sliding his body alongside Aaron’s. “Let me take care of you.”

  Aaron let him. As Giles wiggled closer, adjusting the blanket, Aaron buried his face into Giles’s neck. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths of his boyfriend, the familiar scent better than alcohol at shaving off the ragged edges of his nerves.