by CORY CYR
You were wearing the earrings I bought. They twinkled like the lights on our tree. It filled me with contentment that you loved them. But they were nothing compared to the gift you gave me. Okay, the sex was outstanding, but you permanently inking your body with my name… It was going to be there forever. You’d seen us together in the future. Regardless of what you’d said, you believed we were permanent. You loved me enough to endure the pain of the needle. No other gift I’d ever gotten or get in the future would ever compare.
And there it was in the middle of my happiness. You had worry face. I knew it was about your finances. The position at Peaceful Paws would end in another week. Stacy would be coming back from maternity leave. Even though I loved your tattoo, I wished you hadn’t spent the money. I knew you had bills and expenses. I never wanted you to be stressed about money. I wanted to take care of you.
Once again, I knew some of the concern written on your face had to do with New York. I stopped you from baring your soul—again. You were so shaken. You finally blurted out you had sold the Corvette. I felt a sigh of relief knowing it had been finances you were worried about and nothing more. However, that cherry piece of machinery was worth thousands. The car you couldn’t drive. The car you were convinced had been designed by Satan. I was flabbergasted. Jesus, you didn’t have to sell it. I would have given you money.
Wrong thing to say. You got all kinds of defensive. You declared it was a done deal—the Vette was gone. It didn’t matter to you because you couldn’t drive the damn thing anyway. It was a monstrosity that had just been taking up space in the garage.
Ryan, it was a dream machine, a piece of classic history. It was a Corvette, for God’s sake. My mouth snapped shut, trying to think what I should say. Then you threw me for another loop by declaring you were selling the house. I adamantly refuted that idea. There was no way in hell I was going to allow you to sell your home.
Once again, wrong choice of words. We began having our third or fourth legit fight. You got in my face, and let’s just say the discussion got heated. You didn’t like me taking the reins of this relationship, and I didn’t like the fact that you were condescending. You appeared to think because you were older, you had better judgment and life experience. Obviously, that was bullshit or you wouldn’t be in financial straits. Of course, I didn’t vocalize those thoughts. It occurred to me I could never say the right thing lately, at least not with you. My intentions were good, but somehow, it always came out wrong.
You made me so angry, Ryan. For a moment, I thought about fucking you. Hard. Into submission. Showing you I was the man. The boss. If you weren’t in a coma, you’d be rolling your eyes and snorting. In the midst of an argument, I would think about fucking. I’m a dude; we’re positive sex solves everything.
Then I said the one word that made you go ballistic. Obligation. Not that you were, baby. I loved you. It was my duty to take care of you. A position I gladly accepted. It gave me satisfaction to provide for you. I wanted to give you security. I wanted you to feel safe. But you were still dragging your feet. You always had those second thoughts. You wouldn’t let me give you money; that was out of the question. So I came up with an alternative way to help you.
Living together. Cohabitating. I was spending most of my time at your place anyway. I was currently shelling out seven hundred a month plus utilities for an apartment I hardly stayed at. Moving in together seemed to be the perfect answer. Your house was paid for, no mortgage. In lieu of not paying rent, I could cover all the utilities and all other expenses. I sugarcoated my idea by letting you know once you found another job, we could share the financial stuff. I loved the thought of waking up to you every morning and knowing I was coming home to you every night. Mostly, I wanted to do this because I wanted you to stay. I was terrified you’d run again. I wanted to give you a sense of stability, the knowledge that you had a roof over your head.
All I needed was for you to tell me you planned to stay. That this house would become our home. You started shaking badly as tears welled in your eyes. Once again, you tried to disclose your past. And again, I shut you down. I can pretend all I want, but the truth is you did try. A lot. I’m such a fool. You carried such a heavy burden, and I never allowed you to share it with me. I was weak and frightened like a little boy. I knew it would ruin us. I felt it throughout my body. I didn’t want to know. I knew it might destroy us, and I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I’d rather wear blinders. I’ll admit I was so naive.
Trina and Quinn came over in the early evening and brought us Christmas dinner. I hadn’t really wanted to hear about my mother, but my sister had to provide me with details. Evidentially, my mother was still on the crazy train. Trina handed me a gift certificate for a fancy restaurant for my birthday gift. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, this would be a fantastic precursor to the weekend I’d already planned.
~20~
I could hardly sleep with the anticipation of moving in. We were actually going to do this. Start a life together. Oh, I knew we were in a relationship, but we were going to cohabitate. That meant something more permanent. I knew couples broke up all the time, even when they lived together. But I had plans. I wasn’t ever going to let you go. My dreams finally were coming to fruition.
I got up early, trying not to wake you, and of course, I did. I pressed a kiss to your lips and told you to go back to sleep. I had quite a bit of work to do. I was antsy to get my boxes packed and loaded into the Bronco. I could have made my life easier by getting a U-Haul, but I wanted to do this. I know it sounds weird, babe, but I wanted to enjoy the time leading up to actually living under the same roof as you.
I gave the landlord the entire next month’s rent even though he said two weeks’ notice was fine. I loaded up the car and the cat and made my way back to you. You offered to help, but really, Ryan, your kind of help was laughable. You think squeezing my ass was helping? All it did was get me hard and make me want to screw unpacking and screw you instead. I asked you if you minded a roomie beginning tonight?
You seemed caught off guard. You planned it to be gradual. I’m sure you weren’t expecting me to move in immediately. I decided to push your buttons further by letting you know we’d only actually be roomies until we got married. I watched you stammer and stumble all over those words as panic filled your face. Okay, that was just me being obnoxious, but I enjoyed watching you squirm.
My arms were packed with boxes as we walked back into the house. I set them down on the counter and then fell back onto the sofa. I had an idea of making your house our home. I wanted to do some remodeling. As big of a cocksucker as my father had been, he’d left me quite a sum of money. Maybe out of a sense of guilt, but I highly doubt it.
I never saw him again or even wrote him after he went to prison. I’d never touched the inheritance he left me. It sat in a bank account all these years, collecting interest. I always felt that cash was tainted. All my blood and pain was fused with the dye on the bills. I’d never found it necessary to use it—until now. Making this place into our place. I couldn’t think of a better reason to spend some of it. For all the disgusting evil he’d done, he was getting a chance to provide me with some happiness.
I sat you on my lap and began to tell you about my ideas. You seemed to approve the plans I described. The thought of combining rooms and having a small workout room excited you. I enjoyed projects. And even though I didn’t have the time between work and school to contribute to it, I would be overseeing it and I knew what additions I wanted. I hoped us committing to living together would erase both of our pasts so we could begin fresh.
I worked you hard the next few days, but I couldn’t get done fast enough. It was official now. I was moved in. We celebrated the New Year with a bang. Not the usual kind, but ours was hot. We christened every room in the house. I wanted to take you on the front porch, but you drew the line in regards to penetration in subfreezing temperatures.
I knew you were sad about being unemployed. I actually liked
it. I never told you, but I felt like the grand provider because you were dependent on me. Of course, I pretended sympathy to your blight.
My mother was still livid when it came to you and me. We didn’t tell her about our living arrangements. Even Trina agreed that telling her about me moving in with you would only exasperate the situation. I got the feeling even my sister thought we were moving too fast. I was tired of all the stop signs and roadblocks. Nothing was going to come between us. It crushed me, babe, that I couldn’t share my happiness and contentment with my mother. I wanted her to know you were my other half and you made me feel whole. No matter how many women I’d been with, how satisfied I seemed, it was only a façade. It wasn’t until you came back, with that first kiss, that you breathed life into me. You filled my lungs with oxygen and my soul with hope.
Then one day I left for work. I wished I’d stayed home to catch you when you fell. You hit the ground so hard. I didn’t think we’d ever recover from it. That single day changed our lives forever. Hell, it changed everyone’s life.
~21~
I had no idea what happened. I left for work in the morning and came home at four thirty to find you gone. The house was literally destroyed. There were shards of broken glass everywhere, pictures torn in shreds, knickknacks smashed, and the furniture in disarray. It looked as though we’d been burglarized. I checked the bedroom and clothes were strewn everywhere. The closet door was wide open, dresser drawers pulled out and emptied. I noticed the big duffle was missing from the shelf in the closet. It looked like you’d packed in a hurry. Your toiletries were gone too. At first glance, I thought you’d been abducted, but after seeing the bedroom, I could tell you’d packed. You left me.
I was shaking so bad I had to sit down on the bed. My heart pounded so loudly it made my head ache. I couldn’t catch my breath. I began to hyperventilate. At one point, I had to put my head between my legs. I’ve known fear—my father instilled it in me every day—but this felt different. This was terror. Absolute sheer panic. Even the daily beatings my father gave me didn’t scare me a much as not knowing where you were. I must have called Trina a hundred times. She said it was too soon to call the police. We had no proof of something sinister.
My sister, she knew something. She was acting odd. She sounded anxious on the phone. It was almost as though she’d expected this. Did you decide I wasn’t worth having a relationship with? Was living together too much? Had it pushed you to run? Did you go back to New York? I didn’t understand. You said you loved me. You promised you’d stay.
Both Trina and Quinn came over. When she saw the state of the living room, she grew grim. Her face expressed concern. Whatever she had expected it wasn’t this. I could hear whispering between her and Quinn. And I watched as he shook his head. They stayed for close to three hours. I called your cell and left dozens of messages. Trina and I kept in touch, talking every hour. Quinn stated we had to wait twenty-four hours to report her as missing. It was the first time in a long time I remembered crying. The ache and emptiness in my belly were overwhelming. It was then I knew for sure no matter what hell I’d gone through… I would never survive this. I loved you too much. More than myself—more than any other person alive. If you’d really left me, I’d die. No one would ever understand the depth of what I felt for you.
I stayed up all night. I left another message early in the morning, threatening to call the police. If you had gone back to New York, then at least fucking call me. Tell me you were all right. Tell me why, Ryan. My worst fear had come true. You woke up one day and still viewed me as the kid you used to babysit. Would I ever be just a man? You shattered me. Only you could get me to crumble, and now I was on my knees. Begging. Just call me and tell me you’re okay. Please.
I found the papers. The motherfucking papers. The ones you read that destroyed you. The ones I read that devastated me. No wonder you ran. My instinct was to run, but not from you—to you. I must have read those documents a hundred times, until I could barely see. I ended up mutilating those pages with my fist. They threatened my happiness. They threatened us.
For me, I wasn’t going to let pieces of paper written by some bureaucrat ruin my life and take what was mine. My very first thought was to throttle my mother. She wasn’t crazy. She was a whore, a motherfucking whore. No wonder she had a nervous breakdown when I kissed you. The fear of being found out after all these years? Who else knew?
I read those words over and over. No matter how many times, I couldn’t wrap my head around the words. I was your brother. It wasn’t possible. I didn’t care what the paperwork said. I’d have known. I would have felt it just as I did with Trina. A kinship, a brotherly love, not sexual—there was no way we were blood. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through. But why did you run, Ryan? You could have stayed. We could have figured it out.
Who was I kidding? If you were my sister, there was no us. You’d spent so much time trying to find reasons we shouldn’t be together; this was the icing on the cake. Out of the hundreds of roadblocks that had been in our way—this wasn’t one I’d ever considered. Did you hate me? Despise me? Did us loving each other now make you sick? And what if I told you I didn’t care?
I’d loved you for most of my life. Finally, I was given a chance to have a life with you. I should’ve been repulsed. This should have changed everything. But for me, it didn’t. My brain didn’t recognize those pieces of paper. My heart wasn’t telling me we were siblings. My soul wasn’t screaming for me to walk away. All I wanted to do right that minute was hold you and profess my love for you—regardless. I wanted to tell you this would be okay, that even if I were your blood, that in itself wouldn’t doom us. Your dad and my mother fucked us—royally.
Now it became perfectly clear to me why your dad acted like a father toward me. Because I was his son. If it was true, how could he not tell me? What kind of game had our parents been playing? So much of this didn’t make sense. Why hold on to a secret for so long. I could have been told when I became an adult. It would have made a difference. Scratch that. I already loved you. It wouldn’t have made any difference.
When I’m with you, you don’t feel like my sister. I already have one of those. And what I feel for you is one hundred times different than what I feel for Trina. You feel like home, where I belong. Why is it you didn’t feel it? We could have figured this out. Just come back, please. You had to understand. I could take anything they threw at us—even us being related. I didn’t care. Let me be cursed… Let us be damned.
I called work and told them I had a family emergency. I planned to stay out as long as it took. I’d had enough and was threatening to call the police every five minutes. I found out afterward you’d finally reached out to Trina. You killed me, babe. You should have come to me. Let me take care of you. Let me be your rock.
I was so angry, pissed off at everyone. We must have been related; both our families were clearly fucked up. I would have torn up the house too, but I had cleaned it up after you went on your tirade. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like I needed something. I wanted to be medicated. I wished I had drugs. It had been years since I’d touched any illegal substance. But in that moment, God, I wanted to. I felt like a junkie and you were my fix. My entire body permeated with such anxiety. I had no control. I hated this. Not being able to help you or console you… it was tearing me apart.
I’d only gotten to love you for a while. It wasn’t long enough. I wanted forever and it had only been a few brief months. It wasn’t fair that this relationship be squashed. What we had was good and safe. It felt stable and comfortable. There might be cracks in our foundation, but I knew we could patch things up. We loved each other, and that had to count for something. How could we be expected to just turn us off?
Paperwork, blood test, or word of mouth would never change how I felt. It was too late. There was no way I could give you up. We’d leave. You could pick the state—hell, the country. No one ever had to know. We’d go on as we had. We’d never
speak the words. I’d give up everything to stay in your arms. You couldn’t throw us away because our parents were assholes.
Jesus Christ, Trina was pissed because I was so determined to see you. You wouldn’t come home. You didn’t want to see me. Hell, you wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone. I was dying. Slowly but surely, you pushing me away was like cutting off my oxygen supply. I couldn’t breathe without you. I couldn’t be away from you this long. You’d put thirteen years of distance between us, and I’d fought hard to get to this point. I wasn’t happy that you weren’t with me, but I felt a sense of relief knowing you were with my sister and Quinn. At least I knew where you were, that you were safe. But I’d been exiled. Trina said you were too upset. I’d make it worse.
I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. My body was heavy with apprehension. I even tried to work out, hoping that would ease my tension. It was no use. I had to see you. You were the only thing that could calm me. After all the years apart, these last few days were unbearable. The not knowing was driving me insane. I needed to touch you and hold you. I needed to know if our love could survive this. When I arrived, I could hear you screaming. Fear ran up my spine as I barreled past Trina to get to you. You were barely awake as I held you, cooing words into your ear. Your eyes opened wide with recognition, and I could feel your body go rigid.
You appeared afraid of me. You squeezed out of my grasp as you scrunched up against the headboard. I felt confused. Babe, you pushed away from me. You acted as though you didn’t want me anymore. How could papers destroy the fact that you loved me? I shivered with the knowledge it had changed everything. I crept to the far wall and stood there. I hoped the small distance between us would help you confide in me.
