Bart smiled. “I bought it.”
“Well, then,” Evan said, moving closer on the couch. “Sit down and let’s discuss it. I have lots of ideas about the Bouncing Souls and no one to tell them to.”
The two men smiled at one another. Bart did as he was told and began to explain to Evan, in so many words, about his sudden discovery of music beyond church doors when he was thirteen or so. As they reached for the chips in front of them, their hands had crossed for the first time. Sparks, Evan knew, had flown. But the two of them had made polite talk about bands instead, focusing all of their attention and energy on deciphering just what type of punk he favored instead. Punk regions were a considerable topic to Evan. Was Bart a British scene kid or the New York revolution—or the California scene that broke out later? Turned out, Bart was an interesting creature who had studied it all equally from outside of the timeline of history.
“It’s odd,” Bart mentioned. “When you look at things from different perspectives, the music changes its meaning. You listen to the album once when you first buy it and you love it. Then you listen to it again and it starts to take on meaning. Like…”
“Like the first time you hear something, it’s for the band. You’re trying it out to see what they think,” Evan added. “But the second time it’s just for yourself. The songs stop being about Joey Ramone and start to be about you and your life. A soundtrack, rather than an album.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bart said, nodding feverishly. “A lot like that.”
Evan smiled, so glad that he had been understood. Liam was a good guy, but he didn’t gravitate towards music like the two of them did. Especially Evan. When so much of his family lived in silence, it was almost natural for Evan to want to see reassurance in loud bass guitars and shouted lyrics. Bart and Evan hadn’t touched again during that first night, not without some awkward apologies as they collided shoulders and got too close in Liam’s dense hallways.
“He really needs to clean,” Evan joked about the apartment when they almost fell over more shoes and into one another again.
“I don’t know,” Bart countered. “It sort of has a nice lived-in quality to it. More homey, more natural.”
“How does the expression go?” Evan asked, furrowing his brow.
“Excuse the mess, but we live here?” Bart suggested, quoting Rosanne Barr.
“Yeah, I like that. So how long are you staying for?” Evan asked, the darkness of the apartment’s hallways clouding over the hope on his face. Bart had shrugged his shoulders, smile hidden.
“I don’t know. But I want to get back on my feet.”
“You’re not going to run away again?”
“Nah,” Bart said, smiling wide. “I kind of like it here.”
“It grows on you, that’s for sure,” Evan said. The two of them stared at one another, exchanging a few more stock phrases and pleasantries. Eventually, when Evan made the final decision to leave and walk home, he had felt his heart quicken in his chest. Bart, Evan thought. He said the man’s nickname and his full name inside of his mind several times. He liked it. It was unique, different. It made his heart jump just thinking about it.
And yet, in spite of running into one another at work occasionally and at Liam’s house, the two of them could never seem to meet up at just the right time again. Liam never seemed to notice, either, which was a new thing for Evan. He was used to Liam being some overseeing figure who would rearrange dates and meetings so they could all work for everyone. But Liam had lost himself in his need to propose. Bart and Evan always seemed to run parallel, hanging out on opposite sides of the clubs and listening to different songs at different times, working separate shifts. Even with their connection through music, the two of them as a couple never seemed to happen just right at the right time.
In AA, Evan had learned that he must surrender himself to a god and admit that he had no control over his life. But even Liam knew that was bullshit when he had an intervention and he never made Evan go to an AA meeting beyond the first one.
“I don’t have anyone to surrender to,” Evan had told Liam. The man nodded.
“I know, which is why I think they’re bullshit. But you have to find something, Evan. Not to surrender yourself to, but to allow you to be vulnerable. That’s Sarah for me. It can be whatever you want for yourself.”
Evan figured, in the face of not having anyone, he may as well surrender to music. Over the months since first meeting Bart and his sobriety, Evan lost himself in those songs from punk bands on all the famous hot spots. Especially the Buzzcocks. They were great for Evan. Almost as much as Pansy Division for the queer scene, but their songs were more serious and about less cocks. It was the perfect mix of angst and aggression—and exactly what Evan had needed in his life at that point. And the Buzzcocks even had a song to describe what he was feeling for Bart, about a same type of closeness without actually being close called “Why Can’t I Touch it?” Evan found himself, as the days went on and nothing happened between he and Bart, playing it incessantly.
“Do you like the Buzzcocks?” he asked Bart one night, Liam in between them and Nate taking up the back as they walked down the streets on a Friday night.
“Sometimes, yeah, they’re good,” Bart agreed. “But not really my thing.”
Evan nodded. Then, the feeling faded, as if that was the answer Evan had been waiting for. Yes, but not my thing. Two months had passed between them and both men had learned, in spite of seeing specific glimpses of something that could be, that it was probably easier to let go than to reach out and touch nothing at all.
Chapter 6
Evan heard the beginning bars of the Buzzcocks’ song inside his mind as Bart took over his position in Heavy Rain. Evan got to his feet and came face to face with the wall clock again. Nearly two in the morning.
“All the clubs are closed now,” Evan remarked, surprised at how somber his voice sounded. “So much for the old times.”
“Liam definitely has a girl,” Bart remarked. “Why else would he stay away?”
Evan nodded. He didn’t look up as he rinsed his and Bart’s dishes from before. He picked at some stray sauce that wasn’t coming off, and then gave them up to soak.
“That’s good, though, right?” Bart asked. “You know, that he’s moving on and such? I didn’t think he would have been able to get over her so fast.”
“He’s not. Definitely a rebound.”
Bart nodded. He got up, gathering up some of his bottles and bringing over some dishes. “Well, good for him either way.”
“Yeah. But what about us? Are we just going to camp out and braid one another’s hair like a sleepover and wait for him to return?”
Bart laughed, a lot more than Evan expected. He was used to making that joke for his sister’s sake, especially since almost all of them hated having their hair touched. With a smile, Bart flipped his long mane over his shoulder. He backed up into the kitchen, getting really close to Evan.
“Well, go on,” Bart insisted playfully. “I mean, if we’re going to have a slumber party, we may as well get it right. Go ahead and touch it. I promise I don’t have lice.”
Evan sighed and shoved Bart gently. He looked back towards the stove and sighed. “Is it bad that I want to clean more? I mean, there’s enough stuff here that could keep me going until next week.”
“Maybe we should just leave? Send Liam a note, though we’ve left enough texts for him, and just put his key under the door.”
Though Evan and Bart both nodded at the plan, neither one made a move for the Post-it notes by the fridge or the doorway. Instead, they raised their eyes to one another slowly, and then looked quickly away. Evan swallowed.
“You know, losing Sarah like this must be killing Liam. Even if he is fucking someone anonymous right now,” Evan said.
“Yeah,” Bart agreed. He shifted on his feet and his eyes darted around the room. . Evan waited anxiously as Bart ran his hands through his hair before opening his mouth. “Did Liam ever tell y
ou the story of The Symposium?”
Evan smiled and lied casually, “No. I don’t think so. Why?”
Bart sighed, a little surprised. “Well, it’s basically the story of how everyone falls in love. We’re all these strange beasts with four arms and four legs. There were three types. Earth, moon, and sun people. It corresponded to gay, lesbians, and straight people but I forget who’s who. Except lesbians are always the moon, so yeah. I remember that.”
“Aren’t they always,” Evan said with a small laugh. “Go on.”
“Well, we all got powerful this way and then the gods got angry and split us apart. Made a huge storm to separate us. Now we look for one another, trying to fit the pieces together to make ourselves whole again.” Bart paused, looking down now that he had finished reciting. “I mean, it’s got to suck for Liam. He thought he had something—someone that was so important to him she was a part of him.”
“Yeah, I can imagine…”
“Then she was taken away,” Bart said again, his voice quick and sharp, as if he had been stabbed. The threat of Sarah and Liam’s relationship ending made both men nervous, both suddenly anxious.
“I don’t know if I can believe in love anymore. I thought they were perfect,” Evan said, his voice hitched. “If they can end…anything can. It just seems like such a waste.”
Bart nodded, his eyes to the ground.
“Why did they break up?” Evan asked. “Do you know?”
“Cheating.”
“What?” Evan coughed. “Her or him?”
“Him,” Bart said, eyes wide. “Sarah found proof, or something.”
“What?” Evan repeated. “That can’t be.”
Bart raised his shoulders. “I don’t know all the details. But that was what I got from the few emails he sent around.”
“I…we can’t let that happen. We have to tell her that it’s not true. It just doesn’t make sense, Bart. I mean, I saw the ring before he got it for her. I saw how much it meant to him.”
“I did too. Hell, I was still living on the couch when the idea occurred to him.” Bart paused. “But we can’t do that, Evan.”
“Why not?”
“‘Because I have to fight some battles on my own,’” Bart said, mimicking Liam’s big and booming voice, especially when he got really serious. “‘There are some things that a man has to do on his own. This is one of them.’”
“Bullshit,” Evan said, his anger throbbing inside of him. If Liam had been in the room, he was sure he would have tried to tackle him. If Evan had said anything similar at his intervention, Liam would have held it against him for years. This pull yourself up by your bootstraps philosophy was ridiculous. Liam had been there for so many people in their lives, and yet, he couldn’t allow anyone into his.
In a second, Evan realized that he wasn’t angry at Liam because he was acting out of character. This was prototypical Liam, being the hero and saving everyone. That was why Evan had loved him for years, that was why Bart had slept on his couch, and that was why, Evan knew in the back of his mind, Sarah had probably left him. If Liam was convinced he had to fix all of this on his own, then Evan was sure this was the reason Sarah left. The easiest way to alienate someone, Evan knew, was to ignore them or praise them. Evan had been ignored and knew what it was like to disappear because of it. But he also knew that being praised too much made anything real also take on a fuzzy appearance that a memory had. Liam, in playing a hero, was going to hurt Sarah even more and ruin this relationship again.
“I want to help,” Evan said slowly, his anger quelling in him. “I want him to know it’s okay.”
“He does,” Bart said. “Or he will. We’ve done all we can. But it’s what he wants. We have to respect that.”
Evan nodded. He didn’t think too many other people knew about the break up other than them, and even they had only got bits and pieces of it in text messages and Facebook chats. Even on Facebook, they still hadn’t made a public announcement to end the affair. Liam and Sarah had both made their relationship status private, but that was hardly anything. To the rest of the world, they were still a couple. This wasn’t a tragedy yet, if it was at all.
“So what do we do?” Evan asked, turning and looking at the kitchen. Liam had helped them both out with so much in their lives that without him by their sides, even shrugging felt like a heavy weight.
“You ever been in love like that?” Bart asked after a moment.
“Like Liam?”
“No, well yes,” Bart said, rewording his question. He seemed to look up at the light that was too dim, and then back down as he formed his words. “You do know that every story is a love story, right?”
“But only some of them amount to Harlequin Blaze,” Evan said with a smile.
“No, I mean that every single person wants something, even if it’s only a drink of water. I think someone like Vonnegut said that, and he wrote SF. All that matters is love, all that drives a person forward.”
“What about the Bible? The story of Adam and Eve is actually about shame, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but look at the love that came from that. Cast out, and I’ll follow. I mean, we make fun of all of this. Hell, Liam even told me once that all love was a joke.”
Evan bit his lip, but didn’t say anything.
“We make so much fun of it, and yet, it’s all anyone’s ever known. Forget the Lennon quotes or the stuff from Bob Marley. It’s clichés because we all understand it. That’s important, right? I mean, we should respect that.”
“I do,” Evan said, growing uncomfortable. “I just…”
“Don’t want to get hurt. Neither of us do. No one does.”
“Yeah, put that on a dating profile or wear it on your sleeve into a club and see how it goes? It’s not exactly for me.”
Evan unconsciously touched the center of his chest, where his St. Valentine necklace bounced against his hurried breaths. He blushed, the metal against his skin and the realization overwhelming him.
“So when I ask if you’ve ever been in love,” Bart said again, rewording his original question. He took a step forward. “I guess I mean if you’ve ever loved someone like that, where you’ll tear yourself in two for the person?”
Evan bit his lip. He looked away. “I like to think I have been.”
“I like to think I am,” Bart said. He swallowed.
“You’re not talking about God or something, are you?”
“No,” Bart said. A pause, a bated breath. “I’m only looking at you.”
“Liam is gone,” Evan said aloud. And inside his head, he thought of Nietzsche again: God is dead. And punk is dead. All other ways of believing were up to interpretation.
He took a step forward. The clock now read three in the morning. Liam wasn’t coming home, Evan knew. They had the place to themselves.
“That expression from before that your mom told you,” Evan said carefully. “About convergence and perpendicular lines meeting only once. Maybe we’re really only supposed to have those one certain points in our lives where suddenly everything makes sense.”
“Like epiphanies?” Bart rolled his eyes. “Or revelations?”
“Maybe.” Evan moved forward again, another inch towards Bart. They stood and stared at one another for a long time.
“Maybe,” Evan said again, his eyes on Bart’s lips, “without a divine intervention or someone pulling all the strings, it’s impossible for anything real to last. You kind of have to take what you can get.”
Though Bart didn’t move away, he scoffed at the remark. “So we accept our lots in life? I’m sorry, I don’t agree there. There was a reason I ran away.”
“There was also a reason I stopped drinking.”
“Beyond Liam?”
“Yeah,” Evan said. Though the memory was still fuzzy even then, Evan knew that even without the intervention and Liam’s overwhelming concern, he would have wanted to get clean. He had been pretty tired of Judge Judy during the day, the failed relationships
at night, and the way his boss yelled at him. He had cared and did want to get better. But he had forgotten how to do it. Evan had just spent so long inside of his own private abyss that he had no idea how to get out again.
“What was it?” Bart asked. “You know, that made you want to stop.”
“Love,” Evan said with a small smile. Then he sighed. “I wanted to remember things again.”
Evan’s eyes moved to Bart mouth. Bart licked his lips unconsciously.
“Wanted something more than one night stands?”
Evan took another step forward. “That was where I think we both screwed up. Both fell in love with the attention and nothing else.”
“It’s easier to love a god…”
Evan’s heart skipped a beat before he completed Bart’s sentence. “Than to accept you’re damaged.”
Bart laughed and then, when meeting Evan’s eyes became too much, looked away.
“Nothing is that simple anymore,” he said quietly.
“I think you’re wrong,” Evan said, placing an arm on Bart’s shoulder. Though his heart quickened in his chest, his mind was wide awake and told him to move forward. He placed his other hand on Bart’s shoulder, touching the warm spot at the back of his neck where his hair trapped his body temperate.
Bart didn’t move away. He stared at Evan’s eyes, his lips, and then took a deep breath. “What if…”
“Shhh,” Evan said, placing his lips over Bart’s mouth. “Shhh.”
The silence overwhelmed the two of them as they moved their bodies together. Evan’s lips were dry over Bart’s, but as he opened his mouth and allowed Bart’s tongue inside, his lips were no longer a problem. Evan ran his hands along Bart’s arms, down his hands, and finally settled on the small of his back. His wrist hit the counter, but he ignored it. He felt the touch of Bart’s hands on his waist, and he knew that he would roll down on the floor right now, forgoing the dirt and whatever else could be down there, just so long as Bart would lie down with him too.
The kissing grew in intensity. Evan took a quick breath into his lungs, allowing them to part momentarily only so he could crash down again. Bart moved his hands against Evan’s waist, and when one of his fingers touched his skin, Evan squeezed his arm.
Divine Intervention Page 7
