19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Jeff

“ . . . I think that tomorrow maybe I’ll try to find out some information on the history of hot chocolate, but . . . sorry . . . I . . . uhm . . .”

Jeff’s stomach sank when he heard Gary’s voice falter. If the conversation with his mom had been that horrible, why hadn’t Gary called? Why had he pushed to host the show? Jesus Christ, Jeff would have happily hosted for him, even though he knew nothing about being a radio personality. He’d have read the news and played shitty music and tried to sound enthusiastic about the silly flea market. He’d have supported him however he could.

Fuck.

Even though it was too late to help with the show now, Jeff still wanted to show Gary that he was here for him. He had to comfort him somehow.

While Jeff was shoving his legs into a pair of exercise shorts, ready to start on his way over to Gary’s place, the phone rang.

He picked up the receiver.

“Hey, Gare.”

Don’s voice came through the earpiece. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Panic hit Jeff like a semi, the force of fear temporarily whiting out his vision, and Jeff had to reach out a hand to steady himself against the desk.

“Uh . . .”

Why couldn’t he manage to tell Don to fuck off ?

“I love that I can still make you speechless,” Don said with a laugh, sounding so much like the man Jeff had fallen for all those years ago. With a trembling hand, Jeff took the receiver away from his face. He moved to hang it up when he heard Don say, “Don’t you want to talk to me, sweetness?”

After a moment of hesitation, he brought the phone back to his ear.

“Don, I’m . . . with someone else.”

“Gary Graham. Very cute,” Don said. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

Fucking liar.

“ But ”—ah, there it was, the manipulation—“seeing you the other night made me realize how much I miss you. It took a bit of work to find you. I wasn’t sure where you’d moved to before I realized you were with Gary. Look at you, all the way out in Niles while I’m still in our old place. You should come over sometime. Or, better yet, come to O’Henry’s tonight. Have some beer with me.”

“I-I’m not . . . interested.”

Though Jeff had intended to sound firm, his strained, stammering words sounded so incredibly weak. And then, all of a sudden, Jeff was back in that bedroom on that night over three years ago, telling Don to leave him be.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you tonight, sweetheart?”

“After you treated me like shit when we were out? No, I’m fine.”

Don’s hand clutching Jeff’s wrist. His other hand . . .

“Why would you keep this beautiful ass to yourself?”

Jeff taking a step back.

“Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not much more than you.”

“Bullshit. I had two beers.”

Don’s possessive hands on his waist .

“Come here, love. I haven’t fucked you in a while.”

Jeff twisting away.

“Stop.”

Don’s hands on him, pushing him toward the bed.

“I’ll make it nice for you. I know how you like it.”

Jeff pushing back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Where’s this coming from?”

Derisive laughter cut through the line, pulling Jeff out of the memory.

“Fine, sweetness,” Don said. “Just thought I’d ask. I know you like to pretend that I was the villain, but we both know you enjoyed yourself.”

Anger flooded Jeff’s veins, but even so, it wasn’t enough to push past the fear and shame that kept his throat tight. Fuck, how he wanted to tell Don that he hated him, that Don had fucked up his whole life, but he couldn’t seem to manage to make even a single word of it come out.

“I’ll let you be,” Don said. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

And then Don hung up. Jeff stood there, heart pounding, clutching the receiver like a pathetic wimp. He hadn’t even stuck up for himself.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t been like this before. He hadn’t been this spineless. Before.

Jeff cringed. It was as though his entire world had shifted on its axis the moment his head had hit that nightstand.

Letting out a breath, Jeff shakily replaced the receiver onto its base, but not two seconds later, it rang again, sending a fresh shock of fear shooting through his body, momentarily stopping his heart.

Knowing it could be Gary, Jeff forced himself to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Relief nearly knocked him to his knees.

“Oh, fuck. I’m so happy you’re okay,” Jeff said.

“I must have sounded like shit there on the show, huh?” Gary said. And then Jeff heard him sniffle, and his heart splintered in two. “Sorry, I was upset. I am upset. I talked to my mom and I think... I think I might have lost her. Probably Dawn, too.”

“Not me,” Jeff said, trying to keep his voice as level as possible to hide the fact that his mind was still spiraling from Don’s phone call. “Never me.”

“I know,” Gary said through a sob. Jeff’s eyes were starting to water too. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Gare, should I come over?”

“Can you? Really? I know it’s late.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.”

Even though Jeff was barely holding it together, he had to keep it in. He needed to focus on Gary first, and then, in the morning, he would tell Gary about Don’s phone call.

When Jeff was pulling up Gary’s driveway, Gary came outside onto the stoop. He’d probably been watching out the window. Jeff put the car in park and then let out a groan of frustration as he fought with his stupid seat belt. He couldn’t untangle himself fast enough. All he wanted was to reach his boyfriend, to hold him close.

Once he was free, Jeff practically launched himself out of the car and sprinted up the walkway, and the moment Gary was within reach, they threw their arms around each other before even saying hello. Gary kissed the top of his head.

“Let’s go inside,” Jeff said.

Just after the door shut behind them, Jeff turned to Gary and came face-to-face with the evidence of how very upset Gary must have been for hours. Not only was Gary looking exhausted—his face long and tired—but he was also a wreck. His eyes were pink, the skin around them puffy with little speckled red dots peppered underneath, and the patch below his nose was red and raw.

“Gare,” Jeff said, reaching out to touch Gary’s face. He caressed his cheek. “Tell me everything.”

With a sniffle, Gary nodded.

“Okay. Can we lie down, though? I feel like I’ve cried out all of my energy.”

“Yeah.” Jeff took his hand and nodded toward the hallway. “Come on.”

Jeff climbed into bed first. Normally, it was Gary who held him, but this time, Jeff stretched out his arms and Gary melted into them, laying his head on Jeff’s chest. Jeff could feel the corner of Gary’s frames poking him, and so, he took them off and placed them on the nightstand. In response, Gary mumbled a thank you, burying his face in Jeff’s shirt, and then, rather than telling Jeff what had happened, Gary started to cry. Jeff threaded his fingers through Gary’s hair and whispered the reassurances he knew Gary needed to hear.

“Gare,” he whispered into Gary’s locks. “I’m here.”

“It hurts. Everything hurts,” Gary said with a small sob. “I knew she was lying to me. I had time to come to terms with it in my head before I even talked to her. But it still hurts.”

“What happened?”

Gary’s story spilled out of him in one long slew of words, like he couldn’t say them fast enough, like the story and all of the pain that came with it had been brewing inside him not only for the hours that had passed since the conversation he’d had with his mom, but for years. And now Gary was left with both heartache from his mother’s betrayal and sorrow over losing his father in a whole new way. All that time, his father had been open to a relationship, and yet Gary had spent years hating him, thinking that his father probably hated Gary too .

Finally, when Gary was finished, he fell silent, and Jeff continued to hold him close, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head.

After a while, Jeff said, “What about Dawn?”

“I’m sure she hates me too. I mean, I really... I really yelled at my mom, Jeff.”

“Try to talk to her tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready. What if she tells me to fuck off?”

“She won’t,” Jeff said softly. “She won’t.”

While Jeff stroked Gary’s hair, his stomach was still roiling with low-level nausea, the upset from the phone call he’d received from Don simmering beneath his skin. At least seeing Gary had helped temper it, changing his emotions from what had temporarily felt like a hurricane into a mere rain shower, one tame enough to weather on his own while he kept his focus on the man he loved.

Minutes passed while Jeff continued to hold Gary close, and then, shortly before midnight, Gary sat up a little and nuzzled Jeff’s nose.

“Thank you for coming over,” he said, touching the side of Jeff’s face.

Jeff’s heart cracked and ached, the love he felt for Gary filling it past the breaking point. Especially because he hadn’t been able to show it. Not in the way he wanted to.

Jeff nuzzled Gary’s nose right back.

In a whispered voice, one filled with love and care, Gary said, “Jeffrey, you are the sweetest man I’ve ever met. You’re my sweetheart.”

Cold panic suddenly flooded Jeff’s veins, freezing him in place, and even though Jeff knew, consciously, that he was safe, his muscles still became rigid. It was that fucking term of endearment— sweetheart —whose meaning had turned sinister, even when coming from the mouth of someone so peaceful.

That icy fear was swiftly replaced with shame, its uncomfortable warmth trickling up the back of Jeff’s neck, turning his ears hot.

Why was he letting Don have this kind of hold on him?

Gary’s voice had been filled with so much love, but to Jeff, that word was laced with poison. Fuck, how he hated it. He hated the word, and he hated its power, and most of all, he hated how he knew he shouldn’t hate it, especially from Gary, whose only intention was ever to make him happy.

Gary was offering this lovely, wonderful word as an expression of care, and yet Jeff could barely register its Goddamn beauty.

Cheeks still burning from the mixture of shame and pain, Jeff leaned forward to capture Gary’s mouth in a kiss. He refused to let Don take this moment from him. Out of every possible sweet nothing, Gary had chosen this one, plucking the word like an apple from a tree, and Jeff couldn’t bear to tell him that it was rotten. He hated to think that his honesty might hurt Gary’s heart, especially when Gary was still hurting so much from the turmoil within his family.

Determined to push past his unease, Jeff continued kissing Gary, trying to focus on the feel of Gary’s lips and the softness of his skin, hoping that by letting himself become lost in their intimacy, he might both rid himself of his lingering upset and reassure Gary of his love. Even though he had yet to make himself say the word out loud, there was not a doubt in Jeff’s mind that he loved Gary. He fucking loved him. With his whole entire self, with everything he had, and he wanted Gary to feel it, to trust it, to know it.

Gripping tight to Gary’s shirt collar, Jeff deepened their kiss, and Gary’s subsequent contented sigh temporarily banished every poisonous thought. For those precious few moments, Jeff could imagine Gary saying the word sweetheart without being reminded of its violence.

But then, Gary’s hands found his waist, and suddenly, they ceased to belong to Gary, and instead, they belonged to Don, and they were possessive and rough and wrong. Sweetheart. Jeff could still hear it. Sweetheart. Only now, it was Don’s voice in his head, and there was nothing kind about the word at all . Jeff’s heart started to hammer, his brain becoming foggy, breath catching in his throat. Sweetheart. Gary’s hand hooked behind his head, and a surge of panic—hot and fast like lightning—moved through Jeff’s body with such intense ferocity that Jeff couldn’t even stop himself from pushing Gary away.

Seconds passed in silence, and Jeff couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Jeff,” Gary said after a moment, his voice soft and careful. “Are you okay?”

Jeff’s heart was still racing. He took a few breaths before finally forcing himself to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

And the sight broke his heart in two.

Gary’s forehead was etched with worry, his eyes both fearful and sad. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why was he still so reactive to something as simple as a phone call, as a word? Tears sprang to Jeff’s eyes—tears of shame and self-reproach—and he covered his face with his hands to try to hide them.

“Gare, I . . . I can’t . . .” He choked back a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Gary said. “ I’m sorry. Did I...”

“It wasn’t you. It’s me. It’s always me.” Jeff started to cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m so sorry, Jeff.”

“Fucking Don.” Fury flared to life inside of him.

Unable to hold back his rage, he started slamming his fist into the pillow. Over and over. Harder and harder. Unleashing every ounce of hatred he had for the man who had ruined his life. Until, finally, there was nothing left.

Jeff collapsed onto the mattress and curled into a ball, embarrassed by every single second of this Goddamn nightmare but now too tired to move. Gary lay beside him.

“Talk to me,” Gary said softly. “Please.”

Christ, how he hated that now the focus would be on him. Meanwhile, Gary was still hurting. Struck with the realization of what a terrible boyfriend he was, Jeff nearly started crying again, but it seemed he had run out of tears.

“Don called,” Jeff said. “Before I came here.”

“Geez.” Gary reached out to touch Jeff’s face but stopped himself. “I wish you would have told me earlier.”

“But you needed me. I came here to comfort you.”

“And you did.”

“And then I ruined everything.”

“No, of course not. Jeffrey, you never ruin anything. Ever .”

Too tired to argue, Jeff looked down at Gary’s blue comforter and began picking at one of the loose threads.

After a moment, Gary said, “Why’d he call?”

“Wanted me to meet him at O’Henry’s,” Jeff said, continuing to fiddle with the thread.

“Why?”

“Gare,” Jeff clipped. “You know why.”

Some seconds passed, and then Gary asked, “What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Jeff said. “Nothing I should have. Just that I wasn’t interested. That’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it some more?”

“Not really. ”

“Do you want to stay over or . . .?”

Jeff shrugged. Of course he wanted to stay. But would he be able to sleep next to Gary? Probably not tonight. Maybe not... maybe not even for a while.

“Okay, well, how about I make you some tea, or hey, how about some hot chocolate instead? We can make fun of how completely lost I sounded on the radio earlier. God, my listeners probably think I slipped myself something.”

Jeff tried to smile. “Nah, I’m okay.”

Gary hummed a little. “You know, I was thinking of reading for a while, maybe checking out one of those books you brought me. Oh! Maybe that book on overcoming grief! Wow, what a perfect present that turned out to be. So, maybe I’ll camp out on the love seat in the studio room. And then you can catch some z’s in here. I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you up with my reading.”

Guilt wrapped around Jeff like a blanket. He knew that this was Gary’s way of letting him have the bed to himself for the night without calling attention to it.

Perfect Gary Graham.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeff said.

He reached for Gary’s hand and squeezed it. Gary squeezed back.

“Night, Jeffrey.”

“Night, Gare Bear.”

Even after Gary left the room, Jeff stayed curled in a little ball, feeling utterly pathetic.

Would he ever be the man he needed to be? One who was worthy of Gary’s love?

** *

Pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen roused Jeff from slumber. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jeff let out a groan before rolling onto his back. Every inch of his body was sore. After a stretch, he staggered to the bathroom to take a piss, his spent muscles screaming louder with every step. Talking with Don had really taken it out of him. He’d been so Goddamn tired he hadn’t even removed his pants before falling asleep.

Washing his hands, Jeff caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink in Gary’s bathroom. He looked like shit. Had his face ever looked so puffy before? Christ, had he been crying in his sleep? It certainly looked like it.

Not wanting to embarrass himself further by exposing Gary to what he knew was likely some really rancid morning breath, Jeff borrowed Gary’s toothbrush and cleaned his teeth. When he was finished, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Gary said as soon as Jeff rounded the corner, his voice so full of tenderness it made Jeff’s fast-brewing caffeine headache even worse. Jeff wished he could muster up the will to be even half as sweet.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jeff tried to pull himself into the present, though the thick cloud of sleep had yet to completely lift from his mind.

When the scent of onion powder and thyme hit Jeff’s nostrils, he wrinkled his nose and smiled. Gary was making breakfast? Of course he was. Jeff’s hazy eyes found the stove. Scrambled eggs were sizzling in a pan. Very yellow ones. So, maybe eggs with cheddar.

“Hi,” Jeff finally mustered, rubbing the back of his neck and willing himself to fully wake. “Don’t you have a morning show? Flour Hour ?”

“Yeah, but I have a couple of carts.”

“Carts? ”

“Sorry, uhm, Fidelipac cartridges. Magnetic tapes. For, uh, playback material?” Gary said, his voice hitching up at the end. Jeff could only stare. He really needed a cup of coffee. Or four. “You know, for jingles or commercials or long, rambling facts about hot chocolate like the few that I recorded at four o’clock this morning so that I could slip in and out of the program to check on you and eventually make you breakfast.”

“Oh.” Jeff’s mind was still a little too muddled to keep up. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, so, I’ve been cheating my listeners a little and playing these three on a bit of a loop interspersed with some music. Each one is ten minutes, and so—” Gary looked up at the clock. “Oh! Shoot!” He pushed past Jeff to head to the studio room. “Watch the eggs for me!”

Finally called to action, Jeff forced himself to move to the stove. He stirred the eggs once with the spatula and then picked up the coffee pot to check if there was some of his favorite beverage left. It was nearly full. He found a mug and poured himself a cup. After stirring the eggs once more, Jeff turned off the stove and checked the clock on the wall. Eight fifteen. Damn. Poor Gary had been up for hours.

After Jeff finished portioning out the eggs onto a couple of plates, Gary came back into the kitchen slightly out of breath.

“Okay, I think I have, like, three minutes now because of the song.” The moment he saw the plate of eggs, his face broke into a huge, adorable grin. “Hey, thanks!”

Immediately, Gary started shoveling forkfuls into his mouth. Meanwhile, Jeff had yet to even take a bite.

“Sorry,” Gary said. “I’m starving. I was worried about waking you so I held off on cooking. I had a whole pot of coffee to myself, though. So, if I can’t seem to shut up, now you know why. ”

Warmth bloomed on Jeff’s cheeks. Gary was too wonderful for words.

But Jeff barely had a chance to let himself bask in the wonders of being cared for before his stomach started to sour from guilt. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one taking care of Gary?

Jeff set his plate on the counter.

“Gare,” Jeff said as he took a step toward his too-perfect beau.

Devouring the last bites of his breakfast, Gary had been focused on his plate, his cheeks filled with food and puffed out in a way that made him look a little like a chipmunk. Gary was never not adorable. Mouthful of cheesy scrambled eggs or not, Jeff wanted to kiss him, to thank him for everything. He reached out a hand to cup Gary’s cheek. But then the worst thing in the entire fucking world happened.

Gary recoiled.

Jeff’s stomach leapt up into his throat. What the fuck.

“Uh, Gare,” he said. “I was trying to kiss you.”

“Yeah, I, uhm, figured, but...” Gary swallowed the eggs. “I’m worried. Because of yesterday.”

“Well, I’m fine now, so—”

“Yeah, okay, but...” Gary looked up at the clock. “I only have a minute or so ’til I have to run back into the studio. What if you... I mean, I can’t...”

Right. Gary couldn’t risk Jeff having another episode or whatever-the-fuck that had been last night.

“Deal with my bullshit,” Jeff finished for him, taking a step back. “Of course.”

“No!” Gary fumbled with his plate, nearly dropping it to the floor, but he recovered and set it on the counter. “No, that’s not what I meant. Or, I mean, Jeff, it’s not bullshit. Just—” He looked at the clock. “Ugh, hold on.”

He ran out into the hall, leaving Jeff by himself, feeling like an asshole. Normally, he’d have wanted to clean up to repay Gary for making him such a nice breakfast, even if he hadn’t eaten it yet, but he was too busy being pissed off—at himself, not at Gary—to move. Which was probably for the best. Because part of him wanted to hurl a plate across the room.

Gary returned a couple of minutes later.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gary said. “I should probably end the show early today. But I have, like, twenty announcements and fifteen ads I’m supposed to share, and if I keep randomly stopping the show, I’ll lose my listeners. I mean, who would keep coming back to check to see whether or not there’s static when there should be music? I’m sure a lot of people are already upset that I can’t be on between ten and five because I have to teach or to research little factoids or to try to coerce business owners into kicking in a couple of bucks for advertisements or to try to have a life of my own. Geez, I—”

“Hey,” Jeff interrupted. He snatched both of Gary’s hands and squeezed them. “Radio man, I’m not expecting you to end your show early. I never said that. All I wanted was to kiss you and thank you for the stupid eggs.”

Gary let out a breath and smiled. “Were they stupid because of the cheese?”

“No, I like cheesy things.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like you.” Jeff took a step closer. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yeah, Jeff, of course,” Gary said, now looking like a wounded puppy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Softly, Jeff touched his lips to Gary’s, keeping the kiss brief and sweet to avoid any possible chance that he’d have some sort of ridiculous freak out.

“See?” Jeff said when they parted. “I’m okay. ”

Gary leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “Are you mad?”

“About what?”

“Yesterday. Or this morning. Or anything.”

“No, not... not at you, Gare. I’m mad at me. I’m mad at Don.”

“I wish there was some way I could help.”

“I know. But this is my problem. I need to fix it.”

Both of them were silent for a while, their foreheads still kissed together, breathing in each other’s presence.

And even though it was a comfortable place to be in that moment—there with Gary in this quiet and intimate sort of way—Jeff couldn’t help still feeling all the shame and guilt over his stupid panicky reactions. It seemed like no matter how hard Jeff tried to push past these humiliating bouts of upset, he kept making things worse. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Make his boyfriend check with him or warn him every single time he wanted to kiss him or hold him or touch him? Knowing Gary, he’d probably be fine with that. Or, well, Gary’d be fine with it in theory . He’d pretend everything was okay. But Jeff knew Gary. He knew that Gary craved intimacy. Physical intimacy. And if that was what helped Gary feel loved, if that was what helped Gary feel cared for, Jeff wanted him to have it. Fuck, he wanted Gary to take it. He wanted Gary to be able to take everything he needed to feel whole and happy.

Jeff had to make it happen. Somehow.

“Gare, baby, I will fix it. I promise.”

“Okay, but, really, there’s nothing to fix from my perspective. I like you as you are, Jeffrey. I like what we have.”

“I want more.”

“I know.”

“You want more too.”

“Jeff— ”

“No, come on, I know you want more too.”

Gary stayed quiet.

Well, there it was: the truth. Gary wanted more. Gary needed more. And Jeff had to figure out how to give it to him. While turning this over in his head, Jeff remembered the business card. He supposed he had no choice.

Gary kissed Jeff’s forehead. “I only want more when you’re okay with more too.”

“I will be,” Jeff said. “I think I have a plan. Kind of.”

“Yeah? Well, I’d love to hear about it, but I have to—”

“Go host your show, radio man.”

“Okay.”

“I need to head home for a bit. I have work later.”

“Okay. Maybe I can come by the mall?”

“Sure.”

After one more kiss, Jeff chugged the rest of his coffee and then raced back home. He only had one more hour before he had to work. And, God help him, he had a call to make.

***

Sitting in the parking lot of the health center, Jeff stared out the window of his Cadillac, still in a bit of shock from the outcome of his appointment. Earlier that morning, when he’d called Dr. Goldstein, her receptionist had told him that, thanks to a cancellation, she could see him that very afternoon. And, God, Jeff had been ecstatic. He’d thought, like a fucking fool, that he’d have his talk with the therapist and she’d tell him exactly what was wrong with him and how to fix it. But that was very much not what had happened.

Telling the so-called professional why he needed help had been humiliating. And, as though reliving the memory of what had happened with Don hadn’t been embarrassing enough, Jeff had then needed to tell her that the whole ordeal had messed him up so much that he couldn’t even suck his boyfriend’s cock. He hadn’t even had the sense to try to be vague about his sexuality either. Thank God she hadn’t kicked him out for it. He’d let the whole... the whole everything fall out of him and while he’d talked and talked and talked, pushing through his feelings of shame, he’d been hoping, praying , that when it was over, she’d say some magical incantation to fix him.

But of course, that wasn’t how these things worked.

“First, I want to offer some reassurance and let you know that when you’ve experienced something traumatic, it can be normal to struggle to process the intense emotions that follow. I can help with that. If you’d like, the two of us could meet once a week, and we can work through your feelings together. Second, I want you to know that I think I’ll be able to help with your intimacy problems too. It might be beneficial for you to talk about these reactions you’ve been having to intimacy so that we can pinpoint what it is that’s been sparking those feelings of panic you mentioned.”

And on and on. God, what a fucking moron he’d been.

Leaning forward to rest his head on the steering wheel, Jeff cursed under his breath. He couldn’t keep humiliating himself in front of Gary every time some stupid silly memory of Don flitted into his mind. More importantly, he couldn’t keep hurting Gary either.

Maybe what he needed . . . was time.