Chapter 2

Two

Ezra

I get a blue one. Blue raspberry. If you look at Icees every time you stop to get gas, you realize the blue ones are a little bit rare. I’m not sure why. Everybody goes for cherry. Maybe that’s it. But I like the blue.

I’m sucking it down so fast that I get brain freeze as I cross the little road that leads across the causeway into Georgia. It hurts my throat, but I can’t stop sucking it out of the straw. Across the parking lot and up the motel’s iron stairs…

I fumble with the card key to the door. My hands are damp and cool. I’ve got the Icee tucked under my arm, the cold of it bleeding through my long-sleeved T-shirt. I push the door open. Step into the room. There’s a painting of the lake above the king-sized bed. I look at the bed—the neatly made bed. I sit on the bed and drink more of the Icee.

Lyrics move through my brain. Cigarettes After Sex.

Saw you on the side of the road

I could see you were walking slow

Drinking a slurpe e

I get this picture in my mind of the side of the road. The trees hanging over the road. There’s not that much shoulder, and it’s hot. The sun is warm and I feel good. I’m looking at my feet. I’m feeling uptight…wanting something. Good. I feel good, but I want something. I look up and—gut punch—there is Miller. Sunlight on his face. He looks shocked.

Look at that Do Gooder. Shocked his socks off.

I look down at his legs as he passes me by. God, he’s got some thicc legs.

I’m going to see him in physics. I’m going to see him again as he runs around the soccer field. I’m going to be across the way, but he’ll still be mine. He’ll be mine because I want him, even though it’s sick and twisted and I shouldn’t.

My heart starts to beat too fast. Too hard. I keep sucking on the Icee till my throat won’t swallow. Then I sit the thing down on the carpet and run into the bathroom, and throw it all up in a geyser of blue.

I remember puking after getting knocked out, after taking a fistful of pills, after the heat exhaustion. I remember waking up to Miller saying my name.

My chest—all the pain of not dying . I came here to die and Miller dragged me out of the lake. And so, I hated him.

I grabbed his dick.

I wanted him to die since he kept me from dying. I wanted to hurt him because every breath hurt so much, and I couldn’t take it.

I had the pills and I could take them, I could die but I tried and I couldn’t.

Miller.

Miller.

Miller.

What will he do if I squeeze that big cock? Can I make him mad? What is his dad like? Maybe we can go there on the boat if I ask, and I’ll fuck with him. Fucked with me, though, and my finger and the pain and fear.

I don’t want to go to the hospital.

“I can get it out. Hold it sideways, Ezra. If you have to, hold onto your wrist to keep it still. And don’t look.”

…

“Is your dad an asshole?”

“What? No.”

“You’re a liar, DG.”

“Did he seem like an asshole?”

“Maybe,” I said.

…

“If I pass out…don’t let them take me to…the hospital. Please.”

Miller, holding into me.

“Just don’t. Don’t leave me there.”

“I gotchu, Ez.”

I’m too hot. I took the Amitriptyline and it was so hot that day. He’s in the shower with me. Ride or die. I hope we ride and I don’t die.

I can’t think anymore because I’m sobbing like a little fucking kid.

Josh

I do a funky little knock on the door—letting Ezra know it's me. I guess he’s got his phone on silent or he's sleeping, because I've been trying to get him for the last half hour, and he hasn't texted back or answered.

It's okay, I tell myself. Maybe he's just distracted with a movie on his laptop or the new poetry book I got him. I stick my card into the slot and push the motel room door open. The first thing I notice is him lying on the bed with his back to the door. Second thing: the lights are on.

Then he makes a soft sound. I can see his body shake—because he's crying .

Oh, fuck.

"Angel?" He's on his side, uncovered and shirtless, hugging a white pillow. "Hey, angel, what happened?"

Fuck, he's really sobbing. The sounds are soft and quiet, like he's been at it a while.

I hop up on the bed and climb over him, then stretch out in front of him. "Angel?" I start to wrap my arm around him, already wanting to pull him against me. Before I can, he says, "I remembered."

WHAT?

His upper body shudders.“It just...came back. Like a light switch. I’m sorry,” he whimpers.

I pull him against me. "Fuck, Ez. Don’t be sorry. Why are you sorry?"

I hug him tight, and his arms latch onto me. I can feel him trying to regulate his breathing. I have the thought I wonder if this changes anything , and right on cue, he hugs me tighter.

"Always taking care of me," he says in a hoarse, thick voice.

"I got you, always."

"I hurt you."

"You were hurt, too."

"I left you.” His voice breaks. “At the hospital."

"You came back."

"I left your room at night," he whispers. "Nearly killed me. But I thought I had to." His voice steadies out, but he’s trembling.

"I know, angel."

"I was scared of her. I’m scared of my mom." Ezra makes this little groan sound. "Carl," he moans .

"He’s okay, angel.Promise. I just saw him."

Heavy breathing. Shaking. I'm about to tell him it's okay he's upset; remembering things all at once, in a motel room alone, would be a shock to anybody. But he speaks first. "I loved the roof…with you.”His forehead feels hot on my throat.

"I loved that too."

"You played cello for me."

I nod, rubbing his back.

"You were so cute in band." His voice breaks, and he swallows, trying to keep from crying in earnest. "I loved everything about you."

"I loved you too."

"I hurt you…over and over.”

"You gave me my first blow job. My first kiss. Do you really remember? Remember the cemetery kiss?"

He's nodding. "I was chicken shit and tried to run."

"You were beautiful. I'll never forget that day."

"You made fun of my face," he laughs.Another shudder follows his soft laugh. Then he's just shaking.“Sorry. I can’t stop." His voice sounds gasped. "Is something wrong with me?”

I tip my head down so I can press my cheek against his. I rub my temple over his mouth, trying to feel how fast he's breathing. “Well...I don't think so. But your lips are cold.”

"The Icee." It's a whimper. "I remembered from an Icee."

I hug him hard, feeling shocked. I want to ask exactly how it happened. What it felt like. How he feels now. I want to know it all. But he's still clinging to me, his big body quivering like a plucked string. I know he's overwhelmed and maybe even scared. What could that possibly feel like, that influx of context…history…feelings?

I rub his back. “You wanna get into the shower with me?”

“No," he whispers.

His body feels warm and rigid. I wrap mine around him. "I love you. I've got you. You're okay."

Ezra curls against me. I can't help kissing his cheeks...and then his lips find mine. We kiss, and it tastes salty. He's not moving like normal; he seems dazed, his body still racked with shivers.

“If you're ever stranded in an avalanche, you’ll do good, baby. Keep the whole crew warm.”

He laughs.

“Physics," he whispers a moment later.

“Nearly killed me," I say fondly.

“The books…at the table. Hiding.”

"You mean you were hiding from me? Those mornings that Mom and Carl were gone?"

He nods.

“I knew that." I kiss his forehead. "I knew you were spooked. You remember how you overheated that day? I was always curious about that.”

“Drills. And those meds.” He inhales. “Should have sat out.”

Geez, he really can't stop shaking. I cup my hands around his mouth and kiss his top lip, soft and gentle.

"Tattoo...in Chattanooga," he whispers against my cheek. “As I was driving to Mom’s. Not enough money for the angel too."

That makes my heart ache. "I like what you picked, though. The infinity."

He presses his cheek against mine, holds me tighter. "I didn’t think the ECT would matter. Didn’t last time."

"I know."

"God," he laughs softly. “This summer."

"This past summer? What about it? Was it was pretty terrible?”

He nods.

"I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay." His voice sounds broken. He breathes more deeply, and then he laughs. "I remembered. It was like a tidal wave, dude. Slammed my brain."

I kiss his hair.

"I want more Icee," he says in a thin voice. "Mills. Do you still love me?"

"Always."

"Are you sure?" He sounds exhausted. "I was such an asshole."

"I’m so sure. I knew that all along, remember? Anyway, you weren’t an asshole. You were an antihero. Now you turned."

“This is so weird. I’m sleepy."

I rub his back…massage his nape.

"Are you sure...there's nothing wrong with me?"

"I think you had a panic attack, angel. Let’s sleep."

"Can you stay here?" he whispers.

"Absolutely, angel. For however long. Forever long."