Chapter 7
NOW
EMERSON woke up at five in the morning. He looked at his clock, remembered what had happened the night before, and then turned over and went back to sleep.
The second time he woke up, his clock said 11:23.
When he walked into the kitchen, Zack said, “So he’s alive after all.”
Emerson grunted in reply. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Zack be cute.
He stumbled to his coffee maker and pressed at the buttons until rich coffee started dripping into the pot. He made his way to the cupboard, where he found a bowl, a can of ravioli, and the can opener. By the time his pasta was hot, his coffee was ready to drink.
He sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat.
Zack broke the silence. “So. You going to tell me what happened between you and Jonah yesterday?”
Emerson took a sip of coffee. “We had a fight.”
“I figured that.” Zack didn’t look amused.
Emerson put his fork down, not feeling hungry anymore. He stared down at his ravioli, trying to avoid Zack’s gaze.
“You going to tell me anything else?”
“The fight was pretty bad,” Emerson admitted. He brought a finger up to push at his coffee mug, spinning it with a press against the handle. “We yelled, Jonah got mad, and then he left.”
Zack made a humming noise. “Right. That’s all you’re going to say, then?”
Emerson shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose—screw contacts today, they were a pain to put in. He stood then and began cleaning up his breakfast. He tossed out the last of the ravioli and started to clean the bowl.
Zack let out a gusty, put-upon sigh.
In the silence that followed, Emerson became aware of the new song playing on the radio: “Hot Blooded.” Mick Jones was inviting Emerson to take his temperature. Emerson jerked at the sound of the familiar tune. The last time he had heard this song, it had been in this kitchen when he had come home to find Jonah cooking and singing along.
Jonah was a terrible singer and an even more terrible dancer, which was why Emerson had burst into laughter when he saw him. Jonah had whipped around, smiling widely. Because Jonah was Jonah, he had refused to be embarrassed about being caught at being a dork. Instead, he just danced badly over to Emerson, still singing along.
“‘Come on, baby, do you do more than dance?’” Jonah had asked as he grabbed Emerson around the waist and pulled him close. “‘I’m hot-blooded, hot-blooded.’” Jonah was murmuring by the time he reached the end of the line, placing his mouth right over Emerson’s in a sweet greeting.
Emerson had reveled in the kiss for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. “You lunatic, what are you doing?”
“Making dinner for my gorgeous boyfriend. He’s been working hard all day.”
“I meant the terrible singing.” Emerson had let out another laugh that continued on as Jonah pulled back to grab his hands so he could drag him into the middle of the kitchen. He was laughing so hard he could barely stand as Jonah tried to dance him around the kitchen.
By the time the song had ended, Emerson had been crying with laughter. With the final strains, Jonah moved in to kiss him again.
Emerson rose from the kitchen table, passed Zack, and brought his hand down violently, shutting the radio off.
“Okay… you suddenly have a hate on for Foreigner?” Zack asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Emerson ignored him and went back to his coffee.
§
EARLIER
EMERSON sat behind the cash register, elbow propped on the counter, leaning his head in his hand. Today had shaped up to be rather boring. It seemed no one needed any organic groceries. Despite it being summertime, the store was often quiet on weekdays.
On this particular day, Emerson had taken to passing the time by thinking of Jonah.
Things hadn’t been that great this past week, what with Jonah wanting to move in and Emerson resisting the idea, but last night had been good. The tension had broken, and they’d spent the evening making passionate, desperate love. Emerson could remember the bliss that crossed Jonah’s face when he finally pressed inside. Emerson had just felt intense relief to know that, despite their disagreement, they could still do this. That the sex was still as good as ever.
Emerson shifted his hips and couldn’t help but smile at the feel of that pleasant ache of the morning after. Emerson really did like that feeling. The reminder the day after of what they had done, of where Jonah had been and of how close they had pushed their bodies together, was something Emerson relished.
Emerson was in the middle of constructing a pleasurable scenario for the evening in which he pushed Jonah down on the bed, straddled Jonah’s lap, and went about renewing that achy feeling when the bell over the door rang.
Emerson jumped and looked toward the door to see—nothing. He frowned. The door had opened, he was sure, but…. He heard a giggle. Emerson looked down and grinned when he spotted the small boy walking through the aisles.
The boy was adorable. All round cherub face with hazel eyes and thick brown hair. He was giggling, and when he spotted Emerson, he held one chubby hand up to his face and made a loud shushing noise. Emerson grinned before lifting a finger to his own lips and nodding in return. He’d be quiet.
Emerson figured it would be easy to keep an eye on the kid today. The shop was quiet, so he could make sure the boy didn’t hurt himself or get into trouble.
Emerson was still smiling and watching the adorable child hiding behind a rack of postcards when the overhead bell rang again. The child let out another string of giggles. It seemed his caregiver had arrived. Too entranced by the adorableness of the kid, Emerson didn’t look up at first.
“Hm,” said a voice from near the door, and the child giggled once again. “Now I’m sure I saw my Gareth come this way,” the voice said again, and the child giggled even louder. Emerson grinned before looking over to see the boy’s mother standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
Emerson stared at her for a moment, wondering why she looked so familiar. He was derailed by the sound of more laughter from the child.
Emerson watched, grinning, as the mother conducted a game of hide and seek, loudly wondering where her child had gotten to before at last stumbling on the giggling child and scooping him up in her arms. The boy squealed as his mother planted kisses over his face.
When she was done, she propped the boy onto her hip and turned toward Emerson. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him; he snuck away—Emerson?” Her eyes went wide when she spotted him. “Oh my God, Emerson! It’s so good to see you!” She was smiling with delight now.
Emerson stared back. She did look familiar, but he couldn’t yet place her. She was tall with blond hair and blue eyes. She was quite startlingly pretty and very young.
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” she said with a grin. “I’ve been getting that look a lot these past few days. It’s Deanna. Deanna Carlisle.”
“Oh.” Emerson stared at her. Deanna had gone to high school with him and Jonah. She had been well-liked, often the lead in drama productions, girls’ volleyball captain, and valedictorian. She had also, more famously in Emerson’s memory, been Jonah’s date to the prom.
Emerson realized suddenly that he was just staring at her. “Um, hi! Yeah, the hair did throw me,” he said, trying to smile.
Deanna smiled back, wide and brilliant. “So how have you been?”
Emerson shrugged. “Good. Going to U of T at Austin.”
“Ooh, wonderful. Are you studying art like you wanted to?”
He nodded. “Design. So, um, is this your…?” Emerson let the question hang, feeling awkward about making assumptions about the kid being hers.
“Oh yeah, he’s mine. Gareth is my darling boy, aren’t you, sweetie pie?” She leaned in toward her son to rub their noses together. The boy laughed, delighted.
“Wow,” Emerson said. There was a pause then, and Emerson was sure she could tell what he was thinking. He covered up the silence with an easy gambit. “So, are you going to be living in Hudson Bend again?”
She smiled. “Nah, we’re just up for a visit.” She stepped closer to the counter and deposited the boy onto it. Then she smiled at Emerson and said, “It really is good to see you. I was hoping to catch up with old friends.” Her smile widened then, and she asked, “So how’s Jonah doing these days? You two still best friends?”
Emerson blinked at her. “He’s good. He, um, spent a few years traveling. He’s living in Austin again.”
She smiled at that. “Well, maybe I’ll drop him a line, see if he’s up for lunch. It would be good to see him again. Wouldn’t it, baby?” she asked her son, who was starting to look bored. Once again, she rubbed their noises together. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to see Jonah?” The boy giggled in delight. “I knew my Gareth was a smart boy,” she praised, then kissed the top of his head.
Emerson froze. He felt like his veins were filled with ice, and his heart began beating too fast. Gareth. Why hadn’t he noticed before? She’d given her son Jonah’s middle name. Her son who looked so much like a tiny Jonah and who must have been conceived while they were still in high school.
Dread filled Emerson’s stomach. He recalled then how excited Jonah had been before prom. How he had rented the tux and the limo. Emerson had used his wisdom teeth being extracted as an excuse for not attending. Jonah had been insistent, and Justin had kept hinting at going, and Emerson had been on the verge of caving and buying a ticket under Jonah’s watchful glare, fully intending to get a well-timed twenty-four-hour flu on the night of the event, when he had visited the dentist.
The dentist had offered several options for which day to pull them out, and Emerson hadn’t hesitated when he saw the day before prom listed. He told Jonah he hadn’t had a choice in the date. Fortunately, Jonah was too good-natured and oblivious to be suspicious.
Unfortunately, he had still left Justin bitter. Justin had kept giving Emerson suspicious looks, as if he had known Emerson didn’t want to go just because he didn’t want to see Jonah having fun with a female date in a heterosexual wonderland. (Emerson later suspected that this was exactly what had been going on with Justin.) Justin had cattily informed him the next school day that Jonah and Deanna had never shown up to the dance. Emerson’s imagination had been able to fill in the blanks.
So, Deanna had a son who was the right age to be—
“Anyway, I just stopped by to pick up some summer squash. This guy loves the stuff so much he ate through mom’s home-grown stash.” She ruffled her son’s hair.
Emerson jerked. “They’re, uh, just behind you, one aisle over.” He always knew the state of their summer squash inventory, since it was the first thing Jonah went for when he came over.
“Awesome. Could you watch him for a sec?” she asked with a smile, and Emerson automatically reached out with one hand to curl it around the boy’s waist.
She came back with the squash, and Emerson tallied up the total. “Anything else?” he asked her on autopilot.
She smiled again. “A promise to go out for a drink with me before I leave Hudson Bend?”
Emerson jerked in surprise. “Um, sorry?”
Her smile dimmed a little, but she repeated herself. “I mean, I don’t do too much partying, what with this monster around, but it would be good to go out for drinks with old high school friends.”
Emerson tried to give her a smile back. “Yeah, sure. Um, maybe? We’ll see how things go.” He tried not to say anything that would commit him or sound too rude. After all, he might be seeing a lot of her in the future.
He took her money and bagged the squash. He watched as she scooped up both child and groceries before waving goodbye. “See you later, Emerson. It was so good to see you again!” Then they were gone.
Emerson stood still, staring after the woman who had just walked out carrying a boy who was eerily familiar.
Oh God. Was that…? Had that been Jonah’s child? Had Deanna gotten pregnant on prom night—what a cliché!—and moved away while still pregnant? Had her parents sent her away? Did parents still do that?
The boy had looked so much like Jonah and had even displayed Jonah’s sense of humor and love of summer squash. Staring at him had been like seeing Jonah as a baby.
Did Jonah know? Had he known that he had a kid for all these years and not said anything? No, that didn’t sound like Jonah. Maybe he didn’t know he had a kid? But then that didn’t sound like Deanna either, to keep something like that hidden. He had never figured her to be the type of girl to keep such a thing quiet, to never tell a man he was a father.
But Jonah wasn’t the type of guy not tell anyone that he had a kid. Unless…. Emerson thought about the timing. Thought about how Deanna probably would have done the confessing around the same time that Jonah had run away from home. He wondered if she had told him just before and if that was one of the reasons Jonah had left. Or maybe she had sent an e-mail that Jonah hadn’t ignored.
If Jonah had learned in those first few months before he had written to Emerson…. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that Emerson would have welcomed hearing about when Jonah had first started writing to him. And then after that it would have been easy to fall into a pattern of wanting to tell but not knowing when and getting more reluctant to reveal the secret the longer it was kept.
Oh God. Emerson was involved with a father who hadn’t told him he had a son!
§
NOW
DESPITE Zack’s prodding to open up about what had happened, Emerson stayed close-mouthed. He wasn’t entirely certain as to why he was so wary about telling Zack about it, though he was pretty certain that Zack would have a few choice words about how Emerson had come home to pick a fight. Also, he wasn’t entirely sure that Zack would take his side on the whole Deanna thing. He could be wrong, but he didn’t want to take the chance that Zack would tell him off too. This way, at least Emerson knew Zack would take care of him while he wallowed.
Zack was still persistent, though. Two days after the fight, Emerson had returned to his bedroom to find Zack sitting on his bed and examining Emerson’s latest drawing.
“This is some strange shit, Emma.”
Emerson grunted and ignored him. He settled himself on his bed again, resettling into his cocoon.
“Seriously. Did you draw this yesterday?” Zack held up a half-finished drawing. Emerson had picked up a pencil and paper yesterday only to get halfway through a drawing filled with pain and regret before he’d got sick of the picture, sick of himself, and thrown the sketchpad and pencils onto the floor before burying himself under the blankets once again.
“So?”
“So? It’s fucking depressing, that’s what. Christ, Emma. Why won’t you just tell me what happened?”
Emerson picked at the weave of his blanket.
“Emma….”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled. “Can we just… not?”
“You owe me.” Zack’s voice was stern. “After all the times I’ve let you cry on my shoulder, don’t you think I deserve to know why you’re being a mopey bitch?”
He looked up at Zack, surprised. That was a low blow. Emerson knew that he’d always been kind of a mess and that ever since he’d met Zack, he’d looked to the other man to help him pick up the pieces, but Zack had never sounded like he minded before.
“Shit. Don’t cry,” Zack muttered, and he shifted over. He settled on the bed next to Emerson and let their shoulders press together. “Alright, fine, so I suck at the tough love thing. I think we both already knew that.”
“Only sometimes,” Emerson agreed.
“When you’re ready to talk, you’re going to tell me, though. Don’t think you won’t.”
Emerson nodded and tilted to rest his head on Zack’s shoulder. “Yeah. I know.”
§
THEN
WRITTEN inside a birthday card filled with dirty jokes written on four different-colored sticky notes, predominantly in old-fashioned, spidery handwriting and signed by all the writers’ workshop members, complete with a photograph of the whole gang:
Dear Emerson,
Happy birthday! Hope you enjoy the jokes. When I told her it was your birthday, Roberta insisted. The others might have chipped in a little on the tamer ones.
I debated for ages on what to get you, but eventually an opportunity arose that I couldn’t pass up. I don’t have your eye, but I attached a couple of samples (had to make sure it worked, of course). Don’t worry, it’s not as extravagant as you think.
Jonah
Emerson laughed as he read the letter and then turned to the box. As quickly as he could, he peeled away the paper. Inside was a slightly battered SLR camera. Emerson stared. A camera. Jonah had gotten him a camera.
His fingers trembled as he worked to get it free from the box. A camera.
Suddenly, Emerson was swamped by his feelings for Jonah. He was filled with love and adoration for a boy several hundreds of miles away, a boy who, despite the distance, knew Emerson better than anyone else. Which was the problem, wasn’t it? It had been his problem for years, really. Jonah did know Emerson best and always managed to do just the right thing to keep Emerson ridiculously attached and in love.
A camera.
God, he hadn’t felt this giddy in love since that hot August afternoon on the beach when Jonah had reached out one long-fingered hand to smooth sunscreen on Emerson’s nose. They had been laughing and talking, and Jonah had pulled out the sunscreen to “reapply—Jesus, Em, don’t you ever learn?” He had poured enough into his hand so that he could smear the greasy substance all over Emerson’s nose. Emerson had stood there trying to stifle his laughter and watching Jonah’s oh-so-earnest expression as he worked to re-cover Emerson in sunscreen. Jonah’s brow had been furrowed, his eyes serious, and Emerson had thought that Jonah was kind of awesome and wonderful. It had been then, standing on a beach with Jonah’s fingers running over his nose, that he suddenly thought to himself, I love him. Emerson’s heart started beating too fast, and his stomach filled with a thousand butterflies. I love him. Like, want to spend the rest of my life with him love. Oh my God! I’m in love with my best friend!
He had continued to stand there, letting Jonah slather sunscreen on him without arguing. Emerson couldn’t move. He was stunned by the revelation. God, he was in love with Jonah!
The panic over being in love with a straight boy—and his best friend!— had come later. At that moment in time, Emerson had simply reveled in the light sensation filling his whole body at the knowledge that he was in love.
It felt a lot like that first moment when he held his new camera.
God, a camera. Jonah bought him a camera. Emerson bit his lip as he stared at it. No one knew Emerson better than Jonah. No one.
He wondered…. All those months ago when Jonah had confessed to having a boyfriend, Emerson had wondered about the possibility of them like he never had before. When he had thought Jonah was straight, it was easy to limit those what-ifs to accidental thoughts during jack-off sessions, but after he found out Jonah was interested in men, the what-ifs had become much more difficult to keep at bay. And now—Jonah sent him letters all the time, and Emerson found himself often thinking of Jonah and wondering what Jonah felt for him.
Now, looking at the camera that Jonah had sent him, hope bloomed in his chest. Maybe Emerson wasn’t so stupid to still be in love with Jonah after all this time. Three years was a long time to be in love with a boy who didn’t love you back, but if he did… three years wasn’t that long to wait for somebody.
Emerson allowed his heart to beat double time. He would push things—no, not push, but… things would move forward, he was certain.
Grabbing his camera and his coat, Emerson hurried out the door, eager to try out his new present.
Several hours later, Emerson and Hayley were sitting on Zack’s bed while Emerson uploaded all the pictures onto his laptop. There were several hundred of Hudson Bend and Austin and everything in between, and he wanted an empty memory card for his birthday party.
“He gave you a camera?” Hayley was holding it and turning it this way and that. “An expensive gift for a best friend.”
Emerson blushed. “He said it wasn’t that extravagant, and it looks beat up. He probably got it second-hand.”
Hayley arched a brow. “Even second-hand, it would cost.” She set the camera down. “So… loverboy send you another letter filled with unresolved sexual tension?” Emerson kept his gaze locked on his computer screen. His usual denials about the letters not being from a lover or filled with sexual tension of any kind didn’t form. Not today.
“Ooh! I know that look! Lemme see!” Hayley made grabby hands. Emerson caved and handed over the letter.
Hayley cackled when she found the dirty jokes. Emerson had just unplugged his camera when suddenly his hand was being grabbed, and he was being dragged down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Jonah sent jokes!” Hayley called to get Greg and Zack’s attention. Then she proceeded to read out all the jokes one by one and then post each one on Emerson’s Cork Board of Communication. The board had been instituted when messages to Emerson had repeatedly failed to reach him. After he had made a meal for three people only to discover that Zack and Greg had picked up a last-minute gig, it had been a must.
Then Zack was pressing a beer into Emerson’s hand and telling him to “start drinking, Emma.” Within a few hours, Zack and Greg’s house was filled with anyone that Emerson might classify as a friend. There were classmates and fellow Peter fans, and he was pretty sure he saw the girl who sold him coffee once a week.
Emerson was weaving a few hours later as he walked away from the beer pong table, though he didn’t sway as badly as his opponent.
“Emery!” Eve popped up in front of him. Her dark curls were a mess around her face.
Emerson had met Eve when she had followed Hayley to Zack’s dorm room last spring. The girls had met in Hayley’s Intro to Art History course second semester, and Eve just started showing up to gatherings as if she had always been there.
Eve was… Eve scared him a little. She was unlike anyone else Emerson had ever met. Her long hair always looked like it was ready for a shampoo commercial. Her brown eyes were framed by cat’s-eye horn rims, and a silver tongue stud peeked out between her teeth. Emerson wasn’t as afraid of her beauty or fashion sense, though, as he was about her brazen honesty regarding three things: one, sex; two, being into chicks; three, sex with said chicks. Eve was an unapologetic lesbian.
Her out-and-proud attitude threw Emerson. He wasn’t used to people who made the announcement so unselfconsciously—or during the first five minutes of meeting them. He also wasn’t sure what to make of her art. She was taking the Design program, and any of her work that Emerson had seen tended to have lots of breasts and vaginas.
Still, Emerson had a soft spot for the girl who could make Hayley seem prudish.
“I’m victorious,” he told her.
“So I saw, darling—beer pong champion.” She smacked a kiss to his cheek. “Have you been having a good birthday?”
Emerson nodded. “Yes. Jonah sent me a camera.”
“Ooh. The elusive Jonah!” Eve gave a grin. “So, let’s see it, darling.”
Emerson spun on his heels and looked around. “I left it… kitchen!”
He led Eve toward the kitchen, giggling with her as they went. Emerson went to the cabinet where he had stored the camera before playing beer pong and pulled it out.
“Ooh. Expensive,” Eve said, properly impressed.
“Yep!” Emerson nodded.
Eve looked from the camera to his face. “Oh my—Emery, did you know that you’re glowing?”
He blinked at her. “Am not?” He wasn’t feeling too confident about that denial.
“Are too.”
Emerson couldn’t tell if he was blushing, his face was already so flushed with alcohol. “Am not.”
“Too. Does he know?”
“He who?”
“Mysterious Pen Pal! Does he know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re glowing!”
“Well, he’s not here, so I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what I look like right now….”
“I meant, does he know you’re completely in love with him?”
“I—” Emerson stared. “No?”
Eve laughed. “Why so unsure?”
Emerson looked down at his camera and didn’t say anything.
“Oh Emery, honey! You’re blushing! Don’t be embarrassed! You know I’d never hold loving cock against you! Loving cock is wonderful if that’s what you’re into.”
Staring at her really was the only possible course of action. He really should have been used to Eve by now.
Fortunately, Emerson was saved from having to find a response to that by Hayley’s arrival.
Unfortunately, Hayley had arrived to pull him into a conversation with some of her hot friends from her history class. Meeting the cute boys wasn’t a hardship, but Emerson began to feel very uncomfortable when Eve and the newly met Devon started up a game of “Never Have I Ever.”
“Never have I ever had sex in an empty classroom,” said Devon to start.
Hayley took her shot without shame. As did Brian, Emerson noticed.
“My turn!” Hayley said with a grin. “Never have I ever slept with a frat boy!” She shot Emerson a coy smile.
He took his shot. Eve stared at him.
“You didn’t! Ooh. You did!”
“I—”
“Emery, you slept with a frat boy?”
“I… think he was?”
“You think? Did you have a one-off lay at a frat party?”
“Okay! Next question!” Emerson said desperately.
“My turn!” Eve gave a wicked grin, and Emerson suspected he was about to pay for shutting her down. “I’ve never had a crush on my pen pal!”
Emerson glared at Eve.
“Drink up, Emery!” Eve cried.
Hayley cackled.
Emerson drank.
“I’ve never been caught with my pants down by my mother,” said Brian when they finally resumed the game. Devon drank.
“Your turn, Em!”
“Never have I ever had to pee so badly before!” Emerson said before jumping to his feet.
“Boo!” Eve cried out drunkenly.
“That’s cheating!” cried Hayley.
“But I have to pee!”
“You better come back!” Hayley called.
He waved a hand at her. “Sure, sure,” he called, then weaved his way through party-goers, trying to find a bathroom.
It wasn’t until he had stumbled into the bathroom that Emerson realized he was still clutching his camera. Setting it down carefully, he proceeded to drunkenly attack his button and zipper.
When Emerson stumbled out, once again holding his camera, he looked hard for a distraction worthy of missing the rest of “Never Have I Ever.”
Fortunately, Zack was very obliging.
“Emma! Birthday boy! How’s the party going?”
Emerson grinned. Oh yeah, no one better than Zack to offer up a distraction.
Hayley found them in the kitchen thirty minutes later, laughing over the dirty lyrics Zack was penning.
“Emerson! You didn’t come back! You lied to me!” Crap. Hayley was pouting.
Emerson shook his head in denial. “No—I ran into Zack!” he said, pointing.
“So Zack is more important than me?”
“No!” Emerson shook his head vehemently. “But Zack was distracting. And I’m drunk,” he added for good measure.
“Right. Well, I demand that you come spend time with me! You left during me time and didn’t come back!”
“Okay, okay,” Emerson said, happy to give in. Though mostly happy that Hayley wasn’t going to continue pouting.
“Good!” Hayley grabbed his hand and pulled. “Greg was just showing off the checker board! We’re playing!”
“Checkers?” Okay, Emerson might be drunk, but that really didn’t sound right.
“Yes, checkers.”
What kind of drunken game was that? Emerson wondered. Then he saw the board, and everything made sense.
§
Jonah,
Thank you! The camera is awesome and filled with pictures.
Last night Zack threw me a birthday party. He insisted. It was at his townhouse, and there was a lot of alcohol. Also, pretty much everyone I ever met while on campus. Seriously, I think I saw the girl who sells me coffee on Tuesday mornings.
Anyway, the night was pretty awesome. I won at beer pong and lost at checkers (no, really, Greg has this awesome checkers board that has shot glasses for playing pieces. Every time you lose a piece you have to drink the contents. Unfortunately for me, Hayley is a total shark!).
Fortunately, your present arrived in good time, so I got a LOT of pictures—far too many to print out or e-mail. I’ll see about getting them put onto a CD for you.
Tell everyone at the workshop I say thanks for their good wishes. I’m not sure about the dirty jokes, but Hayley thought they were a riot. Especially when I told her about Roberta. She pulled each sticky note out of the card and pinned them to the corkboard of messages I keep at Zack’s (I’m there a lot—they use me for my cooking skills, and Zack and Greg always forget to tell me shit when I’m around).
I’m not sure how a camera isn’t as extravagant as I think, but I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m seriously hoping, though, that you didn’t shoplift it or take out a loan—I like it too much to give it back.
Having had a very awesome birthday,
Emerson
§
EMERSON readjusted his grip around the pillow under his head. His fingers had been gripping the down for so long that they creaked as he let go and then gripped the fabric again.
The body behind him shifted, and two large hands palmed his naked ass. He shivered when the thumbs slipped between the cheeks.
It hit him then that Karl was pulling them apart to see his hole, to eye the entrance into Emerson’s body. He shivered again and wondered for a moment how it was that he got here in the first place.
It started at the party, he thought. Well, this part had started at the party, when Karl had approached him. Emerson had already had a few drinks by then, and so when Karl started flirting, Emerson had flirted back. He had let Karl lean in close, speak in his ear and run his hand up Emerson’s arm. He even leaned in toward Karl and glanced at the other man from below his lashes.
When Karl had moved on to kisses, Emerson had opened his mouth and welcomed them. He had even reached up to twine both arms around Karl’s neck. He didn’t object when Karl curled large hands around his hips before running them up his torso, rubbing up and down. They had curled around his waist and palmed the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Emerson moaned and pressed closer and let his tongue reach out to Karl’s.
When Karl had hotly suggested that they go back to his place, Emerson had readily agreed.
Emerson was startled out of his reverie by the feel of a lube-coated finger pushing past the ring of muscle guarding his body. The finger pushed in slowly, and—Jesus! Karl must have some experience with this, because he went straight for Emerson’s prostate. He moaned loudly at the shivery feeling running through his body. God, but he loved his prostate! He had long ago tried slipping his own fingers into his body when he jerked off; the feeling of a finger inside him was familiar at least. The slow, unerring massage turned Emerson into a moaning, shivery mess. He pressed his face into the pillow and tried to stifle some of the moans. Seeing as how Emerson was drunk, stopping the moans before they escaped him was impossible.
Karl was good at this, Emerson thought dazedly as another finger pushed in with the first. He pushed his face deeper into the pillow and wondered if he could get more control if he distracted himself from the pleasure.
He tried to think of something else, ran his day through his mind. He had woken up, made himself breakfast, and then said goodbye to his parents and Kierstyn when they left for the day. Emerson’s dad had an appointment in Austin, so he and his wife were spending the day out and dropping Kierstyn off at a friend’s there. Emerson had had the house to himself, which turned out to be a bad thing when he opened and read Jonah’s latest letter.
The most recent letter had been written on stationery from someplace called the Rustic Inn Creekside Resort and Spa. Something about the name had made Emerson’s stomach curl with dread.
The sour feeling in his stomach only got worse when he read Jonah’s story about where his camera had come from. He couldn’t help but be disappointed at knowing that his camera was not just second-hand, but that Jonah hadn’t even paid for it. It had been the broken, discarded toy of a friend.
The feeling only got worse when he read about why Jonah was at the Rustic Inn.
I am looking forward to having some privacy from Gavin was a deceptive start to the paragraph. Emerson’s stomach plummeted as he continued to read: It seems another one of his shortcomings is that he doesn’t like to knock. That or he just wants to see Xie naked.
He had kind of suspected that Jonah and Xie probably weren’t just kissing each other goodnight, but he didn’t appreciate having it spelled out for him. Unbidden, the image of Jonah having sex with a cute girl came to him. He could imagine Jonah kissing her, undressing her, petting her and fu—
Emerson had stopped himself. He wasn’t going to picture Jonah with his girlfriend having a romantic “stay-cation” at an inn and spa that gave them their own Jacuzzi. He wasn’t going to do that to himself.
He had reread the paragraph. Emerson had really wanted to find some evidence to tell him he was wrong. He didn’t find any.
God, he had been such a fool. After Jonah had confessed his bisexuality, Emerson had allowed thoughts he had suppressed for so long to have some legroom. Had imagined what life might be like if he and Jonah were the couple he had so long wanted them to be. And then Jonah had sent him a camera, a gift that was not only thoughtful, but also expensive. Emerson had started to think, to hope, that he wasn’t being foolish in his dreams. That Jonah really did feel something for him, too, wanted him too.
But this latest letter just proved how much of an idiot he had been. Jonah wasn’t pining after him in return, wasn’t wishing that Emerson could be something more. He wasn’t like Emerson, who was waiting at home for someone who would never love him. He wasn’t turning down dates and keeping his romantic experiences limited to make-out sessions at college parties. He wasn’t being a pathetic loser wasting his life away while he waited for the object of his hopeless crush to love him back.
The rest of the afternoon passed away in a strange blur after that. The first thing he’d done was to find the Rustic Inn’s website, which had filled Emerson with longing as he imagined what a weekend there would be like. It also prompted him to decide that Jonah had been lying about his bisexuality. That he was, instead, bi-curious, and now that he had found Xie, he would marry her, and they’d have the perfect life together. They would, Emerson suspected, have loads of beautiful babies, to whom Emerson would be godfather, while he stayed a lonely bachelor living with his bazillion cats and perving on Jonah from afar for the rest of his life until he died.
That was when Emerson went hunting for liquor. He found the Smirnoff Lime Twist in his parents’ cupboards and took two shots to calm his hysteria.
A little tipsy, Emerson had reread the letter again. Jonah didn’t just have a girlfriend—he had a lover. Emerson then spent half an hour obsessing over what Xie looked like and how long she had waited before she let Jonah fuck her. He wondered how many times they had fucked since the first.
When the image of Jonah fucking some girl good enough to make her scream in delight started to torture him, Emerson took another shot of vodka.
Half an hour later, Emerson was stumbling out of the house to escape the letter and his own thoughts and running into a neighbor, a fellow student on his way to a party. Two hours after that, he was at a campus party drinking bad keg beer and getting chatted up by Karl.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Karl growled, shocking Emerson back to the present. He was still on his knees, and Karl still had fingers up his ass. “Bet you’re tight. Can’t wait to get in your tight little ass.”
Karl followed thought with action. He pulled out his fingers, leaving Emerson feeling open and obscene. Then Emerson heard a condom wrapper tear and then the sounds of Karl stroking himself. Then Karl was guiding his cock to Emerson’s ass and pushing in.
It hurt. Karl was hot, hard, and unforgiving as he pushed steadily into his body. Emerson gasped into the pillow, tears stinging his eyes. He felt like he was being split in two. When a tear escaped, he rubbed his face into the fabric, wiping it away.
Karl was groaning and moaning behind him. He gripped Emerson’s hips tight and started to move in even strokes.
After a minute it felt all right. It wasn’t unpleasant. But the pain had sobered him up, and Emerson suddenly felt lonely, even as Karl puffed away behind him. He bit his lip, trying to will it better, trying to get more pleasure out of this.
He thought of Jonah and the Rustic Inn and wondered if Jonah was fucking Xie right now. He thought of the pictures of the Inn and suddenly felt a deep longing to be with Jonah instead. He closed his eyes tight. The thoughts went away, but a new one came instead. He saw himself at the Rustic Inn, kneeling on that big bed with Jonah behind him. He pretended for a moment that it was Jonah thrusting into him with increasing force.
The sex didn’t get better. It didn’t get worse. Or, at least, the physical act didn’t get worse. The sick feeling in Emerson’s stomach yawned and widened when he suddenly remembered the promises he had made himself once. The promise to be careful about who he had sex with after the drunk hand jobs at the frat party. And the wistful promise he had made years ago to let Jonah be the first.
After Karl finally came, he flipped Emerson over and sucked him off. The relief Emerson felt when he came was mostly about being thankful that the whole experience was finally over.
Luckily, Karl passed out. Alcohol and sex had proved to be too much for him.
Emerson just crawled out of the bed and back into his clothes. He was definitely too drunk now to find his way back to the Bend, but fortunately Zack and Greg’s was within walking distance. It took him almost twenty minutes to get there with his slow, swaying gait.
When he discovered that no one was home, he was glad that Zack had long ago given him a key to the place.
Emerson headed straight to the kitchen and fished out Zack’s bottle of Jack. Then he stumbled his way to Zack’s bedroom—he didn’t much feel like seeing Greg right now—and started drinking.
§
ZACK found him in his room, a few hours after the fact, pissed drunk and sprawled out on the floor. Emerson’s shoulders were propped up against the edge of his bed. He had tried sitting but found that lying down was much preferable and, after a lengthy consideration of Zack’s bed, he had opted for the floor instead.
“Em! What the hell are you doing here?” Zack asked, surprised. Then, after a long pause, he said, “Are you drunk?”
He sounded very incredulous, which Emerson thought was unfair, since he had seen Emerson drunk before.
“Yes,” said Emerson, trying not to sound petulant at all.
“Emerson….” There was another pause, and then Zack was sitting down on the floor next to him. “Emma, why are you getting drunk alone in my room at two in the morning?”
Emerson tilted his head back, trying to get a proper view of the alarm clock. Was it only two? That meant that it had only been ninety minutes since he had left Karl’s, and not yet three hours since he had told Karl he could…. Emerson let his thoughts drift away from that line of thinking.
“Emerson!” Zack poked his shoulder, hard.
“What?” Emerson hadn’t meant to sound that whiny.
“What’s going on, Emma?”
He took another swig from his bottle of Jack. “You’d be so proud of me,” he told Zack. “I went and found myself a boy whose name wasn’t Jonah Cherneski and who wanted to fuck me.”
Zack sighed, his warm breath tickling the side of Emerson’s face. “Em, what did you do?”
“What you keep saying I should do. I found another boy to fuck me.”
This was met with silence. Emerson took another drink.
“Emerson.” Zack’s voice sounded so disappointed that Emerson raised his bottle again, only the mouth never reached his lips as Zack snatched the bottle from his hand.
“You’ve had enough,” Zack told him, sounding like Emerson’s dad.
A hollow feeling filled his stomach. “No, I haven’t!”
“Yes, you have.” His voice was firm. Then Zack put the bottle an arm’s length away from him, on his other side. Emerson eyed the bottle, peering across Zack’s chest, but decided, ultimately, that it was just too far away.
“Emerson, tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” Even through the drunken haze, Emerson knew he sounded like a child.
“Tell me you didn’t let some stranger—”
“Pop my cherry?” The words tore out of Emerson with a vengeance, as sharp and quick as any weapon. “He was tall and pretty and nice, so yes, when he asked if he could, I let him. I told him to- to put his cock up my ass.” Suddenly Emerson’s eyes felt itchy. “I let him… I told him to fuck me because I….” A sob kept him from finishing his sentence.
“Oh Emma,” Zack murmured sympathetically. He snaked an arm around Emerson’s shoulders and pressed his cheek to the top of his head.
“It hurt.” The words spilled out of Emerson on the tail end of another sob, much to his surprise. “It still hurts.”
Zack let out another sigh. “Emma….”
“It was awful, Zack,” Emerson said. The tears wouldn’t stop falling. They just kept coming, and Emerson could hardly talk for the all the sobs.
“Shit, you do get yourself into it, don’t you?” Zack rubbed one hand up and down Emerson’s arm and didn’t complain when Emerson turned his face into Zack’s neck and cried onto his shoulder.
§
WRITTEN on the back of a flyer for an in-faculty music soirée, never mailed:
Jonah,
Went out again last night to another party; drank too much. Have hangover from hell and Zack is being mean and glaring at me.
Ugh, can’t remember anything about yesterday, but did get your letter, you God-damned son of a lying bitch and why do you do this shit to me—
§
ONE week later:
Jonah,
I don’t think I want to know anything more about Gavin. What you’ve told me and hinted at is enough to scar me for life. Despite that, thank him for the camera.
Wow. A weekend away? I didn’t realize you and Xie were that serious. Congrats, I guess? (Zack, Greg, and Hayley are all sluts who refuse to give me proper experience on how to deal with my friends dating for longer than five hours. So… sorry I don’t know the right thing to say.)
Went to a party last weekend and had too much to drink, as evidenced by embarrassing make-out session mid-dance floor with a classmate I barely talked to before that night. Zack was an evil bastard the next day. He had no sympathy for my hangover. Anyway, I was so busy recovering and then trying to get all my homework done that I didn’t have time for you and your letters until this weekend.
I really should go, though—I don’t have that much free time today. Natalie’s minding the shop, but Dad’s not working weekends again yet, so they’re still my responsibility, and I’ve got some homework and reading to get done.
Emerson