| |
MOST ROADS WERE CLEARED of snow and classes have resumed, but Sean’s grand jury appearance was postponed till Friday. December 17th meant two more days of agonizing over how it would go. He wished he could just get it done and over with
Everyone hustled to make up for the lost time and finish their coursework by the end of the term. Sean had only one class that day, and the rest of his work consisted of studying for exams and finishing four more lab reports. There was no reason he couldn’t do that from the comfort of their own living room, especially since there was leftover curry for lunch later on. For now, though, he had to catch up on his phone calls home, and with the three hour difference, he was sure to catch people in the morning.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” Asbjorn walked over to the sofa and settled next to Sean, who shut down Skype and powered his laptop off.
Sean made a long face.
“Bad calls?”
“Just... feeling guilty, I guess.”
“Oh?” Asbjorn settled on the sofa next to him.
Sean’s regular calls with his father and siblings in San Diego and Burrows-sensei in the nearby suburbs were anything but simple. He hadn’t come out to them, he hadn’t mentioned the attack, and all of them wanted him to come back to California for the winter break.
“I really don’t want to go.” He shoved the laptop onto the table, rejecting it as though the device was personally responsible for his current state of mind. He leaned his head against Asbjorn’s shoulder. “I was hoping to stay and spend Christmas with you.”
Asbjorn sighed. “We should communicate more.” He snaked his arm around Sean’s shoulders. “I have bad news, and I have good news.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. Well, the bad news is I’ll be spending the winter break in Denmark, and I already have my tickets. I promised my mom I would.” Asbjorn stiffened, and his words were clipped in a way that made Sean turn and look at him. That jaw muscle was working, all right.
“So... what’s the good news?” Sean summoned all his resources to mask his disappointment. Two weeks without Asbjorn, either in Boston or in San Diego, would suck dirt.
“The good news is you could come with me. Have you ever been to Denmark before?”
Sean felt gratified to see Asbjorn’s eyes brighten, but he didn’t smile. He sighed. Then he fussed with the little rubber foot that fell off the bottom of his laptop again.
“Um, the communication part, remember?” Asbjorn said.
“Not Denmark. But I’ve been to Ireland when I was little, and if I visit my aunt in Galway, then it would be more acceptable to my family.” Sean frowned. “But I should stay here and catch the guy, Bjorn.”
“Your perp isn’t going anywhere.”
Sean thought some more. “Yeah, I guess. My grand jury testimony is tomorrow, so that will be out of the way.” He put on a brave face. “Piece of cake, right?”
“You’ll do great,” Asbjorn reassured him. “And after that, a trip to Europe!”
“The tickets are gonna be a killer. It’s almost too late.” Sean played with a pen as he avoided Asbjorn’s eyes. He was tense about his big day in court. It was hard to divert his thoughts to anything else, although he appreciated Asbjorn’s effort in this direction.
“Almost.” Asbjorn smiled. “I do this through a travel agent because I fly a good deal, and she’s a marvel with making alternate arrangements. I can change my flight so both of us can go. She can route us through Ireland. Or would you like to go the other way? It all depends on how much time we want to spend there.” Asbjorn’s hand slid up Sean’s chest, caressing his throat, cupping the stubborn chin and turning it to face him. “So... you coming? Please say yes. My mother’s new family will be so much easier to take with you around.”
Sean’s head spun at the thought. “You think it’ll be okay?”
“More than okay. It’ll be fabulous.”
“I thought you and your mom didn’t get along.”
“Not since she married that asshole after my father died – but we’ll be fine.”
“Are we staying at their house?”
Asbjorn startled. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s think about that. They’re in Copenhagen, so we could get a hotel easily enough – but that’s extra money.”
“We could get a hotel for just some of the time,” Sean suggested.
Asbjorn hugged him. “So you’re coming?”
“Yeah.... Let me call my aunt later so I catch her in the evening. If she says it’s okay, we can finalize the tickets.”
“She’ll be okay with us? It’s Ireland we’re talking about.” Asbjorn cleared his throat in a self-conscious kind of way.
“In her case? No problem. She’s a neo-pagan weirdo-type person – her words, not mine. And she doesn’t gossip, either.” Sean smiled as fond memories surfaced to the forefront of his mind.
“You’ll have to join me to go see Cindy at the travel agency, then. And bring your passport.”
“When?”
“Right after you call. Airfare prices change, and not for the better.”
––––––––
AN UNEXPECTED AND HIGHLY welcome Skype call to Sean’s Auntie Iveragh in Galway allowed them to make a tentative schedule, and Sean proceeded to blow his California airfare money, along with most of his savings, on a trip to Europe. Only after their travel arrangements were finalized did Sean contacted his father with the happy news.
“Son... we’ll miss you. What would your poor mother say if she were alive?” The guilt trip came on nice and strong, as expected.
“But Mom would be thrilled if I visited Aunt Iveragh and the cousins, Dad. We got to go only once before she died.”
“You cannot impose on your aunt for two weeks, Sean.” His father’s voice grew serious with concern.
“Umm...we’ll be going to Denmark first to visit Asbjorn’s family.”
“Who’s Asbjorn?”
“My... my... my special friend.”
“Oh. Oh! Sean, I’m so proud of you, my son! You’ll have to bring her to San Diego come summer!”
“Dad....”
“We will tour all the sights. Being from Denmark, I bet she’s never been to California before!”
“Da – ”
“Your sisters will be so excited to meet your girlfriend, Sean!”
“Dad! Dad. Listen, Dad. Asbjorn’s been to California while he was in the Navy.”
“He?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t tell with these foreign names.... So... it’s not a woman?”
“No. I wouldn’t mind if he was, but some things cannot be changed.”
“So you are....” There was a silence for a while. “So you are dating a guy? A nancy-boy?”
“Dad, he’s ex-Navy and he studied karate at the old schools in Okinawa. He’s definitely not what you’d call a ‘nancy boy.’”
“Karate from Okinawa....” Sean’s father sighed. “Love will not be controlled. I know that all too well. At least I can greet him in my customary manner.” His voice cheered up. “I bet your boyfriend can kick your butt, but I don’t think he can kick mine!”
––––––––
“SO... HOW DID IT GO?” Asbjorn grated a handful of parmesan and added it to the olive oil, anchovies, sundried tomatoes, onions, and garlic. He stirred the mixture, doctoring it with a judicious amount of pepper flakes.
“As well as could be expected.”
“You don’t look convinced.” Asbjorn strained the linguine, leaving them a bit wet, and dumped the long, flat noodles into the pan with the sauce. He used his newest and most favorite tool – long kitchen tongs – to toss the mixture until the noodles were slick with oil and melting cheese. “Hand me the spinach, will ya?”
Sean opened a bag of rinsed baby spinach and Asbjorn folded the ovoid, deep green leaves into the hot pasta and turned the heat off, topping the pan with a lid.
“Now the spinach’s supposed to wilt. Since we don’t have shrimp, I boiled these eggs here....” He peeled them and chopped them.
Sean watched, transfixed. “I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”
“I never said that. You said that, and I won’t be shown up in my own kitchen. So, what’s the issue with your dad again?
“He thought ‘Asbjorn’ was a girl’s name. He was so excited that I finally got a girlfriend.”
Asbjorn’s face fell. “Yeah. There might be a lot of that going on in Denmark too.”
“He’s impressed by your martial arts standing. He’ll probably try to mess around with you in some kind of a pseudo-male-bonding ritual. Just try to take it as a compliment, okay?”
Friday roared in like the Northern wind and Sean stood strong to face it. He didn’t have a suit, and he’d been reassured that he wouldn’t need one. A clean pair of jeans and a shirt would do. Everyone knew he was a student, after all.
“You want me to come with you?” Asbjorn asked.
Sean combed his hair back in an effort to tame it. “Yes. Except you can’t. We can’t be seen together too much, not until we catch him, remember?”
He saw Asbjorn behind him in the mirror even before he felt his hands around his waist. He smiled as he let his boyfriend pull him back and hug him tight.
“Okay. You’ll have Mark with you, and the courtroom is full of cops. And you’ll be fine! You’ll do great.” He kissed Sean above his ear, messing up his hair again.
––––––––
THE COURTHOUSE BUILDING was overheated and smelled of charred radiator dust and deodorant from all the people that passed through it. Sean waited for Mark to put his service weapon in a police locker before they passed through the metal detectors and walked up marble staircase. Sean wanted to think about anything but what was coming.
He noted the way the old stone of step risers was worn where people passed over it the most. How old was it, anyway? How many people had walked up and down this staircase, feeling as nervous as he did right then?
“This is your court room,” Mark said by his side. “This is where you’ll wait, on this bench. The bailiff will call you when your turn comes.”
Sean looked around. Old, dark wood surrounded him. Parts were carved in a way people wouldn’t bother with nowadays, and there was a quaint little window above the courtroom door. Few minutes into his observations, the DA rushed out through the dark courtroom doors. “Ah, you’re here, Sean. Excellent.”
Sean stood up. His legs felt like jello. “Hi.” He forced his voice to sound strong, like when he was teaching an aikido class. The DA gave him an approving smile.
“Just answer the questions I give you. Nice and short, like we practiced. Just the facts, no confusing details. Okay?”
Sean nodded and sat back down. Minutes dragged by like centuries. Women in suits and heels clicked past him, men dressed for business with briefcases, people dressed like he was, or just in their Sunday suit. The hallway grew crowded, but a permanent hush remained over the ever-changing crowd.
The courtroom door opened and a man in uniform stepped out. “Sean Gallaway!”
Mark nudged him. “Go get’em, tiger!”
Sean gave him a weak smile as he stood up and followed the bailiff inside. He looked around. It was just like on an old TV show, old wood everywhere and a judge on a large podium, presiding over it all. He was directed toward a witness box right next to the judge. He faced the men and women that sat around a long conference table. Few spectators sat up in the gallery, but the pacing of the proceedings gave him almost no time to look around. When he took his oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, it felt like an out-of-body experience.
The DA asked his questions, and they were short and concise, just like they rehearsed. Sean gave his answers, but whenever he tried to elaborate the slightest bit, the DA cut him off at the pass, firing another question right at him. His story was important, Sean thought. Could it really be reduced to five simple, declarative sentences? Before he knew it, the judge was thanking him for his appearance and the bailiff ushered him back out the door.
It was over.
––––––––
ASBJORN’S FINALS WERE over and he had only one term paper to hand in.
Sean was studying optics for a particularly difficult class, feeling behind and distracted. His mind kept returning to his visit to the Pile, where he had to virtually burglarize his own room to retrieve anything he might need over the break. He had returned once more to pick up what he left behind, and Mark had been there to supervise and to reseal the room.
“If we keep the police tape up, it will be obvious to the perp you’re no longer here.” Mark yawned, not bothering to hide his wide mouth behind his hand.
“Tired?” Sean asked.
“Bushed. That other case is coming to a close. I’ll be so happy when it’s over.”
“What is it?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Sean!” Asbjorn kicked him under the table. “You need coffee?”
“Uh... no. Why?”
“You’re spacing out again. If I make coffee for myself, will you have some?”
“Yeah... thanks.” Sean stood to stretch out, but sitting back down seemed unappealing. He began pacing the small dining room area. “I’m just worried, Bjorn. I’m worried that Mark’ll be busy with his big case and the perp will finally decide to meet me and Mark won’t be there for it. Or maybe the perp will leave town and not come back, which would be the smart thing to do in his case, but then he’ll come back to get even when I least expect it. I just... I hate leaving with this business still hanging over my head, y’know?”
Asbjorn trapped him from behind, stilling his incessant movement. “Hey... none of that. No worries. It’ll all work out.”
“I just hate the way the guy circumvented my perimeter defenses.”
“What, the way he spray-painted over your cameras and detectors?”
“Yeah.”
“If you had to get passed those defenses, you’d have thought of that eventually.”
“That asshole ruined a lot of good equipment.”
His arms tightened around Sean as Asbjorn nuzzled his graceful neck through the halo of wispy hair.
“Bjornnnn...,” Sean whined, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.
“I haven’t had dessert yet. And since you can’t study to save your life, I may as well enjoy... mmmm... the way you smell... mmmm... and the way you taste....”
Sean threw his head back, panting. “We really can’t. Bjorn, I can’t bomb on this final. Ahh... be sensible. Asbjorn! Please.”
The vise-like grip of the strong arms loosened. “You go study, then, and I’ll put up some coffee.”
––––––––
ON THE LAST DAY OF the term, the labs were handed in and Sean’s clothes were laid out on the bed. They’d need to do laundry while they were abroad, because they were trying to pack light.
Asbjorn surveyed the piles. “You need warmer socks than just the cotton ones. Here, have some of my woolen ones.” He tossed two pairs of gray, orange-trimmed hunting socks to Sean.
“Thanks.” Sean was just about to reach for Asbjorn’s spare rucksack – they decided to use backpacking luggage instead of suitcases, along with their regular book bags – when his phone rang. The number was long-distance and not familiar. “Yes?”
“Sean. Where have you been, Sean?” The voice on the other side spoke with slow, cool deliberation.
“Joe Green?”
Sean saw Asbjorn scramble for Sean’s jacket, and fish the recording device out of Sean’s pocket.
“Yeah, Joe Green. So where have you been hiding all this time?”
“Uh... we just had finals. I was holed up, studying almost all the time,” Sean said.
“You weren’t taking my calls.” The statement had an accusatory edge to it.
“I wasn’t taking anyone’s calls. It was the finals.”
“I don’t like when people don’t take my calls. I don’t like being ignored.”
“Neither do I.” Sean forced his voice to sound wistful.
“What, you think I’mma ignoring ya?” Joe Green’s voice grew coarse with anger.
“I was sad.” At least that much was true – at some point or another.
“So you’re feeling good about us, then?” Joe Green piped right up, his voice colored with a pale shade of hope.
“No... I still feel really awful about what happened. The lunar calendar is getting into a favorable phase.”
“So... you won’t kill yourself, will ya?”
“I might do it over the break – the winter solstice would be good for it. I might let my best friend be my second. He’ll dispatch me nice and clean – he’s good with a knife. Then I’ll haunt you if I can, and I’ll make you relive everything – from my point of view. You’ll be wishing for hell when that happens. And guess what. Your wishes will be answered.”
“But... but if you forgive me, then you won’t have to do that, will you?”
“That’s right. And to forgive you, I’ll need to look in your eyes as you say you’re sorry so I know you really mean it.”
“No. You’ll call the cops and you’ll go home and I’ll go to jail.”
Damn straight. That’s the general idea.
“I just wish we could meet and, you know, start again?” Sean’s voice dripped with innocent desire for better things in life.
“You testified against my friends last Friday, Sean.”
“I didn’t tell no lies – like I said before,” Sean said.
“But you didn’t mention me. How nice of you.” The disembodied voice on the other side sounded surprised. Pleased, even.
“How do you know that?”
“I was in the courtroom.”
Sean suppressed a gasp. “So will you meet me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
The line went dead.
They kept packing. Sean decided he couldn’t live and die by whether Joe Green decided to meet him or not. Their flight would leave the Logan International Airport at 1800 hours Eastern Standard Time and would be arriving in Copenhagen, Denmark at 0800 hours Greenwich time. Sean had volunteered that his cell phone wouldn’t work tomorrow and mentioned he’d be leaving early – just to discourage Joe Green from pursuing him.
The thought of two weeks abroad, away from Boston and the prying eyes of his stalker, sounded like heaven on earth.
Sean looked at Asbjorn, who was straightening the apartment prior to their departure, and smiled. Asbjorn was a man who liked his routines. He’d done this so many times, leaving and returning again, that he had already developed a rhythm. Pack up. Set out clothing for tomorrow. Put away clean laundry. Clean the kitchen. Throw away all perishables except for the next day’s food. Straighten and vacuum and water the two plants by the window.
“Can I do anything to help?” Sean asked, feeling useless in the onslaught of sudden activity.
“No... wait. Okay. Empty all waste baskets and get the garbage ready for tomorrow.”
“That’s it?”
Asbjorn’s blue eyes met his, a moment of hesitation passed, and Asbjorn grinned a wicked smile. “I always clean the bathroom before I leave. If you really want...”
“Uh-huh.”
Sean rolled his eyes, steeling himself for the unfamiliar task. It proved surprisingly easy to do, however, and he reflected that he didn’t really know who cleaned the bathrooms in his life. Was it Mom and then his sisters and then a various lineup of janitors?
Just when they zipped and buckled their backpacks shut, ready to go bed, Sean’s cell phone rang again.
––––––––
MARK TRIED HIS BEST to stifle his third yawn.
“Here, I’ll put up some coffee,” Asbjorn offered, his hands moving through the familiar motion of the ritual. The beans came out of the freezer and the grinder whirled with a loud, high-pitched whine. The smell of Vienna Roast, still subdued, began to fill the air. Asbjorn filled the paper filter and swished it into the cone. He filled the water to the mark. The button he pushed glowed red in the dimmed lighting of the kitchen.
Through all this, Asbjorn focused on his breathing, not daring to allow his temper to flare, not letting his hands tremble with excess adrenaline.
Nice and easy. Nice and easy.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He reached for a mug and the sugar bowl, knowing Mark liked his coffee “black as the devil, sweet as a kiss.” His peripheral vision caught the large duffel bag on the dining room floor.
He tried not to see Mark pull out a Kevlar vest. He struggled to keep his eyes away from Sean – it was Mark’s place to make sure it fit just right.
The hiss and drip of the coffee maker failed to block the ripping sound of Velcro fasteners as Mark adjusted the buckles for Sean’s size.
There had been a time when he dressed in battle armor and supervised his squad doing the same, but that was a long time ago. A few years. Memories flooded in, and he felt the adrenaline spike, the way it always did right before a mission. He rolled his shoulders and inhaled the smell of fresh-brewed coffee, hoping the civilized scent would banish the memory of spent gunpowder mingling with the smell of machine oil and the briny sea spray.
––––––––
“SMART OF YOU TO TELL him you were in the shower – that gives us extra time. Where did you agree to meet him exactly, just so we’re clear?” Mark’s voice was a calm, confident hum.
“On the corner of Walnut and Bass,” Sean replied, hoping his voice was steady. “He said Bass Street has a bit of a hill and there is a tree. He wanted to meet in the shade. I refused. I said under the street lamp.”
Mark nodded to the plain-clothes detective with him. Short, tattooed, and pierced with black punk-cut hair, she looked a lot younger than she actually was, dressed in clothing typical to area college students. She wrote the information down.
“Colleen will relay all that to the team. I’ll leave you here. It’s ten fifteen now. I want you to walk out the front door at ten fifty and make your way to that street corner. I want you to stay where we can see you. We’ll already be in place. Everybody’s hyped up, so don’t do anything sudden.” Mark looked at his watch. “All right, then. What’s the signal when you have positive ID on the guy?”
“I take off my baseball cap.”
“Good. Where will your right hand be?”
“In my pocket, holding the pepper spray.”
“What will you do?”
“Just show up and lure him out. Get a positive ID, if I can.”
Mark grabbed the jacket, which disguised Sean’s bulletproof vest. “That’s right, cowboy. That’s all you’ll do. No getting too close, no getting in the shade unless you absolutely need to for identifying him. Got it?”
“Yeah.” Sean felt his jaw tighten. The moment had come.
“Okay. I’ll go and get in position.”
“There are two teams assuming positions now, sir,” Colleen said, her phone still glued to her ear, pencil grasped in the other hand.
“Where did you get all these people so fast?” Sean asked to distract both himself and Asbjorn.
“We made our big bust just two hours ago. Everyone’s still riding down their adrenaline high.”
“What happened?” Asbjorn’s voice cut through the thick, tense air.
“Can’t tell. Watch the news tomorrow.”
Mark accepted a cup of coffee. He drank it fast and surveyed the room once more. “Okay. We have a plan. We’re sticking to it.”
Asbjorn stirred. “Are you sure you don’t want me there?”
“Positive. This is gonna be a clean bust. Nothing irregular. We’ll give him no slick legal ways to get out of this, and that includes you doing the hard thing and waiting until it’s over.”
Colleen stayed behind to launch Sean at the right time and also to make sure Asbjorn didn’t get any ideas about following him to the scene.
“Hey, Sean.” Asbjorn crooked his finger, beckoning Sean into the dimly lit kitchen and out of Colleen’s sight.
Sean sauntered over, exuding confidence that was skin-deep. “Yeah, Bjorn.”
He felt Asbjorn’s bear paw slide around his waist and pulled him into an embrace. “I’d go instead of you if I could.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could have your back, sunshine.” He buried his nose in Sean’s hair and inhaled his scent.
“You still do.”
“I hate this.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m not alone.” Sean’s lie was paper thin. Never had he felt more exposed.
“Five minutes, Sean.” Colleen’s voice carried to the kitchen.
“Gotta go.”
“Come back and tell me all about it, Sean.”
Sean put on his winter boots and adjusted the jacket. Its fabric stretched snugly over his body armor. He checked his pepper spray once again. His cell phone was in the other pocket. He pulled a baseball cap on his head. “Okay. Ready to go.”
“Three more minutes.”
“One minute.”
“Go.”
Sean walked out the door and down the stairs. His feet had felt weightless as made his way down the stairs – so weightless he needed to trace the surface of the stairwell wall with his gloved fingers to keep his head up and his feet down – and it was forever before he reached the wooden front door with its opaque glass window. He opened it, a blast of cold air waking his almost hypnotized senses. Stepping out onto the stoop, he looked up and down the street in both directions, his right hand still in his jacket pocket, his index finger resting on the pepper spray guard. The street echoed with emptiness.
Once Sean shut the house door against the cold nighttime air, his sense of scent picked up snow on the air once again. Weather was moving in from the east, the briny tang of the Atlantic almost discernible in his nostrils, on his tongue. He descended the three steps to the sidewalk, past the foundation bushes, and crossed the street. His plain actions seemed too ordinary for the way he felt. His body told him to run – to sprint to the appointed intersection, just to get the waiting over with. He felt Asbjorn’s eyes follow him from their living room window, and for his sake, he relaxed into his usual strolling gate, pretending this was just one of many ordinary nights.
He did not look back.