Thirty-One

Seth

 

Seth slept like crap. When he woke, Parker, Zeke, and most especially Sacha were still gone. He called Adam, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

He needed his aunt. It was stupid, a grown man wanting to be comforted. She was dead, and thinking about her merely made the hollowness he was feeling all the more vast and unmanageable.

Even though he hadn’t run in months, Seth dug around for his running shoes and track pants. Ten minutes later he was out the door. What he was running from, he didn’t know.

He ended up at Adam and Micah’s house. Because he had nowhere else to go.

Micah must have seen him, because the front door opened. “Why’re you standing out there?”

“I’m an idiot. I’m broken, and I don’t know how to fix myself.” The run had helped somewhat. At least now he had aches and pains to focus on, not solely the panic from his brain.

“Okaaaaay.” Micah looked at Seth panting and sweating on the sidewalk. “Why don’t you come in? At least have some water?” He held the door open, stepping back from it like Seth might consider running away if Micah got too close. Funny, he was considering it.

Correctly interpreting Seth’s expression, Micah sighed. “Do. Not. Leave.” In a moment he was back with his car keys and cell phone. “Let’s go for a drive, okay?” He led the way to his car, Seth trailing pathetically after him.

The drive was silent. Seth didn’t know, or care, where they were headed. Micah was pretty quiet, Seth had learned, but if he had something to say he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Aaannd cue…

“Tell me what happened. Is it something to do with that US Marshal you’ve been hanging out with?”

It helped that Micah kept his eyes on the road.

“I don’t know how much you know about how I grew up.” Adam must know some, but whether he would’ve said anything to Micah, Seth wasn’t sure. “I’ve never been in a relationship. Saying the word practically gives me hives. My, uh, mother was a terrible person. Broken, anyway. We lived on the streets and on other people’s couches; sometimes she’d get a place from—” From god knew where; Seth had been too young to question, but he did have vague memories of waiting outside in dark hallways while Jackie “took care of business.”

Deep blue sparkled from his right, glittering under the summer sunshine—the ocean, a deep that could handle anything. Micah directed his car toward Old Charter along Skagit Bay. Taking a deep breath, Seth continued, “Anyway, we were in and out of housing, shelters, anyplace with a roof. Sometimes she would leave me with ‘friends.’ A lot I don’t remember. I do remember being alone a lot; being hungry, cold. Sometimes too hot. She tried to make it an adventure, like it was perfectly natural for a little boy to be a spy or something. As I got older, she trained me to help her steal from her marks.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Micah’s hands flex on the steering wheel.

“Long sob story short, she tried to sell me for drugs and got busted by an undercover cop. That guy saved my life.” It made Seth’s skin break out in goosebumps thinking of what might have happened if Jackie hadn’t been caught.

“Jesus, Seth,” Micah breathed.

“Yeah, crazy, huh? So, uh, after a short stint in foster care I went to live with my aunt. Why some hippie lady would take in a little boy with every issue under the sun, I have no idea. But she did. Marnie died while I was away at school, and I gotta tell you that almost finished me off. So, yeah, I’m kind of used to me against the world. It’s much easier.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Micah pulled over at one of several viewpoints. Thankfully, only a few other cars and a single RV shared the parking area. Micah rolled the windows down—the breeze was a relief—but made no move to get out of the car. “What happened with Sacha?”

“Nothing. Everything. He said ‘we,’ meaning us, together, and I panicked and told him something like we couldn’t be a thing. Actually, that is exactly what I said. Then he left, saying he was giving me space, and I want him back, but it scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I literally get shaky thinking about it.”

“Okay. I am going to paraphrase what I think you told me. You grew up in an unsafe environment where the one person expected to protect you, didn’t.” Seth nodded. “Where there was a lot of uncertainty about your basic needs being met. I’m going to assume you learned not to get attached to things or people, because nothing ever stayed the same?” Seth nodded again. “And now, Sacha scared you when he essentially laid claim?”

Well, when Micah put it like that… Claim. The word was solid.

Growing up, Seth had hoped to belong to… someone. He remembered feeling like the pathetic kid in a Christmas movie looking at shop-window reflections of happy families walking by: he could look but not touch. Being claimed? That had happened once, when Marnie rescued him.

He was reminded of what Parker had said about Sacha being feral when he’d come to live with them. Because there was the distinct possibility that this epiphany was him recognizing the same thing in himself. Keeping people at arm’s length, never entertaining the idea of a romantic relationship. Yeah, it was kind of confused and backward, but human brains were often pretty fucked-up.

The Gerald Klay painting he’d discovered when he was packing up Marnie’s belongings had brought him to Skagit in search of blood relatives. He hadn’t thought his search through; he was merely curious to know if there was anyone out there related to him.

Seth didn’t think Marnie had known she had the watercolor. Jaqueline had probably stashed it there on one of her rare visits before incarceration. It was an early Klay, most likely painted in the 1950s. Three islands hovered in mist, swathed by verdant evergreens. Was the cloud of mist and trees, or the three islands the focus? Seth didn’t know; his eye was drawn to either depending on his mood or even which angle he approached the piece from. Regardless, the painting had changed his life.

“Look,” Micah said softly, “I get you. I get the both of you. Fuck…” Wow, Micah never swore; that was Adam’s specialty. “From what Adam has told me about his childhood and what you’ve said, both of you grew up in vacuums. Devoid of casual affection, acceptance… human touch, probably. Adam, anyway. He raised himself, pretty much acting as an adult since he was a little boy.” He stopped, running a hand through his unruly hair.

A quiet voice, the one he thought of as Marnie, nudged Seth to speak. “Do you mind if we drive again? I can’t sit here and talk.”

Micah nodded and restarted the engine.

Seth loved Charter. The old road stretched along Skagit Bay and seemed like it traversed the very edge of the known world. When the weather was bad, clouds crowded in blocking the water view, but you could hear the waves thundering below, making Seth feel like he was floating. A day like today, cloudless and hot, the view stretched for miles, the San Juans sprawling across the horizon, eagles, osprey, seagulls careening on the winds.

“Can I ask a question?”

Seth waved a hand in a bring-it-on gesture.

“What did you expect when you started searching for Adam?”

A question he had asked himself more than once, with no answer. When he’d searched Gerald Klay’s name and seen the eerie resemblance to himself, Seth had known in his heart Gerald was his biological father. The father’s name on his birth certificate may have been left blank, but Klay’s genetic signature lived on in Seth’s face, his height and coloring. He hadn’t known about Adam until later. Adam had remarked that Seth looked more like Gerald than he did.

“I didn’t expect…” Ugh, how to say this without sounding like a complete tool. He hadn’t expected to find anything worth staying for. A case of morbid curiosity had led him to Skagit, and he’d expected it to be cured by meeting his relative. “I guess I didn’t expect anything. I mean, in my experience family is not always a good thing. But I was curious.”

“But you’re still here.”

Micah was crafty. Yes, Seth had stayed. Had gone back to Scottsdale for a short time before returning, permanently, to Skagit. “I’m still here.” He was still wondering how that had happened.

“No offense, Seth. But I think, for Adam’s sake and maybe Sacha’s, you need to decide: are you staying or leaving?”

Trust Micah to cut right to the heart of the matter. Seth still didn’t know if he was coming or going. He was, as Sacha would put it, a fucking mess. Oh, he’d thought he had everything figured out. That he knew how to live, free of entanglement and true responsibility.

He scoffed at himself. At his naïveté.

“I don’t know Sacha at all, but he strikes me as similar to Adam,” Micah continued. “When he gives his heart, it’s the whole thing, not simply little parts of it. And I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

Seth wanted to ask Micah what he’d seen. He was uncomfortably certain, however Sacha had been looking at him, he’d been looking back the same way.

They, he and Sacha, were both broken, but differently. Sacha was brave enough to pull back the layers he used to protect himself against the world. Sacha had claimed him, and Seth had been too much a coward to own it, instead continuing to hide behind his lackadaisical exterior. He had all the answers and mocked people who thought love was the answer to anything.

Well, they had the last laugh now, didn’t they. All those men he’d fucked and then left without a goodbye or acknowledgment, not making any sort of effort at a connection. If they knew the state he was in now they would be breathless with laughter. And he would deserve it.

He’d tricked himself, thinking he was getting to know Sacha, when it was Seth exposing little bits of himself to Sacha. Seth whose soul yearned for the safety and comfort of a relationship and until this moment hadn’t known it. What a fool.

No, he didn’t suddenly crave marriage and a passel of kids, but he did hope to come home to the same person every night.

Not any person: Sacha.

“I’m a mess.” He thunked his temple against the car window.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have a corner on that market. It’s kinda part of being human. If you want my opinion, and you are getting it regardless, you’ve been alone long enough. You don’t have to keep proving you can do it by yourself. Let us help. Let Adam be a part of your life. If Sacha wants in on the action, let him. Are you opening yourself up for hurt? Yeah, and that’s part of the human condition too.” He sighed, glancing quickly at Seth, looking for his reaction. Seth tried to hide it, but Micah had gone one further than Parker. He’d discovered the soft underbelly of Seth’s personal defenses: he did want to be part of something, belong to someone. He hungered for it.

He thunked his head against the window again. What was he supposed to do now?

A cellphone buzzed. It was Seth’s, and the caller was Sacha.

“Where are you?” Sacha’s voice crackled over the phone’s tiny microphone.

“With Micah.” He stared out the open window toward the San Juan Islands, glimmering in the heat of the day. “We’re out on Charter.”

“I came by to talk.” There was a small silence. “I thought maybe you’d left.”