Track 8: Side A

Crimson Tiles

 

Lincoln

I lift my hand up and hesitate for a second before resolving to see this through. I rap my knuckles hard against the door and then shove my hand back into my pocket to protect it from the frigid temperatures.

The door swings open, and my heart stops and then surges against my ribs violently at the sight of Jace. It’s like it recognizes its other half, finally within touching distance after an eternity apart.

I must’ve caught Jace just out of bed because he’s in a pair of loose flannel pants and a tight white t-shirt. His hair is standing up in every direction, and his thick rimmed glasses are back in place where they should be.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, pulling me out of my reverie like a cold slap.

“Can we talk?”

Jace regards me for several long seconds, his bottom lip between his teeth, before he shakes his head.

“There’s no need to beat a dead horse, Linc.” He moves to shut the door, and I throw my hand out to stop him.

“I made the wrong choice,” I blurt.

“No shit. I could’ve told you that ten years ago. But you never bothered to ask me,” Jace snaps, his eyes flashing with rage. “You always said it was you and me against the world. But the second the world came knocking, you were out the door without the courtesy of a goodbye.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I argue, my voice cracking with the plea for Jace to hear me out, to give me a second chance we both know I don’t deserve.

“I don’t really care what it was like,” Jace says, his tone sad and defeated. “I got over you a long time ago so please don’t come around opening old wounds.”

My hand falls away at the harshness in his words, even though I deserve every ounce of hatred he harbors for me. As soon as the door is free of my hand, Jace slams it shut, the loud sound reverberating through the quiet morning like a gunshot.

I’m not sure how long I stand on his porch, wishing like hell everything was different. Or at the very least, the pain was gone.

When I finally step off his porch, it’s with thoughts of fresh razors in the bathroom in my cabin.

 

 

Jace

I pull back the corner of the drapes to peek outside again and breathe a sigh of relief when I see he’s finally gone.

I got over you a long time ago. I’ve told many lies in my lifetime, but that’s by far the most familiar one. Replace you with him and I must’ve said it a thousand times over the past decade, always accompanied by a painfully fake smile.

My gaze travels across the backyard to the back of Lincoln’s house. How many nights did I sneak through that window, to the left of the back door, and crawl into Lincoln’s bed? Too many to count. Too many stolen kisses and promises of forever that would never come. At least then I had the excuse of being young and naive. I would have no excuse now for hearing Linc out and giving an inch of the wall I built around my heart after he left it battered and bruised. So why does part of me want to hear what he has to say?

I groan in frustration and force myself away from the window. This is so not what I came up here for. In fact, this is the opposite of why I came here…or is it? What if Joel was right and the only way I’ll get closure is by hearing Lincoln out? I can go over there, hear whatever he has to say about how sorry he is, and then move on with my life.

My heart leaps at the thought of being near Lincoln again, and I shake my head at my stupidity. This can only end badly.

I need a second opinion, and there’s only one person in the world I trust aside from Joel.

I head back to my bedroom and grab my cell phone off the nightstand. I pull the blankets up over my head to block out the world, and I call my best friend.

“Jace! How’s it going? Haven’t frozen to death in the Wisconsin wilderness, I hope?” Wyatt greets.

“Still alive, unfortunately,” I deadpan.

“Uh-oh, what’s the matter?” Wyatt asks, instantly switching from best friend voice to therapist voice.

Wyatt and I met freshman year at the University of Michigan. We had dorms directly across the hall from each other, and we quickly recognized allies in each other on a floor full of jocks and the chronically straight. Not only were we both decidedly not straight, but we were also both total nerds. While everyone else we knew spent the weekends partying, we were studying together and planning what extracurriculars would look best on our grad school applications.

Junior year we got an apartment together, and we ended up living together all through post-grad. Then, by some twist of fate, we both got jobs in Seattle. I always told Wyatt it felt like the universe was determined we would be friends. Wyatt didn’t believe in fate or anything so ridiculous, but Wyatt was my hero, and I couldn’t get over the feeling we were meant to know each other.

He practically saved my life when I was struggling to get over Lincoln. He burned magazine articles about Downward Spiral with me, he helped me deal with my identity crisis when I realized I was bi rather than gay, and he was there for me when my parents died. Aside from Lincoln, Wyatt is the best friend I’ve ever had. It’s too bad we have no sexual attraction to each other whatsoever.

“You’re never going to believe who I ran into last night.”

“Michael Jackson?” Wyatt guesses.

“What? No, he’s dead, how the hell would I run into him?”

“That’s what would make it so unbelievable,” Wyatt points out.

“God you’re so weird. No, it was Lincoln fucking Miller.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Wyatt gasps. “Did you talk to him? Did you kick him in the balls? Dude, tell me everything.”

I chuckle, already glad I called Wyatt because no one cheers me up the way he does.

“I did not kick him in the balls, but I haven’t ruled out the option yet. I saw him at the grocery store, and I acted like a total spaz and took off before he could say anything to me. And then this morning, he was standing on my front porch begging for a chance to explain. He said he made a big mistake, and he looked so miserable. I told him to get lost, but part of me wants to give him a chance to explain himself. Is that crazy? It’s crazy, right?”

“Jace, take a breath. I don’t think it’s crazy to see if you can get some closure.”

“Yeah?”

“He left you without any explanation; you deserve to know why he made that choice. I think it could be good for you to finally resolve this and put it behind you. You deserve the chance to move on.”

I take a deep breath. Wyatt is never wrong about these types of things, and if he thinks it’s a good idea, I have to trust him.

“Okay, I’ll do it but if this blows up in my face, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fair,” he agrees with a laugh. “Now go demand some answers. And if you get a chance, kick him in the balls for me.”

“Will do.”

After Wyatt’s pep talk, I get back out of bed and take some time enjoying my coffee. Then I get dressed and tromp through the snow to Lincoln’s place.

I bang on the back door and wait for an answer. I could see a car in the driveway, so I know he’s here. When a few minutes pass without answer, I try the handle and find the door unlocked. What the hell, if the worst thing I do to Lincoln is invade his privacy, he’ll be getting off damn easy.

 

 

Lincoln

I stare mesmerized at the tiny droplets of blood forming along the thin line I carved into my upper thigh.

“Jesus, Linc. I’d have thought in ten years you’d have come up with some better coping mechanisms.” Jace’s chiding tone startles me. I jerk my head up to see him standing in the doorway of my bathroom with a disapproving frown. My whole body warms. He sought me out, and he’s worrying about me. That has to be a sign there’s a chance for me to make things right, doesn’t it?

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Being an idiot apparently,” Jace mutters before going to the linen closet and taking out a towel. Before I know what’s happening, Jace is sitting cross legged in front of me, holding the towel against my thigh.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, but I don’t move away from his touch. I need it too much.

“That’s debatable.”

I sigh and lean back against the wall, watching Jace as he stubbornly refuses to look anywhere but the towel in his hand. There’s a little wrinkle of concentration between his eyes, and his tongue is peeking out from between his teeth. My heart flips and flutters like a bird in a cage, desperately trying to get close to its master.

“Does this mean you’re willing to talk?” I ask.

“I don’t know, Linc. I didn’t put a lot of thought into it before I walked over here. It was like sleepwalking or something.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, even though I don’t deserve it.”

Jace sighs and shakes his head. He looks up at me, his eyes full of a million emotions.

“I heard you wrote the song “Crimson Tiles” about a suicide attempt,” he asks after a few seconds, surprising me with the change in topic.

“Suicide attempt is putting it a bit too strongly,” I scoff.

“You didn’t try to kill yourself?” Jace questions, his gaze boring into me.

“I’m not saying that. I just feel that suicide attempt implies a certain amount of premeditation. I didn’t plan it. I wasn’t even thinking about wanting to die at the time. I was standing in the bathroom, and I felt so fucking numb I could hardly breathe.” My voice shakes as memories of that night wash over me. “When I looked down, I wasn’t surprised to see the fresh blade stained red. But I was surprised by how much blood was flowing from my wrist. I watched, mesmerized as it dripped onto the pristine white floor. After a few minutes, I started to feel tired, so I laid down and watched as the stream of blood flowed into the grout lines and spread out over the floor. That’s when I realized I was going to die.”

“Linc.” Jace puts a hand over mine, and hot tears stream down my cheeks.

“Do you know what I was thinking about while I was lying there dying?” I ask, and Jace shakes his head. “You, Freckles. I was thinking about the sunburn that appears on your nose in the late summer, the way it felt when your chest would rumble against mine when you’d laugh, and how I never should have left you.”

“Please don’t go there. I’m willing to poke at this wound a little but you can’t say shit like that.”

“Even if it’s true?”

“Especially if it’s true.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” I agree. Anything to keep Jace here with me, talking to me. “What am I allowed to talk about?”

“The weather, local sports teams, favorite foods…” Jace trails off a list of suggestions.

“We’re going to run through those safe topics fast, but if those are the rules, I will abide by them.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how ‘bout that local sports team?” I quip.

“God, you’re just like you always were.” Jace shakes his head, and I can’t tell if he means that as a compliment or not.

“Yeah,” I agree sadly.

 

 

Jace

My heart is breaking as I play the conversation with Linc over and over in my head. He tried to kill himself. I had read the articles about his self-harm and the suicide attempt, but I guess part of me always thought it was sensationalized Hollywood bullshit. Why would Lincoln try to kill himself when he already had everything he ever wanted? He was living his dream; how could he be anything other than overjoyed?

I pick up the towel to check that the bleeding has stopped. It has stopped, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get an infection. Who the hell sits on the dirty bathroom floor of a damn cabin and cuts? God knows what type of bacteria is growing in here.

I toss the towel aside and turn back to face Linc, intent on giving him a full dressing down about his idiotic choices. But when I whip my head around, I realize just how close we’re sitting in the confined space between the bathtub and the sink. My leg is pressed up against his, and every breath Linc takes bathes my face. My eyes drop to his lips for just a moment, my heart beating impossibly fast.

I jerk myself out of the web of danger drawing me closer to Lincoln with every passing second. I won’t get sucked into this. I’ll give him a chance to explain, apologize, whatever he needs to do, and then I’ll move on with my life.

“Since you woke me up, I never had a chance for breakfast. Do you have food here I can raid, or should I go home?”

“Don’t go,” Linc replies instantly, reaching for my arm. His fingers wrap around my wrist, sending tiny electric jolts through me. I yank my arm out of his grasp and stand, brushing off my pants.

Linc looks up at me from the floor for several seconds, the look in his eyes almost making me feel bad for him. But he’s made his bed, and now he can lie in it. He made the choices he made.

When he finally stands, I turn and head for the kitchen, unwilling to let him attempt to lure me in again with all his pleading looks and confusing pheromones wafting all over me.

I don’t look at him as I get to work in the kitchen, whipping up some scrambled eggs, adding just a touch of milk to make them fluffy, and some cheddar cheese because it’s Linc’s favorite. I can hear him behind me, breathing, moving, existing where he shouldn’t.

“Why did you do it?” I ask, regretting the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I know I need to know to get closure and move on. But I’m not ready.

“Freckles—”

“No, shhhh, don’t answer. We’ll talk about this, but I’m not ready yet, so just shut up for now.”

“Where do you work?” Linc asks, surprising me with the sudden subject change.

“I work at the University of Washington in the epidemiology department. I teach some classes, and I have my own lab where I’m currently researching acid resistance of enteric bacteria.”

“Good,” Linc says so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

“I decided to come here over winter break, clear my mind.” I don’t know why I’m explaining myself; I have every right to be here.

“You didn’t want to spend Christmas with your parents?”

His question is like a punch in the stomach. Of course, he wouldn’t know.

“They died five years ago.”

“Oh my god,” Lincoln gasps. “I am so sorry; I had no idea.”

“Of course, you didn’t. How would you know?” I bite out, remembering how painful it was to mourn their deaths all alone. How many nights did I sob into my pillow, wishing Linc was there to make everything better again? I started to wonder if the last five years had been little more than a nightmare I would wake from at any moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “What happened?”

“Car accident. They were hit by a truck. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. Can we stop talking about this, please?”

I use the back of my hand to wipe a stray tear off my cheek.

“How’s Joel?”

“Great. He’s a commercial airline pilot and loves it. But he’ll be halfway around the world on Christmas, so it’s just me. I was planning on surprising my fiancé with a trip to Hawaii for Christmas. But, uh, she left me last week. So here we are.”

“You were engaged? To a woman?” Lincoln sounds equal parts confused, horrified, and jealous, and I manage a laugh through the rogue tears.

“Yup. I’m bi, by the way. Not that it’s any of your business, but I figured it out in college. I guess before that I was so absorbed with you, I didn’t notice anyone else male or female.”

“Well, I’m still gay as the day is long. And, unfortunately, my parents are alive and well. I haven’t seen them in ten years though, and that’s the way I prefer to keep it.”

I nod, scooping the eggs out of the pan and onto two plates. I slide one in front of Linc, and he looks at it with surprise.

“You remembered how I like them.”

“I remember more than I would like to when it comes to you. Now eat up.”