Chapter Fourteen
Trevor didn’t sleep that night, and when Carl strode into the kitchen at seven thirty, he hoped he didn’t look as wrecked as he felt.
“Morning, love,” Carl chirped, kissing him on the top of his head. “What time did you come to bed? I didn’t hear you, so I must have been dead to the world.”
Trevor muttered indistinctly around the rim of his coffee mug, and Carl continued, “I went ahead and laid your blue suit out on the bed, okay? Run it by the tailor today, if you would. I’ll call over there when I get to work and ask him for a rush on it, so I think if you get it there before noon, we’re golden.”
“Okay.”
Carl grabbed his lunch tote from the fridge and tilted Trevor’s chin up for a quick kiss. “See you tonight.”
When Carl had gone, Trevor headed to the bathroom to shower and shave, grimacing at his dull-eyed, haggard face in the mirror. By the time he was done, it was eight thirty, and right on time there came a brisk knock on the door. He pulled it open to see Jesse standing on the stoop, wearing black track pants and a pullover fleece.
“Brrr,” Trevor yelped as the cold air hit his bare feet. “Come in and have some coffee. Are you hungry?”
Jesse pulled his fleece over his head and hung it on the coat tree in the foyer, revealing a long-sleeved white T-shirt underneath with what looked like a Hawaiian-style turtle on the front of it. “Yeah, I am,” he confessed. “I almost overslept and didn’t have time to eat.”
Trevor, leading the way to the kitchen, paused. “Oh, Jesse, I’m so sorry,” he said contritely. “I didn’t think about you having a late night. The hostess did say you were closing at work.”
“Nah, no worries. I didn’t have your number, or else I would’ve called and asked for a little more time, but I didn’t want to not show up and have you think I blew you off. Not with this.”
Trevor pressed his lips together, knowing how upset he would’ve been if Jesse hadn’t come. “Thank you,” he managed. “I really appreciate that.” He reached out and touched Jesse’s arm. “The least I can do is feed you. How do you feel about omelets?”
Jesse brightened. “Mushrooms, onions and cheese?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m all about it.”
Jesse made himself at home at the kitchen island, and before long, Trevor was sliding a plate in front of him. Jesse picked up his knife and fork enthusiastically before hesitating. “You’re not having any?”
Trevor shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”
Jesse took his knife and cut the huge omelet in half, handing Trevor his fork and getting up to grab a new one from the dish drainer next to the sink. “Try and eat a little,” he ordered gently. “Come on, just a few bites.”
He looked so earnest, so concerned, that Trevor didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. He cut off a small piece and ate it. “Needs hot sauce,” he muttered, going to the fridge for a bottle of Tabasco. They shared the omelet right from Jesse’s plate, Trevor surprising himself when he ate half a dozen bites relatively easily.
“I just hogged your breakfast,” he said ruefully, and Jesse laughed, rubbing his flat stomach.
“Well, it was delicious. If I’d known you could cook like this, I would’ve stayed for pancakes that morning.” His voice was light, self-deprecating.
“You really did miss out,” Trevor informed him. “I make a mean blueberry pancake. Those were Riley’s favorites.”
“Totally. He used to say IHOP had nothing on you.”
They sipped their coffee for a moment in silence, then Trevor said, “Jesse, I don’t think I can go through with this. With his room. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
Jesse looked at him over the rim of his cup. “It wasn’t for nothing, Trevor. I got a delicious omelet and some good company out of it, didn’t I?”
“Good company? Yeah, right.” Trevor heard the bitterness in his tone.
“Yes, good company. Because I loved Riley, and I miss him, too, and talking about him with you is—well, it helps.”
At those words the ever-present tears sprang to the surface, and Trevor dashed them away impatiently. “God, I’m so fucking sick of crying,” he ground out, standing up and going to the French doors. “So fucking sick of it.” He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, squeezing his eyes shut.
After a moment Jesse got up and came to stand next to him, and Trevor could feel his warmth. “Hear me out on something, and if it’s still a no, I’ll leave.”
The last thing Trevor wanted him to do was leave, and he had to clench his teeth against begging him to stay, just stay and...talk to him. “All right,” was all he said, not lifting his head from the door.
“When my mom died, I had to pack her room up in stages. It took me a long time to do it all.” He paused, then said softly, “I brought some boxes in my truck. Let me box up his clothes, his underwear, his shoes, things that really aren’t sentimental. Okay? You don’t have to see them. After that I can either take them to Goodwill for you or store the boxes in the house somewhere, but it’s a start, and you can see how you feel after.”
Trevor turned to look at him, the relief swamping him so strong he nearly threw up. “You’d do that for me?”
“Yeah. And I’ll be very careful with everything, I promise.”
“I know you will. And if you find his Rockies jersey, don’t get rid of that. Please.”
“I’ll keep anything I think might be sentimental, and when you’re up to it, you can look through them. But jeans, generic T-shirts, underwear, socks...let’s start with those, and go from there.”
Trevor couldn’t speak, so he just nodded and collapsed down at the island, watching as Jesse went out to his truck for some boxes, obviously taken from the restaurant. He held up a roll of butcher paper. “I’ll line the boxes with this, and fold everything before I put it away. Okay?”
“Okay, Jesse. Thank you.”
Jesse headed down the hallway, and Trevor heard the quiet snick of the door to Riley’s room opening and closing. He put his head down on his crossed arms, so exhausted that he slid into a doze. Before he knew it, Jesse was touching his shoulder.
Trevor jerked to sitting, noticing that Jesse seemed pale but composed. “It’s done,” he said simply. “Six boxes. Sealed and labeled, and I only handled his walk-in closet and his dresser.”
“His jersey?”
“Found it, and it’s folded up in the bottom drawer of the dresser, along with a couple other things I thought you might want to take a look at first.” Jesse held up what appeared to be a light blue T-shirt. “Do you mind if I keep this? He bought it when I was with him and I—”
“Of course. Was there anything else you wanted?”
Jesse shook his head. “Just this. Thanks, Trevor.” He paused. “So do you want the boxes—”
“Donate them. Please.”
Trevor retreated to the backyard as Jesse made several trips to his truck, and at last Jesse joined him, lacing his hands behind his head and taking several deep breaths. “You all right?”
“No,” Trevor said honestly. “It’s ripping my heart out to think of giving away his things.” He gripped his fingers together tightly. “But he’s dead. He doesn’t need them anymore, and I have to start somewhere.”
Jesse dropped to a crouch in front of him. “So now you’ve started, and you don’t need to do anymore today, or not for a long time,” he said firmly. “Not till you’re ready.”
“I know,” Trevor whispered. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Jesse. Truly.”
Jesse pushed to standing, shaking his arms out and rolling his head. “God, I can’t fuckin’ sit still right now.” He glanced at Trevor. “You wanna go hiking with me, just get out of the house for a while?”
All of a sudden that seemed like the best idea he’d ever heard of. “I’d love to.”
Jesse asked if he’d make them some sandwiches while he ran to Goodwill, and his voice was so calm, so matter-of-fact, that Trevor didn’t realize what that meant until Jesse’s truck was already disappearing down the street.
Riley’s clothes, the things he wore, that smelled of him, that maybe had a strand of hair or two still on them! Trevor ripped open the front door and ran out onto the walk, waving his arms, but it was too late. He bent over and braced his hands on his knees, fighting back sobs.
“He doesn’t need them anymore,” he reminded himself. “He’s dead. They’re just clothes. They’re just worthless old clothes.”
Trevor sucked in great gulps of air, feeling the panic slowly recede. Jesse promised him he hadn’t gotten rid of the jersey, the one Trevor bought Riley the day they’d scored tickets to watch Rockies batting practice.
“Daddy, there’s Todd Helton!”
Riley bounced up and down behind the barrier separating the observers from the players, his brand-new jersey swallowing him whole, hanging almost to his knees. He clung to Trevor’s hand as the beefy six-foot-two player approached, a friendly grin on his bearded face, to work his way down the line signing autographs in programs, on baseballs. When he reached Riley, Riley was almost in tears from shyness and hero worship, barely able to manage a tremulous smile for the picture Trevor snapped on his camera...
Trevor still had that picture, framed, on a bookshelf in his office. A precious memory, and one that could never be taken away, no matter how many old pairs of jeans were gotten rid of. Feeling more in control, Trevor trudged back into the house, his bare feet almost numb from the cold sidewalk.
After a stop in the bedroom for some socks and sturdy sneakers for hiking, Trevor made two thick peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and grabbed two apples from the crisper in the fridge. By the time he was done, Jesse was back, tapping lightly at the front door before letting himself in.
Trevor handed him his lunch bag, and a couple bottles of cold water.
“Do you need a day pack?” he asked. “You can borrow Riley’s if you want.”
“There’s one in my truck,” Jesse replied. “But thanks.”
Trevor nodded, and went to unearth his own pack from the bin in the garage, letting his fingers drift across Riley’s bright red one, stained and battered from the many, many hikes he’d taken over the years.
On impulse he grabbed that one instead, holding it on his lap as Jesse drove them north out of the city, taking the exit for the Air Force Academy.
“This is where we’re hiking?” Trevor asked as they approached the sentry gate, Jesse smoothly downshifting to slow the truck before reaching for his wallet in the console.
“Yep. One of mine and Riley’s favorite spots. They’ll need to check your ID.”
In moments they were through the gate, and Jesse navigated about a half mile inside the base, eventually pulling off into a dirt parking area.
“This is a thirteen-mile loop,” Jesse told him as they shouldered their packs. “We don’t have to do the whole thing, though, if you don’t have time.”
“I have all day.”
“Good.” Jesse led the way to the trailhead, and before long was several strides ahead, his pace fast and determined.
“Hey, slow down!” Trevor called after him, panting. “Old man here, you know. And I haven’t hiked in forever.”
Jesse stopped, turning to wait for Trevor to catch up. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not used to hiking for fun anymore.” Trevor could see his eyes darting as he scanned the towering trees around them, and he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, as if preparing to explode into action.
“Is everything all right?” Trevor asked carefully, and Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a breath.
“Yeah. I know I’m not in Afghanistan anymore, but fuck, I feel so naked without my M4.” He glanced around. “So many good ambush spots here. I can’t—”
His forehead gleamed with sweat now, and Trevor’s heart ached at his obvious distress. “Let’s go home, Jesse.”
“No. This is ridiculous.” Jesse ran his sleeve across his face. “I can do this.” He started off again, this time matching his pace to Trevor’s. After a minute he croaked, “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know! Just—” Jesse made a visible effort to moderate his tone. “Anything. Just talk. Over there we had to hike in silence, always watching, always listening—” He opened and closed his fingers over and over, as if trying to grip something that wasn’t there.
Trevor desperately cast about for a neutral topic, feeling as if he was letting Jesse down, when suddenly Jesse blurted, “Why didn’t your husband help pack up Riley’s room?”
Trevor stumbled over his own feet in surprise at the question, and he grabbed Jesse’s arm to save himself from crashing to his knees. Jesse stopped until he caught his balance. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Trevor said, letting go of him. “Sorry about that.”
Jesse nodded and started off again, and Trevor cleared his throat. “I’m not married, Jesse. Obviously I wasn’t able to go through with it only two months after Riley was killed. At that point I could barely function.” He gave a soft snort. “Not like I’m doing so hot now, but at two months out, it wasn’t pretty.”
Jesse didn’t reply, but Trevor could see some color returning to his face as the anxiety loosened its grip on him. He kept talking, trying to keep him distracted. “Carl and Riley weren’t particularly close; they didn’t have a chance to be. By the time Carl moved in with me, Riley was already out of the house. I always thought—I always thought we had plenty of time...”
“I’m sorry.” Jesse’s voice was soft.
“Carl’s been after me to pack up Riley’s room for a while now, says I need the ‘closure.’” Trevor crooked his fingers in air quotes. “I considered asking him to do it, but I wanted someone who really knew him to touch his things for the last time in our home. Maybe that’s stupid, but when I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I thought of you.”
Jesse stopped, and Trevor did, too, glancing over at him. “I’m honored,” Jesse said, his voice gentle. “More than you know. And it’s not stupid.”
They started walking again, the silence a little more comfortable now.
“Carl’s several years older than I am,” Trevor said at last, “an only child, not particularly close to his parents, and he’s never lost anyone important to him. He likes things neat and organized. It’s the engineer in him.”
“And grief is messy, chaotic, can’t be put into neat boxes.”
“Right. I’ll have an okay day, maybe two, and then crash again. I know it frustrates him.”
“I’m sure it’s hard for someone like him to feel so helpless,” Jesse observed. He glanced at Trevor out of the corner of his eye. “Have you guys thought of getting counseling?”
Trevor nodded. “I’ve invited him to my grief group, but he thinks we don’t need it, that we should be able to help each other through this.”
“Now that’s fucking stupid,” Jesse said flatly. He winced. “Jesus, I’m sorry. None of this is any of my business, Trevor.”
“It’s okay,” Trevor mumbled, but Jesse strode on ahead, and this time Trevor let him, lost in thought. The grief group had been a huge bone of contention between he and Carl right from the start.
“Why do you need to talk to strangers, Trev? Talk to me. I’m here, and I love you.”
In truth Trevor hadn’t gotten much out of the group. His was the most recent loss, and he couldn’t help but be embarrassed at how often he fell apart. It made it hard for him to open up, and coupled with Carl’s insistence that they didn’t need it, eventually Trevor stopped going. Maybe he needed to try again.
Up ahead of him Jesse set a punishing pace, and soon it took all Trevor had to regulate his breathing, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The change in elevation was subtle, but relentless, and when Trevor rounded a bend in the trail to see all of Colorado Springs spread out below in a breathtaking panorama, he was astonished to see how high they’d climbed.
“Wow,” he breathed, dropping down to sit next to Jesse on a large, flat rock almost in the shape of a bench. “What a view.”
“One of my favorite spots in all the world.”
They both sat quietly, taking deep breaths of the crisp, clean air.
“Did you come here a lot with him?”
Jesse glanced over at Trevor. “A few times, mostly because he was the only one who would go out hiking with me on our free time instead of sitting around the barracks getting shit-faced. We weren’t super close then, more like friendly acquaintances, and of course I fucked it all up the night of the party.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like you fucked it up forever.”
“It did get better once we got to Italy.”
“Oh, did it now?” Trevor elbowed him lightly. “What’d you do, mention the word ‘girls’ to summon him?” When Jesse cleared his throat in embarrassment, Trevor laughed out loud. “I knew it. All those lucky ladies got their worlds rocked, huh?”
Jesse was sputtering now, and Trevor took pity on him, subsiding with a chuckle.
“God, I was such a fuckin’ tool that night,” Jesse grunted. “I’m surprised Riley ever spoke to me again.”
“Eh, he wasn’t one to hold grudges. Whenever we fought, it usually blew over quickly.”
“Yeah. Riley was younger than me, but he was way more mature. I admit it.”
“Good ol’ Riles.”
Silence fell, and when Trevor glanced over at him, he was taken aback to see tears in his eyes.
“Jess?”
“What a waste,” Jesse choked out. “What a goddamn waste.” He breathed in deeply a few times to regain control before sitting up straight. “I’m sorry. You of all people shouldn’t have to comfort me.”
Trevor scoffed a little, giving a watery sniff of his own. “Nonsense,” he said firmly. “Of course you’ll grieve for him, especially in a place associated with happy memories. I don’t expect you to be superman.”
“I miss him.” Jesse’s voice was almost inaudible. “We were teammates, brothers in arms, but I was looking forward to getting home and just being his friend.”
“You and me both.”
Jesse looked over at him, his eyes red. “What do you mean?”
“I was his dad,” Trevor said simply. “And he was finally at the point where he didn’t need me anymore, not like he did when he was little. I was looking forward to enjoying his friendship as adults.” His voice roughened. “The worst part is, he died and I don’t feel like I knew him at all, anything about the man he became. It tears me up inside, Jesse.”
“He was brave and smart—”
Trevor gave an impatient gesture. “That stuff, yeah. What I mean is, he went to war for nine months. He can’t have been the Riley I thought I knew anymore.” Trevor stood up and started to pace. “It sounds so stupid and unimportant, but apparently he started smoking over there. Jesse, he always hated it so much, was so against it. What changed him, and why?”
If Trevor hadn’t been looking right at Jesse, he would’ve missed seeing the expression that flitted across his face, just as quickly gone again. Trevor froze. “You know? Tell me.”
Jesse gave a vehement shake of his head, and Trevor knelt in front of him. “If you know anything, tell me, please,” he begged. “Help me understand my son.”
Jesse was pale again, beads of sweat springing up on his upper lip. In some distant part of his mind, Trevor knew he should feel guilty for causing him so much distress—Riley’s gone. It doesn’t matter anymore why he started smoking—but the gnawing desire for answers overrode that little voice in his head. “Please, Jesse!”
Jesse stood so abruptly he almost knocked Trevor on his ass, and he walked to the edge of the overlook and gazed out over the city, his hands in his pockets. For a moment Trevor didn’t think he’d speak, and then Jesse said, “There were these Afghan villagers, an old man and his teenage grandson. A few times a week they came up to the outpost to do some odd jobs for a couple bucks, the scut work we didn’t want or have time to do, you know?”
Trevor went over to stand next to him, listening.
“The kid really liked Gatorade, so the guys would slip him a bottle here and there. Maybe a candy bar if anybody had some. He was kind of like a—I don’t know, a mascot.” Jesse gave a mirthless chuckle. “Riley thought it’d be funny to teach him a couple of English curse words, and in return the kid taught him some Pashto. God, they used to laugh listening to each other trying to speak their language.”
Jesse fell silent, and Trevor just waited him out, his anxiety bleeding over onto Trevor and making his heart pound. At last Jesse whispered, “One day they left the outpost to head back to their village right at dinnertime, like they always did. I remember watching them walk off down the road, the kid swigging some Gatorade, and he was calling back ‘Fuck you’ over and over because Riley told him that meant goodbye.”
Jesse swallowed hard, and when he spoke again, his voice was raw. “A few minutes later we heard them—heard them screaming. Like these terrified, animal screams. We were all screaming, too, wanting to rush down there, but the lieutenant wouldn’t let us, said he wasn’t sending us into a trap. We had to wait till it got dark ’cause it was safer, and as soon as we could, a squad of us went down the trail and saw—Jesus.”
He broke off, his hands clenching into fists. “We found them by the side of the road, throats cut, like slashed so deep they were almost decapitated. Fuck, I’ve never seen so much gore, Trevor. Riley puked, and a couple other guys did, too.”
“Oh my God. Was it the Taliban?”
“Yeah, making a statement to the villagers about what happens to people working for the infidel.” Jesse sucked in a deep breath. “The sight of it, and the smell, was—it was horrific, indescribable, fucked all of us up. When Riley was done puking, somebody offered him a cigarette, and he took it.” He shrugged, his lips tight. “When he was finished with that one, he puked some more and had another. That’s it. That’s why.”
Despite the horror, the awfulness of the story, something loosened inside Trevor, something that had been wound tightly around his heart. He put his hand on Jesse’s arm, pulling it back again when he flinched.
“Well, thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to make you relive it, but just knowing, having an answer for something that I couldn’t explain, well—”
“If it helps you, that’s all that matters. It’s not like I don’t see it over and over in my dreams anyway.”
Jesse picked up his day pack from the ground and slung it back over his shoulders. “Let’s go. We’ll walk a couple more miles, and then eat at this spot where we can see the chapel. It’s a kick-ass view.”
Jesse set another brisk pace, but it wasn’t as punishing as it was before, just enough to keep Trevor focused on his breathing and the physical pain of exertion. By the time they stopped to eat, he was feeling calmer, his mind more clear. Trevor devoured his sandwich and apple, washing it all down with tepid water and gazing in awe at the vista below. The distinctive spires of the Air Force Academy Chapel jutted toward the sky, the weak sunlight winking off the stained glass windows.
As they ate, Trevor watched Jesse out of the corner of his eye, glad to see he appeared more at ease, less anxious about their surroundings. He still swiveled his head periodically to check the area, his face hard and set, his eyes blank as he assessed the threat level. In those moments Trevor could see traces of the soldier he’d been, and he shivered a little at the capacity for violence he could sense lurking right underneath Jesse’s seemingly calm surface...a man trained to fight, to be lethal.
Would Riley have that same look on his face if he was the one sitting next to him right now?
“Did Riley kill anyone over there?” he blurted, and Jesse jumped in surprise, his eyes wide.
“Trevor—”
“No, no, I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. Jesus, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, closing his eyes. “You were at war, and I’m an idiot.”
It was Trevor’s turn to jump when Jesse scooted a little closer to him, his body smelling of clean sweat and fresh air.
“There ain’t a thing wrong with you, and you’re not an idiot. Ask whatever you fuckin’ wanna ask, and if I can, I’ll give you the answers, Trevor. I promise.”
His amazing blue eyes were clear and direct, and Trevor couldn’t look away from them. A question bubbled to his lips, the one he most wanted an answer to, but he truly didn’t know if he had the strength right now to live with hearing something that could never be unheard.
What happened to my son?
Trevor opened his mouth, and all of a sudden a gaggle of mountain bikers appeared over the rise. They thundered past, shouting greetings and leaving dust in their wake, along with small bits of rock that pelted the ground around where Trevor and Jesse were sitting cross-legged.
Jesse stood, reaching down to haul Trevor to his feet. The moment was gone, but it was vastly comforting to know Trevor could ask his question when—and if—he was ready.
“Let’s hike?” Jesse asked, and Trevor shouldered his pack. Riley’s pack.
“Let’s do it.”
* * *
Jesse pulled up in front of Trevor’s driveway and switched off the engine.
“You need help getting into the house?”
Trevor threw him a withering look, which made Jesse put his hands up in mock defense. “I wasn’t calling you old, I swear!”
“If you weren’t, it’ll be the first time all day,” Trevor grumbled. “I thought I did pretty well, all things considered.”
“You did awesome.” Jesse grinned at him, his teeth white in his dirty, sweaty face. “Wanna do it again sometime?”
“Definitely.” Trevor pushed his door open and hauled himself out, grimacing. His muscles had stiffened even during the short ride, and he groaned, holding on to the door frame. “Wow, I didn’t realize how out of shape I am.”
Jesse jogged around the front of the truck, walking next to Trevor as Trevor hobbled toward the house. “You need to eat better and sleep better,” he said gently. “That would be a start.”
When they reached the door, Trevor turned to Jesse. “I feel like I made some progress today, in more ways than one. Thanks to you.”
Jesse put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re strong as fuck, Trevor...in more ways than one. Give yourself the credit.” He squeezed hard once and let go. “Do you, uh, maybe want my number? In case you need to talk. Or whatever.”
“Yes, please.”
Trevor hurriedly unlocked the front door and limped toward the kitchen and the pad of paper he kept next to the phone. He tore off a sheet, grabbed a pen and handed it all to Jesse, who scrawled his phone number across it.
At the door they shook hands, flowing into a brief, back-pounding hug that seemed entirely natural. Jesse smiled at him as he backed out through the doorway. “Take care, okay?”
He strode toward his truck, and Trevor lifted his hand in a wave as Jesse beeped the horn and drove away. Once he was gone, Trevor headed for the kitchen to make himself some hot tea, suddenly ravenous. He washed his face and hands in the powder room off the kitchen and dove into making some spaghetti with homemade meatballs, one of his favorite comfort foods.
By the time Carl walked in from the garage, the sauce was simmering, filling the kitchen with a delicious smell. Trevor dropped a large handful of pasta into the pot of boiling water, lifting his face for a kiss.
“Hey, babe. What’s all this?”
Trevor shrugged. “Just hungry.”
“Well, it smells wonderful. Let me shower and change, then we can eat.”
He disappeared in the direction of the bedroom, and Trevor opened a bottle of wine and set the table. By the time he was done, Carl still wasn’t back. “It’s ready when you are,” he called out.
No response, and curious, Trevor made his way down the hall to their room, stopping short at the sight of Carl sitting slumped in a chair, still in his business clothes. “What’s wrong—” Trevor started to say, and then he noticed the blue suit still carefully laid out on the bed. “Oh, shit.”
The silence that fell was deafening. Carl stared at the floor before lifting his head to pin Trevor with angry eyes. “I asked you to do one thing for me, Trev,” he said tightly. “It wasn’t much.”
“Carl—”
“I know it’s ‘just’ a suit, and that’s not really the issue here.” Carl’s voice rose. “The issue is you showing me you still care about us, about what’s important to me.”
“Carl, my son died—”
Carl slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. “A fact you’ll never let me forget, now, will you?”
The air left Trevor’s lungs in a rush. “And I spent part of today packing up his room,” he forced out. “I needed to—I had—I never thought about the suit.” He turned and escaped to the kitchen, where the pot of pasta was boiling over.
Grabbing it, Trevor dumped everything down the sink before switching the stove off, his whole body shaking with emotion. He braced his hands on the edge of the counter, head down. Tensing at the sound of Carl’s footsteps behind him, he went rigid as Carl rested a tentative palm on his back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, Trev,” he whispered. “I swear I didn’t mean it.”
Trevor stared straight ahead, not speaking, and at last Carl dropped his hand and moved away. There came a quiet burbling as Carl poured himself a glass of wine, followed by the click of the patio door opening and closing.
After a moment Trevor followed him, seeing Carl sitting hunched forward on the end of a chaise lounge, elbows on his knees, wineglass dangling loosely from his fingers between them. As Trevor approached, Carl raised his head to gaze out over the covered pool.
A heavy silence, and finally Carl said, “I just want our life back, Trevor.”
Trevor sat down on the chair next to him. “It’s not ever going to be the same.”
Carl didn’t reply, turning his wineglass around and around in his hands.
“Some days it’s all I can do to get out of bed. You know that.”
After a slight hesitation, Carl reached over to touch Trevor’s thigh. “I know.”
“I’m trying, Carl,” Trevor said helplessly. “All I can promise you is that I’m trying. What do you want from me?”
Carl suddenly plunked his wineglass down on the ground and grabbed both Trevor’s hands in his. “I’ll tell you what I want from you,” he said fiercely. “I want you to stop obsessing. I want you to sell the house so we can move somewhere away from the memories and get a fresh start. I want to see you laugh again, smile again, Trevor.”
“You mean you want me to get over it.” Trevor’s voice was low and bitter, and Carl let go of his hands, surging to his feet.
“Is that so wrong, Trev? Is it so fucking wrong to want to see you moving on from this? It’s been a year, for Christ’s sake!”
Trevor stood, too. “What does that have to do with anything? I get a time limit on grieving for my only child? One year and boom—over it or else?”
Carl grabbed Trevor by the shoulders. “No,” he shouted, then took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down. “No. What I mean is, it’s been a year and I don’t see that anything’s any better for you, Trev.” He swallowed, and when he went on, his voice held a note of anguish. “You’re hanging on to the house. You had him buried halfway across the country so you don’t even have the comfort of visiting him. You won’t marry me.”
Trevor lifted his face toward the sky, squeezing his eyes shut and hating the hot tears that seeped out to stream down his cheeks. Carl wiped them away with his thumbs. “It’s okay to move on, Trev. It’s okay to try and be happy again. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten him, doesn’t diminish your love for him. Please.”
Opening his eyes, Trevor looked at him. “Every night I lie awake, and wonder what I did wrong,” he said dully. “All those times I was selfish, or vain, or judgmental. Those times I got angry, or said things to him I shouldn’t have said. There has to be something. Otherwise, why—”
Carl made a small sound of distress, taking hold of Trevor’s shoulders again. “That’s ridiculous! It wasn’t your fault! Riley wouldn’t want this, so why are you punishing yourself?”
Trevor wrenched away from Carl’s hold. “Because his existence didn’t matter if I’m not suffering! Don’t you get that?” he shouted.
“No, I don’t get that!” Carl shouted back. “Your suffering won’t bring him back. Your suffering doesn’t accomplish a goddamn thing, except to make both of us miserable! How long are we going to be miserable, Trev? How long?”
“I don’t know!” Trevor yelled. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not Riley’s dad anymore.” To his horror, he burst into wracking sobs, stumbling to the chaise lounge and sinking down on the edge. “Maybe this is me now, Carl,” he gasped out. “Maybe this is all there is.” He hunched over, his arms wrapped around his middle, dropping his forehead to his knees, striving for control.
Carl sat down next to him and stroked Trevor’s hair with trembling fingers. “Oh, God, I can’t take seeing you like this. Tell me how to help you, Trev. Please.”
But Trevor didn’t have an answer, and after another moment, Carl picked up his wineglass and went back into the house.