Thirteen

 

THEY STAYED in bed until noon the next day, not talking, not sleeping, simply existing. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to talk to Aaron about what happened, not only the blow job but the devastating scene afterward. Their relationship balanced on a razor-thin wire. One misstep and they’d both fall. He pressed his lips to Aaron’s temple, stroking the soft black hair away from Aaron’s forehead. God, he loved the way Aaron’s hair had grown out, how it felt under his fingers, just another thing Spencer never told him. So many things between them went unsaid.

No more.

“Tell. Me. We. Are. Going. To. Make. This. Work….” Spencer whispered against Aaron’s skin, more prayer than statement. Aaron’s hands came up and then fell back onto his chest, covered completely with the T-shirt he’d worn over the night before. Aaron had even put his jeans back on to sleep in, telling Spencer he felt exposed and vulnerable. Spencer had hated himself in that moment.

Aaron sighed and raised his hands again.

“I will not lose you. It will kill me.” He rolled to his side and pressed his face against Spencer’s neck, clinging, desperate. Spencer tightened his arms, not restraining but loving, and Aaron kissed his chest.

They’d figure it out, together.

They had to.

Please.

 

 

BECAUSE MUNDANE things like laundry and buying food still existed in the world, Spencer left early Sunday morning for the apartment. The sorrow in Aaron’s face as he climbed back into Allen’s Mustang nearly broke him. He wanted to call Eric and give notice right then, but they counted on him to lead his team, and he’d committed himself. And while he hated himself for it, a very small part of him liked his independence. He didn’t want to move back in with his father and admit defeat.

Laundry went by in a blur as he sat in the dingy, depressing closet that passed as his apartment building’s laundry room. He didn’t bother with a book or his laptop. With Aaron on his mind, he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate anyway. He’d already resolved to ask Aaron to move in with him, though he knew it would be pointless. As Spencer’s father told him during their fight, Aaron would never leave his comfort zone. So he made a list of things he could do to make things easier for him and Aaron:

1. Try to work from his father’s house a few days a week.

2. Move closer to Aaron and commute.

3. Quit his job.

4. Ask Aaron to move downtown with him.

Since Voyager didn’t have a telecommuting policy, the first option would be just as fruitless as asking Aaron to move in. Quitting his job would be the last resort, so that left moving closer to Aaron and commuting. It would put more strain on him but maybe less strain on Aaron. Maybe his dad would help him find a place.

The distraction went on while he shopped for food for the apartment. He remembered the cereal but forgot the milk. He picked up toothpaste but forgot deodorant. Next time he would make a list, but with Aaron’s pain so heavy on his heart, he couldn’t really be bothered. When everything had been put away, Spencer pulled out his laptop, sat on the brand new leather couch he rarely saw, and put his sock-clad feet on the oak coffee table his father insisted he take to have something of home.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his jeans pocket.

 

[Aaron] The prosecutor called. I have to go in to his office tomorrow.

[Spencer] Did you call my dad?

[Aaron] Yeah, he’s going with me. He thinks they probably set a trial date, and they want to know if I’m going to freak out on the stand.

[Spencer] Are you?

[Aaron] Fuck if I know.

[Spencer] You are the strongest man I’ve ever met, but if it is going to hurt you, don’t do it. You do what is best for Aaron not the state of Illinois.

[Aaron] What about what’s best for Juliette?

[Spencer] Aaron, baby, Juliette is dead. Nothing can hurt her anymore. You have to keep yourself safe.

[Aaron] I haven’t been safe since that night.

[Spencer] Will putting them in jail make you feel safe?

[Aaron] Maybe. Your dad thinks it might.

[Spencer] I love you, Aaron. No matter what you decide to do, I’ll be right there.

[Aaron] I love you.

 

 

AFTER A long night, sleep eluding him, Spencer crawled out of bed and, for the first time since he’d started, did not want to go to work. He wanted to drive back to the suburbs, wrap Aaron in his arms, and never move again. Instead he went into the bathroom to take a shower and try to wash away his feelings of failure.

It wasn’t until he left the apartment and walked up Newport to Halsted that he felt like himself. Jesus, Aaron gave him a blow job, which tilted his whole world on its axis right there, not to mention the explosive drama afterward. He’d kissed some guy in a club, danced with him, gone out with friends and felt comfortable. Becoming an adult was so much different from being a kid, trapped in the rut of mean people and few options.

The train ride seemed to last twice as long as it should have, but he walked into the lobby of his building right on time. He didn’t have the urge to stop at Starbucks for coffee or even a bagel but instead strode to the elevators and headed up to their office. Clare sat at her desk when he dropped his bag onto the chair, but she didn’t turn around as she normally did to greet him. When he glanced around, he noticed Eric and Paul weren’t in yet.

“Good. Morning…,” he tried, but Clare didn’t turn around. With a sigh, he booted up his workstation and sat down. The log-in screen took forever, but eventually, the desktop came up and he fired up the chat program. Spencer was almost surprised to see Clare’s status listed as green.

 

[Spencer] I guess that means you’re mad at me. I’m really sorry about Friday night.

It took several long minutes for Clare’s response to come.

[Clare] What are you sorry for? Ditching us or going home with some guy when you’re in a relationship with someone else?

[Spencer] Wait, what? I didn’t go home with anyone!

[Clare] Last I saw, you were making out with some pretty boy on the dance floor, and then you were gone. No text, nothing. Just gone. Is that how friends treat each other?

[Spencer] I did kiss him. But I didn’t go home with him.

[Clare] Then where did you go? I thought he’d murdered you or something. You haven’t answered my texts all weekend.

[Spencer] I went to Aaron’s. I felt so horrible about what I did. I needed to see him.

[Clare] You told him you kissed another guy?

[Spencer] Yeah.

[Clare] OMG. How did that go?

[Spencer] Our relationship is falling apart.

 

He couldn’t come up with any other way to explain it except the plain truth. They’d made it for almost three years, but he wasn’t sure they could sustain it for the long haul. Spencer didn’t realize Clare had turned around in her chair until she put a hand on his shoulder. He spun the chair to face her, and she gave him a quick hug before returning to her desk.

 

[Clare] Don’t tell HR.

[Spencer] Thanks.

[Clare] Let’s do lunch and talk.

[Spencer] Ok

[Clare] Where did you want to start on integration testing today?

[Spencer] Let’s do the Azure connections and test pings across the database.

[Clare] You’re the boss. :)

 

 

“AARON, DR. Thomas, thank you for coming,” Assistant District Attorney Karl Sorensen said as he held a hand out for them to shake. He’d come to the house a few times since the whole nightmare of a trial started, and he’d never been a welcome sight. Being in his office, the scenery had changed, but Aaron’s feelings hadn’t. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to testify. He didn’t want anything to do with it. But he owed it to Juliette. If Aaron hadn’t sauntered over to that van, sure of his own immortality, to give the driver directions, she’d still be alive, and he would still be whole.

“Mr. Sorensen,” Dr. Thomas said, taking the man’s hand while Aaron scooted off and took one of the chairs on the other side of the conference table. After Dr. Thomas led him through the metal detectors and up two flights of stairs because Aaron couldn’t deal with an elevator right then, the nice red-haired secretary had directed them to a conference room. Aaron didn’t know why they weren’t meeting in someone’s office, but then he didn’t particularly care either. He wanted to get the thing over with and go back home. First, being with Dr. Thomas reminded him of Spencer, which made his heart hurt, and second, he wanted to forget about the whole thing and never think about it again.

“Dr. Thomas, go ahead and take a seat next to Aaron. We’re just waiting for one of my associates and we can get started.” Mr. Sorensen took a chair opposite them, and Aaron watched him shuffle through a few papers in a leather portfolio that should have been impressive but wasn’t. It was just ordinary, like him. Manila file folders peeked around the edges like frightened children. Like him.

“Maybe you could fill us in a little on what you’d like to accomplish today. Your assistant didn’t have many details,” Dr. Thomas said as he leaned forward in the plastic chair and put his hands on the cheap laminated table. Apparently their little bumfuck county didn’t have a high budget for the people who worked to keep their streets safe.

“The judge has set a short trial date, so I wanted to get a preliminary statement from Aaron and make sure he’s going to be able to testify. Without his testimony, I’d say it’s probably a fifty-fifty chance of conviction.” Mr. Sorensen rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face and looked up at them with tired, bloodshot eyes. Thin, sandy-brown hair started off his high forehead and tapered around his ears, shorter in the back. A standard haircut for the men whose hair had started to thin, it wouldn’t be too many more years before the top would be gone, leaving the bad comb-over or the dreaded Caesar look.

“How short?” Aaron asked, wanting to know how long he needed to keep his sanity intact. Sorensen smoothed his tie down and checked his file. Of course Aaron’s case was just one of many in his pile. One manila folder to the prosecutor, but to Aaron, it was everything.

“Four weeks, so mid-December.”

“Oh God,” Aaron said and put his head down on the table. The lunch Dr. Thomas treated him to at the deli down the street stayed down by sheer force of will. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“We’ve been preparing for the better part of six months, Aaron. We are ready.”

“If you’re so ready, why is the chance of conviction only fifty percent?” Dr. Thomas asked as he put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, and the room started to spin.

“There is a chain-of-custody issue with the semen sample taken from the victims. We need Aaron to establish the rape and tie things together for the jury. Will he be able to testify?”

“I am still in the room,” Aaron said to the table and forced himself to sit up in the chair, his gaze fixed on the prosecutor. “Are you asking if I’m going to have some psychotic breakdown on the stand and start talking about aliens or the apocalypse? Are you asking if this is going to destroy any progress I’ve made since those bastards left me naked and bleeding on a cold concrete floor? Or are you asking if I’m going to blow my own head off before the trial?” Aaron asked, and Sorensen finally stopped shuffling papers.

“Yes,” he said, meeting Aaron’s gaze. “I’m asking.”

“Well, unless doc here knows something I don’t, I’m not planning to go crazy midtrial. I have no idea if it will put me back on medication when it’s over, and no, I’m not going to kill myself. I’ve worked too damned hard, and I wouldn’t do that to the people in my life. So let’s get this over with so I can get the hell out of here.”

“Okay, start from the beginning and tell me everything you remember.” Sorensen turned on a small tape recorder. It looked like the recorder Dr. Thomas used for their sessions, except this one didn’t have tape over the little red light. It glared at him across the table, and he focused on it for a long time before he started to talk.

“Juliette and I were walking home from debate practice. We were talking about going to prom together….”

 

 

“HERE,” DR. Thomas said as they sat in the parking lot of the administrative offices, the doctor behind the wheel and Aaron in the passenger seat with his head between his knees. Aaron lifted his head, and his eyes focused on a small sheet of paper in front of his face.

“I thought you couldn’t write prescriptions?” Aaron asked and pocketed the paper before slumping back against the seat.

“I can’t, but one of my colleagues can. The next four weeks are going to be very difficult for you, and these will help keep your mood stabilized.” Dr. Thomas turned the key and started the car. “It’s not forever.”

They stopped by the pharmacy, in which the older lady behind the counter tried and failed not to stare at his scar but eventually gave him the little bag with his pills and the candy bar he felt he deserved for not having a meltdown in the prosecutor’s office. He’d wanted to. Especially after the third time he asked for details on things Aaron never wanted to think about again. Dr. Thomas paid for the pills and the candy without him asking. Aaron hated feeling like a charity case, and he had money, but Dr. Thomas wanted to do it. He chose not to fight that particular battle and accepted the help graciously.

They were almost back to Aaron’s house when his phone chirped.

 

[Spencer] Are you out yet?

[Aaron] I came out a few years ago. I’m dating a guy, remember?

[Spencer] Funny. Are you home yet?

[Aaron] We’re almost there. We stopped and picked up a prescription your dad got for me. Happy pills.

[Spencer] You haven’t been on meds in a long time. Why the change?

[Aaron] He said they’re a short term thing to get me through the trial.

[Spencer] How did it go?

[Aaron] No one died.

[Spencer] Can we chat later?

[Aaron] Yeah. Let me make dinner and stuff. Meet you around seven?

[Spencer] I’ll be there.

 

 

DR. THOMAS pulled the car into the drive behind his mother’s little red Sentra. They sat in silence for a moment as his Lexus idled. He didn’t say anything; he just stared out the windshield while the uncomfortable silence grew. Aaron didn’t feel like talking either, or getting out of the car. Actually, he’d love to drive off and never come back. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about the trial, his mother’s stress, Anthony’s drug use, or the way he and Spencer were starting to drift apart. Only he couldn’t function alone. Even with the money sitting in his bank account from Spencer’s sacrifice, he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own.

The front door opened, and Anthony stepped out onto the porch. He didn’t appear to notice them in the drive but grabbed his bike, lying in the grass, and pushed it onto the sidewalk. Without so much as a glance around, he climbed onto it and took off toward the entrance of their subdivision. His expressionless face struck Aaron most, because he remembered what it was like to spend your days feeling nothing.

“We need to have a session this week,” Dr. Thomas said and pulled a phone out of his pocket to check the display. “Are you free on Thursday?”

“I’m free every day.”

“Hasn’t the semester started?”

“I called my advisor this morning and started paperwork for a leave of absence. They’re going to need a note from you,” Aaron said. The lack of inflection made it a statement, not a question. He had no doubt Dr. Thomas would provide adequate documentation for his mental state. The man just took him to a pharmacy to dope him up so he could function.

“I think that’s probably best. I’ll send you a letter for the school.”

“Thanks.” Aaron opened the door but stopped when Dr. Thomas put a hand on his arm.

“You’re going to get through this, Aaron.”

“Yeah.”

Like most days, the house was empty when he walked in. Even during those first few months after he came home from the hospital, the house hadn’t been dead. His mother flitted from one room to another trying to keep him comfortable or keeping busy so she didn’t have to think about the horror visited on her child. His father corralled his brothers, trying to distract them from Aaron’s painful recovery by kicking the ball around in the backyard or taking them to play paintball. But those times became fewer and fewer, the more Aaron needed them. So he sent them off with a neighbor, assuaging his guilt by buying them paintball guns so they’d have something shiny to look at that wasn’t Aaron.

Now the halls were empty.

He shuffled into the kitchen and ran tepid water into a glass. The temptation to go to the garage and find the rope, ever present no matter what he may have told the prosecutor, danced around the back of his mind—a demon in the flame. He didn’t feel the pull enough that day to take him near the garage door, but it never entirely left him. Instead he took the bottle of pills and the candy bar from the bag. Popping the pill from his first shiny new prescription bottle, he sat back and waited for it to take effect. He didn’t recognize the name of the drug, but it didn’t matter. He trusted Dr. Thomas.

The candy bar hung precariously in the air, about to be torn apart by his waiting teeth, when his phone chirped.

“Oh, whatever,” he said to absolutely no one.

 

[Jordan] Hey, did you hear about the blond tap dancer?

[Aaron] What?

[Jordan] She fell into the sink.

[Aaron] I don’t get it.

[Jordan] The tap? The sink? Are you okay?

[Aaron] Doc gave me pills. I’m fuzzy.

[Jordan] You weren’t on meds before?

[Aaron] Not for years.

[Jordan] I’m on my way.

[Aaron] k

 

 

THE PILLS made him feel slow and stupid, and even though he was hungry, he didn’t feel like making anything. His parents would just have to fend for themselves because he’d reached his limit for the day. Aaron left the door unlocked for Jordan, though he’d always been paranoid about keeping the door locked before. Staring at the blank television screen, he lay on the couch and waited, wondering if he would finally sleep.

Jordan came in a few minutes later, though time seemed to move in warped concentric circles around him. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, pushing it out of his eyes for the millionth time since Aaron had met him.

“Why don’t you get a haircut if it bugs you?” Aaron asked without raising his head. Jordan grabbed one of the throw pillows and asked Aaron to lift up, but Aaron sat up instead. Dropping onto the couch next to him, Jordan sighed. Then he pulled Aaron close, letting Aaron’s head rest on his shoulder.

“I had to talk about it. I had to tell that stupid little man everything over and over,” Aaron whispered. “There is going to be a trial in four weeks, and I don’t know if I can do it. What if they let the monsters go? What if they end up under my bed or in my closet? I can’t do that again.”

“Shhhhh…. Aaron, it’s going to be okay. Did you call Spencer?”

“I can’t. He can’t hear it.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t think of that. Do you want me to text him?”

“We’re going to chat tonight.”

“I don’t know what it’s like for the bastards who stole your life to still be walking free. I don’t. Riley Patterson is dead. He murdered my brother, and while I can’t send him to jail, I can hope he went straight to hell. You’re so strong, Aaron. You can do it. You can make the monsters go away for good,” Jordan said quietly with his arm around Aaron’s shoulders. He didn’t stroke Aaron’s hair like Spencer did, but it still felt nice. Nice and warm and fuzzy.

“I’m really glad I commented on your post.”

“Me too, Aaron.”

They sat quietly for a long time with no television, no idle chatter, nothing, just companionable silence.

Until Aaron’s stomach rumbled.

“Hey, when’s the last time you ate? You shouldn’t take psych pills on an empty stomach,” Jordan admonished and pushed on Aaron’s shoulder to make him sit up.

“I ate lunch.”

“You want pizza?”

“Yeah.” Aaron tried to remember what he did with his wallet and failed. He ran his hand over his back pocket and decided he must have left it on the counter.

“I got it, man. Sausage? Pepperoni?”

“Yeah.” Anything more than just a few syllables seemed beyond him. God, he hated that feeling. It was like spending your life wrapped in cotton. On the table next to him, his cell phone rang, but he couldn’t force himself to focus.

“Can you get that? It might be my mom. Just tell her I’m okay.”

“Sure, man.” Jordan reached over him and grabbed the phone off the table. He looked at it for a minute, sliding his finger across the screen a few times.

“It was Spencer. He sent a few texts before that. You were supposed to chat with him on the computer?”

“Oh yeah. Fuck. I don’t want him to have to deal with me like this. He’s already gonna bolt. Can you just reply and tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow?”

“Does he know we’re friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, how’s this? Spencer, it’s Jordan…. Aaron isn’t feeling well and said he will be on chat tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Aaron pulled himself higher up on the couch so that he was more or less vertical. Things seemed clearer up there. He heard Jordan ordering the pizza and pulled his feet up on the couch to sit cross-legged. A throw sat over the back of the couch, so he grabbed it and laid it over himself. Like a little tent, a little cocoon he could hide in from the rest of the world. He liked that.

The front door opened, then closed, and Aaron watched, expecting to see Anthony come in, but instead his mother set a bag down on the little table in the hall. Aaron couldn’t stop himself. He scampered off the couch as well as he could with no real balance and stumbled past the kitchen to where she stood.

“Hi, honey, how….”

He cut her off by throwing his arms around her and burying his face against her shoulder. The tears came then, raw and painful. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back as if he were a little boy again.

“Shhhhh… It’s okay now,” his mother whispered against his hair. “It’s over.”

“It’s not over, Mom. They scheduled the trial. It’s only just started,” Aaron said between low sobs. “It’s never going to be over.”

“Yes, it will. And you don’t have to testify. You know that.”

“I do. You know I do.”

“Okay, well, what does Dr. Thomas say?”

“He gave me more pills to keep me calm and said I should take a leave from school for the semester.”

“Okay, I’ll call them tomorrow and arrange it,” his mother said and continued to rub his back in small circles, trying to soothe his panic.

“I already did that, Mom.”

She pulled back and looked into his tear-streaked face with a strange expression.

“You called the school and arranged for an absence?”

“Yeah, well, I e-mailed.” Aaron sniffled, grabbing a tissue from a nearby table.

“You’re going to be okay, Aaron. God, you get so much stronger every day. You’re able to handle so much more than you were. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Mom, it was an e-mail. I didn’t rescue kittens from an alien invasion.”

“They don’t take kittens, just cows,” Jordan interjected from the doorway.

Aaron laughed through the tears, and his mother smiled at him, giving him a warm, fuzzy glow that hadn’t been there for a while.

“Aaron, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” his mother asked, giving him a playful sort of stern look.

“Oh, Mom, this is my friend Jordan. Jordan, my mom, who will probably tell you to call her Mom, because I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a first name anymore.”

His mother smacked him on the arm and waved at Jordan.

“Okay, I’m guessing from the lack of aroma coming from the kitchen that no one is cooking, so how about we order out for a pizza, and I’ll do laundry while you guys watch a movie?” she asked, bending down to take off her shoes. She hadn’t quite made it out of them before Aaron ambushed her at the door.

“We already ordered pizza, and I did the laundry last night. So why don’t you watch that movie with us?” Aaron asked, backing up so his mom could head into the kitchen.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she said and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out the ice tea he’d made in a fit of anxious nerves while waiting for Dr. Thomas to pick him up that morning. Thinking of Dr. Thomas brought another subject to mind.

“Jordan, what did Spencer say to the text you sent?”

Jordan walked over to the counter and checked the phone.

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t reply at all.”