Efrain and Cory Ch. 30

~*~*~*~

Juaquin Garza crept into the kitchen and snagged a couple beers out of the fridge and a bottle opener out of a drawer. Once he'd peered into the living room, catching his little brother idly flipping through the channels too fast to actually consider the late night offerings (with the volume too low to enjoy them even if he did slow down to watch), he knew Efrain had something on his mind.

And that meant beer.

Lots of beer.

More beer than their parents had in the house.

Which, for a retired Navy Chief's household the day before a major holiday gathering, was telling.

Knowing his brother, he'd need some liquid courage to open up. And knowing that particular expression, Juaquin knew he'd need some courage of his own to handle whatever questions that made not-so-little-anymore 'Rain pensive.

For this reason, Juaquin slunk back to the fridge and grabbed the whole six pack.He also thought long and hard about raiding their father's liquor cabinet. Fuck, even the cava blanc their mother had set aside for Christmas morning mimosas would make Efrain's late night issues easier to face.

Wordlessly, Juaquin padded back to the living room and joined his younger brother on the couch. He popped open a beer and passed it to Efrain, who accepted it with an acknowledging grunt.

"What has you up so late?" Efrain asked, his face illuminated by the screen.

Juaquin opened a bottle for himself and took a swig before answering. "Thirsty."

"Ya know, most people get a glass of water this time of night."

"Eh, close enough," he said, eyeing the label on his bottle. "What about you?"

"Not really thirsty," Efrain said. "Appreciate the beer, though."

"No, not that," Juaquin sighed; fucker was going to make him work for this. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"I can tell that much, asshole."

Efrain narrowed his eyes at him, but eventually turned back to the TV screen. "He hasn't called me yet."

"Cory?" Juaquin said, and Efrain nodded. He tried his damnedest to not laugh at the thought of his punkass little bro waiting up for a boy's phone call. Satan would be pitching snowballs in Hell before their little sister, Zoe, stayed awake waiting for a boy. Juaquin remembered her once telling a boyfriend that she'd "fuck a duck" before she wasted time waiting for him to call her (and suggested that he fuck himself if he expected her to). If Efrain was waiting up, the goddamn Second Coming was imminent. His brother babysitting his phone was like a fucking doomsday prophecy or some shit.

As if recognizing the enormity of such tidings, the Garza brothers silently finished off their first beers, and Juaquin opened up a second round.

Efrain sighed heavily and slumped back into the cushions. "I haven't heard from him since the other day."

"He is in a different time zone," Juaquin reasoned. "Probably isn't too late for him to call."

His brother's mouth tightened, and he slouched down further. "Cory told me he'd call." He ran his fingers through his hair as if to hide his discomfort and worry.

"It's technically Christmas Eve already. Maybe he's busy with family shit."

"I dunno," Efrain said dully. "Maybe you're right."

He took another long pull at his bottle, and Juaquin assumed that was the end of it. They sat there, quietly nursing their second, and then third beers in the glow of early morning television. Juaquin still wished Efrain would turn up the volume, and stop flipping through the damn channels, and was about to tell him so. But then, his little brother eyes glanced at him briefly before cutting back to the screen, and Juaquin knew this wasn't over.

After several awkward moments of silence, Efrain finally asked, "You're in love with Jen, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Juaquin said, now regretting his decision to enter the living room without a bottle of bourbon or vodka handy, or at least downing half of it before he got to the couch.

"How did you figure it out?"

"I'm not drunk enough to answer that." Juaquin doubted even borderline alcohol poisoning would make that answer easier to cough up.

"Dude," the younger man complained. "Just tell me."

"It's just...uhm," Juaquin sputtered, waving his hands. "How the fuck should I know? I just am."

"But, how do you know 'n shit?"

"You're supposed to ask Dad about this crap."

"I can't ask Dad; he'll tell Mom, and then Mom will tell everyone," Efrain said. "Do you want me to spend the entire holiday fending off bad romance advice?"

"Yeah, actually. If they're too busy fucking with you about Cory, I don't have to deal with them asking me about marrying Jen. Maybe I should tell Mom myself."

"Do it, and I'll fuckin' tell her about you going ring shopping."

"How did you...?"

"Jen let it slip to Zoe," Efrain said. "And guess who couldn't wait to tell me all about it."

"The little brat." But, what else could Juaquin expect? After all, it had been Zoe who had so gleefully told him all about Efrain texting and snapchatting with Cory throughout the day, and about their nightly Skype calls.

"So..."

Juaquin made a disgusted grunt. "It's all fucking brain chemicals 'n shit."

"Chemicals? Really? That's all you got?"

"Yeah, totally serious. It's all chemical reactions fucking with your head," Juaquin insisted.

"So, it's all just brain chemistry?"

"Exactly," he said, warming up to his answer.

"And me acting like a whiney bitch is just my head messin' with me?" Efrain said, doubtfully.

Juaquin nodded. "Our brains put together these, like, files on people for all the memories and associations we have about them, and to keep it all organized, everything's coded by our emotions or whatever. So, if you associate, I don't know, a drink with fucking someone, then seeing or thinking about that drink makes your brain send all kinds of hard-on chemicals—"

"Testosterone?"

"—testosterone to your dick."

"That would explain my Spanish textbook," Efrain muttered.

"Your Spanish textbook?"

"Nothing, just go on."

"So, yeah, we go through with life collecting all this shit and our brains code it, then send out the chemical feels when we remember things. Then you meet someone and spend the entire relationship collecting and filing away stuff on them." Juaquin paused, trying to find the best way to proceed. "But, you start caring about them, and...I don't know, something goes sideways and every association tied up with that person gets re-coded, but the coding is fucked up, and it just turns into this massive fucking knot that you can't unravel. Being in love is like your brain has rubber-stamped nearly everything in that person's memory file with something sappy, turning the whole pile into one big clusterfuck of positive associations. Hence, whiny bitch syndrome."

Efrain shot Juaquin an annoyed look.

"What? You asked, I answered."

"Yeah, great answer," Efrain groused. "Fuckin' positive associations."

"Fuck you, it was an awesome answer," Juaquin laughed. "Should put that shit on a card. 'Love is just a clusterfuck of positive associations.'"

"And the brain chemical shit?"

"Didn't say my analogies had to be consistent."

"Worthless," Efrain said.

"Only when it counts."

The younger Garza brother rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through channels. Juaquin allowed himself to relax and enjoy the last sips of his beer now that Efrain's questions seemed to be satisfied. But then, Efrain frowned at his bottle.

Goddammit!

"But it could just be infatuation, right?"

"Could be," Juaquin shrugged.

"So, how do you know the difference?"

"You just do."

"But, I don't."

Both men contemplated the issue in silence, until Juaquin spoke.

"The fart barrier."

"What?"

"Yeah. Love, like, transcends the fart barrier."

"I don't think I copy," Efrain said.

"If you're still crazy about them after breaking the fart barrier."

"I'm in love with my boyfriend because we're okay with farting in the same room? Your analogies suck."

"Shut up," Juaquin said, pointing his finger at Efrain's nose. "I'm tryin' to be philosophical here."

"Fine, go for it, Socrates."

"Will do, Plato," Juaquin said.

Efrain huffed. "Just get on with it."

"Okay," Juaquin said, picking up where he'd left off. "So you got this person you just started seeing, and you like them well enough. Memory file, rubber-stamping, blah, blah, blah. Now, this is where the fart barrier comes in. Remember how I told you to get over a chick...well, in your case, a dude, rejecting you?"

Efrain rolled his eyes. "Imagine them taking a massive dump."

"It's a total boner flop, right?"

His brother chuckled. "A serious boner flop."

"Alright, back to the positive association cluster-fuck thing. You got this memory folder, and a fuckton of stuff coded for 'lust', right? Then you deploy the 'dump trick', which goes through and stamps everything with 'disgust', overriding any positive association you got in there. Right?" Efrain nodded. "That why chicks will do strange things to avoid bodily functions around guys—'I forgot something in my car', 'I need to make a call', 'I have to get up early tomorrow', etc. But the whole bit about 'keeping the mystery alive' didn't come out of nowhere, and it goes both ways. Most guys will go along with the excuses, or come up with their own, because thinking about the person they'd just been fucking going home to drop a deuce kinda fucks with the coding. Lust and infatuation don't exactly play nice with the realities of an actual human who pisses and shits just like you do. And don't get me started on periods." Both brothers cringed. "Breaking the fart barrier too soon can kill a romance. Yet, once you start crossing into that clusterfuck stage, not even the dump trick can untangle your feelings. Like, Jen has this thing about pulling Dutch ovens on me."

"Seriously?"

"She fucking Dutch oven'd me a couple nights after we went ring shopping."

"I can't imagine Jen farting, let alone pulling a Dutch oven."

"Oh, she's horrible. And, believe it or not, I wasn't the one that started it. But, I still got up the next morning and bought the ring."

Efrain's eyebrow arched. "You bought the ring?"

"You're not going to get all gay on me now?" Juaquin huffed. His little brother regarded him coldly. "You know what I meant. Fucking hell, I still need to get used to you being out." He paused. "Did I at least answer the question?"

"It made sense, actually." The face Efrain pulled said all there needed to be said about how begrudging his admission had been, but Juaquin chose to ignore it.

"Not quite sure if it's the same for gays, though."

"Eh, it's not like I'm actively thinking about dudes giving themselves enemas and shit before I fuck them," Efrain said. "But it has killed boners before."

Juaquin gave his brother an odd look. "They do that? Enemas, I mean." He paused. "And I think I just learned more about your sex life than I wanted to."

"What? That I'm a top? I'd think you'd be relieved to find out that your gay little brother mostly pitches."

"Mostly?" Juaquin choked.

Efrain shrugged. "Mostly. Got a problem with it?"

"No...no problem...just...wait, do you...uh...do..." Juaquin fumbled. "Nevermind, too much information. God, this is worse than the other time we talked about sex."

"You mean the time you told me about condoms, or the time you told me about the dump trick?"

"Both times, combined."

"Shit, I'm a cakewalk. If you want awkward sibling sex talks, try Zoe."

"Zoe isn't..." Juaquin felt his face pale.

"Zoe is," Efrain laughed. "She's been trying to talk shop about boys since I got here. I think she'd hoped sharing her little 'gallery' would make me more amenable to at least sharing Cory's dimensions, if not any shirtless selfies he may have sent."

"It couldn't have been that bad."

"So, how big's his dick, really? Cory sorta looks like a 'boyfriend cock' kinda guy. He totally has one, doesn't he? But, like, 'girthy', ya know? Gotta love the girthy ones," Efrain mimicked.

"Honestly, that sounds hilarious. And, I'd rather stare at dick pics than field your sappy as fuck love questions."

"Then, you deal with our baby sister discussing the finer points of boyfriend cock," Efrain said. "At least she won't use it as an excuse to pump you for details about the size of Jen's dick."

"Dude," Juaquin said, his face and tone deadly serious. "It's fucking massive."

"Fuck off."

"Really! I fuckin' walk funny for days."

Efrain sighed heavily.

"Don't know how she doesn't split my ass in two."

"You can stop now."

"Little bro," Juaquin said, stealing the remote, "I'm just getting' started."

~*~*~*~

I shut my bedroom door. Totally verboten to lock yourself in your bedroom on Christmas, especially with family downstairs and dinner in its final stages, but I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

Buenos dias mi lobo, i'll call you tonight xoxo -- 8:42 AM, December 23, 201X

I looked back at the text message on my phone, the last time Cory had contacted me. Two days, five hours, and twenty-four minutes of radio silence. I didn't need to look at my phone logs to know that it had been even longer since I'd heard his voice. If I'd known, I would have insisted on the Skype call, no matter how many times he said I was obviously tired and it would be okay so save it for tomorrow.

By this time, I was willing to admit I was desperate. I texted Indie, hoping he'd be willing to check his phone on Christmas day, and willing enough to give me Preston's number without questions.

No such luck. No sooner had I explained the situation to Indie, my phone rang. The number was one I didn't know, but definitely from a Virginia area code.

"What do you mean you can't find him?"

"Preston?"

"Who the fuck else?" he answered testily. I heard what I assumed to be his twin siblings complaining about their brother making personal calls during family time. "When was the last time you talked?"

"He sent me a message a couple days ago saying he'd call me that evening."

"And he hasn't? Have you tried calling him? You sure your phone hasn't been off?"

"When was the last time you talked? Have you tried calling him? Has your phone been off?" I shot back angrily, not quite in the right frame of mind to give a fuck, let alone realize, that I was being unfair. "I've tried calling him, but his phone keeps going to voicemail."

He sighed. "The last I heard from him was about the same time." His tone became worried. "Said 'big things going down' and that he'd call later to celebrate."

"Fuck! I was hoping..." I sat on the bed, resting my head in my hands. I didn't even know what I was hoping.

"Here, let me try Keenan, see what he says."

"Thanks," I said.

"Hey, Wolfie?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, alright? It's probably nothing." He cut off the call before I could think of a response.

I flopped back in bed and stared up at the ceiling as I willed myself to calm the fuck down. This was starting to feel like all the times when I was younger that I had to screen phone calls for Juaquin because the dumbass had put his dick in crazy again. I realized that if I'd had Cory's home phone number, I'd probably be blowing up his parents' house line like some kind of overly-attached psycho-stalker girlfriend, and the more I stared up counting the bumps in the ceiling like stars, the more I empathized with my brother's exes. A couple of them had used mutual friends to bypass the sibling call screen and get at Juaquin. I was using Cory's best friends to get to him, which made me no different or better.

"Popcorn ceiling constellations, mijo?" my mother asked. She'd cracked the door and peeked in, but I'd been too self-absorbed to notice.

"Here to drag me back?" I asked, dreading her affirmative. The last thing I needed was to deal with my family while waiting for Preston to get back to me.

"Nope, your father has everything in hand." She sat down next to me and pointed up. "I swear, that one always looked like a bear to me. See, it even has a 'big dipper' in it."

"I still don't see it." My chuckle was pretty weak, but still present. She'd been trying to convince me of that bear since we moved into this house. I could tell her I had no interest in having bears in my room, but I doubted she'd get the joke.

"Juaquin and Zoe told me what's going on," she said, her tone turning serious. "And before you retaliate by telling me about him and Jen ring shopping, your siblings pre-empted that strike."

I narrowed my eyes. He promised not to tell. "He bought the ring." And how the hell did my sister know?

Mom gasped. "He didn't tell me about that." She caught herself mid-squeal and poked my stomach. "Stop trying to redirect me; I'm on a mission. Besides, it wasn't like I couldn't figure it out. You've been miserable and bratty for the last two days."

"Miserable and bra—"

My cell erupted in flurry of alerts, interrupting my protests. Texts streamed in from the number I now recognized as Preston's, and one I assumed to be Keenan Jerome's. Preston had created a group text to avoid relaying messages. I sat up as I read them over.

"Goddamn."

"What? What's wrong?" Mom asked. I angled the phone so she could see the texts as they came in.

KJ: Shit I hoped you or E heard from him

PF: Can't get him either?

KJ: We were supposed to get together a couple days ago, but C didn't show

Mom took the phone from my hands and started reading aloud when I began pacing the room.

KJ: Tried callin his parents but no pickup

PF: Would C screen your calls

KJ: No but his dad might

PF: Could you check his place?

KJ: I did 2 days ago...no truck and when i knocked his dad slammed the door in my face

KJ: And b4 u ask i called Cam. None of his brothers know where he is and his rents won't tell them

The grim set of her mouth matched my mood. "Cam is...?"

"Cameron, one of his brothers," I said. If his own brothers didn't know, then... I fought the urge to start punching shit. "Fuck!"

"Maybe he went home," my dad said from the doorway.

"But his truck—"

"No, not his parents' house, home," he said. "You have to be back by the 27th; maybe something happened, and he went back early."

"Not like I can check." That's when I noticed Mom tapping out something on my phone. "What are you doing?"

"Telling Cory's friends that your father and I are sending you home early to check for him," she said, dropping my phone on the bed and rising. "Get your things together. I'll pack some dinner for you both, and your father will make your excuses."

She swept out of the room. Dad nodded and left me alone to get on with it.

In less than half an hour, I was on the road, aided in no small part by Zoe and Juaquin, along with more food than we could eat before it spoiled (including an entire dish of flan just for Cory). Dad fabricated some last minute muster that I absolutely had to get to, holiday dinner be damned, and his story had been accepted without question. My boyfriend not calling me had turned into a full-blown Garza family emergency, but that was more worrisome than reassuring.

I hoped that the three hundred miles of holiday traffic would provide a welcome distraction from the fret-fest over what I would do if I found him.

Or what I would do if I didn't.

To be continued in EPIC Book 2: Wild Card