The Human Condition Ch. 09

"Asshole!" Kevin growled, and threw a couch pillow at me.

"Jesus Christ, Mikey, you scared the living shit out of us!" Saul whined, and then he catapulted his body onto my chest and snuggled in.

I wrapped my arms around him, then sighed and only opened my right to invite Kevin to join us. We lay still together for a long time until Saul started to shiver and Kev stretched out a long arm to grab the afghan over the back of the couch. He sat up to spread it over us and as he did he looked into my eyes.

"You know," he said, "there is something else we haven't tried yet."

He stroked my cheek with fingers that still smelled faintly of Saul's cum. My cock stirred and I considered what I knew he was saying: he was asking me if I wanted to bottom. He knew my history with Cam, and I'd been honest with him about how much I'd enjoyed that. I suppose he thought that would mean I'd be eager to take that role again.

But I wasn't. The physical injuries had healed; I knew that for a fact. A couple of fingers up my ass had answered all the questions I'd had about that some weeks before. So it wasn't fear of pain that made me hesitate. Some was a holdover from Elliot, but that wasn't all of it either.

When I'd given myself to Cam, I really did it more because I thought it was time, not because I thought it was right. I regretted that now, and I didn't want to repeat that mistake. I loved Saul and Kevin, but I wasn't in love with them. The next time I felt somebody's cock in my ass, I wanted it to be with someone I loved as a partner, a lover. I wanted that someone to be Joe. It might never happen and I'd have to reconsider, but at this point I was willing to wait and see if the possibility could ever turn into a reality.

Kevin read the answer in my eyes and stilled his hand on my cheek. "You sure?"

I nodded. "But I do appreciate the offer."

"Hey," he winked and nodded towards Saul who'd fallen asleep with his head resting on my shoulder. "We're a full service body shop here. Have to keep the customer satisfied."

I stretched out and moaned in contentment. "I have no complaints."

Kevin looked at me. "I just want to make sure you know the offer is always open."

I grinned and wagged my finger. "And some day I may hold you to it. But not right now, okay?"

"What are you two whispering about?" Saul's sleepy voice drifted up from my chest.

"About what a hot ass you have, and how we both want to fuck it until you can't walk tomorrow," Kevin teased.

"Great, great," Saul yawned, "just don't forget the lube, and try and keep the moaning down so you don't wake me."

Kevin and I both laughed softly as Saul closed his eyes again. Kevin lay back down beside me and soon all three of us were sleeping, curled up together like puppies, or friends who trusted each other absolutely.

Sometime before midnight, Saul woke us and led us into the bedroom where we crawled under the covers of their king-sized bed and held each other. The other two fell back to sleep immediately, but I lay there looking at the moon that shone through the window and washed everything out into shades of gray and silver.

I was thinking of another man who slept under that moon. He would be alone and his pale skin would shine like marble under the cold light. I sent him a private message in that moonlight. I imagined the words traveling up into the sky and down again to glide through his open window and sink into his sleeping form, where they would work their way into his dreams and he would hear the words I meant so much.

"I love you, Joe. Come home to me."

I closed my eyes and slept.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next day I got home and started to think about what my next move should be. I hadn't forgotten my promise to Sarah, or to myself for that matter. But I was definitely going to try and make Joe aware of just exactly what my feelings for him were.

I just didn't have a fucking clue how to go about it.

I thought about a phone call, but that seemed too iffy to me. What if I messed it up and made things worse? Confronting him face to face would've been ideal, but even if I'd had the money to fly to Italy, I had no passport, and the whole situation could end up looking like I was stalking him or something. He'd probably take one look at me and run in the opposite direction.

That left me no choice but to write - something I hated because I'd always sucked at it in school. But at least writing would give me the chance to think about what I wanted to say, and maybe that way I could at least hope I got it right. I sat down and started:

June 10, 1989

Dear Joe,

I think this letter is way overdue. I know you call Beau and get updates on what's happening around here, so I'm not going to get into that now. It's enough to say I've been doing a lot of thinking and examining of who I am and how I really feel about the people that I love. That includes you, man; I think you know that.

The thing is, when you're in therapy, even when it's for something specific like mine is, you get to a point where you start to examine all aspects of your life, not just the ones that landed you on the couch in the first place. And that includes how I feel about you.

I've thought about it a lot. I've run the last 4 years over and over in my head - every conversation, every look, everything I could remember about the time we've spent together. It has been quite a journey, hasn't it? From the moment you ran into that Chem. Lab, my life has never been the same.

Love. It's a word we all use a lot. We love so many things: we love our car and pizza and the new cassette we just bought. There are a lot of ways we love. There are those special kinds we have for our families, our friends, and all the people who are there for us. You belong in that group for me, and no matter what else happens, your friendship will always be one of the things I feel luckiest about having known.

But that isn't all of it Joe. Not even close. Because, I don't just love you as a friend. God knows I've tried to pretend that's all it is, even to myself and especially to you. But I don't want to pretend anymore. And what I really want... what I dream about and pray for in the dark, is you as a lover. Because, the truth is, I not only love you, Joe, I'm in love with you. And I'll say that to you forever and for the rest of my life, if you'll let me.

Only - and I'm not sure how I'm going to tell you this without screwing it up - before I can even think about that, I need to be honest with you about a few things. And that's really important because the truth is I've lied to you since the first day I met you.

See, I've always been in love with you. That's the real reason I was so reluctant to tell you I was gay, and it's also the reason I've spent so much of our time together being distant. I thought that if you knew that about me, you wouldn't want to be my friend and I couldn't face that. So, I lied.

You know, when I look back on every thing, I realize that it was always you who stuck his neck out, not me. If it weren't for you, I'd have never even said hi to you after the first week or two out of the hospital. I'd have drifted - no, run away - from the possibility of us ever being friends. Remember that fight last spring when you nailed me for keeping my distance? Shit, you were so right. Every minute I've spent with you has been one where I've been so concerned about protecting myself, I've never even thought about your feelings and what you needed.

Even now, I realize that all this time you've been away, you've sent me letters and called and not once have I ever made the slightest effort to return the favor. I wasn't even smart enough to figure this out for myself. Last week in therapy, I was bitching to Alice that I hadn't heard from you in a while and she asked me if I'd tried to get in touch with you instead. I was stunned. The thought had never even occurred to me. What kind of an asshole does that make me?

And my answer to that is the kind that would rather you believe I didn't care rather than run the risk of getting rejected. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I had this nice little scenario cooked up where you'd come back and make all the hard choices and leave me with nothing more to do than just open my arms and welcome you home. How's that for neat and tidy? No need for me to commit, or put my ego on the line. I'd leave that up to you, the same way I've always done.

Sure, I figured there was always the risk that you'd feel rejected and not even want to bother, but what the hell.... at least I'd know. It didn't matter that real life doesn't usually include a guarantee of happiness - only the possibility of it - and only if you were really willing to risk everything to get it. No, my attitude was, "fuck the possibilities, I want proof."

But that isn't real life and that isn't love. Because in the long run, it doesn't matter if you love me as much as I love you or even in the same way. What matters is that I love you enough to trust you to accept me telling you how I feel. And if you can't return those feelings, then that's okay, because at least, for once, I'll have known that I'd taken the initiative.

This hasn't been an easy letter for me to write, and I imagine you're not finding it any easier to read. Please believe me when I say, I'm not trying to put any pressure on you here, even if might appear that way. Yes, I want you, but not at the cost of your happiness. If you really feel this is wrong, I'll understand. It will break my heart, but I'd rather that then ever run the risk of hurting you.

But I need you to know how I feel because it would kill me if I thought you were spending one minute worrying about whether or not I wanted this to happen between us. So let me tell you again: I do want you, Joe. More than anything else ever... I want you. And if you think there is even a glimmer of a possibility that you could feel the same way about me someday, I hope you'll remember this letter and know how much I would cherish the opportunity to prove to you that I mean what I say.

So what do you know, I'm dealing in possibilities after all...

Love Always,

Mike

I folded the letter, put in an envelope and walked to the corner and mailed I before I could change my mind. Less than two weeks later, the answer came. My hands shook as I tore open the envelope.

June 15, 1989

Dear Mike,

I got your letter yesterday. I thought that was pretty good considering the distance it had to travel. I wish you didn't feel bad about not writing before. God knows you've had enough on your mind without worrying about me.

Oh course, that's part of it, isn't it? Oh Jesus, I wish this wasn't all so hard. Right now, I feel like the worlds greatest fuck up. You give me too much credit, Mike. From your letter you'd think you actually thought I actually had a goddamn clue about what I was doing! I don't. In fact, I think I never did.

Oh God, Mike, why can't I figure this out? Why is one part of me so miserable because I can't see your face or hear your voice, and the other so terrified that the thought of going home makes me physically nauseous? I want to be with you, more than you can ever imagine. And the worst is, I feel so damn guilty for not being there when you've been going through all this shit that I can't stand myself. I've never run from anything in my life before, and I can tell you, it's a fucking shock to realize how weak I really am.

You tell me you love me and I know you believe that, but frankly I don't know how you could. You don't even know me! You don't know how much I've hidden from you, from Betsy, from every person I've ever tried to fool into loving me. You call yourself a liar; well, you're a novice compared to me.

You've given me a great gift by telling me all of this about yourself. Don't think I don't realize that. And, never, never worry that I would think less of you because of it. Hell, I should be so brave.

But I'm not, Mike - at least, not brave enough. You've been honest with me, and now it's my turn. See, just because I care about you doesn't mean I'm ready to give up wanting everything else. I've never made it a secret how much I want a family, a home. I don't know if I can give up that dream, not even for you. And I don't think that this is something that can be left to figure out later.

I don't want to feel this way. I'm tired of missing you and I'm tired of being scared of what happens next. But that doesn't mean I'm ready to face it yet either. And honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be. I wish that weren't so, but it is. I know the truth is supposed to "set you free," but I sure as shit feel like all it's done is bind me up into knots I may never be able to untie.

I love you, Mike.

There - I've finally admitted it. I don't know it that's a good thing or not. I love you, all right... but I just don't know if that's enough. And God help me, I wish that weren't the truth.

Love,

Joe

I read the last paragraph again for the hundredth time and then folded up the sheets, put them back in the nightstand drawer, and wiped my eyes. I'd received Joe's response to my letter a week ago and I really didn't need to look at the letter anymore to know what it said. That didn't stop me, though, and I was pretty sure I'd be rereading it for years to come, whatever the final outcome was.

The problem was, I had no clue what that outcome was going to be. The first time I'd read the letter, I was sure there was no way he was ever going to choose me; the next time all I could see were the words "I love you." I was back to not sleeping very well, but this time it wasn't nightmares I was afraid of: it was dreams of Joe. They were happy dreams, and you'd think that wouldn't have been so bad, except it was because the minute I woke and realized that he wasn't really here and maybe never would be again, the disappointment was crushing.

I wanted to give him time, I really did, but I was impatient, too. I needed to hear his voice, and I told myself that maybe that would be enough to appease me for a while. I hadn't talked to him since the week he'd left. Maybe I needed to change that.

I bugged Beau until he gave me Josh's phone number. I knew that Joe didn't live with him in his apartment anymore. He hadn't since the first week. But I figured if anybody knew how to get a hold of him, it would be Josh.

I looked at my alarm clock. It was time: 7PM in Rome, still too early for eating in that city, but late enough that Josh would probably be there. I took a deep breath and punched in the phone buttons. Even though I was only calling Josh, the thought that soon I'd be talking to Joe made my heart pound.

"Prego." The voice on the other end of the phone made the heavy pounding in my chest skip a beat. I stared at the phone, unable to speak.

"Hey," said the voice, "anybody on the line?" And then the sound muffled momentarily as the person turned and spoke to someone else. "I think we've got a breather here."

I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry, and I desperately wished I'd had the forethought to grab a beer before I'd started this. Despite the whine of the overseas connection, I knew the voice on the line, and it wasn't Josh's. For all that they were almost identical.

"Joe?" I finally managed to get out.

There was a silence and I thought maybe I'd taken too much time to respond and he'd already hung up. Then I heard a whoosh of breath as it was exhaled into the receiver. The relief that came with knowing he was still there made my knees weak and I sat down heavily on the bed.

"Yeah," came the wary reply.

"Joe, it's... it's Mike."

"I know." He didn't exactly sound overjoyed to admit it.

"I didn't expect to have you answer the phone," I babbled. This was not going at all the way I'd hoped. "Actually, I wasn't expecting you to be there at all. I was calling Josh to..."

"Oh, REALLY?" he snapped. It didn't make sense, but I could swear that Joe sounded pissed. "Well sorry to disappoint you, but I am here, so I guess you and my brother will just have to set another time to talk behind my back!"

Oh shit - now I understood. "Joe, wait," I protested. "That isn't what this is."

"Yeah, right," he said sarcastically "I forgot how you and Josh are so close. You've maybe talked to each other like, what... three times in the last four years? Of course, with a friendship that intense, you two would need to stay in touch."

I shook my head. "Aw, Jesus Christ," I cried, "at least give me a chance to explain!"

"Explain what, Mike? I think I get it perfectly. You and my brother are cooking up some scheme to get me back there. I wondered why he'd been on my back so much lately, and I just think I figured out why."

I started to get angry, but then caught myself and softened my voice. "You're so wrong, Joe," I began, "and if you'll just stop acting like an asshole and give me a minute and listen..."

"Fuck you, Mike!" he snarled.

There was another voice now in the background, urgent, pleading and Joe must have pulled his mouth away again from the receiver, because his voice sounded more distant, "You stay the hell out of this, bro'! In fact, why don't you just get the fuck out of my life all together? I don't know why I even came to you in the first place!"

"Joe, Joe!" I shouted into the phone, trying to draw his attention back to me. "Why are you acting this way? Shut up before you say something you regret!"

There was silence again. When Joe finally spoke, his voice was shaking with emotion. "I can't... I just can't do this, Mike. Please, don't push me, I can't..."

The phone suddenly dropped, and after a moment, another voice was speaking. "Mike, it's Josh."

"Oh shit, Josh. I'm so sorry, I don't know what just happened... what I said!"

"It's not you, really. Don't worry about it. Joe and I were just having a little difference of opinion, and then you called and he decided to use that as an excuse to go a little nuts."

Reaction was setting in and now I could feel the tears trickle down my face. "God, what have I done?" I said in a hoarse whisper.

"Nothing, trust me." Josh's voice was firm, but gentle. "You didn't do anything wrong, Mike. It's just your timing that sucks. Look, can I call you back? I have to go chase down Mr. Prima Donna. He ran out of here and I need to find him and bitch-slap some sense into him." He sighed. "God, he's such a goddamned drama queen."

Josh never had fit my image of what a priest should talk like. Any other time, I might have laughed at him; today, I barely noticed. "Yeah, fine," I said, trying to regain my composure. "I'd like that. Oh wait - I can't. I have to go to work."

"Hmmm, okay... tomorrow, then. And listen, Mike," he said, his voice softening. "Don't worry. Joe is just... he's really confused right now. He's going to be fine. I promise you that."

"Good," I said, but I didn't believe him. "That's good."

We said our goodbyes and broke the connection. I sat there motionless on the bed. I didn't even hang up the phone, but stared blankly at the receiver in my hand as if I'd never seen one in my life.

I didn't know what the hell to think now. Obviously, Joe was in a lot worse shape then I'd thought, but Josh had acted like he didn't think it was that big a deal. I'd heard enough about Josh from his brother to know that he wasn't the kind of guy who'd say something if he didn't actually believe it, so I had to think he knew what he was talking about.

I forced myself to get up and start getting ready for work. I was going in later than usual because I knew I'd have to be at the office at least until 10PM. We had a big case that had started trial today, and there was bound to be some last-minute research that had to be done after the first witnesses had been called. I'd been bitching because I usually hated staying after hours but now it didn't seem so bad. This night was going to be long enough; I didn't need to spend it all alone.