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subject. "It's been a week. Do you think we could& "
"Jeez, is sex all you think about?" Noah threw his
fork down on the table and stormed off, leaving his
dinner untouched. Willing himself not to cry, Jeremy
packed away the leftovers.
He thought he'd had a life and a home with Noah, but
more and more he felt unwanted. What would he do if
Noah asked him to leave? Should he ask Mary if he
could stay with her, Donna, and the kids? Should he
look into a dorm? Heart heavy, he searched the want ads
for students seeking roommates for the upcoming term.
But that night, instead of rolling away, Noah held
him and cried. "I love you," he gasped between sobs.
"Please don't give up on me."
"I won't," Jeremy replied, praying for the strength to
keep his word.
***
Lark sang off key one particularly horrible afternoon,
crooning into a broom handle while sweeping. Despite
the worries weighing on his mind, Jeremy smiled,
Fallen Angel 187
providing a doo-wop background to an old Motown tune
that Mary occasionally warbled.
When did Lark become my comforter? Aren't I
supposed to be doing that for him? But no, he wasn't
being there for Lark, he had no idea how to be there for
Noah, and the powerlessness twisted his insides into
knots.
What I can do, I will. He hefted a bucket of paint,
heading outside to finally keep his promise about
painting the landing. One less thing for Noah to yell
about.
On Sunday, Jeremy woke up first and took the
opportunity to study Noah at rest. The man lying asleep
beside him had the same crooked nose, okay, even more
crooked after the attack, the same dark blond hair, half
shaved off and growing back in where he'd had stitches,
a jagged gash healing in an odd zig-zag pattern across
his scalp. White hair grew in at the edges of the incision.
This man wearing Noah's body ate the same foods,
when he bothered to eat at all, wore the same clothes,
worked the same job. Too bad he wasn't Noah. The
spark, the vitality that had drawn Jeremy like a moth to a
flame, sputtered, threatening to die. Jeremy lived in
dread of the day he awakened to find the Noah he loved
missing completely.
They didn't talk about rent boys, but Doc announced
Noah's resignation, that Noah'd abandoned his prospects,
turned his back on a cause he'd championed for a
decade. All because of the misguided notion that he'd
put Jeremy, and others, in danger.
Time was running out. In three more weeks, Noah
believed he'd be moving Jeremy into a dorm. With
problems stacking on top of problems, Jeremy didn't
want to rock an already unsteady boat by mentioning his
enrollment at Waverly. Did Noah want him to leave?
They hadn't had sex in nearly two weeks, and the last
time they had, it wasn't the same. The passion, once
scorching hot, barely managed lukewarm now. Was
there any way to rekindle dying embers?
Fallen Angel 188
He stumbled out to the kitchen, preparing pancakes
and bacon, not wanting to break the routine because of a
gloomy mood. Laying out the newspaper for Noah to
read over breakfast, the headline caught his eye. He read
the article in its entirety, about a young man saved from
tragedy by loved one's interventions, plotting an
intervention of his own. The longer he plotted, the more
the idea appealed to him, and the more his plotting
fleshed out. First, he needed some accomplices.
***
"Noah?" Noah spun around, surprised to find Jeremy
had somehow snuck up behind him, holding a stack of
newspapers. "I want you to read these," he urged,
shoving the papers into Noah's hands.
Noah sat down on the couch, staring down at a
headline: "Two Killed in Road Rage Incident." He
glanced up at Jeremy, confused.
"Read," Jeremy commanded, with a hint of
stubbornness that Noah found hard to refuse.
He read. It seemed a man had cut a car off in traffic.
The driver of the other car followed him home and shot
him and his wife. Not understanding how the senseless
killing related to anything personal, Noah set the article
aside, perusing the next one Jeremy pointed out.
"Domestic Violence Ends in Murder-Suicide," the
headline stated.
Article after article he skimmed, each one telling a
senseless, brutal, unnecessary tragedy. "I'm afraid I don't
understand," he admitted after the tenth account of
needless loss.
"Every one of those deaths happened in an instant,
Noah, to people who lived nice safe lives. They had
security systems, some went to church. One even lived
in a gated community. Wrapping us both in cotton and
ignoring the problems won't solve them. You can't hide
from the world, and you can't live your life as though
you're already dead." Jeremy's voice took on a pleading
Fallen Angel 189
air. "Live in the moment, Noah. Make every breath
count."
The papers fell from Noah's numb fingers, the words
going straight to his heart. Hiding? Is that what I'm
doing? "Is there more?" he asked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]