Page 29 of The Embrace of Evergreen
I want to know why he knows what it feels like to drown in sorrow. It’s the second time he’s said there was something he needed to escape once upon a time, and Iwant to know what hurt him, but he asked about my dad, and I have to push through before the spell that’s fallen over us and allowed me to bare my soul to him disappears.
“I told Dad that I just needed some time on my own, and for a while, I kept him updated with my location and work info. He pushed for more at first. He tried, he really did, but every time he reached for more, I pushed him further away. I was a child, but I was a man, too, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he pushed too hard. He’d lost the love of his life, and he didn’t want to lose his son too. I did what felt right to me at the time, but I didn’t really realize what I'd done until we were basically estranged.”
“Ethan…you did the best you could. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” Blue’s grasp on my fingers has softened, and his thumb is sliding along the side of mine once more.
“I know, but I hurt him when I left. He lost her, and then he lost me too. In a way, I did to him what Jordyn did to me. It was just so hard to hear how much he was hurting when we talked. His voice would crack every time he told me he was proud of me for finding my path but that he missed me and wished I'd visit. Eventually, I stopped answering his calls.We texted for a while after that, but then I'd see the dots, and I'd know he was watching for mine, and I felt so guilty that I stopped texting too. I wrote him a letter, and he wrote in return. We write a few times a year these days. It gives me timeto process and think about what to say. He always sends pictures at Christmas and a card on my birthday. He doesn’t push anymore, doesn’t ask me to come home.”
I tear my gaze away from Blue’s; the emptiness that always burns in my chest when I think about my dad hurts too much as it is. I can’t handle seeing my pain reflected in his pale-blue eyes.
“A couple of years after I left, he found a man on the side of the road with no memory, and he took him in. I was happy when he found Namid. He’s around my age, and he was found with nothing, and nobody ever came looking for him. Dad needed someone to care for, someone less shattered than me who could love him back, and they’ve built a sort of family without me. I know he wasn’t trying to replace me or anything. He tells me he loves me in every single one of his letters, and I know that he does. Sometimes I think I might want to try again, to try having a family. It’s just been so long, you know? He has his life, and I have mine. What if he ends up hating the man I’ve become? Then I’d lose even the idea that there might still be a place I belong.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Blue shifts at my side and pulls me into his arms before I even realize what’s happening. It’s the second time he’s called me that this afternoon. Gabriel is always using pet names, but Blue never has, and I’m worried they’ve slipped out because he pities me, but with hiswarmth wrapped around me, it’s hard to care why he’s doing it, even though I don’t want his pity.
“I know that I’ve only known you for a few months, but you are such an amazing person. You work so hard, and you’re so thoughtful and caring. You already have a place that you belong.”
I mourn the loss of his strong arms and his chest pressed up against mine as he shifts back away from me, but the sense of loss is short-lived when his eyes are so close that I can see the small flecks of gold that dance across the blue.
“I don’t know your dad, but it sounds like he knows how special you are, and I imagine that he would be thrilled to be more involved in your life. But even if you give it a try and it doesn’t work out, you already belong here with me and with Gabriel and our friends. You have since we first met you. You’ll always have a family here with us.”
Chapter 12
Blue
My world is irrevocably changed by the time Ethan and I make it back to the car. I don't know that I'll ever get the chance to know him as more than my friend, but that's okay. I'm grateful I have the opportunity to offer him friendship. I'm grateful that he shared his past with me, his heartbreak, and his fears. I’m grateful that he let me in. He let me see him in a deeply intimate way, and I don't think he's ever done that with anyone else. He gifted me with his emotions and his truths, and he’s trusting me to keep them safe. I would never take something like that lightly, and no matter what our futures hold, I'll do everything I can to support him. To help him find himself and build a life that makes him happy.
By the time we make it back to the car, the sun is quickly heading toward the horizon, and I’m more than a little concerned we might miss Gabriel’s performance. I know he’ll understand if I explain where we were, buthe’d secretly still be a bit disappointed, and I don’t want to do that to him.
“We’re going to be cutting it close making it back, and trust me on this, you do NOT want to tell Gabriel you’re going to be at one of his shows and then miss it. But I’m starving, so what do you say we just grab something from the first drive-through we pass?”
“That sounds potentially ominous.” Ethan laughs. “But hey, clearly, this is Ethan-takes-risks weekend, so why not?”
I glance over quickly and raise a teasing eyebrow. “Coming to a sleepy little town with me for the weekend was a risk?”
“For me? Ya. It was.” Ethan’s voice is as thick as it was when he spoke about the loss of his family, and for a moment, the fact that we both know just how alone he’s been for so long hangs heartbreakingly heavy between us.
“I mean, you’re all tattooed and shit, so you could still be planning to murder me,” he teases in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Hey! What about you? You know they say it’s always the quiet ones.” I scoff before leaning over to flick on the radio. He seems to want to enjoy the rest of the evening, even though he must be in complete emotional disarray after the past twenty-four hours, so I do my best to play along by singing as loudly and poorly as possible,the same way Gabriel always sings in the shower, and it only takes a few moments before Ethan is nearly curled up in a ball with tears streaming down his cheeks in laughter. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.
I send up a silent prayer of thanks to the food gods when we luck out, and the first drive-through we pass is a small local burger place that more than likely doesn’t usually poison its diners because the drive-through line is long and the dining room crowded. We get a burger and chicken strips, fries and onion rings, and we split everything as we speed back toward town. Ethan feeds me fries as we snake along the narrow, curving roads, and for a few moments, I convince him to sing with me. He lets go of his worry and inhibitions, his voice loud and boisterous and carefree. It’s screechy and horrible and absolutely perfect…until he chokes on a fry, and we both dissolve into laughter once more.
Our drive is levity and laughter and light, and my soul has never felt as free as it does with Ethan by my side. More than anything, I wish the joy and happiness that swirls through me were tangible enough that I could capture them. I want to be able to relive what these moments feel like whenever I want. I want to be able to remind Ethan that these emotions exist when he’s feeling anxious or lonely. I want to keep him with me always so that I can share his pain and his delight. I want to hold his hand and wrap my arm around his shoulders. I want to lie in bed next to him with his knee slipped between mine as evergreen eyes smile at me. I want to protect him. I want to keep him.
Ethan
Blue whistles. It’s a long, piercing noise that threatens my eardrums and stirs jealousy in my chest. I've always wanted to do that for some reason, but despite hours and hours of practicing in my youth - and okay, a few stray moments on long drives even in my twenties - the best I can do is spit a noisy raspberry. It’s not like it’s a skill I need on a regular basis or anything. Even this boat festival crowd, which is far from raucous, isn't anywhere near my normal scene, and when I go out with Blue and Gabriel on Friday nights, I’m certainly not doing anything to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.
Even though I love the way I’m starting to feel like part of their group and have - surprisingly - come to enjoy the chaotic energy of the bars and clubs we frequent, it’s not like finally finding some friends has changed who I am as a person. I still want to watch them from the sidelines and blend into the background as much as possible. It’s a part of me they all seem to have accepted without hesitation, and I’m not quite sure how to process that. While they tease me a bit and ask me to dance orsing with them from time to time, they don’t push hard enough to make me feel bad about the fact I’m so different from the rest of them. They let me laugh and play with them in my own way, and I never feel like the odd man out. Every single time, it leaves me feeling a tiny bit confused and indescribably grateful.
Blue and I had to run down the main street to make it to the performance in time. He’d woven deftly through the thick crowds, our hands clasped tightly as he dragged me behind him, and it was hilarious to watch the expressions of terror on the faces of folks who looked up from their snacks or conversations or window-shopping to see us barreling directly at them just in time to slide out of the way. I have no idea if they thought we were going to run them over, pick them up and take them with us, or tackle them to the ground and rob them. I know I’d definitely panic if I was minding my own business, enjoying a nice fall festival, and two large men came charging toward me.
He got us here on time, though, and now he’s whooping loudly, clapping with the music, and bouncing on his toes as if he's in a mosh pit. He doesn't seem to notice that the dozen folks closest to us are side-eyeing him instead of watching Gabriel and Charlize’s performance. Or, if he does notice, he doesn't care. I watch him too. The way his smile lights up the world and his eyebrow and lip piercings flash in the warm, fading sunset lighting as he dances around like a hyperactive child, the tie-dyed blanket still draped around his shoulders. He's just…free. He lives as if he has no fears orworries or reasons to stress. He lives like he’s deliberately chosen to see only the good in every person or situation he encounters. I don’t know much about his history, but it’s clear from the little snippets I’ve picked up that his life hasn’t been only sunshine and roses, and yet he’s still able to enjoy the beauty the world has to offer. Every interaction I've ever had with him has left me feeling calm and accepted and just a bit happier than I was before we met.He makes me want to see the world the way he does. He makes me want to be happy. Not just existing, but deeply and truly happy.
Something changed between us while we sat together surrounded by evergreens, at least for me. I offered him a glimpse of my soul and he accepted me without hesitancy or uncertainty. He didn’t judge me or patronize me. He hugged me and supported me and told me that I’m a good person. He told me that nothing is wrong with me and showed me that so many more flavors of sexuality exist than I’d ever realized. He told me I’d never be alone, and even though I know those are just words and no one can really promise that - there is no way to know what the future holds, after all - I believe that he meant it. I believe that he likes having me in his life, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I have hope. Real, actual hope instead of minuscule, shredded fragments barely clinging to existence in the place hope used to live inside of me. I have hope that I might be able to find whatever it is that I’ve been searching for all of my life. Hope that the tiny spark of a thought that believes what I’ve been looking for is a home and a family might just be right.
Blue grabs my hand and pulls me close, his head dropping back in laughter after he winks at me yet again while encouraging me to dance with him here in the middle of a crowded park. And as I watch his vibrant turquoise hair swishing in the copper sunset rays and small wrinkles form beside his eyes as he squints and smiles, I can’t shake the dull ache that settles in my chest as something else seems to change as well. For the first - or perhaps not quite the first - time, I realize that he's gorgeous. Not in the “Yes, I recognize he's objectively striking” sort of way that usually occurs when I encounter attractive people, but in a “Why the fuck is my racing heart trying to escape my chest, and why am I dizzy even though my lungs seem to be working overtime when I look at him?” sort of way. My fingers itch to reach over and trace along the black lines etched into his skin, and for the first time in almost longer than I can remember, I find myself wondering what it would be like to take someone home.
