Page 2
I love it when he falls asleep on me. In me. It’s the best feeling ever. The way his beautiful body goes slack and sort of melts into mine. God, I could just lie here forever, stroking his back and his arms, adoring his amazingly silky skin.
I’m not really tired yet, but I’m totally relaxed. While Brian sleeps, I look around at our hotel room, taking in all the details, getting acquainted with the space. The bathroom’s huge. I hope he’ll let me get him in that Jacuzzi. We’ve never had a bath together, since he doesn’t have a tub at his place. I smile, thinking about how hot it would be to wash his hair in a bath tub . . . all slow and soft . . . yeah. I will definitely have to talk him into that before we go.
My eyes move over the big dresser and stop on that straw hat, sitting near the mirror right where I tossed it. For a while, I just look at it and try to imagine Brian’s dad wearing it. I never met him, of course, but I’ve seen his picture. I didn’t want to say it, but Brian has his eyes. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be too happy about that.
Petting his long back just enough to keep him relaxed, I kiss Brian’s head and smell his hair. I love the way he smells. The whole time I was with Ethan, I kept one of Brian’s t-shirts hidden in a drawer. Whenever I needed a fix, I’d go smoosh my face in it. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it made me feel worse. I missed him so damned much when I was away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of movement near the dresser. Looking back, I actually stop breathing.
In the mirror, I see the image of Jack Kinney just standing there . . . watching us. The vision is filmy and frail looking as it hovers over the hat on the dresser. And in another second, it’s gone.
When my breath rushes out again, Brian wakes up with a jolt.
“What?” he says, looking at me with red, sleepy eyes.
At first, I don’t know what to say—don’t know if I should say anything at all. I want to tell him, but then I don’t . . . He’s staring at me, though. He knows I have something to say.
“Justin, what’s wrong?” he demands, cranky because I woke him.
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s nothing. Sorry I woke you up.”
He just looks at me, not fooled for a second. “Your heart is beating like a jackhammer. What the hell happened?”
I glance over at the dresser mirror again and he follows my gaze.
Frowning irritably, he says, “what, did the fucking hat get up and do a dance?”
As soon as he says that, the hat slides forward and off the edge of the dresser, landing with a hollow plop on the carpeted floor.
****************
Brian:
His heart rate caught up to Justin’s instantly and they pressed against each other in surprise. Brian was immediately annoyed that he let himself be alarmed by something that probably had a very logical explanation. He got up, grabbed the hat off the floor and shoved it into one of the dresser drawers, slamming it tight.
“Fucking thing,” he muttered. “It can stay in there until I burn it later.” He crawled back into the bed and wound himself around Justin’s body again. The boy was trembling slightly and Brian looked at him. “Relax. The hat just fell on the floor. It didn’t fly around the room and spell REDRUM on the wall.”
“Right,” the blond said, trying vainly to be convincing. “I know.” His pupils were so dilated that his blue eyes were almost black.
Brian’s brow knit with a mixture of irritation and concern. “Justin, you don’t really think it moved by itself, do you? The balcony door is open, it probably got caught in the wind.”
“I know,” he repeated and he did seem to be calming down a little.
Smirking, Brian slipped his hand down the boy’s nicely muscled torso and gathered up his warm balls. Holding them gently, he whispered in Justin’s ear. “Maybe you need a diversion to take your mind off things that go bump in the night.”
It took a few more licking kisses on the neck and earlobe and some fairly insistent caressing, but finally he felt his lover sigh and his body respond to Brian’s touch. In a moment, they were kissing hot and wet and a moment later, Brian was inside him again, sliding his hard cock in and out of Justin’s body with slow, controlled strokes.
The sex worked its magic of distraction and neither of them thought about the hat again until later that night.
After dinner in the hotel restaurant, they went up to the expansive deck to watch the last of the sunset over Lake Erie. They found two vacant lounge chairs near a corner of the deck and a very effeminate waiter brought them cocktails. He gave them both a flirty smile before he went on his way.
“Isn’t THIS the life?” Justin said, reclining like a spoiled debutante on the plush chaise. The sun was almost gone but its golden remnants brought up the myriad shades of blond in his hair. Brian noticed, but said nothing. He thought it was better just to enjoy the view.
“Yeah, well . . . we’d better suck it up,” he said. “God knows when I’ll be rich enough to put us up in this kind of style again.” He sipped his double Absolut and looked out over the water, watching the twinkling lights on the boats nearest the shore. He wondered if Justin liked to sail.
“Brian,” the blond said. “I don’t expect you to put me up in ANY kind of style. I don’t expect you to put me up at all. You do know that, right?”
He had no reply. Justin kept staring at him until he looked back.
“Really,” the blond went on. “I didn’t come back because you had money. And you might have noticed, I also haven’t left now that you don’t.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Brian said, then he looked out across the water again. “I only meant . . .”
“You’re just depressed,” Justin finished for him. Leaning over so he could lower his voice to a soft whisper, he said, “how about this—we don’t talk about our real lives and what a shit storm they both are right now for the rest of the time we’re here. That means, until we pull up in front of your loft the day after tomorrow, not a WORD about real life. Deal?”
Closing the short distance between them, Brian kissed that voluptuous mouth for a long, lingering moment. “Deal,” he said, brushing their noses together, luxuriating in his young lover’s scent. “As long as you promise to keep me very, very occupied.”
Justin smiled and gently nipped Brian’s bottom lip. “I think I can manage that. I have some ideas . . .”
Grinning playfully, Brian ran his tongue over Justin’s yummy bottom lip, tasting the sweetness from his rum and coke there. “I hope all of your ideas involve lots and lots of orgasms.”
“You know it, baby.”
They melted into each other, kissing full out in the sunset and Brian was just about to let himself forget all his cares for the moment, when someone standing right behind them cleared their throat.
Both of them looked up at the uniformed woman standing on the deck behind their chairs. Middle aged, a little thick at the waist but otherwise attractive, this woman appeared to be a member of the hotel staff. Her hands were folded in front of her and her late-60’s hair style was sprayed so heavily, it didn’t move at all in the early evening breeze. She smiled at them both genuinely and then she spoke.
“Be careful,” she said, but her voice was very faint, almost inaudible amid the conversations of the other guests on the deck.
“Excuse me?” Brian barked, irritated both by the interruption and by what he felt certain the woman would say next.
She kept looking at them, her pale eyes moving from one to the other, that gentle smile never leaving her lips. “The hotel frowns on public displays of affection,” she said, that time her voice was even softer. She seemed to know she wasn’t easy to hear and she leaned forward over the backs of their chairs. “He would prefer you return to your room to make love.”
Brian sighed and flopped down in his chair, turning away from the woman rudely. Justin did the same, but not before he told her that she AND the hotel could kiss his lily-white ass.
They both waited for her to either say something else or to move on, but there was absolutely no sound forthcoming from behind them. After a few minutes, they turned around again—but the woman was gone.
Justin sat up and squinted down each length of the deck that could be seen from their chairs. There were other chaises placed along the rail like theirs, all of which were occupied by hotel guests watching the sunset just like they were. The only people in uniform anywhere around were the two male waiters.
“Okay,” Justin said. “That was TOO weird. You did see her, right?”
“Yes,” Brian groaned. “For fuck’s sake, we both spoke to her! She wasn’t a ghost. She just moved fast. Look, she went through that door right there.” He nodded to a door marked Employees Only that was a mere 15 feet behind them. “Quit being so jumpy, would you?”
Justin gave him an aggravated stare for a moment, then he heaved a sigh. “Whatever.” He glanced furtively at the door, then back to the spot where the woman had been standing, apparently calculating how long it would have taken her to go from one point to the other. Clearly, it didn’t add up to him.
Brian reached over and tapped the half full glass in the blond’s hand. “Drink. Forget about it. There’s no such thing as ghosts, little boy.”
Justin looked into his cocktail for a long time and seemed to be weighing some option very intensely.
“What?” Brian pressed.
Taking a deep breath, Justin said, “I think . . . you might be wrong about that.”
Rolling his eyes, Brian groaned. He was in no mood for this. “What the fuck are you talking about? That god damned hat again? It just FELL, Justin. The wind caught it.”
“Not the hat,” he said. “There was . . . something else. Before the hat fell.”
The young one’s tone gave Brian a slowly creeping chill. “What do you mean?”
Justin filled his lungs, then looked up with his big blue eyes wide. “There was this . . . reflection in the mirror before you woke up. It’s why I jumped. I . . . think . . . I’m pretty sure it was . . . your dad.”
Brian’s extremities went cold all at once. He stared at Justin for a long time before he could figure out what to say. “You’ve never even met him. How would you know what he looks like?”
“I’ve seen pictures of him,” the blond said softly. “I’m sure it was him. He was just there for a second . . . right in the mirror. Above the hat. He just . . . looked at me. Brian, I could really FEEL him looking. It was totally creepy.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Brian sat forward on his chaise. “Why the fuck would my old man be HERE? He’s never even been to Lake Erie.”
“I don’t think it’s about here,” Justin said. “I think it’s about the hat. We brought it here . . . and I think he’s here because . . .” he sighed. “I think it’s about you and me.”
“What?” Brian said, his brow wrinkled with both anxiety and a not so small amount of fear. He didn’t like the way this ghost idea was making him feel. He was actually, genuinely freaked out.
“Yeah,” Justin said tentatively. “I think . . . it’s about us together.”
Raising his glass to his lips, Brian drained the cocktail then motioned for the waiter to come over. He didn’t say anything until the man in the pressed white uniform was standing besides his chair.
“Yes, sir?” the waiter asked politely, but his eyes twinkled impishly. It was obvious he would have done either of them right on the spot. “Would you like another round?”
“Lemme ask you something,” Brian said. “Do you have a middle aged women on the hotel staff here? She’s about this tall,” he gestured with his hands. “And she has light brown hair—sort of a Maggie Thatcher vibe to the style? Do you know who I mean?”
The waiter considered for a moment, then he said, “well, we have several women on the staff that might fit that description. Did you need to speak to her specifically or can anyone else assist you?”
Brian gave Justin a vindicated smirk. “See? There are several women on the staff that would fit that description. Real women. Humans. Not ghosts.”
The waiter looked at them a bit blankly. “I’m sorry?” he said. “Ghosts?”
“Yeah,” Brian replied in his predictable acerbic tone. “My lover thinks we just had a close encounter with a spirit wearing the uniform of a hotel staff member. I think she was very real and just walked off and went through that door.” He pointed at the employee entrance. “But he thinks she was a ghost and that she just vanished into the ether. What do you think?”
“Oh,” the waiter said, nodding his understanding. “I see. Well I can tell you that, although there have been some instances of guests claiming they saw . . . things here in the hotel, no one has ever said they saw anyone like you described. Mostly they see the children.”
Again, Brian’s extremities felt cold as he remembered hearing a child’s voice out in the hall before he dozed off that afternoon. “Are there any children staying in the hotel right now?” he asked.
“Oh yes, sir,” the waiter said. “There are quite a few families with young children staying with us this week.”
“Fine,” Brian said, feeling comforted by that information. For the time being, he was going to let himself ignore the odd coincidence of the child he’d heard echoing his own words from earlier in the day. “See?” he said to Justin. “No ghosts.”
Justin blinked at him, then looked up at the waiter. “You said people have seen the ghosts of children here? What children?”
The waiter glanced down the deck at the nearest guests to them, apparently to see if they were within earshot. Then, he lowered his voice and leaned in so only the boys could hear him. “About twenty years ago, there was a fire in an old wing of the hotel. Two children were trapped in their room and they were killed. Some of the guests over the years have said they saw the children in the lobby or in the dining room, but most people say they can HEAR them talking in the hallways.”
Brian swallowed and his throat clicked audibly. “Talking? What do they say?”
Again, the waiter glanced at the other guests before he answered. “Mostly, people have said they hear the children talking about what THEY did that day—as if the children knew them personally—or knew they were coming here. It’s really creepy if you think about it. I’ve worked here for six years and there have been lots of guests who said they had that experience.” The waiter shivered. “Gives me the willies.”
“You’ve never heard these children yourself?” Justin asked.
“No,” the waiter said, then he laughed in high-pitched titter. “I’d probably pass out, I’m such a chicken!” He leaned in again and lowered his voice even more. “Do you want me to ask around about the woman you saw?”
“No,” they both said and then they laughed at each other.
Justin smacked Brian’s arm playfully. “You’re totally freaked out. Admit it.”
He was still laughing, but he wiped at his arms as if trying to brush away cobwebs. “It’s definitely creepy, I’ll give you that.” He looked at the waiter again. “Thanks for the information. And, yes, we need another round.”
The waiter nodded, told them they were welcome and went off to the bar.
Justin brought his drink to his lips and drained it slowly, thoughtfully. Rattling the ice cubes around in the glass, he looked at Brian with his brow knit. “Did you hear what she said? That women.”
“Yes, I was right here,” he grumbled, very much wishing the topic would go away.
“She said HE would prefer you go back to your room to make love. HE.”
“So?” Brian said, but his heartbeat picked up speed again. “She probably meant the hotel manager.”
“Who happens to be a women,” Justin told him. “I spoke to her on the phone when I called about the contest this morning. I think her name’s Janet Bartlett. Very much NOT a ‘he’.”
Brian sighed. “Look, whatever. Can we just not talk about this anymore? I’m getting a fucking headache. You didn’t see my dad, Justin. You were probably dreaming.”
After a long moment, the blond quietly said, “I was wide awake, Brian. I know what I saw. And I think I know why he’s here.”
That was it. Brian was done. Standing up, he held out his hand and demanded the room key.
“Why?” Justin said, reaching in his back pocket for the plastic card.
“I’m gonna go burn that fucking hat.”
“Brian,” the kid said, soothingly. “Just wait a minute, okay? Listen. I think he wants to see you . . . well, to sort of see how you’re doing.”
“Are you insane?” he barked. “That drunken bastard could not have cared less how I was doing when he was alive! Why the FUCK would he give a rat’s ass from the great beyond?!”
Justin just looked at him, apparently hoping he’d calm down. But he hadn’t handed over the key yet. Brian kept his hand out.
“Come on. Give it.”
“Will you do me a favor?”
He pursed his lips and glowered impatiently. “Not really in a favor-doing mood. Give me the fucking key.”
“Brian, just listen to me for a second.” Justin reached up and took that outstretched hand, holding it in both his own. “I think your dad is checking in on you.”
“You said that. And I told you you’re insane. Now, Give. Me. The. Key.”
Taking a tolerant breath, Justin went on. “Why don’t we just wait one night before you burn the hat. If that’s how he’s connecting to you, then let him see you with me. Let him see how you’re doing. Let him know—“
“Know what, Justin?!” Brian finally exploded. “Let him know how many times I can make you shoot? Let him know how many different ways I can fuck your tight little hole? Let him know just how good I am at deep-throating young dick? What in HELL is it you think that old fuck wants to know?!!”
Maddeningly, Justin sat there for the whole rant without flinching. And he was still holding Brian’s hand. In fact, at that moment, he brought that hand to his warm young lips and kissed it very gently.
“I think he wants to know you’re all right,” he finally said. “I mean, I know he was a total cocksucker to you, but he was still your dad.”
“You have no idea,” Brian said, his heart beating dangerously fast.
“I don’t?” Justin said, eyebrows arching. “Oh, of course, I have no idea since my dad and I get along like a fucking housefire, right?” His calm demeanor finally showed signs of wavering as his voice raised tensely. “Did you forget that my asshole father almost killed you?”
Brian was just about to fire off a typically defensive retort when someone cleared their throat behind them. Both of them flinched way too much, clearly anticipating another spectral visitor. Instead, it was only their waiter. He smiled at them sheepishly as he stood there with their fresh drinks.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
Justin laughed and shook his head. “No, dude. It’s cool. Thanks.”
The waiter set their cocktails down on the small table between the chaises and asked them if they wanted the drinks put on the room tab. Brian said that would be fine and the waiter gave them a formal little bow before he went on his way again.
Glancing down the row of chaises, Brian realized most of the other guests sitting on the deck were watching them. Maybe he had been making a bit of a scene. Deciding he didn’t really want to be the evening’s entertainment, he sat down on his chaise again and picked up his fresh cocktail.
For a while, he and Justin didn’t talk. They sat there watching the stars come out, occasionally looking at each other and offering tiny smiles that had any necessary conversation for them. The first of the smiles were mildly accusatory, but still gentle. The next were softer and apologetic. Then finally, Brian leaned over and connected their smiles in a kiss.
Justin held his chin and looked right in his hazel eyes. “Wait one night before you burn the hat?”
Brian rolled his eyes, but only for show. “Fine,” he sighed. “But I’m tellin’ you, my father doesn’t care how I’m doing. He couldn’t have been happier to get away from us when he died.”
“That’s not the point, Brian,” Justin said and then they kissed again. “Now, finish your drink. I want to get started on keeping you occupied.”
Brian could only grin and move in for another luscious kiss.
****************
Justin:
I’m so stoked about this Jacuzzi tub. It’s huge, totally big enough for us both to stretch out in.
While Brian is in the other room making sure the hat is securely shoved into a drawer, I fill the tub with hot water and some cool-smelling bubble bath the hotel provided. The scent reminds me of this soap Brian has in his shower—it’s French and has the most amazing combination of fragrances . . . lavender, mint, almond. This one isn’t quite as good, but it will do.
Next, I light some candles around the big bathroom, placing a few along the edge of the tub. Once I get the lighting right, I go out to the bedroom to raid the mini-bar and I find Brian stretched out on the bed, naked. Beautiful. I stop and just look at him for a minute, taking in the delectable spectacle.
“Can we fuck before you bathe me?” he purrs, gently playing with thick, heavy cock.
I lick my lips and go all snarky on him. “Nope.” Chuckling, I go to the mini-bar and grab out two small bottles of champagne. It’s nice stuff, too—Piper. The first time I had that was at my high school graduation. It’s weird to think that was only three years ago. Seems more like a hundred.
Carrying the little bottles back to the bathroom, I wink at him on the way. “I’m afraid you’ll have to let me scrub you first.”
He frowns playfully. “What, do I stink or something?”
I just smirk at him and wiggle a finger in the air to beckon him into the steamy bathroom.
Taking the plastic off the water glasses on the sink, I uncork the little Pipers and pour the champagne. The tub is perfectly full and sparkling bubbles sit on top of the water like cappuccino froth. The room smells like lavender and mint. I set the glasses on the edge of the tub then start to take off my clothes.
Brian appears in the doorway and leans there, watching me disrobe. I make a good performance of it, slinking out of my pullover and tossing it aside, then rolling my hips like the go-go boy I used to be to wriggle out of my jeans. I took my shoes off when we came back to the room, so the only thing left is my shorts. Just as I go to take those off, he holds up his hand to stop me.
“Wait,” he says, moving forward like a big cat until he’s kneeling in front of me. He doesn’t take my underwear off, though. Instead, he takes hold of my hips with his beautiful hands and pulls my body toward his face. Brian presses his nose into the soft cotton crotch of my briefs and inhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years. His eyes are closed and his this lashes flutter against his smooth, perfect cheeks. His breath is hot on my balls and my cock stiffens instantly. My hands go into his satiny hair and hold on, stroking him, breathing with him. My fingertips are singing with sensation.
Through the cotton, Brian opens his mouth and covers the head of my cock with his lips. Again, he breathes and I feel his tongue wet the fabric. The heat from his breath gets trapped in the material against my skin and I shiver. When I exhale, I can see my breath in the steamy bathroom air. My nipples are hard and sensitive and my skin is heating up. I’ll need him to fuck me soon, but something tells me . . . he’s going to make me wait.
I look down and find his eyes on me, watching my face, gauging my expressions. I can’t help but smile at him, show him my pleasure. And then his strong fingers tug at the elastic of my shorts and slid them down over my hips. They’re gone in no time and I’m so glad to be rid of them. My cock bounces free in front of me, reaching for him, dripping honey for him. Brian holds me still with his hands on my waist and softly, so softly licks the pearly drops of liquid from my cock head. This makes us both moan.
The tip of his tongue slides along the tense bundle of nerves right below the head and then he puts a kiss there . . . gentle, affectionate . . . appreciative. He looks up at me. “Into the tub?” he whispers.
All I can do is nod.
He gets in first and settles down on his back in the water, playing with the luxurious bubbles while I step in after him. His legs are open, making room for me, and I tuck right in, nestling the little groove above my tail bone over his cock. I wait for him to rub against me and he does. The soft coarseness of his pubic hair tickles my back. We both sigh as his erection strengthens and matches the trajectory of my spine. I feel his pulse throbbing in his cock and then he reaches for mine under the water, stroking it gently, handling it confidently, doing all the things to it that he knows make me weak.
We kiss and pet each other with the soapy bubbles, wet each other’s hair and caress each other’s skin. So much moisture, so much tense, hot flesh, so much panting breath. I’m straddling him in no time and his hands are all over me, smoothing soap into my skin and squeezing, rubbing. He bites my nipples and I moan out loud, my head drops back and he catches it in his hand, cradling my neck so carefully. Even when he’s pounding his cock into me with all the brutal force of lust, he’s always careful.
I could come right now, but I won’t. I want him to come first. I want him to cry out from the insane ecstasy I rain down on him tonight. I want to make him dizzy with pleasure. I may have been wrong about his dad wanting to see how he’s doing, but I don’t feel wrong. I mean, if it were me and I had a son like Brian . . . I’d want to know he was being loved. No matter how badly I fucked things up between him and me.
So love him, I will. In fact, I’ll worship him. Then Jack can see that everything’s fine and hopefully . . . he’ll go on and leave Brian alone. He never says it, but I know he thinks about his dad all the time. He’s haunted in his own terrible way by ghosts of everything Jack Kinney never was.
Brian’s hands are moving me now, lifting me in a sort of awkward position . . . what’s he doing . . ? I hear a switch and then a rush of hot, bubbly water bursts against my anus and I gasp. We both laugh and he kisses me.
“Nice?” he whispers.
“Ooh, yesss . . .” I bite his bottom lip and roll my hips under the water like a cat in heat. The pressure from the water jet is an intense vibration and it shoots through me, making me tingle all over. Suddenly, my skin is alive everywhere—more alive than I’ve ever felt. I feel open and wet, vulnerable and wanton. “Brian . . .” I pant. “Please . . .”
It’s all I need to say, really. It’s all I ever need to say.
Next thing I know, I’m being lifted out of the water—literally. He carries me out to the bed and throws me on it. We both giggle at the ‘Gone With The Wind’ energy of the moment and then I’m on my back on the bed, looking in his eyes.
Brian kisses me really hard and then he stares right into me as he slips his cock inside. His hands are holding my knees back and my hands are behind his neck, petting the soft, wet hairs there. I feel the heat of his erection spearing me, stroking me, owning me. I close my eyes for a second just to polarize the sensations and then I look at him again.
His beautiful lips are open and his eyelashes are dark with moisture from the bath . . .or is he . . . crying? He’s moving my body too much with his thrusting for me to know for sure. It doesn’t matter, really. It would have mattered a lot a year ago, but now . . . now I just want to please him.
I stroke his shoulders and arms as he drives into me. He moans and breaths from deep in his torso and I never let go of his gaze. I hear myself say his name . . . my favorite, most intoxicating mantra . . . and then he’s kissing me. His body shudders and his orgasm starts its assault. I feel him tremble as his tongue tangles with mine. A deep tremor goes through his hips and then he freezes and arches his back, neck stretched, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. I watch with rapt attention, not wanting to miss a single detail of this fleeting moment.
There he is, in a rapture of perfection . . . Brian. Every time I paint him, every time I dream of him, he’s just like this. Whole. Beautiful. Indestructible. The most ideal creature ever made.
And then that magical perfection is gone—just as quickly as it came—and he’s human again. Fragile and fearless, wounded and healed. Alive and afraid like all of us.
His breath comes back, he’s bathed in sweat and he looks at me again with his hazel eyes burning and vulnerable. That’s usually when he closes them, shuts me out so I can’t see just how much I’ve affected him. I always know, though. Always have. Since that first night when he did naked handstands and juggled lemons to impress me.
He collapses on my chest and I fold my legs around him. It’s only then, that I realize my belly is slick with my own come. I have to laugh because I was totally unaware that I’d even had an orgasm. I feel it now in my limbs, the tingling relaxation and the tension release. But when it was happening, I was clearly preoccupied.
Brian kisses me, like he always does, so softly after we catch our breath. We lie on our sides and tangle our legs together. Our fingers explore and soothe the tender spots. I shift on the rumpled bed clothes, thinking we should take that scratchy spread off and snuggle in the clean sheets. He has the same idea and we both sit up to adjust the covers.
That’s when we see it. The hat. Sitting right on the corner of the bed.
For a moment we both stare at it, but this time neither of us are scared. This time, we just look at it, then look at each other.
“I swear to you I put it in the drawer,” he says, assuring me.
I nod, letting him know I completely believe him.
He looks back at it and for a while I’m not sure what he’s going to do. He might toss it off the balcony, he might throw it back in the drawer, he might start ripping it apart strand by strand. There’s really no telling.
What he does is step off the bed and grab the hat, walking over to the dark fireplace on the opposite wall. I watch in the muted light from the candles in the bathroom while he puts his father’s hat on the small grate. Next, he walks over to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony and opens it all the way. Then he grabs his jeans and fishes out his Zippo, returning to the fireplace.
Even though my instincts tell me to go sit near him, I know he has to do this alone. I wait, almost holding my breath as he flips the cap on the lighter, rolls the flint wheel and sets the flame to the rim of the hat. The old straw catches quickly and the whole hat is engulfed in flames within seconds. The thin film of smoke smells like my grandmother’s house for an instant and then the breeze from the open door takes the scent away. Nothing is left but the subtle aroma of burned kindling.
Brian sits at the hearth until the last ember snuffs out and then he gets up and walks over to the bed. He looks so beautiful right now, it’s almost painful. The yellow light from the candles pick up all the natural gold in his skin and hair and make him appear to be glowing. When he smiles, his eyes flash like hazel diamonds.
“Didn’t you pour champagne?” he says.
I breathe a laugh. “Yeah. It’s in the bathroom.”
He goes in and retrieves the glasses, handing one to me as he sits on the bed again. Raising the plastic containers full of effervescent liquid to each other, Brian gives me that crooked, sardonic smile I love more than I can ever explain.
“To death,” he says.
I shake my head and touch my plastic glass to his. “To death and everything it kills.”
We know we’re talking about everything as we drink that toast. We’re talking about his dad and about our lives. We’re talking about the world. But for the moment, all that matters is us and the romance of the death of everything that was.
As we go to sleep that night, I can’t help but keep a wary eye on the dresser mirror where I saw Jack Kinney’s reflection. Is he really gone? Was burning that stupid hat really enough to send him away? When nothing appears in the mirror for hours, I decide it’s safe to go to drift off. Brian breathes evenly beside me, his arm draped over my waist and his cheek resting on my shoulder. I brush my nose in his hair again and think about how I didn’t get to wash it when we were in the tub.
Closing my eyes, I realize we still have another day.
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