10
The cold nipped at Theo’s face as he stood on the porch. He was still in his boots, although he’d hung his coat in the kitchen. In the empty lot across the road, a hint of a breeze stirred the winter-brown Indiangrass. In the sky, a hawk was circling, and something—probably a rabbit, maybe a fox—startled. Theo could trace its panicked burst of movement as it cut through the tall grass. He could see pretty far from up here, staring down at Auggie in that fucking car.
Calm down, he told himself. You don’t know where he’s been. You don’t know what he’s been doing. Maybe he went to pick up donuts.
Only there had been the email from Maria Maldonado the night before. And then Auggie had been gone when Theo decided to play hooky and leave office hours early. And then Auggie hadn’t answered any of Theo’s texts or, as time stretched out, his calls. Auggie, who practically had his phone glued to his hand.
The brake lights flared. Auggie slowed the Malibu, and he met Theo’s eyes for an instant before turning away. Then the car rolled forward again, and the garage door rattled up. Theo’s last glimpse was of Auggie facing forward, and in profile, it was easy to see that his jaw was locked.
All right, Theo thought. We can do it this way.
He went back inside. He shut the front door. He locked it. His steps rang out through the small house as he crossed the living room. Floorboards creaked. His boots squeaked. It didn’t make any difference; all that noise, and everything still felt swaddled in a tremendous silence, like Theo was a long way off from it. In the kitchen, he turned a chair to face the back door, and he sat. He spread his legs. He put his hands on his knees.
Be careful, a little voice in his head said. He’s so sensitive about things like this, and he wants your approval almost as much as he wants you to treat him like an adult, and if you aren’t careful, you’re going to ruin whatever you have with him.
And something else inside Theo, something with vicious jaws, snapped, Good.
Because then he wouldn’t come home and find the house empty and feel that bowel-loosening panic that it had happened again—whatever it was, something terrible, something world-shattering. Because then he wouldn’t have any more sleepless nights, any more midnight wanderings, pacing in front of the windows like a trapped animal, wrestling with his terror that Auggie would get hit by a car because he loved to jaywalk, that Auggie would get a brain tumor from that fucking phone, that Auggie would wake up one day and realize that he didn’t want to be with a fucked-up old man. He wouldn’t worry that one day Auggie would leave a hole ripped in Theo’s existence, and he didn’t think there was enough of him left to patch it up. Not again.
The door opened. Theo predicted, He’ll duck his head and not look at me. Then he predicted, He’ll do that sideways smile, nervous little shit-eater, and try to charm his way out of it.
Instead, Auggie came through the door with one hand cradled across his chest, blood staining a mess of napkins.
“Jesus Christ,” Theo said, standing. “What happened?”
Auggie shook his head. He stood there, his face turning toward Theo and then moving away again. Then he took a step toward the bathroom.
Theo lunged after him and caught his arm. “Auggie, what happened?” It took a little trying, but finally Theo got Auggie to let him see his hand. When Theo pulled the napkins away, Auggie let out a small, sharp noise. Theo stared for a moment. The cut looked bad. Not terrible, maybe. It had almost stopped bleeding, but the edges were ragged and puffy, and the whole hand looked inflamed. Theo swore and said, “This needs a hospital. What the hell happened?”
Theo had turned to grab his coat when Auggie said, “I went to see him.” Theo turned back. Auggie was shaking, and he might have fallen if Theo hadn’t helped him to a seat. The color was draining out of Auggie’s face, and he was shaking harder. If it wasn’t shock, it was the next thing to it. “The chief. In New Harbor. He was helping Harley, making problems go away. Oh shit, Theo, my hand really hurts.”
It was like tinnitus, this cymbaling shimmer in Theo’s ears. There had been so much silence, filling the space between them like packing peanuts. And now there was this noise.
“You did what?” Theo asked.
Auggie’s face tightened. He closed his eyes.
“Say that again,” Theo said. “Because I’m sure I didn’t hear what I think I heard.”
“I don’t want to fight—”
“You went to see that psychopath, Auggie? Without me? Without even telling me?”
“Theo—”
“Well, what did you think was going to happen? Did you think I was going to say, ‘Hey, great job, buddy? Way to go!’” He made his voice the way he knew it would cut deepest—the false enthusiasm, the hint of condescension. Then, his voice slipping out of his control, he shouted, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Auggie squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Then he opened them, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He got up, still not looking for Theo, and turned toward the door. When he realized Theo was in his way, he turned again, this time heading toward the opening that connected to the living room and, beyond it, the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Auggie took a step, and Theo grabbed his sleeve. “Hey, I asked you a question.”
Auggie tried to shake him off.
Theo dragged him backward with so much force that Auggie’s feet came up from the floor. He would have fallen, only Theo was already pushing him back into the kitchen chair. “I asked you a question. Where do you think you’re going? We’re having a conversation.”
Auggie stared at him, his lips parted, his eyes full of unrecognition, as though he’d never seen Theo before.
Bringing his voice back to a normal register—or close enough, anyway—Theo asked, “Did you hear me?”
“I don’t know how you think this is ok,” Auggie said, voice shaky, “so I’m leaving.”
He started to stand, and Theo pushed him back. He tried again, and Theo shoved him hard enough that the chair and Auggie skittered back a few inches.
“Get up again,” Theo said. He hadn’t done anything, not really, but his chest was rising and falling like he couldn’t get enough air. “See what happens.”
“What is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with me? Well, let’s see. I’ve been scared shitless for the last hour because my boyfriend snuck out of the house, stole my car, and wouldn’t answer my texts or calls. Oh, and when he got back, I about had a heart attack because he got stabbed in the fucking hand—” Theo’s voice veered back into a shout. “—because he was so fucking stupid that he went to see a murderous fucking psychopath without even bothering to tell me!”
Auggie had gotten smaller as Theo’s voice rose, and now he huddled in the chair, his shoulders curving in. He stared down at his injured hand. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry. Jesus Christ, Auggie. You’re sorry?”
“What do you want me to say?” He was crying harder now, still not looking up but dashing his uninjured hand across his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
“No. You shouldn’t have. I’m not doing this anymore, Auggie. I’m done with this. I’ve tried talking to you. I’ve tried explaining to you how—how fucking terrible this feels. I’ve tried being reasonable and being patient and being understanding. And it has had fuck-all impact on you.”
“Theo, I’m sorry. I knew I should have waited, but—”
“But what, Auggie? You were too fucking selfish to wait? You were too fucking impatient? You were too fucking stupid?” Theo took a massive breath. He was sweating. He felt like he was running, the hammer of his pulse in his neck, his whole body an incinerator for the little bit of oxygen he could take in. He was proud of how even his voice sounded when he said, “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to change how we do things. Until now, I’ve tried to treat you like an adult, Auggie. I really have. But obviously, that was the wrong thing to do. So, because I love you, I’m going to—to have to do things differently.”
Theo saw the exact moment when the words cut deepest: the stiffening of Auggie’s shoulders, the half-inch his head came up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re going to start checking in with me. You’re going to tell me when you go to class. You’re going to tell me when you go to a friend’s. You’re going to tell me when you go for a fucking jog, Auggie. Because I am sick to death of being the one who pays for your stupid fucking decisions.”
“I got stabbed!” Auggie’s voice was shrill. “Don’t you care about that? You’re supposed to help me! You’re supposed to take care of me!”
He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late; they had both heard them.
“I am taking care of you,” Theo said. “We’re going to the hospital. And after that, you can apologize to me.”
“Apologize to you?”
“And then we can work out the details of how we’re going to do this. Maybe one of those tracking apps on your phone; that’ll be easier now that I have a smart phone too.”
Auggie was shaking his head. “You are out of your mind. You’re insane, Theo. This is insane. Do you even hear how you sound? This is—this is abusive.”
Theo smiled. He could feel it, the way it stretched his features until the corners of his mouth felt like they might tear. “Grow up, Auggie.”
Auggie became perfectly still. Then, with a stiff awkwardness to his movements, he stood. The energy in the room had changed, and when Auggie took a step, Theo moved back. With his uninjured hand, Auggie fished the Malibu’s keys out of his pocket. He tossed them on the counter. Then he reached for the doorknob to let himself out the back.
“Don’t walk out that fucking door,” Theo said. “This is your fault, Auggie. Yours. You can’t—you can’t go off like that. You can’t scare me like that! Turn around and talk to me! Turn around! Auggie, I’m talking to you!”
When the door opened, cold air washed in, bringing with it a mineral wetness that made Theo think of limestone and snow and dark country roads. Auggie looked over his shoulder. He was crying harder now, but his voice was strangely clear when he said, “Everything scares you, Theo. Living scares you. And I’m sorry about that, because I love you.” He stopped. His voice was thicker as he added, “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”
And then he was gone, the door hanging open, stirring in the winter breeze rushing through the empty house.
Missed a chapter? Find them here.
Enjoying the story? Pre-order here.
Sign up for my regular mailing list here.