Her words about a baby nagged at him as he walked home and by the time he’d reached the house he was more than half convinced she’d been raped or had unprotected sex with someone who was “a bastard.” He knew from friends in college and afterward that sometimes men refused to wear condoms because it supposedly cut down on sensation. All it did for Aaron and Jason was delay their coming which was a sweet agony.

  He sat down at the computer and put her name, Coraline McGillivray, into a search engine. He got about a billion hits and narrowed it down to her name and Marisburg. Nothing. Not a single hit.

  He tried her name and the word “art.” And he was back to a lot of hits. He scrolled through some but didn’t find anything about a young woman from Pennsylvania with that name.

  Frowning, he wondered how old she was. The name Coraline wasn’t exactly common. He decided to look up the stats of how often parents named their daughters Coraline.

  He came across an image of the book, Coraline, written by Neil Gaiman. It had been released in July of 2002. That made Coraline twenty years old at the very most. That was pretty young to be worrying about a baby, or at least Aaron thought so.

  For a brief moment, he was swamped with memories of how he’d been at nineteen. Only a year younger than Coraline. He’d been stalked by Vance Anderson and Isaiah Hurst. He’d been kidnapped, raped, and tortured by Vance. And he’d been rescued by Jason and two of their friends.

  He hadn’t caught pregnant but only because he wasn’t a woman. Vance had certainly been inside him often enough.

  Aaron’s gut twisted and he whispered, “I need to find out what’s happened to her.” It was a terrible thing to be alone at any age but carrying an unwanted baby… He couldn’t fathom how horrible that must be.

  He dug a little more, hunting for her on social media and not finding her. He did find out that Neil Gaiman’s book had won an award in 2003. She might be nineteen.

  Or even younger. Just because she looked to be in her early twenties didn’t mean she was. Some people looked years older or younger than their actual age. And all she’d said was that he was close when he guessed.

  He resolved to talk to her.

  And as he shut down the computer, memories of Vance flashed through his mind. He decided he needed to try and draw something that would take his mind off the past.

  * * *

  Jason watched Aaron walk slowly up the stairs to the second floor. His lover had complained of a headache during dinner but insisted on helping Jason do the dishes. He looked exhausted and he’d had a drawn cast to his features.

  Jason tidied up downstairs, moving quietly, giving Aaron a chance to get to sleep. Then he went up and into their bedroom. Aaron was huddled on their bed just as he’d been that one day in the fall.

  “Aaron?”

  His husband groaned. “I don’t want to talk.”

  Jason came over to the bed and lay down beside Aaron. He hugged him close with one arm. But Aaron didn’t relax this time. Instead, he curled even more tightly into himself. Jason could feel his rigid back and his crossed arms. He moved his hand and began rubbing Aaron’s back.

  Aaron sat up. “Not in the mood, Jay.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Nothing.” Then he winced. “Well, something, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jason sat up. “Aaron…”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Jason stared and his heart thundered in his chest. He felt punched.

  Aaron turned toward him, and his face was a picture of misery. “I’m sorry. That was… uncalled for. I’m just fucked up tonight.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “I…” Aaron shook his head, and his expression was furious. “I don’t want to talk. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  Jason bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

  Aaron reached out and took his hand. “Me too. But I just don’t want to talk tonight, okay?”

  “Okay. Will you lay back down?”

  “I don’t want to cuddle.”

  “I don’t even have to touch you.” He paused. “But you might sleep better if you were out of your clothes.”

  Aaron shivered. “I’m fine.”

  “But, Aaron --”

  “Leave me the fuck alone!” Aaron stalked out of the room.

  Jason heard him on the stairs. He hesitated only a moment but the thought of Aaron going out into the snowy dark drove him off the bed and down to the first floor.

  Aaron was laying on the couch with his arms around his stomach and his eyes squeezed shut. There were shiny places under his eyes and as Jason approached, he let out a watery sniff.

  “We don’t have to talk,” Jason said softly. “But I want you to know I’m here.”

  Aaron hugged himself harder. “Please. Not tonight, okay? I just want to be alone.”

  Jason hesitated but when Aaron didn’t move or speak, he went upstairs. He brought down a pillow and a blanket for his lover. He covered Aaron and Aaron lay stiff as a board, unresponsive.

  “I love you,” Jason whispered. Then he went back upstairs.

  He lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling for hours.

  Chapter Six

  Jason dragged himself onto campus the next morning. Aaron had been up and cleaning furiously, refusing to talk to Jason but stopping his mad cleansing rush to kiss Jason’s cheek.

  That peck on the cheek hurt just as much as Aaron’s silence. He’d never done less than kiss Jason full on the mouth, or at least not in the last ten years. And with their tenth wedding anniversary coming up, Jason felt as if he’d been slapped. The seven-year itch hadn’t touched them but maybe…

  He closed his eyes and leaned against the door of his office for a moment. He’d come here early enough to have breakfast because Aaron’s mad cleaning spree had discouraged him from dirtying any dishes.

  Oh, and that’s a lie, he thought. It’s not Aaron polishing the faucet or scrubbing down the fridge. Aaron’s silence is what was killing me and making it impossible to eat. Aaron’s distance.

  Aaron only got quiet and tense when something was wrong. Well, and that was obvious, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what most people did?

  Not exactly. Jason, when he was upset, spouted to anyone who would listen, particularly if they were friends or family. He didn’t know why Aaron’s instinct was to pull into himself, but it was driving Jason nuts.

  He opened his eyes and pushed himself resolutely away from the door. He strode down the hall and headed for the cafeteria one building over. He needed to eat something and no matter how much his stomach didn’t like it, food would help him maybe feel a little more like himself and less like a zombie’s cousin.

  He drifted into the cafeteria and moved to the counter, meaning to order some comfort food, like waffles. But then he saw Mike Delaney ahead of him in line, registered the man’s drawn and exhausted look, and grabbed a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee. It was strange but seeing the other man’s obvious struggle was better than waffles. It made Jason feel as if he wasn’t alone.

  He followed Mike across the room and asked, as the other man sat at a table for two, “May I join you?”

  Mike’s head snapped up and he frowned. “You startled me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. I’m in my own little world this morning. Sure, Jason, sit.”

  Jason did so, sipping from his coffee as Mike poked at an egg on his plate. “Do you want to talk about it?” Here, he thought, was someone he could help. And maybe that would take his mind off his inability to communicate with his husband.

  Mike used the side of his plastic fork to cut the egg into pieces. He stabbed one, chewed, and swallowed before speaking. “Do you have five minutes?”

  Jason nodded. Because he’d skipped a leisurely breakfast with Aaron, sometimes followed by a quick tumble in the sack and an even faster shower, he was here a full hour early. He said, “My first class is at nine.”

  Mike glanced at his watch, smiled a little, and admitted, “Mine too. It’s been a bitch of a morning and it’s only seven-thirty.”

  “Is Aidan all right?”

  Mike nodded again. He stabbed at another piece of egg.

  While he chewed, Jason got started on his oatmeal. He wanted to help more than ever and recognized it as a comparison he’d drawn between Mike and Aaron. Both were shorter than average, narrow in the hips and muscular. Both looked like hell this morning.

  Well, and so did Jason so that was to be expected.

  Entire egg gone, Mike took his coffee in both hands and cradled it without seeming inclined to take a sip. “Aid’ is fine, and so is Candace. So is Ash, for that matter, although it’s Ash’s problem that kept me up most of the night.”

  “Ash is okay but has a problem? That’s confusing.”

  “Ash wants to go away to school. There’s money for it. Ash is blind so there’s a state program that will send them to any state school they want.”

  “Ash wants to go to a private school?”

  “Nope. They understand the value of a free education, especially when seventy percent of blind people are unemployed or underemployed.”

  Jason whistled. “I didn’t know that many blind people couldn’t find work.”

  “It’s half discrimination and half lack of proper career education when they’re in school. Ash doesn’t have that second problem. Aidan’s been educating them for years.”

  “So…” Jason prodded.

  “So, they want to go to school in Pittsburgh and that’s all the way across the state.”

  “Are you worried because they’re blind and --”

  No,” Mike snapped. “They want to live off campus with their girlfriend. Who’s…” He sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with Theresa. Except she’s newly blind. And has relatively little training.”

  “I feel like an ass,” Jason said. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

  Mike sighed. “I’m short tempered this morning. Sorry I took it out on you.”

  “How will they afford to live off campus?”

  “I have no idea. And although Ash has some notion, they’re dreaming big with few concrete plans.”

  “Maybe asking Ash what their exact plans are would help.” Jason swallowed. If he could only figure out how to help Aaron…

  He touched his cheek where Aaron’s kiss had landed and felt a rush of sadness almost overwhelm him. The look in Aaron’s eyes had been one of distraction and his lips had felt cold and dry against the side of Jason’s face.

  “You look like I feel,” Mike said quietly, his gaze empathetic. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

  Jason hesitated. This was, after all, at least part of the reason he’d sought Mike out. He wanted to help the other man, but he wanted someone to vent to. He took a quick look around, noticed no one was sitting near them, and spoke in a soft voice anyway. “Aaron’s…” But he didn’t know where to start.

  Mike said, “Don’t tell me if it will break Aaron’s trust.”

  That unstuck Jason’s tongue. “He’s not secretive about this shit exactly. He’ll probably tell you about it in his own time. He really likes you and Aidan.” He paused. “So do I. And if I don’t discuss this with someone I’m going to lose my patience with him, and he needs me to be gentle right now. Just the way he’s curling into himself speaks volumes about how much he’s hurting.”

  “Come back to my office with me,” Mike invited, standing up.

  Jason rose and followed him. He dumped his coffee and oatmeal, both far from empty, into the garbage and Mike tossed away his fork before laying the tray and plate on the top of the garbage holder.

  They walked, almost shoulder to shoulder, out of the cafeteria and to Mike’s office. Mike opened the door and closed it after Jason was through. “Stop whenever you need to,” Mike said. “But I’m here to listen.”

  Jason sighed and ran his hands through his short, black hair, remembering the times Aaron had done that out of love and desire. “He kissed me on the cheek.” He hadn’t meant to just come out with that but now here it was, bald as a baby. He said quietly, “He’s never kissed my cheek. It’s always been on the lips, and it’s always been…”

  “Hot?” Mike suggested. He’d taken a seat by his desk, leaving the other chair in the room for Jason.

  Unable to sit, Jason paced. “Yes,” he grunted. “And now it’s like he didn’t want to touch me any more than he had to.”

  “You extrapolated all of that out of a single kiss?”

  “I…” Jason stopped, facing Mike. “Okay,” he said slowly. “If it doesn’t mean he’s sick of me or something equally fucked up, what does it mean?”

  “That he’s sick and doesn’t want you to catch it. That he’s upset and is afraid if he hugs you he’ll break down. I’d bet on the second because Aaron seems forthright enough to tell you he’s under the weather.”

  Jason resumed his pacing. “Okay. Fine. But why won’t he talk to me about whatever’s bothering him?”

  “He discusses everything with you?”

  “Yes! No…” He sighed. “If it’s something that he thinks will hurt me, he keeps it to himself.”

  “I used to keep a lot from Aid’. And it was usually out of a misguided attempt to save him pain.”

  “What made you stop?” Jason asked, hoping for some kind of miracle.

  “I grew out of it and realized too that Aidan can’t help me unless I share what’s bothering me.”

  “Aaron’s mature. He shouldn’t be…” Jason stopped himself. “That’s judgmental. He’s his own person.”

  “What do you think is wrong?”

  “The only times I ever saw him like this was when he was being stalked. And shortly after he rescued himself from the one who kidnapped him.”

  “Fuck,” Mike said, and it was heartfelt. “I had a feeling Aaron had been through something rough. There’s just something in his eyes, you know?”

  Jason nodded.

  “I was molested when I was a teenager,” Mike said, and he looked away for a moment before his gaze snapped back to Jason’s face. “Bastard’s in jail. Is Aaron’s stalker in jail?”

  “He’s dead. He was legally declared a vegetable about a year ago. It took a long time because the bastard’s parents were convinced he’d come out of it. And they’re powerful people in the town where Aaron grew up.” Jason expected Mike to ask him about that, but Mike’s question was in a completely different vein.

  “Does Aaron feel guilty about that?”

  “Why would he?” Jason couldn’t remember telling Mike anything about Aaron actually choking Vance until the man passed out.

  “Sometimes survivors have survivors’ guilt. I do. Sometimes. And my asshat’s just in jail.”

  Jason opened his mouth to refute this and closed it again as the wheels in his head turned. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said quietly. It was nearly the anniversary of Vance’s death. “Aaron’s always said he was glad he choked Vance until the bastard passed out, but maybe that’s just what he wants to believe.” He stood. “I should go call him.”

  Mike smiled a little. “Don’t accuse him, okay? Just ask. Just like I feel a little guilty for tackling the man who molested me, Aaron may not want to feel that way but may be unable to stop himself. And that creates even more guilt. Vicious cycles are a bitch.”

  Jason halted in his headlong rush for the door. He turned and looked at Mike. “How do you cope?”

  “With the guilt or with being molested?”

  “Either.”

  “I’m part of a survivors’ organization that helps people deal with the shit that’s happened to them.”

  “In Marisburg?”

  Mike nodded. “At the Presbyterian church over on Maple.”

  “That’s where I go to services now.”

  “Please tell Aaron it’s not religion based.”

  Jason smiled slightly. “Thank you.” And he left to call Aaron.

  * * *

  Aaron’s hands were shaking but not with fear. As he walked toward the studio, he could only think of the way he’d shut Jason down earlier this morning. First, there had been the peck on the cheek that he would regret all the way to his grave. Then, about forty minutes after Jason had left the house, he’d called Aaron’s cell phone. Aaron had lied, for the first time in their marriage he had lied without equivocation. He’d said he was tense about something between them but that he didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. He knew he was throwing shade on the relationship that had truly saved his soul, but he didn’t know what else to do. He could not tell Jason he’d stood, naked and defenseless, in front of Paul Clarkson. And he couldn’t tell Jason he was almost positive Paul had gotten Coraline pregnant. Not that Jason wouldn’t believe him but Jason, bless him, would want to help. And that would get them buried in debt as Jason’s job was yanked away and they had nothing to fall back on. Aaron would go to work at a grocery store or something like that, which he wouldn’t hate, but he’d never be able to make up for Jason’s fifty-seven thousand dollars a year.

  He wanted to think about why he’d never gone to work for a store or gas station while they lived in NYC, but he was in enemy territory, and he’d do well to focus. He was hoping he’d gotten here before Paul and also that Coraline would be painting.

  He entered and saw that she was alone. She’d been crying. He crossed immediately to her but didn’t touch her, mindful of what had happened last time.

  She sniffed. “What’re you doing here? It’s not your day.”

  “I wanted to see if you’re all right,” came spilling out of his mouth and he could have kicked himself because she closed up at once.

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t know how to soothe her, and he was conscious of time slipping through his fingers. “Coraline,” he said as kindly as he could, “I know about the baby. And I know Paul --”

  She put her hands over her ears.

  Rage swept through Aaron’s mind, charring guilt and fear and any other emotions except its own self.

 

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