Speechless (6 page)

Chip waggled his eyebrows. “Let’s head upstairs then.”

The door to his suite was barely shut behind them before Chip was pulling Travis in for a kiss. He was an inch or two taller than Travis, unlike Drew, who was slightly shorter. He was a good kisser, more tender than Travis would have guessed, and almost hesitant about grabbing Travis’s damp shorts-clad ass. He let go right away when Travis pulled back.

“Oh man,” Chip said. “This isn’t the part where you claim you’re not into guys, is it? ’Cause dude—”

“No, I have no delusions of heterosexuality.”

“Then you’re gonna say you’re not into me.” Chip looked a little forlorn, his light hair turned dark with water and hanging almost in his eyes.

Travis smiled at him. “No, man. You’re great. If I was gonna hop into bed with anyone, it would be you.”

“So… hop.”

“Can’t.” Travis looked around for his clothes. “It’s only, I kind of have someone—well,
had
someone. And I guess I’m not over him yet. This feels like cheating, which I know is stupid, but….”

“But you’re not a cheater.”

“I guess not,” Travis responded with a small sigh.

Chip looked disappointed, but still managed a small smile. “That’s cool. Sucks for me—and you too, I bet—but it’s cool. Maybe you and this guy still have a chance, huh?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you don’t wanna do something if it doesn’t feel right.”

Chip waited patiently while Travis changed in the bathroom again, and when Travis tried to hand him the swim shorts, Chip wouldn’t take them. “Souvenir of the one that got away, okay?” he said with a wink.

It’s not the mistake that’s important
, Travis said to himself as he left the hotel,
it’s how you deal with it
. He wasn’t even sure what his biggest mistake was. Falling in love with Drew? Leaving him? Saying no to a fortuitous roll in the hay? It didn’t matter which of those was the winner because he was handling all of them like shit.

Travis’s apartment was only about a mile from the Embassy Suites, but it felt like a lot farther, and the streets seemed especially empty.

O
N
A
Wednesday evening in mid-August, Travis sat inside his apartment, trying to absorb the completely inadequate cool air that trickled from his window AC. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and hadn’t even bothered with the fucking eye patch—it was just too hot. He had a bottle of Coors in his hand, using it more to roll over his sticky skin than to actually drink the piss-flavored contents.

The TV was on, but watching it took too much effort. Instead, he sat with his eye closed and tried to imagine icebergs and blizzards. When that didn’t work, he ended up picturing an Oregon beach in late autumn, with gulls overhead and the waves roaring endlessly. But that image didn’t work very well—it only created a cold draft in his heart.

Someone knocked on the door. The last thing in the world Travis wanted was to move any farther from his little pocket of slightly chilled air, but maybe it was the exterminator. So he hauled himself upright and—not stopping to pull on pants because he couldn’t even
think
about wearing more clothes—he padded to the door.

The woman standing there was the strangest-looking exterminator Travis had ever seen. She was tall and handsome and probably in her early sixties with short gray hair very carefully styled. She wore gold-rimmed glasses and wool slacks and a pink sweater, and Travis wondered how she hadn’t just melted into a puddle of bubbling goo. “Yeah?”

“Travis Miller?” the woman asked doubtfully, and that’s when Travis realized he had seen her before—in one of Drew’s photos.

“Drew’s stepmom?” he squeaked.

“Eleanor Hayden is my name, actually, but yes.” She had an English accent, which made Travis wonder for a moment what Drew’s accent had sounded like.

“What are you—Oh no! Drew’s okay, isn’t he?” He could swear his heart stopped beating as he waited for an answer.

“He’s… he’s not injured or anything, if that’s what you mean. But he’s—might we have this conversation somewhere cooler? And perhaps with our trousers on?”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Um, come on in for a sec. There’s a place we can go around the corner; it’s usually pretty cool there.”

Eleanor nodded and waited inside the doorway while Travis found a not-too-filthy pair of jeans and T-shirt and pulled on his eye patch. Eleanor didn’t actually touch anything, but at least she was trying not to look too disgusted by Travis’s place. Once, Travis had noticed a big anthropology textbook on one of Drew’s shelves. The author was Eleanor Hayden who, according to the page at the back of the book, was a distinguished professor of something or other. She undoubtedly lived someplace nicer than a bug-infested studio apartment with crappy AC.

Travis’s visitor looked a lot more comfortable when she slid into a booth at Cathy’s Café. The café didn’t serve alcohol—and that was too bad because Travis had the feeling he’d be wanting some—but it was blessedly cool, and they made really good carrot cake. The waitress came over, and Travis ordered the biggest frozen coffee drink they had. Eleanor made a slight face and ordered tea.
Hot
tea. Geez.

“So what brings you to beautiful Omaha, Dr. Hayden?” Travis asked.

“Please. Call me Eleanor. And you bring me here, actually.”

“Huh?”

Eleanor frowned. She took off her glasses and polished them with a handkerchief she pulled from her purse, then put them back on. “I understand you had, erm, a relationship with Andrew.”

“Andrew? Oh. Drew. Um, yeah, I guess I did.” No, there was nothing uncomfortable at all about having a relationship discussion with his ex-boyfriend’s stepmother.

“My stepson and I don’t… we don’t communicate often. We didn’t even before the accident actually, and of course after, well, it’s quite difficult. But I do ring him now and then.”

“Yeah, he showed me how you had Skype and a webcam set up on a laptop for him. That’s a good idea. Hey! I bet you help him make reservations at hotels and restaurants and stuff.”

The corner of her mouth quirked slightly. “Let’s leave him a bit of mystery, shall we? After the accident, I tried to persuade him to return to Los Angeles, but he deliberately stayed away from me. He’s a stubborn and independent man. Always has been, mind you. But he’s also… he doesn’t do well by himself. That was true before the accident as well. He needs someone to love, I expect. Even more than most of us do.”

“He’s a really great guy. He’s special. He’ll find someone.”

“I don’t know. Most people—” She stopped when the waitress brought their drinks, and she waited for her to go away again. Pouring some hot water from the miniature pot into her cup, she said, “Most people have very little patience for a man who can no longer use words.”

“I hardly ever had any problem understanding him. You just have to pay attention.”

She gave him a long and careful look. “I concur. But it seems few people are willing to do so.” She turned her attention to dipping her tea bag in and out of the cup. “You are aware of what happened with Paul? His previous… boyfriend.”

Travis had never learned the guy’s name, but he nodded and took a big slurp of his drink. “Guy was an assho—a jerk. But I still don’t get why you’re here.”

“Andrew was—no, Andrew
is
quite taken with you. I do believe he’s fallen in love. And since you’ve gone, he’s become even more withdrawn. He’s… he’s unhappy, Travis. And while he and I might not be close, I do care for him a great deal. I married his father when Andrew was still a small boy, and I’ve no children of my own.” She pulled the bag out of the cup and poured in some sugar and milk. Her spoon clinked against the china.

Travis’s heart felt tight, and it took an effort to breathe smoothly. “I didn’t want to hurt him, Eleanor. God, I so didn’t want that.”

“But you went away.”

“I had to. My job—”

“He can afford to support you both.”

“I know, and he offered to. But, Jesus! I’m almost thirty. I have to stand on my own two feet.”

Eleanor nodded stiffly. They were both quiet for a few minutes after that, sipping at their drinks. Eleanor spoke first. “After the accident, the doctors had some hope that he might recover his speech, at least in part. He tried everything—medicines, therapy. Sign language, but apparently that’s still language, still controlled by the damaged part of his brain. He can’t manage anything more than the instinctive gestures you’ve seen him use. Finally music therapy, because some patients with these sorts of injuries can learn to sing words even if they can’t speak or write them.” She gave a small laugh. “He learned to play the guitar, but he never could sing a single coherent word.”

“He’s good on the guitar.”

“The doctors said if there was no improvement after a year, there never would be. And now it’s been four.”

“Eleanor, I know he’s never gonna be able to talk. When I first met him, I thought that was gonna be a big deal for us, but it never was. I guess I talked enough for the two of us. But if you’re trying to get me to feel sorry for him… I don’t think Drew wants anyone’s pity.”

“You’re quite correct. I expect it’s the fact that you treated him, well, like an ordinary person that first attracted him to you. Erm, not that you’re not attractive,” she added, blushing slightly.

Travis laughed a little. “Yeah, I get you. And he was the same way about my eye, like it was no big deal. But I don’t think there’s anything ordinary about Drew.”

Eleanor gave Travis a very sharp look. “You love him,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Travis sighed.

“Then why the bloody hell are you
here
?” Eleanor waved her hands so violently she almost knocked over her teacup.

“I told you. My job.”

“What’s more important, Travis? Standing on your own two feet? Or being with the person you love? Who loves you back, I might add.” She took a last sip of her tea and then stood. “I am an anthropologist. I may not be capable of claiming expertise on everything about human beings, but there are some things of which I am quite sure. Sometimes, Travis, being a man means something very different than simply paying the bills.”

And she walked off, leaving Travis with a half gallon of slushy coffee.

I
T
WASN
’
T
raining. Even the Pacific Northwest had a few sunny days in August. The bus let Travis off practically in front of his old apartment building, which looked as tired as when he’d left. The roses in front were blooming, though, and that was nice.

Despite the weather, and even though it was 5:23 in the afternoon, there was nobody on the steps in front of Drew’s house. No handsome man with unruly light brown hair and dazzling blue eyes. Travis took a deep breath and walked up the stairs.

Drew didn’t look surprised to see him. Maybe he’d been watching out his living room window, like he used to on rainy days before he met Travis. Watching the world go by. He stood in his doorway in black jeans and a dark green T-shirt, his face giving nothing away.

“Hi,” Travis said. “Can… can I come in?”

After a long, considering minute, Drew turned and went back into the house, leaving the door open. Travis closed it as he came in.

Elwood was curled up on the back of Drew’s couch. He cracked open his eyelids, tilted his head to stare at Travis with his good eye, and then closed them again as if Travis were beneath him. Traitor.

Travis stood awkwardly while Drew went into the kitchen, then returned with two green bottles. He handed one to Travis, who took a long, grateful chug. “Thanks. So, um, is everything okay?”

Shrug.

“Has, um, has that brown goop helped with Elwood’s hairballs?”

Drew pointed eloquently at a small stain on the area rug.

“Oh. Guess not. Um, maybe if you up the dosage? I know he doesn’t like the stuff very much, but if you sort of squish it onto his paws he’ll lick it off. He’ll probably be pissed at you for a while though. Or if you wanted, I could call the vet and ask her what to do. She might, um….” He sort of stuttered to a halt.

Drew was just looking at him, eyebrows raised like drawbridges. Travis was pretty sure that even if Drew could talk, he’d be giving Travis the silent treatment right then.

Travis took another long swallow, then set the bottle on a nearby bookshelf. “Yeah, so Omaha sucks. I mean, the people are pretty friendly and they have great steaks, but the weather’s awful and it’s mostly flat. You can go, like, hundreds of miles and there’s hardly anything but cornfields and pastures. And it’s all just, I don’t know, sort of normal and boring and… and you’re not there. Obviously.”

Drew sort of sucked in his upper lip for a second and then drank some of his beer. He leaned back against the wall as if he were prepared to wait all day for Travis’s aimless babbling to run its course.

Travis looked down at his feet, but they were singularly unhelpful. He’d been thinking about what to say to Drew ever since Eleanor had left Cathy’s; while he was packing his shit into his battered old suitcases; while he was squished in the middle of a 737, trying to ignore the kid who was kicking the back of his seat; while he was waiting for a light-rail train and then a bus; and as he walked the rest of the way to Drew’s sienna-colored door. And during all that time, he hadn’t thought of any brilliant words, any great speeches to let Drew know how he felt.

But sometimes maybe words just got in the way.

Mimicking the gestures Drew had made several months ago, Travis pointed at himself and then, firmly, down at the floor. He repeated the movements, and Drew’s eyes went very wide.

Travis walked forward, closing the space between them. So near that he could hear Drew’s harsh breathing and see the rapid movements of his chest. Then Travis stopped. He pointed at his one eye, thumped his fist on his chest, right over his heart, and then pointed at Drew. And he did it again. And again. Until Drew made a strangled sound and launched himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Travis. Travis squeezed his eye shut and hugged his lover back.