As I turned to go, his hand shot out with the speed of fear and grabbed my wrist. “Please don’t go,” he said. His voice was almost clear, and I thought for a second that the whole thing might have been an act. Then he hiccupped and groaned, all without moving his head or his shoulders.
“I have to.” I needed to leave. I was starting to shake.
“Please stay. I’m scared.”
I closed my eyes. Whatever it was in me that was on the verge of being broken finally snapped. I knew I wasn’t leaving.
“Okay.” It seemed like someone else talking. Perhaps another me. “Just let me go make sure the door is locked.”
His grip on me tightened. “No,” he whispered.
“I’ll be right back.”
His hand slid off of mine, but I still felt the warmth there. Walking back down the hall to the front door, I kept thinking ‘leave’ over and over again. I knew I wouldn’t, though. I didn’t know what I wanted, or if I even wanted anything, but I knew I was going to stay with Kevin that night. I locked the front door and shut off the hall light on my way back.
He was in the exact same position as before, on his right side with his knees bent up toward his chest, his head curled as if to meet them. Whatever there had been in my chest that was red-orange and filled with anger had softened now. A sort of warm glow was in its place; a warmth that spread throughout all of me. I was still shaking, though. I shut off the light and I heard him make a noise like a question mark, “It’s just me,” I whispered, and stood there. In me was the same feeling I’d had just before putting Randy on my bike a million years ago. I unzipped my pants, and then slid out of them. Naked, I climbed into the bed.
Kevin slid backward, pressing his back against my chest. The part of me that I understood least that night pressed between us. He burrowed his face down into the mattress and made a soft noise I’d never heard a man make before. Before I could stop myself, I put my arm around him, and pulled him closer to me. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I noticed that the continuous chatter of my mind had, for the first time in at least a decade, gone silent.
EIGHTEEN
I don’t know how long Kevin’s hand had been roaming over me when I finally woke up. I’m not entirely sure why I reacted how I did, either. I got lost in his touch and didn’t come back to myself until long after we were both lying side by side, panting and damp. His smell was all over my skin.
Night streamed in from the single window in the room. The blue curtains were still, and each individual blind let one thin line of light through. Even in the dark, I could see his head was turned, and he was staring at the pulled blinds as if he could see right through them. I wanted to get up and leave right then, and at the same time, I wanted to pull him to me and hear his breathing against my chest once more.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” I asked, surprised at how tender my voice sounded to me.
“Taking care of me.”
I didn’t say anything. He was coherent and together. I’d never seen anyone have a—a—what? I know all the television shows called what I’d just seen a “bad trip”, but what did that mean? Usually, something like that was followed by a scene of everyone gathered over the troubled teen in the hospital. He turned over on his side, and put his head on my chest. I breathed in and then out; my whole body hummed with stillness.
“Did you ever sit in your room, look out the window, and wonder if maybe the whole world had died, only you didn’t know about it, yet?” Kevin asked.
“No.”
“Some nights, after dad had—whatever—wailed on me—I’d just sit in my bed and stare out the window. Just sort of think about what I’d do if the world was over,” he said, and curled his knees up against me. The gesture was so feminine it made my chest hurt. I looked at his body, all the skin and bone and muscle, and felt sad.
“I spent so long—” He turned his head up and away, staring at the ceiling. I could tell he was trying not to cry.
“It’s—” I realized I didn’t know what I was going to say, “—late.” Too late, I knew that was the exact wrong thing to say. He blinked at me. “We should maybe get some sleep,” I said. Outside the window, the wind howled.
“It could all be over out there, in a movie or something, and we wouldn’t know,” he said.
“Does that scare you?”
“No.” He snuggled under the covers. “It makes me feel heavy and tired, like I don’t have to worry anymore.” I heard him breathing for a while, and I started to drift. “What would you do?” he whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“If the world was over, like if it had already ended and you were—I don’t know—left behind or whatever—what would you do?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “you?”
“Get on a boat and go way out in the ocean where no one is. I’d go out there and stay,” he said. The last words came out in a low murmur, “people fuck me up.”
I felt his hand begin to roam over me, again. There were just a few taps, at first, like someone testing ice on a lake with a pole. Then, the touch moved across my shoulders. My head pounded, and the room had a high-pitched electricity running through it. The touch went away, then I felt the bed move behind me.
A touch started at my waist, somehow more insistent, more conscious than before. It ran up my side to my rib cage, and moved slower over each of them, as if counting. I could tell this was a hand, and I felt it move forward. It came down from my ribs to my stomach. There it went from the brushing of fingertips to an open palm and warmth.
“Mikey?” Kevin whispered.
I didn’t want to respond; I wanted to become a stone. “Yeah?”
“Move closer; it’s cold.” His hand gently pressed on my stomach. I moved until my back touched his chest. He moved upward until his elbow sat on my stomach, and his flat palm rested just over my heart. I felt him breathe. My head pounded with white pressure; I felt as if I might pass out.
His hips moved against me; nothing horrible, just a tiny pressure. I exhaled, and again felt close to passing out.
“Mikey?” His breathe felt so warm against my neck.
I didn’t want to answer; I wanted to be a rock.
“Are you cold, too?”
I wasn’t; my whole body felt hot enough to explode. “Yeah.”
“Turn over,” he said.
I did. His arm circled around behind my back, the flat palm between my shoulder blades. I felt his muscles, huge and thick against my side. His jaw was there, next to mine, and I felt the warmth of his breath. His eyes were open in the dark, too. Something in the middle of me was warm, and liquid. My whole body vibrated. “Kevin,” I said, “I’m not really cold.” It sounded like a radio broadcast in another room.
“Me either,” he said. I felt the pillow move, and then felt his lips against mine.
Morning peeked in just under the blinds the next time I paid any attention. A loud sound from the bathroom, and the sound of water running brought me back from where I’d been. I hummed from fingers to toes. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t think my body and me; I thought I. Parts of me felt sore and used and alive, and I was tired; hungry.
The bathroom door opened, and Kevin crawled back underneath the sheets. I turned on my side and felt him against my back immediately. His nose moved against my neck lightly. I smiled, “that tickles,” I said. I wanted the smile to stay, but it faded quickly.