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“What did my mother whisper to you?”
I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then: “She told me I have to protect you. That you’ve been alone for so long you may not remember how to live. She wants me to show you how.”
“And you promised her that?” I ask, heart sore.
“Yes. Always.”
“Cal….”
I hear him shift on the other side of the door, rising up until I’m sure he’s standing above me. I wait.
Finally: “Benji?”
“Yeah?”
He’s hesitant, almost shy, his words like a staccato beat. “Can you open the door now? I’m sorry if you’re still mad at me. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Okay? Please?”
I close my eyes. So many things are still unsaid between us, but I no longer have the heart to bring them out. For all that I have suffered, it’s nothing compared to his grief. I had my father. For sixteen years, I knew joy. I knew complete happiness. I saw the sunrise every day because I saw the man who created me every day. I knew the weight of his arms on my shoulder, the rumble of his voice, the sound of his laughter. I knew love because I was loved. I was my father’s son.
No. I am my father’s son. My father would not have allowed another to wallow in anguish, to drown himself in a river. My father would not have allowed despair if he could have helped it. My father was the greatest man who ever lived, even with all his faults. He would know what to do. He would know what was in my heart.
“You gonna leave again?” I ask him gruffly, opening my eyes.
“Only if you make me,” he whispers. “Please don’t make me.”
My heart breaks and I jump to my feet, flinging the door open. He’s standing so massively tall, the shadows from the dark dancing across his face. He’s breathing heavily, and the glitter in his eyes knocks the breath from my chest. The red stubble across his face looks wonderfully rough. He looks almost feral, like he’s poised to attack, but still he waits.
But I can no longer deny him, or deny myself. He spreads his arms as I leap at him. He catches me deftly, crushing me into his chest. The scent of him invades me, threatening to tear me apart. His lips find mine as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as my tongue meets his, tangling as he takes a lurching first step. I want to push into him further, until he can feel my thunderous heart breaking against my chest, until he can see that my sorrow is not so different than his. We are the same, I think as he grips the back of my neck with one gigantic hand, holding me steady so he can kiss my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.
“You are not alone,” I whisper hoarsely against his face, moving my lips across to kiss his closed eyes. “You are with me.”
“I know,” he says, his voice cracking. He buries his face into my neck then, latching his teeth onto the skin, and swirls his tongue over. He walks further, carrying me against him, until he pushes me back. I land on the bed and he looms above me, so big he blocks out everything else. Only he exists; he’s everything. It feels critical, this moment, like we’ve reached a precipice and we either have to jump or fall back the way we came. I don’t want to fall anymore. Not now. Not again.
I reach up and put my arms around his neck, and that’s all the permission he needs. He falls against me, so heavy I almost can’t breathe. He reaches one hand down and lifts up my shirt, tucking the cotton up under my chin. He rubs his beard against my flesh, leaving trails that burn. He bites gently at my stomach, soothing the sting from his teeth with his tongue.
It’s only later, with his mouth on me in ways I never expected, that I can truly feel his need. I am necessary to him. I understand that now, and the realization threatens to crush me more than he ever could. But it’s a weight I will carry gladly. Even as I tell him he is not alone, that I am with him, I can see it’s the same in reverse. There’s a bright light rising from deep within me, like the morning sun breaking over the mountains. It warms me from the inside out, even as he slips a wet finger into me. I call out his name, my muscles trembling, pleasure exploding.
When he enters me again, it’s with a careful motion, pressing one hand down against my chest as he watches my face, hooking my leg above his shoulder with his other hand. He leans down, kissing me as he pushes in until his hips are pressed against me. I rock my head back, and he trails his tongue down my neck.
“Faster,” I whisper. “More.”
He growls against my neck but then he begins to snap his hips against me, slapping his balls against my ass. He takes me in hand, my cock like iron against his calloused hand. It only takes a few strokes before I’m spilling over, spunk on his hand and my chest. He grunts above me and I’m filled with great heat as his shoulders tremble. The muscles of his chest constrict, the cords in his neck stand out. He’s still shaking when he drops down onto my chest.
I cradle his head against me, rubbing my fingers through his hair, feeling him still move within me. He’s pulling me back together, piece by piece. The shapes may not fit the way they used to, but there is a pattern there. A design. Slowly but surely I am being put back together. I’m not whole yet, not completely, but I am getting there.
He sighs contentedly, his breath warm on my skin. He turns his head and places a gentle kiss to the place where my heart beats. The action is one of such singular beauty that I’m annihilated. If this is what he can give me, then I will take it all.
And I will give it back just the same.
adrift
That night, I’m chest-deep in the river again. The rain falls overhead, causing the
water around me to splash up in tiny droplets. Occasionally feathers impede my progress, forcing me back. Sometimes the river mud sucks up around my ankles, pulling me down. River water pours into my mouth, choking me, but I break the surface.
There is the metallic screech of the upside down truck as it scrapes against an unseen rock on the riverbed. The sound makes me grind my teeth. I take another step as I look over my shoulder. A dark figure stands on the side of the road, watching. I can’t make out who it is, can’t see a vehicle stopped on the road. The angle is wrong, the rain too heavy.
A large wave hits the side of my head and I’m submerged again. For a moment, I stay there. The sounds are muffled underwater, the raindrops a soothing, drumming sound above me. I have enough air. I’m not choking. I’m not drowning. I’m alive.
