Nesting Habits Read online

  Phil and Jerry sat quietly, long enough to wildly overexpose more than one frame, wide-eyed stare to wide-eyed stare.

  “No. I could have someone—”

  “No. No, th-thanks. I don’t know why I a-asked that.”

  Jerry put his mug on the end table and rested his warm hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I could probably find your mother.”

  Phil loosened his hold on the blanket, and when it slipped away from his left hand, Jerry enveloped it in both of his. Jerry’s hands weren’t large, but they were larger than Phil’s, soft and strong. They were the deeply lined hands of a man who’d spent most of his life handling paper, with the occasional trowel and spatula thrown in for variety.

  “I’m s-sure. I don’t think I need to know w-why. It w-wouldn’t help.”

  “Okay. If you change your mind, I’ll call Pete or Al. Or you could, if you wanted to.”

  The fact that Jerry suggested Al, a private investigator who worked out of Old Town, said it was unlikely he’d get an answer to any of his questions anyway. Jerry called Al for help with runaways and missing persons if he thought foul play, drugs, or human trafficking were involved.

  “Th-thanks for giving me Tina’s number.”

  “You talked to her?”

  Phil’s chin began to shake. He thought she would’ve told him everything—just like the therapists who’d told him their sessions were confidential but then blabbed every word he said, along with all manner of theories and dire predictions.

  “Mostly, I… I listened to her.”

  Jerry nodded and a sad smile zipped across his face, almost too fast to see. “She’s an amazing woman.”

  “Yeah.” It wasn’t really his business, but he asked anyway. “What’s h-happening with you two?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” Jerry clasped his hands a little tighter around Phil’s. Just a little. They shook a bit too. “Between our history and her trust issues…. No, that’s not fair. It’s me. I wasn’t always the stand-up guy you see before you.”

  “B-but the door’s still open?”

  Jerry met Phil’s stare, and after a few moments, Phil hung his head, hiding behind his long hair. “Lee asked me to move in with him. Into his new h-house.”

  Phil peeked up through his bangs. Slowly, Jerry’s face lit up—happiness spread across his features like a time-lapse shot of the sunrise.

  “That’s excellent.”

  Phil almost said he wasn’t sure the offer was still valid, but it didn’t take long to realize that would be disrespectful and fraudulent. Iniquitous even.

  “When you’re ready, I think you’ll be very happy there.” Jerry sounded like he could barely force the words out. “I’m your safety net. And I always will be. You know that, don’t you, Phil?”

  Phil looked up and was reduced to fighting a losing battle for his composure. Jerry slowly pulled Phil into his arms. After a moment, Phil relaxed into the embrace. He hadn’t been miraculously cured, infused with energy and confidence and ready to take on the world, but he believed those things would come. At least the first two. As for the world, he only cared about a small portion of it.

  Lee

  LEE SAT on the steps leading up to his front porch, watching what little of the world he could see and thinking of Phil, when his phone vibrated. He didn’t dare hope that just thinking about him had somehow ended with Phil calling, but he pulled it from his pocket anyway. Two weeks, two months, or two years—he wouldn’t give up on Phil. For the gazillionth time, he wondered how long he should wait before texting or calling, or just heading over to say hello….

  “Hey, Beck.”

  “Hey. What’re you doing right now?”

  “Sitting on my porch. What’re you doing right now?”

  “Look.”

  He pulled his phone away from his ear and was greeted by a picture of a new addition to the side of Mom’s garage, a family of herons in a nest. Even though it felt a little like a sock in the gut, it made him smile too.

  “When’re you coming over to give me a picture?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Surprise me. You always know what to paint.”

  “I—oh shit, I forgot to tell you why I called. I heard Shawn was saying downtown he was going to pay you a visit. His stupid brother is in jail, and they’re going to throw away the key if they know what’s good for everyone, and he’s even more stupid than usual, so watch out.”

  Lee sighed. “Beck, he’s not going to come all the way out here just to mess with me. He doesn’t even know where I live.”

  “Yes, he does.” She made her long-suffering sister sound, so Lee knew to expect her talking to a five-year-old voice. “His cousin is Kimmie’s little boy’s daddy, so all of that fucked-up family knows where your house is. I think you should get rid of it and leave there, but nobody ever asks me what to do.”

  “Hey, Becca, don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen out here. Okay? Hold on a sec, let me show you how boring and quiet it is out here.” Lee took a picture of the bend in the court and sent it to her, not even the tall grass or unpruned fruit trees moved. “See? Just dull, quiet, Afterthought Court.”

  “I don’t like that nickname.” He spent a moment listening to the sounds on the other end of the open line. Bruce barked, and Lee was just about to ask Becca if she heard the hawk circling overhead screech when she said, quietly, “Phil will come back.”

  “Beck—”

  “He will. But if it’s not by Saturday, will you come out?”

  “Sure.”

  “Mom’s back from the store, so I have to go help her. You remember what I said.”

  He was telling her he would when he realized the line was dead. He leaned against the porch roof support and watched the hawk riding thermals, hunting for mice or whatever it liked to eat. It was probably a hawk, with that red tail. Phil would know for sure.

  The sky inched toward twilight, turning pink at the edges, and the court remained as silent as a church on Monday. The hawk was long gone. He still sat there, leaning on the rough beam supporting the porch roof and thinking about what he thought he’d be doing once he had his very own place. As usual, what went on in his head was much better than what went on in real life.

  Well, that’s not true when Phil’s around.

  He stood to go inside and see about eating something, or maybe tackling one of the projects on the repair list, when a squeal of brakes jerked him out of his daydreams. A small pickup truck careened down the street, its driver obviously under the influence of something, even if only rage or stupidity. The familiar truck’s dented front end sported fresh damage, the passenger-side headlight hung like a dislocated eyeball. He couldn’t believe it was true, that Shawn Forrester would really drive an hour just to fuck with him, but after a moment that seemed to stretch out forever, his eyes convinced his feet and he hurried inside.

  He had locked the door and dialed 9-1-1, when he heard the crash. He stood in the window and watched as that rusty white pickup did a burnout on the street, trying to back away from the side of his car. When the truck finally broke free it shot backward, across the narrow street, up onto Randy’s lawn and into the corner of his porch. Lee tried harder to convince the operator he needed at least two police cars as fast as they could get there—and if they were going to take a while, she may as well send an ambulance too.

  Lee couldn’t see what Shawn was doing, but the truck sat on the lawn for a few minutes, idling. Shawn hadn’t given up or been knocked unconscious.

  I’m not that lucky.

  He held his breath, waiting, and then the engine revved and the truck screeched across the street and into the front of Lee’s car. The crunching, twisting metal sounds made him a little sick. The battered little truck’s engine revved again, but the only thing that accomplished was to smoke the tires.

  Good-bye, car.

  Shawn tumbled from the truck, a bottle of Olde English 800 fell out right behind him and shattered on the street. H
e lurched across the lawn—the lawn that Lee had searched Craig’s List and a few garage sales to find an old push-mower to care for—and kicked the tree. And then, impossibly, he tried to pull it out of the ground. It wasn’t a whole lot bigger than a sapling, but it had been there a while and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. So the drunken asshole ripped a limb from it and beat on the porch rail for a while. He seemed to be losing steam, so when Lee heard a car approaching, he relaxed a little.

  Finally, the cops.

  Shawn seemed to be trying to pull the porch rail away from the house with his bare hands when the car pulled into Lee’s driveway. Lee noticed there hadn’t been a siren at the same time Shawn took off running toward the driveway. Toward a teal Jeep.

  Lee had never run so fast in his life, not on a football field and especially not toward Shawn Forrester. By the time he reached the driveway, Shawn had pulled Phil from his seat. It wasn’t clear whether he hit him or pushed him to the ground, but it didn’t matter.

  Lee heard more than his own voice shouting as he tackled Shawn and rode him to the ground. He didn’t waste any time after they landed, he just started swinging. Lee’s fists connected to Shawn’s face a few times—good-bye smug grin—and to his throat—good-bye phobic slurs. As he went back to work on that ugly face, he heard a voice that stopped him cold.

  “L-lee, s-stop.”

  Phil pulled himself off the ground, dirt and pebbles from the driveway sticking to the side of his face. He was drenched in sweat—his T-shirt sticking to his body, hair hanging in strings. Lee wondered how long he’d been pounding on Shawn. Phil took a step toward him and then stopped and slowly brought the back of his left hand to his face. His shaking arm didn’t make it any easier. He looked at the cuff of his shirt and said, huh. Lee sat upright on Shawn’s stomach and looked Phil over but saw no blood. He barely spared a glance in Shawn’s direction as he stood and moved close enough to Phil to catch him if he fell. The way his legs were shaking, that seemed more likely than not.

  “You okay?”

  “Y-yeah.” He looked deep into Lee’s eyes with those beautiful icy blues for a long moment, and then looked past him. “I-is he b-breathing?”

  “Unfortunately. Hey, you sure you’re okay?”

  Lee reached out and instead of flinching away, which was what he expected and was ready for, Phil collapsed in his direction. Lee held him up in a gentle embrace. By the time he heard sirens, Lee was still barely able to believe Phil was really there, in his arms.

  “Come on and sit?” Lee helped Phil back into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, his legs dangling out the door. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of Phil, the way he shook and the look in his eyes—fucking brutal. But he had to be practical, to do better at taking care of Phil than he’d done the last time they were together. “When they get here, they might arrest me. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, okay?”

  Phil shook his head and every drop of color he had left drained from his face. He looked worse than after they’d spent the night clinging to the ledge—gray and waxy and maybe close to passing out. Lee turned toward the street, and Phil grabbed a handful of his T-shirt. Two police cars with their lights flashing sped into the court and stopped, blocking the driveway. A few neighbors came out their front doors to stand on their lawns.

  One of the cruisers skidded a little on the loose gravel at the end of the driveway, the plume of dust stirred up the only movement. Barely seconds later two big cops burst out, one with a hand on his gun. Lee gently separated himself from Phil just as the first one got close enough to start giving orders. Lee had “assumed the position” with his hands on the Jeep and his feet spread wide by the time he heard shouting from the direction of the street.

  “No, listen, he didn’t do anything! That piece of shit on the ground ran his truck into my house and crashed into Lee’s car intentionally. Twice! Look, I’m telling you, there’s a bottle of Olde English right outside the driver door of his truck, but if you don’t believe me, go smell him. I bet he reeks.”

  Lee concentrated on Phil, their gazes locked, trying to help him keep it together. The cop behind him eased his elbow away from his back and didn’t click the handcuffs onto his right wrist. His partner walked up the driveway and made a disgusted sound, and a few seconds later Lee’s left wrist was free.

  “Thanks.” He nodded to the officer and turned back to Phil.

  “Please step out of the vehicle.”

  Shit, that was not a question.

  Phil leaned backward and started blinking fast. Lee turned to face the cop and moved to stand between them.

  “He’s fine, just give him a minute?” Lee stepped forward and nodded to the side a little, and the officer nodded. They moved barely a half step away, but at least the guy was out of arm’s reach of Phil. “He’s not on anything. He has PTSD, and some whack job just pulled him out of his truck and beat on him a little. Please, just let him stay where he is.”

  The officer took a long, hard look at Phil and then turned back to Lee. He narrowed his eyes a little, but before he could ask any more questions, the ambulance pulled up. Lee thought, way back about thirty minutes ago when he’d called 9-1-1, he was calling for an ambulance for himself. Instead, he watched as two burly guys strapped Shawn to a stretcher and pushed him inside. He woke up and flailed around while one of the EMTs was checking Lee’s hands for broken bones, but nobody seemed particularly phased by it. The EMT finished what he was doing, told him to ice his hand, and then they drove away without any fanfare.

  THE POLICE took down their contact information and talked to all the neighbors who were home. Whatever the neighbors said had them pulling out much sooner than Lee had dared to hope. He and Phil stayed where they were, not moving and Phil barely breathing, until the second cruiser turned off Afterthought and sped into the night.

  Lee leaned against the Jeep and looked up at the dark sky. They were too close to the city to see many stars, but a few were bright enough to make it through.

  “You okay, Phil?”

  “Yeah. Can we go inside now?”

  Lee pushed off the side of the Jeep and offered Phil his hand. Phil took it and held on tight. He didn’t let go until they’d made it past the front door. Lee wanted to scoop Phil up and make him feel safe, but expected holding his hand would be it. That would be more than enough, he thought, but then Phil practically bowled him over with a hug. He held onto Lee, for dear life it felt like, and Lee did the same.

  “I’m sorry.” Phil’s words were muffled by Lee’s shirt. Lee felt them as much as heard them and pulled Phil closer.

  “It’s not all or nothing. If you don’t—”

  “But I want to.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

  Phil’s chuckle shook, and sounded a little wet. Lee was still working to process that he’d actually laughed, when he answered, “Yes, I do. You were going to say if I don’t want to live here, it’s no big deal. But it is. It’s the biggest deal.”

  “Still. If you’re not ready, it’s okay.”

  Phil squeezed his arms around Lee’s waist. His body trembled, but he wasn’t hyperventilating and maybe wouldn’t get to a full-on panic. Lee wasn’t sure if he could watch that again even knowing he would probably have to, eventually.

  They stood just inside the front door by the time Phil’s breathing sounded mostly normal. Lee eased Phil’s head back and groaned softly when he saw how his face had started to swell. Only the side of his mouth and his cheek—his lip hadn’t even split—but it was still too much. Lee pulled Phil so he supported his weight, and brushed wet strands of hair back. He moved in slowly, in case Phil’s mouth hurt more than it looked like it should. His eyes may’ve still been wide with fear, but want was right there along with it. Phil didn’t pull away; he straightened and met Lee in the middle for a kiss. He shivered, and his soft grunt sounded more like pain than pleasure, but he didn’t pull away. Lee made sure the kiss stayed soft and gentle but
couldn’t bring himself to make it as short as he probably should have. By the time it was over, Phil didn’t seem to be shaking at all anymore.

  “Hey, I have something to show you.”

  Lee led him through the bedroom and into the bathroom, his arm lightly around Phil’s back. Phil gasped out loud when he saw the new tub and enclosure—shiny chrome and semiopaque safety glass. Nothing fancy, but it left the old one with the missing door and rust stains in the dust.

  “Did you install this? It looks great.”

  “Try it out with me?” Lee pulled his T-shirt off. He tried for the buttons at Phil’s cuffs, but his hands had started to stiffen and swell and he couldn’t work them.

  Lee watched as Phil swallowed hard and then unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt. He let it drop to the floor behind him. After a still, silent moment, they peeled off the rest of their clothes as fast as they could, and Lee turned on the shower. Phil’s sigh shook when he stepped under the water, and he moaned when Lee embraced him from behind.

  After a moment Lee turned them sideways to share the water. With an arm around his waist, Lee gently tilted Phil’s head back and away from the water. It wasn’t easy to wash his hair one handed, but that barely registered past the feel of Phil’s body and the way he sighed.

  “Close your eyes.”