Serpentine Walls (21 page)

“Oh, yeah? What flavor?”

“Ha, ha. Wintergreen. No, I mean winter break’s been a drag, so you’re giving me something to look forward to.” He opened the car door.

“Cool. I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you back about times and where to meet.”

“Okay. Catch you later.”

Pete walked inside with a bounce in his step, jazzed about the prospect of seeing Matthew. He hadn’t been getting together with friends much this break. John had left for Boston to spend the rest of the time with Cleo, Angie was away at relatives’ for a week, and Pete hadn’t felt like making the effort to see his other high school friends, not even George.

He hung up his coat and ran downstairs, humming.
Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.

“T
HAT
was an odd movie,” Pete said as he and Matthew walked out of the American Film Institute into the cold winter air.

“Odd? How dare you!” Matthew smirked, then pulled his peacoat tighter and wound his scarf around his neck. “Antonioni is a genius.”

“He may be a genius, but I didn’t get it. What was Jack Nicholson even doing?”

When Pete started to step off the curb, Matthew took his arm to hold him back.

“Whoa, there. Don’t want you getting run over. Anyway, I concede that this isn’t his best film.” At Pete’s snort, he added, “Okay, not his best by far, but I thought it would be fun to see one of his attempts at making a movie in Hollywood.”

The light changed. Pete waited with an exaggerated question on his face. “May I cross now?”

“Oh, shut up,” Matthew said, laughing, as they stepped off the curb.

“I have a confession to make. I’ve never seen an Antonioni film before.”

Matthew stopped in the middle of the crosswalk, staring at him, until Pete pulled him safely across the street.

Once they were on the sidewalk, Matthew said in a solemn voice, “Padawan, I fear for you. You must allow the Master to teach you the ways of Antonioni.”

“Yes, Master. But can it wait until we get into the station? My butt’s about to freeze off.”

They picked up their pace, walking briskly to the Silver Spring Metro station, and then raced down the escalator steps to make it into a train right before the doors closed.

“What do you want to eat?” Matthew asked, gripping the overhead strap as the Metro train swayed.

Pete held on to a pole next to him, noticing how rosy Matthew’s cheeks had gotten in the winter air. His eyes seemed even brighter blue in contrast.

“I don’t know. Not pizza. Or barbeque.” He made a face, remembering the night at Dad’s.

“You got something against barbeque?”

“No. I’ve just had enough of it.”

Matthew smiled. “All right, Mr. Morgan. No pizza, no barbeque. What about Indian?”

“Mm, I love Indian food.”

“Okay, I know a great place.”

At the next station, a crowd of people jammed into the car. When the train took off again with a jolt, someone bumped into Pete, causing him to stagger slightly. Matthew put out a hand to steady him. “None of that, now. We haven’t even started drinking.”

Pete’s body gave an involuntary start at Matthew’s touch, like an electric current had just gone through it. Matthew seemed to feel it too. He pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. Pete studied the floor, feeling his face warm, and shifted to hide his arousal.
Straight, straight, straight
. He chanted it in his mind like a mantra.

“… and we should start with
L’Avventura
.”

“What?”

“Pay attention, son. I was talking about your Antonioni education.”

“Oh, yeah. Wait—you want to go to another movie today? Can we eat first?”

“Of course. I meant when we get back to school. I have the whole Antonioni trilogy, the one he’s most famous for. You’re going to watch it with me.”

Pete smiled at Matthew’s bossiness. “Yes, sir. Hey, after we eat, you want to go look at the Christmas trees on the Ellipse?”

“Sure.”

“My family always used to do it—it was kind of a tradition.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“Well, it was when we were kids and….” Pete trailed off.

“Yeah. Things change. How are things at home? Is it weird?”

“So weird,” he muttered, feeling his usual reluctance to talk about it. But at Matthew’s sympathetic smile, Pete found himself launching into a description of the dinner at Dad’s, Mallory’s presence, and what Dad had said about him getting a business degree.

“Business?” Matthew laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so. God, what a scene, with the girlfriend sitting there and all. Poor you.”

“It was fucked up.” Pete laughed too. The whole thing seemed sadly hilarious in retrospect, but he still felt an underlying bitterness. “Anyway, moving on. Tell me about this restaurant we’re going to.”

They exited at the Woodley Park station and walked across the bridge in the fast-disappearing winter daylight, Matthew describing the food they were about to have in enthusiastic detail.

“I can’t believe the year is almost done,” Pete said as they reached Adams Morgan.

“Yeah. What are you doing for New Year’s?”

“Nothing so far. You doing anything exciting?”

“Going up to New York City on the train with Allison and some other friends. Gonna do the whole Times Square ball-drop thing.”

Allison
.
Oh, right, the girlfriend.
“Cool. I’ll look for you on TV, dude.”

“You could come and be squished with the rest of us.”

Pete glanced at Matthew. “Seriously?”

Matthew shrugged. “The more, the merrier,” he said lightly. “Here we are.” He stopped in front of an unassuming-looking restaurant, from which drifted a mouthwatering aroma of Indian spices.

“Thanks, man,” Pete said as he followed Matthew in, “but I kinda have to stay close to home this year. For my mom and all. I think Angie and me are gonna hang out. Watch movies and get blasted. Whoop de do.”

“I wish you could come up with us. But—”

“That’s okay,” Pete interrupted, alarmed at the thought of having to spend an entire weekend watching Matthew and Allison together. “But, thanks.”

Later, as they were finishing their meal, Matthew leaned toward him.

“You know what you were saying about your dad earlier?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean about Christmas?”

“Yeah. And the business degree and the girlfriend. I think you should talk to your dad. Just, tell him how you feel.”

“Um-hm.”

“I know you don’t want to.”

“Right. Why should I?”

“Because he’s your dad. And he loves you.”

Pete’s throat ached. He didn’t want to think about Dad anymore. He sipped his beer, grumbling to himself, but was startled out of his pity party by Matthew’s next words.

“I lost my dad to cancer last year.” Pete’s mouth dropped open as Matthew held his eyes with a steady gaze. “And it sucks because he’s not here, even to be mad at. I know you’re pissed at him, and you have a right to be. But… life is short. That’s all.”

Matthew lowered his eyes and started forking up some chicken masala, and Pete had no clue how to respond.

“Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I mean, wow. I feel like a dumbass bitching about mine.”
Shut up about yourself
. “I mean, what I mean is… how’re you doing?”

Matthew gave a small shrug, but his face looked sad to Pete. “Okay.”

“It sucks that it happened to you. You don’t deserve that.” Pete was floundering. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how.

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you out, but—”

“No, man, you’re not. I’m glad you told me. Just, um, just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He felt so useless, but Matthew was regarding him with a fond expression.

“You already do a lot for me,” he said in a soft voice and then cleared his throat. “Are you done? Time for the Christmas trees.”

T
HE
sound of carols being sung by a choral group at the other end of the Ellipse filled the air as Matthew and Pete gazed at the California state Christmas tree.

“I like the surfboards. They give such a holiday feel,” Matthew quipped.

Snowflakes began to drift down as they walked slowly along the display of state trees. They stopped at each tree and discussed the ornaments. Pete joined Matthew in cracking jokes at the corny displays, but he was secretly happy Matthew was as into looking at the Christmas trees as he was, so he didn’t have to pretend to be jaded by the whole thing.

The snow was falling steadily by the time they reached the end of the display. They peered down at a Yule log burning in a pit, while around them crowds of people filled the walkway and the big national Christmas tree towered in the distance, covered with lights.

This is a scene from a movie
, Pete thought, remembering a snow globe with a village inside that he had loved as a kid. He turned to say something about it but stopped, arrested by the sight of Matthew in his peacoat and scarf, face lit up by the fire, while snowflakes settled on his shoulders and hair. He looked… amazing.

As Pete stared dumbly at him, Matthew said, “I love the snow!” and tilted his head back, laughing, mouth opened wide to catch the flakes.

I want to kiss you,
Pete thought, watching him laugh
. Why are you perfect? Why are you
straight
, goddammit?

Pete shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, determined to put such thoughts out of his mind. He’d gone from warm and nostalgic to kind of miserable in under thirty seconds. Not only was he horny, but it was friggin’ cold out here.

“I feel like some Irish coffee,” Pete said.

“You don’t look like some, ha, ha!”

He laughed in spite of himself. Matthew was such a dork sometimes. He didn’t look cold either. He was all happy and glowy, even in the snow. “Let’s go find a bar.”

“You talked me into it, Mr. Morgan.”

“A
RE
you ready to start filming when we get back to school?” Matthew asked. They sat at the bar in a dark club off of Pennsylvania Avenue, warming their hands around their Irish coffee mugs.

“Yeah.”

“Are all the actors lined up?”

“Yep. I had to work around Aidan and Lee’s rehearsal schedule for
Sweeney Todd
, but we found some dates. I texted them to you.”

“Right, right.” Matthew seemed distracted. Fiddling with his coaster, he added, “How’s it going with Aidan?”

Pete stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. I thought you guys were dating or something.” Matthew studied the liquor bottles behind the bar.

“Oh. No, we’re—” Pete stopped. For some reason he was reluctant to say to Matthew his standard phrase about
just hooking up
. “I’m not sure what we’re doing.”

Matthew gave a nod but didn’t respond.

“How about you and Allison?” Pete wondered why he was asking, because he really didn’t want to know.

“Me and Allison?” Matthew looked over at him and furrowed his brow.

Sick of Matthew clamming up about the relationships topic, Pete persisted. “Yeah. When did you guys start dating?”

“We aren’t dating.” Matthew scanned his face. “Wait. You think I’m straight?”

“You mean you’re not?” Pete asked.

“No. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

Not wanting his glee to be too obvious, Pete turned away to signal the bartender for another Irish coffee. But then it occurred to him to wonder why Matthew had never made a move, and he turned back to him. “So, um, are you seeing someone?”

“No.” Matthew shifted on his barstool and stood up. “I’ve got to use the restroom.”

“Okay. You want another Irish coffee?”

“Better not, given I’m the driver. Be right back.”

Pete watched him disappear in the direction of the bathrooms, still reeling from the knowledge that Matthew was gay. Gay! And apparently available.
Hot damn!
Pete started fantasizing about the amazing sex they were going to have—
Shit, wait
. Pete had a sudden flash of insight.
Me and Matthew together? That wouldn’t be safe. Not safe at all.

He swallowed. Matthew could never be “just a hookup” to him. Talk about getting involved—Pete was already in over his head, and if he and Matthew slept together…. Pete’s stomach lurched. He didn’t want a relationship. All he had to do was consider what had happened to his parents. And Angie. And, most probably, Aidan. Relationships caused pain.

“Oh, crap,” Pete whispered and stared into the new Irish coffee the bartender had set in front of him as if the answer to his fucked-up confusion was lurking in its fragrant depths.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Matthew touched his shoulder before sliding back onto his stool. But he didn’t have to figure out what to say or do next, because Matthew started talking right away, like he’d rehearsed a speech in the bathroom.

“Listen, I need to explain some things. I usually never talk about this stuff, but you deserve to know.” His eyes darted around and then focused on Pete. “Um, I went through a bad breakup with a boyfriend about three years ago.” He paused, crossing his arms over his chest. “It left me pretty fucked up—heartbroken, actually—and I decided relationships aren’t for me.”

“Oh.”
Join the club
.

“Which is why you’ve never seen me with anyone, and why I—” He looked away.

Pete waited, but Matthew didn’t say anything else. “Um, that’s a bummer about getting your heart broken. Sounds rough.” Then he remembered about Matthew’s father dying and muttered, “You don’t deserve all this shit, man.”

Matthew squared his shoulders and faced Pete again. “It was a long time ago. But because I don’t do relationships and I’m not into casual sex, I decided to be celibate.”

Pete’s eyes widened in horror. “Celibate? That sucks!”

“Or not,” Matthew said with a little smile. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. It’s not that bad. I do have a right hand, you know.”

Pete tried to change his expression into something more neutral. “It’s… I don’t know what to say.”