What They Always Tell Us (13 page)

The party is plenty crowded now. All around Alex are people he knows. He doesn’t want to look at them, because then he might have to stop and talk or deal with their concerned or scornful gazes. So he walks behind Henry and stares down at the back of his head. Henry’s hair is a more normal, copperish red now, messy and brittle-looking, and only the tips show any trace of the bright, cartoonish red from weeks earlier. When Alex chances to look up, he sees James, slouching by a couch, where Clare Ashford is sitting with Suzy Parker. Kirk is sitting there, too, by Suzy. God. That means Tyler is probably here, too.

“There’s your brother,” Henry says.

“Yeah,” Alex says, but he keeps moving, out of that room to the dining room, where a buffet is set up. He doesn’t want anyone in that crowd to see him, period, much less see him hanging out with a kid.

“Where’re you going? I thought we were gonna get punch,” Henry says, now at his heels.

“I’m not thirsty anymore.” He weaves through the crowd, careful not to bump anyone, though at this point it’s almost unavoidable. Then, right before he enters the kitchen, he hears someone shout his name. Well, sort of his name: Lex, not Alex. He turns and sees that it’s Nathen. Nathen, wearing not just a bright red tie, but a full suit, dark gray. His short dark hair is slightly gelled to make it spiky in front.

“Hey, buddy,” Nathen says, slapping his hand.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Alex says, trying not to sound too excited.

“My folks dragged me. But whatever—I’m just so fucking psyched school is over,” he says, then seems to notice Henry standing at Alex’s side. “Oh, hey.”

“This is Henry,” Alex says, but just then Henry smiles and wanders off. Alex shrugs. “Yeah, I’m glad school’s over, too.”

“I thought you might call me this past week, you know, to help with your chemistry.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I managed.” Though he would have called, if he’d known Nathen expected him to.

“You want to jog tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Alex says, relief washing over him.

“And maybe we can run a few times next week, before Christmas.”

James appears, as if from thin air. He says, “There you are,” to Nathen, not Alex. “We’re hanging out in there,” he says, pointing with his head to the other room. “We may head to Preston’s later.”

“Oh, cool. I’m up for that. You going to come, Lex?”

“Uh,” he says, then looks at James. He can tell James is freaking out—thinking how could Nathen invite
him
? “No,” he says, “not me.”

“Oh, okay,” Nathen says, sounding confused. “Well, I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then, okay? At ten.” He smiles and walks away with James. Alex keeps staring at them as they walk down the hall, and Nathen gives one quick glance back and smiles again.

Alex decides to find Henry. It can’t be easy for him being here, either. But as he goes room to room—seeing his parents chatting away in the front living room, drinking, his dad munching on a crab cake—he can’t find him. He does see Henry’s mother, still in the back room and armed with the wineglass, chatting with another man, Dr. Horn, the chiropractor with the bushy blond mustache. Alex recognizes him from his TV commercials, where he puts his seemingly magical hands on people who are grinning like ninnies.

Alex stands by the door of the semi-crowded room, thinking maybe Henry will find his way back here. He stands next to two women he recognizes but doesn’t know the names of—casual friends of his mother’s probably, rich ladies wearing lots of jewelry and too much perfume, holding wineglasses. One has dyed dark hair—dyed because she’s surely as old as Mrs. Mackey, who let her hair color takes its natural course—and the other is a younger lady, a blonde with a pointy nose. They don’t seem to notice him, but he can’t help overhearing them.

“Yes, that’s her. Thank God Jack and Martha aren’t here. Who knows, there might be a scene,” the dark-haired one says.

“She seems nice enough,” the blond one says.

Alex realizes they are chatting about Henry’s mother, though there are other women in the room.

“Sure she’s nice. The slut with the heart of gold. Or should I say gold digger with the heart of gold?”

“Oh, Gail, you’re awful,” the blonde says, giggling, clearly thinking that awful really means hilarious in this case.

“Well, it’s true,” she says. “She’s renting that house around the corner, you know. But I heard she doesn’t pay a dime. Like she’s a kept woman. And she’s half Jack’s age. What a cliché. I swear. And now look, she’s chasing Jerry Horn. She has no shame.” The two of them leave the room, perhaps to look for other people to gossip about.

Just then Henry walks up. “There you are,” he says. He has a cup of punch, which looks just like watered-down cherry Kool-Aid. “Oh, there’s Mom.” As he says this, she seems to sense his words, because she turns and waves at them. Then she turns back to Dr. Horn, turning on her charm.

Henry scrutinizes them and frowns. “Let’s go to the buffet. You wanna?”

“I guess.” Alex would rather hide out back here, though. He doesn’t want everyone to see him following Henry around. But it’s not like anyone else will talk to him, really, so he bites the bullet and follows him again through the crowd. As they walk from room to room, he catches a glimpse of Nathen, still at the party, talking with Clare and Greer, smiling and laughing and looking like he’s having a blast. He wishes he could go over there, to talk more with him. But, at the same time, he doesn’t want to share Nathen. He wants him all to himself.

At the buffet, Alex sees the two gossipy women again, filling little plates with hors d’oeuvres. He wonders if they know who Henry is.
The slut’s son,
they would say. He feels a sudden urge to go up to them, to say something rude. Like,
What do you two know about anything?
But this burning flash of anger—or whatever it is—subsides when he watches the two of them walk away, balancing their plates with their drinks, looking like pathetic and foolish women in ill-fitting costumes.

Henry, at his side, says, “This buffet is boring. I think I want another cookie instead.”

“And they have cake,” Alex says.

“Cake!” Henry says, as if Alex just came out with the best suggestion in the world.

On the way back to the dessert table, they nearly collide with James, who has a plate full of cookies.

“Hey, James!” Henry says.

“Oh, hey.” James smiles sheepishly. “I’m just loading up for the…uh, for the group.”

“What group?” Henry asks.

“His friends,” Alex says. And then he can’t stand it anymore—this party, this crowd, all this dumb and phony holiday cheer. He turns abruptly and walks to the front of the house, bumping into people but not giving a shit. He reaches the front door and steps out into the cold night. He walks down the sidewalk and heads toward home.

“Alex, wait up!” he hears Henry shout, clopping behind him.

Alex slows down a little so Henry can catch up.

“You mad at me?” Henry asks.

Alex stops. “Mad at you?”

“Yeah. You just left without saying anything.”

“I’m not mad at
you,
Henry.”

Alex looks down at him, and Henry’s look of worry revises itself into a grin. “I thought I might be bugging you.”

Alex feels a stab of regret. “No, Henry. You never bug me.”

“Oh, good,” he says.

The two of them walk in silence to Alex’s house. Instead of going inside, they walk around to the backyard. They both sit on the swings in the darkness. A gentle but cool wind blows through the yard, causing the pine trees to sway behind them.

“Can I ask you something, Alex?”

“Yep,” he says.

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Alex says.

“Good,” he says. He pauses and then says, “You’re mine, too.”

Alex smiles. “Thanks, Henry.”

“Today we’ll do a mile, and then run sprints, and then a mile, then sprints, and so on. Till we can’t walk,” Nathen says. He’s talking so earnestly, like he always does when he’s teaching Alex about cross-country stuff.

They are at the rec center again, on a Saturday two days before Christmas. By now, the university has let out for winter break, so the rec center is empty, save for a few professors. Nathen and Alex have come four times this past week, and Nathen says this will be their last “session” until after Christmas.

The workouts have been tough, but Alex has enjoyed them. Each morning, they run a different distance or routine, Nathen pushing Alex like a coach would. Like he supposes Coach Runyon will do next term. After their runs, they head to the showers, where Nathen undresses without shame and, day by day, Alex does as well. He tries not to obsess over it, but he feels like there is a vibe between them in those moments, though he doesn’t know what it means. It’s natural to be curious about other boys’ bodies, right? So what if he sneaks a peek at Nathen’s dick (which basically looks just like his, just darker) and balls and his butt? It doesn’t mean anything, really. He knows Nathen takes a peek at his, after all.

Today’s routine is particularly grueling. His legs start to feel rubbery and sore, and each time they sprint Alex feels slower and slower, his energy draining away like water from a bathtub. By the end, he just wants to collapse. And he does, lying down on the carpet outside the track.

“You okay, buddy?” Nathen says, breathing heavily himself, walking in little circles.

“I think so.”

“Get up. It’s better for you to walk around so you don’t cramp.”

Nathen towers above him and holds out his hand, pulling Alex up. And once he is standing, he feels the urge to just fold into Nathen.

“Let’s shower, then we’ll go grab some lunch at the mall or something. Cool?”

Alex nods, thinking about how good the water in the shower will feel.

In the locker room, he’s almost too exhausted to take his clothes off. When he finally does—just dropping his sweaty stuff on the floor—he lazily drapes a towel around his waist and follows Nathen. He picks a shower and turns on the water, letting it warm up, and lets out a little groan.

“You gonna be okay?” Nathen asks.

Without turning around, Alex nods, starts chuckling. “You must think I’m a wimp.”

“Not at all.” He steps close to Alex and puts his hand on the small of his back. “Here, get in.”

Before Alex really realizes what is happening, Nathen has nudged him into the cascading water of the shower. And Nathen has stepped in as well, yanking the curtain closed behind them, trapping them together in the tight space.

Alex can’t help but grin—it’s so surprising, unexpected. “Audacious” might be a good word for it. Nathen is at his side, and the water hits them both with its soft force, washing away the grime of their exercise. Nathen’s not grinning, but he is looking at Alex, giving him the same look he gives when he so earnestly talks about jogging.

He continues just looking at Alex, then reaches over and squeezes the shower gel container. “Here,” he says, but not too loudly, rubbing the gel onto Alex’s chest. Alex lets him. He closes his eyes, as Nathen keeps squirting soap on his hands and rubs it over Alex, washing him. It’s nothing more than that until he feels Nathen’s lips on his face. On his cheek, nose, then his lips. Then Nathen’s tongue in his mouth, which Alex accepts and then returns with sloppy eagerness.

Alex has kissed a few girls. That girl Carla, in eighth grade. He liked it, though it felt mechanical and fast. Powerful but not passionate. He kissed Lang once, too, but more as a joke. He liked the process, the act—but not really the people he was doing it with.

This is different. It’s not mechanical. It’s not a joke. It feels right. He’d do it forever, if he could. He realizes it is how a kiss is
supposed
to feel.

He can’t help but move his hands to Nathen’s hips, pulling them toward his. They’re pressed up against each other, kissing hard now, and finally, when Nathen pulls back, he’s smiling that confident grin of his. Above the hiss of the water, he says, “That’s all for now,” and then gently shuts off the water. But it’s not all, not yet, because he kisses Alex again—a few quick pecks on the lips—and then whispers, “Guess we better go get dressed.”

They’re both hard down there, of course, but that’s not going to change if they keep standing here behind the curtain together, so Alex reaches out for his towel and the two of them head to their lockers.