Wonderland (7 page)

L
ater, in the shower, I couldn't believe what I'd done. Aaron smiled at me from the next showerhead, and I buried my face in the water so I wouldn't have to look at him. We hadn't seen each other in so long, and to run into each other there, of all places, that night, of all nights! I couldn't help but look at him though, the body I'd spent so many years next to. I could feel myself twitch again.

“Want to go get a drink?” he asked.

“Where?” I said.

“There's a bar just upstairs. They licensed it for the evening.”

That, I hadn't known. Gin would have been a safer choice than E. “Sure,” I said.

With towels wrapped around our waists, we walked upstairs, past the Hatter, who was absorbed in spinning. We didn't talk. Aaron put his hand on my shoulder as we went up, and I pulled away. What had I done? The pill was worn off, and my brain was crying out in panic again. What about Steven? This is what the guy on the phone had wanted me to do though. Did he know? Was it enough to get Steven released?

“Rum and Coke?” Aaron asked me, at the makeshift bar they'd set up.

“Gin,” I said, “with cran if they have it.”

“You've changed your drink.”

“A lot's changed.”

“You still give great head.” He smiled at me.

“Thanks, but it was stupid.”

“It doesn't mean anything. Part of the party.” He ordered our drinks, passed me mine. “Want to go to my room?”

I had to check my phone, check the time, see if he'd called again. “No, let's go to mine.”

Aaron grinned. “Okay.”

“Look, it's not what you think.”

“Relax, Alex, it was a blow job at the bathhouse. It doesn't mean anything.”

“I'm with someone now.”

“Oh? Is he here? I could be up for a threeway.”

A threeway? That wasn't the Aaron I remembered. Not that it mattered right now. That wasn't what this was about. “No, it's not like that. We don't do that.” How much did I want to tell Aaron? He was my ex after all. But we'd also shared so much, and maybe an outsider's opinion would be good. I unlocked my room and we sat down on the bed. I couldn't help but notice his dick flop out of his towel. It was as beautiful as I remembered it.

“So why are you here, if you have a boyfriend?”

“We're going through something.”

“So you thought this would help?”

“No, that's not it.”

“Well, it doesn't matter. It was a treat running into you. I've missed you.” He put his hand on my leg. It felt good, and not from the E. Six years we'd been together.

“It's nice seeing you, too.” We sipped our drinks. It was eleven-thirty, I saw on my phone, so he should be calling back soon.

“How long have you been together?”

“A while now. What about you?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Anyone special?”

“If there was, would I be here?” He paused. “Sorry, I'm not judging.”

“Yes you are.”

“Maybe a bit.”

“It's complicated.”

“It always is with you, Alex. You can't ever let things be simple.”

“How do you know it's my fault?”

“I just assumed.”

“Well don't.”

“So it's him?

“Look, I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm okay with not talking too.” He moved in to kiss me. I pushed him back.

“Aaron, I can't . . .”

“What's the big deal? We already fooled around.” He took my hand, put it on his dick. He was hard again. “I want to fuck you.” His voice was husky, like how he got when he was horny. I remembered all the times he'd used that voice on me. I'd never been able to say no to it. We were practically naked, in a bathhouse, and we'd already done so much, and it wasn't my fault, I hadn't wanted to be here.

He leaned in to kiss me again. I didn't push him off.

D
rugs and sex. They went together in my head, even after six clean(ish) months with Steven. Back in college, just coming out and ready to explore what being gay was all about, it was nothing to go out, get fucked up, get fucked, and do it all over again the next day. Booze, coke, E, it was all a blur, and the boys and their bodies and their bulges and their butts, that was a blur too.

When Aaron and I started dating, it was good-bye to that lifestyle, and at the time, I was happy to see it go. But as the relationship became boring and predictable, I looked back on those younger days with increasing fondness. The morning-after panicking over whether we'd played safe, the throb of the hangover as I tried to remember his face, the shame that would hit me out of the blue sometimes, all of that got glossed over, and I just remembered how fun it was.

When Aaron and I split, and I moved, I wasn't ready to plunge back into that world, but then came last Pride. Dinah and I went to the parade and got caught up in the rainbow celebration of it all, and for some reason, I decided to (re)download Grindr while we were at the beer gardens.
BING! BING! BING!
My phone went mad—nothing like being fresh meat in a sea of horny, hungry homos—and they were all just feet away! I messaged one back, a sexy Spanish-looking guy, and we made plans to meet up at his place. I ditched Dinah ASAP (friends over fucks, unless it's Pride, right?). When I got to the guy's place, he asked if I partied. It had been a while, but sure, why not?

And that's how I met the Caterpillar. He came over, in the same jacket he always wore, some cross between ringmaster and pimp daddy. After he left, Hunky Spaniard and I dumped out some blow and then got to blowing, making sure we were flying high but not high enough for coke dick. Before I left, for some reason, I asked for the Caterpillar's number.

I had called a few times after that. I wasn't in the mood for bars or parties or Grindr hookups, but sometimes, after a long week at work, it was nice to just kick back at home, with a gram of coke and the boys of Sean Cody. Sex and drugs.

After Aaron fucked me, we lay there, and he held me. “How long are you in town for?” I asked.

“Not sure yet, depends how quick I get my work done.” He kissed my shoulder. “And maybe if there's a reason to stay longer.”

I sat up. “It was nice, Aaron. Very nice. But it can't happen again. I'm with Steven now.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes. I know that seems stupid to say after what we just did, but I do.”

He stood up, and wrapped his towel around his waist. “I'm happy for you then, Alex, I really am.” He saw my phone, and picked it up. “Here's my number though,” he continued, as he punched it in, “in case you just want to get coffee or something while I'm here.”

“I'd like that.”

He leaned in and kissed me, maybe longer than was appropriate. Or maybe not given he'd just been inside me. “Call me.” And he left.

It was crazy, but it's not like we'd had a bad breakup. It just had gotten so boring. There'd been no surprises anymore. We knew everything. We didn't challenge each other, didn't inspire each other. I looked at his number in my phone, and my finger hovered over the
DELETE CONTACT
button. It couldn't hurt to keep though. Maybe being friends was the healthy thing to do. I'd have to ask Dinah.

I lay there, staring at my phone and trying to ignore the mess of emotions inside my head. Finally, the phone rang, unknown number. “Well done, Alex,” he said, when I answered.

“I did what you wanted. Now let him go.”

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“He needs to hear it from you, and don't skimp on the details.”

“That's sick.” I heard the phone volume change, could tell he'd put me on a speakerphone.

“Alex!”

Steven's voice cut me like a knife. I could still feel Aaron inside me. Aaron. Steven. My head spun. “Steven, are you okay?”

“Tell him what you did, Alex. Tell him where you are.”

“I'm at the bathhouse. I had sex. He told me I had to. He told me he'd hurt you.”

“In detail, Alex.”

“Why? You got what you wanted, isn't that enough?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“It's okay, Alex, I forgive you.” He was crying. I was too.

“Tell him!”

I did, without mentioning that it had been Aaron. That was unnecessary pain. I could hear Steven sobbing, but every time I tried to hold back something, the man kept at me: “Is that it? Was there more?” Until finally I said, “That's everything! What more do you want me to say? You know everything!”

“Do we? Tell Steven how much you liked it, how much you enjoyed that stranger fucking you like the trash you are.”

Steven was sobbing, I was sobbing. “Fine! I liked it! Let him go!”

“Oh no, Alex, that's not how it works. It's not done yet.”

“You promised . . .”

“I promised nothing! Besides, what do promises mean? You said you loved this waste of skin here, and what was that worth? You got on your knees and got fucked by the first guy that came along.”

“What choice did I have?”

“There's always a choice, Alex! You could have let me kill him without him ever having to know what a disgusting faggot you are.” His laugh was a cold, harsh bark. “I'll be in touch. Don't forget, no cops!”

The phone went dead, and I was crying. What did he want now? What would he ask of me? And would Steven ever forgive me? It was true, what he'd said. Maybe not tonight, but Friday with the twins? I was drunk and high and not thinking about Steven then at all. Well, hardly at all.

I needed to get home. I got dressed, ignoring the people all around me as I left. The air outside was cold after the heat of White Night. I rounded the corner onto the street. Wonderland was still quiet, but open. I needed a drink. I went downstairs and smiled when I saw Brandon behind the bar. A friendly face was exactly what I needed.

He saw me, leapt over the bar, and I didn't have time to duck as his fist collided with my face.

“W
hat the . . . !” My head was ringing!

“Just because you and Steven are having problems, you have to get all up in my relationship with Allan?” He smacked me again.

“Ow! Stop that!” I grabbed his wrists. “What are you talking about?”

“Allan told me you tried picking him up.”

“What? I did no such thing!”

“Why would he make that up, Alex?”

“Look, he's psycho. I saw him at the baths tonight and—”

“The baths? What the hell, Alex? When did you turn into such a whore?”

“That's not the point. Allan was there, he was high and crazy.”

“You're just covering your ass. Fuck, Alex, if you'd wanted him that bad, you could've taken me up on that offer Saturday.”

“I don't want Allan! I have no interest in Allan whatsoever! I have a boyfriend!”

“Which doesn't stop you from having threeways and from cruising the tubs. Steven's a lucky guy! No wonder he left!”

“Fuck you, Brandon.”

“You're a slut, Alex.”

“You're really going to take the word of some sketchy twink you just met over me? Great friend there, Brandon.”

“Go to hell, Alex. Get out.”

“Fuck you, I'm here for a drink, so why don't you hop behind the bar and make me one.”

“You're a loser.”

“And a slut. I get it. Drink now, please.”

Brandon glared at me, and stormed behind the bar. I sat down at my normal spot, vibrating. On top of everything else, I had some kid stirring up stupid gay drama? And Brandon was buying it? Fuck them both. “Where's that drink?”

“Right here, asshole. Drink this!” I turned, and SPLASH! I blinked away the cranberry juice.

I had gin at home. I did not need that shit. Flipping Brandon off, I stomped upstairs, wiping my face. I dug around in my jacket pocket for a Kleenex, but all I had was the show flyer. It was for the Queen of Hearts show coming up Friday night. Another stupid drag show at the stupid gay bar? No thanks. I tossed it into the gutter.

I was done with the scene! As soon as I got Steven back, that was it. We were moving to some small town where we were the only two gay people and where there was no drama. I let my mind wander as I walked home, picturing our house, even decorating. It would be wonderful. Maybe Dinah and Christopher would come out for Thanksgiving, but it would just be me and Steven.

All I had to do was get him back.

I let myself into my building and waited for the elevator. I was still shaking. I checked my phone—nothing—and I figured nothing was going to happen overnight. And even if it did, I needed downtime, needed a break from it all. The most that would happen would be Brandon getting high at work and sending me bitchy text messages anyway.

I got off at my floor and stopped short.

“What the . . .”

Spray-painted across my apartment door, in big green letters, was
FAGGOT WHORE.
I kicked the wall, slammed my hands against it. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” I swore, kicking the wall again with every fuck. Was it Allan? Was it this crazy guy bent on destroying my life?

The door across the hall opened. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Not right now, Walrus. Fuck off!”

The Walrus took in my door. “I see I'm not the only one that knows the truth.”

“What did you say?” I took a step toward him. “Did you see who did this? I know you fucking sit in there peering through your peephole, you sick fuck. Probably getting off on everyone else's life.”

He sneered at me with such loathing. “Fag.” And he shut the door.

“Fuck you!” I screamed, and proceeded to kick his door for a change, until my foot was sore.

It was too much. I let myself into the apartment. Griffin was meowing at the door. I slid down against the wall to join him, and as I scratched his back, I started to cry.