Date: Mon, 17 Mar 2008 20:22:31 -0500
From: Cameron Maxx <cameron.maxx@gmail.com>
Subject: Growing Up Josh 4 - revised version

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This story is a work of FICTION. While actual people and/or events may
inspire some characters and situations, no implications are intended or
should be drawn. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly
coincidental.

THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF CONSENSUAL SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN
TWO ADULT MALES. IT IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! IF YOU FIND
THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL OFFENSIVE, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR UNDER THE LEGAL
AGE TO VIEW SUCH MATERIAL THEN PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

(c)2007-2008 All original material contained here within is copyrighted by
the author, Cameron Maxx, and may not be reproduced in any form without
express written consent. The Nifty Archive is granted a non-exclusive,
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this work.

PLEASE NOTE: Feedback, both positive and negative, is welcomed and greatly
appreciated. Abusive correspondence or flames of any kind will, of course,
be strictly ignored - cameron.maxx@gmail.com
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INTRODUCTION

So, what can I say? There proved to be quite the delay between this chapter
and the last. For that, I apologize. But, at least I have a pretty good
excuse. In addition to traveling a lot for my job, I also started having
some back problems in late January that have resulted in 4 different
doctors, X-rays, MRIs, prescription painkillers and muscle relaxers, and a
great deal less energy than I normally have (and, sadly a great deal more
pain than I'm used to). I've learned that my goal of a new chapter every
week is probably just not realistic. But, my promise to you, faithful
reader, is this: I do love these characters. I know where they are going
and I will finish this story. You will not be left hanging.

To all those who've written and expressed their encouragement, support, and
patience I am eternally grateful to you. Your e-mails have helped keep me
going and served as inspiration to sit down and type even when I thought I
was too tired to do so. I hope you all continue to read and enjoy and as
always, please keep your comments coming!

-Cameron


CHAPTER 4

Josh followed me across the living room. To our right was the kitchen and
dining room and to the left a couple of sofas and my television. We got to
the three short metal steps that led to the upper hallway. Entering the
hall, we passed the study on the right and the door to my bedroom and bath
on the left. Walking a bit further, I turned into the last door on the
right. Stepping inside, I stopped and turned back to look at him.

He was standing in the doorframe, looking around my former guest room that
was now his. To the left was his bed, the headboard up against the
wall. Two side tables sat on either side of it. One held a lamp, the other
an alarm clock. On the wall opposite the door was his dresser. There was a
bare patch of wall above the dresser with a small hole cut in it. That's
where the TV was going to be installed. There were a few framed posters of
various sizes from some of my favorite movies hung on the walls.

After watching his eyes move around the room, taking everything in, his
gaze came to rest on me. "This is my room?"

"Yup. This is it."

"Alex, it's great. Has it always been blue?"

I thought for a second, debating on whether I should lie or not. I decided
not to. "No, I repainted it."

"Recently?" he asked.

"Not really."

"I can still smell the paint. You painted it blue when you found out I was
coming didn't you?"

It was like that Christmas years ago when I'd gotten him the game for his
Nintendo Wii. I suddenly felt awkward and unsure of how to
proceed. Finally, I said, "well, I've never really done much with this room
and it needed some painting done anyway. So, I figured, since you were
coming I might as well."

His calm demeanor was disarming. I fought the urge to break eye contact and
look down at my feet. As crazy as it seems, Josh had this way of sometimes
making me feel like the younger of the two in the room. There were moments
when the gravity of his focus made me feel disconnected, like a compass
spinning around, searching for true north.

Finally he said, "you remembered my favorite color was blue and that's why
you chose this color and painted the room. I know you better than you
think."

Suddenly feeling a little defensive, I said, "okay, so what if I did paint
it blue for you. Is that such a bad thing to do? I knew you were going to
be living a long way from home for the first time ever and I thought it
might be nice to do what I could to make things a little more comfortable
for you. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

His face broke into a huge smile, and the tension in the room washed away
immediately. "Dude, no need to get grouchy. It's great! I love it and I
appreciate you doing it for me. I really do."

As much as I wanted to hold on to that slight flush of anger that I had
felt, I found it impossible to do so. When push came to shove, it was just
like it always had been; if Joshua was happy, I was happy. For better or
worse, I did care about what he thought and that's just the way it was.

"Well, good. I'm glad you like it." I tried not to let myself sound too
needy. I didn't want him to know anymore than he already did.

"So, should I start unpacking you think?"

"Absolutely. Here let me open the closet for you."

With that we tossed the suitcases on the bed and opened them up. Between
the two of us, it took about 20 minutes to get everything hung in the
closet and folded in the dresser drawers. He chatted about his flight and
other casual things as we worked. It was amazing to me how that old
familiar comfort came back. Our conversation came quickly and easily. We
laughed and teased each other with smartass comments as if no time had
passed at all since I'd left Austin.

When we finished, I flopped down on the bed. Laying on my back with my feet
on the floor and my hand folded behind my head, I took a deep breath. Josh
laid down next to me, on his right side, his head propped up on his hand.

"So, now what?" he asked looking down at me.

"Oh, Christ. Josh - give me a minute. Remember, I'm getting old. I need to
catch my breath."

"Shut up," he laughed. "You're not that old. And besides, if what we just
did left you breathless then you have much bigger problems than getting
old."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're 35, NOT 75. And besides, if you need to catch your breath
in the bedroom, it should be from doing something a lot more fun than
unpacking a couple of suitcases." I raised my head to look at him. He had
one eyebrow cocked up and there was the hint of smile playing at the corner
of his mouth.

"Josh," I said with a fair amount of genuine shock. This was the kid who
almost never cussed and had never once mentioned anything even remotely
sexual to me.

"What," he asked, a full smile now breaking across his face. "C'mon,
Alex. I'm 20 years old you know. I'm not the same kid playing video games I
used to be. I mean, don't get me wrong," he added quickly and with great
emphasis, "I still love video games. There's just, uhhmmm ... other things
I like doing now, too."

"Yeah, okay," I said slowly. "Okay," I said one more time before laying my
head back down.

"What's this?" he teased. "Did I leave Alex speechless?
Mr. Up-For-Anything-Liberal shocked into silence?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little, "Shut up! God, I really hate you
sometime. I was just ... I just didn't expect to hear you say something
like that. I mean. Uh! Whatever. I really do hate you sometimes."

He laughed again, "please! You couldn't hate me even if you wanted to and
we both know it!"

I raised up now, perched on my elbows I was still slighting inclined, but
was now looking down at him. "You better, listen here. I'll have you know
..."

The doorbell interrupted me.

"Ah, ha!" He shouted triumphantly. "See, you couldn't even pretend to be
capable of hating me before fate cut you off!"

"You wish," I said getting up from the bed. "Fuck fate. Fate had nothing to
do with it. This just happens to be some asshole installer guy who was
supposed to be here like, three hours ago."

"Installer guy?" he asked. I could tell he'd already forgotten the previous
conversation; his face showed his curiosity had been roused like a kid on
Christmas morning.

"Yeah, installer guy," I said, pointing at the hole in the wall over the
dresser. "Why do you think there's a hole in the wall?"

His head turned towards where I was pointing and then back me. "I don't
know what that's for. I just figured ..." I saw the recognition dawning on
his face. "Oh, my God! You got a TV to mount on the wall in here?"

"Yup," I said. I was already in the hall, walking away from the bedroom. I
heard his shoes hit the floor and his footsteps rushing out of the room and
into the hall.

"Alex! Oh, my God," now he even sounded like a kid on Christmas
morning. "That's so awesome!"

I just kept walking away down the hall. Knowing he couldn't see my face, I
stopped trying to hide it and let myself smile. I knew I'd broken through
that tough outer wall he'd built at such a young age when he had become the
man of the house. I loved that I had. There was something very satisfying
in knowing that, despite all the years and even after he'd pushed me away
for leaving Texas, I could still do something that made him feel special. I
kept right on smiling all the way to the front door, knowing Josh was
practically bouncing along behind me.

----

Having Josh in the house with me brought back long dormant memories of life
with Ryan. I wish it didn't, but it did. There was something, some certain
little personality quirk, that the two of them shared that was undeniable
to me. While Ryan had been more outgoing and sunny all the time, Josh was
more guarded. But, when he was really happy or unabashedly emotional, he
had that same enthusiasm and exuberance that Ryan had.

By nature, I did not have a sunny disposition. That's not to say I was dour
or sad by any means, I just tended to be much more cynical and
sarcastic. You might chalk it up to being gay as well as having the
unfortunate experience of being raised in the south by conservative,
Republican, Baptist, God-fearing parents. But whatever the reason, I rarely
tended to have an abundance of faith in people. And, I was very rarely awed
by anything. So, I think it made sense that I'd be drawn to people who saw
the world through a different lens; Ryan was one of those people.

After that first night he spent asleep in my arms, he became a fixture in
my life. During that semester, my classes were finished by late morning or
early afternoon. He didn't get out of his last class until around 4:00 or
so. Most everyday he'd show up at my place soon after. We'd spend the
afternoon together, watching TV, working on class assignments, or whatever
else there was to do. He got into the habit of bringing his laundry over
because his place didn't have a washing machine or dryer and mine did. I'd
put the clothes in to wash and then move them into the dryer when they were
done; he'd take them out and fold or hang them. Sometimes we'd go out for
dinner with friends or alone, other times I'd cook and we'd eat in. His
friends became mine and mine his; our two worlds melted into each other's
seamlessly and we fell into a comfortable rhythm of daily
domesticity. Most, but not all, nights he stayed at my place and I'd fall
asleep with my arms around him. The sex was good. The sex was very good. To
be fair, he wanted it more than I did. Sometimes I'd get him off just so I
could get some sleep. But, I wasn't really complaining.

This routine continued for about two years. I was happy. I loved him. I
felt like our relationship was whole and I assumed we were dating; all of
our friends assumed we were dating. Ryan did not make that assumption.

He would disappear for a week or two. This first happened about 4 months
after our initial meeting. Without warning he didn't show up at my
apartment one afternoon. I called him. I called him again. He never called
back. A week passed. He still didn't call. I was on the verge of panic,
trying to hold it together and go about my daily life as if nothing was
wrong. I felt awful and began throwing up two or three times a day. My
stomach was inside out. Then, ten days after disappearing, he showed up at
my apartment one afternoon as though nothing unusual had happened.

After hugging him more times than I could count and making sure he was
okay, I was suddenly very, very angry. I fought to keep the volume of my
voice in check, "where the fuck have you been?"

"What," he seemed shocked that I had spoken to him in that tone.

"What do you mean, what? I mean, you haven't fucking called me in over a
week. You just disappeared off the face of the fucking earth and you never
even bothered to tell me you were going or anything."

"OK, well don't get so upset," he said rather calmly. The fact that he
seemed so calm made me even angrier.

"Don't get so upset?" I was almost yelling. "I have every right to be
upset! You didn't even return my phone calls. You could have been dead for
all I knew. I was so worried I've been fucking throwing up almost
everyday. I was about to call your parents. I mean, fuck Ryan."

Finally, he was getting angry, too. "Well, you should have called my
parents if it was that big of a deal. I was with them. We went to go visit
family in Atlanta. We do every year around this time. I still don't see
what the big deal is."

"The big deal is you didn't say a word to me. For the last 4 months I've
pretty much seen you everyday and then you just disappeared. What did you
think I was going to do? Just assume you'd gone to see family?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, I was just busy and didn't get a chance to
call you back. It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is. What are you not getting here? I was worried sick about you;
literally sick, dude. I think at this point the least you owe me is a heads
up when you're going to be out of town."

His eyes turned cold at this remark and his cheeks flushed red, "I don't
owe you anything. You don't need to know where I am all the time. I don't
have to fucking check in with you."

"No, you don't have to check in with me. I don't need or want to know where
you are every second of every day. That's not what I'm talking about
here. You were gone for over a week, Ryan."

"Well, whatever. It is what it is and I don't feel like talking about it
anymore." And with that, the conversation was finished. He turned, went
into my room, sat down at my desk and starting working on a class paper. I
was floored. I was angry and frustrated and really had no idea how to feel
or even how to process what had just happened. So, I sat down on the sofa
and turned on the TV.

----

Josh interrupted me at that point. "So, you've basically been getting over
this Ryan guy, who treated you like crap, for the last 15 years?" He peered
at me from the other end of the sofa, his cheeks flushed slightly, no
doubt, due to the 5 or 6 beers he'd had.

"I'm going to overlook the rather mean spirited implications of that
question considering how many beers you've had in the last couple of
hours."

He laughed a little. "Whatever. You know I wasn't being rude. I just know
all that time in Austin you never once mentioned you were dating anyone and
I hate to think it was because of this guy."

"You don't know I never dated anyone in Austin. That's not a conversation I
would have had with you at that point. Remember, you were still fully
entrenched in childhood at that point."

"Yeah, but you would've talked to my mom about it and she would have said
something to Cadee and me sooner or later."

I considered his statement for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that's probably
true."

We'd spent the afternoon around the house waiting for the guy to finish
installing the TV in his room. I'd given him a tour of the place and
explained how I had worked with a friend that's an architect to convert the
old warehouse into a residential structure. USC offered a program for its
staff that helped to pay the closing and certain other costs if you bought
a place in a redeveloping neighborhood near the university's campus. I'd
always been a renter, but was making more than enough money at that point
to buy, so decided to take advantage of the offer.

I knew I didn't want a typical house with a backyard. So, when I discovered
this row of warehouses that were being sold as residential conversion
projects, I couldn't resist. It wasn't too big, just about 1,800 square
feet. Anything larger seemed like a waste for a single guy. So, with the
help of my friend, we drew up a floor plan that divided the space into
three levels. At the front, closest to the street was the old loading
dock. Since that was already at ground level, we decided to keep the
concrete floors and use that space as the garage, front entryway, half
bath, and laundry room. The rest of the original building was elevated
about four feet off the ground. So, in the middle we created my living and
dining space, as well as a galley style kitchen. We laid bamboo hardwood
floors over the concrete in the living and dining areas and slate tiles in
the kitchen. Finally, we added a three foot elevated floor to the back half
of the building and that's where we put the two bedrooms, the two full
baths, and the study. At the end of the project, I discovered that I still
had some money left over and decided to splurge. So, we added a very small
pool and sundeck on the rooftop. It was this feature, of course, that most
interested Josh.

As we climbed the offset, nearly vertical, steel stairs he could hardly
wait. "Hurry up," he said from below.

"Hold on," I replied from my spot higher up on the stairs. "The space was
really tight, so we had to install - well, it's basically like an attic
door." Just as I said that, the door swung open and the late afternoon sun
shone down on Josh and the hall below him.

"Cool," I heard him whisper in an almost reverent way.

After being out on the rooftop for a while, we headed back in to check on
the progress of the TV installation. It was just about done. As he was
finishing up, I wrote him his check and walked him to the front door. When
I got back, Josh was sitting on the sofa looking at me.

"So, now what?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired. You want to order a pizza or
something and just hang out here tonight?"

"Sounds good to me."

With the pizza ordered, I pulled a cold bottle of beer out of the
refrigerator, kicked off my shoes, and sat down on the opposite end of the
sofa from him.

"Can I get a beer?"

"I'm pretty sure you're not legal yet."

"Not legal in Texas, but I think I'm good to go here in Cali."

"No, I'm pretty sure 20 is still illegal in all 50 states, buddy."

After a good deal of pleading on his part, and a guarantee from him not to
tell his mom on my part, I relented and he soon had a beer in hand. We sat
and talked while we waited for the pizza. After it arrived we kept on
talking and drinking for a couple of hours. After a fair amount of both
conversation and beer, I found myself telling him about Ryan and all those
events that seemed like they'd happened in another lifetime.

----

Our relationship went on like that month after month. For the most part
things were good; Ryan was with me and I was happy. Then, without warning,
he'd disappear for a week or longer and, of course, not return my phone
calls. I'd worry. I'd get angry and swear that this time was the last
time. Then he'd show up, all smiles and apologies, telling me how much he'd
missed me, and I'd melt just like I always did and things would go back to
normal. It became our running joke that really wasn't funny.

When the end came, it came hard and suddenly. Ryan had disappeared again,
but this time, when he returned, he didn't tell me how much he had missed
me. Instead, he told me he'd been in New Orleans and that he'd met
someone. A guy. And he really liked him. He wanted my advice.

I felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on me. I wouldn't have been more
shocked if he had punched me in the face. My stomach rolled over and my
legs felt weak.

"What do you ... what do you mean you met someone?" I asked, probably
almost stuttering.

He seemed confused by the question. "I mean, I met this guy and we really
like each other. I'm kind of nervous about it since I haven't dated anyone
since Stephen and I don't want to mess it up. So, I need you to talk to me
about it."

I couldn't reply. I literally could not speak. It was as if I'd been struck
dumb. He looked at me, anxious for my response.

Finally, I managed, "I need you to leave now. Please, just go for now." My
voice was very low. I could hardly believe that it was steady as I had
expected it to come out as a quivering whine.

Looking shocked he said, "do what?"

"Go."

"You mean you want me to leave, as in get out of your apartment?"

"Yes. Just go."

His mouth opened, then closed. It opened again, as though he was about to
say something, then he closed it, stood up, slowly turned to the door and
walked out. I didn't move even after the door closed. I sat perfectly
still, frozen to the spot where I stood. I was crying. I don't know when I
started, but suddenly tears were rolling down my face, my nose was running,
and then I just couldn't take it anymore. I turned, walked quickly to my
bed. I laid down and cried until I finally fell into an uneasy, restless
sleep.

----

"Dude, that's really messed up," Josh said in a low voice.

I was staring off into a corner of the room, my eyes unfocused. The
emotions I felt talking about Ryan and the end of it all shook me. Even
after all these years, it touched some deep, cold place in me and left me
chilled; the wounds were still more tender than I'd like to admit.

I looked at Josh. "It gets worse," I said. "It's not over yet."

"What did you do?"

"Why am I telling you this? I've never told anyone about all of this, not
even your mom, and you are the last person I should be telling."

"Why would I be the last person, Alex?"

"I don't know. It's just, I mean, you're just ..."

"A kid?"

"No. That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"

"You're ... I don't know."

"Alex, we've known each other a long time now. You always said I was like
your little brother. So, treat me like your little brother and tell me the
rest of the story. I don't mind. I want to know what happened."

I thought about what he said for a moment, than smiled a tired smile before
continuing. "Well, Ryan was collecting bees and hammers ... he used one on
me."

----

I took two weeks; it was two weeks after I told him to leave my apartment
before I called him. He'd called me four times. He'd sent two e-mails. I'd
replied to none of them. I needed some time and space. I need a "Ryan free"
life for a bit to figure out just what I was going to say. Two weeks
allowed me to attempt to somehow process all the pain and anger that
bubbled and boiled just below my surface. I needed to know I was in control
of those emotions before seeing him.

Finally, I called and left him a voicemail. I told him we needed to talk
and asked him to call me. He returned my call almost immediately and we
made plans for him to come to my place that night. When he arrived he tried
to hug me. I didn't hug back. He sat on the couch; I sat in a chair on the
other side of the room. We looked at each other for a moment before I took
a deep breath and began speaking.

"I need you to listen to me. Just let me say what I need to say and please
don't interrupt. Let me get this all out and then you can say whatever you
want, but this could be the hardest thing I've ever done and if you don't
let me finish I don't know if I ever will. Okay?"

He nodded.

"I love you. I'm in love with you, Ryan and I thought you felt the same way
about me. When you said you hadn't been in a relationship with anyone since
Stephen it felt like I'd been punched in the gut. It took my breath away. I
never knew anything could hurt so bad. In retrospect, I guess we never said
we were dating. We never confirmed anything. But, I just thought you felt
the same way. I mean, to me, friends don't spend every day together like we
did. Friends don't go to the grocery store together, friends don't do each
other's laundry on a regular basis. Friends don't take weekend getaways to
San Diego together, Ryan. Friends don't do what we have done, physically. I
know you inside and out. I know what gets you off. If we're just friends,
why do I know that? Why do I know what your cum tastes like? Why do I feel
incomplete when you're not with me? Why do I hate waking up in the middle
of the night and rolling over to find you're not in bed with me? Why? If
we're just friends, why?"

I paused, took another breath, "I have friends. I have lots of friends,
Ryan. I don't need another friend. I need you. I need you to need me the
way I need you. I thought you were the family and the foundation I've been
looking for my whole life. I felt like you had saved me. In the end, it all
comes back to what I said first. I love you. That's what this all
means. And, when you came in here telling me about some guy you met in New
Orleans, it made me sick. I mean, Ryan, it made me physically ill to think
about you with another guy; him touching you, holding you. I can't do it. I
can't see it. I can't talk about it. I can't even think about it. I love
you. I love you and if that's not enough, if that's not how you feel, then
I can't do this anymore. I can't keep doing this - I just can't. It hurts
too much. I just can't do it."

I looked up, met his eyes directly. I knew there were tears shimmering in
my eyes, threatening to spill over. But, I held them back. I would not cry
in front of him. There was a flurry of different emotions shimmering on his
face, coming and going. The one that settled seemed cold and defiant.

He said, "well, I'm sorry you feel that way. And you're right. We should
have set our boundaries more clearly and then not crossed certain
lines. But, that doesn't change the fact that we were never more than
friends."

My heart broke.

"Listen, Alex. I never really felt comfortable in some of the situations
you put me in. But I felt - obligated. I mean, that's the truth if you
really want to know."

The words stung like a slap to the face. I almost couldn't comprehend what
he was saying. "Are you saying, that I ... I mean, what are you saying
exactly?" I asked incredulously.

"I'm just saying that the sex and the physical stuff was never really what
I wanted. But, you had done so much for me; you had put yourself on the
line that first night for me and we were friends, so ... I just, I just
wanted to make you happy."

I felt a bright burst of anger bloom across my face. "You're saying the
sex, all those times, I forced you to do it. You didn't want to?"

"No, you didn't force me, I mean it's not like that, but yeah ... I never
really was comfortable with it."

I struggled to maintain the fury, my hands balled into fists, released,
then balled into fists again. "I'm sorry, Ryan but I just can't believe
what you're fucking saying to me. I mean, am I really hearing this? Do you
even remember that first night you came to my apartment? You came here
uninvited. You climbed into bed with me and you were the naked one. You got
on top of me. You. Not me. That was you."

"Well, yes. That was me. But, I was in a really bad place that night and
you could have said no. I mean, maybe you should have said no." He was
beginning to sound small and petty, like a spoiled child who was losing an
argument and was now grasping at straws.

"Ryan, I did say no. You didn't want to hear it."

"Well, either way we were never more than friends and I'm sorry if I ever
led you to believe otherwise. We should have had this talk a long time
ago."

I was on the verge of saying something nasty; something that I wouldn't be
able to take back. "Okay, then that's that. We both know how the other one
feels so I guess there's not much more to say. So, please - leave now. I
need you to leave."

Now, it was his turn to look like the one who'd been slapped. "Leave? Alex,
look we can work this out. We can still make this work," his tone had
changed completely now. There was a hint of panic in his voice.

"No. No, we can't. I already told you, I can't be just your friend. That's
not going to work."

With that panic growing in his voice, he said, "Alex, listen ... this
happens all the time. People fall in love with someone who doesn't feel the
same way. It's happened to me. It sucks, but it happens. We can still be
friends."

I was suddenly very tired. "Ryan, no we can't. Maybe you can. But I can't;
especially not after what you just said to me."

He began to cry. The panicked tone in his voice increased as he begged and
pleaded with me. He told me he needed me; he couldn't imagine his life
without me. I listened, wearily for another minute or two before I was just
too tired to hold on another moment.

"Ryan, listen. Maybe in a month or two or, I don't know, at some point in
the future we can be friends. But, not right now. I need some time, okay?
Please. I need some time. I can't do this anymore. Not right now."

His face went limp and he dropped his head. He looked defeated and
deflated. Despite it all, I ached for him. Hating myself for doing so but
unable to stop, I walked to him and pulled him into me. He hugged me
back. He felt small and fragile in my arms.

----

I stopped talking; there was nothing left to say. The story had been
told. After a moment Josh said quietly, "Alex. I'm so sorry."

I looked at him. I felt like crying. The pain felt incredibly fresh. I
didn't like how quickly it had all come back. I didn't like having to admit
how very vulnerable I still was about it all.

"It's okay. I mean," I chuckled, "it's not okay. But with every passing day
it gets closer to being okay."

"So, was that it? What happened after that night?"

"Not much really. He'd call me occasionally or e-mail me, but I'd almost
never pick up the phone or reply. I just wasn't ready. Plus, to be honest,
I was just really mad, too."

"You never talked to him again?"

"Not really. There were a few brief phone calls and a couple of e-mails. We
met once for coffee about five months later. It was very weird, for both of
us I think. And that was the last time I saw him. Eventually he stopped
calling and writing and I never bothered to call him. Weeks became months,
months turned into years, and sooner or later we just learned to live
without each other, you know?"

"And that's really it? You haven't talked to him since?"

"No. Not even once. I'm not even sure where he is now. It's ironic, huh?
I'm the one who ended it and yet I'm still the one trying to move on. I'm
still fucking paralyzed and clearly, he's not."

"Have you dated anyone here in California?"

I considered his question. "Yeah. Well, sort of. It would depend on your
definition of dating, I suppose. Over the last few years, I've gone on
plenty of dates. A dinner here, a movie there ... you know. I've been with
a couple of guys for a while, too. But, nothing ever really stuck. Nothing
really lasted more than a few months."

"Did you want them to last longer?" he asked.

"You know, I don't even know. They just never did." I thought about the
guys I'd dated over the last few years. "I liked them; I cared about
them. I just never fell in love with them. Some of them became friends and
I still see a few from time to time."

Josh took another swig of beer then said, "were you always comparing them
to Ryan? Is that why?"

I grinned despite myself. "Boy, you are not afraid to ask the tough
questions are you?"

"What? That's a fair question!"

"Yeah, I guess it is." I pondered a bit longer before saying, "I don't know
if I was comparing them to Ryan so much as I was afraid it would all end
like Ryan. I doubted myself. I doubted every move I made. And, for that
matter, I think I doubted them, too. I was always wondering what they were
really thinking or when they'd realize that I wasn't what they wanted." I
stopped and took a deep breath. "You've got to understand what Ryan did to
me; what it did to me emotionally and psychologically. It wasn't just a
normal breakup; he really fucked with my head. He said he'd never been in
love with me. He completely zeroed out my feelings and all that time we'd
spent together. He just erased it. Boom! Just like that. How could I be
okay with that? How do I sort that out, set it aside, and move one. I
didn't know. I still don't really know."

"But, you know he loved you. I mean, you have to know that. What you shared
with him happened. His words shouldn't take that away from you."

"I know that. Trust me, in my brain I know all of that. But it doesn't
change the way I feel. There was something really awful about what he
did. He took our relationship, our love, away from me. I didn't even get to
keep the happy memories because he said they were false; there's no closure
there. Josh, I just don't know how to let that go - I just don't."

During the couple of hours that we'd been talking and drinking, Josh had
been moving down the couch, closer and closer to me. Buried deep in the
past, reliving the end of it all with Ryan, I hadn't even noticed him
making the move. As his left leg came to rest against my right, I became
aware of how close he was. I peered, as though I was outside my body
watching it happen, at him as he sat his beer on the table in front of the
sofa, turned, and leaned his body towards mine.

Instead of flinching or worrying about what might happen, I just closed my
eyes and waited. I felt his cheek against mine. His shaggy hair brushed
against my face. I could smell him. The faint scent of shampoo and beer
filled my nostrils. I breathed him in and without thinking moved my left
hand up and ran it through his hair, holding his head in my hand; holding
him against me. I felt his warm, moist lips on my slight stubble and he
kissed me. He held his lips against me a moment longer then his cheek once
again pressed against mine. He was wonderfully alive, wholly present, and
there with me. It was perfect. I held his head a moment longer, feeling his
sweet, soft hair in my hand, before letting him go. He lingered against me
a moment longer before he pulled away. I looked at him.

He put a hand on my knee, "You'll get over it. We'll figure out how. I
promise."

Like a child clinging to a parent's comforting promise, I nodded gratefully
and smiled. He stood up and stretched. His torso was at my eye level and
with his arms above his head, the bottom of his shirt pulled up revealing
just an inch or two of his honey skin and tight, flat stomach. I had a
moment to appreciate the light dusting of hair that trailed from his navel
down into his briefs before he finished stretching and his shirt dropped
back into place. I pulled my eyes away quickly, feeling like I'd been
caught looking at something I shouldn't have been. I tried not to blush
when I looked up at him.

He was smiling down at me like the cat that got the cream. I expected a
wiseass comment but instead he said with a bit of a hiccup, "I'm very, very
tired. It's been a long day for me so, if it's okay with you, I think I'm
going to turn in."

"I don't mind at all, buddy."

He seemed to be thinking and then said, "I'm really glad I'm here."

"Me, too," I said and it was one of the most honest statements of my life.

He smiled again, bent, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "goodnight."

"Night," I answered.

He turned and walked towards his room. I sat on the couch, sipping my beer,
and remembered how he had smelled with his cheek pressed to mine. I smiled.