The Dirt Whispered, Ch. 8
We were heading out on tour, which was sort of an interesting experience. Usually, while we were hectically rehearsing, planning choreography, choosing outfits and hiring staff, Kevin kept me focused, and I kept him from stressing. Now, we weren’t talking. I mean, it’s not like we never had our fights when we were together; we were like any other couple that way, and beyond that, we’re brothers; we’re wired to fight with each other. Usually, if we weren’t speaking, we’d get over it pretty quickly: If it was his fault (which almost never happened), there would be roses in my room, and if that wasn’t enough to turn me into a puddle of Kevin-loving goo, there would be a handwritten poem left somewhere for me to find. He usually chose some random poet he knew I liked. I mean, there weren’t a lot, and it had taken him a long time to realize that the only reason I would lay my head in his lap and let him read poetry to me was because I loved the sound of his voice. But, sometimes, when it was really horrible, like now, he would write something himself. Usually, they were cutesy, maybe a little cheesy, and something about them almost always made me laugh, but I loved that about them; they embodied everything I love about him.
This time, there was nothing like that. I mean, I can’t deny that I was desperately hoping this was some fluke, some weird quirky Kevin thing, where he “needed time to think” or some stupid shit like that, and he’d be back in a few hours, but… nothing. About a week after he broke up with me, I spent a full day looking everywhere in our house that he usually left those kinds of notes, but there was nothing. I felt like my heart was broken all over again. Nick found me sitting on the bathroom floor (after I’d carefully scoured my hair products on the counter), in tears, pathetically babbling something like “He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me” and he just sighed and pulled me to my feet and led me off to his bedroom, which had somehow become my sanctuary, and I spent the rest of the day crying, while Nick sat at his desk, playing his guitar, the way he did whenever he didn’t know what to do.
But, I couldn’t just happily avoiding looking at Kevin anymore, like I’d been trying my hardest to do, because seeing him and knowing I couldn’t hold him and tug on that one curl that hung in his left eye, the way that always made him smile and nuzzle my nose into his neck and enjoy that scent of coffee that always seemed to trail after him just killed me. But, I had to deal with it. I had to. Our family didn’t know about us, not outside of Nick and Big. Our crew, our friends, the world - it was all a secret from them, and I just had to suck it up for my brothers and play the shows we were supposed to and ignore the way I was dying inside.
So, while we were going through all of our hectic things we had to do, I forced the most convincing smile I could onto my face, and took some sort of pleasure in how down Kevin looked. I mean, I was doing what he wanted me to. He’d told me that he wanted us to be apart. He told me that he wanted me to be happy in a normal lifestyle. So I was going to show him I could be, even if it was a lie. I figured that would make him happy, or something. I figured I’d get through to him that way.
I didn’t. Obviously.
--------
Kevin meets me at the door the next time I go to see him, and there’s something about the pride in his face that makes me want to kiss him. Instead, I hug him close for a moment, then smile over at Susie, who looks just as pleased, and it forces me to ask, “What’s going on…?”
“I’m going outside today.” He sounds so happy and excited, and oh, my god, it’s been over a year since he’s been allowed outside.
“In the back,” Susie’s quick to add, beckoning to us, and he latches onto my arm like a giddy kid, and we follow her. “It’s sort of… Kevin-proof back there.” Part of me imagines everything being perfectly symmetrical, with everything in groups of four or multiples of four. Then I feel really, really cruel for thinking that, and I hug Kevin into my side to apologize for it, even if I didn’t say it out loud.
He seems surprised, but doesn’t question it, and we somehow manage to walk after her without letting go of each other. There’s a patio door, and for a second, while we’re standing at it, staring out into the perfect, green backyard of the house, I feel like we’re really in a house, like this isn’t just a hospital where he lives and I come to see him. Susie opens the door, reminding Kevin with a gentle smile that if he’s scared, or if anything feels uncomfortable, he can just come right back in.
Kevin’s never really been one for fear though. He grabs my hand and steps out onto the patio, pulling me behind him, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen him outside without shoes on; even by a pool or on the beach, he wears sandals, and Jesus, he must be on a lot of medication, but he smiles at me, leading me over toward the grass. We pause on the edge of the cement. He stares down at the lawn, eyes glazed. “I feel like I’ve been in prison.” He murmurs, looking over at me. “I mean, I know they were just trying to keep me from freaking out, but… the only exposure I’ve had to the outside was an open window. This is… surreal.”
I smile at him, rubbing his back. I almost wish we were still in the cool privacy of his room. Then I could kiss him like I want to. “You okay? We can go back inside if you want…”
He’s shaking his head before I finish speaking, smiling at me. “It’s weird. I’ve been hiding from the whole world. Do you realize that? Of course you do; forget I asked, but… this is so weird. I mean, I’m actually facing the world, even if it’s just the empty backyard of a crazy house.”
“Sh.” I smile, pulling him into a hug, and he folds so easily into my arms, his arms curled up around my shoulders, his face pressed to my shoulder. “You’re beautiful and brave and perfect. The fact that you could come to a place like this, when you needed help is so amazing, baby. I mean, I would’ve just ignored what was wrong, but you… you wanted to get better. It’s amazing. You are getting better, baby. I see it every day.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and we’re sort of rocking together, side-to-side, and Susie’s standing in the doorway watching us with a funny kind of smile on her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t love you.” He whispers, lifting his head, because he’s always been the kind of person who needs to look you in the eye when he’s saying something you probably don’t want to hear, or that he doesn’t really want to say. “I’m sorry that… I couldn’t handle it. But… I don’t care now, Joe. I am what I am, you know?” He smiles faintly, and the fact that he quoted one of our songs makes us both laugh. “I just… my doctor told me that no matter what, I have to accept who I am, if I’m going to get on with my life, and… I’ve always loved you, Joe; I just… It got too hard.”
“I know.” I don’t. I don’t know at all. It was never too hard for me. But, he needs to know I understand, at least a little. The doctors never knew exactly what Kevin was reacting so horribly to. They figured it was an adverse reaction to his recognizing his homosexuality, and his religious mind’s revolt against it. Kevin somehow managed to keep his mouth shut about the full reason, the me part, but I think being able to talk at length about it, even in code helped him, and the two of us talked too. He isn’t telling me something now that he hasn’t before, but it’s almost different now. He’s never apologized for it before; he’s never taken a moment to think about my feelings. And, that’s okay. He’s been taught not to. This past year has been about him, and he needed to be about him. I’ve been about him too. I’m the only one.
“I love you.” He reminds me in a whisper against my ear. “I love you so much, and I want to be able to live with you and make love to you and tell you that every single day without feeling like I’m doing something wrong, and I know… I can do it. I mean, not all of it, not all at once, but I can tell you I love you now, and how long did that take me?” He’s looking at me like he’s hoping I understand. I really have no idea. I just know his tone is leaving my heart thumping, like I’m anticipating something.
“Joe. I want to come home.”