The Dirt Whispered, Ch. 23
My hand moves slowly, stirring, stirring. I watch the macaroni noodles swirl around and around in the water, like they feel just as dizzy and displaced and confused as I do. I'm grounded, suddenly and effectively, by the soft press of lips to the back of my neck, and I smile over my shoulder at Kevin as he moves around the kitchen, gathering so that he can set the table the dishes and silverware and the pretty crystal wine glasses he batted his eyelashes into me buying. Six places. Our whole family. My stomach lurches uncomfortably. I click off the burner and move over to the sink to drain the noodles.
I talked to my parents for the first time in four months last night. My throat closed several times as I tried to explain that we wanted to have them over for dinner so we could catch up. I hate Mom for how long she hesitated. Dad was the one who accepted. They'll arrive in two hours. Kevin is all nervous energy and excitement. He's been cleaning and straightening and criticizing all day. He asked a few hours ago if we could go pick out paints tomorrow so we can redecorate. I think I caught him off-guard with how hard I kisses him when he asked.
I pull a baking pan out of a cabinet and pour the noodles into it, grabbing the bags of shredded cheese I bought: cheddar, mozzarella, pepper jack. I'm barely paying attention as I pour them methodically over the macaroni, stirring it in with the ease of having pure skill. I can't even count how many times I've made this. It's my own recipe, my own style, and Kevin loves it, has since the first experimental batch. That's reason enough for me to continue making it.
I bend to place the pan in the oven, loving the rattle of its door closing, and set the time for an hour. Almost as soon as I straight, Kevin grabs me by the hand, tugs me out into the living room, which is cleaner than I've ever seen it, and pulls me down onto the couch. I can't believe how fast we end up tangled together, our kisses hot and sloppy. My fingers are sunk in his curls, his hand has worked its way under my shirt, and I can't help but think about the fact that I haven't had sex in more than a year. Then his hips roll into mine, and I stop thinking altogether for a while.
It doesn't progress beyond that, which is okay. My boxers are sticky, and he has this bashful smile and his face is flushed, but that's okay too. That's more than okay. We've been together for four years. This certainly wasn't the first time we dry-humped on a couch like horny teenagers. I mean, at one point we were horny teenagers, but that's certainly not the point.
My timer dings. I groan. I don't want to get up. I want to lay here for a few hours kissing Kevin in that slow way we both like, but he laughs and pulls me to my feet. That only brings me falling into his arms again, and his teeth tug playfully at my lip as we kiss again, and I want to call this stupid dinner off so I can stay in this boy's arms. He's such a tease though. He pushes me away with a kiss to my forehead. "Go get your macaroni before it burns. I'm going to change."
I resist the urge to follow him, instead padding into the kitchen to finish dinner.He roped me into making steaks. I'm not sure how he did it, except that he's Kevin, because it is one of the most aggravating processes in the world. We even bought red wine. I think he wants to impress them, like he's making sure they know we're doing alright here. I hate that their opinions even matter to him. Where have they been the past year?
Nick shows up fifteen minutes later. Of course he's forty-five minutes early. He takes one look at me and laughs. "You look like you got jumped by fans. Go wash up; I'll finish dinner."
I make a face at him and wander back to the bedroom to figure out what he's talking about. I should be embarrassed by how fucked-out I look - flushed face, tangled hair, seriously kissed mouth. I shrug it off, changing clothes and dragging a comb through my hair. It's not like Nick hasn't walked in on us a hundred times. He doesn't even blush about it anymore. Kevin emerges from the bathroom looking fresh and beautiful. He always does. I grin at him. "Those pants are doing you some serious good, babe."
He rolls his eyes, but that smile gives him away. "Why do you think I wore them? I've gotta look good for you, love."
My heart swells at the sound of the pet name. I curl my fingers into his shirt and pull him close for a soft kiss. "You wore them to drive me crazy, since I can't jump you with our parents around."
He chuckles, smooths his knuckles down my cheek, and I melt into him. "Thank you, for not pushing me." He says softly, suddenly, his lips moving against my hair. "I know it's hard, to sleep together and be together all the time and not have sex..."
"Hey..." I smile, slipping my arms around his neck and kissing him. No other words matter for a few moments. All that matters is the way our bodies mold so perfectly together, the way his mouth feels against mine, the slow sweetness of this moment. When we part, I smile and touch our foreheads together, my eyes slipping closed. "I love you." I murmur. "We have our whole lives to get back to where we were. Sex isn't as important as being with you. It never will be."
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Our fingers tangle together and he leads me out into the living room, where Nick is sitting on the couch looking through a magazine. Kevin plops down beside him and pulls him into a tight hug, and I can tell by Nick's smile that he could get used to being greeted so warmly. There's something different, lighter, about us sitting here together talking. Maybe it's just the dread of seeing oour parents making me appreciate Nick more, but no matter what the reason, I'm happy he's here. He wants to be here; he wants to be a part of our lives, and I think that might be warming me to him again.
The doorbell ringing comes too soon. My stomach immediately twists into knots again, and Nick smiles kindly at me as Kevin rushes to open the door. I can hear them talking, can hear Mom's overjoyed sobs, like she thought she'd never see him again, and bitterly, I think, He's been in the same place all this place. Why didn't you come to see him? I force myself to go into the foyer to greet them, and nausea washes over me again at the sight of my mother and brother clinging so tightly to each other. Dad smiles at me, shakes my hand, and we exchange awkward pleasantries. I realize I didn't miss them. The thought makes me sad. I try not to let it show.
------------------------------
"I can't believe you learned to cook, Joseph!"
The comment is endearing, amusing, expected from everyone, but the condescension in Mom's tone makes me tense. I force a smile, pausing in my act of pushing my macaroni around on my plate. "Well, frozen dinners and take-out get old really fast." I shrug. "And, outside of working, until Kev came home, there wasn't a lot to do, so I taught myself."
"It's really good, Joe." Nick comments, taking a big bite of macaroni. He's like it since I first started making it too. I have the coolest brothers ever.
"Yeah, it's great!" Frankie grins at me. God, I can't believe he's ten. I wonder if I could put up with out parents enough to be able to visit him. I bet I could talk them into lending him spend the night here every once in a while. I could dig out Guitar Hero, I'm sure...
"The steak is a little dry." Mom comments, her smile sweet. "But, steak is hard to make. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."
I bristle at the criticism but bite my tongue on my retort. This night is for Kevin. I'm not ruining it by getting angry. I'll just swallow it. I can do that for one dinner. And, Kevin hasn't stopped smiling since they arrived. It's so important to him that our family is together. I let my hand rest on his knee under the table. He turns that smile in my direction, tangling our fingers together. He's thanking me. He's thanking me for this, and all I want is for it to end.
-------------------------------------
We gather in the living room after we eat. I sit close beside Kevin on the couch. He's my safe haven. I need to be able to touch him. I can only take this night for so much longer. Nick is on his other side. Frankie's leaning against his legs. Our parents are in the armchairs. Mom looks around. "Your color scheme seems a bit off..."
I bit down harder on my tongue. Kevin shrugs sheepishly, like he's responsible. "I was just telling Joe we should go shopping for paint. I want to redecorate the whole place. I just can't get him interested."
"I'm interested." I backhand his shoulder playfully, sticking my tongue out at him. "You're just better at that stuff than I am. You'll do a better job if I just leave you to it."
"Don't make him do all the work!" That scolding tone returns to Mom's voice, but she's laughing, like that makes it okay to talk to us like we're children. "The last thing he needs to be doing is being your little servant now that he's home. We all know he does all the cleaning; this place would be a sty if he wasn't here."
"How would you know?" I shoot at her before I can stop myself. Listening to her makes my blood boil. "Have you even been here before tonight? No. Nick came with me to pick it out. You have no idea whether or not I can take care of this place on my own."
Mom laughs nervously, shrugging me off. "I'm only kidding, Joseph. I'm sure you take care of your place better than you did your room in our house. It's different when it belongs to you." She reaches over, pats Kevin's knee. "Now you have your own personal neat freak to help you keep things up. You've just got to make sure you take care of each other. Kevin, you look thin. You didn't seem to eat much at dinner tonight either... Joseph, you need to make sure he's eating. That's up to you now, sweetie."
That's the last straw. "You think I don't know that?" I snap, gripping the armrest tightly so I won't launch myself at her. "You think I haven't been doing everything I can to take care of him since he came home? Let me tell you about that, Mom."
"Joe..." Nick reaches across Kevin to rest his hand on my knee, trying to calm me down.
"No!" I brush it away, get to my feet. My parents seems surprised, put out. "No! I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not listening to you tell me how to take care of Kevin when I'm the only one even making an effort to!" I pretend he's not here. It makes it easier to say these things. "Where have you been while he was in the hospital? Where were you on the days medication changes made him too sick to eat or too tired to get out of bed, or when I found him curled up in his bed crying because he thought no one loved him anymore? Where have you been since he came home and we've had to learn all over again how to live with each other?" I'm not sure where the tears came from, or when they started, but they feel hot on my face.
Mom looks scared. Dad's face is closed. "Joseph, you don't understand how hard it is to see one of your children suffering..."
"Bullshit!" I cry out, not caring about the fact that I just cursed at my parents for the first time in my life. "I've spent the last year, watching the most important person in the world to me suffer, and I've wanted nothing more than to do everything I could to make it better. Where've you been, huh? Running around the country not giving a shit? Leaving me on my own to deal with this when I have no idea how?" I shake my head. "You guys abandoned us. What is it? Why? Is it because we're suddenly not useful to your big dream of being famous by association anymore? We can't make you money alongside perfect little Nicholas?"
Alright, that's probably not fair. They've never made it seem like they've been using us to make money. And, Nick hasn't done anything to deserve me saying that; he's the only one who's even tried to help me. But damn it - I'm too fucking mad to care. I let out a shaky little breath, and Dad stands up. "I think it's time we left, since you seem to not want us here, Joseph."
"Haven't you heard anything?" I want to strange him. "Your son has been sick, and you haven't been here." I swipe my hand across my face, point a tear-stained finger at the door. "Fine. You've made it obvious where you want to be. Get the fuck out. We don't need you." I'm out of the room before any of them can move or speak. I slam the bathroom door, drop to my knees, sobbing, as I vomit my hatred into the friendly porcelain bowl of the toilet.
I talked to my parents for the first time in four months last night. My throat closed several times as I tried to explain that we wanted to have them over for dinner so we could catch up. I hate Mom for how long she hesitated. Dad was the one who accepted. They'll arrive in two hours. Kevin is all nervous energy and excitement. He's been cleaning and straightening and criticizing all day. He asked a few hours ago if we could go pick out paints tomorrow so we can redecorate. I think I caught him off-guard with how hard I kisses him when he asked.
I pull a baking pan out of a cabinet and pour the noodles into it, grabbing the bags of shredded cheese I bought: cheddar, mozzarella, pepper jack. I'm barely paying attention as I pour them methodically over the macaroni, stirring it in with the ease of having pure skill. I can't even count how many times I've made this. It's my own recipe, my own style, and Kevin loves it, has since the first experimental batch. That's reason enough for me to continue making it.
I bend to place the pan in the oven, loving the rattle of its door closing, and set the time for an hour. Almost as soon as I straight, Kevin grabs me by the hand, tugs me out into the living room, which is cleaner than I've ever seen it, and pulls me down onto the couch. I can't believe how fast we end up tangled together, our kisses hot and sloppy. My fingers are sunk in his curls, his hand has worked its way under my shirt, and I can't help but think about the fact that I haven't had sex in more than a year. Then his hips roll into mine, and I stop thinking altogether for a while.
It doesn't progress beyond that, which is okay. My boxers are sticky, and he has this bashful smile and his face is flushed, but that's okay too. That's more than okay. We've been together for four years. This certainly wasn't the first time we dry-humped on a couch like horny teenagers. I mean, at one point we were horny teenagers, but that's certainly not the point.
My timer dings. I groan. I don't want to get up. I want to lay here for a few hours kissing Kevin in that slow way we both like, but he laughs and pulls me to my feet. That only brings me falling into his arms again, and his teeth tug playfully at my lip as we kiss again, and I want to call this stupid dinner off so I can stay in this boy's arms. He's such a tease though. He pushes me away with a kiss to my forehead. "Go get your macaroni before it burns. I'm going to change."
I resist the urge to follow him, instead padding into the kitchen to finish dinner.He roped me into making steaks. I'm not sure how he did it, except that he's Kevin, because it is one of the most aggravating processes in the world. We even bought red wine. I think he wants to impress them, like he's making sure they know we're doing alright here. I hate that their opinions even matter to him. Where have they been the past year?
Nick shows up fifteen minutes later. Of course he's forty-five minutes early. He takes one look at me and laughs. "You look like you got jumped by fans. Go wash up; I'll finish dinner."
I make a face at him and wander back to the bedroom to figure out what he's talking about. I should be embarrassed by how fucked-out I look - flushed face, tangled hair, seriously kissed mouth. I shrug it off, changing clothes and dragging a comb through my hair. It's not like Nick hasn't walked in on us a hundred times. He doesn't even blush about it anymore. Kevin emerges from the bathroom looking fresh and beautiful. He always does. I grin at him. "Those pants are doing you some serious good, babe."
He rolls his eyes, but that smile gives him away. "Why do you think I wore them? I've gotta look good for you, love."
My heart swells at the sound of the pet name. I curl my fingers into his shirt and pull him close for a soft kiss. "You wore them to drive me crazy, since I can't jump you with our parents around."
He chuckles, smooths his knuckles down my cheek, and I melt into him. "Thank you, for not pushing me." He says softly, suddenly, his lips moving against my hair. "I know it's hard, to sleep together and be together all the time and not have sex..."
"Hey..." I smile, slipping my arms around his neck and kissing him. No other words matter for a few moments. All that matters is the way our bodies mold so perfectly together, the way his mouth feels against mine, the slow sweetness of this moment. When we part, I smile and touch our foreheads together, my eyes slipping closed. "I love you." I murmur. "We have our whole lives to get back to where we were. Sex isn't as important as being with you. It never will be."
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Our fingers tangle together and he leads me out into the living room, where Nick is sitting on the couch looking through a magazine. Kevin plops down beside him and pulls him into a tight hug, and I can tell by Nick's smile that he could get used to being greeted so warmly. There's something different, lighter, about us sitting here together talking. Maybe it's just the dread of seeing oour parents making me appreciate Nick more, but no matter what the reason, I'm happy he's here. He wants to be here; he wants to be a part of our lives, and I think that might be warming me to him again.
The doorbell ringing comes too soon. My stomach immediately twists into knots again, and Nick smiles kindly at me as Kevin rushes to open the door. I can hear them talking, can hear Mom's overjoyed sobs, like she thought she'd never see him again, and bitterly, I think, He's been in the same place all this place. Why didn't you come to see him? I force myself to go into the foyer to greet them, and nausea washes over me again at the sight of my mother and brother clinging so tightly to each other. Dad smiles at me, shakes my hand, and we exchange awkward pleasantries. I realize I didn't miss them. The thought makes me sad. I try not to let it show.
------------------------------
"I can't believe you learned to cook, Joseph!"
The comment is endearing, amusing, expected from everyone, but the condescension in Mom's tone makes me tense. I force a smile, pausing in my act of pushing my macaroni around on my plate. "Well, frozen dinners and take-out get old really fast." I shrug. "And, outside of working, until Kev came home, there wasn't a lot to do, so I taught myself."
"It's really good, Joe." Nick comments, taking a big bite of macaroni. He's like it since I first started making it too. I have the coolest brothers ever.
"Yeah, it's great!" Frankie grins at me. God, I can't believe he's ten. I wonder if I could put up with out parents enough to be able to visit him. I bet I could talk them into lending him spend the night here every once in a while. I could dig out Guitar Hero, I'm sure...
"The steak is a little dry." Mom comments, her smile sweet. "But, steak is hard to make. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."
I bristle at the criticism but bite my tongue on my retort. This night is for Kevin. I'm not ruining it by getting angry. I'll just swallow it. I can do that for one dinner. And, Kevin hasn't stopped smiling since they arrived. It's so important to him that our family is together. I let my hand rest on his knee under the table. He turns that smile in my direction, tangling our fingers together. He's thanking me. He's thanking me for this, and all I want is for it to end.
-------------------------------------
We gather in the living room after we eat. I sit close beside Kevin on the couch. He's my safe haven. I need to be able to touch him. I can only take this night for so much longer. Nick is on his other side. Frankie's leaning against his legs. Our parents are in the armchairs. Mom looks around. "Your color scheme seems a bit off..."
I bit down harder on my tongue. Kevin shrugs sheepishly, like he's responsible. "I was just telling Joe we should go shopping for paint. I want to redecorate the whole place. I just can't get him interested."
"I'm interested." I backhand his shoulder playfully, sticking my tongue out at him. "You're just better at that stuff than I am. You'll do a better job if I just leave you to it."
"Don't make him do all the work!" That scolding tone returns to Mom's voice, but she's laughing, like that makes it okay to talk to us like we're children. "The last thing he needs to be doing is being your little servant now that he's home. We all know he does all the cleaning; this place would be a sty if he wasn't here."
"How would you know?" I shoot at her before I can stop myself. Listening to her makes my blood boil. "Have you even been here before tonight? No. Nick came with me to pick it out. You have no idea whether or not I can take care of this place on my own."
Mom laughs nervously, shrugging me off. "I'm only kidding, Joseph. I'm sure you take care of your place better than you did your room in our house. It's different when it belongs to you." She reaches over, pats Kevin's knee. "Now you have your own personal neat freak to help you keep things up. You've just got to make sure you take care of each other. Kevin, you look thin. You didn't seem to eat much at dinner tonight either... Joseph, you need to make sure he's eating. That's up to you now, sweetie."
That's the last straw. "You think I don't know that?" I snap, gripping the armrest tightly so I won't launch myself at her. "You think I haven't been doing everything I can to take care of him since he came home? Let me tell you about that, Mom."
"Joe..." Nick reaches across Kevin to rest his hand on my knee, trying to calm me down.
"No!" I brush it away, get to my feet. My parents seems surprised, put out. "No! I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not listening to you tell me how to take care of Kevin when I'm the only one even making an effort to!" I pretend he's not here. It makes it easier to say these things. "Where have you been while he was in the hospital? Where were you on the days medication changes made him too sick to eat or too tired to get out of bed, or when I found him curled up in his bed crying because he thought no one loved him anymore? Where have you been since he came home and we've had to learn all over again how to live with each other?" I'm not sure where the tears came from, or when they started, but they feel hot on my face.
Mom looks scared. Dad's face is closed. "Joseph, you don't understand how hard it is to see one of your children suffering..."
"Bullshit!" I cry out, not caring about the fact that I just cursed at my parents for the first time in my life. "I've spent the last year, watching the most important person in the world to me suffer, and I've wanted nothing more than to do everything I could to make it better. Where've you been, huh? Running around the country not giving a shit? Leaving me on my own to deal with this when I have no idea how?" I shake my head. "You guys abandoned us. What is it? Why? Is it because we're suddenly not useful to your big dream of being famous by association anymore? We can't make you money alongside perfect little Nicholas?"
Alright, that's probably not fair. They've never made it seem like they've been using us to make money. And, Nick hasn't done anything to deserve me saying that; he's the only one who's even tried to help me. But damn it - I'm too fucking mad to care. I let out a shaky little breath, and Dad stands up. "I think it's time we left, since you seem to not want us here, Joseph."
"Haven't you heard anything?" I want to strange him. "Your son has been sick, and you haven't been here." I swipe my hand across my face, point a tear-stained finger at the door. "Fine. You've made it obvious where you want to be. Get the fuck out. We don't need you." I'm out of the room before any of them can move or speak. I slam the bathroom door, drop to my knees, sobbing, as I vomit my hatred into the friendly porcelain bowl of the toilet.