Anterograde (15 page)

The
blush that crept up Calden’s face was as lovely as it was unexpected. Calden
was many things, but Eli had never known him to be bashful.

“And
to tell the truth,” Eli continued after a few seconds, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t
write about it in there. I don’t know what it already says about me, but I
think I’d like it better if you didn’t learn about us from words on a page.”

Calden
looked back at the sheet music, but soon faced Eli again without drawing a note
from the piano.

“So
you’re going to tell me about… about this every time?”

“I’ll
tell you about us, yes. Anything you’d like to know?”

Rather
than words, Calden offered him music, a few short phrases before he said, “You
slept in my bed last night.”

Eli
propped his elbow on the armrest of his chair and leaned his cheek against his
closed fist.

“I
did. Although if you want to be accurate, we pretty much spent the last thirty
hours in your bed. And a large part of it had little to do with sleep.”

And
there was that blush again, coloring Calden’s cheeks. He cleared his throat
before asking, looking at Eli from under his eyelashes, “And it was…
satisfying?”

A
quiet chuckle escaped Eli.

“From
my end, certainly. I don’t think you had complaints either.”

Calden
turned back to the piano, but not before Eli could see his smile. Again, he
played a few phrases from his composition before interrupting himself.

“How
long has this been true?” he asked, touching his chest again. “The first part,
I mean.”

Eli
shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t know. A while. I didn’t realize that’s what
it was until a few weeks ago.” After a couple seconds, he added more quietly
now, “Or maybe I didn’t want to see it.”

A
raised eyebrow asked him to explain.

“We
worked together. And you never seemed interested, in me or anyone else, so
there was no point in making anything out of it. Being your friend was enough. And
then I met Bryce.”

He
trailed off rather than finish that train of thought. How soon had Bryce
realized that, as much as Eli loved him, there was someone else in his heart?
Eli would never have acted on it, he’d never have cheated. It was Bryce who had
demanded their separation, and soon after that their divorce. Still, Eli hadn’t
exactly fought to save their marriage.

“How
about you?” he asked, chasing away the hint of guilt he felt with a shake of
his head. “You said…”

Eli’s
voice trailed off again when Calden approached and, without warning, leaned
down and pressed his mouth to Eli’s for a quick peck that was over before Eli
even knew it had happened. Calden straightened up again and observed Eli as
though waiting for his reaction.

“I’ve
cared for you for years,” he said very quietly. “I never thought you’d ever care
the same way in return.”

Their
gazes remained locked for a few seconds before Calden returned to the piano.

“Clearly
we’re both idiots,” Eli said, a little choked up. It was silly, really, that a
small kiss could touch him like this after the past day. And yet.

Calden
smiled. He was about to start playing again when words fell from Eli’s lips
that he hadn’t meant to voice.

“Your
mother said something to me earlier.”

Calden
snorted. “Lana never learned to keep her nose out of my life. What did she
say?”

“She
claims your music says something about me.”

“Well,
on that at least she was right,” Calden said with a quick look at him.

“How
would she know?”

Calden’s
light shrug felt forced. “Unlike you, my mother speaks Russian.”

“The
title?”

“Your
name.”

Eli
couldn’t help but think of the past few weeks, of every time Calden had sat at
the piano and worked on that new piece of music. Had he been thinking of Eli
every time? Adding up clues he’d forget again before finally deciding to raise
the topic with Eli? How much courage had he needed to take that leap with such
limited information?

“Play
it for me?” Eli requested, his voice too raw to rise much above a whisper.

Calden
played it, starting from the first note, playing everything Eli had heard
before in snatches, and composing the end as he went. It was beautiful, more so
than Eli could express in words, and the only answer he could offer when Calden
finished was a kiss.

(
next chronological chapter
)

August 15
^th
& 16
^th

Calden
wakes up with a pounding headache.

He
doesn’t remember going to sleep, but he does remember when the headache
started, and… Was Eli there? The headache makes everything a little foggy, and
he isn’t sure whether he just dreamed Eli’s presence or if Eli was really
there. Either way, judging by the fact that the alarm clock claims it’s eleven
at night, Calden has undoubtedly missed their lunch.

All
this time convincing himself it can’t go on this way and he has to tell Eli
even if it means giving up on their friendship, and now he’s missed his chance.
He groans, annoyed with himself, already half-sure that he won’t go through
with it now. As much as he wants to break the status quo, he knows his own
mind, that he’s scared of losing Eli and that the odds of Eli responding in a
positive way are slim to none.

Massaging
his temple with the fingers of one hand, he grabs the dressing gown hanging
behind the door and slips it on then steps out of his bedroom. He hasn’t even come
down to the kitchen yet when he hears Eli’s voice, a quiet mutter that might be
meant for Eli himself.

“Oh,
hell no. It hasn’t even been five hours.”

“Eli?”
Calden says, confused and still rubbing ineffectually at his temple as though
he can push away the pain pounding in his head. “What are you doing here?”

Eli
joins Calden in the hallway from the living room. He starts to say something
but frowns at Calden and seems to change his mind about what to say.

“What’s
wrong? Headache?”

“Yes,
I… Why are you here? Were you here earlier? I can’t quite remember what
happened.”

Eli’s
face is utterly blank, showing nothing as he reaches up and lays his palm
against Calden’s forehead. Calden stills at the unexpected touch.

“No
fever,” Eli says, walking into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. “But if
you still have a headache, you should try to sleep a bit longer. Come on,
doctor’s orders, back to bed.”

Holding
the glass in one hand, Eli rests the other on Calden’s shoulder and pushes
gently until Calden turns around. He should protest, say he got enough sleep,
gather enough courage to tell Eli… but it’s hard to do any of that when Eli’s
hand is still on his shoulder, coaxing him back upstairs.

In
the bedroom, Eli picks up a small bottle from the night table and hands Calden
two pills with the glass of water.

“For
your headache,” he says, and watches Calden take the pills. Not aspirin; the
pills are round, unfamiliar. Calden thinks of taking a look at the prescription
bottle, but his head hurts too much for him to care right now.

Eli
takes the empty glass from Calden. “All right, back to bed.”

“It’s
only a headache,” Calden protests. “I just woke up, I’m not tired. Besides, we
haven’t talked in three weeks and…” Calden’s heart jumps as he makes up his
mind and forges ahead. “There’s… there’s something I meant to tell you.”

Eli
shakes his head. “You can say it when you wake up. I’ll be there, I promise.
But you really need to get some more sleep, Calden. Please.”

“You’ll
be there?” Calden repeats, feeling very slow—and suddenly very, very tired.
When Eli tugs the dressing gown off him, Calden doesn’t have it in him to stop
him or help. His legs feel heavy, as do his eyelids. He sits on the edge of the
bed, blinking up at Eli who gives him a thin smile.

“I’ll
be there,” Eli says again, more softly now. “If someone tries to tell you
anything different, she’s lying and you can tell her from me to leave you the
hell alone.”

The
same gentle hand that helped Calden out of his dressing gown now pushes him to
lie down, then tugs the sheet and duvet over him. Calden wants to say…
something. Ask who ‘someone’ is, because Eli sounds like he means a very
particular person. Ask why he’s here, why he’ll be there, what his husband will
say about it. Ask if he knows how much Calden cares about him, how much Calden—

But
his mind is drowsy and slow, his eyes are closing, and he can barely hear Eli
say, “More than five hours, this time. You’ve got nine days to make up for.
Please.”

He
has no idea what this means.

The
confession he meant to make never passes his lips.

*

Of
his full-to-bursting bladder or desperately empty stomach, Calden can’t say
which is the one that wakes him. His mind still groggy from sleep, he goes to
take care of the first—and in doing so, notices the words tattooed on his arm.

He
goes as far as washing his hands, then he has to sit down from feeling a little
lightheaded, both from hunger and from the information he just read on his own skin.
Perched on the edge of the bathtub, he closes his eyes and accesses his memory
palace, walking up to the front door, checking every cue one by one and the
memories associated with each of them. He goes through five rooms before his
heartbeat starts to calm down a little.

“All
right,” he murmurs to himself. “Just anterograde. Nothing more.”

Why
it’s such a comfort, he can’t quite say. Maybe for the simple fact that he
hasn’t lost
everything
.

He
returns to his memories, this time trying to pinpoint the last thing he
remembers.

Eli.

The
last thing he remembers is Eli coming to his house when Calden missed their
lunch date. He looks at the tattoo on his arm again. It’s completely healed,
with no hint of redness or irritation, so it’s been there for a while. How long
has it been since Calden had the words inked into his skin?

How
long since he was diagnosed?

Stepping
back into his bedroom, he gets dressed, putting on an old t-shirt, pajama pants,
and a dressing gown. For the first time he notices the voices coming from downstairs.
He can’t distinguish the words, but the voices are familiar enough: Lana and Eli.

Drawing
the belt tight over his grumbling belly, Calden steps down to join them. He
finds them both in the kitchen, with Eli stirring something in a pot on the gas
range while Lana stands by the fridge, watching him. She notices Calden first
and gives him a weak smile.

“Hello,
darling. How are you feeling?”

Calden
frowns at her, confused beyond words. He must be dreaming; there’s no other
explanation for why his mother is in his home and calling him ‘darling’ the way
she hasn’t done in at least twenty years. As for Eli, who is now turning to
look at Calden… Why is he here? And cooking?

“Does
your head still hurt?” Eli asks grimly.

“My
head? No, I’m fine. I…”

Whatever
else he was going to say is lost when Lana comes to give him a brief hug.

“Oh,
Calden,” she says, and her voice is a little shaky. “You shouldn’t scare us
like that.”

“Lana,”
Eli says, his tone reproachful.

She
pulls back, her expression smoothing out again, all emotions disappearing as
she stands at parade rest. “Right. Well, I’m glad you’re better. I probably
should go now. Unless… Eli?”

“Yes,
better if you go,” Eli says. “I’ll give you a call later.”

It’s
a dismissal if Calden ever heard one. Lana leaves, a nod her only goodbye. Calden
watches her go, mystified as to why she’s taking orders from Eli or why she was
even here.

He
tries to gather the few pieces he’s been given so far. He did something that
scared Eli enough that he called Lana… Unless she was the one who called him?
Whatever it was, that something might have resulted in either a head wound or
headache—the latter, more than likely, as there is no bandage on Calden’s skull.
He looks at Eli, but before he can decide which of a dozen questions to ask
first, Eli shakes his head.

“You’ve
got questions,” he says with a wry smile. “You’ll get your answers. But first you
need to eat something. Sit.”

Soon,
Calden is seated at the table with a bowl of spicy soup in front of him and a
notebook open to the first page. He eats absently while reading his own
handwriting, satisfying both his hunger and his thirst for answers. Every now
and then, he looks up to where Eli is standing by the kitchen door and asks a
question.

“What’s
the date?”

“August
sixteenth.”

More
than three months already since his diagnosis…

“And
Lana agreed to put me in your care?”

Eli
snorts at that. “Are you saying you’d have gone to live with your mother?
Seriously?”

Calden
grimaces. No, he wouldn’t have. The only person under whose care he can see
himself is Eli, and even that chafes in unexpected ways. He understands why he
needs someone there, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“What
about…”

He
stops himself before saying Bryce’s name. He would never have consented to Eli living
here. The diary says Eli shares the house with Calden, and the ring that used
to be on his left hand is gone… The conclusion is easy to draw.

“We’re
divorced,” Eli answers the silent question, his voice absolutely void of
emotion.

Calden
nods at his soup and doesn’t answer. He’s not going to say he’s sorry. Eli
hardly ever knows when Calden is lying, but that just might be too big of a lie
to go unnoticed.

He’s
reached the bottom of his bowl of soup as well as the end of the notebook, but
if his hunger is sated, he still has a few questions. Sitting back in his
chair, he observes Eli for a moment, while Eli observes him in return. His arms
are crossed over his chest now, his posture rigid, and the small smile he was
sporting earlier is gone.

“There’s
something you want to say to me,” Calden says, and it’s not a question.

Eli
nods. “As smart as ever. Come to the living room. And take your diary, you’re
going to need it.”

He
goes first, and his steps might be those of a man marching to the battlefront. Calden
follows, the notebook in hand, and sits across from him in his armchair.

“How
long was I awake?” he asks.

A
thin, dangerous smile curls the corners of Eli’s mouth.

“How
do you know?”

Calden
shrugs. “My first instinct upon reading that I forget whenever I fall asleep
was to wonder how long I can go without sleeping. Lana said I scared you, and
as a doctor, I expect you would react poorly to me experimenting on sleep
deprivation on myself. Then there’s your question about a possible headache, which
can be a symptom of lack of sleep. Add to that the fact that I seem to have
slept for quite a long time, and it can all only mean one thing. So. How long
was I awake?”

“You,”
Eli says with a slight shake of his head, “are amazing. You are also the most
infuriating man I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You were awake for nine
days—”

When
Calden makes a quiet, appreciative noise, Eli’s voice rises with anger.

“—and
wipe that smile off your face because that is
not
an achievement. You
said you wanted to know how long you can function without sleep, but you were
not functioning, Calden. You were having hallucinations, from the third day
onward, I think. And in the end you went into a full-blown psychosis episode. I
expect you don’t need me to define that for you. So you are not doing that again.
Put it in your diary. If you ever try to pull that kind of idiotic stunt again,
I swear…”

He
pauses then, as though hesitating about the threat he’s about to deliver, and Calden’s
throat tightens. If Eli says he’ll leave if Calden does this again, if he makes
it clear that leaving Calden to fend for himself is something he could
consider…

“I’ll
sedate you by force,” Eli finishes, his voice growing harder with each word. “Lana
will help if needed. I agreed to move in to help you. If you won’t listen to
reason, I’ll do whatever I need to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. Are we
clear?”

Calden
scowls at him. “You’re not my nanny. If you think you can just send me to bed
whenever you feel like it—”

Eli’s
loud, raucous laugh silences him.

“Whenever
I
feel
like it?” he repeats. “Do you think this is fun for me? Do you
think I enjoy watching you argue with someone who isn’t there? Or watching you
yell at Doctor Samford? Or hurt her?”

Calden’s
mouth snaps shut. Was it that bad, really? Is that what Eli meant by psychosis?
He can’t imagine any circumstances under which he’d willingly hurt Caroline. He
must have been out of his mind.

“How
long will you allow me, then?” he asks, and the question leaves a bitter taste
on his tongue.

“Two
days,” Eli says immediately. “And don’t bother trying to argue. I’m still mad
at you for being so damn bone-headed. If you want to get into a shouting match,
you’re not going to win.”

Calden
has seen that harsh gleam in Eli’s eyes before; it’s almost daring him to
object. It’s also warning him that this is a fight he has no way of winning. In
a few days, or maybe a few weeks, when Eli has calmed down, Calden will have a
better chance to plead his case. Until then, he might as well appear to agree.