Confessions of a Wild Heart (24 page)

Just for good measure, he stuck his head in to tell Ms. Jacklyn he had to head to his place. She shooed him away, insisting he’d spoiled her enough giving her time off. He thought she deserved a raise, but if having a long lunch to herself would do, who was he to argue? He stopped to buss a kiss on his mother’s cheek, which got him a smile she tried to hide under orneriness. He’d seen it, though, and was buoyed infinitesimally.
One day at a time.

He left the house and walked the few hundred yards to where Ase sat on the steps to Jase’s cottage. His stormy expression didn’t bode well in Jase’s mind, and he still hadn’t the foggiest notion what to expect or how to react. All he was sure of was that “
Hey, Ase, thanks for making me an adulterer”
was probably not the place to start.

The least he could do was hear Ase out, right?

His jaw clenched from both nerves and anger. Ase finally looked up from the argument he was having with himself. Jase wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see in Ase’s eyes when the man looked up. Maybe the usual as of late: oh-so-guarded, or perhaps he’d expected to see defensiveness, or shamefacedness.

What he hadn’t expected was the wounded, no
gutted
, vulnerable doe eyes. He wasn’t even aware Ase was capable of such an expression. Jase swallowed thickly, wanting to reach out and cup the man’s face, to hug him. Fuck. He wanted to do something. But the humiliation of the morning, the information he’d been walloped with, held him in check.

“Ase?”

“You came to me. You were always coming to me. Thought it was my turn.” He wasn’t exactly slurring his words, but his tongue was drunk-lazy.

Jase sighed. “Dammit, Ase. I’m a fucking cop. Tell me you didn’t drive drunk to my house.”

Ase shook his head, looking impossibly young for his twenty-seven years. “No. It took you so long to come back.”

Jase felt his brow furrow. How? It hit him and he made a grab for the Big Gulp cup. Ase tried to snatch it back. He took a sip from the straw and spat. “Jesus! Ase, is there
any
soda in this cup?”

“Was,” Ase said, churlishly. He looked a bit like a hound dog about to take a beating with a rolled up paper. “I just refilled it a couple times is all.”

“Fuck, Ase,” Jase said, rubbing his forehead where he felt the strain of tension from furrowing his brow so long.

Ase stood. Not a good idea. He wobbled, opened his mouth to talk.

He held up a finger, bent and spat on the ground. Spat again. And unceremoniously puked at his feet.

“Well. At least you missed the steps,” Jase grumbled.

The process of getting Ase even slightly sobered up wasn’t a pretty one. He tossed his cookies twice more after Jase’d gotten him inside. Then Jase pushed him in the shower and lent the man clothes to change into. While Ase showered Jase made coffee and breakfast. It was mid-afternoon but he couldn’t think of anything that sobered him up like scrambled egg sandwiches.

           Ase came out, still looking like a dog who’d shit on the rug. Jase said nothing, letting his frustration steel him against pitying—or wanting to fuck—Ase, who looked almost sweet in Jase’s old t-shirt and sweats.

           They sat silently as Ase snarfed down his sandwiches like he’d not eaten in a week. Hell, he may not have eaten since before the club the night before for all Jase knew. It just dawned on Jase he’d never gotten to make breakfast that morning, and judging how fast Ase’d gotten drunk, an empty stomach probably was partially to blame.

           Jase puttered around, cleaning up his kitchen, switching Ase’s clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. He wasn’t going to be the one to start this conversation. Hell, he didn’t know how. He didn’t even know what Ase’d come to say, so he’d wait until the man was ready to speak his piece.

Jase still couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to pick a fight to burn some frustration or wait to hear Ase out. He fucking hated this.
Hated
it.

He knew for damn sure he wasn’t going to sit around watching the man feel sorry for himself, so he went to shower and change out of last night’s clothes. When he’d finished up with that he padded back into the living room, still tense but feeling better for having gotten clean.

Ase now sat on the couch, staring out one of the bay windows. His gaze came to rest on Jase when he sat on the loveseat adjacent the sofa. Another silent moment passed.

“Sorry,” Ase said, softly.

“For which part exactly?”

Ase sighed. “All of it. This morning, getting trashed, puking.”

“Okay.”

Ase sighed again, running his hands through his hair and turned, then mumbled, "Sorry I'm such a fucking monster."

That gave Jase pause. A monster? “Ase, you have to tell me what you mean.”

“Mierda,”
Ase hissed, more to himself than Jase, before looking up. “This is why I didn’t want you to waste your fucking time on me, Jase.” No silly nicknames, voice stripped bare. Jase just watched as Ase rubbed his hand over his face. He couldn’t respond until he knew what to respond to.

Although. “Because you’re married?”

Ase shook his head. “No. Well, that, too. But…”

“Dammit, Ase. Get on with it, or get out.” Jase was done pussyfooting here. He was tired, he was heartsick, and Ase’s awkward tension was making Jase’s whole body rigid with nervous energy.

“I fucked up a lot, Jase. A lot. I gave you shit for being in the closet, but you didn’t know I was fucking married. I lied; I bowed to my parents’ guilt.”

“I guessed that much.” Jase had to add, “It just seems so unlike you. Taking their shit.”

Ase smiled ruefully, without a trace of humor. “You don’t know what guilt is until a Latin mother has dumped it on you for years.” Jase didn’t know about all that.

“Look,” Jase said, but Ase held up a hand.

“You are all this good. I think I was angry at you from the first, because even in your e-mails it seemed like you got to have your cake and eat it too.” Jase blinked in surprise. “I know that’s not true now, but I still feel it sometimes. But I want you. So bad. I want what we were starting; I want what we had. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“You’re all honest with your feelings and telling people you’re bi because you’re too honest to just fuck some girl without full disclosure. And I was lying to you.”

“No arguments on that last part.”

“You’re good, Jase. All good. And I’m that bastard whose kid was stillborn, and all I could think was
I didn’t want it anyways.
”

Jase froze. “Say what?”

Ase looked guiltier than ever. Jase had trouble looking at the man. Those were mighty strong words, and Jase sure the fuck didn’t know how to react, much less respond. But, Jase’d told Ase about the abortion way back in Munich. Yes, that’d been different than a still-birth, but he remembered that guilt he felt at being a bit relieved. This seemed like more than that, though.

“Then, I wouldn’t even talk to Lizeth. Not a word. She was hurting, and I did nothing.”

Okay, now that sounded all kinds of wrong. That was cold. Jase had no idea what to think. None. So many questions and Ase was being a pain and he really just wanted Ase to go now.

Ase looked up at Jase imploringly, and it stopped Jase’s heart. Fuck. That look hurt. “Jase, I feel so much guilt. But I hated her. And I hated the kid.”

“Then why’d you fuck her?”

“To shut them up!” Ase snapped. Jase jumped to his feet and went for a beer, then thought that was probably the last fucking thing he needed, and he sure wasn’t offering one to Ase, who was barely sober, so he grabbed one of the individual orange juices he kept in the fridge.

When he turned, Ase was in the doorway looking at him, lost. “It’s not… It’s not like I
wanted
to fuck her.”

“You just fell on her?” Jase asked, drily.

“More like pushed.”

Jase studied Ase carefully, his rigid stance, his wringing hands, the shame written all over him. “What does
that
mean?”

“Nothing. Just…”

“No, Ase. What does that mean? You want me to understand? Say what you mean.”

“You wouldn’t understand!” Ase’s voice broke. His body quaked. Jase stood still, afraid approaching the man would make Ase crack wide open.

“I lived for those e-mails between you and me. Those first few months were so fucking dark. I came home, went to school, went to work. I talked a good game about it not being a big deal when my folks found out, but it was awful. Oppressive.”

Jase wouldn’t even act like he didn’t understand that in some small way. He let his family dictate how he felt, but. “I left home. You could have, too.”

“It didn’t work that way. They’d paid for my school. They brought Lizeth up to remind me of my duty. What, I was supposed to let them send her back to that village she was from? I hated it. I am
not
that weak, but after the shit they said and how hard they came down on me, I was broken.”

Ase laughed humorlessly. “I was a prisoner, too. They owned my car. They got my uncle to sell my bike, saying those savings were by their grace, so they used it for tuition. And Jase, I love them; I never have lived without
mi familia
, and it felt impossible.”

Jase nodded. He was trying to understand. He had friends who’d been really religious who were like that, still couldn’t break from their families in their late twenties.

“Everything had gone out of control so fast. And I couldn’t get any power back,” Ase said, desperate. “You sounded happy, and your e-mails were so sweet, and I kept thinking about Munich and how free I’d been. So I started doing drag again.”

Jase felt his brows go up. “That was risky.”

“I know, but I needed to
feel
again. I was so depressed, and I didn’t have you or Munich. But I could have that again. So I lied. Like a complete pussy. I said I was visiting Lizeth, who I
would
go say hello to briefly.” Ase had started pulling on his own hair. “Then I guess they found my e-mails with you. To this day I don’t know how. And I sure as fuck don’t know how they knew what club I was performing at. But they came.”

Jase was afraid from the way Ase was shaking that he could guess at least part of the story. Ase shrank in on himself, leaned back against the walls. “I was always such a disappointment with my tattoos, being a wild party boy, or so they called me, who hung out with white kids. They assumed I thought I was better than them. Especially when I begged them to go to Munich that semester. But
they
were the ones who wanted me to be a doctor. I still hate medicine. But I did even
that
to shut them up. Gave up control in my career to have some in my private life.

“Then I was working the crowd one night and saw my brothers, Mateo and Cris, coming through the crowd. Pulled my wig off like it was a Jerry Springer special, dragged me out. My
papi
was waiting.”

“Ase, you don’t have to.”

“They took me to a fucking hotel. I thought maybe they had a hooker there or something. They beat my ass, I tell you. Just wailed on me. And my
papi
took me up, and Lizeth was there.”

“Fuck,” Jase said.

“She agreed with them. I needed help or something. My brother
watched
, Jase. He stood and fucking watched to make sure I did it. So it was that or get my ass beaten some more.”

Ase shook so violently, Jase feared he’d hurt himself. “Fuck, Ase,” he said, not realizing his eyes were leaking. “That’s….” He couldn’t stop himself. He moved over to Ase and reached for him. When he tried to wrap Ase in his arms, Ase tried to push him off, but Jase gripped him tighter, hoping this was the right thing.

I’m not taking your control. I’m just letting you fall apart.

And Ase did. No tears were shed, except Jase’s. Jase silently wept for the beautiful, spirited young man he’d met, who’d had stars in his eyes and a permanent mischievous smile. But Ase, he just shook, breathing heavily, eyes wide and feral. It took a minute, but he relented and fell into Jase, digging his fingers in Jase’s biceps almost painfully, as he bent to rest his forehead on Jase’s shoulder.

Jase said nothing. He couldn’t imagine there
were
appropriate words. The cop in him was fucking furious. The friend in him was devastated. The lover, the one who wanted Ase and wished he had been able to protect Ase,
his
heart was broken for Ase. God, what had been done to the man was unfathomable. And with Ase’s personality, his need for control, his cocksureness, the ripping away of what made him
Ase,
for even a little while that night, had to have left a painful scar.

“I went insane, Jase.” He spoke quietly, remorsefully, as if he were in confession. “I stopped e-mailing you, would speak to no one. My
mami
prayed a lot, but she didn’t know what they did to me, though I’m still scared to know what she’d have said.

“I kept fucking my way through study-group guys and
straight
guys in the neighborhood, like it’d decontaminate me. I wanted my dick to fall off for a while. Worst existential crisis ever.” While Jase hated to make Ase keep talking, he seemed to just be purging at that point, words spilling out as he shook against Jase.

“Then she came up pregnant. We used a fucking condom but she still got pregnant.”

Jase wasn’t even going to ask how Ase could have been sure it was his kid, because that seemed beside the point now.

“My folks, her folks, it was done. We had to get married. She needed citizenship; she was having my baby. That was that. Oh, man,
Papi
was so proud it made me sick to my stomach. He offered to pay for the wedding and was all ‘Of course he will finish and become a doctor’.”

Ase looked up. “I don’t know why it matters, it may not. You may fucking hate me. You should. But I never touched her again. I told her I couldn’t. She threatened to tell my parents, I told her if she’d shut the fuck up until I could get through med school I’d help her stay here, pay for the kid, and get out of her hair.”