Listening to Dust (10 page)

Chapter 18

Brighton Beach
 

Stephen and Dustin stood at the end of the pier watching the surf come in as Dustin leaned into the wind and let it rustle through his hair. It was the first time they had been to Brighton and Dustin seemed to be enjoying the area more and more with each passing minute.
 

He turned to Stephen with a smile. “I love the wind,” he said. “All this power and you can’t see it. All you can see are the things it moves.”
 

“Like the dust?” Stephen asked. He had grown to like playing with Dustin’s name, finding the little crevices where it crept into their conversation and exploiting them for a smile, or an insight into how he felt. Dustin rarely missed either, and didn’t always respond with the reaction Stephen was trying to elicit, but it had become a light game between them which they both seemed to enjoy.
 

Dustin looked over at Stephen and grinned. “Yes,” he answered. “You know I’ve only been to the ocean twice in my life. The first time when I was really small, still a baby. Robbie wasn’t even born yet. I don’t remember it. I just found a picture of Drew, me, and my mother out on Tybee Island.”
 

He put his arms down abruptly, seeming somewhat deflated. “Drew was in my mother’s lap and they both had these huge smiles, but I was on the side on the blanket just sitting there in my diaper looking off at something else.”
 

“And the second time?” Stephen asked quickly, seeing the gloom trapped within that memory.
 

Dustin slid a glance over at Stephen and walked to him. “Tybee Island again, alone. I went out there to see the ocean for myself before I left for the military; figured if I was going to cross it, I should step up and see it first.”
 

He turned and looked at the water again while Stephen moved up behind him and pulled him into an embrace.
 

Stephen felt him stiffen and look around before relaxing back into his arms. Despite this being the gay capitol of Britain, and there being dozens of couples around them in the exact same embrace, Dustin was still very conscious of and uncomfortable with his public affection.
 

Stephen stood quietly, relishing the moment. “Are you cold?” he asked when he felt Dustin shiver.
 

“No, just thinking,” Dustin replied.
 

He squeezed Dustin tighter against him. “About what?” he asked.
 

“Not country boy thoughts, that’s for sure,” Dustin answered with a smile in his voice. He paused for a moment before he went on. “I remember looking at the waves on Tybee thinking how much they hid; how many creatures played just within the arc of the waves.”
 

He shrugged in Stephen’s arms. “Weird, I know, but...” he shrugged again. “What do you think?” he asked Stephen.
 

Stephen pulled him in closer, feeling a soft vibration of doubt course through his body. “Me?” he asked.
 

He thought about it for a moment. From Dustin’s perspective, the ocean was more than a physical barrier; it seemed an emotional one too. It was a place that was wide and deep enough that he could hide all his fears and know they would never be found. “I think you were looking for something beautiful,” Stephen answered him. “That’s what I think.”
 

What he didn’t say was that he thought Dustin also saw that he could hide all his own erroneous guilt in those waves. How his own perceived ineptitude at saving Robbie could be shifted from him and stashed away without the pain or fear of it being discovered.
 

Dustin turned and looked at Stephen with a soft sadness in his eyes. There was a time not long ago that there would have been a glint of ferocity in that stare, but those days seemed to be lessening as Dustin opened to him more and more.
 

Stephen reached up and ran his hand through the hair at the base of Dustin’s neck. “I love you, Dustin Earl, and I don’t know how to put that into better words. And for a writer that’s pretty significant.”
 

He watched Dustin search his eyes for a lie and hoped that when he did not see one there it would allow them to go further and explore their future together. But Dustin looked away before he would allow that to well up within himself.
 

“Are you afraid of that?” he asked Dustin quietly, hoping he would hear those same words mirrored in Dustin’s own voice.
 

Dustin glanced at him for a moment but didn’t say anything.
 

“You don’t have to answer,” Stephen said. “I guess…” He sighed at his sudden loss of words. “I guess I’m really asking you to ask yourself that.”
 

“Why would you ask if I was afraid if you didn’t want an answer?” Dustin challenged him.
 

Stephen looked out at the ocean for a moment before he turned back to Dustin to answer. “Because even if you don’t see it, you’re worth the effort that love takes. You’re worth it to me, and I would move to the States for you, if that’s what it took.”
 

Dustin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he shook his head and pulled away, turning to look out at the water before he spoke. “And what about your work? Your parents?” he asked.
 

“I work from home, Dustin,” Stephen answered, knowing that Dustin already knew the answers to those questions. “It would only mean a schedule adjustment, and the States might offer me better opportunities. As for my parents...” He sighed deeply, walked another few steps to where Dustin stood, and pulled him back in his grasp. He would not let Dustin escape that easily.
 

The end was coming and Stephen could feel it, and oddly enough, he felt it in Dustin’s increasing desire for physical contact. Despite the fact that he had just pulled away, Dustin was becoming increasingly touchy; the brush of a finger on Stephen’s skin; the light kiss behind his ear as he sat on the couch; the looks he got when Dustin thought he wasn’t aware of his glance; the passion of their love making, something he hadn’t thought could get any more intimate.
 

“I’ll never get the answers I want, Dustin,” Stephen replied. “And to be honest, I think Colette may have been right. I don’t know that knowing the circumstances would give me any closure. They’d still be dead and I would still be that twelve-year-old kid that never got to say goodbye.”
 

Dustin stiffened in Stephen’s grasp before he spoke. “It wouldn’t work.”
 

Stephen looked at the back of his head and moved to nuzzle his lips behind Dustin’s ear. “You’re probably right,” he whispered softly, feeling Dustin let go of his sudden anxiety. “There’d be all that paperwork, the sex, the visa, more sex, the work permits, immigration, and more sex.” He sighed loudly to emphasize his point.
 

Dustin glanced over his shoulder with a small, but still apprehensive grin.
 

Stephen shrugged, and gave him a light smile. “I’ve got to pay for it somehow. Just think about it, that’s all I’m asking you. It wouldn’t be anything that could happen overnight. It could take months, so there’s no sense in getting upset about it. I just want you to know that I’m willing, that’s all. If Robbie can’t come here, I’ll go there. Whatever it takes.”
 

Dustin looked at him for a moment longer and then nodded before he turned back to the water without giving an answer.
 

Chapter 19

London
 

It was the end. Stephen felt it as soon as Dustin woke up that morning. He felt it in Dustin’s demeanor; grappled with the physical sensation of tension Dustin had wound around himself as a shield against their emotions.
 

Dustin had become a habit in his flat in the last month. He was a presence that Stephen did not know how he could do without. When they awoke together the sun shone; his writing came easier; his life felt like it was finally blossoming. All of that was about to be gone, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it but watch it happen.
 

“But don’t you get tired of pretending?” Stephen asked when Dustin had finally voiced his intention and started packing. He glanced out the window and took note that the weather outside was hard and cold and wet and matched his gray disposition almost exactly.
 

“I’ve done it my whole life,” Dustin answered him as he threw clothes into a suitcase. “But it wasn’t like I was trying to be someone else. It’s just me, little ole fucked up me trying to survive. What would you call it?” he asked metaphorically. He thought about it for a moment. “My own yellow honesty or something poetic like that?
 

“Dustin….”
 

“Stephen, there is nothing at home for me to be
gay
about. Nothing, no one. You still don’t seem to understand that. It’s not the totality of who I am; it’s just a part of me.” He looked at Stephen for a moment. “And even if I had the impulse, who would I tell?” Dustin asked with some exasperation.
 

“Robbie,” Stephen answered immediately.
 

Dustin looked away, a guilty frown on his face. “He has enough on his plate.”
 

“In other words, you don’t want him disappointed because his big brother is a bum chum, a faggot,” Stephen spat out, his pain lashing out at that which he could not change. But even as he said it he remembered how good he had eventually become at turning off his emotions; how good he became at acting like a well adjusted child; like a praise-worthy college lad; and later, like a successful, unperturbed writer, all of it a lonely, desperate act of survival.
 

Dustin’s eyes lit with anger for a moment and then the anger faded. The words obviously wounded him but he saw the same pain reflected in Stephen’s eyes. These were hurting times, and as the undecided date had come to fruition, Dustin had reconsidered the fact that maybe Robbie had been right about the words that flowed during those times when misery was the primary voice.
 

“Dustin, I’m tired of being alone, tired of worn out memories and porn and fake blokes... please,” Stephen begged him.
 

“Is that what I am to you, a fake bloke?” Dustin asked, appearing to zero in on something outside himself.
 

Stephen shook his head adamantly. “No, you’re the most genuine person I have ever met. Which is why I.... please, Dustin, stay.”
 

“I never told you that I was staying, Stephen, never. You knew this day would come.” The harshness of Dustin’s words sounded hollow amidst the genuine sorrow they held.
 

Yes, Stephen knew this, and like Dustin, even though he had secretly pined for someone to fill the gap in his life, he had never planned on letting anyone into his heart. At least not to the depth that Dustin had gotten to. It was too painful. They both knew this, and yet here they were.
 

And when they realized it, when they had melted together, how did they pull themselves apart? How could they? How, when everything they ever wanted stood in front of each of them; when even the smallest absence made them ache inside? If they had some other lives... some remote existence where their history didn’t dictate...
 

“I never wanted any of this, Stephen. I wanted to be normal,” Dustin said suddenly.
 

“Normal? What’s that? Don’t fool yourself, Dustin. You never really wanted that at all. You wanted that shiny medal they give straight blokes that says they’re
normal
even if they did jerk off with their mates as a kid,” Stephen countered.
 

“Is that such a bad thing?” Dustin asked him, already seeming weary of the argument.
 

Stephen exhaled. He didn’t want it to end like this; didn’t want Dustin to leave him with anger in his heart. “It’s not a bad thing, Dustin, but it’s not a
thing
we’re talking about. It’s your life, your human life at which you have exactly one chance to be happy. When do you get your chance? When do life’s requirements get put aside so you can find some peace too?”
 

Dustin dropped his gaze to the floor. “It’s not always about what you want, Stephen. A lot of it is about what’s right, and not what makes you happy. And going back home, looking out for Robbie, that’s what’s right.”
 

“The cowboy way.” Stephen spat it out like the pseudo-religious bullshit credo he thought it was. When Dustin had stepped into his life, Stephen had examined it, looked at all the empty spaces and watched the wind that travelled through it. He saw the small pockets the wind caught in and made the mistake of believing he had a chance at happiness.
 

But it was only when the wind calmed, when Dustin had slowed all motion that Stephen honestly felt alive and grounded, vested in a rich loam in which he could set down roots and grow. And Dustin was that soil, that rich, dark, mushy loam that rooted him.
 

“I honestly don’t know if I would stay if things were different,” Dustin told him. “I’m sorry, Stephen. I know that’s not what you want to hear and maybe it would be different with time, but not right now.”
 

And so the roots of his life were once again ripped from the ground; only this time they were deep and heavy, and he knew he would not survive this upending. “So you never loved me, despite what you said,” he choked out.
 

But Dustin had never uttered those exact words and Stephen had always worried over this point. What if he had not been the person that stepped out of the pub at the instant Dustin’s taxi had pulled up? Who would be chasing his balloons now? Could it have been anyone? And who now would be listening to the pinpricks that deflated each balloon and sent it pummeling to earth?
 

Dustin looked at him directly. “That’s not it at all, Stephen. The problem here is that you think love will take all the pain away, like it does for characters in a book. It’s not that easy, Stephen, and not that simple; despite all your bards and how much we’d like that to be true. It isn’t. Love isn’t going to
fix
me, or you. It’s not a laxative that just helps you shit out all the crap you’d rather forget.”
 

“I can be broken, I don’t mind that. I don’t need to be fixed,” Stephen said, grasping at something he hoped would change this moment.
 

“I mind it, for both of us.”
 

“And what about Junior Bennet?” Stephen asked suddenly.
 

Junior was the reason Dustin had decided to join the military and ultimately go out on the night he met Stephen, despite what Robbie and Miss Emily thought about his entry into the service or what they would think later.
 

He had been sitting in Melvin’s waiting for Robbie to finish up so they could go fishing. As he sat there and stared out the window he watched an old lady pull out of the parking lot right in front of Junior as he barreled down the road.
 

Junior was on his new motorcycle on his way to Daytona for a rally. He’d been talking about it for months and had saved and scraped to buy and fix up an old Hog from old man Dixon.  He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and thanks to the old lady that never saw him, he ended up face down on the pavement, smashed against it like a cartoon character. Standing over his body as he waited for the sheriff to arrive had made Dustin realize that he wanted at least one memory he could hold onto; one real feeling that he could cherish. Junior had never gotten his, and he didn’t want to end up like that.
 

“Stephen, you gave me that memory, don’t you understand?” Dustin said gently.
 

“But we could have so many more...” Stephen said.
 

But Dustin turned from him because he knew the truth of those words too. They both knew that if Dustin stayed any longer he would pull Stephen into his warmth and never leave. And every day after that Dustin would scrape his own guts out worrying about Robbie and how he was being treated. Because in the end, he still felt Robbie’s accident was his fault; that he should have saved him somehow. And since he couldn’t change that fact either, he had to be there for him now, like a big brother was supposed to be. He thought he had failed to do when it counted and for that failure, for not being there when it counted, his own happiness was the cost.
 

“Everyone needs to be loved, Dustin, needs to be held and feel wanted,” Stephen called out as Dustin grabbed his suitcase and walked away from the flat.
 

Dustin stopped and glanced back at him with a gloom around his eyes. He could have taken the easy way out, could have left in the middle of the night without saying a word. But he didn’t. He’d stayed to say goodbye.
 

“Do they?” he asked.
 

“Yes, they do,” Stephen answered, his voice breaking.
 

And then Dustin was gone; and the separate tears they shared and the catching whisper of a breath they both felt, fell to a sob in two different places as Dustin got into the taxi he had waiting and pushed towards Gatwick to make his way home.