Until There Was You (11 page)

"I still write her letters," Nate said, breaking the quiet.

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. When I don't know what else to do. I think all of my books have sort have been letters to her."

"I feel that when I read them. Plus, that was a nice segue." David grinned. "I wanted to ask you for a favor."

"No," Nate said, deadpan.

"What do you mean?" David asked, clearly confused.

"Every time I do you a favor, I end up hanging upside down off a building, or on a boat to Amsterdam, or enrolling in night school…" Nate counted the strange things he had done because of David on his fingers. "I could go on. Our summer trip to Prague, when you came to the city over spring break."

"Nate, just because I suggest something doesn't mean you have to do it. If you weren't so susceptible to peer pressure, then none of those things would have happened. And anyway, this favor isn't like that. I want you to come and talk to the creative writing class at the school. I think they would really respond to you."

"Oh, okay. Then no," Nate said, shrugging. "It's crazy that you're the head teacher… When did you become smart enough to be responsible for the young minds of our fair country? I wonder if the school knows about the month you spent eating only ramen noodles and Jack Daniel's." Nate smiled widely and ate a handful of peanuts.

"Hey, I took vitamins too! But why won't you do it? It'll be an hour of your life; just answer some questions that they have, talk to them about what it is like to be a writer, and get outta there," David said, adopting his best car salesman voice.

"I don't know anything about being a writer!" Nate moaned.

"What do you mean? You make your money writing."

"Yeah, but I'm not a
writer
. I just sort of talk about my life and then my editor makes sure that it makes sense. Believe me, I am not the person that you want talking to your kids. I've had to completely redraft my next book and it's all over the place." It wasn't that he didn't want to help David out, but he genuinely didn't think he had any insight to give. He had fallen into writing and it had almost impossibly worked out. But he was hardly the image of the whiskey-swilling, truth-telling, mad-haired author. He didn't have any deep and meaningful lessons about the craft. He just typed what he felt and prayed that others would feel the same way. He couldn't put it any more scientifically than that. "Who's the editor of the
Grandview Times
now? Maybe they could come and talk about journalism; it's infinitely more respectable than being a romance memoirist. And a romance memoirist who doesn't even have a relationship, at that!"

"Cameron and Aimee edit the paper together," David said, talking a satisfied gulp of his third beer.

"What?! Are they still together?" Nate asked.

"No, divorced years ago, very bitter, but neither of them will give up the paper. They write these bitchy editorials about each other—it's kind of hilarious." David brushed some invisible lint off his jeans. "But
I
think you're a writer, and the kids really want to hear you, and I've already scheduled you in, so you can't back out—unless you want to dash the hopes and dreams of a bunch of fragile artsy types. That would make you a very bad man." David opened his eyes wide and looked at Nate pleadingly.

Nate stayed silent for a few agonizing seconds before breaking into a wide grin and punching David playfully on the shoulder. "Fine. I'll do it. But only because I think you need all the help you can get. That school must be falling down around the student's ears."

David smiled back, relieved. "Thank you. I have you booked in for next Wednesday at nine. Brace yourself for a lot of adolescent angst; I think they have a lot of stories to tell you. You know, the fact that I know you has made me about one thousand percent more popular. Who knew you were such a literary superstar? Who knew you even had anything interesting to say?" Dave drained his drink and stretched his long arms above his head. "I better go. I have to be at work at six tomorrow."

"So you force me to do what you want me to do and then leave me? I knew there was a reason I didn't want to come here tonight."

David grinned. "You know me; I just love you and leave you. Every time." He stood up from the stool and pulled Nate into another bear hug. He thumped the back of Nate's back, then twisted around and walked out of the bar. Nate saw him turn around briefly and wave before he was enveloped in the darkness of the parking lot.

Nate sat back down on his stool and looked at the varnished dark wood of the table. He thought about Jen and David and tried to dredge up a memory of the three of them lazily boating down the river, chatting and splashing and telling each other their dreams for the future and stories of the past. It was hard for him to comprehend that the girl he had known, and the woman she had matured into, was no longer around. He inhaled deeply to suppress the shiver of sadness that settled in his stomach. He drank the last of his beer and got up to leave. He put his coat on quickly and jumped when he heard a deep voice behind him, startling him from automatic pilot.

"I got you another one. I thought… Well, I saw you by yourself and that David had gone, so I thought you might want to have a drink." The voice was smooth and gravelly at the same time, like an old-school soul singer. There was a hint of nervousness in its reassuring tone.

Nate spun around on his heel and nearly fell over. He hadn't seen Abel Jones in ten years, something which he had been thankful for. As the school bully, Abel had spent a significant portion of his academic career making Nate feel bad that he wasn't like the other kids in class. They'd been on the football team together, a fact that made Abel target him even more. Abel had called Nate a fag long before any of them were really old enough to know what that meant; he had refused to stand by Nate in the lunch line and always refused to throw the ball for Nate to catch.

Abel had treated Nate like he had some kind of disease and, pretty quickly, other kids followed suit. Abel was not somebody that people wanted to upset, especially not in the jungle of the high school social hierarchy. Nate had only began to discover the borders of his own sexuality when people had started telling him that it was wrong—most of them because of Abel's unrelenting, years-long hate march. Seeing him all these years later, even after so much water was under the bridge, gave him the same feelings of anger, fear, and apprehension that he had experienced as an adolescent. He didn't know what to say; the feeling of being in the past was too overwhelming. He wanted to move, but his feet were glued to the ground.

"Nate. Do you remember me? My name is Abel, Abel Jones. I went to school with you." Abel stood awkwardly, which looked strange on somebody so handsome. Abel was tall and broad, with dark, quaffed hair and strong muscles. He was wearing a slightly too-tight T-shirt that clung to his big shoulders. Nate couldn't help but look at Abel's scruffy facial hair and crystal-blue eyes. He wanted to be angry, but Abel's general handsomeness threw him off.

"Ummm..." Nate said dryly.

"Nate?" Abel said in a concerned tone. "Are you okay?"

"Abel... Yes. I remember you. I hate you, and you tend to remember people that you hate." Nate sat down, feeling disorientated and discombobulated.  He really wanted to stand up for his teenage self, but he couldn't gather his thoughts properly; they kept crashing up against each other. Nate knew he was angry with Abel, but that anger kept clashing with his anger at Joshua and at his parents and at losing his house and at having to parent Bailey alone. There was too much anger to verbalize. Nate was afraid that it would turn into sadness the moment it became audible, and he knew he could deal with anger better than sadness. He swallowed back his emotions and looked down at his shoes.

Abel looked embarrassed, wincing like he had touched something hot. He put a glass on the table and slid it towards Nate tentatively. Nate took a sip and shook some of the anguish out of his body, loosening up the muscles. Nate wanted to scream or smash something; he just wanted to uncork his feelings and let them exist outside of his body. He wanted them to wreak havoc somewhere where he didn't have to deal with them or take ownership of them.

"I know that we weren't exactly friends in school," Abel began apologetically. He looked a little more comfortable, but he was still adopting a defensive stance, as if Nate might suddenly attack. Nate couldn't help but smile at the idea that someone so physically commanding could be scared of anyone so broken and exhausted.

"You made my life pretty terrible.
Very
terrible, every day. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..."

"I get it. I was a big jerk," Abel said, cutting off Nate's growing rant.

"Like, the worst jerk in the world," Nate added. He still felt a little dumbstruck, so 'jerk' was about the harshest word he could think of.

"The very worst jerk. Bigger than any jerk who has come before me or will come after. I was a jerk of biblical proportions." Abel nodded sadly.

"You used to write me horrible letters and put them in my locker." Nate winced at the memory, surprised he was still harboring so much resentment. Nate could manifest the image of himself as a kid reading the letters on the bus back home like he was watching a movie. Every time, Nate had hoped that the scratchy lettering would say something nice, or even a little less mean, and it never did. It was always some dig at the way Nate walked, or the fact that he read a lot, or was one of the only members of the school's AV club. He wanted to make it up to that boy; to meet him at the bus stop and tell him that there was a whole wide world outside of his little town and that he would get to collect stories that were fun and powerful. Nate wanted to reassure him that his whole life wouldn't be a series of never-ending storm clouds.

"I remember that. But that's genuine dedication, that's proper commitment; people try years before they get that kind of reliability." Abel smiled, but he looked apologetic and embarrassed, his words imbued with a quiet hope for forgiveness.

"You made the whole football team hate me. I wasn't invited to one football party. Although I'm kind of grateful for that because I'm pretty sure that a football party would be my personal idea of hell. I didn't have one friend on the team; if I hadn't been so fast, I think they would have made me leave by force." Nate couldn't stop himself from sounding a little devastated. He hoped and prayed that Bailey would never have to go through any kind of bullying. He'd discussed it with Joshua a lot before they decided to have a kid. Nate had been worried that having two dads would make Bailey a target for mean kids, but Joshua had convinced him that everything would be okay. It was something that Nate had remained aware of and monitored closely, but so far, Joshua had been right, and there had been very few incidents.

"I know that I was awful to you. But I was really mixed up. I couldn't get a handle on myself. I was scared of the world, so I took it out on you. Because you made me angry. Your whole being made me angry." Nate noticed that Abel looked everywhere except into his eyes; it was disconcerting, revealing that there was more to say than was being said. Nate couldn't escape the feeling that there was some other conversation going on, some undercurrent that he didn't have access to. Nate was caught between wanting to be supportive and wanting to throw his drink over Abel.

"How could I have made you angry? I tried to be nice to you all the time and you just threw it in my face. I spent so much time wondering what I had done to you to make you such a dick. I think that's why I can't do algebra. I might have been a mathematician if it wasn't for you being a massive dick. I would definitely have been able to concentrate better without you throwing stuff at me every class." Nate felt his cheeks warm as he spoke.

"Why? Did you have an aptitude for other math things?" Abel asked.

"No. Not at all—my son's pre-school homework confuses me. I'm, like, legally brain dead when it comes to math, but that's probably your fault. You scumbag," Nate said, warming up. He felt a little further away from the scared kid who had spent so much time being afraid of handsome, aggressive Abel. He felt like he was stronger now, willing to give some fight.

"I'm not sure that I can be blamed for your lack of mathematic prowess."

"I think you can," Nate nodded, smiling slightly. He didn't know how to get the balance right; he wanted to show Abel that he was stronger now, that he had moved on from the frustration and sadness that he had felt as a teenager, but also wanted Abel to know how much his taunting had hurt. He wanted to be able to wave a flag for the people who had grown up different and declare victory for them all. Nate really, really wanted some kind of victory.

"Okay. I'll take that one. You can't do math because I was awful," Abel admitted. He rubbed his hands together nervously. Abel's hands were large and rough and Nate wondered what Abel did for a living. A part of him hoped it was something depressing. Then he felt guilty about wanting it and shook his head as if he could dislodge his lingering bitterness.

"Very awful," Nate added.

"Very, very, extremely, extraordinarily, outrageously awful," Abel agreed. "Would you like another drink?" he asked, nodding his head towards Nate's empty glass.

"Sure."

Abel laughed hard and for a long time, tipping his weight backwards and almost falling off his stool. Nate felt like he could melt into the laugh, it was so boisterous and heartfelt. Nate wanted to have his defenses up; he still wanted to be harsh to Abel, to make him feel like he had felt all those years ago at school. But Abel was smart and handsome and, most surprisingly, kind. Nate didn't want to betray his younger self—he wanted to stand up for the person he'd been—but there was something so freeing about Abel's company. It felt strange but good being relaxed and having fun around him.

"You said I made you angry at school… I still don't get that. I was always kind of innocuous, I think. I wasn't very anger inducing," Nate said, the world losing its edges because of the beer and the new ease between them.