A Clean Break (Gay Amish Romance Book 2) (15 page)

David took a deep breath to slow the pounding of his heart. He’d napped
again
? He’d never slept so much in his life.
Idle. Lazy. Useless
. His stomach churned, and food was the last thing on his mind. “Whatever you want. Thank you.”

“How did I know you’d say that? All right, let’s do pizza. It’s easy.” Aaron perched on the arm at the other end of the couch with the cordless phone and pressed buttons.

After pushing himself up to sit properly, David blinked at the television. It was getting dark outside, and the blue light from the TV flickered through the room. The show about friends living in New York was on, laughter ringing out as a monkey pulled a woman’s hair. He wondered if anyone in San Francisco had a pet monkey.

“I’m on hold,” Aaron said. “They’re always busy on a Friday. How was your day?”

“Fine. Good.” David reached for the remote control and pressed the mute button as a commercial came on. The commercials seemed to be so much louder.

“Did you get your email address?”

He nodded. “I emailed June with it.”

“Your first email! It’s cool, huh? Any problems signing up?”

“No.” Truthfully it had taken far longer than it should have. He’d wracked his brain for a password for almost an hour. It had taken almost as long again to peck out a simple message to June.

“Did you find the real estate site okay? See any spaces with potential?”

“A few maybe. I have to look more.”

“If you want to bookmark the ones you like, we can—” Aaron held up his finger. “Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery.” He stood and paced idly around the living room as he spoke.

While Aaron rattled off his address and ordered dinner from a stranger, David glanced at the laptop computer on the ottoman guiltily. He’d found the website Aaron had written down for him, but then he’d stared at the pages of pictures and listings with no idea of where to start.

The information on the sites was supposed to be in English, but David could barely understand half of it. There were lists of words that seemed to be missing letters.
UTCL. Wtr pd. Sec dep. TRSH
. Then there were the prices, which made him feel positively sick.

As much as he wanted to find a place to work, there was so much to figure out first that when he tried, he felt completely overwhelmed and ended up watching TV or taking a nap. It was nonsense, and he woke each time with the familiar sinking sensation.

Naps!
He’d only ever slept during the day the rare times he was sick in bed. Yet this week David realized with shame he’d napped every single afternoon. Isaac was at school, and here he was lounging about on the soft couch as if he hadn’t a responsibility in the world.

Aaron yawned widely. “Sorry—long week,” he said to the person on the other end of the phone.

A long week of work while David sat around uselessly, and Jen had worked even harder. She seemed to get very little sleep, and was saving people’s
lives
. Yet she appeared to thrive on the pressure. He supposed it was like the way Mother had practically scrubbed off a layer of skin on her hands along with every speck of dirt from the house in the days before they hosted church. She’d never seemed happier.

Was she still in the wheelchair?
Mary and Anna had already had so much extra work to do. There would be no napping or lying around for them.

“Thanks. Have a good night.” Aaron pressed the big button on the phone and placed it on the glass table in the corner. “Hey, do you want a beer? I’m having one.” He flicked on the overhead light.

“Sure.” David rubbed his face blearily.

Almost a whole week gone by and nothing to show for it but an email address and the bank card that arrived in the mail. Although he’d had the account at the local branch near Zebulon for a few years, June had always dealt with the transactions and given him cash. Now he’d be doing it all himself.

He’d planned to walk to one of the bank machines, but every time he’d contemplated going out alone into the noise and commotion of the streets, he hesitated. Then the day had somehow disappeared, and he was still in his sweatpants.

Aaron handed him a beer and flopped down on the other end of the couch. He pulled off his red socks and put his feet on the ottoman as he took a long swallow from the bottle. “TGIF.”

The bottle was cold in David’s hand, the condensation soaking into his skin. He pondered the letters. Perhaps this was the same kind of slang the real estate website used. “Uh… T…”

Aaron laughed. “Sorry. That means ‘thank God it’s Friday.’ It’s what people say at the end of the week when they’re looking forward to the weekend. My brain is fried. I love those kids, but they’re exhausting.” He groaned. “And I don’t even want to think about how much grading I have to do. Not to mention organize the next PTA meeting and—no. It’s Friday, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” David had no idea what a PTA was, but it all sounded…complicated. He sipped his beer, sighing as the cool liquid slid down his throat. He hadn’t even realized he was thirsty. Beer was a little bitter, but he liked the bubbles.

“You feeling okay?”

Shifting under Aaron’s gaze, David took another sip. “Yes. Of course.”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I know it must be different now that Isaac’s been at school all week.”

“It’s fine.” The rebuttal came automatically.

“It’s different, though, right? You’re used to a house full of people. It’s an adjustment. I know you must miss Isaac.”

David shrugged as his cheeks heated. “I see him every night. He’ll be home any minute.”

“When he’s here you’re…lighter,” Aaron mused. “You get this look, like he’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

Looking everywhere but at Aaron, David tried to think of something to say.

“It’s not a criticism.” Aaron stretched out his leg and nudged David’s knee with his foot. “It’s great to see. You know he’s crazy about you, right? He was telling me what a good teacher you are. How patient and understanding. I think he would have waxed poetic all day if he hadn’t had classes. Oh, that means to talk glowingly about something.”

David smiled, feeling looser in his shoulders and settling into the cushions. “He said that?”

“That, and a lot more. If you’d joined the church, it really would have broken his heart.”

“Mine too,” David replied quietly. “I knew it would never work. I knew it, but I didn’t do anything about it.” He grimaced. “Look at me now. There are all these things I need to get done, and instead I’m taking
naps
.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. If I had a nickel for every time I’d had a nap instead of just writing an essay and getting it done, I’d—well, I’d have at least a dollar. There’s a word for it that you’ve probably never heard: procrastination.”

“Procrastination,” David repeated, rolling it on his tongue. He finished his beer, and his head buzzed pleasantly. His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten lunch.

“We all do it, believe me. Speaking of which, did you ever get that letter to your mom finished? It seemed like it was stressing you out. Understandably.”

“I did.” Of course it was still sitting upstairs on the dresser in an envelope. He needed to buy a stamp, a task which had felt somehow like a mountain to climb. “I said I was sorry, and that it wasn’t anything they’d done. That I hoped they were well, and Mother’s leg was healing. That I’d send more money when I could.” He peeled down a strip of the damp label on the beer bottle. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

Aaron sighed. “Honestly, I don’t think it matters what you say. There’s only ever going to be one thing she wants to hear—that you’re going home and joining the church. If you’re not Amish, you’ll never be good enough in their eyes.”

David swallowed thickly. He knew it was the truth, but hearing it aloud made it more real. “Did you ever write your parents?”

“Dozens of times.” Aaron leaned his head back on the cushions, his gaze on the window distant. “I never mailed them. I knew I was shunned for leaving after being baptized, and they’d just tell me I was going to hell if I didn’t come back to the true path. There was nothing I could say that would ever convince them otherwise. But it made me feel better to write it all down anyway.”

“Did you keep them?”

“I burned them.” He huffed out a laugh. “It was all very dramatic. I was working on a dairy farm north of here up in Marin County. After I left Red Hills, I bounced around for a while, working odd jobs where I could. There was a couple who took me in, and they had a friend out here who needed a farmhand. That’s how I ended up on the west coast.” He drained his bottle. “One of the good things about being ex-Amish is that we have a great reputation for being hard workers. He sent me a bus ticket and took a chance on me.”

When Aaron grew silent, David wasn’t sure if he should prompt him to continue or not. He waited.

Aaron shook his head. “Sorry—I was lost in memories there for a minute. It’s been a long time now since I’ve shoveled cow shit.” He chuckled. “Can’t say I miss it too much. Anyway, I had this stack of letters stuffed in the bottom of my backpack, and one night in the bunkhouse after a few beers, I took them out and read them all. Then I borrowed a lighter from a guy named Curly—a man who was completely bald, by the way—went outside, and torched them.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“You know what? It did. There was hardly any moon, but the stars were so bright. I breathed in the smoke and watched the paper curling into the orange flames. It was like a ritual. Not long after that I came to the city and got my GED. Started my new life. You’ll do it too. Just take it one step at a time.”

Tears pricked at David’s eyes, a swell of hope and gratitude flowing through him.
One step at a time
. Before he could respond, a key turned in the front door, and surprisingly cold air blustered in.

“Hey, little brother,” Aaron called out.

His cheeks ruddy, Isaac appeared from the entryway. His smile faltered as he looked at David. “Is everything okay?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Aaron replied. “We’ve got cold beer in the fridge, hot pizza’s on the way, and you can tell us all about what you did at school today.” He stood and took David’s empty bottle along with his own. “Oh, and I was thinking we should go out to a bar tomorrow night and have some fun. Yes?”

Nervous excitement rippled through David, and as he watched the grin light up Isaac’s face, he shook off his earlier doldrums. “Yes,” he agreed.

As Aaron disappeared to the kitchen, Isaac sat close to David, kissing him quickly. “How was your day?”

“Great,” David lied. He did feel better after talking to Aaron, and there was no sense in burdening Isaac with his stupid mess of feelings and sloth. Not when Isaac was clearly vibrating with happiness. “How about you?”

“I think I made a friend. More than one, even. I ate lunch with them, and we talked, and they were really nice. I think they actually like me.”

David smiled for real. “Of course they do, unless they’re dummies.” 

Soon he buzzed with more beer, and the three of them ate pizza in the living room right from the box. Isaac talked animatedly about an assignment he’d been given
—”It’s a real book, and it’s not about the Bible at all!”
—and David relaxed. It might be procrastination, but he’d enjoy tonight and figure everything out tomorrow.

There seemed to be just as much traffic on Saturday night as there was during the weekdays. David peered out from the back of Aaron’s Toyota, taking in all the lights and movement. He wasn’t sure where they were in the city, but the storefronts squeezed between cafes and restaurants were pretty to look at.

He realized his seatbelt was twisted across his chest, and he straightened it, smoothing a palm down the buttons on his new shirt beneath his open jacket. It was made from a synthetic material the color of red wine and was soft against his skin. He wore it untucked over the skinny jeans that felt too tight to be wearing in public. But Aaron said they were in fashion, and Isaac had nodded enthusiastically when David put them on.

As he fingered the strap of the seatbelt, he thought of the buggies back home, and how the only thing protecting them there was God’s will. He closed his eyes briefly as the memories of blood and snow returned. If Mary had hit the tree, she would surely have died. He thanked God that she and Mother had survived, but if Zebulon allowed the safety triangles on buggies, it might have been avoided. Why did the accident have to happen at all?

You know why
.

But if it had truly been to punish him for his sins, then what would become of his family now that he sinned openly? Would the Lord punish him again by hurting them, but worse this time? Or would Isaac be next? Concentrating on breathing, David forced his gaze back to the storefronts they passed, and watched the people on the sidewalks going about their lives.

“We’re going to meet Clark and Dylan at the bar,” Aaron said. “Clark was in the wedding pictures, remember? And Isaac, remember that you’re not allowed to drink. You can get in since you’re eighteen, but you can’t drink until you’re twenty-one.”