A Wealth of Unsaid Words (12 page)

more secure subject.

“Can I ask about their meaning? Those poems, how you

grouped them together. Why you didn"t title them.” Hearing

it from Robert, who had always been more comfortable with

numbers than words, startled Alex into looking over. “There

were these images you kept repeating. Distance and death

and sticky hands, always holding on, or trying to….”

Other people had titled the collection the Butterscotch

Series because the first poem had contained a few lines

about a wax paper-wrapped disc of mellow butterscotch.

Alex himself hadn"t titled them because there was only one

title that would do, and it had seemed too personal. He

supposed that was foolish, considering everything else those

poems revealed. His publisher had not been very happy

about it either.

“I"ve wondered too,” Rachel chimed in. Molly snorted,

like she thought her siblings were slow. Maybe they were.

She"d been younger and in the house more with the two of

them. She must have seen a lot.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

“Screw that,” Ty butted back in, now that the subject

was open. “I want to know what everyone else in the world

wants to know. Who those poems were about, or to, anyway.

They were clearly
for
someone. I mean look at the next line

after,
If (when) I live to be old, will I confuse dreams
…

whatever it was again.”

Ally made another noise, but said nothing. Alex had

never adored her more, not that he could look at her. There

was nowhere he could look, really, not with so many pairs of

eyes on him. Only two looked elsewhere. Molly watched her

brother pick the dough from his hands.

Ty could not stop, though his eyes were wide, and he

slapped a hand over his mouth once the words were out.

“You know, due to the years gone by hinted at in a lot of the

lines, like that, like everything was all far in the past, a lot of

people say that it was someone you went to college with, like

Strauss McKinney.” He paused and then attempted to regain

his composure. “You know, the painter.”

“I know who he is,” Alex murmured.

“You fuc—dated him in college?” Molly spun around to

gape at him. “Wow.”

Alex waited a few moments, then cleared his throat. “If

I"d intended for the world to know everything, I would have

written everything.”

“So there is someone?” Ty was young. Alex reminded

himself of that when his fingers curled into his palms and

his vision went bright.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

“That"s enough, Ty.” Molly was suddenly serious. “If Alex

told off real interviewers, what makes you think he would tell

you?”

Robert snorted a laugh.

“Maybe the mystery is the brand. Why it sells,” he added

in the next second, and Alex had the vague feeling that

Robert was trying to take some of the pressure off, though he

didn"t know why. Though he had graduated by then and

hadn"t been in school with them, he had once been on their

high school football team and had never had much in

common with Alex except for a willingness to physically

defend Everett whenever necessary.

“Mystery. That kept getting repeated too. Like it was

really all about secrets.” Ty seemed to be ready to write his

thesis on the topic. Alex didn"t feel especially flattered. He

did not know how Everett felt. Everett turned away, working

perhaps, but Alex now knew the lines of him and how they

looked under his clothes, with his eyes if not his hands. He

pictured the muscles of his back, the tension in his

shoulders, and the jut of his shoulder blades.

Ally stretched to take his hand again and perhaps to

draw his attention, and Alex"s throat tightened. He couldn"t

have answered Ty if he"d wanted to, not in that moment. He

thought, wildly, frozen, that if Everett was his, he would

have him naked every moment of the day, every moment that

was theirs, so nothing would be hidden from him ever again.

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Then he thought Everett had never hidden anything

well, and if he had wanted to know, he should just have

asked.

“I can"t always track the way my mind works.” Alex

dismissed the subject once he could talk again, and took

another cookie though his mouth was dry. “You liked the

poems, I take it?” He raised his eyebrows. “Our dear Everett

didn"t.” Everyone looked at Everett, which Alex hadn"t meant

to happen, but as Everett wasn"t the only tricky one here, he

was quick to take advantage of it. “He"s never said a word

about them, at least not to me.”

Everett raised his head and turned back. His frown was

for Alex.

“I liked them, Alex. They were….” He paused as though

his chest hurt and he couldn"t draw breath. He turned to the

side and went back to working with strips of dough. “They

were beautiful. I"ve read them many times.”

That was somehow worse than Everett"s silent rejection,

Everett rereading them to reason them out yet afraid to

speak to Alex about them,
Everett
afraid. But Everett didn"t

give him a chance to reflect, though Alex"s body was

pounding with tension.

“But they are… they"re too… sad.” From his hesitation,

Alex could tell Everett was altering what he"d been about to

say. Then he shook his head and said it anyway. “They"re

without hope.”

“Melancholy is the term preferred in academic circles,”

Alex informed him slowly. He meant it to lighten the mood,

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

but the words echoed in all the empty space between them.

Everett lifted his head. Alex stared back at him.

“
Sweet seconds but stolen
,” Molly exhaled, bringing

Alex"s attention to her, bringing everyone"s attention to her.

Everett straightened with a jerk, and Alex closed his eyes,

just for a moment, at hearing those words.

“Of course they were sad,” she went on. “They"re about

despair, how it"s wanting what you can"t have, or think you

can"t have, or don"t deserve.” Molly was superior. English

majors often were. Alex should know, he taught enough of

them. “They"re about
love
, obviously. Well, and desire…

pressed against the wound / into you long beneath me /

inches waiting to be crossed by the span of my hands pull me

down / I am blind to stars /
you beg to see constellations
….”

Alex lifted his head and stared until his eyes burned at

the side of Everett"s face.

“Which is why they"re so popular, I suppose.” Molly

thankfully chose not to finish the poem and spared them all

countless lines of yearning for a trace more breath, the taste

of sweat at a swallowing throat, the stabs of pleasure at a

brave hand sliding over denim, and made a rude sound in

her throat. “That and who hasn"t wanted something they

haven"t gotten? Those poems are full of all the reasons why

he wants what he wants, which are also the reasons why he

shouldn"t have it,” she added.

“Shut up, Molly.” Everett"s voice went up before the

silence could grow anymore strained.

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A Wealth of Unsaid Words • R. Cooper

“You can"t tell me to shut up, just because you"re the

great Everett who gets to do whatever he wants,” Molly

started in, doubtlessly giving Everett a hard stare. It lasted

until her mother told her to be quiet too. Then she turned

back to gasp at her mother. “Of course you take his side.”

“Molly.” Robert broke in, giving her a significant look,

and then oddly, an eye roll. “There"s no use fighting it, just

be quiet.” Molly made a sound, not really amused, more

frustrated, but Alex moved his gaze and his thoughts away

from her and returned to Everett.

He was looking, but Everett would not look back as he

went on. “Don"t be fooled, not all of that is his brain

chemistry or his tragic, romantic genius. He will revel in his