What It Takes (17 page)

Andrew has hundreds of questions: questions he’s thought up during conversation and bitten back; questions that wake him in the night, then haunt him into dreams that hurt; questions born of seeing the truth behind Milo’s changes.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me something,” Andrew says. Milo waits, then raises an eyebrow. “Just something. Something I don’t know.”

Milo considers him for a minute. His brow is creased, more freckled than it was when he came back to Santuit a few weeks ago. Andrew wonders if he’ll ever stop wanting to play with his hair. It must be the color, because Andrew’s never suffered from a compulsive need to touch anyone else’s hair.

“I once went to someone to have them try to balance my chakras,” Milo says finally. Andrew bites his lip and tries not to laugh, because Milo looks dead serious. Then he smiles widely and Andrew lets himself crack up.

“This is probably rude,” he says once he’s caught his breath.

“No, it’s cool. It’s not a bad thing. It works for people? Or, they let it? I don’t know. It wasn’t for me. I had such a hard time keeping a straight face. She was so earnest, too!”

“I’m having a hard time imagining that, or you being so rude as to laugh.”

“Well.” Milo shrugs. His cheeks are still pink. “I didn’t actually laugh, although I really wanted too. I bet it totally messed with the balancing.”

“Hey,” Andrew says, “don’t knock laughter; I hear it’s the best medicine.”

There’s a silence when they make eye contact, and then they burst into laughter loud enough to draw looks. Milo looks good with his face creased in laughter, shoulders shaking and body lighter in its lines. It’s nice to be able to do this again.

“I have to get back to work,” Andrew says eventually and with reluctance. “But I’m glad we ran into each other. I’ve been thinking about your mom. And you.”

“Oh?”

Andrew can’t read his smile. “I mean—” he stops. “I mean because of your mom, and her surgery.” He shuts his mouth before he makes anything worse. “Anyway, yeah. We should hang out. I hear the weather is going to be great this weekend.”

“Yeah, definitely. Text me, we’ll figure something out. Ted said something the other day about a barbecue.”

“Great.” Andrew rubs the palms of his hands against the tops of his thighs and then shrugs awkwardly and backs out the door.

chapter eleven

“
Let’s get away,” Dex says over dinner that night.

“Away?” Andrew puts his fork down.

“Yeah. I don’t know. Let’s go to Boston or New York or D.C., or
somewhere
. Maybe next weekend. You can get the time, right?”

“Well, Milo and Ted and I were thinking about doing a barbeque thing that weekend.”

“But that can be any weekend, right?” The insistence in his voice sparks a little alarm. Dex’s eyes are wide; tension is tight around his mouth. “I can get all of next weekend free.”

“Is everything all right, Dex?” Andrew doesn’t resume eating despite his hand’s desire to do something mundane and natural.

“I don’t know. I feel…” Dex takes a sip of water and a deep breath. “Hemmed in. Restless?”

Andrew refrains from pointing out that they live in proximity to beaches and wide open spaces and nature. That a city, literally, is more hemming. Because he knows that’s not what Dex means.

“Don’t you ever just want to get out of here?” Dex continues.

No.

Andrew doesn’t say that, though. He reaches forward to take Dex’s hand and swallows his trepidation. There’s a lot of unhappiness in Dex’s tone, enough that Andrew wants to ask if a getaway is going to be a solution or a Band-Aid. He puts on a smile and squeezes his fingers.

“Where do you want to go?”

°

That night, Andrew watches Dex’s back as he breathes deeply in dreams. He traces the constellation smatter of freckles lightly and thinks of how easily he gave in. He agreed with Dex’s suggestion of New York, picked dates, shuffled work conflicts. He texted Milo, who was understanding, and decided to put off the barbeque until the following weekend, if Ted and Sarah were game. He pretended excitement and ignored the tension that sat between them the rest of the evening. Andrew is alone by the water more and more. The slow, steady beat of living in a Cape tourist town makes Dex crazy. Dex is in many ways like the boy Andrew was a long time ago: hungry for noise and the glitter and the bright wire nights of city living.

Andrew kissed Dex goodnight with every ounce of love and care he could muster. The long silence between the kiss and Dex’s eyes closing in acquiescence was honest. Andrew touched Dex’s eyebrow and ear lightly, and wished for words or deeds or changes that might fix something, anything. He held him carefully until he rolled away in sleep. The hushed night slipping through the open window whispers hopes he wants to cling to. Andrew tells himself it won’t matter in the end. The strength of their commitment will help them find a compromise.

° ° °

It’s been
a long weekend alone; Shelby is up and around, mostly, and their guests have been remarkably easygoing and low maintenance; not much for him to do on that front. With the weekend, Milo promised himself a break, because he’s been working nonstop. He has no desire to blur his personal and work lives until they can’t be unglued.

He’s unsettled by how many times he picks up his phone to text Andrew. It’s not as though they’ve been seeing each other every day. But between responsibilities, the places he traverses are quiet in a way he’s now beginning to find lonely, rather than haunting. Milo has no desire to interrupt Andrew’s weekend with Dex, so he settles for upping his workouts, running farther and harder, harassing Zeke by email and going over to Ted and Kathy’s for beer and a Red Sox game on TV.

Sunday Milo heads out of the house after a late lunch. He’s restless, so he goes to the beach. It’s the height of the season, so the public beaches are packed. He has to go to the end of Pine, almost around the tip of the peninsula, to get away from the noise. The tide is low, and there are many small treasures on the sandbar for him to collect. He has music pumping loudly through his iPod because the sound of the water seems grating. After several trips back and forth, Milo sits next to his pile of found objects. The sun is low and it’s getting chilly with the waning light. He constructs a circle of stones and shells, alternating them, and then lets himself really look; he clears his mind and examines what he has and tries to let the objects choose him, and let the shape to be created speak to him.

A sudden movement on his periphery startles him. It’s Andrew, who flops onto the sand next to him with a bright smile. Milo pulls his earbuds out.

“This is cool; what is it?” Andrew asks. Milo looks at his circle.

“It’s a sand mandala with found objects,” Milo explains, and Andrew looks at him as if he’s crazy. Okay, so maybe not much of an explanation.

“Like the thing Buddhists do?”

“Uh, sort of, but not? There’s more to the history than that.”

“It’s suddenly so clear,” Andrew says, and Milo smacks his knee.

“It’s something I picked up when I started therapy. At first it seemed eccentric or hokey. It’s meant to be an exercise in mindfulness.”

Andrew looks at him for a long minute, then at the sand. “Mindfulness? How?”

“Um, well,” Milo says as he draws his fingers through the sand. “I’m not an artist—” Andrew snorts and Milo ignores him. “I can draw a circle, though. You’re supposed to try to focus on
not
focusing on a plan and immerse yourself in that moment, or that activity, to quiet your mind.”

“Quiet your mind,” Andrew repeats. Milo’s not sure how to read his tone.

“I mean, my therapist Janet had a whole spiel about the reason why, in the end, you choose what colors or shapes you do and what they might mean on a deeper level. That part was a little like the chakra thing for me.”

He glances at Andrew, but sees no judgment, only interest.

“It was nice, though, otherwise. It helped me get the hang of meditating, which is really important for working on…”

“On?”

“Oh, well, you know.” Milo fiddles with the shells between the pebbles in the circle. “Just… anxiety and stuff. I had a lot of anxiety.”

He knows Andrew remembers that. He doesn’t want to tell him how much worse things got before they got better. The sound of the water is picking up, and clouds are boiling in from the southwest. Milo tries to judge how long they have before weather drives them from the beach.

“I’m glad,” Andrew says. “That it helped, I mean.”

Milo considers asking about the sadness in the words, or why Andrew’s face seems melancholy. He has some idea but he doesn’t really want to address it right now.

“Anyway, this isn’t quite like that. Obviously. I’m not anxious right now,” Milo says, tries to cut back on the nervous babbling. “Just bored.”

“Do you—” Andrew stops and clears his throat. The wind is whipping through his hair, making the collar of his button-down shirt flutter. He’s more dressed up than usual.

“Do I?”

“Remember. That we used to do this stuff.” Andrew picks up a shell.

“I remember.” Milo’s eyes on Andrew feel like kindness, as do his words: easily shared memories that don’t hurt. Andrew’s smile is bright and sweet, but there’s something else behind his eyes.

“Do you want to finish it? Maybe it’ll help.”

“I don’t need help,” Andrew says.

Milo looks at him steadily. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” Andrew says a little sharply, and then looks away when Milo bumps their shoulders together.

“I mean it too,” Milo says. “They’re your feelings. You can still finish it, though.”

Andrew looks back at him, then down at the sand, and pokes at the shells for a second, separating them.

“Show me how?” he asks at length, and even through the whipped-up wind, it’s warm all through Milo’s bones.

° ° °

However benign
the moment he shared with Milo on the beach seemed on the surface, it didn’t feel that way to Andrew. At home he finds Dex methodically unpacking, and helps him silently, all the while wondering if he should tell Dex about it. Nothing happened, nothing that requires confession. Somehow those minutes with Milo are much too intimate to share. So he keeps quiet. If Dex notices, he probably attributes the tension between them to the way Andrew ran off to the beach the moment they got home.

That night he texts Sarah and asks her to meet him for a drink; his insides roil whenever he thinks of the conundrum he’s caught himself in.

“Hey, babe.” Sarah comes up behind Andrew where he’s sitting at the bar. She kisses his cheek and plops down on the seat. Her hair is in a high ponytail, but curled. It’s a girlish look—especially paired with the pink top she’s somehow pulling off—but not immature.

Andrew smiles at her. “You look pretty.”

“Aw, thanks.” Sarah tips her head with a smile, then signals the bartender. “So, no Dex?”

“He had…” Andrew turns his wineglass by the stem. “Okay, so, I didn’t ask him. I kind of needed someone to talk to.”

“That isn’t him.” She states bluntly.

Andrew winces. “Is that terrible?”

“No, not at all.” Sarah orders her drink, then turns her attention back to him. “Listen Andrew, I wanted to ask you this before, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but why me? We haven’t really been close in a while.”

“I know; I’m sorry.” He leans his elbow on the bar and puts his head in his hand. “It’s not because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not upset, honey. I’m just curious.”

“I haven’t really had someone to talk to who isn’t Dex in a while.”

“What about Milo?” Sarah gives him a look that is somehow innocent and suggestive at once. Andrew lets his exasperation show. “I’m just kidding. He’s what you need to talk about though, isn’t he?”

Andrew finishes his wine in one long swallow. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” The noise in the bar is rising a little. Sarah waits him out while he gathers his thoughts and calls for another drink. As much as he wanted to talk to someone about Milo, he can’t bring himself to do it.

“I had a friend in college—Nat—who was the only non-home friend I ever talked to about Milo, you know?”

“And?”

“She was my only confidant, but she wasn’t always a great one. At times, I did need some tough love, but still... Anyway, after Milo’s dad died and things happened…”

“Things?” Sarah prompts. He knows everyone has always wondered what went down between them.

“Nat and my roommate were a big part of how I managed to get out of bed and move on. Still, being friends with her, compared to Milo, in terms of trust and feeling supported, was not remotely the same. I never trusted anyone that much. Until Dex.” Andrew bites his lip.

“So it’s not just Milo, is it? You need to talk about Milo
and
Dex.”

“Yeah.” He buries his head in his hands.

She rubs his arm. “Listen, everyone has boyfriend troubles. Look at mine!”

Andrew laughs along with her. “I can’t because I’ve never met him.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I have either.”

“Sarah—”

She waves it off. “Don’t worry about it, Drew. That’s a story for another day. Right now we’re talking about your stuff. So, Milo or Dex?”

“Did you know that before we moved here, we lived in Baltimore?”

“Yeah, I think so. How was that? I’ve never been.”

“At first it was okay. But it really wasn’t for me. Dex loved it there, though, and I love him, and it was a compromise.”

“But now you’re here.”

Andrew launches into a brief explanation of their time in Baltimore and their decision to move back to Santuit. “You know, he kisses me sometimes like I’m his air. Like I shape his happiness. And I feel it too, that safety that comes from a long-time relationship, those moments when we’re totally in sync. But then something happens and I wake up and realize he might be happy with me, but he’s not happy here.”

“But you are, right?”

“Happy here, you mean?”

“If that’s the part you want to talk about, sure.”

Andrew makes a face at her. “He hasn’t said anything yet, but we have a one-year deal, and I know he’s thinking about it.”

“Have you guys talked about this?”

“No.”

“Why not? It seems like this is a big deal.”

“Sarah, I have this beautiful man I’ve let myself love, after years of not letting anyone close. But now I’m wondering if love is enough. I don’t want to give up, but something doesn’t feel right. I can’t tell what it is, but being here feels like a big part of it.”

“Andrew,” she says carefully, “Don’t you think Milo could have something to do with that, too?”

Andrew closes his eyes; they are suddenly burning with the threat of tears. He shakes his head—not because she’s wrong, but because trying to think about Milo and Dex and what’s happening in his heart is too much.

“I know this hurts, but I think it needed to be said. You’ll have to work this out eventually, right?” Sarah asks.

“You’re right.” Andrew struggles to compose himself and she tugs him over to put her arms around him. She doesn’t offer him platitudes or solutions or try to make him talk any more. He’s no closer to a solution, but the catharsis of saying things he’s been afraid to think seems like a positive step.

° ° °

Only days
later, Andrew contacts Milo to ask him to lunch.

“Hey.” Milo interrupts his thoughts. “What’s up?”

“I don’t…” Andrew pulls his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m in a mood, I guess.”

“I would have thought a weekend getaway would help pull someone
out
of a funk.”

“You’d think,” Andrew says. He plays with his silverware, lines it up perfectly, then knocks it all apart. He looks up at Milo and wonders what the limits of their new friendship are and if he can balance his changing relationships with the men in his life.

“But it didn’t?”

“Not like he—
we
, I mean, wanted?” He thinks of Dex, in bed in a nice hotel, eyes wide and voice quiet.
Will you talk to me?
he asked.
Don’t I always?
Andrew replied, and then felt a pang at the sadness in Dex’s eyes. When they kissed, and then made love, it was as if they both knew something was missing. “Sometimes I think he misses how I used to be.”

“How’s that?”

“Impulsive? Fun?” Andrew hazards. He smiles when Milo scoffs.

“Are you suddenly not fun?”