Listening to Dust (8 page)

Chapter 14

The Diner
 

Miss Emily watched Stephen for a moment before she reached out and clasped his hand. She squeezed once without saying a word, just like Colette would do. But this wasn’t Colette; this woman was just one more part of this horrific town; this town that had demanded and taught Dustin how to hush his heart; this town that had showed him how terrible things happened to boys who did things like that.
 

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Miss Emily said as she pulled her hand away. “I made a promise to Dustin never to say anything, but it’s an unnecessary promise now.”
 

She pulled in a long breath before she continued. “He didn’t want to leave you, Stephen, not at all. When he came back here he had such a gloom about him that everyone, including myself, thought that something had happened; that he had been forced out of the military or something similar. I can’t say I was too proud of myself once I knew the truth, but failure is a product of this town just as much as peanuts and pecans are, so it wasn’t too far of a stretch.”
 

“See, Mr. Stephen, like I said, he came back to care for his dummy brother. It wasn’t you,” Robbie said, holding back the emotion that was threatening in his voice.
 

“It was the last time he cried in my arms, Stephen. And that was the only time since Robbie’s accident some years back. He had vowed never to let anything get to him like that again.” She paused for a moment and collected herself.
 

“He told me that he had left you,” Miss Emily said to Stephen. “And he said that he finally understood.”
 

“Understood what?” Stephen demanded as he started crying. “There are a million beautiful things in this world, Miss Emily. I only wanted one, was that so bad?”
 

“No, child,” Miss Emily said as she reached across to him and pushed back a stray hair from the side of his face. “But a lot of times we’re not given what we want, sometimes we’re not even given what we need. We just make do, and that’s what Dustin was doing back here. He was making do with the hand he was dealt.”
 

“What did he understand?” Stephen asked her, his voice becoming tempered by her allusion to a god he had long ago turned his back on.
 

“That he loved you, but that nothing is ever perfect, not even love,” she told him.
 

Chapter 15

Dustin,
 

I’m leaving for France. I wanted to send you my address so that you would have it should you finally decide to write back.
 

I thought that being older would free me from my adolescent fears of loneliness; that age would hand me some terrible victory which I would be able to celebrate once I got to emotional maturity.
 

But it’s not like that, Dustin. It’s not like that at all. I still find myself holding anger in my throat, choking on those same feelings I had as a child; angry at God and the world for all it has taken from me. Maybe we’re the same in that respect, maybe all people are.
 

I met with the PM and his minions again, despite my reluctance, and, as expected I was rebuffed. With that rebuff, and after losing you, I decided that I am moving back to the fields of Aix and the arms of Colette, my Mémé.
 

Pretty pathetic, I know, but I feel so empty inside without you here that I can’t even go to the chippy without needing you beside me; without feeling that I should be watching your smile blossom across the table from me. It’s killing me.
 

I wanted you with me when I returned to Aix, Dustin. I wanted you by my side so that you could listen to Colette and feel the warmth she radiates when she calls me her little mouse, her souris, as she bakes the tians I had so grown to love as a child.
 

That’s where I pictured us eventually, Dustin, strolling among the lavender and thyme. It’s a land of heather and herbs; a magical place that is so far removed from what either of us has lived through. I wanted to take you to the blessing of the almond boats on the first Sunday of September. Could you picture us there, getting fat on almond cakes and walking among the markets?
 

I know you would love Aix, its simplicity, its beauty, and lack of pretension. There are secret fountains there too, Dustin. Beautiful places tucked among the ancient buildings that are not known to or accessible to the tourists. I wanted to show you all of them; show you the secret corners I grew up in...
 

I’m sorry about this letter; my mind is everywhere just now. I just need to go and overcome the worry that there will be no lavender wind without you there; no sweet almond cakes to soften the day. I am afraid that even the cracks of the cottage walls will ache with as much need of dust to quench their thirst as I need you to quench my own.
 

Adieu, my love. Please write me back,
 

Stephen
 

Chapter 16

London
 

Stephen and Dustin stood just outside the door to the flat after a day of train spotting. They had gone down to Liverpool Street Station to find a few 90s and then over to Marylebone in search of 67s, but had been told that they needed to be there much earlier in the day if they really wanted to see anything. After they had been kicked off of St. Pancras by some old dodger who acted like he had a spiny twig up his arse, they decide to go back to Stephen’s flat.
 

Stephen put the key in the lock but then suddenly pulled it out again and turned back to look at Dustin. “Thanks.”
 

Dustin smiled and nodded. His train spotting was usually a solitary chore, but Stephen had been begging Dustin to take him along so they could spend more time together.
 

“Dustin, I...”
 

Dustin reached up rubbed his fingers across Stephen’s lips as he shook his head with a slight smile. “Shush. Don’t spoil it.”
 

“But...” Stephen began to protest. Dustin always did this when he felt Stephen starting in on a serious conversation.
 

“I need you to understand something for me,” Dustin said in earnest. “And I know how much you think words mean, but I want you to see it from my perspective.”
 

“Okay,” Stephen answered. Dustin’s tone was as serious as it had ever been without being upset.
 

“Words don’t mean anything to me, Stephen. Nothing,” he said, running his fingers across Stephen’s smooth lips again. “Most of the words I’ve heard in my life have been filled with anger and lies and bullshit, except in what I read; and for me, those words were just fantasies a million miles away from where I was at the time. They were the places I could escape to when everyone around me let me down. You understand?”
 

“I’m sorr...” Stephen began.
 

But Dustin put his finger firmly over Stephen’s mouth again. “Words, Stephen, and useless ones at that. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that in my life? How many people just utter the phrase and lose its meaning?”
 

“You think I don’t mean it?” Stephen asked around his finger, slightly hurt by what he felt was an accusation.
 

“I think you do, and that’s the sad part because you can’t change any of it, so you end up focusing on my past instead of on me, here and now. It’s not the sorry part that bothers me; it’s the silent pity that follows it.”
 

“But...” Stephen countered.
 

“
But
I lived that misery. I own it. It’s mine to taint reality with, Stephen. It’s what makes me cowboy up when the hurting times hit, as Robbie would say. I don’t want anyone’s pity, especially not yours.”
 

Stephen opened his mouth to say more, but then closed it just as quickly. He turned back to the door and started fumbling with the lock again. As a writer, words were his life in the most literal sense imaginable; it was ultimately how he had survived after the episode in the Dominès’ barn. Every day since then he had spent time jotting in his journal or writing a manuscript, pouring all his hopes and fears into the pages in front of him; and as he had grown that had extrapolated out and into his profession. And maybe that was why his life had been one failed short term relationship after another, because of all the words he inserted into each one trying to make it be
the
one. But there would be no winning this particular discussion because Dustin was right. He had been holding Dustin’s past as a cause for pity instead of caring about the person right in front of him.
 

When they slipped inside, Dustin quickly shut the door behind him, spun Stephen around and snatched him back, pulling Stephen firmly to his chest.
 

“What?” Stephen asked suspiciously as he watched a smile slowly bloom on Dustin’s face.
 

“Did you know that your eyes change color?” Dustin asked.
 

Stephen cinched them half closed and smirked, amused at Dustin’s obvious ploy. But the sudden recollection of an old one night flame that had said the very same thing crept into his head and he looked away, oddly embarrassed that Dustin had noticed.
 

Dustin chuckled and gently grasped Stephen’s chin in his fingers and brought Stephen’s face back to him. “I noticed it that first time, but I was so drunk. I honestly thought I was hallucinating.”
 

Stephen looked away again, not wanting to tell Dustin that Colette had informed him that his changing eye color was a sign of a deep and soulful connection; sometimes based on passion, and far, far fewer times based on real love. “I’ve heard that before,” he offered instead.
 

Dustin appeared to look deeper, beyond the iris. “Mmm, maybe, but...” he trailed off abruptly, as if his throat had closed around his words as soon as he realized that he was about to reveal something a bit too close to his heart. Letting go of Stephen’s chin, he suddenly stepped around him and zipped off to the loo. Stephen stared into space for a moment lost in thought, a slight frown on his face.
 

What had popped into Dustin’s head that would cause such a quick retreat? Was he beginning to understand how Stephen felt about him? Was Dustin feeling that way himself? He was such a silent person that Stephen was constantly left trying to decipher his true passions about even the most mundane subjects. And then there were those other times when he simply let his guard down and allowed his real self to emerge in small snippets and asides that never quite came right out with the totality of his spirit.
 

He walked over and sat on the sofa as a sudden insight registered on the corner of his thinking. When he clicked on the television, that insight unfolded in his mind and made complete sense. But then he had to question himself as to why he had never seen it before. And, if it were true...
 

“No one ever kissed you before our first night together,” he blurted when Dustin appeared in front of him suddenly. He hadn’t meant to exclaim it like that and felt immediately embarrassed for the both of them.
 

Dustin’s face drooped a little and his eyes with it. When he looked back up at Stephen they had a slight sheen in them. He nodded, but said nothing, letting Stephen understand for himself all that went with the deep truth that he had just put into words. And knowing Dustin’s background, and all that he had been through, made the tears developing in Dustin’s eyes pain Stephen more than he thought possible.
 

“I’m...” Stephen stopped himself and flicked his eyes over to the images on the BBC. He had almost apologized again and that only reiterated the reality of what Dustin had just cautioned him against. He glanced back, patted the sofa, and waited for Dustin to sit down beside him. “I
was
about to apologize, but really, I’m flattered. I mean, I don’t know that I’ve had a
complete
virgin before, you know like the male version of the bloody Virgin Mary or something,” he teased Dustin, trying to lighten the impact of his pronouncement.
 

Dustin smirked slightly, the sheen of his eyes diminishing. “Oh, so it’s funny now, huh? Me and my balloons weren’t amusing enough?”
 

“Well, never-been-kissed is a pretty big deal where you’re from. Or so I’m told.”
 

“And it’s not here?”
 

Stephen laughed. “No, we’re all tarts here,” he said, allowing a flamboyancy that would normally never creep into his conversation.
 

“Tasty ones too,” Dustin whispered as he pulled Stephen in, settled his mouth over Stephen’s lips, and pulled the breath from Stephen’s chest.
 

“Whoa, you sure learn fast, for a Yank,” Stephen murmured when they came back up for air. Despite his conversational reticence, Dustin’s passion, once it was unlocked, was extremely erotic, highly masculine, and very persuasive. Stephen wondered if it was possibly a result of the cowboy way his drunken father tried to browbeat into him.
 

Stephen cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean by ‘cowboy up’?” he asked to Dustin’s look of sudden perplexion. “I’ve never quite grasped that.”
 

He had been lightly contemplating it since his trip out to Alconbury where he’d met with an ex-PM about doing a book. The PM and his staff obviously liked his work, but had been ridiculously unprepared to answer the questions and demands he had before he would even consider such a project. Nearly all those demands had centered on information on his parents.
 

The meeting had not ended well, and he fully expected that he would never hear from the PM, or any other government official, ever again. He had spent the return trip to London fuming about the ridiculousness of the Official Secrets Act and thinking about Dustin and all the questions he still had unanswered, especially the one that had been foremost on his mind the last few weeks. And the
cowboy way
was most definitely not the question he wanted to ask most.
 

Dustin shook his head and smiled. “It means grow some balls,” he said as he grabbed at his crotch. “It’s a lot of bullshit is what it is. It’s Stewart’s idea of masculinity based on movie stereotypes. He thought boots and a hat and some beer made him a cowboy. When he finally got his horse, he thought he was John Wayne. But he was still just a drunk, abusive fuck head.”
 

Stephen watched him for a moment and chewed on the corner of his lip. Bringing Stewart up had probably not been the best way to lead into his real question. “Do you think we could get Robbie to fly over? Maybe get him away from Stewart?”
 

Dustin sighed and got up to pace the room a bit. Stephen’s question held much more implication than just Robbie flying over and they both knew it.
 

“No, that’s not going to happen,” he finally answered. “Robbie’s like a big, dumb St. Bernard. Stewart could beat him into a grave and Robbie would never lift a finger to him, and he would
never
leave him.” He stopped, turned back, and looked at Stephen. “And I can’t leave him alone like that.”
 

Stephen nodded and cast his eyes down at the remote, suddenly wishing life was somehow changeable with the press of a single button. “Do you think...”
 

“Stephen,” Dustin interrupted, waiting for Stephen to look at him again. “You have to understand where I come from; they’re still fighting the American Civil War. Hell, when I was in the fifth grade a girl in my class had an exorcism performed on her by her grandmother because she read
Chariots of the Gods
and came to the conclusion that Jesus was an alien. An
exorcism
, Stephen, with holy water and a country priest and the whole entourage.”
 

Stephen regarded him with some skepticism outlined in his face.
 

“I’m completely serious. They emptied out half the school library and had a book burning after church on Sunday. Miss Emily was furious; she bought half those books. But even she couldn’t go against the preacher once he got it into the congregation’s head about Satan corrupting the kids. She never bought another book for the school, ever.”
 

“The power of words,” Stephen chimed in with a smile he couldn’t hide.
 

Dustin gave him a sideways glance and smirked. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but the words are just ideas. It’s the actions that came after that made the difference.”
 

Stephen glanced over to the television again, watching it without seeing it. The dichotomy of Dustin’s continued presence in London and his statement about not leaving Robbie was something Stephen knew he didn’t really want to interpret aloud. “But you’re still here Dustin, still here with me, and Robbie is still there with Stewart, and things seem to be fine.”
 

Dustin stopped dead in his tracks, shame and anger contorting his face before he turned to the window perhaps in an effort to hide his expression.
 

“I know. I think about that every day, but I also promised Robbie I would be there for him. That’s exactly why I became a fucking foamer too, for him.”
 

“Is that the only reason you stayed?” Stephen asked, choking back the uncertainty that had suddenly leapt on him. He knew that Dustin had never planned on staying this long; but Stephen had never planned on falling in love with him either. Their days together had turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Five months now and Stephen had never been happier in his life. He didn’t want to lose that, but he could see the inevitability in Dustin’s half-hidden expression. Dustin somehow felt guilty for stealing this little bit of time for himself.
 

Dustin turned and looked at Stephen gently, shaking his head as he walked back to the sofa. “No,” he said as he knelt down in front of it. Seeing the fear in Stephen’s face, he reached out and took his hand, intertwining their fingers in Stephen’s lap. “I stayed because you made me feel whole, for once in my life. Even after...even after I raped you at the door.”