Serpentine Walls (31 page)

As they hugged, Pete whispered to her, “Thanks for telling me.”

“Y’all done?” John asked, but he was watching them with a smile. “Pete, just don’t be an asshole tomorrow.”

“Like how?”

“Like letting the alien take over and make you do the nasty with the Rod-man.”

“Right. That’s definitely not going to happen.”

“You never know. That dick of yours is a troublemaker.”

“Send me a reminder, then.”

“Okay, I’ll text you. What time are you going?”

“Three p.m.”

“Got it.” John pulled out his phone and punched in a few things. “I’ve set a reminder.”

Pete laughed and then sighed. “I need to apologize to Matthew.”

Cleo nodded. “Yes, you do. And then he’s going to apologize to you, and pretty soon you’re going to admit that you’re in love with each other and get on with it.”

“You think so?” Pete asked.

“I know so.”

P
ETE
stood on the sidewalk gazing at Professor R’s home, one of the stately Pavilions on the Lawn, all white pillars and fancy portico. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans as he walked up the steps and, telling himself to get over it, punched the doorbell.

The door opened, and Professor R stood there, looking dashing in his black sweater and gray flannel pants, his eyes gleaming as they cruised Pete’s body from head to toe. Torn between nervousness and revulsion, Pete held out his film DVD.

“Hi, Professor R. Here’s the film.”

“Excellent, Peter.” Professor R took the DVD. “Come in for a moment, won’t you?”

Pete hesitated and then said, “Okay.” He figured he could make a break for it if he had to.

Professor R led them down the entrance hallway, saying over his shoulder, “I just made myself some tea. Can I offer you a cup?”

“Uh, sure.”

They went into a spacious living room furnished with an eclectic mixture of antiques, overstuffed armchairs, and a Victorian-looking sofa. Pete wandered over to check out the books in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase while Professor R busied himself pouring tea from a silver pot into two china teacups.

“How about we sit on the sofa?” Professor R set the teapot back on the coffee table.

Pete did a double take. A hookah with ornate gold filigree around the base sat on the same table, and it was exactly like the one Aidan had in his apartment.

Professor R caught him staring at it. “I see you’re looking at my hookah. Isn’t it a beauty?”

Hadn’t Aidan said the same thing? And damned if Professor R didn’t lean down to caress it in exactly the same way Aidan had.

“Yeah. I—it looks just like one I saw—um.” Pete came to a halt.

“Oh?” Professor R straightened up and lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “I know of only one other like it here in Charlottesville. I bought them as a pair in London.” He suddenly put out his hand and ran it lightly up Pete’s arm as they stood there. “You’ve been to Aidan’s, then?”

Pete cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Aidan is a very attractive man, and we’re quite… close.” Pete could only nod. “And I’m sure he found you quite appealing. As do I. I hope you don’t mind my saying that, Peter.”

Pete shook his head, speechless at what Professor R was implying.
Do he and Aidan do three-ways?
He wanted to bolt, but there was something strangely hypnotic in the way Professor R gazed at him, and he felt his body responding in spite of his uneasiness.

The spell was broken when Pete’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out to see a text from John:
Reminder—no alien.

“Uh, wow,” he said, making a show of looking at his phone. “I’m sorry, Professor R, but I’ve got to run. There’s an emergency.”

“Oh? Anything I can do?”

“No. I mean, no thanks, I just better go. Thanks for—um, sorry I couldn’t stay and have tea.”
And whatever else you had in mind, you creepy lech
.

“As am I, Peter. You’ll have to come back some other time. I’m told my tea is the best you can find outside of London.”

Pete attempted a laugh and tried not to look like he was getting out of there as fast as he could as they walked back down the hall.

Once outside again, he took a deep breath, shuddered, and decided to go back to the apartment. He wanted a shower all of a sudden. With lots of soap.

P
ETE
entered the house after an evening out with Austin and found Missy sitting on the couch, a book open on her lap and her computer on the table in front of her. It was Friday night. Pete had been home for a week on spring break and was more than ready to get back to Charlottesville in the morning.

“Hi,” she said. “How was Austin?”

“Good. We went to a new Cuban restaurant near his apartment. The
pollo asado
was awesome.”

“Ah, that sounds heavenly. I wish I didn’t have this damn paper to write.”

“Poor you.” He looked around. “Mom here?”

“No, she went to the movies with friends from work.”

“That’s good. She seems to be getting out more these days.”

“I think she’s doing better.”

“You’re coming down for the film fest, right?”

“Of course! I have to see your first film so I can brag about it later when you’re all famous.”

Pete snorted. “Well, don’t expect too much. It would’ve been shit without all of Matthew’s help.”

Missy leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Yes. Matthew. I really want to meet this guy.”

Pete looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing.” Missy made a show of studying her nails. “Cleo was telling me a few things when she and John were here on Tuesday.”

“Crap, I should have known.”

She dropped the nail gazing and smiled. “That, and you talk about him a lot.”

“I do not.”

“I don’t think you realize how many times you mention him in a day. But it’s a lot.”

“Hm.” Pete didn’t want to pursue the topic of Matthew. The mention of his name made his stomach hurt. Late on the night of the Coupe’s debacle, after leaving John’s apartment, he had sent Matthew a text.
Sorry for being a jerk. See u after break.
The response he had gotten was
Okay. See u.
His vague disquiet at Matthew’s uncharacteristic terseness had only deepened over the break. Matthew hadn’t responded to any of Pete’s numerous texts talking about nothing in particular. Matthew had always responded to his texts before. “Are you coming with Mom?”

“Coming with Mom? Oh, to the film fest? Yeah.” She grimaced. “Dad called and asked me to drive down with him. I guess Mallory isn’t coming.”

“No, ’cause I asked him not to bring her.”

Missy’s eyes widened. “Really? How’d he react to that?”

“Okay, actually. He said he was sorry.”

“Oh, fine. Like that’s s’posed to make everything okay.” Missy gave an angry huff.

Pete was about to reply when his phone buzzed and he saw Matthew’s name on the display.
Yes!
“I gotta take this.”

“Be that way,” Missy called as he headed down the basement stairs.

“Hey there, stranger.” He opened the door to his bedroom.

“Hey, yourself,” Matthew said, and the sound of his voice warmed Pete down to his toes.

“Where’ve you been all week?”

“Here. Writing my thesis. How’s it been at home?”

“Decent. Saw some movies, ate a lot, slept.”

“Sounds good. What movies did you see?”

Pete flopped on the bed, reveling in Matthew’s voice in his ear. They talked about movies for quite some time, and then Pete said, “Speaking of movies, I’ve been getting ideas for the next one I want to make. I want to tell you about it when I get back.”

“Okay. I probably won’t be able to help you with it, though. I’m not going to have much time this spring, what with finishing my thesis and all.”

The ache in Pete’s stomach returned at Matthew’s words. Something was off.

“Um, listen. Is this about what happened at Coupe’s? I’m sorry I acted like such a dick.” Matthew didn’t reply. Alarmed, Pete asked, “Are you still angry? I mean, I haven’t heard from you all week, and… I don’t know.”

It sounded to him like Matthew sighed. “I’m not angry, but I think it would be better if we didn’t see each other so much.”

“
What
?” This was worse than Pete had even imagined. “Did I piss you off that much?”

“No. You don’t piss me off. Just the opposite.”

“Just the…? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was a pause. Then Matthew said in a low voice, “I’ve been celibate for a reason.”

“Um. Okay?”

“I told you a little about it. The last time I fell in love, I got my heart stomped on. His name was Keith, and he didn’t mean to break my heart, but he was young and he wasn’t ready to be in a serious relationship. And I tried to change him and it ended with both of us getting fucked up.”

“Yeah.”
But why are you telling me this?

“I can’t afford to have that happen again.”

“With me, you mean?” Pete’s heart started beating wildly.

“No, with the mailman. Of course with you! You’re the first guy since Keith that I’ve been seriously tempted to become un-celibate for.”

“I am?” Happiness flooded him, but he came back to earth with a thunk at Matthew’s next words.

“Which is why we need to cool it.”

“Cool it? Why? I’m attracted to you too. I already told you that.”

“And I already told you that I don’t do casual sex. And I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship.”

“What?” Pete asked, stung that Matthew would think that, even though he’d been the one insisting all year he wasn’t looking for one. “Why?”

“You’ve never said you wanted one. You’re still hung up on Aidan. You pulled all that shit about Rodney on me at Coupe’s and then walked out.”

“I told you I’m sorry about Coupe’s.”

“I know. I’m not mad, but… I don’t want to play games. I had enough of that with Keith.”

Pete was suddenly so livid he could barely see. “I don’t want to play games either. And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t give a fuck about Aidan?”

“That’s not what you said at Coupe’s.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay, forget Aidan. So you think that because we had one night where I got shitty and you freaked out, after months of getting along great, that this isn’t going to work? You already know how it’s going to go?”

“I’m not—”

“You think I’m going to be an immature brat and play games and only want casual sex?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, that’s what it sounds like you’re saying. Your faith in me is touching, Layton.”

There was a long pause, during which Pete tried to get control of his rage.

“And what the hell does ‘cooling it’ mean?” he continued. “You’re going to trash our friendship now, even if we don’t take it further? We can’t ever work on another movie? Or sing show tunes? Or hang out—” He cut himself off because his eyes had gotten moist, and damned if he was going to break down and blub like a fool in front of Matthew.

“I… I guess I didn’t think it mattered that much to you. I mean, about you and me.”

Pete shook his head “no” but couldn’t manage to get the word out.

“Look,” Matthew said, “it’s getting late. We need to talk some more, but let’s wait until you get back to school.” When Pete still didn’t say anything, he said, “You there?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Pete winced, because his voice came out all strangled and choked-sounding.

“Fuck, Pete, don’t… I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose our friendship either. Forget what I said about the ‘cool it’ thing, okay? I… we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Pete managed. “Later.”

“Call me when you get back. See you soon.”

Pete threw the phone down, scowling, but then was overcome by a wave of sadness so intense that he turned over and buried his face in the pillow, and for the first time in years, he began to cry. It was a broken weeping he didn’t even try to control as he thought about how he had ruined things with Matthew. He saw his parents in his mind, and he cried about them splitting up. And then he cried about every sad thing that had happened to him since his pet hamster Penelope died when he was seven. When his tears stopped, he turned his pillow over to the dry side and rested, his mind strangely quiet. His eyes slipped shut.

He crawls into the hiding place under the pine trees. A ten-year-old Matthew, with bright-red hair, freckles, and a gap in his teeth grins at him, and they give each other their super-secret handshake. Happy, he flops onto his stomach and breathes in the pine scent. He and Matthew are going to ride their bikes to the lake and try to catch some fish. He feels a hand on his bottom and looks around. Professor R leers at him and whispers his name. He scoots away in horror and sits up, searching for Matthew. Matthew’s gone. He huddles into a ball and closes his eyes tightly. When he opens them again, he’s alone, sitting in a muddy ditch.

He woke up, the image of ten-year-old Matthew still in his head.
He looked like Opie
, Pete thought, smiling. Then he remembered the rest of the dream, and the smile slipped off his face. After undressing, he flipped the light switch and got under the covers. He curled into a fetal position, wishing he still sucked his thumb and had a blankie, or at least someone to sing to him. He turned onto his back with a sigh and reached for his cock. It wasn’t as soothing as a lullaby, but beating off would have to do.

P
ETE
followed John up the running path, pushing through the pain in his side. He gave a little prayer of thanks when John paused at the top of the hill.

“That’s four miles. Let’s walk,” John said.

“Cool.” Pete tried to catch his breath.

They continued down the wooded trail, which they had to themselves, the city park being almost empty on this breezy March day. That it was noon on a Wednesday probably had something to do with it.

“So, you want to tell me what exactly is going on?” John asked.

“Going on?” Pete echoed, although he knew what John meant.