The Imperfection of Swans (32 page)

Each time he saw her, there was fleeting panic of what might have been. He knew he’d had an eating disorder. He beat his. She didn’t.

It was infuriating to see her weakness.

As he continued to run, the woman got off her treadmill and hurried into the next room. Though he couldn’t see her, Kevin knew her routine. She’d jump rope for the next half hour. Most of the time, their schedules corresponded, and he was able to avoid watching. When one of them was off, though, it was almost more than he could stand. Each impact her feet made on the wooden floor threatened to shatter her bones.

They would one day. He’d place good money on it.

She should have gotten control.

Kevin sighed in relief at having her move away, and tried to push the speed up another notch. Already at the maximum. He did that all the time. It drove him crazy that the machines couldn’t go faster. Settling back into the same old pace, he glanced at his own reflection in the wall of mirrors. The balding woman stared back.

Kevin’s foot caught on the rotating surface, and he lurched forward but managed to catch himself on the handles.

Three steps and he was back in his stride. He looked at the mirror once more. It was him again. Always had been, of course.

Still running, Kevin watched himself, then looked away.

He was thinner. He had to admit it. Using his right hand, he smoothed up his left arm and over his chest. The muscles were less pronounced, which he didn’t like, but his body was tight and firm, still.

He’d get it back.

Once the stress was less, when the shop was open and running smoothly. When the anxiety got back under control. He’d get it back. The burning would ease. He knew it would never stop, but it would get better. He could start eating healthy again, and his muscles would fill out once more.

He kept his eyes averted from the mirror. He didn’t want to see her looking at him.

She’d been with him too much in the past day.

Casper had held
her
for a long time the night before.

It made Kevin want to stop running, go into the glassed-in room, and watch the jump-roping girl break into pieces.

Again Kevin tried to up the speed.

Casper had told him that he loved him.

He had told Casper that he loved him.

It had been such a relief. He’d wanted to tell Casper for weeks. Maybe since the very beginning.

Casper wasn’t the man he’d envisioned falling in love with. Which, unusually for him, made him feel truly safe in that aspect of things.

It was Scott he’d always pictured loving. Or at least someone of Scott’s design. This other mold of person, this Casper type, Kevin never would have imagined. And he trusted this newfound love all the more because of it.

As much as he already loved Casper, and as much as there was some relief in someone finally knowing his old secrets, he was angry at him.

Kevin hadn’t realized it the night before, or even that morning. Not until he’d gotten on the treadmill and noticed the woman running close to him. Most of the time he did a better job of avoiding her. It just showed how off he actually was that he’d allowed that to happen.

God, he hated her.

And he was so angry that Casper had held her.

That he’d turned Kevin into her.

Too skinny.

Sick.

Ugly.

Out of control.

Weak.

“Are you bulimic?”

Weak.

“Your muscles are getting thinner.”

Ugly.

He’d never been good enough for Scott. He’d always known, no matter how hard he worked out, how he kept control of his food, no matter what he accomplished at work, that he would never be good enough to be paired with Scott.

And here he was again. Two minutes with Casper and he already wasn’t good enough. Casper could spout about how attractive he found Kevin all he wanted. But it was just shit.

“Your muscles are getting thinner.”

Was Casper really going to love him? Really? Maybe he thought he did, or thought he had.

Until
she
showed up in his bed last night.

All skinny, weak, and ugly. God she was ugly. He hoped she shattered.

She’d disappeared for a while. He’d felt like himself again. Casper had held him and held him. In Casper’s arms, she’d slowly evaporated and allowed Kevin to return.

By the time Casper was inside of him again, Kevin was back. He was strong. In control. Beautiful. Stronger than ever, actually. Casper knew about his past. And he’d stayed. He still loved him. They had it all.

But now, he saw. Kevin saw clearly. She’d been there the whole time. She hadn’t faded away.

It had been her flesh-covered leg bones that had hooked over Casper’s back as he pushed inside.

Her thin, cracked lips had kissed Casper.

Casper had his fingers in her breaking, straw-like hair.

Kevin was certain his heart was about to explode. The drumming in his ears shook his body.

When Casper had cried out in pleasure, proclaiming his love, he’d been saying it to her.

To her!

Casper didn’t know it yet.

Kevin hadn’t realized it either.

But she’d been there. She was still there.

Casper would realize it all too soon.

There was no way he could love
her
.

Tears were streaming down Kevin’s face as he yanked at his car door handle, which pinched his finger as it refused to open.

He stared at the handle, then glanced at the door from the garage back into the gym. He didn’t remember getting off the treadmill. Didn’t remember leaving the gym.

It was fine. It was good. She was still in there.

She could stay there forever.

He tried the door again.

Kevin looked down at his clothes.

He was still in his tank top and running shorts.

His brain tried to make the pieces fit, and for a moment they wouldn’t.

He couldn’t get in his car.

It clicked. The locker. Everything was back in the gym locker.

Panic flared at the realization.

He couldn’t go back in there. She was still there.

That skeleton with brittle hair, jumping rope.

Bones cracking and splintering off with each impact.

Kevin tried the door again, pulling harder. Nothing.

A sob escaped, reverberating off the concrete walls and ceiling.

There was nowhere to go.

She was in there. Casper fucking her.

She was in there.

Nearly tripping, Kevin scurried to the front of the car, his hands pounding over its surface as he tried to stay upright.

He couldn’t escape her. She was there. With him.

Clawing at the inside of his skin. Ripping at him.

She curled up with him between the cold wall and the front bumper.

Her clawlike fingers twisted in his hair, and he covered his head with his arms, trying to find shelter.

“
I’m just worried. I love you
.”

She felt around on his thighs, searching for pockets.

No pill.

No pill.

He was going crazy. Losing his fucking mind.

She folded herself with him against the floor, able to squeeze their legs partially under the car.

He couldn’t breathe.

There was no air.

There was fire, but no air.

“
I love you. And I’m not going anywhere
.”

Like fuck he wasn’t. Casper wasn’t going to stay. Not when he saw.

There was no chance he’d love her.

Weak.

Ugly.

He needed his pill. He needed air.

He needed to run.

He managed to muffle his cries in the crook of her skeletal elbow.

And sobbed. Wracking cries, strangling for breath.

He needed to get out from there.

He was going to die, and he didn’t want to be found there.

He hated her!

His stomach revolted, clinching, stealing what little air was left.

Fire seized and contracted.

Then spewed over his arm in neon yellow bile.

God, he hated her.

CASPER

THE MARBLE
counter was nearly covered. Some of the levels on the layered display trays only had one item on them, but it counted. Casper walked around to the front, taking the customers’ position, and inspected.

For the past five hours, he’d been baking.

Just when he felt like life couldn’t get better, it did.

He had his own kitchen. His own damned kitchen, with top-of-the-line equipment. His. His!

And he’d been baking in it for hours.

The most beautiful man in the world had told him that he loved him in between bouts of lovemaking.

Of course, there was the meltdown in the middle. That had worried him for a bit that morning. There was a touch of it that reminded him of Josh.

Casper had put up with Josh’s alcoholism for a little over a year. He’d nearly lost himself. He’d sworn he was never going to do anything like that again.

This wasn’t the same thing.

It wasn’t.

This wasn’t Josh’s brand of alcoholism. It wasn’t manipulative or abusive. It wasn’t comparable.

Even if his mind was finding comparisons, it was wrong. They weren’t comparable.

Kevin was strong. He hadn’t needed Casper to save him. Everyone had their secrets, their struggles. It was just part of life.

While Casper was genuinely scared for Kevin, he also believed he would be fine. At some point, somehow. Kevin’s willingness to talk about it made him even more certain.

What worries had wormed their way into his mind had fled with the first egg he’d cracked.

The bakery was gorgeous. The display counter was almost magic. The space was bright, glowing, and smelled like heaven. Soon the man he loved would be helping brides on the lower floor while he and his best friend baked anything they could dream up.

Life couldn’t get better.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the marble slab covered in pastries. Opening up his texts, he sent the picture to Charu. She would be nearly as excited as he was.

A nibble of worry began to return.

It had been four hours since he’d heard from Kevin. No call. No text. Nothing.

Four hours?

Casper truly had lost himself to baking. No thoughts other than fuzzy happiness had been able to creep into his mind. Nor had notions of the time.

He started to text, but he didn’t want to be
that
guy. He didn’t need to get clingy and needy just because they’d said they loved each other.

Still, it wasn’t like Kevin to be silent so long. Even before they started dating, there was nearly a constant stream of texts about new ideas for the business. Even more once the kissing had begun.

But four hours of working out, at least without contact, was pushing it. Even for Kevin.

Casper baked for another two hours. The light pouring through the windows was softer, tinged with pinkish sunset hues. Baking did not work any magic this time. The batter felt heavy and dark. The heat from the oven oppressive. Even the marble’s glistening surface was subdued. By the time the thought
Oh, dear God, he got into a car wreck and died
crossed his mind, Casper was done waiting.

Six hours!

Needy and clingy or not, he texted.

Been cooking for a long time. It looks like a real bakery in here. You should see.

There. That sounded easygoing. Not freaking out. Not asking where he was. Not asking if he was okay.

When five minutes passed without a text, he forwarded the photo to Kevin.

Ten minutes after that, when the phone remained silent, Casper decided to text again. He was going to be needy. At this point, who the fuck cared?

Just as he began thumbing out a text, a message came through on the opposite side of the screen.

I can’t do this. I’m sorry.

Casper’s breath caught. He read the message several times, trying to make the letters rearrange into some other order.

They didn’t.

Babe, what can’t you do?

Casper wasn’t certain why he wrote that. He knew what Kevin couldn’t do. It wasn’t the business. It wasn’t taking the risk. It was him. It was a relationship with Casper that Kevin couldn’t do.

He’d pushed too hard the night before. He’d known it at the time, but then Kevin seemed okay after.

Apparently that hadn’t been an accurate assessment.

Casper sent three more messages.

Please give me a call.

I love you, Kevin.

Let’s just talk.

With each call he made between the texts, Casper cared less and less if he seemed needy or clingy.

Each went to voice mail. And no text was returned.

A bolt of fear rushed through him. Casper couldn’t picture Kevin trying to hurt himself, but maybe having exposed so much the night before had done more damage than Casper could see.

He slipped into panic for about fifteen seconds before rushing to where he kept his key. He tore off down the steps, not bothering to remove his apron. He wasn’t sure where Kevin’s moms’ house was, but he knew it was in JP. Kevin had mentioned they lived on the hill that looked out over Jamaica Pond.