Page 28 of Margins

“Would you rather talk to me about him instead? We don’t have to read anything in the books today.”

“No, I—” Elijah takes a deep breath, but doesn’t look up, his fingers caught in his hair again, something belonging to Alex in danger of becoming trapped there too. “I want to know their story.”

“Okay, but please tell me if we need to stop. This is—it’s your story too, and I—”

“Alex, I’m not going to want to stop. It’s—I can’t imagine wanting to stop.”

It’s impossible not to hear everything Elijah isn't saying, and Alex squeezes his eyes shut before he swallows too many questions at once, then carefully opens the book he’s been holding.

“We left off when they had finally met by the warehouses, pressed close to each other, but not going any further than that, so then the next note is this: E, I’m sorry I remain so afraid, even cradled in your arms. There are so many reasons for the world to refuse us this, so many things the world could take from us both. You know I don’t care about myself, but you and my son are everything to me, and I fear what might be torn from my arms if I hold you for too long. And as much as you insist that this is good—that I am good—please forgive me the nights I leave before either of us is ready.”

Elijah leans forward to pick up his own book, clears his throat, and reads Edgar’s response.

P, my love, you need none of the forgiveness we should demand of those who have denied us this. Furthermore, please don’t fear what could happen to me when your dear son will always be the one we need to keep safe from harm. I’ll continue to hold you each night you come to me, however rare they might be, and delight in the times you’re brave enough to embrace me in return.

“Uncle Edgar was prioritizing the family, long before he even would’ve met my grandpa,” Elijah says. “And this sounds like they didn’t even see each other often, but Uncle Edgar didn’t ask for more.”

“He didn’t push, even when Peter was terrified.”

“No, he didn’t,” Elijah agrees, his head rolling against the back of the couch until he can look at Alex. “What good would that have done?”

Alex doesn’t answer, glancing back down at the book instead. “So, it’s already been over a year for them.”

“Sounds like it, yeah. We read about it being ‘nearly a year’ a while ago, and I think the messages went back and forth a lot more slowly than it seems when we’re reading them. I assume they would’ve had to rely on the times when Uncle Edgar could have a reason to deliver to the law firm and actually have the chance to interact with my great grandfather. They wouldn’t have let their story be passed through anyone else.”

“Why have two different books at all?” Alex asks. “Wouldn’t that have made an exchange more cumbersome? Couldn’t they have written back and forth in the same one?”

Elijah considers it for a moment, but answers with the same guess Alex might have made on his own. “Some kind of plausible deniability if only one book landed in the wrong hands? Keeping the two halves of their love story separate, just for the pretense of safety they couldn’t find anywhere else?”

“Until your grandpa could hold on to both.”

“And we could give them a voice.”

It takes them another several seconds, but they duck back into the books then, Alex with Peter’s words and Elijah with Edgar’s, written memories of small moments on dark nights with careful touches shared between them. Fingertips light against the other’s face, pinkies linked together when the press of their entire palms together felt like too much. And the chance for them to talk, or whisper really, entire conversations they couldn’t have anywhere else but in the shadows of warehouses while they should be asleep. There are several of those messages, remembering what they said to each other while they shook with each courageous new thing, and it leaves both Alex and Elijah nearly breathless.

But however emotional it is to follow Peter and Edgar’s journey, everything gets a little worse when Alex reads on.

E, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and today I’m gripped by unimaginable fear. There was a rumor after our latest delivery, talk of a late-night attack near the docks, a “sissy” beaten and left for dead. It was said that he’s alive and being cared for, but my darling, please return and tell me it wasn’t you.

“No,” Alex chokes, quick to look at Elijah, who is already turning the pages in his book.

He’s too close to the end, though, and meets Alex’s eyes, barely able to speak. “There’s nothing left in this one.”

So, Alex hurries to find what he can, and it doesn’t take long.

E, every part of my body aches, but I know it must be nothing compared to the way you’ve been hurt, and I don’t know what to do from here, when I know you have to be hidden away as you recover, and I have no way to reach you now. I can only write here, all too aware I may never have a way to give you this book again. We’ve heard nothing more about you, nor can I ask, but there would be no other reason for you to stay away. No other reason my heart would be so broken.

Alex keeps looking after that. “There’s one more here.”

E, I won’t keep writing to you here, my entire heart tucked into the margins of pages you may never touch, my body left to the same fate. It would be too much to ask you to be with me again after all these weeks apart. But though we have never kissed, though I’ve only barely stopped being a coward long enough to hold your hand in mine while we talk, or brush your cheek with my own while we breathe, please know I will never stop loving you.

“Christ, I—” Elijah’s voice breaks.

Alex doesn’t notice whether any tears fall this time, his own vision blurry as he closes the book and puts it back onto the coffee table, adding Elijah’s atop it a moment later. Then he sits back and reminds himself to take one breath after another, trembling with grief resolved years ago and the anticipation of something brand new. He feels caught between the two right now, and lost without another margin to cling to, but after giving them a few more minutes to sit with Peter and Edgar’s uncertain ever after, Alex chases something sure.

And maybe he should worry about how much his hand shakes when it moves toward Elijah’s lap, but Alex is so much more worried about keeping it to himself.

He curls his pinkie around Elijah’s. “They came so close to losing each other, and all they’d had was this.”

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