Page 55 of Fear
When Jake finally came back (Tobias refused to look at the clock, he didn’t want to know, he was just blindingly relieved that Jake was back), Tobias was half asleep, stretched out on the couch, staring at the light and color the television threw over the walls. He couldn’t have said what was on, and it became even less important the second Jake walked back through the door.
Tobias closed his eyes and fought down the dizzying relief. He tried to keep himself as still as possible. Jake would know that he was awake, but it wasn’t Tobias’s place to resist what was coming.
Jake slammed and bolted the door, his movements sloppy, his eyes unfocused and half closed when he glanced at Tobias on the couch.
Tobias braced himself when Jake moved away from the door, but he just stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. Tobias heard him unzip, pee, and fumble at the sink before reappearing.
Jake walked unsteadily to the TV and hit the off button. Tobias shifted uncertainly in the sudden darkness. It was a shock, like when the light had been doused in an interrogation room before a blow. In the thin, soft light from the bathroom, Tobias saw Jake move slowly toward the couch.
Here it comes, Tobias thought, and all he felt was readiness and relief. Jake had come back. It would all be okay. “Jake,” he whispered, when the silence stretched long enough for fear to sneak in under his skin.
Jake held up a hand. He was swaying even as he stood still, and his words were slurred. “Don’t say anything, Toby. Don’t . . . just please don’t. Just . . . scoot over.”
Tobias moved, heart beating too hard. He wanted to ask if he should turn over or crawl down to the floor so Jake could stretch out, but Jake had told him to be silent. Jake sat next to his legs and clumsily knocked his boots off.
Tobias couldn’t choke off a little noise—maybe a whimper, just out of surprise—when Jake fell over, half beside, half on top of Tobias.
Jake patted him absently. “’Sokay,” he said, sweet alcohol on his breath and eyes already closed. “It’ll all be okay.”
With the next sigh, the rest of Jake’s weight slumped against him, like he’d fallen asleep. Tobias couldn’t quite believe it, but he didn’t know why Jake would try to trick him. Cautiously, he lifted his one free hand and stroked the back of Jake’s hand, hanging off the edge of the couch, with his forefinger. And then again.
Sometime later, after Jake’s even breathing didn’t change, Tobias, too, exhaled and closed his eyes.
JAKE DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. He woke at daybreak, groggy and confused about why he was half smothering Tobias on the sofa, and then the memories of last night slammed into him with the hangover. With a supreme force of will, he did not vomit on Tobias. Instead, he peeled himself off and staggered for his bedroom. By the time he showered, washed his mouth out—which did nothing to ease the nausea or help him feel clean—and changed clothes, his head was pounding like a goddamned drum corps. He dry swallowed aspirin and ignored the pain, aware he had fully merited every throb.
When he returned to the living room, Tobias was sitting up on the sofa, staring down at his hands, left twisting his right. Jake had to swallow back bile a couple of times, remembering what he’d done yesterday, the things he’d said. And Tobias was the one looking like a guilty child.
In this light, he was too young, too fragile to have survived half of what he had.
When Jake finally managed to speak, it came out as a hoarse croak. “Hungry?”
Tobias’s head snapped up before dropping again. He squeezed his hands tighter, shoulders a mass of tension, and Jake tried not to think about what Tobias thought would happen to him if he didn’t find the right answer.
Finally, Tobias spoke in no more than a whisper. “I . . . I could eat.”
Jake groped along the breakfast bar for his sunglasses. “Get your shoes, then. We’re going out.”
The cafe was close, one of the first places recommended to Jake when he’d arrived in Boulder. The owner was a sixth-generation Boulderite, and the service was so famously friendly that the place was packed to the gills most mornings and bursting on weekends. Jake told the apologetic hostess that yes, the patio was fine, and kept his sunglasses on against the god-awful glare.
The waitress was a slim young college girl Jake would have flirted with any other day, but this morning he could barely look at her. Tobias was even more subdued than the last time they’d gone out, staring down his menu as though it contained endless, alien mysteries. Jake ordered coffee for himself, juice and milk for Tobias, and two breakfast specials: pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns. Tobias didn’t react, even when the girl gently pulled the menu out of his hand.
The meal passed in silence. The food was good; they both ate, and Jake felt better, physically.
He thought about saying something like: If I ever treat you like that again . . . but had no way to finish the sentence. Tobias couldn’t stop Jake, retaliate, threaten to leave. Nothing. He was trapped, so it was up to Jake to be a decent human being. That was all. Shouldn’t be so hard.
He swallowed the hard knot in his throat and spoke. “I’m sorry. What I did last night. It was fucking wrong, okay? No one should ever put their hands on you like that. Especially me. Don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not.”
Tobias didn’t say anything, of course. And Jake was out of words, so after swallowing again, he pushed the syrup over to Tobias. Slowly, so he wouldn’t jump. Tobias froze, but after a moment, he took the sticky little bottle. After another hesitation, he poured it over the rest of his pancakes like Jake had and set it back down.
The waitress came back to refill Jake’s coffee and ask if they were satisfied with the meal. When their plates were clean of every last bite, she laughed and said it must have been good enough. Tobias nodded without looking up, and Jake thought, Well there’s that, at least. He hadn’t been able to ask Tobias himself, not while he knew Tobias felt obligated to tell him whatever he thought Jake wanted to hear. He didn’t think Tobias felt the same need to lie to strangers.
They sat there for several more minutes after the bill was paid. No one rushed them. The place was starting to empty out, breakfast rush over and lunch crowd still too early. The street was quiet with only the occasional passing car. They watched birds peck at a crust of French toast wedged under a nearby table, until an enormous pigeon came in and snatched it away, ending the tussle.
Jake exhaled, massaging his eyes under his sunglasses. Then he looked Tobias full in the face for the first time since he had woken up that morning. “Do you want to go to the library?”
Tobias started, looked up—though only for a second before dropping his gaze to the ground—and began twisting his hands. “Ah. There’s still . . . a c-couple books I haven’t r-read yet, in the ap-apartment . . .”
Jake lifted one shoulder. “You can take back the ones you’ve finished and get some more.”
