Page 9 of Pages of My Heart
On Wednesday, he returned to the church, ready to confess his sins, but found that the truth died in his throat. Instead, he told Father Murphy that he’d had impure thoughts about a girl from college. The priest told him it was natural, but that he should control his carnal desires until after marriage. Once home, Thomas had performed his ten Hail Marys, knowing that lying to Father Murphy would likely earn him ten more. He wasn’t sure he cared.
Carnal desires. Those words haunt him. As he sits in lectures, as he walks home, as he lies awake in bed at night. Memories of Charlie’s hands upon his heated skin, the painful yearning in his helpless moans, the shuddering, white-hot release—they torment and arouse him in equal measure. Thomas wants more, he cannot deny it. He wants everything there is to be had. His body all but demands it. And with that, he steps into the garage office, adrenaline rendering his limbs weak and shaky.
A young man with unruly brown hair stands behind the counter. His name tag reads George.
“What can I do for you today, sir?” George’s smile is comically large on his face.
Forcing himself to smile too, Thomas replies, “I’m here to see Charlie. Is he working today?”
“Are you the boy here on behalf of Mr. Livingston? About the Cabriolet?”
Thomas panics. “Yes, that’s me! I was told to speak to Charlie.”
“Sure thing, sir. Just wait here and I’ll send him out.”
The moment Thomas is alone again he exhales deeply, fidgeting with his tie until he forces his unsteady hands into his pockets. It must take a full two minutes before Charlie walks into the office and abruptly stops in his tracks, rendered motionless like a statue. Charlie looks alarmed, but Thomas can offer nothing but to stare back, speechless at the sight of the man. He is in dark blue work overalls, the top buttons undone revealing a white undershirt and a hint of dark chest hair. There is grease smudged across his cheek and on his hands, and a lock of hair falls onto his forehead. All the air seems to rush from the room at once and Thomas cannot breathe.
It’s been nine days.
At length Charlie looks over his shoulder at the open door that leads back to the garage bays, then takes a few steps further into the office.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“You didn’t come to the club. You promised. I—I was worried.”
Charlie strides angrily past him. “Follow me.”
Thomas does, and they end up around the side of the building. Once there, Charlie offers him a cigarette and they both light up.
“I couldn’t get away, Red. I’m sorry.” Charlie sounds anything but sorry. “But why the fuck did you say you work for Livingston? Should’ve just said you were my cousin.”
“I’m sorry. I panicked. Look, I want . . .” Thomas already feels like something is slipping through his fingers. He swallows hard, then tries once more. “Ineedto see you, Charlie.”
“Told ya, Red,” Charlie exhales, smoke flaring from his nose, “I’m getting hitched real soon.”
“I know. Which is why we should take our chance now before it’s too late. Listen . . .” Thomas moves closer, finally trapping Charlie’s gaze. “My family left to visit my grandparents in Milwaukee for the weekend. I was supposed to go too, but I said I had an important paper to write for class. The house will be empty until Sunday night.”
Charlie’s eyes roam over Thomas’s face, searching for the meaning beneath his words. Once he finds it, Charlie’s expression turns hostile.
“Just what are you fuckin’ suggesting?” Charlie’s voice is accusing and threatening, his jaw tight.
Thomas blinks rapidly, trying to sharpen his blurring vision. “You could stay the weekend. At my house. With me.” He drops his cigarette, unable to concentrate enough to finish it. “Please, Charlie. I know what you felt with me. I feel it too.”
Charlie steps closer, his voice sharp and low. “And what if someone catches us? What if your family comes home early? And what am I supposed to tell my family, huh? Or Ruthie?”
Thomas longs to reach out and reassure Charlie, but he stops himself. Charlie looks like a deer caught in a hunter’s scope—one misstep and he’ll spook.
“No one will catch us,” Thomas says, trying to sound confident. “We visit my grandparents a few times a year and wealwayscome home late Sunday afternoon, just in time for dinner. Never any earlier. And …” Thomas is grasping for anything. “And you can tell your family you’re helping a friend move out of town!”
Charlie remains silent, chewing on his bottom lip. Thomas waits, holding his breath.
“If I agree,” Charlie says slowly, “you gotta give me your word you won’t contact me ever again. This is a onetime deal, Red. You understand?”
Thomas doesn’t want to agree to Charlie’s terms, but he will say anything right now if it means spending a night alone with this man. “I understand,” he says. “So, you’ll come? Tonight, after you finish work?”
Charlie takes a final drag off his cigarette and flicks the butt toward the street, eyes never leaving Thomas’s face.
“Where do ya live?”
