Page 45 of Pages of My Heart
They don’t fight often, but when they do, it’s usually explosive. Charlie sighs, preparing himself for the worst. “I figured you’d be asleep and I didn’t want to wake ya. Why don’t ya head to bed and I’ll be in shortly.”
Thomas doesn’t move. “Did you manage to prove you’re a red-blooded ladies’ man?”
The words prickle at Charlie’s skin, a seed of anger sprouting in his gut and growing quickly. “You know what, Tommy? I had a terrible fuckin’ time tonight doing something that needed tobe done so we can stay safe, so I don’t appreciate the interrogation. Maybe I’ll just sleep in the spare room tonight.”
Thomas is on his feet in a heartbeat, striding across the room until he stands mere inches from him. Charlie can feel the anger radiating off him, his body rigid with it, nostrils flaring. He looks posed to start hollering the house down when suddenly he grabs Charlie’s chin and yanks his head to the side.
“Charlie—how could you?” Thomas’s breath comes in gasps, his eyes welling with tears. Then he leans in and smells Charlie’s neck. “You didn’t . . .” Thomas backs away, releasing his hold on him, head shaking in disbelief.
Charlie is confused. He doesn’t understand Thomas’s abrupt about-face, so he pushes past him to the bathroom, flipping the light on and studying his reflection in the mirror. And then he sees it.
Red lipstick. Some on the edge of his collar, some on his neck.
His mind flashes back to the club, trying to figure it out, and then—when they danced. He remembers. Virginia’s lips brushing against his neck. Charlie madly rubs at the lipstick, stomach in knots. He turns on the taps and wets a washcloth, scrubbing at his stained shirt as if removing the red smear will somehow make the evening disappear altogether.
“What did you do? You reek of her. Her perfume is all over you.”
Charlie meets Thomas’s eyes in the mirror and then turns to face him. Thomas stands in the doorway, his face like thunder.
“Nothing! I did nothing. I had to give ’em a show, so I danced with this girl, and when she got too close, I stepped away.”
Thomas’s face drops, anger dissolving as fast as ice dropped into boiling water. In its place, Charlie sees only hurt and disappointment. “You danced with her? Slow danced . . . with her face pressed to your neck?”
Guilt floods Charlie’s veins. It’s like he’s tainted the purity of their relationship. One of its very foundation stones. He fears the simple joy of dancing together will now be marred—the ghost of some strange woman forever wedged between them.
“I’m sorry, Tommy. The boys . . . they were accusing me of bein’ all talk. You don’t know how fuckin’ exhausting it is keepin’ up appearances at the garage. Fuckin’ day in and day out. It ain’t like that for you. No one would ever think you were a fairy—look at the man you’ve become!” Charlie motions to Thomas, exasperated. “Tall and broad-shouldered. A wide jaw. Big strong hands and a deep voice. Nobody looks at you and wonders if you’re a fuckin’ homosexual. You—” Charlie slumps back against the bathroom sink, hands coming to his face, defeated. “You ain’t gotta pretend like I do.”
There is moment of perfect silence before he hears Thomas approach, then gentle fingers pry his hands from his face. “Look at me, Charlie.”
Slowly, he lifts his eyes.
“Why have you never told me you feel this way?”
Charlie shakes his head then sighs deeply, averting his gaze. “I dunno. It’s hard to talk about. Reminds me of my old man.” His eyes sting and his vision blurs, a wave of emotions cresting too fast. Shame, embarrassment, hurt. Feelings of being wrong, and weak, and a mistake. He feels the heat of the first two tears burn a path down his cheeks and he returns his gaze to Thomas.
“Darling . . .” Thomas brushes the hot tears from his face. “I never knew you felt like you were pretending all the time. I thought . . .” Thomas pauses, eyes searching his. “I thought the hard talking, take-no-shit Charlie was just a part of you. But are you saying none of that is you? That it’s all an act?”
“You’ve seen how different I am with you . . .” Charlie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing nervously.
“But when I met you, you were this big tough guy, even with me.”
“Yeah, well . . . you wore me down. Got under my skin. I started to . . . relax, I guess. Was fuckin’ hard at first, even with you. But I liked being soft with you. I liked lettin’ you lead.” Charlie grabs onto Thomas’s undershirt, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Thomas’s arms envelop him, and he leans into the hug. “I like being under you. Submitting to you. It feels . . . right.”
“I like it too, my darling.” Thomas plants a kiss to Charlie’s forehead, then leans back to look at him. “But talk to me about all this pretending at the garage.”
Charlie sighs. “You already know my dad beat me. Most of the time it was over me not being man enough. When I was five, he burned me with a cigarette cause he caught me playing with Evie’s dolls. He’d beat me for my voice being too soft, or for sitting with my legs together. One time for wanting to be friends with Mary—this girl at school. For walkin’ funny or for puttin’ on Ma’s necklaces. I had to learn fast. So I copied him. Copied Donnie. Moved differently, talked differently, tried to be the son he wanted. But he always knew, didn’t he? That’s why he never let up.”
“I’m so sorry, Charlie.” Thomas’s soft eyes bore into his, but Charlie is relieved to see understanding there, not pity. “If it’s any consolation . . . the person you are with me—the gentle one, the loving one—that’s the Charlie I love. And I’m sorry I got so mad. You know I’ve always been the jealous type, but lately, with this war . . .” Thomas drops another kiss to his forehead and then pulls Charlie back against his chest. “This war is scaring me. Every day I worry more and more about one of us being drafted. Of us being separated. I know it’s selfish, but I just want to be with you every second that I can, and I don’t want to share you, especially with some strange girl.”
“I understand, sweetheart. I do. I worry too.” He presses himself more firmly against Thomas’s body, trailing his hands up his back. “Can you forgive me?”
“Darling, there’s nothing to forgive. I was wrong.” He dips his head and nibbles along Charlie’s jaw, mumbling against his skin, “I want to take you to bed. But first . . .” Thomas steps backward and scrunches up his nose, “you need to shower and get that woman’s scent off you.”
Charlie smiles. “I do. And I expect you to be naked in our bed when I get out.”
“Oh?” Thomas slaps him playfully on his ass and saunters out of the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he goes. “I will be.”
Chapter 26
