Dreams and Clipped Wings - 4. Chapter 4

4:Halcyon
: edited by viv :

A six-pack in, and Cody still wasn’t back from all that ‘nothing’ he’d needed to rush off and do. Joe didn’t know what to think, but as he sat there marinating in the words of the letter, anger and confusion dominated his thoughts. What confused him was that Cody wouldn’t share any of this with him, and he was angry for the same reason. Cody closing the world off from things he felt he could deal with was normal, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make Joe angry, just like the callousness of Cody’s mother. Much the same way he was angry with Julie for not answering her phone, even though he knew she was studying.

That was three beers ago; he had since toyed with the idea of calling Jonathan. Fueled by the alcohol, he would have, except like many things in Cody’s life, Joe didn’t know Jonathan’s number. Perhaps his lack of knowledge was benefiting Cody tonight. Joe knew for certain that if he had the number to Cody’s family’s house he would have called long ago and given the woman who penned the letter a sizable chunk of his mind, albeit rather inebriated at the moment.

How could she? How could any mother? Whatever happened to unconditional love? Joe wanted to scream those questions, and so many more, more than he wanted her answers. Somehow, he had a feeling that any answers she would give would paint Cody as the monster, and not herself.

Cody couldn’t be a monster, not in Joe’s eyes. Monsters didn’t wake up at three in the morning, after getting in at midnight, to help someone bake bagels. They didn’t spend their free time under the neighbor lady’s sink fixing a leak that didn’t exist, and they certainly didn’t take out the lady’s trash while they were at it. Monsters didn’t volunteer at the local Rec Center to help kids with their homework.

No, Joe didn’t see Cody as a monster, just a guy who tried to give everything he could, and argued receiving any sort of help in return. Perhaps that was why this letter pulled such a strong reaction from Joe. He wanted to help, but any thoughts of helping left Joe feeling impotent when Cody wouldn’t even confide in him what the problem was.

That was the reality, a reality with a bitter sting. He knew where he stood with Julie; he wasn’t so dumb as to not know her interests were veering away from him. In fact, he’d expected it to happen long ago. She was in school, learning things, meeting interesting people, while he spent his day gutting old buildings and turning them into high end apartments. With Cody, he just didn’t know. He didn’t know what Cody considered him, a friend, the guy crashing in the next room, someone who had to be kept at arm’s length, always.

Worse, Joe didn’t know where these yearnings concerning Cody were coming from. He didn’t even know what he expected Cody to feel for him; Joe just knew it was something more than what there was. Never before had he been so concerned with what someone else, another guy, thoughts of him. It all swirled in his mind just like the bitter liquid that was swirled across his tongue and down his throat.

He'd like to be able to blame the beer, or Julie leaving him to his own devices for the evening, or even the letter that he was still more than upset about, but he couldn't, and that made him wonder a few things; like, how far away he was from the kitchen and his next beer, when would Cody be home, and what would they say to each other when he finally came home from doing 'nothing'?

He didn’t have a long wait for an answer to any of those thoughts. Thirsty and finding the bottle in his hand begrudgingly empty, Joe pulled his slightly stiff frame from the couch and stumbled towards the kitchenette. As he was closing the refrigerator door, brown bottle in hand, Joe heard the sound of the front door opening, and closing. Leaning heavily against the wall, Joe twisted the cap off the beer and tossed it carelessly on the kitchen counter as Cody came walking into view.

‘And where the fuck have you been’. The words seared across Joe’s mind as he took a slow pull from the cold beer in his fist, allowing the chill to sooth the answer smoldering in the questions wake. ‘Nowhere’.

Instead, Joe offered a small, neutral, smile with his greeting. “Hey,” he said, not wanting to add more onto the little he knew of what Cody was already facing. “There’s pizza in the oven, prolly cold by now though,” he finished, noticing the crimson the chilly night air had brought to Cody’s cheeks.

Truth was he could eat, but the bottle in Joe’s hand looked more appealing. With a smile, Cody brushed past Joe into the kitchenette, snatching the bottle as he did so. Taking a drink of the refreshing, crisp liquid, Cody set the bottle down on the counter before retrieving the pizza box from the oven.

Cody’s blatant theft erased Joe’s earlier thoughts, as he smiled watching Cody give the slice of pizza in his hand a cursory sniff, before taking a healthy bite. As he watched Cody inhale the first slice, and then another, Joe wondered if he should bring up the letter, or offer to pay more of the rent; anything he could do really, just to make things easier on Cody. He already knew the best way to start as he watched Cody take another drink from his stolen beer.

Turning his back as Cody finished his swallow and set the bottle on the counter, Joe opened the refrigerator and fished out another beer. Turning back around, he watched Cody throw a few more slices of pizza on a plate, as he grasped the cap of the bottle in his hand. With a simple twist, the cap relented, allowing a slight hiss of gas to escape into the silent air of the kitchen.

Cody heard the noise, figuring Joe was replacing what he had commandeered; Cody didn’t expect the rush of warmth that ran up his spine as Joe leaned in and placed the fresh bottle on the counter while retrieving his own. It wasn’t alien, the sensation of Joe’s proximity. Cody usually found the sensation quite the opposite, yet as the reassuring warmth lingered, Cody had to close his eyes and fight off the urge to completely melt into it.

And then it was gone, replaced by a twinge of regret.

Regret, which was just as quickly stamped out of existence, as was the comfort he threatened to find. Turning around, Cody looked at Joe and smiled. “Thanks,” he muttered, halted by the vision of Joe willingly drinking from the same bottle he had. Mentally shaking his surprise away, he lifted the plate of pizza and the beer before moving out of the kitchen and collapsing like a sack of potatoes on the couch.

Joe remained in the kitchen, frozen in place by the line of slurred thoughts that had stumbled across his mind only moments ago. It was a flurry of pictures that slowed agonizingly into other sensations, a slight warmth on the air, the way that slight warmth was conveyed by scent. A scent that Joe didn’t connect with the mix of musk and melon that Cody usually smelled like. There was more salt to his scent, more of the smell of Cody that lingered in his bedroom. Right now, it was warm, it had a pulse, a life all its own, that roused the stirrings of life in Joe.

Looking down at the beer in his hand, Joe discounted whatever it was that was running through his veins as the beer’s fault. He was unwilling to accept that if he were not already well on his way to three sheets to the wind, the scent of Cody tonight, would have left him intoxicated.

“You gonna stand in the kitchen all night?” Cody hollered around a mouth full of pizza and over his shoulder.

Joe swallowed what remained of the beer in his hand, and figured he could use another. Beer in hand, he settled on the couch in what he considered was a respectable distance. His slippery mind argued the gap, so Joe pushed himself further away, nestling into the corner seat-back and arm rest, watching Cody as he ate, and wondering what thoughts were running through his mind.

Cody sat watching the television, or trying to. One of the pieces of pizza had quickly disappeared, the second however, lay on the plate in his lap as he tried to ignore the way Joe was sitting on the couch, watching him instead of the TV. It was familiar to Cody, the look, just not from Joe. It was familiar, because he had used it in the past, countless times, and almost always, it was aimed at someone he’d brushed off the thought of moments later.

“Where’s Julie?” Cody decided to ask, hoping that some conversation would break the tension that seemed to be swirling thicker than the fog building on the bay.

Joe shrugged. “She ditched me,” he answered. “Something about studying.”

“Oh,” Cody said, fighting the urge to mention she had been showing up less and less. “So what did you do all night?”

“Nothing,” Joe said grudgingly, using Cody’s idea of an explanation.

Cody’s forehead creased as he frowned momentarily, a sideways look over at Joe conveyed a wordless request, pleading with Joe not to pick tonight to get moody on him.

Joe frowned, relenting to Cody’s silent request. “Well,” he started, figuring that the question would lead Cody into answering some things himself. “I figured without Julie, you and I could hang out, but you ditched me, too.”

“Yeah,” Cody answered, looking back at the TV. “Sorry about that, I just had some shit to work out.”

For the life of him, Joe had never wanted to reach out and slap someone upside the head so badly. How could he ask so many questions, and then shy away from answers himself. “Yeah, no matter, I sat here and drank alone.”

“Next time,” Cody promised with a smile.

“Whatever,” Joe answered with a shrug as he moved his hand into his lap.

Cody followed the action instinctually, even though he had long ago filed Joe under someone he couldn’t have. Perhaps, if he didn’t know Joe, or if he was just a mild acquaintance, but not when just a smile from Joe could make some days more bearable; he couldn’t throw that away, not for the fleeting feeling of flesh pressed against his own. Not even if that feeling was one thing he had wanted since he’d first met Joe.

Similar thoughts were racing through Joe’s mind accompanied by the urge to reach out and just touch Cody. The urge was there for many reasons, some selfish, others, others just wanted to protect him from stinging words on lilac paper. He also wanted to say something about the letter, but any thoughts of the letter were drowned out as Cody turned to look him in the eyes. Reluctantly, Joe fell into the cobalt pools, fighting the urge to drown into them completely as his mouth went dry.

“Cody…” he whispered, wanting to ask so many things, but leaving just the name hanging in the space between them.

‘Out of bounds be damned’ was the thought which screamed across Cody’s mind. ‘Just say it’ repeated behind it again and again. All Joe had to do was say it, and Cody would, he’d sacrifice everything again. He could deal with the wreckage, he had in the past, but now, right now, Joe just had to say something… anything.

“I think I should go to bed,” Joe decided as he struggled to stand up, taking great care to hold the empty beer bottle just so in correlation with his crotch.

It was a mixture of emotion that flashed across Cody’s face as Joe made his retreat; relief, hurt, and a good measure of anger with himself for momentarily over-riding his better principles.

“Night, Joe,” Cody murmured, taking a slow pull from the bottle he had forgotten and letting the disappointment he felt bubble to the surface.

Joe stumbled into his bedroom still thinking of Cody and all the things he wanted but was to afraid to pursue. It was Cody, and his blue eyes, that were heavy in Joe’s mind as his clothes fell away allowing him to climb clumsily into his bed. It was the smudge of sauce at the corner of his mouth, which Joe imagined smearing away, as his hand tightened around the urgency in his boxers. Finally, it was the idle thought, the lingering question on the edge of his mind that wondered if beer tasted better from Cody’s lips, than from the bottle itself.

The whole surrender was frantic, leaving Joe panting violently; his chest, thighs, and back all coated with sweat that he could feel running along his skin. In his hand was the viscous product, the waste of a secret yearning destined to be forgotten in the morning when he was again sober.

In Joe’s absence, Cody had decided on a long hot shower. One that would allow him to scrub away the remains of a day he’d much sooner forget about, than live again, along with the stench of the man Cody could still smell on himself. He hoped the hot water and steam could also purge the mistake he had almost just willingly walked into; after all, one mistake a night was enough.

He wasn’t so fortunate on the last hope. Cody emerged from the shower, wet and clean, but still thinking about what he could do with Joe if given the opportunity. The want was perplexing, he knew it had always existed, but he was able to successfully push it away, and tonight, it was back again with a vengeance, and that was what made it so scary. He knew he could be happy with Joe, yet, Cody knew that he could never be happy. The second thought rightfully should have canceled any thoughts of happiness out. The thought of Joe, however, seemingly defied any such basic logic.

Returning to his own room, Cody noticed he had left the computer on. Switching on the monitor to check the time, he figured he could troll the net aimlessly for a few hours until he had to be downstairs accepting the flour delivery and baking the day’s bagels.

The message window for his brother was still flashing, demanding his attention. Clicking on it so he could close it, in an effort to wash any lingering hateful thoughts away, Cody paused and read the contents of the brief conversation he had held earlier. There was the, ‘not now Benny’ he had replied with, followed by ‘Code please’, and finally, ‘listen I’m sorry about what she did, I’ll give it back to you’ time stamped some two hours after the initial message.

It answered the question of Benny knowing about the letter or not, and that hurt. The realization made him feel more alone than sitting in a darkened room by himself ever could. With a simple click, the conversation disappeared as Cody opened an email and addressed it to his brother, telling him not to worry about the money. It was a small price to pay for the peace of mind, and if it helped him, then it was well worth every penny.

With the email sent, Cody found another thing he wanted to run away from; he no longer found any interest in puttering around on the net for a few hours. Shutting down the computer, Cody wandered out of his room and poked his head into Joe’s room.

“Joe,” he whispered, trying to determine if Joe was conscious or not. “Joe,” he whispered again, which was answered with the sound of Joe’s steady rhythmic breathing.

Cody twisted his way around the half open door and into the room. Deftly, he crept up onto the bed, daring not to wake Joe in the process, where he curled into Joe as he slept on his back. Resting his head on Joe’s warm chest, Cody inhaled as he listened the beat of Joe’s heart; the skin there smelled of dried sweat tinged with the sweet pallor of stale beer. He smelled like sex, and comfort, but to Cody, sex and comfort were mutually exclusive.

It was a good place to escape to, at least for a few hours. Better by far, than drowning the troubles away, better than taking his frustration out on a willing stranger. The only drawback to the respite he found in bed with Joe, it was a trick; a fleeting dream that would only last a few hours. A fond memory he alone would possess in the light of day.

Three-forty-five a.m. came too early, of that Cody was convinced as he lay cradled in a loose hug. He had fallen asleep a little before two in the morning. It was a good little nap, no bothersome dreams to plague it. Even so, the internal clock that kept his schedule in order had him awake at three-forty-five, just like every morning. For the first time though, Cody didn’t want to crawl out of the comfortable bed, or out from the embrace Joe had wrapped him in somewhere over the last two hours.

Reluctantly, Cody slipped from under Joe’s arm, an arm whose muscles flexed instinctively, as if trying to hold Cody in place. As much as Cody wanted to give in to those demands, it would be over in forty-five minutes when Joe’s alarm went off anyway. That would only lead to Cody having to explain exactly why he was in Joe’s bed, and as much as Cody was sure Joe was sending some pretty clear signals last night, there’s a world of difference between sloshed, and the next morning.

Slipping out of Joe’s room, Cody moved to his own where he threw on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, finished with a zippered hoodie to protect against the cold morning air. Fifteen minutes later he was downstairs in the kitchen of the bagelry.

“You’re late,” Saul barked gruffly as he checked off another hand-truck of fifty pound flour bags.

Cody brushed off Saul’s remark with a wave of his hand as he rushed by. Pulling off the zippered hoodie which had barely even began to retain his body heat, Cody tossed it on a hook, retrieving a dark blue apron which he tied securely while shouting back. “I showed up, didn’t I? Quit your bitchin’.”

Saul may have been gruff, but he was also as quiet as an alley cat as he made his way through the kitchen, the invoice in his hand rolled into a loose tube. Cody was still chuckling to himself as the paper swatted him upside the head.

“I’ll show you bitching,” Saul proclaimed, waggling his weapon in front of Cody’s face before Cody could even react to the light whack.

“You’re lucky I even showed up,” Cody laughed, rubbing the back side of his head where Saul hand landed his playful blow.

Saul eyed Cody for a moment. “You’re awfully happy this morning,” Saul observed before turning to walk away.

“It’s a new day,” Cody countered, smiling as he followed Saul into the kitchen proper.

“Good night?” Saul asked as he turned and raised a bushy brow in Cody’s direction.

“Not really,” Cody said, “but it ended well.”

Saul smiled, glad to hear something nice, not that he ever heard anything different from Cody; he had long ago been able to separate Cody’s truth away from everything else. “You should have stayed in bed then,” the old man said with a knowing wink as he again turned to finish checking in the flour delivery.

Cody giggled, he couldn’t help it if Saul, and the conversation, had an odd way of pulling the youth out of him; forcefully at times. “You mind if I run back upstairs and take Joe a Gatorade?” Cody asked. “He had too much to drink last night.”

It wasn’t the question that stopped Saul in his tracks, more the statement that followed it. He wanted to say something, but in the end, Saul figured he’d let the statement, and its implications, hang in the air of the kitchen where Cody left it floating. He answered Cody in much the same way Cody had answered him only moments ago, with a hand thrown in the air as he walked away. Cody smirked as his statement achieved the response he was fishing for.

From there. Cody fell into the normal morning routine, pulling and measuring out ingredients for the various recipes. Mixing and kneading the different types of dough, and setting them aside to rise. Wiping his hands on his apron, Cody disappeared through a doorway and into the main sales area of The Old Goat.

Hopping over the sales bar as if it were a small obstacle, Cody crossed the way to a beverage cooler and pulled out two Gatorades. He repeated his Bo Duke over the counter and was back in the kitchen where he found Saul already measuring out balls of dough by their weight in his hand alone.

“Blueberry should be ready to go next,” Cody commented as he paused to assure himself that Saul had everything under control. “I’ll be right back down.”

Saul made a spectacle of looking exasperated. “I got it, go on, get outta’ here already.”

Joe’s bedroom light was on as Cody approached the door. Looking in, he saw Joe perched on the side of the bed, wearing only his boxers, and holding his head in his hands nursing what Cody assumed was his hang-over, as his elbows rested on his knees. Wearing a small smile, he entered the room and sat next to Joe.

“Morning,” Cody said, sounding entirely too loud and cheery for Joe.

Joe growled a response that no translator known to man could decipher.

“That good, eh?” Cody chuckled, enjoying the moment.

Joe took a second to scrub his hands over his face before he turned to look at Cody. As drunk as he’d turned out to be the night before, he still remembered the night. Not all of it, but segments, glimpses, yearnings, the feeling of holding someone in his arms while he slept; that much Joe remembered. He was about to offer an answer to Cody’s question, that was, until an ice cold chill slowly raced up his spine.

Joe’s upper body stiffened as his back arched, causing his chest to jut forward in attempt to escape the chill of the Gatorade bottle Cody was slowly dragging over the ridges of his backbone.

“Christ,” Joe gasped, fully awake now as his teeth began chattering. Cody’s laughter filled the room, and Joe didn’t mind the sound one bit, even if it did make his temples throb in beat to his heart.

“Here, drink this,” Cody said swirling the Gatorade around Joe’s side and tossing it in his lap. “It’ll help you feel better.”

Joe looked down at the bottle in his lap; it wasn’t a very appealing shade of orange, but he had to admit he was more than a little thirsty. “Shouldn’t you be kneading dough or something?” Joe asked as he unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swallow.

“Thought I’d sneak away and make sure you were okay,” Cody answered, feeling a twinge of pride as he watched Joe drink. “You should have really drunk a lot of water before you crashed last night.”

Joe nodded as he took another large gulp.

“Among other things,” Cody said, a devious smile bloomed on his lips as he laced the conversation with innuendo.

The comment, the smile, the fragmented memories, Cody’s damned blue eyes; they all worked in perfect concert to produce the deep flush Joe could feel burning from his cheeks, sliding down his neck, and dripping onto his chest.

“Shuddup’,” Joe said in a muffled response as he used his shoulder to playfully knock Cody off the edge of the bed. With Cody on the floor laughing and obviously enjoying Joe’s reaction, Joe stood and mumbled something about getting ready for work, as he stepped over Cody.

Gathering his wits, Cody pulled himself off the floor just as he heard the bathroom door close and the water to the shower start.

“I’ll see ya’ this afternoon, Joe,” Cody hollered loud enough to be heard through the bathroom door and above the noise of the shower. As he was leaving Joe’s room, a glance at Joe’s dresser stopped him dead in his tracks.

Sitting upon the dresser, amongst a jumble of loose change and various crumpled receipts, was a familiar piece of stationary; white in the center and graduating to a pale shade of purple. The sound of the shower still resonated in the background, even with the contrasting sound of water sloshing as Joe rinsed some body part or another, Cody still glanced over his shoulder to make sure Joe wasn’t coming as he quietly retraced his steps back into the room.

It only took a quick glance, the stationary, the familiar hand with which the letter was written; he didn’t need to read it again to confirm it was the letter he had finally opened just yesterday.

What it was doing on Joe’s dresser, Cody didn’t want to know. He was curious why Joe hadn’t said anything about it yet. Then again, Joe never did pry much. That was one of the things Cody liked about him. He knew when to ask questions, and he knew when to just be there.

Part of him wanted to be angry, the smaller part fortunately. As Cody set the letter back down where he found it, Cody knew he could forgive Joe anything, and maybe, with the letter in Joe’s possession, Cody could do exactly what he had tried so hard at doing last night.

Forget about it.

And that is just what he did, at least for as long as Saul and his bagels kept him occupied with boiling and transferring to baking racks to go into the large ovens.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Jimenez asked. The man didn’t need the PhD on his wall, or the fifteen years of sporadic schooling it took to obtain it, to read what was seething under Cody’s calm façade, twisting around like a canvas satchel of serpents.

“That fuckin’ bitch!” Cody spewed the kinder words that had been rolling around in his mind since he got on the muni bus, his cheeks burning with shame as he did. “She makes me do things when she pulls her shit.”

“What happened?” the doctor asked, noting how Cody’s words were laced with more regret than they were anger.

“She sent me a letter a few weeks back,” Cody admitted. “I didn’t open it until yesterday.”

“Why did you wait so long to open it?” Dr. Jimenez inquired, seizing the opportunity that Cody left dangling.

Cody gave a weak shrug as he sank into his seat. “Dunno,” he answered in a whisper. “I was afraid of what was coming next. Afraid that it would ruin everything.”

“I see,” the psychologist observed. “What was in the letter?”

Cody let out a bitter chuckle. “Everything I expected. It was basically a love note letting me know she transferred my college money into Benny’s account, and then proceeded to say that I am not the man she hoped I would be.” Cody stopped talking, fighting the urge to break down and cry in front of the shrink. Taking a deep, relaxing breath he continued. “It’s just… She used to leave me the best notes, with all the encouragement in the world wrapped into a few words, and always signed with a perfect L.”

“What does she make you want to do Cody?” the doctor asked, growing concerned.

“Sad thing is, she attacked where she knew I wouldn’t fight back. It’s like that stupid letter reached out and ripped my nuts off when I read it,” Cody said, pushing aside the Doctors question. “It made me feel like a weak, stupid, child. She always does, and I can’t fight it.”

“What did you want to do last night Cody?” Dr. Jimenez asked again.

Cody looked up, right into the steady eyes of Dr. Jimenez who was waiting for an answer.

Cody gave another shrug. “Sometimes I want go find some married guy…” Cody stopped there, wondering how far the shrink would push.

“And do what?” Dr. Jimenez prodded, unwilling to yield to Cody stubbornness on this issue.

A dark smile slid effortlessly across Cody’s lips, figuring he’d give the doctor the answer he sought. “I want to look for a married guy, and fuck him. It would be nice if he was married to a controlling bitch like my mother. Then I could hurt her. I could hurt her by rubbing everything she hates in her face.”

“Did you do that last night Cody?” the doctor asked in a tone that matched the serious features of his face. Cody didn’t answer, letting the statement rest on the hypothetical as he stared at the Doctor.

“Why do you come here, Cody,” Dr. Jimenez asked as he at back from his desk and crossed his arms. He was, by now, adept at noticing Cody’s walls when he ran into them. Today, however, provided a new symptom in Cody’s attempt to shock him, “when you don’t want to talk about what is really going on?”

“What are you talking about?” Cody questioned, annoyed with Dr. Jimenez calling him out.

“You don’t need to come in here and try to shock me with stories, it’s counterproductive,” Dr. Jimenez said, as he sat back physically showing Cody the distance he felt.

“It’s not a story,” Cody said, his shoulders slumping. In many ways he wished it was, he wished his whole life was a piece of fiction, at least then he could be assured of a happy ending.

“Not a story?” the doctor asked with an arched brow.

Cody answered with a defeated shake of his head.

“In that case,” Dr. Jimenez said, retrieving the prescription tablet from his desk.

“I told you before, no pills,” Cody said, setting his jaw, as his gaze never wavered from the man who sat behind the desk.

“Just something to take the edge off,” Dr. Jimenez answered as he scribbled out a prescription and signed it. “Just for when things get really bad, like they did last night,” he continued as he ripped the prescription from the pad and held it out to Cody.

“No pills,” Cody said again, flatly refusing the small piece of paper the doctor held aloft. “They don’t work,” he continued. “Sides all, I’d rather hurt, than wander through the day feeling nothing at all.”

“Once again, Cody, tell me why you come here?” Dr Jimenez asked dropping his arm. “You claim you want help, yet you refuse everything I attempt, you fight me at every turn.”

“I… I just need someone to talk to,” Cody said looking away, not feeling one bit of the confidence he had felt only moments before.

“Can’t you talk to your friends?” Dr. Jimenez asked as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“About football, yeah, the weather, sure,” Cody answered. “Even girls, just… just not this… I have to smile for them. I can’t give them a reason to go away.”