Chapter Thirty-Five
They both got out of the van, and Sam felt a tug of apprehension as he approached the roller door. It was like excavating the tomb of his former life. He could barely remember what his stuff looked like.
As if sensing his hesitation, Connor threw an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “It’ll be fine. One step at a time.”
Sam nodded and bent to turn the key in the lock then yanked up the door to reveal a half-filled cavity housing his mattress wrapped in plastic, the bed frame, matching nightstands, and a handful of boxes of varying sizes.
“Think it’ll all fit?” he asked Connor, who was assessing the pile of items. “If it doesn’t, I can dump the frame.”
Connor shook his head, stepping over to the bed frame and pulling a screwdriver from his pocket.
“It’ll fit. I can break down the frame and load it in sections.
Then we’ll stack the boxes around it.” He’d emptied the back of the van in preparation for the trip, storing his racks of wires and fittings in the workshop at the office.
Not for the first time since they’d left Oakdale, Sam was glad he’d had the sense to accept Connor’s offer to accompany him. For someone as practically challenged as himself, having Connor around was like shacking up with MacGyver—oddly also one of his secret boyhood fantasies.
While Sam went through the boxes and consolidated what he could to save on space, Connor broke the solid wood frame down into slats and stacked them in piles, which he wrapped with furniture pads and secured with packing tape.
Together, they carried the piles to the van, and Connor maneuvered them around the cargo hold like he was playing some weird game of Tetris.
It took them just shy of an hour to clear out the unit, and to Sam’s surprise and Connor’s smug glee, everything fit with room to spare.
Sam ducked into the front office to drop off the unit key and close out the account then returned to where Connor stood by the van and wrapped him in a grateful hug.
Above them, the sky was streaked with the last remnants of daylight.
“Do you want to grab something to eat first or get the whole meet-the-ex thing over and done with?” Connor murmured into his hair.
Sam stiffened. He’d been trying not to think about Felix. Their encounter was the part of the trip he’d been dreading most. He wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy his time in Austin with Connor while it was still there, looming over him.
“Let’s get it over with,” he said, nuzzling against Connor’s neck as if some of the man’s unflappable calm might transmit to him on contact. “I won’t be the best company until it’s done.”
Connor bent his head to pepper Sam’s face with kisses. “I can come with you if you’ve changed your mind.”
Sam’s stomach clenched in fear. There was no way the two of them could meet.
He wouldn’t do that to Connor—stand by while Felix spewed a series of hateful observations about Sam’s choice in men or his inability to fend for himself.
Or worse—dredged up all the horrible, embarrassing things Sam had subjected himself to in his misplaced devotion to his ex.
“No,” he said quickly, releasing Connor and fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Connor studied him closely but didn’t press further. Instead, he pulled open the passenger door for Sam, and they both got back in the van. Then he drove out of the storage lot and headed south on the interstate toward downtown.
Felix lived in a one-bedroom apartment near Zilker Park.
It was on a quiet, tree-lined street in the same neighborhood as Barton Springs Pool.
There was no way he could afford market rent on his curator salary, but he’d taken it over from a friend—read lover—and kept the discounted rate.
Sam had spent a lot of time at Felix’s apartment, playing house.
He’d learned his lesson from the book and only left things behind that demonstrated what a refined and cultured boyfriend he was: a designer leather jacket, his prized DSLR, a signed print from a semifamous street artist Felix had introduced him to.
When everything fell apart and Sam found himself unable to leave his apartment, he tried to contact Felix for help.
But his boyfriend had been full of excuses and never showed.
While they were together, Sam had felt the need to hide his less-desirable traits from Felix—his neediness, his anxiety, his struggles to cope with life’s setbacks—and as it turned out, that instinct was justified.
The slightest hint of desperation had spooked Felix and sent him running for the hills.
After the excuses dried up, Felix simply ghosted him.
Sam had lain in bed, staring at his silent phone as his mind fell to pieces, and wondered if he’d made up the entire relationship.
Were we ever really together? Did Felix even like me?
Showing up and taking back what was his was a way for Sam to acknowledge that it had happened. That he hadn’t just imagined it.
A week after returning to Oakdale with his parents, Sam had gotten a text from Felix—noncommittal and casual—asking him what he was up to that weekend. Sam didn’t reply. And that was the last he’d heard from him.
Sam stared up at the apartment building through the windshield of the van parked outside on the street. Beside him, Connor rested his hands on the wheel. “So, I’ll wait here?”
“Yup,” Sam said, forcing a brightness into his voice. “I shouldn’t be long.” He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, surprised when Connor joined him, reaching above his head to stretch his arms. “You look like you’re ready to clock someone,” Sam remarked.
“Just getting the blood flowing. It’s been a long drive.”
But Sam knew better. Perhaps out here, Connor felt more able to jump to Sam’s aid than sitting in the van.
“Thank you,” Sam said softly. “And don’t worry—I’ll be right back.”
He turned and walked toward the building.
He wanted to glance back and give Connor a reassuring smile but decided against it.
He was afraid his face would betray his fear.
It was best to press ahead and do what he needed to do.
He snuck behind someone to get into the lobby and scaled the stairs to the second floor.
Walking down the familiar hallway, Sam thought of all the times he and Felix had walked it together.
All the parties Felix had hosted here, all the people Sam had met.
Sam stopped outside number 206 and brought his fist to the door with a sharp knock.
It took a moment before he heard the faint slap of footsteps, and then the door opened, and there stood Felix, shirt unbuttoned to reveal his smooth, hairless chest, baggy sweats sitting low on his hips.
Felix did a double take, then his face broke into a grin, and he pulled Sam into a hug.
“Samuel! Where have you been hiding?”
Sam blinked, unsure how to answer the question. But Felix didn’t seem interested in a reply. He ushered Sam into the apartment and closed the door behind him. The balcony was open, letting in a gentle breeze that rustled the curtains by the window.
“Want a drink?” Felix stepped over to the fridge and pulled out a green bottle of Topo Chico. “Was it you who got me into lime?” he asked, cracking open the lid and taking a generous sip. “Now I’m hooked.”
“Ah...” Sam felt like his life had entered another dimension while Felix had continued on his regular trajectory. “Actually, I’m here for my stuff. I loaned you my camera and a bunch of clothes. Figured it was about time I came to pick them up.”
Felix looked at him, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Sure, whatever. Have a look around; see what you can find. I’m sure it’s all here somewhere.”
“Thanks.” Sam walked over to the large shelving unit against the wall and scanned the cubed compartments to see if any of the objects on display looked familiar. He spotted his signed print sticking out between two slim volumes of poetry and tugged it down.
“God, it’s been a minute,” Felix said, watching him. “You look good.”
Sam didn’t bother to stifle his snort.
“What?” Felix retorted, his voice hardening. “Are you pissed or something? I mean, you were the one who just disappeared.”
Sam whirled around and glared at Felix in disbelief. “I didn’t disappear.”
Felix shrugged. “It’s not like you bothered to tell me where you were going.”
Sam gritted his teeth. “I called you over and over. I must have sent a dozen messages. I needed you. You were the one who disappeared.”
“We had back-to-back exhibitions, and then there was Jean McLeary’s solo show,” Felix said, sounding almost offended. “There was no way I could get time off work to hold your hand while you had another of your freak-outs.”
“My freak-outs?” Sam echoed.
“You know that stuff burns me out.”
Sam remembered a throwaway joke Felix had once made about his mom, suggesting she’d brought back Valium chic. ‘Better than having to tiptoe around her downswings,’ he’d quipped with a tight smile.
Sam shook his head as though trying to clear it. “Look, I didn’t come here to get into anything. I just want to grab my things and go.”
“Where?”
“Home.” The word came out before Sam could fully grasp what it contained. “Oakdale.”
Felix raised his eyebrows. “That’s where you’ve been? After all the shit you told me about how much you hated it there.”
Sam saw Felix had shoved his camera on top of the cabinet by the sink, and he strode into the kitchen. He had to stand on his toes to reach it.
“So, what—your parents drive you out here?” Felix asked, sidling over to the balcony to peer down at the street below. “Who’s the guy?”
Sam froze as he realized Felix was staring at Connor standing on the sidewalk outside.
“Is he with you?”
“Yeah,” Sam said finally, conflicted about bringing Connor into this.
“That was fast.” Felix fixed him with a smirk. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Sam. You don’t mess around.”
Sam felt it—the strength being sapped from him. Like Felix had clipped an artery.
“Is this the best Oakdale has to offer?” Felix continued, apparently enjoying himself. “What is that, a utility van? God, please don’t tell me he’s a plumber.”
Sam stuffed the camera into his backpack. “You know, Felix, you can be a real fucking snob.”
“At least I have standards,” Felix said. “You went back to your queer-hating hometown and picked up the straightest-passing dude you could find. Guess the self-loathing’s baked in, which explains all your hangups.”
Sam dropped his bag to the floor and locked eyes with the man who’d wreaked havoc on his self-esteem for far too long. “My hangups have nothing to do with hating who I am and everything to do with being taken advantage of—which you did plenty.”
Felix’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“It was never okay that you fucked other guys.” Sam’s throat spasmed, and he swallowed hard.
“It made me feel like shit, like I wasn’t enough.
That threesome was a new low for me. I know I didn’t say no, but it hurt how blind you were to how I felt.
If you’d checked in, picked up on even one of the signals I tried to send you, maybe I would’ve been brave enough to call ‘stop.’” A single tear rolled down Sam’s cheek.
He wiped it away with his sleeve. “I didn’t realize how much I’d twisted myself to please you and everyone else until I snapped.
And I didn’t realize how cruel you were to me until I met someone who actually cared.
Someone who understood that I didn’t know what I wanted and had the patience to let me figure it out. ”
Felix stood, silent. The smirk gone.
A strange calm came over Sam. “But that’s not on you,” he said quietly.
“That was mine to work through.” He’d fallen apart to understand how to put himself back together.
Sam returned to the kitchen, picked up his bag, and swung it over his shoulder.
“I think I’m done here. If you find anything else, just toss it. ”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the apartment, grateful he would never have to see it or the man who lived there again.