24. Emory
Emory
The sun was out, which meant that Emory should’ve been sleeping.
Giving in to Gerard’s kind offer of sharing the bed had been a mistake.
At some point right before sunrise, he’d stirred and discovered Gerard’s muscular arm draped over him, and he’d never felt more goddamn secure in his entire life, which was the tragedy of all tragedies because when he awoke next, Gerard was nowhere to be found.
He hadn’t even stuck around for breakfast as usual, which soured Emory’s own appetite.
By late morning, he was well rested yet restless. He couldn’t go out. All he could do was pace the apartment and wrestle with himself over what he wanted.
In his head, he wanted to stay safe until he could calcify his discovery and rub it in the faces of his former classmates.
In his heart, he wanted to be visible, so Gerard could see him.
Maybe then, without words, Gerard would understand the growing emotions Emory felt for him, even though he couldn’t fathom them being reciprocated.
Eventually, Gerard arrived with an armful of gifts. One at a time, he set down two take-out coffees, a bag of fragrant baked goods, a long stringed instrument Emory had never seen before, and what appeared to be some colorful telephones. “Good morning,” Gerard chirped.
This was not what Emory had been expecting. “What’s all this stuff?”
Gerard passed Emory a still-hot coffee cup before plating him a scone. “Fuel, a mountain dulcimer, and a new way for us to keep in touch.” From the drawer in the kitchen, Gerard produced a pair of scissors, which he used to cut into the plastic on the toys before handing one to Emory.
“What do we need walkie-talkies for?”
“This way, if either of us ever gets held up or needs help again, since we don’t have phones, we can select a channel and use these,” Gerard said. “Package says they have up to a three-mile range. We’ll have to test them out.”
The previous night and that morning, all he’d wanted to do was reach out to Gerard to make sure everything was okay.
Now they had a way to do that. One simple present exhibited so much care that quieted all his worries.
All except the worry that he might be falling in love with his roommate, which was preposterous on every level.
“Thank you,” Emory said, after taking a bite of his cheddar-and-bacon scone and unfolding the walkie-talkie directions.
He was so comfortable with Gerard now that he completely forgot his rule about eating and drinking in front of him.
Upon first sip, the supersweet coffee made his teeth sting. “Why does this taste like soap?”
“Oh, sorry, that one’s mine.” Gerard swapped the cup Emory was holding for his. “Yumi at Bay Brew bought pumpkin spice syrup in bulk for the season and nobody is ordering it.”
“Did she pour all of it in there?” Emory asked, his tongue left with a filmy coating on it.
“I made the mistake of agreeing to try it the day she got it, and now she doesn’t even wait for me to order. She sees me and goes, ‘The usual, coming right up!’” he said.
“Is ‘the usual’ tooth decay?” Emory asked. “That single sip is going to give me a sugar high, which might be just what I need this morning.”
“Did you sleep all right?” Gerard asked, sitting at the kitchen table.
Emory couldn’t tell if the question had anything to do with their surprise cuddle session. Perhaps Gerard had rolled away before waking up. There was a possibility he’d never ever have to know about it, and it might be better that way. “Fine. How about you?”
“Fine.”
Two fines, both loaded, lingered in the air as they resumed eating their scones and drinking their coffees for a while in companionable yet crackling silence.
The morning light reached every edge of the room by the time Emory caught sight of the strange musical instrument again.
“Is that what you were playing at Regina’s last night? ”
With his mouth full, Gerard nodded. “I convinced her to let me borrow it. She really wants me to audition for a choir solo for the talent portion of the Halloween Masquerade Party. I told her I’d do it on one condition—I got to play her dulcimer.”
“What’s so special about it?” Emory asked.
“Aside from it being beautiful and delivering such a soothing sound, it’s one of the few instruments that’s kind of authentically American.
It has its roots in Appalachian folk music,” he explained.
“Would you mind if I practiced here today? It’s cumbersome to cart around, and I don’t have a carrying case for it. ”
“Sure,” Emory said. Now that he enjoyed music, he was secretly excited by the prospect of having a private concert from Gerard Wells.
“I meant to go to the library last night to see if they had some books for my research, but, well … I won’t be able to make much new headway on my experiment without them. ”
Gerard toyed with the sleeve on his coffee cup. “Do you know the titles of the books?”
“No, but I have a few authors in mind who may have written on the subject,” Emory said.
“Write down their names. I’ll go check for you.”
“You will?” Emory asked.
“Of course. It’s not far. If it’ll help you work, I’m happy to do it,” he said with a magazine-cover smile. “Besides, better than you breaking and entering and then stealing them.”
Emory chortled. “Okay. Uh, thanks.” He rustled around for a small piece of paper and a working pen.
Gerard placed batteries inside both walkie-talkies. Green lights blinked on from their fronts. “Testing, one, two,” Gerard said into the microphone of one and his voice came out relatively clear from the speaker in the other.
“Do you even have a library card?” Emory asked as he traded Gerard the list of three titles for one of the walkie-talkies.
Gerard’s brow furrowed as he tapped his foot. “Oh … no, and I can’t give them my ID without revealing myself. Well, I’m already harboring a fugitive. Stealing it is!” He put his coat and shoes back on. The walkie-talkie slipped easily into his pocket as he walked over and opened the door.
“Partners in crime,” Emory said softly without thinking.
A perceptible blush blossomed on Gerard’s face. “Ha. Yeah. We’re a real Thelma and Louise.” Gerard smiled once more before leaving.
Feeling cheeky and light and somehow already missing Gerard’s presence in the room, Emory pressed the button on his walkie-talkie. “Don’t go driving off any cliffs, Thelma.”
A little eternity passed before he got a response. “Roger that, Louise.”