Vincent Kinsington

It was about six when Alex knocked on my apartment door. He brought barbeque chicken with him from the place down the street and a large bottle of cola. I resisted the urge to hug him and tell him all about Chet.

"I'm sorry," I said instead.

He sighed as he put the food on my little table. "I know," he said. "And I forgive you."

"I'll never do anything like that again. And after spending time honestly looking at pictures of you and Mateo, I do think you are good together. I do think he genuinely loves you. I'm sorry I wouldn't allow myself to see it before."

Alex smiled and hugged me. "Get some plates and glasses for dinner," he said.

I went to my kitchen and retrieved two white, ceramic plates and two clear glasses. I set them on the table as Alex was already getting the food set up.

"So if I set up a dinner with you and Mateo, you'll go and be civil?"

"Yes," I said eagerly. I had to get on Mateo's good side not only because he was Alex's boyfriend but also because he was Chet's best friend. And because I had wronged him.

Alex smiled. "I'll set it up. I'm not sure when it will happen. He is busy with soccer and school and he is planning a birthday party for Chet."

"When?" I asked trying to appear uninterested.

"Friday. Do you want to come?"

Yes. "I'm not sure Mateo would want me to go."

"He'll be fine with it," Alex assured me. "You'll be there as my friend. And I don't think Chet will mind."

I was pretty sure Chet wouldn't mind. I had noticed his birthday was coming up. I had hoped to do something to celebrate in private - nothing sexual. Well, maybe in my dreams, but it would be too soon in real life. Wouldn't it?

It was good to spend time again with my friend like this. He talked about little things as we ate. He freely spoke about Mateo and I smiled instead of lecturing him on why they should break up. It was refreshing and eased my heart.

"I'm going to the police station tomorrow," Alex said as he wiped his hands on a napkin. Our plates were empty.

"To report Jason?"

He nodded.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I asked.

"No. Mateo is going with me."

"I could still go with both of you."

He smiled. "No, but thank you. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Okay," I said. I was a little disappointed he didn't want me to go, but at least he was speaking with me now and freely sharing things about Mateo. Maybe I should tell him about Chet. Except Chet had said himself he didn't want to tell anyone about us yet. I would wait until I got the go ahead from him.

Alex stayed at my place playing video games until 10:30. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I was changing my clothes when my phone rang.

The name came up only as Don't Answer. I had saved his number to know not to answer it on the off chance he called. I let it ring and ring. Each time it rang my nerves jumped so tingles ran down my entire body. It stopped ringing. I let out the breath I had been holding. A few moments later my phone beeped to let me know I had a voicemail message.

My hand shook as I brought the phone up to my ear.

"It's me," the unfamiliar voice said. "I know you know about me. I don't want to interfere with your mother's life or yours. I just want to meet you. You don't even need to call me dad. You're attending university now right? You're probably just as smart as your mother. Can't I just...can't we just meet? You and I? Just once? I'll never contact you again after we meet if you don't want me to. I'll leave it to you, but I really hope you'll contact me."

I didn't save it. I didn't delete it. I hung up. My hands trembled. My lungs wouldn't fill with enough air. My heart began to beat rapidly - pounding painfully against my chest. I took in a deep breath, but it was an audible wheeze. There was only one person I thought of in that moment.

"You can't call me this late. My sister hears everything."

"Come over," I said.

"What's wrong?" Chet's voice was filled with concern. I hadn't realized I had allowed that much emotion in my voice. "Vince?"

But I couldn't answer passed the hard lump in my throat.

"Text me the address," Chet said. "I'm on my way." He ended the call. It was difficult to text the correct address with my fingers shaking as they were. I had to correct the text several times before I hit send.

Less than twenty minutes later there was a knock on my door. I wasn't sure how he got there, but I didn't ask him. I was still trembling when he arrived. I opened the door and saw him standing there with black, messy hair. He wore a plain white t-shirt and black jogging pants. His dark eyes took in my state with one short glance and then he threw his arms around me. I stepped back pulling him into my apartment with me. I pushed the door closed with my foot.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He stroked my hair.

His chest was pressed against mine in the tight hug. His heartbeat was steady. It calmed my own. I let out one long breath and stopped trembling.

He pulled away just enough to look up into my face. His hand touched my cheek and brushed away a tear I didn't realize was there.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded. He broke the hug, but took my hand as he looked around my apartment. "Is this a studio apartment and not a one bedroom? I thought for sure you'd have a one bedroom apartment."

"It is a one bedroom," I said.

He looked at me and raised one black eyebrow. His hand was warm in mine. I didn't want to let go. Ever. I wanted to keep his warmth forever.

"Then why is your bed out here?" he asked.

"The bedroom feels confining," I said.

Chet stepped further into my apartment and opened the first door he came across. It was the bathroom.

"Are you looking for the bedroom?" I asked.

"Yes. I want to see the bedroom of a rich college student who doesn't keep his bed in there."

I opened the door across from the bathroom. He lead the way into the room filled with my desk and computer, a dresser, a large tv, several gaming consoles and a coffee table in front of a black loveseat. He kicked at one of my dirty shirts on the floor.

"I thought you'd be cleaner than this," he said.

I shrugged. "I never had to clean up after myself before."

He looked at me like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Well, if I'm going to be coming over here more often, you need to start."

I smiled at the thought of him coming over more often. "Alright," I said.

I pulled him back into the living room. I let go of his hand as I went to the other side of the bed and sat on it with my feet up and my back propped up against the headboard. I patted the bed next to me. Chet kicked off his shoes and got on the bed, but he didn't sit up like I thought he would. He spread out on the bed with his back on the quilts. He stretched his arms and legs out wide then he wiggled from side to side.

"This is really comfortable," he said. "I wish I had one like it. My bed is a queen, not king sized like yours and it's twenty years old. I used to have to share it with..." His voice broke off suddenly.

I was reminded of the time I had asked about his family and he had looked trapped. There was something else - someone else - he didn't want to talk about. That was okay with me. He would tell me when he was ready.

I shifted so I was lying on the bed next to him. I propped myself up so I could look into his face. His hand reached up and delicately touched my cheek. I should tell him why I called, but I wasn't sure I could vocalize it. People around me just knew. I never had to actually say it.

I shifted so I could place my head over his heart. His arms came around me in a safe hug. His heartbeat was steady, calming. I needed to tell him. Now was the time.

Why did my eyes have to be so different? Why couldn't I just have inherited my mother's eyes? Most of my problems with my family would have been resolved if I just had my mother's eyes.

"I love your eyes," Chet said casually.

Had I spoken my thoughts out loud? No. I hadn't. I lifted my head off his chest so I could look into his eyes. His fingers reached up and brushed along my tight eyebrows. The muscles relaxed under his touch.

"Can you hear my thoughts?" I asked him.

An amused smile touched his lips and he shook his head.

"Then why are your words always exactly what I need to hear?" I asked.

"They are?"

I nodded.

He smiled wider. "I was just thinking that your eyes remind me of tiger's eye stones. They are my favorite. I have several in a shoe box that I've collected over the years. Do you want to see them some time?"

"Yes," I said. I sat up on my bed and leaned over him to grab my phone from the little end table next to my bed. He sat up and propped his back against my headboard.

I opened my voicemail and pressed to listen to the latest message and then I quickly handed the phone to Chet. He took the phone with a slightly confused expression and put it up to his ear. I watched him as he watched me while he listened. His expression changed from confusion to comprehension. He handed the phone back to me when he was done. He didn't ask who the caller was. It was obvious.

I motioned for him to go back to his original position. He scooted down the bed a little bit and stretched out. I placed my ear over his heart again. He held me.

"My mom isn't from here," I said. I held onto his shirt for comfort. For once when this subject came up, I didn't feel the beginnings of a panic attack. "She came here to attend the university. She worked full time and paid her own way through college. She was a waitress at an upscale restaurant. It was where she met my dad. They started dating. Only...only she already had a boyfriend. She had started dating him in high school. They had grown up together. He still lived in her hometown, but they were still together. My dad and her other boyfriend knew about each other. She didn't hide it from either of them.

"My dad grew serious and proposed. My mom accepted. That should have been the end of it right? Of course she would stop seeing her old boyfriend after she married my dad. That is what everyone thought until I was born." My voice faltered. Chet's arms tightened around me.

"She was almost kicked out of the house then, me with her. I'm still not sure why they let us stay. I'm still not sure why my dad put his name on my birth certificate. I look enough like my mom that no one would know except my eyes give me away. It's why I hate my eyes. They mean I'm not my father's son."

He stilled when I said I hated my eyes. I pulled back just enough to look at him. "If you keep telling me my eyes are beautiful, I might start believing you."

He smiled and said, "They are my favorite color." And I melted back into his arms with my head on his chest. "She's not still seeing him is she?"

"No," I said. "She won't risk getting kicked out of the house and losing her wealth - my father's wealth."

"Will you go meet with him? Your mom's old boyfriend?"

"No," I said.

His hand caressed my hair and we grew silent. It felt great to have his arms around me, his heartbeat in my ear. It was rhythmic and soothing. It was hard to keep my eyes open.

"I have an older brother," Chet said. "He's six years older than me. We used to share a room. He used to watch out for me, protect me, spend time with me. And then he turned fourteen and everything changed. I don't know why that was the age he changed. I don't know why he decided doing meth, stealing from others and staying away from his family was better than what he had before. He started to hit me instead of protect me. He stole from us. He stole a lot from us. He hurt my little sister. My parents tried to get him help, put him in a drug rehab program, but he didn't even want to try. He's been in and out of prison several times. He broke into someone's home and robbed them at gunpoint. There were small children in the house too. The gun wasn't loaded, he never had bullets, but still the family hadn't known that. He just didn't care. I don't ever want to see him again."

I slipped my arms between his waist and the bed and squeezed him like he squeezed me. We stayed that way awhile longer before I said, "Chet."

"Hmm."

"I'm glad you're my boyfriend."

"Me too," he said. And that was how I fell asleep with his rhythmic heartbeat as my lullaby.