Page 94 of The Leaving Kind
“Alice in Wonderland.”
“Oh, man, and you think Star Trek could leave scars?”
“Aren’t they always at the mercy of evil aliens?”
“No! Star Trek is supposed to represent an enlightened future where diplomacy trumps aggression.”
Victor shot him a blank stare.
Cam chuckled and spread his hands. “They try.”
Smiling, Victor put his glass aside. “What is it you want to talk about?”
Cam outlined the events of the morning. Luisa’s decision regarding the tree farm, her offer to sell the leftover supplies to him and Jorge when the business closed, and how he’d need to find somewhere to put it all. Jorge’s offer. Jorge, himself.
“He said he was taking a break. I’ve done my share of couch surfing since I got back, and I can tell you, it never felt like being on a break. It’s being between, you know? It’s fucking purgatory or limbo. It’s nowhere.”
Gently, Victor said, “Maybe that’s where Jorge needed to be for a while.”
Cam closed his eyes and nodded. Yeah, that made sense. Warm fingers found his and squeezed. Opening his eyes, Cam smiled across the table at his lover. At the improbable man who’d changed his mind about relationships. Then he stopped thinking about Victor in those terms because the fear was real. He swallowed.
“Want to talk about it?” Victor asked.
“When I got back, I knew there’d be this period of adjustment. They prepare you for it. Well, they tell you to be prepared for it. But ... At first it was the quiet. I didn’t realize how ... It’s not noise, it’s like a static in your head. This constant alertness to sound. And the need to be ready for the sounds to change.” Was he making any sense? And why were they talking about this?
Victor’s fingers were warm against his, though, and the ravioli was nesting in his belly.
“Voices, wind, the vehicles; it’s constant noise. The hospital was too quiet.”
Eyebrows dipping, Victor offered a short, encouraging nod.
“All I wanted to do when I got out was go home. But when I got there, it wasn’t noisy either. My sister, brother, niece. They didn’t make enough noise. Am I making any sense?”
“Yes.”
“So, I don’t get the couch thing. But maybe Jorge’s dysfunction is different. Maybe he needs the quiet. Or the aloneness. I ... don’t. I was going crazy in that house by myself. I like having him there.” A grin pushed at his mouth. “He likes being there. Fuck. Five years for him, a lot more for me, and we’re both still clawing our way out. Sorry. I don’t know why I decided to tell you all of this.”
Victor squeezed his fingers. “Don’t ever apologize. I’ve seen your scars, Cam. Your legs, your ribs and shoulder. The ones inside. You don’t ever need to be sorry.”
Cam pressed his free hand to his chest. “Have you lost a person you didn’t quite know the value of until they were gone?”
Again, Victor nodded and his eyes held a knowing glint.
“I ...” Cam swallowed. “I lost someone over there. That was why I came back. I couldn’t do another tour after that. I think Jorge must have lost more, though. For all I’m messed up. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe he’s got the right of it. Solitude and silence. He’s probably mentally healthier than all of us.”
“Could be.” Victor let go of his fingers.
They sat in the sort of silence Cam used to hate for a few moments before Victor asked if he wanted coffee.
“Have you got any of that peppermint tea?”
“Sure.”
Cam followed Victor into the kitchen, where they moved around each other in easy domesticity.
After putting the kettle on, Victor turned and leaned against the counter. “Are you going to take Jorge up on his offer?”
Cam settled his hips against the opposite counter and folded his arms. Checked in with his shoes and remembered he was only wearing socks. He’d left his shoes by the front door, lining them up with Victor’s and the castoffs from Victor’s family and friends.